#which brings me to third: making peace with my sexuality. this is a very personal thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radiowallet · 11 months

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I Can

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter and Marcus meet a second time. WC: 4K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists, handjob, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, a smidge of edging. Mentions of food and drug use. Small angsty moments. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy).

A/N: A Saturday night fic drop? Why not? I'm literally just a chaos demon at this point. Big thanks to @writer-wednesday for this prompt and for inspiring me to revisit my boys (and basically create a whole entire universe for them). This is a follow-up to my random little drabble You Can. I have wanted to revisit these boys for so long and when the inspiration struck, I couldn't help but run with it. Thank you to my beloved @jazzelsaur and @magpie-to-the-morning for listening and encouraging every unhinged thought inside my head. The very best of enablers.

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Dieter refuses to spend another meal in some stuffy, overpriced hoity-toity bullshit restaurant. Ever since his plane touched down at JFK he’s been dragged from meeting to table read to some supposed ‘life-changing’ meal and back again. Which, okay, there are worse things in life than a $100 dollar plate of food, but the pretentiousness of it all was starting to eat away at him.

And the problem with the meals in particular is that even if they were somehow able to change the trajectory of his life, there were only so many tiny portions of shaved truffle caviar foie bullshit he could eat.

No. Tonight he needs something else. Cheese, and bread, and beef. Something warm and comforting and covered in just a touch too much grease. Something he can purchase with a 20-dollar bill and bring back to his hotel room to eat while he watches something trashy on television, before downing an edible or two, and jerking himself off until he passed out.

Marissa, thankfully, was a manager who knew when he had hit his limit. She waved him away with only two reminders of his call time for tomorrow and a promise to send a car. Dieter half mumbled his acknowledgment before slipping out of the lobby that housed one of the many studios he had met with that day, turning left and disappearing into the crowded streets of downtown Manhattan.

This was Dieter’s favorite part of the city. Sure, it was too loud. Too busy. Too bright. But hiding in plain sight? That became easy. Even in his most outlandish of outfits he blended in, able to make the walk to his hotel in relative peace.

He passes a myriad of carts on his way, each one smelling better than the last. He’s not sure what he’s craving, but Dieter is positive he’ll know it when he sees it. The sun has completely set by the time he turns the corner, the city lights guiding him towards the Park Hyatt just up ahead. And there, across the street, was a cart, neon signs for gyros and knish calling to him.

The line was only one man deep by the time he jaywalked his way over, the street light shining down like a spotlight, catching the actor’s attention almost immediately. Dieter stops short at the sight of him, the breadth of his shoulders and cut of his jaw enough to drag up a memory that has his toes curling and his belly swooping low. The memory of a frustrated frown shifting into a soft smile, brown eyes wide beneath thick glasses, a kiss that should have lasted a lot longer than it did.

He’s traded the tux from that night in for a black leather jacket and a pair of dark wash jeans, his head bent low, glasses slipping down the slope of his nose. Dieter smiles, stepping in line with a little more bounce in his step, his lips caught between his teeth, his appetite suddenly shifting. It seems he’s finally figured out exactly what it is that he’s been craving.

— — —

Marcus doesn’t really know how he feels about New York. He thinks maybe in another life he would hate it; one where he had a family at home waiting for him, someone to share the day-to-day mundane things with after all the superhero crap was put to bed. He probably would have pulled every string in the book to bring along this hypothetical family, and that thought alone takes his mood from sour to rancid. As it was, home, New York, Paris. It hardly mattered. He just wanted to wrap up the last of this press tour shit and get back to the real work.

There was only one more round of interviews tomorrow, most of them with the entire team. God willing, he could get away with a few quick answers and then nod along as the rest of the Heroics did the heavy lifting.

He was supposed to be out with the team right now. Drinks and dinner that he had (sort of) politely begged off, content with something hot and cheap to eat in the solitude of his hotel room. The smells from the Greek-themed cart had been calling to him since he first walked out of the Hyatt earlier that day and he was intent on stuffing his face full before passing out to the sound of some trashy reality show playing in the background.

He’s just starting to rationalize ordering one of everything, the Heroics Amex card already in the palm of his hand when the flick of a lighter and the smell of a cigarette catch his attention from behind. He wants to frown as the smoke invades his senses, the nasty habit once something that turned his stomach. But now all it does is drudge up a memory, almost 6 months old, but still there at the back of his mind; a dimpled grin and a searing kiss that left him aching.

He breathes in deep, letting the smell fill his lungs, humming at the bitter taste that coats his tongue. If he closes his eyes, he swears can almost feel the warmth of a breath on his neck, a man much too free for Marcus to keep, but who he wanted to anyway.

A loud cough yanks him back to reality, a gentle nudge urging him forward.

“Your turn, Heroic.”

Normally the call out would make his skin crawl, a signal to the beginning of either a very uncomfortable fan encounter or a 20-minute lecture on the interference of government sanctioned vigilantes. But the tone of the man is neither fawning nor judgmental, instead a teasing warmth that almost feels familiar. Marcus turns, an apology on the tip of his tongue and….

“It’s you.”

Dieter Bravo smiles around the cigarette dangling from his lips, all teeth and dimples and Hollywood charm, just as Marcus remembers.

“And it’s you.”

— — —

They end up ordering enough for two small armies, both men overtipping the patient cart owner enough that he promptly starts closing up shop the second they step away with their food. Marcus shrugs, the bag held tight to his chest, compelled to offer an explanation that Dieter didn’t ask for.

“Superhero metabolism.”

“I get it,” Dieter hums, wanting to put the other man at ease. It’s clear he’s wound just a bit too tight, the pressure of whatever responsibilities he carries with him not so much weighing him down as they do hold him up. Dieter thinks, assumes, the joy of being a hero left Marcus Moreno far too long ago, and he wonders if he could help him save just a tiny piece of it. Or at the very least get the man to smile once before they part ways again.

“I’m up for this gladiator thing. I have a feeling once I get back to L.A. it’s going to be all protein shakes and boiled chicken and green-colored juice. Probably best to indulge while I have the chance.”

Marcus frowns, shaking his head. “That’s not right. Starving yourself to hit some sort of stupid unattainable body image that was set by others.”

“Yeah,” Dieter hums, poking Marcus in one of his firm shoulders. “Can’t imagine what that’s like.”

The other man blushes and shakes his head. “Mine’s mostly genetics. Which…hearing out loud just makes me sound like an ass.”

“Mmm, I actually think your ass could use a bit of work,” Dieter clicks his tongue, eyes drifting around to Marcus’s backside.

His blush only darkens, and Dieter can’t help but delight in the reaction. “I’ll be okay, Heroic. All par for the course! Besides, it’s a 6-month shoot in Morocco. It’s been ages since I’ve been back there.”

“Oh, well��if you need help…I mean before you leave. Shit. I’m pretty handy in the gym, I mean,” he stammers out, hands clinging tighter to the greasy brown bag in his hands.

“Do superheroes make house calls?”

Marcus grinds his jaw to the left, his eyes shifting as far from Dieter’s as they can, but the blush remains. “If it’s something important.”

— — —

They’re staying in the same hotel. It shouldn’t surprise Marcus. Honestly, nothing should at this point, serendipitous coincidence managing to bring the two men together again despite all odds. They cross the street side by side, the doorman quick to open the door with a nod and a wave. Their steps echo through a seemingly empty lobby, most of the hotel guests having stepped out, their nights just getting started.

Dieter moves easily, the hand holding his food swinging back and forth in time with his steps. His jaws works effortlessly at the piece of gum he traded with the cigarette he had been puffing at, the tip of it crushed into the side of the hotel perfectly in time with their entrance. Marcus watches from the corner of his eye, admiring the way the other man moves, as if he’s dancing, each movement as fluid as the last.

The actor chatters beside him, an endless barrage of words that would be easy to write off as nonsense but despite that, Marcus finds himself listening with rapt attention. The actor talks about his meetings tomorrow, a chemistry read he hasn’t quite prepared for, an interview with Variety magazine scheduled directly after. Then he talks about the painting he had started before he left L.A. How he hopes the inspiration is still with him when he gets home.

By the time they get on the elevator, their shoulders brushing in the tight space, Marcus knows the type of bike Dieter owns (a 10-speed he likes to ride down to the pier), how he likes his toast (just shy of burnt, butter and jelly), and his plans for the night (food, edible, jerking off).

Marcus had even been caught up in the moment briefly, his own surprise at seeing the other man loosening his tongue just as it had all those months ago. He had stammered and stuttered in a way that he hadn’t since high school. He can’t seem to decide if he should be embarrassed or not, so he settles for quiet instead, only muttering his floor number once the elevator doors slide shut.

Dieter eyes him over his shoulder, the flecks of grey in the scruff of his jaw illuminated in the low light and mirrored walls. He leans closer, just enough to nudge Marcus’s shoulder, his smile slipping into something more tentative, mint and menthol and something sweet hypnotizing the heroic. He can’t help but match the other man’s movement, leaning in and licking his lips, trying to capture the taste on his tongue. Dieter doesn’t miss it, brown eyes flickering to Marcus’s lips and back again.

“Would you like some company?”

— — —

They ultimately decide to go to Dieter’s room, a joke about seeing the Penthouse tilting the actor’s grin to just this side of wolfish. Marcus is instantly drawn to windows, stretching from floor to ceiling, the whole city lit up, a glaring shine just beyond the glass.

“It seems brighter from up here.”

“The lights are so bright but they blind me,” Dieter sings beneath his breath, spreading out the food with careful dedication.

Marcus smiles at the sound of his voice, marveling at the sudden domestic turn his night has taken before placing his attention back on the skyline. Dieter moves around the couch to join him, carrying that same intoxicating smell with him.

“Haven’t you seen it from rooftops?”

Marcus shakes his head, eyes still glued to the sparkling spectacle in front of him. “The world looks too dark from that angle.”

Dark. Or Ugly. Honest. Yeah, Marcus can see everything from the rooftops, but none of it glittered. Not like this. Not like Dieter Bravo.

The tip of a finger, softer than he expected, touches his chin, the pressure light but insistent, impossible to ignore. He turns to find Dieter watching him, brown eyes reflecting the city stars back at Marcus, and he fights the urge to blink and miss what comes next. They move in together, almost close enough but not, and Dieter laughs, a soft chuckle that rumbles in his chest.

It reminds Marcus of that first kiss, so very long ago, down a dark alleyway, both of them pretending, for just a moment. He takes in a breath, a quick pull of air that steadies his nerves, before finally, finally, closing the last of the distance between them.

The kiss is soft at first, a brush of lips and a scrape of stubble. It’s faint, the sweetest shade of something new between the press of their lips, the taste of mint and menthol permeating his senses. Marcus can’t help but take one more, letting his lips linger on Dieter’s, his hands fitting perfectly along the dip of the other man’s hips.

It’s Dieter who deepens it, one palm sliding along the curve of Marcus’s cheek, the other grabbing where his leather jacket hangs open, fingers clenched into the fabric and yanking him closer. It’s the slip of a tongue between his lips that breaks him, a moan parting Marcus’s lips, the sound only encouraging Dieter to continue.

The hand on his hips pushes him back gently, one, two, three steps before they stop. Marcus pulls away to catch his breath but Dieter keeps him close, soothing the pad of his thumb across the flush of his skin.

“I missed you, baby.”

He wants to laugh, to point out it was just one kiss, and how? How could he miss him when he barely even knows him? But the endearment has him dizzy, the roof of his mouth tacky with desire, and all he can do is nod because yes. Of course, Marcus missed him too. What else was there to do but miss him?

He swoops in for another kiss, this time meeting Dieter’s tongue with his own, tasting him full on and groaning into the feeling. The noise seems to startle something awake in the other man, the grip on his cheek growing tight, his own strangled whine rising up the column of his throat.

When the kiss breaks, Dieter leans in, the scratch of his mustache rough where he hums his request in Marcus’s ear. “Can I take you to bed?”

“It’s been a while,” he can’t help but blurt out, pulling back to watch Dieter’s face carefully, preparing himself for the laughter and the teasing. “Almost 2 years.”

Still, Dieter doesn’t say anything, and Marcus can’t help but explain himself just a little bit more. “Most people can’t handle it.”

Marcus hates to say it. Hates the way it sounds and feels and tastes, the words bitter and biting on his own ears. The harsh, unrelenting truth that what he is will always be overwhelming for those that dare to love him. That the painful responsibilities that were forced upon by the realities of his genetics will always be the barrier around his heart. Most days it was easy enough to ignore, and in the time since had last felt another’s touch, Marcus had found a way to cope, where loneliness was just another weight he would bear in order to do what was right.

Dieter nods, eyes wide and frown small, an equal mix of understanding and pity marked across his features, as if to say ‘yeah, people can be assholes.’

And then he actually says it. “Assholes.”

There’s another kiss and then another, their bodies moving slowly back towards the couch. Dieter's fingers are skilled, pushing and pulling, Marcus’s leather coat hitting the ground seconds before his own. Those same fingers find their way beneath his shirt, mapping the planes of his stomach, the quiver of muscle chasing Dieter’s touch.

Marcus can only cling to the other man, refusing to part from their kiss for more than a second, breath traded back and forth, the only oxygen he ever needed between Dieter’s lips. His touch is insistent, smoothing at his heated skin, fingers digging into the flesh, the almost bite of his nails leaving Marcus gasping high and bright into their kiss. His glasses are pulled off somewhere in the fray, finding a home on the floor behind them.

“The …t-the bed?”

“Figured I’d take it easy on you,” Dieter grins in time with Marcus’s knees bending around the couch cushions.

They fall down together, Dieter immediately crowding into Marcus, his large hand palming where he strains beneath his jeans while he takes care to kiss each and every freckle scattered across Marcus’s. His hips buck immediately, even the gentle touch enough to send him lurching. Dieter is quick to soothe him, teeth nipping at his ear as he coos sweetly, the press of his hand only growing more insistent.

“Patience, baby. We have time.”

There it is again. That little endearment. Sweet and small, and so so much that Marcus can only moan, head falling into the crook of Dieter’s neck. Somewhere above him there is a chuckle, the sound vibrating from one man to the other, and Marcus can only hold on tighter as Dieter tugs at the zipper of his jeans. His breath hitches as the sound of it echoes inside his head, and he feels Dieter pause, only the brush of his thumb on the head of his leaking cock ground them to this moment.

Later, Dieter will confess, sweat cooling on Marcus’s temple, the actor's lips kissing the slick of it away, that he was watching him carefully at that moment. Desperate to see him fall apart, anxious to know if he needed to pull back. It’s then that they promise to say it. Always say it. Exactly what they need and what they want.

Secrets have never done either man any good.

Marcus leans into the light touch, awkward and needy, lips fusing to the curve of Dieter’s neck. There’s the musk of his cologne, something earthy and real clinging to his senses, mixing with the smell of smoke that always seems to burn around the other man’s edges. Marcus is ravenous for him, marking him with a bruising kiss, the steady chant of mine, mine, I wish he was mine thumping inside his chest.

Dieter doesn’t falter, pulling Marcus’s aching length from the confines of his jeans, a loose grip around the base as he continues to stroke the tip softly, gathering the bead of precum with the pad of his thumb. It’s more intimate than he expected, reputations always proceeding those in the limelight. Marcus should have known better, the camera always giving away more falsehoods than beautiful truths.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Dieter teases, not an ounce of cruelty in the words. Another kiss is gifted to Marcus’s neck, the drag of Dieter’s tongue follows, his own groan pouring out of him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise.”

The effect of his words is maddening, and Marcus takes care to muffle his whine into Dieter’s neck, teeth and tongue still working along the salt of his skin. The actor is only encouraged by this, continuing to purr little drops of filthy encouragement into his ear as he starts to stroke Marcus from base to tip.

“Been too long since someone made you feel this good,” he hums, twisting his wrist lightly each time he strokes up the length of Marcus’s cock, the velvet heat of his skin catching on the other man’s palm. The friction is almost too much, a staggering sort of gasp breaking past his lips as Dieter’s voice continues to coach him through each and every stroke of his hand.

“You look so good like this, baby. So good. You can fuck my hand if you want. Go on, use your hips.”

The prompt is all Marcus needs, his hips canting up to meet Dieter’s touch. His fingers dig in hard, one hand finding purchase on Dieter’s forearm, the other wrapped around the curve of his shoulder. He anchors himself to the other man, fucking up into his fist faster and faster and faster still.

“Feel good? Hmm?” Dieter asks, the hook of his nose pressed into Marcus’s temple, lips teasing the swell of his cheek. “Fucking someone else’s hand instead of your own?”

Marcus stutters out a ‘yes’ the word lost between his cries of pleasure. Dieter continues to indulge in the noises, each one helping to shift the weight of his touch, the grip around Marcus’s cock soft then hard, the pressure building faster than he can take in breaths. He tilts his head, eyes searching frantically, a desperate plea tumbling from his lips and hanging thick in the air between them.

“Kiss me.”

And Dieter does, lips molding to Marcus’s, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam until finally, he parts beneath, another moan for him to swallow. All the while, his pace is consistent, up and down, faster then slower then faster again. It’s indulgent, the way Dieter touches him, relishing in each pulse, every sound, and Marcus loses track of how long it’s really been. The pleasure is blinding, keeping him tethered to the edge of the cliff, release blissfully out of reach.

“Bet you look so pretty, all cock dumb, hmm? I’d love to see that,” Dieter teases and Marcus agrees, can only agree, something ragged taking over his sensibilities.

He continues to move with the other man, rising up into the open air, hips awkwardly meeting each and every caress of his hand. Dieter moves with the same freedom he had in the hotel lobby, his own hips grinding up and down, the length of his cock hard and pulsating where it presses into Marcus’s side. Their kisses only grow more wild, just a sloppy press of lips, off-centered and well-intentioned, as they both work closer and closer to the crest of arousal.

Dieter remains focused, his own pleasure secondary to that of the Heroic’s. The kiss breaks just in time for something white hot to settle at the base of Marcus’s spine, everything grows tight and bright and so so sweet. Teeth scrape along his jaw, the tip of a tongue soothing the same path, Dieter’s words coaxing him up to the top of the hill.

“You’re close, baby. So close. Go on, you can let go. I’m right here.”

It’s all Marcus needs, the last of his strength giving out as everything burns, thick ropes of white cum spilling out of him. Dieter hums, using his seed to smooth out his strokes, and continues to whisper little bits of praise into Marcus’s ear.

“I know. I know, baby. You’re doing so good. Tell me if it’s too much.”

It is. It is too much, the way Dieter keeps stroking his cock, half hard and still dribbling drops of cum around the curl of his fist. But Marcus refuses to stop him, leaning into the painful overstimulation until the tips of his fingers go numb, his moans breaking out into sobs, tears tracking down his cheeks to mix with his sweat. Dieter decides for them both then, his hand finally slowing, giving Marcus a chance to adjust to the light touch before pulling away for good, the palm of his hand sliding a sticky trail up his cheek.

It should feel filthy, Marcus’s own cum pressed into his skin while Dieter grinds his cum soaked pants into the dip of his hips. But even now, Marcus can feel his cock twitch in interest, the moment so very decadent and dirty and leaving him hungry for more. Dieter grins, licking his lips, clearly agreeing with whatever look that is crossing Marcus’s features, swooping in for one more kiss, this one there and gone, a fleeting breath of him that leaves him whining.

But Dieter doesn’t go far, his hand smoothing up to push back an errant curl, brown eyes impossibly deep, and he takes his time to kiss away each and every tear. When he pulls away, it’s only to whisper a quiet promise. “I can.”

Marcus tilts his head, his confusion unspoken, the haze of his orgasm still gripping tight to his senses. Dieter takes it in stride, his smile growing, confident and cocky with how dumb he’s rendered the heroic.

“I can handle it,” he clarifies, dragging his hand down to rest his thumb where Marcus’s lips part, the faintest taste of himself waiting there. “Can you?”

And all Marcus can do is nod. Because. Yes. Of course. Of course, he can. What other answer is there?

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Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

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Dedications:

To my dearest, my wonderful enablers @jazzelsaur and @magpie-to-the-morning who have listened to me talk about these boys ALL. WEEK. Literally, every random thought I had about Dieter and Marcus, together or separate, was blasted into their DM's. I have become a woman possessed. The best friends a girl could ask for in these trying fandom times. Thank you both, for loving me and my boys.

#Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno #male on male #the bubble fic #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal characters #Pretend Alleyways

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spectaclespencer · 3 years

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P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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hacawijo · 3 years

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Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)

Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.

Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.

Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!

ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.

“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“

“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?

The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.

“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.

Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these teal eyes :) flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!

Sort of. “I forgot something.”

“At two in the morning?”

Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he’d spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.

“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.

Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.” LOL

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.

He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger— it’s not a title that someone just made up.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you though?” She pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.

“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.

“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.

But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.

He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.

He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”

Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.

Why?

“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”

That would be a lie.

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!

“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.

He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.

He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.

I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.

Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)

Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel #elain archeron #rhysand #gwyn acosf #acosf #acotar theory #acosf theory #azriel bonus chapter #azriel pov #azriel x elain #lightsinger #shadowsinger

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elliotapricot · 3 years

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My Anime 9/10′s

With probably no spoilers cuz I don’t wanna talk too long about them zzz.

1. Fullmetal Alchemist

YALL ALREADY KNOW THIS A 9/10. The only real reason this show is not a 10/10 is because it’s just a story that I’d never rewatch. There’s like 70 episodes, which is way too long for my short attention span, especially since I’ve seen it already. But yeah, by all accounts, this story is a masterpiece and is one of the only “shounen” anime’s that I genuinely enjoyed. No random sexualization. No dumb filler. All the characters have an actual purpose and role in the plot and everyone has their own morals and ideals that interact to make the story interesting. I couldn’t bring myself to really hate anyone, even the villains, because everyone was pretty well written. Also super satisfying ending that ties up everything properly without leaving me confused or upset. If you only watch a few anime in your life, Fullmetal Alchemist is pretty much a MUST WATCH to see a beautiful example of a modern classic anime as an artform. Also I should say that I really don’t like Hunter x Hunter (AN EXTREMELY CONTROVERSIAL OPINION BTW) but I love Fullmetal Alchemist so take from that what you will.

2. Parasyte: The Maxim

Same kinda shit where you already know this a 9/10 for me. It’s just a very satisfying anime that doesn’t have random sexualization or random filler or anything like that. Ending is also very good and ties up the story in a way that doesn’t leave more questions but also allows the characters to have a “life” outside of the scope of the story. I think Parasyte, because of its more horror and psychological-esque vibes, counts as a seinen and not a shounen, so for more mature audiences. I also really liked how the story was successfully adapted to modern times since the manga is from the 80′s. I have actually rewatched this anime, but what stops me from giving it a 10/10 is a few things that I found kinda “stereotypical” that I don’t wanna discuss further too much cuz it’s spoilers. I still obviously really like this anime and highly recommend it.

3. Zankyou no Terror

TBH, this anime is pretty hard for me to properly describe in a lot of words as to why I like it. The art was really pretty as well as the music, which was just straight up amazing. The cinematography of this anime is excellent as well, and a lot of scenes have that sense of being acted out by real people, as opposed to feeling completely drawn/animated. I was a teenager when this anime came out and I think a lot of the themes presented in the show really related to me. The show does kinda have some leftover questions when it ends that prevents me from rating it a 10/10, but I have such a soft spot for this anime. It’s from the same creator as Samurai Champloo and Cowboy Bebop, and although those two animes are also very good, they did not impact me as much as this anime did. Recommended for people looking for idk something that gives off Inception vibes?? In the sense that it’s much more about its themes and its message more so than the believability of the events that occur.

4. Magic Kaito 1412

THIS IS JUST A PERSONAL PREFERENCE BTW LOLOL I DON’T KNOW ANYBODY WHO’D PUT THIS AS A 9/10 ANIME. I JUST REALLY LIKED IT OKAY. It’s made by the same person who does Detective Conan but I like this a lot more because it’s a much shorter series and slightly more mature (more for teens than just straight up kids). I really liked the main guy, I think he’s funny and charismatic. He’s a pervert at times but Imma forgive that cuz of the 90′s. Idk it’s just a really fun anime that I don’t have to take seriously and can just watch and enjoy.

5. Mob Psycho 100 (season 1 AND 2)

Imma put season two as slightly better than season one. So season one would be like a 9 and season two is like a 9.25 for me. Super super funny anime and I like it SO much more than One Punch Man. I liked that there was a good balance of serious moments, but you can definitely still count this anime as a comedy. I’m typically not the type to watch “comedy” but this anime genuinely had me laughing out loud, while also crying and freaking out right alongside the main character. The main guy is super great because he’s just this shy and sweet middle schooler, and it’s really interesting watching him balance trynna have a normal life while also using his powers for good and such. Apparently the anime was decently faithful to the manga and there’s apparently enough material for a third season so I’d be pretty stoked for a season 3, but season 2 ended on a pretty good spot and was satisfying. TBH, if I had the time, I’d probably rewatch both seasons and bump it up to a 10/10.

6. Vinland Saga

This anime is just the first season of what I hopes to be a whole series that will be stay beautifully and faithfully adapted from the manga. As someone who read very far into the manga (but quit like years ago simply because I hate slow updates lol), I actually didn’t enjoy watching the anime at first. I was impatient and kept waiting for when like the “major” events would happen. So I watched like three episodes and quit. But when I had some free time, I decided to get stuck in and commit to watching the whole series and I was so pleasantly surprised with just how good it was. I was impatient but I needed to realize that there is no “filler” or like “wasted time” in the entire anime. I hadn’t read the manga in years, so so many things were only vaguely familiar but I think this helped me stay surprised and excited throughout the anime. I’m looking forward to the rest of the manga being adapted because it’s just a good Viking saga lolol. Major themes of stuff like growing up, violence vs. peace, what it means to be a good person, etc. Lots of blood and LOTS of violence like a LOT they are VIKINGS CMON but tbh not really any gore which I liked cuz gore makes me ughhhh. A very good watch and only a taste of an excellent story.

7. Demon Slayer

It’s just Demon Slayer duhhh. Of course this a 9/10 for me. I don’t wanna write much just cuz the show is so popular. Just read a REAL review of this anime somewhere else lmaoooo. Also yes I did watch the movie in theaters and yes I liked it a lot as well mmkay. I’m mad hype for season two. My S/O doesn’t like Demon Slayer as much as me, but also has Hunter x Hunter as their all time favorite anime. Do with that information what you will lolol.

8. Attack on Titan Season 3 Part 2

Same shit as Demon Slayer. Just go read someone else’s review about why it’s so good lol. Also, unlike Mob Psycho 100, I can’t include all of the seasons in this, because I have very various opinions about how good/bad the other seasons were. But this season 3 part 2, was just plain and simply amazing. While I might not like each season equally, as a whole Attack on Titan is also a modern masterpiece of storytelling. Read the manga if you can.

9. Great Pretender

I love this anime so much. Such a good and fun wild ride. The whole show is ridiculous but in a fun way. I’m a HUGE fan of heist films, so of course I absolutely enjoyed a heist anime. I’ve watched this show in sub AND dub, due to the fact that everyone is “technically” speaking English the entire time. If you’re a purist, just watch in sub OR dub cuz I did get confused here and there, especially when I would go back to compare language discrepancies. Because basically I did this super high maintenance thing where I switched back to Japanese whenever the main character had flashbacks, since he’s ya know, Japanese. The dub also has this confusing thing where the first five minutes or so are still in Japanese, but switches to English when a little cue card on the screen goes “For the Viewers sake, everything from now on will be translated to Japanese.” It’s cuz in the sub, the inverse obviously happens where the characters are initially speaking broken English to each other, but for convenience sake, everything from that point on will be in Japanese. It’s confusing at first but I liked it cuz it just proved the whole international vibe of the show. It’s funny either sub or dub when they joke about how bad the main guy speaks English, cuz in the dub he’s speaking perfect English, while the sub has him not speaking English at all. But anyway, great anime that WOULD have gotten a 10/10 if not for the last episode. Like without spoiling ... WTF WAS THAT LMAOOOO. The anime as a whole is super wacky and zany but at least I could try to think it’s real life, but that last episode was just so unbelievable and bizarre and pulled my suspension of disbelief into the STRATOSPHERE that I just had to convince myself that this show takes place in some improbable alternate reality where something like what happened in the last episode is at least 5 percent possible CUZ HOW DID ANY OF THAT WORK LMAOOO??? Once again, great show, one of my absolute favorites, BUT THAT ENDING THOUGH WTF.

10. BNA

Good super underrated anime that I don’t hear people talk about at all. If Beastars is anime Zootopia, then BNA is Disney Beastars lmaooo does that make sense? It’s a lot more fun and zany than Beastars and I liked it way more. Made by the same people who made Kill la Kill. I really like that more classic, animated “cheap” art style that the anime has, and I also really liked the plot of the story. Not a 10/10 cuz the show does leave a few unanswered questions at the end of it, but this show was such a fun and interesting ride. When I finished the last episode, I was left with a big smile on my face because I just genuinely enjoyed this anime. Recommended if you wanna watch something a little unique and more on the silly and wack side. Talks about some serious stuff, but luckily the show never takes itself TOO seriously, and remains overall lighthearted for a fun action/sci-fi show.

#bna #attack on titan #parasyte #anime review #myanimelist #great pretender #demon slayer #vinland saga #mob psycho 100 #anime #fullmetal alchemist #terror in resonance #magic kaito

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prideful-sins · 4 years

Text

Lucifer X GN!MC x Diavolo: Spitroasted like a boar

This is mature content 18+, you have been warned!

Ya’ll knew this was coming and I hope you enjoy it.

Ships: Diavolo X Gender Neutral! MC X Lucifer

Tags: Mature, Sexual, 2nd person (You), slight choking, double penetration (As it’s gender neutral: oral and anal), Body Worship, Rimming

Word count: 6.9K

AO3 Link

Masterlist | Buy Me A Coffee?

You sat within the walls of one the palace’s drawing rooms, thumbs twiddling around themselves as you looked upon the portraits, lighting fixtures, ceiling, and the furniture, in awe. The room was quiet, save for some music playing far off in the background of the palace somewhere, a soft and comforting classical piece that set your soul at ease.

Barbatos came to the house of Lamentation under Diavolo’s orders, he had asked you to join him and Lucifer for dinner tonight and you were more than happy to accept, truth be told, you’d always had a small crush on Diavolo, his happy-go-lucky attitude, his willingness for peace, the way his smile lights up the room no matter what, and his demon form made it oh so much harder for you to resist him. The horns, his markings, his eyes, his abs, his-

“MC?” A soft voice pulled you out of your lustful thoughts and you swung around to see Barbatos, “My Lord wishes you to join him now” he bowed slightly, with a small smile, and his hand resting on his chest.

You stood up and smoothed down your clothes, “Oh! of course” you said, bowing in reply. You walked towards Barbatos, who had turned his body to the side in order to let you through the door.

“MC truly is a wonder, aren’t they?” Diavolo was stood out on the balcony of the palace’s 5th drawing room, one of his favourites, with a glass of wine in hand and a cool breeze caressing his face.

“Indeed, a mere human able to make pacts with 6 of the members of the Student council truly is astounding” Lucifer replied solemnly, he was sat down within the room, by a table, wine glass half full and bottle residing next to it, some entrees had been laid out as a snack before the main meal.

“You don’t sound very pleased about that” Diavolo turned around and gave Lucifer a sly smile.

“My brothers are free to do as they please” a slight tone of resentment as Lucifer took a small sip of his wine, eyes keeping to the glass.

“Why haven't you made a pact with them?” The Prince walked towards the seat opposite Lucifer, a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk as his confidant eyed him suspiciously.

“If MC were to use my brothers against The Devildom, or specifically, you, I’d not like to be following their orders against my will” Lucifer’s eyes darted between his glass, the wall, and Diavolo’s dastardly stare.

Diavolo gave a chuckle, “I hardly think MC would do that, there’s another reason and you’re not telling” a teasing tone to his last words as Diavolo gave his best to try and get information.

“I suppose I’m afraid of being put on a leash, happy?”

“What if it were MC on the leash?” Diavolo’s remark was snide, his eyes glazed over with an abnormal type of lust mixed with a knowing tone, Lucifer raised a conservative eyebrow to Diavolo’s remark, the conversation was cut short by a knock at the door prompting Diavolo to chuckle and shrug, “yes?”

Barbatos’ head poked around the door, “MC is here My Lord” he said as he swung the door open to reveal you, who gave Diavolo a smile and a wave.

“Ah, the star of the show!” Both Diavolo and Lucifer stood up to face you as you walked into the room, Diavolo placed his glass down and walked up to you to envelop you within a hug, something he had insisted upon once you had given your consent in the past.

“A show I’m not aware of?” You gave a small chuckle as you patted Diavolo’s, seemingly huge, back.

“Hello MC” Lucifer’s voice was soft as you pulled away from The Prince and gave the brother a beaming smile.

“Nice to see you again Lucifer, it’s only been a few hours but it feels like days” Perhaps you’d come off a little strong but Lucifer had always held a dear place in your heart, right next to Diavolo, or in between them, sandwiched in their-

“Indeed, the hours seem longer without your company” Diavolo remarked as he gestured to a third seat at the table, which you happily took, Lucifer nodding to the statement. “Thank you Barbatos” Diavolo gave Barbatos a smile before waving his hand and dismissing him.

You rolled your eyes to their compliment as you raised your hand to the back of your neck, “Somehow I don’t think that’s true but I’ll accept the compliment anyway” you let out a giggle as your hand dropped into your lap.

You had spent the next few hours eating, drinking, laughing,drinking, flirting, drinking, and talking with Lucifer and Diavolo. You hadn’t felt the time fly by at all you’d been having such good fun with the duo, and the wine, that it just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

“-he ran out of the room, bare ass shining in the moonlight as the rest of the guests cheer and clap for his sheer gusto!” You and Diavolo guffawed at the story’s ending, hands slapping against thighs and feet bouncing on the floor, Lucifer, in the other hand, merely chuckled into his wine glass, composure kept close to his chest.

“Oh my god that’s hilarious!” You tried your best to make coherent words as you wiped a tear from your eye, “you really have to applaud his tenacity!”

“Indeed, I’m not sure what I would have done in the same situation” Lucifer added as he chuckled along.

“I don’t think anyone would Lucifer!” Your hand came to rest on his leg as you laughed once more, his gaze was now fixed upon your hand as a redness dusted his cheeks, or was that the alcohol? Upon realising your hand had lingered for longer than socially acceptable for friends you withdrew and cleared your throat.

“Say, MC?” Diavolo’s voice piped up and you turned to meet his eyeline giving a small ‘Hm?” in reply, “has anyone told you you have truly beautiful hair?” Diavolo raised a hand to entwine within your locks, his fingers dancing happily between the strands, bringing an instant blush to your face.

“We-well no, not unless they were trying to get something from me” You chuckled nervously and looked away, but Diavolo only got closer, his face now inches away from yours.

“Like?” His breath was hot on your face, voice hoarse and low, hand now cupping your cheek tenderly, your ass on the edge of your seat as you leaned into the caress.

“We-well li-like, uhm”

“Like this? Maybe?” Your lips met his, softly, tenderly, your world being enveloped by him in that moment as his hand pulled you into him more and more. Your hand instinctively reached out and softly grabbed his bicep, just as a way of grounding yourself and telling yourself this isn’t a dream. Wait, was the Prince of The Devildom really kissing you? You???

“Ahem” You had gotten so lost within Diavolo’s world that both of you had forgotten about Lucifer sat less than 2 metres away from you.

Diavolo pulled away from you, slightly, and breathed a huffy sigh, “If you’re so annoyed at not being included you’re welcome to join in”

“Maybe I will” Lucifer stood up as Diavolo smirked and pulled away from, a very dazed and red, you. He leaned down, placed his fingers gently under your chin and lifted your face to meet his gaze, “May I?” You nodded in flustered agreement and Lucifer took no time at all to resist you.

His lips were slightly rougher than Diavolo’s, stress biting making them seem a little coarser, but the kiss itself was entirely different. Hot and steamy as he jerked his face into yours just a little more, his other hand coming down to the arm of the chair you were sat on to support his body weight, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip ever so slightly in an act of domination and invasion. The hand from under your chin moved to the back of your neck, keeping you steadily against Lucifer, untold feelings and devotion radiating from him.

As Lucifer pulled away from you, your eyes opened, half lidded and clouded, a breath finally left your throat as a low, drawling, sigh, and your chest relieved it’s tension. Your rose coloured vision finally cleared and you saw a pair of deep, red, eyes staring back at you, filled with lust and a desire to tear your clothes off of your body. The rustling of fabric, from behind Lucifer, awoke you from your state, you saw Diavolo standing, his hands coming up to the buttons on his jacket, fingers nimbly wrapping around them, and then his back. The Prince’s jacket was shrugged off of his shoulders and thrown onto the chair he had just left.

“MC?” The Prince’s voice was soft and deep, a compliment to his kiss.

“Yes?” Your voice, on the other hand, was barely above a whisper, your soul had already departed it’s mortal vessel because of the kisses you had received, your body was rebelling, it wanted to soar directly up into The Celestial Realm where your emotions had flown so high.

Lucifer pulled away from you, his hand’s touch lingering upon your skin, and you stood up to meet Diavolo’s eye.”I have to say, I’ve admired you from afar for quite a while now” a few buttons of his shirt had been undone and the tie loosened from his neck.

“Y-you have?” The raw sexual energy that Diavolo was exuding right now had made you timid, your breath was quick and expecting, hands fumbling around with the hem of your clothes, voice barely even there as you stared a hole into his throat and collarbone.

“Indeed, there’s something about you, you know” he took a step forward and placed a hand under your chin, so soft that you could barely feel it, so your body reacted unintentionally bringing you deeper into his touch. “You draw people, demons especially, close to you. That personality, that smile, that laugh, all of you” Diavolo drew in close once more, his lips now a mere inch away from yours, the breath of his words hot upon your own raggedy sighs, “and I,for one, just can’t get enough of it”

“I’ll admit” you had gained a little confidence now, knowing what the situation was becoming, and your voice told that. The whisper was now a bratty purr as you brought your hands to rest on Diavolo’s hips, “I can’t seem to get enough of you, either of you” you bit your lips as your eyes darted between Diavolo’s lips and eyes, anxious in anticipation. You brought your face just that little ways closer to his, your lips touching in the faintest of ways, a low, almost unheard, growl came from The Prince before he made your lips touch.

As you kissed Diavolo, you heard more rustling of fabric behind you, what you could only assume was Lucifer shedding off some of his layers, too. “MC?” You heard Lucifer’s voice mumbling from behind you as a gloved hand came upon the crook of your neck, the other resting on your waist. Lucifer’s head came to rest on the other side of your neck, his lips dotting small kisses onto your skin, each contact sending a wave through your spine.

You pulled away from Diavolo and brought your foreheads together, small pants escaping each of your bodies. “Yeah?” barely a whisper of reply to Lucifer’s question as he kept dusting his lips upon you.

“You know what we’ve been doing, and what would come” you looked over at Lucifer, head leaning on his hand as your half lidded eyes met his own, a small nod, once more, in reply to his statement. “Do you wish for this too? Do you want this as much as we do?”

Never did you think this day would come, having Lucifer and Diavolo want you like this was a dream come true, something you’d wished upon yourself for weeks with no intent of it ever actually happening. Barely a heartbeat was skipped before you nodded, whispering a “Yes. Please, yes.”, one of your hands leaving Diavolo’s hip and coming up to rest upon the hand on your neck.

Diavolo muttered, “you don’t know how long we’ve waited for this MC” You were sandwiched between these two, beautiful, men and now both of them were kissing on your neck, “months of yearning to touch you like this” the words were muttered between the kisses he placed on your neck.

“I- I’ve wanted this, too- aah” Diavolo and Lucifer bit down on your neck at the same time, in very sensitive spots, making you moan, a lot louder than you had wanted to, and leading your knees to buckle ever so slightly, “alot longer than I care to admit” your words were broken by pants, very heavy pants and sighs. Lucifer licked up the back of your neck ever so slightly and bit down once again, softer this time, you raised a hand and threaded it within his hair edging him into a soft moan.

Diavolo removed his lips from your neck, the area screaming for him to return as the cool air hit your raw skin, and placed them upon your own. Once more, a soft kiss from The Prince, your eyes instinctively closing with the touch, eyebrows furrowing upwards as your hand grabbed at Diavolo’s shirt, tugging it out from the waistband it was tucked into.

Lucifer’s hands came around your stomach, resting upon the hem of your clothes, one hand sliding upwards to come into contact with your bare skin. It reacted, a shock wave was sent directly through your spine as his fingers made contact with your stomach, painted nails curled and digging, just slightly, into your skin.

Your hands worked nimbly around the edges and frays of Diavolo’s shirt, hunting for buttons to undo but your fingers just weren’t working with your brain, you struggled to find them amongst the clouds of your mind. “Let me” Diavolo whispered, his hands leaving your body and coming to his collar, tie loosened, and buttons now slowly being undone, showing more and more of his skin. As the upper half was opened you brought your hands upon Diavolo’s chest, tracing your fingertips along the markings on his chest, a faithful reminder of just who you were dealing with. Diavolo bit his lip, just a little, as he felt your hands, gracefully, along his skin, tracing over his nipples in small circles, feeling the tiny metal balls of his piercings with your fingertips.

As you had been doing this, Lucifer had removed his hands from you and began unbuttoning his waistcoat with shoes already kicked off to the side, all the while his lips hardly leaving your neck, only to place kisses. You took your hands off of Diavolo’s body and began to remove your own clothing, buttons and collars ripped off as fast as you could so no time was wasted getting back to ravishing these men and having them ravish you

All off you were now topless, admiring each other with eyes and hands, you had turned to face Lucifer, Diavolo’s huge chest now against your back as his hands roamed the skin of your hips, thumbs screwing little circles on the bone as his fingertips slipped into the waistband of your trousers, teasingly asking for more. Lucifer’s hands were scandalously un-gloved and massaging your chest, fingers twirling around your nipples, the buds reacting in sheer bliss as your breaths became hitched and moans crawled out from your lips. His lips were upon yours, tongues dancing along to your rhythms as moans and growls were sent up into the air.

Your hands had been on Lucifer’s back, nails dug deep into his shoulders as your hips bucked into his thigh, placed strategically between your own. Twirling became pinching as Lucifer’s fingertips closed around your hard nipples, you threw your head back moaning in sheer pleasure but Lucifer wasted no time, his lips, once more, upon your neck, biting down amongst the red marks before, already forming your own type of pact mark, an obvious statement that you belonged to someone once you left this room.

“Lucifer- aah“ Your nails dug even deeper, causing his back to tense just a little as your fingers dragged down his skin. There was no pain on Lucifer’s part, the friction of your nails upon his back was ecstasy, his hands moved swiftly from your chest straight down to your ass, hooking underneath and lifting you up with ease causing you to yelp in surprise. Diavolo caught on immediately and pressed against you, acting as a second support as your legs wrapped around Lucifer’s torso, the Prince’s hands coming to your chest, and lips kissing along your shoulders.

You had been so wrapped up in everything happening you hadn’t even noticed....they were both hard as hell, Diavolo’s cock pressing against your ass, and Lucifer’s on your own sex. The utter feeling of just knowing you were the cause for their erections was amazing, the way they ravished you made you go crazy, you were horny beyond belief between these two demons, and almost certain they could sense it.

“pl-please” you whimpered, alerting the men who responded with slightly startled hums, “let me down, I need one of you in my mouth, please” a low chuckle from Lucifer, and a whisper from Diavolo.

“Of course” You unwrapped your legs from Lucifer, his hands letting you down slowly, Diavolo stepped away his hands leaving your chest and now upon the hem of his trousers, seamlessly working the buttons and zipper, the image of his boxer shorts coming into view. You knelt down between them, knees hitting the cold tiles with a small ‘thunk’ facing towards Lucifer, who stood there expectantly, a smirk on his face. He wasn’t going to undo his trousers for you, he’s waiting for you to do it.

Your hands got to work, fingering the buttons and working around Lucifer’s erection, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, once again the sound of fabric hitting the floor from behind you. Fingertips deftly curled around the waistbands of Lucifer’s trousers and underwear, teasingly pulling them as slow as possible, your eyes meeting his, a hungry gaze staring into your own lust-filled eyes. Little by little you tugged his waist band down revealing more of Lucifer’s skin, neatly trimmed pubic hair, and then the base of his erection.

“If you don’t hurry up you’ll make both of us impatient, MC” you felt another hand on your shoulder, Diavolo patiently waiting for you to disrobe Lucifer’s trousers, you were brought out of your lusty haze and proceeded to continue, hands now tugging eagerly, restless to have him within your mouth.

Lucifer’s erection was magnificent, long and slender, veins almost complimenting it as they wound their way up the base of his dick. Your eyes almost popping out of your head, fingers trailing softly over the sides at the base of his penis. You heard steps and Diavolo came into view ‘oh shit’ his erection was even larger, and thicker, than Lucifer’s, veins throbbing, pubes long but neat, his head leaking thick drops of pre-cum.

Your right hand closed around the base of Diavolo’s cock, while your left was on the tip of Lucifer’s, thumb massaging gently at the underside of the tip, just over the vein. Accepting grunts and soft sighs came from the men as they relaxed under your touch, the grip on your shoulder loosening ever so slightly as your hands worked their magic.

As your fingers massaged their dicks you brought your lips to the tip of Lucifer’s head and kissing the tip where the pre-cum had seeped out, your lips now dotted with a little of his white, a new marker of your relationship. Your right hand started pumping Diavolo, slowly, moving just a little further up the shaft with every rise and fall. you lips, on the other hand, were now wrapped around the tip of Lucifer’s cock, tongue licking over the slit and sliding underneath, over the vein in a desperate attempt to break his outer shell a little.

You bobbed your head down a little, taking more of Lucifer within your mouth just another inch, your tongue flat on the underside veins enveloped by your muscle. Diavolo became impatient, your hands not working fast enough as he bucked into you, the girth of his penis being fully realised as your fingers had no hope in touching.

“So beautiful,” Diavolo whispered in that low tone that drove your insides crazy as your eyes met his, mouth still wrapped around Lucifer, who nodded in agreement, “but we aren’t going to keep being patient, MC” Lucifer’s hand moved from your shoulder and came up into your hair on the back of your head, “we’ve waited too long to savour it for hours, I hope you don’t mind” as Diavolo finished his sentence Lucifer’s hand thrust your head further down his dick, making it hit the back of your throat and causing you to gag loudly, wide smirks upon the demons’ faces.

You got the message. The spit from your previous gagging was now your lube your head moving at an increased speed, with one last deep throat you pulled your lips from Lucifer and faced Diavolo, as you stuck your tongue flat out ready for him a drop of saliva lingered at the tip of your tongue. You raised his dick high and placed your tongue on his balls, licking all the way up to the tip causing Diavolo to growl in pleasure as he lost himself in you. Your mouth wrapped around his cock and got to work, he was big, so much bigger than you had been used to but fuck if you weren't going to try your best to fit him in you.

Diavolo moved his hand to your cheek his fingers entwining in your hair as his hips bucked and moved in rhythm to your head, moans and growls from both of the men as they revelled in your pleasures. A warmth in your stomach began to roar at you, thighs clamping together in order to control your own desires, your sex becoming more and more desperate to be pleased. Your head bobbed up and down, mouth full of Diavolo’s dick, your hands moving and massaging both of the demons’ cocks, spit dripping down your chin as Diavolo hit the back of your throat. With each gag you kept going, the moans and groans of Diavolo spurring you on to keep going deeper and deeper, so much so you could almost feel his dick in your stomach.

You looked up, eyes meeting Diavolo’s and removed your mouth from his with a loud sigh, saliva beading from your mouth to his dick. Your lungs burned as you panted, eyebrows furrowing as your eyes looked between the two men, pleading for them to give you some attention. Lucifer smirked and held out his hand, you took it, graciously, and rose to your feet.

“Come” he instructed, as you and Diavolo followed, being led to the chair you had vacated earlier. “Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked, Diavolo responding with a sultry, low, hum. “Care to remove MC’s remaining clothes?” Your eyebrows raised as Diavolo’s hands instantly came to your waistband, fingers unbuttoning and ravaging your clothes, almost ripping them off of you, your body naked in the blink of an eye as you stepped away from the garments clumped on the floor. You had no time to feel self conscious or to blush because

Lucifer sat in the seat, his legs spread slightly and hand, once more, out and waiting for you to take it, which you did. He led you towards him and you stood there, in all your glory. Lucifer eyed your body, the longer he took the more ground Diavolo gained on your hips, his hands edging closer and closer to the base of your stomach.

“Sit.” Another order form Lucifer.

“Wh- where?” You stuttered, blinking confused.

“You know where. Now sit.” Lucifer roughly yanked your hand and you turned, bending down and sitting on his stomach, his dick between your legs and his hands supporting you. Diavolo knelt down in front of you and brought his mouth down to your ass, his hot breath making your nerves tingle with excitement. His hands came under your thighs and lifted them over his shoulders before moving his hands, one placed on your lower stomach, and the other softly massaging the base of Lucifer’s dick, keeping you both on a high.

As Diavolo touched upon your most sensitive areas with his lips you gasped and moaned, your hips bucking forward into him and grinding against Lucifer’s cock ever so slightly. A hearty sigh was felt on the back of your neck as Lucifer groaned, the feeling of your sex against him made him lose himself just a little, a hand moved from supporting your ass to your neck, lightly choking you. His fingers dug into your skin, nails providing additional marks to the love-bites, there was no way you were leaving this room with even a semblance of question-ability of whom you belonged to.

You gasped at the feeling of Lucifer’s hand on your neck, a startled yelp as your legs twitched and convulsed at the sensation of Diavolo granting you pleasure, making sure you were sufficiently lubed up for them. The Prince removed his mouth from you, your thighs twitching for him to return, your whole body whining at the loss of contact.

“MC?” he whispered as his lips kissed just above your genitals.

You looked down, with only your eyes as Lucifer’s hand restricted your head’s movement. “Y-yes?”

Diavolo still talked in a hushed whisper. his lips kissing up more and more of your stomach, “Yes what?” Lucifer briefly closed the grip on his hand, choking you out of your breath for just a second, showing you your punishment.

“Yes, Lord Diavolo?” You whimpered, body screaming to be used by them, your guard completely gone, in this moment you trusted them with whatever they wanted to do.

He smirked at your meagre response after submitting to them both so easily, “that’s better” Diavolo’s hands rested on the underside of your thighs, “are you ready?” his question was soft but his eyes were harsh, taken over by lust. Asmodeus would be having a field day.

You nodded, a little hesitantly, not to the sex but just to the question as to how Lucifer, or Diavolo, was going to fit inside of you. “I don’t know if you’ll even fit” you whispered, voice betraying you as it cracked under the pressure.

“We’ll start off with Lucifer, ease you into it. Next time though, it’ll be me” Diavolo shrugged your legs from his shoulders and stood, holding out his hands for you to take. As you did, Lucifer eased his grip on your neck and let you go, your legs a little shaky, and his dick twitching in anticipation.

“You’ll be okay MC, we won’t hurt you” Lucifer paused as he placed his hands on your ass cheeks, “too much” you could practically feel his smirk in the tone of his voice. Diavolo brought your hands to his chest, one wrapping around his neck to moral support, and as a stable foundation. You could feel Lucifer parting your ass cheeks and fingering your ass, the tip circling around the entrance. You moved your hips in response, edging them down and pressing your opening against his finger. “You’re very impatient MC. Fine, if that is what you wish”

You whimpered as Lucifer entered a finger into you, slowly, letting you adjust as your moans echoed off of the walls. Diavolo bit his lips as he watched the contortions your face made, eyebrows raised and then furrowed, your mouth parting as you sucked in sharp breaths. He couldn’t help himself, you looked so fucking cute he just had to kiss you. His lips darted to your neck once more kissing all over and taking you by surprise. Lucifer started moving his finger within you, the feeling driving your hips wild as you began riding him, your moans falling on deaf ears as your nails dug into Diavolo’s skin, leaving tiny red marks in their wake.

“Ah-ha fuck” a whimper was all that could come out, the thought of making words exist as you felt this pleasure was impossible. All you wanted to do was make these gruff noises to show them how good they made you feel, electric shocks riding your spine like a roller coaster as each bend of his finger shocked you.

Another finger entered, widening the opening for Lucifer, his fingers working double time as you panted and heaved. You grabbed a fistful of Diavolo’s hair and yanked his head off of your neck, startling him, before pulling him in for a kiss. The heavy breaths leaving your nose as you parted between sloppy kisses to sigh and pant, teeth biting at each others lips in a desperate act of domination, you had no chance of winning but damn if you weren’t going to try. Your hips clashed into Lucifer’s erection, the head hitting against your sex.

“Lucifer” your words were breathless, barely any volume compared to the heaving sighs that separated them, “please- hah- I need you in me please” You continued your attack on Diavolo’s lips, his hands clawing at your back, the painful sensation sending you into a prideful rage as your own hands clawed and scratched their way over his chest and upper shoulder. A chuckle came from the eldest brother, you knew he would oblige as soon as you felt his finger’s leave you, he wanted to make you scream their names by the end of the night and you knew he was going to make it happen.

Diavolo parted from you, just for a moment, as Lucifer manoeuvred your hips, placing your ass just over his dick. You could feel the head teasing at you, and you teased back, rolling your hips around with a smirk on your face as Lucifer’s erection ached against you. Diavolo pressed his cheek against yours and whispered in your ear.

“Bite me when it hurts” you nodded in agreement and moved your lips to his collarbone. With one last tease Lucifer pulled your hips down and began entering you, the sheer feeling of his dick invading your ass was agony. You weren’t used to this and they could tell as you let out a painful yelp, Diavolo’s hand coming up to the back of your head, a light shush as he consoled you.

“Bite and adjust, we’re only just getting started” You could feel Lucifer’s hands move from your hips and come across your back, adding secondary consolation. Sharp breaths were hot against Diavolo’s neck as you lowered your hips to fit more of Lucifer within you, his hips involuntary twitching sending a painful reception to your brain, teeth biting down into Diavolo’s skin, bringing the chain reaction to an end as he abruptly exhaled in pleasure.

Half of Lucifer was within you and all your body could do was melt, the feeling of your ass widening just that little bit more, the moans and growls of the men around you spurring your adrenaline into a frenzy. Teeth digging into Diavolo’s flesh, not because of pain, but because of that moan he makes, the way his fingers curl into the skin on your back, the sight of his dick twitching each time you bite down on his collarbone, that’s why you keep doing it. Sheer pleasure.

Once you had fully taken Lucifer, the sharp pain gone and replaced with pleasure, you nodded. Lucifer’s hands moved from your back, no longer consoling you, and were placed on your hips, gripping with intent to fuck. He lifted you, your knees already feeling weak as your stomach heated up, the spur of your own orgasm growling in the depths. Lucifer was almost fully out, the tip remaining within you, and with a slight pause he pulled you down, the first of many thrusts. You yelped out in pleasure, throwing your head back as you sighed and panted, his name teetering on your lips as the thrusts within you drove your mind crazy.

“Lu- hahh- Luciff- ha” Diavolo relished in the way you looked as you bobbed up and down on Lucifer’s dick, tongue lingering on your lips as saliva drooled down your chin. You didn’t care how you looked right now cause you were truly in heaven, or as close as you could get while in The Devildom.

As Lucifer thrust within you Diavolo stood up as gave a smirk, his hand now cupping your cheek in an effort to make you look at him and only him for a short while. “MC? I’d like you to keep me happy, too” You nodded in agreement and leaned down, still having Lucifer within you. The Prince’s cock was still hard, and you took it in your hand once again, one cupping and massaging his balls, the other pumping around his base, your tongue licked along his slit and, once more, you took it within your mouth.

The blowjob was sloppy, the pleasure made your head spin the hands caressing you sending you into a frenzy, eyes rolling around your head as you tried your best to focus on bringing Diavolo pleasure. From the look on his face, you were succeeding, his hand balled up in your hair, pulling you up and down his dick, the tip hitting the back of your throat, every gag making him push you down further. You could hardly breathe, all that was coming out of you was moaning as you serviced the men. Lucifer panting behind you, his composure deteriorating as his thrusts became slightly out of rhythm, your own attempts at moving your hips interrupted as Diavolo pushed your head down.

You could feel it, all of you were climbing that mountain, the steps getting closer and closer to all of your orgasms. Your stomach had a pi as your sex twitched and pulsated the electric shocks around your body. Chests heaving an out of sync song as the moans created the tunes. All of you were getting there, but one of you needed some more. Diavolo looked at Lucifer, as best as he could, and nodded, He pulled your head from his dick and raised you to face him, a low drawl of a chuckle before stating “my turn”

You obliged and Lucifer let you off, you stood up and bent over, mouth now over Lucifer’s cock and Diavolo’s dick teasing at your entrance. You hated the feeling of them leaving you, your whole body screaming for you to get back into that addictive rhythm, and they obliged wholeheartedly. Diavolo pushed within you, his dick stretching you even more than Lucifer’s did, another shot of pain before quickly adjusting. You mewled a sound, something that resembled positivity, telling him to go all the way, and he did, Diavolo hit something within you, something you weren’t aware of, your knees going weak and making you lose balance as you screamed out a moan, but you couldn’t keep Lucifer waiting any longer and licked up his dick. You could taste yourself on him, his moans spurring you forth to keep going, deeper and deeper, the same as Diavolo was doing to you.

“Please, keep going” you heard him whisper, a before unseen plea that attested to his feelings. The most you could muster was wrapping your mouth around him and sucking, all words evaporating into pleasure as your hips rocked against Diavolo, the light slapping of flesh echoing within the room along with sighs and moans. How could you resist a plea like that? Seeing his vulnerability, him letting you see it, all you wanted to do was praise him, in this situation you did the best you could. With your mouth and your hands. You moved your hand and caressed up his stomach all the way up to his chest, where your fingers came to his nipple. You gave it a pinch, rolling your fingers around, causing Lucifer to lean his head back and arch himself into you, a small moan escaping his lips as he let himself go. His hand entwined in your hair, the other resting on your shoulder as you bobbed your head up and down on his dick, in time with Diavolo’s hard thrusts.

Your stomach turned around on itself, the feeling of Diavolo pounding against your g-spot, each time he hit it making your knees weaker and weaker. You tried your best to keep yourself steady for them, leaning as much of your weight as you could into Lucifer as you bobbed your head up and down his dick. Your spit pooling at the base and around your lips, your hand wet and slick as you massaged in time with your head raising and falling. The grunts and moans of your pleasures only enticing Lucifer’s orgasm more and more, his fingers twitching within your hair as he bit down on his lip.

Diavolo’s thrusting was becoming sporadic, out of time and heretical, his grunting and panting edging closer to your ear as his back arched further and further down. His hands gripping onto your hips for dear life, a vain attempt to ground himself in this ecstasy. You could feel Diavolo’s sweat, pooling from his brow, on your back as he leaned his head against you. You were close, too, your whole body getting weaker and weaker as it became harder to focus on anything other than your impending climax.

“MC I’m going to cum inside of you, okay?” Diavolo panted, you nodded in response, keeping your lips wrapped around Lucifer’s dick.

“Me too” Lucifer piped up, his voice wavering as his hips jerked and thrust himself further into your mouth, your hand lingering as you moaned with pleasure, walls closing in around Diavolo are your body climbed to orgasm. You removed your lips from Lucifer’s dick, a loud gasp filling the room as you moaned out Diavolo and Lucifer’s names, basically screaming them out as Diavolo fucked you into oblivion.

“I’m gonna- hhah- I’m gonna cum, please please keep fucking me” you whined your case, hand continuing to massage Lucifer into his climax his hips jolting, and hand tugging at your hair as he breathed out his replies.

“MC hahh” Lucifer’s chest was heaving, his orgasm imminent. You stuck out your tongue, resting it on the base of his head, tip pointing into your mouth, you wanted to catch it all and leave nothing behind. His hips kept jolting and you tried your best to keep yourself steady as Diavolo thrust deep within you. With no warning Lucifer came, his cum shooting into your mouth, hitting the back, the sides, and pooling onto your tongue. He let out a loud moan as his head was thrown back in pleasure, hips bucking and thighs tensing as he moaned out your name. His seed was slightly sour, a salty taste to it, must have been all of the coffee ha drank, and you swallowed it all. Lucifer looked down at you, a prideful smirk on his face as he watched you lick the remains of his cum from your lips.

Diavolo wasted no time in pulling you up with him, standing and fucking you deeply, your own orgasm now at the forefront of your mind. You had become a babbling mess, Diavolo’s name echoing from your lips as he pinned you against him via your arms. “I’m close, MC” Diavolo muttered into your ear and you desperately nodded in agreement, your hair falling over your sweaty forehead, eyes looking into Lucifer as he sat there and watched you get fucked.

With one last thrust, deep into your g-spot, you and Diavolo came together. His seed filled you up as you screamed his name in please. The whole Devildom was sure to hear you tonight, your legs gave out but Diavolo was there to keep you up, his dick deep in you as he grunted and moaned your name into the halls.

You fell down onto your knees, a heaving panting mess on all fours. Diavolo sat down on one of the other seats a half-hearted chuckle coming from him as he finally relaxed. All of you were breathless and worn out, your body realising how much you’d just gone through, the adrenaline rush had gone and only a numb pain remained, sitting was going to be difficult tomorrow.

Diavolo broke the silence, “I have to admit, I didn’t expect that” he continued chuckling as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Me neither, you did well MC” Lucifer commended, his hand coming down to help you up, which you gladly accepted.

“Thank you but” you paused as your knees slightly gave way.

“But?”

“I may have to take some days off from RAD to recover” you tittered.

“I think we can arrange that, I can think of something else we can be doing instead” Diavolo winked at you, his voice playful and devilish. What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

#obey me!#obey me #Bal writes #Diavolo #Lucifer #MC #Obey me X reader #shall we date obey me #Diavolo x reader #Lucifer x reader #Diavolo X reader X Lucifer #Diavolo X MC #Lucifer X MC #NSFW//#Smut #Fic #Fanfic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Diavolo

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jamilelucato · 4 years

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hi!! I just followed and saw your open request for hp fics!! congrats btw!! I was wondering if you could write for me either a Fred Weasley x reader or Sirius Black x reader with Enemies to Lovers? If y/n could be a hufflepuff that'd be awesome too lol ❤️❤️ also I'm here for the banter + unresolved sexual tension 👁️👄👁️ thank you!!

Gryffies and Puffies [F. W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: Fred and [y/N] were never close, in fact, they hated each other, but Angelina is determined to change that.

A/N: Hi! Thank you, really! I tried to follow your request as much as I could, sorry if the Hufflepuff portrait is not much Hufflepuff like, I’m not one and I don’t have many friends that are, but I tried to keep it as I knew. Hope you like it! (gif not mine)

Last chance to send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist

Although, generally, [y/N] doesn’t bother doing her homework way earlier than needed, this time she knew she had to start soon if she wanted a good grade.

Professor Snape wasn’t very fond of the Hufflepuff’s students, so, as a proud member of her house, [y/N] felt like she had to prove the Professor wrong, and show the authoritarian how smart Hufflepuffs can be.

It was the third book she had got from the Library, and this one specifically was just about the subject — Ageing Potions — but [y/N] seemed more lost than before while reading it. Sh even asked, politely, to the Librarian if the book was in English because she couldn’t understand a full paragraph.

“Having trouble there?” asked Angelina Johnson before sitting down in the chair next to [y/N]’s.

[y/N] smiled at her long-time friend. Angelina’s mom was a great friend of [y/N]’s mom, and so, they grew up together, as a weird but cool duo. Angelina had a more explosive personality, when [y/N] was generally softer and prefered to talk instead of punching.

“A lot, actually,” [y/N] sighed. “Have you started yours yet?” the sixth-years Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors shared Snape’s classes, so [y/N] knew Angelina had the same assignment as her.

“Oh, haven’t even started,” answered Angelina, catching one of the books in front of them and flipping through it.

“Angie! Professor Snape already has something against you, don’t give him an extra to work with!” [y/N] retorted, genuinely worried for her friend.

Angelina chuckled. “By something against me, you mean because I sit with the twins?”

“Exactly!” the girls burst into soft laughter.

Angelina knew that [y/N] was out for the Weasley twins ever since third-year when they painted the whole Hufflepuff common room black for one week. Professor Flitwick had to step in to help get rid of the magical paint.

But that wasn’t just it. It seemed as if whenever [y/N] got into trouble, the twins, and more specifically, Fred Weasley, was around.

“So... Hogsmeade this weekend. You comin’?” asked Angelina when the laughter calmed down.

“Nope, got this to finish,” [y/N] sighed, pointing to the parchment blank. “Or gotta start it.”

Angelina protested, “come on, you never come!”

“With you, I don’t!” [y/N] frowned. “You always bring them!”

“They’re my best friends!”

“Ouch,” [y/N] pretended to be offended, but only gained a shove from Angie before her best friend started laughing again. Those two were always laughing.

“I promise they’ll behave,” Angie sparkled her dark brown eyes towards [y/N], and seeing a pit face, [y/N] knew she had lost.

“Fine,” the Hufflepuff agreed, closing the books in front of them, knowing very well that no preparation in the world would make her homework worthy of a good grade in Snape’s eyes. “But you owe me one.”

“Put it on the account,” smiled Angie.

***

“Here she comes, the Hufflepuff princess,” smirked an inpatient Fred Weasley, watching with a brow raised as [y/N] finally got out of the train.

Without staring the identical redheads, [y/N] apologized to Angelina, “sorry, got stuck with Bryan and Clary, they were tellin’ me about the...”

“No one cares, puffie,” Fred whispered, in a voice that sounded almost like a whistle.

“Shut it, Weasley,” [y/N] warned, with a tired look. If her visit to Hogsmeade was going to be like that, she did not know if she’d be able to honour the motto of kindness and forgiveness of her Hogwarts House.

“Oh, she acknowledges I’m here,” Fred smirked again, “finally.”

[y/N] rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm around Angelina’s, while she murmured apologies. The two girls took the lead, while the twins followed, and [y/N] could swear that every announced turn she and Angie decided to take, she could hear Fred sighing in complain — and she was loving that.

“First stop: Honeydukes!” [y/N] shouted, stating the way.

Angelina stopped when she noticed Fred had stopped too.

“No way — Zonko’s first,” he debated.

[y/N] turned around, facing the redhaired boy — really facing him, like she had not done yet. She sometimes forgot how cute he was.

Well, any boy taller than her, she considered cute really, because she loved how they leaned down to look at her — and Fred had a lot of leaning down to do.

“Honeydukes,” [y/N] said, hoping her voice sounded as scary as Professor Snape because he was the one she was trying to imitate.

“Look, you can eat later, puffie, but the good products will sell out if George and I don’t go to Zonko’s now,” he continued his pledge.

“You two go then — I’m going Honeydukes first,” [y/N] was trying her hardest to stand her point, but when Angelina and George puffed next to them, she lost a bit of her posture.

“You expect George and I will let you two girls walk around alone?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard!” [y/N] shouted, crossing her arms.

“If that’s supposed to be your scare-people-away face, then yes, you need bodyguards,” Fred argued.

“Let’s go to Zonko’s first, y/N. It’ll give less time for the chocolates to melt,” Angelina stepped in the argument, knowing that the two would continue to argue all day if they could. In fact, Angelina had already witnessed them arguing two whole hours about which team was better at Quidditch — and it seemed to be horrible to [y/N] offend Angelina as a player just to win the argument.

Puffing the whole way and not daring to face Fred, [y/N] followed them to Zonko’s. It was easier to avoid looking at him when the boys entered the store (already crowded) and got lost from the girls in the middle of the shelves, their eyes shining with new and classic products.

Taking advantage of the momentary peace, [y/N] wandered around the store, looking for something that could be used for good fun, like some board game. She didn’t realize that Fred was right behind her until he opened his mouth.

His voice a whisper so close to her ear, that it shivered all over her: “you should buy it if you can’t stop staring,” he smirked.

She turned around to face the boy way too close than she expected. Trying to step away, she bumped into the shelve, but fortunately, nothing fell.

“I don’t want a stupid...” [y/N] battled with herself if she should say or not the next word, “furry bear,” she ended up saying because she hated leaving phrases unfinished.

“Yeah, okay,” Fred pretended to believe, puffing his chest.

“I don’t,” [y/N] stated again.

“Sure, if you say so,” he continued his little game.

“Just because Hufflepuffs are kind, it does not mean we like all cute and fluffy and soft things, okay,” [y/N] tried to prove her point using of more complex sentences, but noticing his smile, she thought she only contradicted herself.

“Not all Hufflepuffs are the same,” Fred tried to help her.

“Exactly,” [y/N] crossed her arms.

“But you like the fluffy and plushy,” Fred raised an eyebrow, but he did not look into her eyes.

“Yes,” [y/] agreed, before even realizing what she was saying yes to. She only had time to listen to Fred burst into laughter, she could no longer take back what she said.

But for a second, it didn’t matter; his laugh was worth it. Until it wasn’t.

“So you like plushy, huh,” he repeated non-stop.

“Oh, for Helga’s sake,” [y/N] she puffed, desperately trying to get away from the ginger boy.

***

When the boys had finally bought all they wanted from Zonko’s, [y/N] and Angelina were already outside waiting. There weren’t many things that the girls founded interesting there. Angelina favours Quidditch stuff and, [y/N], as pointed out by Fred himself, prefers fluffy things.

“That took a while,” you pretended to whisper when actually you spoke loud enough for the twins to hear.

“Oh, did we make you wait, puffie?” Fred teased, but [y/N] just rolled her eyes, not ready to fall into his traps again.

“Well, for fairness, it’s you girls’ time to pick a place,” George said, and [y/N] involuntarily smiled at the more delicate Weasley twin.

“Honeydukes!!” [y/N] shouted before Angelina could say anything, but it didn’t matter. The three Gryffindors immediately started giggling at the girl’s excitement to visit the candy store.

Angelina and George got themselves involved in a talk about the new best broom in the market, leaving Fred and [y/N] behind. They both played Quidditch too, but George and Angie made no effort to include them in the conversation.

“See,” [y/N] decided to tease Fred since they were closest, “if we had gone to Honeydukes first, you wouldn’t need to carry those many bags around.”

Fred almost forgot how to walk. He was generally the one that started the teasing — [y/N] wasn’t much of the provocative kind unless she was provoked. However, Fred liked it.

“You would be the one carrying the bags then, genius,” Fred pointed out, turning his face sightless to the right to get a glimpse of her reaction.

“How many sweets do you think I’m buying?” she asked, analyzing the three plastic bags in his left hand and the two others in his right one. She compared it to the three chocolate bars and a couple of chocolate frogs she had in mind, and she was sure it would be just one bag.

Fred shrugged, letting out a soft chuckled. [y/N] might have had a point, but he was not going to admit it.

When they finally arrived at the candy shop, Fred lost sight of [y/N] because she fastly ran inside. Angelina entered the shop too, but George and Fred had so many bags they were afraid to walk in, so they decided to take turns inside.

Fred went in first, excited to see how [y/N] would be in her environment, but he didn’t like what he saw. As soon as he walked in, he saw her in a corner on the left-back, surrounded by some boys. At that distance, Fred would not guess they were Hufflepuffs.

His first instinct was to suppose she was in danger, but then she laughed. Really laughed, in the sweetest way possible, in a way she had never laughed to his jokes.

He knew she was alright, but he wasn’t. He rushed out of the store, surprising George.

“Back so soon?” George asked.

Fred was not in the mood to tell his twin that might have caught feelings for a certain uneasy girl, so he lied.

“Yeah, had no money left. I mean, if I still want a butterbeer,” Fred said, shrugging and taking his brother’s place as the guard of their Zonko’s products.

George said no more, glad to have the chance to buy something sweet for himself. In the middle of the night, after running around with Fred, George loved having a chocolate frog to recharge his energies.

“Next stop,” said Angelina, once the three got out of the candy store, “Three Broomsticks.”

Everybody agreed with ununderstanding whispers. [y/N], as she planned, got out of Honeydukes with only one plastic bag, that she teasingly raised towards Fred, who rolled his eyes, with a troubled expression.

His reaction wasn’t the one [y/N] was anticipating. She wanted him to make a quick remark, mess with her bad eating habits, anything like that. But ignore a clear chance to mess with her — she did not expect that.

She rushed to Angie’s side, happy to get a chance to gossip with her best girl about what the boys she had met in the shop had just told her.

“So, Luke told me that Cormac McLaggen is chasing after your friend Alicia, is that true?” [y/N] asked.

Angelina turned her face to her best friend, confused with such a question. Not that the two never gossip before, but [y/N]’s tone was generally less invasive and judge than this.

“Why? Are you interested?” Angie asked, raising a brow.

[y/N] almost choked.

“Interested? Me?” she puffed. “Please.”

Behind the girls, one of the twins was paying very close attention to the conversation.

“He’s not really your type, is he?”

“I’m not interested in him,” [y/N] debated. “I could be, but I ain’t.”

Angie turned her face to the front again before pulling the door of the Three Broomsticks. The four got in, and George was looking around for an empty table when [y/N] asked: “what are you guys taking?”

“Butterbeer,” the three Gryffindors answered together, causing the girl to smile at their synchronization.

“I’ll get it; you go sit down,” she was actually being nice because, of all of them, she was the one with fewer bags.

Being friends with Madam Rosmerta had its privileges, such as [y/N] was first attended as soon as she reached the counter.

“Hey, Madam Rosmerta! How’s it goin’?” [y/N] asked, working extra hard her charm. The whole counter was staring at her, half angry, half not believing, that she was being served before them.

When the woman finally gave [y/N] her drinks, she headed to the table her friends had picked, noticing with an exhalation that the only chair left was in the middle of Fred and George.

“That was fast,” pointed out George, getting his butterbeer with a smile and tossing you a sickle.

“No need, it’s on me,” [y/N] said, giving George his coin back. “Actually on Rosmerta, but that’s supposably to be a secret.”

Angelina smiled, reaching for her cup and savouring the butterbeer as if it was more tasteful because it had been free.

Fred looked at you without exactly turning but grabbed his drink anyway.

“Thanks,” he whispered, this time Fred’s tone had no sign of banter.

[y/N] was scared they would remain in that dreadful silence, bt Angelina took her chance to tell everyone about her father’s newest accomplishment and how it would affect them — he had a bought a summer house near the beach. She was sure he would allow her to bring them for a weekend.

“Wow, Angie, count me in! Would love beach day!” [y/N] beamed.

Angelina chuckled. “I’ll see if we can go next holiday.”

The whole table cheered in excitement, and George was so happy that he decided to buy them the next round of butterbeer.

When the day in Hogsmeade was over, [y/N] and Fred got back to their usual bickering. George knew that would happen, but Angie was, in fact, hoping for them to finally develop a real friendship, better than the day to day teasing.

Days and months went by. [y/N] ended up getting the better side of Professor Snape, after all — he said her essay was the best one from that class.

Angelina kept trying to connect Fred and [y/N], but it was like she was running from him. Fred seemed neutral about it all, and that was a first.

“So my father got back to me...” Angelina started telling the twins as soon as the Quidditch practice was over.

“And?” George was genuinely enthusiastic.

“And we can go for the Easter holiday!” cheered Angelina. “Unless your mom doesn’t allow you to come...”

“Molly will be pleased to have two less in the house,” admitted George.

“Is [y/N] coming?” Fred asked, raising his voice so he could be heard since he was in the back of the tent.

Angelina exchanged looks with George before answering, scared that he wouldn’t like her answer. “Yes, she is, and I hope you behave.”

“Are you saying that to her?” Fred retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t the one who messes with her,” Angelina tilted her head towards Fred, who just shrugged, puffing as if he was innocent. “Well, gonna invite Alicia and Katie. See you later.”

***

Part of [y/N] wondered why she had said yes. Sure, Angelina Johnson was her best friend of all times, but still, as her father drove you two to the beach house, all she could think of was that it would be a house filled with Gryffindors and she would be the only outsider.

She wasn’t friends with the others. She could become friends with Alicia and Katia, she guessed, and George was somewhat of a colleague, but Fred? Oh, Helga, she signed in for a nightmare.

Since the Hogsmeade trip a couple of months ago, things without explanation kept on happening with [y/n] more often than before. Clothes coloured in bright pink, her cat turning in with two tails instead of just one, and she even received letters with nothing written on — those were the most confusing of the pranks. Again, she was almost sure it was Fred’s fault, but since the pranks were harmless, she never confronted him about them.

Angelina and [y/N] had time to settle themselves down in a room just for the two — Katie and Alicia were getting another one, and Fred and George the one far most at the end of the corridor.

When the six kids were all together, things started getting, well, exciting. There was no way Fred and George were going to let that trip be a bore.

Without parents around, you six stayed on the beach until 4 a.m, watching the sun rising far away. Alicia had brought some firewhisky, but since it was only two bottles, the group decided to save for later.

When [y/N] woke up on the second day, she found herself lying in a mattress-shaped floater, tossed in the middle of the pool.

“WEASLEYS!!” she shouted, waking the whole house up.

With no wand around, [y/N] had no option but to jump in the pool and swim to get out of there. When she managed to cross half of the backyard, Fred and George appeared at the door, and you took a glimpse inside the house, where the girls ate breakfast like nothing was happening to [y/N].

“Morning-swim, huh?” Fred crossed his arms, smirking slightly.

“You’ll pay for that, Fred,” she replied, shaking, the coldness of the water that soaked her combined with the wind of the beach was not doing her good.

“Cute pyjamas, puffie” he continued teasing as she passed him by — his eyes following her back as she went upstairs. The nickname was not something she was quite fond of, especially because she knew he used it just because of her house.

George nudged his twin. “Don’t ask why she doesn’t like you,” George said, leaving his brother at the door and sitting down next to Alicia.

“What? You helped,” pointed down Fred, sitting too.

“Yeah, but she likes me,” George raised a brow, his confident expression did not even shake at the dark look his twin cast.

*** When the night came, [y/N] was sure she had gotten a tan, but after she got in the shower and took a good look in front of the mirror, it was like the tan was gone. She wasn’t hurt, though, so it wasn’t all bad.

Getting downstairs, she noticed that the group hadn’t been able to keep themselves away from the firewhisky any longer, because the only two bottles were displayed in the middle of the table set outside in the backyard.

[y/N]’s white dress was practically sparkling in the dim light of outside, and for a minute, Fred was out of breath, staring at her in a way he had never before.

Well, actually... Never before since they arrived. But Fred was not gonna mention the other thousand times she left him breathless by her looks.

“Where’s Angie?” [y/N] asked before sitting down, noticing that her bestie was the only one left.

“Still showering. Angie says she can feel the sand everywhere yet,” explained Katie.

“And who’s to blame...” [y/N] wondered aloud, trying to provoke the twins who had been fighting everyone in the sand earlier.

Even though Fred teased her the whole afternoon — how she would never win him in the fight, how she was laze, how he was fast — she didn’t give in, preferring to get sunbathed. It didn’t work though, but at least she didn’t have sand in all weird places now.

Angie finally got outside, wearing a beautiful set of shorts and a floral blouse.

“Let’s start the game, come on, I really need it,” she said, and the whole table agreed.

They played an updated version of beer pong, the muggle game, and [y/N] was losing badly to everyone else. That meant that she was the one drinking more, and, for Helga, she was not used to it, but with time, the effects seemed to disappear.

When the game was over, [y/N] had been sitting for minutes at the edge of the pool, wetting only her feet. There was a cup of firewhisky in her hands, but even if not drunk, she knew she shouldn’t keep drinking it.

Someone found a way to play muggle music, and Angelina, Alicia, Katie and George were having the time of their lives in the improvised dance floor.

Fred was walking, as silently as he could, towards [y/N]. He wasn’t very fond of the music playing, and he wasn’t as drunk as the others. Generally, he would have pretended to be, like George was doing, just for the fun of it, but watching [y/N] all alone, he knew he had to something about her.

“Hey,” she smiled softly, noticing the boy sitting down next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but she never answered. She put the cup down though — Fred thought that was a good sign. “I’m sorry about the pool earlier.”

[y/N] stared back at him, this time trying to analyze every aspect of his face. Like how he had moe freckles on his left cheek then the right. How his nose was big but yet perfectly pleasant to look at. How he was leaning towards her even though he wasn’t noticing. But she did. And she leaned in too.

“You know, if you wanted my attention, there were other ways to get it,” she said, surprising herself with the bravery to speak up.

Fred froze.

“You could have apologized to my cat, that would’ve been nice, for starters,” she said, this time surprising him, who laughed it off.

“He didn’t like the extra tail?”

“He actually did,” she joined him in the laughter, remembering her pet playing with a smile in her dorm room because he now had two tails. “Hey, how did you found out that he was my cat and not any other?”

Fred smiled in the dim light.

“He was the fluffiest,” was his answer. [y/N] elbowed him, pretending to be angry, but she knew that, unfortunately, her cat was the furriest cat Hogwarts had ever seen.

After a moment of silence, [y/N] decided she better get back to her room — and she hoped this time she would wake up there too. Getting up without warning, she ended up scaring Fred.

“Where are you going?” he asked, getting up too.

“Back to bed,” she said. “Better get a good night sleep before tomorrow — it is our last day after all.”

Fred wrinkled his nose. He knew she was right, but he also knew that it was his last chance to do something with her, at least, under the spark of the moon.

But she seemed so far away...

“Well, at least let me accompany you,” Fred offered [y/N] his arm, which she took with a smile.

They walked in silence — the rest of the group didn’t even notice they were gone.

[y/N] was about to get to her room when Fred stopped her.

“Wait,” he was confused whether it was the best time or not, but it was his only time so... “wait here, I’m gonna grab something for you.”

He walked to the end of the corridor, rushing to his room. Fred was rummaging through his suitcase, looking for what he wanted to give her.

[y/N] waited patiently — and quite anxiously — for whatever Fred was going to give her.

“Here, ” he said, giving her something he had hidden in his back. [y/N] grabbed from his hands, surprised with the texture of what she got. “I don’t know if Angelina ever mentioned me and my brother want to open a joke shop, and well, this product... You kinda inspired me to do it.”

She studied the hairy, yellow ball in her hands. Thankfully, she held it gently, because when she turned the thing over, she noticed that two little blue eyes were staring at her, startled.

“Oh my Helga, Freddie, is this alive?” she asked, but the answer didn’t really matter because she was already petting the small furry ball.

“It’s she, actually,” he smiled, noticing how happy she was with the gift. “Has no name, though.”

“What is she?” she asked while playing with the pet, noticing she was warming up to [y/N]’s touch.

“George and I named it Pygmy Puff — a miniature Puffskein,” Fred explained, petting the furry ball too. “They are generally pink or purple, so yours was made with a lot of care.”

[y/N] looked up from the yellow Pygmy Puff to Fred and tilted her head, uncontrollably smiling.

“Guess the Pygmy Puff has something to do with me too,” [y/N] teased.

“The whole thing has something to do with you,” Fred let out, blushing immediately, but [y/N] didn’t notice. Fred fake-coughed. “So, what will you name her?”

[y/N] thought about it for a while. “I guess it would only make sense if she was named Gryffie. After all, her creator is a Gryffindor,” [y/N] blushed but avoided looking at Fred, focusing solemnly in the Pygmy Puff.

“It makes sense,” Fred looked from the pet to the girl and bit his inner cheek. “Two houses come together for an invention.”

“That’s the Hogwarts spirit,” [y/N] laughed it off. “Thank you, Fred,” she said before leaning on tiptoes to place a kiss on Fred’s cheek.

The Pygmy Puff enjoyed the time with no attention and walked from [y/N]’s hand to her shoulder, and Fred stared at the fluffy thing while [y/N] kissed him.

And somehow it felt like the pet was trying to say something.

[y/N] stepped away and said good-night, entering her room with a sad look. She didn’t want the night to end. So, after placing Gryffie on the bed, she turned to the door, ready to open it again. But Fred was faster.

They stared for a full second before both rushed towards each other, locking their lips in a soft but potent kiss.

Fred’s hands found her waist and pulled her closer, as closer as Fred could — close as he always wished she was. [y/N], of course, ran her fingers through his hair, something she had been wanting to do for a while now, and she was glad to find such fluffy and soft hair.

They were breathless, but neither wanted to pull away. Fred leaned to her neck, finding her sensitive spot right away, and there was nothing better than hearing her moan so close to his ear.

Behind them, the Pygmy Puff made some sound weird, but they just laughed it off and pulled each other closer again, as if they could be closer than they were.

The Pygmy Puff cried again, and this time non-stop, so [y/N] had to pull away. She was the mother of that pet for only a couple of minutes, but she was very protective over it already.

“What is it?” she murmured towards the fluffy ball at the same time Fred cleared his throat, making [y/N] turn to Fred again, who was looking at the stairs.

“Hi, little love birds,” giggled a very drunk Angelina.

Fred and [y/N] were instantly red, from head to toes, but Angelina and the rest of the group didn’t even care, they just couldn’t giggling and bumping into each other.

“Hey, George, I think I’ll better sleep in your room,” Angelina spoke again. “I believe you’ll have an empty bed.”

“Good idea,” George said, locking arms with Angelina to protect her from falling — she could do it at any moment now. “Good-night, love birds. Or should I say love puffs?”

The four teenagers were laughing out loud, they could wake someone up if only someone were sleeping. George and Angie closed their door as soon as they walked in and winking at [y/N] and Fred, Alicia closed the door of hers and Katie’s room.

“Well, I guess I just lost my bed, puffie” Fred sighed, pretending to be upset, leaning on the door frame.

His eyes sparkled in the dim light of her room. [y/N] smirked, pulling him by his collar, suddenly very aware of her Femme Fatale powers.

“Good thing I have an extra one here,” she said, kissing him again, and again, and again...

#fred weasley #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff #pygmy puff #gryffindor #hufflepuff #fred and george imagine #fred imagine #angelina johnson #george weasley

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lovecinnatwist · 3 years

Note

So I know you wrote a star sapphire Dick au, but I raise you a star sapphire Jason au—he always seems to love everyone around him a lot more than they seem to love him and he just wants to be loved so badly poor baby

Hello Anon! I loveeee this idea! You didnt specify a pairing so I've made it gen. Let me know if you have a pairing in mind. I've left it open for ideas.

All are welcome to slide into my DMs with ideas for star sapphire!Jason.

Lanterns Lead Home

The first moment of consciousness Jason Todd has after being beaten to- not death apparently- is warmth.

The fuzzy feeling of being held by what must be twenty different pairs of hands pulls him back as he wakes. Every broken sob and desperate scream that wants to rattle free of his chest melts away into nothing. The air itself seems to vibrate with something sweet that he can’t put a name too. Every draw of breath fills him with kindness until he can recall the feeling-

love.

Tender touches chase away the bruises and scars until he can’t remember if they were ever there. Soft and caring caresses cup his cheeks and soft lips kiss away his tears. It’s too much and something that he’s been without for so long. For a moment he thinks of Catherine. Who she had been before the drugs. The thought of her breaks something in his chest. He cries and what seems like dozens of voices echo out validations. They sing back welcoming calls to release and let go.

So Jason does but he’s still floating. Still in the warm embrace of what he realizes must be his sisters. They must be because they call him that over and over and over again. A cup of something sugary comes to his lips and he gulps it down greedily. It coats his insides sweeping through him like a scolding saccharine syrup.

Consciousness starts to slip again but insistent slaps to the face jolt him awake.

‘ Not yet. ‘

He knows what the words are but his ears don’t actually hear them. The woman over him has blue skin and gorgeous eyes that see into everything he is. He wants to turn away from it but she holds him steady. There is another cup. She makes him drink and this time Jason feels like he’s suffocating.

He swallows more cups until he feels like he's at his limit. Then the hands are moving him and the rocking motion makes him feel sick. He passes from one hand to another until someone is bringing him to his knees in front of a huge glittering basin.

“ Purge Ja’s Purge and be reborn. “

He feels dizzy and sick. Like he’s still rocking. He clenches onto the cool surface ahead of him. He tries to collect himself but memories start surfacing like bile in his throat. He remembers everything in startling detail. It all flashes before him until he flies forward and purges.

He shakes and shudders through it. The loud cheers after every heave grounds him in support. Many hands hold him to stop him from falling in but no one stops him from emptying everything that he is into the quickling filling basin.

He trembles and they replace that one for another. He can’t believe there’s more to give but everytime he feels peace a vile memory twists up and sends him face first into the bucket. By the time he’s thoroughly wrung out and empty- gentle hands pull him up. He doesn’t fight as he’s taken by many hands to a cool pool that bubbles against his skin. It fizzes and sizzles but doesn’t burn as his body is submerged. His eye lashes flutter.

He gets a vague glimpse of blue skin and pinks and then someone tells him to hold his breath.

He does and goes under. Everything goes black.

Most Pink Lanterns don’t need to go through the rebirth. At least that is what Ja’s has heard from the others. The ring finds them before anything bad can happen. Usually during high emotions of love or joy something Ja’s has felt little of. Or well maybe that isn’t quite right.

He does love, he loves everything. He loves hard, fast, passionate and ferociously but sometimes it feels like there isn’t any left for him. Sure he’s had people care for him, but to choose him first? To love him first…. Wilis loved money, then Catherine loved the drugs, then there's Bruce who loved the Crusade and Alfred… well Alfred could never love him more than Bruce.

It had been that that drove him to Ethiopia in the first place.

He remembers everything in startling clarity now. His birth, his life, his death and of course both rebirths. It’s hard to forget the feeling of splitters digging into your fingertips and the taste of mud as you dig yourself out of your own grave. Who knows how long he had been wandering Gotham in a fuzzy haze? No one found him, no one had been looking for him. At least that's what he thought until he saw a pink glow.

The star sapphire. His star sapphire to be precise.

Lost in the memory he gently touches the gem. It’s a wonderment, meeting the sisters of the lanterns corps and of course… getting permission to be- well who he's always known himself to be, Ja’s as they call him.

It had been freeing to be allowed to be nurturing. To be allowed to be tender and to care. Despite the changes that he’s gone through he feels more like himself than ever before. Like his body suddenly fits and he is grateful for the Zamarons for allowing him the ceremony. They honor his pronouns, as they all honor and celebrate femininity as its essence and not as sex or gender. Ja's has learned nothing if not the suffering of smothering his divine feminine in his last life.

Now he is free.

( He tells himself that's why he hasn’t gone home to Gotham. Not because the existence of the third Robin Bruce has replaced him with. )

He does a good job at ignoring his old life and memories for the most part too. The few indulges he allows are watching digital transmissions of different versions of pride and prejudice with his sisters. Even in space nothing seems to beat human literature, something that Ja's gets to share with the others. He learns how to love deeper. Not only himself but more importantly everyone and everything. Mostly in the emotional sense… while the others- well Ja's isn’t quite ready for the sexual sense yet.

Like many of the Pink Lantern Corps he has yet to meet his soul mate.

The thought flutters low in his stomach. While he could easily show someone their love in his ring, the power didn’t work for star sapphires themselves. They simply had to wait for the pull and circumstance when they would feel the electricity in the air. Other members in the corps said that the feeling is indescribable. Like swallowing lightning or crashing into a planet with nothing to cushion the fall.

Though unfortunately, most of his sisters felt that with every good looking creature they came across.

Ja's takes a drink, lounging about in the Green Lanterns station. They’re taking a short interlude before heading back home. One that the others are taking full advantage of. It’s kind of embarrassing how the revealing costume and reputation of his corps makes others stare. He hears the whispers and feels the eyes on him just as clearly.

It’s stupid because he isn’t even the best looking of them all. In a universe full of aliens most lanterns find humans rather dull. He hears the giggles as the others flirt. That’s all it is sometimes, flirting. While other times- Ja's turns the blind eye to Nadia’s wink as she disappears with a lantern down the corridor. He doesn’t flush long familiar with their games. Still a little part of him feels empty.

If only he could give as freely as they did.

The chair next to him creeks making him sigh. Great, another lantern trying their luck. Couldn’t they tell he just wants to finish his drink in peace? He turns around to give the person a piece of his mind, anger already hot on his tongue.

That is until playful green eyes fall on his. Ja's immediately tries to escape but Ryner grabs his wrist.

“ Well if it isn’t my favourite Star Sapphire. “

Ja's knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to pull the other off without causing a scene. He gives one more futile tug while Kyle just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He groans just as the lantern orders himself his own drink.

“ What do you want Ryner? “

The green lantern only lets go when he’s sure Ja's won’t run. Which is funny considering the fact that he's always running. Whether it be from bad guys, suitors or most times his sisters. It’s something that comes from growing up on the streets. The only place he’s ever felt safe had been… warm memories of the manor and Bruce's smile tug at his heart.

“ What makes you think I want something Ja’s? “

The very clear inflection of his voice Ja's wants to say. The other human has always made himself a pest whenever their corps comes to visit. It’s probably because they are both humans and around the same age. Not that they’ve really spoken about how they both ended up here.

He doesn’t answer Ryner and takes a sip of his drink instead. The playful smile on the green lantern holds no matter how long Ja's ignores him.

“ So I'm going down to Terra thought maybe you’d like to come? Apparently Batman could use some extra hands. “

At the mention of Batman Ja's interest piques. It’s rare to hear about anyone from his former life. Of course he does look through mission logs from time to time. It’s public access in the lantern corps library after all- but otherwise it's uncommon for Bruce to ask for help. The last thingJas's saw was Batman, Nightwing and Robin rescuing Hal from a villain he didn’t recognize.

Ryner is either ignorant to his inner conflict or ignores it.

“ It’ll be fun. You know Bats never lets us in his city. Could be nice? We could get a burger afterwards. Maybe catch a movie. “

It sounds like a date. Ja's would think it’s one too if he hadn’t told Ryner exactly how he feels about those things. He’s a nice guy, not bad looking from what he can see… but still he needs- well he wants the spark.

He meets the boyish smile with a frown but it does nothing to make it go away. He shouldn’t. He’s done pretty well ignoring both earth and the bats. Still the big huge heart in him wants. He wants to see Bruce again and help him.

A tiny part of him wants to go home and pretend like his dad still loves him even though he’s gone and gotten a new kid. One who’s probably in Ja’s room with all new clothes that are fitting of a good son. A loved son.

Ryner bumps shoulders with him pulling him out of his head. His ring had begun to flicker a bit from the emotional distress. The other human places a hand over it to block the light and Jason let’s him. It’s a distraction.

“ C’mon Ja’s Earth isn’t like you remember it. Let me show you a good time? “

That stupid hopeful smile and the shy way Ryner really looks at him hurts. He’s weak to things like this. People actually caring about him. He’s practically starving for it. He swallows down his protest. After all it would probably be nice to see his family again. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him. He could go and help and then maybe take up Ryner on his offer for a burger.

Something light. Something Casual.

“ Fine.. That sounds ok- I’ll go. “

Ja's wishes he could ignore the stupid happiness radiating off of the other lantern.

“ Swear to God Ja’s this is going to be so much fun- You aren’t gonna regret it. There’s this one place that serves burgers like the size of your head and the art on the wall is just so hilarious- “

Ja's rolls his eyes as he finishes the last of his drink.

“ Shut up Ryner and don’t make me regret this. “

The green lantern mims zipping his mouth shut and Ja's laughs.

Turns out he’s actually right as well.

Jas's hasn’t been to Earth in years and it really shows. The place looks different. Even Gotham in all its dirt and grime feels foriegn to him. He joins the other lanterns in their job of catching and sending the aliens back to a prison at the corps. It’s fun with the little quips the Green Lanterns seem to toss back and forth between one another. Jason isn’t used to it but it’s a vibrant kind of energy that leaves a smile on his face even while he’s fighting.

With the group supers the battle is over quickly. Quick enough and Ja's finds himself disappointed. He doesn’t know why but ever since they’ve been back in Gotham he has been positively vibrating. It’s new and exciting and maybe it’s because he caught a few glimpses of familiar capes and blue.

When they all land on the roof for briefing Ja's feels like he’s about to burst from the excitement.

This time when Ryner bumps into his shoulder it isn’t quite as annoying and he bumps back. It’s playful and light which seems to be the mood with them all. That is until Batman comes down with his dark dramatics.Jas's goes stone still at the sight of him. A blue and Black shadow follows behind before the bright colors of Robin pop up the edge of the building.

It’s- strange to him. Like being on the wrong side of a mirror. He takes in what he can see of Bruce’s face from under the mask. The worn lines seem just too deep to be on the man he thought of as his father. Even Dick’s posture feels different and the new Robin… Well Ja's wishes he could say he feels anger but if anything he just feels- strange. There’s also something else. It’s slow and thrumming in his mind like he’s running on outdated software. His entire body itches all over and all he wants is to get closer. He needs to be closer. Close enough to touch, feel and just make sure they're real. That they are who he remembers and not just a figment of his imagination-

Ryner nudges him and Ja's hisses under his breath.

“ We gotta go. Didn’t you hear the man? “

Ja's had not heard him. The soothing quality of Bruce’s voice always made it hard to focus. The dark timber of it has always been more relaxing than menacing in his opinion. Just- being so close to them but not with them feels so strange. He knows he has to go over there. It’s been years and he probably doesn’t even fit in space left. There's anxiety at the thought, to go home he'd be willing to cut away any parts of him that he needed to. He swallows. It’s a sad and small mindset, something that he’s supposed to be better than by now.

“ Heard him say what? “

Someone clears their throat and now there’s all eyes on them. Apparently they weren’t being as quiet as they thought.

“ That your help has been appreciated but you are not welcome in my city. “

Hearing it and knowing it are two different things. While Ja's always knew how Bruce felt about metas and supers, actually being told to leave is equal parts hilarious and frustrating. The itch that has been nagging him turns into an entire rash. He takes two steps forward but Ryners hand stops him from closing the distance. He shrugs off the touch, it doesn’t feel right.

“ Yea? And who decides who comes into Gotham. Last I checked I have a birth certificate sayin i’m Gothamite and that means I can come to this cesspool whenever I want. “

He spits the words in the accent to prove a point. He’s giving away too much- too much information. He knows how Bruce obsesses over identities. It's not like the corps where everyone knew everything. A few people look around and Jas's suddenly feels even smaller. Ryner pulls him back and he can’t get himself to move. He just stares at Bruce hoping- wishing that the man will know it’s him. That he’ll close the distance and hug him and hold him. That he’ll smell like home like he always did when Jason could fit on his lap.

Because as many sisters as he has now he only has one living father, brother and grandfather. He only has them and Jason wants so badly to be told that he could have them again. Space has never felt like much of a home. As much as the others made efforts they’re versions of love and his are different. He clung to the idea of meeting a soul mate and being full but now that he’s actually in front of Bruce he just wants to be here. With his dad.

The shush on the roof is eerie. Ryner pulls harder and this time Ja's stumbles back.

“ Ja’s lets go. “

The hardness of his voice spurs him into action. Bruce doesn’t move. He doesn’t move an inch and it hurts so badly he thinks he might die. When the lanterns take off he hesitates for just a moment. His eyes find Dick’s hoping for…. He doesn’t know what. When their eyes meet his heart pounds and his blood rushes in his ears. The blankness he gets back makes him flinch.

His eyes flicker to the Robins and the innocent wide eye stare is just- too much. He feels like a spectacle. His eyes flutter around and soon he realizes just how out of place he is. Not like he ever fit to begin with.

Shame rolls over him. He staggered back a few steps. No one moves and his throat goes dry. He turns and flies after Ryner in mortification.

#star sapphire jason au #ficlets #lanterns lead home #gen fic

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

Bad For You Chapter 2

Fuckboy Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (tiny bits of fluff if you look hard enough) and a lot of swearing

Word Count: 8.8K

“Will you stop that?”

The loud clicking of Mark’s pen was getting on your nerves. You’ve been tutoring him for over a week now and you’d be lying if you said your study sessions were a breath of fresh air.

He followed your instructions from the day you agreed to tutoring him and surprisingly showed up to the library before you did. In the first two days of helping him complete assignments, he gave you such a hard time.

It first started off with snarky remarks about how you weren’t “living your best life” and that one day, you would look back on your college years; regretting spending most of your time with your face buried in books and wishing you got more involved in exciting events like the ones he normally would attend.

You learned how to develop a large amount of patience when working alongside the older boy; all his sarcastic comments and failed attempts to flirt with you—which you assumed was his way to get under your skin—seemingly constantly got on your nerves.

However, on the third day, his whole demeanor and the way he was treating you; as if you weren’t doing him the biggest favor in making sure that he passed all of his classes with flying colors, took a 360 degree turn. It’s as if his cockiness and narcissism disappeared in the snap of a finger; like he had an on and off switch because he knew that you would drop him as soon as you felt like he wasn’t taking your assistance seriously. You found it extremely shocking just how much of a fast learner he was.

Matter of a fact, it was as if he already knew most of the material—so you just assumed he lacked motivation. Mark was extremely intelligent and you had a hard time understanding why his grades lacked to show just how smart he really was. He claimed that he was afraid of failing, yet that decision was all up to him.

If only he put in as much effort in to his education as he did with his friends and the many parties they would throw, then maybe he wouldn’t be moments away from flunking his junior year of college. You tried your best to stay away from him; you made it very clear to Mark on the first day that you were only there to help him with his homework.

Before your first session started, you made sure to inform him that you had a list of rules that he needed to follow if he wanted to continue receiving your support with his studies. Nobody was to know about your meetups; the last thing you wanted was to be the talk of your university.

Being seen with Mark—whether or not people knew the reason why the two of you were spending time together—would definitely get you in to some kind of trouble and unlike most of your female classmates who would throw themselves at the big headed boy, you wanted no part in anything that included him.

He was also to focus solely on school. You didn’t want him talking about his personal life—nor did you want him bringing up his friends, his extracurricular activities or his past conquests in to any conversation. You were his tutor and you made it a fact to make sure he understood that’s all you were ever going to be to him.

The two of you could never be friends, nor did you see him wanting to be involved with you in any way—therefore, it worked out perfectly. So far, he did as you instructed him and thankfully, he wasn’t as much of a pain in the ass as you were expecting him to be. Maybe he was absolutely positive that if you didn’t agree to tutoring him, he stood no chance in graduating.

There were days where your mind was boggled; he showed tremendous growth in the way that he completed his assignments. Sure, the answers he would write down weren’t always correct, but at least he was trying.

You told yourself that you’d give him a week to decide whether or not he was actually serious about his education in order to continue with supporting him and surprisingly only one week in and he was working on each and every single paper or homework assigned to him. He even went back and completed missing assignments which caused you to sit back in disbelief. Who was this newly motivated person and what did he do with the snarky asshole Mark Tuan you’ve grown to loathe for quite some time now?

“Stop what?”

“Clicking your pen. You always do that. You’re distracting me. I’m trying to do my own work here.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was now wearing a smirk on his stupidly handsome face. It was in the tone of his voice; cheeky and coy—there were only a few occasions where he would try and flirt with you or what you assumed was flirting, you didn’t think Mark would consider you to be someone he’d find all that attractive.

Although you barely knew anything about him, everyone and their mothers were aware that Mark Tuan had a specific type. Or well, at least all the girls he fooled around with looked similar in some way. He preferred girls on the shorter side with long, silky locks, a tiny waist and petite figure.

They were also extremely beautiful; you believed you were the complete opposite of what he considered desirable. Yet, he would throw in sexual innuendos like how he’d much rather do you than his homework. Then again, it was probably his way of trying to get a rise out of you and you were very vocal about how he was walking on thin ice the longer he continued to joke around with you.

None of that mattered though; you’ve made yourself immune to his many antics and if ever his words did have an effect on you, you’d remind yourself that it was only the cause of any kind of male attention since you weren’t used to talking to guys for longer than needed to.

“Oh, so you pay attention to my mannerisms? That’s sexy—“

You scoffed at his assumption. This was definitely going to be a long day. It’s only been fifteen minutes and you were so close to slamming your head against your textbook in aggravation.

“Shut up Tuan. It’s a pet peeve of mine and highly annoying, of course I caught on to it. How far are you in to your abstract?”

He sent you a smirk and you were quick to avoid his gaze; taking his computer as he handed it over to you. You began to skim through the paragraphs—after observing him in the last week, you weren’t all that shocked with the fact that he actually did a good job. This abstract was for his biology class; he had to come up with a project that had to do with saving the earth and Mark decided to do his on biodegradable plastic.

“I’m not going to lie, you did a pretty good job. But this is just the abstract, I expect a lot more effort when you start working on your actual research.”

He hummed in agreement before taking back his laptop and typed away at the keys. The two of you sat in silence, but for the first time it was peaceful. It wasn’t awkward at all and you were grateful for the lack of animosity and tension in the atmosphere. Not that there ever really was though; Mark was a great conversationalist—but you never wanted to listen to what he had to say.

“Hey y/n, I um—I’m throwing a party on Friday night and I was—I was wondering—um—well—would you maybe want to—you should come. It’ll be fun.”

This question stopped you in your tracks; not only was it out of the blue and completely unlike Mark to ask you something he already knew the answer to, but he sounded very nervous? Or was it hesitance? His now shy demeanor wasn’t something you were used to seeing.

In all your years of knowing him, you could honestly admit that this was the first time you’ve ever heard Mark stutter while inviting you to a party he was throwing. Although the two of you already discussed the fact that partying wasn’t your thing and that you would never even come within a few miles of whatever location it was that the celebration would be held at, you weren’t all too surprised at his sudden invitation.

Mark portrayed himself to be the kind of person who didn’t take no for an answer. Even if you said no to the college night life, it was evident that he was going to try and get you to change your mind for whatever reason; probably to say that he was the first person who actually succeeded in getting you to attend a college party. Anyone and everyone who knew of you personally understood that the type of people Mark involved himself with were not your crowd at all.

“That’s a joke right? You can’t be serious. I know you’re well aware that I don’t go to shit like that—“

“Why not y/n? I’m telling you, it’s going to be one hell of a time. You said so yourself, you’ve never attended any party nor have you ever gone out to a bar or a club, so you’d have no idea what it’s like. Friday is Jackson’s 23rd birthday and birthday celebrations are much more exciting than our normal events. There will be great music, good food, plenty of people—“

“Sex, weed, drugs, shitty alcohol, assholes who don’t know their limits and just assume a woman wants to sleep with them just because they’re wearing something revealing? Yeah, no thank you. Life isn’t just about fucking and getting high off of illegal substances, you know that right?”

The scowl on his face—the way his brows were furrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek made it evident that he did not like one word coming out from your mouth. Honestly, neither did you. You weren’t like this at all. Even if you didn’t like someone or didn’t agree with the way they went about with their life, you never gave your opinion because who were you to tell them what to do?

Who were you to judge their decisions and the choices they made? However, you wanted a way to get Mark in to opening his eyes to the toxic life he was currently living. You wanted him to know why he wasn’t doing too well in school; that his habits were destructive and that he needed to make decisions that would benefit his future—not his college self who only cared about temporary happiness and the high that came with being so high up on the social ladder.

“God y/n, who fucking hurt you? Why are you so harsh? Is that all you believe I care about? Sex? Money? Partying? It’s none of your business, but I care about so much more than what you assume I do. Not that it concerns you, but so what if I like to drink? So what if I like to smoke pot and have fun with my friends? I’m young, I have every right to have fun—“

“I didn’t say you couldn’t—“

“But you’re trying to make me feel bad for doing so. You think you’re such a great person just because you’re smart and you do well in school. News flash y/n, nobody likes a teacher’s pet. You guys think you’re better than everyone else just because you don’t get involved in the things that people like me do, but it doesn’t make you all the more greater than me. Maybe you’re not getting fucked, that’s why you have such a stick in your ass—“

Was this really happening right now? Sure, you were wrong for trying to paint him out to be the bad guy; especially because you had no idea what really went on in his life. Everything you were confronting him about was solely based on hearsay.

Why did it bother you so much? The decisions he made for himself—living the kind of life he was currently living, why was it any of your business? He’s right—how he went about his day didn’t concern you. What he did in his free time wasn’t had nothing to do with you. Was it because of what your professor said the other day about how he was capable of greatness, but he was choosing to go down a path of destruction?

Did you see something in him? Did you also believe that he could be more successful in his education if only he were to make it his number one priority? Of course you did? He proved to you multiple times this week that he wanted to do so much better and that he wasn’t incompetent or ignorant.

He was trying—that’s all that mattered. What was so hard with acknowledging his efforts? If he was willing to take the time out of his schedule—even if you were well aware that studying and working on assignments were more important that whatever he normally did—than shouldn’t you be a little more amiable? You said so yourself, you didn’t hate him.

So why were you treating him so harshly? It wasn’t fair to him—but you didn’t have a plausible answer and the last thing you’d ever do was show any ounce of concern for the older boy.

“That’s not true. You know nothing about me Mark—“

“You don’t know jack shit about me either y/n yet here you are—claiming I’m some fucking nymphomaniac who needs to constantly shoot up drugs to be happy. Fuck, my effort—my constant need of approval from you—staying up till three in the morning working on those stupid fucking essays—they mean nothing to you huh? I’m always going to be a loser in your eyes—“

You don’t know what it was, but now you really felt bad for the way you attacked him out of nowhere. All he did was ask you to go to his party; you could have just said no. But now the truth was coming out and you felt like such a terrible person.

“That’s not true Mark—“

“Bullshit y/n. I could become valedictorian and I’d still be a delinquent—a no good prick in your eyes.”

Something in your body wanted to reach out to him, for reasons you didn’t think you’d ever be able to understand. Maybe it’s because you wrongfully accused him of being the person you assumed he was—only to find out he was far from what people painted him out to be. But you silenced the voice as soon as it appeared; if he were to find out that you were now filled with remorse, he would hold it against you. You’ve never seen Mark so upset before and you were so irritated with yourself for being the reason behind his anger. He was as much human as he was the cocky fuckboy he had a reputation of being.

“Mark I—“

“You know what? I think it would be best for us to end it here today. I just remembered I have somewhere to be and no—before you assume, I’m not going to go get high and fuck the first person I lay my eyes on.”

He didn’t even give you a second to respond to his spiteful words; he yanked at his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before storming away from the table. God, what was wrong with you? What did you just do? Not once in your life would you ever have thought that you’d be put in a situation where you’d feel apologetic for something you caused.

This was all your fault. You couldn’t blame Mark for this one—as much as you wanted to say he instigated this entire argument by asking you a question he should have already known the answer to, maybe he felt like the two of you were civil enough where he could ask you something like that. You couldn’t blame him if he no longer wanted to continue your tutoring sessions.

Hell, if you were in his shoes and he were to lash out on you and say all these degrading things about you, you probably would have slapped him in the face. Why didn’t you wait a few seconds to actually think before you said all of those negative things to him? He may have acted as though nothing bothered him; you were sure he’s heard the crude names some people would call him and he had to hear at least one rumor that was spreading around your campus.

You couldn’t even count how many rumors you’ve heard about Mark on both of your hands. If only you were able to turn back time, you wouldn’t have confessed all that you did—even if you meant it in the moment. The look of fury on his face; yet the sorrow in his eyes made you feel like a monster. You ended up leaving the library not too long after he did, you couldn’t handle staying there knowing that you probably ruined the rest of his entire week.

Right as you made it to your apartment, Mark stayed on your mind for the rest of the night. The thought of him haunted you as if your conscience wanted you to be reminded of your chastising. You couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep; you began to toss and turn trying your best to do whatever it was to grow tired—but nothing.

All you could think about were ways to apologize. What could you say or do that would show him just how regretful you were and how you wished you could take back everything you said? You tried to tell yourself to get over it. For all you knew, he probably did.

Your opinion shouldn’t have mattered to him; he had to be over it or at least you were hoping he moved passed the entire situation. You weren’t surprised when he didn’t show up in the library at your normal meeting time the next day. He didn’t end up coming on Thursday either.

A huge part of you wanted to reach out to him; to text him or even call him, asking him if he wanted to end your sessions completely but you were too much of a coward. You also wanted to give him his space. It was still too early for you to try and apologize to him. He’d probably laugh in your face or worse, make a fool out of you in front of his friends. When Friday came around, you came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to meet up with you for the rest of this week.

The fight was such a distraction; you couldn’t concentrate at all in any of your classes or at work. One of these days, you just had to suck it up and find him—confess your mistake even if he refused to listen. He needed to know that you were wholeheartedly rueful.

“Hey Mark, we ran out of vodka dude! Yugyeom said he’ll drive if you go in to the store.”

An exasperated sigh fell from his lips. In the beginning of the week and even when Mark was first planning this party a couple of weeks ago, he was extremely excited.

Jackson was his best friend; sure, he was close with every single member of their friend group, but he’s known Jackson the longest and they just had a closer bond than the others did. However, he wanted nothing more than to pass on the party planning and all the responsibilities that came with it to somebody else.

Your words—he didn’t understand why he was letting it bother him so much. If it were anyone else, he would have brushed their words off like nothing. He didn’t care what anyone had to think about him. Mark wasn’t stupid; he saw the way people would look at him in the hall. Girls would either gawk at him or glare at him.

Guys would either roll their eyes at him or want to talk with him. But for some reason, he found himself wanting to impress you. Little did you know, Mark has noticed you from the time you guys were in middle school. He thought you were cute and he inspired to be even half of the amazing student you were. Seeing as though he never cared too much about education the way he did with sports, he believed that you wouldn’t find him all that interesting nor was there anything the two of you had in common.

Since you both came from two different worlds—you never really interacted with each other in high school and when you moved on to college, your university was huge; there was no way the two of you would bump in to each other. However, when he saw you on the first day of class, Mark knew this was his chance to simply talk with you.

He had been well aware that you must have known all about him and he could only hope that you didn’t see him in a negative light. He didn’t know how to approach you and he’s energetic talked to a girl in any other way that flirtatiously. That’s why he pestered you so much; it was the only way he thought he could get your attention.

Hearing how you truly felt about him though really made his head spin. The way you treated him in class whenever he’d ask for a pencil or some paper—those encounters alone made it evident that you had ill feelings for him, but he didn’t think they were all that bad. After you practically sprinted away from the lecture hall after your professor, Mark felt as though he already knew your answer. You hated him; you had to.

There was no other explanation to the way you would look at him like he was the scum under your feet and between your toes. He wanted to prove you wrong; he wanted to change the way you saw him, what you thought about him. The older boy had a hard time processing the idea of worrying about how you saw him. He couldn’t give less of a shit if people didn’t like him or assumed that he was a womanizer who spent most of his college career drinking beers and smoking blunts.

However, hearing your venom filled words really stuck a nerve with him and for some reason, he wanted to do whatever he could in his power to change your outlook on him. Mark knew exactly why he was so bothered with the fact that you thought so negatively of him. He’s always believed that you were one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever laid his eyes on.

From the sixth grade all the way to junior year in high school; Mark admired you from afar. Sometimes, he’d debate on joining one of the clubs you were in just to be near you in the hopes of developing a friendship with you, but his friends would’ve had a field day.

If anyone were to see him in the library with a bunch of nerds for book club just to get your attention, he would never hear the end of it. He might have known that you didn’t necessarily care for him, but you did tell him you didn’t hate him.

Your confession the other day said otherwise; each and every single word that fell from your mouth was like a punch in the gut. In fact; Mark’s been in enough altercations to know that he was more hurt mentally by what you had to say than he ever was while having fists thrown at him. He wanted to be mad at you, but he just couldn’t.

Sure, the way you went about confessing what you thought about him was extremely rude, but most of what you said was true. He couldn’t blame you for thinking so brashly towards him, but he thought with the amount of effort he was putting in not only in to his studies, but in to your meet ups that you would see him as more than just a fuckboy.

You obviously had better things to do, but he was still so grateful that you agreed to tutoring him. With the way you would barely speak a word while you were together, Mark could tell that you weren’t all that fond of his presence, but he didn’t want to give up in trying to at least be someone you’d want to be friends with.

Anger couldn’t even describe half of what Mark was thinking once he left you there in the library. He was more disappointed in himself than he was in you, particularly because he made that reputation for himself. There were so many instances where he could have changed his playboy ways, but he never did and now he was paying for it.

This had to be his karma for all the times he broke the hearts of poor, innocent girls who developed feelings for him. The only girl he ever cared about and wanted to become closer with on a more personal level was the same girl who hated his entire existence.

“Hey man, is everything okay? You’ve been out of it the last two days. Did something happen?”

Mark shrugged indifferently; he trusted his younger friend with his entire life. Yugyeom was like a younger brother to him. Mark and his younger brother Joey never really got along. Hell, they hardly ever talked to each other unless their parents forced them to and it was because Mark was adamantly jealous of Joey’s drive and workmanship while Joey considered Mark to be a bum; he had no future at the rate he was going.

Since he was the oldest out of the seven of them, they were all like younger brothers to him but since Yugyeom was the youngest, Mark was the most protective over him. Yugyeom had to be the least air-headed and narcissistic. Although, he did enjoy the fact that girls would grovel at his feet and literally throw themselves at him, he didn’t lead any of them on the way his older friends did. He was also very polite to everyone he did encounter and he could never show any ounce of malice.

“It’s nothing—don’t worry about me, let’s just get this over with.”

It wasn’t unusual for their car rides to be filled with silence. Sometimes it was just nice to listen to the radio and not have to be bothered by unnecessary conversation. Talking wasn’t something Mark was a fan of and neither was Yugyeom; in fact, that was one of the reasons why he enjoyed driving around with the younger boy so much.

Nothing was expected out of Mark like it was if he were to go out with Jinyoung orBamBam. Thankfully, the grocery store was less than five minutes away from Jackson’s house and before he knew it, they were pulling up right in front of it.

“Hey Mark, do you think you could get me some condoms while you’re in there? I ran out yesterday.”

If it were anyone else, he would have told them to fuck off and to go in and get them themselves. But since it was Yugyeom and he could never say no to him, he just took his money without hesitation. He didn’t have a problem with having to buy condoms. It was better to be safe than to be sorry. Mark didn’t think it was wrong to want to be protected during sex.

Everyone had sex these days, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for a man his age to purchase condoms. He didn’t want to seem self indulged, but one look at Mark and you knew he got his dick sucked on a weekly basis. Since he was only buying a couple of things, mainly from the alcohol aisle, he didn’t waste time looking around for things he wouldn’t need.

The alcohol aisle was in the front of the store; he didn’t frequent this supermarket all that often but he’s been here enough times to know where most of his necessities were located. Right after picking up three different bottles of vodka, he briskly made his way over to the condoms; picking up the Trojan ecstasy that Yugyeom repeatedly told him to purchase and then he went on the search for a bottle opener.

He assumed it was somewhere near the alcohol, so he began to make his way back to the aisle—until he got a text from Yugyeom saying Jinyoung asked for some candles and a lighter. Those two items he had no idea where to find them, so he made his way over to an associate. If he wasn’t in a rush, he would’ve looked for the items himself—he hated having to talk to people if he didn’t have to. Mark was very good at finding whatever it was that he needed without assistance, but he didn’t want to waste any time.

The sooner they returned back to the party, the faster he could go back to his place. Once he saw someone stocking up canned foods in one of the aisles near the freezer, he approached her impatiently; not wanting to get a text from Yugyeom telling him to hurry up.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where I could find candles—y/n?”

Mark didn’t think his mood could get any worse; he had every intention on getting drunk off his ass tonight but it wasn’t going to be until he returned back to his loft. If he were to drink at the party, he was 100% sure from past experiences that he would either end up having to help Jackson with the cleaning or he would be in bed with someone by the end of the night and he had no intentions on doing anything but going straight to sleep once it was all over—or until Jackson was drunk enough not to notice his disappearance.

Seeing you for the first time that night—and in a grocery store of all places brought him through so many different emotions. He didn’t think he was ready to face you just yet, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss you. Wait—what? There was no way he missed you—no. He couldn’t have.

You made him feel so pathetic—so miserable—so small and the two of you weren’t even friends. He knew deep in his gut that you despised him; you showed no interest in any attempt of his trying to get to know you. For the first time in his entire life, you made him feel insecure. Like—he wasn’t worthy of having you as a friend or even just as a tutor.

But you never left his mind once since that God awful day. At first, he believed it was because your words had such a huge effect on him. He believed every single thing you had to say. Most of it was true, sure—but the way you indirectly hinted towards him being a nobody if he kept his act up—that wrecked him.

Mark meant what he said when he admitted to working harder in school in order to impress you. He didn’t want you to think you were wasting your time tutoring him only for him to learn nothing and not get around to completing assignments. He wanted you to know that your sacrifice meant a lot to him and that he was planning on cleaning his act up so you wouldn’t regret your decision; even if you did get something out of it.

His chest soon grew heavy and he felt like his throat was swollen; as if no words would come out if he actually tried to speak. The night he went home, he contemplated ending the entire thing only because he assumed you no longer wanted anything to do with him and because he didn’t think he could face you. Not after everything that escalated. However, he knew that nobody would be able to help him with his work the way that you did. He wouldn’t be able to learn from anyone else anyway—but he stayed away for the last two days because he wanted to calm down.

There was no way in hell he could pretend nothing happened and he was afraid of saying something that he didn’t mean just to spite you. Mark wasn’t sure just how long he was going to go without meeting with you, but he wasn’t going to take too long or he was sure you would think he no longer needed the tutoring which was far from the truth.

Something about seeing you—not only for the first time after going two days without meeting up with you but at your workplace made his stomach sore. He didn’t know why it bothered him seeing you in your uniform; watching you stack cans up on the shelves. Something about it made him feel somewhat—sad.

Maybe it’s because he knows just how much of a hardworking student you were and an even more successful person in general and he would never had expected you to work somewhere so—well—lackluster and dull. People like you—headstrong and determined should be working as supervisors in prestigious companies or at least a receptionist at a hospital or something. Anything better than an old supermarket.

“Hi.”

“You—you work here?”

He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment; not knowing how to act in front of you and he was fearful of saying something stupid.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He mentally slapped himself—what did it matter where you worked? It wasn’t any of his business. Your business was none of his to worry about just as much as his was none of your concern. But you deserved so much better—in more ways than one.

“What do you mean why? It’s a job? I need money?”

“Well I mean yeah—but you could do so much better than this shit show.”

You had to stifle back a laugh and seeing your eyes crinkle at his comment did wonders to his heart. This was the first time he’s ever seen your emotions; other than having a constant glare or frown on your face and he really enjoyed it. Happiness suited you. He liked seeing you smile and now, he grew to desire being the reason behind it.

“The pay is pretty good, and it’s only five minutes away from where I live so it’s convenient.”

“Oh—well, I mean when you put it that way—I just—I—never mind.”

The two of you averted your gazes to the ground; he couldn’t look at you because he was now worried that you caught on to the fact that he cared about you. At this point, Mark wasn’t concerned whether or not you knew that he wanted to protect you or that he was afraid for your safety. He’d just make up a lie about not having someone to tutor him if something bad were to happen to you if you happened to ask him why your job bothered him.

“What was it that you were looking for?”

“Ah—um, candles and a lighter. We got Jackson this big cake and he just let Jinyoung know that his parents don’t have any candles at their house—sorry—too much information.”

You shook your head in disagreement before leading him to the aisle in which he assumed he could find things for parties. He knew in that moment that you no longer were irritated with him; you could have just told him where the items were located but you actually brought him there. That had to be a good thing right?

“Here we go. There’s pocket ones and the longer one. We have matches if you don’t want to worry about it dying out. And the candles are right next to the paper plates.” He thanked you politely and began to make his way toward the candles. However, your soft voice calling out to him stopped Mark in his tracks.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have said anything that I did. It’s not my place to make such stupid assumptions about you and I should’ve told you this sooner—“

“Hey, don’t worry about it okay? You weren’t wrong. Well, for the most part everything you mentioned was true. Sure, I could’ve gone without hearing all of that but it’s done. I’m over it. And if you’re okay with it, I’d still like to receive tutoring from you.” The look of surprise on your face tugged on his heartstrings; how could someone be so cute yet make him so hard? You were otherworldly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’m the one that fucked everything up. I should be on my knees, begging you for forgiveness—“

“If you want to make it up to me, you’ll be on your knees begging for something else—ow! Who knew you had such an arm on you y/n.” He playfully rubbed the part of his shoulder that you punched him at but it didn’t stop him from picking up on your now quiet demeanor.

“It seems as though you already have someone else who will do that for you, so—“

He looked down at the box of condoms and internally screamed. Fucking Kim Yugyeom—always asking for the wrong things at the wrong time. Although Mark knew exactly why he was frustrated being caught by you holding a box of condoms, you already presumed that he lived a very sexually active lifestyle. It was one thing to think that he was hooking up with more than half of the student body, but it was a completely other thing seeing proof for yourself.

“These? Oh, um. These actually aren’t for me. Yugyeom is waiting for me in the car and he asked me to buy him some—“

You gave him a small smile, one he wouldn’t even have noticed if he wasn’t heavily observing your facial reactions. He wanted nothing more than to know what you were thinking. If he was being honest with himself, you probably couldn’t give less of a shit if he was in fact buying them for his use.

What did it matter to you? The longer the two of you stood there in the awkward, the more he began to come up with excuses as to why he didn’t want you thinking he was going to hook up with someone tonight. Nobody knew this and if any of his friends were to find out—he was screwed.

Mark hasn’t slept with anyone since the two of you began your study sessions for reasons still unbeknownst to him but only then; looking at you and your big—doe like eyes, wanting to take you away from that wretched place you called your working environment, trying his best to hide the smile that was peering up at him just standing there in your presence, wanting to ditch the party in order to listen to you talk about the civil war and the different types of matter there was—it was in that moment that he finally accept his feelings for what they were.

He was falling in love with you.

Love.

The older boy has never experienced that emotion before. Ever. He’s never met anyone who made him crave attention, comfort, infatuation, friendship—love. Nobody made him feel the way you currently were. Nobody had ever taken up so much space in his mind and consumed his thoughts entirely the way you had in less than the four months he’s gotten to interact with you for.

You made him mad—furious even with the idea that you judged him without even getting to know him, the real him. Yet you also made him smile like an idiot at how much effort you’d put in to your lesson plans and how you would nonchalantly ask him if he ate or how school went.

No one, not even his friends would check up on how he was doing and for some reason, no matter how much you’d try to come off as though you thought nothing of him, Mark was sure there was some part of you that cared about him and that was enough to solidify what he harbored for you.

The feelings he developed for you back in middle and high school; they came back full force in less than a month and splashed on him like freezing cold water—searing through his skin and sending electricity through his bones. Obviously, it wasn’t something he was used to. Hell, it scared him; knowing he was falling for someone he didn’t know would reciprocate his same feelings—he’s never had to deal with that kind of uncertainty before.

“You don’t have to explain it to me Mark, we’re not friends. It’s none of my concern, remember?”

“No, but I want it to be. I want to be friends with you y/n. You know, you’re really smart, but you’re not that bright—“

“Do you want me to hit you again?”

Mark couldn’t help but let out another giggle. God, what were you doing to him? He’s never let anyone have so much control and power over him before and he was starting to really enjoy the effect you were having on him. He could only hope that one day, you would change your outlook on him completely. He was well aware that the possibility of you ever liking him back was slim, but it wasn’t impossible. “No, but like I said, I’d be honored if you allowed me to be

your friend.” You scrunched your face as though you were disgusted by his choice of words, but he knew you were just messing around with him.

“You sound so proper putting it like that. But sure, that sounds like a good idea. We have three more months to work together, so I guess it would be best for us not to desire ripping the other’s head off.”

“I never wanted to rip your head off. I actually think your head is pretty great—oh, um, hold on for just a second.”

The vibrating in his pocket brought him straight back to reality. He would continue talking to you for hours if he had the choice, but Yugyeom was probably wondering what could be taking Mark so long.

“I couldn’t find the candles and the lighter—the party isn’t going to end this early dumb ass would you wait—what? Fine, I’ll be right out.” He released a frustrated sigh before giving you a grim look.

“I better get going. What um—what time are you done? I don’t want you to go home too late, it’s dangerous out there. I could come back and pick you up—“

“It’s fine Mark. I’m done in half an hour and I drove here, but thank you for the offer. Yeah, me too. I’m sure my manager is wondering why I have yet to go to the stockroom. We still have a lot of shipment from earlier. Enjoy the party—oh, and by the way, I need you to know that you’re a remarkable person Mark. I know you’re trying your best and I’m sorry I didn’t praise you earlier on your growth, but I’m really proud of you. Have a nice evening.”

Mark was sure that if he were to look in a mirror, his cheeks would be red—they sure felt like it. You made him feel like a school boy, blushing from being around his crush. He was now happier than he’s ever been in a really long time and it was just by your compliment alone. He couldn’t wait to see how your friendship was going to develop; he couldn’t wait to be able to be more free around you and not have to worry about you getting mad at his flirty little remarks. Once he finished paying and returned back to the car, he wasted no time punching Yugyeom in the shoulder.

“Ow, what the fuck was that for?”

“Next time, buy your own shit. People gave me weird looks for buying your fucking rubbers for you.” The younger boy rolled his eyes as he began to drive away.

“Who gives a shit what people think? I’m a twenty-two year old man in college, it’s only natural for me to have sex right now. And hey, at least I’m being safe right?”

Mark scoffed. Out of their entire group of friends, Mark and Yugyeom were the ones who had the most action; or at least that’s what he thought from what they would always tell each other. Youngjae and BamBam weren’t as needy for intercourse and Jinyoung had been booking up with the same girl for the last two months—but Mark was the only one who knew that. Safe was the last thing Yugyeom could ever be; honestly, Mark wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to find out that Yugyeom had a baby somewhere out there but it wasn’t his place to say anything.

“There’s more behind your anger than what you’re putting out there—so spill.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You buy condoms once a week, don’t give me that shit. You saw someone there that you knew didn’t you?”

Mark didn’t know what to say. Sure, he trusted that Yugyeom wouldn’t judge him if he were to find out that he had a crush on you—well, more than just a little crush but no one needed to know exactly how he felt about you. But Yugyeom was as much a guy as he was Mark’s friend. He would mess around with him and probably wouldn’t understand the older boy’s feelings.

“Just somebody from my English class. She works there and I had to ask her for assistance with the candles—“

“Wait, are you talking about y/n?” The older boy looked at him in disbelief? How did he know who Mark was talking about without even having him say your name? How did he know who you were?

“You know y/n?”

“Yeah, she’s in my religion class. She’s the only person I know who works at that dump. She’s also the only hot one there too. I’ve been trying to indirectly ask her out for weeks but she doesn’t get the hint—“

“Or she doesn’t like you like that.”

Yugyeom let out a snicker and turned to Mark as he pulled up to a red light. “We all know any girl would get weak at the knees just being able to talk to me. She’s just playing hard to get, that’s all. But since you said that, I can’t help but wonder—you like her don’t you? Wait, is y/n the reason why you’ve been such a grumpy old man lately?”

Normally Yugyeom wasn’t one to get involved in Mark’s private life; none of them would stick their noses in places where they shouldn’t be. But then again, Yugyeom was always kind of nosy and he had a tendency to constantly pry at his older friends if there was information that he wanted to know. It only took them five minutes to get to the store, why did it seem like it was taking them forever to get back to Jackson’s place?

“No. I barely know her—“

“Eyyyyy, Mark, I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. If you didn’t like her, you wouldn’t care that she saw you getting these. You don’t have to lie to me. I don’t blame you, she’s pretty much a complete package. Beauty, body, brains—I bet she’s great at giving head as she is using it. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything—but what about we make this interesting.”

Mark could feel his blood boil hearing Yugyeom say those things about you. It wasn’t as if he didn’t describe other girls the way Yugyeom was with you, but he hated hearing anyone talk dirty about you or degrade you like the way Yugyeom just did. He knew the younger boy was just messing around with him, but he was afraid that things were going to take a turn for the worst if Yugyeom were to continue.

“What are you referring to Yugyeom?” The younger boy raised his brow before biting the inside of his cheek.

“I bet you—“

“Fuck that, no bets. I’m not doing that shit, especially not one involving y/n—“

“Come on man, don’t be such a pussy. It’ll be fun. What? Scared you won’t be able to do it?”

No. I’m scared it’s going to ruin everything between y/n and I if things go to shit in the end.

“No. Of course not you dick. I’m the king of bets. You know that. Fine, whatever. Lay it on me asshole.”

Yugyeom found his previous parking spot and waited until he turned the car off before he faced Mark and began to think about his next move. Damnit, why did he agree so easily? He should have tried harder in rejecting his friend’s suggestion. Bets were never good. Especially involving girls.

They had these stupid bets all the time and from experience, Mark had a feeling what Yugyeom was going to have him do had to deal with sex. Mark didn’t even think about you and him in that way—well, of course he did. There were few occasions where you’d talk back to him and he wanted to see what else your mouth could do—but sex was the last thing he wanted to do with you.

As of right now, he wanted to be close to you. He wanted to learn each and every little thing about you. He wanted to make you laugh, he wanted to hold you, to kiss you and to be the reason why you woke up happy every single morning. He wanted to flaunt you off to the entire school and to take you home to meet his family. He wanted to be yours. But people like Mark and people like you would never work together—even if that’s all he really wanted, life was never that easy and by the sly look on Yugyeom’s face, he had a feeling that the bet was going to be difficult.

“You have one month to bring y/n to one of these parties and she has to kiss you in front of all of us. You can’t kiss her and you can’t ask her to kiss you—she has to do it on her own.”

Mark scoffed, that was going to be a piece of cake—but wait, this was you he was talking about. It took him three months to even get you to talk to him, there was no way you were going to kiss him willingly and at a party of theirs. Yugyeom probably knew it wasn’t going to work and that’s why he proposed that idea.

“What if I win?”

“You get a hot chick wrapped around your finger. What more could you want?”

“Dude I’m going to call this bet off before it even starts—“

“Fine, I’ll give you $100.”

“Okay, and if I lose?”

“Then I’ll fuck her myself and send you the video.” His jaw clenched and he could feel himself ready to leap over the console in order to slap Yugyeom’s cocky smile off his face. The thought of anyone, let alone one of his closest friends fooling around with you sent a bad feeling to his chest and he was going to do whatever he could to make sure that never happened.

“Dude, she’s not going to sleep with you, find something else.”

“Woah, someone’s confident that he knows all about our pretty little grocery clerk—fine. If I win, I get to borrow your motorcycle for a week.”

There were so many red flags going off in his head—this wasn’t going to turn out very well. But it wasn’t all that bad of a bet and unfortunately, Mark’s ego was the size of California. If he were to say no, he’d look like such a punk and he knew Yugyeom would tell their friends—so it didn’t come as a shock when he found himself shaking Yugyeom’s hand.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

48 notes · View notes

tl-notes · 3 years

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Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 2 Notes

Here’s some notes for episode two, too, if you’d care to join me.

The “stay quiet” here is 大人し[い] otonashii, which takes the word for “adult” and adjectivizes it. It’s a common word with a variety of meanings, such as when something is “behaving” properly and not raising a fuss (from children to computer code to a chronic disease to political forces, all sorts of things) or when something comes across as “mature” (like a clothing design or a young person).

In this case the idea is that the dragons had chosen to “behave” and mind their own business, which (they seem to assume) led the humans into underestimating them and deciding to attack. (”Stay quiet” probably does a pretty good job of getting that across, but just to fill it out.)

This is 残念ながら zannen nagara, or “unfortunately...”.

The reason I bring it up here, is that it’s not a particularly intimate way of speaking and leans somewhat formal—potentially implying Ilulu has no more close relatives left to give her this news (and/or maybe her family’s social position is one where other dragons had to treat them with respect).

The second line here is 平常心を保つよ、私は, which is a fairly strong declaration of intent. I kind of feel like “I need to keep a clear head” sounds less confident, like convincing herself “ok bad situation, but if I just do this I’m fine.” In contrast, the Japanese imo is more of a “[Ilulu can do what she may,] but it won’t get it to me either way.” Just a mild point of characterization I suppose.

Just for clarity, she does use the word 雄 osu here, which is the more biological term for “in a sexually reproducing species, the one that produces sperm,” rather than a more gender-based term.

The TV show, シャシャシャシャキーン Sha-sha-sha-shakiin, is a combo reference to irl Saturday-morning kids’ variety show じゃじゃじゃじゃ～ン Ja-ja-ja-jaaN and weekday-morning シャキーン! Shakiin!.

The former’s name comes from the Japanese equivalent of ta-dah!, while the latter’s comes from the ”sound” for becoming alert, going from relaxed/sleepy/bored/etc. to “wide awake let’s go.” (though not necessarily sleep/wake related)

If you’ve seen these two emoji:

(´・ω・｀) (｀・ω・´)

The one on the right is the “シャキーン” one, and is the contrast to the gloomy one on the left (ショボーン shobon). Or these, going from asleep to awake:

( ˘ω˘ )ｽﾔｧ… (｀・ω・´) ｼｬｷｰﾝ

In manga and stuff you’ll also see it used for e.g. someone drawing/brandishing a sword, striking a cool poses with a lens flare, things like that.

I think it gets translated to metallic-y sounds in English fairly often in those cases (like drawing a katana, or a mecha pose), hence the translation above.

The verb for “frolic” here is じゃれる jareru (no relation to jajaan above), which is like to play/mess around, typically in a physical sense. For example it’s used in the compound word じゃれ合う jareau, which is often used in the same way English might say “playful wrestling” about kids or animals.

Though the word Kobayashi uses is actually a different じゃれる compound, じゃれつく jaretsuku, which is like playfully/affectionately grabbing/cuddling up/etc., (also primarily regarding kids or animals). There’s a bit of overlap with some of the uses of あまえる amaeru mentioned in the last episode’s notes.

Assuming I had the visuals, I’d probably just write this as “Please not on my lap...” or similar. (Kobayashi also uses a different verb conjugation for Tohru vs. Kanna in this scene, ~つくな vs. ~つかないで; Kanna’s being more plead-y compared to Tohru’s more “cut it out!” feel, hence the “please.”)

“Contact” here is “skin-ship,” a portmanteau-esque combination of skin and kinship or relationship. It’s primarily a Japanese word (you won’t find it in English dictionaries typically), but it was apparently coined by an American speaker at an international WHO seminar in 1953 (from which a Japanese attendee brought it back to Japan and it was later popularized).

The original use of the word was in reference specifically to parent-child physical intimacy, but as it became more widespread in usage the meaning extended to all sorts of relationships, from the platonic to the romantic.

One reason, presumably, that the term caught on so powerfully in Japan is that it has historically been a very touch-adverse culture (at least compared to say the US), and this extends even to parents with their children after the first few years. You’d see (and still see) psychologists recommend “more skinship” to people, for example.

The relative lack of skinship may partially explain the head pat thing mentioned in last episode’s notes (e.g. when you want to touch your kid, but hugs aren’t on the menu) and things like the old “hand-holding is lewd” meme. (Note this isn’t just me getting all orientalist here; there’s been a good bit of research on the skinship gap, and how it may be shrinking, by Japanese scholars.)

This line is also a bit of foreshadowing that Tohru has realized Kobayashi’s... situation already.

The Japanese here is 心と心でつながった後は体ですよ, which I only really mention because I kinda felt like the English’s “Now...” implied she was saying they only recently ‘connected their hearts,’ which I don’t feel from the Japanese wording and would say is probably not how Tohru thinks. E.g. more of a “Our hearts are already connected; now it’s time for our bodies!” kinda thing.

This 3/3 is March 3rd, which “equals” ♀ because that’s the date of Hinamatsuri, sometimes also referred to as Girl’s Day. The third day of the third month was originally a holiday brought over with the Chinese calendar, and it morphed from a more spring/peaches holiday into it’s more girl-oriented version at some point in the Edo period.

One of the highlights of Hinamatsuri is the doll displays, as pictured in this short bit with the Saikawa sisters. There are various types of displays, but this sort of staircase arrangement is the most common I believe. Each level has a certain type of doll that goes on it, with the top level having an “emperor” and an “empress” doll—which is the pair Riko replaces with dolls of herself and Kanna.

There’s some similarities between these doll displays and stereotypical Christmas trees: a family is likely to have a set of ornaments/dolls they mostly reuse each year, you put them up some time in advance of the actual holiday, then get lazy and leave them up too long put them away for a year after it’s over. A lot of businesses and such will put up displays as well.

“The judge in the underworld” is left vague here and isn’t a specific reference to anything, but is generally in line with the typical “image” of what happens after you die (setting aside actual religious beliefs) in Japan.

Please see the documentary series Hoozuki no Reitetsu for more info.

As of right now in the anime, Ilulu has only shown up twice, and only once of those when Kobayashi was alone. The implication seems to be that there have been other Ilulu encounters that we haven’t seen.

Also, for clarity, the Japanese is 私が一人の時にいつもイルルは来るから, which is more of a “whenever I’m alone Ilulu shows up” than a “she only shows up when I’m alone.” (The English could sorta be read either way I think?)

This bit is それだけじゃないって、争い以外もあると思ってくれているからだ。私はそんなトールを信じているから…　だからその為にイルルと和解したい

The main point of contention I have with this English is that it implies Kobayashi wants Tohru and Ilulu to make up. However, I’d say this is more Kobayashi wanting to come to terms with Ilulu herself (and just by extension Tohru/the other dragons/maybe other humans).

That is, by making peace between herself the human and the “hostile” dragon Ilulu, she’d be helping prove Tohru’s belief correct—and she has faith in Tohru that it is (see also last season finale).

(Notably while Tohru is Chaos faction herself, there’s not really been another Chaos dragon yet to be convinced like this. Kanna is no-faction, Fafnir is technically no-faction even if Chaos-ish, Quetzalcoatl is an observer, Elma is Harmony, and Tohru’s father is an exception on multiple levels.)

Without getting too deep into the “why,” one quick thing I’ll point out is that she says 和解したい wakai shitai, not してほしい shite hoshii or させたい sasetai etc., meaning it’s something she wants to do herself, not want/make someone else do. Generally speaking you can’t use the ~たい “want to” form for anyone but yourself (you don’t know what anyone else is thinking, after all), unless quoting them, asking, or in the ~がる “seems to want to” form.

This is a 防犯ブザー bouhan buzaa, a crime-prevention buzzer, also known as a personal or self-defense alarm. They emit a very loud sound when activated. The idea is you, well, use it like she does here, when someone is trying to do a crime to you.

Since most Japanese children walk to school, it’s extremely common for these devices to given to students (either by parents or a gov’t body). It’s technically recommended for adults to carry them too, though the advent of the mobile phone has driven down carry rates.

This particular one was probably purchased in episode four of season one, if you want to rewatch and see why!

This is 私にぶつけたい気持ちでもあるの？in the Japanese.

The verb for “tell” is ぶつける butsukeru, an evocative word meaning ~to slam against (somewhat similar to “vent” in English when used with emotions/feelings).

The “something” is 気持ち kimochi, ~emotion/feeling/thought.

So the Japanese here feels a lot more expressive than "something you want to tell me,” I would say (that could just as easily be a translation of 話したいこと). That said it’s not an easy thing to express in English within the confines of the format here, especially if you want to keep the “target = ‘me’” part.

It might feel somewhat like “You got something bottled up you wanna hit me with?”, though I doubt if I’d use that either.

As a side note, the manga has Kobayashi say an extra line after this, about being the “main tank” to take her “hate” (Japanese for “aggro” in MMOs).

A small note that “that girl and that boy” is あの子とあの子 ano ko to ano ko, so no gender specification in the Japanese (it’s a good language for talking about people without specifying a gender!).

“Next time” here is 今度 kondo, which is an interesting word because you can situationally use it for “recently,” “this time,” “next time,” or “soon.”

The reason I bring it up here is the English “next time,” personally, leaves me thinking “Was there a previous time? What ‘next’ do you mean?”—just a heads up that that’s not really an issue in the original line.

Also: this whole extended scene with Kobayashi saving Ilulu is one of the “many senses” mentioned in the episode title. (see also episode one notes re ikemen)

As an aside, this "play” is じゃれ合い jareai, the noun form of the jareau that was mentioned in the above “frolic” note.

If you were wondering: “Do dragons use paper?”, the word here is 形骸化 keigai-ka, (almost) lit. ~reduced to bones, meaning something that once was strong/effective is now basically just a formality. It’s similar to the phrase “dead letter” in reference to old laws that aren’t really enforced anymore.

So two potential points of ~lore relevance~ here: 1) the rules probably used to be enforced, 2) we have no evidence (either way, from this) that they actually have them on paper somewhere.

こりゃトールの父ちゃんは本格的に優しかったみたいだな

This might just be me reading too much into the English (again), but one difference in nuance between these two lines is that the English has Kobayashi implying Tohru’s dad “seemed” kind (which implies he’s not really kind, just kind in contrast to this villain), while the Japanese is more taking this as evidence that Tohru’s dad was actually being kind (see also last season finale).

For those wondering if the みたい in that line would imply a “seems”: it sort of does, but it applies across the whole observation here. I.e. “seems Tohru’s father was genuinely nice” vs. “making Tohru’s father seem genuinely nice” (which I’d guess would probably use 優しく見えてくる or something).

When you see “underestimate” in anime, most of the time it’s なめる nameru. It comes from the verbified archaic adjective 無礼し nameshi, meaning a combination of looking down on, acting rude towards, etc., and uses the same characters as “rude” (though often written in hiragana/katakana).

It also is a homonym of the verb “to lick,” so “Don’t underestimate humans” sounds identical to “Don’t lick humans.”

“Functional member of society” is 社会人 shakaijin, ~lit. person of society, which is a very commonly used word to refer to basically anyone who is an active member of society. It includes homemakers, so it’s not strictly “has a job at a company,” but in many contexts it’s used like “people with jobs” versus “students and NEETs.”

(Not that there’s anything wrong with the translation, just some extra context.)

A technique reminiscent of this shadow puppet silhouette style was also used in Hyouka, another Kyoani show and one directed by the late Series Director Takemoto Yasuhiro.

I kind of feel like yelling “Stay with me!” at someone injured is something you do when they’re in danger of fading away, not when they’re waking back up? Maybe that’s just me.

The Japanese is お気を確かに o-ki wo tashika ni, a polite (since Tohru almost always speaks kinda formally to Kobayashi, as part of the maid thing) way of saying “pull/hold it together,” and is used in a variety of situations.

Kanna’s line is a question (e.g. like “are you okay?”) in the Japanese here, whereas the English sounds more like something you say to someone who’s injured to try to reassure them.

This line is その子離れようとしないんです sono ko hanareyou to shinai n desu.

The English is a pretty literal translation: hanareru is the verb for leaving/separating (in some senses), and the ~you conjugation means “try to ~”. However, that conjugation also has a second use in just indicating intent—especially when used in the negative, like here—so e.g. “She didn’t want to leave your side,” or “She wouldn’t leave your side at all.”

（◎Д◎）

Just in case: this is an emoji for expressing shock.

One thing that is left out of the English in this line is the だけ dake, “only.”

So Kobayashi’s not necessarily surprised at this by itself, but in contrast to the fact that Tohru says she probably can hide her claws/tail (so why not this too?).

The base phrase Tohru is saying here is 私たちの仲じゃないですか, which roughly means “that’s just our relationship,” and is used commonly when being thanked for doing a favor for someone close. It’s similar in meaning to something like “hey of course, no problem, I know you’d do the same for me.”

Tohru puts a little spin on it by adding the “eternal” to make it 永遠の仲, which is a separate phrase that means probably what you’d think it means.

This quick cut to Tohru’s feet and the light “foot pop” motion... I have a hard time believing it’s anything but the director trying to give some subtle “goodbye kiss when leaving for work” vibes, even if they aren’t literally kissing. Just me?

Here she says あのトール ano Tohru, lit. “that Tohru,“ which in this sort of context carries a meaning similar to using an italicized “that” in English: not just any Tohru, but that Tohru, the famous one. The implication is that yes indeed Tohru is well-known among other dragons—and known to be quite strong and merciless.

It’s not a particularly big deal, but technically this is 人間と, i.e. Living with.

The ball hands thing is generally thought of as “Doraemon hands” in Japan. Doraemon gets the name from the food “dorayaki,” but “Dora” is also how you pronounce the first two syllables in “Dragon” (ドラゴン doragon).

Keep this in mind.

挨拶 (あいさつ) aisatsu, often translated as “greeting(s)”, is a lot bigger of a thing culturally for Japan than it might be for where you live. Though translated as “greetings” it also includes farewells and more. Basically a general term for “in X situation, say Y” style semi-set phrases.

In more traditionally minded companies, for example, employees are often expected to give a rote ohayou gozaimasu when they arrive (even if they think no one is around to hear it), and may get chewed out for not doing so or half-assing it. Then when passing someone in the hallway etc., an otsukare-sama desu, and yet another phrase when leaving for the day. Also the ittekimasu and itterasshai (when leaving home/saying bye to them) or tadaima and okaeri (returning home/welcoming back) that probably many anime-watchers are familiar with. Even itadakimasu is an aisatsu.

Obviously every culture utilizes “greetings” like this, but in Japan they’re pretty heavily ritualized and treated as a cornerstone of human relations, a key part of showing respect for your fellow humans (even people you hate!) and ensuring the smooth working of society. It’s not the thing they chose to have Tohru put first in her “living with humans [in Japan]” notebook for nothing!

The English “the” is a popular word to use in Japanese as an intensifier, similar to how it’s used in a sentence like “this isn’t just an [example], it’s the [example]!”

It’s usually pronounced “za” and often written that way in katakana (ザ) for this usage. (If you type “za” in a Japanese IME, most will offer up “the” as one of the options to convert the text to, even.)

The word she says here is 喝 katsu, which, in this sense, is a stereotypical thing for a Zen teacher to say to a student as a stand-in for explaining some deep Zen concept that words can’t describe. So here, it’s kinda like “Yes this may seem contradictory, but really it’s just too complicated for you! No more questions!”

Obviously that’s oversimplified and it’s used in other ways too (see Saikawa’s father during the sports festival), but just for the purposes of this joke, there you have it.

The word used in the Japanese here is 建前 tatemae. If you’ve ever studied any Japanese, you’ve likely heard about honne vs. tatemae, your inner feelings vs. the front you put up for social reasons.

People new to the language are sometimes prone to approaching that distinction with “well why doesn’t everyone just honne all the time, why play games?”, but of course almost everyone splits themselves like this. You probably hate your boss, but you also probably don’t tell them that to their face to avoid getting fired. Or maybe you have some family members you can’t stand, but act nice around anyway because it’s not worth the trouble to start fights.

Japan just put names to the idea, and maybe leans a little more toward encouraging tatemae in more situations.

This is せいぜい悩むんですね.

せいぜい seizei as an adverb means doing something to utmost extent one is capable of. You’ve likely heard it from a villain somewhere saying something like “Struggle all you like, wahaha!”.

Though it’s not necessarily down-talky like that, in modern times that is the trend (you can use it for yourself no problem, but if used to talk about someone else’s actions it may come off as belittling). Tohru, as one of the strongest beings in the setting and with the pride to match, uses it a lot.

悩む nayamu is to worry, fret, ruminate over (some difficulty etc.).

The sentence in general is one that is highly context dependent, but here it’s Tohru thinking to herself, somewhat impressed, that Ilulu is actually putting serious thought into the question of what she wants to do with her life.

And, as the background suggests, finding it surprisingly adorable/admirable; up until just a few days ago, Ilulu was known as one of the most extremist Chaos faction dragons obsessed with nothing but destruction, yet look at her now. In a way, Tohru’s taken over an older sister kind of role for her.

(For the curious, if the ね was dropped or swapped to a よ here, that would imply she was directing the comment “at” Ilulu, rather than saying it in observation.)

The word here is 契る chigiru, which usually means to swear/pledge (e.g. swear a pact, pledge your love), but can also be a somewhat fancy word for having sex, especially of a married couple.

I feel like I personally would have used more of a euphemism for the translation.

The phrase here is ダメの助 dame-no-suke, where dame is no/bad/can’t do/useless, and (no)suke is a common ending to first names; both actual names and sort of on-the-spot nicknames; someone looking sleepy might be called a 寝坊助 nebou-suke in the same way as “sleepyhead.”

Or, as here, sticking to the end of things for comedic effect or as indication of a panicked/confused thought process.

（ ° ρ ° ）

Just in case: this one is also expressing shock, but a kind of dumbfounded shock. The ρ is a drooling, slack-jawed mouth.

In the next episode preview they talk about where Ilulu will sleep, since they don’t have room for another bed. Ilulu wants to sleep in the closet—or more specifically, the 押し入れ oshi-ire, which is a particular closet layout you’ll find in many Japanese bedrooms.

The typical difference is that an 押し入れ was originally designed for 和室 washitsu, traditional-style Japanese rooms with tatami floors, primarily as storage space for folded-up futon/blankets/pillows, as you would put those away during the day to free up space. Thus they typically are rather wide, mildly deep, and have a waist-height, solid horizontal divider capable of supporting a lot of weight.

They actually are pretty okay for sleeping in if you’re not claustrophobic or tall.

Anyway, I bring this up because you know who else very famously sleeps in one of these? That’s right: Doraemon.

#maidragon #kobayashi's dragon maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #miss kobayashi's dragon maid #anime #translation notes #season 2

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fishingforyolos · 3 years

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That Awkward Moment When...

What if Dean got Castiel back from the Empty, and DIDN’T confess his love right away? What if instead, Dean and Cas just...didn’t know how to bring it up to one another, and forced Sam to endure the most intense third-wheel moment that he’s ever experienced, while these two emotionally constipated dumbasses sat in awkward silence?

This is here to answer that question.

________________________________________

Ahem.

It was the fourth time within two minutes that Dean had cleared his throat, and pretended to look out the window.

Sam was counting, now, in a desperate bid to distract from the incredible, palpable awkward silence emanating from the front seat of the car.

He had given Cas the front as a KIND gesture. He was being nice! It was only FAIR that the guy who had just escaped from super mega turbohell got to have a free pass at riding shotgun.

Or, so he thought. When he sidled into the backseat an hour ago, he did not anticipate the absolutely lethal levels of weird that Cas and Dean would be radiating—all pretending not to look at each other, conspicuous rubbing of the back of their necks, and god DAMN it Dean was fake-looking out the window AGAIN! There was nothing out there but corn, Dean!! Corn for miles!!!

Sam sat back and groaned. This was one of the most intolerable hours that he had ever witnessed in this godforsaken car, and that was saying something.

He allowed himself to drift off into his thoughts, letting his analytical side take over. Whatever it was, it probably happened in the bunker, right before Cas was taken by the Empty. Dean had been very...vague, about that situation, which only made Sam all the more curious. What could they have SAID to each other? Sam was no stranger to having a tense relationship with Castiel, but...if they were mad at each other, they’d be doing that stupid stony-faced silent treatment. But no, they both seemed too full of nervous energy. Cas was currently rifling through the glovebox, of all goddamn things, and Dean was toggling the blinker back and forth on a two-lane highway.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

“Are these...salted?” asked Castiel, holding up a box of bullets as if they were a sale item at Costco.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” said Dean taking a quick glance, “We bought those for the uh...for the ghosts.”

“I see,” said Castiel, nodding for just a bit too long.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Sam scrubbed his face with his hands. He had been to hell before, but listening to bad small talk was its own special kind of hell. What happened in that bunker room that would make them behave like-

Like-

Sam’s mouth fell open.

Like the awkward morning after.

“Oh, my God,” Sam blurted, before he could stop himself, “Did-did you two have a one-night stand?”

Castiel dropped the box of bullets.

Dean choked on nothing.

“Sam, what the HELL?!” he coughed.

“Well, SORRY,” Sam said, in a way that he hoped conveyed how NOT sorry he was, “But you guys are acting, uhhh, really weird, and I thought maybe, I dunno-”

He shrugged, and held his hands up in defense against Dean’s murderous glare, “I thought maybe you hooked up! Y’know, last night on earth style!”

“Wha-no. No, no, no,” Dean said again, gesturing forcefully with one hand before pointing directly at Sam, “That’s-that’s not what happened in there.”

“Indeed,” Castiel murmured lowly, throwing a glance to the backseat, “I can assure you, it was worse.”

Dean nearly swerved off the road.

Sam’s jaw fell open again, eyes flicking from Dean to Cas. “W-WORSE?!”

“Oh my FUCKING god,” Dean whispered into the steering wheel.

“What I mean is, it was more...personally humiliating. To me,” Castiel clarified.

Sam blinked several times, trying to process this new bit of information.

“But I thought...you said, that the Empty's deal was about you experiencing happiness,” Sam said, shifting back into analytical mode, “Does it make an...exception, for humiliation?”

He sat back and grimaced, as he weighed the horrible possibility in his mind. “Is it into that??”

“W-well,” stuttered Castiel, his gravelly voice betraying his discomfort, “Regardless of the...preferences, sexual or otherwise, of the Empty-”

Dean suddenly slammed the steering wheel with his palm.

“Can you two PLEASE, shut up?!” he roared, “And let me fucking DRIVE in PEACE?!”

Sam and Cas fell silent, the atmosphere of the Impala even more tense than before.

Sam put his head in his hands. God, he should have just kept his mouth shut. Or maybe, he should have just taken shotgun in the first place, and stuck Cas in the back. Would've saved everyone all this trouble, maybe.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, finally breaking the silence.

Sam pursed his lips in annoyance. He could already tell, simply by the look on Cas’ face, that this was going to be another heart-to-heart where they completely forgot he existed.

Dean, meanwhile, didn’t react.

“I…” Castiel sighed, “I don’t...mean to make things awkward, it’s just that I didn’t-I never expected to SEE you again.”

“Really, Cas?” Dean exploded, “Really? After all we’ve been through, after all the times we’ve dragged each other out of the clutches of-of Hell, Heaven, you name it, you didn’t-you didn’t even consider the POSSIBILITY that we’d get you out?”

“Of course I considered it,” Castiel said quietly, “It was my most desperate desire."

He sat back, and turned to direct his gaze out the window.

“But there is a sort of...freedom, in confessing directly before death,” Castiel said, speaking a fog onto the window with each word, “All the vulnerability...none of the consequences.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide open as it all finally clicked.

No way. No way. NO WAY.

He shot up straight, incredulity plastered across his face that the other two were too preoccupied to notice.

DId Castiel...confess his feelings in that bunker? Make a move? Shoot his shot? And then DIE?!

What the fuck, Cas?

Sam sat back, reeling, running his fingers through his hair as Dean and Cas continued to stare out separate windows. He quite literally didn’t think he would LIVE to see the day that they acknowledged their...thing, and now they were doing it right in front of his eyes.

“I...I meant what I said, Dean,” Castiel said, fixing Dean’s profile with a longing stare, “Every single word. And I still do.”

Sam turned back toward Dean, hunched defensively over the wheel of the Impala. He still wouldn’t look at Cas.

Please, Sam prayed silently, Don’t fuck this up.

“But, I’m acutely aware that it made things different between us,” Castiel sighed, “And I’m sorry for that. I can’t take it back. However-”

“I love you.”

If he wasn’t literally watching Dean’s mouth move as he said it, Sam wouldn’t have believed his ears. Holy shit.

He whipped his head back to Castiel, who was stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights.

Even the rain, beating against the windshield at 70 miles an hour, didn’t dare interrupt the moment at hand.

Dean was still staring out at the road, hands gripping the wheel like he was clinging to sanity itself.

“You didn’t let me say it back,” Dean said through gritted teeth, “In the bunker, you just-you dropped that on me, and then you were GONE, and you didn’t even let me say it back.”

Sam’s mouth was agape once again, eyes flicking back and forth between his brother and the equally speechless angel. The air between them was charged, and ready for a lightning strike.

“W-when you say that,” Castiel said, after a solid ten seconds of trying to find his voice, “Do you-do you mean it-”

Dean DID swerve off the road this time, sending Sam sprawling across the backseat as he skidded to a stop on the shoulder.

“Ow! Dean, what the-”

“Yeah, Castiel,” Dean said, finally taking his eyes off the road to fix him with a wild look, “I mean it. Same way you did. When you said that-that the one thing you wanted, you couldn’t have, it-it didn’t make any sense, because I always thought that I was the one wanting what I couldn’t-who I couldn't-”

He sniffled.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this in the CAR,” Dean said, wiping his eyes, “Not in front of Sammy.”

“Honestly? I prefer this over the past miserable hour,” Sam said, leaning back, “Do what you gotta do, man. Just...pretend I’m not here.”

Dean actually chuckled at that, but turned his attention back to Cas, who was still blinking in shock.

“Cas, you...you gotta understand,” Dean said carefully, reaching across the seat and cupping Cas’ cheek in a hand, “Come hell or high water, you have me.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to...to want, I-I’m yours, a-already in the bag. Got it?”

Tears tracked down Castiel’s face as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to stop a wide, tearful smile from spreading across his face.

Dean visibly softened, and brought Castiel’s face in, kissing him right on the mouth.

Sam hoped he wouldn't come to regret the "do what you gotta do" comment, but they broke apart just a moment later to touch foreheads like a couple of saps.

“...Yaaay, congratulations!” Sam said, waving celebratory arms in the air as widely as he could in the cramped backseat. He searched around him and found some crumpled receipts, which he tossed into the front seat. “Whoo! Confetti!”

“Sam…” Dean said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I appreciate your jubilation, Sam,” Castiel said, dead seriously, looking back at him with just his eyes, “Your approval means a lot to me.”

"Hey,” Sam said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder, “This changes nothing. You're still like a brother to me, man. You’re still family."

Cas smiled at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Aww, look at that smile, Sammy,” Dean said, tapping Cas on the cheek, “Look at it! How could anybody resist that smile?”

“I dunno, Dean, it’s pretty easy when you’re not in love with him,” Sam smiled.

“Welp,” shrugged Dean casually, as he shifted the car back into drive, “Guess I wouldn’t know, then.”

Sam was taken aback by the...ease, with which all that just rolled off of Dean’s tongue.

“God,” Sam groaned, “You’re going to be an INSUFFERABLE couple.”

Dean just laughed, light and loud, as he merged back onto the highway, offering out his right hand.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said, taking the offered hand with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "But as you can see, I cannot resist his charm."

Sam rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was insufferable, yes, and Sam was going to have to have a LONG talk with Dean later, but...for now, he just laughed, as the tension bled out of the car, and Dean FINALLY turned on the stereo, letting the soothing sound of Led Zeppelin carry them into a lighter mood.

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slow. Maybe sometimes, good things do happen.

#supernatural #destiel #15x19 compliant #i havent been invested in SPN since about 2013 but i dug deep into my recollections to summon these guys' voices one more time #i didnt put this on a main blog bc i didnt want people to expect SPN from me #i just had this mental image in my head of sam having to endure this moment #and i laughed so hard that i had to see it through #godspeed spn people and good luck on thursday #honk honk honk thats my clown nose when i started writing this 'as a joke'

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itswildwinters · 4 years

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Hello lovelies and welcome to my October 2020 fic recs. These are the fics that I read these last few months. The main pairing is Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles.

This is also an appreciation post to all writers out there. Thank you for contributing so much to the fandom, for making all these incredible pieces of work for us all to read!

I’m wishing you all a happy Halloween in advance!

If you check out any of those incredible fics below, don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show your appreciation!

Enjoy!

From What I’ve Tasted of Desire by @evilovesyou

When Louis moves to the small Scottish town of Fortrose to spend some time with his father, he thinks he's come to terms with the fact that the next two years of his life will be rainy and dull. That changes when he meets the ever-elusive Harry Styles in his Biology class and he makes it his goal to find out the big secret surrounding him and his family. Louis unexpectedly finds himself in the eye of a storm of secrecy, age-old myths, friendship and romance.

Twilight AU / Vampires / Werewolves / Slow Burn / Highschool & College AU

eyes off you by @soldouthaz

“Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe while we’re in there,” Liam says.

Through the crack in the door, Louis can just barely make out the broad curve of Harry’s back, the slope of his curls as they tumble down all sleep-soft and lazy, and the sharp twist of his arm - all leading down to where he’s got his pointer and middle finger crossed over each other behind his back.

“I promise,” he tells Liam firmly, “I promise.”

or; a charlie’s angels inspired fic where louis is the brains, harry is the charm, liam is the muscle, and niall drives the getaway car - and zayn is there, too. sometimes.

Action / Pining / Assassins (kill bad people)

Walls by Travis_Crux

Following his line of sight, he frowned and shook his head, "What's wrong?"

"Wasn't your timer on your ring finger?" Liam asked, at that the Alpha immediately swapped the tumbler and looked down at his finger which sported a string of tiny blue flowers on the underside of his ring finger.

The two of them looked at one another.

"You could've touched nearly fifty people by the time you grew delirious," Liam advocated, always the voice of reason. "Comrades, nurses, doctors."

Sighing, he turned away and continued drinking the water. Literally, the only fucking thing remaining in the middle of a fucking war.

Harry has his soulmate timer stuck at zero from the beginning of time but suddenly the fates show mercy and a lovely forget-me-not takes the place of his timer. In between finding his soulmate in a war camp and solving the puzzle of the charismatic doctor who is treating him, all he can hope for is to live.

ABO / World War I / Soulmates / Angst / Hurt-Comfort

works like a charm by @falsegoodnight

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

Harry Potter Setting / Porn With Plot / Enemies to Lovers

(quiet like a fight) fingers laced together by @letthemkissyou

It’s a thin hope, frail and as thin as the silver strands of a spider web, desperate in the way Louis keeps clinging onto it even when he’s already expecting and preparing for the worst. Maybe one day, he’ll have a home, a place where he can feel safe and sound, tucked away safely from the world that has the tendency to treat him horribly and then even worse, that maybe there will be someone in his life who cares for him, even if in the smallest of ways, and does not just use him for whatever they tend to need at the moment.

Or, the one where Harry is gifted a hybrid and it's a whole new world for the both of them.

Hybrid Louis / Past Abuse / Fluff / Angst

We’ll Cast Some Light (You’ll Be Alright) by fondleeds

There’s tense silence, the whole room completely hushed. The other teams on surrounding tables look between each other. Then, Louis pushes himself away from the table noisily, chair scraping. His face is angered and crumpled, red at the ears. The door slams behind him as he rushes out. The surrounding teams look at Harry simultaneously.

“God, Simon is going to kill us if we don’t die on this mission first,” Niall moans into his hands.

There’s a standard procedure for this. Scan, track, kill. But with a solar eclipse and a Greater Demon with unfinished business looming, the path to keeping England safe from harm becomes complicated and shadowed by mystery and secrets. For Harry and his team, times have never been harder, especially when a few old friends turned foes show up. Harry is left with just over forty days to overcome the hurdle of tension between them and reconcile their past, and figure out just what Louis is hiding from him before it’s too late.

Demons / Enemies to Lovers / Violence / Angst / Fluff / Demon Hunters / Smut

Three Days in February by @mercurial-madhouse

“We have to get out of here, outside,” Harry whispered, turning his hand in Louis’s grip to hold on and pull them both to their feet. “And how do we fucking do that?” Louis hissed, carefully rising and pulling Harry to his feet before Harry could do it. His gaze darted to the front then back of the arena. “None of the doors are where they’re supposed to be.” “What?” Harry looked around again too, couldn’t see any doors, only knew that they must be there, somewhere. “How do you know?” Confusion slid over Louis's features. “Because we’ve been here before, Haz. It’s the O2.” The show. It must be the first night of their tour. They were too late; they were out of time.

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Angst / Action / Adventure / Magical Realism / Hurt-Comfort / Slow Burn

Soaked In The Blood Of Angels by @crazyupsetter

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape.

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago.

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

Explicit Sexual Content / Vampires / Incubus / Dubious Consent / Blood / Violence

The Compulsion to Find Love by Toomanytears

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

ABO / Omega Louis / Alpha Harry / Worldbuilding / Slow Burn / Fluff / Angst

Just a bit of work by missyoutoosweetscheeks

It was quite painfully pathetic, really. Twenty five, stable job, stable flat, stable mind (well, quite), a painfully non-existent love life with an even more painfully intact virginity.

Marcel didn't think his life was going to get better with his painfully aparent sociopathic tendencies to block anyone who showed interest in him.

Until, of course, he became Louis Tomlinson's next prey.

In which Marcel is a virgin, and becomes his office's amorous co-worker's next big conquest.

Top Harry / Bottom Louis / Office Sex / Dubious Consent / Porn Without Plot

Fuck U Betta by @jacaranda-bloom

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

Porn Without Plot / Light BDSM / Top Harry / Bottom Louis

push you out, pull you back in by @behisoneandonly

Harry grips his head in his hands helplessly, yanking the base of his dark curls and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the strands of his hair.

“Hey, hey,” says the petite stranger in front of him, quickly standing up. “Stop, you’re hurting yourself.”

–

Or Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

College/University AU / medical student Harry / Fashion student Louis / Strangers to Lovers / Pining / fluff / slight angst / Hut-Comfort / Anger Management

might we be stardust stories by ryanreynolds

"It was easier being at war."

In which werewolves and vampires have been fighting each other for a century, and Harry and Louis' marriage is what's gonna bring peace to the realm. Hopefully.

Werewolves / Vampires / Arranged Marriage / Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Pining / Fantasy

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

ABO / Fake-Pretend Relationship

until this blood runs cold by @soldouthaz

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

Vampire Harry / Frottage / Blood Drinking

call you mine by @falsegoodnight

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

Or, Louis’ curious about how it feels to be bitten. Harry’s going to need more than just one bite.

Plot What Porn / Vampire Harry / Bottom Louis

your biggest fan by @soldouthaz

Just like everyone else, Louis has a few habits that he can’t seem to break. Guilty pleasures, rather. His nails are perpetually short because he can’t quit biting them, the bottom of his shoes scuffed from tapping his foot constantly. Sometimes his leg gets a cramp from bouncing it so often underneath his desk. That isn't too bad, he reckons, just some average teenage coping mechanisms.

And also, occasionally, minor instances of theft.

Top Harry / Bottom Louis / Porn What Plot / Nerd Louis / Jock Harry

give me love by @falsegoodnight & @soldouthaz

Despite being an omega, Louis’ always had a blatant dislike of alphas.

Or, Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

ABO / Alpha Harry / Omega Louis / Bottom Louis / Past Relationship Trauma / Slow Burn / Angst / Fluff

The Stars Look Very Different Today by @kingsofeverything

For Harry Styles, child genius turned glorified spaceship mechanic, rescuing lost or broken down ships is a fairly common occurrence.

There’s nothing common about his latest mission, the ship, or that ship’s captain.

The last thing he expects to find in a distant galaxy is the one thing he’s been missing on Earth.

Space / Time-Travel / Science Fiction & Fantasy / Enemies to Lovers

The cat is out of the bag by 28sunflowers

Harry somehow gets himself stuck as a black cat on Halloween and needs help from Louis to change back into his human form.

The problem is: Louis doesn’t even know witches exist, much less that Harry is one. And there’s also the fact he thinks Harry is ghosting him after they had sex for the first time.

So the situations isn’t ideal. But it’s okay. Harry will figure something out.

Light angst / Witch Harry / Potions Accident / Fluff and Humour

#fic recs #october 2020 #larry stylinson

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likealittleheartbeat · 4 years

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The Queer Platonic Love of Aang & Zuko

Friend. What a weighty and intimate word in Avatar The Last Airbender. The series’ “found family” is iconic at this point, and is literally established as a “family” by Katara in the third episode. She pulls Aang back from the outrage of the Avatar state, saying “Monk Gyatso and the other monks may be gone, but you still have a family. Sokka and I, we’re your family now.”

As I’ve said before, establishing this central safety net of trusted people is essential to Aang’s healing. Still, it’s interesting to me that they insist on this group as a “family” rather than something that might emphasize “friendship.” Something along the lines of ‘we’re your friends and we’re here with you.’ I can think of several animated shows that have done as much successfully. The show withholds the word “friend” for another purpose. I’ll happily admit that Aang and the others describe each other as “friends” throughout the series, but rarely is the use of the word (through pacing, repetition, or emotional context) given a sense of gravity in those moments.

However, three scenes in the series rely heavily on the word “friend,” and each scene connects Aang more and more profoundly with Zuko, eventually revealing that the show’s entire plot hinges on the friendship between these two boys. In a series so latent with symbolism, what do we make of these star-crossed friends? The relationship between Aang and Zuko, I want to suggest, is meant to explore Platonic Love in all its depth, especially within a masculine culture that not only devalues it, but views its queer implications as inherently dangerous to the dominant power structures of an empire.

Get ready zukaang fans for a long-ass atla meta analysis...

“If we knew each other back then, do you think we could’ve been friends, too?”

The first time the word “friend” is uttered between them, Aang is perched on a branch, waiting for Zuko (who is laid out on a bed of leaves the Avatar made for him) to wake up after his blue spirit rescue. “You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is?” Aang waxes, “I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together. He was one of the best friends I ever had...and he was from the Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then do you think we could have been friends too?” The scene stood out for me when I first watched it for the melancholy and stillness. We are not given a flashback like we did when Aang talked about Bumi or Gyatso in earlier episodes. We have to sit with Aang’s loss of a male friend. It echoes a veteran’s loss of a war buddy more than anything a western audience would expect in a children’s show about the power of friendship. Instead of simply mourning, Aang invites Zuko into the past with him. He invites Zuko to imagine a time before the war, a land of innocence, where they could live together. And between them there is a moment of reflection given to this invitation (...until Zuko shoots a fucking fire blast at Aang).

The wistful mood returns when the two boys arrive back to their respective beds. Aang is asked by a loopy fevered Sokka if he made any “friends” on his trip, to which Aang sadly replies, “No, I don’t think I did” before tucking away to sleep. Aang’s mournful moments often stand out against his bubbly personality, but this moment stands out moreso because its the final moment for Aang in the episode. For the first time, he doesn’t receive comfort in his dejection. He doesn’t even confide in his peers. The solemnity and secrecy of this failed “friendship” is remarkable.

It’s in the next symbolic gesture that I think Avatar reveals what’s at stake in the concept of “friendship.” Zuko, in the next scene, lays down to rest after his adventurous night, looks pensively at the fire nation flag in his room, and then turns his back on it. We realize, especially after the previous revelations in “The Storm,” that Aang’s gestures of “friendship” have caused Zuko to doubt the authority of the Fire Nation.

Now all three remaining nations have misogynistic tendencies, but the Fire Nation celebrates a specific brand of toxic masculinity, and Zuko longs to emulate it even after it has rejected and scarred him. In the episode, “The Storm,” which directly precedes “The Blue Spirit,” we see how Zuko failed to replicate masculinity’s demands. In a room of men, he disregards honorifics to speak out in the name of care and concern for people’s well-being over strategy. Though the war room was all men, we later see that The Fire Nation does not exclude women from participating in this form of toxic masculinity. (Shoutout to Azula, one of the best tragic villains of all time!) This gender parity prevents disgraced men, like Zuko, from retaining pride of place above women. So Zuko’s loving act and refusal to fight his father puts him at the lowest of the low in the social hierarchy of the Fire Nation, completely emasculated and unworthy of respect.

Since then, Zuko has been seeking to restore himself by imitating the unfeeling men of the war room and his unfeeling sister, barking orders and demands at his crew. The final redemptive act for this purpose, of course, is to capture the Avatar, who’s very being seems to counteract the violent masculinity at the heart of the Fire Nation. In most contemporary Euro-American understandings, Aang is by no means masculine. He’s openly affectionate, emotional, giggly, and supportive of everyone in his life, regardless of gender. He practices pacifism and vegetarianism, and his hobbies include dancing and jewelry-making. And, foremost, he has no interest in wielding power. (@rickthaniel has an awesome piece about Aang’s relationship to gender norms and feminism).

In addition to the perceived femininity of Aang’s behavior, he’s equally aligned with immaturity. Aang’s childishness is emphasized in the title of the first episode, “The Boy in the Iceberg,” and then in the second episode when Zuko remarks, “you’re just a kid.” Aang, as a flying boy literally preserved against adulthood, also draws a comparison to another eternally boyish imp in the western canon: Peter Pan. This comparison becomes more explicit in “The Ember Island Players.” His theatrical parallel is a self-described “incurable trickster” played by a woman hoisted on wires mimicking theatrical productions of Peter Pan. The comparison draws together the conjunction of femininity and immaturity Aang represents to the Fire Nation.

When Zuko is offered friendship and affection by Aang, then, he faces a paradigm-shifting internal conflict. To choose this person, regardless of his spiritual status, as a “friend,” Zuko must relate himself to what he perceives as Aang’s femininity and immaturity, further demeaning himself in the eyes of his father and Fire Nation culture. The banished prince would need to submit to the softness for which he’s been abused and banished. This narrative of abuse and banishment for perceived effeminate qualities lends itself easily enough to parallels with a specific queer narrative, that of a young person kicked out of their house for their sexuality and/or gender deviance.

I want to point out that Aang’s backstory, too, can be read through a queer lens. Although the genocide of the air nomads more explicitly parallels the experiences of victims to imperial and colonial violence, I can also see how the loss of culture, history, friends, and mentors for a young effiminate boy can evoke the experience of queer men after the AIDs pandemic and the government’s damning indifference. In fact, colonial violence and the enforcement of rigid gender roles have historically travelled hand-in-hand. Power structures at home echo the power structures of a government. Deviance from the dominant norms disrupt the rigid structures of the empire. Aang’s background highlights how cultures based in something besides hierarchy and dominance, whether they be queer cultures or indigenous societies, threaten the logic of imperialism, and thus become targets of reform, neglect, and aggression by the expanding empire and its citizens. Survivors are left, as Aang was, shuffling through the remnants, searching for some ravaged piece of history to cling to.

We begin the series, then, with two queer-coded boys, one a survivor of broad political violence, the other a survivor of more intimate domestic abuse, and both reeling from the ways the Fire Nation has stigmatized sensitivity. But the queer narrative extends beyond the tragic backstories toward possibility and hope. The concept of platonic love proposed here, though it does not manifest until later, is a prospect that will bring peace to the two boys' grief-stricken hearts and to the whole world.

“Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?”

“Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?” Toph asks before the four members of the group hold hands. Since Toph previously mourned her friendless childhood, it’s easy to appreciate this line for its hopefulness regarding the four central members of the Gaang. They long to appreciate that they’re all connected. As touching as this is, the soul-mated ‘friendship’ concept is actually uniquely applicable to Aang and Zuko.

When does Toph ask the question specifically? It’s after hearing the story of Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin: how their once intimate friendship fell apart; how Fire Lord Sozin began, undaunted, the genocidal attack on Airbenders. After recounting the tale, Aang, the reincarnation of Avatar Roku, excitedly explains to the group the moral that every person is capable of great good and evil. While that moral could easily be ascribed to many people in the series, the connective tissue is stretched directly to Zuko in a parallel storyline. Reading a secret history composed by his grandfather Sozin, Zuko discovers that he is not only the grandson of the empirical firelord but of Avatar Roku, as well. We see how the rift between the Sozin and Roku echoed down across history to separate the airbending culture from the fire nation, and, on a more human level, to separate Aang from Zuko. The two boys find themselves divided by their ancestors’ choices— and connected by Avatar Roku’s legacy.

This is what takes their “friendship” from simply a matter of the character’s preferences to something fated, something unique from the other friendships. The rest of the found family is positioned as circumstantial in their relationship to Aang and one another. Yeah, it’d be cool if they were all connected in past and future lives, but the audience receives no indicators in the series that it’s necessarily true. Only faith holds them together, which allows room for an appreciation that your “found family” friendships might simply be the trusted people you discovered along the way.

Zuko’s friendship is characterized differently. Both his struggle to befriend Aang and his eventual “friendship” are explicitly destined by the story of Roku and Sozin. After this episode, the series depends upon Zuko’s ability to mend the divide inside himself, which can only be done by mending the divide between him and Aang. Their inheritance symbolizes this dynamic exactly. As the reincarnation of Avatar Roku, Aang can be understood as the beneficiary of Avatar Roku’s wisdom (he should not, as many jokingly suggest, be considered as any kind of biological relation of Roku or Zuko). Zuko, on the other hand, has inherited Roku’s genealogy in the Fire Nation. These two pieces of Roku must be brought together in order to revive Roku’s legacy of firebending founded on something besides aggression.

In addition to making the ideals of Roku whole again, the two boys must tend to the broken “friendship” between the two men. As the Avatar and the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, Aang and Zuko parallel Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin precisely. The narrative of the latter pair places destiny precisely in the hands of the former. And since both Aang and Roku expressed the desire for “friendship,” it falls in the lap of the corresponding royal to give up their imperial dreams so they can gain something more peaceful and intimate. For Zuko, this now can only be accomplished when he heals the rift within himself.

Importantly, both the previous friendship and the destined friendship between Zuko and Aang are between two men. The coming-of-age genre has proliferated the trope of homosociality (friendship between individuals of the same sex) and its eventual decline brought on by maturity and heterosexual romance. (Check out the beautiful and quick rundown of classic examples, from Anne of Green Gables to Dead Poet’s Society, made by @greetingsprophet ). The story of Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin replicates this established narrative.

We see them playing, sparring, and joking intimately with one another. The two as young adults were intimately connected, the series explains, “sharing many things including a birthday.” Eventually their intimacy is interrupted by their worldly responsibilities and the spectre of heterosexual romance on Roku’s part.

Now, It’s not a huge leap for one to wonder if Sozin longed for something stronger in their “friendship.” We see no female romantic interests for Sozin. Instead, he continues to demonstrate his platonic allegiance to Roku. When Roku prepares to leave for his Avatar training, Sozin walks into his room and gives him his crown prince headpiece, a gesture of unique devotion that positions his friendship above his politics (which harkens to Plato and EM Forster’s ideas about platonic love that I’ll discuss in Part 3).

One might note, too, how the wedding between Roku and his childhood sweetheart provides the setting for the escalation of Sozin’s violence. “On wedding days,” Sozin writes, “we look to the future with optimism and joy. I had my own vision for a brighter future...” He then pulls Roku away from his bride for a personal conversation, briefly recapturing the earlier homosocial dynamic with his friend. Sozin describes his affection for their intertwined lives. Then he links their shared happiness to the current prosperity of the Fire Nation. He imagines the expansion of the Fire Nation, which would also expand on the relationship between him and Roku. But the Avatar refuses the offer and returns to his wife, insisting on the value of traditional boundaries (both the pact of marriage and the strict division of the four nations). The abandonment of the homosocial relationship by Roku sets the site for the unmitigated empirical ambitions of Sozin. One wonders how history might’ve been altered had the two men’s relationship been sanctified and upheld. How might’ve Roku persuaded Sozin in his empirical ambitions if he had remained in a closer relationship to his friend? In their final encounter, Sozin reacts vengefully to his former platonic love: he lets Roku die protecting the home the Avatar shared with his wife. Sozin’s choice solidifies the divide between them, and makes the grief he’s experienced since Roku left him into actual death.

Instead of Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin finding a resolution, Aang and Zuko are ordained to reverse their friendship’s disintegration. Yes, they must heal the rift in the world created by the Fire Nation’s aggression, but Aang and Zuko must also reverse the tradition of lost homosociality within a culture of unrelenting machismo. Despite Avatar: the Last Airbender’s ties to the coming-of-age genre, the arc of Aang and Zuko’s “friendship” counters one of its most prominent tropes. “Some friendships are so strong they can transcend lifetimes,” Roku says, and it’s precisely this platonic ideal that draws Zuko and Aang towards one another in ways that are revolutionary both in their world and in the traditions of our’s. To come together, as two matured boys, to form an adult platonic love that can persist into adulthood.

“And now we’re friends.”

Which brings us to the consummation of Aang and Zuko’s “friendship.” Having resolved their previous hostilities and having neutralized the outside forces that would rather them dead than together, Aang and Zuko can finally embrace and define their relationship as “friendship.” Now, if we look closely at Zuko’s expression, we’ll notice a pause, before he smiles and reiterates Aang’s comment. My initial response, with my zukaang shipping goggles on extra tightly, was that Zuko just got friend-zoned and was a little disappointed before accepting Aang’s friendship. When I took a step back, I considered that we are given this moment of reflection to recognize Zuko’s journey, his initial belligerent response to the idea of befriending the Avatar. When he accepts the term of ‘friend,’ he reveals the growth he’s undergone that’s brought peace to the world. With these two possibilities laid out, I want to offer that they might coexist. That the word ‘friend’ might feel to Zuko and the audience so small and limited and yet simultaneously powerful. The pause can hint at the importance of “friendship” and signal something more. This reading emboldens the queer concept of “friendship” that undergirds their relationship. That the hug that follows might be meant to define the depth of the platonic love that is at the very heart of the series.

Saving a hugging declaration of “friendship” for the announcement of peace in the series is quietly revolutionary. In the twentieth century, male characters could connect in battle, on competitive teams, and through crime. “In the war film, a soldier can hold his buddy — as long as his buddy is dying on the battlefield. In the western, Butch Cassidy can wash the Sundance Kid’s naked flesh — as long as it is wounded. In the boxing film, a trainer can rub the well-developed torso and sinewy back of his protege — as long as it is bruised. In the crime film, a mob lieutenant can embrace his boss like a lover — as long as he is riddled with bullets,” writes Kent Brintnall. Aang and Zuko’s hug starkly contrasts this kind of masculine intimacy. The show suggests that environments shaped by dominance, conflict, coercion, or harm, though seemingly productive in drawing people and especially men together, actually desecrate “friendships.” Only in a climate of humility, diplomacy, and peace can one make a true ‘friend.’

In situating the’ “friendship” between two matured males in a time of peace, the writers hearken back to older concepts of homosocial relationships in our fiction. As Hanya Yanagihara has described the Romantic concepts of friendship that pervaded fiction before the 1900s. In her book, A Little Life, Yanagihara renews this concept for the twenty-first century with a special appreciation for the queerness that one must accept in order for platonic love to thrive into adulthood. She writes, “Why wasn’t friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn’t it even better? It was two people who remained together day after day bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified.” Aang and Zuko’s relationship, despite a history that would keep them apart, reclaims this kind of friendship. Their hearts, bound together by an empyrean platonic love, are protected from the political and familial loyalties that would otherwise embroil them.

In addition to Yanagihara, another author that coats the word ‘friend’ with similar gravity and longing to Avatar is E.M. Forster, who braids platonic friendship in his writing with homoeroticism and political revolution. In Forster’s novel Maurice (originally written in 1914 but published posthumously in 1971 due to Britain’s criminalization of male homsexuality), the titular character asks a lower class male lover lying in bed with him, “Did you ever dream you had a friend, Alec? Someone to last your whole life and you his? I suppose such a thing can’t happen outside of sleep.” The confession, tinged with grief and providence as it is, could easily reside in Aang’s first monologue to Zuko in “The Blue Spirit.”

Platonic love as a topic is at the heart of Maurice. Plato’s “Symposium,” from which the term platonic love derives, is even directly referenced in the book and connected with “the unspeakable vice of the Greeks”— slang for homosexual acts. For Forster, the sanction of platonic love, both the homosocial aspect and the latent homosexuality, reveals a culture’s liberation. “If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend,” Forster wrote in his essay “What I Believe,”, “I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.” This echoes a sentiment of philial love described by Plato.

Rather than revolutionary ideals, for Forster friendships, and specifically friendships that disregard homophobia, provide the foundation for peace, equality, and democratic proliferation. When Aang and Zuko embrace, they are embodying this ideal. Platonic love and the word “friend” have a history intertwined with queer romantic love, and, while I won’t argue that Avatar attempts to directly evoke this, I will suggest that the series consciously leaves room for this association. Now, the show certainly makes no attempt to imply anything romantic between Zuko and Aang within the timeline we witness (nor any same sex characters, which reflects cultural expectations in the 2000s). And for good reason, the age gap would be notably icky, to use the technical term. (You might note, however, that the show actually allows for crushes to extend upwardly across the same age gap, when Toph accidentally reveals her affection for Sokka to Suki in “The Serpent’s Pass.”) Despite connecting queer friendships to the history of ‘platonic love,’ Avatar provides two critiques to platonic love for audiences to absorb. One is the pederasty with which Plato defined his ultimate form of love in his Symposium. Fans rightfully comment on the age gap between Aang and Zuko as something preventative to shipping them together. And beyond the fact of their ages, Aang’s youthfulness is emphatic, as I remarked earlier. Aang and Zuko are prevented from consummating their platonic love until both are deemed mature in the last moments of the series. And even then, their relationship is directed toward future development rather than conclusion. Instead of cutting away, they are allowed to exit their scene together toward a speech about hope and peace. This stands in stark opposition to the permanence of Aang and Katara’s kiss. The platonic love in Avatar, the kind EM Forster cherishes, is relegated to adulthood as opposed to other kinds of boyish friendships. The conclusion of Avatar, at least for me, actually feels especially satisfying because it settles our characters in the “new era of love and peace.” It is a beginning, and it feels more expansive than the actions the characters choose to take in the episode. Even as our characters conclude three seasons of narrative tension as the sun sets and “The End” appears on the screen, it feels instead as if their stories can finally begin. The characters are allowed to simply exist for the first time. Yes, Aang and Katara or Zuko and Mai are allowed to embrace and kiss, but it’s because the pressures of empiricism have finally been banished. They are now allowed to try things and fail and make mistakes and explore. Things don’t feel rigid or permanent, whether that be one’s identity or one’s relationships.

Ideally, within the morality of the series (at least as it appears to us with no regard for whatever limits or self-censorship occurred due to its era of production and child-friendly requirements), “friends'' are maintained alongside romantic partnerships. Both Zuko and Aang’s separate romantic relationships blossom within the same episode that they declare their “friendship.” In fact, a vital plotline is the development of Zuko’s relationship with Aang’s romantic interest. While anyone in the fandom is well aware of the popular interpretation of romantic affection between Zuko and Katara because of their shared narrative, I have to point out that romantic feelings across the series are made extremely explicit through statements, blushes, and kisses. Zuko’s relationship with Katara can be better understood in the light of the coming-of-age counternarrative. While the love interest often serves as a catalyst for separation for a homosocial relationship, the friendly relationship with Aang’s love interest—seeking her forgiveness, respecting her power, calling on her support, etc—is vital for Zuko to ultimately create an environment of peace in which he and Aang can fulfill their destined “friendship.” In fact, we can look at Katara’s femininity as the most important device for manifesting Aang and Zuko’s eventual union. It’s her rage against misogyny that frees Aang from his iceberg, midwifing him into the world again after his arrested development, the complete opposite of a Wendy figure. It’s her arms that hold Aang in the pieta after his death in the Crossroads of Destiny, positioning her as a divine God-bearer. Afterwards, its her hands that resurrect Aang so that they together can fulfill his destiny. It will be these same hands with this same holy water that resurrect Zuko in the finale. Only through Katara’s decided blessing could Aang and Zuko proceed toward the fated reunion of their souls.

The importance of this critical relationship to femininity becomes relevant to a scene in “Emerald Island Players” that one might note as an outstanding moment of gay panic. Zuko and Aang, watching their counterparts on stage, cringe and shrink when, upon being saved by The Blue Spirit character in the play, Aang’s performer declares “My hero!” Instead of the assumption of homophobia, I wonder whether we might read Aang and Zuko’s responses as discomfort with the misogynistic heterosexual dynamics the declaration represents. Across the board, Avatar subverted the damsel in distress trope. There’s a-whole-nother essay to be written on all the ways it goes about this work, but the events in “The Blue Spirit” certainly speak to this subversion. It’s quite explicit that Zuko, after breaking Aang’s chains, is equally dependent on Aang for their escape. And, by the end of the actual episode, the savior role is reversed as Aang drags an unconscious Zuko away from certain death. To depict these events within the simplistic “damsel in distress” scenario, as The Ember Island Players do, positions Aang as a subordinately feminized colonial subject, denies him his agency, and depicts the relationship as something merely romantic, devoid of the equalizing platonic force that actually empowers them. The moment in the play is uncomfortable for Aang and Zuko because it makes Zuko the hero and Aang the helpless object. Aang is explicit about his embarrassment over his feminized and infantilized depiction in the play. And Zuko, newly reformed, is embarrassed to see, on one hand, his villainy throughout the play and, on the other hand, see how his character is positioned as made out as a savior to the person who has actually saved him.

At the heart of the series is not the idea of a chosen one or savior. Instead, we are saved by the ability for one person to see themselves in another person and to feel that same person equally understands their own soul. This is the ideal of platonic love. Platonic love between two matured boys—two boys with whose memories and bodies bare the scars of their queer sensitivities—is an essential part of the future of peace. Many fans have a sense of this, labeling the relationship as “brotp” and “platonic soulmates.” I simply encourage people to acknowledge that platonic love, especially in this context, is not a limit. There is no “no homo” joke here. When we remark on the platonic love between Zuko and Aang (and across media more generally) we are precisely making room for friendship, romance, and whatever else it could mean, whatever else it might become. While I find Legend of Korra lacking and in some ways detrimental to appreciating the original series, it’s finale interestingly parallels and extends this reading of platonic love in a sapphic vein. And most recently, She ra Princess of Power was able to even more explicitly realize these dynamics in the relationship between Adora and Catra. Let’s simply acknowledge that Aang and Zuko’s relationship blazed the trail: that peace, happiness, hope, and freedom could all hinge on a “friendship,” because a “friend” was never supposed to be set apart from or less than other kinds of relationships. For the ways it disregards gender, disregards individualism, disregards dominion, platonic love is the foundation of any meaningful relationship. And a meaningful relationship is the foundation for a more peaceful world. *Author’s note: I’m just tired of sitting on this and trying to edit it. It’s not perfect. I don’t touch on all the symbolism and nuances in the show and in the character’s relationships. And this is not meant to negate any ships. It’s actually, quite the opposite. This is a show about growth and change and mistakes and complexity. Hopefully you can at least appreciate this angle even if you don’t vibe with every piece of analysis here. I just have no chill and need to put this out there so I can let my obsession cool down a bit. Enjoy <3

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mistaeq · 3 years

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Guido Mista: Just For Fun?

TW // nsfw content !!

Sssooo... this had to be a fic due on Mista's birthday, but I got killed by work and assignments and stuff, and could never manage to finish, but tonight I took a little time and concentrated on it properly before it was really TOO late. Enjoy~ ^_^

Guido Mista having a SPICY time with a neutral!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.04k

It felt so good. Damn, it felt so good. You weren't even sure there was love for you, by his side. But you wouldn't have stopped him for any reason. The gunslinger had come to you to tell you about Bucciarati's orders for the day. You had to show up at Passione's headquarters in a couple of hours, so, just for the sake of not getting bored in the meantime, you invited Mista in your house to have a chat. Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, the two of you seemed to have other plans in mind.

The things about the man exploring your body with his gaze, wasn't new to you. You'd been noticing this before, at work, outside, and in general. And it wasn't like you weren't interested in Mista's attention, you just couldn't help but thinking that having relationships with colleagues wasn't the best choice you could make. Little did it matter in that moment, realizing the two of you would have had to make up a believable excuse for your late arrival at Passione's headquarters.

"G-Guido!" bringing your thoughts cruelly back to the present, the gunslinger thrusted inside of your spent hole for one last time, without either of you coming. It had been a strong thrust, without mincing words, not slow and definitely not gentle, rough enough to hear you raise your voice for him. You just liked this thing about Mista being so mercilessly rough, and you couldn't tell you weren't expecting something like this from a man like him. You had stayed still until you felt his shaft come out of your sensitive body. And despite that, you had remained folded on the bed, because you knew him, Guido Mista would have never let you in peace so easily. Oh, he still had so much to do, with your body, after so much time of waiting and pushing it back.

Just in general, he liked to insist and keep going, starting from the most absurd and almost useless things, in any situation, like telling everyone about the fact that Narancia - he had told about it at least five times, once for every Bucciarati Gang member, him and Narancia excluded - had once scared him late at night during a sleepover by his house. The truth is, if we really want to keep a solid and actual comparison, that Mista guy's brains almost worked like his good companion's, Narancia. He probably soaked up some parts of his behavior, too. The most messed up ones, if I'm allowed to say that.

A kind of soul of the party, without them the boredom used to make itself easy to be felt, or in any case it made his absence noticed when nobody laughed or joked, but sexually speaking, to stay in the italian area, there is a valid and comparison with the loud mess you can find in Naples's markets and squares, too. People screaming, people yelling, someone laughing and a neverending music you don't even know where to locate. Oh, and food. Plenty of food. Don't ask an italian to skip a meal, folks. You were now being Guido's three course meal, rather than a snack.

You felt yourself being touched in a way that was anything but chaste by the strong hands of the curly, dark haired boy. It was the representation of a proper Gold Experience, to finally see the hair hidden under that hat of his, and you had to admit that sinking a hand inside of it was amazing. Plus, it perfectly represented his explosive personality. Mista's eighteen years of age - by now - surely influenced his amount of stamina and strength, he had arms that deserved the respect for which they had been designated by his genetic make-up, evidently. As if some foreplay and ministrations were necessary, after the previous hellish - or perhaps heavenly - hour in which nothing else had happened, other than the young italian roughly and ferociously pushing his length into your body, you felt his long and calloused fingers enter your needy hole, not so much time to waste and not many premises to make. Oh good lord.

"Guido..." your soft voice moaned, bending your head forward, then forced to pull it back up when you arched your back due to the sudden but perfect points that the boy's experienced fingers dared to touch.

"Right here...? You want it right here?" he teased. Oh, he had fun teasing. All the gunslinger wanted was to hear you beg for him to give you the pleasure you needed, and he knew where to touch to get you ruined for him. His fingertips grazed against a special spot, once, twice, and he laughed it over, looking at you curling up your fingers everytime, little moans coming out of your throat, your hands gripping on the bedsheets. "Damn tesoro, you're so sensitive..." he said in his hateful, proud, signature mocking tone.

"...O-Oh my god, Guido... this might be the third time you do it... right there..." but that sentence did not last long, considering the gunslinger's intentions, who bent down to use his experienced tongue where before only his fingers were. Fuck that guy and his stupid attitude. Fuck his behavior, fuck his warm tongue, penetrating your needy hole along with his fingers, leaving you speechless and breathless every second more. At least a dozen times, surely, you insulted him, cursing and groaning under the wet and beautiful contact of the boy's lips and tongue as they worked on you. You would have lied, if you said you hadn't dreamt of this before.

Given the position you were now in, when you were too quiet or too noisy for your dirty lover's liking, the size of Mista's hands came in handy, to spank you and startle you enough to react and oblige to his will. He wasn't very gentle, as a sexual character. Let's say that he enjoyed leaving his masterpieces incomplete. Like that orgasm of yours which was very little time apart from exploding, for example. When he withdrew his hands and tongue drom you, you couldn't hold back from complaining... probably too much for the man's liking. "F-Fuck! I was so damn close..." you squealed, disappointed, and let your tongue speak for yourself, shivering because of the current emptiness of your hole. "Why have I chosen to have sex with you... I could have paid someone from the street... or maybe a colleague of yours... hm?"

You had gone too far. At those words, you felt Guido grab your hair in a tight grip. Not too much to seriously hurt you, but enough to fuel your arousal even more. You can't say you haven't obtained exactly what you were looking for. "Excuse me, or better... excuse you, do you mind repeating what you just said, cara/o?" Damn, that turned you on so much. Obey him. Just obey him. You thought, until the brat part of you took over.

"N-no... I ..." you slightly turned towards him, and unexpected as it was, but incredibly hot, his member was right in front of the tip of your nose, right now. You stared at it, bouncing in front of you. Average length, but interesting girth, nothing to say. A good one. You wouldn't have minded to choke on it. "Nothing... I said nothing."

"Nuh-uh, I heard you, little fucker." he pulled you closer to him, his leaking tip now grazing on your cheek, leaving a slightly humid trail behind it. Mista's grip on your hair tightened. "Repeat for me, will you...?" he cooed, faking a soft and calm tone of his voice. Then, he clenched his teeth. "What could you do, you said?" For a split second, you thought about how Bruno was probably waiting for you at Passione's headquarters, and there you were instead, with Mista's cock hanging in front of your face.

"Nothing. I couldn't do anything..."

"Good. That's what I like to hear." with a further squeeze he made you moan and cry out, taking the opportunity to push his leaking member into your mouth. You felt yourself suffocate, Mista had no small one at all, to be completely honest, he was far from it. And you madly liked him, not only for that, also as a person. On a psychological and personal level. Nice, funny, serious when needed - maybe-, and absolutely beautiful. How many people would have sold their soul to the devil, to spend a single night with Naples's forbidden dream - or at least he said so. He probably made it up for his own self-esteem -? He also tasted good, to be honest. Details like those were important, too.

You soon understood that the only way to not to feel too bad with his strength and stamina, was to go along with his desires seriously, and thanks to this little thought that for an hour now had been helping you with Guido's sexual cravings, you brought a hand to the man's member, to help with your hands your work on him. You saw him start to move his hips towards your mouth and back, that choking sensation intensified even more due to the fact that Mista's hips thrusted forward as you bent down on him, yet as much as your eyes could water and tear up, the man's proud moans only hinted at how much it actually excited him, to see you struggle and choke on his length. "Dammit... don't give me those teary eyes... I'm gonna fucking cum." And, deep down, it was a good fuel to your own arousal. But you wouldn't have dared to tell Guido, or you would have made him brag for ages about it.

His movements got to a sudden halt, when the gunslinger reached his high, in the depth of your throat, as his own breath hitched with yours. "Fuck, y/n...!" It was very deep, and due to the choking sensation, your soft face already had two hot, heavy and salty tears running down your cheeks, not really from pain but from exertion, that guttural effort you usually make when you have to throw up, when you yawn and when you cough. Every action that, even if minimal, brings the eyes to that moist, thing layer that, straining even more those feelings, makes it become tiring and uncontrollable tears. You felt Mista's warm cum run down your throat. Still, you took the chance to taste it properly. It was so good. Another thing you wouldn't have told Guido.

It was a different sensation, compared to when you swallowed it down yourself. Or at least it was, in other experiences you had, but you were wondering if it wasn't Guido's presence, making you feel in some sorts of ways. Anyways, by swallowing down yourself, you were fast enough to not to feel the need to cough. But this way, the warm fluid flowed dramatically slowly, along the walls of your throat, down, while you only wondered when you would stop feeling it moving in your lower neck and upper chest. The satisfied look on Mista's face, who was now approaching you again, after having pulled his member out of your tender mouth, spoke by itself, and said a few simple and easily interpretable words on the line of "You will feel this warmth also somewhere else, soon." and perhaps you weren't even really complaining about it.

Even if you hoped for it to not to be that intense and strong. Too bad it would have been such, but Mista knew what he was doing, so you just chose to let him do his thing to you. "...If you do want it, it is." oh. The fact that he made sure you were still agreeing to it, caused a weird warmth to pop up in your chest. Dominant Guido was a good Guido, but respectful Guido was the best version of him. You just smiled, and quickly nodded. Of course you wanted more. You felt your legs get grabbed and opened by strong and calloused hands, you were still ready and sensitive for him, despite all the times you had come for him that evening. And despite all the times he had denied you an orgasm.

He slipped his hard length inside of you without hurting your sensitive hole too much, or maybe it was just you who were already too used to keeping that damned neapolitan inside of your body, for that night. And you thanked God for it, otherwise it would have been quite painful. A beautiful pain, in any case. First thrust, Mista groaned very loudly, clenching his teeth. One day you'll complain to him, about the fact that he'll be expecting too much time from you to dedicate to having sex. "But you can stretch your muscles like this," he'll insist, looking for a bright side or a diversionary way to respond to your grip on him against the wall. You held on the bedsheets and bit your lower lip, keeping a moan from coming out.

Second thrust, even stronger. You began to even pull on the bedheets because of the gunslinger's cock, grazing just on the right spots, the spots only him could brag about being able to find so quickly. Maybe you would have ruined or ripped your own bedsheets. Just maybe. Worse than that time when Narancia and him had decided to become the funny people of the situation, and by folding and shredding Pannacotta's bedsheets, they made some table doilies. Afterwards, Fugo didn't really want to punish them too much, to be honest. Just enough to cause the two of them three or four displaced fractures, but obviously Bruno and Leone wouldn't let him do that either.

Third thrust, Guido had started seriously moaning on his own breathy groans. He sounded like he had started to chuckle on his own voice, and that... well, that was kinda hot. "How... How do you keep on being so tight after all of this... you're just like I dreamt... or even better, I say..." you felt your arousal reach the stars, when you realized Mista had been dreaming of you. Well, you would have lied if you told him you hadn't been dreaming of him as well. But all you could do in that moment, was moan and chuckle with him. He was such a funny man, after all. You thought of that time when, together with Giorno, he had well thought about ordering a dick-shaped pizza for Abbacchio's birthday, the package labeled "For a pissing goth". How were you thinking of this while having sex? Oh my god.

Fourth thrust. You were now trembling, along with moaning. "Fuck, Guido... just like that..." you begged, clenching your teeth and not only. "Make me cum, please..." He was being so damn strong, Mista, in that moment, but thinking about that little, big, funny part of his personality, from the vicissitudes with the Gang - although he almost never admitted to be guilty of those - to his iconic tetraphobia, the fear of number four. This is why, he was pretty fast to thrust inside of you an essential fifth time. And the thrusts that appeared so strong at first, seemed now softer, slower. Slower. And frenzied, because of his own climax approaching him.

"Y-Y/n... cum now...! Fuck... cum for me." How could you even think about resisting to it? You let go and rode your high, followed by him. Witnessing such an intense pleasure and feeling of being filled in such a good way from the neapolitan gunslinger, your body trembled and shivered, your hands scratched and caressed the perfect and imperfect skin of the shoulders of Guido Mista, who, filling you with what was left of his tiredness, he let go and collapsed on your sweaty body. "Thank you... damn... thank you." in that moment, you really hoped he hadn't just took an occasion to have sex or to empty his balls. But your fear disappeared when he lay his head on your chest and let you sink a hand into his dark curls, which were sticking to his sweaty face.

For a while, you stayed there, hoping he wouldn't drift asleep. You wanted to understand what all of that meant for him. Because it genuinely meant a lot for you. You had been waiting for that. All you had to understand was if Guido had been dreaming of you to just get a piece of your ass or a piece of your heart. "Bruno's waiting for us, Mista..." you whispered, but your body language fooled you. Your voice sounded like you wanted to get up and get to Passione's Headquarters, but your legs wrapped around the man's waist told another story.

"I don't really care, if I really have to be honest." the gunslinger mumbled, with a sleepy voice. "I'd go there to just look like a mess. I can't possibly focus on anything else, after a good lovemaking." oh you liked the sound of that. You giggled, that was a hilarious answer, but mostly you chuckled out of joy.

"Lovemaking, huh..." you repeated, stroking his soft, curly hair once more. "So it meant something to you." at your words, you saw Mista's eyes widen and his head get up from your chest. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I... I was lowkey scared you just wanted to get a good time with my ass and let go."

"Me? Just get a good time with your ass?" he pretended to be deeply offended and pouted, making you giggle again. You didn't even mean to express that much joy, but you just felt your heart replenish with feelings. "Who do you think I am? I'm a gentiluomo, I'd never just use a babe like you for sex and nothing more. I'm... a responsible man and shit." yeah, that's just the answer a responsible man would give. But you were satisfied and happy. And amused.

"You know what, Guido... let's just stay here and rest. Bruno can wait." Maybe it was too early to talk about proper love, but you would have had a lot of time, to talk about it.

That is, if Bruno doesn't kill the two of you first.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part five #vento aureo #guido mista #mista x reader #jojo fic

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danyok · 3 years

Note

Can you give a fic rec of your favourite fics?

alfjd. Yes, yes I can. I have... far too many bookmarked on AO3 but I will share some of my very favorite ones. I’ll do so under the cut so that it doesn’t take up a bunch of space on peoples’ dashes. There will be fics for SOTUS, Tharntype, UWMA, and The Untamed. These are not in ranking order, but they’re numbered so you know when I’ve stopped talking about the previous one.

1. Fear Not to Touch by Mara

Fandom: TOL Pairing: Untwo Rating: T Words: 1386 Status: Complete

Two discovers that happy endings are a lot more complicated than the movies portray. They involve a lot of talking and compromise and a lot less sex than he expected.

Maybe I’m a little biased with this one because it was written for me and one of my favorite people on AO3 after a discussion we had about sexualities, but this is just so good alfjdalfj. Ace!Un getting together with Two. It’s beautiful.

2. Another Flowerboy by Morathi_Cain

Fandom: ME Pairing: Bohn/First Rating: M Words: 10975 Status: Complete

After yet another fight, Bohn goes to First's shop to get flowers to apologise. Since he doesn't know much about flowers, First (Frong's brother and also former "rival") offers him some advice. Bohn takes it. It may not be the help he wanted, but it's definitely the help he needed!

Look. This is one of those pairings that I didn’t know I needed until I read this fic. Now I love it so much. There’s several sequels to this one, too, with the continuing development of Bohn’s relationship with First and I just love all of them.

3. Get Loud by perthbysaint

Fandom: ME Pairing: RamKing Rating: E Words: 5689 Status: Complete

Or: Boss makes a comment on how the louder your partner is in bed, the better they're feeling. King is determined to make his quiet boyfriend make some noise for once or die trying.

Just gonna give the last bit of the summery here, but this fic is very very good. I want to say more but I don’t want to give any of it away. It’s just really worth the read.

4. I'll Try Every Way by EmisFritish

Fandom: 2gether Pairing: Sarawatine Rating: G Words: 6,804 Status: Complete

Five times Tine could only show he cared through different gestures, and the one time he didn’t need to.

Let me yell about the ways I love this couple. This fic is just a beautiful study in their relationship and how Tine struggles with the whole saying what he’s feeling thing but trying to show it anyway and I just afldja. It’s beautiful.

5. The Light That Fails to Dim by glowingreverie

Fandom: The Untamed/MDZS Pairing: Wangxian Rating: T Words: 310880 Status: Complete

Wei Ying lost his parents in a night hunt. Cold and alone, he wandered the streets of Yiling for nearly two years. However, one fateful night, a tall, scary man finds him and takes him back to a place he calls Qinghe. Later Wei Ying, now known as Wei Wuxian, discovers that that tall, scary man is not bad at all. And his cowardly brother makes an even better friend than he initially thought he would. With a content feeling in his chest every day, Wei Wuxian can only hope these peaceful, happy days with his new family will last until the end of time.

Or, in which Jiang Fengmian is unaware of what happened to Wei Wuxian's parents and Nie Mingjue takes him in and the story continues from there...

This is a monster of a fic in sheer size alone, but it’s sooooooo worth the read, imo. It’s so good and a nice take on what might be different just from the little change. I’ve read this one at least two times in its entirety since I found it.

6. plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser

Fandom: The Untamed/MDZS Pairing: Wangxian Rating: E Words: 47638 Status: Complete

After thirteen years away, Dr. Wei Wuxian is back in Gusu. A car accident near his apartment brings someone unexpected back into his life and everything changes for the better.

As you all know by now, I am weak for the found family trope and this fic is just alfjaldjf. The feels are strong in this one. It made me cry a couple of times, not even going to lie.

7. 5 Times Forth Was Very Sweet and 1 Time Beam Returned The Favor by heartsdesire456

Fandom: 2Moons Pairing: ForthBeam Rating: NR Words: 3937 Status: Complete

Though Forth was a good friend and Beam had known him for a while now, he never really expected vibrant, teasing Forth to end up being such a sweet boyfriend. He was used to a cocky guy who knew he was hot shit and showed off because of it, and a transient yet loyal friend who showed up when it mattered, not someone who did things that were sweet and innocent for anybody.

Perhaps, Beam realized, he hadn’t really known this side of Forth because Forth reserved it only for the person he was dating.

This fic is probably one of my favorite ForthBeam fics ever. Its a fun, cute and sweet read.

8. domestic by earthfluuke

Fandom: TOL Pairing: KhaiThird Rating: G Words: 4407 Status: Complete

“They’re,” Too lowered his voice to a hiss, “domesticated."

A look into Kai and Third's life after they finally move in together.

Just a cute TOL fic that I haven’t forgotten since I read it. Of course I’d have to have one with them in it.

And that’s all I’ve got for now. Apparently I fail and haven’t bookmarked any of the fics I’ve read recently. I need to go through my history soon. Anyway! These are fics that I absolutely love to read.

#khaithird #sarawatine #wangxian #ramking #forthbeam #fic recs #ask #anon

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shra-vasti · 4 years

Text

Title : Guilty Pleasure

Pairing : Jeonghan x reader

Genre : angst and fluff, FWB

Warnings : cheating, mention of sex

Synopsis : The sun watches what you do but the moon knows all of your secrets.

A/N : Hey there. I hope you are having a great day. Enjoy the read. Thankyou <3

He was a bad news.

Jeonghan was like a drug you could never get rid of. He was addictive and his whole aura demanded attention. He had his own way with things.

Maybe that's why you never felt wrong while giving in into his desires.

There are all types of love in this world but never the same love twice.

You couldn't quite point when it all started or you have always been feeling this way towards each other but whatever that was it was overwhelming and magical.

You didn't love each other but you craved for each other. You both could never get each other out of your head that's how enticing you were for each other.

He wasn't ready to end it with his on and off again high school sweetheart and you couldn't bring yourself to commit to somebody just yet but you and Jeonghan have been going on for a year now and you couldn't understand how.

"You look great in my shirt."

Jeonghan was leaning against the door frame when he said that immediately making you turn towards him smiling.

"I think you have told me that."

You felt a pair of hands slip onto your waist and a chaste kiss being placed on your neck. He kissed you from the back of your ear to the junction of your neck and shoulders again going up towards your ear and biting it.

You sighed in content as you relaxed against him.

"You already have marked me enough stop it."

You remembered the last night incident when he came up to your apartment with drinks. You made dinner together enjoying each other's presence.

After the dinner he informed he would be staying the night leading you to have a short makeout session to which turn into a not so short intimate time.

You fucked all night having miss each other since his girlfriend was back in town due to holidays.

You couldn't meet each other since she was back and you could tell you missed him cause unlike him you had nobody to entertain when you were away form him.

You felt guilty about meeting Jeonghan behind her back since she was your friend too but that doesn't necessarily hide the fact that you and Jeonghan were infatuated with each other.

It was like a guilty pleasure for Jeonghan. Cheating isn't a good thing it's a crime when you betray the one whom you have given your heart and mind to and he knows that.

It was suppose to be a one time thing, he missed his girlfriend since she was away and some pieces of you reminding him of her and with you obliging with the hints he was giving at you led everything from one time to two and three till it continued to grow.

It was in his mind that if he was going to suffer the guilt he might as well enjoy the pleasure.

He made it very clear to you about his intentions. That he wasn't going to break up with his girl and you were quite hesitant at first but a little bit of his persuation was enough for you to agree.

He was everything but a commitment to you. You were traumatized by the idea of commitment. You wanted the idea of getting committed to be gradual one and not preplanned.

He told you that few of your traits reminded him of his girlfriend one night after your hot makeout session.

He never particularly liked the idea of talking about his girlfriend in your presence but he couldn't help.

You were so much similar yet so different than his girlfriend with whom he would get in argument every other day.

He always complimented you for being a good listener and a very good adviser. He would often stumble upon your number or doorstep whenever he faced any kind of problems.

You were his escape from his withering relationship with his girlfriend. A fresh air on his stained surrounding.

It wasn't much before that he started feeling you everywhere in him.

He always told you how much he liked the smell of your hairs or the taste of your mouth. The feeling of your skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or into the air all around him and before he could realize you had become his physical necessity.

You never met during day time as to not get caught by either of your friends. None of them knew about your secret relationship. So you two made a promise to always meet at night or in a place which you were sure none of your friends would stumble.

"I think I'm staying here for a while, I missed you too much." he sighed against your neck biting it softly.

"Jeonghan you can't do that what if my friends come over unexpectedly? We can't do that."

"I don't care. I'll hide away till they go I just don't want to be away from you for a while."

His voice was tensed as if he was feeling frustrated with the way you were behaving right now but were you wrong? No and that was the thing he hated the most at such times.

Jeonghan never made you feel like he was using you only for his sexual needs. No it was never that he just needed you for his sexual needs.

You were always there for him whenever he had a fight with his girlfriend. Heck you have even seen him cry cause he just couldn't stand his girlfriend anymore.

She loved him just like how he did but both of them just weren't the right pair for each other and none of them were ready to acknowledge that fact just yet.

And admist of all this you were by his side. Always leaning your shoulder for him to cry. You were the only person who had seen him cry that hard to be honest.

You always had a way with your words which managed to calm all of his worries down. You would silently listen to him and after that carefully explained to him where he was going wrong and what he should do with it.

Unlike his girlfriend who would constantly put the blame on him for their withering relationship instead of peacefully talking it out.

You indeed had some of her traits but you had every other thing inside you which he wanted his girlfriend to have.

It was not about the outer appearance. Both of you were beautiful in the most breathtaking way but you were understanding in nature.

You knew where he was coming from and he was way more open about his selfish side with you too just like how he wanted to be with his girlfriend but the thing was that she lacked understanding.

She was possessive and he didn't like to be bound. He wasn't ready to forget all of his past self just so he could be with her.

She never allowed him to talk with his old friends and tried to make him a part of her. But how can he abandoned his set of friends just so he could please her? Even though he loved her he couldn't bring himself to leave his friends behind who had his back when everything was crumpling down for him.

And you never really had any of that sort of restriction on him. Yes you guys weren't in the position to restrict yourself but he had spent enough time with you to recognize what type of person you are inside out and man he was intoxicated by you.

The love he felt for you was way different than what he felt for his girlfriend. He wanted you to be in his life forever and he didn't care if you were with him or not.

But then again he wanted you all to himself. You were so amazing that he hated the idea of someone else touching you the way he touched you or the way anyone else could make you moan just like he does.

You look absolutely ravishing at such moment that he couldn't help but come undone just at your sight.

He knew your body way more than anyone else does and he knows how to handle you unlike your ex boyfriend who decided to treat you like trash and forever inflicting a trauma of being committed to someone completely.

You had cried countless of time in front of him whenever out of the blue your ex boyfriend would show up to show that he still had power over you.

Jeonghan hated to see you so weak because for him you were stronger than him. He could never cope up with his problems without you like you do.

Both of you had developed quite a feeling for each other which you didn't want to let go. You both felt at ease in each other's presence like you could be you without the feeling of hurting the other's feelings but also acknowledging your own.

"Had a hard time with your girl again?" you asked as you swirled around pulling him closer and circling your arms around his neck.

He touched your forehead with his as he looked into your eyes and sighed circling his hands on your body and resting them lazily on your hips.

"I don't even want to call her my girlfriend truthfully. It's like we are holding onto something which doesn't exist."

He shook his head laughing bitterly. You ran your fingers through his head and you motioned him to continue.

"We got into just another series of argument. I just wanted to spend some good time with her since she was back and all she did was ignore me the whole time. She kept on meeting her friends and when it came to me we would meet but end up either getting third wheeled or in an argument."

He engulfed you into a hug, his shoulders shaking as he let out short whimpers. You stroke his head softly telling him its okay to cry and let it all out.

"Why can't she be like you?" he asked as he pulled himself away from you enough to see your face.

"Because she doesn't think like me." you simple said as he chuckled.

"Why can't she think like you? If she would have there was no need for me to come up to you looking for something which she clearly lacked. I just want a peaceful life is it too much to ask for?"

Your heart became heavy at that. You couldn't imagine your life without him now and you felt a pang in your heart at that. Maybe you were forgetting your place and this is just a reminder of why you can't have him.

"Why don't you just break up with her?"

"I have wasted too much of my time and energy on her, I can't do that."

"Your peace of mind is more important than your energy at this moment to be honest."

"I don't know."

"You always know Jeonghan, you just want everything but know that you can have everything."

You aren't sure if he will leave you and marry her or leave her to start a new life but you are sure that he is bound to get hurt and you were willing to wait for that moment so that you could show him what he did was right and that you were here for him.

Most of your heart wanted him to let go of her and get hurt as selfish and crooked as that sound. But it will be a lot better than him crying his eyes out like this every time.

You are always going to make sure he forgets his girlfriend as long as you are there in his presence. And that's the most important thing for now.

So without further due you tucked his arms as you lead him to your bedroom to make his head spin so much that the only thing he could hear and breathe was you and forget his girlfriend at least for now.

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writeanapocalae · 4 years

Text

A Guide for Writing Trans People

Written by a Trans Man.

I’ve seen a lot of different posts on how to write trans characters (absolutely none on how to write cis characters and I am so lost on how to do that oh my goodness) but maybe I’ve got a different perspective and maybe I’ve got something you haven’t heard before. Let’s go!

Terminology

There are a lot of different genders out there, not just male and female. Some people think Trans men and women are some outside of the binary extra gender, which is very much not true. While many trans people do fall outside the binary, there are a lot who are strictly male or female. Therefore their genders are male and female. The trans part is not part of the word, it is a definer to state that the person is transitioning, that is all. So when you write trans man or trans woman the words are separate, not transman or transwoman.

A trans man is someone who is transitioning his appearance for society to view him as male.

A trans woman is someone who is transitioning her appearance for society to view her as female.

The reason I am wording it this way is because they were already their genders. They have always been their genders. Transitioning is greatly influenced by the way we are treated by society, the same way that beauty standards influence people to contour and get surgeries and whatnot.

Demi means mostly in terms of gender so a demi boy is someone who is male most of the time and a demi girl is someone who is female most of the time.

Agender is someone who has no gender

Genderfluid is someone who shifts from gender to gender

Genderqueer is someone who’s gender is nondefined by other terms

Two Spirit is a third gender that encapsulates masculinity and femininity (according to Wikipedia) that is only used by Native Americans

Third Gender is a gender that can encapsulate or be a completely different solid gender like male or female

Nonbinary is someone who is somewhere on the spectrum between genders and their gender is defined by them

Pangender is someone who has all genders

Androgyny is not something that actually relates to gender as much as it does presentation. Presentation does not inherently tell you someone’s gender. Being androgynous just means that someone fits right in the middle of societies expectations of male and female and their AGAB cannot be guessed by onlookers.

AGAB AFAB and AMAB mean Assigned Gender At Birth, Assigned Female At Birth, and Assigned Male At Birth. At birth someone will often assign a gender to a baby based on their genitals and parents tend to show off what sort of genitals their baby has with accessories and colors. Pretty creepy if you ask me.

FTM and MTF has been deemed problematic but many still use them. They mean Female to Male and Male to Female. The terminology states that the person’s AGAB is their initial gender and they are becoming the opposite when, as stated before, it’s more that they were always their gender and now society has to catch up.

Gender Nonconformity can be practiced by anyone regardless of gender. It just means that they do things that aren’t expected of someone of their gender like men wearing skirts (for some reason?) or women growing beards or a nonbinary person not being androgynous (for some reason that’s become an expectation)

Intersex is not a part of the trans umbrella, even though it is often lumped in and people who are intersex can also be trans. It is a sex (different from gender) in which different parts of genitals and chromosomes and hormones are produced in a way that deviates from the norm. Many intersex people undergo genital reconstruction or reduction surgery when they are infants (and can’t consent) in order to fit the mold better. Intersex people can be cis.

Cis just means that someone agrees with the people who assigned them a gender when they were a baby and how society treats them.

Slurs: Don’t use them. There are a lot. If you see it in a porn category you probably should stay away from it.

Pronouns

Pronouns are highly personal and can be a myriad of things so I will not be going over all of them. They do not always match presentation (a long haired man with breasts is still a man) and many people will use multiple sets of pronouns or fluctuate between them for what they feel most comfortable with.

Common pronouns are: they/them, he/him, she/her

Less common pronouns are: xi/xir, fae/faer, it/its, e/em, per/pers, ve/vir, zie/hir

Neopronouns: People make up pronouns all the time since they are personal and these new pronouns are just as valid as any others. Someone made up his and hers after all. When making neopronouns the main thing to be aware of is consistency. You want the different forms of conjugation to make sense and you want to spell them the same way every time.

Appearance

As has already been stated, there’s no correlation between gender presentation and gender and many trans people are unable to present the way they want to due to the economy, genetics, health, or community. Still, people do what they can to pass or feel comfortable in their body and these things need to be in mind during descriptions. People tend to think of the slight things that make people not pass are unattractive and will point out a woman’s 5 o’clock shadow or a man’s high pitched voice as flaws. These things do not necessarily need to be skipped over but they can be described in a way that doesn’t distract from the characters gender.

Try to stop thinking of an hourglass shape as an intrinsically feminine trait and height as an inherently masculine one. There are cis women with full beards and cis men with round jaws. Exploring different features, combining them, and seeing how they meld will give your characters more depth and help with differentiating them from one another. A good rule of thumb is, if you mention something that people don’t immediately clock as the characters gender, describe it as gender accurate.

Misgendering

This is another one that I would say don’t do but there are characters who the writers don’t always agree with. Misgendering is extremely harmful, puts trans people’s lives in danger, and can out them without their permission. The narrator should never misgender a character unless the character does not realize they are trans until the story is underway but this should be rare. The trans character would have no reason to ever misgender themself and may talk about how they presented in the past but will, most likely, still refer to themself with the correct gender. The POV character may misgender a trans character upon meeting them but after being corrected should fix their behavior unless you want your audience to dislike the POV character. Friends of the trans character should not misgender the character unless they are in a situation in which being correctly gendered would bring them harm, otherwise they’re not good friends. Family may misgender the trans character if they are not out or if the family members are terrible people.

Dysphoria/Euphoria

Dysphoria is when there’s a painful discrepancy between mind and body, like when someone knows they are one way but they don’t look the way they feel. Misgendering can be a large cause of dysphoria, as can hearing a recording of their voice, reflections, binding and tucking not hiding what the individual may want to hide, height, muscle structure, bone structure, etc.

Euphoria is the exact opposite of this. It is an extreme sensation of peace and joy in personal gender presentation. This can be caused by hormone replacement therapy, correct gendering, presenting in a way that feels natural, and acceptance.

Dysphoria is not necessary for being transgender.

Social Groups

Look around your friend group. Notice anything eerie? Notice how most of your friends are similar to you in a lot of ways, especially IRL friends? They’re people that you trust and expect to keep you safe while having a fun time with because you share interests and experiences with. Same for trans people. This is why, if you look at my friend group there’s 2 genderfluid, 1 agender, 1 nonbinary, 2 trans women, 1 trans man, and 1 cis man (who’s a cousin). If you have just 1 trans character in a group of friends it is going to read as a need for diversity points and that character is less likely to feel safe with discussing trans issues due to no one around them being able to relate.

Outing

This is one that a lot of people have a hard time with and even trans writers mess up a lot. We all know the infamous scene of someone walking in on a trans person changing and, hopefully, we know that this is not only cliche but actually harmful as it tends to lead to the idea of “lying” when it’s really just not anyone’s business and that trans bodies must be on display. I would say that you shouldn’t have to out your character because coming out is dangerous for real trans people in a lot of situations and it normalizes the idea that trans people must doxx themselves at any moment but due to the lack of representation and the nature of novels, you pretty much have to out your characters. No amount of subtext will be as beneficial to a trans reader as cementing the fact that there’s someone they can relate to in canon. Luckily outing a trans character is a lot easier than people think.

Some of us can’t shut up. A lot of trans people will hint at it a lot and just flat out say it if they’re in similar company. If we see people who we feel confident are also queer we often drop hints that we understand we’re safe, they can come to us (especially in a retail setting), because we want a community. The amount I bring up my masculinity is very very often, to the point I’m surprised people aren’t annoyed with me. I don’t pass very well so I wear a lot of brightly colored buttons that explicitly state my pronouns. There’s also this very strong urge to correct people who use gendered language for things that don’t need gender (like sexual organs and menstrual cycles). There’s nothing wrong with just saying that a character is trans.

Resources

The best thing you can do for your story is research. The trans people you know are not google and they do not deserve to be treated like google. You can use google. Here’s some stuff I found on google:

Dummies | Transequality | EverydayFeminism | Scriptlgbt

But no matter how much research you do it’s not going to be as useful as a sensitivity reader. Once your story is complete ask people to read it as beta readers and sensitivity readers and listen to the people that fit your minority characters.

Some musicians to check out for inspiration

I have to recommend music. I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t.

Agender: Angel Haze | Mood Killer

Androgyne: Florian- Ayala Flora |

Genderneutral: Grimes |

Pandrogyne: Genesis P-orridge

Two Spirit: Tony Enos | Cris Derksen

#writing advice #transgender writing #queer writers #trans writeblr #trans writing

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