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whispersoftheton · 11 months

Note

Hello!

Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?

They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit

Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3

dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)

Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.4K

The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly.

As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least.

After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.

Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.

"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.

"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.

"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.

"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.

"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now."

"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"

"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike."

Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.

------------------------

You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them.

Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.

Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.

"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.

"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom.

"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.

"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.

The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.

You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.

"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.

"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you.

"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence.

"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."

"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.

Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.

Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.

"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"

"You called me Anthony."

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 7 months

Text

IT’S YOU, HAPPY ALL THE TIME ─── jonathan breech ✧☾𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I ask Jessica what drowning feels like and she says not everything feels like something else." — ‘Jessica gives me a chill pill’, Angie Sijun Lou.

pairing. jonathan breech x reader

summary. you’ve bared your heart to your bestfriend, jonathan, more times than you can count, whilst knowing practically nothing at all about him. what is friendship if it is not equal… what is love if it is not returned? can your relationship survive such one-sidedness?

warnings. swearing, TW mention & description of suicide/attempts & depression, very introspective/kind of a character study???, alcohol & drug use, pining, ANGST!!!!, crying, fluff, smut with feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 10k (WTF??!?!!??)

a/n. the title is from “she won’t go away” by faye webster:) btw this is… rly angsty (and SO long omg im still in shock) so beware🫡 ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN WHILE!! SCHOOL IS KICKING MY BUTT & THIS FIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER TO WRITE LMAO

There are very few words in your vocabulary you can use to accurately describe Jonathan Breech.

The boy is an enigma, a matryoshka doll that never ends: he is witty and lighthearted and sarcastic, but you’ll always catch that edge, the air of malaise he carries around himself, the unspoken elephant in the room that screams WHO ARE YOU REALLY?

He had always been more of a figure, a landscape; something to witness, observe-- experience without letting it do the same to you. You don’t know if that’s something you want, either: there’s an imbalance in his hilarity, and he always takes things a step too far. Jonathan lights matches and lets them burn all the way down to his fingertips; he shaves and lets the blade leave stinging little nicks, rivulets of blood running down his neck; he chainsmokes cigarettes in his room and only opens the window when he feels his heart hammering in his chest, desperate for air.

You meet him — or, first experience him in a similar fashion: he had been in the university library, standing on top of a creaky, old bookshelf, shouting something you couldn’t understand over the music blasting through your headphones. You could certainly see him though, gesturing animatedly, dressed eccentrically in his signature winter trapper hat and a velvet blazer. That thin, effeminate figure of his was making winding, marionette-ish steps along the wood, an action that had everyone readying themselves to catch his inevitable fall.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere and catching you completely off guard, you caught his eye. He began stepping from one shaky shelf to the next, a complete miracle none of them toppled over, before stopping on one close enough for you to read his lips.

“Hi,” he mouthed, shifting uneasily on his left foot before regaining a steady balance, “you’re in my class, right?”

You nodded, hesitantly— yes, truthfully, you’d seen him in your Introduction to Literary Studies course a couple of weeks ago, sporting the same outfit as he did now, but you thought nothing of him. He’d been generally well-behaved then, asking slightly odd but in-tune questions that more or less answered all your inquiries, so you didn’t think the guy would have a penchant for, well… book-shelf hopping.

He grinned, about to say something else, before something — or someone, made him flinch. A professor, probably, considering the unintelligibly muffled, booming voice behind you. However, Jonathan made quick work of the situation, sneakily climbing down and escaping out the door.

The next time you see him, he’s sidled up beside you in your shared class. “Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice had asked, to which you murmured a non-committal knock y’self out, before realizing with wide eyes. His presence had caught you off-guard, as he so often did, and you sensed a pattern blooming.

Jonathan certainly made for an odd desk-partner; his personality warped the environment around you, and it was suddenly so much easier to tear your eyes away from the lecture and land on Jonathan’s own. It’s something you never thought you’d ever do, because you adore the material being taught.

At the end of class, he asks you out for a drink: he’s just found the best Irish stout in the entire city, and what better way to make it known than to take anyone and everyone he knows there?

Rejection is written on your face clear as day— you have class tomorrow, an essay that needs to be finished, and honestly, pubs just aren’t really your scene.

But in the end… you still bite. You can’t help it: he’s disarming and warm and looks like he should smell like a bonfire. Somehow, that just does it for your brain; it’s here you learn of the charm that is Jonathan Breech.

That night goes everything and nothing like you expected: you expected not to be able to predict his actions, and that’s exactly what happens. When you meet Jonathan at the aforementioned pub, it’s not actually the one he’s meaning to take you to— it’s just the closest public place to the on-campus dorm, which is where he says he’s rooming.

“‘ve got a neighbor m’pretty sure is trying to sleep with me,” he says absently, ushering you onto the back of his bike, which had been leaning against a NO PARKING sign. “He’s always toget’er wit’ our dorm advisor, so I should l reject him before I get kicked out, if y’get what I mean.”

Now, you honestly should’ve expected this from a guy who jumped from six-foot book shelves, but Jonathan’s biking is all swift turns and jilted stops, mere milliseconds from repeatedly running red lights. You want to ask if he just learned how to ride the thing yesterday, but can’t, not with how utterly reckless and shameless he is about it, his terrible steering making you instinctively wrap your arms around his chest.

You clutch him tightly, making him hum in approval, and you feel your ears burn flusteredly. You would’ve pulled away, but then he cut from the right lane to the left in one swift move, barely missing several cars, and you practically shrieked instead. “Oh my god!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. You can’t see his face, having shut your eyes in fear, but after hearing the blatant cheekiness in his tone, you can imagine clear as day how gleefully it contorts. You want to slap him somewhere, anywhere, but that’d defeat the point of being mad at his recklessness, so you squeeze him tighter instead, and he chokes on his breath. “Jesus-- m’sorry, really!”

When the two of you make it to the pub — alive and uninjured! — annoyingly all the way across town, your first few steps off his bike are stuttered, dizzy: “We are-- not going by bike next time,” you gasp, leaning against a random brick wall.

“Next time, eh?” He grins, and this time you really do slap him— just on the arm, bless your self-control and niceties not to beat this oddly comfortable-to-be-around near-stranger to death.

The pub, with its forgettable name and dingy stools, has a minimal, lackluster crowd. A kitschy neon sign flickers and dies as you walk in, making you raise a brow, but Jonathan merely drags you by the arm to a cozy corner table, then disappearing deeper within the venue before returning moments later with two pints of black beer in tow.

“Go on, then,” he gestures, setting the tall glass on the table, sitting down in the chair in front of you and taking a hearty sip of his own drink.

You let out a little hesitant sigh at his words, before relenting and taking in a long gulp of the liquid. “…Huh,” you remark, impressed. Jonathan smiled knowingly behind his glass, letting out a smug little ah, you see?

“Worth the long ride?” he inquired innocently, as if that was the only thing wrong with the night.

“Worth the ride, but not worth almost dying for,” you rolled your eyes goodheartedly, knocking back the rest of the bitter drink and making him whistle.

The rest of the night goes like this: Jonathan orders two more rounds of the quality Irish stout before the two’ve you are stumbling out of the pub, exploring all the nightlife there is to offer, like the crowd surrounding an out-door live comedy group performing down the street that has you and Jonathan giggling for hours after, or the underground speakeasy you accidentally find yourselves shoved into, a nasally guitarist singing on a smoky stage, several more drinks finding themselves in your system despite how nauseous you already feel.

“You-- d’you fancy him?” Jonathan slurs behind you, steadying himself by pressing his hands to your waist.

“F-fancy who?” you blink blearily, leaning into his warm touch.

“Who else m’I talkin’ about, girl? The singer!”

You shake your head no numbly, practically collapsing into his arms now, your head lulling on his chest. You’re so close you can smell the distinct scent of his skin, that unique musk everyone has, and it’s strangely familiar, like those smells that evoke old, nostalgic memories. It’s like how sunscreen summons the smell of the sun after a childhood beach day, or how vanilla extract takes you back to the smell of your mother’s baked goods on a specific winter evening.

“Reckoned you wouldn’t,” he assumes, hands coming away from your waist to wrap his arms around your shoulders, swaying to the music slightly in the crowded club, “looks like a -- right bleedin’ dope… wit’ that mop of hair.”

You giggle, alcohol riddled beyond belief, unable to formulate a response with the conflicting blurry thoughts in your head: it’s telling you Jonathan Breech isn’t the crowd you want, that you need to go home and work, that you let loose too easily— but it also tells you that you can see yourself becoming friends with him very, very quickly.

It’s there, in that club, Jonathan Breech moves into your life and fills a gaping hole you didn’t know existed, like a hole in your stockings you only notice when you get home. You have friends, certainly, more than you can count on both hands, but they never get as close as Jonathan does. After that night, an unknown force pulls the two of you together, making you run into him everywhere, and a tight friendship blooms like a lilypad in a raging storm; beauty within the chaos. In the multitude of close friendships you’ve harbored, he is the first to see so many sides of you. The last thing that did was your mother; it had only ever been your mother.

He is an endearing, amazing friend, both the intent listener and the charismatic speaker all at once; he knows his friends like the back of his hand, can recount their life like he can count the number of moles on his face-- but you, and everyone else, know absolutely nothing about him.

At least, close to nothing-- you know he likes ice cream and hanging out and going to the pub; you know he likes biking and doing drugs and women; you know he hates the sea and his brother and his father, but you don’t know him. All you’ve ever seen him do is smile or laugh or shout in mock anger; there is a carefully glued mask on his face he takes meticulous caution in preserving-- he is terrified to let go, despite the blasé persona he lets on.

Or maybe the mysterious matter of your bestfriend is tripping you up for no reason; maybe you’re psychoanalyzing something that doesn’t need to be psychoanalyzed, reading between lines that don’t exist. But if you were asked to answer honestly, there’s just something about Jonathan you don’t get. There is a split seam in the tapestry of his life, missing pieces in the story he pretends to tell with utmost accuracy. There are things that he never talks about, that he recoils when asked like you’ve poked a tender wound.

“So, what were you doing before… all this?” You ask him once, laying on his messy bed in his dorm-room and scanning the water-damage constellations dotted along his popcorn ceiling. By all this you mean going to university, being the resident party boy, aimlessly pursuing a degree you’re 99% sure he picked blindfolded (culinary science) and standing here, with you, snorting a line of something on his creaky wooden desk.

Jonathan freezes, still hunched over. “What d’you-- what d’you mean?” he says, tone breezy but, uncharacteristically tense… jilted and preoccupied. You could’ve brushed it off as him being seriously focussed on his drugs, but the way he shifts, how his shoulders curl in like he wants to disappear, tells you otherwise.

“I mean, before going to school here… y’know, what were you like as a dumb teenager?”

You two’re twenty, barely not-teenagers, but it still makes a world of a difference: you’re living away from home, doing what you want, experiencing (a juvenile, naive version of) freedom and adulthood.

“I dunno… kind of a tool, that's f’sure,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose roughly. He’s being funny on purpose, a jester’s distraction: he doesn’t want you to realize his answers’ not really one at all.

You shifted on his bed, now leaning against his headboard. His answer strikes you as odd and uncharacteristic despite his attempts to evade suspicion: usually, Jonathan pounces at the chance to yap on and on. “What, the great Jonathan Breech doesn’t have any wild stories to tell? No bones broken, girls dumped, houses trashed?”

He snorted at that, like some inside joke you weren’t privy to was brought up in your words, and he descended back down on a carefully partitioned line of white. “I broke my baby finger once,” he relented vaguely when he finished, dusting off the table and licking the remains off his hand. “I cried and I cried and I cried.”

“Did it hurt that much?” you grinned, mind trailing off to imagine a baby-faced Jonathan Breech, a juvenile highschool boy, doing something silly to break that finger. Maybe he accidentally flung off his bike, broke it because of a dare, or maybe it happened just by slipping and falling.

“It - uh… didn’t hurt enough,” Jonathan smiled, tight-lipped and paltry. All at once the air in the room had changed, like someone attached a vacuum to the window and sucked everything out.

Your grin fell, and you watched him carefully: perhaps, had you not been as close to him as you were, he’d have let something show. A twitch in the smile, a break in the facade. But you were, and his face stayed the same, and your thoughts ran circles around themselves. This was… something else, something belonging to the part of his life he didn’t talk about.

The atmosphere had grown tense, taut, a rubber band twisted ‘round and round, threatening to burst, so you leave the matter of his injury alone; of his life alone. You go back to staring at his ceiling, he goes back to his drugs; Jonathan collapses within himself, and you don’t notice how badly he suffocates… how suffering in silence is also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found.

ii.

Sometimes, despite his self-imposed distance, Jonathan lets someone look inside his head.

You are both the sometimes and the someone; you don’t know why it’s always you, but you chalk it up to the fact that beneath his unpredictable demeanor, the murky and unreadable feelings he holds for others, is this uncharacteristic constant: he holds a softness for you. It’s what lets you know there’s something haunted lurking beneath his happy-go-lucky surface.

You don’t know where this softness comes from, either. But you know you see it, in lingering touches, tender duchenne smiles unlike the devilish tilt his lips usually hold, how he clasps his hand around yours after a night at the pub and walks you home because he knows you get paranoid. You see it in how he comes over to your apartment when you don’t answer anyone's calls during exam season, how he remembers what your mother’s name is and what your childhood pet was and what your favorite flowers are. How his lips brush past your cheek when he pulls away from hugs, his hands shuddering around your shoulders, like he’s afraid he’ll crush you.

You only wish you could do the same. You want to sit by his side and mend his heart, lend an ear to his most mundane fears, you want to take his hand into your own and kiss it softly, return all that he has done for you, take the same as you have given to him: what is friendship if it is not equal, what is love if it is not returned? It is something broken, unable; split halves of one heart, an imbalance in the scale, Bonnie without her Clyde, a fish out of water.

Jonathan pours his heart into your own, filling holes you know you don’t have, and you think he may be overcompensating for something else, seeing things in you that really belong to him. It is maddening, and you just want to beg and plead he lets you in.

But you settle for the gentle pokes, the prodding, and try to decipher the vague answers he gives you. Most days, you can’t really make sense of it.

“Sorry,” you apologize, about to leave the outing you planned with Jonathan — studying, or, trying to study, at an intimate coffeebar the two of you frequented — “my dad’s gotten drunk with his lads and my mum needs help dragging him home.”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry. I get it: my dad used to do that all the time,” he waves your words off casually, but you don’t miss how jilted he says used to and the pain in his tone at all the time.

“Oh, surely she was fit to go to the madhouse?” you laughed once, responding to Jonathan’s complaints about an eccentric classmate in his agricultural studies. He laughs back, he always does, but this one is hollow, forced; barely stopping a grimace from coloring his tone.

You notice these things like it’s a shadow following someone in the sun. He is lying, hiding; about something you don’t know but it is happening. It is happening, and you are so very curious: you pick up on the littlest tendrils of him, fed wholly on any information you can squeeze out. He is a mystery you want to delve within completely; answer that question of WHO ARE YOU REALLY? and leave no room for error.

You’d give yourself to him the very same if he merely asked; you’d whisper childhood fears and tell the origin stories of faded scars on your knees and why you check under your bed before sleeping. You’d detail your entire life from sunset birth to starry night end if he even made a passing comment about knowing; you would trust your love, your heart, your entire life in his beautiful, shaky hands. This is the relationship you have built around yourselves, and it is beginning to feel terribly one-sided.

Alas, your curiosity overwhelms him, and you take it too far, just once. Only once.

“Where’d this come from?” you murmur, brushing your fingers over a scar above his eyebrow. It’s something you see only now, his hair mussed and wild from the various blankets and pillows on your dinky couch.

He’s crashing at your apartment tonight, an invited event, because you often miss him like you miss home; the boy is sneaky— he slinks away like a street cat and only comes back for food. It’s only fair he lets you wrangle him back like this, making him stay by your side at least once a week.

Your words make him freeze, like he often does; it reminds you of hikers, who freeze when they see mountain lions— he thinks if he stops and stares and pretends to disappear you’ll look the other way, drop the question, forget him completely.

But you don’t. You don’t know what’s affecting him -- not that he wants you to -- so you just stare back into his cornflower blue eyes. You stop and stare and see right through him; you hold the question like a knife to his neck, and commit him to memory.

“The scar?” Jonathan pales, shuddering despite it having long since been healed over. The aftershocks of an earthquake.

You simply nod, fingers pulling away. You’re still closer than ever though, the two of you being the only things in your cramped concrete apartment, the chosen movie on your telly still running and long forgotten.

Your attention remains on him, brandished into something dangerous, like you’ll carve the answer out of him if you have to— but the moment passes. He doesn’t say anything and you accept that as the answer. Gone is your razor-sharp focus, and there is nothing more to the matter.

But Jonathan doesn’t register this, no, he’s thinking, gears in his head turning and creaking. His tongue grazes against the backs of his teeth, jaw chattering like it was as cold as it was when… as cold as it was back then, and he doesn’t want to tell anyone— but it’s you. You’re not just anyone.

You’re the one he holds a certain softness for. The one he equally bares his heart to and holds the most secrets from. The one he’s most terrified to know. The only one he wants to know.

So, he decides to tell a partial truth— something digestible. People adore that which can easily slide down the gullet: news headlines don’t detail the goriness of a murder, they give the “insider” scoop of the scared neighbor. To be able to digest information is what makes the world go round, and he does not think you could digest the full truth-- he does not think he wants you to.

He feels ill at the thought of anything between you changing— oh, how ruined he’d feel if you began treating him like fucking glass.

This abhorrent social pressure is what makes Jonathan grit this sentence through his teeth: “I got into a car accident,” he gulps dry, “when I was nineteen. Was drunk… went fer a spin. I skidded off a -- um, an empty highway. The tall sorts; high up, y’know. Fell.”

His voice makes you look back up at him, and your eyes are beautiful and tense— it breaks his heart. He knows you’re probably thinking it was in-character, how expected that is of Jonathan Breech, how you’ll easily take this partial truth, how you’ll never know the full one until it comes in a letter under your door and he’s long gone.

“Tell me,” you ask him, lips falling into a near-frown instead of laughing or grinning wider. It’s hushed, whispered like a secret, “What did it feel like? Falling, I mean.”

Jonathan licks his lips, bores his shaking gaze into your own, and tells you not everything feels like something else. That the word connotes all you need to know. Falling meant he was falling; his arms raised and the air took him and that was it.

It makes your brows twist and your lips press into a thin line: his nonchalance is worrying, no more his signature characteristic— there is something wrong about this apathy toward injury, toward the potential death.

“Is that how you broke your finger?” You murmur, and it startles him. How you pieced the two things together, how you weaved a web from what little you knew about him; how futile his attempts to hide could be.

“What?” he responds, hoarse. There is a lurking shadow in his bones telling him he’ll taint you, telling him to be ashamed, telling him how badly you will never be his. It is such a damning reality, that no matter how much he may yearn for you, he is too incomplete to meet your needs; he is too hurt not to hurt you too.

“The car accident. Is that how you broke your pinkie?” you repeat, and you gripped his hand resting at your side, bringing it up to present the finger to him like he forgot where his pinkie was.

Jonathan’s gaze darts from you to the finger, and he feels his insides quiver; so badly does he want to spill his entire soul to you. But that internal reminder -- hurt people hurt people hurt people -- makes him settle for nodding, parted lips locking closed.

Nothing special happens that night, no shocking revelation or bombarded confession; Jonathan nods, keeps his lips sealed, and gets up from the couch, figure dreary and fatigued. He murmurs an incomplete excuse, something half-baked and blatantly unconvincing that he has to leave, and you let him go. You think you’re imagining the shudder in his shoulders, the shake in his voice as he says goodbye, and you let him go.

It’s there, like that club so long ago, you discover another thing about Jonathan Breech: push too far and he shuts down, closes shop and puts up his guard forever. It’s the mere fact of how attentive you are to his words; you remember how he broke his finger, and he realizes he cannot hide from you any longer.

You’re reaching a point in your friendship -- your relationship, no matter platonic or romantic for all lines have been crossed; nobody is so raw to one another with love not involved -- where you’ll bare your hearts on your sleeves, share your every thought and dream and fear. But Jonathan won’t be able to reciprocate, and the very thought of rejecting you, betraying you, makes his stomach twist in knots. That crestfallen face of yours would haunt him for all time, your every melancholy feature burning into his memory like the scars left by cigarettes on skin.

So he leaves, hurt people hurt people hurt people echoes in his ears all the way home; he turns into an alleyway shortcut and prays death swoops down and takes him right there. He leaves his consciousness curled lovingly in your arms; his shell walks home and prays you’re none the wiser. But you’ve already reached that point in your relationship; you already know.

When people die, or friendships do, sometimes they end with just a goodbye, a mild, casual goodbye because you think there’ll be dozens, hundreds more-- but there won’t be. Suddenly, alone in that cramped apartment, the buzzing from the tv filling your ears, your couch still warm from someone long gone, you know.

You know you startled him, that he’s left your apartment and he’ll never come back. Your heart cools, and she whispers that you took it too far, that you crossed a line you were never made aware of, that when you see him in class tomorrow he might not sit next to you, he might not talk to you, that you might lose him forever because he is too stubborn to open up and you are too stubborn to let him go.

Well, you were too stubborn to let him go.

It’s three weeks before you speak to Jonathan again. Three long, dragging weeks, moments in time where he avoided your gaze, evaded your presence, slipped past you before you got too close. You certainly try, of course— you seek him out every chance you get, trying to get an I’m sorry, please talk to me out before he runs off, but it’s virtually impossible.

Once, after class, you’d caught him in the middle of a flurry of exiting students by the velvet blazer, your hands curled around the lapel. “Jonathan,” you panted, trying to drag him off to the side to escape the bustling activity around you, “please, we need to talk--“

But then Jonathan had faced you, eyes widened and spooked like he’d seen a ghost, a never-before-seen-by-you fear covering his gracefully cut features, before he tugged off the black blazer and escaped into the crowd. He had seen you, widened his eyes, left. Such a simple action tore your heart in two; it had confirmed your suspicions— you’d gone too far, he was never coming back, and you were all alone. There you stood, fingers wrapped around one of his favorite articles of clothing starkly without its beloved owner, completely alone.

In three measly weeks, he has put up a biting winter of distance between you two.

Your feelings are unable to comprehend themselves— they fight and sob and run circles around your mind, they make you doubt, crumble, devour yourself from the inside out; they make you ask yourself what you can do to salvage this, what can you do to fix this? What is there to make of him, of his behavior; what do you do with yourself and this guilt?

If you could imagine time was a construct, you were certain you could convince yourself this stretch of time was nothing… propel yourself into a present where Jonathan does not afflict your mind, take over your every thought— does not ruin you like so. If only you could do that, you could close your eyes and reopen them when you’ve let go. But you were always too stubborn to let him go, weren’t you?

It’s three weeks to the day before you speak to Jonathan again, and it happens through the crack of his dorm door, your arm wedged through it because you know he is not cruel; he will let you in without a doubt.

“Please,” you plead to Jonathan, “just— I just want to talk. Please?”

He stares at you straight, expression cold and reserved, before he breaks and pulls away; bites his lip, lets you in his room, doesn’t look you in the eye. Looking around, you sense something in his dorm has changed; it had gained a bereft quality, like it was attuned to Jonathan’s state of mind and felt depressed beyond your comprehension. There was a cold air to the place, an utmost frigid demeanor to a room incredibly warm just weeks prior. In your absence, the dorm had been neglected, gutted, abandoned.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that tumble out of your mouth. “I- I know you don’t like… talking about -- about your life before here, and I’m sorry. But please, Jonathan, just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

He sits down on the edge of his weak bedframe, pulling his knees up and pressing his face into them. “You don’t need to-- don’t… don’t apologize. You don’t need t’make it better, either. All’s grand.” he promises, words muffled and shaky. It’s a weeping kind of tone; you could just as easily imagine him sobbing with that voice.

Your brows knit. Your emotions are wavering, treading brutally between disbelief, despair and rancor. “Then -- then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you avoid me? Why did you - why did we spend these last three weeks playing cat and mouse, if you weren’t mad at me? Is this your sick idea of a joke?”

“No! I-- jesus christ,” Jonathan looked up from his hands before immediately pressing two fingers between his eyes, “I wasn’t … avoiding you.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks!” you point out painfully, exasperated. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me for longer than this. You— you push me away any chance you get. You’re afraid. I don’t know of what, but you’re- so fucking secretive, and it’s tearing me apart.”

“I’m not - afraid of anything. I’m just a private person— you know this. Would you, if I ‘pushed you away?!’”

At his denying deflection, something within you snaps: “Why won’t you - fucking let me in? I’ve — I’ve bared my soul to you; you know me from the inside out. I trust you with my life— why, why can’t you do the same?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! And I didn’t — I didn’t mean t’get so close to you, okay?!” He bursts, and you flinch. His hands shakily come up to his face once more; he wipes roughly but it’s no use— you’ve already seen his delicate tears threatening to spill, and it burns more holes in your heart than you thought his suffering would.

“What are you talking about?” you pry, now without any cautious reservations about his demeanor.

“I didn’t mean to get so fucking attached, because - ‘cause I…” Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “fuck.”

“What?” you repeat, but it’s softer, concerned; how quickly his body language shifted from irritated to terrified has you scrambling to support him. “Talk to me,” you ask, taking nervous steps closer, like you were approaching a wounded animal.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, like he did cigarette smoke, before exhaling heavily. “Okay- okay. When I was - nineteen, I drove a car… I drove off a cliff and tried t’kill myself. I was-- admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a year, and when I got out I moved here f’school. I- I… promised m’self I wouldn’t let anyone get too close.”

The confession hangs in the air, a lonely little thing; it’s a bleeding piece of his own heart he’s plucked and placed in your palms. He shudders, and you want to nurture it like nothing else. This is a culmination of a year’s worth of evasion coming to a close; you’re seeing him completely, rawly, for the first time.

“But- but why? You don’t have to— Jonathan, you don’t need to do that just because you - you… y’know.”

“I’m- I know that,” he starts brashly, defensively. “It’s b’cause I am very, very aware of my - of m’own self destructiveness…” His words taper off into something of grief; the Sisyphean struggle of wanting to live, while that depressive boulder pushes him back, colors him completely. “I just… I didn’t want to - t’hurt anyone in case I -- in case next time I succeeded.”

“Next time?” you repeat, and your voice broke in a way you wish was less vulnerable, less blatantly miserable.

“This is why I didn’t want to—“ Jonathan sighs, deflates, “I’m not telling you this because I want you to - t’fucking save me, okay? I’m telling you this because you wanted to know, and I couldn’t hide from you anymore. Because you asked.”

“You didn’t need t’hide it in the first place!” you exclaimed, coming closer to him. “You’ve never had to hide a fucking ‘ting from me.”

“You wouldn’t have understood!” He said back, volume nearing a shout. “You’ll treat me differently now, you see, you’ll look at me fuckin’ different—“

It made your heart sink-- how sure his words were, how certain he was of your rejection. How little trust did he have in you?

(You remember he wanted to sink, too-- lose himself in the baby blue sea; let it swallow him whole and never be seen again.)

“You - you really think I’ll treat y’differently because of this? You know my every crevice, my every thought-- I have never once doubted that you’ll accept me.”

“I-I… why should I - expect any of this to stay the same?”

Suddenly, you took his face into your hands. “Because I-- I fucking love you, okay? And it’s not just friendly, or romantic, even if it’s both— I’m… I love you like nothing I’ve ever loved before. I accept and adore your every skill and flaw and antic; you wormed your way into my heart and I want to worm my way into yours.”

“That doesn’t mean—“ Jonathan tried to interject, a noise all utter disbelief. You cut him off, though, continuing your sudden confession; you hadn’t been privy to these own romantic feelings of yours till moments prior, but everything being said just felt right.

“Jonathan, I don’t care if you drove a car off a cliff or cyanide-poisoned our professor or blew something up, because I love you. You, with all your problems and great, big, beautiful life. All I want is for you to want that life; I want you to want me in it. I feel it in my bones that I’m meant to love you; you are meant to be my home, you are everything I am supposed to know. It won’t fix you or fix anything at all but I just need you to know-- I need you to know the why to my every action. It’s because I love you.”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, head resting in your gentle hold. “I - don’t know what to say… are you - for real?”

“As real as can be,” you smiled back at him, tracing circles along his smooth skin; you could’ve drank in that attentive stare of his for hours upon hours. “I love you, and nothing and no-one, not even you, can change that.” An aching grip had clenched around your heart at his words, that blatant disbelief: are you for real? God, had you ever been-- had you ever fucking been.

Jonathan’s mouth opened to speak, but instead, he let out an agonizing sort of cry; an exclamation of utter surprise at the loving acceptance. Then, he hesitantly leaned into your touch, as if he’d never hugged before, wrapping his arms around your waist to snatch you as close to him as possible. He held you tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, like this was all a mocking dream his yearning mind had made up; that if he closed his eyes now he’d wake up desolate, alone, without you for eternity. His worst nightmare.

“…God, I’m so - fucking stupid,” he grumbled, sounding angry, but you could feel vulnerable, hot tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “To assume you, of all people, would act that way… you of all people.” He said that tenderly; you of all people certainly meant miles more things you weren’t explicitly aware of, but you still felt the sentiment. “I’m not -- poetic or anything like that… but I love you, too.”

You chuckled a beautiful, wet laugh. “You don’t hafta’ say anything sweet or special. You’re everything to me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you onto the mattress with him. He flipped you beneath him, and held himself up by the forearms laying on either side of your head. “Fuck, I love you. I love you.” Jonathan repeated the words several more times, strange and foreign but right at home being said to you. Like his mouth was made to only ever say I love you to you.

Suddenly, you pressed your lips to his, shutting him up momentarily. You could still feel the vibrations of I love you rumbling in his throat as you kissed him. Your tongues danced along one another, an all consuming waltz; you wanted to know everything about him, down to the taste of his tongue, memorize how sweet his mouth felt on yours. Oh, how you longed for this moment; how could you ever think about love again, and yearn for it, without thinking of Jonathan?

You reckoned that’s what this had been the whole time; your love started as a little flame, something under the guise of friendship, but the two of you had fanned it, nurtured it-- all of a sudden the miniature warmth of platonic love burst into a raging, adoring fire. You’d fed this flame with tenderness, and it responded in kind; you could never again look at Jonathan without a certain intimate reverie. Perhaps that’d been why Jonathan found it so hard to cut off this relationship as he had dozens others: something primal and unconscious within him had begged him not to let you go— some higher being knew his home was only ever in your arms.

Jonathan deepened the kiss hungrily, pressing his weight onto you and pushing you into the mattress. Your head was spinning from the lack of air, and one of your hands had to sneak beneath his hat and tug at his hair to get him to stop. “Hey,” you panted, looking worriedly into his eyes, “what’s up?”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, hanging his head lowly for a moment before meeting your gaze once more, batting his long lashes. “Jus’ missed you. Thas’ all.”

“Missed y’too,” you murmured, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Your hands left the crown of his head and trailed down his backside, tracing over the curves and bumps of his frumpy yellow v-neck sweater.

That touch of yours seemed to spur him on even more, and his kisses began to travel; along your jaw, to your pulse, down the long ravine of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of your collarbone, making you squeal. He chuckled against your skin, a genuine amusement rather than the mocking one you two so frequently practiced, and it all went downhill from there. His hands skillfully tugged off your tank top, knee between your clenched thighs, more teasing kisses being planted along your now bare -- save for your bra -- chest.

You didn’t mean to come over, profess your love and suddenly jump into a steamy, yearning makeout session (which, you were pretty sure was venturing off into sex…) but you supposed that apologizing— arguing, whatever —meant your relationship went back on track to wherever it was heading… which may have been set to end with an ardor romance anyway. This love of yours would’ve bursted at the seams of friendship; it could not be confined by such mere things as labels.

“Fuck,” you groaned, arching into his teasing kisses along the peaks of your breasts, his hands ghosting around your clothed chest but never touching. “Please, Jon.”

You could feel his cheeky grin on your skin, “Tell me what you want, love.”

“…Take this off,” you demanded gently, referring to Jonathan’s sweater.

“Your wish is my command.” he snickered, obliging and removing the yellow knit-- as well as his white undershirt and pajama bottoms. He was left in a pair of boxer-shorts and that silly, silly winter-trapper hat, his fingers sneaking up to your supple thighs and tickling the edges of your jean-shorts; a silent plea.

“Eager,” you mumbled, noticing his over-compliance in completely stripping, smiling and guiding his hands to the waistband of your shorts to tug the tight article off.

When he did so, you shivered, both at the feeling of being only in your underwear, as well as Jonathan’s sharp, attentive gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he panted, eyes exploring your every sweet feature.

He was enamored with your bare body, not in a sexual way despite the blatantly sexual situation, but rather in a worshiping, religiously devoted way. It may’ve been blasphemous to think so, but Jonathan’s sudden chaste kisses along the curve of waist only seemed to prove you right; his mouth on you was gentle, like he’d held you before, except now without any guilt or hesitation. It was a holy way of loving you; something all-consuming, becoming the epicenter of a life, becoming the purpose, motivation, and belief all at once.

That familiar broiling in your gut occurred as he made his way closer to the pulsing, lace-covered place between your legs; your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in pure anticipation, his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “Don’t be such a tease,” you pouted, legs fumbling for purchase along his body, trying to pull him closer to you.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he hummed, but his fingers still curled into the band of your baby-blue panties and dragged them down in one desperate go, “but I do wanna taste you….”

Jonathan’s veiny hands pried your quivering thighs apart, murmuring an offhand already stole y’panties, don’t get all shy on me now when you whimpered flusteredly, before he descended on your dripping lips, licking a flat-tongued stripe up to your clit.

You gasped at the sudden action, but it quickly morphed into a choked moan when he pressed himself further and parted your lips, nose to your pelvic bone; he made quick work of you, artfully curling his long tongue into your hole and slurping your slick.

“So sweet,” he praised, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs clench around his head. He hummed in amusement at your reaction, lapping you up quicker; he kitten-licked and slobbered, feeding on your sticky cunt, tongue darting in every direction, feeling your walls and prying deeper into your hot hole, which ached for the cock straining against the mattress now. The bottom half of Jonathan’s face was now positively soaked, glistening with his own drool and your needy wetness, all of it mixing dirtily and sliding down the length of his neck.

“Jon!” you mewled, hands tearing off his trapper hat and flinging it elsewhere before curling your hands into his mousy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy, desperate to come. You were riding his face now — or, attempting to, more accurately bucking up into him — adoring his unceasing ministrations. He was basically fucking you with his tongue, overstimulating your clit with teasing licks then pulling away, feeling along the ridges of your walls.

“Pick m’hat up later, love,” he tutted, pulling away slightly to see where you’d haphazardly thrown it, and your desperate whine neared a sob. He breathed in sharply, taking in how quickly he’d undone you: in a matter of minutes, your expression had grown wanton, eyes blown out, drooling, hair askew, bra riding up your tits and revealing your sweet, puffy nipples.

Jonathan quickly forgot about the state of his beloved hat, and went back down on you, mouth devouring in full force once again. You rolled your hips forward, and when he pulled his tongue out of your wet hole to suckle softly on your fleshy nub, your eyes rolled back into your head and your legs shook around his face, toes curling tightly. A choked moan left you alongside the sudden climax, sounding a hundred percent pornographic and all for him.

You panted, silent and unmoving for a moment, and Jonathan began moving to get up and let you take a breather before continuing, absolutely terrified to push you too far or do anything you didn’t want to do— he was the spontaneous one, and you were the responsible one, but that didn’t mean he ever wanted to force anything upon you. His simultaneous decisions were made mostly in part with your interests in mind; he made the decisions you were too nervous and over-thinking to choose quicker.

However, you took a long breath, then trailed your hand over the painfully noticeable bulge within his soft boxers. “Wan’… make you feel good,” you murmured, flattening your hand against his erection.

Jonathan inhaled sharply, pitifully affected by the minor touch but holding back with an incredible amount of self restraint. “I can wait,” he offered sweetly, one of his hands coming up to your flattened hand’s forearm to rub the skin.

You shook your head foggily, cupping him through the fabric, slowly adding friction by sliding your hand up and down.

“S-shit,” he bit his lip, “you want this now, baby?”

You nodded vehemently with a whimper, and to make more of a point, you reached behind and unclasped your bra, tossing it elsewhere on his dirty dorm floor, before beginning to slip off his underwear.

The hand on your arm stopped you, though, in favor of doing it himself and pressing his weight further onto you, your chests flush with one another. You were only able to take in thin breaths, making your head spin, but it also amplified the arousal blooming in your cunt when Jonathan slotted himself at your soaking entrance, collecting his saliva and your slick on his tip.

Before he pushed in, however, his head dipped into the hollow of your neck, plush lips brushing past the shell of your ear. “Is this okay?” he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your temple.

“Please,” you whined, hands pushing flat on his back to bring him closer to you.

With that, Jonathan slowly buried his length within your cunt, making your breath hitch. “I love you,” he groaned, entering you inch by inch, relishing how your warmth swallowed him whole. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your hole was stuffed beyond belief, but Jonathan was gentle with you, caressing your waist with the rough pads of his fingers and massaging you, trying to ease his entrance into something painless. Obviously, with that length and thickness it couldn’t be painless at all, but his attempts helped your mind drift off elsewhere and take some of the attention off the stinging stretch.

After a long moment of ragged breathing, Jonathan cooing words of praise into your neck as he kissed you without moving, you dug your fingers into the skin of his back: “More,” you choked out, the fullness in your cunt now feeling delicious rather than cringeworthy.

He smirked against your skin, “Looks like you’re t’eager one now.”

“Oh, get on with it,” you rasped and he let out a low chuckle, sliding out of your hole before thrusting back in. That first movement already made your hips jerk up into him, back arching. It was like all the warmth in your body had collected in your cunt, leaving you freezing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but still with a needy, burning fire in your insides.

Jonathan’s pace was affectionate and rhythmic: you could feel the tenderness in his each and every gentle roll of the hips. It made you feel like the sun, how attentive he was, but he was also so fucking slow. If anything, that had your walls clenching onto him harder than if he hammered into you— that slow build-up of friction was dizzying. You squirmed, cunt clenching and contracting around his smooth thrusts— you wanted to take him within you completely, cause more friction for you were going stir-crazy with this lazy speed.

“F-fuck! Faster, please,” you cried out, unable to take his sensual movements any longer. Your legs were twitching with his patient movements, and you could’ve sworn you saw a cheeky grin on his lips. The bastard— even in sex was he teasing you, wanting to torture you until you gave in to the pleasure and begged him to ruin you.

Sure, this was your first time together, and was going extremely pleasantly and sweetly, but you were actually pretty fond of the idea of letting him pound into you like there was no tomorrow…

At the lewd thought, your walls pulsed around his cock, making him buck up unintentionally, hitting that sweet spot within you. He grunted at the feeling of your tightened cunt, while you cried out his name, pleasure running like a current through your body. Your face was on fire, reminiscent of a raging fever, and your insides were coiling— god, how did his cock just feel so perfect within you?

“Oh,” he grinned in a pant, “found y’spot, didn’t I?”

Jonathan didn’t give you a chance to speak before he pulled out so far his tip was the only thing in your hole, before slamming back in and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Props to him-- he hit your g-spot with utmost accuracy, and you let out a long, stuttered mewl, scratching at his freckled back, legs twitching. Your wail was almost catatonic, loud and cock-drunk, dripping unabashed, filthy pleasure.

“Makin’ such sweet noises f’me,” he praised huskily, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, “fuck, ‘ve gotta hear that again.”

He must’ve noticed your neediness earlier, when he was slow and languid, for the new speed he set was double- no, triple that: his hips were snapping against yours, balls smacking filthily against your lips, left hand pinning your hips down and letting him sink into you faster. Shocks of pleasure tore through you at the sudden increase in speed- he’d inured you so well to the torturously slow pace from earlier that this new frenzied one felt like getting hit by a bullet train. You were overstimulated and needing more of him all at once, practically vibrating with need under his touch.

“I’ve- hnngh- wanted this…” you gasped between moans, “f-for so long…”

“Wanted m’cock?” Jonathan questioned in a hiss, feeling with his every inch how your walls absolutely soaked him. His tone was, obviously, sarcastic, but it still made you feel incredibly lewd.

You shook your head numbly, “Wanted you… I love you, Jon!”

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he purred, fucking you faster and making you writhe beneath him, “love you s’much.”

Jonathan targeted the spongy, swollen spot deep within your cunt, suddenly filled with a renewed vigor and motivation to make you come as quickly as possible, and he pounded into that one, specific spot, watching how you twitched and squirmed, heavy moans exiting you. He was relentless, hands reaching to hook under your knees and spread you wider.

At the new angle, his cock penetrated you even deeper, fuller, which you thought wasn’t possible with how goddamn full you already felt, but when his thick cockhead brushed up against your cervix you thought you were going to burst. Then, one of his hands came up to your tits to knead the flesh, and you squeaked when he tweaked your soft nipples. He was pawing at your sweet tits, fondling you in a needy, boyish way, like yours were the first pair of boobs he’d ever felt.

“M’close!” you gasped, mind going fuzzy with pure ecstacy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, cold sweat running down your spine, a terribly stark in contrast feeling to the warmth buzzing under your skin.

“C-can’t last much longer either,” he choked, still pumping in and out of your sticky hole and savoring the feeling of your tight warmness on his long length. He looked absolutely exquisite above you, and you lost yourself in the ethereal picture. Maybe you were in love, or maybe he really was just an empyrean beauty; you took in the sight of his focussed iceberg blue eyes, the cute flush spreading along his pale cheeks and bare chest, how he bit his pink lips to muffle his needy grunts and moans.

Then, you mewled and convulsed around him, your walls spasming and contracting as you came undone, reaching the precipice of your pleasure. That made him fall off the edge— you had tensed all over- all over, and Jonathan couldn’t help how his hips stuttered, knees buckled, cock twitched; he only gave one last, powerful thrust into you before spilling himself inside of you. He painted your soft walls white, and you felt that familiar heat spreading within you; you welcomed it completely, and wanted such warmth to be there forever.

You milked him for every last drop, cunt like a vice grip, and Jonathan gave you another wet kiss, this time on your lips, and your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to kiss him back. Your brows knitted at the sour taste of yourself on his lips, but it just made everything feel so real— Jonathan and you had “made love”. It was a phrase you always wrinkled your nose at, feeling uncomfortable and juvenile at the intimacy it entailed, but now you understood it completely.

“I love you,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, unable to say anything else that conveyed what you felt for him.

Honestly, you weren’t sure anything could accurately do so— you felt infinitely about him, your love touching all edges of your mind, heart and soul, filling you completely. You supposed you felt about Jonathan how the sun felt about the moon— without one, there could not be the other.

“I love you-- too,” he responded, pausing in the middle at the aftershocks of your orgasm, which had caused you to tighten around his softening, sensitive cock for a second.

You peered deep into his baby-blue eyes, watching the utter love that coloured them; it was like submerging yourself in a great blue ocean, except you didn’t want to come out, because you knew you wouldn’t drown in those eyes. No, you knew Jonathan would always be there to pull you out.

Speaking of pulling out… Jonathan slipped himself out of you softly, careful not to agitate that first stretch any more than necessary, before collapsing back into your arms. The two of you tangled yourselves in a messy flurry of limbs on his cushy mattress, sweaty and breathy, something that should’ve been terribly uncomfortable but just wasn’t— you swore you could fall asleep anywhere, no matter your own state or the circumstance, as long as you were with him.

Blearily, both your eyes began to droop, until you gave into the familiar presence of deep, dark sleep. It was a dreamless sleep for you, but you had an ever present comfort at his weight on yours, something you could feel even in unconsciousness.

Hours later, in a brisk, shuddering early-morning that you felt all over due to Jonathan’s unruly habit of opening his window at the peak of the day’s hottest weather and forgetting to close it before cold nightfall fell, you awoke to Jonathan watching you carefully, so close you could feel his warm exhales of breath on your cheek.

There was no goodmorning or anything like that, just pure, uninhibited being, reveling in the space you two occupied together. Like you two were the only things left in the world.

When Jonathan noticed you woke up, he shifted, presumably to extract himself from your grip. You stopped him, though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer to you.

“What did it feel like?” you asked instead, for the last time. You brushed your fingers over his scar, and, knowing exactly what you were asking, this time Jonathan doesn’t flinch away. This time, he leans into your touch: it doesn’t burn, not anymore, and he wants your tenderness to swallow him whole.

You didn’t mean what it actually felt like, of course. You meant, what were you thinking? What have you done, and what will you do to yourself? You meant, I love you.

“It felt like,” falling; not everything feels like something else; I raised my arms and the air took me and that was it-- “it felt like… giving in. Letting my desperation find its purpose. It felt like I’d reached a point of peace… gained clarity after a long stretching, wounded moment came to an end. It felt like becoming something only meant to be talked about in past tense.”

You don’t say anything to that; you know he doesn’t want you to. There’s no need for you to hush or plead or make better, you just need to listen, and love him. He knows you accept him for everything he is, all his flaws and his strengths; he knows your love is all accepting- it veers on saintly.

At your silence, he melts into your arms and you can finally relax; there is an admission in the action, a release, an acknowledgement -- is suffering in silence not also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found? -- you have found him, at last, and you will never, ever let go.

You take it too far, just once. Only once. And you let him go just once, only once; never again.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan breech #on the edge #jonathan breech x reader #jonathan breech x reader smut #jonathan breech smut #cillian murphy x reader smut

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autisticaradiamegido · 24 days

Note

Hey since your requests are open, could you maybe draw Hal? Doing anything, I don't really care what (only if you want)

day 96

YES i actually got 2 thinking about hal today thanks to this post (and my tags even passed peer review yippee thank u) ANYWAY. in addition to all of that. I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT he and aradia would be friends.

ok i wrote all this out and it got long and kinda rambly bc im tired so im putting it under a cut lmao HALRADIA FRIENDSHIP RANT IN THE READMORE

i think there would be.... maybe a little tension given that aradia eventually ended up in Her Own Flesh And Blood Body and hal would presumably not have that option?

but overall i think after the way her friends treated her as a robot, and the experience of going from experiencing life as a living breathing organic person to a bodiless entity to HAVING a body but that body not being the same as the one you remember.... idk! it's like EXTREMELY EXTREMELY SPECIFIC AND MORE THAN A LITTLE TRAUMATIC and they could share it with each other!! how fucking lovely is that.

not to mention they both kind of have a history with equius?? (assuming this is post arquiusprite in some way. i certainly have an extremely self-indulgent "everyone lives" au for this scenario where they're able to safely separate into their pre-sprite components and then hal and aradia become buds.)

REGARDLESS i think it would be interesting for hal (who has ostensibly nothing but positive shit to say about his connection to equius) and aradia (who has some truly fucked things to say about her experiences with equius) to Talk Through All That.

not 2 mention the parallels that can be drawn between dirk/hal's perception of their relationship with jake being this kind of... Manipulative Pining Weirdness, and aradia being on the other side of somebody else's Manipulative Pining Weirdness and sharing that perspective without even knowing about all of that dirkjake backstory OUGH im tellin u it is all a very complex and wonderful scenario to consider and like, im not even much of an alpha kid aficionado tbh. hal experts chime in on the comments i know youre out there and i wanna hear your takes.

#day 96 #year 5 #aradia megido #lil hal #homestuck #im not kidding btw HAL ENJOYERS WHAT IS THE VIBE HERE #also to clarify i think hal's confusion is largely due to the. Hey How Did You Get A Flesh Body factor more than anything #aradia's situation is uhhhhh Strange

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walpu · 1 month

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Hi, it’s me again!! >_<

When I tell you I gobbled that headcannon post up, I went down on two knees and howled /hj

Anyways, do you think you can do some headcannons on Aventurine with Bodyguard! Reader if you have the time? But this time, with a twist :3

See, reader does care for Aven, you truly do, but before that, you were tasked by Everflame mansion and by Duke inferno himself to kill Aventurine. But you can’t bring yourself to, no, not when you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

When reader does become Aven’s bodyguard, you maintain that serious, no nonsense demeanor, but if he looks closely enough, he’ll see the lovestruck puppy hiding under the hardened shell that they’ve put on.

But the guilt catches up. One day, at least a few months after reader’s betrayal to Duke Inferno, you catch sight of an assassin sent to finish the job they couldn’t do. And so, the secret is finally revealed.

Personally, I think Aventurine would be betrayed, like very, how could he not be? He’s always kept people at an arm’s length away, and when he finally lets you in his walls, and starts falling for thier charm, this secret of yours comes out. He fires you almost immediately, but the way he stares after you with misty eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

The next months were absolute hell. Reader found a new job as a barista, and is quite enjoying the quaint and simply life it provides, even if you do miss Aventuirne. He’s probably still seething at you, right?.

Wrong. Because you’ve gone MIA, Aventurine been scouring all over the place, trying so hard to find you. He’s loosing sleep, forgetting to eat, all things that you would chide him about. Aeons, he misses you so much.

And when he does find you, he’s overjoyed, and when the two finally reunite, the first thing you do is to apologize deceiving him. But he forgave your silly ass a long time ago, why else would he have spent the last months trying to find you?

Long story short, it’s a happy ending, Aventurine couldn’t be more grateful he has you to be his bodyguard, his closest confidant, and most importantly, his lover <33

I’m so sorry if I went on a ramble, but this idea’s been plaguing me so bad I literally can’t focus on anything else 😭😭

I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWAR TO WRITIG FOR THIS REQUEST SINCE THE MOMENT I SAW IT I ADORE YOUR BODYGUARD!READER x AVEN SERIES btw thank you for sharing the c.ai bot

I feel like the only thing I do with each post is apologize for taking so long but right now I like from work trip to work trip so I'm actually really really sorry this madness should end soon 😭😭😭😭 Hope you'll enjoy this post, it was my goal to finish it before version 2.1

bodyguard/assassin!reader x Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes- gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, no beta

It was not a fast prosses for the both of to form a genuine connection. Moreover, you know goddamn well you shouldn't get attached to him.

And at first it seems easy, like yeah another rich playboy, no big deal, you've delt with people like him before, right? Right??????????????

Yeah until suddenly he's not just a rich playboy.

The more you notice how deeply lonely and unhappy he is, the more your heart softens towards him. And the more your heart softens, the more he relaxes around you, seeing behind your cold exterior.

He's not used to people caring about him. And yes, of course he knows it's your job but still, for a man who never had a real friend before, he surely can appreciate having someone who not only won't leave him but also will listen to him and look after him.

And the part about you being paid to do it? Oh well. It's the same guy who offers you to use him as you wish and who's greeting line is "I can play a role of a friend :)"

Mf is FRIENDLESS, LONELY and PATHETIC /affectionally

He'll take what he can get okay.

But goddamn. Don't think he doesn't notice how you started going out of your ways to take care of him. How you make him eat, tend to his small injuries ("my, my, you're my bodyguard, not a doctor. perhaps someone wants a raise, hm?~"), how you drag him out of casino or his office when it's too late.

It drives him crazy. It's not beneficial for you, right? The w h y.

He won't ask. Instead he will watch and slowly fold.

You are probably suffering tho lol. You should just kill him already, you've had so many opportunities to end him. Instead you spoon feed him soup because he claims he has a hangover after a night in the casino. And this little brat looks so smug about it too!!!!

Sometimes he feels like it's too good to be true: you being here, taking care of him, looking after him. The line between professional relationship, friendship and... something more is way too blurry already, and he knows it's dangerous but it just feels so good. Too good.

Duke inferno gets tired eventually. He sends someone to remind you of your mission. To remind you who you really work for.

Well, the duke receives a warning of his own. The dead body of his little messenger.

You know, of course, that the Everflame mansion thugs are not easily intimidated. They will be back. So you better warn Aventurine and tell him everything.

You can't keep lying to him, can you?

Well. It's surprisingly not as easy as you thought. After all, even if they will send someone, you'll just protect Aven like you always do, right? He doesn't have to know. Not about your past, not about your original mission. He keeps his secrets too, so why can't you?

You know goddamn well why tho. You know and yet you still can't bring yourself to tell him the truth.

It goes on like that for several months and Aventurine notices that something is clearly off, something is bothering his darling protector. He tries to pry, to tease, to cling, to pester you. Something to make you open up. Or, at least, get distracted. He can't help but feel anxious. Why are you suddenly so reversed? Do you want to leave his side? Does he not pay you enough? Does he bother you too much? It eats him alive while he tries to mask it by pestering you even more. As if to test you. As if to make sure that it's not the case.

All the hell breaks loose one day when you discover that Duke inferno has sent another assassin to finish the job.

I you spare the details but yeah, your secret was unraveled. And it wasn't pretty at all.

You have never seen emotions so vivid on Aven's face. Part of you always wanted to see him more vulnerable, more open with you. But not like this. Not this look of utter betrayal.

He collects himself quick enough, hiding behind the mask of mock disappointment.

"Hm, well, I recall mentioning that treachery is just another tool of the trade. But it seems like our little deal is not paying off for me anymore" he says with a cold chuckle, shaking his head a little. "After all, you have very little to offer outside of your dog-like loyalty. But seems like this dog bit both hands that fed it".

You were expecting him to call for your arrest but instead he just fires you. It hurts nevertheless.

What hurts even more is that look he gives you when you part ways. It's like his pretty eyes are even more lifeless now.

At first he feels this overwhelming emptiness. It truly feels like the fate is mocking him. One time, just one time, he allowed himself to relax around someone. Just this one time, with this one person who took care of him, who listened to him, who looked out for him. And this person was supposed to kill him.

Then his stupid brain finds another way to torture him. He keeps thinking about the way you have always protected him, the way you took the hit even during the last attack, when Duke Inferno's new assassin tried to get to him. You were ready to leave your past life behind to stay by his side, weren't you?

As soon as he realizes it he goes frantic. Of course he tries to find you asap but of course someone as competent as you would be able to disappear without a trace in no time. You were an assassin, after all. A skilled one too, since he never even suspected you.

This connection the two of you had, this realization that you really cared enough to betray your client, all of this makes him realize that he needs you so, so much. He needs to feel this care again, he need to look at you again, to know that you're here by his side.

He misses you so much. Your nagging, your reassurance, your touch. He's like an addict who felt what it feels like to love and beloved in return for the first time and now he can't live without it.

He doesn't eat or sleep properly, his head plagued by the thoughts about you. What if you forgot all about him? What if you're wounded? Where are you even? His fingers itch to trace your face and your scars.

He thinks about how you would scold him for not taking proper care of himself and it makes him miss you even more.

Aven finds you after a few months. It was honestly a coincidence, one of his subordinates saw you in the coffee shop you were working at.

He though that finding you will calm him down but seeing you from afar, looking somewhat peaceful and cozy, having a regular job... it's too much. And what if you really don't need him anymore? Maybe you never did? After all, he's painfully aware that he probably needs you much more than you need him.

And yet, he decides to take this risk. He's a gambler, after all.

"Somehow I'm not surprised you're good even at that. How come you have never made me coffee before, hm?"

You literally freeze on the spot after hearing this familiar voice next to you.

When you finally get to talk, you can see he's really trying to look calm and collected but how can he? His hands are shaky and his voice cracks. It breaks your heart.

He doesn't even let you finish your apology, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Hush, darling. All is forgiven. In fact, I even have an interesting proposal. I'm can be a generous man after all".

He can't fool you. Not with this shaky soft voice. And he knows it as well.

Please hug that fool and kiss him. Swear that you won't ever leave him again. Swear that you want to be by his side. As his bodyguard, as his friend, as something more. So much more. That's all he really need to feel like he's at home.

#if the ending feel abrupt i'm sorry tumblr said i'm writing too much #i had to cut it short #thank you so much for this request!!!#and fuск this app for making me cut my words it's not my fault i'm graphomaniac #hsr #honkai star rail #walp's writing #aventurine #hsr aventurine #reader insert #aventurine x reader

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mimsynims · 6 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 9

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

~~~

Author’s Note: Aaand it’s finally done! I always have trouble wrapping up a story, and this one was no exception… but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This will be posted at AO3 at some point. (In fact, if I write more BG3 fics I’ll probably post it on AO3 instead of Tumblr, as usual. And I do have a few ideas actually…👀)

Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, and comments <3 it has definitely helped me keep going!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, finally a happy ending for these two knuckleheads

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

To begin with, you didn’t handle it well. You tried moving on, and that seemed to work. At least you told yourself that it did.

Then something happened that gave you hope. Perhaps he feels something for you too, after all?

~~~

You find him on the path close to the archway, in almost the same spot where you talked to Bex mere days ago. You take a moment to study him from afar. It’s hard to be sure when there’s nothing but the light from the moon illuminating him, but you think his shoulders look tense. Is this your doing?

You wish you could hug him, offer to him relax in your arms.

“I’m afraid your personal blood bank will be closed for a while,” you joke as you walk closer, hoping it will lighten his mood. “For restocking purposes.”

Astarion doesn’t turn around, and when he remains silent for several tension-filled seconds, you wonder if your quip was a mistake.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

The question takes you by surprise and try as you might, you can’t figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that you’d do anything for me. Did you mean it?”

Oh. That. “Yes.”

Your heart starts pounding as he shifts to look at you. Silvery beams of moonlight caress his beautiful face, a face painted with apprehension — and possibly hope.

“And what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” you ask in return, because you’re not ready to say those three little words. Not yet.

“Nice try, Tav.” His jaw tightening, Astarion suddenly looks closed off. “If you’re going to play coy with me you might as well leave.”

With that, he turns away from you again — and it feels like a stab to the heart. “It means,” you amend quickly, “that I care for you.” You’ve never been good at expressing your emotions. Never been good at opening yourself up to other people. And it’s scary to do so now. “Deeply.”

Astarion scoffs. “I bet you said that to Gale too,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice stings.

“I– what are you talking about?”

“I saw you. You went to him.”

Acting without thought, you rush forward to place yourself in front of him to make sure that he looks at you; he needs to fully understand what you say next. “It wasn't like that, we only talked. Astarion, you’re special to me.”

You steel yourself for another cutting remark, but you’re helpless against the sad expression that replaces the anger. “So special that you decided to end things between us?”

Fool. You’ve been a fool. “I ended things because I didn’t think…” Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to be honest. “I did it because I was jealous and I couldn’t handle the possibility of you breaking my heart.”

His brow twitches in confusion. “You were jealous? Of who?”

You desperately ache to touch him, but you hold yourself back. “Shadowheart. Halsin. Anyone that I thought was sharing your bed besides me.”

“Tav. Darling.” He sounds exasperated but hearing the endearment again sparks tingles of joy and hope inside your chest. “I haven't invited anyone to my bed since we started sleeping together.”

Oh. Oh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” For the first time since you found him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” To say that you’ve been an idiot is an understatement. You’ve let yourself see things that aren’t there because you are insecure. “I haven’t either, you know. Been with anyone else since you.”

The smile twists into something teasing and sultry that feels more like Astarion. “Is that so?”

“It is, and I honestly can’t believe you’d think anything different.” It’s true. While you wouldn’t call yourself unattractive, you’ve never really been one to draw the attention of potential lovers. You’ve had a few before Astarion of course, but in general, people have been more inclined to remain your friend rather than try to pursue something more. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you had seen me on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.”

“Now that is just untrue, my dear Tav.” He reaches for your hand, taking it in his. “As you so bluntly pointed out that night, my motives for seducing you may partly have been driven by self-preservation, but I chose you for a reason — and not because you're our reluctant leader.”

His slender fingers grip you tighter and the touch is exactly what you need just then. “Is that so?” you echo, attempting to sound teasing. You fail spectacularly.

“I was drawn to you even before I started to develop feelings for you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin of your palm before resting it against his cheek. “At first, I thought it was the need for your body that kept you in my thoughts night and day. But as I got to know you better, I realised it was your mind — you — that held my attention.” Closing his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sigh. “What Cazador had me do… It taught me how to read people. But you…?” He opens his eyes again to look at you, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but you continuously prove me wrong. And I appreciate that more than I can express.”

“Astarion.” There’s so much you want to say. So much you need to say. But in that moment, you finally find the courage to tell him what you should’ve told him weeks ago, so the rest will just have to wait. “Astarion, I love you.”

His eyes widen in surprise as something vulnerable flashes across his face. After five heartbeats — you know, because you counted — he lets go of your hand to gently cup your neck.

The kiss is soft and gentle. Careful. In a way, it feels like a first kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of breaking up with me?” He kisses you again before you can reply. “There you go again, doing the unexpected.”

You don’t even try to hold back a smile. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed, you silly goose.” To your surprise, it no longer hurts as much thinking back to that night. “First you disappeared and then when I found you, you were sitting between Halsin and Shadowheart.”

“My my, were you jealous, darling?” he drawls in mock surprise. The bastard.

“Of course I was!” You very carefully wrap your arms around his waist, ignoring the ache from your injury. Because you need to feel him against you, pain be damned. “Why do you think I gave Gale so much attention?”

“And got yourself decadently drunk, too. It was a glorious sight.”

“Oh shush, you.” Despite yourself, you laugh.

“I have to apologise, though, my darling. I, too, was jealous.” His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I could tell something was troubling you, but you kept being so elusive. I assumed… I thought that meant you only deemed me worthy of getting access to your body, and nothing more.”

“Astarion.” The sincerity and sorrow permeating his words make you feel like a villain. “Gods, I’m so sorry, too. At the time, I didn’t think you’d be interested in anything else.”

“I want anything and everything you give me, Tav.” You feel his fingers slide down your uninjured side, gripping you as firmly as he dares to. Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes lock with yours. “I love you, with everything that I am.”

You can see the truth of it in his gaze, can feel it in his touch. He loves you. Was it always there and you were just blind to it? Or did he hide his feelings, just like you did?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, because all you need to know is that he’s in your arms.

“You have all of me, Astarion.”

“My beautiful Tav.”

You share another kiss, and then Astarion insists you both go back to camp to let you rest. The thrumming pain of the wound is there, but it’s easily overshadowed by the warmth blooming in your chest every time Astarion throws a smile your way on your way back. His hand is still linked with yours — it’s such a small detail but it feels infinitely more intimate than anything else you’ve shared with him so far. It’s impossible to stop smiling — not that you’re trying.

He follows you to your tent but to your dismay, he tries to leave after he has made sure that you have everything you need.

“Please don’t leave,” you say, refusing to let go of him. “I want you to stay. Stay the night.”

“Tav, my love, you’re in no condition to have sex.”

My love. It almost throws you off course to hear the new endearment. “Astarion, my love,” you counter, and oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction, “I wasn’t suggesting we’d have sex. I just want you close. Assuming that’s alright, of course.”

“Really?” He sounds just a tad surprised; that’s something you and he will need to unpack before going any further. But not tonight. “Well, that I can do.”

It takes a bit of careful shuffling around, but you manage to find a position that’s comfortable for you both without putting pressure on your injury.

He’s here. In your arms. You didn’t think you’d get to have this, but he truly is here. Your contented sigh is nothing but a muffled exhale into his curls but he doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a fond chuckle in response.

“Are you sniffing my hair, darling?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears. “Well. Maybe a little,” you confess. “I can’t help that you smell nice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, pet. Your scent is quite enticing too, you know.” You feel his chest expanding as he takes a deep inhale. “Drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Since you drive me crazy on a regular basis, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Why, you little cheek..! Just watch me be even more annoying from now on.”

“You’re not annoying,” you say, trying to hold back a yawn. “You’re just a handful.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course–“ you lose the battle against another yawn. “…you will.”

You feel the press of his lips against your skin. “Quite right.”

“Astarion?” Your eyelids start to get heavy, and for the first in what seems like ages, you feel completely safe and relaxed. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Me too, darling. Me too.” His hand slides down to find yours, lacing your fingers. “Now go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over us. And tomorrow we will face whatever comes next. Together.”

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #no longer a wip because it’s finisheeeeed

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licorice-tea · 4 months

Text

Young And Dumb.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Strawhat reader, gender neutral reader, reader is flirty and bold, cursing, allusions to sex and a threesome, no actual sexual content!!!, pining, kissing 🤭, misunderstandings/ miscommunication, a little bit of arguing, hurt/comfort <3

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: kind of been in a writing slump these past few days, so i just wanted to write and post something, you know? it’s weird bc i have a ton of wips in my drafts, but none of them really felt finished, so i did this whole thing in maybe 2 hours? hopefully it’s enough to pull me out of my little funk so i can get back to posting more regularly! anyway, enjoy!

Law respects you. He respects your choices, your independence from him, even your crew that he doesn’t always like personally. But one thing he absolutely cannot stand is when you do things like this.

The first thing he hears upon walking up to the deck is giggling. Bothersome, but not too loud or unusual that it throws off his routine. Besides; he’s sure his crew must be glad to be above the waves for once, and happy to have the company of the Straw Hats as well. The two crews had wound up with their ships anchored next to each other in the middle of the sea, and agreed to stay there before their courses diverged once again.

He sees you talking to Penguin and Shachi- the source of said laughter. But, Law does a double take when you let out a shriek of laughter. Then he realizes just how closely the two of them are standing to you. You’re not even on the same crew as them, but you look real cozy with Penguin’s hand around your waist and Shachi’s on your shoulder. Of course, he knows your friendliness can border on flirtation (and desperately wants to be on the receiving end of that flirting right now instead of his crew members) but that logic does nothing to calm him.

Law’s perpetual frown turns into a full on scowl as he marches over to the trio you’ve formed. “Penguin! Shachi! Have you…” he loses his train of thought when you give him a quizzical expression, and realizes there is nothing that they haven’t already done. “Your chores. Below deck.”

“Sure have, captain!”

“Yes, captain!”

All three of you look at him expectantly, unsure of why he’s still standing before you. “Are you ok, Law?”

“Ok?” No he wasn’t fucking ok. How could he be when two of his closest friends were throwing themselves at you, and you were letting them? They didn’t even know how he felt for you- no one does- but still. This was just too much for him.

“I need to speak to you, y/n-ya.”

With regard for his serious tone and expression, you wriggle out from between your two friends and follow Law all the way to his office. When you get there and he finally shuts the door, you don’t sit.

Instead you approach him, “Is something wrong? You seemed really upset.”

He looks down at you with a frown. You can tell he’s contemplating his next words before answering, “…Everything is fine.”

“Oh? Ok, so… why are we here then?”

Law breathes deeply, and exhales in a huff. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is it… serious? You’re being kind of weird, Law.”

“I am not.”

“Hm, well, no; you are. But what’s up?”

“I-“ he stops himself and sighs again before continuing. “So dramatic,” you think to yourself. “You shouldn’t get so close to Penguin and Shachi.”

You blink a few times, shocked. He could either be confessing his overwhelming love for you (which you highly doubted, Law had never seemed to reciprocate your affections for him) or giving you some spiel about inappropriate relationships. “Excuse me?”

“They do this kind of thing all the time, y/n-ya; messing around with random women and men, and-“

“And what, Law? I’m an adult, for fucks sake, I don’t need anyone telling me what to do.”

“You don’t understand, they- they want something from you.”

“I know damn well you’re not lecturing me on my sex life right now, Trafalgar Law.”

His face gets hot just from the thought of it. “I am not! But you can’t-“

“Yes, Law, I can. I’m not going to, wasn’t even planning on it; all I did was flirt with them. But believe me when I say I can.”

He’s silent, with an expression akin to that of a bewildered fish. Then it morphs into more of a frown. “I-“

“Don’t even continue with that thought, because you’ve already managed to piss me off beyond belief. Just- just get out of my way.” You step around him and fling open the door to his office before storming off.

That evening, the two crews gather on the deck of the Thousand Sunny for a feast. You find an empty seat, and soon enough Penguin and Shachi place themselves on either side of you.

“Heyyyy y/n.” The first greets you with a sort of awkward, nervous cadence.

“Hey guys, sorry I left without saying bye earlier.”

“Oh it’s fine, you’re good…”

“We’re sorry too.”

This makes you quirk an eyebrow in confusion and look side to side at either of them. “Why would you be sorry?”

They shoot a quick glance at each other, but it’s very obvious because they have to look across you to do so.

“Did you know that, well… Law sort of…”

“He has feeling for you. Big time.”

You almost spit out your drink. “What? Oh, ok, real funny guys-“

“No, no we’re serious!”

“Yeah! You should hear the way he talks about you-“

“All good things, of course, it’d be hard not to- But anyway he was never going to tell you because he doesn’t think you’re interested, blah blah blah-“

“Which is why we decided to try and make him jealous!”

“…I’m so confused right now. No, not even confused just… surprised?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Captain’s hard to read sometimes.”

“Good thing we figured it out for you, right?” Shachi elbows your side, clearly pleased with himself.

“Uh huh...”

Penguin continues “Anyway, we thought it worked when he said he needed to talk to you earlier, but when you came back you seemed sort of upset.”

“Yeah, well he was kind of acting like a dick.”

He sighs, “Law means well, I swear. He’s just… he’s not the best with matters of the heart.”

“That’s ironic.”

Shachi leans over you to address his friend. “Not the best? C’mon man, he has zero experience.”

“Shh! We want y/n to feel for him, not pity him.”

You laugh, “Right, so… what should I do?”

“Do you like him back?” Such a childish way of saying it.. but you do. And you had, for a while, but you’d never acted on your feelings because he’d never seem to like you as anything other than a friend. Until earlier today, when his jealously led him to say some kind of rude things to you. It was no excuse, but it explained why he’d acted the way he did.

You smile softly and look down. “I do.”

“Then go talk to him!”

“Yeah, go talk to him y/n!”

The two men excitedly get you up out of your seat and (gently) push you toward where Law is leaning on the railing of the deck. You laugh and go along with it- if what they were saying is true, what could be the harm in being honest about your own feelings with him?

You walk briskly toward Law, but with purpose, And when you stop in front of him, he looks up from his cup like a deer in headlights.

He quietly greets you with a nod. “…Y/n-ya.”

“Law. Can we talk?”

He nods and follows you to the starboard side of the deck, far enough from where the dinner and light music is. You come to a stop and turn to face him.

“You know, I’ve been talking to Penguin and Shachi…”

Law deadpans, still annoyed about how they were all over you earlier. “Mhm.”

“And they told me something about you. I didn’t really believe it, at first, because you never… Well you never acted like you do, but-“

“Like I what?”

“Like you… have feelings for me?”

“Shit.” He was going to kill them after this. Or at the very least, make sure they had the worst of the chores on the Polar Tang for the foreseeable future. “They… They told you that?”

“Yes, but-“ Law turns and tries to walk off with his fists clenched, before you stop and grab one of his wrists. “I feel the same way, Law. If it’s true, of course.“

“It is.”

You smile. “If you were jealous earlier, you could’ve just said so. Then I wouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

“You’re not interested in them?”

“No, we’re just friends… But I didn’t think you were interested in me, either, so I didn’t see the harm in flirting.”

Law shrugs, looking down at his shoes. You’ve never seen him so shy. “Well, I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I never, uh, confessed.”

“Well,” you take a step closer, and risk your chances by gently lifting his chin with one hand. “I do.”

Law’s eyes roam over your face, mouth gaping as he searches for his next words. He wants to say something suave and impressive, to take back control of the situation when you so clearly have him wrapped around your finger. However, he comes up with nothing, and decides to try something new instead. Maybe your boldness has simply inspired him to suddenly come up with this master plan, or maybe he just can’t think of anything else with you standing so close; but he kisses you.

It’s slow and hesitant for the first few seconds- you think he’s probably new to this by the way he lips press into yours forcefully and without much intention. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, guiding him to sink his lips into yours rather than have them press flat against each other. He follows suit, then pulls away for a quick breath before going right back for you. He sighs into the kiss this time, and your lips part ever so slightly. He takes this as opportunity try and go a little further- his tongue passes in the slit between your lips and you open them further to let him. What had started off as a small kiss quickly becomes a less than innocent make out session. Law is bold with it, too; nipping at your lips and causing you to gasp so that he can take you by surprise and kiss you that much more deeply (on more than one occasion.) You can both practically feel the tension built up over months of pining after each other dissipating.

At long last you pull away, for fear your mouth will go numb if you let him bite your lips one more time.

And Law asks, slightly panting; “How was that?”

You laugh, genuinely surprised that he’s concerned about his performance in what might’ve been was the best kiss of your life. “Perfect, Law. Just perfect.”

#one piece x reader #fanfic #one piece x you #one piece #x reader #law x reader #law fluff #law x you #law x y/n #misunderstanding #miscommunication #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader

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kalims · 2 years

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Hi, there~! So I have this really fun idea in my head. I would like a headcannon in which the fem! reader asks the Dorm Leaders to be her pretend boyfriend. But what happens when the boys fall in love for real? Super fluff, please! Thanks!

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "i know this sounds weird but can you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

today's promise,

parts : one, two, three.

characters : riddle, leona, azul.

cw : book 1, 2, and 3 possible spoilers. implied harassment, fake relationship, eventual pining, fluff, this post is long-term fake relationship kinda thang.

includes : fem!reader.

wc : 7.1k words, 39.7k characters.

note : I tried to basically make the thing diverse, which included me stealing an idea from spy x family. the whole party scene basically 👩‍🦯 also I originally had no plans to post this yet, but since it's been a long time since I've active I figured to just put it. don't expect the next part to be out anytime soon lmao, I'm exhausted. sorry that this came out like a month and a half late

reblogs are appreciated <3

riddle rosehearts — when a creep is borderline harassing you and you need help to get rid of them. what better way was to drive them out with no needed force?

what the hell? you shove your newly acquired phone further under your blazer, shrinking a little when crewel's line of sight passes by your figure. you start praying to the gods, wherever, whenever to give you mercy when you feel another buzz sounding from the device.

they were anonymous, an unknown number that told you to just call them C. which is kind of hilarious since it just reinforced your impression of a troll on them.

it's been a few weeks and a few days since you've started to receive– admittedly concerning texts. of which you've brushed up as a troller, your previous thought ended up far too wrong when you received a mouthful of detail on your current attire.

which would've been normal if they also didn't pair it with a descriptive text about your classes, and what you do when you get home.

you sent the person a simple text to leave you alone, before pressing the block button. you didn't hear from them for a day. it was apparently temporary peace until you found a sealed letter in your seat, the signed name caught your attention immediately.

– C :)

it's contents were too morally wrong to even say.

so you decide to entertain them for a while. getting to know each other, never really answering their questions that are too personal for strangers to know of. you started off asking their name, they didn't grace you with a reply.

next you tried asking if they were on the same yearl, it was simple. but it would greatly slim your suspects if they said yes.

they said yes.

next, you asked. what dormitory are you in?

heartslabyul, C replied immediately.

well they clearly thought that your knowledge of their dorm would do harm.

"hey, riddle!" the boy himself slows down his steps. peering behind him curiously, the previous stern look in his eyes slightly softens when it only catches of one of his close freinds. "prefect. something you need?"

"yes actually."

he listens dutifully. and at some point riddle just halts in his steps, and in turn you do aswell. "someone is bothering you? unbelievable! it's off with their—" he fumes. an immediate scowl gracing his features. there is a noticeable fury brimming behind riddle's eyes.

you grimace. a pool of uneasiness starts to rise in your stomach. it wasn't as though you were afraid of them, but more like..

the lack of evidence would most likely pin the blame to you instead.

"I'd prefer a more.." you gesture at his reddening face. "peaceful approach."

your method is certainly.. interesting it wasn't like riddle disliked it but he would've preferred to get the problem apprehended right away. but then again he can't really speak since he isn't their target of offense.

he looked embarrassed to hear your whole grand plan. he doesn't want to say no because who is he? a dorm leader to turn away from someone who is suffering at the hands of his fellow student.

riddle seems immensely more furious than you'd ever seen him when you inform that its a heartslabyul student. he would honestly just start marching onwards his dorm to interrogate the students themselves but even compared to the whole population of the school. there's still a lot of students in the heartslabyul dorm.

but since both of you figured it'd just do harm, you somehow convinced him to abandon his previous idea and proceed with yours instead: it's simple, probably effective if done properly, no one would question it since they don't know the behind the scenes, and maybe it's a chance to get to know riddle a little better.

the first week was very awkward. you'd think he'd forgotten about it since he barely does anything to make the promise realistic but you threw the whole assumption out of the window since he seemed far too tense when you attempt to make a physical affection towards him.

thankfully his embarrassment and red face was usually mistaken for a blush of shyness so it had done a lot despite it being an unconscious effort from riddle. students had taken notice and started to gossip, much to his dismay. but then again the whole plan wouldn't have worked if word doesn't get out.

"us suddenly entering a.. relationship so suddenly would be suspicious." riddle says one day. matching your pace and looking straight ahead. as a whole, he was completely right. even after the whole overblot incident. you and him didn't really show any indication of actually being interested in each other romantically.

you nod. "yeah... but they wouldn't have any proof that this is a fake you know. therefore this could work." riddle shakes his head at you. "that is a weak contradiction."

apparently but expectedly, C caught word of the whole thing. and created a whole new number to start bothering you with. the first thing you see is them questioning you about the riddle, addressing the rumors and if they were true. in a way that depicts them looking absolutely crazy.

you would send the whole convo to crowley and hopefully get them suspended, even better if expelled but you don't really know the exact location of this person. you've tried getting an ignihyde student to help you, since they're basically geniuses with tech. but you've come to learn that they use public phones to contact you.

no not the free ones like from your old world. a whole, actual smart phone would be free to use in various stores in case of an emergency. if this was back in your world it would've been 100% robbed already.

(not canon I think this is for plot purpose)

the second week ends up going smoother than the last. you both agree showing affection in public but on a more minimal note, like how those sappy couples do. ace and deuce naturally find out first. walking into you and riddle seatedt on a bench with you casually leaning your head on his shoulder, to which he responded with placing his over yours. you both stare at the pages of a history book.

admittedly with great reluctance and the embarrassment he thought he'd gotten rid of.

ace had screamed so loudly that it made his housewarden jump from his seat and set his enraged eyes on the former. he was expectedly punished for possibly disturbing nearby students with the loud noise. and riddle took personal offense from his reaction alone.

you watch calmly from the sidelines, involved with the chaos as always though being only left to witness it.

"honestly dude? ew, why housewarden?!" ace groans. finally cornering you in the ramshackle dorm, traces of red paint all across his hands. deuce follows behind him, nodding and looking torn. of course, they didn't need to know so you just resorted to telling them the classic. "we hit off."

they didn't leave you alone. and had the most weirdest excuse to pull you away from riddle whenever they happen to see you two together. you can't tell if it's because they're lowkey protective or they just wanna spite riddle, mainly ace but deuce seems reluctant but involved regardless.

cater, of course finds out a few days later after your first year freinds do. I don't know what you expect but he's the main reason why the majority of NCR. are aware of your current status with the housewarden. if there's a fast way to get everyone aware of your status, leave it to cater and his trusty skills with social media.

cater might go a little overboard sometimes but he'd probably start of with something like hinting -> posting pictures of you and riddle (his first one was in a library, with riddle looking over your shoulder as you sat.) and -> captioning the posts with the most obvious shit like love birds. 🙄

...and he is also the reason why you are being spammed online by a bunch of curious fellow students.

contrary to what the adeuce had thought. trey was actually the one who found out first. riddle being unable to hide it with his obvious behavior and eventually confiding in trey with a red face and sputtering words. of course riddle didn't relay your secret, you trusted him enough to keep and aid you after all.

(only him.)

eventually the whole thing just starts to blend with his whole schedule. suddenly the hand holding, cheek kissing, and affection in general doesn't affect him as much as it did before. on the contrary, he sometimes finds himself enjoying it which is outrageous because he thinks it's inappropriate to feel such a thing towards you when this whole thing is just..

pretend.

in fact he starts to incorporate you into his life. he makes that he brews two cups of tea to bring over in the mornings, one for you, one for him. even better if you both caught moment alone in the gardens, just with the occasional chatter (with riddle making sure your student and personal life is doing okay) and the silence whom you don't know how it melted from awkward to comfortable.

as a second example, there is a special spot for you whenever there's an unbirthday party. sweets especially to your taste, or just general pastries like bread if you aren't too into sweets. (don't ask why you're now seated next to his seat, on his very own special table while your freinds are staring into your soul.) did I mention he completely disregarded grim and even asked adeuce to take care of him while he gets you all to himself?

thirdly. he'd grown accustomed to squeeze you into his schedule, another example being study sessions on a quiet spot in the library consisting of the torture of school, ensured after classes of course. but if riddle is beside you, helping you along the way surely it won't be too bad?

it all would've gone alone fairly well if azul and kalim didn't come barging in the middle of one of your sessions, kalim exclaiming over a new addition to their study group? while azul wears a suspiciously polite look. riddle nearly screams in suprise before going a little red at the realization–

he'd forgotten that he, along azul had taken the intuitive to tutor kalim. well, it was mostly him believing that jamil should have a break, therefore ending up up offering. he's not sure about azul though but he definitely had some kind of ulterior motive.

now the two are some kind of third and fourth wheels to your 'not dates' azul is now excessively asking a lot of questions. probably having noticed the now close intimacy you two share. some simple, and some far too embarrassing to answer.

you had to pull riddle away before he actually collared a fellow dorm head, there's a slim chance he will since riddle is always so formal, respecting and strict. azul didn't break any rules so there wasn't a need for a punishment.

slim but definitely not impossible!

he wasn't aware at first. too entranced to notice that his red faces weren't from embarrassment or shame anymore but from actual shyness. he seems to grip your hand a little tighter, spending so much time with you that there was a moment where he forgot he had duties to attend to.

ah.. you almost forgot, the creep that had been bothering you wasn't heard from for... days? your days had been going so splendidly that it brought you the blessing of forgetting about them…

as a final precaution you swipe open your messages and to your absolute delight the last time they texted you was about a week ago. nothing was heard which meant that they hopefully got the whole memo.

"riddle, thank you." you smiled at him one afternoon. riddle raises a brow at your frankly, rare thankful behavior. "for what?"

you beam at him, so blissfully that his hearts starts running laps. it had such a hold on him that he had to verbally clear his throat. "they're gone! I didn't notice but they haven't been bothering me anymore." who? they? who is they?

ohh...

oh..

you don't know if you were hallucinating but it almost seemed like the strands on his head, shaped like hearts, drooped as if it broke.

"so.. you don't need me--my help anymore?" he questions quietly. the answer is so clear in your head, but even you pause in silence. unable to answer.

riddle doesn't know how he got the courage to do what he had in the following moments. maybe a burst of effort to keep you with him.

he huffed. "hmph, prefect. you've stolen something from me." your face constricts into slight horror but mainly confusion is present as you point at yourself. "me? I have?"

he grabs your finger and navigates it to point at his chest. "yes. stolen items must be replaced. there isn't a problem if I want yours right?"

"👁👄👁" that was smooth.

leona kingscholar — when you've accidentally told your freinds that you're in a relationship in a spur of the moment, and now have to prove it to be true.. or else.

it was nice having freinds. other than a pair of boys atleast, you love ace and deuce but sometimes.. you'd just prefer it if sometimes we're a little calmer.. and not full of half hearted brawls that you always get dragged into.

socializing was a pain in the ass sometimes, and definitely hard to do when you know absolutely nothing about the new world. so you literally felt like some foreign kid in a new school, on a new continent, starting school.

so you'd guess it's the reason why you started clinging onto a pair of ladies, just your age. they were attending another college a few ways over NRC, they were apart of a sorority. as crazy as it seems that those actually exist here aswell.

well.. not exactly clingy but you let them basically do anything they want to you. they're actually really nice. it sounds like you're just a loser but you'd just rather not walk up to someone and go. "hey! wanna be freinds?" it sounds way too awkward.

"you're really pretty, you know?" A twirls a lock of your hair and giggles. you blink in slight embarrassment and guiltily stare at your shoes. "thanks.."

B perks up from the bed. "well yeah! im suprised you haven't got a boyfreind yet." she teases. behind her sits C, C grunts and not so violently pulls B from the hair which causes the girl to jerk back.

"OW??"

"stop moving.." C mumbles.

B sits up, exasperated. "whatever.. anyways! the house is gonna host a party next month." she points at you. "you in?"

you pause and think about your schedule. it's clean, right? finally, you nod. "yeah."

A grins "for once were letting in plus two's! you better make sure you bring someone. kay?"

who the hell would you even bring? well… ace or deuce would count but if you brought one the other is bound to start following as well. kinda like they come in a two in one package.

"speaking of… do you have anyone in mind?"

"ah.."

B leaps up and starts squealing. "oh MY GOD!! don't tell me you're gonna bring a boyfriend!" she laughs. slapping you playfully. in the spur of the moment you answer.

"heh… in your dre–"

"um yeah.."

they all pause. "WHAT?"

"so you're telling me, you told your freinds that you have a boyfreind? " leona scowls. leaning his cheek on his palm as his tail lazily swishes behind him peering up at you, looking half asleep.

he groans. "out of all people.. me, really?" you sigh and nod mutely. "sorry. it was in the spur of the moment, i kind of... blurted it out and they don't believe me."

leona makes another sound of seeming irritation. "so your pride is on line? fine.. remember, you're indebted to me after this."

he pauses. "oh, for the record. you're gonna listen to whatever I say. got it?" you can only nod. he was the one accepting after all, it hardly seemed like a fair deal but whatever gets him to succumb to your one wish.

this will be okay right? this will be beneficial to him, even better if it requires minimal effort

leona still can't wrap the thought of why, you've chosen him out of all students in the school, even one of your so dear, first year best freinds would be a better choice. he internally sighs at your carelessness. If you hadn't been so quick to be defensive then maybe he wouldn't be in this situation at all..

but then again he would still need to lift another limb if he ended up not accepting with ruggie being busy in the meanwhile. he thinks, watching you scurry around. obviously struggling and lowkey annoyed at his vigorous commands. is this how a king feels? to be able to get someone to obey without much complaints.

ruggie doesn't know what in the seven is going on and why you were like some kind of new, additional servant to the housewarden but he doesn't really care, if anything your involvement had made his life a lot easier.

and what does ruggie appreciate? something to lessen the load of work leona just piles on him! nice see you again prefect. now you're gonna be someone that ruggie's gonna use to skip out on all the work he deems to hard for his poor, overworked self. be ready. he's gonna work you to the absolute bone.

accompanied by lots of school works, upcoming tests and more errands from crowley. adding leona's needs didn't exactly help your case. if anything it made your headaches more frequent and, more prone to passing out because you could literally see your vision blur at random times in the day.

your 'freinds' ended up inviting you to some kind of acquaintance party. which you'd be stress free of going to if it weren't the fact that they insisted for your so called 'boyfreind' to come along. for a couple of freinds, they sure are persistent on humiliating you. but what can you do? they have more influence than you.

"there's a party, I need you to go with me."

you had told leona when he had his back turned to you. "hngh... what a pain..." you could hear him mumble and perhaps even the small disappointment of knowing that you'll be going alone. it's not that you minded his reaction to the situation, if you went alone then you'd be proved as a liar.

the party was in a few weeks. prior to the party then you'd go along as his errand runner until the day arrives. even then, there's still a small bubble of hope. despite the fact that you're sure he won't even bother. for now you'd trust him, leona isn't known for his promises. but he helped you during that time in octavinelle, even if the intentions were made to benefit himself.

..and if he just put up with your little plan. he'd get an obedient little 'servant' he can boss around with ruggie. if you can deal with crowley then you surely can put up with leona. at the very least, his commands are just him being his lazy self compared to the piles crowley would give you.

his commands usually being "fetch me another pillow in the closet." or "get me meat from the kitchen." leona being leona.. = never putting the effort to do something rather than snooze the whole day.

the first week consisted of you mainly getting more packed with work. crewel noticed the tired face you sported in class, he even caught you sleeping several times. usually he'd whip up a good punishment.. but, maybe you need it. of course he'd confronted crowley about it but you don't exactly know.

and your whole load got lighter, even if it isn't a lot. and using the confusion into advantage the following days goes by with you feeling lighter than you'd ever been.

leona still stayed the same. you don't even know why you went to him. he didn't make it believable nor initiate anything that implies that he'd chosen you. you were frustrated because even your freinds had noticed despite their being not even from NCR. you'd never posted about leona, only the occasional food pics you'd post on magicam.

they'd still pester you about showing his face.

of course. the school doesn't even know about your whole predicament so if leona doesn't want to, then why even bother? after all, they're not the ones who you're appealing to. slowly this whole things seems very useless since you'd just end up indebted to the lion who didn't lift a finger to help you.

"maybe jack would have been a better option?" you mumble randomly. carefully folding a piece of shirt that definitely belongs to leona, it's scent is eerily familiar. you fan yourself with your hand, it's absolutely hot in here.. how do these boys even survive in the heat?

unkownst to you of the lion that just walked in on the right time to pick up on your words despite still being far away from you. if there was one thing leona hated– it was being compared.

this is weird, what would leona want to call for you? "for your hard work, I'll give you a little prize." leona stretches. ears twitching pleasantly at the sensation of his bones popping. then he lays down and glances at you side ways. "what're you waiting for? come here." while you stood dumbly in the middle of the botanical garden.

and that's how you ended up casually tucked under leona's arm on a patch of green in the botanical garden. the grass tresses tickle your face as if it was caressing it. it brought little comfort to the racing heart you had, and you feared that leona could pick it up. "well this isn't bad is it?"

he opens his eyes and peeks at you, a little exasperated. "herbivore. calm down will you? don't catch feels for me so fast." before you could answer he's already fast asleep, even going as far as snuggling closer like you were his pillow!

"that's not..." you trail off. awkwardly adjusting your position as you'd tried to wriggle out prior, which ended up being a fail since you failed to recognize how strong a lion could be.. you sigh and succumb to your ultimate demise. might as well catch up on some sleep, right?

(is it really a coincidence for leona to suddenly pull you to nap just after you've looked so exhausted? I will leave you to interpret that.) <- a factor to his invitation, the minor one being him hell bent on proving that he's obviously better and not one to compare to.

"leonaaa.. leonaaa! I know you're in here.."

ruggie ends up finding his housewarden and the prefect of ramshackle snuggling into each other like a pair of lion mates.. er... lion and human mate?? was that even okay.. a lion and a human together wasn't very common, lions liked to stick to other lions. uncommon but you're not the only case.

the second week passes by with less stress than the first one. you're now somehow obligated to attend leona's mandatory morning, afternoon, and night naps. the fact that the leona himself is dragging himself to your class instead of actually sleeping to drag you to sleep with him. (that was confusing) is suspicious enough as it is.

so jack ends up having an urge, something to resolve his curiosity that he can't help. though he has an inner crisis, he ultimately ends up asking you about it to which you casually reply. "oh, leona? we're... together.." you mumbled.

what now 😃

jack is honestly quite confused. come on now. you and the housewarden? that's the pair that no one would expect. if he remembers correctly. you and leona barely talked to each other and even got into a few disputes yourself! it just sounds kinda bizarre given how he treats you like a nobody.

^ typical leona behavior to everyone else but still..

from what you know. leona doesn't own a magicam, hell. you haven't even seen him carrying a phone around. but apparently you were wrong when ruggie casually showed you leona's page like it was nothing. you woulda assumed it's just ruggie trying to mess with you if the followers didn't have the verified user of @/farena. people from leona's homeland struck you as people who don't really care about technology but guess you're wrong again..

(leona wasn't following back)

somehow theres actually stuff that the page has: for example a blurry picture of leona sleeping. and the caption being messy letters that you used enough brain juice to form 'unca leona'. you laugh and follow leona as a joke, scrolling through his page full of blurry pics and selfies from cheka. some from the king himself.

though you don't know if you're suprised if leona followed you back or how he was still awake. his 0 following now turned into 1.

now you have a curious big brother in your dms whose curiously asking who you are. and your freinds pestering you once again, this time quering about the mysterious follow of a prince! you almost forgot they knew your social media.

you end up ignoring them in favor of actually getting to know farena. you suppose that if you'd told leona he'd definitely get upset and stingy with you so you decide on not letting him know. farena exchanges greetings with you before going into a discussion about leona.

as if some kind of flip. he did a 180° and is now telling you embarrassing stories about leona. sending you old pictures of a young leona that you'd never thought you'd see.

what an entertaining night..

the third week arrived faster than you had thought. you were mainly focused on completing your tasks as well as balancing your student life. if anything both are pretty much the same. at that time, leona had pretty much given you access to everything he owns. he no longer makes a fuss over you arriving at the dorm, if anything. he seems pleased.

and sometimes he calls for you himself! last time you remember he was just about seconds from grumbling away because of your presence alone due to the confiscation if your dorm! and now if lions could purr you could pretty much imagine him doing so because he seems so intent on letting you sleep next to him.

on.his.bed.

did I mention he kicks grim out of the bed when he thinks you don't know as you both sleep? someone get this cat a break because you are both grim's blessing and nightmare. all these boys are doing crazy things to sever his bond with HIS henchman! >:(

oh you wanna sleep on his bed? wait for him would you? you're hungry? fine. lion prides usually have their individual fair shares anyways. basically the epitome of "we share everything." this doesn't extend to him only you know, so there's unspoken rule that you have to share yours too. he doesn't really ask much but you're starting to question why he keeps taking your blankets, returning it and then taking it again after a few weeks.

(I'm sure you know)

surprisingly leona's attendance to class had been so frequent whenever you were somehow involved to the point where trein had asked you to 'help' him in class. by that he really meant being some kind of assistant.. not that you minded (you did) but why?

oh… crewel is his potionology teacher? he hates the professor because he treats leona like a goddamn puppy. so leona just skips it all out until somehow you had gotten involved. just when he was about to step out from the classroom to skip you enter to pass a stack of paper to crewel. the man asks you to assist him with some things.

why's he suddenly in his seat??

did I mention that lions are quite possessive of things they claim?

…

the weeks just blur in comparison and now you're walking to the party alone. shivering at the unfortunate winter blessed upon the streets of.. this world or whatever.. it's been only a few times since you've left campus, a majority only ever to visit the girls.

you peer at your watch. he's 32 minutes late... you sigh, shoving your cold fingers in your pockets. what was the point in waiting anymore? you'd be more of an embarrassment if you turn up to the party more late, and partnerless..

the cold, merciless winter doesn't do justice against the icy feeling your heart adorns.

that's how you arrived at the doorstep of your freind, particles of visible snow clouding your attire. as they struggle to hold in their laugh. "you're late!" I know..

"c-pfft..come on in!"

you nod. dusting off the snow over your jacket and hanging it. it's too bad. you look down at the attire under your coat. cause for once you had actually tried to make an effort to make yourself look presentable. to try and make yourself look appealing even, in the slightest hopes of impressing…

hm. you shake your head and stand awkwardly in a corner, everyone doesn't seem to notice you.

this normalcy--, you glance at someone making hand motions. then their hand bursts into a dance of fiery, passionate flames. --is something I can never get.

after all… there is no such thing as magic back in your world. it's dull, boring and certainly tempted to just pluck away all your hopes and burn it when you start high school.

you ended up staying for more or less, half an hour. you let yourself explore the house, it was quite big. smaller than ramshackle but it looks more regal and clean. you're almost jealous. the food was good, there wasn't a lot of meat. mainly vegetables.

the most you could do was escape to the front porch to ignore their never ending remarks. your phone in your hand as you engage in small, admittedly idiotic talk with your two best freinds, seated on a swinging, wooden..swing thing. housewarden collared me again. ace's text read. it provided you with small warmth to fight against glacial temperature.

you smile.

you don't have animal ears like the savanaclaw beastmen but you can almost hear a pair of footwear crunching in the snow. then there's a pair of shoes entering your vision. you look up and--

"leona?"

"this party's boring, let's go." he doesn't acknowledge the fact that he basically stood you up for like an.. hour or two? you always knew he was prideful. instead he engaged in a minute length staring contest. until he slouches his shoulders and sighs in defeat. "fine, have it your way."

silence.

"you know I set up an alarm, I missed it." you blink and stare at him from your peripheral vision, it looks like he's going to continue. "can ya believe that? I'm disrupting my sleep for you. tch, so don't act so sad when I've gone through all the trouble. all right?"

".. you don't need these losers anyways. all you need is me."

you stay quiet when he sits down beside you, spreads his legs and slides his arm behind you, stretching. like he owns the house. the swing creaks under his weight.

it doesn't feel so cold anymore. "I'm here now so you owe me." you shake your head. the whole thing was basically pointless but you were too happy to end the whole pretending thing. "what do you want.?"

he grins. "you."

you gawk. "huh?!"

me after writing the last part..👩‍🦽

azul ashengrotto — when you’re too curious for your own good so you strike up a deal.

"to sum it all up, you would like an experience?" azul hums. the slightest tip of his hat casts the ever mysterious persona over his face, making it more eery.

you blankly nod. a bit embarrassed to admit that you've come to him for the silliest of reasons: to experience a relationship to the full extent.

you weren't that desperate. just.. curious. you know what they say don't you? curiosity kills the cat.

azul assumes a confident look. "hehehe.. I can do that, aren't i so kind." for I, am gracious.

woah is this some kind of deja vu..

this time around, after learning through your past lessons. you've skimmed every part of the contract for any loop holes that might and will be used against you.

oh.. this whole thing was a grand plan was it? to get you to be his anemone.. servant? but wasn't he banned by crowley from ever using his unique magic? perhaps there's still some kind of catch that you haven't caught on yet. you cast one more suspicious look at the smiling azul before signing your signature on the very bottom.

anyhow, the details of the contract was for azul to help you experience a relationship. in return you'll be an additional help, whenever. if he needs a helping hand you'd be inclined to aid him.

there was this absolutely embarrassing silence that made you want to self destruct. because he's just there smiling like nothing is wrong as he tucks the contract into his... sleeve? what the hell how could that fit in there. 🙁

you shake your head just as he extends a hand towards you. when you look up he displays you an awfully charming grin. "shall we?" you take his hand. "where are we going?"

"I must not let a lady walk by herself, no? even it isn't night. it is still dangerous."

it was first thing in the morning when you set out to octavinella since you knew azul would be up anyways, plus there were less students around the campus. even your grim was fast asleep in the mornings, you'd have to go back quickly if you don't want him to make a fuss about the lack of breakfast. not that crowley provided you with it anyways..

when you arrive in ramshackle. grim is already on the front porch, looking gravely hungry. his ears perk up when he catches sight of you. and then droops again when he sees azul on your side, to him. looking very suspicious as always. "hey you! what're you doing with my henchman!" grim screeched. obviously still scarred from his previous experiences that weren't so pleasant with the octavinella dorm leader.

you had to restrain grim before he could start tearing up azul's coat.

the first week is relatively normal. and azul actually makes it so that you feel as though you're actually in a relationship with him. but you've both come to an agreement that the affection will remain to a certain 'professional' extent, as he is not entirely comfortable with it. which you've come to learn, he isn't used to it.

you once accidentally bumped shoulders with him when you were sitting on a long chair with a few other students, his glasses fogged up for some reason, his face was tinged pink and he jerked back so far that you thought he actually hated you for 10 seconds straight.

he kind of stayed more hyper aware of his surroundings after that.

I kind of got off topic so let's continue the whole thing going around the first week.

azul has made it possible to organize some kind of dates, exclusively only ever happening whenever he's sure that both of your schedules align. It's surprisingly a daily occurrence since the first and second year's schedule are pretty much the same. (if I'm wrong please inform me.)

it wasn't too long before the tweels found out. maybe a couple of days after you've made the deal with azul. after the promise of floyd leaving him alone if he'd tell them why he's acting to affectionate with the prefect of ramshackle, which ends up with floyd looking a little disappointed and jade, bemused.

"ehh.. that's too bad, I thought you actually charmed shrimpy.. your game is weaker than I thought."

"excuse me?!"

"fufufu.. most entertaining, azul looks flustered."

after more comments from floyd. azul eventually makes a promise that he will absolutely charm you to fall in love with him merely out of spite of his childhood freind. and you're just confused why he's taking the whole thing a lot more seriously.

second week is filled with vigorous efforts of azul trying to woo you after doing excessive research of your own interests. he isn't usually so fired up over floyd's teasing as he'd basically grown up with it, but for some reason he is?

you're just confused why he's suddenly so determined to treat the whole thing more seriously than before. you don't exactly find the sudden change unpleasant, just a little suspicious as to what made his transition so apparent.

you always 'accidentally' bump into azul at the most convenient times. it usually happens whenever a class had ended and there isn't another for a while. azul just smiles and invites you to sit with him for lunch. which is a suprise since he was so adamant on keeping the deal under wraps.

you could only sit beside him. silently weeping at the prying stares many had thrown your way. the twins ended up sitting in your table (you could've sword azul's glasses cracked when floyd separated you two and sat in the middle of you and azul)

jade only displays a cool, menacing smile as usual.

by then you'd gotten unusually close with the trio. finding out things you hadn't even assumed, like how azul seems so aggressive with the twins sometimes out of goodwill. now you have a pair of lowkey protective eels and a stupefied octopus that can help you for a price scam.

being friends with them had its pros, came with it was the cons. which included several of the students that tried to be freindly with you being less talkative, suddenly paling in the middle of the conversation. (unkownst to you about the two glowering eels behind you)

the possessiveness is given by all three of them. for a reason still unknown but you're still skeptical.

the information that this whole thing is just playing pretend would most likely be tucked neatly in the back of your mind. where you'd admittedly forget for a few moments, too deep to escape from the temporary loneliness and certainly too real to register that it isn't.

here's the thing. azul is absolutely great at deceiving, you're already aware the moment you learned just how many contracts he'd 'earned'.

and unfortunately for you. there was a time where you'd actually thought he genuinely loved you because the way his eyes just.. sparkle, crinkling up and the soft smile.. you just rather shake your head and convince yourself that it wasn't real, it never was.

"thank you for your help, as promised. I'll help out with whatever you need as payment."

azul's brows creases. "wha—oh.. ahem. I see, much appreciated. let's talk about the details later." he nods. uncharacteristically quiet.

there is a moment of silence before he speaks up again, looking more confident than ever. "just wait a second. would you like to extend the deadline?" you blink in bewildered and gape like a fish.

so all you could muster up was a small. "huh?" where was this going and where did he get the idea? you can almost feel your heart just about to swim away! the offer is so tempting but you aren't sure about what he wants..

you shake your head. "for um.. how long?"

he smirks. "forever."

okay I lowkey got embarassed writing that so bye 👋👋

🏷 : @dicetheroll @ravynous @gh0stbastard

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alatismeni-theitsa · 2 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/cardassiangoodreads/722229585723424768/im-just-going-to-say-right-now-that-i-dont-think?source=share

Just curious about your thoughts

The post and the tags because this person has blocked me preemptively - and they're lucky cause I wouldn't shat all over them. This person is a USAmerican very removed from Italian culture.

My Answer:

Ooooo coloniser rhetoric in the 21st century! That's a sight for sore eyes! (Which became sore cause they see such takes all the time).

Funny how this person talks about how objects belonging to Greece right after saying that our heritage figures (like our gods and heroes) don't belong to us. If Greek culture is a global culture why can't foreigners keep the objects? Hmmm I wonder…. They still put the "Greek" or "Roman" to characterise the stories but the moment Greeks and Italians speak up, then all of a sudden "the stories akksuually have no culture, they belong to all of us!" 😂😂😂

I wonder if this person understands what the term "heritage" means, because gods and heroes are definitely part of one's heritage and we never stopped preserving the texts that spoke about them, and they are still part of our living culture.

I'm all for listening to the members of the diaspora but when we are at the point when one of them is regurgitating imperialist points, not only there's a big divide with current opinions in Italy, but I also cannot leave such points unanswered. Also, many Italians, like Greeks, are sick of how their myths are treated but this person didn't even check, they just spoke over them. Because they didn't bother to ask people, obviously.

Ancient Greek heroes and gods still mean a lot to us. They always meant. They were born from visions, dreams, and other sacred methods, or oral traditions from our ancestors, reflecting specifically the ancient Greek culture. It's good that foreigners can access them and relate to a degree but divorcing any folk story from its origin is always negative. Especially when this culture is still ongoing.

Our Christianity is revamped ancient Greek religion, I wonder, does this person know that? Our temples have the same parts. We still have home altars, and divinities presiding over domains. Our hagiography is how we used to paint our gods and creatures. We still have almost the same nature creatures. The customs have remained and have persisted, and I won't have someone who clearly ignores this say "They gave the religion up". Ftou.

Also when it comes to our gods and their symbols (and yes btw we call them "our" gods lots of times), we can deduce things from our local tradition and environment, whereas an Anglophone who worships the gods or is interested in them but doesn't know stuff about the country of origin of those gods has no idea about our history, methods and environment. Example: Foreigner refuses to accept that there's a pine cone on Dionysos' thyrsos (although it looks like a pinecone) because "it doesn't make sense" and very excitedly suggests another plant instead. Greek lets them know that it is actually a pine cone not only because it looks like a pinecone but because the pinecone has been used in our winemaking process forever, and Dionysos also presided over this process. Guess Greece and its environment and it's people are still relevant to the religion, and it also turns out that the symbols of the gods derived from the Greek reality. Who knew!

Now onto another point. Op says that the Greek stories became "global culture" because they got shared everywhere. Them being shared is not a bad thing! However just studying them and be taught about them is not culture. By this logic, and since Egyptians "gave their old religion up", ancient Egyptian gods are now MY ancient gods because I can find books about ancient Egypt at my local bookstore. woww 😂 What about this? Almost every Greek knows 100 and 1 nights. We have made it into a play also. SOO... these are our cultural stories now, right? West Asians and Arabs in general shouldn't speak if they ever see us and other nations being ridiculous about the stories, and stereotypes and changing the characters a lot but still claim we are doing great, right? Got it.

The way this post is written it's like Germans and Brits kept the ancient Greek myths alive since ancient years or something. Greeks themselves never stopped preserving their own ancient texts, and they escaped with them in Europe after the fall of Constantinople, so NW Europeans REDISCOVERED them 1500 years later. They had lost interest by then.

Funny they mention different nations that were Hellenized or became Roman territories because people living in these nations are exactly those who don't speak about Greek and Roman culture as "a global culture". It's always North Westerners who start these discussions, I wonder why…..

People from the aforementioned nations already interact healthily with their ancient heritage - which is not Greek or Roman culture but always a local version with Greek or Roman elements, and that's great too. I haven't heard a Pakistani say "Theseus is our hero too!" or a Tunisian say "Zeus is our local ancient father of the gods!" Because they know exactly how the mix happened and what their national identity is. And I'm getting more and more tired of seeing Westerners erase these experiences too, and just make assumptions for other nations.

I swear I mostly see USians getting butthurt about other people getting conquered 2.000 years ago. The nations themselves don't give a shiiit. Guys, I know our antiquities are the only interesting thing about us in your eyes but Please Make An Effort to understand people from ancient cultures and how we don't give a shit about these conquests cause they happened Two Thousand Years Ago, and we had other tragic stuff in the meantime. Thanks

Also, as I said, these conquests are not why Greek myths are popular today. The conquests were so incredibly old that the average person in these countries (Balkans, the Mediterranean, West Asia) - and Greece - had no idea who built the ancient ruins they saw around! Does this person think Greek myths were handed down from Moroccan grandma to Moroccan grandchild from 300 BCE to 2024 continuously or something?

Greek myths are very popular in most parts of the world today because the West (meaning not Greece, especially at the time when we were "cattle") popularized them non-stop the last few centuries. And they did a shitty job, at that. In fact, Greeks abroad have been cringing about this treatment of our myths since the 15th century but, as usual, we were not being heard.

And what does "global culture" even mean?? As if you see any culture to how the US (because OP focuses on the US and the retellings there, from the looks of it) interacts with our stories. As if they care about the meaning of the story. (There are a few notable exceptions ofc but they remain FEW) People with such arguments just want to feel guilt-free when using our myths out of context. That's why Western academic cycles often run in circles about "what the myths mean" while Greeks have told you exactly what they mean.

The US audience is still not free of the coloniser WASP approach. They see our myths STILL as a product of modern White Supremacy instead of an ancient Greek product, and they often condemn the myths and "better" them by completely pushing them into USian lens to the point they don't look or feel like the original myths anymore. (All the above you don't dare to do with cultural stories and figures from nations you want to respect, by the way.) Is this the cultural "exchange" they're talking about?

I'm done hearing in the international spaces that my culture is "boring" because USians have seen horrible adaptation after horrible adaptation. I'm tired of USians making wild assumptions about how "horrible" our gods are because whoever told them the myths didn't give a simple explanation about our ancient societies. (Don't start crap about accessibility, there are very accessible ways to talk to kids, teens, and adults about other cultures and teach them age-appropriate tales) I'm tired of my heritage being commercialized to that degree. All Greeks roll their eyes in USAmerican movies about our culture and we call them Amerikaniés. And don't worry, I'm getting to the real stuff.

How our ancient culture is treated and how we are sidelined has real consequences on our lives abroad AND inside our culture, on how we are perceived, on how our surnames are perceived, on how we "don't look like Greeks", on how our Greek myth retellings don't get published abroad! They speak in front of us about our own words as if they are magical and mythical and strange! The opinions and perspectives of Greeks are not sought abroad, and you are a masterclass on why this happens. We make y'all uncomfortable. You feel better if you forget about us.

Another exhibit: All the hurtful comments of foreigners who centered the HUGE milestone of same-sex marriage in Greece because all they could imagine - while queer Greeks suffered a lot these last few months - was their wedding in Gay Mykonos and Lesbian Lesbos. This was their first reaction. They didn't possibly think that Greeks were seeing that because we are far away and irrelevant, right?

Obviously culture-mixing is not bad but the West didn't mix our culture with theirs. They just took it for entertainment and their popular culture never saw the depth or the meaning of it. OP speaks about how our stories were spread while actively avoiding speaking in depth about the problematic elements of that spread. They recognize to a small degree how Greeks feel about the matter but they dismiss most of our concerns in such a nonchalant way that all that comes to my mind is "privilege".

And speaking of power… Greeks have less systemic power than the countries of the West. We are the US' puppet, are you kidding me?? Our armies get deployed wherever the US wants. Our politicians don't even fart without a telephone from the US. We are the whores of the German, Belgian and French governments. Greeks abroad still face discrimination for their customs and how they look, and how their food smells, and how our religion is and how our hymns sound, and other ridiculous stuff. Our infrastructure is slowly being bought out by Germans and USians to various degrees. There are different scales to exploitation and bigotry, I agree, but that doesn't mean that only the roughest bigotry cases are worth discussing.

"We could also talk about the additional level of exploitation in how imperial powers used Greek mythology as an argument for the "superiority of the West," while at the same time plundering Greece's resources and treating it like it exists only as a tourist site" They are SO close to getting it, and yet their post says otherwise.

Fetishism of a culture makes the members of the actual culture feel alienated and hurt. As a person of Italian ancestry you should know how this specific "global culture" argument has been used to strip Greeks and Italians of any claims, so the "dirty Greeks" can be separated from the "pure WASP" USian upper class of the time who deemed themselves more suitable to engage with the material.

"Greeks spreading their culture through military force all over (eventually) most of Europe" what the hell?? Sorry, guys, (side-eyes the other Greeks) we conquered Romania??? wow!

Plus, this person doesn't know the difference between the Greek colonisation of Italy and Sicily and the recent European colonisation, and - to say it very politely - they should open a book.

By The Way

You can still interact with the Greek culture without having a colonial attitude! Nobody is barring you! I want to make this abundantly clear!

Most importantly, you don't have to make arguments for "global culture" when it's simple to place the myths inside their original context while interacting with them! You just have to read a bit more books that are on the internet and your library for free! Recognising that a foreign culture is not yours, and that you engage with it because it's just popular, doesn't stop anyone from interacting with it. You simply refuse to interact with them at the proper, deeper level, because you always want to center them around yourself. You want to interact with foreign stories just how the colonisers did it. Congrats.

I'm talking about the majority of cases. Of course people in the US can take all sorts of inspiration from foreign myths and adapt them to their reality. And it's a good result when they're being respectful and have studied the stories beforehand.

All we ask is to engage with the material in context so you can understand what our ancestors wanted to express. If your only view of Greek myths has come from other Americans and NW Europeans then you see them through coloniser lens. That's non-negotiable. I had people from other countries recite to me USAmerican viewpoints about the Greek gods, as if they were fact. Cause it's the only exposure that's happening worldwide right now.

You can interact with Greco-Roman myths whether Greece and Rome touched your country or not, we don't care. But please don't get your source from the pop US culture. These people think that it makes sense for nymphs to look like trees (that's an Anglo-Saxon and Celtic nature creature depiction. Ancient Greece was very anthropomorphic). It's not a crime if you change some stuff in a retelling but why willingly ignore the original depictions and what they have to show you for the ancient people who created them?

Pfff... Thank you anon for bringing this trash to me. I needed to - metaphorically - throw something in the trash. It took me a few hours to answer this but well... I do write a lot and this post was full of shit I had to shovel.

#answered #xenoi doing bs #uscentrism #representation #appropriation #greek myth #greek mythology

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year

Text

A kiss on the cheek that turns into a kiss on the lips

Benny Miller x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 663

Warnings- friends to lovers, mutual pining, hint of spice

Notes- Written for my 4k follower drabble event requested by anon! Thank you so much for the request I think this is one of my personal favs of the event!! Taglists are closed. To stay up to date on when I post, follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates

“Nice shot babe!” Benny’s encouraging voice made your heart flutter as he playfully bumped your hip with his.

You chuckled nervously to hide the way your hand trembled under his piercing gaze, “Thanks, Ben,” you mumbled as you fiddled with your poolstick.

Nights out like this were wonderful and relaxing, but also nerve wracking. You loved nothing more than when you got together with all the guys and you could just forget about the world around you for a few hours. They all made you feel welcome in their group right away, and you felt comfortable around them. Santiago, Frankie and the Miller brothers quickly became your best friends.

But there was one of them you thought of as more than just friends. And Benny’s flirtatious nature didn’t help the growing feelings you harbored for him. From the moment you met, you were captivated by him; Benny’s charming smile, his infectious laugh, his soft eyes, his kind nature made you a goner before you even had a chance.

But you two were just friends… There was no way he felt the same about you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It made it hard at times though whenever he would wrap his arm around you or gently nudge your chin or give you a subtle wink. You convinced yourself that was just how he was, though, and it didn’t mean anything with you. Especially when you knew about the nights he went home with someone else…

“Hey…” Benny’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, “You still with me here, babe?” he asked with a puzzled look in his eyes, “I need your help to kick Pope and Fish’s ass and win this pool game!”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, “I’m still here,” you found your voice as you steadied yourself on your feet next to your partner, “Let’s win this thing, Benny!”

“Alright that’s what I want to hear!” Benny cheered as he kissed you softly on the cheek in the heat of the moment.

Both of you froze.

“Ben…” you whispered as your fingers grazed the skin of your face and you felt like you were on fire.

Benny’s gaze turned serious as the world melted away around him and only you were in focus. His hand landed on the side of your face as his eyes dropped down to your lips for just a moment, “Is this ok… baby?” he asked in a tone you had never heard before.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

Benny’s face lit up and before you knew it, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer as he pressed his lips against yours. You immediately melted into his embrace and parted your lips for him. Sparks flew between you as months of repressed feelings exploded to the surface. It all felt like a whirlwind: one moment you were just playing pool with Benny, the next moment you were living a romance fantasy.

Cheers from the other end of the pool table brought the moment crashing down as quickly as it started, however, and you and Benny broke away to find Santi, Frankie and Will cheering for the two of you.

“Fucking finally!” Santi jeered.

“We were wondering how long it was going to take you two idiots to realize you liked each other,” Will added.

A wave of heat pulsed through your veins and you felt even more embarrassed than before.

“Fuck off, you guys,” Benny snipped at them, “We were just taking our time that’s all.”

“Yeah, ok,” Frankie rolled his eyes with a smile, “Now can we get back to the game or are we going to have to watch you two suck each other’s faces the rest of the night?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Benny bantered back at his friends, “Just one more kiss,” he said before he leaned in and kissed you again before he murmured in your ear, “If they think this is bad, just wait til I get you home…”

#benny miller x reader #benny miller #benny miller x you #benny miller imagine #benny miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #ben miller x you #ben miller imagine #ben miller fic #ben miller #garrett hedlund #Triple Frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller fic #benny miller fanfic #ben miller fanfic

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adventuringblind · 10 months

Text

I remember you

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Genre: sad with a happy ending

Request: yes! I hope you like it as much as I do! I’m open for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Daniel, George, Pierre, and poly relationships. Don’t be shy I don’t judge. I promise.

Summary: Max and reader have been pining after each other for awhile now but haven’t confessed. When an accident changes everything, Max fears he may have missed his change.

Warnings: major accident, description of injuries, pining,

Notes: written in third person

Also, I've sent up my account to let tips be enabled. I was debating whether or not to say this because i dont want to sound like im begging, but frankly, people opinions do not matter me me. If you like my writing and want to support me, please consider tipping my posts or my blog. I put a lot of effort into my writing, and it would mean the world to me. Obviously, I won't have my feeling hurt if you ignor this but I wanted to put it out there.

Masterlist

She’d managed to get the second seat at Redbull. She gets along well with her teammate and she’s managing to keep up with him. Her team is first in the constructors championship. Life couldn’t have been better for her. Until the smoke filled her nostrils and the orange tried to lick at every part of her.

Her road was filled with hard work and she was so proud of herself for making it this far. Starting with alphatauri and finally getting the second Redbull seat.

Her and Max had been friends since she started in formula 1. Though it was obvious there was more to their friendship then they would confess to themselves or each other. Everyone teased them about it. But neither had been able to confront those feelings.

Her having to deal with the already male dominated sport and being asked ridiculous questions. Him defending his title and struggling with how to communicate emotions.

The way the two drove together in sync. Trusting each other to make the right calls. It was a testament to the connection between them.

Outside the track the talked often. Pushing each other, encouraging one another, it was a sight to see for every party involved.

“Are you ever going to confess to her?” Daniel asked Max one afternoon.

Max looked longingly across the garage where you were talking to your engineers. “But things are already so good. I don’t want to ruin it and I’m not sure she feels the same.”

“I just hope you don’t regret it one day, mate.”

It wasn’t even a day later that Max realized Daniel had been right.

She was set to place second, the race closer then you would’ve liked with a few laps to go. She’d been aggressively defending from the Mercedes behind her.

The Mercedes switched to trying an overtake on the outside. The proximity to her far too close for her liking. She thought she’d be given the space. She overestimated.

The confusion quickly over took her senses. One minute she was driving on the track and the next she was spinning. It was so fast she hadn’t even realized her car was in the air. The force of the impact was so great at one point she lost consciousness.

She woke up to her ears ringing and heat dancing around her skin. People screaming her name. She needed to move but couldn’t. The halo of the car had been bent in odd directions, preventing a her from an easy escape.

She tried to keep her panic away but But it was getting harder to breath and the heat was getting more intense. She tried pushing herself a little further out. Grasping at anything that could help her.

She could vaguely hear a familiar voice screaming her name. The copper taste in her mouth getting stronger. Then a hand. Trying to pull her out of the intensifying heat.

Hazy sky started to come into view. Her body trying to succumb to the darkness once again. But his blue eyes wouldn’t let her. Her body limp as he dragged her away from the danger. Why was he so sad? Hadn’t he won the race?

His mouth was saying words she couldn’t hear. Moving her. Trying his best to keep her awake.

Then he was being pulled away. Fighting whoever it was trining to take him away from her. She didn’t want him to leave. Screaming at him not to let her go. It felt that the farther away he got the more her body hurt. The heat pulling her back in again. Hands lifting her back to the sky. She wanted Max back. The cloudiness of her mind clearly picturing him.

It didn’t take long for the darkness to come back.

“How’s she doing” asked Max. It was near the end of the race and he knew she was fighting to keep second.

“She’s fine, just focus on bringing it home.” Came GP’s voice through the radio.

He couldn’t help but check his mirrors every few seconds. Concerned at how close the Mercedes was getting to her car. But he knew she was a fighter and wouldn’t give up easily. He smiled while thinking about her. Maybe Daniel was right. He always talked about living with no regrets.

He’d decided. He would tell you after the race. After she won her fight.

Then it all changed to fast. He saw it happen. Her tire being hit at the perfect angle to send her flying. Tumbling through the gravel. The fire already seen and she hadn’t stopped spinning yet.

He held his breath as he waited. The red flags already out.

“Is she okay GP?” His voice came out panicked. He couldn’t lose her yet. Not before he got to tell her how he feels.

“We don’t know yet.”

His car was pulled over before he could get any farther. Getting out at an inhuman speed and sprinting to where to crash had been.

Her car was melded to the barriers. Halo shifted in odd directions. Fire consuming most of the area at this point. The Marshalls doing their best to put it out.

He knew he was being reckless but he didn’t car. She needed to get out. He could vaguely see her body dangling through the flames.

Max ran over and immediately was trying to grab for her. The Marshalls making to attempt at stopping him. Only spraying where his arms were to help him get her out of the car.

He felt her move. Shoving herself forward. Trying to connect her hand to his. Until finally, they managed.

The heat was becoming unbearable even for him. He quickly tried to pull her body from the car. Weaving her away body through the dented halo. Dragging her farther away from the smoke when he managed to get her out.

He snapped his helmet off, getting breath back into his lungs. Then he snapped off hers. He was yelling her name. Hopefully giving her senses something to hold on to.

Her eyes found his and he immediately was crying in relief. Holding her in his hands. Assessing the damage to her body.

It didn’t take long for the Marshalls to pull him away. Trying to get her into the medical vehicle so they could help her.

He fought them. Every rational part of his brain gone. Needing to stay with her his only priority. Even more so as she reached for him. Softly saying his name. Coughing violently as she did so. Tear staining her cheeks.

Daniel had run to him in the track. Gripping his shoulders and checking over him. Max’s mind was spinning though. Daniels words falling in deaf ears as he led Max away.

Even as they got back to the garage, Daniel didn’t leave. Concern for his friend keeping him posted at his side.

Max did end up winning the race. Only to stand on the podium missing you.

He barely remembers anything about it. Spacing out when Christian drove him to the medical center. The two waiting for any word on the female drivers condition.

Max saw the way blood had pulled into her mouth as she tried to speak to him. The image burned into his brain.

He wanted- no- needed to see her.

So when the doctor finally called her name, he nearly fell over from standing up so fast. The doctor listed every injury she sustained. Including that of major head trauma. Possibly hindering her ability to race ever again.

Max’s hand flew to his mouth. A nausea inducing feeling settling into his stomach. Christian sighed heaving as the doctor walked away. Leaving the two of them be.

“I know it’s hard, but I’ve had to watch you to pine after each other for years. I need you to be strong for her right now. She needs you now more then ever.”

Max could only nod his head. Steeling himself for whatever she needed from him.

As the two walked down to where she was staying, a room in the ICU, he almost cried at the sight. Both in relief and pain for her.

White bandages cover places around her jaw, arms, hands, and chest. Mostly for the burns, a little for her bones. There was a cast around her knee where they had to pop it back into place.

Machines let out a steady beeping sound and wires ran around her bed. A nurse talked her vitals motioned for them to enter.

“She called for someone every time she was awake.” The nurse stated. “It was mumbled but they think the name was Max.”

Christian glanced at Max briefly before turning to look back at the nurse. “Thank you.” Then the nurse turned and left. Leaving them with the sound of their breathing and beeping machines.

Christian patted Max on the shoulder. “I’m going to see how everyone at the garage is doing and report the news.”

Only Max remained at her side. Gently kissing her bandaged hand. Exhaustion taking over his body at some point and falling asleep. His head placed softly next to her.

He woke up an hour to the sound of beeping, only it wasn’t as steady this time. He looked at the woman beside him trying to asses if she was ok. He calmed when he saw her soft smile. Her eyes lighting up at seeing him.

He smiled back. The joy at seeing her awake setting in.

“I don’t remember much, but I remember you.” She rasped. “And I remember loving you for a long time.”

The realization hit him when the doctor meant by head trauma. However, in this moment the girl he loves is alive and just claimed to be in love with him.

“This is actually the first time you’ve said it, but I have also loved you for a long time. And I’ll continue to love you even if you want nothing to do with me.”

He’d help her through this. Even as both of them sat their crying. Then talking about life. He watched her smile through the pain and determined that he never wanted to see you without it again.

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alluraaaa · 10 months

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so @heynhay posted this art and i’m incapable of being normal so. here’s 3k words of angry pining. tee hee <3

———

Keith Kogane never does anything halfway. He doesn’t shrug or “why not, I’m not busy” his way into being a pilot, a paladin, a person. He feels everything with his whole chest so fiercely that he tastes a scream with every emotion.

So when Keith realizes he’s in love he punches a wall hard enough to break the skin over his knuckles.

Because why Lance? Lance, of all people, is the one his heart latched onto. Lance, who is loud and obnoxious and cares so much about everything and everyone. He, as well, puts his whole heart into every action, and doesn’t pull away from a fight— in fact, he starts most of them. It’s… exhilarating.

At that thought, Keith punches the same dent in the wall with his other fist.

He stares down at his knuckles, blood slowly trickling from scrapes, and scowls. He scowls because the first thought to his stupid brain is that it would be so nice if someone else wrapped up his hands for him. Someone with long, deft fingers who comes from a big family full of kids who fall and scrape their hands, so he’d have experience patching Keith up just right.

He kicks the wall this time.

———

He wraps his hands well enough. He has his own experience in violent outburst related medicine, so it’s not that bad actually. Not great, but whatever.

Whatever.

“Whatever,” he tells his gloves as he slips them over the bandages to keep them in place, as well as hide them. He doesn’t need Shiro mother-hen-ing him.

He hears a squeak, and turns to see one of the mice watching him from one of the desks, curious.

“Whatever,” he tells it, more force in his voice. He makes a shooing motion and it scampers off, probably to tell Allura.

Whatever.

He grabs an ice pack and presses it into his foot next. He kicked the wall with shoes on, but it was still enough force to leave him regretting the action. His boot now sits on the floor, with his sock on the examination table he sits on.

“There you are, man!” calls a voice, and Keith looks up to see Hunk entering the room.

“What’s up?”

“Well, we’re about to start movie night, but what’s up with you?”

“I, uh, stubbed my toe,” Keith says, knowing it comes out an obvious lie.

Hunk gives him a look that Keith can’t read, but changes the subject. “Still up for the movie? We haven’t started it, Lance wouldn’t without you.”

…

Hm.

Well.

Uh.

Keith wants to punch something again.

“Yeah,” Keith says, eloquently.

In his grip, the ice pack pops. Freezing liquid soaks his sock.

“Oh shit! You okay, dude?” Hunk says, closing the distance between them with large strides.

“I’m fine,” Keith says, maybe a little too loud. Gross gross gross gross gross— “Just. Gimme a few minutes to change.”

“Uh. Alright, if you say so,” Hunk says, looking… confused. Yeah, that’s fair.

Keith manages to calm down after that. Hunk leaves him to get a new sock and he spends a few moments in silence before rejoining the team, taking deep breaths.

And then the doors slide open at his approach, and the noise spills into his ears.

There’s a passionate argument happening between Hunk and Pidge about some technical jargon Keith couldn’t hope to follow. But he isn’t even trying to, because Lance is throwing his head back and laughing at their back and forth, face scrunched up in a way that oozes childlike joy.

And it’s only when Lance stops laughing and turns those brown eyes onto him that Keith realizes he’s been standing there in silence for a full ten seconds.

“There you are!” Lance says, unknowingly parroting his best friend. And Keith gets a head on look at that eye-crinkling, dimpled smile. “Thought you vanished or something.”

“I was busy,” Keith says simply, defensively. He crosses the room, standing close to the couch to look at the viewing screen. “What are we watching?”

“Yalay’s Scream,” Pidge says, “Altean horror movie.”

“Yes, after your human horror film, I have to show you something actually scary,” says Allura, who was completely unphased by the first three Saw movies. (Hunk had to leave twenty minutes into the first one.)

On screen the movie is paused, showing a title card written in spooky Altean font. Keith may not be the best at social cues, but he can hear the clear challenge in Allura’s voice. Resolute, he plops himself into the nearest seat on the couch.

Right next to Lance. If he explodes in a violent cacophony of viscera and fondness, so be it.

The movie starts, and it’s… confusing. There’s a lot of cultural subtext and commentary that Keith doesn’t understand, but he’s long since given up on trying to.

What he does understand though, is the way Lance is right next to him, their thighs touching. He feels it every time the other boy flinches or squirms. He just hopes Lance can’t feel Keith’s heartbeat just as clearly.

When the movie has a classic scene of silent anticipation, Keith can hear his own breath like it’s through a bullhorn. The whole team sits with tense patience as the lead walks silently down a narrow hallway.

Next to him, Lance draws his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his shins. Keith turns his head ever so slightly to see Lance staring at the screen with wide, expressionless eyes.

Keith wants to do something stupid. Like put his arm around Lance’s shoulders and comfort him.

Quick as lightning, the tension in the scene dissipates. The lead is kidnapped. Hunk screams. Allura giggles.

Most importantly, Lance flinches and turns away from the screen. He’s facing Keith. He’s watching Keith watch him.

“What the fuck,” he whispers in terror, barely audible over the movie and the team reacting to it. “Why did we agree to this?”

Keith is staring. He knows he is and he should probably say something but he keeps staring.

Lance smiles, closed lips and fond eyes. “I don’t even like horror.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, eloquently.

“You do though, right? Is this actually scary or is it just me?”

Well, him and Hunk, who is trying to hide behind Pidge’s tiny frame. But Keith doesn’t know that. He’s too busy drowning. “It’s alright.” He couldn’t say a single thing that has happened on screen.

Lance squints, looking more amused. Good. Someone like him should only feel joy. “Right,” he says, before turning back to the movie. Keith makes himself do the same.

He forces himself to pay attention. Because his brain being a supercut of everything Lance Álvarez is embarrassing, even if no one else knows it.

The lead escapes her kidnapper. Someone else dies— her best friend or sibling or something. Yes yes, very tragic and sad. She takes their sword to fight the killer. Poetic cinema and whatnot—

Now hold the fucking phone and stop every single goddamn press because Lance Álvarez is putting his head on Keith’s shoulder. Keith freezes, totally rigid and unable to process anything save for the tickle of hair against his neck and squish of cheek against his shoulder.

But like. He’s sooooo normal and average about it.

The rest of the movie passes uneventfully. Well, surely there’s some resolution or scary thing or whatever but Keith doesn’t give a shit. Not until the credits start rolling and the lights turn back on— dim but still illuminating— and everyone shifts.

Pidge stands from where she was sandwiched like a human stress ball between Hunk and Allura, stretching her arms over her head. Hunk and Allura immediately occupy her empty space, talking about what they just watched. Coran adds his own commentary to the analysis— apparently he knew the director?

The noise and lights rouse Shiro, who slept through most of the film. His eyes immediately find Keith and Lance, and he smiles at Keith. A stupid, teasing older brother smile. Shiro’s known about this crush for a while, even without Keith voicing a single thought in his head. He’s apparently very easy for Shiro to read. Keith glares at him.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad! Lance,” Allura is saying, and then she’s turning to face him. “tell Hunk he’s— oh.”

The entire team sees it now: Lance, curled up in a ball, leaned against Keith. Keith, a statue the color of his lion, supporting Lance. Four different facial expressions present themselves to him, but before he can decipher, Allura is turning triumphantly to Hunk.

“See? He fell asleep, it wasn’t that scary.”

“His head exploded!” Hunk shouts. Keith thinks, when?

His gaze falls to Lance. He’s apparently a heavy sleeper, if he still hasn’t risen during the ensuing argument. His face is squished into Keith, and it’s annoyingly, impossibly, terrifyingly adorable.

Fuck.

He stands up suddenly, and Lance falls into the spot where Keith just was. But Keith is too busy striding out the door.

“Wha? Huh?” is what he hears from a sleepy Lance before the doors close between them.

———

He’s finally decided to talk to Shiro about it.

He needs advice. On how to bend his mind to his will so that he can focus on literally anything else besides the warmth of Lance’s body against his. If Shiro could get straight As in the Garrison while head over heels for Adam, he’ll have to have something useful to tell Keith.

He doesn’t knock on Shiro’s door. Little brother privileges. Just opens it and walks into the already in progress advice session.

“I’m literally gonna jump out the airlock if this keeps happening, he’s just so—”

And everyone freezes. Keith, in the doorway. Shiro, on his bed. And Lance, pacing back and forth.

Keith and Lance’s eyes meet. Lance’s eyes widen. He panics.

“GET OUT!” he shrieks, arms flailing before he points out the door.

Keith doesn’t move as he processes Lance’s panicked rage. He’s interrupting something. He looks to Shiro.

“Give us five and I’ll come find you,” he says simply. He looks at Lance for a second, then adds, “Make it ten, actually.”

Wordlessly, Keith turns and walks away, the door sliding closed behind him.

He’s in his own room, doing push-ups so he doesn’t punch another wall, when Shiro finds him. He also doesn’t knock. Big brother privileges. Just opens it and strides in and falls onto Keith’s bed with a sigh.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” Keith says, finishing his push-up and moving to sit cross-legged. “What were you guys talking about?”

Mindlessly staring at the ceiling, Shiro says, “If I tell you then I tell Lance why you wanna talk to me.”

The mental image of Shiro nonchalantly broadcasting his feelings is enough to make even him let something go. “Fine,” Keith says.

“So what is it? Is it him?”

Keith sighs, falling apart to lay on the floor and also watch the ceiling. “Yeah.”

Shiro just hums in acknowledgment, waiting for Keith to continue.

“I don’t know what to do. I just keep thinking about him all the time. It’s the fucking worst.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Shiro says, suspiciously sounding reminiscent.

“And the other day after the movie? I just left! Why did I do that? The fuck is wrong with me?”

“You want that list alphabetical or chronological?” Shiro quips.

Keith just sighs. “What do I do?”

“Tell him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Keith sits up. Makes Shiro look at him. “Have you just met me?” He made Shiro order for him at restaurants for a year.

Shiro raises an eyebrow, then lets his head fall back down. “Fair.”

Keith falls back onto the floor. “Yeah.”

“So you’re just not gonna tell him?”

“Yeah.”

“And then what?”

“And then I deal with it. How do I deal with it?”

Shiro laughs, quiet and mostly an exhalation. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because my baby brother is in love and I need to support him.”

Keith groans. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No. Can I be your best man at the wedding?”

“No. Allura’s best man. Best woman. Whatever, there’s no wedding!”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

“I’ll end you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first to try,” Shiro jokes. “But you really just aren’t gonna tell him?”

“No! I can’t!”

“But do you want to?”

“Yeah, obviously.” God, Shiro is stupid.

“Then why can’t you?”

“Because it’s me!” Keith sits up again. “I can’t talk, I-I can’t flirt, I’m not smooth like him and all the girls he likes!”

Wait.

He falls back onto the floor again. “What if he doesn’t even like guys?”

It’s silent as he processes this thought. How did it not occur to him before? And then, Shiro’s making a noise, soft and muffled and—

“Don’t laugh!” Keith says sitting up once again to glare at his brother.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…” Shiro covers his face with both hands and sighs into them, calming his amusement. “It’s just funny.”

“What about this is funny?” Keith demands, standing.

Shiro moves his hands away from his face to give Keith a look like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. But you should tell him.”

Ugh. “Fuck off,” Keith decides, walking away to leave Shiro alone in Keith’s room. Shiro’s returning laughter follows him out.

———

Cleaning cryo-pods isn’t Keith’s ideal way to spend his day, but it isn’t as bad as it could be.

“Okay, okay. Truth or dare?” Lance calls from the pod next to Keith.

“Truth,” Keith says, because just five minutes ago he was dared to clean a pod while hanging upside down, and he almost needed to use said pod as a result.

“Hmm… do you like anyone?” Lance asks, ever casual.

“Yeah?” Keith says, “I like everyone.” This whole Voltron thing isn’t possible without everyone getting along.

“No, like, like like someone,” Lance says, “Romantically.”

Keith pauses. Then he resumes cleaning with more vigor. “Yeah.”

“Really!?”

“Yeah. Truth or dare?”

“No, wait!” Lance says, and Keith hears him approaching. “Who?”

“That wasn’t part of it. You get one question,” Keith says, erasing the last specks of dust off the inner walls. He steps out of the pod and drops his rag.

“Come on!” Lance says as Keith reaches for a sponge for the next pod. He grabs Keith’s wrist, pulling him away from the sponge and into Lance’s space. “Tell me.”

Keith looks at that face he’s damn near written poetry about and swallows. He rips his hand away and creates distance between them, and he’s sure his glare is murderous. “Fuck off.”

“Aww, he’s nervous!” Lance teases, following after Keith, who crosses his arms and shows his back to Lance, a clear message to not poke the bear.

Lance literally pokes him as he saddles up behind Keith, one hand settling on an elbow and another on a shoulder.

“Little Keithy’s in love?” Lance asks, and it’s clear in just his voice that he’s beaming. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I tell you?” Keith asks through gritted teeth, his face on fire. He looks away from Lance, at the clean bare walls.

“Because I’m the best wingman this side of the universe!” Lance says, hands squeezing. “I can help you woo this mystery person. Step one,” His hand moves from his shoulder to gently tug at a lock of hair. “do something about this mess.”

Lance’s voice in his ear, Lance’s hand on his arm, Lance’s hand in his hair. It’s all too much and he’s about to do something stupid, like kiss him.

Instead he screws his eyes shut, uncrosses his arms, and presses a finger to Lance��s lips, stopping the words in their tracks. He extends his arms fully, pushing Lance away and creating distance between them.

There’s a beat of silence, neither boy moving. And then Keith feels the soft exhale of a laugh on his hand, and then another hand in his.

He opens his eyes and swivels his head just in time to see Lance pressing a kiss into the back of Keith’s hand like royalty, right on the gap in the glove, lips to skin.

Keith stares, unable to do anything as Lance, face dusted with the smallest blush, drops Keith’s hand and leans back on his heels. His smile is shaky. “Sorry Romeo, I’m just messing with y—”

Unthinking, Keith presses his palm to Lance’s mouth. “Do it again.”

Lance’s blush erupts in full force. The two maintain eye contact as Lance gently, slowly takes Keith’s hand in his again, head bowing as he presses a kiss there again, painstakingly gentle.

Keith watches as Lance moves so thoughtfully, asking permission with every shift. His hands glide up Keith’s arm, hands coming up to cup his face. There’s barely a height difference, despite Lance’s insistence, but Keith feels those centimeters like miles as he looks up into Lance’s eyes.

Lance’s eyes, which are pointed south, lower than Keith’s own eyes, to stare at his lips. His eyes flit back up, and in the eye contact a silent question is asked. Keith manages a weak nod.

Their lips meet and Keith is first and foremost blown away by how soft Lance is. He’s known for months now that Lance is capable of inhuman degrees of kindness and compassion, but it’s never been directed his way. To feel this softness, of his hands, of his lips, of how he moves, is breathtaking. Keith’s hands fall to Lance’s waist and he tries to follow along, tries to be soft too. It’s surprisingly easy; Lance makes him soft, after all.

When they part, it’s all too soon.

Lance is still cupping Keith’s face, looking down at him with pure awe. Keith’s pretty sure he’s faring about the same. They’re both still blushing, and everything is warm warm warm.

“Truth or dare?” Keith asks before he knows what he’s doing.

Lance smiles, and Keith finds the other half of himself. “Dare.”

Keith licks his lips. “Kiss me again.”

Lance chuckles, leaning back in. “If you insist.”

#voltron #safevoltron #klance #klance fanfiction #voltron fanfic #txt #mine #keith #keith&lance #if there’s any typos pls lmk i can’t keep proofreading T_T #also hello 2023 voltron fandom 🫣#haven’t been here since 2018

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absolutebl · 10 months

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This week in BL - I am all over the place, But Laws of Attraction is Phenomenal af

July 2023 Wk 2

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Thai Sat iQIYI) 1 of 8 - Icky picked it up but it’s not airing for me until Sundays so I held this post specifically to watch and talk about this show. Stars the pair from To Sir With Love with the same production team. IT’S SO GOOD Y’ALL. A morally corrupted trickster lawyer with a tragic past, sad eyes, and a beautiful smile that he uses like a weapon. Meets paladin martial arts instructor from other side of the tracks (who is out, at least to his baby sister). Corrupt police. Spoiled rich kid evil. Ambitious politician. Tragic death. Terrible subs.* This show is very like Manner of Death but so far it is a much better/tighter story. It’s NOT BL but it is fucking phenomenal. And you shoudl watch it. Not wait to binge it. WATCH IT. On a global scale this might be the best thing currently airing featuring gay romantic leads. Its really fucking good. It’s Lawless Lawyer but more complex character motivation and gay af. Fuck yes please and thank you. FINALLY. Triggers for violence, beatings, death & torture depicted on screen. Like MoD they are not holding back. (* A lot of the familial names they are using are not gendered in Thai but translated as such, like “nephew”. This one is gonna go down a lot easier if you know some Thai.)

Step By Step (Tues WeTV & Gaga) ep 12fin - 2 years pass and no one’s hairstyle changes? Srs. Them meeting again = hella AWKWARD. Both still pining & hurt. NO SINGING. The reconciliation scene was great. I enjoyed that on the “do over relationship” they went with phi/pom (instead of the super formal khuns). So cute and so much more relaxed. Also lots of neck kisses! Charming final ep. It’s only flaw being they dropped the side couple, but I wasn’t really into them anyway. Ultimately? This is what Boss & Babe should have been and could we please have Up lead out another BL? I miss him and he only gets prettier. Full review below.

La Pluie (Sat iQIYI) ep 12fin - I adore the tiny little baby GL thread that we almost got. And I wish we had had more of it throughout the show. The side couple turned out to be good too. Emotional crying kisses are my favorite. Sunshine netted himself an earnest serious romantic boy, we likey. As for the main couple? Well... Tai’s search story arc was dull and dragging in a final ep and it felt bloated and slow as a result. It was a good confession reunion with Tai figuring all of his shit out, not surprising but fine. Kind of a a weak final ep. Full review below.

Hidden Agenda (Thai Sun GMMTV YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - JoonDunk are back and we have all seen this a million times before, but Thailand never executed a successful formula it didn��t want to repeat a million times over, drunk bathroom and everything. Welcome (back) to Thai BL (and back and back and back). Basically they just added glasses, a new 1-shared-brain-cell friendship group, and different uni departments. Ah GMMTV, forever trying to recreate the magic of 2gether. But also I’m enjoying it. I’m a simple person. (Hi Jamie! Still in college since 2018 I see.) Anyone else notice that Chinese phrase that they did not translate for us? Mmm hum. Cute. Still... NO SINGING.

Low Frequency (Sat iQIYI) ep 2 of 8 - Thames is in coma and getting slagged off on the socials. It’s moving a bit slowly but the premise is interesting despite the poor quality of the execution.

Dinosaur Love (Sun iQIYI) ep 3 of 8 eps - Major trigger for self harm depicted on screen in part 2/4. I skipped it. Then there is assault and verbal abuse. I told you Ultimate Troop is NOT to be trusted.

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 2 of 12 - Look, I don’t really mind this show but I also don’t like second hand embarrassment and I sense a metric butt ton incoming.

Be My Favorite (Fri YouTube) ep 8 of 12 - I was not best pleased with this episode. Ya’ll round the tumblr-sphere seem to be enjoying it but I have officially hit the wall on Kawi. There is not enough booze for me to cope with his shizz. I may be alone in this. But gotta say how I feel... Unlike him. Trash watch here.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Tokyo in April is... AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 8 - Poor Ren, he feels compelled to take on the burden of protecting everyone from sexual assault because he blames himself. And he can’t even talk to his boyfriend about it. Oh fuck me the pair of shoes at the door. And neck kisses? TOO MUCH. Argh. Japan. Why must you hurt so good?

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) 3 of 10 eps - It’s a very cute show. All the tropes and archetypes with no fuss or attempts to be clever, just executing them (sometimes over and over again). Even hiccoughs as a result of flirting! I haven’t seen that one in ages. The show feels old fashioned as a result. Nostalgic. I’m good with that.

Tie The Not (Pinoy YouTube) ep 6 of 8 - Sad boys still sad now drunk. (Noooooo shoes on bed! Argh.) Finally kisses! Also good ones for a large portion of this ep. Plus hair pulling. And verse rep! And after sex convo. Then side dishes have a whole proper gay ax covo about top/bottom. Everyone say thank you Philippines! get down with your queer selves!

Stupid Genius (Vietnam Fri YouTube) ep 6fin - I believe this was the final episode. It was cute. This is a standard sort of semi-crappy VBL high school drama. Enjoyable in its floppy friendliness, weirdly like a queer after school special promoting education. Dead fish kisses but fine for what it is. 7/10

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) 2 of 12 eps - Activate cohabitation trope. They okay bfs. Minato not as frustrating this week, but still frustrating for me and Shin. Next week = cute outfits and dumb miscommunication yay!

Vian the series (Vietnam YouTube ) ep 11 of 12 - again it didn’t show up on my dash in time for this. I’ll pop it into next week.

It’s airing but ...

House of Stars (Thai Mon iQIYI) 12 eps - I bounced at ep 3. Will binge if told it is worth it at end.

Stay (Pinoy YouTube) 7 eps - It’s mostly English & set in LA (shudder) so I’m not bothering.

Stay With Me ... NO I WILL NOT! And you can’t make me.

Ended This Week

Step By Step Series Review

This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This was an office romance between stern boss and sweet subordinate that felt more authentic to an office environment than previous Thai BLs of this ilk. And that authenticity added tension to the narrative and character development (how novel). Now that might be because it has western source material, or it might be because it is actually kind of old-fashioned (it’s been years since I worked as an office grunt). I also really enjoyed the brothers’ relationship, and kinda wished they hadn’t attempted (and failed) to give said brother his own side BL. That one flaw made it a 9/10 for me. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

La Pluie Series Review

This BL takes to task the fated mates trope and what it means to have love chained intimately to predestination. It’s about how faith in destiny before choice diminishes the authenticity of emotion, relationships, and connection. This is a high concept to examine through the lens of a BL. By activating + examining the soulmates trope this show is challenging a foundation of romance: the idea that there is one person meant to be your one romantic partner all your life. This means that we, as viewers, spend much of the show worried about it having a happy ending, and that’s the source of both its brilliance and tension: would the narrative have the strength to truly challenge its own romantic core? But, ultimately, all this elevated complexity was executed in a somewhat shaky manner with the narrative derailing into some serious pacing issues and characters manipulated by miscommunication. However, with good chemistry and decent acting all around, plus some excellent high heat and representation of consent and a few other rare tropes, this one has to (like it’s sibling show My Ride) earn a 9/10. I enjoyed it even as it made me think, so despite its flaws: HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting:

7/19 Wedding Plan (Thai Wed YouTube & iQIYI) - It's Mame and she's coming for our GL. She's such a misogynist IMAGINE what we will get with a GL side dish? It's going to be absolute carnage. To crane your neck as you drive by the car wreck or not? That is the question. Me? I'm wallowing in the guts. Trying to decide to trash watch or not...

7/20 Jun & Jun (Korea Thu Viki) - From 2022 I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT! So excited for this one.

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

FYI roselle juice is made from hibiscus (a flower) so technically neither a tea nor a juice. (Hidden Agenda)

Tie the Not = all the verse rep this ep. I love this for them.

The giggling was SO DAMN CUTE (Step by Step, na?)

We all guessed it but it was still fun. (Stupid Genius) Also miracles of miracles, two actors who actually look like they could be brothers play brothers.

First time I’ve seen faen translated as significant other. (Laws of Attraction)

THE PAIN! (Tokyo)

(Last week.)

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buckyysdoll · 9 months

Text

— 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟎𝐬!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐡𝐜𝐬 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏/𝟐, 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 —

જ⁀➴ — summary: self explanatory; a/n: set in my fic universe of 40s!HYDRA!assassin!wife!reader x bucky barnes // re-posted in two parts for both better access and for “keep reading” feature; cw: vague mention of sex and canon-typical angst? pairing: 40s! bucky x f! reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

• you, bucky and steve met when all three of you were just seven years old. it was 1924 and the year you started grade school, and the three of you became inseparable quick.

• years pass and you're still that same trio —best friends that couldn't be any closer if they tried. never mind that steve noticed pretty early on that you and bucky shared a different kind of closeness

• one that both he and you were somehow so oblivious to, and that you denied for so damn long despite the plain open longing, the mutual pining

• i mean, cmon — it didn't exactly take an idiot to realise that you and bucky barnes saw far more in one another than just friends.

• you saw the world in each other

• so cut to around 1935 or so, and bucky asks you to your high school's senior swing dance the year that you graduate. he does the whole thing — the suit and corsage, the ride — for this was it, the night he hoped would be the one to make you his <3

• he asked you to the dance on your doorstep beneath warm porch light, after weeks of waiting — hoping — that he would. now that he had, you felt so happy that you thought could've died

• and so did he when you breathed 'yes' and pressed a quick, shy kiss to his cheek. you were nervous and excited and all this at once —

• and James Buchanan Barnes was plainly blushing

• and it was on that swing dance night that you said your very first i love yous, though his you overheard from the stairwell as he finally told your father just how honourable his intentions truly were

• it went a little something like “if i can be frank with you sir, i'm in love with your daughter. and i even think that she might love me, too."

• but more on that later cos it really was your father who proved to be your love's greatest obstacle

• ((though still, you essentially become the epitome of high school sweethearts turned husband + wife ❤️‍🩹))

• so for the whole night at that dance, both you and bucky were damn well nervous, despite the steady comfort of each other’s by now very familiar company

• because although you'd been best friends since you were seven years old, now you were crossing that line. and by god, bucky had loved you ever since that first day knowing you, just as you had always loved him right back — it felt easy and natural as breathing.

• it truly did feel like it should've been that way all along; that you were made for each other, and should’ve always been together like this, in that way. and yet still, the first night you dared see each other as beyond friends, you were both all shaking hands and straightening ties; kids just so in love.

• and the first time that you kissed at the end of the night? it just made sense. you adored each other — you'd found each other — and felt so goddamn grateful that you had.

• + what you didn't know (until bucky told you of it later down the line) was that steve had been hounding him for ages about it - subtle comments here and there because he knew his best friend. he knew what he wanted, how he'd felt for so long - knew that bucky was just too damn scared to admit that he loved you, in case he lost you for it

• as if he could ever, you thought.

• but even still he would've sooner had your love as a best friend, and never have known what holding you felt like than lose you completely — than drive you away. he could do that, he swore to himself. he would do it. if that would make you happier, he'd do it.

• but with each passing day it grew more and more wretched as both of you hid how you felt beneath friendship; having to keep a secret the fact that you were in love from the one person you trusted above anyone. the one person you wanted to tell

• steve, of course, knew how you felt as well as bucky; he was nothing if not observant, though you had sworn him to upmost secrecy.

• he felt it sweet how completely oblivious you both were — making steve promise to guard the very same secret, and unknowing that those feelings were returned

• but before you come to know how the other one feels, you of course get the staples of any good best friends to lovers transition. hugs that linger too long, or the opposite — brief ones and a whole lot of throat-clearing.

• or trying to pretend that you're happy for your friend when they tell you they've been asked on a date — never mind the fact they only told you to gauge your reaction, and had no intention of ever actually going.

• it worked the same to make you/him damn well jealous, too — though unwilling to name quite why or further examine the reason for feeling it.

• lingering eye contact and blushes when your hands accidentally brush, but never knowing how to address it from being plain petrified of suddenly losing it.

• indeed, everyone else knew that you'd fallen in love long before either of you dared name it; but when you did there was nothing that could stop you — other than perhaps one big minor problem.

• that problem being your father, who absolutely hated that boy' James Buchanan Barnes.

• He did not approve of him one bit, and never once tried to make it any short of obvious. it was something you just knew would never change, despite your efforts — he was old school, and set in his ways, and daughters of your decade were their father's to own.

• But it wasn't as if he even had a good reason to hate your best friend in the slightest. after all, he had a great respect for steve, he bloody loved him! but when it came to bucky he was unimpressed

• it broke your heart

• you'd always been a daddy's girl, and close to your parents — you knew that. but while your mother took the attitude that love was a phase you'd grow out of, it was your dad who stood so firmly set against it

• and your dad that ruled the house

• so he stayed fiercely protective to the point of being so overbearing, you were stifled. your choices clearly were not your own, and bucky wouldn't be respected if beneath your father's roof

• it wasn't fair.

• this was a boy that saw the sun in you alone — who worshipped the ground that you walked on. but what, if not that, did your parents see in him? that he was plainly just 'no good' for their daughter.

• that authority — held by your father - reached its sure peak when bucky came to pick you up for your date. it was the night of the swing dance, your very first one, but the start was not so magic as the end turned out to be.

• for after having knocked on the oak front door — of which was opened by your father, not you — the older man was reluctant to invite the boy inside, but still did; after all, he had questions

• and though he was instantly stern, unforgiving - asking "just what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?" — Bucky wasn't deterred in the least, didn't regret his choice for a single moment.

• you were it for him, he knew. even if your parents didn't quite want to see it.

• because still, no matter how polite bucky was when he spoke, no matter how many 'ma'am's and 'sir's he spoke, or the flowers that he'd given to your mother in thanks — both she and your father insisted their disdain for him was purely cos they wanted what was best for you

• and that simply, he wasn't “damn near good enough”

• cos after all, the boy was a charmer — he had no shortage of admirers, of girls that were after him. but what they didn't see was that he had eyes just for you - always had and always will, for the girl that he'd loved since he was seven years old

• and so that night of the formal swing dance, a great row blows up between you and your parents. you beg and you plead — it's all very “The Notebook”- but it's no use; they're too set in their ways.

• you + bucky agree to date in secret then instead, until such a time when the both of you can make it on your own

• and why not? you only needed each other. that is, each other and steve <3

• so as the next few months pass, you do just what you'd agreed: date in secret. and it's exciting, cos this boy has been the love of all your life, and you're holding him and kissing him and everything is right.

• moonlit nights are spent with bucky climbing through your window, smiling, and you’re laughing as you whisper “hurry up” before you hear your parents’ footsteps and he has to rush back down.

• he makes you alive, he makes you you. it's the late 1930s in New York, and you're together.

• other nights you do the same, and meet him in the yard beneath what soon becomes our tree — the great poplar one with the great open leafing, that you'd spent so many star-struck nights beneath. and though your best dress ripped on the sill of your window and caught on branches as you made your way down, you just didn't care when at the bottom was the boy who took you dancing, who adored you in young love with all his heart

• so yes, you go out dancing; swing is your favourite, but you both like the slow ones. anything that means that he can put his arms about you, with your head laid on his chest where you can feel him, hear him breathe.

• you both have a love then for records — playing those romantic songs on worn out, crackled vinyl

• personally, you love frank sinatra, and all those other crooners of your time and before. bucky finds himself more loving the upbeat jazz and swing, adoring when he twirls you round the room and you laugh in his arms — never wanting more than this.

• it really is that true old fashioned courting that you swoon for

• and when you hear those same songs seventy years later, you just can't breathe through that pain. you just can't breathe through the sheer black panic of loss, through the fact that they'd taken your james —

• but for now he's just the perfect gentleman, giving you his jacket to wear, his ring - his promise that he'll one day be asking for your hand, when he's gathered his courage to do it without somehow still fearing that you're mere than he deserves.

• it's a promise of your future and the life you'll have together, and you wear it with such pride because he's yours and you are his <;3

• he's your bucky, your james, and you rarely say his full given name — that is, unless you’re mad and standing there with your arms folded.

• it's hilarious to see just how he knows it by your tone alone, but other times it's still somehow as affectionate as any given nickname you use — and there's many.

• but he still particularly loves it when you just call him your "bucky” like always. only you + steve typically say it, and so it's personal between you three — it's yours

• but of course those goddamn pet names drive him wild just as much, and you absolutely love the endearments; he thinks they sound heavenly when coming from your mouth.

• examples would be “honey,” “love,”“sweetheart,” “baby,” “doll,” “how's my (pretty/beautiful) girl?"

• if you're being honest, it's that last one that brings heat to your skin in a blush; it doesn't matter how many times he says it, it never gets old, and he knows how it gets you 🫣

• which may or may not be exactly the reason he says it — to be the cause of that rush

• but alongside it, you still like to tease him with his name, said in full when you're both joking or affronted.

• it could go a little something like "james buchanan barnes, are you flirting with me?" — which of course he is, because he loves his girl <3 his “pretty, good girl” <3

• you also get to experience the privilege of jealous bucky !! protective bucky !! when other guys make passing comments at his girl

• this man is ahead of his era when it comes to women, and how to respect them; he was raised right by his mama and his dad's love for her was a role model.

• so it's safe to say that anyone who makes you uncomfortable soon comes to regret it.

• i mean, it's bad enough having to patch up his fists after fights carried out on steve's behalf, the boy who somehow managed to always start but not finish those alleyway brawls

• but worse were the fights he got into with the guys that had set their sights on you.

• because as said, he was easily jealous; very protective of you by his side. and you loved it as much as you didn't because you just dreaded him soon getting hurt

• but you were reluctantly, secretly proud to admit that he ever really was by other guys 😌 in other words, he didn't lose his fights, though you were loath to ever tell him lest it blow your angry cover

• cos no matter how wonderful and courteous he was, that didn't mean you didn't give him the old girlfriend's silent treatment when patching him up.

• you only gave in every time when he reached out to hold you with that goddamn smile

• you could never resist it, even when you were “just friends”

• it was just so like your bucky that you'd barely even try — you’d just fold there and then

• still, let it be known that he wouldn't rise to fighting when you talked him down from it. he had respect for you enough to just let it go when you asked for him to, choosing you + your comfort over and again if you chose to not let it spoil your night.

• and so while he detested the entitled men that thought they had rights to try and touch you/call out, the only thing that mattered was just what you felt about it, in the end. and if you wanted to just walk on, and continue with your date? then that's what you’d do.

• though rest assured that his hands are positively burning for a fight, like his glare —

╰┈➤ see post title for p2 <3

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fr3sh-tragedies · 10 months

Text

Pay Attention

[Resident Evil: Village] Daniela Dimitrescu x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.05k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: Mentions of Daniela feeling like a burden, general angst-to-fluff, crying, soft pining, worries of delusions, and skipping a meal.

[A/N]: I was wanting to post this a week apart from Cassandra’s, but the WiFi went out and took a few days to fix, so I wasn’t able to work on her part. On top of that, I'm not entirely sure how to write for her character since I only recently started to come up with stories for her.

I had much more planned for this one, but I wanted to keep the word count in between what I had written for Bela and Cassandra, so I shortened a few things.

Also, this will be the last story for the Dimitrescu sisters for a while. Please check my bio for an explanation on that. I'll likely be writing for Amity Blight and Boscha from The Owl House next! Check the poll at the end of this story.

Enjoy!

“Love can exert the same strain on the body as experienced intense fear. In a person in love, the same physiological reactions are observed: dilated pupils, sweaty palms, an increase in heart rate.” Pure intrigue and fascination sparked its way through Daniela’s body, her molten golden eyes skimming over the lines on the page that seemed to pull her in further with each passing word. A few weeks prior, when she had made her usual trip to the Village to visit the Duke and see what stories he had to offer, he had mentioned a book about facts relating to the human body’s anatomy and physiology–a book of “fun facts,” as he called it. Daniela had taken interest in this immediately and ordered it. During the time that she waited, she pondered about what kind of facts it could contain: whether or not it would mention how the body works when a human is in love.

Although she wasn’t entirely aware of it, there was a part of her mind that always brought her attention back to a certain maid that worked for her family. Anytime she thought of how the body might react to being in love with someone, her mind wandered to [Y/N] [L/N]. She would think of how soft her stare always seemed to be, how relaxed she appeared in the youngest Dimitrescu daughter’s presence. It made her feel as though she trusted her the way she was yearning for.

Subconsciously, she would begin to daydream. At first, it only started at night when she was getting ready to fall asleep after a long day. Over a–rather short–amount of time, however, she found herself staring into the distance at random times, completely in a blissful daze. The smitten woman would think constantly of [Y/N]’s steady gaze, and almost immediately fight to suppress a squeal once remembering how flustered she had gotten each time the two of them made eye contact.

After calming down, she’d dream of [Y/N]’s soft locks of hair that always seemed to frame her face so perfectly, cupping the outlining structure of her cheeks and jaw that she wished she could caress with her own hands. How she envied the way any other maid, or even one of her sisters, would so easily rip her attention away from her. She wished she could find a way to keep [Y/N]’s attention on her, find a way to make her pay attention, in other words.

To ease her growing frustrations, she’d turn her attention to [Y/N]’s lips. Although the young woman hadn’t worked for her family for very long–likely only two years–it didn’t take Daniela long to begin falling for her. Often, she would feel her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to vividly picture herself gaining the privilege to kiss her. She wondered how soft her lips would feel against her own. How warm they would be. Would they welcome her with the same spark of enthusiasm? Or would they freeze against her own before roughly removing themselves from one another?

She was often made fun of for being delusional when it came to romance, always falling back to rely on the romance novels she could be found burying her nose into on multiple occasions every single day. As much as she hoped her love would be reciprocated, she could feel the doubts and insecurities creeping in, wishing she didn’t have to consider the fact that her sisters may be right: she may be delusional about this romance.

Maybe she was making this out to be something so much more in her head.

Blending together and jumbling up her mind only made her daydreaming grow more frequent and harder to tear away from. She found herself retreating to her fantasies out of fear of it being the only way she would be able to hear [Y/N] tell her she feels the same way.

Her sisters would snap her out of it and, of course, tease her for it. It would always leave her flustered as she tried to act as though she wasn’t just fantasizing about her favorite maid, which she had personally requested serve the family for each meal.

She’d hastily make her way through her meal, ignoring the taunting of her older siblings, before excusing herself to fly back up to her room for some kind of privacy. She knew Bela and Cassandra would expect to find her in the library first–if they were to search for her–so she would hide away in her bedroom and distract herself with the stack of books she had stashed away in her wardrobe for such an occasion. Time and time again, she’d think about the book she ordered, increasingly growing fearful that it would only worsen her possibly deluded dreams.

After a while of waiting anxiously to learn more about the human body that always captivated her in more ways than one, the book finally arrived at the Duke’s cart. She paid him as promised and quickly fled back to the castle to read in the comfort of her favorite space, the library, leaving her sisters to continue their shopping on their own.

Thankfully, she had managed to keep her inattentiveness to a minimum. Because of this, she felt it was okay to go back to her sanctum to read, rather than secluding herself in her bedroom.

Brushing past the maids that worked deftly throughout the front parlor and all the way out to the opposite sides of the sturdy structure, Daniela finally made it to the library, where she shut the doors behind her and huddled up on the sofa closest to the center, allowing the large skylight above to provide light for her to read under.

She had curled up against the armrest, tucking one of the throw pillows against her chest and propping her legs up to press it further against her torso. Quickly, she flipped the front cover open and thumbed eagerly at the pages as she began to read the introduction–which opened by explaining how different events trigger different emotions and hormones throughout the brain and body. It was hard for her to suppress a yawn. The way the paragraphs were phrased, including the diction used, seemed more like something her eldest sister Bela would be interested in.

Seemingly countless words filled each pale, thin page, all of which added up to share different messages and facts about the physiological side of emotions. When the Duke had been talking of the book a few weeks prior, he made it seem far more interesting than what she was reading at the beginning. She had pictured interesting facts put together with very few words, short sections of small lists decorating the page with each bulleted point. She did enjoy lengthy novels using flowery language, which often used far more detail than this book had so far, but those had a story building up throughout each turn of a page.

The way the facts were laid out before her made her feel like she was being lectured by Bela.

The paragraphs seemed to stretch on and on. Her eyelids drooped upon feeling heavy, her boredom growing more and more evident across her features.

She sighed, swiftly flipping through the pages using the pad of her thumb, desperately searching for where the more interesting part of the book was. Finally, with a small cheer of triumph, she discovered what she was seeking out for. She smiled gleefully and nuzzled up against the sofa and the pillow. Her body sunk down into the cushions as she finally took interest in the words that rested underneath a large, bold title that read “Facts of the Brain.”

It had started off sharing facts about the brain connected to the nervous, digestive, and integumentary systems, though what truly caught her interest was when it started speaking of how love and romance affected the body. Finally, she found the part of the book she had been fantasizing about for weeks. Each fact drew her deeper and deeper into the pages, her senses tuning out the rest of the world. Her smile cracked wider and wider across her face, and just like she had done before she had even gotten her hands on the book, she pictured the effects taking place in her and [Y/N]’s bodies while dreaming of one day learning that her love was mutual.

Laughter is associated with the positive sides of love that partners share.

The initial stress of a relationship can cause physical symptoms similar to a heart attack, known as Broken Heart syndrome.

Different stages of love exist, with different reactions at the start of a relationship that are different from the ones that they feel when it is a long-term romantic attachment.

Being in love alters our personality and perception of things. We can become more open to things that our lover is into, or we may even become more optimistic about things.

Love leads to the deactivation of the amygdala in the brain, which regulates fear. Thus, you are less scared of outcomes and consequences when in love. You experience a fearlessness and bravery that you wouldn’t usually feel.

Gleefully, Daniela squealed in excitement over all of the new information greeting her. She continued reading, wondering if [Y/N] had ever felt any of these things while around her. She had certainly felt the intensity of her feelings anytime she so much as thought of the girl. Had [Y/N] felt the same?

The urge to share these interesting facts with her family grew stronger in her body. Maybe if she brought it up with her sisters and told them of how she wanted to use the information to finally confess to [Y/N], they would encourage her and help her do so.

Quickly, she stood from her spot on the small sofa. She spun on her heel and practically skipped towards the doors, softly closing the book and tucking it under her arm after folding the corner of the last page she had read. She flung the doors open in front of her, then tugged them shut before letting the lower half of her body swarm back into the flies that made up her being, allowing her to float above the ground and travel quickly down the hall. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to find Bela or Cassandra first. She had heard them come back home a while before, though she wasn’t aware of where they were.

Bela was likely in her study going over the paperwork her mother had given to her, and Cassandra was without a doubt in the armory crafting her newest weapon with the metals she had purchased from the Duke back in the Village. It would be far easier to visit Cassandra first, seen as how she was the closest.

Daniela made her way through the doorway that led to the hallway connecting the main hall’s stairway to the Wine Room. She slid past the balcony, brushing past the maids that seemed to cower back a bit at her presence. She then hooked a right at the end of the walkway, then a left, and went through a few more doors before finally reaching the armory. Just as she had assumed, Cassandra was in there, working away at designing a new dagger she would be able to add to her personal collection. She sat atop the crates stacked against the main pillar in the center of the room. A pen in hand, she sketched out her idea onto a sheet of paper that sat propped up in her lap. She used a thin sheet of wood as a surface to draw on.

She seemed not to have noticed her younger sister walk into the room, and Daniela smiled to herself. She lurked forward silently and hid behind the crates, peering out over the top. With a silent chuckle, she moved to float just behind her sister, sucking in a small breath and readying herself to yell in an attempt to startle her sister.

“Don’t even think about it, Dani,” Cassandra warned without glancing in her direction, continuing to focus on her newest blueprint in front of her instead. Daniela let out the breath she had been holding through a loud sigh, pouting as she crossed her arms and flew to stand in front of her sister. “You’re no fun,” she murmured. “I am so. I’m just working on something. Plus, I don’t think you realize that I was able to hear the door open and close when you came in.”

“It could’ve been Bela or a maid that came in! Why would you assume it was me?”

“Well, Bela wouldn’t have tried to creep up on me, she would’ve waited at the doorway and said my name or cleared her throat to catch my attention. And the maids know they aren’t allowed in here, especially if I’m already here, unless I ask them to polish the armor. I knew it was you. And either way, I could smell you coming from down the hall.”

“H-Huh?”

“Your perfume, Daniela. It’s so strong all the time. Makes me wanna pinch my nose shut every time so I don’t have to smell it. God, are you trying to cover up the smell of all the blood and death on you? Because if you are, it’s not working.”

Daniela could feel her face burning, the blush that had already begun to form on her cheeks out of embarrassment now creeping up onto the tips of her ears. She felt her shoulders tensing up, the grip on both her book and her arm tightening to a painful degree. “Th-That’s not true! I’m not trying to hide anything with my perfume!” She scowled and stared at Cassandra for a moment, although her gaze was not met. Her sister continued to stare down at her sketches, though there was a cocky grin plastered on her face. Daniela scoffed and shook her head.

“That doesn’t matter,” she started again, tugging the book out from under her arm as she once again looked up at her sister. “I wanted to show you this book! It’s full of all kinds of facts about the human body and mind, and I finally got to the part about how love affects the body, and I wanted to–” “I’m not interested, Daniela. I’m busy. And besides, you’re the only one who cares about all of this romance stuff this much. The rest of us are perfectly fine with keeping it to ourselves.”

Daniela frowned, her enthusiasm beginning to crumble in a very visible way. She thought for a moment about what she could say to capture her sister’s attention. “W-Well, I know you don’t really care for my interest in romance novels, b-but I think you’d like the rest of the book! It’s–”

“Daniela, I’m not interested. I don’t care what the rest of the book is about, I don’t want to hear it. If you’re only going to pester me with this when you know I’m busy, then just leave.”

Daniela’s frown only deepened, her gaze dropping down to the floor. “I-I’m…not meaning to bother you, Cass. I’m sorry. I just wanted to share it with someone, and you were the closest one to me, so…” She turned her attention to the book still waiting to be opened again in her trembling hands. She absolutely hated the feeling of being a burden to anyone. Before she could get too deep into her head, however, she began heading towards the door again. Perhaps Bela would be more accepting of her excitement.

She retraced the trail she had taken to find the armory, though she flew downstairs into the main parlor instead. Her arms tugged the book closer to her chest as she soared all the way to Bela’s personal study. There, she made sure to knock before entering.

“Who is it?” Bela asked softly from the other side of the door. “It’s just me,” Daniela replied. Bela sighed. “Come in.” After the confirmation that she could come in, Daniela opened the door and headed inside before closing it behind her. She spun around and walked over to Bela’s desk, where her eldest sister was working away, already buried in paperwork again. “What do you need, Dani? Is something wrong?” Bela briefly glanced up at her before shuffling a few papers, letting out a small sigh when she found the paper she was seemingly looking for.

The youngest daughter stood next to the desk and stared at Bela patiently. “N-No, nothing is wrong. I just…wanted to know if I could share something with you.” The blonde grumbled something under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned back against her chair. “As long as it’s made brief, yes.” Daniela’s frown returned. “Oh, well…” She tapped the front cover of her book, catching Bela’s attention. “Not exactly something brief, but I thought you might like to hear about it. You know…just in case you decide you want something to read later on down the line.”

Bela sighed again, running both of her hands down her face. “Dani, you know I would usually have no issue with you talking to me about your stories, but,” she was cut off as Daniela leaned forward and interrupted her. “But it’s not a story this time! It’s a whole book filled with fun facts about the human body! I think you’ll really like it.”

“Look, that sounds interesting, I suppose. But I’m really busy, and I need to get all of this finished before the end of the week. Which is in three days, mind you, in case you weren’t already aware.” Bela slid forward again and picked up a smaller stack of documents tucked away in files. She thumbed through them, checking the labels for what she was searching for. “If you really must share it with someone, go find Cassandra instead.”

“I already did though. She said I was just irritating her and that I needed to leave while she works on her new weapon. I figured maybe you’d be more interested in it.” Daniela grimaced at a thought that made itself known in the front of her mind. “I’m not…bothering you, am I?” Bela looked up at her finally. “Listen, you know I don’t enjoy being blunt with you, but quite frankly, yes, you’re bothering me. These papers are very important, Dani. I have to focus on them right now.”

Again, Daniela’s confidence began to crumble. Even more so when her sister once again turned back to her work as if it were far more important than her. “Oh, I-I’m…I’m sorry.” She began to back away, unable to tear her eyes away from her feet as they led her backwards. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

She twirled back to face the door, slipping through it and leaving abruptly. She could feel her insecurities eating away at her self esteem. Tears began to form and prick the corners of her eyes. She let out a small sniffle and began to head out towards the courtyard. “Perhaps mother will listen to me.”

She traveled all the way through the large, open space, grateful that the weather permitted her to do so peacefully. She made it to the structure connected to the space just across the dining room, floating up the stairs, through the doorway, and then turning to go up yet another set of stairs. She then took a few more turns before finally making it to her mother’s chambers. She pressed her ear to the door, smiling weakly when she heard her mother moving around on the other side.

Swiftly, Daniela knocked on the door. “Yes?” Her mother questioned, her tone professional in case it was a maid. “It’s just me, mother. May I come in?” “Of course, dear. Just try to keep your voice down.” Daniela was confused by the last part of her mother’s statement, but she still turned the door’s handle and pushed it forward, allowing her to step inside. She smiled, though it quickly dropped once she saw that Alcina was on the phone, likely with Mother Miranda again.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, mother. Is this a bad time?” Alcina glanced over at her softly for a moment, though quickly sighed and furrowed her brow. “No, Daniela, it’s not–ah, yes, Mother Miranda. I’m aware. I can assure you that everything will go accordingly.” Daniela made no move to step further, already sensing that she was becoming a burden to yet another one of her loved ones. “I’ll leave you be. I-I’ll see you during dinner,” she mumbled just loud enough for her mother to hear.

She turned and left the room just as Alcina looked back over at her again. “Daniela, wait.” Another sigh. “Mother Miranda, I understand. Yes, I know how important this is to you.”

The entire time she had tried to share her interest in this new book she found, Daniela had been fighting back tears. With each way of saying that she was only being a nuisance, her confidence faltered before shattering into pieces. Now, after bottling it up for so long in hopes of being able to change her attitude, she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down her face as she rushed back up to her room, locking her door and crawling up against the pillows on her bed.

Until she managed to think things through and calm down, Daniela intended to hide away in the comfort of her bedroom. She wiped at her face, scolding herself for being so emotional for such a ridiculous reason. Her family was simply busy doing their own things–they didn’t owe her the time of day.

But she wanted so badly to share something she was so passionate about with someone. Her excitement had blinded her to the fact that she truly was burdening the others as they tried to work. They were all doing important things, and she was curled up on her bed, sobbing because she wasn’t able to keep the attention on her?

How pathetic.

How selfish.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying desperately to bring her crying to a halt. It failed, however, as another sob wracked through her body. She whimpered, feeling as though she truly was weak since she wasn’t even able to keep a straight face. She shifted and turned on the bed, burying her face in her pillow as she tossed the book onto the floor. Maybe the plush surface beneath her would muffle the sounds of her vulnerability.

“Lady Daniela? Will you be joining your family for dinner anytime soon? They’ve asked me to see if you’ll come down.” “No, I’m not going to eat dinner tonight. I-I, um…Just really want to finish my book. Tell them I’ll find something to eat later, will you?” “Of course.”

It had been a few hours since Daniela’s meltdown. She had finally managed to stop crying within the first hour of hiding away, though she still felt too depressed to leave her room. Dinner had been ready for over half an hour at that point, yet she was the only one not to have joined her family downstairs to eat. It surprised her mother, as she was usually the first one seated, always eager to see what the kitchen staff had prepared for their meal that night. She had sent a maid up to her youngest daughter’s room four times, asking them to encourage her to come down and join them, even though Bela and Cassandra were already finished eating.

The two waited patiently at the table per their mother’s request, although they also wanted to use the time spent at dinner to apologize to Daniela for the way they treated her. They both felt guilty for it and spoke to each other about how they could make it up to her. When she didn’t join them at the table, however, they could feel their regret growing stronger. They often poked fun at her for different things, but Daniela knew it was all in good fun. She knew they didn’t really mean anything by it.

They were sisters, after all, and they even mocked each other at different points. Most of the time she would laugh at their jokes aimed in her direction. They must’ve really hurt her for her not to at least come downstairs long enough to eat dinner with them.

After waiting another half hour, they decided that it was best to give her a bit of space before they tried to properly apologize for what they had done. They left the dining room. Alcina, however, continued to wait there for her youngest to show up. She never did, and after yet another hour, Alcina headed upstairs to her own room to retire for the night. She knew her daughter likely needed time to herself, especially after Bela and Cassandra explained what had happened. In the morning, she’d make sure to check in on her daughter personally and apologize to her herself.

All the while, Daniela remained in bed, staring blankly at the wall the side of her bed was pressed up against. Her eyes were dull, straining as she fought to stay awake. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t letting herself fall asleep. She knew she’d feel better if she got a bit of rest, but for some reason she just wouldn’t let her eyes stay closed.

Her mind was swarming with all kinds of negative thoughts, none of which managed to do anything but dampen her mood even further. She must’ve lied there for hours in absolute silence. Everyone else, including the maids, had already gone to bed, which is why it was such a surprise when a knock sounded from her door. She nearly jumped out of her own skin. A loud yelp slipped past her lips as she jolted upright and felt her head whip towards the direction of the door.

Who could that possibly be? Surely her sisters weren’t up at this hour. It was long past midnight, and although she knew the two of them were more insomniatic than she was, she could tell from the way that silence followed the knock that it wasn’t them. Still, her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to decipher the scent.

“Wh-Who is it?” She asked shakily.

“It’s me, Daniela,” [Y/N] responded from the other side of the door. “Is it alright if I come in?” Daniela’s heart began to race even faster, though it was for a different reason now. Why was [Y/N] the only one who came to check in on her herself? Perhaps she cared more for Daniela than her own family did. She hesitated, her mind telling her she’ll only be a burden to the woman she loved so dearly. Ignoring those cruel thoughts, she wiped her face and straightened out her dress. “Yes, come on in,” she finally said at length.

Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal [Y/N], who peered in through the dim lighting the candles from the hallway managed to provide. “What’s up?” Daniela asked softly, watching as the young woman closed her bedroom door and walked over to her bed. She sat on the edge of it and gazed over at her. Even with how dark her room was, Daniela was able to see the concerned look on [Y/N]’s face. “I heard about what happened today. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Daniela smiled weakly, her heart pounding against her ribs once more. She glanced down at her lap, tugging her gloves off and tossing them to the side to pick at her nails. Her palms flipped downwards to desperately try to wipe the sweat onto the fabric of her dress. “I-I’m fine,” she mumbled in reply, her voice almost inaudible. [Y/N] shifted on the bed, the mattress suddenly sinking down next to Daniela as she sat beside her. “C’mon, you and I both know that’s not true. I can see it on your face. And in your body language. You’re upset. You don’t have to hide it. You don’t have to tell me about anything, but I can promise you I won’t judge you for whatever it is you’re upset about.”

Now, as her lip began to quiver for the first time in hours, Daniela managed to peer over at her from the corner of her eye. She tried to maintain her composure, though it was quick to falter as [Y/N] held out her arms and gazed at her with those damned eyes. “C’mere.”

Without meaning to, Daniela whimpered and practically seemed to lunge forward as she dove into [Y/N]’s embrace, letting her face bury itself into the smaller woman’s shoulder as she let out a small sob. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was about this girl that made her feel so safe, other than her love for her. Something about the way [Y/N]’s eyes always seemed to show a sign of trust and never held any judgment made Daniela feel as though she could confide in her about anything.

[Y/N] was quick to rock her back and forth, her fingers gently stroking the unshaven side of the redhead’s messy hair and scratching soothingly at her scalp. “Everything is going to be okay, Dani. And they didn’t tell me to say anything, but your sisters and mother are very sorry for whatever it was that they did to you. Believe me. I was able to see it on their faces during dinner.” Daniela sniffled softly and tilted her head to peer up at [Y/N].

“You were there during dinner?” [Y/N] nodded down at her with a soft grin. “Yes. I was also…” She seemed to hesitate, worried about something. Daniela straightened up at this to look her in the eye. “What is it?” “Ah, I just–I was also there in the room with Bela earlier when you tried to show her your book. I heard what happened.” A soft shade of crimson dusted Daniela’s cheeks as she turned her head away in embarrassment. “Oh, I didn’t even realize. I-I’m sorry you had to see me act that way.” “What way?” “Like a spoiled brat. I-I sounded like I just wanted attention, didn’t I?”

Gently, [Y/N]’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “No, not at all. I can understand being upset about not being able to share something you’re passionate about, and I could clearly tell you were passionate about the book you were carrying.”

Daniela looked back up at her again, slightly surprised. “You don’t think I was being pathetic?” “No, not at all! I’d probably react the same way, honestly.”

Daniela smiled and hummed after a moment. She crossed her legs and returned to where she had originally been sitting on her bed, staring down at her lap. “Th-Thank you for not judging me,” she murmured quietly at length. “It really does mean a lot.” Her head lifted so she could once again look [Y/N] in the eyes, her smile never faltering, and instead growing. “Anytime, Dani,” came the smaller woman’s reply. They gazed at each other for a while, not realizing it.

Suddenly, a look of pure confusion riddled Daniela’s face. “Wait, if you were in the room with Bela when I came in earlier, then how did you not know what I was upset about? And…why did it seem like you didn’t know about any of it until my family “told you?””

Again, a look of anxiousness crossed [Y/N]’s features. She averted her gaze and began to fidget with her fingers. “A-Ah, well, I just didn’t want you to know I had listened to what happened. I thought you might be mad at me for it.” Daniela stared at her, bewildered, but quickly smiled and chuckled. “I could never be mad at you. Especially not over something like that.” She took [Y/N]’s hand into her own and gently caressed the back of it with her thumb.

Daniela sighed in relief. The noises pounding in her mind began to soften, finally feeling at ease for the first time in hours.

“Oh!”

She jumped at that, her heart stuttering in surprise as she quickly turned her attention back to [Y/N], who looked excited now.

“Speaking of that book, I was actually going to ask if you could show me some of the facts you were trying to talk about!” An unusually wide smile cracked across Daniela’s lips, almost to a painful degree. “You’d really be interested in that? And you’d pay attention?” [Y/N] nodded with a look of pure intrigue. “Yeah, of course! I managed to spot the cover of the book while you were in the room. It’s about the human body, right?”

Daniela nodded, quickly flying over to where she had tossed the book to pick it up before returning to the bed. “Yep! The first half is really really boring, but the rest of it is really cool! I love the part about how love and romance affects the body so far.” [Y/N] giggled at her and reached over to the nightstand to light a candle. “I figured as much. That’s very in-character for you,” she replied softly, making Daniela blush.

“Is that a bad thing?” She questioned sheepishly. “No, of course not. It’s actually one of the things I love most about you.” Daniela’s face burned even brighter, and she secretly scolded herself, trying to force the blush to die down before the candle lit up the small space next to them.

“Oh, Daniela. Did that new book you were talking about finally make it in?” Bela asked from the sofa in the front parlor, Cassandra’s head perking up at this. The youngest of the three beamed brightly over at them and chuckled. “Yeah, it did.” Her two older sisters smiled back at her. “Would you want us to read it with you?”

Daniela eyed them for a moment, though her expression quickly changed before they could notice. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was actually planning on reading it with [Y/N] first! She’s in the library right now: I told her to wait there for me while I grabbed the book from the Duke’s shop.” She hummed and swarmed up, flying all the way across the property to the library, where she found [Y/N] waiting for her on her favorite sofa.

Similar to the way she had been doing almost all day everyday, Daniela smiled wide, squealing from excitement and catching [Y/N]’s attention, who turned to her and grinned in return, waving at her. “Dani, hey! Did you get the book?”

With an enthusiastic nod, Daniela soared over to the sofa and plopped herself down next to [Y/N], leaning against the armrest. “Sure did! Volume two of fun facts over the human body.” She pulled the book from underneath her arm and swayed it back and forth with a teasing smirk. She then set it up against her lap and flipped open the front cover. Bringing her closed hand up to cover her mouth, she cleared her throat, then began to read the story aloud.

As she spoke, she got lost in the words. She hardly noticed as [Y/N] shifted on the cushion in front of her. She was made aware of her movement, however, once the smaller woman leaned against her shoulder to read the words on the pages as well.

Her voice shook and cracked in surprise, her confidence in the words she spoke beginning to waver as she stared down at [Y/N]. “U-Um, are you alright?” She looked up at Daniela in confusion. “Yeah, of course,” was her soft reply. “Just wanted to get cozy, y’know?” Uncharacteristically, Daniela grew sheepish. She was often the one who made a bold move to fluster others–she wasn’t used to someone else doing it to her, let alone the woman she loved.

“Y-Yeah,” was all she could mutter, forcing herself to tear her gaze away and focus back on the words decorating the pages. She continued to read it aloud, though she wasn’t able to comprehend anything she read. This continued for a long while, and finally she was able to get back into a more confident headspace. Her attention to the facts returned.

A gentle yawn sounded from Daniela’s shoulder, prompting her to look down at the source. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes before letting them flutter shut. She sighed as she nuzzled back up further into Daniela’s shoulder. Her nose gently bumped against her neck. The redhead shuttered, causing her breath to halt for a moment. How long had they been reading together? Surely it couldn’t have been that long.

She turned her head to glance up at the skylight, finding that the sky above was growing darker, almost pitch black. “Oh, I hadn’t even realized we’d been here all day. Sorry about that, [Y/N]. Should I carry you back to your room?” [Y/N] shook her head after a moment, seemingly already halfway asleep. “No, I’m fine. This is really comfortable. You can keep reading if you’d like.” Daniela smiled softly down at her and nodded. She shifted her arm to tuck it underneath [Y/N]’s torso and pull her closer, using her free hand to flip the pages of the book as she read silently to herself.

Another hour must’ve passed before Daniela finally finished the book. “Man, it’s much faster to read something in my head than out loud,” she whispered to herself, closing the cover and gently placing the book on the ground next to the sofa. She yawned and sighed, glancing back over at [Y/N]. Her eyes were shut, her breathing and heartbeat slow and steady. Daniela grinned and absentmindedly pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the woman’s head. She couldn’t see it, but her pupils were blown from the love and admiration traveling throughout her body.

“I’m glad you’re asleep,” she started. “I-I promise I’ll tell you this to your face when you’re actually…y’know, conscious–when I can find the courage–but…I love you, [Y/N]. You’ve cheered me up countless times, especially these past few weeks. You’ve always made me laugh and made sure I knew that you were actually paying attention to me. You make sure I know you’re actually interested in what I have to say, and that really does mean the world to me.

“I hope I can help you feel the same way. There are so many things I never want you to have to experience, but feeling useless, or ignored, or…like you’re a burden is definitely one of the major ones. If you ever feel like you have no one else to go to, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

She giggled to herself, running a hand through her hair and then down her face. “I want to keep telling you about how much I love you and why I do, but I feel like I should save all of it for when you’re actually awake to hear all of it. I want you to know just how much you mean to me. Though, that’ll be hard to explain since you mean the world–no, more than the world to me.”

Finally, she let herself relax, leaning back against the armrest and closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face if she tried. Again, just like she had done multiple times over the past few weeks, Daniela jumped. [Y/N] seemed to be unnaturally good at catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure if she was proud of that or not.

“Aww, Dani, that’s so sweet,” she mumbled. Daniela’s eyes shot down to her still resting against her shoulder, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. “H-How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it.”

Daniela whined in embarrassment. She used her free hand to hide her reddened face, mumbling things under her breath. [Y/N] giggled at her reaction, one arm moving to wrap around the redhead’s torso and pull her closer. Her face nuzzled against Daniela’s collarbone as she smiled and sighed. “But…I love you too. I want you to know that.”

For what must’ve been the fifth time that evening alone, Daniela’s head whipped back around to let her stare at [Y/N]. “You do…?” She whispered, her voice once again cracking as tears unwillingly began to prick her eyes.

“Of course I do. How could I not?” [Y/N] said it like it was the most obvious thing on earth. She really found it odd that Daniela was surprised about her feelings being mutual?

Daniela’s lip quivered. Slowly, she shifted onto her side to fully face [Y/N], who finally opened her eyes to gaze up at her. The smile that caressed her lips so beautifully only made Daniela’s heart flutter. “Could…you say that again?” [Y/N] smiled.

“Yes. I’ll say it to you as many times as you’d like. I love you, Dani.”

She leaned up and began to pepper the woman’s face and head with kisses, whispering a faint “I love you” with each one.

Daniela finally let out a small laugh mixed with a sob. She leaned forward and pulled [Y/N] closer. [Y/N] smiled down at her, shifting up a bit further to comfortably pull the weeping girl into her chest. Her fingers raked through the red locks that rested against the armrest, lulling Daniela further into a sense of security and bliss. “I’ll always be here for you, okay? Anything you need, I’m here: I’ll be here to listen, pay attention, make you laugh, and love you. Just like you said to me, if you ever feel like no one else is there, just know I’ll be waiting for you with open arms.”

Tears soaked through [Y/N]’s shirt, though she didn’t mind. She could feel Daniela smiling broadly against her clothed skin, and that made everything feel like it was worth it.

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