#I don’t know how to wrap up borderline essays like this

[arcade-conspiracy]

Honestly, if you watched through the last two Sk8 episodes, especially after Langa’s conversation with his mom, and still came out of it with the opinion that Reki is nothing but a bad friend riddled with jealousy, I genuinely am not sure we watched the same thing.

His character arc is so important, and as someone who can relate so deeply and so heavily with it, it’s honestly crazy to me that people interpret it this way. I’ve seen an alarming number of people dumb it down to just “he feels envy?? bad!”, and thats,, just not right. Especially considering how well done it truly is.

Reki isn’t just jealous. That may be a part of it, sure, but it’s more deep rooted than that. It’s that desire to keep up with those he looks up to, and be actually good at what he does. To get that same approval and appreciation for his skill that everyone around him gets, but just can’t seem to get there. He’s been putting all of this work and time and joy into something he has enjoyed for so long, all for someone to come in and blow him out of the water in a matter of months. All while he gets no for any of the work he’s put into his own craft, as well as basically no recognition for helping Langa get where he is. He’s slowly losing his motivation for something he once loved so passionately, and ultimately losing his self worth, too, it seems . It’s all lead him to believe he has no room to improve, and that no matter how hard he tries he’ll never catch up to those around him. That it’s just not worth, in his eyes, dragging Langa down or holding him back because he can’t keep up with the rest. He doesn’t have any ill feelings for Langa, at all. If anything he admires him. He seems to be so incredibly proud of Langa and so happy for the progress he’s made. But at the same time, he probably just wants to be able to feel those feelings for himself, too. To be able to get to that level, and be proud of himself for it.

It goes deeper than just the skateboarding. Feelings like that can spread from whatever interest it is into the rest of your life, easily. It’ll dog your overall self esteem and make you feel like nothing is worth it anymore, that you’re not worth it.

Coming from someone who’s essentially felt like that for their whole life, it can be such an incredibly desperate and difficult feeling to deal with and process. You want so badly to support your friends, be happy for them, and give them all of your love, but at the same time, whenever you watch them get better there’s this feeling of dread. This knowledge that you’re not at that level, and no matter how much work you put into it, how much passion you have for it, you’re not improving the way you’d like. That people see the ones you love as the important ones because of what they can do, while your efforts are never noticed and never brought to attention. You’re left behind in a sense, and even if those friends don’t realize it, there’s an obvious difference between you two. There’s a wall of separation that makes you want to isolate yourself from them. Whether that be because it’s necessary for your own mental well being, or because you just feel like dead weight to them. You fully understand why your friends are getting that attention, you know they deserve it and you whole heartedly believe that, but you can’t help but wish for some of your work to be noticed in that way too.

Especially when you’re neurodivergent (something I whole heartedly believe Reki is coded to be) and have to mix rejection sensitive dysphoria into all that, it becomes a primordial sludge of disgusting feelings. It all piles on into self loathing and this absolutely loss of motivation for anything, let alone the thing that sparked these feelings.

It almost makes sense that Reki would reach a breaking point with Langa the way he did. You can’t exactly go up to your friend and say “hey, I’ve been feeling completely worthless because you’re good at this thing that you obviously love as much as I do and worked hard to get where you are” can you? That would make them feel guilty, and like they did something wrong. Obviously, communication is always key, but this kind of situation is mighty hard to talk about. There’s no real good way to go about it, because any way it goes, there’s nothing the other person could say or do, if there’s no real way to get better at whatever thing is at the root of the issue.

At the same time, Langa is also not at fault, though. It’s neither of their “fault”. There’s no enemy in this story, contrary to how people have reacted to it. It’s just human emotions and the way relationships are sometimes when you have the same hobbies. It’s a completely okay thing to feel, and totally understandable most of the time. It can be so detrimental to your mental health, and the way it’s being displayed in Reki is near perfect, in my opinion. The fact that people have been interpreting it as if someone needs to be blamed is just plain wrong. They’re both working through complicated emotions, of course there’s going to be some rough points. That’s just how humans work.

Even if he was just jealous, though, that’s still a valid emotion to feel, anyway. Doesn’t make you a bad person to feel your feelings. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t at least feel some form of jealousy if you were in his place.

[miekasa]

slow hands

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genre and warnings: fluff, some angst? but hardly, levi is the sweetest, please do not mistake his quiet affections for apathy or lovelessness

+ word count: 3k

+ summary: based off of a request about physical affection and acts of service being levi’s love languages—which i agree! i’m so happy you asking about that, i could write essays about how physical touch is important to levi, but instead, i will leave you with this for now lol

i. in crowded spaces (so you don’t get lost, or so he claims)

Levi isn’t particularly fond of the way you like to go shopping in the inner walls. He is, however, fond of you; so he forgoes the prissy upper-class men and overall stingy aura of Wall Sina’s inhabitants just so you can get your favorite kind of bread and fruit.

Today, it seems like everyone and their mother wanted to visit the outdoor markets, despite the scheming merchants and obviously overpriced merchandise. From the crowd to the noise level, none of it is really up Levi’s alley; but he has to admit, watching people fail to successful haggle the price of eggs is immensely amusing to him.

What isn’t amusing is the way you keep stopping in the middle of the square, distracted by anything remotely shiny or with a pleasant smell you come across. Levi stops in his tracks, sensing a lack of your presence behind him; he turns around, and sure enough, you’re standing a few meters away, squinting at the price written above the basket of apples in front of you.

He sighs, trudging back to you, and watching from a step away as you scan over the fruit scrutinizingly. The merchant behind the stand does his best at selling you his product, boasting about how the fruit is fresh and hand-picked, and some other bullshit.

“These look good,” you muse to yourself, picking up a single, red apple in your palm for closer observation, “I could make a pie for the kids later.”

“Ah, pretty and she cooks, what a woman,” the bearded merchant smiles, adjusting his hat as he looks at you.

He only seems to notice Levi’s presence when he pushes forward just a little bit, looking at the apples, bored, then to the man, who speaks to him next, “Can I interest you in a basket, too, sir?”

Levi doesn’t respond with anything but a slight shake of his head, before looking back to you. You’re standing upright now, having placed your sample apple back with the rest, unfazed by Levi standing next to you; like you were completely unaware you’d left him in the first place.

He holds back a scoff. You can be so unaware of your surroundings at times, he honestly thinks it’s a miracle that you make it back from your missions alive. You’re also seemingly unaware of just how many inner wall pigs flirt with you, as you look completely oblivious to the advances of the merchant, who offers you two baskets for the price of one—the only caveat being that you allow him to take you on a date later that evening.

Levi lolls his head to the side, tired eyes gazing at the old man who tries to cut himself a bargain. He knows you’re prepared to give an overly polite and nonchalant response to wave the man off, but Levi doesn’t have time for your pleasantries today. 

Quietly, he reaches for your free hand, lacing your fingers together firmly before pulling you away from the merchant and the stand.

“Levi!” you call for him, borderline whining, “I wasn’t actually going to agree to a date with him, but the apples—”

“There’s a stand a few streets over that Hange claims is better than anything she’s ever eaten,” Levi grumbles, questioning under his breath about where the hell the piece of shit men in the interior get their audacity from, “And you don’t need two baskets. One is enough.”

Levi doesn’t turn your way, so he misses the fond look in your eyes and the small curve to your lips. He does, however, feel the way you wrap your other arm around his, leaning into him gently as to not disturb your stride as you keep walking.

“But I want to have enough to make a pie for the kids, later,” you tell him, slowly rubbing your thumb against the fabric of his blazer.

Levi scoffs audibly this time. “You don’t have to make shit for them.”

“I don’t have to do shit for anyone,” you smile, “But they’re just kids, Levi. Besides, I know you like pie, too, you big baby.”

Levi doesn’t say anything at that, only choosing to flash you an unamused scowl, before pulling you down a smaller, less crowded street.

“Let’s just get the fucking apples and go home,” he says, decidedly, passing by a group of MPs sharing a flask, “I don’t know how much longer I can stay in the interior without snapping some pig’s head off.”

ii. during long meetings

Levi thinks that if Erwin weren’t Commander, he could probably make a living as a pastor with the way he preaches for hours on end.

It’s going on hour two of this long, drawn-out strategy meeting, and Levi knows that he’s not the only one about to lose his fucking marbles. Albeit, he’s much more composed than some other people around the table; he still wants to retire to his office for the evening. Even the mountain of paperwork waiting for him would be more entertaining than this.

Levi listens, admittedly a little more carefully, when you speak up, offering information about the layouts of a small town destroyed on your last expedition, where you’d lost a member of your own squad. Erwin nods, looking back down at his map to take your words into consideration.

Levi looks to his right where you’re seated, notices the guilt flash in your eyes as you think about your last failed expedition. It wasn’t your fault, and you know that; but he knows, more than anyone, how difficult it can be to lose one of your own soldiers.

Quietly, he lifts his teacup with his right hand, and places it down in front of you. He says nothing beyond an almost unnoticeable nod towards the cup once it’s within your reach, before looking back towards Erwin and Armin.

If anyone else seemed to notice his gesture, they don’t make it known. Except for Hange, of course, who flashes him a knowing grin before resuming her conversation.

Levi knows you’ve finished the tea when he feels your hand resting lightly atop his knee, tapping your index and middle fingers against his pants—a silent thank you. In the middle of his own conversation, he doesn’t turn to you or say much other than slipping his right hand on top of yours, loosely curling his fingers between the slits of yours.

His hand stays there for the rest of the meeting, his thumb rubbing slow, unidentifiable patterns into the skin on the back of your hand; an empty teacup, and a mutual gratitude between the two of you.

iii. when you’re working too hard (or for too long)

If not the gigantic humanoid monsters out to swallow you whole, the paperwork is probably the worst part about being a captain in the Survey Corps. Levi would know, having spent countless nights up reading proposals, approving plans, signing documents, filling out death certificates.

It can be grueling work, even if it is, essentially, reading and writing whilst being sat at a desk. And while, sometimes, he can admit that the paperwork is more bearable than his own nightmares; he knows that for you, it holds no such solace.

If anyone thought that Levi worked himself to the bone, they must not have met you. Your meticulous mannerisms and work ethic could almost make him seem sloppy by comparison. It’s not uncommon to find you training yourself or your cadets into the ground, theorizing with Hange and Erwin, or—Levi’s personal least favorite—hunched over your desk, eyes scanning away at stacks of ink-ridden papers.

You must be five or six hours in by now, if he’s calculated correctly. The last time he saw you was around midday, when he’d been watching you spar with Jean. It’s dark out now, the other cadets and soldiers having retired to their rooms for the evening after dinner. 

“You’ll end up a hunchback if you keep this up,” he drawls upon entering your office. He watches as your head snaps up to him; he figured you hadn’t even heard him enter, seeing as you didn’t respond to his knocking. He wonders how it’s possible for you to be so aloof, yet so scrupulous all at once.

Embarrassed, more likely at your lack of awareness than his comment, you push yourself up a little bit, elbows on your desk and fingers crossed. “You’re not exactly one to talk, you know.”

Levi only hums at your jab, inching towards your desk. He likes the way your eyes track his movements as his proximity to you increases, stepping around your desk to stand behind your chair. 

“Sit up,” he orders, voice soft yet firm.

He waits for you to straighten your back, but frowns when you scoot your chair closer to your desk after doing so. He takes it upon himself to move your chair back, ignoring the terrible squeaking of the wood scraping across the floor. Well, at least that was an indication that the floors were clean.

“I can’t write if I’m this far from my desk,” you complain, just as the palms of Levi’s hands make contact with your shoulders.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to write anything,” Levi replies, digging the heels of his hands into your shoulder muscles. This would work better with your shirt off, he muses to himself, but this would have to do.

You open your mouth to protest, but your words fall short on your tongue, an exhale of relief coming out instead as Levi continues to massage your shoulders. Levi can feel you melting into his actions, your body going slack and the knots in your muscles uncoiling themselves. He counts about five minutes in passing before he hears your breath calm, too; the shallow exhales of your overworked body replaced with deep inhalations and extended sighs.

He lightens his movements as his massage comes to and end. The palm of his left hand runs across your throat gently, allowing him to tuck his thumb and index finger under your chin, and tilt your head backwards for you to face him. Levi’s thumb pads against your jaw line as you look up at him, and him back at you. 

Finally, he leans down, his lips making contact with your forehead for a gentle kiss, “You work too hard.”

“I learned from the best,” and just as gently, you reach your arm up and backwards, your palm clumsily finding its way to Levi’s hair, pulling him down, towards your lips this time, “You take such good care of me.”

“Obviously,” Levi mumbles, stealing another kiss between his words, “That’s my job, brat.”

iv. during dinner time

The Mess Hall is among Levi’s least favorite places, for obvious reasons; but he does enjoy sharing a meal with you, and ensuring that you’ve eaten a full serving to sustain yourself.

He can look past Hange and Nanaba’s overly enthusiastic conversations, despite sitting directly across each other, Erwin’s sloppy eating habits, and the overall rowdy atmosphere of the Mess Hall, as long as he has you beside him to numb the pain. Which is why he’s been exceptionally grumpy these past two weeks, as you’ve taken to sitting with some of the younger cadets during dinner time. 

It’s not unusual and it doesn’t surprise him, or anyone really; everyone can see how much they all adore you. Especially Mikasa, strangely enough. Probably because of the way you treat Eren, and how much he and Armin look up to you; and probably because she was your first pick to fill a vacancy in your squad. 

He walks with you across the floor, the both of you holding your own tray of food—a watery soup, some bread, and a piece of fruit as a treat. He knows you won’t finish your soup, and that he’ll have to give you half of his bread to make up for it; but he also knows you’ll slice up your apple for him to eat in exchange.

So Levi is not too happy when he sees Eren waving your way, the clumsy idiot almost hitting Armin in the head from the uncoordinated shaking of his hand. You smile at the younger boy, turning your body to walk towards his table.

Levi, however, stops your stride before it can begin, pulling tactfully at the back of your shirt, and forcing you to turn back around. He pokes at the nape of your neck, gently pushing you forwards, and in the direction of the table where Erwin, Hange, Mike and Moblit are seated.

You seem to get his silent message, flashing Levi a sweet smile before turning to offer Eren a sorry glance as you continue to head in the direction of the table with your colleagues. Levi hums when you start walking again, following closely behind you, and turning back to offer Eren a not-so-sorry, not-so-friendly glare.

Levi was getting his apple sliced for him today, whether the brats liked it or not.

“You know, you should sit with them sometime,” you tell him, breaking his small loaf in half to dip it into your soup, “They admire you a lot.”

“I think they’d shit their pants if shorty even came near their table,” Hange jokes, earning chuckles from some of your colleagues.

Levi says nothing and refrains from rolling his eyes. He could care less about the admiration they hold for him, or for you. If Eren and Amin wanted to spend time with you that badly, then they should train their asses off and make it onto your squad.

“Oi,” you call to him, mocking his voice and tone, “Here, they gave us yellow ones today, I know they’re your favorite.”

Levi shoves you with his elbow affectionately, before taking the slice of apple from your hold. He chews gratefully, heart beating against his chest in admiration as you carefully place the rest of the slices on his tray.

He squeezes your thigh in thanks under the table once you’ve finished slicing both apples for him. Sure, he could do it himself, and sure he could technically see you in your room whenever he wants, but that’s not the point; Levi will be damned if he catches any of those other brats with his apple slices.

v. when you come home

It’s not often that Levi becomes overly worried about your well-being, as backwards and apathetic as it may seem to other people. He trusts you, and knows that you’re stronger than you look—stronger than him, even—and he has no reason to doubt you; you’ve always come back to him.

But now, it’s going on eleven days since your squad was supposed to return from specially designed and assigned mission from Erwin himself, and Levi was beginning to let his nerves get the best of him.

He knows he’s not the only one getting antsy for some kind of message—any kind of sign at all—that you and your men were okay. Two days ago, Hange had pestered Erwin for the greater part of an hour about sending just one more tracking squad to look for yours; Mikasa and Armin hovered around for any news that you had returned, and that you’d brought Eren back unharmed; hell, even Mike had come to check in with him, rocking on his feet, asking Levi if there had been any news from you.

It’s dark out now, the day coming to a close, marking the twelfth night since your estimated return date. Levi sighs, untucking himself from his desk, intent on marching down to Erwin’s office and demanding he let him go look for you.

“You know we have to give it fourteen days, at least,” Erwin sighs.

“That’s a bullshit rule and you know it,” Hange interjects, having burst into the room only seconds after Levi; hung up on your lack of return just as much as he was.

Of course she is—you’re Hange’s closest friend. Not to mention, you’d taken Moblit with you on your mission, setting Hange’s work back significantly without the presence of her valuable second.

“I know,” Erwin nods, “But the first tracking squad found no evidence of any bodies. They’re most likely alive.”

“All of them?” Hange questions, incredulous and hopeful.

“That’s what we hope for,” Erwin responds, voice heavy. He looks to Levi, “She’ll come back. She always does.”

Levi knows that; he knows. But he still can’t shake this feeling. He opens his mouth to refute, when Sasha comes bumbling into Erwin’s office, heaving.

“Commander Erwin, Captain (Y/N)’s squad has just returned!” Sasha squeaks, “No casualties, four in the infirmary now with minor wounds, but nobody’s in critical condition, sir.”

Levi can barely register the young girl’s words, before he’s storming towards the infirmary, desperately searching for your familiar face amongst the soldiers in the cots. He sees Moblit amongst some of your other men and hastily asks him about your whereabouts.

“She had Eren,” Moblit tells him calmly, wincing slightly as a nurse rubs alcohol into the cut along his arm, “I thought she’d take him here—maybe in one of the smaller rooms across the hall?”

Levi nods, grateful, and moves so that Hange can squish Moblit with her affections, heading towards the hallway. He sees just a sliver of light coming from a room two doors down, and he doesn’t hesitate to search for you there.

He all but bursts through the door, relieved to find you tying and cutting a bandage around Eren’s forehead. Levi wants to scold you for taking care of someone else wounds before attending to your own, but he doesn’t have time for that right now.

You stand up straight after you’re finished wrapping Eren’s larger cuts, with barely enough time to register that Levi’s entered the room before he has one hand around your waist, and the other cradling the back of your head.

Levi can feel that he’s knocked the wind out of you, but that doesn’t stop you from slowly wrapping your arms around him to complete the hug. He tucks his head into the juncture of your neck, ignoring the faint scrapes along your skin.

“You’re back,” he hums, holding you a little tighter against him.

Levi feels your laughter reverberate through his own body, as you mirror his hold on you; your right hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, your fingers loosely coiling into his hair.

“Of course I am,” you hum, reveling in Levi’s shallow breaths that tickle your neck, “I’ll always come back to you, Levi.”

[sunrisefairy]

i’m sorry the way u did my last request was SO GOOD i just had to ask for another. could you do one with charlie weasley as a care of magical creatures prof and he finally gets with the professor he’s been flirting with? you write spicy fics so well i cant even

omg stop, ur making me blush. I had fun with this one! 

NSFW 18+ below the cut

You told yourself no boys this year, no distractions, you vowed that this year you’d focus on your career; Dumbledore had given you a position at Hogwarts and you were ecstatic and determined to make him proud. You didn’t think it would be too hard, to have a year free of boys, the male professors at Hogwarts weren’t exactly eye candy. That was until you met the new care of magical creature’s professor, damn that Charlie Weasley.

He was handsome, no argument about it, his rugged good looks and charming, sweet personality had your panties dripping whenever he was in close proximity (even the mere thought of his strong arms and those long fingers had your core throbbing) not that you would ever tell him that.

Charlie Weasley seem to make it his mission to make you flustered, within the first 10 minutes of your initial introduction he told you how breath taking your eyes were and how gorgeous his name sounded when it fell from your lips. You obviously blushed at this and brushed the comments under the rug, assuming he was just being cheeky and kind and didn’t mean anything by it. However, Charlie made very clear he found you attractive and having to endure months of his shameless flirting was proving to be very difficult to ignore the sexual tension between the two of you.

You stared down at the pile of forgotten essays on your desk, your mind was elsewhere, and you couldn’t seem find the concentration to focus on grading them right now. Your brain was preoccupied but a certain gorgeous redheaded wizard. You imagined his rough fingers and how they would feel against your skin, unbuttoning your blouse slowly and teasing your nipples, would he be soft and gentle and caress your breasts or would he prefer to be rough and pinch and tug at your skin? You bit your lip at the thought, arousal already pooling in your panties. It had been too long since you last had sex and you were beginning to grow frustrated and desperate for it.

“Thinking about me again, love?” you’re snapped from your thoughts and immediately clench your thighs at the sight before you. Charlie was leaning against the door frame of your classroom, his arms cross in front of him causing his muscles to strain against his shirt.

You smirk, “how I manage to get anything done when you plague my thoughts 24/7 is beyond me.”

Charlie chuckles at this assuming you’re joking and enters the room, approaching you at your desk. You take this time to rack your eyes over his body, his shirt stretching deliciously over his torso, the top few buttons undone allowing you to scan his neck and collar bone. Merlin how you wish you could sink your teeth into his creamy skin-

You cough to shake yourself of this thought, no boys, no distractions.

“What can I do for you Professor?” you muse, straightening up the long-forgotten essays.

If Charlie noticed you hungrily scanning his body moments before, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh nothing really, was walking around and had the strong urge to come visit my favourite professor.”

You blush before he continues, “Snape was busy though so thought you were the next best thing.” He’s smirking at you now and you scoff rolling your eyes.

“Ha-ha,” you say sarcastically, “well as you can see, I’m insanely busy grading these essays so can’t say it would be much fun if you stayed.” You pick up an essay from the pile and furrow your eyebrows hoping it looks like you’re deep in thought when really you’ve re-read the same sentence 3 times, still not comprehending what it says.

“I can think of ways we can have fun,” Charlie’s low voice sounds from right next to your ear. How did he get there so fast? “none of which involve boring essays.”

You gulp and turn your head. He’s leaning over your shoulder, invading your personal space, one of his powerful arms is braced against the dark wood of your desk. You can feel Charlie’s soft breath fanning your face and you shudder. You can’t think of anything to say right now, Charlie’s rich scent is swarming your senses and any thoughts that do manage to form inside our brain are not appropriate to say out loud.

Charlie’s eyes glance down at your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them instinctively, he’s unsure if you are aware of the effect you have on him. Such a simple innocent move of licking your lips has Charlie growing hard. He leans closer to you, wanting you to give him the go ahead to continue, as you part your lips Charlie’s certain you’re about to tell him to kiss you.

“The doors open,” you squeak, suddenly very aware of this compromising position and not really eager on an unsuspecting student waltzing past and seeing this scene. You know you should ask Charlie to leave, you have essays to grade and a ‘no boys, no distractions’ rule to follow but Charlie is so close you can almost taste him.

He grins smugly, pointing his wand at your classroom door which slams shut and you can hear the lock click, he whispers a silencing charm too which has your heart beating faster in your chest. Are you really about to do this? Charlie looks down at you waiting for your next move. It feels like eternity before you make your decision, is it the right one, you’re not sure but you’ve dreamt about Charlie’s lips for too long to turn them down now.

In a flash, you connect your lips together, it’s rushed and messy but neither of you seem to mind. You can feel Charlie’s hands all over your body, he’s unbuttoning your shirt and squeezing your hips and arse and pulling you closer and palming your tits and it’s heaven. His lips find their home against your neck and you gasp as his nips and sucks at your skin. Somehow, you’ve change positions and Charlie has you pressed hard against your desk and you can feel his cock hardening in his pants.

“Fuck, want you so bad darling,” he growls into your ear. You tug roughly at his hair forcing his eyes to meet yours. His are dark with desire and you have to force yourself not to come right then and there.

“Then have me,” you respond.

The both of you waste no time, very aware of the fact that you don’t have the luxury of taking your time right now. You’re pulling off each other’s clothes and clawing at skin and leaving scratches and love bites and groaning and whining. Charlie hoists you onto your desk, pushing aside any papers and quills in his way. He wishes he had more time because the desire to kiss along every inch of your beautiful body and explore every freckle or birthmark or scar you have, is so strong. But he just prays you’ll give him another opportunity to do just that, because right now he needs to be inside of you.

Charlie is standing in between your open legs as he takes his fingers and runs them along your slick folds. “Fuck baby, so wet for me huh?”

The sarcastic comment disappears from your mouth as Charlie pushes 2 of his long slender fingers inside your heat, you moan at the sensation. He quickly begins scissoring his fingers set on stretching you out as fast as he could. “F-fuck, Charlie. Feels so good.”

“Wait till you get my cock darling. I’ll have you screaming,” he teases.

You kiss his lips before responding cockily, “go on then.”

Charlie removes his fingers and you whine at the emptiness, “shh darling, I’ll feel you up soon enough. You want that? Want me to fill you up with my cock?”

You’re nodding desperately, “yes please Charlie, please need your cock so bad.”

He grins widely at you, “as you wish.” The both of you groan as he lines up his cock and pushes inside of you. None of your fantasies would have prepared you to how amazing it feels to have Charlie’s cock stretching you out like this. You wrap your legs around his waist as his starts to rock his hips into yours.

Charlie begins to snap his hips faster and faster finding a deliciously rough pace, you’re grateful for the silencing charm he casted because you wouldn’t be able to contain the moans otherwise.

“Holy fuck Charlie,” you whine against his lips letting yourself run your fingers all over his sweaty naked body before they find their home on his hard shoulders.

The groan that rolls out of Charlie’s mouth is borderline pornographic, “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Charlie can feel himself growing closer and closer to his climax and he’d be daft if he lets himself finish before you. Charlie reaches in between the both of you and his thumb connects with your clit, forcing a loud moan to erupt deep from your throat. Charlie starts rubbing tight circles against that bundle of nerves while nipping and sucking at the soft skin on your neck. He can feel you clenching tightly around him.

“S-so close,” you gasp as that familiar tightening sensation pools in your belly.

“Come for me darling, I got you,” Charlie responds, his free hand holding you firming against him as you come undone. His name dripping from your lips like a sweet poem. It only takes a few more thrusts until he’s groaning into your neck and releasing deep inside you, his load painting your walls. The two of you are panting heavily as you try and catch your breath. You chuckle quietly to yourself, enjoying the sensation of Charlie’s now soft cock still inside of you. So much for no boys no distractions.

~~~~~~~

imma start adding my taglist to blurbs too, so if you would like to be added/taken off just send me an ask (if your name is crossed out i couldnt tag you)

@hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @anxiousblanketqueen @dracoswhore007 @georgeweasleyswhre @pandaxnienke

[adorerdraco]

I’m Here ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: Hi, so I’m not sure if you’re taking these kinds of fics for Draco, but I’ve been feeling really down lately, and I was wondering if you could write a one shot or a scenario where the reader has been having a really bad day/week and Draco comforts them? And maybe Draco lays the reader on his chest and he hums a small tune to make the reader feel better? You can ignore this if it’s an issue, but I’d really appreciate it. I love all of your fics btw! They make me really happy <3

Warnings: none bc mostly fluff, some tears, super soft!draco

Words: 1.9K

A/N: i saw this and had to do it effective immediately bc i am feeling the exact same wayyy so this was really nice to think about ;( thank you so much for requesting this and for reading my stuff and i’m so glad i can help in a way <3 i’m sending you nothing but peace, love, and light !!! but i really hope this is gooood <3 do not own gif

Life was punishing you, you thought. It had to be. Because there was no way how in the span of a week everything in your day-to-day life had gone from okay to borderline catastrophic. It was as if every situation you were in was taking its form in the worst case possible scenario and all you could do was watch hopelessly as things continuously got worse sprinkled with small misfortunes in between.

It started on a regular Monday morning, sitting down for breakfast in the Great Hall with blissful ignorance. Halfway through eating your toast, your owl had come in through the open large glass windows and dropped a letter onto your plate from home that left you some very unfortunate news and had set forth a ripple effect that began making everything else go downhill as your days progressed. By the end of the school week, you had managed to blow up a potion, lose house points because of said potion when it splashed onto some people and had some physically altering effects, tripped over your footing and fell in the middle of a crowded corridor, failed a surprise quiz, forgot to turn in an essay, got into an argument with a friend, accidentally slept in and missed a morning class, and took a trip to the hospital wing for a migraine that didn’t want to leave you alone. You could’ve sworn you had somehow been thrown into purgatory, or limbo, or something outer-worldly. 

“Are you alright?” Draco had asked you right after breakfast that Monday morning as he was walking you to your first class. “What was in the letter your owl gave you? You look worried.”

“It was nothing,” you dismissed quickly, trying to put on a half-hearted smile while you spoke to make it more convincing. “I’m fine, just tired.”

It was the beginning of the week, and he did keep you up late the night before when you were sneaking around together, so he just shook his head up and down and took your excuse even though he felt like there was more to it than you were letting on. But as the days went on, he was becoming more observant of the way you were acting and even looking. He didn’t like that every morning he saw the shadows under your eyes get deeper and darker, and he didn’t like how you would close your eyes in pain when you would groan about your headache. He also didn’t like the way he hadn’t seen you truly smile or laugh all week even when he tried countless times to amuse you or cheer you up. But what he didn’t like most of all was that he felt like there was nothing he could do. 

On Wednesday afternoon, he tried asking you again. You were sitting in the Quad with him on a bench and he was telling you a story from earlier in the day about how he had ‘accidentally’ tripped this Gryffindor boy and got Snape to take away house points from him that he thought for sure would you make laugh or perhaps give him a disapproving redirection, but when he glanced up to see your reaction, he noticed you weren’t even listening, to begin with. You had been staring down at your shoes and the way they lined up against the cracks in the pavement, kicking around some gravel as your mind was running a million thoughts per second.

“Love?” He said to you softly. You looked up at him swiftly with a quiet questioning hum, e/c eyes widened slightly from being ripped away from your thoughts suddenly. “You know if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

“I know,” you nodded warmly. “I’m okay, Dray. I’m honestly just tired.”

And you were telling the truth, in a sense. You really were tired; physically, mentally, emotionally.

He frowned, dissatisfied with your answer. “Right, well if anything at all comes up, I’m here.”

From then on, Draco took it upon himself to try and increase his affections and compliments. He would hug you a little tighter, kiss you a little longer, whisper sweet little nothings into your ear before he left you for class. You felt a little bad lying to him, withholding the truth from him, and you saw the concern in his light gray’s when you’d meet him in the mornings and for the rest of the day, but it only made you feel a tad bit worse. You were starting to feel guilty for the way he was worrying, feeling like you were dragging him down into the dumps with you and raining on his usual carefree parades.

On Friday morning, you didn’t meet him for breakfast and you were out of the Great Hall faster than he could catch you. He felt like a stalker when he walked by your class, peeking his head in to see if you were there and well. He spotted you sitting at your desk, hunched over your unopened books with a grimace on your face and your head in your hands. He wanted to go in and whisk you away to somewhere far and quiet, but the Professor had caught him by the door and sent him on his way before he could even think of doing anything of the sort.

You felt the day had gone by extremely slow, relative to how the week was moving and also impossibly dismal. You were counting down the minutes until the end of the school day, ready to run to your dorm right after your last class and bury yourself deep into your duvet and pillows for the rest of the weekend.

Head still pounding, you trudged over to your final class, stopping outside the doors when you saw a small group of your housemates standing around with unnerved expressions as they passed each other papers and spoke in hushed tensed tones.

“I studied all night but my friend took the test earlier and she told me during lunch that it had stuff on it that wasn’t even in the reading!” You heard one exclaim in distress.

“We have a test?” You accidentally said aloud and a pair of eyes turned to look at you confusingly.

“Yeah? Professor’s been telling us all week.”

A scoff of disbelief escaped your lips, an overwhelming sense of defeat washing over you as you turned briskly on your heel and in the opposite direction of your classroom. Tears started pricking at your eyes, you felt the stinging of them wanting to be released but you refused to let them all out in the open and especially in front of people who were still taking their time to head to their classes. 

You were making a beeline towards your common room, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision that was quickly pooling with unshed tears while trying to steady your breathing in another failed attempt to calm yourself. You were nearly there, you could tell by the paintings and doors that you passed by and the black stain splattered on the floor you saw every day on your way to the dorms from someone’s dropped ink bottle that Filch hasn’t been able to get rid of. 

Almost there, you kept repeatedly reminding yourself.

All hope of solace was gone when you didn’t notice the body you had unknowingly crashed into. All you felt were strong hands around your biceps, holding you in place from toppling backward and the very familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you in class?” You looked up at the platinum blond sadly, his worried eyes searching yours with such care that it pushed you over the edge.

You didn’t answer him and instead wrapped your arms tightly around Draco’s middle, burying your face deep into his robes and letting out quiet and frail weeps that broke his heart. He held you tightly, pressing kisses to the top of your head and muttering soft “I’m here’s” into your hair. You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes, letting your tears freely fall into his vest with a sense of relief that only he was able to give you at this point in time.

“I’m sorry I cried on you,” you choked out when you pulled away from him, desperately wiping away at your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quickly. He brought his hand up to your face, his thumb swiping delicately over a stray tear that was sitting on your jaw while you closed your eyes in comfort. “Do you want to go back to my room? I can set you up really nicely and we can talk if you’d like?”

“Yes please, I’d like that a lot.”

Draco interlocked your fingers with his, bringing the pair up to his lips with a warm kiss on the back of your hand before walking the two of you over to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. It was empty when you walked in, not a soul in sight since everyone was still in class and it made it much easier for him to sneak you into his singular Prefect room you were now extremely grateful he had. He watched contently when you shed off your robes and kicked off your shoes and immediately slipped into one of his dark green jumpers that fit you big. 

You were perched on the edge of his bed, his scent from his sweater engulfing you and doing a much better job of calming you down than you wanted to admit. He followed in your footsteps and changed into something comfier and when he finally sat beside you with his hand falling over yours as an encouragement to talk - you did. You vented to him all about the letter from home, the migraine, your classes, the argument between you and your friend, and everything else that came to mind.

“And I feel bad for ignoring you and not telling you all this before but I didn’t want to burden you,” you finished with sniffles, gazing up at him with a gloomy expression. 

“Y/N, I love you, and nothing you say to me is a burden,” he frowned slightly, “when I tell you I’m here, I mean it, for anything. You’re so important to me and it kills me to see you upset.”

In a careful movement, he had scooted towards you and affectionately cupped your face before placing a loving kiss on your forehead and murmured to you, “don’t ever hesitate to come to me.”

You let him pull you under his covers, draping his large duvet over your entangled bodies with your head resting right above his chest, the steady beatings of his heart instantly sending you into a much-needed peace. His chin was rested right atop your head and you felt his fingers run up and down your arm soothingly while he thought.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” He asked quietly.

“Can you help me fall asleep?” you muttered, closing your eyes gently when his hand smoothed over the back of your hair. You felt him nod against your head and after a small moment silence, you heard him begin to hum the faint tune of your favorite song.

You lied there in bliss, enjoying the way his chest was vibrating against your ear and the way his fingers were playing with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around his fingers and then moving upwards to massage your scalp. And for a minute, everything was finally okay again as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a full heart and with your love calmly lulling you away with a soft and now distant humming.

[fiftysevenacademics]

Warrior

By chance, I learned about a show called “Warrior,” originally on Cinemax and now streaming on HBOMax. The basic premise is that a martial arts prodigy immigrates to San Francisco Chinatown in 1878 and is quickly sold to a tong that is on the verge of going to war with a rival tong. The dearth of movies or TV shows set in pre-earthquake (1906) San Francisco always baffles me, given how incredibly socially diverse, violent, raunchy, crime-ridden, wealthy, and often lawless the city was. Portions of the waterfront were even built in abandoned ships. Imagine the amazing sets you could design! I’ll watch anything set in pre-quake San Francisco, especially if it’s going to tell the story of characters, such as Chinese immigrants, that we almost never see in Westerns or other films set in this era.

So I was already in before I saw that the show is based on an 8-page treatment by Bruce Lee and related notes his daughter, Shannon Lee, found. She is also an executive producer, along with Justin Lin. I’m not a huge fan of martial arts movies in general, but this one had a lot of potential so I checked it out and got immediately sucked in.

I’m not going to spoil the plot but it gets convoluted quickly. Probably about 2/3 of the scenes end up with fighting and there is plenty of sex, too. Is it a little trashy with all that sex and violence? Yes, but GOOD trashy, with characters that are multi-dimensional, well-written, directed, and acted, though the costuming leaves a lot to be desired and, somewhat stereotypically for the Western genre, most scenes occur in brothels or barrooms and there are a few historically improbable relationships. But OK, this is borderline pulp fiction and the story is exciting so whatever.

What I love most about the show, however, is how well it portrays a totally neglected aspect of California and American history: How virulent anti-Chinese racism shaped white working class politics in the West. It is the only show I’ve ever seen that directly addresses the cultural climate and politics leading up to the Chinese Exclusion Act from a Chinese point of view. One of the central conflicts in the show depicts how white laborers brutally intimidated and assaulted Chinese workers and their white employers, and how politicians used the “they’re taking our jobs” rhetoric for political gain. One of the main antagonists is a ruthless Irish labor boss called Dylan Leary, who is obviously a fictionalized version of Denis Kearney. 

The show mostly accurately depicts how Chinese were sequestered in Chinatown by a combination of laws that prevented them from owning property or becoming citizens and a campaign of terror led by white vigilantes, making it easy for white business owners to extract grueling labor for hardly any pay. The combination of exploitation and exclusion the Chinese immigrants face in American society intensifies a “get rich quick and get out” mentality among some Chinese immigrants, who are more than willing to do anything they must to their own people in order to send money home, make enough money to go home, or to become the most powerful people in Chinatown. Limited opportunities for economic and social advancement outside of Chinatown drive some to organized crime gangs called tongs that have turned this ethnic enclave into a haven for opium, gambling, and prostitution. While the show is set in this sensationalistic criminal underworld, it’s clearly contextualized-- If these guys had the same opportunities as white people, they’d become industrialist tycoons, too. You just don’t see stuff like this on TV!

The ghost of the Civil War is never far from the action, either. The irony of people who held strong views and fought against slavery going West and then oppressing Chinese workers, many of whom were also enslaved by debt bondage, is not lost on this show. 

It’s tempting to think that the show is retroactively putting contemporary anti-immigrant policies into the past to make a point. But the point is actually that things really were like this in the 1870s and remain to this day at the heart of American politics. As a show that fits into TVs “Western” genre, it is unique in its point of view and how much detail it goes into about actual racial politics of the era as well as the hopes, dreams, and disappointments of people who have to build their own community in a society that hates everything about them except their strong arms and backs.

Speaking of which, part of the show’s appeal is how generous it is to viewers of its many very hot actors and actresses! It manages to have sweaty, shirtless martial arts sequences and exotic, langorous, opium-enhanced brothel sequences that don’t feel exploitative or one-dimensional because they are just parts of a much bigger, well-rounded world the characters inhabit.

And I totally lost my shit when there was a scene set inside a business inside an abandoned ship in San Francisco’s infamous, utterly lawless Barbary Coast. I don’t honestly know how many businesses continued to be operated out of abandoned ships in the 1870s but surely there were some and I don’t even really care because I was just so excited to see something like that come to life.

One review wrote, The vibe is very much “What if Peaky Blinders was racially diverse and half the characters could roundhouse kick you in the face?”

Another review wrote: There’s a lot about the show that will be recognizable to fans of today’s dark antihero dramas: The gangster storyline feels like a plot from Boardwalk Empire or Peaky Blinders, the frontier fable of capitalism resembles Deadwood, and warring factions vying for power recall similar conflicts on Game of Thrones. But what sets Warrior apart is its focus on a fascinating chapter in the American story that’s often treated like an afterthought in history books. And it wraps that history lesson in an enticing action-thriller package with nods to spaghetti Westerns, the kung fu cinema of Hong Kong, gangster flicks, and exploitation films, as well as other grindhouse genres.

I discovered Warrior thanks to this essay by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Here’s a quote: The real issue here isn’t just adding more Asian American characters, it’s about the kind of characters portrayed. Two important areas that are deliberately overlooked by Hollywood are Asian Americans as romantic leads and as heroic leads. Few series dare to have an Asian American man as the object of romantic desire, especially by a white woman (are you listening, Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise?). Fewer have Asian American women as leads prized for their intelligence and outspoken strength rather than their svelte figure and flirty smile. There are exceptions: the wonderful Cinemax series Warrior, based on a Bruce Lee treatment, focuses mostly on tough and sexy Chinese men and women fighting for survival in San Francisco’s Chinatown in the 1870s. 

“Warrior” currently has two seasons. It was canceled when Cinemax ceased producing original content. But Shannon Lee and Justin Lin are hoping that with enough fan support, HBOMax will agree to make more seasons. Check it out!

[15-dogs]

can you write about sirus (you’re dating) and you get the death mark even thougjt you didn’t want to (a draco-like situation) and she pulls away from everyone because shes scared and sirius finds out and helps her

fixing a hole |s.b.|

pairing: young!sirius black x fem!reader

summary: you realize that things for sirius black don’t always work out the same for you

warnings: food mention, implied depression, isolation (if there’s anything you want me to add don’t hesitate to message me!)

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = flashback

word count: 2.6K

a/n: I wanted to give a little context so I started a little earlier than you and him dating I hope that’s ok!! this is a little like fluff to angst to hurt/comfort ish?? it does have some topics that could be difficult so be mindful of the warnings and I hope you like it!!

Everyone in your family talked about Sirius and Regulus Black. It was a well known fact that Sirius had run away from the family to live with those blood traitor Potters, deserting his position as a soldier to the Dark Lord. Sirius’s name was a dirty word in your family, like poison that dripped from the tongues of your predecessors. 

Regulus was a godsend. Your parents would constantly talk about him. They had even mentioned you marrying into his family a few times. The command would send shivers down your spine and you weren’t sure why. This is what you wanted, this is what you’ve always wanted.

Then why couldn’t you stop thinking about Sirius Black?

You’d get distracted during classes just staring at his simple elegance. He had these strong hands that you would study as he wrote an essay in class, wondering if they were soft or rough, if they were firm or gentle, if they would fit perfectly in yours. Your eyes would glaze over as you would divulge into your imagination, imagining his arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him.

“Control your perverted fantasies, (Y/L/N),” Severus scolded. His eyes never once left his paper as he continued to reprimand your behavior. “Don’t deny the fact that you were staring at Black. Learn to manage those feelings.”

You scowled at the boy who you had once considered a close friend. He had no right to talk to you the way he did, seeing as he was the one who was in love with Lily Evans. He was simply bitter. Bitter at Evans, and Potter, and Black. Bitter at the lot of them just because he made bad decisions.

The more you thought about his actions, the more you feared you were to become him. But that wasn’t it. Not really, anyway. You were more concerned that everyone thought that you were like him. And by everyone, you really meant Sirius Black.

You chanced a look at the raven haired boy, until to find him staring back at you. Your heart froze over as his gray eyes were trained on your body. But then a fleet of butterflies occupied your stomach as he gave you a kind and genuine smile, waving gently at you. Potter knocked his hand down a moment later, whispering something to his friend. You took the small opportunity to stray your eyes from the boy that you undoubtedly fancied, hoping your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

In Divination later that day, you and Sirius were partnered up to read each other’s palms. Your hands were sweating, you were sure of it. You debated the consequences of wiping your hands off on your robes but decided against it, fearing it would lead to a risky line of questioning from the boy across from you.

“I have to be entirely honest with you, (Y/N),” Sirius began. Your heart sped in your chest as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I haven’t been doing the notes. What exactly is...palmistry?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted in your seat to avoid his piercing gaze. “Palm reading.”

A wicked grin crept onto his face. “And I get to read your palm?”

“Yes.”

“Finally, an opportunity to hold your hand.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. Sirius could see it, too. He could see how flustered his comment made you. But the longer you thought about it, the more you recalled how he always acted like that towards you.

Before Sirius left his family, you used to spend time with him. Not in a friendly way, but in a we’re-the-same-age-at-this-dinner-party-that-our-parents-made-us-go-to kind of way. He would always make gentle comments like that one. Nothing too crude, just enough to make your stomach turn. Although, the idea of him being crude to you thrilled you a little, but you’d never admit it to him.

“Hand, princess.” Sirius outstretched a hand to you, yanking yours by the wrist into his field of vision.

You always blushed when he called you princess. You were an only child, and most pureblood families lived in a sea of boys so Sirius knew you as one of the very few pureblood girls (that he wasn’t related to) he used to spend time with. He’d call you princess because that’s what you were: a pureblood princess.

You rolled your eyes at his gruffness, pretending that you were affected by it. Sirius flipped open the textbook and spotted a diagram of a hand, glancing between that and your palm in front of him.

“This looks like your...head line.” He traced a finger across your palm which had you shivering; his hands were most definitely rough.

“And?”

His eyes snapped up to yours. “And what?”

“What does it say, Black?” Your tone was borderline irritated but you knew you couldn’t be mad at Sirius. Not when he looked at you like a wounded puppy.

“What do you mean what does it say? Aren’t we supposed to be identifying the parts of the palm?”

You stifled a laugh and playfully kicked the boy in the shins. “No, you idiot, read my palm!”

“Alright, alright, okay!”

You furrowed your brow slightly, a smile still on your face; you were positive that Sirius Black was blushing. It was a good look on him.

“Your head line” —he looked up at you for confirmation, to which you nodded— “says you can’t get me out of your head.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It does not-”

He silenced you with another stroke across your palm. “Your life line says you want to spend the rest of your life with me— how romantic.”

“That’s just cheesy-”

“Your heart line says you desperately, desperately want me.”

“Impossible-”

“And your fate line says that we’re destined to go on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

You blinked in shock. Your eyes darted around the room, expecting to hear someone gossiping about what Sirius had been saying. But you were simply being paranoid, and you knew it, too.

You leaned in slightly towards him, faltering as his musky cologne hit your senses. “Is that a joke? If it is, it isn’t very funny.”

You tried to lean away when he didn’t respond, feeling shame boil up in your stomach when he utilized the grip on your wrist, yanking you towards him so his breath was hot on your ear.

“No, princess,” he growled lowly in your ear, a devilish smirk on his lips, “I’m serious.”

—

From that point forward, Sirius and you were inseparable. Well, to an extent. Your relationship was a secret, the only people having known were James, Remus, and Peter at Sirius’s request. He understood the importance of hiding your relationship, seeing how he was the trademark blood traitor and all. So that was that, no one could know that you were falling in love with Sirius Black.

One of the very few places you convened for dates— or even just to spend some time together— was the illusive Room of Requirement. It opened for you one day as you wandered the halls, head cloudy with decisions that needed to be made about yours and Sirius’s relationship. Ultimately, it convinced you that you and Sirius could work together as a hidden couple, so you decided to continue things with the boy that you had admittedly grown quite fond of.

The door appeared and the room was slightly different this time, that of which had you on edge because you knew that you had come to talk to Sirius about a certain decision that he had made. So that’s exactly where you were, the room that fostered it all, cuddling up against your boyfriend’s chest as he recounted the memories of leaving his home.

Sirius’s hand ran its course up and down the side of your arm as he talked about showing up at the Potter’s familial home. “I was scared, of course, that they wouldn’t take me in. But they did, and I should’ve known that they would-”

What you said next was purely accidental. You didn’t mean to tell him in this hurried way, but you did. It was like the hours of listening could only fit in your head if you let one piece of information go; an eye for an eye. That was the sentiment that propelled you to say, “I’m thinking of moving out.”

Sirius’ movements stopped instantly. He craned his neck to meet your watery eyes, almost to check if what you said was sincere. He knew how much you hated your family, and how that hatred had bloomed and blossomed throughout the years but never did he expect you to say such definitive words.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” he asked carefully like his words would shatter you, if not drive the chisel further through your cracks.

“I do.” You sat up out of his grasp, leaning against the armrest on the couch which you two sat upon. “You did it, and I want out. I’m going to do it, too.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, directing your line of sight to align with his. “Love, what’s going on?” You noticed his eyes flicker towards your wrist, sending your stomach tumbling. “Did they…?”

You jerked away from him. “They want to, so I want out.”

Sirius took a few sobering breaths before settling back onto the other end of the couch. He ran his hands over the worn fabric as he studied you like it was the last time he’d be able to see you. He ran a hand over his face as he sighed, “How can I help?”

—

Things did not go according to plan. You and Sirius had figured that you would escape in the middle of the night during winter break and meet him at the Potter’s home. But things went sour quickly.

You rarely showed strong emotions, feeling that you could keep them intact. But right then, you couldn’t. All the fear and anger had sat inside you for too long and you couldn’t help but cry and rage and scream and sob in the comforts of the Room of Requirement.

“I’m asking you to be quiet, Ebbol!”

“Master Veritas! Master Treagar! I fear that Master (Y/N) is attempting to escape! Masters? Masters!”

You felt that you were flush out of tears, but that emptiness still sat inside you. As you sat on the couch, your eyes unfocusing as your mind narrowed in on that hole. The emptiness hurt. You wanted it gone, or at least wanted something to fill it. Even a temporary fix would do. Just something to stop the pain.

“No, no! Please, mother, please! I swear, I wasn’t…”

You stood up a moment later, clenching your eyes shut as if that would hide the horrors that replayed relentlessly in your head. You wiped your tears away, taking out your wand to place a glamour charm that would hide your puffy eyes and pale lips.

You snuck out and walked to your first class, skipping breakfast because you truly didn’t think that you could stomach it. Your eyes could only focus on what was ahead of you, which is why you didn’t see Sirius jogging up beside you.

“Hey...hey! (Y/N/N), are you okay?”

His words were dull in your ears. You blinked slightly before shrugging out of his grasp on your arm, walking into the classroom ahead.

“You didn’t show up,” Sirius continued as he followed you in. “Are you okay?”

You felt sick bubbling up in your throat and you couldn’t continue talking to him any longer. Every second that you did, you were reminded of who you were: a pureblood princess.

“Go away,” you sneered shakily.

Sirius knew better than to argue with you so he shuffled back to his seat, stealing hurt glances at you every few seconds. Not that you could notice with that ache on your wrist. That was too powerful to focus on anything else.

—

You spent most of your time in the Room of Requirement. It became a second home to you if it wasn’t before. You knew that you couldn’t go back to your common room, knowing that all the eyes on you would make you feel sicker than you had before.

Your emptiness had swallowed you whole. You would stare, you would sleep, you would wake. Nightmares had taken a toll on that cycle, removing the sleeping portion. For a while you had debated brewing your own sleeping draught but you soon realized you couldn’t, barely having enough energy to get out of bed and attend classes each day. Some days, you skipped classes all together.

Sirius noticed your gaunt face and sunken eyes. He had seen you pull away and seal yourself off from everyone— especially him. He wasn’t really sure what your relationship was anymore, but it didn’t matter. He cared about you. Deeply, at that. Lover or friend.

You didn’t turn around as you heard the groaning of the old stones moving to welcome the familiar door. The door opened slowly and quiet footsteps padded in. The couch sunk slightly beside you, and it was only then that you looked up. Sirius jumped at the sight of your face without all the protective beauty charms covering it.

“Merlin, (Y/N), you look ill. When was the last time you ate something?”

You slowly turned away from him. “I...I don’t remember.” You didn’t have the energy to be mad at him, or feel anything towards him, for that matter.

“I brought some chocolate,” he explained as she rifled through the pockets of his leather jacket. “It’s from Moony’s stash. He let me take some for you.”

You absentmindedly took the chocolate, peeling away at the wrapper and biting down gently. As you chewed on the chocolate, Sirius patiently waited for you to speak up. You knew why he was there. You had dreamt about it going quite badly, but you had dreamt about it, nonetheless. You had to tell him. You had no choice.

So, without speaking, you set the chocolate bar down and raised your sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on your left forearm. He jumped up from the couch, running his hands through his hair.

“I knew it, I knew it,” he mumbled to himself. “Those sick bastards.”

“I can’t get it off, Sirius. I tried charms to hide it, even muggle makeup. Nothing works.” Your voice turned shaky as you looked up at Sirius.

His pacing stopped and he sank down to your level, cupping your jaw. “How did they do it?”

“My house-elf caught me on the way out. He called my parents in and they just...mother said they couldn’t wait any longer...that I was to be a blood traitor if I didn’t get it.”

Sirius mentally scolded himself for allowing you to do such a reckless thing without backup. He helped you plan your escape, and now he was responsible for your downfall. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes but he fought them back as he looked at you.

“I can’t go back,” you whispered.

“You’re not going to,” he said decisively.

“I can’t just leave, you know that didn’t work last time.”

He took a careful breath to calm his nerves as his hands trailed down from your face to your hands. “When someone I love gets hurt, I get involved.”

You jumped into his arms. As he tugged you closer to his chest, you felt that emptiness slowly start to fill up with...something. It was a warmth you had never felt. A warmth that made you tear up. Sirius started to tear up as well as he ran his hands over you like he hadn’t seen in you in years. Maybe he felt that emptiness, too. And maybe you filled that emptiness, too. And maybe, just maybe, you filled that emptiness with love as he did for you.

[kuroosweakness]

haikyuu masterlist organized by characters pt. 2

Nov. 19th, 2020 - Dec. 12th, 2020 (no longer updated, all updates will be in pt. 3) 

pt. 1  ⇢ pt. 3

karasuno: 

karasuno’s manager who won’t hesitate to verbally murder them but cannot be mad at nishinoya and hinata

daichi: 

s/o has an anxiety attack

falling for their new manager

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

sugawara: 

s/o has a school stress related panic attack

s/o has a panic/anxiety attack

comforting s/o

s/o who has auditory processing disorder

s/o who has depression

s/o who’s insecure about their face

telling his s/o to slow down in school work and rest

sugawara comforting hcs with his tall gf

s/o when they lose motivation to do school work because they don’t understand

s/o who’s having flashbacks

asahi: 

crushing on dancer y/n

nishinoya: 

s/o shows up at their game in their jersey

their s/o wants them to teach them volleyball

s/o who has tics

s/o’s fresh self-harm scars

s/o with scars

tanaka: 

reassuring his s/o that they’re pretty

ennoshita: 

s/o feels numb

s/o who has an inferiority complex

tsukishima: 

s/o has a school stress related panic attack

reassuring his s/o that they’re pretty

s/o feels numb

tsukishima’s lively, outgoing s/o becomes quiet and cold

s/o who has frequent breakdowns

s/o feels useless and like a bad person

s/o who has a toxic friend and feels powerless

comfort hcs

s/o who has an inferiority complex

when his s/o is in pain but won’t let him touch their wrist

falling for their new manager

when his extroverted s/o lets out her bottled emotions

s/o who is prone to panic attacks and stresses easily

comforting s/o who’s having a hard time

comforting s/o who got a bad grade even though they put in a lot of effort

comforting s/o struggling with home life

s/o who feels insecure and compares themselves to pretty friends/models

s/o who’s going through a depressive episode

s/o’s fresh self-harm scars

s/o whose parent just got diagnosed with cancer

comforting his s/o over a loved one’s death

with a moody s/o

with a clingy s/o

s/o having a hard time

yamaguchi: 

s/o has a school stress related panic attack

how he acts around his crush

s/o who has auditory processing disorder

s/o whose parent just got diagnosed with cancer

nekoma:

with a child-like fem!manager

kuroo: 

chubby s/o who feels insecure

comforting election-stressed s/o

femboy boyfriend wearing a skirt, crop top, and thigh highs

s/o who needs constant affirmation

night-time cuddles

kuroo x goofball s/o with dad humor

kuroo comfort hcs

kuroo comfort hcs (2)

tough s/o breaks down

s/o who has frequent breakdowns

s/o who has a toxic friend

trying to cheer up their s/o after losing loved ones

comforting lonely s/o

with a lonely s/o

s/o who’s insecure about their face

s/o compliments another guy

telling his s/o to slow down in school work and rest

s/o who has a differently abled younger sibling

comforting s/o crying over not having motivation anymore

s/o when they lose motivation to do school work because they don’t understand

comforting his s/o over a loved one’s death

s/o who’s having flashbacks

s/o who’s sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around them, staring into nothing with tears in their eyes

s/o who has borderline personality disorder

s/o who has bipolar 2 disorder

s/o’s parents are divorcing

kenma: 

chubby s/o who feels insecure

how he acts around his crush

crushing on dancer y/n

waking up with him

s/o with scars

helping his s/o calm down

s/o who has a toxic friend

falling for their new manager

s/o who has depression

kenma helping his s/o overcome difficult situations

s/o when they’re having a panic attack at a family dinner

s/o who feels insecure and compares themselves to pretty friends/models

karasuno’s reaction to tsukki and his bf on a date

s/o’s fresh self-harm scars

kenma when his s/o has migraines

lev:

falling for their new manager

s/o who shakes really bad when they get nervous

comforting s/o struggling with home life

with a moody s/o

comforting his s/o from family fights

fukurodani: 

with a child-like fem!manager

akaashi: 

s/o has a nightmare from a horror movie

s/o has a panic/anxiety attack

comforting lonely s/o

comforting their s/o after a nightmare

comfort hcs

comforting s/o

s/o who has depression

s/o compliments another guy

telling his s/o to slow down in school work and rest

s/o who gets anxious with panic attacks when doing schoolwork

comforting s/o who got a bad grade even though they put in a lot of effort

s/o who has adhd and tics/stims

comforting s/o crying over not having motivation anymore

s/o when they lose motivation to do school work because they don’t understand

with a short s/o

s/o who’s going through a depressive episode

s/o whose dad just got diagnosed with cancer

s/o with scars

s/o doesn’t say “i love you” back

domestic life drabbles

bokuto: 

how he acts around his crush

reassuring his s/o that they’re pretty

his s/o’s car breaks down

s/o cries all the time on her period

trying to cheer up their s/o after losing loved ones

s/o koala’ing themselves onto their lap

s/o asks if he loves her

s/o who has a sprained ankle

s/o who’s in an art block

short s/o wants to reach the top shelf

s/o who has tics

cheerful s/o goes quiet

s/o who does archery

x  suga’s short younger brother

s/o who has scars from surgery

when y/n’s ex talks trash about them

comforting election-stressed s/o

s/o who needs constant affirmation

bokuto x kuroo’s twin sister

tough s/o breaks down

falling for their new manager

with a svicidal s/o

bokuto comfort hcs

s/o who has adhd and tics/stims

s/o whose dad just got diagnosed with cancer

comforting his s/o over a loved one’s death

s/o who has borderline personality disorder

s/o with scars

with a clingy s/o

aoba johsai: 

with a child-like fem!manager

oikawa: 

s/o asks his to slow dance

helping his s/o go to sleep

s/o who has a toxic friend

comfort hcs

s/o who has a toxic friend and feels powerless

chubby s/o who feels insecure

s/o has a panic/anxiety attack

s/o who has an inferiority complex

with a svicidal s/o

telling his s/o to slow down in school work and rest

s/o who’s having flashbacks

s/o who’s traumatized from horror movies

s/o with scars

with a moody s/o

with a clingy s/o

comforting s/o who’s freaking out over finals and major projects

iwaizumi: 

cheerful s/o goes quiet

comforting s/o who’s insecure about their weight

s/o who has scars from surgery

taking care of s/o’s younger sibling

s/o who’s having issues with their best friend

when y/n’s ex talks trash about them

s/o is hurting from awful cramps

femboy boyfriend wearing a skirt, crop top, and thigh highs

s/o who has a toxic mom

s/o with scars

iwaizumi when his s/o wants him to lay on their stomach

comfort hcs

s/o has an anxiety attack

s/o who needs constant affirmation

college admission essay comfort hcs

s/o who has a sprained ankle

touch-starved s/o

s/o who’s reluctant of asking people for help when needed

s/o who has a differently abled younger sibling

s/o whose parent just got diagnosed with cancer

s/o’s parents fat shames her before a holiday meal 

iwaizumi’s s/o comes out as asexual

iwaizumi unknowingly trigger his s/o’s eating disorder

when he talks in a baby voice without knowing his s/o is filming

matsukawa: 

s/o’s parents fat shames her before a holiday meal

shiratorizawa:

with a child-like fem!manager

 ushijima: 

s/o who shakes really bad when they get nervous

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

tendou: 

comforting s/o who’s having a hard time

s/o who has adhd and tics/stims

s/o who’s sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around them, staring into nothing with tears in their eyes

s/o who has borderline personality disorder

s/o who has bipolar 2 disorder

tendou comfort hcs

drunk hcs

goshiki: 

comforting s/o struggling with home life

date tech: 

aone:

crushing on dancer y/n

comforting s/o

comforting his s/o from family fights

koganegawa:

s/o feels numb

inarizaki: 

atsumu:

s/o has an anxiety attack

cuddling his stressed s/o

s/o koala’ing themselves onto their lap

when they forget their lunch and their s/o visits them

comfort hcs

s/o who has a differently abled younger sibling

s/o who’s traumatized from horror movies

when he talks in a baby voice without knowing his s/o is filming

s/o who’s a fine arts student

s/o doesn’t say “i love you” back

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

comforting s/o who’s freaking out over finals and major projects

osamu: 

s/o who has emetophobia is feeling nauseous

s/o who’s reluctant of asking people for help when needed

with a tall gf

comforting s/o who got a bad grade even though they put in a lot of effort

comforting s/o crying over not having motivation anymore

comforting his s/o over a loved one’s death

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

domestic life drabbles

suna: 

s/o who’s reluctant of asking people for help when needed

with a short s/o

s/o’s parents are divorcing

when he talks in a baby voice without knowing his s/o is filming

s/o who’s a fine arts student

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

s/o having a hard time

kita: 

s/o who gets anxious with panic attacks when doing schoolwork

comforting s/o who got a bad grade even though they put in a lot of effort

comforting s/o crying over not having motivation anymore

s/o who’s traumatized from horror movies

drunk hcs

itachiyama:

sakusa: 

s/o who has emetophobia is feeling nauseous

with a tall gf

with a short s/o

s/o when they’re having a panic attack at a family dinner

s/o who feels insecure and compares themselves to pretty friends/models

s/o who’s going through a depressive episode

s/o’s parents fat shames her before a holiday meal

s/o who’s sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around them, staring into nothing with tears in their eyes

sakusa’s gf on her period comfort hcs

s/o who has bipolar 2 disorder

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

[evera6234]

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter III

CHAPTER I  CHAPTER II

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY: 

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely.                ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3. 

   After a couple minutes of some surface level research Tim pulled out his phone.

Replacement: The boy is Adrien Agreste

Replacement: His dad is Gabrielle Agreste

Replacement: *Gabrielle

Replacement: Fuck autocorrect

Replacement: *Gabrielle

Replacement: *Gabrielle 

Replacement: Ok I give up, the dude version of Gabriel

Replacement: *Gabriel

Replacement: *Gabriel

Replacement: What have I ever done to you autocorrect??

Gunz Blazin’: you a bit late there, mr tim todd

*Gunz Blazin’ renamed Replacement, Tim Todd*

Demon: Stop messaging so carelessly through this group chat you imbeciles!

Gunz Blazin’: (insert emoji spam here)

Gunz Blazin’: Hey tim, can you do some research on marinette dupain-cheng?

Gunz Blazin’: And maybe a lila who is probably in her class

Replacement: Sure, gimme a bit of time.

¬

   Regardless of how careless he seems to be, Jason is concerned. Thinking from what he could piece together, “The boy (Adrien Agreste) thinks that the girl (Marinette Dupain Cheng) is ignoring his advice and doesn’t like it. He also thinks Marinette is jealous of another person (Lila?), he thinks she is specifically jealous of how much time he and Lila spend together. But Marinette says she is not jealous.” Jason, deciding to gather more information before taking drastic measures, plans to approach Marinette calmly and act as though he had not seen what he had. 

   Whatever flames his plans held are immediately extinguished by the highschool blondie that should have been behind him, rather than in front of him bolting towards Marinette. “Marinette!” Chloe grieves as she wraps the small bluenette in her arms. “It’s okay, we’ll get them all. I won’t let them get away with this. You will never have to fight alone. Ever.”

   “Thank you,” is the single phrase Marinette has the fight to utter before she closes her eyes and falls into a deep slumber. 

   A few minutes after Marinette falls asleep Chloe reaches into Marinette’s pocket to stop the recording on her phone. Then she looks up at Jason, “You better find Marinette a place to sleep before I light your ass.”

   Jason reluctantly sighs in defeat. “Fine.” He bends over and picks Marinette up before turning around and walking to Bruce Wayne’s currently empty office.

¬

   Our dear Brucie had been in quite the jam for the last couple weeks. Today, finally he returns home to Gotham after his final business trip, for what he hopes to be a couple months. He walks through the front doors of Wayne Enterprises and sees the french class (who won the chance to come to Gotham because of one of their student’s spectacular essay) prepare to head back to their hotel. Aside from one student on her phone, dialing like a madman, everything seems completely fine.

   Bruce walks past them and to his office, outside his window he could see it was already pitch black, aside from christmas lights. Bruce is content, he is free, at peace. Until he got closer to his office and heard ringing. “There shouldn’t be anyone calling me now, and if they would they would be calling my personal phone…” Bruce begins to think before it struck him. “BOMB!”

   Bruce runs straight into his office, which in hindsight would be an extremely bad idea (listen kids, never run into a bomb infested area. plz, i don't want my readers to go kaboom) looking to defuse a bomb. But when he looked around all he found was a girl sleeping and her ringing phone. He waddled closer to the girl and poked her shoulder, kinda freaking out. “Oh fuck. She needs to wake up. Selina’s gonna castrate, then kill me. I can’t have any rumours going around right now. I’m finally free.” 

   Before he knew what was happening… WHAM!

¬

   Chloe is frenzied in fear. “Where the fuck in Marinette? Where the fuck is the tour guide?” Chloe scurries to our dear friend, front desk Andrew and asks. 

   “Yea. He’s gone.. Probably to pick up his younger brother from school.” Andrew replies. 

   “If you find Marinette, please call this number and let me know,” frantically, Chloe scribbles down her own number and hands it to Andrew who carelessly pockets it.

   “Sure.”

   Chloe is aflame. In the crime capital of the world, where is her best friend? Is she in danger? Where is Marinette? Chloe keeps calling her partner as the class boards the bus. As she sits alone in the back of the bus Chloe quietly prays “Please be safe,” she prays quietly.

   “Don’t worry, she’s the ladybug. Not much can hurt her. She will be fine. Before the tour guide carried Ms. Guardian away, Tikki and Kaalki hid in her clothes” Pollen comforts from inside Chloe’s handbag.

   Chloe visibly relaxes, just a bit. 

¬

   Marinette just woke up has no idea where the fuck she is, but there is a dude poking her shoulder and she does not like that. At all. WHAM! 

   Marinette now standing up, looks down at a grown-ass man. Recognizing him she thinks, “I just assaulted Bruce Wayne!”, it did not sink in. She stared at him for a couple seconds. “FUCK! I just assaulted Bruce Wayne!!!!!!!” (Kinda sorta prompted by RoselynFey on AO3)

   As Marinette begins to uncontrollably apologize, Bruce interrupts her, “Daughter. You are my daughter.”

   This sentence now leads to Marinette sputtering like a madman. (Bruce please stop adopting random children it ISN’T HEALTHY!)

¬

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[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

[tomione thing] Thanks for the recs! I actually was looking forward to the rant, I like how you break things apart so they make sense in a very unique way.( I don't have any strong feelings to the pairing if that was your concern, I just think the stories about them have the potential to be fantastic because I enjoy intelligent characters going through life and solving problems and, usually, in fanfiction there's focus on only one smart character.

So, you people are just poking me with sticks to see what ridiculous opinions spew out then. I’m onto your game.

With that said, let’s get to answering then, and know that you bring this upon yourself.

I loathe Tomione. I put up with it, sometimes, because I will read almost any fic featuring Tom Riddle as a main character. (Want the Carnivorous Muffin to read your fic? Tom Riddle as a main character. Even if I disagree with 110% of your premise I will probably still read your story.)

However, it’s extremely telling that my recs the other day were hilariously small, and one was actually Hermione/Loki. The Tomione exists, I just hate it.

This is for two main reasons. First, I just don’t believe the ship would ever work under any circumstances and the pair are naturally doomed to loathe one another. Second, fanfiction has a collection of tropes associated with Tomione that are in unbearable (likely caused unconsciously by the first, Tomione doesn’t really work, so we do terrible things to make it work). 

Tomione Doesn’t Work: Change My Mind

So, remember we’re living in Muffin-land for this. I’ve explained some of my headcanons regarding these characters, and I’ll offer brief explanation for why I think what I do here, but I’m not going to expand on it too much.

Tomione has appeal under the premise that either you or someone else previously mentioned: they’re both so smart, of course they belong together.

The trouble, Hermione’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. What we see of Hermione’s cleverness boils down to having a very good work ethic and reading a lot of books. She tends to outsmart Ron and Harry because she actually puts in the work to do her homework and, my god, read her text books. Also, as I’ve covered before, Harry’s an idiot, so that’s a low bar.

Because Hogwarts can be passed by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, and the curriculum seems to boil down to “pronounce this fake Latin correctly, ooh look, a spell”, actually reading her books not only gets Hermione by but skyrockets her ahead of her peers. Who, apparently, have no ear at all and don’t understand the swishy motions are important and probably never bothered to read their books.

This isn’t to say she’s stupid, she’s by far one of the more intelligent characters in the series, but it says a lot of not so good things about Hogwarts that Hermione is the “brightest witch of her generation”. In my mind she has never compared to characters like Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, or Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione never questions how magic exists, why wands work, or why pronunciation is so weirdly important and why we’re using spells that are gibberish Latin instead of English or simply Latin. She never takes that step outside the box I would expect a truly intelligent person to take.

An example, Hermione completely throws out the entire discipline of divination. This is part because she believes it’s stupid, but she also only spends about two seconds thinking about it, and she doesn’t appear to be any good at it. If Hermione’s not good at it then it must be a stupid subject for stupid people.

Now, that alone doesn’t doom her, but it does put a huge chink in the major appeal of Tomione: they’re both just so brilliant that they’d be great together.

What dooms them is that Hermione both a) thinks she is as brilliant as all these other people and b) has this pervasive need to be the smartest person in any room she walks into. Hermione comes across Tom Riddle in the past or just chills with Voldemort in the future, she will inevitably try to show him up. This isn’t just to assure us that good is better than evil, but because she can’t help herself, because being the smartest is how she defines herself.

As a result, especially if we’re in the time travel/school setting, she would inevitably get in competition with him to prove she’s so much better/smarter than he is. It would undoubtedly be on her terms, probably revolving around school work, and she’d throw a fit when Tom wins because he understands the value in being concise where Hermione would quite easily write a hundred page Potions’ essay (that had a five page limit) with the subtext “PRAISE ME” written on every page.

I can’t imagine Tom Riddle would find this anything but completely obnoxious and a waste of his time.

Now, part of this goes into headcanon land, but I have always imagined, 100%, that Tom Riddle in Hogwarts was treated like a muggleborn, that he didn’t find out his ancestry until at least part of the way through, and he never confessed to being the Heir of Slytherin. I can back this up, but that’s another story for another day, I’ll just say that no matter what Dumbledore says any other backdrop makes no damn sense.

So, Tom has clawed the respect of his peers into reality with bleeding hands, he came from nothing in a way that even the ‘good’ purebloods wouldn’t have sympathy for. Even the muggleborns I imagine thought they were better than him. Tom is an impoverished orphan, so poor he has to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, he was not having a fun time at school.

Tom has ambitions, is mired in hatred, and is not really all that wrapped up in Hogwarts except to get him where he wants to go.

Now, imagine Hermione suddenly shows up in front of this Tom. Suddenly he’s being challenged to essay competitions, she probably leaves cryptic remarks all the time about how evil he is and how amazing she is because she’s not evil and smarter than he is, and if he thinks he’s smarter than her then he better find time to prove it.

It’s like talking to a Dumbledore he can never escape from.

Tom doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Tomione not only insists that he does but that he lives for this bullshit. Forget Voldemort, Hermione making weird comments about how Tom has a mutilated soul, or that Dumbledore is so much cooler than he is, is where it’s at. 

As for Hermione, ultimately, I don’t think she’d ever really be attracted to Tom Riddle because he’s too much competition. The guys we’ve seen Hermione with are all safely much dumber than she is, Hermione likes being in relationships with men she feels in some way better than. Tom Riddle is not that guy. 

Add on top of this that Hermione’s righteousness would never allow her to even think about dating someone like Tom and we get her, at best, trying for the sake of destroying him (if she seduces Tom then she destroys Voldemort!) but ultimately failing.

Because the thing is, circling back to where we started, there are different kinds of intelligence, different levels of intelligence, and intelligence alone isn’t a reason to get along. Smart people might gravitate towards smart people, but they still have to have compatible personalities. Reading books isn’t magical glue that can bind people together.

No matter what way I look at it, Hermione and Tom would absolutely loathe one another in every capacity. 

Hermione ends up back in time accidentally and goes to Tom with Hogwarts: utter loathing.

Hermione ends up back in time on purpose and tries to save Tom’s troubled soul or else murder the shit out of him: utter loathing with an extra dash of “what the fuck?!” on Tom’s end.

Hermione ends up back in time after Hogwarts when Tom’s a store clerk: utter loathing (Hermione walks into Tom’s shop to tell him how cool and interesting she is to enter into the typical Tomione mind games, all Tom wants is commission.)

Hermione enters into deals with devils with the horcruxes: utter loathing complete with Tom’s triumphant/Nelson laugh when he inevitably betrays her to get his own body.

A young Tom Riddle somehow winds up in the future and is forced to attend Hogwarts because Dumbledore does what he wants: utter loathing (Tom has to sit there and enjoy Harry and especially Hermione telling him how evil he is and how Hermione’s so much smarter than him because she’s muggleborn and reads books.)

Lord Voldemort takes Hermione hostage during the horcrux hunt: utter loathing (though this would be sadly less irritating to Tom than the others, I imagine, if only because Hermione would probably be more terrified and less righteous. But she’d hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and inevitably pull a horrific revenge scheme on either him or his Death Eaters. No one crosses Hermione. No one.)

You name it, I think it’s going to end with the pair hurling chairs at each other and just being completely and utterly uninterested in every capacity. 

Now, onto how Tomione is typically written, which just makes it so much worse.

Tomione Fics Breed Awful: Change My Mind

Tomione, to me, is born from a few things. It’s born from the author’s desire to have an intelligent, female, borderline SI lead and to shove her together with another edgy smart person with some degree of a bad boy persona.

In this way Tomione fics are very similar to Snape/Hermione fics, are similar to Lokane from Thor/Avengers, are similar to Zutara back in the earlier seasons of Avatar the Last Airbender, etc. 

As a result the fics almost invariably spiral into: “Hermione is so smart, she’s so much smarter than everyone else, she impresses Tom because she is so smart. Tom is so smart but so evil, he sexy growls at her, and confesses how much he hates love every other chapter.” 

Only, as I noted above, while there are many interpretations of Tom’s character (and mine certainly doesn’t agree with the vast majority) I can’t help but think every single version would hate her.

To make him not hate her the author will often turn him into one of two Tom Riddles: Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom or Growling Sexy Sociopath Tom. Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom will often have paragraph long tangents to remind us he doesn’t compute your human emotions, “Beep boop” but despite this Hermione’s out of control hair makes him feel urges “bloop bloop”. Growling sexy sociopath Tom usually goes on a rant about how love is beneath him, backs Hermione into broom closets, and growls as he sexily makes out with her in a non-romantic manner because “ew love”. 

In other words, Tom is made an unbelievably flat character. He becomes a base archetype of sexy villain character. He never really gets redeemed, even if the story insists he does, he usually doesn’t have a reason for the way he is (”um, love potions!” the author often cries), and he and Hermione always think they’re much more important than they are.

The story rarely, if ever, goes anywhere because the entire point of the story is mind games between two sixteen-year-olds who think they’re smarter than everyone else. So we get a lot of chapters of Hermione and Tom running around, being very clever to each other, but doing nothing.

Sometimes authors do deviate from this, we will have an actual plot where we’re not just in Hogwarts again or it’s not just centering on ridiculous mind games. However, even then, Tom is usually is some variant of a very flat cartoon villain while Hermione is... Well, one would think the way she’s described that she’s the smartest, best, most beautiful, most brilliant thing to ever grace this earth.

TL;DR

Tomione is not my jam.

[butchford]

Prompt: AruYuki + Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"

Rewrite verse bc if I did canon adjacent I don’t think I could Take It. Also u know its bad when after all the other essays ive typed out i put a readmore on This One.

To begin with it’s… nothing much. Or at least that’s what they both try to think. Yuki sits at the side of Aru’s hospital bed at two in the morning still trying to process why they’d ever take a knife to the back from Yuki’s own father to protect his mother. And Yuki doesn’t know at all how to feel about, well, Anything. He’s grateful but at the same time he’s… concerned. If anything he doesn’t want Aru to suffer the fallout of his own family’s personal issues despite the fact Aru probably saved his mother’s life. And… fine. Maybe just maybe Aru has wormed their way into Yuki’s heart and thoughts and the blood rapidly pulsing through his veins as he takes their hand in his. “Thank you,” Yuki says aloud in nothing more than a whisper to make sure they don’t wake up. A coward as always, he thinks to himself as he thanks Aru in the only way that feels right to him: a kiss on the lips. And it tastes like a hospital and their lips are unnervingly cold against his, but it’s gentler and longer than anything he’s given Yuno, who’s been disturbingly quiet as well as respectful of Yuki’s space since Aru found her alone in her house after the kidnapping fiasco, to the point of allowing him time alone with Aru “your mans a hottie” Akise. And maybe it’s more than just a thanks. Yuki allows himself against his better judgment to brush some of their hair out of their face and hold their hand a little longer. He remains at their bedside but makes sure there’s no indication of his actions should they wake. And of course Aru’s been semi conscious the whole time but so out of it on pain meds they think the whole thing is a sick dream; a fabrication of a reality they could only ever pray for. So neither of them speak of it, despite the fact Minene saw the moment of truth but figured it would be best for the two to figure it out on their own accord.

The next time it’s Yuki slumped unconscious in Aru’s arms after having been thrown back into a wall by an explosion while distracting the mayor’s men so Yuno could snipe him in the vault. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth and his nose as Aru runs their fingers through his hair and mutters desperately “please wake up please wake up please Yuki… please don’t leave me” with no avail to the point where, even with Minene and Nishijima and Mao and Hinata and Kousaka looking on, they cup his cheek and choke out “I never got to tell you that I…” and they close the narrow gap between their lips and his, tears mingling with blood as Aru barely audibly says “I love you, Yuki; I’m completely undone without you. Please just… know this in your heart.” And with that Yuki coughs and shakes and his eyes flutter open to make out the dust in Aru’s hair and the blood smudged against their face from his; it tones down their otherwise borderline angelic appearance in Yuki’s eyes between the crimson eyes and halo of a mess of hair against their skin marred over with scars like constellations. More tears, a genuine “Yuki you’re alive!” that outdoes their last given after being kidnapped, a thousand thoughts in a mind still buzzed from being unconscious interrupted by a single clear I don’t care, a thumb numbly caressing their cheek and wiping a smudge of blood off of their pale skin, a pair of lips clumsily colliding with theirs but they’re so relieved and downright ecstatic to the point where the taste of coppery blood and dust means less than nothing to them, a quiet “I love you too; I think I have for a while now,” an embrace that threatens to crack his ribs and a few barely contained sobs. Minene ruefully tearing her eyes away from Nishijima for a brief second to say “let’s get a move on, lovebirds” and a flash of Mao’s camera are the only thing that breaks the two of them apart from an embrace best described as “if I let my grasp loosen I’m sure you and this moment will both disappear.”

Yuki watches his beloved torn apart at the seams before his eyes and all he’s allowed to do is hold what remains of them as Kousaka desperately punches something into their phone as for once Yuki is rendered speechless. Silence. They begin to mend back together. Tears begin to flow freely from his eyes as he waits for them to say something, anything. When their eyes flutter open as Yuki’s tears fall onto their face and they say with wide eyes and a shaky voice, “I-I’m…. Yuki do you mind cutting the waterworks for a second I don’t need rain for the theatrics at the given moment,” Yuki cutting them off with a firm kiss and a “don’t you EVER pull that on me again I swear to fucking god” and the second Aru regains their breath they say, “Speaking of which, I-I’m not human. Deus created me to spy on this game of his without my will or consent and the second I faced him he decided I had lived beyond my usefulness and that’s why I… I’m not. I’m not real.” And Yuki just says “Damnit Aru you’re the most real person I know, nobody else would put themself in harms way over and over for their friends and help out a terrorist who was starving in a river and… and bother to try to respect me and understand me and…” and this time Aru sits up and turns around to face Yuki and smiles at them with such fondness despite the tears in their eyes and cups his cheeks in their hands and earnestly says “Deus asked me for any proof I was a real being with any will of my own; he asked what my strongest emotion was during my existence. And do you want to know what I responded with? You; my love for you, Yuki” and with that they gently pull Yuki in for a genuine kiss; one without the haste of the threat of death. One without the aftertaste of blood. One that promises that there will be more regardless of where the future leads, so long as the two of them are together it doesn’t matter. “You really are an angel, Aru.” “I can make you regret that statement so so quickly, but thanks for the sentiment.” “Fresh from the grave dug by gods hand and you still… I stand by my sentiment.” And Aru has the audacity to laugh and that in itself makes Yuki realize just how… natural his thing for Aru is. It lacks the “is this repayment is this real is this just out of what I believe to be obligation” that he had with Yuno, who converses with Mao and Hinata intently in the corner. Aru is Aru and that in itself is enough to tug at Yuki’s heartstrings.

When they’re in the final stages of their plan to kill Deus, the remaining diary holders, Hinata, Mao, Kousaka, Nishijima, and Aru are all gathered together in the cathedral of causality with the same intent: to put an end to the game that’s costed countless lives. Aru’s hand is firmly held in Yuki’s, Yuki knowing damn well just what is probably going through their head and trying to ground Aru despite the fact his own fingers tremble and his entire body feels numb. Aru puts their free hand on Yuki’s shoulder and gazes into his teary eyes; vermillion into indigo; blood into water. And they say “just in case this should go horribly wrong, given that we’re literally facing off against fucking God of all things…” they trail off. They hesitate. Their lips tremble and their eyes burn and their throat closes in emotion but they still manage to do what they intended to: place a final kiss to Yuki’s lips despite they can barely feel it from the numbness of their lips and they can narrowly register Yuki’s hands moving to their hair and their neck and they feel as though they will collapse as Yuki wraps them in a bone crushing embrace the second they pull away. “We’ll be fine; we’ll make it and that’s a promise.” “Since when are you one for confidence?” They manage to joke despite dedicating all of their attention to memorizing Yuki’s embrace and Yuki’s voice and Yuki’s horrible taste in fashion and Yuki’s awful blue eyes and— “Since you refused to let me happily race to my own demise and I couldn’t get rid of you in the same way a stray cat follows you around; plenty of space but a fondness you can’t shake that starts to take root in your heart and—“ “Did you really just try to, with romantic intent, compare me to a stray cat” “Aru what the fuck do you want from me” Yuki laughs through his tears “I don’t know, another kiss couldn’t hurt” “if this doesn’t kill you I will” “You prommy?” “Forever and always, asshole” Aru buries their face in the crook of Yuki’s neck for one final time “Good.”

And after the killing game is out of the way they’re basically inseparable; Yuki sneaking into Hinata’s family manor, which Mao, Yuno, Nishijima, Minene, and Aru moved into thanks to Hinata not wanting to wander its extensive halls like a ghost anymore and figuring you know what why shouldn’t she let her two gfs and their lameass gay detective friend and their weird bisexual parents move into the otherwise vacant estate, nearly every night his mother is at work which is a great majority of them. So Yuki will sneak in at midnight despite Aru giving him a key nearly every night with him usually falling asleep on the couch and Aru falling asleep on top of him like an oversized cat an hour of pacing later. And finally one night Aru finally remembers what they’ve been haphazardly planning out for months and drags Yuki to the roof on a particularly clear night and they go “I know it’s not much and I plan to one up this inevitably but you always said you wanted to look at the stars with a loved one and I’d hope you’d consider me a loved one because good fucking god Yuki I’m positively enamored with you and I—“ and Yuki cuts them off with a kiss that knocks the wind out of their lungs. “Of course I consider you a loved one, you asshole,” Yuki teases tearfully and Aru pauses and blurts out “Oh so I hit this one out of the park huh” and yes they’re the Worst and more than a little rough around the edges but the way the starlight faintly illuminates their white hair into a halo and makes their constellations of scars glow just a little bit and fine maybe the way their scarlet eyes widen and soften at the sight of Yuki makes him equate them with the equivalent of Yuki’s personal guardian angel. “Enjoying the view” they taunt goodheartedly, knowing damn well Yuki’s been staring at Them for the past minute straight. “Fuck you, maybe I am gayass” and Yuki wraps his arms around them and lets his head rest on their shoulder and god maybe just maybe after Everything they’ll be ok.

[recollins]

Jealousy 101 (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Request: Do you mind doing professor!Reid and reader that are dating and she’s in her class and all the other girls are trying to hit on him and ofc Spencer is oblivious to it but reader is getting jealous and spencer has to reassure her that he doesnt care for them and only her 🥺 make it as long as you want, honestly longer the better hahah thanks so much I love your work! Pairing: Professor!Spencer x Female Reader Words: 4,668 Content: Smut Warnings: Jealousy, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it, y'all)  Masterlist

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Large, gentle hands slid around your waist from behind, tugging you back into a gentle hold. Spencer propped his chin on your shoulder, studying your reflection in the mirror with you as you smoothed down your skirt.

“Are you going for naughty schoolgirl today?” your boyfriend murmured, lips brushing your ear before moving to kiss the base of your jaw. You tipped your head back onto his shoulder, smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Well I am one, aren’t I, Professor Reid?” you said slowly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Pressed against his chest, you could feel the hitch of his breath at the name you used. Before answering, he trailed hungry kisses down your neck, tugging your blouse aside to nip at your shoulder.

A moan slipped out of you and on instinct you leaned back into his hold; his arms tightened around your waist and you felt him smile against your skin. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, (Y/N).”

Turning in his arms, you tipped your head back to peek up at him through your lashes, coy smile curling over your lips. Spencer slowly lifted a brow at you, knowing exactly the kind of trouble this look held for him.

“Who says I can’t finish?”

You didn’t miss the tightening of his jaw or the hard swallow he gave as his eyes flicked over your shoulder, studying your body in the mirror. Those large hands of his slid down your back, taking handfuls of your ass through your skirt. “I say. We have class in twenty minutes, and neither of us can afford to be late again. You know better than to tease me.”

Biting back the smirk that threatened to break free, you pressed your hands against his chest to push him back, stepping out of the hold he tried to pull you back into. You cocked your head to the side, tapping a finger thoughtfully against your chin as you hmm’d and sauntered back.

“Do I? Huh. Must’ve slipped my mind. You’ll just have to remind me, Professor.”

“(Y/N),” he growled in warning, hand falling to palm at the growing bulge in his slacks. His normally honey-brown eyes had darkened to a dangerous, hungry shadowed amber, sending a shiver of desire through you that you knew he saw.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. You’ll have to remind me later,” you teased, snagging your bag and then scampering out of Spencer’s apartment before he could come after you. Thankfully, your boyfriend had off-campus housing this year. When you’d started dating last fall, it’d been a pain trying to sneak in and out of his place when he lived in the faculty housing.

It was hard to believe that you’d been with Spencer for almost eighteen months now. Truth be told, you hadn’t been looking for a relationship when you’d started college last year. Quite the opposite, actually. You’d just gone through a pretty rough breakup with your high school sweetheart, and the thought of dating anyone was the last thing on your mind.

And then lo and behold, your very first day, Dr. Spencer Reid had walked into your criminal psychology class and you’d been totally and helplessly lost to the illegally handsome man at the front of the class. To be fair, you really tried to resist him, but how could you when you had to stare at that painfully attractive man for ninety minutes every Tuesday and Thursday for months on end?

It wasn’t your fault you’d spent more time focusing on his deliciously long fingers than you did on what he was presenting. And don’t even get started on his tongue. He just couldn’t keep it in his mouth for more than a few minutes at a time, and that just did things to you, okay? You never stood a chance resisting him.

So, like the smooth flirt you were, you started making excuses to see him. It’d started simple enough: staying a few minutes past to have him explain a scenario you already fully understood, asking him to go over the requirements for your essay that you’d already finished… When that didn’t satisfy your craving for the delicious doctor, you’d starting stopping by during his office hours to ask him any question you could possibly think of.

Hell, one week you’d purposely not taken any notes you’d needed for the test next class, and Spencer had kept you in his office for over an hour as he ran through the slides again – one on one – making sure you had everything you needed.

Really, you’d been playing your hand pretty well. Or so you thought.

Just a few months into the semester, when you’d stopped by for the third time that week, Spencer had invited you to sit as he always did, but when you asked him for a recap on what to do for the midterm coming up, he folded his hands on his desk and leveled you with a sharp gaze that rooted you to the seat beneath you.

“Miss (Y/L/N), I know you’re not here about the midterm.” You’d blinked in alarm, stunned he’d instantly call you out like he had, but unable to say anything because, y’know, he had a point. “Would you care to tell me why you’ve been by to visit me more than any other student in any of my classes?”

Huh, more than anyone else? Well, you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for that little achievement. Not that it was really a help to you right now, but still.

“I’m, uh, I just – I wanted you to –“

“Wanted me to what, Miss (Y/L/N)?” he’d cut in, that sinfully distracting tongue flicking out over his lower lip. Your eyes shamelessly followed the movement, and only when you saw the smirk on his face did your eyes snap back to his.

“I… wanted you to myself,” you practically whispered, eyes instantly falling to your lap when you’d realized what you’d said. It was completely inappropriate, you knew that. Crushing on your professor was one thing, but sitting here admitting that after you’d practically been borderline harassing him for the better part of two months?

So when his hand reached out and those tantalizing fingers tipped your chin up so he could meet your eyes again, you were stunned to see the hungry look in his eyes. The hungry look he fixed you with did nothing to slow your beating heart, your racing mind that was spinning out of control with the thoughts you’d been trying to hold back all semester.

One moment you’d been staring each other down, daring one another to make the first move, and the next minute Spencer had practically dragged you onto his desk and had his way with you. Not that you’d minded one bit – the bruises on your hips from his eager hands had stayed deliciously dark against your skin for almost a week, and he’d made sure to leave plenty more in their place after that.

Keeping things secret hadn’t been too bad at first. It was a fun little secret between the two of you. It had been fun and exciting to spend all class eye-fucking each other across the room and then letting Spencer bend you over his desk almost immediately afterwards.

The summer had been even better, because you and Spencer had all the time in the world to yourselves. You’d told your parents you had to stay at school for summer classes, and once Spencer had moved off-campus, you practically lived at his apartment.

The memories of hot, sleepless nights beneath the sheets with Spencer kept you occupied on your walk to class, but the moment you entered the lecture hall the smile fell off your face. Half the seats were filled with women you knew weren’t even in this class. Believe it, you’d checked. Twice.

The only reason they flocked here was to ogle Spencer, and it drove you absolutely crazy. Not only did they only want to spend ninety minutes flirting with your boyfriend, they didn’t even care about what he was teaching. It was disruptive, disrespectful, and downright rude. And it wasn’t just because they were all trying to seduce your boyfriend. Mostly.

Instead of taking your normal seat at the front, you settled a few rows back to plant yourself in the middle of the scattered girls. You normally weren’t one to get jealous, but they’d been playing this game for over a month now and it was pushing you closer and closer to an edge you didn’t know you’d had.

“Like, I’ve never seen anyone look as hot as he did yesterday wearing a sweater vest,” one of the girls behind you gushed; you tensed immediately. Of course they were talking about Spencer. He was the only one who could get sexy and sweater vest in a sentence together. “I missed my test in Biology but it was so worth it to see him yesterday.”

The pencil in your hand nearly snapped in two. They were skipping classes now to see him when you weren’t there?! It was one thing showing up during free period, but this was getting ridiculous. And having them here without you to keep an eye on their inappropriate behavior?

Deep breaths, (Y/N), you growled to yourself, focusing on pulling out your notebook and getting ready to, you know, actually learn in the class. If you weren’t careful your pencil was gonna end up through someone’s neck today.

Not moments later though, you heard excited whispering spark through the seats and a few girls in front of you had the audacity to whine, “oh my god he looks so fuckable today!”

Instantly your gaze snapped up; Spencer had just walked in.

Trust me, I know. That’s what I almost got to do with him, you muttered, your eyes following your boyfriend as he stepped up onto the stage. His eyes fell instantly to the front row and you saw his brow furrow just a hint.

His gaze swept over the seats in concern until his gaze locked onto you. A small, almost imperceptible smile flickered over his lips as soon as he saw you were there, and it helped to settle the burning jealousy raging inside of you. Out of all the other women there, he was only worried about you.

Of course, that feeling died out pretty damn fast as soon as class began. From every side of you all you caught were the girls dirty whispering. You couldn’t even focus on Spencer’s lecture because every two seconds there was another giggle or another not-so-hushed whisper of, “look at how long his fingers are!... His tongue is driving me wild oh my god!... look at how big his feet are. Can you imagine how big his –“

Your pencil actually did snap. The noise startled both yourself and a few of the girls scattered around you, enough to draw Spencer’s attention. When he caught sight of your expression, concern flitted over his ridiculously attractive features. You tried to push the scowl aside but at this point it was a permanent look. Spencer’s eyes narrow just a hint, tongue poking out over his lower lip briefly. You knew that face; he was profiling you.

Not wanting him to be too concerned, you gave him a small smile. He returned the favor before returning to the lecture, wandering back across the stage. Taking as deep a breath you could, you really tried to tune them out. After all, you were one of the few in attendance that actually had to worry about what Spencer was teaching.

Of course, if you asked him to, he’d gladly give you a one-on-one tutoring session. This time you lost focus thinking about the last tutoring session your boyfriend had given you. One that had quickly morphed into Professor Reid teaching you exactly how to take his cock all the way down your throat like the good girl you were –

No. Focus. You need to know this stuff! You snapped to yourself, pulling out of your extremely distracting fantasies. For the next half hour, you managed to force yourself to block out the whispers around you as you fought to listen. You’d almost fully forgotten there were dozens of girls all around you vying for your boyfriend until a girl behind you said excitedly,

“After class I’m so making a move on him.”

You almost lost another fucking pencil.

Breathing hard, trying to keep from whipping around and punching her square in the face, you listened to the plan she concocted to seduce Spencer the moment the lecture was over. Now you completely understood the phrase seeing red.

To be completely honest, you weren’t sure if it was just because she was making moves on your boyfriend, or if it was because it’s exactly what you’d done last year. What if it worked on him? What if he was hit on by a younger, prettier girl this time and you were pushed aside? Normally your insecurities didn’t come out with Spencer. Even with an almost fifteen-year age gap, he’d never made you feel unwanted or like he was out of your league – though you’d told him several times you certainly felt that way. He was amazing at reassuring you just how much you meant to him, just how attracted he was to you, reminding you just how gorgeous you were…  

Your self-conscious thoughts floated to the front of your mind, and you felt tears actually starting to prick your eyes. She just kept going, talking about all she had in mind with Spencer… If you didn’t pull yourself out of this soon you’d either be leaving here in tears or in handcuffs, and you weren’t one to cry in public.

It was as if Spencer was tuned to your thoughts. Like he knew you needed a distraction, needed just a little reassurance from him to get you through the last fifteen minutes of class. Finally done with his presentation, he clicked off the projector (taking a little longer than necessary because he and technology didn’t see eye to eye) and turned to the class and asked,

“Can anyone tell me a few of the differences between male and female arsonists?”

Normally you didn’t like speaking up in class, but you needed him focusing on you now. Though you hadn’t really focused through most of the class, this was thankfully something you were familiar enough with. Spencer caught the movement of your arm going up, and though he was clearly surprised he turned and smiled.

“Yes, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“Female arsonists are typically older than males, and are more likely to have a psychiatric diagnoses. Women also more frequently have a history of sexual abuse, while men have a tendency towards substance abuse problems.”

There it was, the flicker of pride in his gaze that instantly set your body burning with desire. He gave you an impressed nod, holding your gaze without blinking as he said  slowly, “that’s very good, Miss (Y/L/N). Well done.”

His praise warmed you through, pushing out the ache of jealousy. You smiled back at him, pointedly drawing the end of your pencil between your lips to nibble lightly as you slowly crossed one of your legs over the other.

You caught the tensing of his jaw but, ever the professional, he stamped out the hungry smirk he’d normally give you as he turned to address the rest of the class instead. As the minutes ticked by, though, you noticed his gaze kept coming back to you. Every few minutes, his eyes would flick back, sweeping over your body for the briefest moment before he had to look away.

Every look made you squirm, your panties dangerously damp by the time he finally said, “I think that’s all for today. Be sure to read chapter seven before Thursday.”

Most of the class filed out of the lecture hall immediately. You took your time packing your things away, pointedly keeping an eye on the group of girls that approached Spencer at the front of the room.

“Excuse me, Professor Reid?” the girl up front cooed sweetly, twirling a lock of hair as she stared up at him. Your blood boiled instantly and now you couldn’t even pretend you were doing anything other than eavesdropping.

Spencer, ever polite, looked up at her with a friendly smile as he gathered his journals into his satchel. “Can I help you?”

“Well, I hope so. I was really interested in what you were saying about arsonists but it kind of went over my head,” she giggled, shrugging her shoulders bashfully. “Do you think you and I could meet later so you could help me… get a better grasp?”

Spencer’s eyes studied her for a heartbeat, and then they flicked to you. The instant understanding that settled in his gaze told you he realized exactly what had been bothering you all class. As he looked back at the girl, he slipped his bag onto his shoulder and stepped off the stage, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m sorry, but I only offer study sessions with students who are actually enrolled in my class,” he dismissed. Her giggle died out, and you saw a frown come over her face as Spencer added, “actually, if you’d excuse me, I’m late for one right now. Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Surprised to hear your name, you met his eyes as he turned towards you, waiting patiently at the bottom of the seats. Quickly scooping up your bag, you all but scampered down the steps and fell into step beside him as he led the way out of the lecture hall.

The two of you were silent as he unlocked his office, stepping aside to let you in. You heard the door shut behind you, and then the lock clicked into place. The sound send a rush of desire straight to your core.

“Come here.” It wasn’t a demand, his voice was too gentle for that, but you knew he left no room for argument. You dropped your bag beside one of the chairs and turned to him, instantly tucking yourself to his chest. His arms went tight around you and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You had no reason to be jealous, you know. You’re so beautiful I couldn’t see anything else.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you mumbled, and instantly Spencer pulled back. He took your chin between his fingers and tipped your head back to fix you with a stern stare.

“You know I don’t like being lied to, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t hold back the whine at the tone of his voice and it didn’t go unnoticed. “I wasn’t jealous. I was protective. Jealous means wanting something I can’t have, and I already have you. You’re mine, not theirs. I don’t like hearing them talk about you like you belong to them –“

Spencer’s lips crashed onto yours, cutting off your angry rant before it could even get going. Spencer’s arms tightened around you as he walked you back towards his desk. Your legs hit the edge of the desk and instantly he spun you in his arms, pulling your back flush against his chest.

His already-hard cock pressed against your ass and on instinct you rolled your hips back towards him. He let out a low growl, lips falling to your jaw like they had just a few hours ago. This time, his kisses didn’t stop. He slowly moved down your neck, pausing briefly to nip at the skin before running his tongue across to soothe the sting. You whimpered at every pinch of his teeth, writhing in his arms.

He kept one arm tight around your waist to pin you against him as the other hand came up to palm roughly at your breasts. He deftly undid the buttons of your blouse with one hand – which was a lot hotter than it should’ve been – and in moments he was pushing it off your shoulders as he tugged your bra down.

His large hands enveloped one of your breasts, finger gently pinching and tugging at your nipples until he had you moaning softly beneath his touch.

“They don’t mean a thing to me,” he murmured, lips coming up to brush against your ear, nipping softly at the base of your jaw. “They can say what they want to say, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only one for me, (Y/N).”

“Spencer,” you moaned as the arm around your waist finally let up so he could slide his hand under your skirt. His hips rocked subtly against your ass as he cupped your core, his palm pressing down and grinding slowly over your clothed clit.

Your hand wrapped over his wrist and gently you tugged him up just enough to guide those long, slim fingers into your panties. Spencer let out a low, eager grown as he ran his hand over your folds, biting down into your shoulder just this side of painful as you began to rock yourself against his touch. Normally you’d go slower, enjoy the buildup, but Spencer only had fifteen minutes before your next class and this time you weren’t walking away without fucking your boyfriend.

Slowly, he pressed a single finger into you and you gasped in pleasure, dropping your head back against his shoulder. He set a slow, tantalizing pace that had you rolling your hips down against his hand, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, slipping a second finger inside of you. With a gasp, you rocked down hard and said desperately,

“You, Spence. I want you. I need you.”

“Who do you need?”

“I – I need you, Professor,” you whined softly, not wanting to be too loud just in case one of his overeager fangirls came by his office for some alone time. The thought of them doing so – and then stumbling onto you getting pounded over Spencer’s desk – had you quivering around his fingers.

As you’d hoped, Spencer pulled his hand away, purposefully dragging over your clit and getting another desperate gasp from you. When you looked back to pout up at him, you froze in surprise. Spencer held your gaze with his lust-darkened eyes as he slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking them off slowly.

“Bend over,” he ordered, voice rough with need. You did as you were told, laying yourself over his desk and pressing back against his aching cock. With a growl, he pushed your skirt up over your hips and ripping down your panties. Both of you were too worked up for any more teasing.

He slid the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick before grabbing your hips to slowly ease himself into you. Both of you let out low, aching groans as he buried himself completely inside you. He kept one hand on your hip and the other splayed out over your lower back, holding you in place as he slowly began to move.

With each thrust he pushed you harder and harder into the desk until it was shaking beneath you, papers beginning to spill off. You were fighting to stay quiet but Spencer knew exactly how to fuck you in order to bring out the whimpers you couldn’t help.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted, the fingers around your hip digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises by tonight. “So perfect for me – fuck. You’re all I need.”

“You’re mine,” you moaned, arching back against him, desperate to take him as deep as you could.  “Only mine – oh god, Spencer!”

He’d stealthily pulled his hand off your back and slid it around to run his thumb over your swollen clit. He grunted as your walls clenched around him; you weren’t gonna last much longer.

“Only yours,” he promised, voice rough as he pounded into you, swirling his thumb over your aching bud. “Come for me. Come on my cock, (Y/N). Show me who I belong to.”

His words shoved you over the edge unexpectedly fast and you gave a choked moan as your body writhed over the desk, lost to your orgasm. Spencer pulled his thumb back as he felt you come down but his pace didn’t slow. You could feel his cock throbbing against you, he was so close.

“You belong to me,” you rasped, clinging to the desk as you looked back over your shoulder to stare up at him. There was no other word for Spencer at that moment besides beautiful. His curls were wild, mouth hanging open, chest heaving beneath his ridiculously attractive sweater vest.

His dark eyes met yours and as soon as they did you felt his rhythym slip. His hips stuttered, and with a low groan he fully buried into you once more, filling you up as he came hard inside of you. Fully spent, he collapsed over your back, barely catching himself on his forearm, head dropping to your shoulder.

The two of you stayed still, tangled with each other, until your breathing finally slowed. Pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, Spencer pulled out of you. As you went to stand, he gently pressed you back against the desk.

“Stay right there, sweetheart.”

You heard him grabbing a few tissues, and gently he cleaned you up, careful not to brush too hard over your sensitive core. Once clean, he knelt and slid your panties back up, kissing up your legs slowly before he stood. You finally pushed up from his desk with a groan and instantly his arms went around your waist to help you stand and get your balance.

Now that it was all said and done, you couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous for getting so jealous over the other girls. Spencer’s arms came around you again, and you could feel the question in his hold.

“Thank you for that,” you said softly, tipping your head to look up at him. “I know… I mean, I don’t doubt you love me. It’s just nice to be reminded after listening to them all class.”

“I’m glad you don’t doubt my love for you. I never want you to forget how much you mean to me,” he said honestly, dipping to give you a soft kiss. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. After this class, I’ll be speaking with the head of the department to make sure only students enrolled in the class can sit in on my lectures.”

A slow, surprised grin took over your face. “You’d really do that? I thought it looked better for you to have the lecture hall full –“

“I don’t care how it looks. I care how you feel and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel like this.”

Your arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck and his went around your waist, kissing sweetly as you smiled against each other’s lips. Though you broke apart, Spencer tucked you tight to his chest and you buried your face against his shoulder.

“I actually am gonna need one of Professor Reid’s study sessions before Thursday, though,” you mumbled into his jacket. “I… didn’t catch most of what you said today.”

Spencer stifled a sigh as he stepped back, giving you a mildly chastising frown. You caught the smile in his eyes as the two of you grabbed your bags and he unlocked the door. He started down one hall and you down the other, but he paused to call out pointedly,

“Come see me after class then, Miss (Y/L/N). I’ll make sure you pay attention this time.”

With a smirk, you looked back at him over your shoulder, enjoying the way his eyes were already starting to dark again as he watched you walk away, calling back to him teasingly,

“Yes, Professor.”

The smile he left you with promised you’d be paying for that comment later.

[starrybethany]

Matthew Tkachuk . 1 . Outrunning Karma

Word count: 3K

Song: Outrunning Karma by Alec Benjamin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4vD2S5vQMM

Today marks one month since I began working at this school. One month of teaching at a public school for the first time- one month of dealing with some of the best and worst kids I have ever met or taught.

“... but let me tell you guys, no matter what your previous English teachers might have told you, colors don’t always have to have symbolism. It could just be the author wanting you to visualize the object or situation more,” I explain, leaning back on my desk.

Despite this being a required sophomore English class, all of the kids look engaged and interested in the material. I’m not one to brag, but some of my previous students have told me that I’m the best teacher they’ve ever had because I talk and create activities that peak the students interest so that they want to learn the lesson.

I never tell them it’s because I spend hours scrolling through Pinterest, considering if each student would like each activity.

The bell rings signaling the end of the day and I glance over at the clock in surprise. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in whatever I’m teaching I don’t even notice the time passing me by. “Okay, well have a good night, everyone! There’s no homework tonight.”

I watch them leave the classroom, getting up to sit behind my desk and grade some homework and exercises I made the students do. I’m reading one of the essays about the book they read over the summer when the sound of heels clicking on the floor make me look up.

Anna Turner and I met in college. We had the same major, secondary education, but different minors because she teaches math and I teach English. When she found out that I was quitting my job at the all-girls Catholic school I used to teach at- for reasons I’d rather forget about- she begged me to apply at the public high school that she teaches at. As you can see, I got the job and decided to take it.

“How’s it going?” She asks, leaning over my desk.

“Good. I don’t have any students that have a grade lower than a C.” I do a fist pump in the air and she laughs at my antics.

“That’s good. So, Mr. Wright wants you in his office right now,” she tells me.

My eyes widen in surprise. At my last school, whenever you got called to the office you knew something bad was going to happen. I was only there once and for the reason that I was called in there for, I quit.

“Did I do something wrong?” I question.

“No, no you didn’t,” she reassures me. “Just go.”

So I follow her orders, making my way through the hallways with “hellos” to my students on my way to the small office at the back of the school. I knock on the door before opening it, immediately thrown off by the dim lighting in the usually well-lit office.

I’m startled by the sight of someone who is not Principal Wright behind his desk. Instead, it’s an attractive man who appears to be my age or maybe even younger. It’s obvious that his borderline-blonde-borderline-brown hair is naturally curly but he has it cut into a way that he can control it.

His eyes are a gentle mix of blue and green- it’s hard to tell what it actually is. His mouth parts, revealing a gap in between his top two front teeth which makes me swoon at the boyish vibe that he gives off.

When a smirk covers his face I snap out of my daydream about our seven kids, realizing that I’m probably drooling all over the floor at how hot this guy is.

“Oh, sorry, um, I’m supposed to be meeting with Principal Wright,” I stutter through, cursing myself for the lack of confidence.

“No, you’re not.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion and nervousness rushes through me, both because of the confusion this situation is bringing and the fact that such a good-looking guy is staring at me right now. “I’m sorry?”

“Come sit down, Y/N.”

I’m immediately thrown off by the fact that this guy knows my name. How does he know me yet I don’t know him?

“Um, I’d rather not,” I deny as politely as I can, taking a step back. My back touches something and I freeze, my blood running cold. I turn around slowly to find a tall, looming man behind me. He smiles at me but it’s obvious by the gesture that I need to do whatever this stranger is telling me.

So I turn around, ignoring the fact that the smirk on this stranger’s face has grown, and reluctantly sit in one of the arm chairs in front of Mr. Wright’s desk. Or this guy’s desk, who knows anymore?

“How was class today?” He inquires.

I give him an odd expression, unsure of his intentions. I don’t know him and the fact that I’m pressured to talk to him in such a weird setting makes me unsettled. It’s also weird that he would pressure me into talking to him just to ask me about the students. That can’t be the only thing that he wants to know from this conversation, but I don’t know what else he wants to know.

“Good,” I answer simply, not positive of what to say or how much to give away.

“So, let me introduce myself. My name is Matthew, this school and I have a deal and since you’re going to stick around for a while, it’s time to inform you of, uh, what’s going on,” he begins. I grow more and more anxious with every word. “We provide protection to this school, since you know it’s not in the safest area of the city, and in return the school allows us to use the facilities and resources for our, um, how do I say this, activities.”

I raise my eyebrows in question to the ‘activities’ part but quickly shove them back down. By the way that he phrases it, the situation isn’t anything good, none the less legal, so it’s best to know as little as possible.

But really, the school allows this to occur on campus? With kids around? What if the kids see someone getting murdered or using cocaine, will the school pay for their therapy bills or can it afford court bills if they get taken to court?

“Now that you’re a part of the crew-”But I’m not-”You might have to do some things in order to keep your protection.”

From the way he says it, I know it’s not just protection from muggers or rapists on the outside. Now, it includes him and whatever gang or mafia or mob he’s a part of.

“Like what?” I find myself asking.

He grins at me, showing me that gap again. This time, it doesn’t make me swoon. Instead it makes my heart beat ten times faster. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, sweetheart.”

He stares at me and I stare back at him. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what he wants me to say. I’m afraid to say anything in fear of saying the wrong thing- one wrong thing and I could get my head blown off. And I know if I open my mouth I just might start crying.

“Any questions?”

I shake my head silently.

“Okay. We’ll call you when you’re needed then. Or maybe stop by your apartment, depending on the time,” he responds, playing with one of Principal Wright’s pens. “Milan, show her out.”

The big man from earlier guides me back into the hallway all the while I can feel Matthew’s eyes on me. I take deep breaths to steady my breathing and it’s like I’m just going through the motions, packing up my stuff and driving back to my apartment.

My apartment. They know where I live. And I bet if I packed up and moved, they would figure out my address then, too. The mafia never lets you go once it gets its hold on you.

Troy: FaceTime?

I’ve never rejected a FaceTime call from my boyfriend. These days, those calls are too far and few between and I miss him more than I can put into words. It’s only been a year since he was transferred to Toronto but comparing that one year that he’s been away to the two and a half years that he’s been by my side, I can easily pick which one I prefer more.

Y/N: Not feeling well tonight, sorry.

I make my dinner, ignoring my phone vibrating beside me with an incoming text. I check it as I begin to eat.

Troy: What’s wrong?

I don’t respond to his text. It’s not like I can tell him the truth, that the mafia owns my work and threatened me. He would tell me to go to the police but it’s not that easy, Matthew probably has tons of people in his pocket, including the ones whose job it is to enforce the law.

I clean up my dinner, sitting down at the kitchen counter to grade an exercise I made the students write about an interesting thing they found out about their home city of Calgary.

The city of Calgary is run by a mafia called the ‘Calgary Flames.’ They’ve been around since 1972 and have had several leaders over the years, previously Mark Giordano and currently Matthew Tkachuk. You can recognize a mafia member by a tattoo all of the members have to get, which is a C with flames shooting out from it on the inside of their left ankle. They are famous for crimes like drug trafficking, money laundering, corruption of public officials, murder, and kidnapping just to name a few.

It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of me. This can’t be about the same person I met earlier, right? Sure, they share the same name and that Matthew does seem to be a part of something sketchy, but that’s just a coincidence. The Matthew that I’ve met and that I’ll have to be interacting with for who knows how long can’t be a part of something so- so vile.

I can’t imagine anyone doing any of those things listed. Those are all horrendous crimes and to do those around kids would make those people awful human beings. Well, there’s only one way I can tell if this is the same Matthew or not.

I need to see his ankle.

~

It’s a while before I see him again. The next time I see him I’m scanning through the pile of copies in my hands, frustrated by the fact that the copy machine didn’t staple the papers automatically once again.

“Hey Ms. Y/LN, was there any homework for the weekend?” The familiar voice of one of my students asks.

I lift my head to make eye contact, my blood running cold and I freeze in my place as my eyes meet Matthew’s. He’s standing next to Tanner, a student in my eighth hour, who asked the question, and it’s clear that he interrupted a conversation he was having with the older man to ask the question.

I know Matthew does business here but I didn’t expect him to actually communicate with the students. That seems like a boundary that he would know better than to cross, but I guess if he’s in the mafia he doesn’t know any boundaries.

“Um, I just wanted you guys to read chapters eight and nine of your novels for Monday,” I answer, crossing my arms protectively over my chest.

I watch the blonde’s eyes flicker down to watch the movement.

“Okay. See you Monday.” The sophomore shuts the locker, giving a lazy wave to the mafia leader before heading down the hall.

It’s like I’m stuck in place. I know I should move, I know I should avoid as much contact with Matthew as possible, but for some reason my feet won’t listen to my brain’s screaming.

He nods at me in greeting. “How are you doing today, Y/N?”

“Good,” I shift on my feet. I know I have to confirm whether he’s actually a mafia leader or not. If he’s not, he’s just some shady guy doing shady business at my place of work. If he is- well, I don’t even want to think about that.

The plan formulates in my head and I go to move forward, purposefully tripping over my feet and landing on the floor with a ‘thud’, all of the papers in my arms scattering throughout the hallway.

Just as I expected, as any person with an inch of compassion in their heart would do, he bends down on the ground to help me pick up the papers. I watch carefully as I pick up the sheets, eyes connected to his left ankle.

And there it is.

The student described it well in the writing, but it’s much more intricate and detailed up close. It’s a nice design, I’ll give him that, but knowing the terrifying meaning behind the symbol sends shivers up my spine.

All of my fears and worries are confirmed. The city’s mafia leader is standing in front of me, reaching out and expecting me to take his hand so he can lift me off of the ground. He wants me to touch his hands- hands he’s probably used to kill people with before.

He’s talking to me but it feels like I’m underwater. I can’t hear what he’s saying, all I can listen to is the thud of my heart and the static that my brain is creating with trying to think of a logical thought or reaction to this situation.

“Y/N?”

My body turns on it’s fight-or-flight instinct, and as I usually do, I decide to listen to the flight part. I take the papers out of his hand, being careful to not touch him, and mumble a, “Gotta go.”

I take off down the hall before he can react, reaching my classroom and practically slamming the door shut behind me.

Breathe, think.

“What happened to you?” Someone inquires.

My eyes snap up from the tile floor to see Anna sitting at a student desk. I know it’s not fair, but I can’t help but blame her. She’s probably known about the mafia’s involvement here all along and yet, she told me to get a job here. And she’s the one who sent me down to the office to meet Matthew.

I’ve been avoiding her for the past week, always making sure that I’m talking to a student or too busy to chat with her whenever I see her. I feel disrespected and hurt that she would put me in a situation like this.

I thought we were better friends than that.

I narrow my eyes at her, knowing that if I say anything it won’t be that nice.

She sighs. It takes everything in me to not sock her in the mouth because of that sigh.

“Listen, Y/N, I know you’ve met Matt now and-””How could you ever do this to me?” I snap, interrupting her.

“It’s deeper than you think-””Of course it is, he’s in the fucking mafia, Anna!” I can’t help but yell. “I want you out. I want you out of my classroom and out of my life.”

I can see the hurt burn in her eyes at my words but I no longer care. If she doesn’t care about me enough that she’s willing to risk my safety and well-being, I don’t want to continue a relationship with her.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” I yank the door open for effect. “Get out. Now.”

She drags her feet as she leaves, like she thinks that I’ll end up changing my mind and suddenly decide that what she did was okay. I won’t.

~

“Hey,” Troy greets me as I answer his FaceTime call.

“Hi. I miss you,” I grin sadly, wanting nothing more than to be in my loving boyfriend’s arms right now. Having a long distance relationship is one of the hardest things that I’ve ever done.

“I miss you too. I wish we could’ve FaceTimed the other day,” he states, bringing up the fact that I left him on read when all he wanted to do was talk to me.

I sigh. “I wasn’t in the mood, Troy. And I’m not in the mood to talk about it today, either.”

He nods. “I can respect that. So… day…?”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Even though we are separated by three thousand miles and are in two completely different provinces, our calls usually have great connection with problems only if it’s raining outside. And judging from the clear skies in both of our backgrounds, that’s not a problem.

“What? Sorry the connection cut out,” I respond, deciding that it must be the wifi or something.

“I said… your…”

“Ask it again,” I request.

“How… today?”

I bite my lip out of frustration. After the rough day that I’ve had today and the unknown that’s coming tomorrow, poor connection when I’m just trying to rant and catch up with my boyfriend is the last thing that I want.

“The connection is just not working, Troy, I can’t hear you,” I admit.

“... not… fault!” His voice raises and the screen freezes, one frame replacing the other every couple of seconds.

“I don’t know why you’re yelling now.”

“Because…” The sound completely cuts out. Exhaustion hits me, from finding out that Matthew is in the mafia, to yelling at Anna, to getting into this argument with Troy. All I want to do is sleep and become refreshed for tomorrow.

“Troy, I’m getting tired, I’m going to head off to bed. Hopefully this connection will be better tomorrow.” I hang up the phone before he can say anything, knowing that I won’t be able to hear it anyways.

I know one thing. And that’s that I’m not ready for what’s coming tomorrow.

[culturechroniclesblog-blog]

Neon Genesis Evangelion & Making Arthouse Work

There is a lot of arthouse media out there. Anime certainly has its fair share, and who hasn't watched a Lynch or Jodowrosky film solely to lord your cultural sophistication over your inferiors? Most of them share a common thread of being “art for art’s sake”: impressive on an aesthetic or thematic level while a little lacking in character and narrative, which leaves its wider appeal, ah, limited at best.

Neon Genesis Evangelion is a show that cannot escape its ending. The show’s final stretch is totalizing in the popular discourse - everyone knows it "goes off the rails" in its latter half. Evangelion becomes an arthouse show, throwing reality to the curb in exchange for an assault of abstract and introspective setpieces. At age fourteen when you inevitably first see it, your mind is blown by it all, which is fair if it’s your first taste of the genre. However, coming back to it over a decade later like I did, having seen way more avant-style media than is probably healthy, I expected to enjoy the show but also see it just-another-entry into the genre.

Instead it held up masterfully. Evangelion is replete with flaws if you look at its whole picture, but in the execution of its arthouse appeal I saw it soaring past its competition in so many ways. In hindsight it had to - why else would an entire generation of fans trumpet it as one of the most successful shows of all time despite all those rails it went off? Evangelion, through undoubtedly sheer luck and insanity, stumbled on a way to make arthouse work for audiences beyond its niche, and I think that is the key to what makes the show as a whole function so well.

A World Without Uncertainty

As previously mentioned, most avant animation & film privileges aesthetics first in its visuals. The goal is to evoke a mood or feeling, and whether or not it really connects to the narrative is pretty secondary. I am certainly not bashing that - the way this challenges the viewer creates a unique experience. But even I will admit that sometimes it makes it, well, a bit hard to care about what’s happening on the screen.

Evangelion dodges this problem pretty much completely by making so many of its visual elements extremely direct. Honestly if you look at the majority of the more out-there sections of the show sequence by sequence, they would barely qualify as out of the ordinary! To choose one, take one of my favourite moments from Episode 26:

This sequence is not a mind-boggling piece of animation, at all. The concept of an outer frame that contains fast-moving images that reflect the nature of that frame is not new - ever seen this before?

--- It even has a red background, the hacks! ---

Not exactly the peak of avant-garde cinema here. Evangelion adds to the directness because this sequence is playing to illustrate that, literally, Shinji's identity is composed of the people in his life, and his desires are shaped by how they see him. It’s one of the core themes of the show - other people's conceptions of you are, in a way, just as much "you" as your own conception of you. What better way to illustrate that concept visually than having those people flashing through the frame of your body? While still an abstract animation sequence, it is not at all "art for the sake of art". It’s tied directly to the narrative, with a clear meaning - there is even dialogue partially explaining it.

This clarity exists for most of the more out-there sequences in Evangelion. The show's real "challenge" to the audience comes in how it strings sequences like these together, often at a breakneck pace. While in isolation they are only borderline abstract, when thrown together you are pounded down by the mix of themes and aesthetics. Look at Asuka's breakdown in Episode 22:

The scene has a cool visual design with the color contrast, to heighten the faceless crowd vibe - which it should, because Asuka is constantly fighting to not drown in a sea of anonymity, to stand out from the crowd and be the best pilot, to rely on no one but herself - and yet she constantly fears she is doomed to fail. This pretty-clear sequence, though, jumps quickly into this:

Then goes into this:

--- Eat your seizure-warning heart out, Pokemon ---

And in 20 seconds the show has thrown a half dozen thematic ideas at you via abstract representation. The viewer is absolutely overwhelmed on their first viewing from this, it becomes an aesthetic and you get that unique “arthouse experience”. But almost none of it is art for art's sake - you are watching a plot, a narrative, it almost all has dialogue explaining it. If you slowed it down you could get almost all of these scenes on the first watch, and on a rewatch you will probably pick it up fully. It’s this merging of abstraction and concreteness that elevates Evangelion above most other arthouse animation I've seen; you are constantly challenged, but never so much as to surrender and give up.

(Note: When I say that these scenes are “direct: or “clear”, I don’t mean that they have only one meaning, or that everyone will agree on the meaning. Their meaning is based on many other scenes, each with their own ambiguities and layers, and those differences will multiply out over the course of the show to result in varied interpretations. That process is different, however, from scenes having only aesthetic content, with no or little inherent narrative grounding.)

Realizing the Obvious Over and Over

Okay, the art itself walks the clarity/abstraction line, but even if it is connected to the narrative, why do this? Why would an audience want something that was a "typical" show to move in this direction? A lot of viewers have commented on the severity of the "shift" in the later episodes of Evangelion (generally starting around episode 16), a disconnect the fandom has not failed to capitalize on:

This split has its own meta-narrative, based on the production history of the show. Anno's growing mental illness - always present from the beginning - and huge production woes involving having to scrap already-complete episodes, caused a "breaking point" around this time where he threw caution to the wind and let capital-D Depression take the wheel. While there is some truth to this in the meta-sense, I have never liked the idea that the show itself has such a split. I instead see the more arthouse final stretch as more-or-less a natural outgrowth of the narrative, not a meta-split. In particular, the arthouse second "half" only functions as a reflection of and continuation of the more traditional first half, and without that first half it would fall on its face.

To show why that is the case, I want to explain a type of narrative arc that really hits my personal aesthetic in long form media that I am calling now and forever more the "Multifaceted Character Arc". Essentially, these are when characters have a core arc, and over the course of events they resolve this arc - but the show or book or what-have-you is only halfway done. They could just have a second, different arc, but instead the resolution of their previous arc proceeds to be undermined, picked apart, and exposed as a partial lie, and the character realizes they haven't resolved anything yet; and so the same arc continues, but from a different angle.

Evangelion embodies this trope on turn-it-up-to-eleven steroids. Episode 16 might be the "split" point in the meta-sense, but I always looked at Episode 12 as the narrative split-point, where the first half "ends". Episode 12 wraps up with Shinji, Misato, Asuka, and Rei having a ramen dinner together after beating an Angel, and so many of their previous arcs are "resolved". Shinji has opened up, comfortable with his surrogate family and no longer pushing them away, Asuka is letting her guard down and actually thought about Misato when choosing where to eat, something early-Asuka wouldn’t be caught dead doing, Rei is socializing, and so on. Shinji even admits why he wants to pilot the Eva (praise from his father), which has been one of his "arc" question up until this point, and he seems to have finally figured things out.

--- This might actually be the last happy expression Shinji has till the finale ---

Of course, the directing will have none of that, because this is a false peace. Misato, who is wise to the wider narrative, knows exactly on how shaky a ground this is all built on, and gives Shinji the side-eye to prove it.

--- The “we call those daddy issues, Shinji” face ---

Episode 13 is a Ritsuko side-story, and episode 14 is a recap episode....look, I never said Evangelion was perfect, okay? But once episode 15 rolls around all of this narrative build-up starts being completely undone: Shinji and Asuka's stable-ish friendship gains some very-unstable romantic overtones, Misato has a full-on emotional breakdown, and we are off to the races in episode 16 as Shinji's newfound confidence and masculine need to wave his dick around for Asuka's benefit results in one-way ticket to psycho-analysis mind-screw station:

I could go into how these themes develop from here, but that isn’t the focus of this essay. My point with all this build is instead to focus on two core narrative elements: justification, and engagement. All of the out-there elements and pyscho-analytic themes of the second half of Evangelion are present in the first half, and were presented in a typical way - character interactions, dialogue, plot events, and so on. Remember that scene I mentioned before from Asuka's breakdown, of her being swamped by ghostly forms, and how it referred to Asuka’s desire stand alone from the crowd through her skills as a pilot? I know what it meant thematically, cause here is Asuka, implying to you, in dialogue, what that scene is going to mean 8 episodes earlier (“it” is “pilot the Eva”):

And this isn’t even the first scene this theme has come up in, I could pull up a number of screenshots if I needed to of her either implying or directly stating this desire, its conflicts, and having resolutions around them.

The avant latter half of Evangelion can throw half a dozen themes at you in sequences of abstract animation because you have already spent half a season thinking about these issues in normal terms. It’s the multifaceted character arc - they have been continually struggling with these issues and exploring different solutions to them, solutions that seem to fail. On this backdrop, to repeat these themes again using traditional narrative tools would be, well, boring. Evangelion isn’t an essay, it’s a visual medium; the show has set the stage with the regular visual tricks of the trade for exploring these arcs, but in the latter half of the show  it pushes what that visual medium can do. With that grounding, unlike in so much avant work, you can fully follow along with it. Essentially, Evangelion made you do your homework before the test.

The Ones You Love Mean More Than Anything

This groundwork is true on an intellectual/comprehension level, but it is also true on an emotional level; not only do you understand better these abstract elements, you also care about them, because they are not just referring back to factual elements but human moments. To take an example, Shinji and Asuka have several fight scenes that occur in abstract-head-space, and in one of them Asuka (wanna guess who my favourite character is?) is ripping into Shinji for how he fails to reach out to her, to make her feel wanted, and she mentions this:

The image here is one of many flashing across the screen at the time, but it’s a flashback to the aftermath of their kiss in episode 15. The “hold” here isn’t metaphorical; it’s a direct reference to how he didn’t hold her during the kiss. If you didn’t think it was clear, look back at the actual episode 15 footage - how the kiss scene focuses entirely on Shinji's hand in all its not-holding-Asuka glory. Like, really:

--- This shot is held for over 15 seconds, with only Shinji’s hand moving. Also a penguin walks by, don’t ask. ---

This is a really impactful call-back, part of the multi-faceted arc, as Asuka continually tries to figure out her feelings for Shinji and fails. Except, the scene being referenced here is not shot as a dramatic relationship moment, it’s a comedy scene. Its honestly hilarious, one of the worst first kisses ever on screen, to the point where Shinji almost suffocates to death because he is such a wuss and Asuka is such a tsundere. And at the end of the show they take this moment and transform it into part of Asuka and Shinji's relationship implosion. 

Which means that you care about it! Because you are going to care about two kids’ fumbling attempts at romance far more than an essay on isolation and connection, for all the reasons those narratives traditionally work. Real people never have endless strings of introspection - introspection is something you do on a life that you have otherwise been living, with moments of seriousness and moments of hilarity and dumbness. Evangelion can show that, because it isn’t drama 24/7. Its first 15 episodes have comedy, action, slice-of-life, the works.

I think this is the element that really makes Evangelion stand out - that it can push what is happening onscreen to the limits of abstraction, and you are not only going to understand it, but also remember the human beings it is all happening to. It not only put in the time to make these characters fully-fleshed out, but connects back its new later elements to the moments that made them so fleshed out. It justifies going as far as it does through its arcs, and engages you emotionally as it escalates, while so many attempts at arthouse media either fail or don’t bother with either of those key elements. Evangelion is a show that starts as a highly traditional narrative, ends as an arthouse film, and by binding it all together so tightly makes you think it couldn’t have gone any other way. Which, it turns out, is a pretty good way to make the arthouse elements actually work.

....

Oh yeah, so Neon Genesis Evangelion: 10/10. Like the score? We are supposed to do that, right? That’s my score.

-Tim

---------

Final Notes: I have a bunch of other thoughts on Evangelion, and so while I imagine a lot of the shows we watch are going to get one cohesive essay, I will almost definitely have some follow-up posts - this post is just the main one that connects so many of my biggest takeaways together. I definitely want to write a few on the plot issues and their (non)relevance, the ways Shinji’s arc is perceived by fandom, and some other topics, but I do want to put up a few essays on other anime so we don’t have a massive Evangelion dump starting out the project. Hopefully I will get some inspiration on more topics from all the great ~discourse~ going on around Evangelion right now, and we will see what gets written.

[mermaidsirennikita]

August 2019 Reading Wrap-up

Easily the highlight of my reading month was Leigh Bardugo’s King of Scars, AKA “My Monster Boyfriend: THE NOVEL”, but it was overall a decent month for me.  In terms of being engrossed, I would say that Erin Ferencik’s Into the Jungle, a classic survival thriller, was probably the other major standout.  Excited about fall reading this year!

Cocoa Beach by Beatriz Williams.  2/5.  Virginia arrives in Cocoa Beach with her small daughter to collect upon her dead husband’s estate.  The issue?  Virginia and Simon were estranged.  After meeting Simon and embarking on a whirlwind romance against the battlefields of World War I, Virginia discovered that he was not what she thought, and is now confronted with the realities of her husband’s life--and his death in a fire, which she does not believe was all it seemed...  I never connected with Williams’s style in the book.  She’s obviously talented, and I’m not against trying a different book of hers, but--much of the novel is flashbacks to Simon and Virginia’s romance, and I think you need to buy into Simon in order to enjoy the novel.  I did not.

King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo.  5/5.  In a follow-up to Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy, Nikola, now King of Ravka, is hiding a terrible secret from his people.  Still struggling with demons both personal and literal, he hunts for a cure alongside Zoya, his adviser, while attempting to strengthen a nation weakened by war, and quell a continuing fascination among the people with the Darkling.  I can’t say much more without spoiling two different series--as a main character from the Six of Crows duology is also a POV character here--but this was SO GOOD.  I feel like I might have liked it more than anything else Bardugo has done?  Though I did love Six of Crows so much.  I feel like she’s grown a lot as a writer since the Shadow and Bone trilogy, which was honestly just okay for me--but how much of that was just me not connecting with Alina?  Here we visit Ravka again, but with more compelling characters.  And I adored it.  Nikolai and Zoya’s side of the story is my favorite, and I need those two just MAKE IT FUCKING WORK.  Can’t wait for the next book.  And yes, I loved the ending.

The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simons.  3/5.  As World War II looms, young Tatiana lives in Leningrad with her family. In a chance meeting, she encounters Alexander--a Soviet soldier with a mysterious past--and they immediately connect, only for her to discover that he is already seeing her older sister.  Once the war starts, however, Tatiana and Alexander are plunged into the realities of fighting for their lives, and while also holding back their true feelings for each other.  I read this years ago and gave it 4 stars; I had to dial it back a bit here.  The tension between Tatiana and Alexander is great, and I respect the way Simons portrays the horrors of war from a Soviet perspective.  But the book hasn’t aged super well, not only in terms of Alexander and Tatiana being a bit cipher-y, but the very... odd way that the Russian perspective is handled.  Simons emigrated to the States, but did so as a young teen from what I can tell.  Obviously, for reasons her family can attest to.  But I felt like I was getting a very... anti-Russian Russian perspective?  And it overwhelmed the emotional aspects of the story.  Plus, it was just too long for what was essentially, overall, a romance novel.

Scandals of Classic Hollywood by Anne Helen Petersen.  3/5.  Anne Helen Petersen takes on scandals from the beginnings of Hollywood the the 1960s, examining what happened and how the stars--and the systems backing them--dealt with the public fallout.  That’s pretty much it.  This is a collection of essays, really, and while I appreciate the work Petersen put into it and the shrewd observations she makes, I would have liked a BIT more detail on the scandals themselves, versus what they meant on a larger scale.

The Whisper Network by Chandler Baker.  4/5.  Attorneys at a high-powered at TruViv, Inc., Sloan, Ardie, and Grace have forged a friendship and alliance, of sorts.  Then TruViv’s CEO dies--leaving the position open for Ames Garrett, their boss, to take.  Sloan has her own personal issues with Ames, stemming from a years-old affair that he never fully forgave her for ending; but the women’s concerns hit a fever pitch when Catherine, a new hire, reveals that Ames harassed her.  As the lawyers’ paths cross with that of Rosalita, a member of the cleaning staff, the consequences are not just high stakes, but deadly.  I listened to this on Audible, and I’ll admit that my enjoyment was somewhat affected by the fact that the narrator had the most put-on Texas accent for Sloan on the face of the Earth, and I wasn’t... 100% sure about what she was doing for Rosalita either.  But the novel is not only timely but exciting.  Ames isn’t a cartoonish figure.  Nor are the women saints.  Sloan in particular can be borderline insufferable, but in a way that I found realistic for a privileged, high-powered white woman.  Do I think Baker could have called out that aspect better, especially since Rosalita, a POV character, isn’t white or rich?  Yes.  And towards the end, there was one reveal that seemed tacked on just for the sake of symmetry.  But then there was that OTHER reveal............. and that, I loved.  It’s a bit of a mixed bag of a book, but entertaining and timely.

Into the Jungle by Erin Ferencik.  4/5.  Nineteen-year-old Lily has lived in foster homes for all of her life.  In an effort to make a new start, she moves to Bolivia for a teaching job that ends up being a scam, and finds herself working at a run-down hotel. That’s when she meets Omar, a Bolivian man, and is swept off her feet. When Omar receives news that his nephew was killed by a jaguar, his compelled to return to his home of Ayachero, a village deep within the Bolivian jungle.  Despite his warnings, Lily follows him, only to find herself not only completely out of her depth culturally, but at the mercy of the jungle and all that comes with it.  This book had fucking atmosphere.  I felt all of it.  The romance, the terror, the increasing danger of the jungle.  It was kind of a classic woman vs. nature novel.  It’s probably one of my favorite books of the year--but I’m held back from rating it higher because it was written by a white woman, and most of the characters are native Bolivians and I tend to wonder about how accurate or fair the portrayal of that culture is.  I just felt uncomfortable at some points--but I can’t say if that was justified or not.  I would recommend it as a thriller, of sorts, but not in a traditional sense.  It’s certainly compelling.

Year One by Norah Roberts.  2/5.  After the chance killing of a bird, a pandemic begins to spread throughout the word, killing off billions of people in a matter of weeks.  Those that are left to survive do so in a perilous environment, with the Uncanny--people with magical abilities--targeted in some areas while rising up in others.  Lana, a witch, traveled with her lover Max in an effort to find a safe place, alongside others who are Immune from the Doom--only to find that she’s a much greater part of the world’s fate than she would have though.  The beginning of this book was great.  Then the urban fantasy elements set in.  I love urban fantasy, but the introduction of fairies and elves didn’t work well here.

How to Walk Away by Katherine Center.  4/5.  On the day that she gets engaged to her boyfriend, Chip, Margaret is injured in an accident that will change her life forever.  Waking up in the hospital with third degree burns and having lost her ability to walk, her relationships with her partner and her family are immediately altered, and she struggles to see what the future could hold.  At the same time, she’s partnered with Ian, a brusque and demanding physical therapist--who ends up bringing even more questions. As Margaret seeks a new identity, she discovers support where she would have least expected it.  This is a fluffy romcom of a book, while dealing with a serious issue--and though this is being compared to be Me Before You, I tend to think it handles that issue in a much healthier way.  The book certainly benefits from being from the perspective of the disabled person, versus a caregiver.  On the flipside, I do think that it suffered somewhat in the romantic department, which could probably be critiqued better by someone who has been in a wheelchair; part of me felt like, had there been less fluff and more physicality, I would have been more invested.  But while it doesn’t reinvent the wheel, this is a nice story if you’re looking for something light and quick without sacrificing emotion.

Catherine the Great by Robert K. Massie.  4/5.  A biography on Catherine the Great, attempting to tackle her as a woman.  I don’t know what else to say.  It was good?  Nothing super in depth, doesn’t bring anything particularly NEW to the table from what I’ve read, but it seems like a good primer.

[jeontaeh]

〚EIGHTEEN〛

Jungkook felt a soft whine leave his lips, fingers clenching around white bedsheets as Taehyung fucked him, cock rooting deep inside his ass.

"A-ah-" Jungkook let out, his hips getting pulled higher up as Taehyung continued fucking in and out of him. Jungkook was on his knees, palms against the bed, ass up in the air, Taehyung behind him. "I-I'm g-gonna cum,-"

Taehyung had a sheen of sweat all over him, letting his hand trail up Jungkook's quivering thigh and travel to his cock. "Cum for me, baby," Taehyung said, tugging on his member. Jungkook let out a whimper, before cumming all over his tummy.

Taehyung smirked, and continued rocking into him, bed shaking slightly from the rigorous movement. Jungkook stayed pliant and steady until Taehyung came in him, and then felt another choked out whine leave his throat at that.

"I really," Taehyung panted, pulling out of him and falling onto the bed. "-wanna fuck you raw."

Jungkook turned around, looking a mess. His hair was all messed up and his cheeks were rosy red, eyes dilated and parts of his body reddened from where Taehyung grabbed him really hard. "That sounds fun but I don't want aids, so no thanks." Jungkook said, and Taehyung whined, falling atop of him, nestling his nose in the crook of his neck.

"Pleaseee-" Taehyung said softly, and Jungkook giggled, wrapping his legs around him, both flopping to their sides on the bed.

"Noooo~" Jungkook replied, and Taehyung wrapped his arms around his waist. "Maybe later.. when you're clean," Jungkook said, and Taehyung looked up at him.

"Okay well winter break is coming up-" Taehyung said, kissing Jungkook on the mouth. "-so I'll go to the doctor-" Taehyung continued, kissing Jungkook again. "-and then maybe I can sow my seed in you-"

"Not if you use THAT metaphor." Jungkook said as he rolled off the bed, grimacing and making a fake puking noise. He stood up, waddling over to the pile of clothes on the floor.

"Oh come on now," Taehyung said, sitting up, letting out a snicker. Jungkook looked around for his clothes, while Taehyung raked his body with his eyes."What're you doing?"

"Putting my clothes on? I'm really sleepy so I wanna go back to my dorm-" Jungkook started, but then Taehyung stood up, walking over to him.

Taehyung grabbed his forearm. "Just stay at mine," Taehyung said, emotionless.

Jungkook hesitated. "A-as in.. sleep in your- your bed-?" Jungkook squeaked, and Taehyung cleared his throat, looking away.

"I mean, you could sleep in the other bed, but it's not as comfortable." Taehyung mumbled, and Jungkook looked at him for a few seconds.

Taehyung turned around, and Jungkook saw his muscles tense up a little. "Dammit, Jungkook- I'm not good at this kind of thing. Just- fucking- stay over tonight and sleep in my fucking bed, stop being a bitch about it," Taehyung snapped, and Jungkook felt his eyes glimmer a little.

Okay, he knows Taehyung has a hard time with emotions and stuff. But even the slightest glimpse into a more vulnerable, open, lovable Taehyung made Jungkook's heart gallop.

"Okay.." Jungkook trailed, picking up a random t-shirt and putting it on (knowing damn well it was Taehyung's). "You're so bossy, sheesh."

Taehyung slapped Jungkook's ass as the boy jumped onto the bed. Taehyung smiled at him, and then took a pair of trackpants and tugged them on, jumping onto the bed himself. Jungkook giggled, looking up at Taehyung, who looked down at him with a small smile.

Jungkook leaned up and kissed him really hard. And in the midst of kissing him realised two things.

1. Fuckbuddies don't just share beds and kiss for no reason.

And as Taehyung kissed him back and wrapped his arms around Jungkook, Jungkook realised the second.

2. Fuckbuddies don't just cuddle.

But Jungkook laid his head on Taehyung's shoulder, and it fit so perfect, and his hands fit like a jigsaw with Taehyung's, and his lips slotted so well with Taehyung's, and Jungkook just wanted. Wanted Taehyung to open his eyes right now, look at Taehyung, and tell him the same.

Instead, Taehyung opened his eyes and looked at Jungkook for a few seconds. Jungkook gulped, looking up at him hesitantly. He felt a hand on his thigh, and then saw Taehyung suck in a sharp breath, and let out a few words.

"Kook," Taehyung said, and Jungkook hummed. Taehyung's gaze was intense, almost killing, lips looking ever so close to kissing Jungkook. "You're- you're my best friend,"

And Jungkook paused. He let that sink into his mind, and then nodded ever so slightly, tucking his head back onto Taehyung's shoulder.

He then realised two things. Two crucial things.

1. This was literally a fucking Taylor Swift song.

2. He didn't say it back.

///

Falling in love would have a few steps to them, as said by Taylor Swift circa 2014;

One night he wakes Strange look on his face Pauses, then says. "You're my best friend." And you knew what it was He is in love.

Thus raises the question- Was Taehyung in Love???

Answer, simple and short, : no.

Okay so next morning (after the beating hearts, gleaming eyes, hesitant hand holding, and much-too-soon spooning) Jungkook woke up, took one good look at Taehyung sleeping soundly, and bolted.

It was a Saturday, a good day, and Jungkook had his fingers bent from how shaky they'd been since the night before. Taehyung held his hand all night, and Jungkook couldn't fucking sleep with that going on.

So here he was, in the library, with the laptop opened in front of him. It was currently 3 pm. He had successfully avoided Taehyung all day. Jungkook just had things to think about..

So Jungkook opened up google, opened up a tab, and then typed in. How do you know if your crush likes you back-

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- Jungkook deleted that sentence and then took a deep breath. What. Is he doing.

His hopes MUST stay below a certain level. The moment he rises them even an inch above that thin grey line, it means he's gotten his hopes up, and will soon see them tumble down.

"No, no no-" Jungkook mumbled under his breath, and then clenched his fists for a few seconds, and searched it up again.

How to know if your crush likes you back

Jungkook scrolled down the article, muttering dumbass under his breath again and again.

1. Notice physical contact!

This article was already way too enthusiastic, probably getting trafficked by losers who are pining over someone who will never like them back, aka- Jungkook.

Speaking of physical contact, Taehyung is quite touchy. Duh, you're fucking. If he wasn't touchy, that'd be weird.

No but, he's sometimes overly touchy? Like last night.. when he randomly grabbed Jungkook's hand and brushed the pad of his thumb over his fingers ever so softly, and Jungkook couldn't fucking THINK. Even now, just the thought of that small gesture sent Jungkook's heart racing.

2. Figure out their shyness around you!

Taehyung's not shy. Not at all. He's loud, assertive, dominant, lets everyone know what's in his mind, and doesn't hold back. Sometimes it comes off as borderline mean, but Jungkook's come to adore it.

That said- Taehyung's shy around Jungkook. Just sometimes.

Like the other day when Jungkook was doing art, and Taehyung's cheeks got kinda red. When Jungkook asked why, Taehyung scratched the back of his neck, did that thing where he pretends to look disinterested, and then asked if Jungkook could sit on his lap.

And Jungkook hid his blush and did, letting Taehyung wrap his arms around him and watch him paint while holding Jungkook. It was a silent ordeal, but it made Jungkook's heart flutter.

3. Notice if they treat you differently!

Yes! Oh my lord- Jungkook's literally heard the football guys bitching about how Taehyung doesn't say shit to Jungkook. While they all have to run laps, Jungkook sometimes slows down or stops to drink water, and Taehyung doesn't tell him off. Meanwhile Youngjae stops to breathe and Taehyung shouts at him.

Plus, Taehyung's.. nice to Jungkook. He's not nice to anyone else. Not even to the girls he's into. Not to Eka, or any of the other tens of girls he's hooked up with. No, only nice to Jungkook.

Only protective over you.

4. Check their interaction with you on social media!

jeonjungkooks

193 likes, 47 comments jeonjungkooks i look like a bug lol

view comments...

eka11 awww so cute

lalalalisa_m this is so adorable!!

minyoongi damn maybe if i post an ugly pic of myself i'll get comments from girls too

hoseokj @minyoongi you'll never get comments from girls

minyoongi @hoseokj bro fuck u

kth_v aw

kth_v fuck

kth_v that picture of you is so fucking cute

kth_v im making it my lockscreen

jeonjungkooks shutupskdjskdj

Jungkook sighed, looking away from his phone. He's not.. dumb, right? There's only so much he can push aside before coming to terms with the fact that maybe Taehyung does return those feelings?

And maybe, just maybe, Taehyung telling Jungkook he's his best friend wasn't friendzoning? In fact it was something more? Misconstrued conceptions constructed in Taehyung's mind that he's trying to push aside?

"Jungkook?"

Jungkook slammed his laptop screen shut, and turned in an instant, seeing Taehyung standing there, bandana yellow today, clad in a red sweater and sweatpants.

"H-hi." Jungkook said softly, and Taehyung sat down beside Jungkook, looking.. nervous.

"Um- why- why'd you leave this morning?" Taehyung asked, and Jungkook's breath hitched.

"No reason. I just- um- got a text from Jimin.. he didn't know where I was and stuff, so I left. Sorry." Jungkook said quickly, and Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook's thigh.

"Good." He said, looking at his hand. "Anyways, what were you doing?"

"Nothing. Just working on a- um- english essay." Jungkook said quickly, and Taehyung rolled his eyes, taking his hand off Jungkook and leaning against his chair.

"God, Kookie. Your academic focus is quite endearing." Taehyung said, and Jungkook giggled.

"So is your sporty flare, Mr. Kim." Jungkook said, and Taehyung snickered, looking at Jungkook with an odd look on his face. Almost.. fond.

Taehyung suddenly leaned in, so he was quite close to Jungkook. "You ever wanna.. just.. kiss someone, but you can't, 'cause you're in public?" Taehyung asked softly.

Jungkook looked down at Taehyung's lips, gulping. "S-sometimes." Jungkook squeaked.

Taehyung hummed, and then pulled back, smiling at Jungkook, who seemed frazzled now. "Wanna play a game?"

"...A game?"

///

Jungkook giggled loudly, looking at Taehyung while holding a big dictionary. "Okay okay- what's the definition of... Diphthong."

Taehyung made the most confused face. "That one had to mean a bikini thong,"

"No! Stop guessing that for everything! It means two adjacent vowels occurring within the same syllable. Your turn!" Jungkook said, passing the dictionary to Taehyung.

They were sitting in the far away end of the library, by the geology and zoology section, alone, playing a dumb game where you read a word from the dictionary and the other has to guess the definition.

"I literally don't know a single word you just said. Okay... hmmm.." Taehyung said, flipping thought the dictionary. "Aholeahole."

"Asshole!" Jungkook said loudly while grinning, and Taehyung put his hand over Jungkook's mouth, both giggling.

"Baby you're too loud." Taehyung giggled, and then looked at the dictionary. "And no, it's the name of a species of Hawaiian flagtail native to the central Pacific." Taehyung read, and Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"It's not pronounced like that, genius! Okay, my turn-" Jungkook said, grabbing the book. While trying to grab the book, Taehyung grabbed his waist and pulled him onto his lap. Jungkook giggled brightly, gripping on Taehyung's shirt.

Jungkook fell onto his lap and looked at him closely, smiling. Taehyung looked back up at him, and then trailed a hand down Jungkook's spine. "Kookie.."

"Yeah?" Jungkook asked softly, and Taehyung looked up at him with somber eyes. Taehyung reached forward and pressed their lips together, and Jungkook hummed, kissing him back.

Jungkook pulled away for a split second. "V-" Jungkook squeaked, kissing him again, and then pulling away again. "Someone might catch us-"

"Don't-" Taehyung said suddenly, pulling away. "Don't call me that."

Jungkook paused. "W-what?"

"Call me by my real name," Taehyung said, looking hesitant, looking away as he always did. "Taehyung. Call me Taehyung."

"Taehyung." Jungkook repeated with him. "L-like that?"

"Yeah." Taehyung gulped. "I-I don't want others to, but you can. You can say it." Taehyung whispered, and Jungkook's heart skipped a beat.

"I-I can call you Taehyung?" Taehyung nodded.

"Taehyungie?" Jungkook said with a small smile, and Taehyung rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

"TaeTaehyungie-"

"Okay that's enough-"

Jungkook began giggling, kissing his forehead. "My TaeTae~"

"I hate you~" Taehyung said in the same tone, and Jungkook laughed harder, leaning in to kiss him tight, when suddenly they heard footsteps approaching.

Both pulled away from each other, jumping eons apart. Jungkook turned to the side and saw Jimin.

"Um.. hey.. what're you guys doing?" Jimin asked, and both boys gulped. They looked at each other, and then back at Jimin.

"Nothing." Both said together, and Jimin raised his eyebrow. They probably just made that 10 times more suspicious.

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647263901550002176/nineteen