#Something i became more and more aware of is these two not verbal people its all actions

[moonilit]

It is So sweet when Tifa say the fire works are beautiful, Cloud is starting at her, because the most beautiful thing to Cloud is a happy Tifa

It is also funny how they both shy and Cloud face panic when he get cough lol

They are so young and silly, dorks, and even after they kiss (their first kiss ever) they can’t even look at each other eyes 😭 they are so so shy these dorks

[ginkgo-phyta]

I dunnu if I'm asking right but Spencer with injured knee who feels bad that his gf is taking care of him so much but he's horny and he's also kinda feeling shy asking her to take care of his lil problem but she ofc delivers.

On a side note: cane spencer drives me insane ok thank you <3

yes yes, you asked right!! what a wonderful first request THANK YOU I LOVE YOU hopefully this inspires more people to request pls pls PLS im actually begging atp. anyway, im so loving this request and tell me why i was thirsting over spence w/ a cane literally last night we’re on the same wavelength rn anon ilysm. i hope this piece satisfies you! i actually strayed a lil bit from the prompt, in this spencer doesnt outright ask. i hope that okay eeee but if you want me to do another where he DOES actually verbally ask, i would love to do that, too. fair warning idk if this is still a "drabble" LMAO its 2.6k words i couldnt stop myself, but here you go, my love :] i hope you enjoy

SMUT, afab!reader, description of female anatomy, oral (male receiving)

It’s some odd hour of the night, the sounds of a black-and-white film Spencer’s not quite paying attention to playing on your laptop intermittently gets interrupted by the hoot of an owl perched on a tree somewhere in the distance. You pay it no mind, engrossed by the inviting images flashing before you as you absent-midedly trace figurines onto Spencer’s clothed leg. The two of you were nestled on the couch in his living room, your head resting in his lap after triple-checking you would be far enough from his injury and that he was comfortable. Although he tried his best to repeatedly reassure you, his current shifting began raising your doubts again. Your fingers abandoned their dancing right above his knee as you pushed your body up, leaning your weight on your hands placed firmly on the cushion to crane your head and look at your boyfriend

“Spencer, honey, what’s wrong?” Your voice was warm and full of worry, the timbre washing a feeling of love and desire over the doctor's body, sending a shiver down his spine.

“N-Nothing’s wrong,” he started with a stutter, clearing his throat before continuing, “why’d you move?” you were vaguely aware of his eyes darting down before meeting yours again, but you waved it off, figuring he was just caught off guard. In actuality, Spencer was trying his best not to stare at your mouth-watering cleavage pouring over the neckline of your lounging shirt, deliciously pushed up by the position of your arms.

“I moved because you keep moving, silly. Is your knee hurting again?” Your hand reached out to resume their traces, this time ghosting the top of the ailed joint, your gaze moving along with it. “Maybe it’s time to put some heat on it, hmm?” you mumbled to yourself and before Spencer could even object, you were moving off the sofa and toward the kitchen.

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Spencer’s head fell back against the couch with a soft thud, a groan of frustration rolling out of his throat. You had been taking such good care of him since his knee got shot last week, refusing to let him do anything by himself. He tried to stop you at first, but you explained to him how rewarding it was to you. 

“I enjoy taking care of the people I love, Spencer,” you said with a serious look in your eyes, his face cupped gently between your palms, “I enjoy taking care of you. Please let me?” your words became quieter as your face inched closer to his. Spencer sighed at the feeling of your hands starting to card through his hair

“Okay, if you insist.” he sighed against your lips, finally giving in. The giggle his response drew from you drowned Spencer’s heart in ecstasy, and he decided he would simply return the favor some way, some time in the future.

That’s not what was frustrating him, though. It was how incredibly turned on he had been feeling the last couple days. The guilt of you having to take care of him, even if it’s something you wanted to do, prevented Spencer from touching you and he hated that. When it came to you, his lovely, kind, caring, thoughtful partner, all he wanted was to put his hands on you- sexually or not. Peppering your jaw with kisses, nuzzling his head into your neck, caressing your back as you rested on him, pressing his nose into your clit as his tongue delved into your folds; he lived for all of it. Even as you laid your head in his lap, he held back from massaging his fingertips against your scalp out of guilt and fear. He didn’t want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you, or pressure you into servicing him, if you will; even though he wanted it so bad and you were so close to his crotch it was making him crazy. Like a madman, he craved to touch you, to feel you. Your bare body pressed against his, nails scratching down his shoulders, your lips sucking his balls into your hot mouth, wet cunt spasming around his twitching cock. He knew none of that would happen, you reminded him as much after a check-up at the doctor’s office 

“The doctor said no physical activity, remember? I can’t have you moving around, honey.” you said to him with a pointed look after the two of you had returned home where one kiss led to two, becoming deeper and more passionate. You pulled away before it could go any further and dutifully reminded him. 

Since then, you mellowed down. Of course you gave Spencer massages wherever you felt he could use one, but you kept your kisses to pecks and made sure to stay on your side of the bed at night. Safe to say, Spencer was feening. 

He shut his eyes tight and ran his hands through his hair, trying to compose himself before you came back into the living room. “Come on, get a hold of yourself.” he grumbled quietly, slapping his fingers against his cheeks in an attempt to drill it into his head. The sound of your light padding drew him back to the moment and you emerged into his eyesight with a tray. 

“What’s all this?” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, shifting to sit forward a bit more, as much as he could with his injured leg propped up on the table (on top of two pillows, as per your directions). 

“Well,” you started after setting the tray down next to the laptop, standing straight to admire your handiwork and huff stray strands of hair out of your face, “I was in the kitchen getting the hot pack ready, so I put some snacks together. And then I thought maybe you could use some tea! It’s just an herbal tea I put together earlier- it’s mainly willow bark, but I also used some ginger and cinnamon. It’ll help with the taste while helping you heal, too!” you clapped your hands together in excitement, holding them against your chest like a giddy toddler. Spencer couldn’t help but laugh lightly, pride swelling in his heart, joy stretching a smile from ear to ear. 

“I love you.” Was all he could say as he stared up at you. 

You laughed at his dumbfounded reaction, lightly pushing his shoulder. “And I love you, too.” you smiled back at him before leaning over to hand the cup of tea to him, “I want you to get better fast.” you said matter-of-factly, this time duly noticing Spencer’s eyes fixated on your breasts. As you bounded over to the other side of the couch, you bit your lip as dirty thoughts of Spencer flooded your mind. Even though you’ve been doing your best in controlling yourself, you still missed him. A pout couldn't help but mold your lips every time you gave him a short and simple peck or you restrained your hands from traveling over sensitive parts of his body when massaging his shoulders. 

You leaned back, body facing Spencer as you watched him sip on his tea. “How’s it taste, hon?” your voice had an unplaceable hint, causing Spencer to look over at you.

If he had taken a larger sip, the tea would have surely been spat out of his mouth as Spencer’s eyes met your figure. You were draped over the arm of the couch like a centerpiece, head tilted curiously to the side as your fingers played with the buttons of your thin satin shirt, a couple more popped open than before. He could see the edging of lace peeking out, beckoning to him, the shape of your pearled nipples begging to be free from their restraints. Spencer’s dick twitched in his pants.

“U-um,” he stuttered, shakingly putting the cup back on the table and averting his gaze from you. Spencer wiped his hands on his thighs, “G-good. It-” an audible gulp pierces his sentence, “Yeah, it’s nice.” He tries to lean back and focus on the movie still playing in front of him, but your movement from the corner of his eye has a grip on his attention.

You basically crawl over to him, the leather couch creaking as you settle as close to his body as you can. Side pushed against the back cushion, your legs tucked under you, knees pressing against Spencer’s thigh. He begins to squirm, trying to ignore the tent growing in his pants- but you don’t. 

“Oh, baby,” you rasped seductively, one hand reaching out to press against his thigh, the other tucking his long hair behind his ear, “do you need me to take care of you?”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the feeling of your hand so close to his crotch immediately caused his eyelids to drop close. The beginnings of a whimper bubbled up in the back of his throat, but he contained it. He didn’t trust himself to speak, residing to vigorously shaking his head. 

“No?” you demurred with a quirk of a brow, fingers waltzing over to graze his hardening cock, “It doesn’t seem like that’s true.” you lean closer to him, breasts pressing against his arm as you whisper against the shell of his ear. “It’s okay, baby, you can tell me.”

Against his wishes, the whimper broke free from Spencer’s throat, sauntering like music into your ears. You hummed in delight at the reaction you’re eliciting from Spencer as his head rolled to bump into yours; his hands shoved under his hands, veins in his arms bulging as he tried his hardest to hold himself back. His bottom lip is trapped in between his teeth, chest rising and falling at a quickened pace to keep up with his ragged breathing as your fingers fully grip him, palm slowly grinding into his base. 

“No!” he blurted out, “It’s okay, you don’t have to. You- oh! You already do s-so much for me. Besides, we can’t, you said…you said so yourself- mm-mhm!” a piteous moan cuts his sentence off and you can’t help but revel in it.

You think back to the conversation he references, shaking your head when you find a loophole, “I said you couldn’t move…That doesn’t mean I can’t still take care of you.” with a smirk you shift slightly, moving your hands to push at the waistband of Spencer’s plaid pajama pants. Before you could get it down even an inch, Spencer’s hands fly up to grab your wrists. 

The way he crooned out your name had your eyes whipping to meet his, confusion welding your features, “You r-really don’t have to,” Spencer swallowed hard once again, but his voice was steadier than before, more firm, “I feel so bad, you’ve done so much for me. I…” a second passes as he tries to find the right words, “I feel so guilty for making you do this. I shouldn’t even be so turned on it’s wrong-”

You cut him off before he can go on, your hands moving to gently grasp both of his as you attempt to reassure him, “Spencer, you’re not ‘making’ me do anything. It’s not wrong at all. I want to- I want you. I miss making you feel good, baby. It’s okay to be turned on, won’t you let me help you?” One of your hands caresses his cheek, thumb shifting to trace under his bottom lip. “I’ll be careful, I know exactly how to make you feel good without you having to move a muscle.” Your once reassuring voice is back to dripping with desire as you whisper against the corner of his mouth, reeling Spencer in with ease.

He moans at your words, nuzzling into your palm and he digests your words. After a couple seconds go by, eyes flitting between each of yours to confirm your feelings, he caves in, “Please…”

His breathy plea spurs you onward and you make quick work of pulling down his pants just enough to let his cock spring free. The sight of his unbelievably hard, thick length hitting his abdomen was drool-worthy. Spencer sighed at the feeling of the cool air slicing the leaky head of his dick. He rested his head back against the sofa, watching you through heavy lids. You adjusted your position to get more comfortable before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his tip, looking up at Spencer to watch his face. “Remember,” you started with a wicked smile, a single finger drawing up the underside of his length, “don’t move, honey.” And with that you descended onto his cock. 

Ideally, you would have taken your time, but you were a starved woman. As soon as the head of Spencer’s cock passed your lips, you were moaning. You couldn’t even look up at him as you usually loved to do, losing yourself in the feeling of his fat cock stretching your lips. You sucked him in, first working the top half to warm yourself up, swirling your tongue around the tip, pressing into his sensitive spot, before swallowing down the rest. Obscene sounds filled the fervent air of the apartment, the salacious music emanating from Spencer’s throat proved to be the icing on the cake. 

His hands were balled up, one desperately trying to hold onto the leather of the couch while the other fisted the fabric of your shirt, knuckles pressed against your back. Spencer felt like he was ascending to heaven, each suck of your lips, lap of your tongue, moan around his cock, had whimpers and unintelligent pleas mumbling from his mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!” was the only coherent sentence he could form. He didn’t hold back, either, paying no mind to whether or not his neighbors would be awoken. 

His head thrashed against the back couch cushion as the desire to buck up his hips heightened. Your palms pressing into the top of his thighs, nails digging into his skin, prevented him. Still, you deftly bobbed up and down his long cock. 

“A-ah, please! More, more, pleasee!” he whined out, his entire body shuddering from the pleasure. You moaned in response, not waiting any longer to burrow down on him, his length reaching even further down the back of your throat until your nose hit the dense plat of curly hair covering his base. “Oh my fucking God” Spencer groaned, his hands flying to rest on your head, fingers tangling into your hair, but not pushing you down. You stayed there for a few seconds, nails grounded further into the flesh of his thighs, allowing Spencer to feel the way your throat contracted around his cock. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he breathed out, pushing your hair out of your face to look down at you properly. The view of you completely consuming him, eyes rolled back into your head, tears pricking the corners, brows furrowed in concentration as you fought your gag reflex and moaned around him almost had Spencer cumming down your throat right then and there. He would’ve, too, if you hadn’t released him from your mouth with a squelch, moving up closer to his line of sight, panting to catch your breath. 

Spencer tried to thrust his hips up, but you held your weight down on him. “Oh, baby,” he whined out, cupping your face with both his big hands. You stared at him with a fucked out smile, chin covered in a mixture of your drool and his precum which you then wiped at with the back of your hand. “Please,” he whined, his splayed fingers pressing into the side of your hairline and your neck, “I’m so close. Wanna cum so bad…” he pulled your face to his and dove into to engulf your lips with his. He moaned into the deep kiss, tasting himself on you. Much to his dismay, you pulled away just a couple seconds later, leaving your lips against his to whisper:

“You wanna come in my mouth or in my pussy, baby?”

A/N: and, scene!! thank you again, anon, for being my first request, this was so fun and i actually finished this in one sitting just for you! anyone want a pt.2 where reader rides spencer??? wink wink :D also why do i have this scenario in my head when reader is absent-mindedly like...stroking spencer's cane LOL but it just turns him tf on cuz hes like omg i need you to do that to my dick pls HAHAHA

[aestherians]

Choice or Chance?: Exploring voluntarity and categorization in the otherkin and therian communities

Under the cut is the full script for my Othercon 2021 lecture, in which I examine the way we categorize nonhumans based on the perceived amount of choice they had in their identity and how this practice is detrimental to both questioning people and our community as a whole. At the end, I propose a new way to define otherkind and otherlinkers to hopefully move our community forward.

Reading time: 30-40 minutes.

The focus of this lecture has changed a bit since I started working on it. My earliest idea was to discuss the grey area between otherlinks and kintypes - in fact one of my working titles was Grey Zones and Silver Linings. And I still plan on talking about this, though not in the way you might expect. I originally wanted to argue that those who found themselves in this grey area should be able to choose how they wanted to refer to their identity, but the more research and thinking I did, the more I realized that this would still leave a bunch of people torn and confused and wouldn’t solve any of the greater problems in our community. It also seems like such a water-is-wet statement with how the conversation has developed… and you know me, I’m only happy when I’m starting controversies.

So I went looking for the root of this whole categorization debacle.

The nonhuman community, as we know it, didn’t always exist, and though we often say it has roots in elven communities from the ‘70s, that’s only half the truth. While the Elf Queen’s Daughters and related successors such as the Silver Elves are the earliest known organized nonhuman communities, they’re by far not the only pioneers.

Because nonhuman identifying people have always existed, and our numbers have always been relatively small, some of us ended up grouping together without even being aware of the other groups that existed. And of course, all these independently formed groups ended up with their own cultures and traditions and philosophies.

Mailing lists, like the Elfinkind Digest, were generally open for anyone to join and read. But they also weren’t widely known or easy to stumble upon for folks who didn’t already have an interest in these kinds of spirituality and identification. This resulted in a culture where people’s self-identification was generally respected, and they would only be questioned if they made extraordinary claims.

Compare this with the newsgroup Alt.Horror.Werewolves, which was open for anyone to access on Usenet, and which was originally created as just a place to discuss werewolf media. On AHWw, the therians (or ‘weres’ as it was back then) would frequently have to defend their existence against strangers who just found them by coincidence. This would lead to a culture more focused on appearing respectable, which in turn would lead to grilling of new members and shut-downs of “fluffy” topics.

Other independent groups, such as Alt.Fan.Dragons, which was centered around dragons, or Always Believe, which was centered around unicorns, had their own cultures as well. For example, AFD generally accepted dragons from modern fiction, which would not have been tolerated on AHWw.

The Silver Elves is another semi-independently evolved group of elves, fae and similar beings that still exists to this day. They only represent a fraction of our community, but for today’s discussions I find their writings very illustrative. They’ve written about choice of identity on multiple levels. For starters, they believe a lot of elven spirits have actively chosen to incarnate into human bodies. More provocatively, and more interesting to me, they’ve stated multiple times that simply wanting to be an elf means you are an elf.

This is in contrast to the therian community on AHWw, where there was a big focus on involuntary shifts and theorizing on why some people were born with and animal side. I think it’s reasonable to assume this focus on involuntary experiences is due to the werewolf narrative that the community stemmed from. In werewolf media, a person’s wolfish side is rarely, if ever, a choice, while in new age and spiritual communities, like that of the Silver Elves, there’s a greater emphasis on choice of spirituality and subsequently on choice of identity.

It wouldn’t be right to say that every therian back then shared the same idea; however, the idea that involuntary shifts are a core trait of therianthropy does seem to persist in the AHWw’s userbase. Nearly all introduction posts include a line about involuntary shifts. Another idea that repeats itself is that the therian either had a “sudden awakening” or “just always knew” they were animalistic; contrasted with the Silver Elves’ idea that simply wanting to be an elf is enough for you to be one.

-

There are two main ideas about origins that seem to persist in all of this: That one is either born nonhuman or becomes nonhuman. Both are equally true. The ‘born-this-way’-narrative is quite a bit more common than the ‘becoming’-narrative, though that’s not to say that the idea of becoming nonhuman is rare, or even all that controversial in most communities - with a few caveats, that is.

The idea that one can become nonhuman tends to rest on the idea that what we become is outside our control. On the more metaphysical side of things there are stories of people being spiritually transformed into an animal after encounters with an animal spirit, or of having a shard of a god put into them. And on the more mundane side, there are stories of imprinting on a species during early development, or of taking on the experiences of a character after being engrossed in a piece of media. Most people I’ve talked to don’t have a problem with these ideas of ‘becoming’ as something outside your control.

What really gets people’s goat is when someone describes specific choices they’ve made on their journey, which ultimately led to their nonhuman identity.

This finally leads to the theme of this lecture: The topic of choice itself and how we categorize others based on the perceived amount of choice or chance there’s been in the development of their identity.

Questions I’ll discuss include: What kind of choices do we have regarding our identities? What the heck does ‘choice’ even mean in this context? And how does the idea of choice (or lack of choice) affect the way our community functions?

There are many kinds of choices that we inarguably do make on our journey of self-discovery. Probably the first universal choice is to undertake the journey and to seek out a nonhuman community. Choices that naturally follow include choice of labeling - whether we want to call ourselves otherkin, therian, fictionkin, nonhuman, and so on - and the choice to accept or reject whatever feelings caused us to seek out a nonhuman community in the first place. In this line of thinking, being otherkin is a choice - you choose to label yourself as otherkin. However, the feelings, on which you base your decision to label yourself, are not a choice. The feelings that pushed you towards the community were already there.

Another choice that follows pretty naturally in this line of thinking is the choice to strengthen whatever connections you already have. This is something I’m intimately familiar with, as I’ve been doing it since I awakened as a bison. Before I even became aware of my species identity, I knew I was nonhuman. I’d been having simultaneous bison and gnoll feelings for a few years, but couldn’t separate them, and had, without much introspection, decided that I must be some weird kind of wolf. I think a lot of us with uncommon theriotypes have gone through a phase like that.

However, one day I experienced a very strong flashing image - basically a flashback - of being physically a bison. The vision was so vivid and tactile, I immediately knew what it meant, and for the next few weeks I ignored every experience that wasn’t quite bison in nature, and just examined the recognizably bovine feelings. This helped strengthen my bison identity, and in total my questioning process only took around 2 months.

Though I’ve settled in my identity as a bison, and I’m comfortable referring to myself as a bison, I never quit reinforcing it. While I didn’t create the original bison-like feelings, I’m very conscious of the fact that I do choose to connect every trait to my bisonhood that I can. Whether I see the traits as a cause of my current bisonhood, or a result of it, things like being stubborn, preferring physical fights over verbal ones, and even liking the taste of those Beanboozled jellybeans that are supposed to taste like grass… all these traits, that any human could have, are things I connect to my identity as a bison.

I’ve experienced some pushback towards this idea from a few therian communities. A very common rebuttal I’ve run into in introduction threads and grilling threads (which, introduction threads should never be grilling threads in my opinion, but that’s another story)… a very common rebuttal to considering these kinds of traits part of your nonhuman identity is: “Isn’t that just a regular human thing?”

I have so many problems with that question, I’m honestly not sure where to even begin. Yes, those traits are experienced by humans all the time. I think some of the only experiences in the community that regular humans don’t experience are, perhaps, species dysphoria and shifting. But if your identity began and ended with having dysphoria and experiencing shifts, it would hardly qualify as an identity. Treating an identity like just the sum of its parts, rather than a whole and complicated construct, is reductive and it doesn’t just hinder discussion, it stifles discussions.

I don’t know, maybe I’m the odd one here, but my whole nonhuman identity can not be encompassed by my horn dysphoria or the fact that I sometimes feel more like a prey animal than an apex predator. My identity is so much more than that. It’s how I view the world and how I view myself in relation to the world. It’s how I react to things, what I like and dislike, and what I want out of my life. When you envision an identity in this way, as a way to describe who you are, rather than a summary of every individual thing you experience, you absolutely will see some overlap with humans, like it or not.

Another reason I dislike the question “Aren’t those just human traits?” is that it’s often asked in communities where the consensus is that you were born nonhuman, and that your identity is somehow more real or ‘valid’ if it can be corroborated by childhood memories.

While looking back at your childhood and seeing how your current identity might have formed or changed throughout the years can help paint a picture of the identity as a whole, that kind of reminiscence should always be secondary to what you are currently experiencing. Your identity is not based on the fact that you played dog when you were a toddler. Pretty much every human child has played dog or been obsessed with cats or wished they were a dragon. It might be related to your current identity, but if those were your primary nonhuman experiences you would hardly consider yourself nonhuman, nor would you find a home in the community.

No, your identity is based on who and what you are right now, and what you’re experiencing this moment. The validity of your identity should not be judged based on the number of times you pretended to be that creature in kindergarten. Your kintype should be determined based on your current experiences. And if your current experiences include things that humans can also go through, that should have no impact on the validity of your identity.

-

Alright, back on topic: Hopefully, we can agree that there’s no shame in strengthening your connections, reinforcing what traits you already have, and in drawing connections between a nonhuman identity and seemingly human traits. Which is a nice segue into a statement that might ruffle a few feathers:

Linktypes are typically based on preexisting traits that are reinforced to fit a certain narrative or ideal. A copinglink or an otherlink is rarely if ever pulled out of thin air. You just can’t craft an identity from nothing. Yeah, crazy, I know?

This parallels otherkin identities, which, as I mentioned earlier, are based on preexisting experiences and connections that one chooses to give a name and to strengthen.

The process of becoming a linker usually starts with recognizing certain traits that one either wants, or already has but wants to reinforce, by focusing them through a linktype. For example, wanting to become better at handling stress can be difficult to accomplish on its own, but is made easier by thinking about what a specific character or animal would do in a stressful situation.

But you can’t just establish a connection to any given character. There needs to be a resonance between you and the linktype, and if you don’t already have that resonance with the character, it’s impossible for you to craft an identity around them. And in that sense you could easily argue that there is an involuntary aspect to linktypes.

Once the prospective linker has recognized a connection with a character, they will begin the process of reinforcing the identity, which can include anything from writing fanfics in 1st person to wearing clothes reminiscent of the character to asking people to treat you like the character. All things that an otherkin or fictionkind might do when first establishing their identity.

A key trait of linking is that a linktype should fade away once you stop reinforcing it… Linktypes are supposed to go away if you just ignore them and push them away long enough. They’re built to be temporary.

However, a significant number of linkers or former linkers have talked about their linktype becoming an inseparable part of how they view themselves - even the ones who might be able to force their linktype away would at this point become completely different people if they did so.

In other words, their linktype has become an inherent part of who they are as a person. This integrality can appear regardless of how much effort they put into creating the linktype in the first place, and regardless of how nonexistent the linktype was before they created it… What I’m getting at is that some people describe creating an identity from scratch by their own choice, which later becomes an irreversibly ingrained part of them. It’s an experience completely contrary to the idea that we are born nonhuman. I’ll refer to these people as ‘linkers-turned-kin’.

There are a few regular rebuttals I’ve seen to this idea: That linkers-turned-kin just had a late awakening. Or that, perhaps, they felt compelled by their inner true species to seek out the identity. Or even that they were actually born nonhuman, but just didn’t realize until later.

All these rebuttals are disrespectful of the linker-turned-kin’s experiences and intelligence. I won’t even try to hide it: They make me angry. The rebuttals ride on the idea that the born-this-way idea of nonhuman identities is a fact rather than a common belief. I know that for a lot of people the born-this-way narrative rings true. I see you and I am not trying to invalidate your beliefs. Instead, I want you to acknowledge that others may not have the same belief as you. For several people in our community otherkinity is an identity that develops in response to certain traits they have - for some, those traits are inherent, something they’re born with. For others they’re traits that developed later in life, or that were worked towards. And I want to argue that, for some, these traits were expressly chosen.

The reason these arguments against linker-turned-kin make me so angry, aside from the fact that they’re built on the idea that linkers-turned-kin don’t understand their own experiences, and the assumption that your idea of how nonhuman identities work trumps someone’s lived experience… Another reason the arguments make me so angry is that they prescribe more importance to the why than the how of our identity. When you define otherkin by the way our identity formed, you’re basically saying that the cause of otherkinity is more important than the experience of otherkinity.

-

We can’t talk about this without also exploring the community’s animosity towards psychological beliefs.

Through my years in the community, I feel like I’ve had to handhold some folks through the concept of religious tolerance. I remember a little over 4 years ago someone on tumblr asked me my opinion on fictionkind - it would be another 2 years before I had my own awakening, so my response was basically that I was fine with fictionkind, though I didn’t understand their experiences and the only way it could fit into my own worldview was as a psychological phenomenon. Even after my awakening, the latter still holds true. My fictionkinity is primarily psychological. But yeah, somehow my statement that I didn’t believe fictionkinity was caused by past lives got twisted into me saying that fictionkind were all just roleplayers.

Rereading the whole debacle that ensued, this twisting of my words had little to nothing to do with my own personal beliefs - it instead exposed a widespread antipathy towards psychological otherkin. When I have talked about my current experiences as a gnoll, my shifts and my flashbacks and my hiraeth, people generally accept it without a second thought. But when I mention that I believe it’s caused by various psychological phenomena, I have on multiple occasions been told that it must not be a real identity. Some people have even treated my parallel life as just an elaborate fantasy, rather than something that’s completely real to me. I have, word for word, been told that there’s no way I could identify as a nonhuman, or be another species than a human, without believing I have a nonhuman soul. A direct quote: “To say “I am fae” when [you] don’t believe in fae is illogical.”

What I take from these kinds of responses is that a subset of people within our community take it for granted that whatever beliefs someone has about the origin of their identity are objectively true, rather than understanding that our beliefs about our origins are just that: Beliefs. Whatever conclusion we’ve reached based on our experiences, reincarnation or imprinting or something else entirely, and no matter how much we believe in it, it will always be a belief and never a fact. I’m fully convinced that my bison identity is caused by a past life, and that my gnoll and Ben 10 identities are caused by various psychological phenomena. But if that doesn’t fit into someone else’s worldview, they have all the right in the world to explain it away however they want. I have friends who believe my bison identity must be caused by something psychological, and I have friends who believe my gnoll identity must be caused by something spiritual. That is their prerogative.

It doesn’t matter how people make sense of my nonhumanity, as long as they’re respectful towards my own experiences with my identity and don’t try to impose their beliefs on me. If you have to quietly believe that someone really has a faerie soul in order to accept that they’re really a fae, so be it. As long as you don’t try to deny the reality of their current identity. As long as you don’t try to claim that they aren’t really nonhuman, just because they have the quote-unquote “wrong” beliefs about their origin.

There is another, more recent and more prominent, example of the animosity towards psychological otherkin that comes to mind. I will not mention the term itself for fear of people harassing its creator. For the purpose of this lecture, I’ll refer to the concept as “nonhuman by birth”, which is essentially its meaning. If you know which word I’m talking about, I ask that you please don’t mention it in the chat. If you need to know, you can DM me. Also, don’t misunderstand this as me hating on people with past life or soul beliefs. Remember, my own bison identity is based on a soul from a past life.

So, last year a rather old community member on tumblr coined a term, separate from ‘otherkin’, to refer specifically to those who believe they have a nonhuman soul. Which wouldn’t be a problem in and of itself. After all, terms like animafidem and cerebrumalius have been around for half a decade with no issues. However, “nonhuman by birth” is specifically described in its coining post as a “less bastardized” alternative to the word ‘otherkin’. What this post describes as “less bastardized” is spiritual experiences, and specifically those spiritual experiences that are based on soul transfers and reincarnation. Essentially “nonhuman by birth” defines all other beliefs as bastardizations of what otherkinity is supposed to be. All beliefs, including spiritual beliefs that aren’t based on souls or past lives, psychological beliefs, beliefs of becoming nonhuman, beliefs based on magic, neurological beliefs, and archetypal beliefs… None of these are quote-unquote “true otherkin” according to the “nonhuman by birth” concept.

The word thankfully never gained much traction off tumblr, but I have seen individuals use it, and it always, without fail, makes me feel unwelcome, and unwanted. Not because there’s anything wrong with a strong belief in past lives or souls, but because those who choose to use that label specifically believe themselves to be the only true nonhumans. Because the term itself is not based on a respectful, individual belief, but on what its coiner believes to be an objective fact. Because this subset of our community has an almost-evangelical conviction that all nonhumans have nonhuman souls, and those who don’t have nonhuman souls are not nonhuman.

And like I mentioned earlier: The cause of otherkinity can affect the experience a lot. That’s why we have these discussions in the first place - we come together due to our similarities, and we try to understand each other and ourselves by discussing our differences. And this is exactly why proclaiming any version of nonhumanity as the One True Kind of Nonhumanity is so damaging. It completely stifles any exchange of ideas. It makes it impossible for us to understand our differences, and it leads to more and more narrowly defined subcommunities that all believe themselves to be more real than the others.

To define is to limit. We need some limitations, otherwise a dog is a cat and no words have meaning. But we need to be extremely careful where we want those limits to be, otherwise we end up with a community where psychological otherkin are bastards, and only those who are born with nonhuman souls are really nonhuman.

-

The next thing I want to discuss is subjective truth… Subjective truth is one of the most important concepts to understand and really internalize if we wanna have fruitful discussions and respectful experience sharing. In short, a subjective truth is something that is not real because it can be proven to exist through scientific measurements but is instead real because a person experiences it as real. If I make the claim that tea tastes better than coffee, for example, you cannot refute that simply because you think coffee tastes better. We have to understand each other’s experiences and accept that we experience the world in different ways. It’s equally true to say that coffee is better than tea and that tea is better than coffee. This is what I was talking about when I said that the “born-this-way”-narrative and the becoming-narrative are equally true.

So, how does subjective truth apply to this discussion?

A phenomenon in the community I’m sure we’re all aware of is kin memories. If you’re somehow not aware of them, in short they are images, episodes, sensory information, and similar experiences that are thought to stem from another life, usually a past life. They have all the qualia of a memory, except they didn’t happen to the body currently recalling them. These experiences, though, are not restricted to those who believe their nonhumanity stems from a past life. They aren’t even restricted to spiritual otherkin. Plenty of folks with psychological beliefs, mixed beliefs, and other beliefs report the exact same experience: Images, episodes, and sensory information that does not originate from this world or from this current life.

For decades there’s been a lexical gap in the community to describe these memories that aren’t memories. Which is where I can’t avoid tooting my own horn a bit. I have an extremely rich and detailed parallel life as a gnoll, from which I can quote-unquote “recall” events, people, traditions, names, and so much more. It’s all integral to my nonhuman identity.

However, because I believe it all stems from some deep unconscious part of my brain, and because it feels like a parallel life, not a past life, I never felt right calling these things memories. So almost two years ago at this point, I undertook the quest to fill that lexical gap. And after looking through dozens of obscure web pages and dictionaries and articles, I found something useful: The word ‘noema’. Noema is a rarely used Greek word that translates to concept, idea, perception, or thought. And I’ve been very happy to see the term catching on in my corner of the community, where it’s often used as a broader alternative to ‘memory’.

In philosophy, a noema is defined as “the perceived as it is perceived.” At first this might sound a bit vague or esoteric, but when looked at through the lens of subjective truth it suddenly starts to make sense. A subjective truth is something that’s real just because a person experiences it as real. A noema is the perceived as it is perceived. So when we’re using noema as a substitute for memory… when we’re discussing memory-like experiences in the community and we explicitly refer to them as noemata, instead of referring to them as memories, the actual cause of the noema is then irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that it’s in one way or another perceived as a memory. When talking about noemata, it’s completely and utterly irrelevant if they’re real in any objective way - the only thing that matters is that the individual experiences the noema as real. Essentially the word ‘noema’ makes the cause irrelevant, so we can instead focus on the experience alone.

And I think the fact that this word has caught on (at least on tumblr) hints that our community might be moving in a positive direction. I at least dream of a community where we care a lot less about our origins, and a lot more about our actual presence in the world.

-

I had a conversation with a friend a few months ago, about this community-wide worry about the origins of our identity. And just to reiterate, I’m not saying your spiritual beliefs are irrelevant, because they can be really important when forming a whole picture of your identity. I’m more so saying they can be a bit of a distraction. In my opinion, the whole discussion about spirituality vs psychology is a red herring. Most of us didn’t seek out the community because we had certain spiritual beliefs. We sought it out because we felt not-quite-human, and it was only later that we reached any conclusions about why we feel nonhuman.

So, my friend and I talked about the role this discussion of origins plays in our community, and we reached a few interesting conclusions. For starters, it’s really upsetting to some folks to have to earnestly consider the idea that reincarnated souls are no more real or ‘valid’ than psychological imprinting, or any other non-spiritual beliefs for that matter. That’s part of what started the whole ‘nonhuman by birth’ idea I mentioned earlier. And it seems this uncomfortableness stems from a place of insecurity.

At the risk of offending some folks, I’m gonna draw a parallel to the trans community. In the trans community there’s a discussion of origins that parallels the one in the kin community and is likewise an attempt to draw lines between the quote-unquote ‘real’ trans people and the so-called transtrenders - which are supposedly people who pretend to be trans for clout. Those who attempt to draw these lines proclaim that being trans is a medical condition that they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy, and one that’s marked by intense dysphoria and stress. They’ll also regularly state that being trans is only real or ‘valid’ because it has been proven through MRI brain scans that some female-assigned people have supposedly male brains, and vice versa.

(And just to make things clear, those brain scans are not real. It’s malicious pseudoscience spread by people who want to ‘cure’ transness by preventing trans kids from being born.)

But I think this attempt at validating your identity - in this case with science - stems from a dislike of one’s own traits, or more likely from the outside world’s dislike of those traits. When certain trans people try to prove themselves more valid than others in the eyes of the public, it’s not because they just hate those they deem ‘not trans enough’ - it’s because they’re afraid of being rejected by the rest of the world. These people are basically saying: “I didn’t choose to be trans. This is how I was born, so you have to accept it because it’s unchangeable.” It’s a cry for acceptance in an unaccepting world. And all this is not to say that some trans people aren’t born trans; I really think most trans people have a narrative like that. I’m more so trying to get across that, someone else’s narrative of choice should have no impact on your narrative of involuntarity. Both are real ways to experience being trans. And in many ways, having a narrative of choosing to be trans is necessary for the community, because it closes the doors for eugenicists who would try to eliminate quote-unquote “the trans gene”.

Viewing transness as a purely medical phenomenon where you need to meet certain requirements to get a trans diagnosis is a really reductive way to look at identity. Like I mentioned earlier: An identity is not just the sum of its parts, and it cannot be summarized by being forced to feel dysphoria. The fact of the matter is that we don’t know trans people are real because we have brain imaging technology, or even because certain people meet the medical criteria for having gender dysphoria. We know trans people are real because there are real people who identify as trans. We should be able to trust that people are trans when they tell us they are. And I think we need to look at nonhuman identities the same way.

Before I move on to the conclusion, I want to explain why this topic has become so important to me. A couple of months ago, after a good year or two of introspection, I realized I had created a hearttype. Not a kintype, but nonetheless an equally integral part of how I view myself and engage with the world. And changing something so fundamental about myself sent my thoughts racing.

When I was a kid I picked up a fear of spiders. It wasn’t bad enough to give me panic attacks, but it was bad enough that I couldn’t pick up a spider and carry it outside, even though I could do so with other bugs. I was around 10 years old when I decided that this was dumb, and I wanted to change it. So as a tween I quickly started on my own exposure therapy, looking at photos of spiders, reading about them, photographing them in nature, and after several years it had gotten to the point where I barely had a reaction to seeing them. But as I continued on, getting used to the idea of holding them and touching them, something changed in me.

Where I had previously felt fear, I started to feel admiration and love and a sense of familiarity. I wanted to surround myself with these animals, I wanted to work with them, and I started spending a not-insignificant amount of money on terrariums. And now, after more than a decade of rewriting my own thoughts and changing a mild fear into a love so deep it affects my sense of identity itself, I feel confident saying I created a hearttype. It was not an easy process. Like I said, it took more than a decade. Changing your entire mindset like that can’t be done with just a snap of your fingers. But evidently, some people are able to do it.

Though I have to add that, even here, it’s very easy to argue that there was some level of involuntarity. I already had an emotional response to spiders when I was scared of them. I don’t think I could form this kind of relationship with something I’m completely indifferent to, like, I dunno, a Toyota or a Marvel character. You can’t really form a relationship from nothing. And I appreciate this argument, because it really highlights just how confusing the entire concept of choice is, and how it doesn’t make sense to define ourselves by our lack of choice, when we can’t even define what counts as a choice.

But yeah, realizing that I created a hearttype, an identity that at the time was considered involuntary… realizing that I didn’t just play a part in creating this identity, but that I did create it, period. It sent my mind spinning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what else might be possible. If I could create such love in myself, could I also do the opposite and tear down my own hearttype and recreate the phobia? Not something I want to test. But I think I could. And which other identities could be created like this?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the creation process has no impact on the nature of the identity itself, and I ended up posting a really controversial thing on tumblr. In hindsight I understand why some people got so pissed off about it, but I still stand by those thoughts. I’ll read it to you in full: “Theoretically I probably could force myself to not be otherkin. But it would take a decade or more, the way my hearttype creation did, and it would require constant work throughout those years. However, I see no way I wouldbenefit from that work, the way I did when I unintentionally created a hearttype in the process of getting rid of a phobia. It would just rid me of a part of myself that’s intrinsic to how I recognize myself. That’s not something I in any way want - and because I don’t want it, and because the choice would have to happen continuously on a timescale I can barely comprehend, I couldn’t make that choice in practicality.”

A very long and very complicated discussion came out of this post that I’d need a whole separate lecture to recap. But a few important ideas were developed, which I need to mention here. For starters, when discussing shadowwork and the Jungian archetypes, Jasper accidentally coined the term ego alteration. Through that discussion we ended up defining ego alteration as the process by which you proactively alter your conscious mind, your self-perception, and your thought-patterns. It’s not something to be taken lightly, as you’ll essentially be changing your sense of self by it. And it’s also not something everyone has the ability, desire, or drive to do. To integrate something into your sense of self, or to remove something that’s currently a part of your sense of self is serious business, and, like my hearttype creation, is something that should be thought about on a decades long timescale. I don’t have time to get in-depth about it here, but to consciously change your identity and your sense of self is definitely possible for some folks, and it’s nice to have a name for the concept.

Something else that came of that discussion is my own thoughts about how we define otherkin. The most common definition I’ve seen is “to identify, wholly or partially, as something nonhuman on a nonphysical level, by no choice of your own.” … I suggest we drop the last bit.

Okay, it’s a bit more complicated than just deleting a few words. In order to drop the “by no choice of your own” bit, without losing the meaning of otherkinity completely, and letting kin for fun take over, we’d need to rethink that entire definition.

Instead of defining otherkin by the amount of choice we had in the formation of our identity, I suggest we define otherkin by how integral our identities are to us. It was briefly mentioned on in one of the other panels (though I forget which one), but a pretty big source of conflict is that kin for fun just don’t understand the gravity of otherkin identities. If we define otherkinity as something that’s inseparable from who we are as individuals, it would not only make it clear to kin for fun that this is, well, not for fun. It would also get around the problem of people who worry that their identities might be invalid because they’ve made certain choices.

Your otherkinity is inherent, and by that I mean you would be a fundamentally different person if not for your kintype. At its most basic level, your kintype is what you recognize yourself to be. It’s the kind you belong to, rather than, or in tandem with, belonging to humankind. You kintype is an intrinsic part of you, and even if you could get rid of it, it would fundamentally change who you are is a person. If you chose not to be otherkin, you would also choose not to be you. In that sense, I suppose otherkinity is involuntary, in that you yourself can’t choose not to be otherkin, because as soon as you make that choice, you aren’t you. Though you could also argue that it is a choice because you wake up every day and choose to be you. And thus, the topic of choice leaves us running around in circles like it always has.

Being otherkin… being otherkind has never been about being forced to feel species dysphoria. It’s about being of another kind. It’s about knowing and recognizing humankind, and accepting that, in one way or another, that does not describe us.

And all this is not to say that copinglinking shouldn’t be a concept, but we need to rethink that as well. From the very few copinglink writings that exist, one topic I’ve seen several times is the idea of copinglinks becoming inseparable from you. This is not the point of links, and those who do go through a change like that find themselves more at home in the kin community than the link community. I don’t want to impose myself on linkers, but if we want these two words to make sense and have a use, we need to redefine both. I suggest defining copinglinks and otherlinks by their lack of integrality or by their ability to be dropped when necessary.

The line that has been drawn between otherkin and copinglinkers doesn’t help anyone as it is. There are far too many nonhumans who straddle the line, who feel torn between either community, or who only call themselves linkers because they feel pressured to do so. There are far too many nonhumans who don’t feel like they have a community they can call home.

So, I’m gonna propose a new and much more inclusive definition: To be otherkin is to identify as something nonhuman on an inherent or integral level. There you go, clean and simple. No more caveats or nested sentences.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1976  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern.  You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius​

[aminiatureworld]

Interest

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,508

Warnings: None

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: It’s only been a week but it feels like ages! Too bad I only had time for one character tonight. I can’t wait to write for multiple characters again (hopefully tomorrow haha).

Anyways Albedo, you’re such a comfort character it was so wonderful to write you again!

Albedo

You didn’t become friends with Albedo in the “traditional” way. There was no moment when you two sat down and had a chat, neither one of you offered to go to the other’s house, and certainly there was no “want to be friends?” It was more that you had stayed and Albedo, in return, hadn’t chased you away. Eventually the idea of friendship just sort of became an implication. After all, if you hadn’t gotten kicked out already, safe to say Albedo didn’t dislike you, right?

No, you were quite sure Albedo didn’t dislike you. But did he like you? That question was a completely different one. And you were well aware of that fact.

At first you tried to find out the answer to the question. Observation: Albedo appeared neither to hold any particular affection for you, or any particular disdain. Hypothesis: Albedo doesn’t like being particularly affectionate towards anyone, so the fact that he’s let you stay on this long means he probably likes you at least as a friend, and might be open to more. Experiment: Try your best.

And you did try your best, looking back you really couldn’t say that you didn’t. Whether it was bringing flowers for him to study – then mash into paints – or making your way painstakingly through the papers he let you read – which usually flew half over your head – so that you could ask him questions about it the next day. You really did try. You were early to every meeting the two of you had, something Albedo seemed to copy after a while, and you were quick to offer your help in any way possible. Making yourself useful and always being there, surely Albedo would notice that. You even snuck in the occasional compliment, the occasional comment about how you were so happy to have someone like him in your life. Still, your experiment didn’t seem too successful.

Shouldn’t you just stop at this point? I mean, you probably could come to some conclusions after the weeks of “experimenting” you’d done. Albedo didn’t dislike you, he definitely didn’t. He thanked you when you brought him stuff and made sure to show up as early as you did to your rendezvous. He sometimes let you keep the flowers you brought him to sketch you instead of using them in his experiments, he even let you bring one of his paintings home. But how much of this really signified anything beyond friendship? It was hard to tell. Albedo certainly never dropped hints that he preferred your company especially. It was simply that you were there and that he didn’t have the want or the energy to send you away. Surely there were many other people who could say the same. Maybe it was time to move on.

Though your emotions certainly weren’t on board with this suggestion – the torch that you held for Albedo was not ready to burn out anytime soon – you did at least manage to rein in your actions a little bit. First it was no longer bringing this and that with you. The particularly small buds of lamp grass remained on their stalks, or pressed into books in your house, the fireflies that you had managed to awkwardly sketch on a piece of cardboard never made their likeness towards the alchemist. Then it was meeting a little less often, not that you didn’t retain the habit of going early when those meetings did happen. It was just, surely you didn’t want to annoy Albedo too much. He might end up kicking you out after a while. Then it was asking him less and less questions while you were there, when you were there.

The affect was more depressing than you cared to admit, before you knew it the idea of going off to find Albedo became almost painful, something that would involve crossing a gulf that somehow grew wider every day. Days turned into a week, turned into two, turned into three. Every day you’d wake up, the idea of going to see Albedo at the forefront of your mind, and every night you lay in bed, scolding yourself for avoiding the person you most wanted to see. And every day the gulf widened a little more.

Perhaps things would’ve continued on like that indefinitely, a never ending circle of guilt and dissonance and going to bed feeling like you’d somehow failed something, like now certainly Albedo wouldn’t want to talk to you. Yet somehow fate had a different idea. Whether or not you were grateful for its interference, you couldn’t tell over the apprehension at the beginning, the relief after the fact.

There was a commission on your list: Pick up salve from alchemist’s lab and deliver it to Sonja before the end of the day. At first you had considered trying to pawn it off onto someone else. After all, this was a rather easy commission, and surely some of the less experience Guild members would be grateful for easy legwork. Still as you were rationalizing all this away in your head, wondering what sort of commission you might get in return, you found that your legs were already moving onto the familiar route you had walked so recently before unsurety and dejection had clouded your actions.

Standing in front of the alchemy lab you felt your legs still as Albedo appeared in front of you. At first you wondered if you might be able to duck somewhere else, to evade detection. Yet your legs which had been so happy to move before suddenly felt leaden and incredibly useless, and all you could do was stare as Albedo glanced up from his papers, his eyes landing on you, the placing blue of his irises widening slightly.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

“I’m here to pick something up.”

It was a bit lame in terms of opening lines, but it was a start.

“Ah, I see,” Albedo replied, looking down at his papers. Stepping towards you slightly he tilted his head. “I thought you might want to see me again.”

“I do! I mean, well, yes,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling as if you had just verbally fallen flat on your face. Still Albedo did nothing but smile, something which eased your nerves slightly.

“I’m glad. I thought I might have done something, and that you no longer wished to talk to me.”

“You didn’t! It was my fault, I’m really sorry I went so long without contacting you. Really, really sorry.”

“There’s no reason to apologize. But are you sure that it’s only you? Are you sure I didn’t do something to make this happen?”

“Well,” you paused. What was the correct answer? Yes didn’t seem right, but no also stuck in your throat. “I, I don’t know.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just, I don’t, I sometimes, I have a hard time knowing what you think of me Albedo.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I a friend? Do you like me? I know that you don’t dislike me, or at least I hope you don’t since you let me trail along so often. But still… I don’t know, I don’t know if it’s because you like me, or because I’m not enough of a bother to send home.” It was close enough to the truth.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you confused,” Albedo’s voice was warm, but there was an urgency to it that broke the usual calm. Looking up into Albedo’s face, having been examining the ground previously, you watched as flashes of emotions crossed the alchemist’s face. “I didn’t realize that I didn’t make my feelings clear. I don’t dislike you. I very much like when you’re around me. I, I think you’re my friend.”

“You think?” How come everything was so confusing?

“In truth, I find classifying relationships difficult. It’s not like alchemy, it’s too messy. So, sometimes I don’t even know how to classify my own relationships. But if there are people in this world who would consider me a friend, who I would consider a friend, you are certainly one of them.”

It was all you could’ve asked for in the moment. Letting a smile erupt across your face, you closed the space left between the two of you. “Thank you for telling me! I’m sorry I was being so selfish by hiding away.

“You weren’t being selfish,” Albedo replied. “You were completely within your rights.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. Gazing up at Albedo you found the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them. “May I say something that might be selfish?”

“What is it?”

“I’ve fallen in love with you, a little bit.”

You watched as Albedo’s eyes widened in surprise. At first you thought you might’ve made a mistake, leapt and fallen into the gulf. However before you could continue that train of thought a smile bloomed on the alchemist’s face in front of you. Taking your hand Albedo leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“Und ich auch.”

[marvelyhp]

Still you

Chapter one: Lion's den

Sypnosis: Y/n decides to help the avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

word count: 3,452

warning: slight mention of sex, cursing.

note: I have this idea for a mini-series but I'm not sure if it will be liked so I guess I'll see where it goes. constructive criticism welcomed :)

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged, you can leave a comment or message me :)

_______________

My knife pierced the air. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could strike the skin with the blade. The attacker threw me aside, spiraling me around. With my hand still in his grip, my left hand shot out to hit him on the temple. A grunt was heard from what I knew to be a man.

A hand collided with my ribs as they released my right hand. The air in my lungs was momentarily thin when there was pressure behind my knees, causing them to buckle. I refused to go down alone. My hand shot out to grab his neck in the dark, a small smile of triumph emerged on my face as I grabbed it. A mess of grunting and shortness of breath mixed with the sound of our bodies landing heavily on the ground. Rolling over while holding him tightly, I managed to get on top of his heavy build. My legs were spread beside his hips, sighing against the floor as my left hand pressed against his chest to prop myself up. I quickly pressed the kitchen knife in my right hand against his throat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on my attacker's face despite the lack of light in the living room.

I was panting when I could place the color on his eyes. Steely blue orbs stared back at me, an emotion I couldn't decipher was shining deep. Sweat ran down his eyebrows and perspiration glistened on his forehead. There I was, staring at the man I'd thought of for two years. I held his gaze, unable to look away and so did he. However, I was the first to break eye contact as my eyes roamed over his face, finally pausing on the lush curve of his lips. They were slightly open, breathing heavily. I hoped to hide how my breath caught, looking away when the images of his mouth doing more than breathing interrupted my mind. I tried to think about everything that had happened to recapture the initial hatred and disdain I felt for the man in front of me two years ago.

I noticed the way his hand was bent in front of our bodies, a clear sign of defeat as he breathed rapidly from the struggle, just like me. I looked into his eyes once more as I thought about the precarious position we were both in. However, I did not move. The trust between him and I had been broken a long time ago, something my body would have to understand. I couldn’t trust him and I would never do so again. Just when I thought we were alone, another voice came from the apartment's voice.

"That's why I told you to go first, Manchurian Candidate. She always had a soft spot for you. See, Romanoff?" Tony Stark's irritating voice invaded my living room. The sound of his voice interrupting the fantasies I was engaging in my head. Annoyance coated my mood knowing who was in the house and the fact that someone else was on the line, listening and probably seeing everything. I so didn't miss this. I flatly ignored any kind of indication that he was standing near me while still staring at Bucky's face. Taking him in for the first time in two years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confusion and irritation filling my tone. It was mostly irritation since they broke into my apartment, in the middle of the night during the best sleep I've had in a while. Yes, I was definitely annoyed. I looked at James, who was still pinned under the weight of my body. A weight I was sure he could flip at any time if he wanted. I resisted the urge to snarl.

"We came because we need your help." Of course, they did. Why else would they come? I fought the unpleasant feelings that threatened to resurface and just stared at him. His breathing had slowed down from the strain earlier. So did mine. I noticed that our chests were moving at the same rhythm and part of me asked if it had anything to do with us, with how well our bodies knew each other. If they remembered what I thought had happened. I tried to focus on his responses rather than the way his warmth felt against my core, the skin of my thighs, and my hand pressing against his chest. Instead of the way the curve of his body felt against mine. Instead of his lips and the way they felt on my skin, tracing every inch of me. My right hand pressed against his stomach, the feel of his hard muscles and the heat seeping through my skin made me hyper-aware of our position. I mentally slapped myself before letting a humorless laugh escape my lips. I noticed the way his eyes focused on me.

"Why didn't you knock?" I cussed myself. After all this time they come looking for me, just for help and the first thing I tell them is to knock on the door. It was a ridiculous remark because even if they had, I wouldn't have opened the door. I had to give them credit. They remembered quite well how angry I left the compound. On top of that, they remembered enough about me to know that I didn't trust anyone enough to open any damn doors. Well, if I was giving away credits, some could be given to Stark. It was a smart move to put Bucky in the lead because as much as he hurt me, I could never hurt him. Oh, and how I tried that day. I had two years to think about what occurred, to think about everything. I tried to hate him and I failed miserably. I tried to forget it and it never worked. I could never forget that he had been the only one who had not treated me as a threat or maybe he only thought so. He knew what I had been getting off from. Either way, it didn’t matter. Stark would’ve been stabbed for sure.

"Would you have opened it?" The question came in a mocking tone. I became alert when his right hand took mine, pulling the dagger away from his neck. I forbid myself to feel any kind of sympathy when I saw a thin red cut where my dagger had been, a single drop draping at the end. I was ripped out of my thoughts when my breathing hitched. His left hand brushed the bottom of my thigh, hidden out of Tony's sight. My breath caught in my throat as his hand settled on my smooth skin, his fingertips digging into my thigh.

"No, probably not." My voice came calmer than I thought. Even then, I realized that he was out of breath and I hated myself for it. how conscious I was of him. The skin under his palm was burning, a blazing trail following his every move, every touch. The hotness was beginning to spread the more he gripped my skin. My breathing became more and more erratic once his hand started rubbing the outer part.

"Well, that's enough lovebirds." Tony's voice shifted me back to where I was and the situation surrounding us. So, I did what I should have done a while ago. I sprung up from his body, welcoming the cold rush of air I felt cooling the hotness of my skin. The hand he used to rub me was now rubbing the cut on his neck gently. I turned to flick the light, the brightness stinging my eyes for a second before I turned my head towards Bucky.

In a swift movement, he was standing beside me. The ocean of his eyes looking straight into me. Memories of us invaded my brain before a deep disdain grew in my chest. I ignored every emotion that I didn’t understand —neither cared to— swimming in his eyes. I cursed myself as my body still felt flushed with the way he looked at me. A warm sensation pooling in my lower abdomen. I looked away, a scowl creeping onto my face as I laid eyes on Stark´s form. Everything I felt and desired to forget was whisked away by it, my hate for Stark coming in full bloom.

I couldn't help but distort my face in a frown. He had undervalued and underestimated me so many times before I had no more sympathy for the mortal. I never pondered why I had faith he would ever consider me part of his team, of his family. I clearly tried giving too much compassion to the human race.

“You want my help? You?” my finger pointed towards the red and gold suit standing in the corner of my dining space. A snort flew past my lips as a humorless laugh came deep from within my chest. This definitely had to be an emergency. That, or the man was a masochist and he finally discovered what makes him tick after two years.

“Believe me, failed human, I’m not happy about this. However, I do accept you’re the only one, besides Wanda, able to kill enemies with a wider range.” He looked physically hurt to be saying the last part. He had never been good at admitting things about people he never liked.

I kept my face impassive but the truth of how I felt when I heard those words was different. I was suddenly taken back to the times where this was a daily occurrence. Where I was shunned, verbally abused, and not wanted every day. Not only by Tony but by Hydra and just about everyone. I thought about my so-called family back home. About all those times I- I couldn’t even continue. My resentment and hatred for Stark erupted in me, bringing back years of unsaid words and silent tears in the corners. I tried to calm my rapid breathing and the itching in my hands to stab him.

“You can go to hell, Stark.” I stalked off towards the kitchen, knowing if I stood there any longer this would result in a bloodbath. something to create space between us was needed. I let the knife drop with a clank on the sink. I allowed my body to rest against the counter, my hands gripping the edges. Exhaustion made its way quickly through my body though not as heavily as before these days. The alertness and adrenaline in my body numbing the feeling.

“Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll all go if you don’t help us. We need your powers to save the world, falsie. Your time to shine,” his smile was forced and the trust he wanted me to feel was nonexistent. “Oh, and has anyone hinted you look like shit over here? What have you been doing these past two years? Not a glow-up I presume.” The last words were muttered but he knew I would hear because of my god-like abilities.

I was hurt at every word he said but I was mad at myself for letting him affect me. Both feelings moved lively inside me, both wanting attention right this moment. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was by his words because I knew that was what he wanted. I wondered how his life with Pepper Potts was. But a part of me thought that was irrelevant since he hadn’t liked me since the moment he saw me. His distaste and distrust had been clear since the beginning. He thought he was better, more morally right. Even then, I had never put cared ones in danger, but he had.

As mad as I was, he was right. The bags under my eyes were dark and prominent and they were sign enough of my lack of sleep. Exhaustion had taken a toll on my body. Getting two or four hours of sleep was becoming more and more difficult to withstand. I was aware of how much weight I had lost since I saw them but paranoia wasn't exactly your friend if you were hiding from killers and triggers for your mind. Having to run every few months and hide was becoming tiring. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The desire to tamper with my memories and make me forget became increasingly stronger as days went by but I knew I couldn't. I needed to remember every deed I had done and I needed to remember how I felt while I did it. I felt obliged to suffer for them.

“Fuck you.”

“So touchy,” he sat in the gray chair of the black dining table beside the door. His fingertips stroke the tip of the snake plant in the center of it. I just stared. Hostility irradiated from my person and expanded across the room. The tension in the air strong as a chokehold. “I have deprecating nicknames for everyone. Don’t feel special.” I wanted to punch that fucking denigrating smile right out of his face. He knew what bothered me the most. He knew my insecurities and I felt an instant disdain flare-up in my body towards James. I wanted to punch them but I opted to be more civilized and not act like exactly what he thought I was.

“I didn’t escape Hydra after 60 years so some asshole with an overinflated sense of self-worth could treat me like the scum of the earth. Sorry, metal can but you’ll have to shove your world-saving mission up your ass.” I snapped. So much for acting civilized.

“The kitty’s got claws. Was wondering when they would say hello.” He puckered his lips, a mocking gesture soon followed by the rise of his eyebrows. He looked towards Bucky, wiggling his brows. A whistle interrupted the sudden silence filling the room. Before I could even register, the desire to climb across the counter and smash his face against it flourished in me like poisoned vines. Before I could complete the action, Bucky’s voice reached my ears.

"Y/n, please. Thousands we’ll die if we don’t fight this war. If you don’t help us, we will die.” Bucky stepped closer to the counter, hands resting against the edge.

“What makes you think I will prevent that?”

“Even if we don’t win it, it will lessen the casualties,” his eyes bored straight into mine. “We need you.”

I need you.

The sincerity in his voice and the pleas of help smudged all over his voice softened the raging anger inside my heart. Unsaid words hanged around us like leaves falling from trees, already softening the walls I had built around my heart. Doubts surfaced.

My wish to leave Tony fend for himself battled with the faces of those who defended me at some point in my stay in the Avenger’s tower and while I was on the run with both Steve and Bucky. Steve and Natasha had been weary of me, as I expected they would but they warmed up to me. We were not exactly brothers and sisters but they tried to help. I had thought of them to be friends or something close before I found everything out. Wanda had tried to understand me and be there. She had not been involved in anything. And Vision, he had always been an ally and never doubted my loyalty. He never knew of the plan either. Banner didn’t talk much and T’challa was a friend. Tony was the person that made my life a living hell and turned everyone against me.

I tried to understand him, at first. I thought he was trying to protect his team, his people. I was a potential threat and I understood that but I never implied or acted as though I wanted to hurt them like he made everyone think. Every time he had a chance, he would mention disloyalty or my so-called shady behavior. Yes, I had problems trusting my own mind after Hydra, but I never wanted to hurt the people my brother trusted and the people who gave me a home. I knew what triggered the memories and the episodes of countless tortures, experiments, and missions made for and by Hydra. I was also aware of who I killed and T’challa helped with the rest. He thought my actions to protect myself -and them indirectly- made me a menace.

After some time, I knew I would never win his favor and change what he thought about me. How he saw me. So, I stopped trying too.

A war raged inside me. I felt conflicted. For one, I didn’t know how everyone would react to seeing me after two years, especially when I didn’t leave on the best terms. Two years in which they knew nothing about me and never tried to. It had stung that none of them tried to find me or followed me after I left devastated that night. But Bucky, Bucky hurt the most. I thought he felt towards me or at least cared for me but I was mistaken. I had left hope brew inside me when I shouldn’t have. We all know hope is a dangerous and deadly thing to feel.

I still got over it or concealed it with everything else to forget. I was used to being treated as means to an end since I was born and survived it all. I was not about to let my world crash and burn for a man and some people I lived with. Even then, I didn’t want to return. But if what Bucky said was true, millions of people would die. The Avengers could die and the world needed them. This was bigger than me and everything that had happened with us.

“I have one condition.” My jaw was set and my tone firm, regret already pulsating through me.

“Absolutely not!” Tony’s reply came fast and clashed with a serious “You name it.” coming from Bucky. I looked between them, trying to decide who I wanted to pay attention to first but decide Tony wasn't worth a damn minute of my time. My eyes settled on Bucky’s blue ones, my voice dead serious.

“I don’t ask for trust because I know I will not give any of you the same but I ask to not be doubted,” My voice took a cutting edge but we all ignored it. “I want to be informed of every detail regarding the situation and the mission, just like everyone else. The moment you all know something I don’t. I’m out.” They both knew how serious I was about this. I promised myself I would never subject myself again to what happened two years prior. The feelings of emptiness and low self-esteem I felt were not something I wanted to deal with. Not from people, I swore would never affect me once again. I could very well torture myself but I was not going to let a team led by a buffoon that thought he had me pegged since he saw me make me think I was nothing.

Bucky knew exactly why I asked for this. He knew how I felt and what led to this as he was just as much in the spotlight as I was. I didn’t trust him, not after everything but I knew he wanted to help and right his wrongs so he would keep his word.

“Now wait a minu-“

“You’re right. If you are going to risk your life for us, you have the right to know.” He lowered his gaze. His words felt heavy with something a feeling I didn’t recognize nor wanted to.

“You can’t be serious about this, Cyborg.”

“She’s right, Stark. I’m sure the team will agree.” He looked at Tony sideways, irritation stretched across his face. Bucky’s voice was definitive. The sharp edge in his voice shut Tony up, who rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I ignored him as I muttered a quick ‘one minute’ and walked to my room. After changing into a black t-shirt and some jeans, I slid on my leather jacket and put on some boots. A bag of clothes and essentials was made quickly before I stepped out of the room.

When I emerged, Tony was sulking like a five-year-old boy beside Bucky while the man shook his head repeatedly towards him. A sigh escaped Bucky as he pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. I repressed my urge to laugh at the scene in front of me. Once they saw me, both their face recovered and their postures composed.

“Let’s go.” I said nonchalantly, grabbing my keys.

And just like that, I was walking into the lion’s den once more.

[paellaplease]

Hi, I see you're taking requests! If it hasn't been done yet, could you do aspectabund with Revali please? I love your writing <3

2. aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

pairing: revali x reader

summary:  he knows you’ve been avoiding him and he can’t seem to figure out why.

  Shaking the snow from his feathers, Revali surveyed the layered red rock of Mount Agaat with a scrutinizing gleam in his eyes. The reconnaissance flyby over the ice covered peaks had proven successful, with him safely scouting out several bokoblin camps under the cover of cloud. 

Mindful of the tripwire, he entered the makeshift campsite to find you and the Gerudo Chief conversing quietly by the fire. You appeared in deep contemplation, and out of respect (and perhaps partial curiosity) he made no move to announce his arrival. 

Urbosa crossed her arms, turning to you with a sly smile adorning her lip. “You can’t keep dancing around each other forever.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, fiddling with one of your winter gloves. “It’s highly likely he won’t understand anyway.” 

“I’m sure his feelings on the matter are not as dissimilar as you think. Besides...” She leaned forward, whispering something into your ear. 

Warmth creeping up to your cheeks, your face was in your hands in an instant, body leaning forward as Urbosa let out a short laugh at your exaggerated reaction. Cute.

The mortified groan you gave in response made him chuckle, finally alerting you both to his presence. 

The Gerudo Chief angled her head and gave a brief nod in his direction, most likely having sensed his presence ages ago. In stark contrast, you quickly spun in your seat, mouth agape. 

Nearly falling from the log, Urbosa reached out to snag the hood of your coat, saving your face from smashing into the dirt ground. Revali tsked, you should really be more aware of your surroundings. 

"Revali!” Immediately, you bit down on your lip, schooling your face into something more subdued. “Welcome back." 

Tilting his head, he found it odd how difficult it was for you to maintain eye contact. Your cheeks were darker at this point, the tip of your nose slightly red. His wings itched to readjust the scarf wrapped loosely around your neck. Perhaps you were cold. That won’t do. 

"Did I miss anything?" He asked, looking pointedly at Urbosa. 

He would never admit it but the Chief maintained a steadfast poker face. “I have nothing to share.” Standing up, she moved to add more kindling to the fire. “No monster has dared approach us yet.”

Judging by the impressive blades hanging from both your hips, he wasn’t surprised. Rubbing at his shoulders, he swiped a wing over the rocky expanse before them. “Good. And thanks to me, we now have a greater chance of avoiding them on the way up.”

He didn’t miss the way your body froze when Urbosa offered for him to take her seat. Not seeing any issue and assuming it to be a response to the cold of the mountain, he acquiesced. 

The mission was completed without a hitch, the swing of your blade delivering the killing blow to the fierce lynel that guarded the peak of the mountains. Revali tried not to stare as you cleaned your blade on the snow, ignoring the errant beat of his heart as you turned to smile at him, skin still flushed from the heat of battle. 

“It comes to no surprise that you are the Gerudo Chief’s apprentice.” He nodded, unable to hide the hint of admiration in his voice.

Tugging at the sleeves of your flowing blue jacket, your eyes were wide and shining, mouth close to admitting something profound and important. Revali kept his beak shut, waiting for you to say what you needed, disappointed when all it came to be was a simple “Thanks.” 

You then proceeded not to speak to him for the rest of the week. 

It was a shame really, you were one of the few allies he could stand for more than five minutes. The Rito thought you were diligent; a fighter that could tame a tempest, and most of all a worthy opponent when it came to the odd verbal sparring match. 

Never had you shied away from a challenge, especially one posed by him. He was invested in your progress, secretly standing guard on the nights you would sneak out to train, ensuring that no person nor creature would disturb you. What's worse, a part of him honestly thought that you had begun to consider him as something close to a friend. 

And now...

“I’ll scout the area!” 

Revali sighed as he watched your retreating form once again, the remaining Champions looking at each other with equal confusion at your sudden disappearance into the forest. He didn’t know what your problem was, and honestly one more day of these mixed messages was going to drive him insane. 

Slipping past him like water, you evaded him at all costs. Taking your meals alone or with different people, changing the location of your training sessions, waking up unbearably early or extremely late. 

Then, on day eight of this madness, he found you sparring with a particular golden-haired knight that he couldn’t stand. That was the last straw. 

“Fight me,” he said to you, uncaring of the other knights on the training field that stopped to stare at him approaching. The sword in his wing, though blunted, felt foreign and heavy. Long has it been since he last held a blade like this. 

Taking off your helmet, you rubbed at your eyes to see if it was truly him. “Revali?” Funny, that was the first thing you’d said to him in days. “Where’s your bow? Ah, it seems you’ve forgotten.” You were already in the process of collecting your things. “Perhaps next time. It wouldn’t be fair if you had to fight me with a sword, after all…”

He scoffed, watching as you turned to leave. “Oh, so you plan on running away again like a scared fledgling?” 

The training sword sailed past his head, missing his cheek by only a fraction. You didn't give him a second to flinch. 

Revali side-stepped away, making a move to swing his sword at your back. Feet sliding, you blocked it with ease, sword already there to intercept his own even before it completed its arc through the air. 

Experimentally, he pushed back on the blade. Dead still, it refused to budge. He tilted his head to capture your eyes, thrilled to see the burning embers behind them, all passivity long abandoned. There you are. “Nice to see you,” he grinned wryly. 

Both of you separated quickly. Circling each other, his eyes took in the determined clench of your jaw and the steady rise and fall of your chest, waiting for when you’d launch yourself forward again. 

"Not bad," you smirked. “Another one from that bag of tricks Chief Kamori taught you?” Your confidence in the moment was rather enthralling. Once again he found himself memorizing the planes of your face, reveling in the way your emotions would flit past—clear as day. 

“Just you wait til I’m in the air with a bow in my hand." 

"That's surprising!" You grinned, teeth sharp. "Didn't think the Great Revali was so reliant on keeping to the skies.” A cloud of dirt was kicked up as you propelled yourself forward. Taking the hilt with both hands, you raised your sword to strike heavily down on his head. “But isn’t it pretty when he finally comes down to your level.” 

With a grunt, Revali barely had time to strengthen his stance, bringing his blade up to block your attack. The clashing of swords sent his talons skidding back on the dirt, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight of the blow. 

“You’re insane!” He laughed breathily. “That could have cleaved my skull in two.”

“I knew you’d block it.” 

The fight soon became the only other sound in the training field, many of the knights having left to complete their drills somewhere else. Even that quiet Hylian was no longer there, taking his leave once confident you could hold your own. 

Of course they can defend themselves. He wanted to call out in mocking arrogance. And if they ever were in trouble they wouldn’t need you anyway. Because I’m here. 

Taking a deep breath, you launched yourself at him again, delivering several attacks in a series of sweeping motions. Revali found himself having to focus intently on each one, blocking one after the other, eyes following the movement of your arm in an attempt to anticipate where the blade would next appear. 

As such, he doesn’t notice the sweeping motion of your leg, the action sending him falling backwards into the ground. 

Unlucky for you, the Rito had known the feeling of falling all his life. And before you had the chance to step away, he discarded his blade, reaching out to drag you down with him. 

The air was knocked out of him as you landed painfully on his chest. Your sword slipped from your hand, clattering to the side. Revali pushed it further away when you tried to reach for it, trapping you against him with his other wing. 

Stilling, he could feel the rush of your heartbeat against his own. From on top, you glared at him. “Let me go, fights not over.” 

“Call it an intermission, darling.” You went red at that, smushing your head into his chest so as to hide the wild blush on your cheeks. “This fight is on hold until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me this whole week.” 

“Because you’re…”

“What was that?” He said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Because you’re you!” You finally let out. An angry scream left your throat, except because your face was still pressed to his front it came out as muffled and rather adorable. 

Revali rested his head on the ground as he exhaled, finding peace in the never ending sea of blue stretched out above you both. “Well,” he said, interrupting the little breakdown you were having. “Of course I’m me, there’s no one else really.  Unless you’ve met another Rito of the same name with razor sharp wit and devilishly good looks.” 

You huffed a laugh, finally lifting your head to look at him. This close and he could see the fan of your eyelashes and the kiss of the sun on your cheeks. It took everything in him not to reach out and trace the line of your mouth, wondering if your lips were as soft as they appeared. 

“I’ve been avoiding you because I like you, silly bird.” Blinking, you gazed at him with utter softness and sincerity. “And I apologise for running. I intended to tell you earlier— on the mountain. But self-doubt got the best of me and I didn’t want you to stop being my friend if you didn’t feel the same.”

Revali’s wings fell to his sides as you shifted, propping yourself up with both your arms. “Guess there’s nothing to worry about now that it’s out in the open.” A watery laugh escaped from your lips when he said nothing. “Come on, Revali. Say something. Or at least stand up so I can kick your ass.” 

His arms were around you once again in an instant, crushing you to him in a tight embrace. “Rito, if this is some kind of trick to knock me off my guard I swear…” He could feel your smile as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. 

“I like you too.” He shook his head, poking you in the side and smiling when you yelped in response. “You are amazing and skillful. I enjoy every moment I spend with you. Though you overthink too much. Alas, but the curse of one so perceptive.” 

“Still don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment.” You mouthed into his neck. His feathers raised at the feeling of your warm breath against him. “Though I’m extremely relieved that Urbosa was right.” 

Revali thought back to the mission at Mount Agaat, wondering what exactly the Gerudo Chief told you back then. “Right about what?”

“That you can’t take your eyes off me, even if you tried.” 

[princess-of-riviaa]

Dark Minx: Training the Asset

Pairing: Winter Soldier x OFC (Larisa Antonov)

Summary: Larisa Antonov, a lifelong servant to Hydra, had one purpose: to seduce. She trained Hydra agents, male and female alike, in the art of seduction. Specifically, how to use it against anyone in the field. Those above her had recently deemed her worthy of the highest honor: training The Winter Soldier.

Warning(s): winter soldier angst, dirty talk, (kind of) degradation kink, dominant!OFC, submissive!Winter Soldier, blowjob, glimpse of dominant!Winter Soldier

Word Count: 2k

The Winter Soldier’s confinement chamber was cold and bare, making it unsuitable for the job. So they did it in Larisa’s chamber instead, which consisted of nothing more than a plush bed and a desk, but was more than enough to get the job done.

Larisa Antonov, a lifelong servant to Hydra, had one purpose: to seduce. She trained Hydra agents, male and female alike, in the art of seduction. Specifically, how to use it against anyone in the field. Those above her had recently deemed her worthy of the highest honor: training The Winter Soldier.

Little did she know that it would be so hard. Or that the world-renowned assassin would be so… shy.

“You can look at me,” Larisa spoke softly as he entered her room, scanning his surroundings for any sign of threat and completely avoiding her gaze. “In fact, the simplest form of seduction comes through eye contact.”

The Winter Soldier said nothing. He obeyed her, though the wariness in his eyes as he locked gazes with her told her he wasn’t listening because he wanted to, but simply because the only thing The Winter Soldier knew how to do was comply.

She rose from the bed, her black lingerie set twisting with her movements. The only sound in the room was her feet padding across the marble floor as she closed the distance between them. She placed a hand on his cheek. He flinched at the movement, and something about that tugged at something inside of her. He stayed stiff and uncomfortable as she touched his cheek, rough with his stubble.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” she asked.

He said nothing.

“It’s important to use your words when being intimate with someone,” Larisa told him. “Pleasure finds its peak when both people get what they want. Tell me what you want. It’s okay; it’s just the two of us here.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Larisa stayed silent, giving him however long he needed.

“I want…” His voice was hoarse, and she found herself wondering how many days he had gone since speaking. How long it had been since he had been allowed to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I want to leave.”

Part of her wanted to tell him that that wasn’t an option for either of them, that they would both be punished if he left. If she failed to teach him something today.

But she saw the fear in his eyes, and the vulnerability. How long had it been since he’d been honest enough to admit what he wanted? That look in his eyes… it was like looking into a mirror. Larisa recognized those feelings all too well.

So she let him leave.

…

The next day, he lasted a little longer.

She was smart enough to start their training off by asking, “Do you want me to touch you today?”

He was hesitant, but eventually gave a single shake of his head. No.

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep my hands to myself. But I’ll need you to touch me.”

Something flashed in his eyes, something Larisa couldn’t place. But he stepped towards her. Slowly. As if he was calculating each step. But even when the distance between them was less than a foot, he didn’t touch her. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Have you ever touched a woman before?” Larisa wondered.

He frowned. “I… I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay,” she assured. “I can show you how.”

She reached for his hand, then stopped. He didn’t want to be touched. So she changed tactics. She brought her hands to her neck and slowly lowered them, trailing her fingers over the skin between her breasts, around her hips, on her waist.

“When you’re seducing someone,” Larisa began, “think of their body as a canvas, and your hands, your mouth, your tongue—they’re the paintbrush. Touch her softly, slowly, teasingly. You don’t need to go anywhere near her sensitive parts to make her writhe for you.”

She finished her demonstration and lowered her hands to her sides.

“Why don’t you try?” she offered.

He swallowed. But, after a minute of hesitation, he touched her. The leather covering his metal hand felt strange against her skin. His gaze was focused on his hands as they trailed down the curves of her body, touching her the way she had showed him. All the while, Larisa found herself wondering what it would feel like to be touched by the cool metal of his bionic arm. She watched his face closely, scanning for the slightest change in expression, scanning for any sign that he was actually enjoying this.

She found nothing but fear in those blue eyes.

He dropped his hands suddenly. Took a step back, away from her. And said, “I want to leave.”

Again, she found herself wanting to protest. Not only because they would be punished if the people above them found out he wasn’t learning as fast as he should be, but because… Because suddenly her heart was racing. And everywhere he had touched her, her skin now burned.

She wanted him to stay because she wanted him.

But she knew that fear in his eyes, and so she let him leave once again.

…

“Do you want me to touch you today?” Larisa asked as she had everyday for the last week. She asked the question more out of habit now. He had never once said yes to her, and she soon stopped expecting him to.

But today, finally, she watched him nod. “Yes,” he added when she just stared at him in disbelief. “I want you to touch me.”

She moved towards him slowly, giving him enough time to change his mind. But he never did. She searched his face for any sign of uncertainty. There was none. He just held her gaze, unblinking, unafraid. Her face burned as she realized she was probably the first person he’d ever dared to look at like that since… since before he became The Winter Soldier.

He tensed when she brought her hands to his face. The look in his eyes exposed his struggle to relax. How long had it been since someone had touched him gently like this? She didn’t let herself think about it, not as she dragged her hands down his chest. He was thick with muscle, and she found herself wanting to know what he looked like without the layers of clothes. He gasped as her hands trailed down lower, just beneath his navel.

“Is this okay…?” Larisa frowned. “Um, I just realized I don’t know what to call you.”

He frowned too. “I think… I think my name is James.”

“Is this okay, James? Me touching here?”

He was silent as he genuinely thought about his answer. “I want you to touch me somewhere else.”

It was so innocent, the way he said it, but it made Larisa’s core burn all the same. God, she wanted to touch him too.

She brought her mouth to his ear to whisper seductively, “With my hands?” To give him a taste, she brought her hand down to his manhood, palming him over his pants. “Or my tongue?” She licked a stripe up his throat to let him imagine what it would feel like when she did that to his cock. “Or something else?”

He groaned—the most heavenly sound she’d ever heard. It drew the breath from her lungs. She would do whatever it took to elicit that groan from him again.

James moved his hands to her hips. He’d never touched her so willingly before and she wondered if he was even aware he was doing it, or if it was simply instinct, a reaction to his arousal.

“I want your hands,” he said finally. “And I want your tongue. Can I have both?”

“Sweet boy,” she murmured against the soft skin of his throat, “of course you can have both. Will you lie on the bed for me? I think it will maximize your pleasure if you lie down.”

They moved to the bed. Larisa was slow to lower his pants, teasing him with her words and the look in her eyes. The evidence of James’s growing arousal was found not just in his lengthening cock but in the look on his face, in the way his pupils dilated and his mouth parted with quick, shaky breaths.

“I want you to touch me,” James said, his voice shaking.

She smirked down at him. “I know, baby. The need is building, isn’t it? You just need me to touch your cock, don’t you?”

He gave her a desperate look. “Please.”

“Patience is key to seduction,” Larisa explained as she moved between his legs and began kissing along his navel, getting close to his cock but not quite touching it.

James released shaking breaths with every teasing kiss and lick she gave him. She basked in it; in the power this gave her. He was already writhing and desperate and she hadn’t even really touched him yet.

Larisa was slow to wrap a hand around the base of his thick cock. The velvety-smooth skin was warm, the thin vein pulsing. She wanted to put him in her mouth as badly as he did, but she still had to teach him a lesson. One of the rules of seduction was that pleasure needed to be withheld until the last possible moment to extract whatever information one needed from their target. So she kept her hand wrapped around his shaft without moving it, teasing him with the promise of jerking him off but not yet delivering.

“Touch me.” The voice he spoke in now was different. It was dominant, demanding. It was fucking hot. The voice of The Winter Soldier. As arousing as it was terrifying.

Larisa smirked down at him. “And if I don’t?”

He hesitated, not knowing how to answer.

“When you’re in the bedroom, you take the reins,” Larisa told him, holding his gaze so he would know how important this was. “You’re the one in control, not your lover. If you want me to touch you with my mouth, you tell me to do that. Most people love to be dominated, and the more verbal you are with what you want, the better.”

“I want your mouth on me,” he replied, the desperation darkening his eyes.

Larisa smiled and lowered her mouth to his cock, licking a stripe up the side of his shaft. He let out another pornographic moan that made her thighs clench together. She wanted him to make that sound when he fucked her. She bobbed her head up and down his shaft a few times before pulling away.

“You can guide me, move my head how you want,” she offered before going back to sucking his cock.

A second later his fingers were grasping her hair. He pushed her down his length until his cock brushed the back of her throat. She gagged around him, and he finally released her with a pleasurable sigh. They continued like that for several moments—her bobbing her head along his shaft a few times before he would force her to take all of him, only letting go when she signaled that she could no longer breathe. Drool and tears fell down her face by the time his hips began to buck up with his rising climax.

He muttered something in a language Larisa didn’t recognize, and then he was spilling his warm, salty seed down her throat. She eagerly licked up every drop. His body shook even after she finished lapping up his cum.

“How was that?” she asked him.

He just smiled.

“What are you thinking right now?” She wanted to know the thoughts running through his head.

He said, “I’m pissed that I didn’t ask you to do that sooner.”

...

Tag Squad:

@thereisa8ella @geralt-of-baevia @the-soot-sprite @bitchyikes @captainsy-cookiemonster

[whump-a-la-mode]

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

Continuation for the villain from call me???

Whatever you write is great so this ⬆️ is just a suggestion.

I am a simple man. I look at a prompt. I write 1.3k words of fluffy nonsense. So this is a little bit off prompt, but it comes into play at the end! Thank you so much for your ask!

CW//Past trauma, refusal to eat

To say that Villain was a handful would be... well, it would be completely false.

Objectively, the former tormentor of the city was about as simple a ward as one could hope for, medical professional or not. Their needs were simple, their requests even more so.

When Hero’s time of laying low had at last expired, it had been a nerve-wracking affair for both them and Doctor. Despite the doctor’s welcoming hospitality, hiding in their apartment forever was simply not a tenable option. For one thing, it would put a target on the house bigger than the whole damn thing. And, for another, Hero had work to do. People to talk to, dots to connect.

Doctor wouldn’t pretend that they understood any of it. The politics of heroes and villains were far beyond their mind’s purview. They were a doctor. They took care of people-- that was their role in all of it, and it was the only role they were interesting in fulfilling.

And that was how Villain came into their care.

While Hero was in the home, they had occupied themself with the tending of their former nemesis in every way they could manage. They fed them, ensured they were clean, and spent half their day walking around the house with a nervous villain either in their arms or trailing close behind.

Thus, when the hero started spending most of the day outside the home, returning only in the evenings, it was... difficult.

The first two days had been spent watching Villain sit by the apartment’s front door like a canine, using their tablet only to say the same two things, often over and over again in rapid succession:

“Miss Hero.”

“Where Hero.”

“Where Hero miss Hero.”

“Where Hero.”

After those days, Doctor had at last managed to redirect them to a couch, once it had been moved and turned to show a clear view of the door. They needed to know when Hero got home, they said. Needed to greet them. To see them.

In front of the couch had been positioned the apartment’s television, though it was been very particularly placed as to allow the door to be viewed without issue. It was the only way that Villain had agreed to sit upon it. Not that they’d actually agreed, per se, they had simply stopped climbing off when Doctor lifted them onto it.

Now... that was where they were.

The doctor moved out of the kitchen, glancing to the corner of the apartment’s common space that had turned to the villain’s dayroom.

The television chattered with its unending noise. Villain never seemed to use the remote, even though it sat on the couch at their side. They watched whatever their caretaker put on, though they only switched it when the constant stream of the same noise became too grating to bear. At the moment, the screen displayed some action show-- characters in low lighting shouting over a forgettable macguffin.

Yesterday, it had been the shopping channel. The day before, the weather. Whatever it was, its watcher did not seem to mind. They had not requested the thing in the first place. Doctor had only installed it when the tugging on their heartstrings had grown too great, watching the hero’s heartbroken ward stare at that door, day in and day out.

And thus, Villain sat on the couch. From morning to evening, they would seat themself in the same position, unbroken by even the slightest twitching. If they had the option, they would have likely preferred to stay there. Stay by the door, so there would be no time wasted when Hero at last returned.

But, much to the villain’s chagrin, Doctor, too, was a resident of the apartment, and they knew that sorrowful longing was not a substitute for life.

Mealtimes were the most important.

Getting Villain to eat was a hell of its own right. It was Hero’s idea, to imitate the Nutriblocks with something more appetizing. And, sure, it was easy with desserts. But getting them to eat real food? It seemed like a neverending fight. Thus far, their diet consisted of mashed potatoes, and, if they were feeling especially open-minded, unseasoned, ungarnished chicken.

They still got Nutriblocks. Not full ones, but handfuls of the grey crap, which they wolfed down as though they were being starved. Hero’s awareness of this fact was... lacking, but they would never understand that, without the grey blocks, their ward would have long since began to wither away.

Doctor glanced back to the kitchen. Water boiled atop the stove, specks of salt bouncing from its bubbling surface. Dinner would be prepared soon, and, once again, they would have to coax the potatoes down their ward’s throat.

But, the tubers would take ages to soften. There was plenty of time to wait around.

“Villain?” The doctor moved with slow, even steps towards the couch. The villain’s gaze, they noted, had been fixed on the door instead of the television. When they were called they looked over blearily. “How are you doing?”

“Where Hero.” The tablet chattered. “Miss Hero.”

“Yeah. I know you miss them, bud. But they’re out meeting with Teammate, okay? They’ll be back this evening. They always come back.”

Villain frowned stubbornly.

“Hero back. Hero back.”

“In a bit, okay?”

Doctor did their best to talk to the one who they took care of. Between their own activities, they made the time to make conversation. To try to ease their loneliness.

Villain hated it. They knew that. Villain hated them. They were the one who hauled them away from the door, who forced them to look at things other than its solid wood paneling.

They hated the exercises, relearning to use their legs, to walk, to use their hands. They hated when the doctor urged them to make laps of the apartment’s floorspace-- a border collie nipping at the ankle of a sheep. The villain needed it. Doctor would not let the couch turn into their new prison.

And, for that, they were hated. It did not phase them too much; though it did phase them.

“When. When Hero.”

“Soon. Soon Hero. Dinner is almost ready, so it’s evening, and Hero comes home in the evening.”

The mention of mealtime made Villain’s countenance twist.

“Don’t want.”

“You need to eat.”

“Don’t want.”

“You’ll starve, Villain.”

“No. Want...” Their fingers wandered around the tablet’s screen. “White black.”

“White black?”

“White with black.”

“Hm...” Doctor had gotten quite skilled with the sort of verbal charades. “Grey?”

“Yes.” Though the tablet spoke in monotone, Villain’s expression provided all the excitement that was needed. “Want white black.”

The Nutriblock.

“You can’t just have that. You need something else. I made potatoes again, okay? Well, they’re still on the stove, but, you know what I mean. Will you eat those?”

“Don’t want.”

“Please?”

“Want white black.”

The doctor bit their lip in frustration.

“If you eat your potatoes, you can have some of that, okay?”

Villain frowned.

“Will you eat then?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.” Doctor exhaled. “Okay, it’ll be ready in just a few. You, um- It looks like your show is getting to a good part. So, I’ll just...”

They stood, turning, before a familiar sound made them whirl around a second time.

A knock on the door.

“Hero Hero Hero Hero.” The tablet caterwauled.

The long suffering Doctor sighed, and felt relief in its most physical possible form. There was equal annoyance and pride as they watched Villain leap up from the couch-- a central goal of that day’s exercises-- and scramble to the door. Even as it nearly hit them with its swing, they seemed to pay no mind.

Hero was home.

There was an exhausted, nearly haunted look about their eyes, but that meant nothing when they saw their ward. As they always did, they swung their arms wide open, leaving Villain to stumble into them. With a single heave, their former enemy was held close to their chest, hugging them and burying their head into their chest.

Doctor smiled.

Villain may have been a handful, but, at the end of the day, it was worth it.

[probably-haven]

after binge reading i have come to a new revelation: I’m not a fan of most Xiaoven fanfics

Don’t get me wrong, I love the ship and its one of my favorite to think about.... but most of the fanfiction for the ship just- doesn’t sit right with me for a number of reasons. 

Disclaimer: these are personal opinions from my own taste and are in no way an attack against any authors out there, because frankly fanfic authors are great and not like i could do better lol. As these are personal opinions, I acknowledge here and now that a number of people disagree and that they are under no obligation to change their opinions in any way as it is not and never will be my intention to tell others what they should be thinking That said- read at your own risk if you want- meh, anyway-

time to share some opinions that have been on my mind lately

The biggest reason.... is how they handle Xiao. And I don’t even mean mischaracterization because Xiao is such a complex and yet simultaneously simple character that as long as you’re somewhere in the range of “Xiao vibes” it’s really hard to write him out of character because of his complexities. What I mean is something that i actually completely agree with as being accurate to his character. In nearly every single fanfic I’ve seen, there is some element of idolization that Xiao has for Venti, or for the sake of reference, Barbatos. He tends to think himself beneath Barbatos and/or indebted to him, whether that be because he’s an archon, because he saved him, or simply because of Xiao’s tendency to dehumanize(yes i see the irony in that word usage) himself.  This by itself isn’t an issue but its often how this trait of his is treated.

Imma just list a few ways I’ve seen this be handled within Xiaoven fics. - It isn’t handled, it’s just there and accepted as a part of who he is in the story - It isn’t handled but his trait is treated as source of humor within the story - Venti(and others) roll with it (finding humor in it, just cant change it, encouraging it, making jokes about it, etc.) - Venti takes advantage of it(whether accidentally or purposely) - it’s actually addressed(by Venti or someone else or the narration- can go a number of ways, but just- even a brief reference to the fact that its not a good mindset fits in here) - savior!Venti(Where venti disagrees with it but the way it’s written gives off “god among mortals” vibes- like he’s just being humble and truly is above him in reality) - its the focus of the story  - not directly addressed but shown to be destructive.  - they chose not to not include this in the story’s characterization of Xiao(just saying that this is valid ahead of time) Theres others but i have a lot already.  Note that I tend to read more ‘serious-toned’(idk if that makes sense) fics so that may skew my perception

Now there’s a few that i have issues with on their own- both instances of it not being handled, Venti(and others) rolling with it, Venti takes advantage of it(purposely(and without good intent)), and savior!Venti. Xiao not only has this trait, but he is unfamiliar with what is normal in relationships or emotions as a result of isolation and inexperience. He is also either not aware of or not concerned with what is considered strictly “healthy.” Combining these makes for a rather dangerous combination and just accepting it as “oh he’s just like that, it’s who he is” or making it out to be something funny- It’s not wrong or bad by any means necessarily, and I could still possibly enjoy it to an extent depending on a series of different factors, but its- not as often.  Even in the case where I do enjoy reading it however, I would still feel uncomfortable sharing it with or recommending it to others because in the first instance it feels like normalizing a destructive and dangerous mindset, and in the second case it does the same while simultaneously making a joke of it. It’s the same deal with Venti or other characters rolling with it, but that’s probably gonna be mentioned later too. Not to say that this is a “wrong” way to handle it, that it makes the fic bad, or that authors even are normalizing anything by doing so, just that in my specific instance- not a fan. 

I’ll get to the others when i talk more about Venti, but for now: It’s the focus of the story. I think I saw like... 2? where the story was like- focused on this and why its a problem which- power to them, address those real world problems like a boss- but also i wouldn’t actively seek it out or anything- like, good job, but doing so just leaves it open neutrally for other factors to decide how good a story i think it is. 

not directly addressed but shown to be destructive. You’d think i wouldn’t like this- but frankly in fanfiction not everyone wants to address every character flaw verbally because it can through off story, narration, dialogue, and general flow to do so. This can be with an event, an action, a dialogue, a mere comment, making it actually fit into the it’s actually addressed category except that its- subtle enough to make its own category. plus i live for show not tell- in everything- its a thing. im- very much a fan of when the fics do this but the subtlety is easy to miss and its not common so- 

It’s actually adressed- doesnt have to be a lot- just mention anywhere or imply anywhere that maybe idolizing someone as a god and savior and being in a relationship with them while having little knowledge of standards, emotions, relationships, or healthy behaviors in general- maybe isnt the smartest idea in the word. (”Call me Venti, not Barbatos” by itself is not enough to fit in this category tho as a note)

-

Now lets talk about Venti...

uh.... those who have followed me for awhile will probably already know this but... I have a lot of opinions on Venti and a pretty- “niche(?)” perception of his characterization that isn’t shared by a lot of others- so I don’t actually read as much Venti fanfic in general as you might expect because I often end up disagreeing with how writers portray him, which again, in no way is their characterization wrong, but- “their perceived truth” conflicts with “my perceived truth” and by extent so does the characterization, though neither is any more correct than the other from an objective point of view, if that makes sense... but anyways now that that’s said, moving on before this becomes a philosophy lecture, as fun as that would be for me.  I’ll try to keep my “perceived truth” out of this for the first bit. 

Venti’s response to this: 

He rolls with it: this depends on the mood of the fanfiction. If they dont put a lot of stress on that trait of Xiao’s it totally fine but if the trait seems to be a major part of Xiao’s character, it seems like normalization once more. (more on this later)

he takes advantage of it purposely: if its an AU or something and Venti’s like a villain(i saw a few) then- villain venti isnt my cup of tea but i have no qualms. If they don’t portray Venti in a negative light while having him take advantage however that’s a bit uncomfortable to read for me because it feels like normalizing taking advantage of that mindset as well as the mindset itself. However, i did see a number of instances of Venti using it as leverage for like- self care- which i definitely have no qualms. Xiao: [insert probably destructive idolizing statement about being indebt] Venti: How bout you pay me back by actually sleeping for once smh or other variations are okay and depending on the vibe are actually a really fun dynamic as long as it doesnt turn into romanticizing or normalizing it, y’know?

Venti accidentally taking advantage of it.... I love angst- and in most of these theres a sense of guilt when he realizes- and i just think thats a lovely way of addressing the dangers of such a mindset for both sides. As long as it doesn’t keep repeating to the point of romanticization its totally cool to read in my eyes(not irl ofc). If Venti never realizes he accidentally took or is taking advantage it feels a bit like normalization, and if he does but just- doesn’t care thats- a rip.

savior!Venti...... i- i hate. the story giving off vibes that Xiao’s mindset is technically correct while Venti oh so humbly tells him to treat him as an equal like the wonderful and charitable person he is.... i just- no. of course thats over dramatizing it- I think the main thing that gives it this vibe is when Venti doesn’t seem either concerned, surprised, uncomfortable, or otherwise have a negative feeling towards Xiao’s mindset. Just- it makes the whole thing weird in my eyes when Venti doesnt really seem to have his own reason to oppose the mindset idk- 

-

fact time!

Venti is the god of freedom. His backstory is freeing Mondstadt from a god’s tyrannical reign. His origin is a windsprite, just another breeze bringing changes for the better. His form is a nameless boy who played an instrument and then died, thus failing at his only dream and only ever accomplishing anything because of the help of others. He slept for a thousand years after the archon war to avoid putting Mond under the rule of yet another tyrannical god. He only even became a god because Andrius chose to let him. He wouldn’t have even had that chance if the nameless bard had survived, he’d remain just another wind while his friend ascended to godhood. Venti sacrifices his own power for his people’s freedom. 

now that I’ve laid out a number of canon facts, time for opinions:

Venti has little to no desire to be seen as a god. He thrives in, comes from, and emphasizes a lack of superiority in quite nearly everything. The first Ragnvindir, who canonically turned his back on Venti after Decarabian’s fall, likely did so because one- he anticipated power would corrupt and Venti would soon become just another tyrannical god, two- he suspected Venti used the nameless bard in an attempt to rise to godhood, or three- idk insert other possibilities to acknowledge again that i could totally be wrong.

Look me in the eyes and tell me Venti wouldnt trade godhood for his friend in an instant. His godhood was only granted to him because his friend died and could easily serve to constantly remind him of what could have been and what he lost. Venti takes no enjoyment from being seen as superior and in my opinion, I feel that it could actually make him largely uncomfortable when his divinity and abilities as an archon get involved-

also self promotion for my favorite posts- check out #archon war era venti if thats interesting to you

so anyway Venti rolling with it or making jokes about it just doesn’t sit right with me.- 

-

Okay! enough talking about that mindset!

idk- i have... a few/lot of other gripes and stuff or just things that kinda throw off the vibe for me but that’s the main one plus my general personal pickiness when it come to Venti fanfics- but this has gotten long enough already- 

idk i just felt like rambling about it and i haven’t done a long post in a while so-

again, I love the ship and its actually one of my favorites- just the fanfic isnt my thing..... that doesn’t mean i don’t still love it and come up with a whole ton of brainrot and ideas on it tho lmao

[twices-pup]

Tattoos Together

title : tattoos together ( son chaeyoung x gn reader )

word count : 1,682 words

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of needles

synopsis : [ requested ] you face a fear to remind your girlfriend, chaeyoung, that you love her for all that she is, including her tattoos.

side note : my first request finally done! i really hope the anon who requested and anyone else who reads this likes it! the request was a little vague so i had trouble making this fic long enough, and had to rewrite it a few times but since today is chaeyoung's birthday i was determined to finally get this out! happy strawberry princess day, everyone!! also, the title is definitely inspired by the song tattoos together by lauv because i suck at coming up with titles.

You were never one to be fond of the idea of getting a tattoo. It most probably stemmed from the fear of needles that you've had since you were a child and never quite grew out of. The mere thought of your skin being pierced and inked was enough to send a chill down your spine, which was why you vowed to yourself to never so much as step foot into a tattoo parlor.

Your girlfriend, on the other hand, loved getting tattoos. Her skin was like a canvas, and the tattoos she had gotten over the past couple of years were the works of art. You weren't surprised, Chaeyoung herself was nothing short of an artist, after all—if you handed her a pen and a piece of paper, she'd be able to conjure up a masterpiece out of thin air. Although you were still very much against getting a tattoo yourself, you've learned to love each and every one of the tattoos adorning her skin just as much as you loved the person herself.

Chaeyoung told you her intentions to get a couple more new tattoos shortly before TWICE began filming for the music video of their then newest title track, More & More, for the mini album of the same name. She was over at your place for a visit and the two of you were lazing on your couch together, television turned on and your eyes on the screen but neither of you really focusing on the program playing. You had an arm around her shoulders while she rested her head in the crook of your neck, the room pretty dark save for the light flashing from the TV screen and some sunlight that filtered in through your drawn-in curtains. "I've already looked up some designs I like," she had said. "I'll only pick one or two to get tattooed."

You didn't think much of it at first, the only thing that crossed your mind was "Ah, my girlfriend is getting another tattoo, cool." However, that was until you made an off-handed comment, with your eyes still glued on the TV. "You really like getting tattoos, huh? You have so many already, but you still want to get more."

Upon hearing your words, Chaeyoung suddenly became aware that you were subconsciously rubbing her upper arm gently, your fingers brushing right over the cherry tomatoes tattoo she had there. She didn't say anything at first, your living room back to being quiet other than the voices of the actors coming from the TV speaker. "Yeah, I really do," she suddenly answered you after you thought that the topic had been dropped. "I hope you don't have a problem with that."

Although she had muttered the last part under her breath, you were able to hear it clearly. You turned away from the TV to look at her, with a tiny crease between your eyebrows that were furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Why would I have a problem with it?" you asked her softly.

Chaeyoung met your eyes and sighed. "Not everyone is a fan of girls with tattoos, you know?" she said, her gaze dropping from you to her lap. "So as the person I'm dating, I hope you're not one of those people. Those people who hold prejudice against tattoos or something like that."

Throughout the duration you had known Chaeyoung, you had always viewed her as someone who's free-spirited and jaunty, who doesn't let what other, insignificant people think of her get to her head, as long as she's able to do what she wants to do and be who she wants to be. So seeing her suddenly be so self-conscious about her tattoos, about something she'd usually feel so natural about, caught you by surprise. You realized that, perhaps, as her significant other, your opinion of her meant more to her than that of others did, and you immediately regretted letting your guard down and making such a careless remark.

"Hey," you called out softly, reaching for one of her hands to hold it in yours. "I do not and will never have any kind of problems with your tattoos. I know you love them, and that's completely okay," you assured her, offering her a gentle smile when she looked up at you. Her eyes searched your face for a moment, before she started chuckling.

"Thank you, y/n. Wow, that conversation got so serious all of a sudden. I feel a little embarrassed now, let's talk about something else."

You obliged with a nod, letting Chaeyoung shift the conversation to a different topic as you didn't want her to feel awkward or uncomfortable. Though you did make a mental note to remind her more frequently that you loved her, every single part of her.

On the day of her appointment at her regular tattoo parlor, you gave her a call. "Hey, y/n," she greeted you when she answered her phone. "What's up? I was just about to head to the tattoo place."

"Yeah, that's what I called you for," you said on your end of the call, feeling a little nervous but refusing to turn back on your decision. "Would it be okay if I tagged along with you?"

Your question was met with a moment of silence as Chaeyoung fully took in what you were asking her. "You want to come with me...to a tattoo parlor?" she asked for confirmation, and you nodded, although you were well aware that she wasn't able to see you. "Yes," you verbally answered. "I wanna accompany you as you get your new tattoos."

Knowing you, Chaeyoung surely hadn't expected you to willingly want to watch her get tattooed, in fact it came as a pretty big surprise to her, but if that was what you truly wanted then she had no reason to refuse. She texted you the address of the tattoo parlor and you met up with her there roughly half an hour later, swallowing down your nerves and telling yourself that you were doing it for you girlfriend all throughout your journey.

As the two of you entered the establishment, Chaeyoung noticed your shifty eyes looking all around the tattoo studio, and saw that you seemed more unsure of your decision to come by the passing second. "If you're having any regrets, you can leave at any time," she told you.

Despite the slight uneasiness you were feeling, you quickly shook your head. "It's okay, Chaengie. Like I said, I'm gonna be here for you."

"But why? y/n, you and I both know you're scared of needles, including tattoo needles."

"Because I know how much you love your tattoos. And I love you, so I wanna give you my support."

Your response was enough to put a wide smile on Chaeyoung's face, and seeing her smile was enough to make you smile too, in spite of your jitters. Chaeyoung's hand found yours and held it tightly as she led you deeper into the tattoo parlor. "Thank you," you heard her whisper. "I love you too."

The tattoo parlor was brighter than you had imagined it to be, but frankly that was because you had pictured the place to resemble a dark, soul-sucking torture chamber. Although the sufficient lighting managed to calm your nerves down a bit, the many scary-looking tattoo designs—skulls, snakes, demonic faces—hung up on the walls as decorations weren't helping. As you sat next to Chaeyoung at one of the tattooing stations, you did your best to not look at anything that, to you, were frightening, especially the tattoo machines.

You stayed quiet and only watched as Chaeyoung showed the tattoo artist the designs that she had chosen and told him where she wanted the tattoos to be. Your body tensed up and your breath hitched in your throat when the man took out a tattoo machine and started preparing to tattoo your girlfriend. Chaeyoung, noticing that you were as stiff as a board, gave you a reassuring smile. As much as you appreciated the gesture, you weren't able to smile back.

When the man finally started, you immediately diverted your eyes from your girlfriend to stare down at the floor. However, that did little to nothing to block out the whirring sound of the machine as it did its job. You gripped Chaeyoung's hand, the side that wasn't being tattooed, claiming that you were comforting her, though she had a feeling that it was the other way around instead.

"You're acting like you're the one getting a tattoo," she couldn't help but tease you.

When he was done with her tattoos after what felt like an eternity to you, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. You were finally able to turn back to Chaeyoung as she showed you her two new tattoos, one of a plant on her upper right arm and another of a butterfly by her right wrist.

"Woah, they look great," you complimented, genuinely impressed by the artist's handiwork. "I can't believe I made it through that, I guess watching people get tattooed isn't so bad after all."

Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow at you, amusement evident in her smile. "It isn't, but saying you watched me get tattooed is a bit of a stretch," she opined, and you pouted. "I was still here nonetheless," you argued.

"Alright, alright. Fair enough." Your girlfriend chuckled. "Then maybe next time you can take it a step further and get a tattoo yourself."

You playfully scrunched up your nose at her words and were about to oppose, until she continued. "Maybe we can even get matching ones!" she proposed, her eyes bright with excitement over the idea. Your expression softened in an instant, a wide smile making its way onto your face. Whenever she looked at you like that, with such innocent joy, it was near impossible for you to ever say no.

"Well, maybe one day," you told her, as you helped her up from her seat.

"Maybe one day, we can get tattoos together."

. . .

please do not repost my work, whether on tumblr or on any other site.

[jocia92]

… So much of an actor’s craft is figuring out the “I want” of their character, but that’s got to be a little different with Tom since he states that he literally cannot want anything. What challenge or opportunity did that pose for you?

I think he wants to improve. I think he wants to calibrate according to Alma’s needs, wants, and desires. I think he’s very ready to learn and to understand. That was the kind of primary objective: listen, learn, calibrate, improve. That’s almost the track of each scenario. He just gets a little better each time, and the process gets a little faster. But certainly, in the beginning, he’s just delivering this sort of 20 classic chat-up lines that he’s been uploaded with and getting it all wrong. It’s fun to watch the machine learn and chart that progress.

On a practical or philosophical level, how did you approach the process of humanizing a character that’s an algorithm, or did you at all?

It was very much about charting with Maria exactly when we want to see the machine, when we want to see the human. Even playing with that ratio was really interesting and fun. It’s not so much about watching him play the machine, but watching a character try to play the human. Certainly, in the beginning, in some of the not quite so successful human moments, shall we say, we deconstructed what we regarded as the conventional human behavior in that. We looked at a lot of screwball comedies, like Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Katharine Hepburn movies. [We were] taking a move or a gesture, breaking that down, and just doing two of the things. It just suddenly looks very odd and wrong, and you’re like, “Oh, this is what a human does in this moment!” But it’s just off. It was really as much about looking at the human.

You’ve mentioned things like The Philadelphia Story as shaping the film and its central relationship. Was that to ground it in reality or further ensconce it in the warped reality of cinema? Grant and Stewart are recognizable to us as people, but things like that mid-Atlantic lilt were entirely manufactured for the screen.

That was a very key point for Maria in referencing Cary Grant. The hair color that we chose for Tom was very much like Cary Grant’s hair color, being a shade darker than is possibly human. And the skin tone being slightly artificial for Tom. You’re right, Cary Grant is often very heightened and mannered sometimes, and it works in the situation in the style of the thing that he’s in. But we quite liked the idea that Tom has been uploaded with some outdated versions of what a romantic lead was supposed to behave like.

It’s striking just how thought-out things had to be down to how Tom responds to dead air space in a conversation. What was the process behind those small moments that can make or break the believability of a character?

It was very fun to play with, and probably quite frustrating for a lot of the human actors. Maren was giving a beautifully naturalistic performance, and the conventional responses that there should be from her scene partner weren’t there. We deliberately strip those away—sometimes without telling her, sometimes without needing to tell her. It’s just the way that Tom was, so it was about pushing those moments into a space that became a little uncomfortable: not jumping in on the lines where you might normally jump in, sometimes coming in hard, sometimes offering a delayed response, sometimes none at all. Playing with those, and watching how comfortable or uncomfortable that made them both, was really fun.

Did that frustration, built in by the process, bleed over for Maren into the character of Alma, do you think?

Maybe for Maren. Certainly, for me, it was frustrating in that I would have to remember not to respond in the way that I might normally and remove some of those things. [I had to] really break down exactly what Tom is thinking, what his programming is doing in that point, how he’s responding and calibrating, and whether we see that or not. Choosing moments to show the human, to show the machine. Along with Maria, that was one of the great joys of the role.

How did you settle on the physicality of the character? Was it at all helpful to have done something like Beauty and the Beast in a mo-cap suit to be hyper-aware of how your own movements translate to the screen?

Very much so. In fact, in pretty much every role I’ve done since Beauty and the Beast, I’ve incorporated not always a movement coach, but I’ve definitely looked at movement theory and physicality in a totally new way because of the challenges of that role. And, I have to say, dance plays a huge part in that. Whether it’s incorporated on the screen or if it’s something that just feels as if it helps the role, I often find that a dance studio is a very fruitful space to discover things about your character’s physicality. Learning the rumba for this role was incredibly helpful because it’s a very precise, technical, almost robotic dance in terms of the laser precision that’s needed to get it absolutely right. I had a fantastically exact teacher in Berlin who was teaching me the rumba the whole way through the shoot. We shot that [one scene] quite near the end of the shoot. Just to have those lessons, that kind of physicality, and that poise with me the whole way through the role was really useful.

How did the role being in a non-native tongue affect the characterization of Tom? Was it all easier to make him seem slightly unreal given that the words might not come quite as naturally as they would in English?

I think it was a deliberate choice on the part of Maria to look for a foreign actor who could speak German. She needed somebody who could both get their heads and their mouths around the very technical German that was required, which, even for a German is pretty complex, but also who had that sense of otherness. I’m sure they could have tailored the screenplay to any number of nationalities, but I was very happy they came to me and made him British. It definitely helped with, as I say, the fact that he’s listening, learning, focusing, trying to improve…that was literally all I was doing last summer, every day.

How do you lock onto the frequency of German comedy, which isn’t always something people associate with that country or people? How is it different than doing something like the more mannered British wit of Blithe Spirit or the broad studio comedy of Eurovision Song Contest?

It’s not a country known for it, but I think they should [be]. I find Germans very funny. They have a very interesting sense of humor. What’s particularly delightful is the way that they can tackle really kind of big, sometimes weighty, issues with a certain wit and lightness of touch, which is not common to all countries. Physical comedy, I think, is fairly universal. I think there’s something almost farcical about some of the physical stuff that we managed to get in this. It was really fun to make people laugh in a foreign language. It was surprisingly delightful. It felt very unifying, somehow, to be able to get a joke across in any language.

[luvlyrv]

Another Dance (Duel Pt. 2) | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, knight!au

Summary: Seulgi has taught you how to dance, but now she needs to teach you what this new feeling brewing in your chest means.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Sorry this took a while to get out. Thank you again to my editor I always love your suggestions. I hope everything in this follow up makes sense.

Date: 5/9/21

Click here to read part one

Perhaps these last few months of your life have been the best. Despite the fact that training has been more brutal due to your nearing graduation into knighthood, every moment has felt brighter than the past several years of your life. Maybe all? You can’t remember ever waking up to a feeling like this all the time.

Yes, this feeling right here in your chest. The feeling you get when you wake up startled and in a frenzy from a dream of spending a day with Seulgi. A life with Seulgi. It’s the feeling that you get when she asks for your hand so that the two of you can make a fool of yourselves dancing. The strange way your chest seems to contract and hurt when Seulgi sneaks a smile while the commandment screams orders at you.

Since when did you feel like this? You’re not sure. Maybe it was that one night the two of you spent together weeks ago, where you finally felt confident enough to lead the dance for once. You had pulled her close with a bold move you didn’t even plan to make, making Seulgi give you a shocked look before glancing away, barely catching her soft smile. Maybe she was proud of you in that moment, you don’t know. You don’t know anything anymore besides Seulgi, besides the fact that you were hyper aware of her breath that night. Of the way her garments clung so close to skin, the rise and fall of her chest, the length of her eyelashes, the slope of her nose.

Every day you’re greeted by the sunrise, only to be anticipating its set.

Before you can spend your cherished time with Seulgi though, you had to go through the motions of your day. Time seemed to pass slowly as you sparred and trained. Nowadays though there was a lightness in your body that wasn’t there before, and your eyes had become better at reading the flowing movements of your opponents. You were ecstatic to see your improvement, likewise were the commanding officers and fellow apprentices, it seemed. Some officers urged you to continue to carry out whatever it was that you were doing to improve and to finally displace Seulgi. Meanwhile the knights-in-training were muttering among themselves about your progress and how it was done.

To say that you were happy that morning training ended would be an understatement. The second highlight of your day would be the precious half hour you spent with Seulgi during your afternoon meal. As you impatiently wait in line to be served whatever was deemed nutritious for prospecting knights, you think about how you were just a couple months ago. After spending some time with Seulgi you wanted to somehow be even closer to her, to spend time beyond the midnight dances you two shared.

When you had first decided to sit next to Seulgi instead of by your lonesome, you were uncharacteristically nervous. You were sure that if people looked carefully enough they could have noticed how your steady sword-arm shook as you held onto your tray of food. People didn’t hide their raised eyebrows at your approach, some people left the area, terrified at the thought of you possibly coming over to terrorize them.

It was a surprise when you had quietly asked if it was okay for you to seat yourself next to Seulgi. She didn’t hesitate to say yes, flashing you her crescent eyes you had unknowingly grown accustomed to. The surrounding witnesses to the sight were confused. When would you have willingly associated with anyone? Especially Seulgi, and in such a shy manner?

When you finally get your meal you walk towards the familiar table and remember your present day situation. Now that time has passed people are less wary around you and how you seemingly lack the intention to verbally abuse and berate people. In fact, when you began to take Seulgi’s advice of smiling more people seemed to… like you? It helped that you lost most of your competitive streak, instead favoring to focus on yourself and what you can do. Mostly your dancing, though, as you yearned to impress Seulgi more each and every night.

The clank of your tray against the wooden aging table alerts Seulgi of your presence. Quickly turning her head away from the person she was talking to, she opens her mouth to greet you. That was until Markus, a man who came from a noble family with notable enough skills, called out for you. You move to face the source of his voice, only to notice him uncomfortably close to your side. It was odd for him to suddenly appear when you swore you didn’t notice him on your way over.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you’d like to duel me in the afternoon? You know, since we haven’t gotten an opportunity to do so for the past couple weeks. Maybe go on a walk afterwards?” He throws you a shy, maybe even a cheeky smile. If there was one thing you knew about him it was that you’ve had much more encounters with him than you’d like recently, and that smile of his was one he’d thrown at other female trainees in the past. If anything, he was merely a passing thought.

“Sure, I don’t care.” You say in your signature neutral tone. Hoping that he’d leave you alone now, you began to turn back to Seulgi. Your movement is stopped when Markus puts his hand on your shoulder and swipes a finger across your cheek.

“You had some dirt there from practice. Just wanted to get it off.” He grins tortuously wide before excusing himself from the table. You sigh, and when you finally get to look at Seulgi she has a raised brow, her mouth forming a tight line. Not sure what to do at her sudden change of mood, you pick at your food a bit. You feel like you can’t eat anything under her intense stare.

You’re starting to feel nervous until Seulgi decides to tap on your shoulder. Glancing up from your plate you see her with a handkerchief in hand.

“I think," she pauses, "Markus made it worse, actually.” She adds before gently rubbing the dirt that became spread across your face. You scrunch your nose and eyes but a small smirk forms in affection.

“Does it really matter, though? I don’t care about how I look.”

“I think you look cuter without it. And more hygienic.”

**

After your meal came your academic and strategical studies. Your brain dulls into mush after countless hours of toiling over geography and the endless ways a person can kill someone. Although you still do well in a more scholar-like learning environment, your body greatly preferred the battlefield. You let out a sigh of happiness when you were allowed to stretch and start another round of sparring.

Keeping to your promise, you await as you lean into your training sword until Markus shows up in your vision again. He walks towards you with such unnerving confidence and a grin you think is permanently scribbled on his face.

“Are you ready, my lady?”

“Don’t patronize me.” You mumble. The two of you back away from each other to an appropriate distance before getting into your stances. Some people gather around the scene, which wasn’t uncommon for your battles. They want to make a spectacle of your fight.

When you rush forward towards Markus you get a good stab straight in his stomach. His reflexes seemed almost slow, or at least much slower than yours or Seulgi’s. He lets out a grunt, but the training armor and his natural durability keeps him on his feet. In an attempt to make you fall, he swings his sword arm directly downwards towards your back. You easily sidestep and continue a relentless sequence of parries and hard smacks against his arms and legs.

This continues on for minutes on minutes, much longer than the vast majority of your fights. Markus has proven himself to be a bad fighter, and the only reason you haven’t won yet is the fact that your sword wasn’t made to kill and the fact that Markus has stupidly good endurance. It’s hard for you to keep fighting. Not because you were lacking stamina but on account of the monotony of his moves started to bore you greatly.

Your mind wanders as you automatically parry Markus’ pathetic slashes without much thought. You recall how you have to go on a walk with Markus when he slips a slight grin, but after that you can go about your day and eventually spend the night with Seulgi. You think about how her smile looks in the moonlight, how her hair bounces as you move to a make-believe rhythm. You unconsciously put on a broad grin as you hope she teaches you something new tonight.

You’ve let your attention slip for too long though. When you get a grip on reality again, you realize that you’re now on the ground and Markus’ blade is descending on your body. Your reaction allows you to bring up your sword to his, a loud clang traveling through the air. With all your might you push back, trying to angle your sword so his would slide off and break free from contact. It seems like you may be able to fend off his weapon for a second, but he yells as he delivers all of his strength into pushing down on you.

The force is more than enough to make your sword lose contact with his. With the blade right on your throat he throws on a victorious expression and screams in happiness. The crowd around you softly murmur as they look at each other. Markus drinks in his win and he looks at everyone and then at you.

“You’ve gone soft on me, haven’t you?”

“What? What do you mean?” You try to brush the dirt off your back as you get up.

“I mean, why would you all of a sudden smile and let me win like that otherwise?” He chuckles with his words as he approaches you and places a hand on your back.

“I was just distracted.” You try to get away from him, but he gets closer and whispers in your ear.

“By me, right?” You hear a certain kind of joy and conceitedness in his voice that makes you want to vomit while simultaneously punching him.

“No. Now let's just get this walk done with so I can go shower or shoot my bow, or something.” At your words he shuffles away and uncomfortably leaves some space between the two of you as you go for a quick walk in the woods. Everybody watches as you two leave the area, and as you pass by you hear their whispers.

“…like him?”

“ …usually ruthless…why’d she let him win?”

“…was right…gone soft.”

You aren’t sure what to do about their theorizing or their mindless gossip, nor what to do with the man who was now clinging onto your side. What was usually a peaceful and quiet trail for you became loud and annoying as Markus kept trying to flirt despite your silence and lack of response to his remarks. It was hard to appreciate the beauty in the trees and forest life over the talkativeness of the man next to you. If you could, you wouldn’t have gone on a walk with him, but you felt like it was dishonorable of you to break an appointment or promise.

You think that next time you should bring Seulgi with you instead, it would be a pleasant experience then.

After what felt like a century of walking, you had finally looped around the trail and made it back to the beginning of the forest. You continue to trek forward and almost leave Markus behind, but he grips onto your waist and looks at you for a moment. The tinge of expectancy that gleamed in his eyes, and that's when you knew. You watch in a panic as he flutters his eyes and brings his lips to yours.

There’s a ringing in your ears from how hard you slap him.

“Don’t.” You say while walking away from him.

You decide that you should go to the shower to wash off his filth, then go to the archery range to practice shooting his face in your head.

**

It would be a lie to say you weren’t sore from the amount of work you forced upon your body today. As you hunker towards the barracks though, a sudden burst of energy renews the feelings in your limbs when you find Seulgi patiently awaiting you like always. The area clears out of people until it’s just you and Seulgi. She comes by your side to walk with you towards the field.

Your dance begins and you drink in the comfortable silence until Seulgi decided to speak.

“So, Markus, how do you feel about him?” There’s a sense of inquisitiveness that you haven’t heard from her before.

“Hm? He’s just a person.” She makes a face at your answer, scrunching her eyebrows as she pushes further,

“Really? You know, when I finished my practice match and walked around everybody was talking about the two of you… you know. How you’re a thing or something.”

“Just a misunderstanding.” You assert, but Seulgi seems to want to hear more.

“Do you not like him? What about anybody else? I feel like everybody is dying for your attention these days.” With the last sentence there’s a subtle shift to a sadder, even disgruntled tone in her voice. You watch as she bites her lip waiting for an answer, entranced enough to almost forget to reply. The insecurity was hard to ignore.

“I don’t really talk to anyone besides you, Seulgi, and I don’t know why people bother. Maybe they just respect my abilities and think now that I’m friendlier I’d be interested in a conversation. Also, you aren’t one to talk. You’ve had people following you around and worshipping you since day one.” Thinking about it, you can‘t ever remember a time where Seulgi didn’t have someone by her side.

Another wave of silence envelopes you as Seulgi finally nods, maybe settling with this answer. Or at least is mulling over your words. As she takes the time to think, you remember the events that happened earlier in the day and the question that had been bothering you.

“By the way, are you making me soft?”

You interrupt the dance you shared by taking a step back. You cock your head in examination. Recently it’s been hard to tell if Seulgi’s influence over you had been helpful or harmful. Especially since there were instances where you almost completely lost your focus like you did today.

“Where is this coming from?” She asks while putting on a confused smile, as if to say ‘excuse me?’.

“Well, obviously I’m more approachable now because of your advice, but now you’re getting in the way of my fighting.”

“Huh?” Seulgi is taken aback by your words and how you state them so matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes I lose focus in the middle of fights now. They accused me of becoming soft.”

“How can I possibly be at fault for that?”

“Well, it’s you that I think about. All the time.” You reach out for her hand, gently tugging it towards you and then onto your chest. “And you make my heart beat real fast. Faster than any running commandment has made us done. It kind of hurts my chest, really. Have you casted a spell on me too?”

You feel Seulgi’s hand tremble in a quake.

“Y/N, are you joking right now?”

“No, I just want to know, why do I feel like this all the time around you?” Looking at Seulgi’s face you spot how the tips of her ears turned a bright red, despite the darkness of the night. Your other hand pulls back her hair so you can examine it further. With a worried look you ask, “Oh, are you cold? Should we go back inside?” You panic a little as you see the pink had spread onto the rest of her face.

“You…” Seulgi’s breath has quickened, and she rescinds her hand from yours. You’re worried you’ve done something wrong as Seulgi refused to even look at you, instead she's staring at her feet. “You like me, stupid.” The dramatic atmosphere turns lighthearted as she laughs boisterously.

“Huh? Is that what this means?”

“Are you being serious with me?” Seulgi keeps laughing at you, much to your frustration.

“Yes! I am! I don’t understand! I’ve never felt this way before, that’s why I have to ask.” Your face lapses to a pout and that seems to encourage her to keep laughing at you.

“Hey, stop pouting!” Her laughing reduced to giggles as she walked closer to you. She brings her hands forward as they cup your face. Your knees feel weak, buckling at the warmth in her hands and the care they seemed to radiate. She finally calms down when she asks you, “Now, if you really like me then tell me," she sucks in a quick breath," would you like to kiss me right now?”

For a second you’re frozen, but soon enough you bashfully nod your head a little too hard.

Her lips reach yours and you instantly smile. The lips that you’ve stared at for hours, the ones that say the words that have moved you the most, the ones that curve adorably and ignites the dormant happiness within you. You stay that way for a moment that both felt like forever and like no time at all. Seulgi breaks away before kissing each of your cheeks.

“Oh,” she sighs while staring at you, “you’ve made me the happiest person in the world.”

[seerofmike]

The Writing In Apex Kinda Sucks And Also They Use Ship Bait As A Plot Device I Hate It Here

a stupid essay/rant encouraged by @zombiegloss that originally started as a youtube video script so if its like. weird at points. this was intended to be a verbal rant SNZISKSIA

basically i'm gonna talk abt the caustic-wattson-crypto relationship drama and how i think it was mishandled and how much the writers kind of Suck because i Can

you are free to disagree with me on any of my points and think that this aspect of the story was handled well, this is just my opinion, and i'd love to hear your thoughts and counterpoints !

first, addressing some things:

i know this is a battle royale and not necessarily a story-based game, so i can’t expect it to have masterful witcher-style writing.

but with the direction the game seems to be going; putting quests, evolving interactions, and comics in the game, plus coming out with a lore book and hinting at something bigger in the future, i think it’s fair to criticize it for lackluster writing, especially since what i’m criticizing has been something present since Apex’s story technically began.

secondly, i am not a professional writer. i’m a high schooler who writes as a hobby. i don’t have the decades of experience that some of the apex writers do, and i can’t claim to be a better writer than they are--but i also don’t have to be a five-star chef to realize that something tastes bad. when i critique something and give suggestions, i am not saying i could’ve done it better. i’m just bringing up what i think could have worked.

third, before i upset anyone , when i say a relationship is badly written, i’m not telling you that you can’t ship it or that your ship sucks. i’ll briefly touch on the shipping aspect of this and how it’s a detriment to the story but Ye

okay, so with that out of the way, let us Begin

relationships are often the emotional core of a story, and how strong your reaction is to conflict in these relationships depends on how the story sets them up. if you want the audience to care about these characters and what they go through, you need to develop them and establish the type of relationship they have well. it’s why so many people cried in the last episode of telltale’s the walking dead. you’ve spent roughly 12 hours bonding with clementine and protecting her, and your relationship with her is part of several story beats as well as character beats for lee. 

when these two characters’ relationship reaches its peak at the end of the game, it’s powerful, and it’s emotional. you care. you feel something, and the fact that you have to choose what to do to lee only makes it more gut-wrenching. 

now, the walking dead is entirely story-based and especially character-driven, so it may be unfair to compare it to apex, but i just wanted to lay the groundwork down for what i think is a strong relationship that makes you feel something when conflict arrives, in this case the conflict being lee getting bit and clementine having to decide his fate.

the broken ghost in general is kind of not-good sometimes, tom casiello previously wrote for soap operas and you can really, REALLY tell sometimes.

this story feels like it should’ve taken place a little later, and that we should’ve had a season to actually set up the characters and their relationships, but that’s a story for another day.

to put it bluntly, the set-up for the crypto, wattson, and caustic conflict is done poorly. for caustic and wattson's relationship it’s a little better, but not by much. 

wattson and caustic having a relationship was hinted at in season 2, when her lore indicated that caustic was among one of the Legends who comforted her after her father died. In season four lore materials posted on Twitter, an email from Jacob Young states that Caustic is acting paternal towards Wattson. In season five, interactions get added to the Game, and this is the first time we actually see their relationship in action, as they have unique revive voice lines for each other. in the quests, when wattson is injured, caustic lashes out at loba and attacks her out of what seems to be anger at wattson’s current state.

Side Note this plot point was really stupid and done for cheap drama because she literally wakes up like two chapters later and they don’t even give her anything to say it’s just suddenly oh yeah crypto and wattson are working together. the same exact injury thing happens to octane later but nobody gIVES A SHIT because again, it’s just cheap soap opera drama.

their relationship might seem a little bit sudden for anyone who wasn’t on top of twitter lore drops, but like, it’s okay, i guess. i’ll give it the slightest credit for at least establishing something between the two in terms of voice lines and stuff, even if for some it might seem like it came out of nowhere.

what did come out of nowhere, though, was crypto and wattson’s friendship. in the quests, crypto and wattson are tasked with rebuilding the broken ghost because of their respective skills, and they’re seen talking in chapter six while they work on it. we’re not really given a clear timeline on how long the story in the broken ghost is, but i think it takes about a week, maybe.

unlike wattson and caustic, their relationship has been given absolutely zero material to work with before now, not even a passing glance in the trailers--which is a little weird considering crypto took down the repulsor tower and destroyed wattson’s home, but. Whatever.

tl dr of the chapter: crypto and wattson talk to each other while doing nerd shit, crypto laughs at wattson’s bad pun, and then suddenly they’re BESTIEEEES, until a couple dozen lines later in the same chapter. then they’re Not.

crypto’s drone gets hacked by revenant while everyone was kind of on edge after the reveal of a spy in their midst, he gets framed as the spy by caustic, anddddd wattson gets upset.

before i get into how dumb this storyline is, i’m gonna talk about the set-up to this conflict.

we have been given no reason to believe that these characters have ever talked to each other, and quite frankly, their friendship doesn’t really make sense.

ignoring the fact that crypto destroyed wattson’s home--which she probably doesn’t know about, so that’s forgiven for now--crypto is a paranoid guy. in the lore book he makes people stand on fucking footprints in his house so he can scan them for weapons and listening devices, and he apparently doesn’t stick around much after the games and nobody knows anything about him because he doesn’t talk to them.

a key part of crypto’s story is the fact that he is undercover and afraid of anyone finding out anything about him ever. him becoming friends with wattson kind of comes out of the blue, and we’re not even given a reason as to why they supposedly became close in the first place. i would kind of understand if like, maybe he draws parallels with her and mila in his mind and it makes him open up a little more, but that doesn’t happen. he just laughs at her joke and suddenly they’re friends.

maybe they’re trying to go for this ‘wattson can become friends with anybody’ angle, kind of hinted at with caustic but not really we’ll get into that, but that also? kind of doesn’t make sense since so many of her voice lines straight-up say she doesn’t understand people and electricity is more her thing, but honestly, she also does have those really friendly elements in her voice lines too, so its not as egregious as what they did with crypto.

their sudden out-of-the-blue friendship would’ve been fine if they spent a little more time fleshing it out, and giving us something to work with, but instead, the story immediately tries to rip it apart and frame it as this grand conflict where crypto is framed as the mole, crypto then accuses caustic, and wattson feels betrayed.

except it doesn’t really work, because we don’t give a shit. for several reasons. 

one: crypto and wattson became friends and then ended their friendship in the same exact chapter. they did not speak to each other onscreen until this chapter began, you can read the entire quest on the wiki and see for yourself that their interactions up until that point were nonexistent aside from mentions in the narration that they were building something together.

the reason wattson feels betrayed is kind of stupid too. why does she really care that much if one of them betrayed loba? nobody else really cared about the fact that one of them was a spy, in fact, nobody even seems to like loba that much, and they just found out that loba’s been lying to them this whole time, and wattson was conscious for that conversation and had a speaking line, so she’s fully aware of the situation. 

maybe it’s just like, the idea that one of them lied, but that’s still kind of a weak reason. 

this entire betrayal thing is just dumb, and it gets even worse when you realize that there could have been an actual legitimate reason for wattson to feel betrayed by crypto--even if it still would’ve come across as weak conflict because of their newly established friendship, it would’ve made more sense than this. 

Crypto destroyed Wattson’s home. He took down the tower and then all the flyers and stuff invaded Kings Canyon and made it their bitch. Not only that, but Wattson considers the Syndicate her family. The Syndicate are the very people who framed Crypto for murder and he’s trying to take them down. 

They could’ve set up actual conflict with these things, and it almost seemed like they would, because Caustic briefly brings up that Crypto could be working with Revenant because he has something against the Syndicate but then that doesn’t really go anywhere and we’re just back to Wattson feeling betrayed because either Crypto or Caustic was a spy and she doesn’t know who.

Weak conflict could’ve been made better by a strong relationship and a weak relationship could’ve still been interesting with strong conflict, but both the relationship between Crypto and Wattson and the conflict that drives them splitting up as friends were really weak and didn’t make much sense. 

It would’ve been ten times more interesting if Wattson found out Crypto ruined her home, the arena she grew up in, and was now participating in the Games to take out the people she regards as her family. That’s where her distrust could’ve manifested and conflict could’ve began, but instead it was the stupid betraying loba thing. why do you care. you just started talking to this guy like 2 hours ago.

also caustic’s whole reason for framing crypto feels stupid as fuck. he didn’t just frame crypto randomly, he framed him specifically because he doesn't want him to influence wattsob because he likes her Big Brain, but this is the FIRST time we have seen those two interact. 

what influence is he talking about? wraith and wattson have been shown to be friendly with each other in the trailers, according to tom’s tweets, and in the story too so why doesn’t he frame her? at this point the audience had slightly more build-up for those two’s relationship than crypto and wattson and a betrayal storyline would’ve felt a little more deserved if still weak.

this is the point where i briefly want to touch upon shipping, and the fact that part of this conflict feels driven by shipbait. 

aside from their relationship coming out of nowhere and the writers trying to make the stakes seem high and deeply emotional to the characters involved (despite this essentially being the first time they’ve ever interacted) tom casiello literally addresses shippers in a tweet regarding chapter seven, and as the story between these characters progresses, it becomes clear to me, at least that the crypto-wattson thing is just bait for shippers, and it’s lazy. 

it’s easy to get away with giving your characters little to no relationship development if you’re just counting on shippers to do the heavy mental lifting for you

why should i put any effort into making this relationship seem believable? people are going to see a young guy and a young girl having bare minimum interaction and assume there’s romantic interest! then i don’t have to do any work, see look, it’s a ready-made relationship wrapped in a bow for me! all that’s left for me to do is give them conflict so i can keep teasing shippers with lines like ‘you never deserved her’!

i think it’s reasonable for me to suspect shipbait, since tom casiello likes doing darksparks shipbait on twitter, and i’m like, eighty percent sure mirage and bloodhound suddenly being childhood friends in the book is shipbait too, because these characters were the number one ship in apex for a long time despite little to no interaction, and then all of a sudden in the lore book they’re childhood friends despite this literally never being mentioned before?

like bloodhound is set up to be mysterious and nobody knows what they look like, or where they’re from, or who their family is--except for mirage Apparently, who played with them when he was a kid on their home planet, and has seen them with their mask off, because bloodhound did not wear a mask when their parents were still alive.

its weird.

i’m pretty sure they’ve said somewhere they were working on this book before apex even came out, so i could just be completely wrong and they always planned for mirage and bloodhound to know each other, but if that’s the case, why did they never mention it like they did octane and lifeline?

i refuse to believe MIRAGE never brought it up either like ‘heeeeyy bloodhound remember when we used to throw eggs at our parents lab haha wanna go do to that to bangalore’s room’ 

[silence]

‘good talk buddy’

ANYWAYS I GOT OFF TOPIC. POINT IS, shipping is a detriment to the story because the writers don’t feel like they actually have to put any work into establishing or developing the relationship between characters when they know the community’s just going to do it for them anyways, and that they can put in shipbait and it’s fine and it makes sense when it really doesn’t.

imagine watching captain america civil war after not seeing a single other marvel movie.

why would you care about the avengers splitting up or tony and steve butting heads or steve’s commitment to bucky? you wouldn’t care, at least not as much as someone who’s seen all the movies and knows the relationship between the characters and why the sokovia accords exist in the first place. you don’t have context and you don’t have any reason to be emotionally invested in these characters’ relationship.

 this feels like that. the writers tried to squeeze this relationship and stuff into a single chapter and we don’t fucking care unless we were already invested in the idea of their relationship (shippers) because we barely spent any time with it.

so to summarize this little section, the set-up of this storyline Kinda Sucks! crypto and wattson barely seem to know each other, because we the audience barely saw them together and the writers are relying on shipbait in place of a relationship.

wattson and caustic are a little better but not great, but the conflict is stupid and it only gets stupider.

moving onto summarizing the rest of the broken ghost, gibraltar and caustic talk, caustic LITERALLY confesses to being the mole and says he framed crypto so he couldn’t corrupt wattson and to appear innocent because his identity was suspected, then that wraps up the season storyline.

season six begins with new voice lines, where wattson has had enough of crypto and caustic’s shit and is all passive-aggressive and going ‘this doesn’t change anything’. she has to decide who to trust, and how to figure out The Truth for herself because she’s not a little girl anymore. crypto and caustic are both trying to convince her they’re innocent and it creates some interesting conflict.

just kidding. it’s terrible conflict. you want to know why?

BECAUSE GIBRALTAR TRIED TO TELL HER THE TRUTH, RIGHT AFTER THE SEASON 5 QUEST HAPPENED, AND SHE LITERALLY REFUSED TO HEAR IT.

LIKE THERE’S A SEASON 6 LOADING SCREEN WHERE HE’S TELLING EVERYONE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHEN HE GETS TO WATTSON AND IS LIKE HEY I KNOW WHO THE MOLE WAS AND WHY THEY DID IT, SHE JUST GOES i dont wanna hear it. i need to think

IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH WHY ARE YOU REFUSING TO HEAR IT

SHE SPENDS ALMOST TWO ENTIRE SEASONS MAD AT CRYPTO FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO BECAUSE SHE TOLD GIBRALTAR TO FUCK OFF WHEN HE TRIED TO TELL HER WHAT HAPPENED

ITS SO DUMB

i think it was towards the end of season 6 or the beginning of season 7 where apex posted this picture of wattson asleep at her desk where she has a letter from gibraltar on it that looks like it tells her the truth, so she knows now, she knows what happened, but NOW her issue is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about crypto.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IS YOUR GODDAMN DAMAGE. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT BLOODHOUND EITHER ARE YOU THIS UPSET WITH BLOODHOUND TOO?? HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO PATHFINDER. DO YOU HATE PATHFINDER TOO

oh but she was friends with crypto and now she’s mad that he lied to her EXCEPT THEIR RELATIONSHIP WASN’T BUILT UP WELL SO IT JUST FEELS STUPID. THEY SPENT LONGER BEING NOT-FRIENDS THAN THEY SPENT BEING FRIENDS. THEY BECAME FRIENDS IN ONE CHAPTER AND THEN IMMEDIATELY AT THE END OF THAT CHAPTER THEIR FRIENDSHIP ENDED AND THEN WATTSON SPENT LIKE 2 SEASONS MAD AT HIM FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO . 

AND THE WRITERS TRIED TO RECTIFY THIS BY SAYING OH SHE’S NOT MAD ABOUT THE TRAITOR THING SHE’S MAD BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM AND IT’S LIKE WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT MAKE THAT CLEAR WHY DOES SHE SAY ‘IT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU DID’ IN HER VOICE LINES WHY DOES SHE CALL HIM A TRAITOR IF HER CONFLICT WAS HER NOT KNOWING MUCH ABOUT HIM . WHAT DID HE DO. 

HE JUST STOOD THERE AND LAUGHED AT HER JOKE AND THEN HE GOT FRAMED AND THEN THAT WAS THE END OF THE CHAPTER AND NOW SHES SUDDENLY LIKE IM ACTUALLY MAD BECAUSE YOURE A LIAR AND I CANT TRUST YOU EVEN THOUGH I NOW KNOW YOU WERE FRAMED I STILL DO NOT LIKE YOU AND HES LIKE YEAH THATS MY FAULT

The Caustic voicelines are stupid too, again his reason for framing Crypto was stupid and a lot of his voicelines just seem to be that shipbait thing again but like from the angle of overprotective dad who doesn’t like the new boyfriend. it’s stupid but not as egeregious as this next part which is

crypto telling wattson his identity.

CRYPTO was framed for MURDER and is paranoid and can’t trust anyone and doesn’t talk to anyone and the last time he did talk to someone he got framed for Another thing and the person he was talking to turned her back on him and actively refused to know the truth for like 2 seasons and then he went This Is Fine I Can Tell Her My Identity

the stupidest update to this storyline was crypto telling wattson the truth

why did they do it on the dropship where there are presumably syndicate members and other legends around.

why didn’t he scan wattson for listening devices like he did for pathfinder in the book.

why is he telling her his identity when he knows she has very close ties to the people that FRAMED HIM for MURDER. Does he trust her that much? WHY? They spoke to each other in a chapter and then spent two seasons not talking to each other beyond passive-aggressive BS. why are you so fucking stupid taejoon

their relationship was so poorly set-up that even if the writers maybe intended for them to come across as close friends who had spent weeks bonding, it really feels like they became friends in a single conversation, had a falling out, and now crypto suddenly trusts her with his identity after an undetermined amount of time because he wants to be friends again. 

that does not make SENSE this conflict feels contrived AS FUCK and the resolution feels even worse and unearned UGGGHHHH

it honestly comes across as crypto feeling desperate for friendship, and maybe this would’ve worked better if that’s the angle they played it as.

he’s been alone for roughly two years, and just wants a friend, and he’s honestly so lonely he just breaks down to the first person who’s really talked to him. it could’ve been an interesting little part of his character, and they could've gone into depth about how much this situation has affected him, but that’s not what they’re doing. he’s still paranoid and anxious and doesn’t trust anyone, except for wattson, because the plot needs him to or else there won’t be any stupid soap opera drama.

and to rub salt in the wound, wattson’s new voice lines with caustic have him telling her that she forgave crypto.

WHAT ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR. ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR BEING FRAMED? WHY DID HE HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU WHEN YOU WERE THE ONE WHO REFUSED TO HEAR THE TRUTH?

 did the conversation just go hey my real name is taejoon park and something bad happened to me and she went aight i forgive you WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

Caustic’s new voice lines to Crypto where he’s like ‘what did you tell her’--YOU TOLD GIBRALTAR STRAIGHT-UP YOUR EVIL MASTER PLAN LIKE A SUPERVILLAIN AND NOW YOU’RE SURPRISED WATTSON AND CRYPTO ARE ON GOOD TERMS NOW?!

THAT’S LIKE TELLING SOMEONE YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER AND THEN BEING SURPRISED WHEN YOU BECOME THE VICTIM OF IDENTITY FRAUD. YOU SET YOURSELF UP FOR THIS WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE CRYPTO DID SOMETHING SINISTER OR LIED OR WHATEVER. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DO YOU HAVE LIKE 3 BRAINCELLS

this is at like ten pages already so i’m going to just try and wrap this up quickly. 

it’s frustrating seeing this storyline play out when there are actually good relationships and storylines written into apex. i’m kind of getting tired of the loba and revenant conflict, but we at least had set-up to it in the form of a few animated shorts and it doesn’t play out as stupidly as this story does. bangalore and loba’s friendship is actually developed well, even if the point between the end of season 5 and season 6 where they suddenly talk like each other feels like it could’ve used a little more. 

where crypto and wattson having an established friendship in the broken ghost failed, lifeline and octane’s established friendship works because we’ve been told since octane’s release they were childhood friends and given lore materials that indicate they’ve known each other for a very long time.

apex wants this storyline between crypto and wattson and caustic to feel dramatic and tense and ultimately rewarding when crypto and wattson did become friends for real and stuff, but instead it just comes across as hollow and empty. 

there’s nothing there. it’s a case of tell, don’t show, and it looks like this stupid conflict is gonna keep going for another couple of seasons at this rate. 

side note: this entire script was written before the new twitter comics

please tell me ur thoughts and feel free to respond with ur own lil essay

also believe it or not this is not the "shipping is a detriment to apex's story" essay i was gonna write this is a completely different essay that has some overlap SKXISOSOW

[hotchley]

I'm so tired please give me soft Hotch and protective Morgan content ♥️

Aww it’s okay to be tired and take a break and if you ever want to talk, my asks are still on, and I feel like I’m getting to this really late because I was probably sleeping when this was sent?

Anyways, this is just a little image I’ve had floating around my head. I’ll cross-post it to my ao3.... later because at it’s 5:41am and I want to go to sleep.

I may have missed the mark with this?? I don’t know, we have protective Morgan showering Hotch with compliments and Hotch being himself about the whole thing so I feel like it counts.... also the ending will make sense at the end

This is set during Gabby, but that’s not that relevant because I barely remember what actually happened in that episode, just that Hotch got punched by Sue.

Warnings: canon-typical violence (Hotch gets punched but it’s not graphic, just an event, and something referenced)

fifty-two minutes

Hotch knew he was going too far as he insulted Sue's abilities to parent Gabby, but he also knew there were certain things that had to be done for cases. He needed to know. Everyone needed to know whether or not she was capable of doing the unspeakable. If she was the one responsible for Gabby's disappearance. And the only way he could do that was by pushing. By pushing until she snapped and reacted.

He had just assumed her breaking point would lead to some form of verbal retaliation. Something about the lack of wedding ring, even though there was still a tan line because on the days where he missed Haley so much it was all-consuming, he would put it on, just for a few moments to remember the version of her that had been everything to him. He assumed she would make her own biting comment about how he wasn't with his own son. There was only one reason behind the glitter on his shirt. Derek had found his horror at being informed about its existence hilarious, but that was besides the point.

He hadn't thought she would punch him, square in the jaw, with all the rage of a scorned woman. He hadn't expected it to hurt as much as it did, or that it would immobilise him as much as it did. As he stumbled back, he was vaguely aware of the guard entering, but it hurt like a bitch. It took everything in him to remember how to de-escalate the situation without causing anyone further harm, but he did it, and then him and Dave left the interrogation room, armed with new knowledge.

"So how do you know this?" Derek asked casually.

Hotch didn't quite meet his eyes, staring at his eyebrows instead. He loved the way Derek treated him like he was the most precious and valuable person on the planet, and he loved that with him, he could be Aaron- the soft man that enjoyed theatre and was willing to get glitter all over his work clothes for his son.

But there was a time and a place for that, and it wasn't here, no matter how much he wanted to feel Derek's arms around him, grounding him to the moment and convincing him everything was going to be fine.

"She... reacted to my comment about motherhood," Hotch said, acting very much like the Southern-born gentleman talking about something unsavoury that he was. As if on cue, his jaw seemed to ache once more, and he was reminded of the need to actually deal with injuries instead of hiding them.

"Reacting? Aar- Hotch, what did she do?"

Hotch loved the way Derek would say his first name, sometimes exasperated, sometimes through a fit of uncontrollable laughter,  occasionally with annoyance, but always with love and affection sprinkled in. He also loved the way Derek called him Hotch. Like there was a secret joke between them, and in some ways there were.

Dave liked to think he was the only one on the team to consistently call him Aaron, but he wasn't. Not anymore.

"She may have responded with physical violence," Aaron said, voice quieter than usual. He started shuffling the files around. Alex tapped the table, and Spencer smiled at her, leaving to go and get a coffee refill. JJ was already out with the sheriff, so there was nobody left to distract from the situation.

"Physical violence?" Derek sounded worried.

"Sue punched Hotch in the jaw," Dave filled in.

Aaron spun around to face him, looking betrayed. "Dave!"

"He was always going to find out. And your jaw is starting to bruise," Dave said, smirk on his face.

"She punched- Aaron you can't just not- Dave can you cold the fort down for a few minutes?" Derek asked, already going round the table. Aaron looked down, knowing that if he saw Derek's eyes, he would start smiling like an idiot.

"Take as long as you need," Dave said, winking.

Aaron flushed, Derek rolled his eyes but smiled, and then grabbed his boyfriend's arm and dragged him to the bathroom.

"Der- Derek what are you doing?" Aaron stuttered. He hated that he stuttered whenever he got anxious, but he didn't want people spreading rumours. Or making assumptions, because yes they were together, but that didn't mean they were sneaking away to do that.

Luckily, Derek dragged him right past the bathroom and into an empty and unused conference room, which in some ways was almost worse. He pulled out a chair and forced Aaron to sit. Not that he needed to force him to do anything. For Derek, Aaron would do anything. Apart from admit that he enjoyed wearing his shirts because they smelt like home. That would be his pretend secret.

"I'm treating the injury you tried to hide from me!" Derek said.

Aaron scoffed. "I didn't hide it! I just didn't tell you the moment I saw you that the information we got came at the price of a punch! And it's not that bad, my jaw just aches. It's nothing new- get your mind out of the gutter you know my hearing messes with my jaw!" he said, voice rising in pitch when Derek smirked.

"But honey, I didn't say anything," Derek said, grining. "And is that really your best argument? Some prosecutor." It was teasing though, and Aaron smiled, because even as he'd said it, it had sounded stupid.

Derek left, closing the door behind him, and without case files to distract him, the pain in his jaw- which was worse than he had been willing to admit- became more prominent and he decided that Derek was the best thing to ever happen to him. And then he started wondering when he'd become such a sap.

"I got the first aid kit, and some ice. I reckon that's all we can do, but just before that, can I just check that it's not dislocated?" Derek said as he returned. And Hotch accepted that he'd always been a sap, it was just amplified by Derek's love.

"She didn't punch me that hard," Aaron whispered, still wincing when Derek pressed two fingers to the spot that was bruising.

"Mhm. Whatever makes you feel better. But seriously, does anything feel wrong?"

Aaron shook his head. He closed his eyes as Derek poked and prodded him more, the touch still comforting even though there was some necessary force behind it. He had never felt better than he did in the soft and silent moments like this, when they could just exist and not feel the need to fill the silence with unncessary words, because the silence said more than sentences ever could.

He let out a yelp as the ice packet was pressed to the skin that was definitely bruising. "Derek!"

"Yes honey?"

Aaron blushed at the pet name, looking down at his boyfriend. He hadn't even realised that Derek had been kneeling by his side, staring at him with such adoration and love in his eyes that it physically hurt Aaron's chest to see just how capable of good things people were.

"Warn me next time," he said, pouting slightly.

Derek smiled. "Of course sweetie." He didn't let go of the ice pack, even though Aaron was fully capable of holding it himself. It was nice though, if a bit of a strange image. One man in a chair, looking down as his partner knelt on the floor holding the ice pack with a suprising amount of genteless. He took Aaron's hand in his own, drawing circles over the knuckles the same way Aaron would.

Aaron looked down, mesmerised by how well Derek knew him. By the fact that he got to call such a good man his everything.

"Okay, it's been a decent amount of time, the pain and swelling should go down. It's still going to bruise, so I'll take Jack to soccer practice when we get back, otherwise all the other parents are going to be drooling instead of watching and we can't have that, can we?" Derek said after both sides of the ice had gone warm.

"Derek," Aaron warned.

"Aaron," Derek mimicked. "Seriously though, they're all going to be back now."

"I know," he sighed.

Derek stood up, letting out a slight wince. Aaron couldn't help but smile. Derek was always teasing him about his back pain and the fact that he was getting older with every passing day, but the same could also be said of him.

"I love you," he whispered as Derek took his hand to help him stand up, even though he could have done it himself. The words had never come easy to him, not with Haley, not with Jack, but he was getting better. And when Derek said them, he never expected a verbal response, knowing Aaron said them in every other possible way.

"I love you too," Derek said, pressing a kiss to Aaron's hair. Aaron let his eyes flutter closed as Derek pulled him closer for one final hug. He inhaled deeply, the smell of Derek's shower gel and deodorant the most comforting thing, alongside the laundry detergent he used because Haley had.

When they re-entered the conference room they had set up base in, Alex wordlessly asked if everything was okay. Aaron nodded at her, gratefully accepting the coffee she held out to him.

"Fifty-two minutes is not a few," Dave said, but there was no malice behind them.

"What can I say? I cannot resist beautiful men," Derek said.

Aaron hit his arm, cheeks warm with embarrassment but heart warm with love.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

If They Get Married I'd Be Your Uncle

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, flirting, Bruce is frustrated

A/n:So been in a dc mood today and couldn’t get this out of my head i really hope you enjoy it xx

Bruce meets you when you both get called into the school and instantly wants you to himself.

If They Get Married I'd Be Your Uncle.

You grumbled as you walked up to the pretentious school pissed that it wasn't near any bus routes, cos these type of people don't use that sort of thing. The walk was long and arduous especially after the 10 hour shift you just finished cos some stupid little twat decided he didn't feel like coming in today and called in 'sick' at the last minute even tho you heard his giggling girlfriend in the back ground. Sighing you pulled out your hair tie slapping it up into a neater messy bun as you made your way into the school reception stopping ,you raised an eyebrow at the receptionist as she gave you a side glance pretending not to notice you. You looked up to the ceiling praying for some restraint because you'd had just about as much as you could take today and didn't need the snobby attitude of these people. After a few moments you looked at her.

"Excuse me I'm here to see Mr Koleman I'm running a bit late so could you sign me in?" you said as calm as possible she rolled her eyes.

"Mr Kolman doesnt take personal meetings on the school grounds" she said snidely dismissing you , you growled at the implication.

"I'm Jack Cookes sister you phoned me earlier?"

"oh? you have an appointment?" she said. you grit your teeth.

"Trust me if I didnt I wouldnt be here" she gave you the once over then reached a perfectly manicured hand beside her screen lifiting a clip board

" and your Mrs?" you shook your head

"Miss Cooke with an e" a chuckle and whispers rippled through the office as she checked you in and handing you a visitors pass. You snatched it and made your way down to the hall to a mini reception outside the principles office. As you opened the door you spotted your little brother supporting a bloody nose ,cut cheek and eyebrow. Ignoring everyone you ran across the room stopping before him and his best friend.

"Oh for fuck sake Jack, here let me look" you said tilting his face this way and that you looked beside him swivling on your feet pulling the boys face up.

"Damien are you ok- seriously you to?" you cut yourself off seeing a dark bruise on the boys jaw you tutted rummaging through your bag pulling out a pack of ibuprofen and small bottle of water passing it to them both.

"here take these" stopping as the principles secretary snapped at you.

"Miss! you cannot give medication to other student's god knows what they are!!" you rolled your eyes giving the sleeve of tablets to Jack who then popped out two and gave them to Damien before taking his own.

"Happy?" you quipped at her with an innocent smile then turned to Jack

"Jack please please tell me you still have all your teeth" he smiled showing a full set then looked at Damien who copied. You sighed in relief smoothing both boys hairs then placed a kiss on each of their heads. You continued coddling them unaware of the man behind you watching shocked as damien sat still letting you fuss over him. Bruce didnt know you from adam but damien apparently did

"Was it them again? I told you if your gonna retaliate keep it off campus!" you said kneeling in front of them hand on either boys knee.

"We didn't start it." your brother stated and you believed him , he and Damien get themselves into trouble I mean there a couple of teenage boys there bound to act up but he doesn't just 'verbally disrespect people and attack other students' as the teacher on the phone had put it.

"Ok what happened?" you asked they both looked down Damien spoke up first

"They started calling us names again, kyle tripped and blamed Jack for it getting him told off so i called Kyle out on it then they started calling us names again we told Mrs Hatt and she laughed saying sticks and stones" . Jack continued

"So I called her a drunk fat bitch who was at best a fucking baby sitter, kyle slammed my head into the desk for it cos he's a little ass lick." you sighed as Damien took over

"SoIi punched kyle in the face knocking him on his ass and Clarence hit me and Jack headbutted him then we were pulled apart"

"yeah were did you learn to punch like that? he went down like a sack of shit" Jack asked laughing damien joined him laughing you deadpanned as they high five'd one another.

"Ok guys thats neither here nor there the point is your teacher sat back and watched?" they nodded there teacher seemed to have a problem with your brother due to your social class, he'd been accepted as part of a new law that all private schools must accept a certain number of full scholarship students to give everyone 'an equal opportunity' you'd been complaining to the school about the bullying and the teachers attitude but nothing has been one it seems.

"So you didn't hit them first?" you asked Damien shook his head at you. you believed them they were good kids.

"Good but you know fighting isn't the answer right?" they shook their heads you stood up fully taking a seat beside them.

"Damien thank you for helping him and Jack fuck sake don't you know headbutting hurts you more than the other guy. I'm sorry this is still happening guys but I'm gonna take care of it ok? trust me?" they both nodded at you still looking a little sorry for themselves you swung around in your seat only now seeing Bruce sitting opposite you.

"Bruce Wayne, you must be Jacks sister Y/n was it?" you nodded as his hand devoured your in a hand shake.

"Yep that's me. sorry your boy got dragged into this" he chuckled waving it off

"He will always find trouble at least this time its for sticking up for his friend, im glad to finally have a face to put to the name they talk about you alot" you nodded at that couldn't help your breathing hitch slightly at his smile his eyes seemed to burn into you analyzing you. You flushed slightly under his gaze

"Good things i hope" he nodded at you licking his bottom lip damien sighed you loked away before smirking at Jack.

"You really called her a drunk fat bitch?" he laughed proud of himself

"Yeah, sticks and stone and all that thought id test it" you laughed out loud

"To quick for them huh? I see where your going with it tho smart ass" he smiled sheepishly

"Well it worked for you, had to give you a leg to stand on" you laughed high fiving him . Bruce flinched as the display made you look your age. your relationship with your brother was a strange one. One moment you had to be the 'politically correct parent' the next you could return to being his 'cool older sister', there was 12 years between you but it didn't bother either of you , it wasn't that long ago that you were in school so you understood him. You struck up a conversation with the two boys, Damien had been the only one in the school to get along with Jack and you were thankful that they found each other two peas in a pod and he seemed to be coming round constantly it hadn't taken long before you started mothering him to. They were always together at your house or the manor but youd never met bruce jntill today sure damien had spoke about him, convinced that the two of you would hit it off, you just laughed him off saying it was wishfull thinking, but you couldnt help but wonder as you sat across from the handsom man well aware of his eyes watching your every move. Bruce watched fascinated as you seemed to be on the same level as the boys , if he was honest he was happy to see Damien relaxed around someone. Damien constaly gushed about you to him and he could see why as his eye scanned you up and down taking everything in , you was certainly beautiful petite and slightly heavy set you had a young carefree air about you that still held a nurturing aspect , probably what drew damien to you the boy had never had a motherly type of women around him, hell even he felt drawn to you in more ways then one, he noted as he felt,his blood rush south. It had been a while since any woman had coaxed such a strong reaction from him. He'd never been one for the young domestic type but there was something in him that wanted you. He tried reasoning that it was because of the way you had coddled his son, or maybe it was that he missed that motherly affection himself, but no there was something more then that a deep atraction pulling at him.He could see why Damien had taken a shine to you he'd be lying if he said he hasn't already been thinking of a reason to meet up with you outside of school. It was rare that someone caught him by surprise and you had defiantly caught him by surprise. Clearing his throat he re-position himself on his seat as his boxers became tighter embarrassed and admittedly a bit confused as watching you mother the two teens had begun to arouse him. You looked over to him with concern.

"Are you ok Mr Wayne?" he inwardly groaned at the name and way you looked at him so innocently ,no idea what you were doing .fuck. He forced a charming smile

"Yes just wish they'd hurry up." you sighed pouting slightly

"It seems a bit stupid calling this an emergency then making us wait this long. twats." you snipped crossing your arms across your chest huffing he chuckled hearing the barely held back irritation, imagining just how bratty you could be, and exactly how he could deal with said bratty behaviour a shiver ran down his spine, he sucked through his teeth as his cock twitched at the thought his mind racing to other tempting scenarios of you and him, shaking his head he had to snap himself out of it. The door opened and you were both called in. He watched wide eyed as you rose your demeanor changed completely, gone was a fun loving motherly young woman and there stood a less than impressed mama bear under 5ft tall but walked like a giant. He blinked and staggered in behind you thankful that he opted for a longer blazer that helped cover his 'situation' once in the office you set down in front of Mr Koleman the principle a stout balding man that was king of his own little castle and like to let everyone know it.

Mr Koleman looked at you with distaste then smiled shaking hands with Bruce.

"Ah Mr Wayne good to see you again tho I hoped it was on better terms. Miss Cooke I'm glad you could come down today I wasn't sure you'd make it this time." he said condescendingly you smirked putting on your polite 'adult' voice.

"well I've been trying to get an appointment with you about these issues that I'm sure your fully aware of, however you seem fully booked so I'm glad I finally have the opportunity to straighten a few thing out" he grimaced as he took a seat behind the desk.

" Yes well I am a very busy man." he said

"Yes I noticed that when the receptionist mistook me for a personal visitor." you hear Bruce cough covering a laugh as the principle opened and closed his mouth speechless.

"Any way what was it you wanted to discuss Mr Koleman?" he scowled not used to being shut down by a young women. He leaned forward shuffling papers

"yes well we've been having problems with Jack for a few months as your aware-"

"Yes I'm aware that he is being targeted by his teacher and bullied by other students in the class which is being over looked and in some instances encouraged by the staff at this school. but go on." you interupted him staring at him unblinkingly Bruce gapped before collecting himself sitting back to watch the show the distinct feeling that you were going to rip this man a new arsehole.

"Uh-oh i was not aware of that"

"do not lie to me" you growled 'and here we go' Bruce thought he'd been with enough women to know that all hell was going to break loose as the quiet sweetheart form out side became a little spitfire in the office and couldn't help the a quick fantasy of you being this fiesty for him in his office. You pulled out a small red diary from your bag turning to dates in it.

"On the 4th of March I phoned the school and spoke to a Mrs Hatt to discuss cases of bullying she said that it was being taken care of and that I had no reason to worry. March the 12th Jack came home with bruises on his back caused by the same students they had tied knots in there ties and whiped him with them while getting changed for p.e, I had raised concerns about it nothing was done. I phoned again and once again was fobbed off by Mrs Hatt that there was nothing happening, then Jack comemhome with a sprained wrist, then it was bruised stomach, then a cut forhead and a brokennfinger from them smashing it in a door etcetera these incidents continued and I continued to report them and it was always the same names that popped up, the same three boys. I'd had enough on May 21st I phoned and asked to speak to you instead I got through to a Mrs Hamsten? the vice principle?" you watched as his face became paler and paler as you spoke he nodded. Bruced leant back eyes blown finding himself getting hotter as he watched you tear down the man infront of you.

"Yes and she said that the boys had been put into detention for it which turned out to be a lie another student confirmed that nothing had been done. I then put my issue in writing, I wrote a letter sent by recorded post to you about the issue and received a reply, sighed by you, that you have a no tolorence policy and would look into it, nothing has been done and now you have the audacity to call me up and have me come in here because he finally had enough and stuck up for himself because this little shit split his face open on a desk whilst the teacher watched? tell me Mr Koleman do you still want to pretend you dont know what I'm talking about because I've recored all the calls I've made about this." you tore into him as he shrunk further and further into his seat not prepared for you to come at him so direct. Bruce didnt know what the fuck happened to the sweet little thing he saw outside but what he did know was that was one of the sexist things he'd seen as you asserted yourself beautifully not giving the man time to respond. If it wasn't for Mr Koleman sitting behind the desk he'd already have you spread out on it underneath him. 'Another time'he thought to himself he licked his lips tugging at his trousers again trying to ease the ache in his cock as it strained against its confines.

"Ah yes well, now that I think about it I do remeber a letter" he stumbled over his words you nodded your head

"Yes I'm sure you do. Today was the inevitale blow up." He collected himself looking at Bruce for some sort of back up instead the billionaire scowled at him.

"Be that as it may there is no excuse for calling a teacher a drunk fat bitch." you nodded

"I agree how ever it was for science. Your member of staff who has neglected her duty to keeping my brother safe on school grounds ,has brushed off his bullying useing 'stick and stones' so he decied to test that theory by calling her a drunk fat bitch, turns out names do hurt and caused her to become agitated that she allowed him to have his face smashed into a desk by another student cutting open his eyebrow, cheek and bloody his nose. I dont think she should be able to teach if she cant practice what she preaches and certainly shouldnt be left incharge of children if she is that unstable that she would allow an attack to happen because her feeling were hurt."

"yes well he dragged Mr Waynes son into this-"

"Damien and Jack are friends Damien saw Kyle attack Jack and defended him which is more I can say for the staff at this school. I'm warning you Mr Koleman sort it out before I go to the press. How do you think that would look? when your school board find out that Mr Wanyes son was injured defending his friend when the teacher didn't lift a fucking finger. You wanna go there? cos I fucking will I've had enough." he sat up straighter alarmed, Bruce moaned deep in his chest but watching you was really doing it for him he didnt know why or care in all honesty he just wanted more of you.

"No, no theres no need for that. We can sort this out between us no need for the governors or press. Mr Wayne is there anything you'd like to add." he said trying hard to wrap up this meeting. You looked at Bruce who frankly you forgot was even there he shook his head looking strange, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

"I think Miss Cooke summed everything up wounderfully, and she has my full support sort out these kids, I know that they have been causing Damien problems name calling getting him in trouble such and he has said the teacher dosn't do anything about it. I wont stand for it any more , if its not sorted out by the end of the week I will bring Miss Cooke with me and we will speak to the school bored in person." You let out a breath you didnt know you was holding relief flooded you as he said this slightly worried that he'd throw you under the bus. He locked eyes with you his pupils were blown wide and he was breathing heavy he winked subtly, you flushed looking back to the man behind the desk as he cleared his throat.

"Right well I will see to it personally and it will be sorted by the end of the week, you both seem to have concerns with Jack and Damien's teacher so as of tomorrow I will have them moved into another class whilst I investigate. I will phone you both up to check in with the boys I'm terribly sorry that it has been left this long." he stood motioning for you both to do the same ending with.

"The boys can leave early today while I deal with this." Bruce opened the door letting you through growling as the principle made a point to oogle your ass as you left, quickly standing between you blocking his veiw of you he glared at the fat prick his message was clear. That hot little spitfire is mine so back off. He stared down at him chest puffed out standing taller and broarder intimidating the little weasel until he looked away. Bruce smirked then left the office slamming the door behind him finding you explaining to the boys what was happening, joining you as they stood up getting there bags .

"you boys go out and wait by the car while we sign out at the front." Bruce instructed they nodded running ahead to the school enterance.

"The car?" you asked looked up at him shyly

"Yes i will give you both a lift" he said leaving no room for argument. You thanked him then spoke quietly looking down trying not to freak out as he stood closer then you thought was neccasary.

"Thank you for sticking up for me in there, I dont usually get like that but you know I get a bit protective." he chuckled at you showing off a brilliant smile

"Its no problem, to be honest I found the whole mama bear thing very sexy your lucky we we'rnt alone" he said winking you blushed

"Wh-what? sh-shut up" you squeeked out he shook his head at you as he put an arm out over you holding the doors to main reception you thanked him queitly skipping through feeling small catching yourself breathing deeper to smell more of his fresh scented cologne.

"No I'm serious any where else and well" he wiggled his brows at you making you giggle

"and the way you are with damien?ive never seen him like that" he asked trailing off

"Yes well he is a sweet kid, he comes over quiet a bit as you know Alfred drops him off and the boys go off doing their thing, just sort of started to mother him a bit sorry" he smirked at you

"Well if I'd known how stunning you were it'd be me dropping him off. And dont apologize I'm not mad just a bit jealous. Tho not for long" he said handing his pass to the snooty receptionist who gave him bedroom eyes before glaring at you for keeping his attention.

"J-jealous? of Damien why?" you stuttered then bit your lip blushing. He groaned the site of it as he throbbed agin nearly cumming as his cock rubbed harshly agains the soft cotton of his boxers, he just couldnt control it. oh he was definatly gonna have you for himself, somehow you turned him into a horny teenager all over again.

"Well he got to have all your attention earlier, hurts a mans pride when his son can capture a beautiful woman's attention and he cant." you looked away from him giving your pass to the secatary who snatched it with a snarl.

"Im hoping you'd show some mercy and come out for lunch with me?" you gasped snapping your gaze at him.

"Wh-what you mean to talk about the school?"

"No as in a date" he explained you froze feeling butterflies in your tummy looking at the gorgeous man.

"Date? now? like right now?" he nodded smirking thoroughly enjoying you being so flustered.

"yes now I dont have anything else planned for today." you gulped when he gave you a heated look you felt like a meal taking a step back

" I'd love to but I have to clean up Jack and-." you began your excuse only for him to cut you short.

"Nonsense he can come to the manor and spend the day with Damien, Alfred is a good nurse he will patch them up." you blinked trying to think of another reason as he stood staring you down at you waiting to for to decide feeling like a deer in the head lights you realized this alpha of a man wasn't going to give you much of a choice.

"O-ok if your sure alfred wouldn't mind watching him." you nodded shyly Bruce gave a triumphant smirk and threw an arm across your shoulders tucking you against him walking to the main doors.

"Alfred wont mind watching the boys." you both walked outside to the boys Damien sighed at his dad before Jack spoke up.

"Told you he was looking at her ass"

"JACK! He was not!" you screeched at him damien laughed and bruce unlocked the range rover

"I thought I was being subtle about it" you gaped at him speechless as he opened the passenger door the boys gagged getting in the back. You got in the car pouting to yourselfand Bruce climbed in.

"Fucking hell I've never seen her speechless, how'd you do that?" Jack said Damien scoffed

"Dad just keep your boner in your pants until were out of the way."

"Yer shes my sister dont need to see her sucking face." You blushed trying to shush the boys

"DAMIEN! He does not have a boner!"

"Uh yer he does look."You tired not to look you really did but it just sort of happend you squeeked covering your mouth faceing forward and jumped as bruce leant over buckling your seat belt whispering in your ear.

"I did tell you the mama bear was sexy" puljng away he spoke to the boys

"Dont worry boys, we will behave until your out of ear shot" You gapped as they cringed with cries of 'ew dad no' and 'come on thats my sister' he laughed at them patting your thigh before pulling out of the school

"So you asked her on a date yet Dad?" Bruce raised and eye brom looking at him in the rear view mirror pulling out onto the main road.

"Well we are dropping you both off at the manor does that answer your question?"

Jack groaned not sure if he likes the idea of his sister dating his best friends dad.

"dont you hurt her Mr Wayne I know where you live" you smiled at that finding it cute him trying to be the protective little man. The drive was quiet for a while before jack piped up.

"Holy shit if they get married I'd be your uncle" you groaned holding you face in your hands bruce only laughed

"Jack its one lunch date jesus"

".....Can I walk you down the isle?"

"JACK?!"

"What she means is well cross that bridge when we come to it" you stared at Bruce as he smirked enjoying teasing you the boys snickered in the back. You sat back wondering just what you'd gotten youself into.