#anyways I feel like this is a true statement. that women feel more threatened by the patriarchy than capitalism

[birdmenmanga]

Missed ass opportunity... the last time I was at the Marxist meeting one of the members brought up how there was a strong gender imbalance in the organization that heavily favored men, and wondered how they could increase recruitment of women. They kindly reminded current members to not say misogynistic things such as "women just don't care about politics" because it really really seems like women who are curious about Marxism tend not to return if people in the organization say shit like that. I mentioned that women likely do care about politics; that they were simply more likely to focus their efforts on things such as women's rights because they often feel more threatened by the patriarchy than capitalism.

What I SHOULD have said was, "I have a suggestion."

[rainydayalchemy]

夕闇

Reader X Tengen Uzui

18+ MDNI

TW: Suggestions towards SA

Reader has been sold into the red light district, so heed with caution

Dusk.

The red glow of lanterns flicked to life. The sun was setting quickly, and with it, the energy was rising. Static crackled through the air. You always loathed the heavy weight of the nighttime. The night meant the street would be slick with sin and cruelty.

You would never get used to the feeling of being used. Experience after experience was quickly detrioating you. Other women and girls did this job with such bravery. You couldn't grasp the concept. No matter how hard you tried to swallow down the discomfort or shame, it always seemed to consume you.

Shallow giggles and flirtations echoed through the walls. You had to put on a brave face. Money was tighter than ever. It hadn't escaped you how the usual long line of men has dwindled in the past month. Everyone was struggling to get by.

A shaky breath left your red painted lips. It was time. Your skin was painted heavily. Dramatic flicks of red paint adorn your eyes. Your makeup was too beautiful to cry. The pricks of tears threatened to fall, and you shook your head.

The night was in full swing. The house you worked out of was overflowing. Each woman pulled close to a man. You smiled at the older customer seated beside you. He was a merchant who was deadset on talking until your ears bled. He rambled on and on about his so-called miserable wife and how he was glad to be away from her. That statement made your heart clench, that woman was caring for their children at this very moment. Most likely tucking them in for the night, and yet here he was, at such an establishment.

A sneer danced across your face. The man hardly noticed, still continuing to complain. Affairs were common in this line of work. It was something you turned a blind eye to. That never failed to make your stomach churn.

"Well, sweetheart." He breathed out. He stunk of sake and smoke.

"Yes...?" You offered him another smile, a sad attempt at stalling the next part.

"I suppose it's about time I took you in the back." His words dripped with suggestion.

You felt your stomach drop and the urge to vomit swirl inside of you. You gave him a brief nod, and he snatched your wrist. You were going willingly, and yet he used force. Tonight would be brutal. He yanked up and began to stomp down the hallway. No one spared a glance to you. No one would step in if he got too violent.

"Wait I-"

The words escaped you before you could stop them. Reluctance was heavily punished, and yet every piece of you fought to tear your arm away. He scoffed, his face twisted in offense. Your bones ached as he practically crushed your wrist. This was going to make it worse.

"How dare you whor-"

He never finished the insult. His words cut short by a hulking figure standing in between you two. Your eyes widened at the interruption. Your wrist was reddened but released nonetheless. The man standing with his back to you was adorned in strange clothing. He was enormous. His appearance was overwhelming in every aspect.

"It's best if you don't rough up the workers..."

His tone wasn't angry but held such authority it was unnerving. The customer scoffed once again. His face was an ugly expression of distaste.

"Whore isn't worth it anyway." He spit out venomously.

It was a true statement. There were hundreds of other workers, much more willing to please him. The customer only continued grumbling and stumbling out of the house and onto the next. Sighing in relief, you straightened your crumpled robes. Not a single person glanced your way, another reminder that anything could happen and no one would step in.

Except for him, of course. You bent at the waist. You stared at the ground, only able to have visibility of his trousers and footwear. He shifted his body and faced you finally. You finally rose from your bow and came face to face with him. He was awfully beautiful, and that sent a heat racing through your veins. His features were stunning and so absolute you felt your jaw drop bit in awe.

"T-thank you!" You exclaimed.

It was a bit louder than what you hoped. Oh god. You could already feel the flush rising on your chest. His only response was a quiet huff. It felt as if he was staring through you. Perhaps he took pity on you? That was possible. You figured it was only right to express graitude after he stepped in. A shudder racked through your body thinking about what tonight could've been. Yet, his response was lackluster.

"Come with me."

Huh? You barely had time to think before he was pulling you down the hallway. A shocked gasp left your lips. Had he only saved you for himself? Although his grip was much softer, it was still firm and comanding. You grit your teth, of course this would happen. Did you really expect a savior?This man was just like the others.

[redditreceipts]

Hi, i'm new to radfeminism so i browse in this app a lot, and i think i still have a lot thing to learn from you guys, it's honestly amazing <3!! But there's one thing in particular i want to ask, what do you think about truscums? I think i differ from most rad-leaning feminist in trans issues maybe because i come from very transphobic country and in my queer community lots of trans people helped me, but i also aggre some of the statements y'all make, and feel like truscums are like a middle-ground so i feel more emphaty to them.

hey :) so generally there is not one opinion that I hold regarding trans medicalists, because they under themselves seem to tolerate a much broader range of opinions than tucutes do. I mean, I haven't heard about trans medicalists attacking people on the street for claiming that you can be trans without dysphoria or something, while other trans activists regularly threaten violence if you don't agree with them on every single point they're making.

there are some trans medicalists like Blaire White, Kalvin Garrah or Marcus Dib who predominantly make cringe content without explaining their views too much (and I don't think that I have to explain why I disagree with Blaire White on a political level), but people like Debra Soh or Buck Angel seem like really nice people who are interested in discussion and research.

I think that me and them are interested in different questions, I personally care more about women's and lgb rights, while many trans medicalists seem to be more interested in how to best deal with gender dysphoria.

One of the few problems I'd say I have with trans medicalists is the notion of "true trans" - that was a big talking point a couple of years ago, but they seem to have abandoned it largely (except for Marcus Dib, who brings it up a lot). It seem like it's impossible to define what a "true trans" person would be, given that things like autogynephilia can also cause gender dysphoria, which is the criterium used by many trans medicalists to define what a "true trans" person is. The same is true for the "brain sex" theory - was a big talking point a while ago, but not really convincing.

But yeah, in the end, I feel like if your friends help you along the way and you want to keep them in your life, you shouldn't break off contact with them. If people tell you to break off contact with people because they disagree with you on a metaphysical belief, your in a cult lol

anyways, cool that you're here :)

[coochiequeens]

Thanks to gender ideology a dude who didn't sign up while there was still spaces left in the men's category was able to sign up to compete in the women's category. And he won leaving with prize earmarked for a woman while if he did run in the men's category he would have come in 55th.

By Nuria Muíña García February 2, 2024

A man claiming to be “gender fluid” has won the women’s category of a mountain race in Spain, signing up after there were no more spaces left in the men’s category. Quim Durán Pradas, who lives his day-to-day life as a man, says running makes him feel “feminine.”

La Cursa de NaDalt is a chrono-climbing race held annually in December in Catalonia, and its most recent iteration, held on December 26 of 2023, was its 13th anniversary. The race, which starts in Sant Pere de Torelló and ends at the Sanctuary of Bellmunt, is a short but challenging event, and consists of a spectacular route of trails and climbs of 3,862 meters with a positive elevation gain of 620 meters.

In true Spanish fashion — once at the finish line, every racer gets a glass of sparkling wine, something to eat, and to finish it off, hot chocolate.

But the results of the most recent race sparked outrage in Spain after it was discovered that a 48-year-old male had won the top prize in the women’s category.

Speaking to La Vanguardia, sources from the event’s organizing committee explained that the initial outburst had begun at the awards ceremony, where several people broke out into an argument.

Among them was Quim Durán Pradas, a 48-year-old male runner who was seen at the awards ceremony wearing makeup, earrings, and a ponytail.

“[He] was saying that [he] had won in the women’s category and that [he] had every right to be recognized. As an organization, we were caught off guard. There had never been a case like this in previous editions,” explained sources from within the Centre Excursionista Serragrenyada, organizer of the event.

Durán Pradas reportedly threatened to sue the event if he was not provided the prize he claimed he had earned — a pricey leg of cured Iberian ham from Beher Red Label. The prize’s value could range anywhere from €100 to €500 (approx. $107 to $540 USD) depending on the weight of the leg.

Due to his threats and aggression, the event organizers attempted to accommodate him, noting that it was “a bit of a tense situation.” Durán Pradas ended up receiving a provisional victory in the women’s general category. When he stood to receive his ham, there was booing in the audience.

The fastest female, Laia Montoya, had previously taken the top spot in the race in 2022 and 2023. Though she had been booted out of earning the top prize by Durán Pradas, the organizers sent her a box of Iberian ham anyway out of apparent acknowledgement of the unfairness of the situation.

Durán Pradas would have come in 55th place had he participated in the men’s category.

On Instagram, the race’s organizing committee issued a statement explaining “the ethical, moral and philosophical dilemma” they faced.

“We want to show our support and the utmost tolerance, solidarity, and empathy towards gender-vulnerable people,” they wrote. “However, at the same time we also want to underline that the NaDalt race has always tried to promote women’s sport, because historically it has been discriminated and less visible.”

Yesterday, Durán Pradas appeared on Más Espejo, a popular Spanish morning show, where he explained that he is a “gender fluid” athlete who feels “feminine” when he is running in natural environments, but “masculine” at all other times. He is not on any hormone therapy, and does not intend to seek out any surgeries.

“I am gender fluid, and when I run in the mountains, I feel like a woman, I feel like the other female runners,” he said. “I have been to an inclusive psychologist who told me that this is not a disorder. I am simply a person who, depending on the situations, is gender fluid. In my day-to-day life, at home when I’m with my children, I feel like a man. In my leisure time, in contact with nature, I feel like a woman.”

On the program, Durán Pradas stated that he wanted to educate audiences about gender fluidity, also noting that he had previously felt too scared to participate in a women’s category but decided to finally take the risk after being informed there were no slots left in the men’s category. He described the situation as La Cursa de NaDalt “putting [the opportunity] on a platter” for him.

He refused to accept questions from the presenter and the rest of the morning show’s panel, deeming them too “argumentative” to respond to. He then complained he was being subjected to a “hate crime” after one of the panelists accused him of “cheating” for running without having altered his testosterone levels.

“I thought this was going to go well for me, and you just won’t let me justify my position,” Durán Pradas said. “People who do not understand [gender fluidity] and ridicule it as you are ridiculing it… it can become a hate crime.”

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink? 

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. 

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.” 

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff. 

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron. 

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head. 

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out. 

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man. 

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything. 

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk. 

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.” 

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you. 

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.” 

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.” 

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“ 

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’ 

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it. 

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.” 

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?” 

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded. 

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?” 

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.” 

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes. 

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.” 

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better. 

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.” 

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses. 

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.” 

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“ 

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.” 

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire. 

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle. 

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out. 

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register. 

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him. 

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance. 

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?” 

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly. 

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat. 

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here. 

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place. 

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.  

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house. 

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen. 

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in. 

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

 “Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities. 

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

[aries-writingblog]

Child’s Play

Summary: Steve is falling fast for a girl that he’s only been on a few dates with (I suck at descriptions🤦🏻‍♀️)

Word Count: 1968

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: none

AN: GIF is not my own, credit to original creator

“All I’m saying is that you should really consider bringing that uniform back.” She nodded, wiping her fingers delicately on her napkin. Steve cocked an eyebrow, trying not to smile too broadly. “It did wonders for you.”

Steve lowered his eyes, heat creeping onto his face. It was a good embarrassment, though. He couldn’t remember when he last laughed so hard. Even if it was at himself. He had to agree the things he did once were a little cheesy.

“You we’re supposed to pay attention to the message. The videos had a message.” He scolded lightly, dipping a fry in his ketchup. YN scoffed, stealing two fries from the plate and dunking them in her milkshake. Steve scrunched his nose in distaste.

“I was in high school, dude. And you were hot, what was I supposed to do?” She grinned as his cheeks shifted from a shade of pink to a deeper shade of maroon. “It was detention and I was bored. I had to think of something or I’d lose my mind.”

Steve tried not too think too hard about the age difference. It jarred him to take into consideration she watched the stupid patriotic videos he had to film in her high school days. He focused mainly on the present age gap of only a few years. Not the seventy year gap.

“Okay, if I see one more fry go into that milkshake, I’ll flip this table.” Steve threatened, eyeing the drink suspiciously. YN laughed, a bright giggly sound Steve had come to enjoy.

This would be their fourth date. He had the idea to take her to an old diner he’d stumbled upon. Mainly because it had been around in his day- the coffee was still outrageously disgusting. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to keep the same flavor the whole time but the moment it touched his tongue, Steve was thrown back into his youth.

“Just try it.” She demanded, shoving her glass across the table. He lifted his eyebrows, glancing between her and the chocolate milkshake.

“Absolutely not. The fries get soggy in there- I know they do.” He explained, observing as she rolled her eyes. Slumping back into the booth in playful defeat. “You enjoy that?”

“Uh, yeah. Get with it, gramps.” She dusted her hands off, placing her phone and wallet on the table. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick- watch my stuff?”

“Yeah- of course.” Steve watched her as she stood, pulling at her shirt before starting towards the bathroom. He then turned his attention to their mostly finished plates, stacking them neatly to one side of the table.

Just as he went to catch a waitresses attention, he looked around. They were the only two customers remaining. Steve felt the guilt immediately, seeing the women cleaning around their table. They had been so distracted he had forgotten time could pass. He flicked his wrist, checking his watch. They had been at the restaurant for way too long.

YN emerged from the restroom just at the same moment he stood to approach the register. She noticed he had taken her things, tucked in his jeans pocket. So she found her way to his side, curling her arm around his and hugging it to her chest.

He finished paying, apologized several times to the wait staff for taking the booth for so long. She had brushed it off, telling him it had been a pleasure to serve Captain America himself. Steve still felt guilty, leaving a very large tip for her.

“Ready?” He asked, turning to face YN. She gave an enthusiastic nod, clinging to him as they walked to the door. He pushed it open, holding it for her.

“It’s so late- I don’t think we’ll ever catch a cab.” YN checked her phone, the time shining up at her.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s not that far, if you’re up for it?” He offered. Steve watched as she frowned at the device in her palm, the streetlight gleaming down onto her hair. Giving her face an ethereal glow, eyes sparkling. Her lipgloss was incredibly distracting- shimmering and glittering under the lights.

“Steve?” She asked. He jolted, breaking his stare as he realized he had been zoned out while she was speaking. The heat crept back into his cheeks; He never seemed to get rid of it around her. It was always lurking under his skin, readily revealing itself at any moment.

“What?” She laughed.

“I said that I’d take that escort home, if it doesn’t put you out of your way.” She repeated. Steve shook his head immediately.

“You’re never out of my way, sweetheart.” In truth, her apartment was seventeen blocks to the east of the diner. The Tower was nineteen from the diner, to the north. Steve would’ve done pretty much anything to keep her with him longer, even walk the entire length. Carry her if she wanted.

“I just don’t want to keep you.” Her hand found his forearm again, slithering down to his hand. Her fingers twined with his and he squeezed her hand gently. “You had mentioned that you had to get up early tomorrow. I don’t want to make you late.”

“It’s just some work. Nothing drastic. Can’t leave until I get there anyways.” He assured her, their sides bumping together as their strides evened out. It was practically true- it was work and it wasn’t drastic. He had to leave early for a stake out mission with Natasha. She would eventually forgive him, if not immediately. “I might be gone for a couple weeks… I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“That’s okay.” She shrugged, swinging their arms between their bodies. “Just means our next date can be even better, cause we’ll be really excited to see each other.” Steve smiled, his free hand finding his front pocket. He was always excited to see her.

They fell silent for a moment- something that didn’t happen often. YN was a regular chatterbox when she was excited. And as far as Steve could tell, she was always excited to be around him. He didn’t mind, he loved hearing her voice. Liked listening to her. Telling him fun facts, stories, asking questions, going off on tangents. It was always amusing, watching her face go through several ranges of emotions during her stories. Hands gesturing vibrantly.

“So you’re gonna let me hang around for another date?” Steve asked, risking a glance to her. A light smile on shining lips.

“I may.” She nodded. “Depends.”

“On?” Steve pressed, nudging her with his elbow. YN pursed her lips, feigning concentration with her eyes rolling to the side.

“Well, if I finally get a good night kiss I might let you stick around.” She teased. Steve chuckled, shaking his head. He’d wanted to kiss her the first night, but didn’t want to scare her away. He was still unsure on twenty first century mannerisms, caught in between the centuries. Wanting to move into the current for her, but clinging onto the values instilled in him growing up. Remembering the awkward dates he had with girls. How he never really knew what to do.

But now that she had mentioned it, Steve figured it would be safe to push his luck.

Suddenly, YN gasped and yanked his hand- jeering off course. His feet hit grass as she released his hand. Steve looked up, seeing a playground laid out before them.

“What are you doing?” He followed her at a slower pace, watching as she leapt up. Hands catching on a set of horizontal bars. She twisted upward, hanging down by her knees.

“What- you’ve never played on a playground at midnight before?” She demanded, pushing her shirt back down. Steve laughed, standing in front of her, hands on his hips.

“Not that I can remember.” She released her hold on her shirt, hands reaching out to him. The fabric fell back down, bunching around her chest. A snippet of her dark red bra peeking over the edge. Steve snatched the end and shoved it back upward, covering her torso. “You’re gonna get hurt, YN.”

“Not if I have a superhero boyfriend here to save me.” She argued, leaning back up to take the bars. “Come on, Stevie- let loose for a while.”

He sighed, meeting her eyes as she turned herself right side up. Dangling by her hands. She gave him a pout, eyes twinkling in the park lights.

Steve stepped to her left, tucking his loose t shirt into his belt. Ensuring his hands were clasped tightly around the metal bars before pulling himself up and hanging beside her.

“There you go, now- pull your feet up and hook your knees around a bar and you can hang.” She instructed, then quickly giving him a visual reenactment. He picked it up easily, releasing his grip and turning his body upside down to hang beside hers. “You’re doing it!”

YN wiggled her body happily, figure swinging wildly. Steve reached out, hands on her waist to steady her, worried she would tilt or lose her grip.

“Take it easy, YN.” He squeezed her hips as she laughed. “I don’t think a date should end with an emergency room visit.”

“Then you definitely haven’t been on a really good date.”

“Should I be worried about that statement?”

“I wouldn’t think about it too hard.”

“Oh, for sure.” He smiled, feeling the blood begin to rush to his head. His face felt tingly as he hung beside her, pins and needles pricking at his skin. “We should probably start back, it’s getting late-“

Steve felt her hands grasp his shirt, pulling him closer. YN’s lips brushed against his before planting firmly. He grunted in surprise, hands clasped to his chest, between hers. She moved her lips slowly, gently. He could taste her lip gloss- mix of cherry and vanilla flooding his system with error messages. Brain flashing a ‘vacant’ sign before his consciousness.

“I don’t know if you’re a really good kisser or if all my blood rushed to my head but I’m really lightheaded.” She murmured, not even allowing him to go far as she spoke, lips still touching.

His wide blue eyes stared gleefully into hers, swinging himself down to his feet. Reaching to help her back to the ground next. YN huffed, readjusting her shirt before leaning to pick up her phone that had slid from her pocket whilst upside down.

“Y’know, I think my research isn’t complete yet- still not sure which caused the lightheadedness.” She pressed a finger to her lips, the gloss smudged down her chin. Steve narrowed his eyes at her grin.

“Now you’re just trying to get me to kiss you.” He clarified, able to see through her actions easily. She shrugged, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“Only if it’s working.”

Steve chuckled, one hand grasping the back of her neck while the other found a place on her waist. Pulling her body to his. She stumbled forward, colliding with his chest as he angled her mouth up to his. Leaning down to meet her height. He pressed them together, cradling her body. His fingers tangled in her hair. YN’s fingers curled into his shirt, finding purchase in the fabric. He felt her lips curl upward in a smile, still pressed to his.

He pulled back, keeping his eyes on her face as he did. A happy, dazed smile on her features- eyes crinkled in the corners. Her fingers drummed against his chest in time with his heartbeat as she ripped herself away. Breaking into a full sprint across the grassy playground.

“Race you to the swings!” She shouted over her shoulder, feet pounding the ground.

Steve chuckled. For once, he didn’t feel the need to be an adult, to be the mature, responsible one. He could turn everything off- even if only for a few minutes. Even if it was something as simple as sprinting across a playground with a girl that was slowly changing his life and perspective. He decided he liked that feeling.

“You asked for it, sweetheart!”

[dhwty-writes]

A Touchy One

Is this incredibly self-indulgent? Yes. Am I posting this anyways? Also yes! I dug this up somewhere in my WIP folder and decided this deserves to be finished.

This is the first thing I've posted in forever, and I know (and am sorry) that it's no OWBABH update (that will come, too, I promise), but take this in the meantime. I am finally feeling like writing again, so here's to hoping I won't take as long next time. Have fun reading!

Summary:  The bard is a touchy one, which is an odd travel companion to have, especially for a witcher. It isn't that Geralt minds so much as that he startled terribly the first time it happened.

Or: how two people, who do not like being touched learn to enjoy each other's closeness, featuring a sex-repulsed Jaskier and our resident grumpy witcher.

Warnings: none, as far as I’m aware

Read on AO3

The bard is a touchy one, which is an odd travel companion to have, especially for a witcher. It isn't that Geralt minds so much as that he startled terribly the first time it happened.

It has been scarcely more than a brush of his fingertips across his forearm, but still Geralt did jump and scoot away as if burned. He even faintly remembers growling quietly, although he's not quite sure if that was a later addition of his mind. He distinctly remembers the surprised, and slightly hurt expression on Jaskier's face, though.

After that, there has been no touching for quite some time. Until one night, when Geralt returned from a contract too tired to rid himself of his armour and simply flopped face down onto the bed in the inn they were staying at. Jaskier drew close, hesitantly hovering at his side, one hand extended. "May I?" he asked quietly.

The bard patiently waited for his grunt of approval, before hauling him upright, deftly unbuckling his armour and putting it away. Geralt was half asleep during the whole process, leaning his forehead against Jaskier's shoulder, while fighting the urge to pull him close.

The bard is a touchy one, and although that seemed odd and startled Geralt in the beginning, it now is the most natural thing in the world. Because the thing is, the bard isn't necessarily a touchy one. He is a spacey one. Comes with the profession, he guesses.

Wherever Jaskier goes, he brings a stage with him, announcing his presence with loud songs and colours as well as grand gestures, uncaring for other people's opinions. It is only natural, that with every other spread of his arms he brushes against someone. And it's also mostly natural that, as his travelling companion, those touches mostly reach Geralt.

Just as natural as touching him in return. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world. There is seldom a moment when the bard isn't touching him, be it a hand on his forearm, an elbow nudging his side, or his dirty feet in his lap. And it isn't as if the bard is the only one to initiate that kind of intimacy. Geralt delights in throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder, steadying him with a reassuring hand on his back after he had too much to drink, or wrestling him into a river. He especially delights in waking up cuddled close to his bard, their limbs and scents intertwining, both of them too lazy to start the day.

He can't remember when that had started, if he's quite honest. He thinks it was maybe five years after they first met, that they arrived at an inn tired and battered, as well as soaking wet from the thunderstorm outside only to discover that there was only one bed left.

After tucking the witcher into bed, the bard threatened to slip from his grasp. "Jaskier," Geralt slurred after a failed attempt to grab his wrist.

"Yes, dear witcher?"

"C'me 'ere." Geralt doesn't quite remember the motion accompanied by his words, too much asleep for that already, but according to Jaskier he made 'grabby hands'. Despite that embarrassing escapade, the bard beamed and indulged him, slipping into the single bed next to him and cradling him tight to his chest. Geralt never slept so soundly in his entire life.

 He thought that he would mind, if he is honest. He never liked anyone invading his space before, and Jaskier is nothing if not invading. It took them a bit to establish some boundaries, to find out what made the other snarl and pull back or vanish come morning. Geralt doesn't like his potions to be messed with and Jaskier is very protective of his notebook. Geralt prefers to be cuddled instead of doing the cuddling part and Jaskier allows no hands from his hips to his knees, although he doesn't mind waking up with Geralt draped over him from chest to toe.

Other taboos soon soften until they are abandoned completely. Like the bag-sharing ban, for example, or clothes. In the first few months of cuddles and touches, Jaskier enacted his strict shirts-and-pants-required-policy with vigour, only to be the one to ultimately forego it. Geralt still smiles at the memory.

It was an especially hot summer, maybe a decade into their acquaintance and Geralt just wrestled the bard into a clear creek. They were sodding wet, Jaskier huffing indignantly, in nothing but their smallclothes, too lazy to dry off if the sun was about to do the work anyways. Seeing him standing there, shaking his wet hair, his hands on his hips, did something funny to Geralt's stomach. As if it dropped and lifted at the same time.

Before knew what he was doing, he tossed Jaskier his clothes. "Get dressed," he ordered gruffly and spread his arms, "and come here."

Jaskier looked at the garments in his hands and sneered. "Oh, fuck no," he spat out. "You want a hug, Geralt of Rivia?" He threw the dirty clothes back at him and spread his arms. "Come and get it."

Geralt let them hit him. Although that also might have been the shock of Jaskier so readily abolishing his most adamant requirement. "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm bloody sure, you daft witcher. Now come here before I dry and start melting again."

Geralt has never been so quick to comply to a request. He lunged to tackle Jaskier to the ground, happily sprawling across him until they were both sweaty again. He was shoved off unceremoniously and then coerced into another bath in the river.

That night they didn't bother to get dressed either. Not when setting up their camp next to the creek, not when Jaskier got out his lute, not when Geralt started cooking their dinner. Certainly not when going to sleep.

Maybe it ought to feel weird. It's a weird thing to embrace your friend like a lover, is it not? It didn't, though. It doesn't. In fact, it feels like most natural thing in the world.

The bard is a touchy one. But that is not the reason why he is odd. The reason why he is odd, is his reaction to being touched in turn. He often startles and pulls away, just like Geralt has.

They are lying in bed one evening, entangled like they always are, Jaskier on Geralt's chest (the bard insisted they swap for once), Geralt carding his fingers through his bard's hair. There was a performance, earlier that day, and Jaskier made the acquaintance of a nice-looking gentleman. Geralt resigned himself already to the fact that he would go to bed alone that night.

But then, the man reached out to place a hand on Jaskier's knee. The bard froze up and a moment later he was plastered against his witcher's side, insisting they go to bed. It is a strange behaviour, although not the first time he has seen Jaskier react that way. The question burns on his tongue and, of course, Jaskier notices.

"What is it?"

Geralt tenses beneath him. Fifteen years and still not brave enough to ask. "Hm."

"Don't be daft," the bard chides, "we both know something's on your mind. Out with it."

There's no evading a determined bard, Geralt discovered that a long time ago. "You... don't like to be touched," he notices. Which is an odd thing to say to the half-naked man sprawled across his chest, with his ankles hooked around his calves. But they are odd people and an odd pair, so that's neither here nor there.

He is quiet for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Geralt feels the need to check with a quiet "Jaskier?" if he hasn't fallen asleep.

"Hm," the bard replies quietly. "That's not strictly true."

"Not strictly untrue either."

Jaskier sighs with a resignation of a man who knows he cannot hide, but doesn't particularly want too either. Still, it takes him a long time to reply: "I don't mind the touching. I... am not a great fan of what comes after."

Geralt freezes, his fingers tangled in Jaskier's hair, trying and failing to decipher that statement. "What comes after?"

"Oh, you know..." Jaskier makes a very illustrative gesture.

"Ah." Yes, he knows what comes after. He is, in fact, a great fan of what comes after. "You mean you don't like men?"

"Oh no, don't get me wrong. I like men and women well enough, just... not in my bed."

He frowns and looks down again at the man sprawled across his chest who must surely notice his heart beating rapidly. "Jaskier..."

"Hm?"

"I'm in your bed."

"Yes, I know, but that's different. I don't like them naked in my bed."

"Jaskier," he says again, glancing down at their almost naked bodies pressed together.

"Oh, shut up, you great oaf," he hisses and grins. "You know what I mean. And you're... different."

"Hm. Why?"

"I don't know." Jaskier sighs and pushes his hair out of his face. "You just are. Never tried to shove your dick into me, for starters. Or tried to coax me to shove my dick into you."

He shrugs. "Never thought you'd be interested."

"I'm not. Are you?"

He shrugs again. "Does it matter, if you aren't?"

"I guess it doesn't. Still, are you?"

"Jaskier," he chides softly and does his best not to squirm under his inquisitive gaze. But the bard is unrelenting. Geralt sighs and raises his eyebrows as he answers. "You... are a very attractive man. I would gladly suck your cock, or let you suck mine, if you were so inclined. Seeing as you aren't... I would rather refrain from it, if it's all the same to you." He smiled and splayed his fingers over Jaskier's shoulder. "I assure you, not the most proficient cocksucking in the world could grant me greater bliss than I am in right now. There is nothing in the world that could persuade me to give up what we have, especially not something as insignificant as a roll in the hay."

"Oh." Jaskier's shoulders sag and for a moment Geralt fears he's said something wrong. But then a bright smile spreads on his bard's face that is mirrored by his own a moment later. "That's a relief. And thank you. I guess."

Geralt snorts, amused. "You're welcome." After a moment of silence, he adds: "Jaskier? You're different for me, too."

"I am?" The bard beams at him. "How so?"

He has to be exhausted. Or drunk. Or both. There is no other explanation for the next words that leave his mouth. "Because I love you," he hears himself say, to his own mortification.

But Jaskier just smiles and closes his eyes. "Oh," he breathes and languidly squirms closer, like a cat basking in the sun. Then, after a mortifying moment that feels like an eternity, with Geralt's heart thundering in his chest, he replies: "I love you, too, Geralt of Rivia."

He breathes out, relieved, and opts for holding his bard tighter. That's always a good option. It just feels right to share their space and share their silence. Natural. 

He's not sure how long the quiet lasts before, for once, he's the one to break it: "Are we lovers?" Geralt asks suddenly, the question that has been occupying his mind for the past few minutes.

Jaskier sleepily blinks up at him. "Do you want us to be? I'm sure you could find a person better—"

"No, I don't think so," he interrupts him without hesitating.

Jaskier smiles again and it's a sweet expression, one that makes his heart speed up and his face go soft. "If we were lovers, Geralt...," he says after a while, "what would that mean for us?"

"You mean, what would change?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He gives him a long glance. "You said you are averse to naked people in your bed."

"I am," Jaskier confirms. 

"Are you also averse to clothed people kissing you?"

Geralt feels stupid while asking it. Apparently, it is very stupid, for Jaskier immediately starts laughing. "No, my dear," he replies after having calmed down, "I am not averse to clothed people kissing me."

"In that case, I would like to kiss you from time to time."

"Like when?" Jaskier props himself up on an elbow and his lips curl into a different smile, one that's more teasing, more flirtatious than the soft expression before.

"Like now," he says before he can change his mind. 

Jaskier hums and reaches out slowly, so that he cups Geralt's face with his hand, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb. Then, he leans in, just as slowly, and presses his lips to the witcher's in a sweet kiss. 

"Good?" Geralt asks when he pulls away.

"Good," Jaskier confirms. 

"Good." He allows himself to smile as well, bright and unguarded like his bard taught him, and pulls him against his chest again. Once they're settled, he says, feeling a little silly: "I suppose I would also like a love poem or two, master poet."

"Oh, Geralt." Jaskier smooths a hand down his side and feels around until he finds Geralt's hand and can interlace their fingers. "Are you so daft as not to realise that each and every one of my poems for you's a love poem?" he mumbles and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Warmth spreads in his chest again and he smiles. "I had hoped," he replies and returns the gesture, "but I did not dare to presume." After a moment he adds: "Thank you."

"Always, love," Jaskier replies. "Now go to sleep. I'm knackered."

Feeling relieved and relaxed, holding his bard—his lover!— close, Geralt does.

The bard is a touchy one. And an odd one, although not for his relationship to touches. He's an odd one for loving a witcher. But said witcher is an odd and touchy one as well, so it's alright. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world.

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (25) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

She hadn’t known what to expect for the trial. She’d thought that she’d have to sit in a little box, with a judge towering over her and yelling questions. Or maybe they’d let James ask the questions, even though both Sam and Lucy had told her that wasn’t the way these sorts of trials worked. She didn’t know; she’d never been to one before. She’d watched a court show or two when she was younger, at her parents’ house, but she was pretty sure even then that that wasn’t the way real life worked.

Then again, Y/N was growing ever surer that her own life wasn’t the way real life was supposed to work.

She certainly hadn’t expected for James to be this close, so close that she could smell his cologne and the underlying hint of soap. So close that she could see his eyes, the nervous, uncertain way they would flick in her direction then back down to the table again, as if he was afraid – or ashamed – to be caught looking at someone who was “beneath” him. She hadn’t expected the fear, the revulsion that had welled up within her at knowing that the man who had tormented her for years was now, once again, within mere feet of her.

She hadn’t expected to find herself hating him.

The only thing that gave her comfort, even more than sitting with Sam on one side and her lawyer on the other, was knowing that Miss Kara was also a few feet away, sitting in the gallery with Lena and watching her with kind, proud, protective eyes.

Miss Kara had kept the blanket fort up for a few days, and she and Y/N had slept in it the night previously – but only after Miss Kara had bought an air mattress.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” she’d said, a determined look in her eyes that made Y/N fall in love with her just a little more.

She hadn’t really been able to get much sleep; she’d tossed and turned with images of the trial not letting her close her eyes for more than a few moments. Finally Miss Kara had had enough – they both needed to rest so they would be in top form, she’d said, her voice gentle but authoritative. She’d held Y/N close in her arms and sang into her ear, softly, soothingly, until finally Y/N was able to settle down and get a few hours of sleep.

Nothing had really prepared her for seeing James in the courtroom. Even having Kara on one side, Sam, Lena, and Lucy on the other, did little to quell Y/N’s nerves. The moment she saw him, it all came rushing back.

And then, listening to the reasons for why he had done what he had… was that enough? She found herself wondering. Would it all excuse what he had done to her? She hated that for a brief moment while listening to James’s testimony, her heart had ached for him. The little boy, his family in turmoil and ultimately being abandoned by the father… She could only imagine what James had gone through, what he had thought, how he must have blamed himself. For just a few minutes, Y/N could see the scared boy that James had been. And yet, the boy that he had been was quickly overshadowed by the instruments he had used, the angry scowl of his voice as he beat her. The pain, the bruises, the broken bones…

But at least that’s why she was there – to give voice to her own worst memories.

They had decided that, rather than having Y/N prepare her own statement, she was better at questioning, a call-and-response testimony that kept her head clear and focused, and her answers concise. So Lucy Lane’s voice was soft, gentle as she asked the first question.

“Y/N, what was it like when you first met James Olsen?”

She hadn’t been sure about Lucy at first. There was something too flighty about her, a goofiness that had made Y/N wonder if the thin lawyer with the outlandish clothes was really dedicated to her case. But Sam had sworn by her, and the loud chomping of gum while she pored over the notes to Y/N’s case was offset by the look of sheer determination in Lucy’s eyes, and that had made her feel better. Plus she had seen the tender way Lucy had interacted with her submissive when her boy had brought them all lunch one day, and that had done even more for Y/N’s trust.

“He was nice,” Y/N admitted, toying with the hem of her shirt and looking down at the table. “I saw him… a couple of times when we were kids and he always seemed nice. Really… tall.”

Across from her, James snorted, and Y/N smiled a little.

In another life, would they have known each other? If they hadn’t been matched up by her parents and his – before his father left – would they have ever run into each other? On the street, or in a crowded supermarket. Would she have been charmed by his eyes, by the smile that only seemed to lift one side of his face, by his awkwardness hidden under a sense of false bravado?

Or would she have known to stay away from him? Would she have known that he wasn’t a “nice boy,” as her mother had said; that instead he was a spoiled child who made himself out to always be the victim? That he would try to sway Y/N to feel sorry for him even as he was hurting her, that it was, and would always be, only about James’s happiness, James’s dreams, James’s goals (or lack of), everything James wanted?

Perhaps she would’ve met Miss Kara first. Y/N glanced back out to the gallery and smiled, seeing her in the front row again, watching them. Y/N had been scared when Miss Kara had run out, afraid that she wouldn’t come back. It didn’t matter that Sam was on one side of her and Miss Lane on the other; Y/N only ever felt really safe knowing Miss Kara was there with her.

“Can you tell us what your first day with him as your Dominant was like?”

She’d known this was coming. Sam had held her as she cried, the first time she’d described what that day had been like with him. But it was different, telling one person. How was she meant to describe it to a room full of people? But Y/N took a deep breath and focused on Miss Kara, who gave her yet another reassuring smile.

“He was nice, at first,” she explained. “We were both… nervous. I mean we were just sixteen and I don’t think he was very sure of himself so I knelt d-down and I said that I would help him as much as I could, that I was there for Sir, that I was his.”

“And what did he do?”

Y/N shook her head. “I-I can’t-“

Sam’s hand closed over hers and squeezed, and Y/N glanced at her gratefully. She wasn’t Miss Kara, but it helped.

“We need you to,” Miss Lane said gently. “What did James do when you knelt for him and expressed your desire to help him?”

She closed her eyes.

“He slapped my face and said he didn’t need my help. Then he adjusted my stance because he didn’t like the way I was kneeling, and I had to stay that way for a while. An hour or two.”

“Will you tell us what your life was like, from that day on?”

Y/N sighed. “Have you ever felt,” she said quietly, “like no matter what you do, you’ll never get it right? No matter how much of a g-good girl you try to be, it isn’t good enough? I tried so hard, and I always made a mess of things. I didn’t kneel right. I didn’t cook his favorite things well. I was too smart, then too dumb. I talked too much, didn’t talk enough. Didn’t cry, screamed too loud, I was too n-needy. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him.”

“Okay,” Miss Lane said, carefully stopping the flow of words that threatened to send Y/N out of control. She breathed in, shakily, and concentrated on the table again.

She was glad that Lucy had said she wouldn’t ask any sexual questions; Y/N wasn’t sure she could handle those, not yet anyway. It was hard enough to talk to Miss Kara about things like that, even if things between them were growing steadily more intense with each passing day. It was getting even harder for Y/N to deal with her emotions, things she’d never felt before, wasn’t even sure she was allowed to feel. Things like need. Desire. Miss Kara was always telling Y/N to be open with her feelings, but sex… wasn’t anything that was ever discussed in the Hastings household, and in the Olsen household it was more of… a chore. Something that had to be done to keep him happy.

To close her eyes as he always took her from behind, because he said looking at her face ruined the mood.

At least it had never lasted long. At least he had never lasted long.

Miss Lane moved on to the questions about James’s physical treatment of her. The beatings, the broken bones (and here she offered into evidence numerous medical reports), the missed meals. Kneeling for hours on a hard tile floor. Sleeping in a corner of a dark, cold bedroom with little more than a sheet for comfort. Being humiliated in front of his friends.

Y/N told it all.

Everything she had held inside herself, kept hidden for years… it didn’t matter that Miss Kara wasn’t sat right beside her. Y/N looked out into the gallery, locking her hazel eyes with the soft, tear-filled brown ones that she loved… and told it all. She took a deep breath, dug deep and quietly repeated the words to herself, the words that first Sam had told her when she’d sobbed in her arms that day, and then Miss Kara had reiterated hours later.

It’s not your fault.

“Why did you never use your safe word?”

Y/N cocked her head at Miss Lane. “Safe word?” she repeated, feeling a little dumb.

Lucy Lane nodded. “The safe word that you and James agreed upon.”

“But we didn’t,” Y/N said, confused.

“You didn’t have a safe word established?”

It was one of the tenets of their society, Y/N knew. Well, she knew that now. Before, she hadn’t known that safe words and contracts, mutual agreements, were actually a thing. Growing up she had always been taught that her Sir was to be pleased, he was to be obeyed, and her own needs would be met if she did those things.

She wasn’t told what to do if those needs weren’t met.

“No, I didn’t have a safe word,” she answered, and once again her eyes met Miss Kara’s. “Not with James.”

“So your contract didn’t establish the usage of safe words?”

Contract. An agreement between two or more parties for the doing or not doing of something specified. An agreement enforceable by law.

Miss Kara had told her that just a year before Y/N had been “matched” with James, the government had established that contracts were “necessary and advisable” within their society. Every couple, once a claim was made, was required to go and file a contract, with an itemized listing of rules and regulations, the safe words that were to be used, and punishments that would be enforced within the context of the relationship. It was meant to facilitate stronger protection for submissives; Miss Kara’s voice had grown sad when she said that she wasn’t sure it had worked. If it had, there wouldn’t have been a need for places like McKinley House.

Y/N shook her head. “We didn’t have a contract.”

Lucy’s hand paused over the paper on which she was scribbling notes and she glanced at Y/N, then at James. “No contract?”

It was all for effect, Y/N knew. They’d been over this before; Miss Lane knew there had been no safe words, no contract. Nothing in writing to establish Y/N’s role in the relationship, nothing that outlined how James ought to care for Y/N, and how she should respond in kind. It was Lucy’s plan of attack: show that James, while not caring for Y/N and being abusive, had also actually broken the law. This, she said, would virtually guarantee their win.

Y/N wasn’t sure about that; Judge Schott looked like he was ready to fall asleep.

“No contract.”

“No safe word?”

“No,” Y/N said again. “I had no safe word, and no contract. I didn’t… have anything.”

“So how did you keep safe?”

Y/N sighed, and shook her head again. “Obviously I didn’t,” she said, unable to keep the slight edge from creeping into her voice. She looked over at James, and her heart plummeted a little when she saw the smirk on his face.

It was the smirk he always wore, just before… she curled her fingers against the table, grasping lightly and reminding herself of the other thing Miss Kara and Sam had told her.

He can’t hurt you.

“So you lived in a relationship with a man who broke the law by refusing to employ a contract and safe words, and subsequently abused you frequently? We could even say, every day of your life with him.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes.”

Lucy Lane gestured toward Mrs. Allen-West, effectively ending her questioning of Y/N.

She steeled herself as she smiled at her. She was pleasant enough, Y/N decided, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still the enemy.

“Miss Hastings,” she said easily, “Could you tell us about the house you shared with James Olsen, please?”

She resisted rolling her eyes, wondering if every lawyer was an expert in redundancy. “He was never happy,” she began to explain again. “Nothing I ever did was right, no matter how ha—“

“No,” James’s lawyer interrupted, and Y/N flinched slightly at her raised voice. “I am referring to the house itself. What was it like?”

Y/N drew back a little, confused. “Okay, I guess?” she said uncertainly. “A little small?”

“Not as nice as the one you grew up in?”

“No,” Y/N answered, suddenly a little nostalgic for the large house with its big rooms and soft couches, even softer beds with snuggly blankets. She still wasn’t sure where Allen-West was going with her line of questioning, but she already wished she’d stop. The last thing she wanted to remember during a trial was her former home. Her parents – she hadn’t heard from them in years. And her grandfather…

She missed him so much. He’d have protected her.

“So the house was small.” Y/N was sure that the woman with the perfect hair and dapper tie meant to be kind, but her voice was condescending, as if she were talking to a small child. You’re probably a bratty sub, Y/N thought, and not the kind Miss Kara seems to like. Probably one that throws a temper tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way.

“Was it also comfortable?”

“Yes?”

If Iris Allen-West detected any malice in Y/N’s answer, she didn’t let on as he continued. “Warm in the winter, cool in the summer?”

“Yes.”

“You stated that Mr. Olsen would sometimes make you sleep on the floor.” Y/N nodded, not bothering to verbally respond. She’d already stated as much. “Were you naked when you slept on the floor?”

“Sometimes.”

“But the house was warm.”

“Yes.”

“Were you given a pillow, a sheet?”

“A pillow. And a sheet. Sometimes a blanket in the winter.”

“And you stated that every now and then he’d let you sleep on the bed.”

“The foot of the bed,” Y/N clarified, adding in a mutter, “Like a dog.”

Allen-West nodded, seeming thoughtful, and then smiling at Y/N again. “Were you ever homeless, Miss Hastings?”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand—“

She interrupted her again, leaning forward, and Sam put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as Y/N scooted her chair back an inch.

“In the time that you were with Mr. Olsen, did he ever force you out onto the street, were you ever homeless?”

“No?” Was there a point to all this, Y/N wondered.

But then, with Iris Allen-West’s next question, her defense of James Olsen became clear.

“Y/N, would you ever say that you deserved your punishments?”

Her mouth dropped open a little. “W-what?”

That same damned smile, mirrored by the smirk on James’s face. “You’re a submissive,” his lawyer said smoothly. “Your dominant owns you; his duty is to train you, to make you your better self, to punish you whenever you don’t live up to his expectations. Did you live up to his expectations?”

“I-I didn’t deserve it,” Y/N said shakily. “Not that- not what he-“

“So everything you did was correct?” his lawyer pressed. “You were always good, always obedient, you never smarted off to him, you never broke a rule, and you never left him dissatisfied?”

She could feel the panic start to rise, the endless doubt that had been ever present each day for the last few years, that had only just began to fade, with the persistent gentleness and care of Miss Kara. The feeling that she was always wrong, that she was bad and disobedient, a horrible sub, because she could never do anything right.

“I-I tried,” Y/N said, hearing that her voice was bordering on pleading. “Every day I tried, to do what he wanted to, and I couldn’t—I never—“

“So you admit it, then?” His smile seemed almost feral now, menacing, and when had he stood up, leaning forward on the table, almost towering over her despite how short he was?

“You admit that you were a less than acceptable submissive. You admit that James Olsen frequently had to correct you in ways he saw fit, ways that were permissible because he is your Dominant.”

Now Judge Schott was sat up in his chair, his expression rapt as he listened to Allen-West attack Y/N with gusto.

“You admit that though he was severe, though he may have punished you in ways you didn’t like, that it wasn’t always about you, it was sometimes about James, as a good relationship should be. And the fact that you were never lacking for food, for clothing, for adequate and comfortable housing. And the fact that he was actually a very good Dominant, dedicated to you and your well-being, dedicated to training you in the best way he knew ho—“

“He wasn’t a good Dominant!” Y/N snapped, slamming her hand onto the table. “Not like Miss Kara!”

She was aware that the room had gone quiet. That Schott seemed suddenly interested in her, as did two men in suits sitting in the back of the room. That Sam had softly sworn “Oh, fuck” under her breath, and that Miss Kara was suddenly fidgeting in her seat and Lena had placed a steadying hand on her knee.

The gesture made her irrationally jealous, but Y/N plowed forward, her trembling voice suddenly loud and echoing in the silent court chamber.

“He beat me every day,” she said. “Until I cried, until I screamed. He broke… my bones. Me. I-I didn’t deserve that. And Miss Kara—“

“Y/N,” Lucy put her hand on Y/N, but Y/N shook it off with a glare.

“She’s good. She’s good and gentle and even when I’m ba—even when I’m naughty she’s still soft when she corrects me. She puts me in the corner or… she made me scrub the floor two days ago but she sat in the kitchen with me. She doesn’t beat me, ever, and she won’t.”

“She’s nothing like you,” she spat out toward James. “I may not be a good submissive but you’re not a good Dominant either. Not like her. Not like my Miss Kara.”

She fell quiet then, hating the way Allen-West quirked one extremely forest-resembling eyebrow and said to Judge Schott, “I believe I have made my case, Your Honor.”

The words dismissing them for a recess while he rendered his decision barely registered to Y/N’s ears; she sat numbly in her seat as Sam and Lucy stood up and tried to coax her to go out into the hallway with them. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d done something horribly wrong, because everyone was looking at her strangely and even Miss Kara seemed unnaturally pale as she came up and took Y/N’s hand, pulling her to her feet and leading her out into the hall with the others.

“M-Miss Kara?” Y/N queried softly, but the smaller woman shushed her with a finger against her lips and a tender look.

“I am so proud of you,” Miss Kara said, and Y/N relaxed when she pulled her into a hug. Y/N rested her chin on Miss Kara’s shoulder and breathed in, letting out most of the tension she’d felt since that morning.

“Really?”

“Really,” Miss Kara assured her, her hand in Y/N’s hair. “You were so brave up there, and you didn’t back down.” She kissed Y/N’s cheek gently.

“You were such a good girl.”

“You did good, kid,” she heard Sam say, and felt the light thump on her back, and Y/N giggled. She nuzzled further into Miss Kara, tightening her arms around her, enjoying the closeness and the comfort… until she heard an unfamiliar sound, a strange clearing of a throat.

She backed away from Miss Kara slowly, feeling the panic again as they both were confronted with the two men in suits, who had been sitting in the back row.

Miss Kara had stiffened, though her arm was still firm and secure around Y/N’s waist as she regarded the men.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here,” she said easily, casting a glance to her side as Alex and Allen-West walked past them, James in between.

“She is a member of Mt. Overland House, of course we would be here,” one of the men replied, looking down at Kara.

“She is Y/N Hastings,” Miss Kara said, and Y/N felt a swell of pride.

She was Y/N Hastings.

The other man nodded coolly, regarding Miss Kara, before saying, “We’ll see you tomorrow in our office, Miss Zor-El. I’m sure you know what we’ll be discussing.”

Miss Kara rolled her eyes as they walked away. “Of course they wouldn’t stay for the verdict,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s not like they actually care for Y/N’s well-being. It’s all for show with them.”

“Kara,” Lena said, a warning tone in her voice. “Now is not the time to make enemies of your bosses.”

Bosses? Y/N drew away slightly as the realization dawned on her.

The men were Miss Kara’s bosses at the Society. Her government bosses. And Y/N had just blurted out about her Miss Kara…

“Oh, no,” she whispered with a feeling of dread. “I-I didn’t—Miss Kara, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, I’m sorry!”

“No, no, Y/N,” Miss Kara said firmly, even though her voice shook ever so slightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, little one.” She led Y/N over to a bench and sat down with her, gently rubbing her back.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated. “And they can’t do anything to me.”

Y/N looked at Miss Kara, doubtful. The way everyone seemed to be acting strange, acting worried, and the way even Miss Kara’s face looked pinched and strained seemed to tell an entirely different story.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Miss Kara said, and pulled Y/N closer to her.

“Do you think he’ll… do you think I did okay?”

“I know you did okay,” Miss Kara said. “You did more than okay.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “But do you think it was enough?”

“Y/N, Kara,” Lucy said, coming down the hall toward the door to the courtroom, followed a few steps behind by Alex, James, and James’s lawyer. “Come on, we’re back in session.”

Y/N sat up in shock. They’d only been recessed for ten minutes. It was too early…

Miss Kara glanced at her, and Y/N knew that she felt the same way. It was too early.

“I guess we’re about to find out, little one.”

[thoroughlyskeptic]

“We both went to the London premiere but not together. We weren’t engaged and there was no reason to sort of show off to the world." USA Today November 18, 2014.

I'd like the Nannies to express their opinion about this please. With the full understanding that no person or persons on this side of the computer can control, sway or change Ben's mind or heart. That's not the point. The point is to understand what you believe is the psychological reasoning behind the decision to use that phrasing with his pregnant, soon to be fiancé and soon to be wife and soon to be mother of his child. According to People magazine and the Daily Mail, and those, including nannies, who said they have seen a Birth Certificate, Christopher Carlton Cumberbatch was born on June 1st.  Dislike it all you want, having a birthday makes it possible, and given human nature, likely that people will speculate on the date of conception, especially considering the facts, including the timing with regards to the Oscars and the shotgun* nature of the wedding. If it was a full term no problem pregnancy, 40 weeks, not under or over due, she was 2 and a half months pregnant when the above statement was made.

This story you nannies have built up, that Ben and Sophie have a true perfect love forever, that they never fight, how do you reconcile that with the whole unvarnished truth? Unless Sophie was totally gormless, she must have known she was pregnant. If Ben was dating her and truly in love, he would have known she was pregnant. They married three months later. He was in true love with the women he married, the woman he proposed to, whom he didn't mention by her name in interviews, and didn't want to walk down the red carpet to his movie premiere with the woman making his dreams come true, his dreams of being a father.

Now you are going to yell about things like privacy. That what he said was meant to protect Sophie and hide the pregnancy. I think anyone who is at all skeptical could answer that one. No one eager for privacy about their personal life talks to reporters, USA Today, or People magazine at all, let alone does a wedding dress spread in Vogue. I'm surprised it was in the print edition, and not the digital only. After all, maternity bridal gowns aren't really "en vogue". The long and short of it is that photo spread was well positioned and they managed to photograph her to look like she wasn't 5 1/2 months pregnant, perhaps to make that style of gown more in demand. Shotgun weddings tend to favor empire waists and lots of flounce to disguise the bump.

Now, I know the next question from the peanut gallery will be, why bring this up? They have stayed together, have two more kids together and it has been x and whatever years.

Here are several responses. Pick one or more in any combination.

1. Our feelings don't have to be right to be valid.

2. You have the option to object to our perfectly valid emotional reaction.

3. We have a right to block you from our page. You also have this right.

4. If you object to our opinions, you do not have to read our blogs or interact with us in anyway. If you are constantly feeling harassed because you see content from skeptics, BLOCK THEM, don't blame them! If the worker at Sea World handed you a poncho to protect yourself and you didn't use it, you can't blame the Shamu if you get splashed.(Sorry for the outdated and insensitive analogy but I wanted something easy to understand. I disagree whole hearted with the captivity of intelligent creatures be they aquatic or terrestrial mammals.)

5. We are valid in our own right as people. If you attack us on a personal level, we will defend ourselves and we have the right to do so.

6. As long as we do not interact with anyone,(i.e. Ben, Sophie, Karon, his management, etc) we can say whatever we want on our own blogs. The majority of us have never met him and don't want to. As far as we are concerned, Ben is an imaginary person that we are writing as a character for a long running D&D campaign.

7. However, the same does not apply to you. Many of you have gone out of your way to meet him. You believe that by sending hate to skeptics or doxxing them you will earn validation from him. I worry that some of you are on the brink and if he doesn't acknowledge you one time, or does something that you can't justify with your world view, one of you will snap. You think this about us, I know. But the nannies on the whole have much more emotional investment in Ben's personal life. (As a for instance, The skeptics call him Ben because at least one nanny has said that, "we don't know that he prefers that nickname so we should use his full name" another said "nicknames are for close friends and family and we aren't those, so we should call him by his full name or Mr. Cumberbatch." If Ben even has two thoughts about any skeptic or nanny(especially how they address him in blog posts) for the entire year I'd be surprised. Unless, of course, it when he has to think about you lot bothering him, stalking him, and generally making a nuisance of yourselves.

******

I also know you complain that the skeptics don't "love" Ben in every thing he does and don't always watch all his work. The gatekeeping within the fandom, not include how you discount and loathe the skeptics, is extreme. Fans must be all or nothing.

1. Not everyone has the money to participate fully, whether that is buying movies, theater tickets, merchandise or going to conventions to hear him speak. Disregarding fans based on their ability to participate, especially due to financial inability, is gatekeeping and it is the worst kind of gatekeeping. You are saying the only good fans are rich ones.

2. Generally the nannies viewpoint is Eurocentric as well. Some people have jobs, have children to raise, have other things that take priority over "being a fan". Being a fan requires time that poorer countries, less developed countries generally lack. Some countries censor the movies that are shown. Doctor Strange was not shown in the East the way it was in the west and unless you can afford to travel to another location,(Say the London Premiere that didn't quite happen and the nannies were upset because he didn't preform like a good little monkey in a suit for them?) you are made to feel left out by the uber fans.

3. Some people have emotional triggers. Ben's roles tend more towards the dramatic then comedic. Drama can deeply affect those who have experienced similar situations. He has been in movies dealing with Cancer, Childhood Abuse, Incest, Slavery, War, Pedophilia, have I missed any major triggers?

4. He is also in the MCU and the Hobbit movies which have flashing lights which makes them inaccessible to those who have seizures and migraines. Another oft used gatekeeping tactic in fandoms is the restriction of accessibility. In the US, there are compliancy laws for disabilities(although they aren't always obeyed) but smaller, poorer countries may not have accessible movie theaters. Fans with disabilities can not travel as easily as more abled fans. Smaller independent films Benedict made at the beginning of his career may not have captions or audio description or may be unafforable for those that have medical costs to consider.

5. There is also gender bias in the Cumberbatch fandom. One need only look at their chosen name, Cumberbitches. I can think of 15 more gender neutral terms off the top of my head but men and those who identify as male were inherently excluded from the fandom. I can think of ONE male fan. Maybe one that writes under his wife's account as to not get ridiculed. Because they would be ridiculed by the nannies, that is who they are, the "gatekeepers of the fandom", deciding who is worthy to be a Ben fan.

They have made fun of fans before. Not just skeptics. People they don't like or don't want in their little clique. So the majority of Ben's fans are middle aged rich white women. Not because that's who he's trying to reach as an audience but because that is who his uber fans allow to worship him.

If you are in need of examples of how out of control the uber fans are take the following for an example.

Someone did a nice tweet about other actors. It had nothing to do with Ben, although it did feature Tom Hiddleston and other Marvel actors. The ubers starting by saying Ben wasn't listed, then jumped into, well, a screenshot is worth a thousand words.

As they say, that escalated quickly...

*Shotgun Wedding is an American term for a marriage precipitated by the pregnancy. It comes from an American colloquialism, termed as such based on a stereotypical scenario in which the father of the pregnant bride-to-be threatens the reluctant groom with a shotgun in order to ensure that he follows through with the wedding.

[megsironthrone]

Servant

Based on this request: Hello! I really enjoy your GoT oneshots, and I was wondering if you could do an Oberyn Martell x male reader, where when Oberyn comes to King’s Landing the Lannisters are very wary of him so they send someone (the main character) to spy on him and pose as one of his servants to keep an eye on what he does and where he goes, but over time they slowly start to develop feelings for him? I hope that’s detailed enough, if you need anything else feel free to let me know! Thank you for doing this, many fandom communities greatly appreciate it :D

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!* Also, it’s been FOREVER since I last wrote a specifically male!reader one-shot.

Warnings: A little angst-ish?? Fluff. Kissing. mentions of brothels and use of the word “whores” multiple times(in proper context, of course)

Pairings/Characters: Oberyn Martell x male!reader, Ellaria Sand x male!reader(platonic), Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Y/N hated this. He absolutely hated it. He was so uncomfortable. He wasn't a spy! He was merely a servant. So why in all seven heavens and hells did he agree to do this? Oh right…Tywin and Cersei threatened his employment and therefore, his way of living. So that was how he found himself standing in Petyr Baelish's brothel trying to find Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

         The discomfort crept into Y/N's flesh and bones as he made his way toward the room one of the whores indicated. Y/N looked straight ahead, desperate not to see anything more than he had to. It wasn't that he was ill at ease with any type of sexuality. He'd had his own fair share of women and men, though he did tend to prefer one over the other most of the time. That didn't mean he wanted to be surrounded by sex-crazed, scantily clad(if even that) people all the time.

         When Y/N entered the room where Oberyn was staying, he wanted to turn around and leave right then. Before he'd even set eyes on the prince, his gaze was blocked by several nude whores, mostly women, but there was a male as well. A feminine voice spoke, pulling Y/N back to reality as he hoped his presence hadn't been noticed yet.

         "She's timid. Timid is boring." A deep chuckle followed the statement. As whores shifted this way and that, Y/N caught sight of a beautiful woman. He knew she must have come with Oberyn. She definitely wasn't a woman who worked in a brothel. Her gaze met Y/N's and she smiled. "My Prince, it seems Lord Baelish has provided another man for us to see. Why didn't he send him earlier, I'd like to know. He's beautiful to look at." As soon as she said it, Oberyn moved into Y/N's line of sight.

         Y/N felt his breath leave his body. Now he was in serious trouble. Oberyn was not only one of the most handsome men he'd ever seen, but there was something about him. He drew Y/N in like a moth to a flame. "You are right, Ellaria. My paramour has an eye for such beauty. Who are you?" Clearing his throat, Y/N bowed slightly.

         "Y/N, Prince Oberyn. The Queen Regent has offered my services to you as your personal servant and liaison." He felt Oberyn's thumb and forefinger cup his chin. Oberyn gently tilted his head back up so he could gaze into his eyes. "Is that right?" Y/N nodded slightly. Oberyn's lips upturned slightly into a smirk, his dark eyes never leaving Y/N's face. How was Y/N ever going to do his job now?

         Y/N remained in the brothel with Oberyn for weeks, only leaving when the prince absolutely had to make the trek up to the Red Keep. Any time they would make the journey, Oberyn would make conversation. At first, Y/N tried to maintain an appropriate distance and relationship. He was merely a servant after all. But after a while, that became more difficult. It was nearly impossible for him not to get along with Oberyn which is what made his job that much harder. Not that there was anything to report.

         Whenever he was in the Keep, Cersei and Tywin would pull him aside, demanding that he gave them something, anything, they could hold over the prince. Y/N would simply shrug and tell them there was nothing to report which wasn't a complete lie. He knew Oberyn wanted revenge, but had yet to speak of any plans to exact said revenge. In fact, Y/N had pretty much given up the idea of spying the moment he set foot in the brothel so he would have nothing to tell anyway.

          Cersei and her father left in a huff, once again threatening Y/N's employment until he left with Oberyn again. And all the while, Y/N was forming his own plan to get out of King's Landing. There was only one thing holding him back.

         The longer Oberyn remained in the capitol, the more difficult is was for Y/N. There was absolutely no denying that he was falling in love with the prince. And Ellaria was a true friend as well. She seemed to know exactly what was happening between Y/N and Oberyn and had even gone so far as to approach Y/N about it.

         Y/N stuttered out an apology, but Ellaria merely laughed. "You people here are so…traditional in your thinking. I am not upset. In fact, I quite like the idea. You are different than the other men that have captured Oberyn's attention. You love him for him, not for how he looks or the title he bears. We knew from the moment you appeared why you were here. And yet, I also know that you have reported nothing you've seen or heard to Cersei."

         Y/N's eyes widened  in fear. "You knew?" She nodded and Y/N continued, "Please believe that I never wanted this and after meeting you both, I refused to go through with what Cersei and Tywin wanted. You're right. I love Oberyn. I know it is not my place-" A laugh cut off Y/N's apology. Y/N felt himself stiffen. He knew Oberyn was behind him. He turned to face the prince, only to have a pair of arms wrap around him.

         "There are few things you should never apologize for," Oberyn spoke softly as his nearly black eyes met Y/N's (e/c) ones, "One of those things is loving someone." Y/N felt his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He wasn't exactly pinned to Oberyn's chest. The prince had left enough slack in his arms that Y/N could step away if he wanted to. He didn't. He could feel the heat radiating off Oberyn and he soaked in like a flower.

         "I would like to kiss you, Y/N," he whispered as Y/N heard the sound of a door closing. Ellaria had obviously left the room to give the two men some time alone. "Really?" Y/N asked. His voice was hardly above a whisper. Oberyn nodded. "If you are agreeable." Y/N chuckled a bit. As a servant, it wasn't often he was asked for his consent about anything. In answer, Y/N surged forward and crashed his lips against Oberyn's. It was everything he thought it would be and so much more.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @etherealpotter​ @line-viper​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @gruffle1​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​

All Tag Lists are OPEN!

[a-little-slice-of-fandom]

In response to the Jane ask, I totally agree! Her song, as vague as it might be in the newer versions, is very much about emotional abuse and her realizing/reflecting on it. In the other versions this is arguably even clearer! Besides the list in the first verse, there’s a line in the student run version that always get me, in the second verse after “with out my son your love will disappear”. Usually in the lastest version it’s “I know it isn't fair, but I don't care”, which can be a sign of even tho she knows that he has hurt her at this point, her love will still be there for her son. But the student run it’s something like “you’ll let us fall apart, try to break my heart” which I think is much more powerful in showing more of her self awareness at what would happen to her. Also that opening monologue before about if she was really loved or just checked all the boxes on a list before she could make him angry, she knew that he would be willing to destroy her if she didn’t do as he wanted (Cause Anne wasn’t some death that would never happen again and that only happened cause Jane was there, he was to said to have threaten Jane with the same fate cause of the pilgrimage of grace incident (also well it did happened gain two queens later). Also just a slight unrelated thing, I can sorta understand why people blame Jane for Anne’s death but also not really. It was a whole campaign against Anne, and we only know that Jane was yeah trying to be queen due to influence from her family and others trying make sure she was but I don’t think it’s her fault Henry (and others) decided the best course of action would be to kill Anne. Though I am not a big Tudor researcher, this is only from multiple weeks and hours of searching and learning cause of curiosity and someone could fact check me but that’s what i interpreted the history as. Random rant over) Also the fact (and I’m pretty sure this is true in the newest version), she says “loved” most of the time. The past tense is important there, cause yeah maybe she did truly think she “loved” him. And he may have been the only one she ever “loved” but that cause she probably didn’t get a chance to love someone else (when Henry says it’s you, it’s you after all). This is just speculation though, I can’t assume what a 500 year old historical figure was truly feeling but a character in a show is different and ready for analysis. For that I say that maybe she did “love” him but it easily could have been out of fear or wanting to just deal with the cards dealt to her. But at the end she realizes where she wants her love to be directed towards, and that’s her son and in “Six” her new found family.

And fun fact about her part in “Six” (I kinda learned from something on tumblr but can’t remember who but either way here it is.) it’s 200% about the queens as her family, with her pun at the end being the main signifier of this. “You could perhaps call us the Tudor Von Trapps” is a reference to the Trapp Family Singers, an Austrian singing family (if you see the wiki for them, they are apparently the inspiration for sound of music, Neat!). So from that you would think “oh she’s talking about Henry and her kids with him having a band” but then she says “Just kidding! We’re called the Royalling Stones!”. A Rolling Stones references and they were made by friends forming a band, so that can be associated that the queens are said friends in this case but also part of family that has grown! Also Rolling Stones have a song called heart of stone, seriously this is the most clever joke Jane had during the show and it makes me, a pun/joke lover, very happy to see this be such a character trait that it’s in the damn description for her character for an auditioning sheet (check out Citadle Theather and Six the Musical in google, i think you’ll find it.)

Anyway sorry about this long ramble, it’s just that even though I totally can see how people view Jane as “weaker” in terms of some writing choices made, I still think there’s a lot to talk about with not just her current incarnation but also the other ones as well. I wish some changes werent made to her song, but she is a still strong character about the effects of emotional abuse and maternity. There’s nothing bad about talking about those things, your right that it doesn’t make her any less feminist. Anyway ramble over and I hope you have a lovely day :)

Hello hun!

Please don’t apologise for rambling! I’m always so interested in hearing other opinions on the queens and I love the opportunity to discuss any queen at any time! Frankly, I’m just impressed you got the whole essay into one message! Have they gotten rid of the character limit? Sorry, not relevant to the question.

(Also sorry for how long this took to answer! Uni happened sort of happened and I didn’t want to half ass my response to such a well thought out ask)

I adore the older versions of Heart of Stone, especially the student run version! I completely agree that Seymour feels so much more aware of her place in Henry’s life in the older versions. In the older version she knows she wasn’t Henry’s true love (even though she loved him) and she knows her worth is completely dependent on her ability to give Henry a son. She literally says “nothing lasts forever, I’ll fade away”. That is such a powerful statement and I wish that line was still in the song! I still think these themes are in the new version, but they’re nowhere near as explicit. Plus the character development in the student run feels much more explicit, with Seymour saying “soon I’ll have to go, I’ll never see you grow” instead of “him grow” in the new versions. She’s clearly speaking to Edward in the older version, so the last half of HOS in the old versions (at least in my eyes) is actually directly speaking to Edward and not Henry as many people think. I still think this is true for the new versions, illustrating Seymour’s character development as she breaks away from Henry and rather concentrates on her son, but again I don’t think it’s obvious in the new version. The older version just felt so much more powerful and I think it presented Seymour as much more as a victim than the newer version...which I argue is true! Seymour was as much of a victim as any other character in the show and I think she deserves more sympathy than the show gives her, and for as much as I love the newer versions of six, you can’t deny that Seymour is reduced to a joke for half of the show. The student version is such a genuine and earnest version of Seymour, and I can’t help but love her. It’s definitely a testament to the actresses from the student run that their characters are still on parr with professional versions of the show!

(Im so sorry I don’t feel like I’m adding anything to your analysis, but you’ve really summed up my feelings perfectly! )

Weirdly, I think that the student run and studio run play with the idea of having a “heart of stone” better than the modern version. I love the contrast between the material things that Henry can buy versus the natural world. Material things can fade, but the natural world (and Seymour’s love) transcends that. It’s a really nice use of juxtapostion in that song and I just don’t feel like the newer versions play with those images as much as the older version.

I do sort of get why they changed it (I think Seymour spends upwards of 10 just listing different objects, which is powerful in its own way but I do think audience members could get bored of those verses) but I wished they had still somehow managed to keep the theme that Seymour as explicit. I still think it’s there in the newer version of the song, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near as obvious as the older version. It would make HOS more like AYWD in a way, and that would be brilliant. Six shouldn’t be afraid to tackle different forms of abuse.

I personally can’t comment on the whole Anne Boleyn vs Jane Seymour thing because I just don’t know enough about the situation. However I don’t think any of the wives should be burdened with the blame of what happened to their predecessors. It wasn’t their fault.

Also I’d never thought of the tudor von trapps vs the royalling stones indicating that it was a found family rather than a blood family, but it’s actually such a neat little detail and I think it makes complete sense! I have always maintained that Seymour’s “family” doesn’t have to be related by blood. Found family is just as meanigful and as important as a bloof family, and Seymour finding her place with the other queens and calling them her family rather than Henry is very powerful in my opinion. I just don’t think the “my family’s grown” lime has to be as literal as people take it. Thanks for bringing that line to my attention though!

Seymour isn’t a “weak” character, both in term of the writing and in terms of character development. As much as I love the older versions of Seymour, I still like the new versions and appreciate that Toby and Lucy decided to allow Seymour to be a motherly character and have that be treated as an equally empowering thing as the other queens. Some women want to be mothers and that’s okay!

Anyway thank you so much for this ask my love! I really enjoyed thinking about Seymour (since she’s not a character I talk about a lot). Sorry again for taking so long to respond ❤️❤️❤️

[yodawgiherd]

Gone Clubbing

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Coming hot from the Red Flag update, I wrote this chapter that is in a very similar light. It fits the story, so you can't blame me :P Enjoy!

The interior of the club was looking surprisingly normal. Dark colors, tasteful wooden decorations, tables and booths lining the walls. There was a bar in one corner, but the center of the whole club was undoubtedly the raised stage. It was empty now, Darius’ performance didn’t start yet, so Eren took the lead and maneuvered them towards the reserved booth.

Looking around, he realized one thing. Hey, they even fit here! Mikasa was looking amazing as ever and her goth getup worked well with the overall vibe of the club. Eren, who was dubbed a clown by both himself and his friends, also got substantially better, because black lipstick and nail polish were very far from the most eccentric clothing they saw.

“Look, that catsuit is the same as one of yours.”, he pointed out, making Mikasa look.

“It is..”, she agreed, inspecting the latex bodysuit of one of the visitors, “I guess Darius is making big bucks with custom-made gear.”

“He is an artist.”

“True that. Everything we got from him is amazing, so I will never disagree with his statements.”

Mikasa’s grey eyes slid towards the bar, pondering the question of “not getting hammered.” She could handle a few more drinks, especially when she asks for something with less alcohol, and there was no reason to just sit here dry.

“Well, I’ll get us something to drink, because I might get thirsty over the course of the evening.“, Mikasa stated, letting the double entendre hang in the air as she stood up and walked in the direction of the bar.

That’s when Eren’s phone rang, and a quick check showed that it was his mother calling. As one does not let his mother go into voicemail, he picked up, curious what she might want. They did see each other a few hours back.

“Mom?”

“E-Eren, you freak!”

That made him blink.

“Come again?”

“I know what you did! Mikasa spilled the beans and now I know… Everything! I don’t remember raising you like this!”

Eyes flying to where his fiancé was, Eren’s mind worked frantically around the words. Carla knew… everything? What did that mean? What did Mikasa tell her? He couldn’t imagine his reserved girlfriend bragging about anything embarrassing in public, so…

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I know that you… you had s… sex in public, Mikasa said so.”

Statement one – Carla was drunk, judging from how she mingled the words.

Statement two- What the fuck?!

Statement three – What on god’s green earth made Mikasa tell Carla such a thing. Fine, it was far from the worst that they’ve done, but still. It’s not something that you boast about to family members, and Eren would rather bite his tongue clear off than walk up to Levi and say: “Hey friend, did you know that I often tie your little sister up and do all kinds of freaky shit to her?”

“Well, I mean…”

But Carla didn’t even let him finish, another accusation flying Eren’s way.

“And you have a tattoo!”

“You said that it looked cool!”

“Yes but…”, she sniffled on the other side, “You were just a tiny little baby yesterday, and today you have a tattoo and a girlfriend and… s-sex… and…”

The sounds she was making were suspiciously like sobs.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes... It’s…”, he could hear her shaky exhale, “I wasn’t here for such a big part of your life, I missed so much.”

“Mom I…”

“No, it’s my fault, I was the one who decided to leave. But no more. I promise that I’ll be around much more Eren, I want to remember what you do, I want to be a part of your life.”

“You are a part of my life mom.”

“Bigger part then.”

“Very well.”, he chuckled, “Do you want me to come over and talk?”

“No, I know when I’m drunk. Mikasa’s party was great but I feel like lying down now.”, Carla bit back a yawn, “Also, tell her that she looked beautiful today.”¨

“See? Even you tell me that she’s beautiful and you act all surprised when she tells you that we fu-… I mean that we are intimate. Like seriously, did you think that we were in some sort of celibate relationship where we kiss each other on the cheek and sleep in separate beds?”

“Okay Mr. Libido, where are my grandchildren then?”

If Eren was drinking anything, he would spit it out right now.

“Mom! What the hell?”

“I’m just saying Eren, if I die without seeing a single tiny bundle of joy from you and Mikasa, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“I…”

“Shush, I’ll get out of your hair now. I love you Eren and tell Mikasa I love her too. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

“Now that would make things rather awkward between us.”

“You know what I mean! Once you finally push yourself to action and marry the poor girl, she’s going to be my in-law anyway.”

“Wait, did you say poor?”

“Good night sweetie!”

And with a click, Carla was gone. Putting the phone down, Eren’s eyes were drawn to Mikasa making her way back towards him, two glasses in hand. She moved through the club with her usual predatory grace, easily weaving through the people there, completely in her element. Eren wasn’t the only one watching her, he noticed, several pairs and individuals stole a look at the enchantingly beautiful goth girl that walked in their midst. Maybe it should have made Eren jealous, but all he felt was a pang of foolish pride in his chest. Yes, she’s so incredibly gorgeous, and she’s mine. Look, but don’t touch or we might have a problem. Or who was he kidding, Mikasa would definitely take care of herself. She was the one who, in high school, broke a hand of a guy who touched her without permission.

Reaching her destination, Mikasa slid down to the booth next to Eren, putting the glasses on the table. A bit driven by all the stares, he immediately took the opportunity to grab a sort of possessive hold of her, angling her face so he could kiss her. Way more aggressive and deeper than necessary, but he was buzzed just the right way not to care. Let anyone see how much he loves her. They were in a freaking BDSM club anyway, this was by far not the worst that happened here.

“Well hello stranger,”, she said once they broke apart, her cheeks all flushed and the black lipstick smeared around her lips, “Didn’t know that you were this grateful for the drink”

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Eren took a sip of whatever she brought up, pleasantly surprised. It was good, way better than he expected even, as one would not think that a club like this needed an amazing bartender. There were other reasons why people came.

“Mom called.”, he announced, putting the glass back down, “She knows about our public adventures because you told her. May I know why?”

“Eeh, I couldn’t help it.”, Mikasa had an apologetic smile on her lips, “We were playing truth or dare, and it sort of came up.”

Truth or dare? That did sound like fun, and Eren regretted the dumb argument he got into with the other guys at the bar. Pulling out secrets from Hitch or Krista, or hell, his own mother, would have been amazing. Then again, he was here with Mikasa, they had drinks and the show didn’t start yet. So…

“Wanna have a little game of our own?”

“Why? We know exactly what we did.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to get you drunk.”

“Ooh, you sly bastard.”, Mikasa’s eyes narrowed, “You’re on.”

“Good, I’ll be taking the first word then.”

Eren cleared his throat, raised his glass, and began.

“Never have I ever been suspended from a ceiling.”

“Cheap shot.”, she commented.

“Could be, but still.”, he tapped her glass, “Drink, shibari lover.”

She did so, revenge forming in her head.

“Never have I ever licked someone’s boots.”

“And you talk about cheap shots.”, Eren clicked his tongue but drank.

“Never have I ever done a pole dance.”, he shot back.

Mikasa’s eyes were calculating as she took a sip.

“Maybe we will have to change that.”, she said before firing her volley, “Never have I ever filmed us having sex.”

“That tape is going to be useful one day. And we have so many more to make…”

Mikasa ignored the tingle that it sent down her spine, frowning at her fiancé.

“Sure thing, voyeur.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren drank.

“Never have  I ever wore cat ears during sex.”

“Yet.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”, with a mysterious smile, Mikasa drank.

“Never have I ever been in a chastity cage.”

“How the hell is that fair? You literally can’t even be in one.”

“There are similar devices for women, it’s fair play.”

“But…”

“No buts.”, she pointed at the glass in clear command, “Drink, puppy.”

Eren obeyed, eyes studying her even as he spoke.

“Never have I ever stepped on someone.”

“Oh please, you enjoyed it!”

“Sure did,”, Eren agreed,  “but that’s not the point of this game.”

Mikasa took a swig, a follow-up in her mind.

“Never have I ever come from a footjob.”

“Dirty.”, a sip, and it was Eren’s turn, “Never have I ever been taken against my will.”

“Can you really call it non-consent when I was the one who came up with the idea?”,  Mikasa wondered, clearly just stalling.

“Miki, I still have some of the photos I took of you back then. Should I pull them up as evidence and let the committee decide?”

Defeated by a sound argument, Mikasa drank.

“Maybe we could give it another shot, sometimes soon.”, she said, remembering how strange the experience was.

Terrifying and perfect at the same time, she was scared for her life when the Not-Eren threatened her, he managed to play the role of an abusive bastard so well. Maybe there was something about him being a bad guy in her dreams because at least party he could be such an asshole even in real life. If she begged nicely, that is.

“I’d have to ask Mr. Incognito if he has a free schedule.”, Eren joked, making Mikasa snicker, “But I have a faint feeling that he might squeeze you in.”

“Let’s leave it on open for now, who knows, maybe I will be the one in charge once we get around to the thing.”

That made Eren blink a few times.

“You want to do that to me?”

“Maybe..”, a bit of worry entered her face when she realized that Eren might not be into it. She had to be sure because Mikasa would never force him into something he didn’t want, that was a big No in their relationship.

“Don’t you want me to?”, she asked, but Eren shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want it, I honestly just have a hard time coming up with any scenario where I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Tsk, don’t you worry about that. If I want it, I’ll come up with something.”

“Fine by me. Open it is then.”

With that topic solved, it was time to continue their game. Mikasa’s turn, she thought for a moment before she tried her next line.

“Never have I ever deepthroated a strap-on.”

But Eren was having none of that.

“Nah, but you did, don’t you remember the “class” you gave me?”

“That wasn’t a strap-on, it was a vibrator!”

“Close enough. Drink.”

Murmuring about unfair rules and crooked referees, Mikasa drank with Eren mirroring her.

“Never have I ever had anal sex.”, was his put, and Mikasa snorted in amusement. She couldn’t even count how many times Eren was either the giving or receiving party in anal sex, so she called him out on his bullshit.

“Seriously? Do you need me to spell it out for you?”, Mikasa moved closer, whispering, “Slut.”

It was magical how a single word could make Eren’s crotch tingle.

“No need, I did it on purpose.”, he drained his glass, putting it down, “I like the stuff they serve in here.”

Chuckling, Mikasa followed suit, both their drinks empty. Then, just as Eren was about to get up for a refill, the lights dimmed and the show began.

The figure that walked in on the stage was undoubtedly Darius Zackly, and he was followed by not one but two women, the player. One was dark-skinned and the other very pale, almost as much as Mikasa. To contrast their natural look, each wore lingerie of the opposite color, white on black and black on white, complete with high heels on their feet. No one spoke, the trio bowed to the crowd instead, almost dramatically, while two rings descended from above, stopping to hover over them.

Keeping his mysterious air, Darius held out a hand and the pale girl moved, grabbing a rope from the cart in the back and handing it to him. With the silky thing in hand, Zackly began his performance. He worked on the black girl first, coming up with an intricate design. Even the rope was white, Mikasa realized, a stark difference to the model’s skin. First, Darius tied her hands behind her back. The second rope went around her chest, tying her breasts in a very familiar design. Then he guided a rope through the metal ring, one that went from her tied hands to the chest bondage. With that, the ring rode up a bit, forcing the model to stretch her body and anchoring her in place.

“Isn’t the chest bondage the one you used on me?”, Mikasa whispered to Eren, recognizing the shapes.

He studied the way Darius worked the ropes for a moment.

“It is, you have a good eye. Although the binding on her hands is different than the one I used on you.”

“Because you tied me all the way from wrists to elbows.”, she made a tiny frown appear on her face, “I couldn’t move my hands at all.”

“Only the most secure bondage for a beast like you.”, he chuckled, kissing Mikasa’s scarred cheek, “I can’t edge you unless you are properly bound, otherwise you take control of the situation.”

“You better keep those skills up then.”

“For you Miki? Anything.”

The performance continued while they talked, and Darius was now working on the model’s legs. He didn’t touch her right leg, but her left was picked up and bend at the knee. Ropes sneaking around the limb, Zackly immobilized it, and that was it for the black girl. She was now balancing on one leg, but with the ropes pulling her up it wasn’t that much of a strain. With one model done, Darius turned his attention to the pale girl.

Retrieving a few more ropes from the cart, black ones this time, he closed the distance to his partner. Following the same path as before, Zackly tied her hands and chest first, copying the pattern. But then the show changed. He didn’t secure the model to the ring, he made her lie down instead, kneeling and working on her legs like that, with her on the floor. The ring started descending at the same time, going very, very low. Done with the design, Darius pulled the rope up and into the ring, anchoring it. And that’s when Eren realized what was happening.

“He’s hanging her upside down.”

“Ooh, that looks like fun.”, Mikasa poked Eren in the shoulder, “Why don’t you do that to me?”

“Eh, I don’t prefer it. When you are upside down, blood goes to your head quickly, so you have to be very mindful of the time. When I tie you up, I like to go slow, really enjoy you.”

“Hmm.”, Mikasa’s eyes were back on the performance.

She was chewing on something in her mind, and Eren had a chuckle when he realized what it was. So many things that they’ve done and Mikasa still had trouble asking him for something.

“We can try it if you want.”, he offered, making her face light up.

She leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips followed by a gentle whisper.

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

Just then the whirring resumed, and the ring began ascending, pulling the pale girl up. Upwards she went, until her whole body was off the floor and hanging from the ring, her blonde hair cascading around her face. It was the hangman position, Eren realized. And when Darius took a step back, both Mikasa and he finally took in the thing Zackly created as a whole. Contrast, that was the centerpiece of his performance. One girl was standing while the other was hanging upside down, both in the exact same position. One was dark-skinned yet wearing white lingerie and tied by a white rope, while the other was pale, wearing black and tied by a black rope. It was bondage, but at the same time it was art, and from the murmur that ran through the club they weren’t the only ones who realized that. The old man was an artist, no matter how you put it.

With a bow from Darius, his performance was finished. Both Eren and Mikasa joined in on the applause that resounded through the club, the show he put on was amazing. Once the ruckus began to die down and everyone got their fill of ogling the beautiful bondage design, Zackly untied the ladies while talking to them, laughing here and there. It was an interesting dynamic to see them like this, relaxed around each other, it betrayed that they all have been in this business for some time.

“Hello?”

As they were both watching the stage, neither Eren nor Mikasa saw the couple approach them. The woman was tall, made even taller by the extremely high heels on her shoes. It was the one that Eren noticed earlier, dressed in a latex bodysuit of the same design as one of Mikasa’s. The man at her side was much less eccentric, wearing jeans and a shirt, but when he nodded his head in greeting Eren saw that there was a collar around his neck, marking him as a property of the lady next to him.

“Hi,”, the woman repeated, “Did you like the show?”

Mikasa took the lead in answering.

“Yes, it was great, very artistic too.”

“That’s Zackly for you,”, the woman smirked, “He is amazing at what he does.”

“But we didn’t come here to fawn over Darius,”, that was the man speaking, nudging his partner, “Did we, sweetie?”

“Right, no, we didn’t. We came to talk to you for a reason.”

“Which is?”, Eren asked.

The woman faced Mikasa when she spoke, the words aimed at her.

“I hope that we aren’t too straightforward, but my husband saw you at the bar, and he was quite taken by you.”

Eren had to bite back a laugh at how Mikasa’s eyes widened.

“H-huh?”, was all she managed.

“We were wondering if you would be willing to do a partner exchange for a night or two, maybe a weekend.”, the collared husband took the word, “If you guys are into it, of course.”

“He’s a bottom, as you might have guessed,” the latex-clad woman followed up, “and from watching you I’d guess that you are the top in your relationship? You have that air of dominance around you.”

“I-I do?”, Mikasa choked out, much to Eren’s amusement.

But he wasn’t spared either, as the woman’s eyes slid over to him.

“You don’t have to worry either pretty boy, I promise that I’d take good care of you. I’m an experienced dominatrix.”

Now it was Eren’s eyes widening. He and Mikasa looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. Seeing their slight panic, the man grinned.

“I feel like we started with a wrong question, we should have asked if you are in an open relationship first.”

“That’s right, our fault.”, the woman agreed immediately, “Sorry if we are making you uncomfortable with this.”

Finally understanding what this was about, Mikasa blushed but reached out, taking hold of Eren’s arm.

“No, we are not open.”, she said, meeting the woman’s eyes, “We are very closed.”

“Yep, just me and her, no one else.”

“Aw, that’s too bad, you guys are something else.”, the woman clicked her tongue, “Oh well, can’t have everything.”

“We will take our leave then.”, the man said, unbothered by the refusal, “Have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he walked away and deeper into the club. The woman stole a last wanton look at Eren before following, her heels clicking against the floor. The stunned silence that came didn’t even get a chance to properly cook before a new figure appeared. Familiar one this time, it was Darius who slid into the booth, grinning at the pair.

“Eren! Mikasa! I knew that I saw you!”

His joy was infectious, and the cold feeling was being melted by his presence alone.

“That was an amazing show,”, Eren complimented him straight off the bat, “You are so good with the rope.”

“Bah, just years of training. Plus judging from our talk, you are pretty good yourself, the forms you wanted to do were rather advanced.”, his gaze went over to Mikasa, “Isn’t that correct, miss Ackerman?”

She nodded, feeling way more relaxed around Darius than the two from before. But his mention of her, Eren’s significant other, combined with how the pair talked about open relationships and brought a question out of Mikasa, one that she was pondering ever since they entered the club.

“Darius, aren’t you married?”

“Sure am.”

“And your wife… does she know about this?”

“But of course, I don’t think that keeping such a big thing secret is a good idea.”, Zackly sighed, “I keep trying to make her come here, but this scene doesn’t interest her at all.”

“So she doesn’t mind you working with other women?”

“Not at all, she knows that I appreciate the art in bondage, not the sexuality.”

“That’s very open-minded of her.”

“I mean, I work in a sex shop,”, Darius shrugged, “I never kept what I like hidden.”

Smart approach, if they ever heard one. Seeing that he satisfied Mikasa’s curiosity, Darius put forward his idea.

“Are you liking the club?”

Two heads nodded to that.

“What about the performance, looked like fun, right?”

“For sure.”

Well then…

“The thing is, you guys could perform here too if you wanted.”

“W-What?”, Eren exchanged a bewildered look with Mikasa, “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I?”, Darius continued, completely unmoved, “How long have you two been in this biz?”

“A bit over four years at this point?”, Eren guessed and Mikasa agreed silently.

“And I’d guess that you have the skills for it.”

“I mean…”

But they did, all the plays and scenes they did together amounted to a fair amount of skill when it came to the act. Mikasa knew how to maneuver her sub expertly, Eren knew how to tie her up without worrying that he might hurt her. The experience did matter. Having a quick mental conversation, they both agreed in the end.

“See? I’m willing to bet that either of you could easily take the stage. Forgive me for saying, but you two are very, very hot. In fact, I’d go as far as saying that you two are the hottest couple I’ve seen here, and you would be in high demand.”, he gestured around, “If I walked around the club and asked every single person in here if they would perform with you, I’m pretty sure that I could count the number of “No.” on fingers of one hand.”

He redirected his attention to the pair.

“From the various gear I sold you, I’d guess that you are both switches, right?”

This time it was Mikasa who answered, agreeing cautiously.

“See? Even better. The possibilities would be endless..”

This felt like the same conversation they had with the pair from earlier.

“Look, the thing is, I don’t think that either I or Mikasa would be willing to ever perform with anyone else.”, Eren cut into his monologue, “We are very… possessive of one another.”

Mikasa was again just nodding to his words, shuffling closer and wrapping her hand around Eren’s waist. He did the same, surprising her a bit when Eren pulled Mikasa to sit on his lap. Talk about needing to express your attachment physically.

“We are super exclusive to each other.”

Seeing that and hearing her words, Darius grinned.

“You guys are just adorable. This devotion you have, this is rare to see and it’s so beautiful.”

“T-Thanks.”

“But still, if you want, you could totally perform as a pair. Even exclusive, seeing one of you work the other would give the guests something to dream about.”

“Look, we will think about it.”

“Of course! No one will ever force you into anything.”, Darius calmed them immediately, “Your comfort and consent are the most important things here.”

He said his piece, got the offer out, and there were still several people he needed to talk to. So bidding the half-confused half-surprised pair a quick goodbye and see you soon, Darius stood up and disappeared towards the bar. Eren was the one who broke the silence Zackly left behind, rubbing Mikasa’s back in a soothing motion.

“So, what do you think?”

She shifted on his lap, chewing her dark bottom lip cautiously for a moment before answering.

“Ask me a year back and I would say No. Ask me two years back and I’d laugh at you. Ask me three years back and I wouldn’t talk to you for a week. But now…”

“Let’s add it to our pile of open topics.”, Eren proposed, “No need to worry about that now.”

With that out of the way, Mikasa grew more relaxed again. Just when Eren was returning from the bar with refilled drinks, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“We should bring Ymir and Krista here.”

“Why is that?”

“Krista needs a confidence boost. She wants to top Ymir, but she keeps questioning herself, so uncertain about it all.”, Mikasa gestured around, “Being here, I think that it could bring her inner domme out.”

“From what I hear you are sure that there will be a next time?”

Realizing the meaning of her words, Mikasa smirked.

“I would want that. I like it here.”

“Ah, look at us – the quiet goth girl from the back of the class and the grade-a student. How far we’ve come.”

“Indeed, but I’m enjoying these changes. Do you?”

“As if you had to ask. When I’m with you, I’ll go for anything, and do you feel like stopping what we do?”

Mikasa’s black lips curled upwards as she shook her head.

“Hell no.”

This year’s birthday was amazing and Mikasa made sure to thank Eren properly once they got home. But the amazing night would have a sadder continuation because, despite all the great fun that she experienced tonight, Mikasa’s dreams were once again disturbed by an unwelcome visitor.

A nightmare.

[watchinglikeafangirl]

Kiss Me Again - first reactions

Out of boredom, I started watching Kiss Me Again also because I've already watched Dark Blue Kiss. I saw many people saying both shows should be seen as two seperable things because some important details got lost on the way of making spin-off.

Let's see how much of a difference there actually is. From what I've heard, Pete is going to be very different. Anyway, here are my first reactions during the watching process:

Episode 1

Oh well, Pete is so different. He's a whole other person here. He's the typical cool guy who just wants to show off but at the same time, he's a bit socially awkward and I love it. This faked boredom and annoyment are only there because he doesn't know what to say when Kao is around and especially when they are alone because the atmosphere is just weird between them. Acting all annoyed is his way of socializing and I like it because I believve we all have weird tactics to try to lighten the mood or find a topic with peopl we don't know. Here, Pete is "annoyed" to look cool but I guess, he does this because he tries to find something they both can agree on and annoyment is the simpliest way. You can easily agree with people on negative emotions concearning a topic, so it's the easiest choice to pretend to be annoyed. What's funny here is that Kao is really not impressed by it and already knows Pete just wants to be cool. I think, Kao just doesn't like Pete in the beginning because he sees Pete is just pretending and is never true. I guess, that's why he will fall for him later, because they will probably have real talks and bonding moments.

Episode 2

Okay, Pete and Kao shared an awkward kiss and now things are even more weird. Here's one difference to the Pete I know from Dark Blue Kiss: he's not honest. Now, whenever Kao wants to address the kiss, Pete gets defensive and aggressive. Yes, it's probably because of his confusion but in Dark Blue Kiss, Pete always addresses everything - even the uncomfortable or negatively loaded topics - but not at this moment.

And also, I know, Pete is not the nicest person at this moment but he is really respectless. After the kiss, he stares into Kao's eyes in surprise, pulls away and then wipes his mouth in disgust more than once. As if Kao's lips and the taste of them are dirt on his lips and that's so disrespectful. Kao is obiously hurt by it and I would be too. Of course, you are allowed to not like a kiss but reacting so disgusted is very harsh.

Episode 3

And now, Pete is bullying Kao by isolating him from the group. He makes the others believe Kao doesn't like them, so he will end up being the king of the group since Kao is not the kind of person who talks about such things and just accepts the circumstances.

The scene between So and Sansuay in the parking lot was obviously not right bahavior on So's part because Sansuay was clearly uncomfortable being pressed against another car. She had no way out and I love the random dude walking by and just checking if she is okay. No romanticizing. Just a statement that this behavior is wrong.

Episode 4

Pete and Kao now claim to be "annoyed" of each other and all the other ones are still left wondering what the real problem is.

But at least, Pete confides to Sandee and confesses he only gets angry because of the kiss. I mean, we as the audience understand him better but I just find Sandee's frustration very amusing. Pete is obviously not realizing his feelings and is just helpless. Sandee is such a mood.

Until now, I really don't like R at all. He is pushing Sanwan around and invades her ersonal space all the time while saying he cares. Dude, if you care, don't force her, don't drag her into your car and especially don't kiss her when she doesn't want to.

Episode 5

Its just my speculation but I'm pretty sure Pete is bisexual because he has an ex-girlfriend (we know of) but seems to be attracted to both gender and he's not the kind of guy who falls for the personality or character of someone. The gender matters to him, I would say. But it's nice to see a bisexual character because mostly shows want to tell me that people are either homo- or heterosexual but there are obviously many other sexualities in between. Living in a gay relationship doesn't mean you define yourself as homosexual, real life doesn't work like that and I like they give us a character who is neither homo- or heterosexual.

What's going on with the men in that show? WHy are there so many red flags? Except for Kao, Mat and Sun, everybody pushes the women around and invades their personal space in a very uncomforting manner. Are they all going to "change"? I don't know if I will be able to believe them...

Episode 6

Mat's mother wants Sanson to "turn her son straight"? Okay, just gonna leave that there because I don't have words how wrong this thought is.

Oh, the scene which I saw many gifs of, happened. But I thought Pete and Kao would spend more time laying in the grass. I though this was a very romantic scene. But it's just a second long. But who cares, their relationship took a next step. They stop fighting and come to some sort of agreement (the agreement being that fighting is pointless). But somehow this scene feels like they broke the ice and finally found peace.

Episode 7

And again, a scene I've seen very often: the hospital. But it's really sweet they all went there because of Pete and wait all together until he can go home. That's real friendship and I think this show portrays their friend group really accurate because they are so natural with each other. They are a bunch of people thrown together who bond over weird fun talks at night and getting home drunk. Even though they are so different, they are loyal and trustworthy. It's heartwarming to see a group of friends be portrayed like this because mostly in shows, the protagonist has one really good friend and just a few people they know but are not very close to. but a group of friends is exactly this and it's rare on TV because showing a whole group bonding is difficult and also because they dynamic is totally different.

Episode 8

Kao (giving me the chills): Mint, even if he doesn't like you back, it doesn't mean you are not good enough. No matter how beautiful you are, no matter how good you try to be to him, if he's not into you, he's not the one for you.

I can't believe So gets away with stealing Sansuay's phone. She will never know it was him. I don't know what to think about him.

Epsiode 9

Sun flirting with Kao over coffee makes me cringe so much right now. This is uncomfortable and not as romantic as Sun may think it is. And then, Kao is scared Sun meant him, this is uncomforting to watch. Also, I really don't think Kao and Sun are a match. It doesn't fit at all and I hope it will be over soon.

What? Wayu wants to rape Sanwan? Did I miss something? How did we get here? I thought this was a warm show for teenagers. Now there's rape? I could deal with the sexual harassment even though that was not fine to watch, but rape? I'm confused how we got there? But of course, R saved her.

Not Mork casually cleaning his gun...

Episode 10

I love the fact Pete and Kao just quietly accept the fact they spend a night together. It happened and they can't change it. They don't even mention it and I'm relieved there's no "don't ever tell anybody" or something. It just happened and that's it. Nothing further to dicuss about it. Also, they made pretty clear already they have certain feelings for each other. The wuestio now is just how they are going to deal with this and if they will be in a relationship.

Kao: I will stop seeing other people when things between us become clearer.

Episode 11

I can't believe they actually address the bullying I mentioned before. Kao is very right when he says Pete needs to earn his trust because of the past. This is just right because you can't forget the past just because of romantic feelings. If you don't address the other person made you feel ad, you won't be able to move on from that and relationships are about trust, so I find this very mature and good for both of them. Pete needs to understand he hurt Kao in the past and can't just change his mind over night and Kao will say yes right away.

A planned engagement? Isn't that a bit old-fashioned? Sanwan and R don't know each other at all and why would their parents decide this for them. It doesn't look like it would be good for family's business or something. This seems so random.

And Wayu tries to rape Sanwan again? How? Why? And what is wrong with Sindee for initializing this? But of course, R saves her again.

Episode 12

Oh Mint. I always had mixed feelings about her and now i know for what reason. Is she fine? Making someone feel bad for leeting her go by threatening she would hurt herself is not healthy or normal or anything. That's a serious matter. No wonder, Pete feels like his life is messed up and is extremely stressed about it. And then, Mint woders why he's not comfortable at all and doens't see Pete just let her stay out of fear her threat might be the truth. Because he's a nice person. But Mint is just crazy and plays mind games.

I've never seen a drunk kiss be that cute and meaningful. They are just pure. Now, I really know why people love Pete and Kao so much. I already fell in love with their dynamic in Dark Blue Kiss but seeing the beginnings of their relationship tops that. This script is too good. They both know, the kiss meant a lot and I like they are way past the regretment state. Or at least, they don't regret the kiss. They regret they are not in a relationship which makes the atmosphere afterwards more sad and hurt. Again, they are so mature about this.

Mint took a picture? I can't with this woman.

Episode 13

Why did tehy not report Wayu? They are covering up a crime. And Sanwan doesn't seem to be traumatized which makes me wonder a lot. She is more than fine and I'm not buying Wanyu's apology at all.

And now Mint send the picture to Pete's dad. Does she have no shame? It's not her right to out Pete. That's a thing between Pete, his dad and Kao. Mint has and nothing to do with it and shouldn't have ever. She took Pete's power away by letting his dad now. Things were in Pete's hands and I hope Pete will tell mint very clearly she had no right to do that and her behavior is wrong.

Wow, Pat has guts. Telling your best friend you like them even though you know they don'yt like you is very brave. I love Mat being so cool with it because it's obviously a hard moment for Pat to outlive.

Episode 14

I love Pete's dad. They both were so scared but he doesn't say anything and I like what he says. He talks with them like they are adults (which they are) and doesn't talk to them like they are kids who don't know anything. They don't need to be lectured by their parents. They are adults already and make their own life decisions. I like very much he has this calm talk with them and then drops the topic.

Sanson being the first to confess fits very good because mAt is alway the wuieter one of them. This scene is so bittersweet and Sanson is so vulnerable, it hurts my heart. If it stays like this, then it would be a strong statement of the show because not everything works out in the end. You can try, you can ask, but in the end, maybe your efforts were all for nothing.

Finally, Pete calls Mint out. But he forgives her?... But at least, he doesn't want to be her friend any more.

Of corse we have happy endings all over the place.

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun 

iii.xviii. (a,m)

Eunbi had helped you so much in the last few days, she explained everything to you and you spend many days in the cafe to learn. You have been sleeping very badly lately because your twins always thought they had to start moving at night. Your concentration was therefore hardly available. "I hope I can pass the exam. I can hardly sleep lately." You sigh and Eunbi tried to cheer you up. "You can do it, you have learned so much for it." When she said that, you could see in the corner of her eye that Matthew was coming into the cafe. It was weird because you've seen him unusually often lately. "He again?" Even Eunbi noticed that this was no longer normal. "Hi." Of course, he came to you and he actually smiled very friendly. You try to smile too, but you just feel your babies start to kick and cause a little stomach ache. "Are you going to the party after the big exam too?" What annoyed you a little was that he kept staring at you. You knew he was just being nice, but you're starting to feel uncomfortable with him. "I'm too old for that." You shake your head. "Come on, nobody notices that you are older. Just have a look." He tried to persuade you and you wonder why he was always so persistent. "Yeah come on, it'll be fun." Eunbi also looked at you now and you could see that she is excited about it. "I will think about it." You hope you can make him reasonably happy with it. But it worked. "All right. But I will come back on that later." He kept staring at you and you just nod. You don't know why, but somehow you had a bad feeling. When he disappeared, you packed up your books and sighed. "Matthew is a little creepy or am I wrong?" Maybe you just got paranoid because Jaehyun sees danger in every man all the time. "I heard that his father was in the military and he moved from country to country as a child and could never find friends because he was only there for a short time. I think that makes a person a little bit weird. But I think he is really nice and he helps us all a lot." Eunbi shrugged and smiled. She was so nice and always saw a good thing in a person. "Yes, maybe you're right." But you still had a strange feeling.

As always after your learning sessions, you take Eunbi home. You didn't want her to go home alone every time because sometimes it got late. It was already a little dark today and Eunbi's house was on the way anyway. "Hey, could you think about the party? I'd like to go, but you're my only friend here. I don't dar to go alone." She looked sadly at her hands, which were on her thigh. "Eunbi, I don't know ..." You sigh, you'd be out of place at a student party. You park in front of her dormitory and look at her. "You know, I didn't have an easy school time. I was always bullied and I hoped that things would get better at university. But I hardly dare to meet people. And it seems that people really like you here." It took a lot of strength to say that and she didn't dare to look you in the face. "Eunbi, there is another secret that I will trust you now ... you have to promise first that you won't tell anyone." You turn off the engine and turn to the side. "Yes, I don't tell anyone anything." She looked at you with wide eyes and you turned to her. "I think it's not a good idea to go to the party because I'm pregnant with twins. You put your hand on your stomach and now she could see the contours through the big sweater. "What? Wow! Congrats! That's why the big clothes!" She looked at you in surprise and could hardly believe it all. "But will you continue studying?" Suddenly her look became sad and it hurt you to see her like this. "No, I finish after the big exam. I could prefer a few small exams and I can also send the papers by e-mail. It is harder for me to go to university every day." Eunbi's face grew even sadder. "But then you have to go to the party. You will be away longer with twins. One last time before we all don't see you anymore." She smiled and you softened. "Okay okay. We're going, but I won't stay long." Eunbi then hugged you joyfully and she was joyful. "You will see it will be fun." She packed her backpack and opened the car door. "Yes, yes, you will see that I am super boring." You laugh and Eunbi waved before you drive off.

When you get home, your children are already sleeping. That always made you totally sad, because it has happened a lot in the last few days. "I've just barely seen them lately and I miss them so much." You sigh and lean against the sink while Jaehyun is washing his face. "It will get better soon. From next week, when the exams are over, you will be back home." He dried his face and smiled. "Eunbi, the girl who always helps me. Asked me if I could go to the semester's closing party with her." You sigh and look uncertainly at your husband. "That sounds good, doesn't it?" He smiled and continued with his skin routine. "Yes, but I'm pregnant." You grab your stomach and Jaehyun had to laugh. "You don't have to drink anything. Remember that we will soon have four children, it is probably the last chance that you can do something like that." He turned to you and looked at you. He was right somehow. "Yes, that’s true. Maybe I will take a look there and I want to make Eunbi a favor. I'm just glad I have her right now. Without her, I would never be able to do this all with the exams." You smile and you two go to the bedroom. "You really like her." He smiled and kissed your forehead. "Yes, I do. She is such a sweetheart. You know, she was a fan of yours. She's a fan of NCT at all." You smile and see Jaehyun sit down in bed. "Oh really?" He laughed and you walk up to him. "Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be a fan of yours." You sit on his lap and put your arms around him. "Aren't you a fan?" He laughed and put his hands on your hip. "Oh Jaehyun, I'm your biggest fan. I want a child from you." You smile and Jaehyun had to laugh too. "Thank you for your support, but I'm not allowed to do anything with fans." He winks but at the same time, his hands went to your ass. "Oh, that's a shame. Can't you make an exception for me? I'm your biggest fan, after all." You reach between his legs and start massaging him. "But I’m married." Jaehyun leaned back a bit to get a better look at him. "I can make you happier than your wife." You push his pants down further and take his length in your hand. "Oh? Can you?" He suppressed a groan, especially when you put his tip on your lips. You start to put it completely in your mouth and move your hands up and down. Jaehyun threw his head back and buried his hand in your hair. "Oh yes. That's good," he groaned, and you pressed your lips closer together. You push his cock so far that you almost had to cough because he was so deep in your throat. His whole body twitched and reacted to each of your movements. And when his lower abdomen bulged, you can taste the slightly bitter taste until his cum completely covered your tongue. Jaehyun was out of breath and you swallow his orgasm quickly. "That's what I call fan service." He laughed and pulled you up so you could lie in his arms. "Anything for you." You kiss him and he put his hand on your stomach. "Are the twins awake?" He kissed you too and felt you. "They are calm right now." You smiled and slowly closed your eyes. "I hope I can feel them soon." Jaehyun also wanted to feel something from the two of them. "It's getting tight for them now, I think it can only be a matter of days before they make themselves known." And Jaehyun then kissed your forehead and you fell asleep in his arms.

You had preferred to take an exam with a professor in the evening, so it was really late. After you finished it and got told that you were positive, you are happy to went finally home. You write to Jaehyun that you are on the way and quickly go through the campus. It was all deserted and almost a little scary. You quickly go to your car, which almost parked there alone. You put your bag in the back seat and close the door when Matthew suddenly stands next to you. You startled and held your chest as you tried to calm down again. "Matthew. What are you doing here?" It was sometimes more than coincidental that he was always where you were. "I was still in the library." He grinned and you tried to smile. "Oh okay, I have to go home." You were about to turn around when he grabbed your wrist. "I wanted to ask you something else." You quickly pull your hand back and didn't know if you should feel threatened. "Maybe we can go on a date? Do something nice?" He smiled, but it all seemed so wrong to you. "Hey Matthew, that's really nice. But I'm married." You are unsure about all this, you brushing away a strand of hair and hope that the topic is done. But now he was getting a little more serious. "You lie." This statement surprised you and you could not believe what you are hearing. "What? No!" You were totally shocked by the reaction. "You don't wear a wedding ring." He took your hand and looked at your fingers. During this pregnancy, you could not wear your rings because they were constantly swollen. You are slowly realizing that the situation has become more threatening. "Matthew I have to go home now." You try to get your hands off of him but he held you. "It's always girls like you who think they deserve someone better. Do you think you earn more just because you are beautiful? You women always have it so easy. Always want more. More money, more luxury, more fame. What are you driving there? A Porsche? Who did you have to fuck to get such a luxury?" Now it was clear that you had to get out of here as quickly as possible. You tried to tear yourself away from him, but you weren't that strong. "Let me go." Your pulse rose and you start to panic. But then you hear a voice from a distance. "Hey, are you okay there?" Someone has passed by and saw that something was wrong. Matthew let you go out of fright and you take the opportunity to go. When you set off, you heard Matthew hit your car with his fist and you knew you had to get out of there quickly. Your pulse was extremely high and you drive home extremely fast. You're sure to get a complaint because of speeding in a few days, but it didn't matter. You like to pay that. You were at home faster than you thought, and when you park in the garage, you finally feel safe again. When you turn off the engine, you take a deep breath and feel your baby start kicking. Your pulse was extremely high and adrenaline shot through your veins. "My babies, everything is fine now, we are back home." You look at your belly and gently stroke it. You were sorry that they experienced all the fuss. You just want to make your children feel good.

When you go inside and see Jaehyun, you fall into his arms and breathe a sigh of relief. "Hey, are you all right?" He noticed that something was wrong, but you just wanted to be with him. "Now." You put your head on his chest and realize that everything has calmed down. The babies also no longer kicked so wildly in your stomach. Jaehyun stroked your back, held you tight in his arms, when suddenly Johnny came to you. "The baby is coming. Johanna just called me and she is on the way to the hospital." Johnny smiled and was very excited. "Can I leave you alone and drive Johnny to the hospital?" He knew something had happened, but you couldn't tell him. "It's okay. Go on." You smile and Jaehyun took his things as well. "I'll be right back." He kissed you and then ran with Johnny. And now you were alone in the house again. Your children were already asleep and somehow you feel lonely. The thing had bothered you more than you thought. You first go to Miga's room and watch her sleep for a while. You hope that nothing like this will ever happen to her. You wish that everything you experience, like this and your miscarriage, never has to experience your daughter. You never want her to feel such pain. You will always take care of them and you also know that Jaehyun will always protect her. After kissing her, you go to Sunoh and stroke his hair and he opened his eyes and looked at you. "Mummy." He was very sleepy and his eyes were very small. "Go back to sleep, Mummy is here." You smile and kiss his forehead. But Sunoh reached out to you and started crying. "Mummy, stay." He looked so sad and you sigh. "Do you like to sleep in bed with Mummy?" You couldn’t be alone anyway and when your son nodded, you lift him up and go to bed with him.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[sparklydreamies]

Best Shot ~Ch 5

Group: Stray Kids

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 4200+

Summary: Han Jisung, certified quiet boy, has never really understood the hype about love and romance. That is until he has to step out of his comfort zone and onto the basketball court to impress that one person he can’t stop thinking about.

Main themes: highschool!AU, basketball!AU, internalized homophobia, friends-to-lovers

A/n: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to update this, I had a really bad case of writers block :(( I’m not 100% happy with this chapter, but I hope that you guys can all enjoy it!! 

Chapter 5

A glimpse of jet-black hair was all Jisung needed to recognize the girl making her way down the hall. She was slightly lip-syncing to whatever song was playing from her earbuds, seemingly drifting her mind away from reality. Jisung had always known that she was pretty; she could even be classified as beautiful. Yet, as he discretely watched the way that her head slightly moved in time with beats that he couldn’t hear, he didn’t feel anything. 

Even though he knew that he was gay, he still tried to steer himself towards women. He admired how soft their skin was, and how good they smelled, and he wanted nothing more than to have feelings for a girl. He wanted to feel the same flutter towards seeing Nayeon walking down the halls as he did with seeing Minho. 

“You’re going to freak her out if you keep staring at her like that,” Felix warned, shoving a slew of loose papers into his backpack.

Jisung was taken aback. 

“I wasn’t staring at her,” Jisung leaned against the locker beside Felix’s, hoping Felix would drop it. Nayeon was still walking away from them, oblivious to the fact that she was the subject of a very awkward conversation. 

Seungmin scoffed. “I’m so tired of hearing about your girls,” he said.

“You have to admit that she’s hot.” Felix said, completely ignoring Seungmin as he closed his locker, “I still don’t understand why you won’t ask her out.” 

Seungmin also locked his locker and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Jisung’s not interested in girls, you know that Felix.” Seungmin chuckled. 

Jisung felt the air leave his lungs. Seungmin’s tone was joking, but the statement made him nervous. He didn’t trust his voice to respond, so he settled on giving a half-hearted smile as he fiddled his phone out of his pocket, desperate for a way out of the conversation. 

As if an angel on cue, Jisung heard his name being shouted from down the hall. All three boys shot their heads up towards the source of the interruption. Jisung barely registered the bright varsity jacket colour before an arm was thrown across his shoulder. 

“Hey, man!” Minho ruffled Jisung’s hair, giving a beaming smile to the other boys. “I’ve been looking for you. Can we talk? For like, a second?” he asked.

“I see that you guys are sharing secrets now,” Felix mocked annoyance, crossing his arms around his chest.

“See you later, nerd.” Seungmin pulled Felix with him towards the avalanche of people flowing into the main hallway. 

Jisung chuckled before turning towards Minho. No matter how many times Jisung saw the other boy’s bright smile, it never failed to make his heart flutter. 

“So what’s this about?” Jisung asked, warding off the unwanted tremor in his voice.

Minho didn’t seem to notice as he pulled the nervous boy behind him. “Well I wanted to talk to you about that party you’re going to throw.” 

“Party?” 

Jisung remembered the previous phone conversation with Minho. The way that Minho was slurring his words and whining to see Jisung. The event hadn’t left Jisung’s mind since it happened, and he wished to god that he could prevent the blush that rose to his cheeks and ears at the memory. 

He hadn’t forgotten about the part where Minho had asked him to throw a party, but Minho had been drunk when he called. Jisung just assumed that the alcohol in Minho’s system was what persuaded him to call Jisung, and that he would forget it even happened by morning. Obviously, he had been wrong. 

“Yeah, the party,” Minho continued, “everyone has to throw one when they join the team. It’s like... your initiation ceremony, or something like that.”

“Since when was this a thing?” Jisung had never heard of these parties before. 

Minho just laughed at him. “It’s been like this forever. Are you surprised by this? You literally never go to parties.” 

Jisung couldn’t rebuttal that. The only party he’d ever gone to was Bang Chan’s, and it didn’t exactly end well for him. 

“I can’t throw a party,” 

Jisung expected Minho to disagree and try to convince him that being in charge of dozens of drunk teenagers isn’t as difficult for someone like Jisung than he thinks. He wasn’t expecting Minho to agree with him. 

“I know, stupid,” Minho said, “you’re not gonna have to do it alone, we’ll all help,”

"That’s not so reassuring,” Jisung sighed. The idea of throwing a party that equals one of Bang Chan’s or Minho’s in his own house, where his mother and sister live, didn’t sit right with him. 

Minho just chuckled at him. “We’ll get the alcohol and everything, you don’t have to worry about that. We just need a location,” Minho said. 

It was possible that Jisung could find a time that his parents wouldn’t be home when he could have a party. His mother often had conferences and events that would require her to spend weekends out of town, usually just trusting Jisung to be responsible for himself and Chaeryeong, and Jisung’s father was usually out of the picture anyways. 

It’s not that Jisung wouldn’t be able to find an opportunity, however the idea of getting caught was what scared him the most. 

“I don’t know, there’s so much that can go wrong,” Jisung sighed as they reached the school exit, “Isn’t this peer pressure?” 

“It’s not peer pressure if your peers have good intentions,” Minho rebuttled. 

“It absolutely fucking is, and besides, what ‘good intentions’ could you possibly have for wanting to throw a party?” Jisung heard a car horn, and saw Hyunjin’s car across the street. Minho raised his hand as if to say he was coming, but still turned towards Jisung.

“Look, if you tell me right now that you don’t want to do this and that you think it’s a bad idea, I’ll respect it, but you have to seriously think. Okay?” Minho asked. 

Jisung thought about it for a moment. “Well... Yeah, I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said, smiling at the way that Hyunjin let out a frustrated sound. 

“Okay I was bluffing, you have to throw this party! Please?” Minho whined. “For your best friend?”

Jisung’s heart stopped. Minho was looking directly into his eyes with what Jisung could only describe as irresistible puppy-dog eyes. He was holding onto Jisung’s sleeve in a way that probably was not meant to be as cute as it was, and for the umpteenth time, Jisung had to try and calm the feelings that were threatening to paint his face with an exposing blush. 

“I...” he started, “Fuck, I’ll do it,” he agreed. Jisung couldn’t help but split his face into a smile at the way Minho jumped in victory.

“Yes, I knew you’d pull through!” Minho began to walk backwards towards Hyunjin’s car, yelling behind him “You won’t regret it!” 

As grateful as Jisung was then that he could make Minho happy, he wished that the boy’s last statement was true. As much as he wanted to believe that everything would be okay, he had no way of knowing what that future night would have in store for him. 

----

Private practices with Hyunjin usually went the same way every time. Jisung shows up, they talk for a little bit, go through a few warm up drills that feel like hell’s bootcamp, and then Hyunjin shows Jisung ways to practice basic basketball skills.

It wasn’t too difficult for Jisung. After a few weeks of this basketball business, Jisung had actually felt himself begin to enjoy the sport. It still wasn’t his favourite thing, and he hated playing in front of people, but he felt comfortable around Hyunjin.

The more that Jisung felt himself improve, the more that he began to like playing. His movements became quicker and more accurate, he fumbled the ball less, and he felt his own physical condition improving. He was getting used to running up and down the court, and it kept him from getting winded easily. 

Jisung shouldered the fence door open. It wasn’t unusual for him to let himself into Hyunjin’s backyard; usually the other boy was already waiting for him. 

Jisung came in just in time to see Hyunjin perfectly shoot a three-pointer shot as he dropped all of his stuff on the side of the makeshift half-court that Hyunjin’s dad had built a few years prior.

Once Hyunjin had began to show an aptitude towards the particular sport, Hyunjin’s father had pulled out all of the stops to allow Hyunjin to achieve the highest amount of success he could. Unlike Jisung’s parents who didn’t give a damn about what Jisung was to do with his life so long as it was a respectable career with a decently sized salary, Hyunjin’s parents had supported his interests, and helped him improve. 

Jisung often worried about the pressure that Hyunjin put on himself when it came to his basketball career. He knew that Hyunjin’s parents were hoping for a scholarship to come out of the endless hours and thousands of dollars that they had invested in their son’s biggest interest, even though the Hwangs were never the type of family that had to worry about how they were to pay for things like school. They weren’t like Jisung’s family, who needed to pray for a scholarship opportunity. 

As Hyunjin retrieved the ball, he shouted a quick greeting towards his student. 

Jisung noticed that something was wrong fairly quickly. The way that Hyunjin was holding himself was concerning to Jisung. It was hard for him to place what exactly was the matter, but it became quite clear as soon as Jisung saw his face clearly. 

Hyunjin’s left cheekbone was grossly discoloured. Underneath his eye, there was a large, dark purple blotch of bruised flesh. It looked like a very fresh wound. Someone had hurt him most likely within the past two days. 

Hyunjin was cowering away from his friend’s gaze, to no avail. He just continued dribbling the ball on the concrete as nonchalantly as he could with Jisung’s eyes staring daggers into his face. 

“What the fuck?” Jisung jogged up to where Hyunjin was winding himself up to shoot the ball again. Instinctively, Jisung raised a hand to hover around the injured area of flesh, but forced himself to back away when he saw Hyunjin visibly flinch. “Who did this to you?” 

“That doesn’t matter.” Hyunjin said, quite matter-of-factly. His tone was calm, and he was obviously faking the brightness that his eyes usually held. 

Jisung was thrown off guard by the answer. Of course it mattered. Someone had obviously struck his friend. “What are you talking about?” 

Hyunjin tried to feign a smile, but it did nothing to calm Jisung down. “It was a stupid fight. It doesn’t even hurt.”

Jisung felt like he knew Hyunjin better than he had known any of his other friends. They grew up together. One thing that Jisung knew for certain about his friend is that he isn’t a fighter. He didn’t get into “stupid fights”. 

Jisung settled for resting his hands on top of Hyunjin’s biceps, despite the awkward way Hyunjin tried to shove him off. 

“I know that’s not true.” Jisung saw an emotion flicker through Hyunjin’s eyes that he could barely make out. It flashed for barely a moment before Hyunjin blinked it away. It looked like fear. Fear, desperation, hopelessness. “Tell me what happened.” 

“Just drop it,” Hyunjin shook himself away from Jisung’s grip, “it doesn’t matter, and I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Jisung swallowed the feeling of pity for the boy. It had been a while since he saw any emotion come from him that wasn’t positive. 

“Hyunjin...” Jisung spoke softly, “what happened?”

“Nothing!” Jisung saw the first signs of tears threaten to slip down Hyunjin’s bruised cheek. “Go home, Sungie.”

Jisung let his hands fall from Hyunjin’s arms, who resumed his mindless dribbling of the ball. 

When Jisung and Hyunjin were young, they used to tell each other everything. Good things, bad things, ugly things. Every exciting, happy, sad or scary thing that happened to them could be shared in confidence. 

Hyunjin had never acted like this before. Jisung felt his heart crack. Someone had hurt Hyunjin to the point where he couldn’t talk about it. Hyunjin was in pain, but the scars went deeper than a bruise on his cheekbone. 

“Just tell me who did this,” he spoke softly. 

Hyunjin was silent as he shot the ball towards the net again, but he didn’t even hit the backboard. Jisung watched the pained expression on his face. The way that Hyunjin was blinking away the wetness in his eyes and softly chewing on his bottom lip. 

It almost looked like Hyunjin wanted to say something, but was stopping himself. 

“Hyunjin, I want to help you.” Jisung tried to coax out of him. It wasn’t like Hyunjin to keep things a secret from Jisung. But the more Jisung watched Hyunjin’s face, the more he realized that this wasn’t just some secret. There was something that ran deeper. Something that wasn’t easy to talk about. 

Right as Jisung noticed the first tear slide down the discoloured skin, Hyunjin shoved right past him, slamming the back door behind him as he took solitude in his house. 

----

Jisung watched Hyunjin for the next couple days. He watched as the bruise slowly started to fade from a deep, purplish colour, to a faded, yellow-green shade. 

He had heard rumors around the school about the nature of the assault on the school’s sweetheart, none of which Jisung had believed. He overheard some girls by his locker say that they heard it was because he tried to steal another man’s girlfriend. He heard some boys in his history class say it was because he ran into some trouble with a collage drug dealer. He had even overheard a group of kids speculate that Hyunjin’s father was the unknown attacker. 

All of those seemed too radical for Hyunjin. The boy was a lover, not a fighter. 

No matter how much Jisung stressed his brain, he couldn’t think of any reason that Hyunjin would have for fighting someone. And that was the toughest thing to accept. 

Jisung didn’t care about how Hyunjin didn’t trust him enough to tell him what happened. Sure, it hurt Jisung at first, but he knew that Hyunjin was obviously dealing with something. Some things were easier to deal with by oneself. 

So he waited. He remained there for Hyunjin in case the boy needed to rant. However as time progressed, it became harder to do that. Ever since that day in his backyard, Hyunjin had been avoiding and ignoring Jisung.  

Did he do something wrong? Did he hurt Hyunjin? Did he somehow do something to convince the other boy that he wasn’t a friend? No, it couldn’t be that. Hyunjin had tough skin; there was no way that Jisung could unknowingly hurt him to the point where Hyunjin would push him aside like this. 

Jisung needed a friend right now. He needed a friend that he could confide in without judgement. 

Jisung: Long week. Coffee?

The response he got was almost instantaneous. 

Mina<3: I’ll pick you up!

----

Very few people knew about how close Jisung and Mina had gotten. Even Jisung had failed to see how strong their growing friendship had gotten for a while. 

Mina had been dating someone for a few weeks now. She had been asked out by Choi Youngjae soon after Jisung had joined the basketball team and even though Jisung wasn’t close with Youngjae yet, he had to admit that they made a very cute couple. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t slightly jealous of the way that Youngjae looked at her. 

Of course, being an openly bisexual high school girl hadn’t done anything to make her relationship easier. Mina had often confided in Jisung about her biggest struggles and insecurities around her sexuality, because not a lot of other people were as understanding. Jisung had tried his best to understand her problems, but until he was out of the closet, he couldn’t relate to the constant shit that Mina deals with on a daily basis. 

She had told Jisung everything from how cruel the kids at school were when she had gotten her first girlfriend in sophomore year, to how her father hadn’t spoken to her for two whole months after she came out. 

In the short span of time that Jisung had known Mina, she had quickly became an immense emotional support to him. He was able to be honest to her about things that he couldn’t even tell his best friends. And the fact that Mina felt comfortable enough to confide in him as well was an added bonus. 

Mina had picked him up from his house shortly after he received the text. 

Jisung threw himself into a booth at the corner of the small diner that occupied a lonely street corner just outside of their town. The coffee was shit there, but he appreciated the atmosphere. Without thinking, Jisung had gave the waitress their usual order.

“So,” Mina sat down across from Jisung, “long week?”

“Fucking horrible.” Jisung sighed. 

Mina gave him a dry sort of chuckle. “Don’t be such a baby, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Everything was wrong. Mina didn’t understand how everything was wrong, because she isn’t in Jisung’s shoes. She doesn’t know about the weight of the unidentified guilt that was sinking Jisung’s stomach through the floor. 

Hyunjin was avoiding him, and it was obvious. Every time Hyunjin makes eye contact and looks away quickly, it feels like another stone thrown at Jisung’s gut. Every time Jisung wants to talk to Hyunjin after class, the latter boy always manages to be out the door before Jisung can shove his binder in his backpack. One of Jisung’s best and only friends is avoiding him and it hurt. 

“You’re wrong,” Jisung rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, “I swear to god, nothing is going right.” 

“Nothing ever goes right.” Mina smiled as she fiddled with the napkin container in front of her, blunt nails tapping on the metal. 

Somehow, Mina managed to find a way to be the least helpful person ever, and yet also make Jisung feel a thousand times better when he’s upset. That isn’t exactly an easy line to walk. 

Jisung groaned in frustration as he hit his head on the table. The soft thud of his head hitting the wood mixed with the clattering sound of the silverware cut through what was a fairly quiet diner. 

“Jesus, stop that.” Mina shoved Jisung’s shoulder so he would sit upright. “You’re drawing attention.” She said. 

“I don’t care.” he mumbled. 

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked, “who spit in your coffee this morning?” 

Jisung wanted to say that life was spitting in his goddamn coffee, but he figured that would come across as too melodramatic. The truth is, Jisung’s spitting in his own coffee. There had to be a reason as to why Hyunjin was avoiding him like a fatal disease, and whatever that reason is, it is most likely Jisung’s own fault.

“Have you seen Hyunjin lately?” Jisung blew past her question, which was most likely sort of rhetorical anyways. 

Mina’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I mean yeah, I have chemistry with him, but why?”

Jisung thanked the sweet waitress again as she set the two hot drinks down in front of them, but he made no move to grab his cup. “His face... you saw it, right?” 

“Oh, you’re talking about the shiner?” She asked as she grabbed the mug closest to her, blowing on the bitter liquid inside. “yeah, what about it? Do you know what happened?”

“No,” Jisung dismissed. He absentmindedly stirred his own drink with a spoon, despite the fact that he didn’t add anything to it. “I was kind of wondering if you knew what happened?”

That was the thing about Mina. She didn’t have very many friends, yet somehow, Jisung found that she always seemed to know everyone’s business. Jisung never really questioned how she found out half of the things she knows, or how much of it was true. All he knew was that perhaps she might know something he doesn’t. 

“No, I haven’t heard anything I really believe. I mean I’ve heard some rumors, but I don’t really know the truth,” she answered, “doesn’t it seem like just a stupid boy fight?” 

Jisung knew it wasn’t that.

“No. I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Jisung took the first sip of his coffee, somehow forgetting about how gross it tasted in favor of the comforting heat, “it just doesn’t seem like him. Also, he’s avoiding me, so that’s great.” 

“Why’s he avoiding you?” Mina asked.

“I’ll tell you once I figure it out.”

“I don’t like this,” she stated, “you two are really close, what did you do?” 

“Nothing!” Jisung’s hands flew to comb through his hair. He was positive that he didn’t do anything that could have sparked Hyunjin to cut him off like this, yet Mina’s skeptical gaze wasn’t doing much to help him. 

“I don’t really believe you,” she said slowly, “why don’t you just talk to him?”

“He’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk to me.” The steam that was radiating off of Jisung’s coffee had faded entirely.

“Just text him,” Mina said nonchalantly. The setting sun was just starting to hide behind one of the distant buildings. 

Jisung suppressed a huff. “I’ve tried, but he hasn’t been answering.” The bright, orange glow of the setting sun cast a shining light across Mina’s face so strongly, that she had to squint to see Jisung, who’s back was turned to the window. 

“I can see if I can figure anything out about it, but I think you should talk to him. I thought you guys were so close.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were too.” Jisung sighed as he drank his coffee again.

“Don’t do that,” Mina said. She was talking in a calm tone, but her expression was scolding. “I’m sure that whatever it is, it’ll be solved quickly. You just have to start a conversation.”

“I’ll try and talk to him soon.” 

“That’s my boy. Now, I’m going to order some muffins, because I think that’s what you need right now.” Mina gave him a smile that Jisung couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

“Chocolate, please.”

----

“I know you’re throwing a party.”

“Jesus Christ, Chaeryeong!” Jisung grabbed at his chest while his heart rate spiked. He took a couple breaths and saw Chaeryeong give an amused smirk. “What are you talking about?” 

Wordlessly, Chaeryeong sat down in Jisung’s desk chair and faced him. Jisung could recognize the glimmer of mischief in her eyes, which could only mean that she has some type of leverage over him. 

“You know, the basketball party thing that Lee Minho wanted you to throw?” She explained, “I know that you’re doing it, and I want to help you. What’s your plan?” 

“I’m sorry, my plan?” Jisung sat on the edge of his bed. He couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous about Chaeryeong knowing about the party, because it could go one of two ways. Either she will expose his plans to their mother and get him grounded until he’s forty, or she’ll force him to let her go to it. Jisung didn’t know which one he disliked more. 

“When are you throwing it?” she asked casually. 

“That’s none of your business,” Jisung tried to shut her down, but she was smarter. 

“So you admit you’re throwing a party!” She exclaimed. 

Jisung was backed against a wall with this one. 

He let out a frustrated sound. “Fine, I’m throwing a party, but you have to keep it hushed, okay?” he pleaded. 

The slimy grin on Chaeryeong’s face was practically chilling to Jisung. He was still in the dog house for what happened the night of Bang Chan’s party, there is no way that Jisung’s mom would take this news lightly. 

“Why? What’s in it for me?” she said innocently. 

Jisung’s mattress made a squeaking noise as he flopped back onto it, groaning in frustration. “What do you want?” he asked. 

“I want to be there.” she admitted, and Jisung scoffed. 

“No,” he said simply, “you’re not going, you’re still a freshman. There will be seniors, and drinking, and other things that I don’t want you near.” 

“I’ve upset Mother Hen,” Chaeryeong giggled.

Jisung knew that Chaeryeong wasn’t a child, but he still didn’t want her to be exposed to half of the things that he saw at Bang Chan’s party. She was young and naive. 

“I promise you I’ll be fine. I’m smart, you know.” She moved from her seat at Jisung’s desk to the bed where he was still lying. 

“I know you’re smart, but other people are dumb.” Jisung sat upright. 

“You’ll be there, so I’m sure everything will be fine.” 

Jisung couldn’t help the fond smile that he tried to fight back. He knew that Chaeryeong was probably manipulating him, but he couldn’t help wanting to protect her. 

“You can come on one condition.” Chaeryeong beside him gave a victorious little jump on the bed at Jisung’s statement. “you be safe and come to me if you have any problems, okay? And you’re not allowed to drink.” 

Chaeryeong gave a little whine of annoyance. “Two drinks.” she argued. 

“One drink.” Jisung settled, and Chaeryeong contemplated before agreeing.

“You’re the best!” She giggled as she hugged him from the side. Jisung hugged her back. 

[cakesunflower]

No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 5

Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.

A/N: i’m not entirely satisfied with the end but like. i just needed it to be done. i definitely finished writing this in my medieval lit class while my professor talked about Chaucer bc fuck Chaucer he’s a lil bitch. ANYWAYS. happy reading!!!!

All Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Part 5

“Come on, man, it’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Calum rolled his eyes as he and Michael crossed the street, giving a shake of his head. “Luke likes to play, just ask him.”

Michael let out a scoff, as if Calum’s suggestion was completely unsound. He sniffed, the cold late afternoon air hitting his face as they walked. “Luke dies in, like, the first minute. It’s pretty fucking pathetic,” he added with a patronizing snicker towards his best friend.

Calum huffed out a laugh, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. He almost regretted not wearing his hoodie underneath, remaining in just a shirt, as the cold weather chilled his body, the chain necklace he wore feeling like ice on his skin in addition to the breeze. He and Michael walked side by side, only stepping apart as a family shuffled past right between them before falling into step with one another as Calum said, “I’m down to play any other game with you except Fortnite. Or that weird card game.”

Throwing his head back to let out a pretty dramatic groan, earring dangling and hand flying up to the top of his head to keep his hat in place, Michael complained, “Magic: The Gathering isn’t a weird card game if you just gave it a shot!”

Calum merely smirked lazily, figuring that one day he’d give into Michael’s request and play the card game. For now he’d just let Michael sweat it out. So Calum shot his friend a look and challenged, “I’ll play the damn game when you decide to start filling in your bands—you work at a tattoo shop, for fuck’s sake.” Michael sputtered, glancing down at his tattooed arm, forgetting in that moment that he had a sweatshirt on. Calum shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t—”

He cut off right as a store door opened in his path—where was the sidewalk store etiquette of having doors open into the store?—and Calum wondered if this was some kind of universal joke as Nathan, of all of the people in this populated city, strolled out. He paused, green eyes meeting Calum’s dark brown as he fixed his damn cuff links, lips curling automatically into a sneer as he took in the sight of Calum.

And Calum couldn’t help it, he stopped as well—mostly because he had to as a way of avoiding getting hit by the door—and let out an unamused breath through his nose as he realized they were in front of the high tux shop a couple of blocks from their parlor, before his gaze returned to Nathan. He looked just as crisp and clean cut as usual as Calum eyed him, expression bemused and the corner of his lips just barely lifting into a condescending smirk. His unimpressed stare remained on Nathan while he drawled to Michael, “This fuckin’ guy.”

He heard Michael let out a displeased scoff of his own while Nathan merely smirked as he mused, “Tell me—is the tattoo profession truly that slow since you and your employee here can afford walking around the city during business hours? Seems like I only ever see you out of your shop, pal.”

Nathan was obviously goading him, or at least trying to, a not-so-subtle dig at Calum’s choice of career. Not that Nathan trying to paint himself as the more successful of them had any effect on Calum; the tattoo artist knew his business was doing better than great, and he was pretty damn happy and content with his life. Nothing a bitter, petty, and asshole of a man could say would make any of that less true.

“Funny, I was just gonna say I’ve been seein’ a bit too much of you,” Calum responded, his tone flat and sounding just as uninterested as he was.

It was also meant to be the last thing Calum was going to say to Nathan, exchanging a bored look with Michael just as the words left his lips before the two of them went to side step him and continued on their way. They were just about to merge back into the sidewalk traffic when Nathan spoke up once more, “That’ll happen if you glue yourself to Elodie. How much longer are you planning on doing that, by the way? Being so codependent isn’t healthy, you know.”

A soft yet disbelieving breath escaped Calum’s lips at Nathan’s words, eyes rolling skywards as he wondered if the mad bastard really just uttered that statement. Calum would’ve laughed at Nathan’s hypocricy in regards to healthy relationships—who the fuck was he, of all people, to try and give advice on those?—if it weren’t for the irritation so quickly beginning to burn his blood. Was this guy really so blind to think that what he did to Elodie was normal? It concerned Calum if that was true; the reminder of what she had to endure in a relationship with someone like Nathan twisted Calum’s stomach in uneasy anger. No one deserved to be treated the way Nathan treated Elodie, and knowing that someone Calum was so quickly coming to care about had to go through that only further pissed him off. And to think that Nathan thought that Calum being with Elodie was something that had an expiration date on it, he was sorely mistaken. Calum didn’t plan on it, and he could only hope, though he may kind of know, that Elodie didn’t, either.

Calum could’ve easily been the bigger man and continued walking, ignoring Nathan and his taunts that didn’t effect Calum. But he also didn’t want Nathan walking away thinking his behavior and words were so easily done without him being put in his place. Calum wasn’t too keen on being given the responsibility of being the one to do so, but then Elodie’s face flashed in his mind; her brown eyes and soft hair and gentle smile and the kind tone she spoke in, and Calum didn’t mind anymore. He found himself realizing, as a smile threatened to quirk at his lips for no reason other than just thinking about Elodie, that he’d probably do anything for her already. He was fine with that.

Calum and Elodie weren’t codependent, not by a long shot; they were just getting to know each other, a journey they were both enjoying and didn’t want to end. So he wasn’t even going to acknowledge that part of Nathan’s empty taunt. Instead, he just turned around, catching Michael’s semi-amused huff, and tilted his chin at Nathan. “At least I’m not a controlling bastard like you.” With a cock of his head, Calum pushed smugly, “Isn’t that why your unhealthy relationship died?” Calum clicked his tongue in mock empathy. “Must be shit to not have control over someone and lose ’em.”

He saw the effect his words had on Nathan, who had proven to not being as good as Calum in keeping himself in check, as the snide smirk on his lips dissipated as his jaw clenched and gaze hardened, lips twitching into a frown he couldn’t contain. Even so, Calum couldn’t tell if Nathan was more bothered by the comment of him being controlling, or the reminder that Elodie ended their relationship.

Instead of lashing out, Nathan took a step towards Calum, a single click of the heel of his fancy ass dress shoes as Calum felt Michael tense up ever so slightly. But Nathan’s gaze remained on Calum, who kept his gaze on him evenly. Nathan’s green eyes were brimming with a familiar fire and his teeth gritted as he threatened in a low, taut tone, “She’s never going to love someone like you.”

It was almost amusing how Nathan thought that was for him to decide. Calum cared for no one’s opinion but Elodie’s, and he wasn’t going to let a selfish, bitter ex of hers influence his thoughts. Love was some ways away for now—but with Elodie, Calum had a feeling he was on the track, given just how fast and quickly he fell for her. And, shit, did he revel in it. So Calum’s dark eyes narrowed slightly but remained on Nathan’s green, hands that were still in the pockets of his leather jacket forming into tight fists as he returned assertively, just a hint of ridicule, “Are you speaking from experience?”

He was well aware that his words were fuel to an already brimming fire, and Calum picked up on the instant shift of Nathan’s expression, saw the severe temper Calum provoked darken his green eyes and the twitch of his lips threatening into a snarl. But Calum was unapologetic, didn’t care that he was reminding the bastard of how shitty his relationship was despite whatever delusion he’d put himself into. Calum was still unapologetic when Nathan pulled back his hand in one second and slammed the knuckles of his fist into the bone of Calum’s cheek.

There was an instant numbing sting that settled in Calum’s face, forced to stumble only a single step back from the force Nathan put behind the punch. Calum was more surprised by the power behind the hit than the actual hit itself, head turning by the punch as it shocked through his face. He was only barely aware of Michael’s protesting shout, didn’t care for the fact that they were on the sidewalk and a few people had looked over upon the violent action. All Calum could focus on was the sting on one side of his face, his own fury thrumming to life as he clenched his jaw, the action only causing a newfound ache, facing the right as his head had turned upon the punch. There were a couple of middle aged women who’d saw what just happened, completely forgetting that they were going to cross the street and instead watching with wide, incredulous eyes.

Calum’s lips parted, slowly dragging his gaze back to Nathan as he licked the inside of his lower lip in provoked acceptance that this was how it was going to be. He almost smirked when Nathan followed his actions with words unsteady because of barely contained anger, “She was lucky to have me. Now she’ll just go back to being absolutely nothing.”

Almost.

But then Nathan had to bring Elodie’s worth into it, something Calum understood neither he nor Nathan could live up to, and any pain of his cheek disappeared as Calum decided, in that split second, to not hold back.

There was no hope for Calum to remain unaffected by Nathan’s jeer, or his presumptuous attitude of being someone who made Elodie anything but unjustifiably insecure and timid, and he ignored Michael’s attempts of pulling him away. Calum felt his muscles tighten as his fingers curled into a fist, his blunt nails digging into his palms, lips curving into an animalistic snarl as he swung his own fist forward.

The first thing Calum noticed was the sharp pain in his fingers as his knuckles dug right into Nathan’s nose because he’d definitely broken it. The second thing Calum noticed was Michael’s startled, “Jesus, fuck!”. And the third thing Calum noticed as Nathan stumbled backwards, much more than Calum had, and Calum’s hand uncurled was the bit of blood that was now tainting his fingers and rings.

Nathan ended up on the ground, a shout of pain escaping him as he brought his hands up to his face, the crimson color painting his skin and dripping right down to stain his probably expensive suit. Calum stood over him, looking down at the bleeding man as his hand hung beside him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins fueled by a wrath he hadn’t known himself capable of numbing him to the pain he was probably going to feel soon in both his face and hand.

But he was aware of the eyes that were watching them, people minding their own business but observing the scene that had just unfolded, yet Calum kept his fiery gaze on Nathan, feeling Michael’s hand on his shoulder. Not an ounce of regret tainted Calum, the beat of his heart only racing due to the adrenaline stemming from the anger Nathan’s words brought. Calum’s jaw clenched, vaguely aware of the sting on his cheek because of the action, but he didn’t care. No fucking way was he going to let this bastard say shit about Elodie and allow him to walk away without repercussions.

“You fuck—” Nathan sputtered through a thick voice, words muffled and disgruntled by his hands holding his nose and the blood that was pouring from it, his eyes widened in pain and incredulity and infuriation as he looked up at them. Calum felt a swell of satisfaction at the sight of him; on his ass on the sidewalk, expensive looking suit getting stained with blood, and not at all looking as put together as he’d like to. “You broke my fucking nose!”

Calum briefly raised his eyebrows, features set and hardened, hyper aware of the warm blood on his own skin. “It was either that or your arm,” he responded briskly, reminding Nathan of his promise from Dominique’s birthday party, to which the fallen man sputtered out something incoherent. “I would’ve preferred both.”

Nathan pushed himself up, a smear of blood on the pavement as he used one hand to get to his feet. His other hand remained on his nose, the crimson blood visible through his fingers, and blonde hair disheveled from the fall. Green eyes enraged, Nathan demanded, “You think you can get away with putting your han—”

“It was self defense, asshole,” Michael spoke up, his own voice tight once he’d gotten over his brief surprise of how quickly things had escalated. “You punched him first and there are loads of witnesses to attest to that. Fucking try.”

Calum pressed the tip of his tongue against the back of his lower teeth, forcefully as he fought the sneer from curling at his lips again, feeling the muscles in his face subtly twitch in protest. This guy—this motherfucker who hurt Elodie with his words and treatment—deserved any kind of pain Calum may have just inflicted upon him. He deserved to feel any semblance of an ache like he caused Elodie, and Calum was more than willing to be the physical enforcer of it. He was proud of her for sticking up for herself, for getting herself out of the situation, but that didn’t mean Calum couldn’t offer his services.

Sure, he’d known her only for a short time but, shit, he’d do it for her.

Nathan fumbled incoherently once more, stupidly, trying and failing to find words to defend himself, to find the kind of words he’d utter to hurt Elodie and throw them in Calum’s face. Hell, if Nathan even tried, he was a bigger idiot than Calum already thought of him as.

So he left him with a simple and honest warning in a tone that left no room for niceties. “You try to talk shit ’bout Elodie again, and I’ll take a couple-a-teeth out, too.”

*****

The second the door to Calum’s apartment swung open, Elodie’s instinctual reaction was to look down at his dominant hand to visually inspect it. The air had rushed out of her lungs the second she’d received Dominique’s text earlier, praising Calum for punching Nathan so hard that he broke his nose, which was the first time Elodie had even heard about the incident. She’d been in her three hour film lecture, only receiving the texts once she was out of class, and had needed to stop walking to make sure she was reading Dominique’s text correctly.

Calum had punched Nathan. He’d broken his nose. And Elodie wasn’t entirely sure how she should feel that the first thought that popped into her head following the news wasn’t to be afraid of Calum, but was to be worried about his hand.

Because as well as Elodie thought she’d known Nathan for the years they grew up together and the months they were dating, it felt like nothing compared to how she was getting to know Calum. With him, nothing felt off limits, there were no egg shells to walk on, no temper to be uneasy around. If Calum punched Nathan, Elodie instinctively knew it was for a good reason. And it felt crazy to her, how easy it felt with Calum; unrestrained and comfortable and good. Maybe that’s why she wanted to see him right away. Because with Nathan, all she ever wanted to do when his temper flared was to get away.

So when the door opened, Elodie’s gaze flickered down to his hand briefly before her worried brown eyes met Calum’s surprisingly sheepish ones, feeling her chest swell happily at the mere sight of him until she took in the slight discoloration on his left cheek. Elodie’s lips parted at the bruise that bloomed on the swell of his cheek, chest sinking with the sharp breath that escaped her as the words, “Are you okay?” tumbled out of her mouth immediately.

She hadn’t been aware that Nathan had gotten a hit in, too. Not nearly as strong, but still. The sight of the injury twisted Elodie’s stomach—the knowledge of it being caused by her ex only worsened it.

But Calum, quickly becoming a light, only smiled through a breathless chuckle and reassured, “I’m fine, doll,” before ducking his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, Elodie’s mouth automatically puckering to accept the kiss before moving further into the apartment. Paws clattered across the floorboards and Calum smiled, as if he didn’t have a bruise on his face, and nodded, “Duke’s just as excited to see you.”

She picked up the dog just as he reached her, accepting and enjoying the kisses she was greeted with, with a smile on her face, though her concerned gaze remained on Calum as she watched him shut the door. Elodie mumbled a gentle, “Hi, buddy,” to Duke as she ran her fingers through his soft fur, his paws against her chest as her gaze dropped to Calum’s hand once more.

Duke wiggled out of her grasp and Elodie bent down enough for him to easily jump down, and her eyebrows knitted together as Calum tried to move past her but she stopped him, grabbing the material of his hoodie. He skidded to a stop as she maneuvered around him, her hand gently grasping his right wrist so she could lift up his hand and inspect it. Elodie’s throat tightened at the faint bruises formed on his knuckles, the color sticking out more than the glint of his rings, and the familiar uneasiness of guilt crept back into her stomach.

“Don’t worry—I didn’t break anythin’. Just iced it a bunch; the bruising will go away soon enough,” Calum told her, the reassurance ever present in his tone, and Elodie adored that he was trying to make her feel better even though he was the one who was physically injured. It only served as a reminder of how considerate Calum was, and it made falling for him that much lighter.

Elodie held his fingers in hers, her touch light as a feather out of fear of somehow irritating his bruise, and let her thumb run over the skin by his rings as she scoffed gently. “Didn’t break anything except for Nathan’s nose.” Was it wrong to feel a smile tug at her lips? She never wanted to be someone to smile at someone else’s expense, much less their pain. But knowing Calum was okay relieved some of the tension in her shoulders. Lifting her gaze, Elodie met Calum’s eyes and told him with only the tiniest bit of amusement coloring her tone, “I heard you got blood on his favorite Armani suit.”

Calum scoffed, lips quirking briefly as he looked down at Elodie holding his hand, ever so careful of touching his injury. With an almost childlike petulance, Calum countered, “He got blood on my favorite rings.”

Despite wanting to continue standing there and joking around lightheartedly, Elodie still felt the weight lingering on her shoulders, which sank when she let out a sigh and lamented, “I hate that this happened to you because of me.” Her throat worked as she eyed the bruise on his cheek, a reddish-purple color blossoming against the brown of his skin. “Do you need ice?”

“Elodie,” Calum was quick to speak up, removing his hand from her light grasp so he could place both of his hands at the sides of her face, fingers tangling into her brown locks and ducking his head to maintain eye contact. He had a habit of holding her like that, and Elodie adored it. His brown eyes were widened in encouragement, hoping she would hear his words loud and clear as he said, “This didn’t happen because of you. It happened because your ex is a dick and I’ve been known for being unable to keep my mouth shut.” His touch was warm, as always, and his words spread the same comfort his hands did as his thumb stroked her cheek. “And it was completely worth it.”

Still, Elodie found herself nibbling on her lower lip as she gazed at the bruise on his cheek and was hyper aware of his discolored knuckles as well. The heaviness in her chest wasn’t as suffocating, but it was still there as it dried her throat, and Elodie couldn’t bring herself to look Calum in the eyes anymore. Not through any fault of his own—she just had some things to work through as well, things ingrained into her by her selfish ex, and it was those same insecurities that had her whispering out, “Why is it when I’m in a relationship, someone ends up hurt?”

“Baby.” Elodie’s heart lodged itself in her throat as the term of endearment slipped from Calum’s lips, soft and raspy in his desperate voice. He’d never called her that before. She liked it. Calum gently tilted her head—more like gave it a nudge, trying to get her to do it on her own because he didn’t want to force her if she didn’t want to. But Elodie found herself lifting her gaze, lips pressing together as her eyes met Calum’s inviting brown ones. “Don’t mistake Nathan’s actions for your own. What you’ve done has allowed you to be yourself unapologetically. You’re out. You’re—”

“Happier,” Elodie finished quietly, feeling that weight lift from her shoulders with every word Calum spoke, no longer suffocating her. Her eyes remained on his as a smile tugged at her lips, hands slipping into the single front pocket of Calum’s hoodie to keep him close. Almost sheepishly, she decided to add, “Safer.”

Maybe it was too soon, maybe she was taking a leap, but that’s how she felt when she was around Calum—safe. Like being herself wasn’t something she actively had to hold back in worry of bothering him, because he liked who she was. He liked that her coffee order differed depending on the time of day she got it because she liked the inconsistency, he liked that at least one article of clothing she wore had to have some kind of floral design, he liked that she was only active on Instagram once a month to post an aesthetically pleasing picture she’d taken before closing the app until the next month arrived. It was all little things that were probably insignificant, but Calum liked them not out of his own personal preference—but because Elodie liked them in herself. And that meant more than Elodie could comprehend.

He let her be herself without fault in the near two months he’d known her than the six months she’d been with Nathan. Calum came into her life like storm and instead of wrecking it, he somehow managed to help clear a path so Elodie could fix it herself.

Elodie let out a breath, throat working as she said to him earnestly, albeit timidly, “I don’t mean to bring the mood down bringing up these. . . Insecurities.”

“You don’t ever bring the mood down, sweetheart,” came Calum’s genuine response, lips curling into the soft smile he had reserved just for her, the one that sent her heart leaping. “You make it worthwhile. C’mere.”

He pulled her in for a hug then, his embrace just as tender as his words as his arms wrapped around her frame, and Elodie pulled her hands out of Calum’s hoodie’s pocket to wrap them around his waist. She closed her eyes, cheek against the area just below his chest because God knows she can’t reach it, and lost herself in his familiar cologne and touch. Elodie felt Calum’s lips press to the top of her head before he rested his uninjured cheek against it, and she sank into his hug, into him, as his tranquility seeped into her bones.

Calum rubbed his hand up and down her back soothingly, the two of them standing in a tender silence, before he murmured, “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

Elodie smiled as they pulled away, and she shrugged off her coat before following him into the open plan kitchen. It was there where she saw a pot of pasta boiling on the stove, as well as the other ingredients sitting on the counter ready to be cooked. She followed Calum, a smile tugging at her lips when she noted the boneless and skinned chicken breasts, baby spinach, garlic, parmesan, and a bunch of other ingredients waiting to be prepped.

Her heart was thrumming happily in her chest, eyes alight at the sight before her as Calum picked up the bottle of red wine on the counter and poured some for Elodie and himself. “I thought you weren’t much of a wine drinker,” she hummed as she neared him, gladly taking the glass he offered her. She remembered one of the many conversations they had as they got to know each other, found out that he preferred some good whiskey or maybe even a beer to wine.

“I am around you,” he responded with a smirk, and Elodie giggled lightly as he clinked his glass with hers before the two of them took sips of the bittersweet drink. She smiled around the rim of the glass as Calum shot her a wink over his, before lowering his and moving to go back to the other counter where the stove is. “’M making us some Tuscan chicken and spinach pasta.”

“Sounds delicious,” Elodie hummed, glass still in hand as she moved towards him, leaning against the counter but making sure she didn’t get in his way as she asked, “Can I help?”

There wasn’t much he needed for her to do, so Elodie just stood by Calum and sipped her wine as he worked—eventually he cleared some space on the counter so she could hop up, and Elodie crossed her ankles as she watched him make dinner. There was music softly playing throughout the apartment, songs similar to those she heard in the tattoo parlor, and Elodie gently swayed her head to the music and drank her wine and made conversation with the first man to ever actually make her food.

She may have snapped a picture of Calum cooking the seasons chicken, his gaze on the skillet while an amused grin quirked at his lips, aware of what she was doing. But Elodie couldn’t help it—he looked so at ease as he made the food, which had been his idea in the first place. He was the one who’d invited Elodie over to his place, told her he’d make them dinner and they could hang out, and she recalled the way her heart had melted when he offered to cook. The mere fact that he could and liked to cook was enough to have Elodie rushing over. Nevermind the fact that she loved spending time with him anyway.

They made light conversation; she talked about what she was learning in her lectures plus the new charities she brought up to her family for their foundation to support, while he disclosed the tattoos he’d just done plus a few sketches that he drew. It slipped Elodie’s mind that as a tattoo artist, Calum was also an artist, that many of the tattoos he gave his clients were ones they’d picked from his own designs. She wondered if any of the ones he had were of his own making, still wanted to sit down and ask him about every single one of the words and images inking his skin.

“I wish I was good at something,” Elodie sighed after taking another sip of the wine. She was already a glass and a half in, and it was safe to say she was beginning to feel the lightheadedness that came with drinking it. Her skin was beginning to feel warm, a happy flush on her cheeks, as she pouted. Calum had put the pasta in a big bowl and was mixing in the chicken and spinach and everything else. He quirked an eyebrow at the slight drawl her words were adopting. “All I do is go to school and cry.”

Calum knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help the amused chortle escape him as he glanced over at Elodie with raised eyebrows, the fondness he felt for her warming his heart as he continued tossing the pasta. “You know that’s not true, doll,” he told her knowingly. “You’re good at working your family’s foundation. Aren’t you the one that researches and brings in the charities and organizations you guys support?”

“Well, yeah.” Elodie’s eyebrows furrowed almost childishly, a small pout forming on her lips that Calum felt the urge to kiss. He finished with the pasta, hot and ready to eat, as he took the two steps to the other side of the stove where Elodie sat. She looked up at him, and he noticed the slight glaze over her eyes. “But I feel like I could be doing more.”

“You’re already doing more than most,” Calum told her, coming to a stop in front of her and feeling a smirk curve his lips as Elodie automatically unlocked her ankles and spread her legs just enough for him to step into the space they created. Calum braced his hands on the cool marble counter on either side of her thighs, careful of his bruised knuckles, and enjoyed the scent of her floral perfume that briefly overpowered the food he’d cooked. But Calum focused on her, and the hints of doubt seeping into Elodie in regards to her worth, and he was bitterly reminded of what Nathan had said. Calum wasn’t going to let any spiteful thing that bastard said come true in any way, so he quickly derailed that train of thought in Elodie’s mind. “You, my darling, are better than most people I’ve met. That’s a fact.”

Her cheeks pinkened more than they already were, and Elodie felt her heart flutter happily in her chest. Every time Calum complimented her, she felt the air rushing out of her lungs, incredulous that his words made her feel ten times lighter than how awfully Nathan’s words impacted her. Elodie rested her nearly empty wine glass on the counter, hand coming up to cup Calum’s uninjured jaw and feeling his warm skin under her touch as she told him, honestly and genuinely, “You’re too good to me. That’s a fact.”

“Baby,” Calum breathed, raspy and shiver inducing as he brushed his nose against hers. There it was, that sweet little term that had butterflies exploding in her belly. Calum’s gaze was on hers, never afraid to look her in the eye, as he said, “You’re too good for me. That’s a fact.”

Elodie’s heart jumped, eyes dropping to his lips, just inches away from hers. She barely gave a shake of her head. “Nope.” And then closed the gap to capture his lips with hers.

Calum welcomed the kiss wholeheartedly, a throaty hum sounding in his throat as he moved his lips with Elodie’s and briefly gripped her hips before sliding his hands lower to bury them in the back pockets of her jeans. Elodie felt him pull her closer with his new grip, her lips parting when his tongue trailed across her lower lip, deepening the kiss as the taste of wine remained present on both of them. Her heart drummed in her chest as her own hands slid under Calum’s sweatshirt, his lack of shirt underneath allowing her hands to run along his smooth, warm skin, her touch instinctively causing Calum to give her a cheeky squeeze.

There was dinner waiting for them, Elodie knew that, was excited to take a bite of what Calum had made for them, but Elodie was enjoying the feel and taste of Calum’s lips and how warm he felt against her. She couldn’t help the way she dragged her nails down the length of his back, felt an uncharacteristic smirk tilt at her lips against Calum’s when he deepened the kiss with a deep moan that Elodie swore vibrated through her. He sounded as good as he felt.

Calum leaned into her and Elodie’s heart picked up even more, pounding in her ears because this closeness wasn’t enough; she needed more, craved it, wanting nothing in between them as her lips felt electric against his. Everything else began slipping away, her focus only being on the man who was kissing her like it was the last thing he’d get to do, yet still Elodie tried against her better judgement, “The food’ll get cold.”

Her words were mumbled against Calum’s mouth, and he merely grunted as his hands slipped out of her pockets only to grip the backs of her thighs, giving Elodie no warning as he lifted her. She let out a startled gasp, both at the action and the trickle of worry of his injured hand, but Calum’s teeth grazing her lower lip easily distracted her as she locked her ankles at his lower back and wrapped her arms around his neck as Calum said gruffly, “We’ll reheat it.”

Elodie wasn’t entirely sure how, she was too lost in the way her legs were hooked so perfectly around Calum and how he kissed her so fiercely, like he was putting everything into it, but they eventually ended up in a different room. She barely registered the sound of Calum kicking a door shut, eyes closed to completely savor the taste of his lips, kissing off the wine he’d also drank as Calum sank down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Hands returning to the hem of Calum’s sweatshirt, Elodie gripped it and pulled it upwards, the material offending and distancing, their kiss breaking only for a moment as she tugged it over his head and let out a breathless giggle when Calum’s one hand reached the back of it to take it all the way off and dropped it on the floor, lips returning to hers urgently.

Her heart thundered as they kissed, his stubble scratching her deliciously as she ran her hands from his neck down his chest, feeling the smoothness of his warm skin and the brief chill of the necklace that he seemingly never left the house without. The need to feel close to him was desperate, and Elodie was quickly losing herself into Calum as she used her nimble fingers to undo the buttons of her blouse, Calum’s hands gripping her hips as she shrugged off the cotton material. Calum’s hands slid up, feeling her bare warm skin, the kiss breaking to allow them to catch their breaths as his gaze dropped.

Their chests heaved in time with their quickened hearts, foreheads and noses pressed together and lips electric as Calum’s gaze dropped to Elodie’s newly exposed skin, throat drying at the sight of her in just a bra and jeans. The quiet of the room was interrupted only by their heavy breaths, and as Elodie’s right hand placed itself on the back of his neck, fingers playing with the growing dark hair, her other dancing along the necklace resting against his tattooed collarbones, she felt the warmth of his hands spread through her body.

Calum ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of her back, the tips of his fingers grazing the band of her bra, and his voice was hoarse as he whispered, “El, are you sure?”

She felt the corners of her lips quirk up, felt the electricity thrumming her veins and the obvious desire of how badly Calum wanted to keep going as she remained straddling his lap, and Elodie decided she didn’t want to shy away from this. From Calum. He never gave her a reason to, so she wouldn’t.

Elodie brushed her lips against Calum’s kissed ones, cheeks warming when he tilted his chin forward to kiss her properly. “Only if you are.”

And then she grinded her hips down on him, a gesture neither of them had been expecting, and Calum’s grip on her tightened, uncaring of his bruised knuckles, as he cursed through gritted teeth, “Fuck.”

She was killing him, he knew, as she pulled him in for another kiss before breaking away too soon. Calum groaned at the loss, eyes opening as he felt Elodie get off of him. He looked up at her, feeling a haze of adoration as he watched her with her long hair falling over shoulders, a not-so-innocent smile playing at her kiss pinkened lips, eyes on him as her fingers worked on the button and zipper of her jeans. Calum’s throat tightened as she kicked the jeans off, only a pretty lingerie set adorning her body that Calum couldn’t wait to take off.

The pout she sent his way nearly had Calum falling to his knees, her long hair falling around her shoulders as she gestured at him with a finger. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” Elodie said, her voice holding her usual sweet lilt, though Calum wasn’t deaf to the playful glimmer in her dark eyes. She continued to surprise him.

He smirked through a chuckle, pulling his lower lip into his mouth while his gaze remained on his girl, watching her watch him as he took off his sweatpants, the smirk wiping off his face when Elodie settled on her knees in the space between his legs and her gentle touch wrapped around his cock.

Calum’s hooded gaze was watching Elodie, feeling his heart in his throat as she closed her mouth around him, and he was in fucking heaven. His uninjured hand, braced behind him, tightened the bed sheets into a fist while the other easily gathered Elodie’s hair behind her head, his own lips parting at the sight of hers around him. The sensation of her hand working what she couldn’t fit in her warm mouth, nails of the other teasingly dragging along the top of his thigh as she worked him over.

“Shit.” It was all he was capable of breathing out, voice ragged and unsteady, the need to throw his head back and get lost in Elodie’s treatment of him heavy, but Calum didn’t want to take his eyes off of her. His fingers tangled in her soft hair, the blood rushing through his veins and thundering heart accompanying the fire spreading throughout his body.

The sight of Elodie on her knees before him was filthy, gorgeous, unexpected and perfect in every way. Calum could feel just how quickly she was pulling him to the edge, her mouth generous and dizzyingly pleasurable. But as pretty as she was before him, Calum knew he was going to come undone if she continued her ministrations, and he wanted to let go for the first time inside of her—not in her mouth.

“What?” Elodie pouted when Calum pulled her up, the loss of her making him grunt as his hands grasped her hips. She let out a startled sound amidst a giggle as Calum used his grip on her to turn them so she fell back onto the bed, Calum immediately sliding his body on top of hers as his lips pressed against hers urgently. He felt her melt under him, her hands running up the expanse of his back before her fingers found his short hair, keeping him close. Calum’s own hand snuck underneath her to unclasp her bra, ignoring the mild sting of his injured fingers at the action as Elodie lowered her arms briefly to slide off the straps before the offending material was gone.

He felt her breasts press against his chest, soft and supple on his warm skin as he kissed her, losing himself in her. Hastily, though not entirely sure how, Calum reached over to his bedside drawer, blindly pulling it open and rummaging around, lips still moving against Elodie’s, until his fingers finally grasped the foil package he’d been searching for.

There was an overwhelming, breathless desire to have her close to him, closer than she already was; to have her against him in all the right ways because it already felt so natural, so good, to be with her like this. The urgency of his kisses slowed, savoring the taste of her chapstick and the wine dancing on both of their tongues as he committed every bit of her to memory while tearing open the packet, ignoring the twinge in his bruised knuckles at the action. God. The last thing he thought was he’d be doing this with Elodie, finally, with a few bruises painting his skin.

She’d taken her underwear off during the moments of Calum rolling on the condom, hissing slightly at the latex against him, forehead pressed to Elodie’s as their heavy breathing became the soundtrack of their anticipation. His gaze lowered, lining himself up to where she needed him most, and in the midst of their excited breathing and hazy heads, Calum’s eyes met Elodie’s once more.

He looked at her, hovering over her as he took in the pretty flush of her cheeks, the already blissed out look in her eyes and lips pink and kissed. Calum’s heart was erratic within his chest, taking her in as he, in that moment, couldn’t help but think how lucky he was. His disbelief and overwhelm could be heard in his heavy breaths, could see Elodie’s own excitement in the rise and fall of her chest and tension of her neck, the diamond pendant of her necklace settled right between her collarbones. She was breathtaking, and Calum was so fucking lucky.

He couldn’t help himself by pressing his lips to hers once more, a slow and lasting kiss that had Elodie’s grip on the back of his neck tightening, wanting him close. Calum lined himself up to her, about to break the kiss just so he could hear her approval, only to be beaten to the punch as Elodie begged against his lips, “Please.”

His hips thrust forward, the sensation of him burying herself in her leaving both of them gasping for air, Elodie clinging to him and Calum groaning into the crook of her neck, feeling the subtle sting of his bruise, though it barely registered. Elodie wrapped her legs around his hips, and Calum’s hand gripped her thigh, uncaring of the strain on his fingers. Nothing mattered except for Elodie. As if there was anything else on his mind.

He started off slow, pulling out before burying himself to the hilt once more, feeling and hearing Elodie’s breath hitch at the sensation of him filling her up, his free arm next to her to keep himself above her. It was a symphony of his grunts and her breathless moans and skin slapping against skin and utterly losing themselves in one another. His motions were fluid and she received him completely, and Calum couldn’t keep himself from marking up her neck as he felt her nails digging into his back.

He could feel himself quickly reaching his high, but Calum fought himself, refusing to come undone until Elodie did first, no matter how difficult it felt after her mouth had worked him over. Praises fell past his lips, effortless in her worship, everything about her continuing to draw him closer and closer to the edge.

And when they lay in bed after the fact, utterly spent as they tried to catch their breaths with only one of his bedsheets covering them, there was a mutual, silent understanding between them that this was. . . Perfect. That laying in bed, warm bodies bare and pressed together under the sheet, with her head laying on his chest and his arm wrapped around her, was a flawless and blissful image they both had yearned for.

Elodie’s fingers danced with his, gaze on the way she gently turned his hand to look at the mild discoloration of his knuckles. The reminder that he was injured, no matter how insignificant Calum paints it to be, because of someone in her life still ate away at Elodie. But she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a prickle of satisfaction, of adoration, that he wasn’t afraid of standing up for her. He defended her so easily when it took her so long to do so herself, and Elodie liked to think it was her having a wake up call of her own mixed in with a bit of courage from Calum himself that allowed her to be in the position she was in today. She counted herself so lucky that she went to the tattoo parlor with Dominique that day.

“I’m alright, y’know.” Calum’s voice was a low rasp from above her, and Elodie could feel the vibration of him speaking as her head remained against his chest. The way she was caressing his knuckles probably prompted him to speak up. “Doesn’t hurt or anythin’.”

Elodie bit her lower lip, which kind of still tingled from his dizzying kisses. As their fingers gently laced together, she surmised, “You’re just saying that so I won’t feel bad.”

“Hey.” There was a soft disapproving tone in his voice, hand snaking around her to tilt her chin up. Her dark eyes met his after briefly eyeing the bruise on his cheek, and there was a subtle crease between his eyebrows as he said, “I wouldn’t lie to you. And there’s nothing for you to feel bad about. He’s an ass and if I could break his nose again, I would.”

Elodie couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her at Nathan’s expense, the sound quirking up Calum’s lips as well as Elodie looked at him. His lips were as kissed as hers, a pretty flush on his cheeks that she knew was warming her own, and there was a contentment present in her chest that she only ever felt around him. It was enough to push all thoughts of her ex out of her head, irritated with herself for even having a single thought about him. The mere mention of him was a disservice to herself and Calum and the relationship they’d come to have.

So she sat up, pressing the sheet to her chest with one hand, Calum’s arm falling from around her shoulders as he looked at her now seated figure with raised eyebrows. “Come on—” she smiled, grabbing his hand. “I wanna try the pasta.”

Calum chuckled deeply, not one to say no as he followed her off the bed. He put his sweatpants back on as Elodie pulled up her underwear, taking Calum’s hoodie as he offered it to her before following him back into the kitchen. Duke raised his head from where he was on the couch, jumping off as his paws clattered on the floor and followed them as they helped themselves to the dinner Calum had made, needing to heat it up just like he’d said after he poured Duke his food as well.

They ended up on the couch, flickering the TV on with warm plates in their laps with The Office keeping them entertained. And as they watched and ate, Elodie couldn’t help but let her gaze wander to the man sitting on the other end of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Her fork absently played with the pasta on her plate, too distracted by Calum; she felt her heart flutter in her chest, tickling, as she admired the way he laughed at the show, enough to push his cheeks up, uncaring of his bruise, and show off the crinkles by his eyes. He sat shirtless, tattoos on full display, bicep looking a bit too inviting as he held the plate with his left hand above his lap.

Just sitting here brought Elodie a sense of tranquility she’d never felt before, a warmth spreading across her skin as she took in a quiet breath. It was thrilling, how happy he made her, so easily and effortlessly. No wonder she was so willing to accept just how quickly she’d fallen in love with him.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @gorgeouslygrace @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf​ @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @fluffsshawn​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @tea4sykes @lukeinblue​