#but apparently one answer that implied that i /might/ want people to appreciate me was just too much

[riahlynn101]

Just wanted to say how much i appreciate your art and works. You write really, really well, and I’m no expert on that, but yes I can surely say this even as an amateur. You’re able to characterize the ones you write just in point, it’s as if you know them in real life, as if they were your friends or something. Please, keep doing what you do, I’m pretty sure there are a plenty of other people that enjoy your writing as much as I do. It’s so rewarding when I go to bed after a hard day and have one of your one-shots to read, it’s like I’m in another reality. Sorry if that sounds weird, I’m afraid I might sound a little crazy but I really like to encourage people, especially when it’s art related. Your art does touch people! And forgive me for any grammar mistakes, as English isn’t my first language

By the way, if that’s possible and if you would want to, would you ever do an schmelly one-shot about an “only one bed” prompt? It’s my favorite, I’d really like to see how they’d act. I know you don’t write smut, and I don’t want it either, so as long as you’re comfortable writing it, I’d really appreciate it 🥹

(AWWW <33 THANK YOU :D!! I really do appreciate that. I know I say it in a lot of my author’s notes, but I am really, truly grateful for all your guys’ support!!)

Sometimes I worry that my writing is trash. The plot makes no sense, or there are too many grammar mistakes, or the characters are…well….not in character. So, hearing that you like my writing makes me super happy :))

And it’s super kind of you to support/lift up artists and writers. There are too many people in this world that like to tear others down, so kudos to you for continuing to be kind and supportive <33

(And just as a little extra note: I think your English might be better than mine, and I say that as a native English-speaker. I mean that positively :D!! And I 100% guarantee that you write/speak English better than I could write/speak in your language, so take pride in that :))!!)

As for your request……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Word count: 1,417

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping, implied childhood trauma - but both of those things aren't the focal point of the story.

Summary: What do you get when you add a snowstorm, a (nearly) booked out hotel, and Mike and Vanessa needing a room?

Answer - a hotel room with only one bed!

--

Snow as far as the eye can see. It comes down in clusters and catches on the wind, blanketing the ground in white. This isn’t abnormal for this time of year, and usually Mike and his sister waited for the first snowstorm with great anticipation. Her because it means Christmas is right around the corner. And Mike because it reminds him of Christmas’ past. 

This year, however, he’s stuck driving in it. A last-minute trip a few hours away and a surprise blizzard don’t really mix. Maybe if he would have checked the weather channel one more time this could have been avoided.

“We should stop for tonight,” Vanessa says, always the voice of reason (for the most part). “I think I saw a sign for a hotel just up the road.”

Mike squints his eyes, leaning forward. He’s going ten under the speed limit, and that’s the only reason his pile-of-junk car hasn’t slid into the ditch. “Okay, I think I see it.”

Somehow, they make it in one piece into the motel’s tiny parking lot. It’s crowded, and it takes him a solid five minutes to find a spot. Apparently they aren’t the first people to need a room for the night. 

“Do you think they have any rooms available?” Mike asks, gripping the steering wheel. The thought of bearing the cold is already making him chilly. 

Always optimistic, Vanessa smiles. “I’m positive they can squeeze us in somewhere.”

-x-x-x-

“You two are in luck,” the receptionist-the stereotypical midwestern soccer mom-says, looking at her computer screen, “we have one room left.”

Both of them sigh in relief. The idea of trekking back out into the cold was daunting,  and the idea of finding a different hotel is downright scary. 

“We’ll take it,” Vanessa pipes up. 

“Okey-dokey then. I just need you to sign here and date there.” 

As Vanessa signs the logbook, the receptionist passes over a key for the room. “Are you two married?” She asks, conversationally. Though, Mike knows growing up around these types, that she’s just being nosy. 

Vanessa shakes her head. “Oh, uh…no. Just friends.” 

The woman laughs. “That’s what they all say.”

Face turning red, Vanessa scurries away from the desk, keys clutched in her hand. Mike follows behind her, not trusting himself to not glare at the woman. 

They step into the elevator. “You okay?” He asks. 

Vanessa’s face is still red, but she seems otherwise calm. But he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t at least try. She clears her throat, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I’m fine.”

The elevator doors open.

“So, what’s our room number?” 

Vanessa holds the key up. “Uh….says 204. And judging by the positioning of the light, the direction of the wind, and my knowledge of the polar vortex it’s down the hallway to the right.”

He stands there, dumbstruck. “Wow, you actually know our room number from all that?”

She stares at him for a solid minute, not saying anything. “Yep. I definitely didn’t listen to the lady downstairs, and didn’t read the sign right in front of our faces.”

Mike turns slightly, and sure enough there’s a sign directing people to their rooms on the wall. 200-220 to the right and 221-241 to the left.

“Huh,” he says. “Well, I never said I had good reading comprehension skills.”

Vanessa smiles at that, but quickly turns away. “C’mon, I’m really tired.”

Thankfully, the rest of the trip to their room is uneventful. The hotel is eerily quiet, which is weird given that it’s full tonight. But with their luck, the minute they try to get some sleep, everyone and their mother will be causing a ruckus. 

“This is it,” Vanessa says, indicating to a number plate on one of the doors. 

Mike sighs. “Thank god. It’s been a long day.”

The room is pleasantly warm and smells of mothballs. It’s kind of small, not that they were expecting much. A bathroom that lacks a shower or bath, a closet that’s full of cleaning supplies, and a TV stand that lacks an actual television. 

But the thing that gives them pause is none of those things. Instead, it’s the bed in the center of the room. The single bed. 

Single as in only one. 

They stand there in complete silence. Standing and staring. And then, staring some more. 

“Well…” Mike starts, “I can…take the floor.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “No, the floor’s probably filthy. I’ll take the chair over there, and you take the bed.”

He scoffs. “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places. Besides, you paid for this room. So, you get to sleep in the bed.”

“But….you drove us all the way to Utah and back, so really I owe you.”

They face each other.

“But the reason we went to Utah was for me, so really I owe you.” Mike hates the idea of sleeping in the chair or the floor for that matter, his back has enough problems without adding to them. But he also has the advantage of being imbued with an unholy amount of stubbornness. 

Unfortunately, his opponent is Vanessa. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping in the bed,” she says, throwing her hands up. “So, if you don’t, then I guess it’ll just go to waste.”

“I guess so,” he shoots back. 

Vanessa rounds the bed, presumably to go sleep in the chair. (Another thing that there’s only one of.)

“What if…” he pauses, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. Vanessa looks at him. “What if we shared the bed?”

“Share the bed?”

“Like I sleep on this side.” He points to the side closest to him. “And you sleep on that side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Vanessa asks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, waving off her concern. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s not a bad idea, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Mike shrugs. “I mean as long as you’re okay with it, I’ll be fine.” And he would be. A lot of his discomfort comes from sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Sure, he’s slept in a lot of different places, but never this far from home. After Garrett was taken, he grew to fear being away from his parents (and later Abby) for long periods of time.

“Okay,” she says, slipping off her shoes and climbing under the covers. She looks up at Mike expectantly. “Well?”

He takes a deep breath. “I have to call the house. The babysitter is probably expecting me back soon, and Abby will be upset if I don’t say goodnight.”

She nods, snuggling deeper into the covers. 

-x-x-x-

Mike slinks back into the room. Thankfully, both the babysitter and Abby understood his predicament. Abby told him goodnight - which was sweet. And then, she started teasing Mike about his apparent “crush” (like he’s in middle school or something), to which he hung up.

He loves his little sister, but sometimes she drives him up a wall.

He slips into the bed, curling up. The blankets are scratchy and the pillows are lumpy, but Mike would be lying if he said he wasn’t half-asleep by the time his head hit the bed.

Next to him, Vanessa giggles. 

“What?” He mutters, eyelids drooping. 

“Nothing. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Yeah….goodnight to….” Before he can finish his thought, Mike is fast asleep. And not long after, Vanessa follows suit. 

For the first time in a long time, their dreams are pleasant. 

-x-x-x-

Mike is used to waking up with someone hanging off him. It’s a natural part of being a big brother. First with Garrett-who he shared a room with-and then with Abby, who always preferred his company, even before mom died and dad left. 

What he’s not used to is the other person being taller than him, and having their chin rest on his head. 

He panics, jerking backwards. Sadly, the bed's not big enough for the amount of panicking his sleep-addled brain is doing, and Mike very nearly tumbles to the floor. At the last possible second, a pair of arms save him, pulling him back. 

Vanessa looks at him. He turns on his side, staring at her. 

Without another word, they go right back to snuggling. Sure, it might be awkward in the morning, but that would be the future-them’s problem. 

They fall asleep, curled up right next to each other. If their fingers wind up intertwined, or they end up snuggling in their sleep, well then, that’s no one else’s business but theirs.

[pretensesoup]

Queer books, day 31/30

Turns out I like writing about books in this format, but I read a lot more slowly than I write.

I asked on Mastodon for everyone's favorite romance novels with an NB character in them. Partly because I'm in the process of writing my own NB character and I wanted to see how other people had dealt with sex scenes (in the anatomic sense). Partly because I just wanted to see how anyone else conceptualized nonbinaryness*. That request led me to Sword Dance by AJ Demas. It only sort of answers my questions, but that's okay because it's amazing.

In an alternative version of the Mediterranean, Damiskos is an ex-soldier (now disabled) and current quartermaster who has been sent to visit an old friend (Nione) to secure a contract for fish sauce. At her house, he meets: a bunch of tedious philosophers led by Eurydemos (who seems to preach a very anti-alien, anti-LGBTQ agenda, and yet is writing poems for...), Varazda (a sword dancer and eunuch from Zash, another country in which Damiskos was once stationed and for which he harbors a deep affection), Varazda's "owner" Aristokles, and a few others. Quickly, Damiskos surmises that all is not as it seems--first, he foils an attempt on Varazda's life, and it becomes apparent that the relationship between Varazda and Aristokles may be a lie--in fact, they are conspiring to hide something far greater than the fact that Varazda is not actually a slave. Soon, Damiskos is teaming up with Varazda to solve a murder, then to avert a war and recapture Nione's villa from the philosophers. Oh, and falling in love.

Varazda is an interesting character. He (Damiskos's POV is the only one we get, and he uses male pronouns for him, although he says he thinks of himself as both male and female) was made a eunuch after his father lost a military engagement of some kind. He was then enslaved for a while, until he was sent to the Zashian embassy in Boukos, and then he was freed. This is obviously a major source of trauma, and Damiskos is in a unique place to appreciate that because of his time in Zash. As a result, Damiskos is extremely careful in their nascent relationship to let Varazda lead. Their relationship is very sweet in part because of this deference, and they deal with consent very well.

Key quote: (Varazda has been discussing how he doesn't always achieve an erection because of being a eunuch.)

Rather boldly, Damiskos said, "Want to see if we can make it happen again?" Varazda looked up in surprise. "What--right now?" "Yes, of course right now! Immortal gods. We're sitting on your bed, talking about how beautiful you are and whether or not you like sex--it's surprising I even need to say anything." "I am literally a eunuch, First Spear." After that they were both laughing...

As you might have guessed from the summary above, this is a world in which there is violence, homophobia/transphobia, and slavery, including sexual slavery. Women have some rights to own property, but they aren't voting citizens. The implication, reading between the lines, is that in the world generally, same-sex couples aren't too uncommon, and it's just Eurydemos's students who have a problem with them. (Eurydemos and his students reminded me a bit of Socrates and Plato, but of course Plato doesn't care that much about same-sex relationships, c.f. that one story from Symposium that got turned into a song from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. But I've been privileged to hear some angry Jesse rants about Plato since doing the podcast, and it reminded me of that. Anyway, as Plato says a lot, philosophers with bad opinions were a dime a dozen back in Athens, so.) Also, warning for explicit on-page sex.

*: Is Varazda nonbinary or is he gender fluid? I don't know. At one point, he says, "I never really think of myself as a man, but most of the time I'm quite happy for other people to think of me that way." Elsewhere, he implies that he doesn't want to be neither male or female, so he tries to be both. Maybe genderfluid is a better word for him. Maybe he can't articulate exactly how he feels, because he's not speaking to Damiskos in his first language, or because there isn't a word for how he feels. Either way, I enjoyed the way the character was portrayed.

That's it. Lots of action/plot, a good amount of romance, very engaging, love the setting. 10/10, go read it.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 055

Zeno! 

You sonovabitch!

As hot as Bulma looks fixing the time machine in her grimy labcoat, this episode has nothing at all to do with that.  In fact, she finishes the repairs in this very scene, but she wants to let Trunks rest up before telling him it’s ready to go.

Okay so years ago, people were griping about the state of Yamcha’s apartment in an upcoming episode of this show.  I guess they thought it looked too run down or something.  Re-watching this series over a period of a few weeks, it’s clear to me now that the background artists just suck at interior design.  Yamcha’s apartment looked a lot like the fancy restaurant that Gohan and Videl were at in Episode 43.  So is Yamcha’s apartment fancy, or was the restaurant a dump? 

Trunks’ bedroom in this episode informs our answer.   This is supposed to be a futuristic mansion, but this room looks like a prison cell.  I’m not even sure it looks like the room Trunks slept in a few episodes back.  And sure, there’s probably a lot of empty guest rooms in this building, and the Brief family are eccentric enough that they might not bother decorating half of them.  Still, the prompt for this scene was “A guest room in a futuristic mansion” and the artists were like “Well, I guess Venetian blinds?  Oh!  How about a couple of empty shelves!”

Meanwhile, Grand Zeno has contacted Beerus to arrange for Goku to come to his palace.  So Beerus summons Goku, but it takes like two days for Whis to make the trip, and Goku doesn’t want to be away from Earth for four days.  So Whis suggests they ask the Supreme Kai for help, since Supreme Kais can teleport to Grand Zeno’s palace instantaneously. 

So this is just a not-so-clever way to repeat the same scene twice in one episode.  First we have Beerus freaking out and warning Goku not to do anything stupid, and then we get the Supreme Kai contingent doing the same bit all over again. 

One tidbit we learn from all of this is that if the Supreme Kai dies, the God of Destruction dies with him, so Beerus orders Whis to make sure the Supreme Kai doesn’t get on the wrong end of Zeno’s wrath. 

Apparently Shin has to grab your ass to teleport you to Grand Zeno’s palace.  I mean, they don’t spell that out, and maybe this is just the usual Kai Kai power he uses to teleport to other planets, but I prefer to believe my grab-ass theory, because it would mean that this show can just do a thing without having five characters explain it to death.

Upon arrival, they’re greeted by this guy, called the “Grand Minister” in the dub.  I like that name better than “Great Priest”, which is what the subtitles kept calling him.  This dude is basically the attendant for Zeno, just as Whis is the attendant of Beerus, so he’s clearly not a priest.  Minister makes more sense, as it implies a more practical role, like a secretary or a minister in a head of state’s cabinet.  And the religious aspect is still there, but not quite so blatant. 

Also, he has a Dorito on his shirt, which is a bold fashion choice.

Everyone worries about Goku’s clothes being unsuitable for this meeting, so Whis makes an excuse about them being too busy to get him changed, but the Grand Minister doesn’t see the problem, because he can tell that Goku’s outfit is the most important clothing he has.  Perceptive.  And Goku’s like, “well, yeah.”

And this informs the whole relationship between Zeno and Goku.  Zeno wanted to meet Goku again because he liked him from before, and he wants them to be friends and play together.  Everyone else around Zeno is terrified of getting erased from existence, so Goku is the only being he’s ever met who’s totally at ease with him.  The gods accuse Goku of being foolish or rude, but that’s not it at all.  Goku is at ease with himself, and with the universe around him.  He’s very zen, if you will, and that’s something Zeno can appreciate.

Zeno wants Goku to play with him, but Goku says he has something very important to do.  He doesn’t mention that it’s this stupid mission to fight Goku Black, because everyone warned him not to bring up the time travel stuff.  Still, he promises to return when he’s finished, and he’ll even bring another friend who’ll be more fun to play with.  Zeno agrees, and he gives Goku a magic button.  When he’s ready, he can push the button, and Zeno will instantly appear before him. 

Goku pushes it, and Zeno’s like “I’m already here, though.”  Maybe Goku was hoping a muffin would appear somewhere.

Anyway, Goku is permitted to leave, so that takes care of that business.  So what’s the rest of the episode about?   Well, we haven’t checked in on Zamasu lately so let’s see what they’re doing in Universe 10.

Fuck, we’re still here?  Gowasu was using the Time Ring to try to teach Zamasu about mortals, but all Zamasu seems to be getting from this is that the mortals they’re observing are doomed to be nothing more than violent savages.  They watch a bunch of Barbari kill each other in a battle, and then one Barbari attacks the Kais.  So Zamasu steps in and kills the poor dope.

He chops the dude in half, and it’s treated like this insane thing, like he used a cool new technique instead of the energy blade thing Salza used in the first Cooler Movie.

Gowasu is SHOCKED and OUTRAGED that his apprentice, the one who never shuts up about how they should kill all the mortals, would kill a mortal. He wants Zamasu to explain himself, but instead he just makes this goofy face.  I’d joke that Zamasu just had his first orgasm, but he wasn’t giving a speech while he killed that guy, so the conditions weren’t quite right.

So what happens when a Supreme Kai-in-training murders a mortal in cold blood?  Does he get stripped of his rank?  Is he sent to the Phantom Zone for 500 years?  No, they go right back to what they were doing before they left.  Zamasu makes more tea for Gowasu to drink, and they rehash the same dead-end conversation they had before and during their little Time Ring trip.

Let me try to summarize this brilliant rhetoric for you. 

Gowasu: Zamasu, it’s important that you appreciate the mortals. 

Zamasu: Nah, fuck ‘em.  Mortals suck. 

Gowasu: Perhaps with time, you will come to realize that mortals have the capacity to change and grow, and this potential to evolve is part of the complexity of the universe we watch over.

Zamasu: No, you’re 100% wrong.  Mortals are all evil, and anyone who tolerates their existence is also evil. 

I mean, Zamasu uses pretty words to make his points, but the message is always the same.  He despises mortals, and he really isn’t shy about expressing this opinion.  He was visibly outraged by Goku’s visit, and the only logical conclusion to his points is that mortals should all be eradicated.  Like, there’s no subtly to any of this.  The only restraint he shows is out of deference to Gowasu, and he continues to argue with him even after Gowasu tells him he needs to adjust his attitude.  Hell, he killed a mortal right in front of Gowasu. 

Like, the concept here is that Zamasu eventually becomes the big villain of this arc, but that’s the Zamasu of the future.  The Zamasu of the present hasn’t gone down that road yet, so we’re watching his origin story unfold in real time.  This is supposed to be like Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars prequels, except, no it’s not.  This is like if Anakin Skywalker married Padme right in front of Obi-Wan, and showed off his cool red lightsaber while he killed all the Sand People, and then Anakin’s tailor shows up to fit him for a new black helmet.  And every conversation between Anakin and Obi-Wan would be like “Jedi shouldn’t kill people Anakin” and “No way, killing is the best.  I fucking love evil.”

This scene is supposed to be all profound or something, which is why they put glowing cherry blossoms in it, just in case you couldn’t tell how profound and meaningful it’s supposed to be.  He’s becoming a bad guy, and his mentor can’t even tell!  How tragic!  No, Zamasu was a villain from the moment we first saw him.  All these scenes do is have him repeat his motivation over and over.  They aren’t developing his character, they’re just reinforcing the same information.  The only thing truly profound here is how blind Gowasu is to Zamasu’s shittiness.  It’s like Gowasu doesn’t even care.

I mean, let’s set aside good and evil for a moment.  Who’s to say if it’s right or wrong to kill a few zillion mortals?  Even if Gowasu were that detached from the question, he should still be deeply troubled that his apprentice, the guy he’s training to take his place some day, holds the office of Supreme Kai in such contempt.  The job is literally to care for and watch over the universe and everything living in it.  Even if wiping out mortals were the right thing to do, that’s the job of the Destroyer Gods, so if nothing else, Zamasu has demonstrated a complete failure to understand what the Supreme Kai is supposed to do. 

So you would think Gowasu would at least stop and say “You know, I don’t think you’re cut out for this work.” But it’s like he doesn’t even see the problem.  It’s like he doesn’t want to see it.  There’s glowing cherry blossoms in this scene, but all this asshole wants to do is ignore it and drink his thirty-sixth cup of tea.

Meanwhile, Goku, Vegeta, and Trunks head to Trunks’ world to take on Goku Black, but a bunch of guys start shooting at Goku, so that’s a thing.

[onyxbird]

I have a friend who is really into Lethal Weapon and Martin Riggs. And she asked me to ask you if you could please write a fic (preferably longer but whatever works) where him and the reader are in his trailer or something late at night and a few guys Riggs got into it with one time come and ruff him up a bit. Idk. I'm typing what she's saying. (She apparently loves Riggs whump) 🙄.

I got $20 bucks riding on this so can ya do me a solid and make it depressing as hell or whatever. Thanks bro.

And I'd appreciate if this could remain anonymous since it ain't my fandom and I'm just tryna do a solid for a friend. Thx.

🤨 No.

I've never offered to fill fic requests; your request in no way resembles what I write (implying neither you nor your friend have any familiarity with my writing), and I certainly don't write fic to earn someone else cash for playing middle-man.

I also don't accept anonymous asks, as you presumably saw when trying to send this.

Exceptions to any of the above would be for people I have some level of friendly two-way interaction with, not a stranger dropping into my inbox after liking a couple of posts.

Please, no one bother the sender over this, but if you've ever considered sending an ask like this, stop and reconsider how it's likely to come across.

You don't "do a solid for a friend" by asking a complete stranger to do literally all the work to make your friend happy. If you want your friend to have fic, you can: 1) write it yourself (You might think "but I won't write it well," but neither would I! This isn't what I write!), 2) commission it from a person who offers to take commissions/requests, or 3) throw out a prompt in an appropriate place (e.g., put a post in the show tag, find a blog soliciting prompts, etc.) and hope it appeals to someone.

If you have a friendly connection (interaction, not just one-way) with a someone who writes fic similar to what you're looking for, you could also ask them if they are open to requests. (My answer would still be "no" in most cases, but "I really like your fic [+ some detail about what you like about it]--would you be open to requests?" is at least a flattering question.) You probably shouldn't go that route unless you have already commented positively on existing fic they've written. If you've never read their fic and/or don't like it and/or like it but don't bother to give positive feedback, then don't ask them to write for you--that's a big favor. (And if you're going to bring money into a fic request, at least offer it to the person who would be doing the work! I don't do paid fic commissions, either, but at least offering money shows some appreciation of the labor being requested.)

[justanothershippingcan]

BIG ADDITION REGARDING THE RITSU AND SHOU BITS

So, dearest Tumblr users, there are new translations of the Fanbook that were published on 4chan. Again, ofc, we shall always take such translations with a grain of salt, but they truly seem really accurate and complete this time around. AND oh gosh, what additions they make to what we previously knew.

So, there are apparently pages titled “What do the other characters think about [insert character here]” and this is what Ritsu thinks of Shou. Very in line with his character overall and I particularly appreciate how what Shou’s VA said about them understanding each other due to being in similar situations is highlighted here. I admit that I find funny the “he’s not strong as Mob” part since, that’s true on a power level, but Shou did beat Mob in a way in S1 lol. Just a small thought.

Regading the whole Ritsu&friendship situation, I believe I expanded upon it in the previous post enough (so glad people have the same idea about Ritsu probably being autistic btw) BUT I also want to add @linktoo​ (I hope it’s okay for me to tag you) reblog, because yes, it quite fits tbh. Shou isn’t just someone he talks about the weather with and I’ll return to it in a sec! 

(Included the tags too because they are golden).

Next, we have the expanded tidbit on Shou’s friends question AND our small blorbo isn’t friendless, bless!

First, he is afraid of Horror games. Incredible, amazing. But regarding Ritsu, the fishing date seemed awkward without the last part, but no! Now we know that it was a pretty nice outing even without the fishing being involved, and they were so comfy with each other that they started talking about (quite touchy, if we consider we are talking about them) topics like their families. It truly reiterates on how similar their situations are and how they both find themselves at ease with one another.

Speaking of, even the Cultural Festival part got two small additions: one, Shou himself stating their relationship is fine, it’s going well. Second, he messages Ritsu a lot, poor Ritsu might find his phone popping off with like twenty notifs from him lol. Again, I won’t repeat what I said earlier, but it kinda implies how Shou and Ritsu just are people with different lives in terms of busy-ness, and in general, they are different in regards with communication. Ritsu isn’t as good at it and is most likely busier than Shou, so it takes him time to answer.

Last but not least. Prepare yourself, because I personally screamt.

This is still from one of the “What do the other characters think about [insert character here]”, this time, it’s Ritsu’s page. Apparently, “best friend” here is more meant to be translated as “coolest”, which is still super nice. Still... this is. Incredible fruity and not only makes it clear that Shou is another weird blorbo that truly believed Ritsu and him could become besties after he beat Ritsu up (gosh lol), but it makes the whole Suit Him line in the Maid Café scene (WHICH IS ANIME ONLY. OR AT LEAST WAS) now canon in the manga-world as well. It’s canon to ONE. 

Actually, one last thing. Remember the spin-off additions in my previous post? Well.

Gays, Ritshou truthers, Shou stans. Ultimately, I believe we won.

My thoughts on the Ritsu&Shou related parts in the Fanbook

because I am kinda going insane.

The way ONE was able to melt all the gays down in one go should be studied, analysed and locked deep in the black void of Shou’s black shirt in the Cultural Festival scene in the manga, because there’s no way. 

As a warning, while I’ll be mostly talking about their relationship in terms of friendship anyway, I ship them, so this is kinda biased on this side of things. Enjoy what I have to say under the cut.

Continua a leggere

[yandere-daydreams]

so what you're saying is that we should all not reblog, like or follow you whille still reading? understood.

Babe, just say you don’t think of writers as people and be done with it. I’m not up for the games today.

[my-mt-heart]

SF can weigh in, but I think the intention was to help people understand how these interviews are utilized. AMC needed an explanation for poor decisions that they made and as the showrunner it’s Angela’s job to deliver it. What she said about the contracts is true and that can affect the story, but that’s not why Daryl and Carol were separated all season. We’re getting too bogged down by the contracts lol

Agreed :P The contracts are a smokescreen.

Like MT says, I was trying to explain the logistics of the contracts (they don't dictate the story, but they do influence who's in a particular storyline) to illustrate that as the showrunner, you're the public face of management, even if you're not actually part of it. Interviews are to sell the product and to do damage control. If a network decision angers the viewers, you have to minimize the blame placed on your employer. A lot of the time, it means that you are the one who gets ripped to shreds on social media.

In that EW interview, the lack of Caryl had to be brought up because AMC/TWDU wants it swept away. It wasn't a question raised by the interviewer, so that's the reader's first clue that something else is going on. You can double-speak and say things perceptive people might pick up on—like referring to the contracts where correlation does not imply causation—but mostly it's a signal to others in the industry that you're not the cause of the issue. Nobody wants to hire a showrunner who fumbles and you have to look after your own professional reputation too.

While the answer is, strictly speaking, truthful, it's not the reason for the lack of Caryl and Carol.

The show had good buzz in S10 and a lot of the attention was on both Carol and Caryl. This was happening at the same time as Gimple was getting a mountain of notes on his movie script and did a million rewrites. FtWD and BW were getting a lot of criticism. This does not sit well with someone like him. Caryl can't be better liked or be the epic love story 11 seasons in the making, and the work of someone else (on the same show) can't get positive feedback, especially as it's frequently compared to previous seasons.

Apparently, if you can't succeed by doing well, you tear down the competition. Never mind that when you're working on the same project, that's your teammate, not your opponent.

[SF]

I appreciate you taking the time to shed some light. I see people directing their anger at Angela, but I think we need to continue holding the people above her accountable. Carol and Caryl mean a lot to so many people, and they aren’t just going to be swept away. AMC needs to find a real solution to the problem, not just marketing ploys, so that we can enjoy TWDU too. Hopefully they already have. You'd think our interests would align, but it concerns me a lot if someone who "keeps score" gets to be CCO and showrunner at the same time.

[pointnumbersixteen]

Random Notes from a 3:30AM Re-Watch of the First Third of S3E1: the Bone Plot

1) “Helloooo. Where’s she been hiding?” I enjoy this line because it implies that Julian is so lost in the sauce that A: he failed to notice the planning for an arrival of a costumed documentary film team while all of the upstairs ghosts (save Humphrey, being neglected again, of course) are there and watching, perfectly aware...

2) and B: he considers it entirely possible that he just totally failed to notice/find an additional Ghost in the house for the nearly 30 years he’s been there. 

3) “Maggie’s leadership style.” First, bwahahahahaha. That line makes me grin every time I hear it. Second, Julian, my guy, why would there a be a presenter in Tudor dress there to do a documentary on ‘80s politics? How squiffy is he, exactly? 

4) Also: while I appreciate that they make it clear that Julian didn’t stoop low enough to be a fan of Thatcher, I don’t know enough about UK politics to know whether the alternative to Thatcher, if you were conservative, was better or worse. Thoughts?

5) Alison, ghosts, c’mon y’all... this lady is dressed up in a Tudor costume and talking about Queen Elizabeth and a plot against her, while you all live with a decapitated Tudor era ghost. Why did it have to be spelled out before y’all put two and two together? Do they just forget Humphrey exists when he’s not around? ...Because that would explain more than it doesn’t, actually. 

6) Plenty of people have already said this, but I absolutely adore the presenter reacting to the bee and Pat laughing and going ‘one for the bloopers’ as a callback to their Horrible History bloopers. 

7) Have we ever been shown the alleged gatehouse that the B&B is gonna be in now? Because it gets mentioned every now and then but I don’t recall ever seeing it, even though we’ve seen plenty of shots of the house and driving up the driveway and such. Is there a big fancy building in one of these shots that I’ve just totally overlooked or is the gatehouse an imaginary building that we as viewers are just pretending exists? I consider both options equally possible and will be content with either, I’d just like to be sure.

8) “Are you mad?” “Context?” I love this bit of exchange between Mike and Alison, because it implies the answer to that question is sometimes probably yes and I’m like, same, Alison, same. 

9) “Bitches! Bitches!” That line will never get old to me.  

10) As a person who really enjoys the idea of linguistics but is entirely incapable of communicating in real time in a foreign language, I feel Humphrey and his sad mangled French on a spiritual level. As a member of the upper class, he almost certainly studied it at some point, as it was part of the standard education of the times... but I get it, I took six years of Spanish and can’t speak more than a few very basic sentences that I have memorized. Extemporaneous speaking just doesn’t work. I can read and write okay but in person... nope. But then, I can’t even do pretend accents or impressions or anything like that. Nothing comes out. My voice box puts out unreliable shitty working class midwestern English or nothing. Is that weird? I might be getting off topic.��   

11) I spend a lot of this episode wanting to hit Pat with a broom, which is unfortunate, because I usually love Pat.

12)  Also, that Barclay noticed the documentary early enough to plan to gate crash it- he was apparently told by Jan from the shop, who also knew- just enforces point number 1.

13) I’m glad we finally cleared up Julian’s cause of death this season and that it turned out it was the least sticky of all possible options.

14) “They’ll ask about the top! [Giggle.] That’s a fact!” I kinda feel like Obi did the ‘Butt Hoe’ thing on purpose now. On the one hand, kind of serves Mike right for pressing a friend to make him a custom tee shirt in a few hours... but on the other hand, I’m don’t think poor Alison deserved to be caught in the crossfire of that one.  

15) “That’s offensive to at least five different religions.” “There are only three in it.” I kind of want to hear what exactly the priest painted gold, now. 

16) Also, Fanny and Cap’s commentary on Pat’s joke and Pat’s response: “Give over. It’s just a harmless bit of fun,” makes me think that -while I do love his character- if he existed in real life, he’d probably be one of those casually offensive baby boomers that are insufferable. 

[thelostgirl21]

"They'll say that it's not gay and I'll answer yes it is and here is why. They can't take that away from us. We have to keep hold of our ownership of queer coding."

If you insist on wanting to speak our language, as far as I'm concerned, you better believe that the character and the relationship are now officially queer, and they belong to us!

I have mixed feelings when actors are sort of "collaborating" with the situation... i.e. When they are queer coding their character and/or relationship, while denying that any of it is being intentional on their part (i.e. adopting the studio's narrative).

But I do very much respect, and appreciate when they are clear on their own intent, and distancing themselves from the studio's decisions of not acknowledging the queerness of the situation.

The studios might try to say "This was never our intent... the actor took liberties with the character that we never agreed upon. It's their own interpretation, not the official one."

Well, guess what? The actor was working with a director and a script.

If he queer coded his character, and/or improvised certain lines to add some romantic (and/or queerplatonic) subtext to the relationship, and the director didn't force him to change the way he played the scene, you agreed with his interpretation of the character by keeping those scenes and releasing them to the public.

Oscar Isaac made Poe Dameron queer, was very open about it, often talked about his character having romantic feelings for Finn, and you didn't fire nor replace him.

I repeat: he was extremely open about all those liberties that he took with the character, and you didn't fire nor replace him.

Translation: you 100% sanctioned that queer portrayal of the character.

Officially, you were on board with it, regardless of trying to pretend otherwise.

Meaning that Stormpilot (FinnPoe) is canonically queer.

As soon as you allow the actor to make the personal choice of portraying a queer character as being queer - and don't take any steps to prevent it from happening when they are supposedly "going against your will" - you've just made that character queer!

There's no way around that.

If Oscar Isaac says he was playing a romance, and Poe would be interested in sharing a bed with Finn (the intimacy doesn't have to be sexual, but there's still a desire for physical closeness and contact implied, at the very least).

AND his portrayal of the character is heavily queer coded and fits that narrative...

Well, good news! That character is canonically romantically attracted to Finn now.

You allowed it to happen, and it's happening.

I trust the words of the actors when it comes with how they were portraying the character, above the words of anyone else in the industry, because they are the ones expressing the emotions, and the relationship dynamics they wish to convey with their character to the audience.

And sometimes, I've a feeling that they are manipulating an actor's desire to offer the community some queer representation to suit their own purposes as well

For example, Joey Batey apparently kept asking the people on the show what Jaskier's sexuality was, but couldn't get any clear answer until they got to Season 3.

This is very telling, and somewhat troubling to me.

Strategically, it's like they go "Well, let's not make any decision and wait until we have a better understanding of our fan-base's demographics to see if we should allow that character to be queer, or not.

In the meantime, we'll allow the actors to portray them as being subtly queer, you know... Just in case is might come in handy later on..."

And, as an actor, I'm guessing if there is a chance that they might agree to go with that queer representation, then you sort of have to maintain and continue to build upon that queer subtext, so that if a romance or a queeplatonic relationship does happen, then it will feel genuine, earned, and something that the queer audience would have become emotionally invested in.

Two background characters suddenly kissing out of the blue is not good, nor satisfying queer representation.

Well, actually, you can manage to create a new popular and surprisingly engaging ship between two supporting characters in 20 seconds!

One show really pulled it off.

"Shadowhunters", upon learning they'd been cancelled, managed to gift us with one a last minute canon queer ship between two supporting characters that had never met each other before on the show.

They did a brief scene of the two of them getting introduced while attending the same event, and then you could notice them sitting at a table together in the background at some point, looking happy and engrossed in their conversation, and that was it!

But it worked beautifully, because

a) One of those characters was an already established openly gay Shadowhunter, and the other one a queer coded Warlock on the show.

b) We'd been given the chance to get to know them both individually a bit before that meeting between them happened.

c) The two actors, were totally on board with it the moment it was suggested to them, had amazing chemistry together, and totally sold it!

I guess what I'm trying to say is that good representation comes from how much your audience has grown to care and identify with your queer characters, how much the writers themselves care about those characters, and whether the actor themselves experience that portrayal as something truthful to the characters they are portraying.

It comes from the heart.

Yes, that ship suddenly appeared a bit "out of nowhere", without being given any chance to evolve and grow over the course of the series itself.

But, given some of the things we knew about each individual character - and the type of emotional connection they had both individually been suggesting they might be looking for in prior scenes - pairing them together made a lot of sense.

In canon, the only direct interaction we ever had between them, was this:

And yet, that mere 20 seconds of interaction successfully sparked the audience's interest.

"Reyhill" became a beloved pairing in the TV show's universe, with plenty of fans writing fanfiction and drawing fanart about the new couple.

If you've built your queer characters well, your audience can see why they connect and care about them connecting, all you need is 20 seconds to make an emotional impact!

It also felt earned and satisfactory, because the "flagship" of the show itself was a relationship between a gay Shadowhunter and a freewheeling bisexual Warlock, that felt as epic and domestic as any cishet romance could be, and was given more love and attention than pretty much any other pairing on the show!

Despite the presence of a few stereotypes (ex: two heterosexual best friends, where the boy is secretly pinning for the girl, that become a romantic couple when she realises how much he loves her and she loves him back, etc.) and a certain lack of nuance at times (ex: their asexual character didn't even dare kiss the girl he had feelings for while they were cuddling, because he wasn't interested in sex...), they got a lot of things right, and were using queer representation in a way that was clearly intended to bring happiness to their queer audience, show appreciation, and respect.

That show had fully earned and deserved our trust, and therefore we knew that they weren't just "throwing some random queer interaction in there" to escape criticism.

Actually, it almost felt like they whent "Ah, shoot! We'd hoped we would have 1 or 2 more seasons of this, but now we've got to wrap things up! Hmm... Is there any way to make this even queerer than it already is... Wait! I know! Let's give Lorenzo and Andrew their own happy ending!"

So that "surprise relationship" that none of us saw coming genuinely felt like a pure gift! Like "Hey guys! Sorry we've got to cut this short, but we just had a thought that these two would make the most adorable couple! So, just in case you'd miss it, here's how they met! Now enjoy continuing their story!"

That's just perfect!

But this?

This is purely about a studio trying to prove that they value diversity, and giving themselves a "pat on the back" for risking the ire of the more conservative crowds on the western hemisphere; while making it easy for other places to cut all LGBTQ+ content and still agree to play the movie in theaters.

Don't get me wrong, I do love Disney, but they remain a business that ultimately makes choices based on how likely it is to profit them based on a costs vs benefits approach.

I see them as having no personal desire to bring any harm to the LGBTQ+ community, while at the same time having some limits regarding how far they are willing to take risks for them.

Quite frankly, it would be much less insulting for us if they could just openly admit "Look, you guys aren't blind. The queer coding with Poe and Finn's relationship is there. We've even inserted some parallels between Leia/Han and Poe/Finn in some scenes. However, we are unwilling to sacrifice box office numbers in anti-LGBTQ+ countries to support you. So, enjoy a good subtext instead!"

But the studio trying to deny queer intent, and using queer coding as bait, is a wrong and abusive way to use it.

And I think this is why Geraskier is such an odd beast, to me.

Because Joey Batey skillfully used queer coding with queer intent.

The way he had Jaskier interact with Geralt was queer coded because Jaskier was queer.

Because the way Jaskier experiences love for a best friend goes beyond what people typically tend to define as friendship, with a level of emotional and physical intimacy that is typically associated with romantic pairings, but doesn't depend on the presence of romance, nor is it exclusive to it.

It's an amazing example of the way an aromantic experiences love for a best friend and/or someone they wish to form an amorous connection / queerplatonic relationship with.

People on the aromantic spectrum do strongly identify with Jaskier's behavior with and love for Geralt, and that portrayal resonates with them.

Heck! It strongly resonates with people that don't identify as romantic, yet still experience those types of friendships that are technically platonic yet sit a bit in between platonic and romantic.

And truthfully, as someone that experiences both romantic love and alterous love (without feeling like one is stronger or superior to the other), I'd never been able to tell exactly what was going on between Jaskier and Geralt.

I made this fanvid back in september 2022, and wrote in the description:

"Can be interpreted as romantic Geraskier if you so wish (as most romances carry strong elements of friendship as well), or platonic Geraskier (since many friendships also have strong elements of love and commitment to them) if you'd prefer."

Because I couldn't make up my own mind re: how their dynamic felt, especially from Jaskier's perspective.

And I don't know quite exactly why. The love, the yearning for something truly intimate, the desire for companionship, and even the aesthetic appreciation was there... And yes, I absolutely adore romantic fanfictions featuring these two!

But these fanfictions tend to bring in that little "romantic push" that I felt was missing from Joey's interpretation.

I didn't even know there was a word for it back then (alterous), but even doing the freaking video, I couldn't name my own intent with it!

There's a line in the song going "It's obvious that we're not friends," that I felt perfectly worked for that friendship.

In my brain I was going "they're not friends, but they're friends", and "it's not platonic, but it is"... And somehow it made sense to me. But I wasn't sure it made sense for anyone else.

So, I basically wrote for anyone watching "please choose whatever interpretation suits you, because I've no idea how to interpret my own video!"

Today I'd say you can still interpret is as you wish, but I think my own intent and the "vibe" I was getting from these two's relationship was that alterous love that I've experienced in my own relationships with certain friends, but couldn't really have named back then.

I'll have to rewatch those scenes, at some point, to try to figure out what was going on in Joey's portrayal that had me feel like the subtext wasn't fully romantic compared to other ships where the emotional intimacy feels more romantic.

It's very subtle... It's like the expression in Poe Dameron's face here looks incredibly romantic.

It has that kind of vibe...

While Jaskier's expression here is not quite that...

He feels more like...

Like Poe and Jaskier are both completely smitten, and experience a strong sense of emotional attraction towards the man in front of them, but the exact nature of their love feels a bit different.

Joey's description here feels extremely accurate, actually...

And, like a puppy, he still needs some stronger emotional connections to certain individuals, and to be fully adopted within his found family.

And I've a feeling I'm going to eventually make a full post about it at some point, because Geralt's situation with Yennefer and Jaskier, in Season 1, is something I've sort of been able to relate to.

Because Geralt is capable of romantic infatuation, love, and has a desire to form an amorous romantic relationship with at least one romantic partner (in the show, Yennefer).

But there are moments that suggest he might, also, be able to experience alterous love and desires, and be emotionally and/or physically intimate with someone he's not necessarily romantically attracted to.

And when you've got a foot in "both worlds", navigating alterous friendships and romances can become very challenging, as it creates a form of polyamorous dynamic between everyone involved, although the exact nature of the love and the involvement varies.

Yennefer called Jaskier an "ever present sing-songy twit". So, I'm guessing that from her perspective, at least, she used to see him as a bit of an obstacle that constantly stood in the way of her relationship with Geralt.

When she and Geralt initially met, she said "Just a friend, I hope" while referring to Jaskier, and was never given an answer.

Later, when Geralt is expressing regret for what he said to Jaskier, and starts saying "he's a..." while letting his words trail off, she suggests "a friend?"

Again, Geralt doesn't confirm nor deny it.

And the fact that he leaves it open, suggests that it's not quite it.

Now, it can be read as Geralt being stubborn and refusing to admit that Jaskier is a friend, sure.

It can be read as Geralt having romantic feelings for Jaskier he's not yet ready to admit to himself or others...

Or it could also be read as Geralt struggling with the word "friend", because that's not exactly the right word to convey his actual feelings.

(Just like I couldn't exactly name the relationship I was trying to represent with my own video!)

And that's the way I personally ended up interpreting it.

The relationship is queer. It's not quite friendship, it's not quite romance. It's platonic, and yet it's not.

And from Geralt's own perspective, he may not desire a fully queerplatonic relationship with Jaskier, especially if he fears that it might prevent him from being with a romantic partner as well.

But I think he's most definitely able to experience alterous love, too.

And that he might be comfortable behaving similarly to the way a queerplatonic partner would while in the company of his closest friend(s), while still needing to connect with a romantic partner as well.

And I've kind of been there. I've had romantic partners telling me they felt like I was too close to some of my friends for their liking, and had a hard time figuring out where they stood in all of this.

For a romantic partner that does not typically experience strong alterous attraction towards their own friends, too, it can be a little confusing, disorienting, and even somewhat threatening, to find themselves with a partner that bonds so strongly with others in the absence of any romantic feelings.

So, Yennefer might have perceived Jaskier as annoying, invading her (i.e. her and Geralt's) romantic privacy, and may even have found herself envying the close emotional bond he and Geralt were comfortable sharing together.

Geralt's inability to call Jaskier a "friend" might have created some insecurities that she would gladly have done without, too.

Meanwhile, Jaskier's own dislike of Yennefer likely came from how she initially assaulted him (she grabbed him by the balls and then blew up the building, after all), perceived her as being predatory, and didn't trust her with Geralt (and/or with himself).

So, Geralt was sort of stuck with two very different loves, that didn't quite trust and barely could tolerate each other, and no clear idea how to make it work.

Because Jaskier had no idea why Geralt could love someone that was as dangerous, manipulative, and selfish as Yennefer.

And Yennefer didn't understand where Jaskier fit in all of this, among others.

It eventually all came to a head when Yennefer left, and Geralt lashed out at Jaskier!

And oddly enough, while Jaskier was absolutely not to blame, I can sort of understand why Geralt emotionally responded the way he did.

When you deeply love two people, yet each of them treat the other as a nuisance, it can put you under tremendous stress.

And, since Jaskier didn't understand Geralt's love for Yennefer, he couldn't share his heartbreak nor his grief.

For all Geralt knew, Jaskier might secretly have rejoiced that she left, might have found himself trying to convince Geralt that "they didn't need her" or that "she wasn't worth the heartbreak"...

It's not too farfetched that the idea of staying with Jaskier might have made Geralt feel like he was "taking a side" against Yennefer, too.

And Geralt really hates being forced to take sides, apparently!

Or maybe, since Geralt seems to have a rather insecure attachment style (was abandoned "for his own good" by his mother as a child, etc.), Yennefer leaving triggered his own insecurities, and he figured it was just a matter of time before Jaskier realized he wasn't good enough for anyone, either!

It's like it was easier for him to deal with the grief of losing them both - cut all emotional ties , all at once, and go back to being "The Butcher", i.e. the living shell of a person he'd become after Blaviken - rather than trying to figure out how to go on loving one of them while having lost the other; and/or facing his own fears of loss and abandonment.

As twisted as it may sound, by driving Jaskier away, Geralt remained in control of the situation and could convince himself that he didn't need him. That it was his choice to be left alone, not Jaskier that eventually realized he was a unlovable

And a part of Season 2 revolved around Jaskier and Yennefer developing an intimate understanding of each other as well - growing to love each other, rely on each other, save each other, and finally "get" what Geralt saw in the other.

They were allowed to build their own bond and deeply empathize with each other. They finally connected with each other, before each of them reconnected with Geralt.

I believe this is likely why the dynamic they share works so well in Season 3.

Geralt no longer has to choose.

Both he and Yennefer are more emotionally open and vulnerable with those they love...

Jaskier might still find Yennefer "scary" at times, but she's a "scary protector" that sometimes needs protecting, too, rather than a dangerous predator out to devour him and Geralt alive!

Geralt and Yennefer's romantic couple opens up to make room for the love they both have for Jaskier and let him share their home.

They trust him with their daughter, and the three of them are willing to join forces and risk themselves to keep her and each other safe.

And, should anything happen to any of them, the other two would be there for each other, understanding and sharing the pain and the loss together.

Perhaps they could have beautifully worked together as a romantic "trouple", too; but I do love the way they've made it work between the three of them in the show thus far.

I was just the tiniest bit worried about Jaskier and Yennefer's relationship having grown a bit more distant between Season 2 and Season 3, since they're back to being a bit more snarky with each other, but let's say that this moment in the trailer, for part 2, totally put those concerns to rest.

Maybe this is why I'm (cautiously) optimistic about Jaskier finding a way to make it work with Radovid as well...

Because Jaskier doesn't need a romantic partner to "start a family" and "build a future with".

He already has that. He has a family, people that have made a home for him with them, that share their own present and wish to include him in the future they are building for themselves, for as long as Destiny will allow it.

And Jaskier also has Vespula, and possibly other close friendships in his life, that are part of his extended family.

I mean, Jaskier didn't even know he might enjoy sharing a romantic connection with someone until he met Radovid!

So, Jaskier and Radovid are sort of perfectly suited for each other, because they each have very strong emotional commitments and/or responsibilities outside of their romance.

If King Vizimir was to die, and Radovid was to become King, I think that Jaskier would be one of the few people on the Continent that could understand and accept that he has to share the man that he romantically loves with a Queen and the rest of his Kingdom.

He would probably be very happy being the King's lover, coming to live at his court from time to time, while still being free to travel, go on adventures, stay with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri for a while, and/or spend time with Vespula, etc.

Right now, what Radovid and Jaskier have is romantic infatuation. For that primary romantic attraction to grow into actual romantic love and intimacy, they need to be able to love each other as they truly are, taking into consideration all the complexities of their respective social situations and affective needs.

And sadly, even if Radovid wished to give up the throne and his Kingdom for Jaskier, as long as he lives, he can be perceived as a potential rival for the throne. The one that would become the monarch might thus wish to have him assassinated.

And Jaskier is the one that was arguing that Ciri was a princess, and would be safer with an army at her back.

So, I think it's possible that he would rather Radovid stayed a prince/king with an army at his command, than having the two of them living on the run while constantly having to watch over their shoulder for people wanting to kill them (well, Radovid, mostly, but they'd likely murder any witness of their crime, too!).

Jaskier is no Witcher. He wouldn't be able to protect Radovid. And Geralt and Yennefer already have their hands full protecting Ciri (and Jaskier himself, when he's with them). They can't become responsible for the safety of yet another prince on the run!

Radovid tragically does not fully belongs to himself; but the parts of himself that don't belong to his birth, and his blood, and all the responsibilities that come with it, he might be able to share with Jaskier.

Pairing him with a very, very queer lover, that doesn't seem to care much about rules or social norms, is highly creative, can make the best out of the worst situations, and has never really had any romantic expectations, is kind of Radovid's best shot at finding some happiness and love for himself, too!

If he could find a Queen that he would get along well enough to rule his Kingdom with, and she would be open to agreeing to a political marriage that would leave them both free to have their own personal lives and their own lover(s), he could make it work with Jaskier.

As long as Radovid does not attempt to turn Ciri into a political pawn, or attempts to hurt Geralt or Yennefer (or Vespula, or Yarpen Zigrin, or people that Jaskier strongly cares about...), I see a lot more reasons why it would work than why it wouldn't!

And okay, I obviously have way too many feels about Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier, and Radskier, and just can't stay on topic without my brain making way too many connections! Lol!

So sorry about that...

But yeah, to get back to the actual topic, the situation with Geralt and Jaskier, and the way queer coding was used to convey queer intent, makes that particular ship uniquely complex, in a sense.

In the case of Stormpilot, or Stucky, or any other instance of queerbaiting, the subtext is entirely open to interpretation and people are free to interpret it any way they want!

And that's perfectly okay.

It's just that this time around, while people can still choose to interpret things differently, Jaskier was queer coded to express queer intent.

But it was queer coded to make it queer. Not romantically coded to make it romantic.

And, to people that don't realize how a close intimate friendship between two men can also be queer, it comes across as "queer baiting".

A sapioromantic character not romantically connecting with a best friend they love probably more than anyone on the Continent is not an example of "queer baiting".

It's queer as hell, is what it is! It's rightfully queer coded! It's queer representation!

But it feels like a much less risky representation if we look at the relationship itself alone. A lot of toxic cishet gamers are going to be upset that Jaskier is kissing a dude. They won't get upset that he might have sought a queeplatonic relationship with Geralt, or that he didn't romantically fall in love with him.

And so a bunch of people are left feeling like the show is again trying to say "No homo!", and they are angrily answering "YES, HOMO!"

Except the show is saying "Yes, homoalterous!"

And they are angrily answering "NO, HOMOROMANTIC!"

It's just very confusing and unexpected, because I can't recall anyone ever using queer coding to talk to us about aromance on a TV show!

That's why I'm totally losing my shit over what Batey did, and can't get over it!

Somehow, I just want to sit down with Joey Batey, and ask him where the inspiration came from...

I mean, you're coding rather deep into the Q+ of the LGBTQ+, here, luv...

Please continue, you are doing amazing, sweetie! But that's not a type of representation I ever would have expected to see on screen!

There's an almost surreal element to it, and I kinda want to shower his portrayal of Jaskier, and the way he has him navigating all those different relationships (Geralt, Yennefer, Vespula, Radovid, etc.), with love and recognition, so that studios take notice and let people start writing more of these characters that experience love "outside the box".

Again, so so so sorry for the ridiculous novel here, I totally got carried away and had no idea how to stop my brain!

This is an answer to @thelostgirl21 argument which says:

"queer baiting has conditioned most of us, in the queer community, to read any emotionally intimate friendship between two same-gender characters as romance."

Please don't take this personally, I really enjoy a lot of the things you've written but I disagree with this idea. I think you're missing a crucial part of queer cinema in your conclusion.

Queerbaiting is relatively new issue when it comes to queer representation. And it actually has queer people tendency to see any intimacy between same gender characters at its source. Queer people have created a language made out of subtexte throughout the previous decades because of censorship. It was our way to show representation to other queer people without cishets noticing it. It's something we've been doing since the victorian era (ex: The Picture of Dorian Gray), close male friendship was an inherent subtexte for homosexuality. It got even stronger in cinema because of the Hays code in the 30's and it's something which stayed, it's now part of our artistic language. And not only because of censorship and or need to adapt our art but also because it reflects our reality, this obligation to hide the real nature of our relationships is something very much ingrained in queer history and culture.

And to go back to queerbaiting: queerbaiting Is what happened when cishets discovered all of that storytelling language. Its what happened when being gay started to get a bit more acceptable, when gay marriage got legalised in the west, but at a time where the homophobic audience was still way to big to lose.

All of this to say that platonic and romantic interpretations of stories are not to be put against each others, they can co-exist, because there is never one true interpretation of a story.

[aquamarinescarlet]

The Psychology of You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.2k

Warnings: soft angst (I don’t know when things are angsty enough to be considered angst)

Summary: You search for answers but the girl from the library doesn’t seem to want to make it easy for you.

Author’s note: I think this is turning out pretty great, but let me know what you think!

Taglist: @helloalycia @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @trikruismybitch

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Your enjoyment was short-lived when she quickly replaced her shocked expression with a smirk.

“So you read it,” she simply stated and your hands ached to brush that victory smile off her lips.

“Explain,” you repeated.

“The plot?” She referred to the book. “Was your little brain incapable of understanding it?” She mocked in a high pitched voice, as if she was talking to a toddler.

Determined to not let her get into your nerves, you held back a sigh.

“Oh, I understood it,” you countered, “what I didn’t understand was what it had to do with all those weird questions you asked me. So, if you would be kind enough to get the screws on your brain back to work and explain it to me, I’d appreciate it.” Your tone filled with disdain.

“And why would I do that when watching you struggle is much more fun?” Your patience was starting to wear thin.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better than you think.”

“What? You’re Sherlock Holmes now?”

“Something like that.”

You didn’t reply, hoping the silence would be an invitation for her to explain herself. She didn’t catch on, or at least she pretended she didn’t. Tired of this conversation you made a move to leave. That she noticed.

“Color?” You stopped dead, turning back towards her, wanting to wipe that stupid grin off her face.

“I’m not playing this game again,” you simply stated.

“Don’t be such a bore.” She challenged.

Oh how you wished to just punch that pretty face of hers. Your need to always prove people wrong fought with your desire to leave and never see her again. Needless to say which one won.

“Blue.” To your dismay, her smile only grew wider.

“Person?”

“My cousin.”

“Place?”

“The beach.” You stifled a laugh from that subtle pun.

She walked away without another word. You waited at the table, along with her stuff.

“Here,” she handed you a thinner book this time, an orange and black cover, “good luck.” She said before taking her stuff and leaving.

Circe was the title. You’ve heard that word before, but couldn’t pinpoint where. You didn’t have time to dwell on it when Diego showed up in front of you.

“What was that about?”

“What?” You turned your gaze to the boy.

“You and that girl, she’s the one who insulted you last week isn’t she?”

“She wasn’t insulting me.” The words came out before you had time to process them.

“Oh,” he looked surprised, “so you’re defending her now? What happened to ‘she’s crazy’ and all that?”

Honestly, you were as lost as he was. Why did you defend her? Why wasn’t her presence as annoying this time as it was on your last encounter? Or, better yet, why did you agree to keep up with this little game?

Diego seemed to notice your hesitation.

“Do you plan on reading that or…?” He trailed off.

You analyzed the book and what your best friend was implying with that statement. You needed to talk to someone about it, and Diego was the perfect person, he understood you like no one did, and he knew books, maybe he might help you come up with an explanation.

As an answer to his question, you checked out the book and started to make your way to the pastry shop.

Once you were seated, each one with your respective order, you pulled out both books from your backpack and placed them in front of Diego. His eyes went wide, you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so,” you started, “the girl, from the library.”

“Yes, the one you’ve apparently grown quite fond of.” He teased.

“Not fond,” you corrected him, “I still hate her guts, but I did grow curious.”

He adjusted his position on the chair.

“Curious…” He urged you to continue.

“You remember the first time I met her?”

“The one where she called you dumb,” he recalled.

“Precisely, well, she asked those three questions-” He didn’t give you time to finish.

“Yes, a color, a person and...”

“A place,” you reminded him, “those were weird questions, but she somehow used them to recommend me this book.” You raised the The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo copy.

“If I remember correctly though, you had left it on the shelf before you stormed away.”

“I went back on friday,” he gave you a skeptical look, “curiosity got the best of me, what can I say?” You defended yourself. “Anyways, that’s not the point, I read the book and it had nothing to do with any of the answers, or at least not in an obvious way.”

You watched Diego pick up the book and leaf through it.

“What were your answers?”

“Red, you and as far away as possible.” He sat in silence with those words for a second.

“I can see the connection with the place.” He stated.

“I saw it too, kind of, I’m not sure.” You motioned for him to put the book back down and pay attention to your problem. “Today she refused to explain the connection, and she made the questions again.” His eyes drifted to the second book.

“And you answered them.” It wasn’t a question, although you could sense his confusion.

“Blue, my cousin and the beach,” you looked at him pleading, “do you have any idea how they connect?”

He did the same with Circe. Almost studying the book.

“The cousin maybe, for this one, but no, sorry.” You let out a sigh of disappointment.

You leaned back, relaxing your body against the chair. The coffee was only stressing you out more. Your mind swirling with questions just exponentiated your eagerness to go home and read this one, and try to make some sense of the girl’s mind.

Despite that, you made an effort to actually engage in Diego’s conversation, which thankfully shifted to a different topic, instead of letting your mind drift back to the girl from the library. How could a stranger occupy your thoughts so easily? You didn’t even know her name.

An hour later you were back home, lying comfortably on your bed, the book in your hands.

When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.

That sounds like some paranormal shit, you thought to yourself. You were wrong… well, depending on the perspective, you were wrong. It wasn’t paranormal, it was mythology, Greek mythology to be exact.

Maybe that’s where you’ve heard that word before, ‘Circe’. It was the name of a character from those stories, those beliefs. Diego had gone through the classic mythology-obsessed fase as a kid, you might have heard him mention it during his everlasting monologues about the Gods and all their shenanigans.

You barely made it to chapter two before being hit by a throbbing headache. The medicine cabinet didn’t have anything that helped, and no one else was home to go out and buy more, you certainly weren’t in the state to do it yourself, so you opted to just lay down and rest your eyes hoping it would pass on its own.

It didn’t. At least not before you fell asleep.

Darkness flooded your room, the house was dead silent. You checked your phone, 4am. It didn’t come as a surprise that you still had your clothes from yesterday on. You stumbled towards the bathroom, your body oddly light from the sleep, your muscles stiff from the uncomfortable position.

The headache was gone, thankfully, but so was the tiredness. You had four hours before you had to be up and was hoping to get some extra sleep, but kept tossing and turning, wide awake.

Giving up, you turned on your lamo and picked up the book on your nightstand. The story wasn’t as mysterious as the last one, but it managed to catch your interest quickly. It told the story of Circe, a nymph who has been disowned by her parents due to her not-so-attractive looks.

Was this the girl’s way of telling you she thought you were ugly? You scoffed at the idea, she wouldn’t go that low. Plus, it’d be a lot of work just to tell you something so petty and stupid.

As you advanced on the reading you tried to pick on little details that would clue you to the connection it had to the questions she asked. You even tried to find points in common with the previous book she had recommended, and some came to mind, but nothing that helped solve the full puzzle.

This one was taking longer than expected. Between classes, practice - in which the coach was making you do lighter exercises - and the headaches you’d get from staring too long at the small words, you were reading at a much slower pace than you’d usually do.

On Friday the headaches had finally subsided, and to celebrate you invited Diego to the arcade.

As always, the simple prospect of going to the arcade kept your thoughts about the girl and her books in the back of your mind. For the time being you even forgot about Circe, which you were only halfway done with.

The music, the lights, the dust, none of those affected you at all, nor did they give you anymore headaches. You pulled Diego excitedly, beating him at all your favourite games. The owner was familiar with the both of you, offering extra coins and making conversation throughout your stay there.

“C’mon, give up, these things are rigged.” You said to Diego, who was playing on the Claw Machine for the third time.

“It’s not rigged, it’s physics.” He explained whilst concentrating.

“It’s luck,” you laughed lightheartedly as he lost yet again, “and you don’t seem to be having any.”

He scoffed at you and inserted another coin, you just rolled your eyes at his insistence. You were getting bored of waiting for him when you were surprised by a voice coming from behind you.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” You turned around and were met by the boy with silver hair.

“Pietro,” you exclaimed, “I could say the same about you. Don’t you live like... on the other side of town?” You remembered from the day you dropped him off after the party.

“Nope, I live a few blocks away.” He gestured to his right. “That was my folks’ place.” He explained, sensing your confusion.

“Really? Then how have I never seen you here before?”

“I don’t come that often.”

“Well, you should, this place is awesome.” You said dreamily.

“Sure is.” He agreed, and you heard someone coughing behind you, suddenly being reminded that Diego wouldn’t know the boy.

“Right, Diego this is Pietro,” you introduced them, “he’s Angie’s… uhm,” you looked at him quite unsure of how to explain, “friend?”

“For now.” He gave you a wink and you were pleased by that. He was good to Angie, and it was about time she fell for someone decent.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Diego said.

“You too.”

“Y/N I have to go,” Your best friend turned to you, signalling to his phone, “my mom needs me to pick up Iz.” His little sister.

“That’s too bad, I was just about to ask you to show me your favourite games here since you know it well.” Pietro looked at you.

“Are you fine to go by yourself?” You asked Diego with pleading eyes.

“By myself?” He brought his hand to his chest feigning offense, but quickly laughed it off. “Sure, have fun.”

You bid your goodbyes, thanking him again for not complaining about you staying without him. Despite this being you guys’ place, it was the place where you could destress, and you certainly didn’t want to leave yet.

Pulling Pietro by the arm, you presented him to all your favourite games, teaching him how to play some, and getting beaten by him on others. He had talent, you had to admit. After at least an hour of playing, laughing and friendly teasing each other, your stomach started to grumble.

“Someone’s hungry.” Pietro joked.

“Maybe,” he didn’t seem to believe you, “okay, yes.”

“Let me take you to dinner.” You looked at him with an eyebrow raised and he rolled his eyes at your insinuation. “Not like that, I just know a place a few blocks away, plus, I’m also starving.”

You quickly agreed and he took you to this place that sold pizzas by the slice. Your eyes went wide with the variety of options you could choose from.

Once you both had chosen three slices each, you sat down at one of the tables.

“So,” you started, “why don’t you live with your parents if they are in the same town as you?”

“They were very strict about bringing girls around,” you both laughed, “so me and my sister decided to move out, we wanted some freedom y’know”

“Sister?” You asked curiously.

“Twin, yes.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you had a sister, have I met her?”

"Doubtful, she isn’t one for socializing, spends all her time with her face buried in books and studies.”

“She and Diego would get along quite well then.” You joked.

“If he’s as shy and sweet as she is, then definitely.” He added.

Conversation shifted to several different topics from there, and after eating five or six slices of pizza you decided it was time to go home.

Pietro walked you home with the promise of getting revenge on the games he had lost in the arcade.

A good shower was much needed, your muscles happily relaxing with the hot water. Settling on your bed, your eyes found the book sitting on the nightstand. You picked up from where you had left, hoping to finish it that night. You didn’t, you fell asleep half an hour later.

You did finish it on Saturday morning, and after lunch you planned to go directly to the library. As you were about to leave the thought that she might not be there passed your mind, so you packed your backpack. In the worst case you’d spend the afternoon studying instead of getting answers from her, plus, you could use some time to catch up on your classes, the headaches leaving you slightly behind throughout the week.

As it turned out, your intuition was correct. She wasn’t there. So you settled yourself in one of the empty tables, scattering notes and textbooks all over it.

You almost laughed at the scene. You were willingly in a library, you were spending more time than needed in said library, you had two novels on the table, two novels that you had read in the past week. That was so different from you, and you didn’t regret it one bit.

Could you have just ignored that girl the first time you met? Yes, you could.

Could you have ignored her the second time you met? Also yes.

But you didn’t, you played along, you engaged in her little mystery game. You let her invade your mind, your thoughts. You let her steal all your focus, which should be on the notes sitting on the table, seemingly forgotten.

Speaking of the devil, your train of thought was cut short by a presence taking a seat across from you.

It was her. She stared at you for a few seconds, none of you saying anything. Without breaking the silence, she took out some of her own notes and started to read over them.

You wanted to say something, you wanted answers, but you found yourself at a loss for words. She was sitting right there, you just had to ask, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Was it because the last time you asked so bluntly she found a way around it? Probably. It was the most logical reason, although it didn’t feel like the right one. That only seemed to increase your anger towards her, you were quick witted, the words always at the tip of your tongue. But somehow this girl changed that, and you still didn’t know her name.

You must’ve been staring for a while when she cleared her throat, breaking you away from your daze.

“I thought you hated libraries.” She simply stated.

You didn’t know how to reply, she wasn’t wrong and you weren’t willing to admit she was the reason you were here.

“It helps me concentrate.” Her gaze met yours.

“Sure.” The glint in her eyes told you she didn’t believe it and you felt shy for being caught. “You don’t seem to be concentrating tha much.” She challenged.

“I would if you left.” Your tone was one of pure annoyance, she didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Are you implying I’m distracting?” She added playfully, a smirk on her lips.

You just wanted to reach over and wipe that off of her. Instead you let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes for a few seconds, determined to not enter into another argument with her that would distract you from what you wanted.

“I read it,” you tossed over Circe to her side of the table, “I still don’t get it.” You admitted.

She reached over for the book, brushing her fingers over the cover. The smirk was gone, now replaced by a playful grin. Somehow that was even more annoying. She was enjoying this, taunting you, keeping you on your toes trying to figure her out.

“You are quite slow aren’t you?” You huffed loudly in frustration.

“Is there even a logic behind those questions? Because I’m starting to think there isn’t any and you’re just doing this to annoy me.”

“Color?” You rolled your eyes, you weren’t falling for it as fast this time.

“Why me though? You don’t even know me.”

“Color?” She insisted.

“I don’t like to read, this will get you nowhere.” You kept trying.

“Color?” Swallowing back a growl, you got up abruptly, startling the girl.

“You know what?” You started to shove your stuff back into your backpack. “I’m not playing this anymore, either you tell me now or I’ll leave.”

You hoped she would give in to your ultimatum, she didn’t. She just stared at you.

“Color?” You shook your head with disbelief, taking your stuff and walking away.

You didn’t want to come back here ever again. The nerve she had. Your blood was boiling with rage. Yet you stopped dead on your tracks once the exit came into view. Something kept you from moving, from leaving and you had no idea what it was.

Before you knew it you were face to face with her, no longer on the table but in the middle of the infinite shelves filled with books. Your nose inches from hers. She was taken by surprise, her eyes went wide and her breathing became heavy.

“Black, my grandpa, the arcade down the street.” You stated with a seriousness you’d never had before.

She didn’t smirk, didn’t grin, her eyes no longer had that glint of playfulness it had earlier. She reached her hand out, without moving her eyes away from yours, giving you a thin book you didn’t even bother to look at.

You held on to that position for a few seconds longer than necessary, not quite sure why you did it, before moving away with a look of displeasure from giving in to her once again.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

View all 9,208 comments

caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[panda-writes-kpop]

Chapter Twelve (Avengers AU): Be Running Up That Hill

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! Hope everyone's doing well! 💖

Avengers AU Masterlist | Masterlist

TW: Bows, arrows, target practice, Y/N has a severe case of deja vu, implied black out (?), cursing

Life had been much slower after you came home from New Asgard, and to be honest, you weren’t complaining, at least for the first few days. Without major superheroes breathing down your neck or the pressure to keep a room above your head, you finally had some breathing room to do as you pleased.

Doing as you pleased turned out to be very boring and uneventful, and you hated it. All of that time you spent wishing that life would slow down was wasted, apparently.

It was the same old routine every day. You’d wake up at around the same time, wear one of the same fourteen outfits, get something decent for breakfast, and then head out to wander the streets of New York City. This was fun at first, but it quickly grew boring once you realized that the limitless city did have limits to it, after all.

You were tempted to pick up your phone and call someone, but what was the point? Yoohyeon, JiU, and Siyeon were searching for an M.I.A. Handong, Gahyeon was busy being “The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Girl!”, and Lia, Irene, and Dami, of all people, were working together to keep “the order of the natural and cosmic world as it should be”.

As you scan through your phone contacts, you notice that there is one name that has yet to give you any sort of update on their condition: SuA.

As any curious soul does, you send a quick text to make sure that she’s alright.

Y/N: Hey, SuA, I haven’t heard from you in a while! I know you’re supposed to keep a low profile after everything that has happened, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you and catching up for a while!

You set your phone down for a moment to think about what you might want to prepare for dinner, and as you figure out what you want, you hear your phone go off.

SuA: I missed hearing from you, or from anyone else, to be honest. It’s a little boring where I’m at, if I’m being honest. I have to check it over with the person who’s safeguarding me, but I wouldn’t minding seeing your beautiful face~

Y/N: Let me know when you hear back from them. I also look forward to seeing your beauty in person once again. <3

~

As you’re preparing to head to bed, the phone on your nightstand buzzes.

SuA: She said it’s okay because she ran it past Irene, and Irene said that it would be good for me to have a bit of company, and she said you could use the company too.

Y/N: I guess she could tell that we’re both going a bit crazy due to the lack of anything happening? XD

SuA: I don’t know, I really don’t mind being out here. It’s peaceful and serene. Reminds me of life before my powers.

Y/N: Do you ever wish that you didn’t have powers?

…Don’t feel pressured to answer that, it was a bit forward on my part.

SuA: No, I don’t mind answering it. It’s only natural that you’d be curious about my powers. You’re not the first, and you most certainly will not be the last.

To be honest, I do sometimes wish that I did not have my powers, but again, I know that my life would be completely different than it is now. I wouldn’t have met wonderful people like you, who remind me of the goodness in the world.

Y/N: Me and goodness?!? That seems like a bit of a stretch, but I appreciate the flattery.

SuA: You deserve all of the flattery that anyone in the world could ever give.

Y/N: Aww, SuA, I’m blushing! That’s very sweet of you to say. <3 Do I need to worry about plane tickets or anything, assuming that you’re about as far away as I think you are?

SuA: I heard that Irene would take care of everything, so you’re all good.

Y/N: Can I ask you one final question?

SuA: You already did! :D

Y/N: I’m going to choose to ignore what you just said.

Who exactly is safeguarding you, if you’re able to say?

SuA: She’s a friend of Siyeon AND Irene, believe it or not.

I believe her name is Chaeryeong, but I could be wrong. She’s not exactly the friendly type, and I haven’t been here long enough for her to trust me with more than simple tasks and small talk.

You might know her as Hawkeye, though.

Y/N: Yeah, that name certainly rings a bell.

I should go to bed soon, and I encourage you to do the same! Goodnight, SuA! Get lots of rest.

SuA: Goodnight, Y/N!

~

This part of Iowa looks a bit different than you would have pictured it, but you didn’t mind the endless seas of cornfields with the occasional green John Deere tractor scattered across the field.

You did have to pay the airport taxi a nice chunk of change to get you out this far, but the money would be well-spent if you got to see a friend once more.

Based on her texts, I would say that SuA has missed me as much as I have missed her.

You chuckle at the thought as your taxi driver takes a sharp left turn onto a dirt field that appears to lead to nowhere.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” The taxi driver asks as the road becomes bumpy and nearly undriveable.

“It has to be.” You look at your phone as you double-check the address that Irene sent you.

Yeah, this is the road that Hawkeye lives on.

“There was a mailbox back there with a matching house number, so I can only hope that you’re right and that you’re not trying to kidnap me.”

If I wanted to kidnap you, I would’ve done it much sooner. Believe me on that one.

“There, in the distance!” You point at a very tiny building that pops up far in front of you. “That has to be it!”

“I hope you’re right.” They grumble as they continue to drive towards the home.

~

“Y/N!” SuA yells as you unload your luggage from the taxi. You’re able to get your things and wave off the taxi before SuA attacks you with a hug.

“SuA! I missed you.” You say as you wrap your arms around her.

“You’ve been well, I assume?” She asks before letting you go.

“It’s been an interesting past couple of days.” You admit.

“You’ve got to tell me everything, but first, I should introduce you to Chaeryeong.”

~

As you walk up the grass hill, you can hear the very quiet yet noticeable sound of an arrow whizzing through the air.

“You’d think that a house far off the beaten path would be enough for a reclusive person like Chaeryeong, but she still walks all the way out here to practice shooting.” SuA jokes as you reach the top of the hill.

“Well, for some people, far away isn’t far enough away.” You try to explain as you observe Chaeryeong as she watches the arrow hit a tree in the distance.

“She won’t notice us unless we say something.” SuA explains, and you nod your head.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind watching her for a while. I don’t want to interrupt or anything.” You plop down on the grass, and SuA does the same as Chaeryeong prepares to fire another arrow.

“So… you never exactly told me how you knew Siyeon, JiU, or Yoohyeon.” SuA says after Chaeryeong pulls the bow back before taking a deep breath.

You watch in silence as Chaeryeong lets the arrow fly through the air.

“Believe or not, I met Siyeon while I was grocery shopping in my hometown. As for JiU, I met her about twenty minutes before we were taken by Irene. Yoohyeon, on the other hand, was my childhood best friend growing up. We did everything together. She even dragged me to an archery class when we were in middle school. She never was any good, but neither was I.”

The arrow perfectly slices through the one that was already embedded deep in the tree, and without missing a beat, Chaeryeong turns to you.

“You took archery classes with Yoohyeon?”

Your head snaps over to SuA.

“I thought you said she wasn’t listening-”

“Whoops, my bad!” SuA giggles as Chaeryeong walks over to the both of you.

“I can multitask, believe it or not. Being an Avenger taught me that.” Chaeryeong offers you a hand. “I brought an extra bow over that needs some adjustments made to it, but I need someone else to shoot it first so I can see what’s wrong with it.”

“And you want me to do it?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, which causes a slight smile to appear on Chaeryeong’s face.

“If JiU trusts you, then I do.” Chaeryeong calmly says.

Well, I guess I can’t argue with that reasoning.

You take her hand before standing up.

“You’re not the first person who’s spoken highly of JiU.”

“You’re talking about Lia, right?” Chaeryeong asks as she grabs the bow and hands it to you.

You let go of her hand, and you gently run your hand over the lower limb of the bow.

“Yeah, I am. Didn’t think I’d get the chance to meet all of the Avengers in-person, but here we are.” You mutter under your breath as you grab an arrow off of the ground.

“JiU’s a good person. Too good for the world, if you’re asking me.”

“Sweet yet deadly, right?” You ask before taking a deep breath.

You can do this, Y/N. You just have to draw the bow back and release the arrow from your hand.

You don’t have to think as you pull the bow back with the arrow securely in your grip.

One chance, Y/N, you can’t mess up.

You blink, and for a moment in time, the world around you slows down. Chaeryeong is only a foot or two away from you with an unreadable expression on her face, and SuA is sitting on the ground while silently cheering you on with an infectious smile.

“Y/N-ah, don’t tell me you’re scared~” A familiar voice taunts you from inside of your head.

You do your best to not react as you respond to the voice.

“Yoohyeon? What are you doing here?”

You don’t break focus as your eyes focus on your target.

Hit the tree. It’s no different than a standard target.

“We were supposed to walk home from school together! Don’t you remember, or did you already forget? And I thought I was the ditzy one-” Yoohyeon teases, but her voice sounds different from when you last spoke to her.

It’s as if we’ve gone back in time. She sounds youthful and hopeful, like the world hasn’t had the chance to crush her dreams yet.

“Tch, as if.” You brush off her teasing, just as you’ve done a million times before.

It hits you that you’ve quite literally had this conversation before.

~

When you were in middle school, you decided to stay after school one day a week to try and improve your archery skills. The range was always open to members and non-members to use, so you took advantage of that.

You, apparently, had forgotten that Yoohyeon had asked you to walk her home that day. She usually walked home with the girl that lived right next to her house. That day, Yoohyeon’s neighbor was sick, so apparently you were a good substitute because her mom didn’t trust her to walk home alone. You didn’t question it since you wanted to be on her mom’s good side, after all.

You were preparing to fire the last shot of the afternoon when Yoohyeon ran into the practice range. You didn’t notice until she spoke to you, and to be honest, she was lucky that you didn’t overreact or get scared. Moments like this usually caused you to be completely focused, and you didn’t tend to notice the outside world until you had to.

“What are you up to?” Yoohyeon cocked her head as you subtly rolled your eyes.

“What do you think, Einstein?” You sassed back to her as she huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“The sarcasm is unnecessary-”

“You came and interrupted me, so yes, Yoohyeon, I do think it is necessary.”

“Okay, well, if you want me to leave so badly, then I will.” Yoohyeon sighed heavily, and you turned your head to her for a moment.

“No, you should stay. You’re my lucky charm, after all. Maybe I’ll finally hit the bullseye when you’re here.”

You watched as Yoohyeon turned red at your words.

“You really think I’m your lucky charm?” The softness in her voice was unmistakable, as was the tension between the two of you.

You turned your head back to the target as you finally felt ready to release the arrow.

“No, I know that.”

You had let go of the arrow, and you watched as it whizzed through the air and landed directly in the middle of the board.

Bullseye, you thought, and it sure did hit where you aimed it.

You remembered how Yoohyeon screamed and gave you a big hug while you were still in shock.

“Y/N!! You really did it! I’m so proud of you.”

After she finished speaking, she pressed a soft kiss to your check. You were extremely flustered, but you tried to play it off in the best way you knew.

“It was all thanks to you, Yooh.”

Her warmth was the best part of that whole day. You weren’t sure if it was because of your aim, or because she kissed you, but you replayed that day over and over in your mind for many years to come.

~

You blink again, only to realize that you’re not at a practice range in your hometown, but rather on a grassy hill in the middle of Iowa.

What did I-

You realize that the arrow had already left your hands, and it had indeed hit your mark. A few inches below Chaeryeong’s arrow was your arrow, firmly lodged into the tree.

Did I really zone out that bad, or was the memory so strong that it took over my consciousness? How the hell did I do that?

Your thoughts continue to race as you tightly grip the bow in your hands.

“Nice shot, Y/N.” Chaeryeong says before taking the bow from your hands. “Let me know if you ever want to practice while we’re here. I wouldn’t mind having someone to shoot with every once in a while.”

You blink at her for a moment before you respond.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

I really should go to bed soon. Maybe I’m just really tired, and I was daydreaming. While I was daydreaming, I managed to launch the bow. It’s an unlikely theory, but it’s the best one I have at the moment.

You turn to SuA as Chaeryeong grabs her bow and another arrow.

“You wouldn’t mind giving me a tour of the place, would you?”

SuA scrambles to get off of the ground, and you chuckle at her.

“I’d love to, Y/N!”

[shig-a-shig-ah]

GOOD CLEAN FUN

» pairing: chisaki kai x fem!reader

» cw: noncon, somnophilia, oral sex, medical kink, needles (brief mention) 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Quirkless AU! This was written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9 to 5 Server collab.

» wc: 5k

» ao3 mirror

Dentistry is a disgusting profession. It makes Chisaki's skin crawl, the poor care people take of themselves, and he frequently regrets being pushed into this family business of staring down filthy gullets all day, though he takes sadistic pleasure in refusing to be gentle with the worst of his patients. Why should he be, when they obviously have such disregard for their own health and hygiene? No, in those cases he takes great satisfaction in ripping the rot out by the root with nothing but pliers and his own brute strength.

Some days, though...some days there are patients like you, who make it all worth while. Patients who are clean.

You make yourself such an easy mark too, though Kai had expected as much after Kurono so slyly told him that he'd probably want to take care of the new patient in room two personally. Hari wasn't wrong; you're trembling when Kai enters the exam room, staring wide-eyed at the tray of neatly-arranged stainless steel instruments next to the chair in which you're reclining, fingertips gripping at the armrests. You're chewing at your lip too, as though your nerves weren't already apparent enough, those perfectly white, straight teeth digging into your plump lower lip in a way that's practically obscene. Even without a closer look Chisaki can tell what good care you take of that cute little mouth, and it's enough to send his cock twitching.

He takes a seat on the stool next to you as he introduces himself, careful to keep the excitement from his voice and to squint his eyes just right so that you'll know he's smiling even behind the surgical mask he wears, the one that both protects him from those much filthier than you and keeps you from seeing just how cold that grin really is. Your own smile is much more obviously forced, but he likes that you try - it's endearing that you're working hard to be brave even when you look close to tears with anxiety. Of course, he also likes that you're scared, likes that extra little bit of power over you, and that it will make all the easier for him to take advantage, because he's already decided he has to have you.

It's impossible for you to remember how or why this dentophobia started. You can only remember being dragged kicking and screaming to the dentist as a young child, your mother scolding you for refusing to behave. As you got older you managed a little more self-control, but while you can force yourself into the chair, you can do nothing to stop the way you shake and your heart races. It's only made worse by the obvious annoyance you face when practitioners have to deal with you; you know they think you're stupid or immature for this reaction you can't control.

The man before you, however, is smiling sympathetically, gold-flecked eyes crinkling with concern in a way you appreciate. He's handsome even with half his face covered, all bright eyes and perfect dark hair, and your cheeks heat up when he asks if you're nervous. You force out a meek nod, and he chuckles softly.

"No need to be self-conscious. It's a common fear," he says. "But we do offer sedation, if that's something you're interested in. It can help with the nerves."

Your brow furrows slightly. It's not an option you've been offered before, hadn't even realized it was a possibility. "Sedation? Like, put me under?"

"No," he says, chuckling softly again as he turns to the monitor by the chair and starts scrolling through what you assume is your file. "Nothing as severe as that, at least not for a routine cleaning. Just a little nitrous oxide to help take the edge off."

That you have heard of, but always thought it was only used for more intense procedures. "That's laughing gas, right?"

"That's the colloquial name for it, yes. It'll numb you some and help you relax. Although it might make you a little giggly, as the name implies. Some of my patients even enjoy it." Your face heats up again when his intense gaze lingers on you, not just with embarrassment this time, and a small titter escapes you.

Chisaki can't believe his luck with you, if he's being honest. You're exactly his type, and as he expected your dental records are flawless - never so much as a cavity. He's confident too that you'll accept what he's offering with as anxious as you are, and your reaction to his presence. He's not surprised by that; Kai knows the effect he has on people when he tries. Probably he doesn't even need to go through the great lengths he does to get people like you into a compromising position, but he enjoys the process. It's easier this way, with access to medical records so he knows what he's touching, and an army of sedatives to ensure he's perfectly in control of these encounters.

You only deliberate for a moment before nodding and giving him the answer he knew you would. "Okay, I guess I can try it."

The smile he gives you this time is actually genuine as excitement blooms in his gut. "I think you'll find it really helps," he says, daring to rest one hand on your forearm briefly. Even through the thin latex of his gloves, he can feel that your skin is soft, and he feels another pang of anticipation. Then he stands up. "I have to supervise the sedation, so I'll take care of your cleaning and exam personally. I'll be right back and then we can get started."

Your chest is still tight with anxiety as he situates you, arranging a strange mask over your nostrils and instructing you to breath deeply through your nose, but once you catch the scent of that slightly sweet gas being pumped into your lungs, the effects are almost immediate. The tension in your chest abates, your whole body going light and tingly, and suddenly you can't remember what you were ever so afraid of. When Chisaki tells you to open wide, you don't even hesitate, doing so immediately and sticking your tongue out slightly, making an exaggerated 'ahhhhh' sound and then giggling a little, though you couldn't say why.

"I can see it's working already," Chisaki says. He's unable to keep the breathiness out of his tone this time, but he trusts you're too distracted to notice. The way you'd opened so obediently, and the sight of your little pink tongue poking out lewdly has his cock hardening already, and he's only barely begun. He can't stop himself from reaching out, pushing that wet muscle back into your mouth with one finger, letting it linger on your tongue a moment longer than necessary to feel the heat of it before pulling away, but you only giggle at the slightly inappropriate act.

Despite his straining erection begging for relief, Chisaki still has a job to do, and he works with well-practiced efficiency as he goes through the process of cleaning your teeth. The anticipation is as much a part of this as anything else, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the buildup. He's not a masochist by any means, but these little self-denials are gratifying, only serve to make the end result that much sweeter. Still, he can't help but find himself occasionally distracted by the way you laugh every time he gives you an instruction to open wider, or tilt your head, noticing the way your chest bounces slightly beneath your tight top, and how you lie with your legs slightly spread, so inviting.

Normally he waits until he can render patients like you truly helpless before he touches them, recommending elaborate procedures that they don't realize are entirely unnecessary, but then again most patients don't request or accept sedation for such routine procedures as this. He reaches over to the tank of nitrous oxide, increasing the dose slightly and watching as you slump a little more in the chair, and then he reaches out to trail one gloved hand up your thigh and over your clothed center.

You've barely felt anything this whole time, aware of him working at your teeth but not really registering it, too overwhelmed by the way your whole body feels pleasantly tingly and numb, and it's only after he's ceased fussing over your mouth that you start to notice another sensation, a building tension between your thighs that makes you squirm, a small whine escaping you. Your eyes, closed to defend against the bright overhead light, flutter open, but you can't see him hovering over you anymore.

"We're almost finished," Chisaki says calmly when you whimper again as that slight pressure continues to build. "I just need to enter some notes in your file, and then finish the actual exam."

From out of your line of sight he can see the way you're frowning, your cheeks puffing up slightly with discomfort and arousal, obviously confused. He presses his fingers more firmly against your clothed cunt, palming himself through his pants with his other hand. It's bolder than he'd usually be, but for once he's struggling with restraint, just can't bring himself to wait until he's found some excuse to render you more wholly unconscious in his chair.

"I just...I feel a little funny," you whimper, and then giggle again.

"That's normal," he says, continuing to massage your sex, noticing the way your hips twitch when he strokes over just the right spot. "Some people feel numbness, or a little pressure. As long as nothing hurts, there's nothing to worry about."

You nod, letting your eyes fall closed again. You can't quite help your thighs from twitching; it's a strange feeling, the knot tightening deep in your stomach even as you feel so numb and tingly, and when it intensifies further you feel a stab of shame as you realize exactly what's happening, that you're going to cum even as you try to hold yourself back.

Kai knows it's risky, that all you'd have to do is turn your head and open your eyes to see his straining arousal, but he can't stop himself from working his pants open as quietly as possible and stroking himself properly as he watches the struggle on your face, the way you bite at your lip and obviously try to ignore the sensation, apparently ready to believe this is some spontaneous reaction to your drugged-up state and not his fingers working over you.

Despite the fact that you try to resist the sensation, the tingling in your body intensifies around your clit until your legs are shaking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing and a mortifying whine escaping you. Through your giddiness, however, the humiliation is short-lived, nearly forgotten the moment you find yourself giggling at your own orgasm.

The sight of you quivering as you cum, entirely unaware of his hands on you, only further erodes Kai's patience. "I just need to take one last quick look," he says, and then without waiting for your response he's releasing his cock momentarily, using gloved fingers from both hands to pry your mouth wide again. You squirm slightly when he forces those fingers deep in your mouth, but he removes one hand just as quickly, returning those spit-soaked fingers to his throbbing shaft and fisting himself more urgently. If you can hear the faint wet sounds the action brings, he trusts that you won't question them.

Fuck, and he's close already, the sight of your pink tongue lolling against his fingers only sending the coil in his gut tightening further, and he shoves his fingers a little deeper towards the back of your throat, feeling the muscles there spasm as you gag at the invasion.

"I'm sorry if this is a bit unpleasant," he says shortly, too caught up in the way you look with his fingers probing your mouth to maintain that congenial tone. Even through the gloves he can feel the heat and wetness of your mouth, and it sends shivers down his spine. "This should only take a minute. You have a small mouth - it's difficult to see with your tongue in the way."

He presses his fingers further, not sure why he's explaining himself when you're so obviously unbothered. You're only nodding, spit running down the side of your chin as you salivate around his fingers. On most anyone else he would find the sight nauseating, but seeing your innocent face so debased only spurs him closer to his release. He squeezes his length more tightly, letting the spit-slicked palm of his gloved hand rub over his tip with every stroke, the fingers of his other hand continuing to invade his throat while you simply lay there and take it, and when you finally let out a moan of real distress at the feel of his fingers in the back of your throat, it's enough to send him over the edge, his cock spasming and hot spurts of cum shooting into his gloved hand.

The moment his cock stops twitching he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, stripping off his fouled gloves and tucking himself back into his pant before you can so much as open your eyes. When he turns back to you again, you're staring at the ceiling, grinning slightly with shiny, wet lips.

It takes a few minutes for your head to clear once he removes the mask from your face, and by then you only have the vaguest sense that anything about the experience was strange, and even then it was still vastly more pleasant than any of your prior dental experiences, albeit embarrassing in a slightly different way than usual.

Chisaki waits for you to seem cognizant before drawing your attention to the monitor by the chair. His boldness in touching you did little to truly satisfy him, only made him more eager to fuck you properly, to feel the heat of your tongue against his cock instead of his fingers, and to bury himself in that cunt that responded so sweetly to his touch.

"Your teeth are mostly in good shape," Chisaki says. "But I'm afraid you do have one small cavity. Here, see?" He points at one of your x-rays on the screen, a perfectly healthy tooth but he's confident you won't notice that, that you don't know what to look for, and sure enough you're only nodding, eyes wide. It's adorable, that fearful look on your face. He almost wishes there were a way for you to keep that expression when he has his way with you. "It's only a small one. But I'd recommend a stronger sedative for it, if your nerves are that much of a problem."

"Stronger?"

"It requires an IV," he explains, "and you wouldn't be able to drive yourself home afterwards. You'll still be conscious, technically, but you won't be aware of much."

The idea of having your tooth drilled into already has you quaking, the last traces of your buzz gone, and you agree at once. "Okay. I guess I can ask my roommate to drive me." She probably won't mind; you two do each other favors fairly regularly.

Kai's glad to hear you don't mention a boyfriend. It wouldn't matter in the end, if you had one or not, but the idea of some other man's hands on you still sends a jealous, possessive stab through him. He prefers to believe that he's the only who's touched you, that there aren't others out there tainting you with their filth.

"Great," he says, giving you another one of those reassuring smiles. "Let's get you scheduled."

***

It's a matter of days before you're back again, Kurono having conveniently found a 'cancellation' in the schedule to slot you in. He knows all about Kai's proclivities of course; they've worked together for years, well before Chisaki took over Overhaul Dentistry from his adopted father, and they've known each other even longer. Hari's stayed to watch Kai's little indiscretions once or twice, though he's more prone to lurking outside the door to listen shamelessly, knowing full well that Chisaki has no interest in sharing and would never permit him to touch what he considers his.

Chisaki is practically shaking with impatience by the time you arrive, has to take a few deep breaths to steady his trembling hands before placing the IV and pumping you full of Propofol. He's not sure he's ever been this excited about a patient, but this time around the eagerness has been killing him. He's always considered his libido healthy but not excessive, but he's stroked himself off more times in the last few days that he usually would over the course of a month, waiting for this.

You blink slowly, counting backwards until your words trail off and your eyes fall closed, and then Kai stands up, taking in the sight of you limp before him. You wore a dress today, a summery little thing that buttons from top to bottom, almost as though you'd known what you were coming here for.

He's already hard, his erection straining against the constricting fabric of his pants, but he ignores it for now and focuses on undoing those buttons, savoring each additional glimpse of skin. Your underwear is simple, white cotton panties with a hint of lace around the edges, and a matching bra. He likes them, simple and clean, just like you.

One gloved hand lifts to cup your breasts, kneading that soft flesh and then finding the bud of one nipple and rolling it between his fingers, sending it hardening. He watches your face as he does so - you're not entirely unconscious, but you won't react much, and you certainly won't remember this. Your brow is furrowing just slightly under the attention, and when he moves to toy with your other nipple he hears the faint sigh you let out, takes it as encouragement to shove that garment out of the way and reveal your pert breasts, licking his lips at the sight of the slightly darker skin of your nipples, and the way they've puckered under his attentions so invitingly. He bends and takes one in his mouth, laving his tongue over that stiff peak, biting down lightly.

A little whine escapes you this time, and the sound sends spike of heat through his cock. He knew you'd be responsive to him after the last time, but you're already exceeding his expectations. He tips his head slightly, staring at your mouth, those slightly parted lips.

He's never felt compelled to kiss anyone, all too aware of the filth present in even the cleanest of mouths, but as he stares at your lips he's surprised by the urge to do so. And he knows the risks are minimal, spent more than one of the last several evenings reading through your medical records, giving them a much more thorough evaluation than the release form you'd signed probably warranted. But he couldn't help himself, and now he knows that you take good care of the rest of yourself just like you do your mouth.

He leans forward curiously, encouraged when your lips press just a little back into his, even as your eyes stay closed. He lets his tongue snake out to trace over your mouth, probing between those lips, and you let another soft whine, though your tongue doesn't respond to his. That's okay; it's more enjoyable that he'd have expected and he deepens it anyway, relishing your taste, minty and sweet - obviously you'd prepared yourself for him. He grasps one of your hands and brings it to rub against his cock, panting as he ruts into your palm.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he's equally parts disgusted and aroused by the thin strand of saliva that connects your mouths, staring at it in fascination until it breaks.

That uncharacteristic impatience rears its head again, and Chisaki fumbles with his pants, letting his cock spring forth. He wraps your hand around it briefly, savoring the feel of your small, soft hand caressing his length, and then he moves on just as quickly. It only takes the flick of a switch to lower the chair down so that you're at waist level, and then he's tilting your head towards him, pressing the tip of his cock against those spit-slicked lips. You surprise him by poking that pink tongue out just a little, and for a minute he simple brushes the head of his glans back and forth against it, relishing the soft brush of your wet tongue, and the pleasant jolt it sends through him.

"You're a little tease, aren't you?" he whispers. Then, he pushes forward into the hot cavern of your mouth, swearing under his breath at the feel of you. You gag reflexively when he bumps against the back of your throat, but he only pulls back briefly and surges forward again, one gloved hand coming to rest in your hair gently, holding you in place as he fucks your mouth.

It's not tight without you actively sucking, but it's hot and wet, and the velvety texture of your tongue against him is more than enough. Despite trying to be gentle at first, he finds himself thrusting more roughly as his excitement grows at the sight of his length disappearing between your sweet lips, stroking your hair when you gag harder.

"Shh, now," he scolds to your unresponsive body. "Be good and take it."

It's almost as though you're listening - your head tilts back slightly to accept more of him, your throat contracting around him, and before he can help himself Kai's hips are bucking, his balls tightening and his cock contracting as his load spills down your throat. When he pulls away he can still see the last of his seed coating your tongue, and he spreads it around with his gloved fingers, entranced by the sight.

He adjusts his clothes a bit, not done with you just yet, and then circles around towards you feet. His gloved hands wander up along your thighs, squeezing at that soft flesh, and then tug you down towards him - mindful of the IV still buried in your arm - until your legs dangling off the edge of the chair. He spreads them a little, running one finger over your clothed slit. There's a damp spot at the center of your panties, and his eyes fix on it with great satisfaction.

"You really are eager, hmm?" he murmurs, letting the pad of his thumb hone in on your clit, the outline of that puffy bead visible through the damp cotton. You let out the faintest of whimpers, your hips tilting into his touch slightly, and Kai lets out a shuddering breath before bending forward and burying his face between your thighs, letting his lips move lightly over your covered cunt, catching your clit between his lips to tease your barely-conscious form, earning another soft whimper. His cock is swelling again already at those little sounds, and the scent of you.

Forcing himself to pull away, he works your panties down over your hips and off completely with eager fingers, his eyes fixing on your bare cunt. Your positive to response to his touches is all the more visible now, glistening strands of wetness coating your folds. He uses his thumbs to spread you open, circling your clit with two fingers as he stares at your entrance and letting out a throaty groan when he can see your hole clenching around nothing.

The sight of your perfect cunt so greedy for his cock is entrancing, and he repeats the motion. You're not the first person he's done this with and you certainly won't be the last, but oh, you just might be his favorite, so eager for him. He'd known you were special after that first encounter, but your response to him now is better than he could have imagined a few days ago.

He slides two fingers into you, scissoring them gently to ready you for his cock. He can hear the way your faint breathing has sped up, the skin across your chest darkening slightly as you grow flushed from his efforts, and when he removes his fingers they're coated in your slick. He stares at them curiously, tempted again by new desires, and then slides them into his mouth, savoring the taste of you, sweet and quite unlike anything else.

The throbbing in his cock is growing unbearable, and though there's a part of him that wants to draw this out, wants to savor it, there's even larger part that's desperate to feel that tight hole clenching around him. He shifts you again slightly, bringing your hips to rest at the end of the chair, the contours of the leg rest making your back arch nicely, those perfect tits even more on display, and he takes one in hand as he aligns himself near your entrance, pinching at your nipple hard enough to make you whine.

There are condoms in the pocket of his sterile white lab coat; he's normally vigilant with the protective measures, loathe to expose himself to any unnecessary risks, both hygienically and in terms of leaving evidence behind, but he's tempted to forgo that now. The notes from your last yearly doctor's visit stated you're not sexually active, and he thinks it must be true, that an innocent thing like you is too sweet to lie. Of course, because of that you're not on birth control either, but even that doesn't bother him like it should; it excites him even, the thought of his seed taking root and the surprise that would bring.

He runs his bare cock over your damp slit experimentally, groaning at the unadulterated sensation, and that's enough to convince him to abandon his usual precautions. Kai thrusts forward into your wet heat, letting out a strangled moan. Your cunt is so tight, so hot around his length, and god, it's so much better when he can feel it all, the intense wetness of your cunt creaming around him and every tiny ridge of your velvety walls. The way you whimper when he forces himself into you makes him wonder if perhaps he didn't prepare you quite enough - your walls are fluttering around his cock, obviously struggling to accommodate him, but it's not until he's nestled deep inside, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, that he pauses to let you adjust.

You squirm a little - small, feeble movements - and Kai relishes each slight shift of your body, watching your lips twitch. It's obvious you're trying to speak, but in your drugged up state all that spills forth is barely audible nonsense, tiny whines with a pleading undertone. He reaches forward to stroke your hair from your face. "You're so needy," he scolds, "but don't worry, I'll take care of you."

With that, he pulls out until just the head of his cock is still trapped in your cunt, and then drives himself forward roughly. Your limp body bounces back at the force of his thrust, your tits jiggling slightly with each of his movements, a sight he adores. He lets his fingers circle your clit again, can feel the way your cunt immediately clamps down around him in response, as though you're trying to draw him even deeper, and he gladly obliges you, slamming himself as deep as possible every time. You whimper more loudly than you have yet, and he can just make out your eyes trying vainly to flutter open, never quite succeeding.

"You take me so well," he pants, the feel of your slick walls gripping his cock so tightly has his balls tightening again, and he slows a little, trying to prolong the inevitable, not ready to be done with your sweet pussy just yet. He leans forward clumsily latch his mouth around one of those erect nipples, sucking and nibbling, noting the response brings, you throaty noises coming more quickly, the slight twitches of your hips growing more violent.

"So well," he murmurs again. No one's been this responsive before; he's lucky, honestly, if he can ever coax his patients to orgasm, but your cunt is flooded, obviously ready to cum for him, and it's enough that he loses the last of his restraint, rolling his hips furiously, railing against your cervix with every thrust in a way that's sure to leave you aching once you're fully aware again, but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to feel your release, feel you gripping his cock more tightly if such a thing is possible, and wants to fill you up with his seed.

"Are you going to be good and cum for me?" he asks breathily, and after another minute your body answers his question, your cunt clamping down, a quiet, high-pitched whine issuing from your throat as you hole constricts. Another few stuttering thrusts and his own cock is spasming, pleasant throbs radiating through his core as he drives into you one last time and cums, swearing at the almost unbearable tightness of your cunt around him.

For a moment he remains buried there, relishing the last throes of your orgasms and the way you're still occasionally pulsing around him. When he pulls out, he frowns at the distasteful mess his cum makes as it leaks out of your gaping hole, but it's accompanied by a shiver of satisfaction at the evidence of how he's claimed you for himself. Still, he moves on almost immediately to cleaning up, slipping on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and tucking himself back into his pants before digging out a handful of papery dental bibs and using them to clean away the mess he's left between your thighs. Of course, there's nothing he can do about the evidence he's left deep inside, but even that he still finds titillating, the thought of his cum dripping out of you even after you've left, of your cute, confused face as you try to understand.

You barely stir as he goes about this process, only occasionally shifting slightly or mumbling a little, and by the time he's replaced your clothes you're lying still, the tiniest frown is on your lips. It's almost as though you know your time together is coming to an end, and you don't want to go. Chisaki glances from you to the needle in your arm, and the still half-full bag of Propofol suspended from the IV stand. Now that he thinks about it, he supposes there's no real reason to rush you out of there.

"Hari," he calls out, and he's unsurprised when the door to the exam room opens almost immediately, knows how Kurono likes to listen. The other man looks at him questioningly, gaze flicking between Kai and your sedated form reclining in the chair.

"Yes, Kai?" he asks, raising on pale eyebrow.

Chisaki smiles behind his mask. "Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day."

[anika-ann]

Words Whispered in the Dark

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6250🙈

Summary: There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing those down, it applies twice as much. 

Steve supports your writing – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you’re not sure you wanted to know.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, praise kink & body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones & implied age gap & professor-student dynamic & cumplay if you squint, language ---- (let me know if I missed any…why is the list so long wtf)

A/N: Can be read as a standalone. Part of the Attached ‘verse with professor!Steve.

A/N: For Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. Congratulations to the rightfully earned milestone ❤️ Thank you for hosting the challenge and kindly including even soft fics (even though I feel like my soft got lost in translation a bit).

Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” - bold in the text, pls don’t @ me for the way I used it.

Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.

You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But fuck, was it a close call.

Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.

Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and damn, did it feel good for both of you.

So technically, you knew there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually doing it, shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.

Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.

Oh no. Oh shit. This wasn’t happening--

Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, fuck. You were so fucking screwed.

“Oh---oh honey,” you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.

Steve was reading it. Steve was reading that thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking bad—he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly would.

Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.

“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,” you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.

Maybe you should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?

He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say hunger, enough to stir heat in your belly.

Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.

Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. Well. At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because… that. That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.

Was it?

“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.

Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.

He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.

The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (his shirt) to drag you into his lap.

A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.

Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.

Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.

“Well, I did see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. Fuck. You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.

It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.

Now the idea of that actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.

It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.

“Wait, right now?” you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.

Fuck. Shit. Okay.

“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.

You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.

“Bed. Now.”

Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.

It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.

He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.

“What is it, babygirl?”

His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.

You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”

His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.

“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.

You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.

“Well, you won’t, not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.

Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.

“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, always, as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, I am,” he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.

Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.

Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and you were the one getting your hands on him.  You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but Christ, it was his back that would be your downfall.

Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.

It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.

“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.

“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. “Babygirl…”

“Yeah?”

“You know what. Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.

“Or what?”

He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.

“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible ‘promise?’.

“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.

“I don’t follow---  oh,” escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“

You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your mutual pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts and the sheets at that.

“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, accidently brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”

“Babygirl,” he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.

“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, really nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“

“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you tell me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”

From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good lord, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.

“Uhm… Waterloo?”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. Of course he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.

You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.

“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.

Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.

“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”

“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”

“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.

“I think there’s something else that’s up--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.

His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.

“You changed.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.

“Fuck-“

“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.

Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.

You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.

“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.

Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…

Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.

You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.

As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that you were the one in control.

You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.

Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.

When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.

Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you loved his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.

The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.

Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.

Fuck couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.

“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”

Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.

“Shit, sweetheart-“

The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.

Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, finally rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.

Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.

“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.

“Christ- don’t stop--“

“Eloquent as always, Professor,” you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.

Christ was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock---  if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.

So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.

“For fuck’s --- how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.

You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.

“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”

“You little-“

His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.

Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.  

A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck, yeah--- just like that…”

Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of more.

Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, so badly, but fuck the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.

Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply had to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.

So fucking pretty like this.

And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, willingly. The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.

Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.

Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally swallow, causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.

Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.

“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.

The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.

“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.

Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.

“Oh my god-“ you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.

He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.

You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.

Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck. Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly.  You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.

You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.

For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.

Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.

Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, nearly giving him a view of what was under the fabric.

“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”

Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.

You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that unsexy was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.

He was wrong.

“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about your fingers, stretching me so good, about you fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.

“Babygirl—”

“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”

He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.

You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.

“Babygirl--- fuck me-- I’m gonna-“

You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.

Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.

You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.

He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.

Ah-oh, sounded in the back of your mind.

Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.

If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.

You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.

You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.

Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.

“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.

You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”

A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.

“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”

Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.

Fuck.

You were so busted.

Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.

Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?

Right. No.

Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.

Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.

Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.

“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.

“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.

You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.

“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry… Professor Rogers,” you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.

“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, guessing at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with you now. It’s only fair, no?”

Oh fuck, here it came.

For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.

It’s only fair, no? he had said.

It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.

Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.

Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so so good. It was never really a question.

“Y—yes, it is.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”

And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

No, you were absolutely not ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft yes. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like home. Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.

He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”

His words tickled the sensitive skin and shit, okay, your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really was going to wreck you.

Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, almost there.

“Please,” was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.

“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.

“Y- yes.”

“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.

Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.

And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.

Attached masterlist

S.R. masterlist

I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to.

But I hope you enjoyed anyway.  I mean, if you made it to the end…

Thank you for reading :-*

Your Anika I’m-Not-a-Smut-Writer Ann

P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of the reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?

[marauders-venting]

Worth The Wait (Part 2)

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: implied panic attack

words: 3116

a/n: i decided to write a second part because people asked and i was feeling nice. Also i didn’t want sirius to be sad cause that makes me sad :(

Remus’ head was spinning. He didn’t understand what had just happened. Sirius had tried to kiss him. Sirius had tried to kiss him. But it was his own reaction that concerned and confused Remus even more. Because when Sirius had tried to kiss him he had felt something. There had been a part of him that wanted to kiss Sirius back. Wanted it desperately. A part of him that wanted to let his lips meet Sirius’ and put his hands in Sirius’ hair, brush his jaw, touch his waist. That was the part of himself that frightened Remus. Alarms had gone off in his head telling him to turn away, not to listen to that part of him because god knows what road that would lead him down.

Fuck. How long had that part of him been there? Was it new? Was it something that had appeared just now? No, it can’t be, Remus thought. It felt like this part of him has been there for a while, in constant battle with the other part of him. A battle over Sirius. Over what he wants with Sirius, over what Sirius means to him. But if these thoughts had been there for a while, how was Remus only now becoming aware of them? And if they had been there for a while, what the fuck does this mean?

All these questions come flowing into Remus’ brain within a matter of seconds and they all feel unanswerable and Remus doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know what to do or what to think because his brain is being so so loud and there’s screaming and he can’t tell if it’s in his head and everything’s going to implode and—

BREATHE, screams something in his head. BREATHE. Remus lies down in the grass and a stab of pain in his chest from a lack of oxygen. He gasps for breath and opens his eyes although he doesn’t remember closing them. He feels disoriented. Everything feels fake.

Remus sits back up and he buries his head in his arms. If Sirius were here, he’d be sitting next to Remus, comforting him. He could practically hear Sirius asking, “what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” There are lots of things going through his brain right now. But mostly it’s just the word ‘FUCK’ exactly like that, in all-caps flashing in his mind a million times over.

That’s wrong actually, says a voice in his head. Not about the word ‘FUCK’ being repeated in his head over and over again but about what Sirius would be doing if he was here. If Sirius were here he’d probably be sitting or maybe standing awkwardly away from Remus, that look of hurt and heartbreak on his face. The look that broke Remus’ insides. It broke him more to know that he was the reason Sirius was hurt. He never wanted to hurt Sirius. He was supposed to help Sirius when was hurt. He wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting him. He’d do anything for Sirius. But this was something else. This was different. But I want this too, said that part of him. I want Sirius. Remus tries to push the thought out of his mind but he can’t. So now instead of a constant loop of ‘fuck’ he’s stuck in a constant loop of ‘I want Sirius’. Great. Fucking fantastic.

Remus tries to organise his thoughts. Okay, so let’s say for a moment, just for argument’s sake, that he does want Sirius. That he likes Sirius in the same way Sirius apparently likes him. What does that mean? Does that make him gay? Am I gay? he thinks. Maybe. It’s possible. Remus had never considered it before. He doesn’t think he’s gay. Not that he’s ever had a particularly memorable romantic or sexual experience with a girl. But he’s never had one with a boy either. He’s never wanted to. Until now. Or until whenever he started imagining the way that Sirius’ hands would feel on his hips because this couldn’t be the first time. Definitely not. Okay, so maybe I am a little gay, then, he thinks. Fuck, this is hard.

Remus doesn’t want to go back to the dorm now. He’s sure that Sirius doesn’t want to see him. But he can’t stay out here so he goes back anyway. When he gets back to the dorm James, Sirius and Peter are all asleep and Remus wonders how long he’s been outside. He checks the clock. It’s past midnight. He showers as quietly as possible and goes to bed but it’s hours before he finally falls asleep. Questions keep swirling through his head, keeping him awake. And in the middle of it all, his almost-kiss with Sirius. Every time Remus thinks about it he feels his pulse rise. He turns away from his wall and sees Sirius in the bed across from him. He’s fast asleep, one hand hanging out of his bed, his lips slightly parted. Remus takes in the curve of his lips, the edge of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed and his dark eyelashes visible against his pale cheek. Remus wonders why he can’t turn away and then he realises what he’s thinking about. He’s thinking about how much he’d like to kiss Sirius right now and he can’t believe he let the chance pass by. He can’t believe he rejected Sirius. He turned down the most attractive person in this whole goddamn castle. Why? Remus can’t think of any reason right now.

When Remus wakes up the next morning the dorm is empty. He almost forgets about everything that happened last night. Until he rolls over and sees Sirius’ empty bed. His first thought is that it was a dream. Maybe it was just a dream. But when he goes down to the Great Hall for breakfast and sees the way Sirius is pointedly avoiding his eye, he knows it was real. So instead of going to sit with Sirius, James and Peter, he goes to sit with Lily, Marlene and Dorcas.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down beside Lily. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” she says. “Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion and I was fine within an hour. How was doing the rounds alone? Boring right?”

“Yeah,” Remus nods. He feels his stomach twist. Remus has no reservations about lying but he hates lying to Lily. It’s pointless anyway; she can usually see right through him. “Really boring.”

Remus spends the rest of the day avoiding Sirius. James and Peter stuck with Sirius and Remus pretended it didn’t bother him. Classes the next day gave Remus more excuses not to talk to Sirius. He sat next to Lily in every class and she seemed pleasantly surprised. She asked Remus that night if anything had happened with his friends but Remus said he didn’t want to talk about it so she dropped it.

“If you change your mind, I’m here,” she had said.

“Thanks, Lily, really,” he replied. He appreciated her support but he didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Not yet anyway.

---------

“Remus.” It’s James. Remus turns to him.

“Yeah?” Remus says. Five days had passed since the incident with Sirius. Remus had barely exchanged a sentence with James, Sirius or Peter. He’s sure James and Peter must have noticed something was going on but he had been hoping that Sirius hadn’t mentioned it.

“Look, I know things might be weird with Sirius right now but that doesn’t mean you have to avoid me and Peter as well,” he says.

“Why would things be weird with Sirius?” Remus tries to say casually. He fails.

“Remus…” James starts but Remus realises before he says anything.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Remus says. “Of course, he did. Fucking tells you everything, doesn’t he? Well, what are you doing, talking to me then? Isn’t it considered betrayal to talk to the person who rejected your best friend? It’s like fraternising with the enemy.”

“Remus, what are you talking about? You’re not ‘the enemy’,” James says. “Not to me. Certainly not to Sirius.”

“Did you know?” Remus asks, ignoring what James said. Because how was he supposed to respond to that? “When he said he’d come with me that night, did you know he was going to do it?”

“I knew he was thinking about it,” James says. “He’d been thinking about it for ages.”

“And you didn’t tell him it was a bad idea?” Remus asked, arms crossed.

“Well, no,” James says. “I… I assumed you would…”

“Like him back?”

“Well… yeah,” James says, sounding rather sheepish and apologetic.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you think I liked him back?”

“I don’t know,” James sighs. “You guys would spend all your time together. You had all these inside jokes. You’d stay up for hours talking to each other. Loads of reasons.”

“But you do that too!” Remus says. “You and Sirius do all those things you just said too and it’s not…”

“Yeah but that’s different,” James says. “Sirius has always been like my brother. Have you ever seen him as a brother?”

“I… I might have,” Remus says, arms crossed.

“Did you?”

“No,” Remus sighs. “I knew it was different, I just didn’t know that ‘different’ meant… this.”

“Does that… Remus, what do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Remus answers hurriedly, his face heating.

“Remus,” James starts, “I’m going to ask you this one time and whatever you say I’ll believe you, okay? Do you like Sirius?”

“Of course, I like Sirius, idiot, he’s my best friend,” Remus replies.

“Come on, you know what I mean,” James says. Remus remains silent. “You wanna know why I thought you liked him? Because of the way you look at him. Like you’re constantly in complete awe of him. It’s the same way he looks at you.”

“Fine,” Remus says. He’s not looking at James. “I… I think I do. I had never considered it before… before this but I started thinking about it and… and I think maybe I do actually like him.”

“Remus, that’s okay,” James says, hugging him. “It’s okay not to know or not to recognise an emotion when you’re feeling it in the moment.” Remus feels himself relax a little. Something about being told that it’s okay, that what he’s feeling is okay, something about it being put into words is comforting to him even if he can’t explain why.

“You should talk to him,” James says gently. “And you know that whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. For both of you.”

“More for Sirius than for me,” Remus says before he can stop himself. He means it as a joke, kind of, but James takes him by both shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.

“Hey,” he says. “Absolutely not. Our friendship is just as important to me as my friendship with Sirius. Remus, I promise you no matter what happens, I will always be your best friend. You assume that Peter and I would choose Sirius over you. We wouldn’t. We kept trying to talk to you these last few days but you avoided us and shut us out. Don’t do that, Rem. We miss you. We want you in our lives just as much as Sirius. I promise you that. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Remus says. And he does. Somehow. He’s not quite sure how but he does. He’s silent for a moment but gives in eventually and says it. Says the thing that’s been worrying him since the moment Sirius’ lips brushed his own for that split second. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You can’t,” James says without hesitation. “You can’t because I know you, Remus, and I know you won’t let that happen. And Sirius won’t let it happen either.”

---------

Remus couldn’t sleep again. He couldn’t think about anything other than Sirius, lying two beds away from him. What the hell was happening to him? Sirius had been sleeping two beds away from him since they were eleven but now suddenly it was keeping him up at night? He didn’t understand himself. He rolled over.

“Sirius?” he whispered. Sirius turned around.

“Yeah?” he whispered back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… woke up,” Remus lied. “I don't know if I’ll be able to fall asleep now though.” He glances over to where James and Peter are still fast asleep, both snoring like logs. Sirius isn’t saying anything. “You wanna go downstairs?” Remus asked hopefully. He needs to talk to Sirius. If he figured out anything from a week of avoiding Sirius it was that he hated life without him. Unfortunately, Sirius had continued to avoid Remus even after Remus had resolved to stop. Remus could hardly blame him but he really wished Sirius wouldn’t. It made things harder.

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius nodded, getting up. Remus stands up as well, pulls a sweater on and quietly slips out the door after Sirius. They walked down the stairs in silence and sat down on the couches in the empty common room. The fire had nearly died out but it provided enough light for the two of them. Remus had, evidently, not thought this through. What the fuck was he supposed to say now?

“I can’t believe you put on a sweater when it’s nearly summer,” Sirius said, saving Remus the trouble.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Remus asked, trying to keep it casual. “I do it all the time.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “It’s weird.”

“Weirder than wearing a leather jacket every day of the year?”

“That’s called style.”

“Well, sweaters are my style.”

“Fine, if you say so.”

“What, would you rather I wore leather jackets?”

“You can wear whatever you like, Moony.” Silence. That was the most they’d spoken all week.

“What do you want to do?” Sirius asked. Remus shrugged. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss Sirius. Like, now. It was all he had been able to think about all week. But getting to the point where he’d be able to do that was what Remus seemed to be struggling with. “Why did you suggest we come downstairs, then?”

“Better than listening to James and Peter snore, isn’t it?” Remus said.

“I guess,” Sirius said. Remus hesitated. This felt like an opening. He was determined to take it.

“Sirius,” he started.

“Yeah?”

“You know… uhm the other night, when you came with me to do the rounds—”

“Remus, I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius said, his face falling. He was back away from Remus. “I get it, you don’t… you don’t like me like that—”

“No but that’s just it,” Remus said. He didn’t want Sirius to leave. Instinctively, he reached out a hand and took Sirius’. “I do.”

“What?” Sirius looked from Remus to their joined hands and back again.

“I do like you… like that,” Remus said, blushing.

“But when I…” Sirius started. “You said we should just be friends.”

“I… I was scared,” Remus admitted. “I had never thought about it before. And when you tried to… it made me think about what that would mean. About me and about our friendship. And I got scared. I’m sorry, Sirius, I’m so sorry if I hurt you. But I’ve been thinking about it since then. And… I think I may have actually liked you for a long time.”

“Remus…” Sirius started, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay that you don’t like me in that way. I love being your friend and if that’s what you want then I’m happy with that. You don’t have to do this.”

“Sirius, I’m not doing anything. I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”

“R–Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. Sirius’ lips were parted in surprise. Remus couldn’t stop staring at them. A sudden overwhelming feeling came over him and he had to refrain from brushing Sirius’ bottom lip with his thumb. But then he realised that he doesn’t have to refrain from it. Remus hesitated for a moment. He scooted closer to Sirius on the couch, one leg crossed in front of him and the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He reached out a hand and caressed Sirius’ cheek, his thumb brushing Sirius’ bottom lip. Sirius closed his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sirius said. It came out like a whisper, his eyes still closed. Remus leaned in and slowly closed the gap between his mouth and Sirius’. His heart was thrumming so loud in his ears, he felt like the sound was echoing in his brain. His hand was still cupping Sirius’ face. He wrapped it around Sirius’ neck, kissing him harder. And as Sirius’ hands find Remus’ waist, pulling him closer, as Remus becomes acutely aware of the fact that his leg is pressed against Sirius’ thigh, Remus wonders how the fuck it took him so long to realise that this was what he’s been wanting the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Remus said when they broke apart. 

“What?” Sirius asked, looking at him incredulously.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t figure this out sooner,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius said. “You could’ve taken another year and I wouldn’t care. You’re worth the wait.”

“Still,” Remus said. “I would’ve liked more time to do this.” And he kisses Sirius again. Slowly first and then more passionately, pulling Sirius towards him like he wants every inch of him and more. And Sirius lets him have it. Yep, Remus thought, I’m definitely gay. To some degree, at least. He knew there was a whole spectrum of sexualities but he’d never really bothered to think about it much until now. But figuring out his sexuality was something that Remus wasn’t particularly fussed about at this moment in time. Right now, he just wanted to stay here in Sirius’ arms, curled up on a couch, watching the fire die out, pressing tiny kisses to Sirius’ lips, the tip of his nose, the curve of his jaw.

He thinks about what Sirius said and smiles. You’re worth the wait.

---------

Sirius meant what he had said. He would’ve waited for Remus forever if he’d had to. He’d have waited until the concept of time ceased to exist. But he didn’t have to. Because Remus was his now. And all it took was one look into Remus’ amber eyes, glowing in the dying embers of the fire, for Sirius to know that this was real: he was falling in love with Remus Lupin. And he couldn’t be happier about it.

[chiliiscereal]

So my friend has been on and off lately.

I decided to write this for me cause I needed it.

Requests are open!

Chosen last

Summary:

Readers friends only invite them to things if they have no one else to go with. Reader keeps their mouth shut about it and just guesses that this is how friendship works. One day they meet the turtles and April, and for once they’re not chosen last.

Pairing: platonic turtles x reader

(Implied female reader but I’ll do my best to avoid pronouns! Sorry if a she/her slips out)

“I couldn’t find anyone else to go with me so do you want to tag along?”

“I had a plus one and everyone else was busy.”

“No one else can make it and I don’t want to be lonely. Wanna go with me?”

“Sorry I guess I forgot to invite you!”

“What do you mean you were there? I could have sworn you were somewhere else... huh poor memory I guess.”

“Sorry! There’s no room for you to come with! Next time for sure though!”

All of those were common things you’d heard before.

You weren’t exactly sure if it was a normal thing in friendships. It must be since no one else mentioned it.

Still, it hurt that you weren’t prioritized. You were always the last thought. Last minute.

And you always said yes.

Someone needs you to be their plus one for the dance so they don’t look bad?

There you are.

Someone needs a wingman for this boy they like?

You’re already on your way.

It’s not that you minded.

You just wanted to be... appreciated.

You just wanted them to see you.

Maybe they would if you kept trying.

Maybe they would if you made them a homemade gift for each birthday.

Maybe they would if you always answered back their texts right away.

You thought you needed to earn the right to be appreciated.

You realized how wrong you were when you met the turtles.

————

You brought your jacket closer around your body, shivering.

Of course you had to walk home! Alone! In the dark! In the RAIN!

Apparently it was too much to ask for a ride home after hanging out. There wasn’t enough room in the car!

Of course.

Just like every other time, asking to come along was too much.

You shivered again as rain dripped down your back.

“This sucks.” You groaned.

You eyed every dark alley way. You’d read enough fanfiction to expect some cringey creepy man to come out and attack you.

But what DID attack you was completely unexpected.

“LOOK OUT!” A voice shouted.

You didn’t even have time to flinch before something landed on top of you. The weight of it brought you to the ground with a shriek.

“Sorry about that!”

That wasn’t a ‘something’ but a someone!

They scrambled off you quickly.

You stood up and whipped around, rubbing your aching head. “What the hell were you doing?! Do you do parkour on the rooftops or something?!”

Ugh, today just wasn’t your day.

Finally, you glanced up.

They... they clearly weren’t a human.

Green skin...

Orange dots?

A... a shell??

And an orange mask.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

The creature gave you a sheepish grin. “Umm... hey! Yeah... maybe.. possibly... I was doing parkour on the roof...?” He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the sky, a blush forming across his face. “I was on my way... my way to the comic con!”

He must be looking for a way to leave.

You weren’t ready for that though. You still needed to know what he was! And possibly his name!

You inched closer, holding your phone closer. Just in case. “What... what exactly are you?”

His eyes were on the floor now, as if your words had made him... upset.

“Sorry if that offended you!” You responded immediately. Ugh why did you word it like that? You didn’t mean it as if you thought he was a monster! “I just... I’ve had a really confusing night, my mouth runs faster than my brain, and I just got body slammed into the cement!” You rubbed the back of your head again.

He seemed much more satisfied with this answer. “Well... I don’t think you’d believe me...”

You eyed him up and down. “Dude, I think just looking at you would be enough for me to believe you.”

He let out a small laugh. “So ummm... yeah. I’m a turtle?”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think I see that.”

Well this was a strange turn of conversation.

Why not?

It’s New York after all.

He shuffled nervously. “People aren’t really supposed to know about it.”

You waved him off. “Psh, I don’t have anyone that would want to hear it or believe me anyway.” You stepped closer, your grip on your phone loosening. “Honestly, that’s pretty cool! I didn’t know people like you existed!”

It hurt but it was true.

Your friends would think you were making stuff up for attention.

“MIKEY!”

The new voice cause you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Three people, just like this guy, landed by his side.

One with a red mask and build like a tank.

Another with a blue mask and strange yellow stripes.

The last one had a purple mask and a staff of some kind.

“Are you okay, little man?” The red one asked worriedly. “You just took a huge fall!”

“I swear you’re gonna be feeling that a week from now.” The blue one snorted, resting his SWORD on his shoulder like it was a baseball bat.

“I estimate it’ll be closer to three weeks.” The purple one corrected, tapping a device on his wrist.

You stepped back.

There were more people like... Mikey? Was that his name?

Well, might as well find some way to get into this conversation. You weren’t gonna let the most interesting thing that ever happened to you slip away.

“You’re name’s Mikey?” You asked, the three surrounding the orange masked turtle jumping.

“Human!” The blue masked one shouted.

The large red one shoved Miley behind him. “Hi! Uh... we... we were just on our way to Comic-Con!”

“Guys-.” Mikey tried only to get Interrupted.

“Could you help us find our way?” The purple one joined, cutting him off.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nice try. I already know you guys are turtles.”

“Dang it Mikey!” The blue one shoved Mikey. “You just gonna spill our secret to everyone you meet in New York?”

“She deserves to know!” Mikey squeaked. “I messed up a flip and body slammed her into the concrete!” He turned to you, eyes hopeful. “And... she didn’t seem scared of me!”

This stopped the other boys.

Mikey shoved them all away from him. “These are my brothers! Leo,” he pointed at the blue one, “Donnie,” the purple one, “and Raph!”

You waved awkwardly, eyes landing warily on the largest one.

These guys didn’t seem as sweet and trusting as Mikey.

Donnie was looking you up and down for any sign of a threat.

Leo has his sword out.

Raph has his tonfas ready in his fists.

Maybe it’d be better to just leave.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” You shook your head to further emphasize your point. “I was just walking home anyway. All of this...” you spread out your arms, “was a complete accident.”

Mikey gave you a toothy grin. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He turned to his skeptical brothers. “She seems nice! She could be just like April!”

You kicked at the ground sheepishly now that the attention was back to you. “You can just go and I won’t tell anyone.”

“We can’t just let you go.” Donnie scoffed.

For a split second, you thought they were going to kill you for finding out their secret. Or kidnap you. Something bad.

“Not with that whole situation.” He gestured to your forehead.

Curiously, you reached up and touched it.

Your fingers were wet with blood.

Go figure.

“No, it’s fine, really.” You assured them. “My apartment isn’t too far-.”

“Please, it’s fine.” Raph waved you off. “It’ll make up for this bonehead over here.” He loosely jabbed his thumb in Mikeys direction.

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to say yes so badly.

“I don’t know, you probably got plans.” Leo shrugged, putting his sword away. “It’s a Friday afternoon, after all.”

That was enough for you to make a decision.

“No, I’m actually free.” You offered. “I actually don’t even have a medicine kit at my house-.”

“Alright let’s go!” Mikey grabbed your wrist excitedly and lead the way, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence.

————

You only meant to spend ten or fifteen minutes there, tops.

But after Donnie had your head taken care of Mikey wanted to know if you wanted to play a video game.

You couldn’t say no.

Then, after an hour of the Lou jitsu game, Leo wanted to know if you wanted to check out his sword.

You felt like you had to say yes.

It’s not every day you get to see a sword!

After accidentally getting portalled to New Jersey and FINALLY making your way back, Donnie wanted to know if he could borrow you.

He needed to fix his computer and he needed your smaller fingers to reach the back for him.

Saying no just wasn’t an option.

After almost exploding the poor piece of technology, Raph wanted to know if you knew April O’Neil.

You heard them mention her earlier but you didn’t know they meant THAT April. You’d seen her around before but never really talked to her. Who knew she’d be involved with mutants from the sewer?

He invited April to join them as well.

He thought some human company and someone who would make you feel more normal about the whole situation would make you more comfortable.

He was right.

April was AWESOME.

You hadn’t realized how loud and how fun she could be!

She talked to you about how she met the turtles and every little adventure they went on!

You hoped, secretly, that you could be a part of newer ones.

Eventually, the time came for you to leave.

You were sad of course, but you felt happier than you had in days.

You left with five new numbers in your contacts list and a baked green bean casserole from a rat.

Maybe you should get body slammed into the concrete more often.

————

“Wanna go to that party with me after school?” Your friend asked casually at the lunch table. “Dana couldn’t go with me and everyone else is busy. I need a plus one!”

You smiled as you responded to a meme Leo sent you, your friends words going in one ear and out the other.

“Y/n.” She asked again.

Still no response.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of it and straightened up. “What?”

“You and I are going to a party after school.” She informed you. “We should probably pick out our outfits right when it ends. I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive you but you can just walk-.”

“Oh,” you picked your phone up again, “sorry, I have plans.”

This got her to stop. “You have plans? But you never have plans?”

Your other friend snickered. “Yeah, you’re a hermit! You never go out or do anything!”

You blushed furiously. “I’m going to my friends house to watch a movie, okay? I’m not a hermit.”

“A friend, huh?” One of them rolled her eyes. “How come I’ve never heard of them before?”

“I just met them last month.” You picked at your shirt nervously. Why weren’t they happier for you?

“Them?” Another repeated, shocked. “You have more than one knew friend?”

“Yeah.” You straightened up a bit. “Them. They’re super nice but they don’t go to our school.”

The first one rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, think what you want. But I need you to sit with me and Jake at the park tomorrow so he can compare-.”

You didn’t even let her begin to finish her sentence. “I’m busy that day.”

“Again?” She gaped. “Seriously?”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” Another scoffed.

“Why is it so unbelievable that I’d be busy?” You glared at them, clutching your phone protectively. “You’re all busy all the time! Why can’t I be?”

They glanced at each other with knowing looks.

“Because you barely talk to anyone! No offense, but you can be really boring.” The one next to you shrugged. “What even is your friends name anyway? You’d have said their name if they were real.”

You felt your face heating up.

Boring?

Quiet?

“His name Mikey.” You grumbled. “And maybe I don’t talk because none of you give me a chance!”

“A boy?!” The one in front of you gasped. They didn’t even acknowledge any of your other words. “Please, how could you score a boy?”

“He’s probably really ugly, no offense y/n.” One chuckled as if she were joking.

You had enough. “You know, I’m feeling a little crowded. I’m gonna go sit somewhere else.”

“You don’t even have anyone to sit with! You’re a hermit, remember?” One girl called out to you.

“I do have someone to sit with.” You growled, heading for April’s table. You should have started sitting with her a long long LONG time ago.

“Alright, see you Monday I guess.” Was the reply.

The way they just blew it off... UGH. You wanted to punch something.

“Hey, what brings you to the cool kid table?” April grinned, shoving Dale over to make room. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your other friends?”

You managed to shove away the buzzing anger in your head, replacing your frown with a matching smile. “Nah, there’s not enough room for me AND their egos.”

April snorted, assuming you were joking. “Well there’s always room for you here!”

Those were words you’d waited too long to hear.

—————

You still saw your old friends and occasionally filled in for them when they needed an extra.

But you denied their offers more and more.

For once, you knew what it felt like to be prioritized.

“Hey we’re gonna watch a Lou Jitsu movie, wanna come?”

“I saw this glass painting trend online and I thought you’d want to come over and do it with me!”

“I heard this song and I thought you’d like it. Here’s the link!”

“Check our this hilarious meme!”

“Dale and I are gonna go to that shin dig. I don’t know if that’s you’re thing but you’re welcome to join us!”

What a refreshing change of pace

Let me know if I should make a part two!