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merrysithmas · 2 years

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Anakin & literacy

It seems likely that Anakin, as a slave, would have never had initial instruciton in Basic or Reading.

Of course, he is preternaturally gifted in mechanics and a prodigy with such skills (which is actually a Force ability called mechu-deru).

Given these advantages, he was likely able to teach himself some basic symbol interpretation for practical engineering, or worked to at least superficially comprehend discarded, out-of-date droid instruction manuals which had little to do with the tech he had at hand.

More importantly, for his survival, I postulate, he was able to decipher numbers ledgers and invoices given to those cajoled by Watto into overpriced and unquality services.

And of course, we know Anakin can speak several language. Basic, Bocce (another standard of Tatooine), Huttese & Jawaese (both trade languages of Tatooine with Huttese being the most commonly spoken language). Anakin could also likely understand others such as those spoken by the various Tusken tribes & Toydarian. His skill with spoken language likely far outstrips most classically trained Jedi padawans.

But for the most part, in regards to written language, it seems that Anakin was likely illiterate when Qui-gon found him and brought him to the Temple. It is very much easy to imagine a strung-out, grief-lagged young Obi-wan carelessly depositing a stack of beginner texts on simplistic rules of the Order meant for Younglings in front of the unusual Anakin, who looks up at him, perplexed.

"What am I supposed to do with those?" the boy asks in his innocent, direct manner.

Obi-wan -- already wearied and short of fuse from the barrage of new responsibilities which follow knightship, the ever-watchful concern of the Council regarding his "special assignment" of Anakin, and the hard punch of social curiosity regarding his slaughter of Maul (and so reliving Qui-gon's death daily) -- assumes this is some childish and unmannered inquiry, and vexed, replies, "Why to read, young Skywalker. Now please attend to your duties as I attend to my own."

Obi-wan hardly thinks much else of it until one day, not too far later, he sees Anakin holding a book upside down. It's only then he realizes his mistake and assumption and guides Anakin to the Temple teachers to catch up on what is a considerably delayed instruction in the basics of Reading and Writing. This is something Obi-wan has taken for granted and that he hadn't truly given much thought to at that point besides the ubiquitous airy sentiment of "we are so lucky to live in Coruscant, the farther reaches of the galaxy don't have what we do".

Anakin undoubtedly becomes well-versed in all manner of literacy by the time he is a General, receiving and sending communiques constantly, but it is still likely that, given his penchant for direct action over delayed patience, he may prefer holograms and other spoken communication.

Anakin's habit of action-over-patience is a proclivity that certainly comes from somewhere. It is well known he is arrogant which is connected to a keen sense of doubt and self-perceived inferiority. His lower than average reading comprehension - and his consequent natural penchant for learning through action - is a probable contributor to this sense of nervousness and displacement. Especially in the context of schooling, where he may have wanted to prove himself growing up - such as when around his contemporaries (the other universally-educated Padawans). Also, it stands to mention the incredible awe he must have had of young Padme & young Obi-wan's skills in these areas.

This routine of showing off what he can do is clearly an effort to contribute in his own way, to fit in, and to distract from what he can't do- a habit which does not serve him well later in life, and is often interpreted as pure bravado.

His desire to prove his skills equal to (or superior to) traditional bookishness is apparent especially in his early relationship with Obi-wan. Obi-wan, who is desperately, white-knuckled clinging to the rules and regulations. Obi-wan who suffers from a terror and self-doubt in his own abilities, seen as inferior by Qui-gon. He truly doubts his ability to handle the undue aquisition of the Chosen One. Thus, he reacts in contrariness to Anakin's criticisms and complaints. They just do not see eye to eye and are both struggling individually, not seeing each other.

Anakin sees Obi-wan's skills and reliance on the rules as weak (propped up by the summation he heard Qui-gon give of Obi-wan's abilities himself - "he is headstrong and has much to learn of the Living Force... there is nothing more I can teach him"). To him, pedantics are a poor substitute for real-life experience. And it is worth noting Anakin does have a point. That even as a child he had a considerable amount of experience and knowledge of the "real world" in a way all of the other Padawans (and even many of the knighted Jedi) did not. Their actions & inexperienced appraisals of even common social situations must have seemed at times incredibly ignorant and unjust to him.

Obi-wan on the other hand, sees Anakin's restlessness and discomfort with Temple norms as disrespectful and premature. In a way, of course, Obi-wan is also correct. Anakin lacks the formal finesse and structure of the Order, the foundational skills to the responsibilities he seeks to have as a Jedi as written in their carefully crafted syllabus. Anakin certainly lacks the building blocks of respect for his incredible natural gifts - something Obi-wan struggles mitigating.

I do think Anakin was right (at some points): Anakin was very observant and sensitive in the Force - it is likely that he was correct in his observations, that Obi-wan was jealous, young and unpracticed as Obi-wan still was. Obi-wan who was hypersensitive of rules and process, an unforgiving perfectionist who stuck to dogma like glue in order to become the most pristine version of himself. His gave his utmost efforts to fulfill the vision of the Order, to please his inscrutable Master & the Council - and so feel self-worth. Anxious padawan Obi-wan who worked and studied tirelessly for every perfected skill he had. Anakin wasn't the only one searching for approval and praise as a padawan...

That Obi-wan... faced with someone so naturally talented and shirking of core basics as Anakin? That must have, indeed, irked him like no other! Anakin on the other hand also equally harbored a jealousy of Obi-wan - someone who could focus so keenly and work so diligently and through that alone nearly match his skill. Obi-wan worked to be so good. Anakin's skills were Force-given, and in his own doubtful mind he must have asked himself... were they unearned? am I a sham?

They both distrusted one another before they realized, in an immense stroke of binding fate, that they were more alike in the ways that counted than different, and their differences strengthed and empowered the other. Anakin eventually sees Obi-wan's observation, patience, and practiced mastery as unmatched - the perfect companion. He is stabilized and turned inward by Obi-wan's influence. In a way, tamed. He is shocked by Obi-wan's ability to be so wise & skilled by focus alone. Something he sees as a Obi-wan's great gift. Obi-wan on the other hand, learns to truly live with Anakin by his side. See life for what it is, not what he learned. He is set free.

I always wondered when reading The Jedi Path, when I'd see scribbled notes in the margins of the text from Obi-wan, Ahsoka, Tyranus, etc: out of all of them, Anakin's seemed the shortest, the least detailed, the most succinct. Why? His petulance and disinterest aside, it was likely, out of necessity. His lack of skill in reading and writing at that point (as a Padawan). And realizing this, many of these feelings we observe in him (petulance, impatience, restlessness) may have arisen in the academic sense because of his learning curve with both reading and writing.

Lastly, I'd like to note in The Book of Sith when we see Vader's scribbled notes they are far more eloquent, written in impeccable cursive, and insightful. It is interesting that Vader is so different from Anakin in this sense and that he seems to pick up many of Obi-wan's defenses - a mask of eloquence and neatness. This may be in an effort to become a "perfect" Sith, (as Obi-wan struggled with his pursuit of being the "perfect" Jedi) when he knows he is not truly capable of such (Anakin always inside, as it was Anakin's love that was manipulated to form Vader).

Vader's manner of diction and formality can be linked to all of the above ("Anakin Skywalker was weak)". It is an exhausting effort by Vader to distance himself from the prime ego Anakin Skywalker. Vader, the alter ego, seeks to pursue a mask of monstrosity for both his own psychological shield and to project an identity he could not, infuriatingly, get to entirely stick.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #darth vader #obikin #qui gon jinn

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shaaaaaaar · 1 year

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hi it is 1 am and i am here to complain

i’m really fucking tired of people treating me like i’m soft or fragile or innocent/naive, that kinda stuff. it’s been a thing for most of my life no matter how much i try to prove its not really true, and its so frustrating. because i’m easily startled and i have anxiety, i’m some fragile boy meant to be protected and whose too soft for stuff.

most people don’t actually mean any harm with it. the concern is good willed and comes from a place of kindness, but ends up feeling condescending. i’ll be shielded from anything mildly scary and i won’t be told specifically why but it’s pretty easy to deduce that it’s because the tone is horror or it’s mildly violent or whatever. the sensitivity is appreciated, but it often is either over exaggerating things i’ve said i don’t like (for example i don’t particularly like gore but that’ll be overblown to like. someone avoiding telling me about shit like yandere sim. because people die. exclusively me.) or shit i’m fine with but there’s a darker tone so “he wouldn’t like it”. a lot of the time it doesn’t feel like there’s consideration for me specifically and instead an assumption of me not liking darker-toned stuff.

a lot of the time people treating me softly comes off as patronizing. something that really sticks out to me is i was asked recently to hold onto something while a person left for a moment and got told that the thing i was told to hold was there to protect ME. the legal adult. an inanimate object. another one is i’ll be told for HYPOTHETICALS i’m not allowed to have sharp objects because “i don’t trust you to not accidentally cut yourself”. i’ll be told i can have blunt objects, but nothing sharp. i’m always characterized by being weak-willed or the anxious one and… it gets very tiring. especially when none of this treatment is given to anyone else, only me. it gets noticeable.

another part of it is i tend to be less harsh on people. i try not to be too judgemental and harsh on people, maybe to a fault (i’ve got more shit to work on than that). so when i run into assholes, i’m treated like the innocent “too sweet for this world” guy because im… not a dickwad to people? i had a friend group once who all became friends bc they made a groupchat to complain about basically an entire community of people. i had nothing to add with complaints (even if i did wanna rant to the extent they did, i barely knew the people they talked about), i was just willing to listen and found it morbidly interesting. hindsight 20/20 i should’ve figured these guys were assholes (and christ they were assholes) but that isn’t the important part. in that friend group i was ALWAYS treated like the little innocent bean and if i knew something mildly fucked up it was a shocker. which got exhausting.

at the end of the day its because i have anxiety problems. that’s the smoking gun. anxiety has always been a part of my life and mine is considerably worse than a lot of people’s nervousness. with my friends i’m the guy who has “more anxiety problems” and i don’t like being boiled down to that sure but i agree that i have a lot. but frankly, being treated like i’m weak actually makes me feel more anxious. because it leaves me feeling pathetic and humiliated. being treated like i need to be protected only serves to make me feel either defenseless or disrespected. i’m well aware that i’m not a weak person. i’ve been aware of this for a long time.

yes, i am a more sensitive person. sometimes i’m pretty fragile. i get nervous very easily and treating me more gently isn’t exactly bad because the gentility is mindfulness of my sensitivity. there’s a line, though. because at some point it stops being sensitive and becomes being patronizing. it stops being mindful of my anxiety and becomes making me all about my anxiety. cradling someone with anxiety, or at least cradling me, isn’t the solution to anything. it makes things worse and only serves to solidify the notion that i’m weak. to be blunt, being sensitive, being anxious, hell, being fragile, doesn’t mean being weak. it doesn’t mean i need to be protected and my world needs to be baby-proofed. i mean hell, i spend a lot of my time trying to push myself outside of my comfort zone because what’s the point of baby-proofing? nothing will change.

ironically i have no clue how to go about actually telling people this (despite the fact i’ve had the intention to find some opportunity for months now) and somehow i’ve ended up on tumblr at 1 am rambling about it. which isn’t solving anything. i really do need to go about that because it’s important

ok it’s 2 am now so i’m leaving bye

#oh yeah lmao coming out as trans also made this worse because #take a gander at a stereotype about trans guys! :D #im 90% sure its a coincidence the majority of the time #but the mild paranoia #this is probably incoherent to some degree #lets not worry about that though #shar rambles for way too long

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greyias · 6 years

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Would you consider Grey a Mary Sue? Considering she is in love with a canon character, a powerful figure in a rebellious to overruling group, etc.?

By that logic, any person who plays a female Outlander in the game and takes full advantage of the story options presented would fall under that umbrella term.

So the short answer is: no. I don’t consider her one.

Partially because I’ve come to loathe that term and now reject it entirely, as it’s more or less become a way to try and police female characters into mediocrity (whether they are canon characters like Rey, quasi-canon characters like our Outlanders/player characters, or female fan characters made from the ground up). But also… if we’re looking at this through the lens of that definition, she exists within the media that she emerged from. I did not create her. I made pre-written choices within a video game, and then chose to write about and expand on the character that resulted from that.

I’ve never even really considered her wholly mine, because a great deal of her personality and background is defined within the game. The main aspects of her character that would be considered “Sueish” (becoming the commander of a rebel cell, the ability to fall in love with a NPC, the fact that bizarrely half the galaxy has a crush on her i really wish they’d stop that it’s getting ridiculous) were writing decisions made by the devs at Bioware Austin. They made a deliberate choice when they were drafting the game up from the very beginning to make all of the player characters important and “cool” and galactic heroes/villains for the purpose of immersion and player satisfaction. They specifically wanted to make anyone playing the game feel like their characters were important to the universe. I’m paraphrasing from an article I read a long while back, and sadly I’ve lost the link through the annals of time.

There’s a lot of think pieces you can find both on and off of Tumblr that discuss the merits of the term, and if someone who exists in canon can be considered one. They’ll talk about how it is and isn’t an inherently sexist term, and so on and so forth. Exploring the concept of why flatly written characters annoy people so badly is an interesting, and often written about subject.

Personally, I don’t use it anymore. It’s no longer a helpful writing tool nor term to throw into critique, because it’s morphed from it’s original meaning and into a way to say “I don’t like this but I don’t have the words to express why but I know writers find this term hurtful so I will use it.” It’s an impossible goalpost to reach, and any author who bends over backwards to try and make sure they never tick off anything that might ever be considered “Sueish” are likely going to stop writing, because it’s no longer fun or entertaining.

There was a very, very excellent post that crossed my dash some time ago regarding the term “Mary Sue” being bandied about, that I started reading with great skepticism and a raised eyebrow, and by the end I was nodding along and going “Yeah. This is exactly spot on. This term had a purpose when it was originally coined and can be used as a useful starting point for beginning writers, but the way it’s used now… this term needs to die.”

I honestly wished I had saved or reblogged it, because I have completely lost said post, and can’t find a link to it. So instead here are a few links to posts that express some similar sentiments:

https://floverload.tumblr.com/post/165579292099/hey-uh-about-the-mary-sue-post-whats-wrong-with

http://jimintomystery.tumblr.com/post/135985180326/personally-i-have-a-narrow-definition-of-a-mary

http://tropesaretools.tumblr.com/post/170767908759/i-just-read-the-thing-about-politics-and-mary

https://tel-abelas-mofo.tumblr.com/post/163374047768/i-think-that-what-bothers-me-about-it-is-that

http://airagorncharda.tumblr.com/post/164040436906/the-mary-sue-and-internalized-misogyny

http://howtofightwrite.tumblr.com/post/155415269800/how-do-i-write-a-female-character-that-doesnt

https://all-is-for-all.tumblr.com/post/169854400717/there-are-valid-criticisms-of-the-force-awakens

http://colubrina.tumblr.com/post/175574362956/so-my-writing-has-come-to-a-firm-halt-after-a

http://fozmeadows.tumblr.com/post/151220825396/a-note-on-wish-fulfilment

The real question I would ask back is: does someone enjoy reading about this character? Do they feel a sense of kinship with her? Do they like her or want to see her succeed? Or do they roll their eyes and press the back button on their browser because something about her is off-putting.

If it’s the latter, well, that’s a perfectly valid choice. Everyone has different reading preferences, what entertains and excites one reader can turn another off. Ultimately, the issue that originally led to the term “Mary Sue” being coined was reader frustration with a character they couldn’t connect to or that distracted from what they actually wanted to read about.

Obviously I personally like her, and love her to death for all of her flaws, foibles, and everything in between. I’ll probably continue to write about her no matter what score she pulls up on one of those arbitrary litmus tests, because the reason that I write is to be able to read the stories I want to see. To explore things in fiction that I can’t in the real world. And if my source material made her a little bit overpowered/loved/etc, well, hopefully I as an author can still write a compelling character that others want to read about. If not, well, at least I as a reader of what I write will still enjoy it.

#on the dreaded 'mary sue'#i am working off the assumption that this was asked and meant innocently #but yeah #i hate that term #it used to mean something when it was originally coined #but it has been co-opted by gatekeeping fanboys #who use it to try and shut down all conversations about female characters #and more importantly use it to silence female fans and/or authors #so i don't use it anymore #and i encourage everyone else reading this to do some serious thought about why they use that term #and if there’s a better one they can use instead #like say ‘underdeveloped main character’#or ‘self-insert that distracts from elements i wanted to read about’#a little bit of a #long post #Anonymous

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ahtsumu · 3 years

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long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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softluci · 3 years

Text

aggressive affection, i think

(part two here!)

[ @yourlocalsinnamonroll (hi!) sent me an ask to do more gen z headcanons and i started working on something for her, except it isn’t actually a set of headcanons, but rather a really long...one-shot? but anyway, i thought of actual headcanons that i can share now, so i can return to my ROOTS hopefully this will do in the meantime. ]

i’m not sure if this is something unique to younger people, but i am one hundred percent sure that younger people do it a lot, just going off of the behavior of my friends and i. (i’m gonna tell you now that this isn’t entirely sfw, so minors dni please and thank u)

but i’ve found that it’s pretty common for friends to be, like, aggressively affectionate with one another, for lack of a better phrase. if not aggressively affectionate, then just really flirtatious, often for no reason, and it is still meant entirely in a platonic sense. some examples of this that i have experienced include, but are not limited to:

“i’m gonna eat you,” “do u wanna make out,” “just remember, no matter WHAT happens, i will ALWAYS wanna make out with you,” “i have literally wanted to fuck all of you at some point,” “let’s have sex,” “stfu before i kiss you,” [points to lap] “is this seat taken?” “every day i’m like, ‘wow, [name] is so cool, we should make out,’” and so on and so forth.

so you can imagine the fun i’m about to have.

lucifer

“blindsided,” does not even begin to describe what you’ve done to this man. while his recovery time was quick, he was still so, so confused.

all he said was, “you look nice today,” why did you threaten to kiss him? was that even a threat?

he doesn’t know because you said, “stop before you get kissed on the mouth,” but it doesn’t matter because you failed to consider that he is obsessed with you in dire need of a kiss on the mouth, and you, silly thing that you are, just provided conditions under which he can get one.

that said, have fun trying to explain to this man that you were joking while he’s holding you against him with the most smug look on his dumb little face. if you don’t wanna kiss him, okay, but by the time he feels like letting you go, your face is gonna be scorching and you will have properly learned not to do that again. unless you enjoyed yourself, in which case—

by the way, if you believe in a higher power, you had better pray he doesn’t do this to you because now that you’ve planted the idea in his villainous little brain, he’s just biding his time. so the next time you compliment him innocently, and he says, “be quiet before i kiss you,” like the monster he is, assert your dominance by kissing him first, it’s the only way to maintain your dignity.

mammon

why would you do that to him. he is literally in love with you, you can’t be doing this. he knows he’s an attractive person, but you can’t tell him that, and you especially can’t do it by flirting with him, it’s embarrassingly disarming. especially since he was going to make fun of you once he saw that you were looking at the issue of majolish with him on the cover. he had a plan and everything, and you ruined it. he was gonna say something dumb cool, after which you would be embarrassed , and he would laugh.

but then you looked at him, said, “i’m gonna eat you,” and his entire plan was thwarted. now you have to stand there and watch him struggle to form a sentence while his face gets red. you should take this opportunity to bite him, give him a little nom on the shoulder or something, just to razz him. it’ll be great, i promise.

luckily, he can’t even think about doing this to you without having to lie down, so you should be safe—unless, of course, he catches both you and himself by surprise. so if you get nommed on, you had it coming.

levi

you menace. you absolute villain. you’re laughing.

levi was about to go into a match he was nervous about, and then you said, “it’s okay, no matter what happens, i will always wanna make out with you,” and then he dropped his controller and blacked out, and you’re laughing.

you’re terrible. absolutely awful. acquaint yourself with shame while you blow cool air into his face and shake him awake.

when he does wake up, and he reminds you that he’s the avatar of envy, do nawt be surprised.

try to explain to him that you were kidding and let it slip that you say these types of things to everyone and you’re getting a tail around your waist. no matter how much he might stutter while he makes his point, the fact remains that he’s the only one you’re allowed to say these things to now. you can do it to the others while he’s not around if you feel so inclined, but he’s going to find out eventually, so good luck explaining yourself while he doesn’t keep his tail still when he uses it to hold you in place.

your only saving grace here is that he is physically incapable of doing it to you, but, you know. that probably gets overridden by how possessive he’s gonna get.

satan

you’re deranged. or just really confident. or a fool. it doesn’t matter, you fucked up. he said a normal thing, and then you threw him for a loop.

you were nervous about an exam the next day, he said, “you’re a capable person, you have nothing to be worried about.”

and then you, evidently forgetting that he is not one of your human friends, said, “flattery will get you made out with,” and tried to walk away.

first of all, how was that flattery? he was stating a fact. second of all, who said he didn’t wanna make out with you🤨. he never said that, you are making assumptions about him and his character.

anyway, he has no idea where you think you’re going, but you didn’t make it very far before he caught up to you anyway.

when he repeats what you said back to you in the form of a question, with that deceptively polite look on his face, know that he is being rhetorical. do not bother trying to explain yourself, it’ll be difficult to do so in a convincing manner while he’s backing you up to the nearest wall. do not be surprised when he takes this opportunity to blindside you with praise, directly into your ear, with that fatally smooth voice of his. and do NAWT be surprised when he pulls back and says, “why am i not being made out with?” with a dumb little smile. it brings him a lot of joy to see you squirm.

you don’t even have a saving grace here. this man is ruthless, he’s gonna do this to you literally whenever he wants, and he won’t even let you look away, let alone run away, so find joy in the monster you have created.

asmo

listen. unless you are genuinely empty headed, there is absolutely no way you did this on accident.

he wasn’t even doing anything out of character either, it was the middle of self-care night, he was putting moisturizer on your face for you, and he went, “you’re even cuter up close,” which is a normal, tame thing for him to say.

so unless you just have uncontrollable knee-jerk reactions, no way did you say, “so make out with me then,” to this man, by accident.

you’re lucky he has some knowledge of the fact that you sometimes say things that aren’t smart, so he didn’t just immediately jump on you; however, you are by no means in the Clear.

you blinked and he was nose to nose with you and basically in your lap. now you have to deal with his wandering hands while you try and explain yourself—that is, if you can even overcome how flustered you are, which you probably can’t. luckily, he knows you probably didn’t mean it, but he’s still asmo, so he takes it upon himself to be respectfully heinous like the gentleman he is.

so when he somehow manages to get even closer to you and says, “honey, you should really get a handle on those impulses of yours, unless you plan on following through,” like the bastard he is, know that from that point forward, whatever happens is on you.

here is another man with whom you have no saving grace; now that you’ve given him the idea that he can be more explicit with you,,, well.

beel

you’re a heathen. why would you do something like this. well, you know what, maybe you aren’t that much of a heathen, considering that you did bake cookies for him. that was really sweet of you, so he thanked you and complimented your skill, like a regular person.

so why, exactly, did you say, “i only accept thanks in the form of kisses, preferably with tongue,” ? something is genuinely not right with you.

now you have this man standing there, confused and red in the face. he’s trying to do the math, and nothing is adding up. like, it’s definitely doable, he can definitely do that, but, like, why would you make this request so suddenly?

this is probably the only instance in which you can coherently say, “i was kidding, you don’t actually have to do that,” and it almost doesn’t work.

you absolutely should not have been leaning against the counter because now he’s standing in front of you, and you have nowhere to run.

however, the thing about beel is that he is someone who flusters people without meaning to, so he has no idea of the effect that his, “are you sure?” has on you.

luckily, you’re still mostly coherent because you know that beel isn’t heinous like his brothers, so you manage to tell him that he doesn’t have to kiss you if he doesn’t want to because you were kidding.

you have every right to be surprised when, all of a sudden, you’re sitting on the counter, and he says, “why do you think i don’t want to?”

do you have a saving grace with this man? kind of. he would never say what you said or something similar, but the next time he compliments you and you choose to be normal and say, “thank you,” he’s gonna ask if he should kiss you, so try not to collapse.

belphie

now. he isn’t the Worst Person you could’ve done this with. but by god you are out of your mind.

your first mistake was choosing to lie down next to him, not because you had plans to be a menace, but because he is always a menace and has a thing for reminding you, which he can do more easily when you’re in proximity to him.

so when he said, out of nowhere, “are you ticklish?” you should’ve just rolled away, which wouldn’t have worked, but it would have been less chaotic then saying, “you are legally required to make out with me before you try and find out.”

you said it so casually that he was almost stunned into staying still, but his recovery time was excellent.

the next thing you knew, you were laying underneath a very smug, very menacing man, who seemed entirely too prepared to listen to what you had to say for once.

“legally?”

okay, so, maybe you should’ve chosen your words more carefully, but he was seconds away from tickling you, so you didn’t exactly have time to defend yourself. you can never backtrack with belphie anyway, so it makes sense that you went headlong into your claim, telling him that yes, this is, in fact, the law of the land.

“i was never one to pay attention to the law, but since you’re being so insistent, i guess i don’t really have a choice—”

leave it to him to pretend like you’re a burden as if he isn’t literally head over heels in love with you like everyone else fond of you. bastard.

there is absolutely nothing to save you from this man. he isn’t tactful enough to wait for an opportunity to do this to you, like satan or lucifer, so expect to be Just Sitting There when he tells you that you’re required to make out with him right this instant—it’s the law.

#obey me!#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T+ for blood, language, nudity, and horny

Warnings: Implied pain/blood kink

Summary: Local vampire tries to give her human soulmate a bath, but the human is feral and loving it. Then it gets a lil horny, to both of their frustration.

Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

2: Bloodbath, Baby!

“I take it you changed your mind about the clothes? Or am I supposed to use these towels like a makeshift toga?” You asked, glancing around the bathroom, eying the ornate tub with mild interest. This certainly wasn’t where you had expected Cassandra to take you, especially not when she had somewhat promised you garments to wear. There were no pants or shirts (or even dresses) in sight, just a rack of the softest looking towels you had ever seen. It was admittedly difficult for you to resist the urge to use one to wipe the blood off of your shoulder. However, you figured that it would be best to save that for after you were given a good behavior prize. After all, it was much more fun to be a bastard if your “victim” (not that Cassandra really counted as that) knew how polite you were capable of being, and you were, under normal circumstances, very polite. Most of the time. Maybe.

“What did I say about talking?” Cassandra snapped at you, glaring at you from her perch on the counter. She was sitting on the edge, waiting for something, occasionally eying the room’s entrance.

“You told me to shut up for ‘five minutes’. It’s been eight, at the very least! I’ve been holding back, just for you, babe,” you replied, smirking as you did. For a moment your soulmate seems to consider chucking a bar of soap at your head. Eventually she thinks better of it, opting to roll her eyes at you instead. “For the record, I did count, just to be sure. Wouldn’t have wanted to make any assumptions about the passage of time, considering how fast time seems to fly when I’m with a loved one.” Unfortunately, this does not get a rise out of Cassandra, who has shifted to face away from you. Not yet willing to give up your buffoonery (and assuming that you would not, in fact, be getting a good behavior prize anytime soon), you released a loud, exaggerated sigh, before switching tactics.

Standing up with the blanket still curled around yourself, you maneuver over to the tub, eagerly climbing inside. With how large it was, laying down was fairly easy, though you weren’t entirely flat. Wanting to be as comfortable as possible, you adjust yourself and the blanket until it covers you, while letting one end go behind your head like a pillow. It’s nowhere near as nice as you had hoped. On the plus side, however, is the attention it gets from Cassandra. Before long she’s standing adjacent to the tub, staring down with an expression of exasperation.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked.

“Napping, obviously. Care to join me?” You answered, without hesitation. Then you gently pat the blanket, as if offering to let her sit on top of you. This only serves to make her angrier. Now she’s leaning over the basin, bracing one hand against it, her other hand reaching to grab your throat and pull you towards her. The two of you are so close that you can’t help but blush, and the feeling of her skin against yours is weirdly attractive. “I should have known you were the kinky type. Not that I mind,” you murmured, gaze wandering a little farther south than her lips. Before you know it she’s shoved you back down and let go of you. She shakes her hand a bit, like she’s just touched something gross, but you see the pink rising on her cheeks. As much as you want to tease her, the sound of approaching footsteps takes priority. Soon the door is opening, revealing a stressed servant, a pile of clothes in her arms. Suddenly you’re glad that Cassandra pushed you away, considering you don’t think she would have enjoyed having someone walk in on the two of you in that position.

“Lady Cassandra, I have what you requested. Would you like me to draw a bath for you? Or-” she pauses when she sees you, clearly unsure of what to make of your behavior. Hell, she almost drops what she’s carrying, and makes a soft ‘oh’ sound. Presumably dying inside, Cassandra quickly takes the bundle from her. Then she stands between the two of you, blocking line of sight, looking as tense as could be.

“Just get back to work, and don’t mention this to anyone,” she growled, gesturing towards the door. As soon as the maiden closes it behind her, Cassandra is turning back to you. “Get rid of that stupid fucking blanket or I’m forcing you to wear wet socks.” Understandably, you start giggling at her request, hardly able to believe that she had really just said those words out loud. “Would you prefer I cut up the soles of your feet? I’ll heal long before you do, asshole.” Now that makes you pause, trying to figure out whether or not her threat held up. Even though everyone had a basic understanding of how blood bonds worked (the less romantic, and more historic, way to refer to soulmates), the specifics were confusing for most people, including yourself. Would your aching wounds bother her? Or only the initial injury?... Somehow you had a feeling you’d figure out the answer within the next few days.

Until then, you decide to err on the side of caution, for once in your life. Still, you roll your eyes before you pull the blanket up and out of the tub. Again you spot a faint rosy tint on Cassandra’s face, and her gaze most definitely lingers on places other than your eyes. In the end you have to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from calling her out on it. Gotta get some clothes first, you think, then back to being a dick. Holding back only gets harder from there.

Wordlessly, Cassandra takes a seat by the front of the tub, where your feet are propped up on the edge. Giving you a judgemental look, she pushes them aside so she can reach the controls knobs easier. You give an exaggerated pout in response, only for her to ignore you completely, trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. It was in stark contrast to how she had looked at you a mere half an hour earlier. There were several interesting things to note about her behavior, and you found yourself almost excited to figure out the puzzle she presented. Did she care about you now? Simply because of your blood bond? Did she have a genuine soft spot for romance?... Those sorts of questions were all you could think about, even as Cassandra turned the handles, letting cold water splash into the tub.

“I’d say ‘fuck you’ but honestly, were I in your position I would likely do the same,” you said, shivering a little. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, staring at you like you were stupid, before turning the handle a bit more. Eventually you figure out what she meant by it. “What, you guys don’t have a quality water heater? This is Romania for fuck’s sake. I would have figured the water would be a hell of a lot hotter by now,” you added, only for her to splash some still very much cold water on your face. “Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying this? God, I hope you assholes have Legos somewhere in this maniac menagerie, so I can step on them while you sleep.”

“Do you always spit in the face of kindness?” Cassandra asked, moving towards the other end of the tub as she spoke. Once more you laugh, though this time it’s much more of a hollow sound, and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “My sister wanted to kill you, but I pulled your pathetic corpse out of the basement, now I’m letting you use my bath, and you’re mocking me. This is why I don’t bother with this shit,” she growled, even as she wets a washcloth and starts dabbing at your wounds. On one hand you understand her frustration… but on the other you couldn’t get the image of her past victims out of your head.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be clean than not,” you started to say, pausing to think for a moment. Then you reach out, putting your hand over Cassandra’s, making her freeze in place. It’s soft enough of a touch to surprise her. Which is why it’s so easy for you to snatch the towel from her hands. “You ‘don’t bother’ with this ‘shit’ because you’re a fucking sadist, who thinks all humans are beneath you, who acts like she has every right to bleed innocent people dry, who thinks she’s God’s gift to this goddamn hellhole we call Earth. Do you think this makes up for your sins? Do you-” her nails dig into your arm and she grits her teeth in pain- “think that I can forget listening to the screams of your victims? Whose graves is this castle built upon? Whose fucking bones am I standing on? Who died to keep you alive? How many other versions of me have you killed, in other timelines, in other lives, where the universe didn’t demand that we be together? I’ve seen your heart, girl, and it’s as raw as they come.”

There’s a brief second of intense, furious eye contact. Then a flash of movement, a rush of pain, tears filling the corner of your eyes. Blood pours from the new hole in your shoulder, but Cassandra is quick to lick it up. She’s groaning in between each run of her tongue across your skin, clearly feeling it every bit that you were, yet she shows no signs of stopping. If anything, her pain seems to spur her on harder. Even you can’t help but blush a little as you struggle beneath her grip. Why did vampires have to use their mouths? Why couldn’t they get blood transfusions, like the rest of society? This way, your pleasure mixes with your misery, leaving you confused, and the fact that you’re still naked is not at all helping.

“Oh fuck off, please,” you gasped, trying to push her off of you. To your surprise, she does as asked, pulling away after one last lick. When you turn to look at her, you see your blood covering her lips and dripping down her chin. “You’re a mess, Cassie. Hot water?” With that you return her favor from earlier, splashing some of the (finally above room temperature) water in her direction. Most of it misses her. A few drops, however, do manage to hit their mark. Then she’s wiping her face on her sleeve, scowling the whole time. There’s still plenty of blood on her face afterwards, but it’s nothing compared to what’s gathering on your shoulder. She eyes the wound, nostrils flaring briefly, a predator dying for one more bite. “If you bite me again, I swear to whoever that one lady y’all worship is, I will bite you. My teeth aren’t made for that shit, but I don’t care. We’ll both be miserable and that’s it, baby! That’s love! I’m threatening you with an unhealthy perception of affection, dipshit!”

This time you expect her to move away, or hit you, or do anything other than what she does. Calling your bluff, she moves around the ever-filling tub, pausing to turn the water off, before hiking the edges of her dress up and… oh. Oh. Somehow she’s in the tub with you now, legs on either side of your waist, presenting the side of her neck to you with a knowing smirk. But you are not known for your cleverness. Nor your ability to make good decisions, at that. Perhaps your blood loss was starting to affect your cognition. Whatever made you so feral, so beautifully unhinged, you embraced it with utter glee. Soon enough your teeth find themselves on Cassandra’s throat, digging in enough for you to feel your blood bond reacting. For a moment she stiffens in response. Then she relaxes, even takes in a rush of air that sounds oddly content, leaning into your touch. What the fuck? You think, almost shocked enough to let go. Almost.

“What’s the matter, pet? I thought you wanted me to know what it felt like on the other side of things?” Cassandra teased, voice quiet and low. Something about her tone sends a familiar, although unwanted, feeling to your core. Still, her words egg you on, and you find yourself biting harder, tugging at the skin a little. More tears gather in your eyes, but you fight through the pain as best as you can. You drag your teeth across her skin, wishing for sharper canines, before letting go to inspect your work. There’s a clear outline where your mouth had been, but not a single drop of blood. Frustrated, you go back in for seconds, choosing a different spot to target. Again you go through the motions, only for no crimson to stain your lips. This cycle repeats several more times, with you running your tongue along her neck in between bites, so focused that you don’t realize that she’s grinding against you until she stops.

“I need to file my teeth,” you mused, trying to forget about what you had just done. Now that it’s over, Cassandra seems to feel the same, and she quickly climbs back out of the tub. She’s refusing to meet your gaze, instead focusing on arranging the clothes the servant had brought earlier. By the time she’s facing you again her blush is almost entirely gone.

“Finish cleaning up, then bandage yourself and get dressed. I’ll have a maiden wait outside to bring you back to my room. Don’t even think about trying to run,” Cassandra said sternly. You’re too distracted by the thought of what happened to give her any snarky response. So she simply nods to herself, then leaves, slamming the door behind her. Though you had expected to be relieved by her absence, you find yourself groaning, holding your head in your hands. Why is she so attractive? This is probably illegal, you think, in at least several countries. Or it should be, at least. Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing to distract you from the price of her attention, with your shoulder and neck aching horribly. Cleaning up was going to hurt even worse. Still, you think, at least I’ll have some time to think of new insults. With that in mind, you begin to wash away the blood, thoughts entirely consumed by your newest ‘partner’.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #unhinged maiden #well personally I prefer the term feral #absolutely feral #goddamn menace #blunt teeth sharp tongue #please enjoy #not beta read

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Piano Lessons

An ObeyMe! Lucifer fic, approx. 1800 words. G/N MC, Fluff.

The infernal grand piano squatted in one shadowed corner of the music room. To any human, at first glance it looked no different from the version in the human world. A dangerous assumption, you knew. If an easy one to make. This instrument was capable of compositions that would drive a mortal listener mad, or even cause death.

You thought that would be reason enough to be given a pass on your Devilish Music I, but Lucifer didn’t agree. In fact, he considered your ignorance of the instrument and its compositions an opportunity. And that was how you found yourself in the House of Lamentation’s music room every afternoon when RAD let out.

Lucifer was already waiting on the bench. He looked up as you came in, lips compressed in an expression of near-constant disapproval. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time!” You glanced at the clock on the wall.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, that counts as late. Now come here and sit next to me.”

Arguing with Lucifer was futile. Besides, you did want to sit next to him. During your time in the Devildom, you’d developed a bit of a crush on the eldest brother. One that had you working hard to be on the receiving end of his rare smiles and sparse compliments.

Today you were hoping to impress Luci with your rendition from Certovski, Faust’s Mistake. It was one of the mortal-safe pieces you could attempt without risking your mind or your soul.

“Fingers on the keys.” Lucifer’s red eyes followed your hands as you tried for the appropriate position. “Elbows out. Move your left hand in.”

You did as instructed, but apparently you were still off. He reached for your hands, positioning them. Part of you wanted to fight him on it. The rest of you just enjoyed the feel of his hands on yours. His skin was always so warm and smooth.

He frowned. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. With your hands in place, you ran through the demonic scale. Some of the tones were too low or too high to hear. You could feel them though, shivering your bones and raising the hairs at the back of your neck.

Your warm-up didn’t get any objection from the Prince of Pride, which meant you were doing well. A quick glance showed he wasn’t frowning any more. Good.

Lucifer stood and began to pace behind you. “What are you going to play for me?”

“I’ve been practicing Faust’s Mistake.” As if he didn’t know.

“Then begin.”

You take a breath. This is it. You try to psych yourself up. All that practice will pay off. All those evenings you gave up gaming with Levi and Mammon, the weekends you stayed in instead of going out with Satan or Asmo. You could play this in your sleep.

Your hands float across the keys, the melody pouring from the hidden strings, describing the terrible bargain Faust made. The fast, tripping notes gave way to the long, slow sounds of regret, and finally, to the clashing finish.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you lowered your hands to your lap. The tension in your chest stopped your breath as you waited for Lucifer’s judgement.

“That was . . . not bad.”

From anyone else, you’d take this as a criticism but from Luci? It was a gold star. You smiled over your shoulder at him.

The left corner of his lip turned up in a slight half smile. “I’m impressed you memorized the whole piece in such a short time. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”

You felt like if he gave you one more compliment, you might completely melt.

“But -”

Your heart sank.

“I didn’t feel the tension, the passion of the moment in your rendition. You were too focused on technical mastery.” Lucifer sat down beside you, his hip brushing yours. “The Faustian epic is classic. It must evoke the emotion of the moment, the story, that birthed it. Let me show you what I mean.”

His hands went to the keys. “This is from earlier in the story. The Fall.” He began playing in a low octave, a heavy, slow rhythm that made your heart pound. Or perhaps that was just from sitting so close to him.

Lucifer kept that going as he began to layer higher, lighter notes atop it. These sounded almost playful, innocent. If not for the ominous beat beneath it. “Here we have naivete. The mortal at play, unaware of the trap laid for him.”

You nod.

“The music is the story, the story lives in the music. Now -” The lighter notes began to slow, creeping closer to the lower octave. “The mortal becomes aware of the nearness of death. The lingering, slow demise that comes to all men.”

Your breath slows in time to the music, and you can almost feel the weight of your years, few though they are. It is as if you lived a century and now your bones are heavy and your body is weary. Your eyelids drift half closed.

Lucifer continues to play, the ominous chords grow louder and the higher tones fade until both melodies close in on each other.

There is a subaudible component now, and though you can’t hear it, you can feel it move with the pulse of your blood. An arrhythmia that pulls you into the moment. The music surges beneath your eyelids, a spiral of red across a dark abyss. A false light.

“Here Faust decides his soul is worth less than his earthly pleasures, and denies Death its due. You can hear the strains of rage from Death’s denial beside the demon’s triumph. And there, Faust’s -”

The music stops but you can still feel it inside you. Something slick and warm slides down your cheek.

Lucifer’s voice, demanding. Trembling. “Wake up. Open your eyes this instant.”

You wish you could obey. You’d like to but the music holds you where you are. Limbo. A space bereft of everything but the music. Death and the demon, Faust’s lust and greed.

“Please.” Lucifer’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek. A sudden burst of magic like static on a distant radio. Then silence. Your mind slips under a dark, quiet ocean.

The water is warm. Peaceful. You can feel it cradling you. Stroking your hair, your cheeks. The touches become more insistent. Pushing you toward the surface. Toward wakefulness.

“I am sorry. Please. If you open your eyes, I will do . . . I will do anything, anything you want. I won’t make you practice anymore. I’ll give you a - a bigger room.”

The voice belongs to Lucifer, you’re sure of it. But it doesn’t sound like him. When has he ever pleaded, begged, for anything? You realize it is his hands on your skin, stroking your arms, your face. Then it hits you. The music. It wasn’t safe for your mind and now . . . was this real?

You open your eyes.

Lucifer’s face is the first thing you see. He is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheek. His eyes are wide and damp, and full of concern. You are held tight against him, like a child.

“Can you hear me? See me?” His fingertip slides along your jawline, a delicate touch.

“Yes.” Your voice comes out throaty and low. Rough as if you’d been screaming.

His relief is palpable. He squeezes you tighter, pressing your face to his chest. “I . . . I apologize. I got carried away with the music. And you’ve taken injury because of it - because of me.”

The words are halting, stiff. Hard for the proud eldest to say, and yet, for you, he does. “It’s okay,” you croak. “It was beautiful.” And it’s true. Some remnant of the cursed melodies still echo in the chambers of your heart. Haunting you with a promise that has no words.

“I will see you are fully recovered.” The briskness returns to Lucifer’s voice.

You try to push yourself up, off his chest. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you.

“Stop struggling. Are you uncomfortable?” Lucifer adjusts his grip, sliding your head to the crook of his arm. “Is that better?”

It isn’t, really. But at least you can see you aren’t in the music room anymore. Lucifer must have carried you to his chambers. He must have been worried, but you don’t know why. You feel alright. You try to sit up again.

With an exasperated look, Lucifer partially lifts you. He doesn’t release you. “Didn’t I say to stop struggling? You need to relax until you are . . . repaired.”

“I feel fine,” you tell him.

He frowns. “You are still bleeding from your ears.”

You lift a hand to the side of your head. It comes away red and wet. “Oh.”

“It will take a few days for the effects to wear off.” The concern in his scarlet gaze frightens you more than the blood.

“Will I be ok?”

“Mostly.” He looks away. “Until then, I will keep you here and see to your needs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head. This, you discovered, was a mistake. The shadows of the room move with your vision, growing one direction and then the other. Wide swaths of darkness that catch your eye.

“Are you seeing things?” Lucifer looks back at you. His thumb caresses your cheek.

“N-no.”

“Rather, tell me what you are seeing. And don’t lie about it a second time.”

There is a flicker of warning in the crimson depths of his gaze. You tell him about the shadows, and the way the music still sings in you.

He frowns. “If the effects do not fade, I may have to keep you in my rooms forever.”

You note that he doesn’t sound annoyed at this prospect. But he didn’t ask you, and his assumptions don’t sit well. “You can’t lock me up, Lucifer.”

“I can.”

Wrong tactic to take. You amend. “It probably isn’t a good idea to burden yourself with caring for me. You have a lot to do. Diavolo needs you.”

Lucifer knows what you’re up to. He has millenniums on you, after all. He smiles and brushes the hair back from your forehead. “I have informed my brothers, and the Prince, that you fell ill yesterday afternoon. I’ve taken time off to care for you.”

Your mind takes a moment to catch up. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I cast a spell to knock you unconscious when I realized what I’d done. It helped, briefly. But you started screaming some time in the night and . . .”

You realize he’s been sitting here, holding you, for hours. Warmth blossoms in your chest. A happiness completely out of place, all things considered. But despite the blood loss and possibly permanent madness, you feel loved. Cared for.

Lucifer seems to read your mind. He says nothing, just places a light kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you need to speak. He knows and you know and words just complicate things anyway.

He stands, still holding you, and carries you to bed. When you drift back to sleep, it’s with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

#obey me shall we date #om #om lucifer #otome guys #otome #devildom #obey me lucifer #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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mbti-notes · 3 years

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Anon wrote: Hi. I hope you had/are having a great summer break. I (INTP) am hoping for some perspective about an issue. Recently, my mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, became incredibly frustrated that I corrected her with an alleged “I know everything” attitude.

It’s an issue of concern because she revealed that I always do this. I guess this was the straw that broke it, especially given that what we were discussing was very trivial. (Maybe the frivolousness of the subject is precisely what made my correction seem more pedantic, unnecessary, arrogant.) She says that my attitude disregards her long life experience, and that if she were a stranger, she would think of me as a “snot-nosed brat who knows nothing about life” instead of as a “wise young person”, which is the viable alternative. She said that I am closed-minded and that I shoot everything down. (The problem of small-mindedness is what you addressed the only other time I wrote to you.)

I don’t know why I come off as arrogant. I’m sure that I’m not. I asked my mother what it was that made her think that, which she thought was a silly question because what she sensed was a general demeanor rather than specific behaviors. In the end we were only able to establish that my lack of eye contact was one of those factors. I can work on that, but surely that’s not determinant. What makes people think of others as arrogant? Should I stop correcting people? I don’t correct others in order to feel superior to them. I do it because I like to debate, in order to keep my thinking sharp, and because there is something painful about friends/family having false notions. I think it’s fair to say that my intention isn’t rooted in arrogant soils.

Granted, my suggestion of stopping correcting people is black-and-white, given that there is the grey option of changing the *way* I correct people. I’m just wondering if it’s an unhealthy habit in the first place. But given how prevalent a thought process it is (i.e. questioning people’s statements and finding faults), the process of getting rid of it may be akin to self-directed psychological violence. I mean, this is the same mode of being that makes me good at what I’m good at. (There’s also the option of keeping the thought process, but not correcting people aloud, but I don’t know what else there is to talk about other than analyzing ideas and their faults. Maybe I should analyze ideas for their strengths too, and express that side more than the faults.)

So anyway, let’s go with grey: So far I’ve tried thinking of an arrogant person that I know in order to understand my behavior, but I can’t think of anyone. Also, no matter how hard I try to put myself in someone else’s shoes in order to simulate an interaction with myself, it doesn’t really work, and I can’t see the arrogance, except if I were to just tell someone “that’s wrong” without any explanation. (I wonder if that’s what went wrong in the conversation with my mother.) Either way, this whole issue boils down to the fact that I’m not arrogant by any reasonable criteria that I found online, but that I come off as such. This was longer than intended. Thanks for your kindness and help.

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

Here are some questions for you to reflect on. They are meant to increase awareness of your underlying assumptions, beliefs, and values. Answer honestly:

Do you care about your mom? Do you care about how she's faring, what she's experiencing, what she's thinking or feeling, what she needs and desires, what she hopes for or aspires to, etc?

If you care, how do you SHOW your care to her?

If you don't care, how does that affect your behavior toward her?

Do you believe that the mother-child relationship only goes one-way? (Is it the mom's job to do for you but you owe her nothing?)

You say you like to debate to sharpen your mind. Innocent enough. I like to roller skate to keep myself physically fit. In an ideal world, I would never take my skates off. Does my enthusiasm for roller skating mean that I slap my skates on anywhere, any time? No. Surely it is inappropriate to skate around a hospital or the supermarket. Not only could I seriously harm myself, I would also be exhibiting flagrant disregard for the safety and well-being of others.

What you like to do for yourself sometimes comes into conflict with other people. If you care about people and hope to have healthy and happy relationships with them, you have to take their needs and wants into consideration in every interaction. You have to abide by ethical rules and principles that allow your needs to be met without neglecting the needs of others or interfering with their ability to get their needs met. Without ethics, society wouldn't be able to function, because it would just be a free-for-all.

You mention small-mindedness. It is quite small-minded to walk around the world only thinking about what you need/want. In the best case scenario, you are completely oblivious to others, and they will perceive you as clueless or self-absorbed. In the worst case scenario, you only interact with people for your own personal gain, and that would make you an exploitative or even abusive person. Is that the kind of person you want to be?

Do you basically treat people as though their sole purpose on earth is to debate you and help you sharpen your mind - to serve you? Do you launch into debates with people without asking for consent or checking to see if they want to be corrected? If you do, they will call you arrogant, not because you've put yourself on a pedestal and call yourself superior like an evil cartoon character, but because you are communicating to them that your needs/wants are most important AND you don't give a damn about theirs.

Webster's definition of arrogance: "an insulting way of thinking or behaving that comes from believing that you are better, smarter, or more important than other people". You believe that you know better, otherwise, you wouldn't grant yourself the social authority to intrude on people's boundaries, invalidate their experience, and correct them uninvited. You believe that you are smarter, otherwise, you wouldn't automatically assume the dominant social role of corrector. You behave as though you are the more important member of the relationship because your main priority is YOUR need to feel better (about your skills or about what others believe) while overlooking the other person's needs. Seems like you fit the definition quite well.

Despite that, I wouldn't call you arrogant because I understand that small-mindedness is a difficult problem to overcome. I see the effort that you're putting in to understand it. I'm charitable because I'm not the one who was hurt by your behavior. When people feel hurt, they often have difficulty expressing it. Maybe it comes out clumsily or they aren't able to explain their hurt without hurting you in return. Expressing one's true feelings is to make oneself vulnerable. If someone doesn't trust you to understand and validate their feelings or, worse, they believe that you will attack them for their feelings, they will not be completely honest with you. Your mom is trying her best to give you the benefit of the doubt by saying "if you were a stranger...", but she doesn't feel comfortable enough with you to express her hurt fully and explicitly as it happens. Why? Because the very reason she is hurt in the first place is that you have shown very little regard for her feelings. Following from the previous post of yours, the root of the problem is that you have such a poor understanding of feelings to begin with that you view them as inconsequential in yourself and others (very immature Fe).

I believe you have no ill-intent. I have said before that the typical Ti dom never sets out to hurt people on purpose. Rather, they hurt people unintentionally because their perspective is too small: 1) they don't grasp that other people's needs may be very different from their own and thereby fail to consider them, 2) they don't know how to empathize with different perspectives and validate them, and/or 3) they don't understand that SHOWING love and care is necessary for people to justify continued investment in the relationship.

In other words, Ti doms tend to hurt people out of negligence or acts of omission. Some of them get frustrated at not being able to solve their relationship problems. They might try to convince themselves that doing nothing means that no harm can be done, so they adopt a passive stance in the relationship and perhaps even train themselves to keep their mouth shut (self-violence). They fail to understand that there's more than one way to cause hurt. Instead of learning better relationship skills, they check out mentally and emotionally. Being checked out only makes it worse because you hurt yourself and you keep hurting others by being even less attentive to their needs.

The foundation of meaningful relationships is showing care. In a healthy relationship, people trust you to care for their emotional needs and not violate their personal boundaries. If you only attend to your own needs/wants in social interaction, you are signalling that you don't really care about the other person. This problem with your mom shows that you give little to no consideration for emotional needs and personal boundaries. If you don't want friends, it's entirely your choice to be alone for the rest of your life, pretending that you never leave any footprints behind you. If you want friends, you'll have to put out more effort to be a better friend, by paying more attention to the consequences of your behavior.

Doing things that violate trust and boundaries, even if unintentional, causes hurt. When people feel hurt and don't feel safe to express the hurt, they are liable to say/do negative things. To have good emotional intelligence is to see past the surface of their negative words/behavior and grasp the underlying emotional needs that were unmet and/or the personal boundaries that were violated. Only then can you be a morally responsible member of a relationship, in terms of owning all the ways that you impact people, both positively and negatively.

Arrogant people don't care about the social impact they produce. As long as they get what they want and don't lose anything, the existence of others is of little importance to them. If your mom is important to you, then learn how to show it better by listening to her when she tells you about her needs/wants. You hyperfocus on the literal meaning of the word "arrogant" and whether it is true/false of you, as though proving it false means that there's nothing wrong. You need to listen to the people you have hurt, if you want to understand why your behavior is hurtful. Alternatively, you need to educate yourself about emotional needs, interpersonal boundaries, and what constitutes un/ethical behavior and why.

#intp #intp relationships #inferior fe #arrogance #small minded #communication #social skills #people skills #emotional intelligence #relationships #ask

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hypnomicimagines · 3 years

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Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

#Harai Kuko #Kuko Harai #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Harai Kuko x Reader #Hypnosis Mic Scenario #Scenario #AU

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pla-teau · 3 years

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WHATTHEFUCK WANDAVISION EPISODE 5

SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

GIFS AREN’T MINE

EPISODE 4 THOUGHTS

opening title | right off the bat, the paintbrush is surrounded by wanda’s powers. this adds to the assumption that wanda is the mastermind behind all that is happening with westview. could mean nothing but i just find that little detail interesting. also, in the recap, in the quick moment in episode 3, we see another variation of the scene when vision asks wanda where geraldine went. she says “she’s gone. she didn’t belong here.” i feel like in recaps to come, we’ll see slight variations of past scenes to indicate that the reality in westview is breaking or just to show the actual words exchanged during the altered scene. wanda is the one broadcasting and chooses what audiences can and cannot see so maybe this is the original cut of the scene that we nor SWORD saw in the broadcast.

agnes | first off, agnes breaks character for a second like an actress who screws up and so everyone has to do a retake. when she says to wanda that she wants her to hold the kids, wanda is even confused for a second. she looks to her like she’s the one in charge. i think she did this on purpose since vision went off script as well in not letting agnes hold the boys. even though there’s footage in the 90s episode that she’s also being controlled by wanda when vision pulls her out of the trance, i still think she’s working with the main bad guy to hurt wanda. she doesn’t seem to react when the boys age up twice in front of her, always making a witty and funny comment.

wanda’s a terrorist | the way hayward quickly labeled wanda as a terrorist makes me think that there’s ulterior motives with this dude. didn’t want to believe it but marvel has put me in a habit of assuming guys in suits have sinister agendas. while jimmy woo gives a brief rundown of wanda’s life, hayward is quick to focus on the negative aspect because she’s a criminal with the sokovia accords still in place. he seems to be the only one driving this idea forward just because he’s the acting director of SWORD. he even put a damn missile on the retro drone monica controlled to get inside the anomaly. as acting director, he would know that a missile is useless against an avenger with wanda’s powers. i believe that he knew that missile wouldn’t do anything to wanda and the sole purpose was to antagonize her to continue painting her as the sole mastermind behind westview. i think he’s just trying to shift the blame from SWORD to wanda now that she possesses the body that can be used to create more weapons etc. etc.

vision’s body | so that scene we saw in the sneak peek was indeed footage of wanda stealing vision’s body and that SWORD was in possession of it. with monica saying in the previous episode that SWORD doesn’t do creation and hayward saying they’re focusing on robotics etc., it makes SWORD also v hypocritical because the brief footage we see of him - he’s dismembered. it doesn’t take much to assume that SWORD was most likely using vision’s body towards their robotics, nanotech and AI projects.

lagos commercial | clearly this is in reference to wanda’s accidental killing of innocent lives after trying to protect steve from crossbones in civil war. the saying “for when you make a mess you didn’t mean to” at the end makes me disagree more on haydick hayward’s assumption that she’s a terrorist. i like how they used this as a paper towel commercial as after lagos, the sokovia accords were written. for me, the paper towel represents the actual accords since they’re drafted on paper, right? how do we clean up any mess in the real world? with laws and regulations being written and enforced aka a piece of paper.

norm’s moment of consciousness | norm is granted a moment of consciousness by vision and is quickly hysterical. his statements about how vision has to stop and get her out of his head has me split. on one hand, he could be talking about wanda since monica said the same thing in her recounting of the events in the anomaly. but i also think it’s agnes or someone else who’s just disguising themselves as wanda (her emotions, grief, etc) to get everyone to see wanda as the bad guy (again).

SWORD computer message | how was the westview reality able to see this message by SWORD? it didn’t have much detail and only the basic rundown of what was going on but it’s interesting to see that message be ‘intercepted’ by the hex. we didn’t see from the outside that they were trying to communicate with wanda or someone within the town. it was also weird how the whole staff read it together at once - very creepy and raises more questions than answers.

“you can fix the dead” | tommy’s comment to wanda when sparky passes away. clearly the only dead one is vision in wanda’s world even though he appears very much alive in westview. i don’t think even wanda knows the true extent of her powers if she is the main perpetrator in all of this. i’ve also seen people mention that maybe the death of sparky is meant to push wanda to unlock that power if she has the ability to bring back the dead.

wanda and vision arguing | from the get go, we’re seeing vision going off script because he’s piecing things together. he notices how agnes always comes in to save the day or with something the couple needs. i like that we’re seeing the pair fight because they haven’t been on the same page arguably since episode 3 which was the last time we saw wanda edit an episode.

“you’ve never talked to me like this before” | wanda to vision. as i’ve said before, the show is really making vision seem more of the human one of the couple even being supposedly dead. what wanda says is true, we’ve never seen vision so much as raise his voice at wanda. in the past, before westview, vision always tread lightly around wanda and thought about how to word news of something she may not react well to. he’s always been calculating and thoughtful in his approach to wanda. even when she shoved him down however deep into the ground to leave the avengers facility in civil war, vision didn’t yell at her when they fought. it’s been nothing but love that vision has communicated to wanda. now with his clear frustration of the situation and evidence, it’s understandable that he’s yelling at her. it’s human to assume and jump to the worst conclusion about someone. he’s becoming more human in being upset and frustrated with someone he cares for that looks like the bad guy and victimizer of a whole town and seemingly controlling him and making decisions for him. i really hope he doesn’t get killed off at the end because i’m truly loving vision’s growth and range throughout the series.

“i can’t remember my life before westview” | this speaks to vision’s physical state. i think he’s not fully dead but because he doesn’t have the mind stone. every iteration we’ve seen of vision in the mcu has been with the stone since 2015. he doesn’t remember his creation or his death in 2018. the last 8 years are a blank for vision and understandably so, he’s upset and frustrated at the situation and at wanda. maybe it’s because he’s in the hex and maybe once outside, he’ll remember or somehow recount what’s happened? again, i hope he doesn’t just die once he gets out of the hex.

pietro’s ‘recast’ | the most shocking part of this episode that made me choke on my water and feel 50 different emotions in a matter of seconds. anyways, i think wanda damn well knows that it isn’t the brother she lost. i think she pieces it together that he is pietro but just not her world’s pietro like she feels some sort of connection to this pietro (if that makes any sense)? love that this brings in the multiverse into the mcu. i am still was holding my breath for aaron taylor-johnson but seeing evan peters’ peter was a fun surprise. in rewatching, the episode sets this surprise cameo up with billy and tommy asking her about pietro and this reoccurring theme that ‘family is forever’. i think that either wanda doesn’t realize her powers and her life in westview is bringing in people from other universes or that whoever is behind all of this is giving wanda one more reason to stay in westview since vision is starting to go off script and can’t be controlled by wanda anymore.

long lost bro | the fact he says this makes me curious as to whether this truly is peter from the x-men universe or if whoever is orchestrating this is just using peter’s body to manipulate wanda and play along in her ‘show’. if it’s truly peter that’s been plucked from the x-men universe, maybe he’s given this knowledge or whoever is controlling him is planting that information in his brain so he can say that he’s wanda’s long lost brother which he technically is. there’s also been people pointing out that in the mirror behind wanda looks distorted when you look, you would be able to see peter and wanda’s in the reflection. it looks unreal and this could be a key to seeing the reality of what’s happening in westview, maybe hopefully this’ll be a key to opening wanda’s eyes that something clearly isn’t right.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #scar’s theories #wanda maximoff #vision #pietro maximoff #peter maximoff #scar tries to piece together what she can each week #what the fuck #marvel #mcu

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tooweirdforyou · 3 years

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Appointment » Revolutionary Sabo

A/N : I’m working on like 10 things at once. And I’m so behind on all my homework it’s STRESSING me out.

I literally did this in less than 20 minutes, it’s unedited and horrible so I’m sorry :( good night.

Summary : Sabo comes in for a yearly checkup.

“Okay, Mister Sabo, I’ll be your doctor today.”

Shutting the door behind you, you offer a kind smile to the tall blonde that sat on the edge of the chair who was swinging his legs, even though they practically touched the ground.

Sabo smiles back softly, nodding in response at you.

“It’s only going to be a quick checkup but before I start checking out your health and vitals, I just need to cover some basic information with you.”

Once again, Sabo nods in response. “Sounds good..er.. Dr. [LastName].” He reads off your name tag.

You giggle at him and extended your hand for him to shake. “Sorry, just feel free to call me [Name].”

Sabo firmly took it into his big ones and shook it twice before releasing his hold. Your hands were quite small and soft compared to his.

“I’ll check your eyes and ears as I go over your information. Now, Name?”

Seeing you pull out a flashlight from your coat pocket, Sabo stays still and even takes off his hat or you to check his ears first. “Sabo.”

“Age?” Deeming his left side normal, you move to the right to shine light through it. “23.”

“Date of Birth?” Moving back in front of him, you stood straight up and lean close to his left eye, peeking in to see the reflection of the light off his eye.

“March 20th.”

You nod approvingly and scoot over to take a look in his right eye.

“Sex?”

“Yes.”

...

You blink a couple times, processing the answer you were just given as you stare into his eyes that were now peering into yours with a mischievous glint.

“Excuse me? I-I meant your gender.”

Taken back, you couldn’t help the small blush forming on your cheeks from Sabo’s earlier response.

“Oh, I assumed you were asking me. My apologies, Doctor [Name]. I’m male.” Sabo seems so innocent yet you had a feeling he knew exactly what you meant the first time.

Mischievous little äss, he was.

“P-Please refrain from making further assumptions like that, Sabo.”

Sabo only grins a bit. “Oh? Why’s that, doc? You didn’t fully reject my answer when I accepted your offer, so you must be interested as well, right?” He reasons.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes and bit your lip, nearly hitting him with your light as you pull away.

“So? Do you mind if I pick you up after your shift?”

A/N : 2:29 AM I thought of this on the fly and hope you enjoy. It’s mostly a Drabble so I apologize if it’s so short! Maybe a post tomorrow?

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #one piece writing #chief of staff sabo #one piece sabo #sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo x reader

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defyances · 3 years

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𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀

( where yugen is so incredibly obsessed with this woman that she decides to rant about her )

on: her followers

to start us off, we’ll discuss the main event of irelia’s performance: her relationship with blossoming blade. they are very close with each other, and it can be interpreted as platonic or romantic. i only say this because they establish their relationship as teacher/student, a platonic/familial bond that can be as powerful as a romantic one. but i also digress, given the affectionate remarks they give each other such as:

irelia: i wish i could give you silks, but i must give you steel. blossoming blade: stay by my side. i cannot ask for more.

irelia: ionians into formation! blossoming blade: i’d follow you to the black heart of noxus itself.

&& there is so much more. blossoming blade is not confident in her ability to fight, much like irelia && her lack of confidence in her ability to lead, which might explain why irelia has some sort of connection to her. she sees her as a mirror of herself, and much like she needed at one point, blossoming blade needs someone to support her. so, she will give that plus much more. lastly, irelia’s reaction upon blossoming blade’s death; it is simply undeniable that they love each other.

i am a bit bothered by the lack of interactions between irelia && zinneia since it is implied that zinneia is her former mentor:

irelia: zinneia, you are a master at your craft. zinneia: and fate has sent you to give my craft purpose.

irelia: as a child, i watched you dance at the placidium every spring. zinneia: it was your bravery that brought me to the fight.

i was hoping to have more information on their relationship && the sort of impact zinneia had on irelia, but at the same time, it gives me the opportunity to fill in the gaps! given zinneia’s interactions with the rest of irelia’s followers, she is an elder ( we will not talk about how that isn’t reflected in her card art ) who leads the dance program at the placidium. while irelia’s o’ma taught her how to dance, zinneia perfected it with her lessons, and she became the mother/grandmother figure in her life once all her family members passed away. it assures me that irelia did have a support system ( even if a part of her might disagree. ) i will do a more thorough ( * headcanon based ) look at their relationship in another post.

when irelia said she is a warm && caring person, she really meant it. she cares a great deal for her followers as shown:

coastal defender: generations tended this land. i cannot leave. irelia: we must retreat for now, but i promise we’ll return.

ribbon dancer: stand behind me! they won’t hurt you. irelia: if they hurt you, i’d never forgive myself.

fighting for your freedom is important, yes but not so recklessly. if a battle isn’t turning out in their favor, irelia would rather retreat and keep her followers safe rather than dying in vain. her tone is mother-like, always worrying for them even though they are confident and determined to protect their home, and at their deaths, she is torn apart. she is both grateful ( ‘ your sacrifice mattered ’ ) && heartbroken ( ‘ so young . . . ’ ), which is why i emphasize her hesitance to believe in herself as a leader. she is responsible for their lives and for each that falls, she fails. she cannot fail them ( something she says herself upon the death of her card ); her people deserve to live to see the day of bittersweet victory.

on: noxus

as expected, irelia harbors a lot of hate towards them, and rightfully so. however, what i want to talk about is riot confirming my assumption on how deep this hate runs.

imperial demolitionist: for the empire. irelia: so young, already so wicked.

imperial demolitionist: remember the objectives. irelia: ‘murder the innocent’ and ‘destroy their homes’?

for those who don’t know, imperial demolitionist is a child. irelia is speaking to a child and not in a tone you would expect an adult would talk to a child ( especially one who was brainwashed to commit awful atrocities. ) this confirmed my headcanon of irelia’s white && black mentality: no matter who you are or how you came to be, if you are noxian, she will kill you. she will refuse to see you as anything but a tyrant, and she will continue to allow this hate to fester and dehumanize noxus as a whole. she won’t even refer to them by name! she has her reasons, given how much they have taken away from her, but it doesn’t make it right. as we all know, noxus has slaves, ranging from adult to children, and will send them to war whether they volunteered or not. they have to act in order to survive, but irelia can’t see that they’re trying to live; she sees them trying to kill her home, so in turn, she’ll kill them. && that is a flaw i will cover more on in another post.

even though the faith in herself wavers, the passion to protect ionia doesn’t with how confident she talks back to the noxians. she threatens them, promises to kill them, even when faced with their technology and their machinery. she has that much faith in her people and the land, and it’s admirable. no wonder why people follow her.

on: shurima

i never expected interactions between irelia and the shurimans ( especially with azir and nasus ), but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless! azir && irelia are two fierce leaders, fighting tooth and nail to secure the safety of their homes; however, the difference between their idea of leading is evident within their interactions.

azir: a leader must see victory beyond each loss. irelia: my heart weeps for every fallen ally.

azir: war is an instrument that can make or destroy its leaders. irelia: instruments create beauty; war ends it.

from my perspective, azir isn’t so affected by the loss of lives in the war like irelia is ( it could be because he’s become desensitized after leading for so long or he truly doesn’t care ), and i could be wrong as i am not so familiar with azir. but with irelia, it is obvious that she is very sensitive towards the death of her people. whether they were close to her or not, as far as she knows, they were innocent souls, and they were dragged into this war unprepared. so many lives lost, so many deaths unjustified — it is simply unfair to her people, who have done nothing wrong. && no matter how many times she’s seen a body belonging to the first lands, it never hurts any less. she’s been able to mask that pain over the years she’s grown, but she still grieves, and it can be seen/heard whenever someone very close to her dies.

another difference i like to point out between the two leaders is their viewpoints on war: azir sees war almost like survival of the fittest. in the second quote, war is a way to create leaders, the best of the best while irelia sees it as destroying the beauty of life. war is a massacre, no matter which side wins, && even though she also strives for victory, she will only remember it as the day that peace died.

nasus: sorrow weighs upon you, but death could bring you peace. irelia: not yet, curator. i am far from done.

this made me snort because it’s basically nasus telling irelia, “k’ing yourself would make you feel better,” but i’m sure it isn’t meant to sound that way. rather, he understands her grief && how badly it is affecting her, so he is “testing” her will to see how strong it really is. if she had the opportunity, would she die && end her suffering there, or would she continue to preserve despite the agony she holds in her heart? irelia answers almost incredulously; if she dies now, ends her suffering now, who will lead her people to victory? certainly not anyone she knows/trusts. so, she cannot die. she will not die, not until she knows that her home is safe. ( this plays a bit into my headcanon that irelia doesn’t really fear death since she anticipates the day of reuniting with her family && ending her torment. )

there isn’t much to say about her interactions with the soothsayer && the voice of the risen other than she’s grateful for their aid in these trying times.

on: miscellaneous champs

lastly, i’ll be touching upon her interactions with in-game characters — which, suffice to say, isn’t a whole lot. it’s a bit disappointing. i expected more interactions with shen, karma, riven, and zed; i expected interactions with yasuo, yone, and lulu ( who is apparently in ionia?? ) but unfortunately, we weren’t given that. but i won’t say i’m heavily disappointed either because we did get some interactions with ionian && noxian champs plus extra.

shen: the balance requires a watchful eye. irelia: ionia needs brave hearts and able hands, too.

much like akali, irelia does not believe in waiting around && letting the land fight on its own. she even questions shen’s philosophy because of the slaughter that happened, which makes me theorize her faith in the spirit; clearly, she still believes in it but not so deeply like shen and the elders.

karma: ionia speaks through me. irelia: then tell me when this bloody fight will end?

she even questions the spirit of ionia itself, in a tone that is tired and desperate to end this terror. she is a lot nicer to karma in lor than lol, which confirms my suspicion that while irelia was initially frustrated with karma’s ( lack of ) action, she has come to understand her reasoning through the years that they’ve worked together.

zed: pledge yourself to the shadows. irelia: noxian tyranny has already forged our bond.

riven: [ dies ] irelia: irredeemable.

isn’t it crazy how irelia would rather side with the “evil” shadow master rather than the former noxian? of course, zed isn’t all bad, and riven isn’t all good, but it just further proves how she doesn’t treat noxians as humans at all; however, i would also like to point out her interaction with riven is if she’s against her. irelia would perhaps give her a chance if her quote in-game with her proves anything: “you want redemption? join me, and kill your masters!”

&& i’m still flabbergasted by her interaction with zed. she might not entirely agree with him, but she’ll work with him without hesitance. after all, they do share the philosophy of killing all noxians.

irelia: join us, prince jarvan. dance by our side. jarvan: i’m afraid i was born with two left feet. it’s a lightshield thing…

jarvan: noxus will pay for what they did to your people. irelia: yes, demacian prince. we will see to that.

so not only does she have shurima’s support but also demacia’s! a bit shocking since demacia is antimage and irelia is technically a mage, but i am glad to see that she and jarvan are on good terms.

irelia: my family...h-have you seen them? kindred: drifting between innocence and consequence.

STOP!! astra and i literally discussed this: if irelia was given the chance to talk to kindred, she would most certainly ask for her family && question why she was spared. of course, kindred would answer ominously, which in this interaction, makes me curious. between innocence and consequence? what do they mean? is her family stuck in limbo? are they currently being judged based on irelia’s actions in life? or are they waiting for irelia to join them? perhaps we’ll never know.

#˗ˏˋ⠀ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧. ›› the day you died，you did not tell your body.#/ wow this is the most i've written for a character ever #/ three hours n i was just rambling nonsense at the end sfjdhsb

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

Text

“One of the Boys” (M.C)

Pairings: Michael Clifford X Reader

Summary: College!AU ~ Friends to Lovers. You and Michael are best friends since forever, that’s why you feel the need to hide your crush on him. But when he makes a hurtful comment, you are determined to prove him wrong. Could that be enough to make him love you?

Warnings: The reader uses she/her pronouns, I’m sorry if I make anyone uncomfortable with that, it was not my intention. Angst with fluffy parts. Language, low self esteem issues, cheating (a little bit, it depends on how you view it) one sexual reference and some grammar and syntax errors (English it’s not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 5.5K

Author’s Note: My first Michael Fic! I waited so long and it’s finally here ✨ This is slyghtly based on a personal experience (mine didn’t have this ending) I hope you like it! Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcomed, I love to hear from you guys 💕 You can read my other works HERE 🦋

You had to admit it, you weren’t exactly a very ‘feminine’ girl. But that the hell was wrong with that? Yes, you preferred leggings and big hoodies over skirts and tight dresses. Yes, you skateboarded everyday to school and hanged out with boys all the time, drinking beers instead of fancy little cocktails. Yes, you never really cared about boy bands or artists like Justin Bieber or Drake. And yes, you would rather die than have high heels on for more than 2 hours straight. But that’s just who you are, how you’ve always been. His comment shouldn’t have hurt that much, but why are you crying about it?

You have been roomates with Michael since you two started college. You always joked about how you were going to live together someday and have a fridge full of junk food and soda. Well, now you do (except from the junk food part, that proved to be an awful experience)

To be honest, you didn’t have that many friends besides him and your other four knuckleheads you know and love from your early school days. Luke was the youngest of all of you, and maybe that’s why everybody thought he was the innocent one (even though he was the mastermind of almost every prank you ever pulled) Calum was the shy one, as people would put it, but just get to know him a little bit and you wouldn’t be able to shut him up. Ashton is supposedly the mature one, but his quick-witted mind and his inability of staying put in a place gives him the same amount of energy as a five year old. And then there was Michael, your best friend, there isn’t a time in your life where Michael wasn’t by your side, weather it was for pulling a prank on someone, skipping school or just playing video games in his basement, he was always there. So moving in together was a no brainer.

The friendship consisted on having the same level of confidence as an old married couple, trusting each other with everything, nothing being off limits, well, except for one thing…

You and Michael were friends and nothing more. That was clear for both of you. For years you both ignored the teasing and assumptions of you guys being a couple. Just the idea of it seeming so absurd to even imagine. But there’s a fine line between love and friendship.

Over the last few years, you began to think that the idea of being Michael’s girlfriend didn’t sound so bad after all. It was impossible to pin the pivotal point of that thought, but somehow somewhere along the road, you started to feel more flustered every time he leaned into a hug, felt butterflies in your stomach with each look he speared your way or how he said your name with such a caring tone. You found yourself thinking of him more often than not, especially on how his arms would look around you waist, how it will feel to be loved by him, to kiss him…

But you couldn’t think like that, not about your best friend. So it’s better to keep it hidden in the deepest part of your soul, praying to whoever’s above that it will go away soon, but when does that ever work?

Maybe that’s why his comment hurt so bad.

It was a lazy Monday, you didn’t have to work today and that meant you could spend your afternoon beating Michael’s ass in video games. But you couldn’t concentrate with your thoughts wandering over the man who owns your heart. It was the third time you let him win in Mario Kart when he caught on your mood.

“You really suck today, huh?” Michael asked as he watches Mario celebrate yet another victory.

“Or maybe you’re finally getting good” You replied, resting your head lazily in one hand, not taking your eyes from the screen.

Michael furrowed his brows, worrying as he heard a light sigh come out of your lips “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, but you don’t seem to hear him, so he accommodates himself on the couch in order to look at you properly and puts a hand on your leg, just right above the knee “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You say, finally lifting your gaze in order to meet his and oh, how you wish you didn’t. Lost in the sea of those green eyes that consumed every thought of your mind, you felt yourself blushing under him and trying very hard not to think on his hand touching your thigh “What? No, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Liar. You let me win, that never happens. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong”

“Y/N,”

“Nothing’s wrong, Michael. I swear”

His eyes scanned you, knowing damn well something was up.

“Well,” He said, patting your leg, softly “If you’re not gonna tell me… Then I will make you”

Before you could even comprehend what he meant by that, he was already leaning over your figure with a devilish grin as his hands traveled to your sides and started tickling you mercilessly.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you couldn’t contain the laughter that came over you. Begging him to stop, you tried to escape his grip, but it wasn’t the first time this had happened and you know this is a fight you can’t. Michael joined in laughter as he came closer to you, pinning you under him on the sofa.

But suddenly, his movements stop as he becomes very aware of the position you’re in. You give one last laugh before turning to face him, only to find him already staring at you. You shudder under his gaze as you realize the way his legs are intertwined with yours, wondering if it’s his cellphone on the pocket of his shorts or something else is brushing up against your lower body.

Michael’s eyes never leave yours as your breath becomes even. And he couldn’t help but notice the way that your lips parted slightly, almost inviting him for a taste.

“Hey, dude, sorry to bother you but.. Oh shit, you’re fucking on the couch?” A voice came through the door, making you push Michael onto the floor before getting caught in that position. Raising your head over the sofa, you were met by Ashton and Luke’s grin disappearing from their faces as your face came to view “Oh, it’s just Y/N. WAIT, Were you fucking Y/N?!”

Rolling your eyes and giving them the middle finger, you stand up from the couch, regretting ever giving them a key in the first place, and went straight to the bathroom, trying to hide the red of your cheeks.

But just before you could close the door, you heard Michael say “What are you talking about? It Y/N! She’s practically one of the boys!”

He didn’t mean to hurt you. He had good intentions with that comment, of course he did. But you couldn’t stop overthinking it, crying at the thought of you being so unattractive in his eyes.

“So he wants a girly girl?” You thought, already planning a strategy “I’ll show him, then”

That’s how it started. You began to wear the dresses that were long forgotten on your wardrobe, you started using makeup and styling your hair in something other than a messy bun.

It was confusing at first and not at all what you were used to, but there was a new energy surrounding you, a confident one. You were going to show Michael that you could be feminine, maybe that way he’ll notice you in a ‘more than just a friend’ kinda way.

The first time the boys saw you with your new look they were all sharing breakfast in your kitchen. With your apartment being closer to campus they might as well move in.

“Good morning, guys” You said cheerfully, not looking at anyone in particular.

They all stared at you, looking at you up and down. And just before you could reach the cereal box, the questions started coming.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Y/N why are you dressed like a girl? IS THAT MAKE UP?”

“Do you have a date? It’s 8 am on a Tuesday! Who are they? Vampires?”

“Who are you and what did you do to our Y/N?”

“Is the simulation broken?”

“Shhh” You said, raising the palm of your hand as you poured cereal in a bowl “It’s too damn early for any of you to do that much noise and I haven’t had my coffee yet” As in que, Ashton passed you your usual mug “Thank you, and to answer some of your inquiries. 1) Nothing’s going on, Calum. 2) I happen to be a girl, Luke. Thank you for noticing. 3) I do not have a date, nor I should use that as an excuse to put on some nice clothes. I just,, felt like it” You took a long sip from the hot beverage “The simulation broke down a long time ago and I’m still me. I’m just wearing different clothes, that’s all. Right, Mikey?”

Michael choked with his toast, coughing as he tried to gain some composure “Yeah, you look… great” He said with a shy smile, and he was right. The others joined in with the compliments, hyping and teasing you about how he will have to be more protective of you because you will sure bring home some hot dates looking like that.

It’s been a couple of weeks since that morning and everyday Michael complimented you. You’d be lying if you say that every word he says doesn’t fill your heart with butterflies. Maybe there’s a possibility that he feels the same way.

It was a pretty uneventful evening in the little coffee shop where you worked. You didn’t have many clients today, so the dim lights and the sweet voice of Hozier that blasted through the speakers allowed you to daydream. Michael’s face popped out in your mind, smiling as you remembered the way that he looked at you this morning. Finally proving that you were more than just “One of the boys”

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the bell chime when the door opened, only waking up when you saw those same eyes that had you smiling just a minute ago standing in front of you, staring at you as well.

“Hey Y/N! How’s it going?” He asked, smiling at you.

“Nothing much” You shrug “Just the same amount of pain and tiredness of the average college experience” Michael rolled his eyes at your sarcasm. That’s when a giggle caught your attention.

The most beautiful woman you ever laid your eyes on was standing next to Michael. She had the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen and her wavy hair complemented her face like an angel. She sure didn’t seem real, how did you not notice her when she entered? Were you really that busy focusing on Michael?

“I can totally relate to that” The girl said with a smile, god even her smile was perfect.

“Y/N, this is Veronica. Veronica, Y/N” Michael introduced.

You smiled politely at her and she did the same “Oh, the famous Y/N! I heard a lot about you, I can’t wait to get to know you better”

Um, what? Michael has been talking about you? To her? You couldn’t tell if it was good or a bad sign.

“Really? Well, don’t believe anything he says. Unless they are good things, then he’s right”

“Okay! Thank you, Y/N” He interrupted, mocking annoyance “I’ll take my usual please, darling. And she will have…”

“Just a mocha, please”

You nodded “Coming right up” You smiled at her as she walked to a table. Michael leaned over the counter and whispered.

“Could you do one of those drawing people do in the coffee? She will love that. Thanks.” He gave you a kiss on the cheek and walked away, sitting close to Veronica in one of the booths just before he could notice the way your cheeks turned to a much brighter red.

An hour passes. Then two. Then two and a half. And you were standing there, acting as a witness of their chemistry. You cursed yourself as your eyes drifted towards them, watching them laugh and talk about life. It was clear that Michael was enchanted by her, moving closer and closer every time, and you could tell the feeling was mutual as she laid her delicate hand on his.

Of course Michael would go for the pretty girls. Veronica was gorgeous, you couldn’t pinpoint a single defect on that girl, not even with a magnifying glass and you hated that. You hated the fact that he brought her here, you hated the fact that you have to work while his love story unfolds like a Taylor Swift song, you hated that it you weren’t the one sitting next to him, talking about dreams and how everything just collides perfectly within the universe. But that’s not your story.

“Earth calling Y/N?” A voice calls in front of you “Hello?”

You blink a few times and stare at the tall blond man waving his hand in front of your face “Sorry, Luke. Didn’t see you there” You excuse yourself “What can I get for you?”

“The usual, but this time with at least four more shots of espresso. I have to put an all nighter again cause I have that stupid presentation and you are not listening to me again”

“Sorry, what? Four shots of espresso, yeah.” Your gaze averted his “Anything else?”

“Okay, what’s going on?” Luke followed where your eyes led and soon he was, too, staring at the reason of your distraction “Oh”

Out of the four of them, Luke was the only one who knew about your feelings for Michael. He was always very supportive and didn’t pressure you into confessing right away, knowing it must be hard for you. So he can’t imagine what is going on inside your head right now, watching the man you love on a date.

“He didn’t tell me he had a date” You told him.

“He mentioned this morning” Luke added “Said he met her at one of his classes and that she seemed cool. So he asked her out. He never told us he would bring her here “You clenched your jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay. Luke noticed that “I’m sorry, love. I thought he told you about it”

“She is gorgeous, Luke”

“She’s not you, though” You scoffed.

“Exactly”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine,” You lied “Really, I’m okay. It was a silly crush anyway. And plus, look how happy he looks”

And it was true. Michael did look very happy chatting and flirting with Veronica. His smile reaching his eyes as she spoke and laugh at all his jokes. He truly must like her, and you… Well, some people are just meant to be the side character of another person’s story.

Luke let out a sigh, knowing well enough to assume you are just going to bury your feelings like you always do “He will soon realize what he’s missing”

************************************************

Well, six months passed and he still hasn’t realized. It’s been six month since that fateful evening where you got your heart broken by the man you love. It’s been six months since Veronica has been a constant part of your daily life, sleeping over, joining on movie nights and replaced your spot next to your best friend. It’s been six months of dressing more ‘girly’, wearing make-up and doing your nails, all of it trying to call Michael’s attention, to make you look more like Veronica, more like someone you are not. And all of that for what? You still ended up crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

Luke has been there for you all this time, letting you crash in his place whenever she came over and trying to distract you from the heartache by making jokes or goofing around, sometimes even letting you stay the night just to talk or cry or whatever you needed.

Tonight, however, it was a special night. Michael texted you saying that he finally found the movie you were dying to see for years! It was a special straight to dvd movie with Betty White that you remember it being your favorite growing up but you could never find it anywhere. And to say that you were ecstatic when Michael suggested a movie night for the two of you, would be an understatement.

You got the popcorn ready, ordered some pizzas and the ice cream was in the freezer. It was the first time in months that you would have time alone with Michael and, honestly, you missed him like crazy. Yes, you know he lives there, but it’s been a while since you guys actually talked or shared a good laugh together. Putting your feelings towards him aside, you just missed your best friend.

Suddenly, the bell rang. It wasn’t uncommon for Michael to forget his keys, so you weren’t really surprised.

“How many times do I have to tell you that we bought you that keychain for a reason and-“ But it wasn’t Michael standing at the door “Veronica.. I thought you were Michael”

The girl smiled, (really, not even a chip tooth?) “Yeah, he told me he’ll be a little late and that I should just go ahead” She said as she made her way into the apartment.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I love movie night!”

He invited her. It was a moment for the two of you and he invited her.

You couldn’t be mad, could you? She’s his girlfriend, after all. She could be here and he had every right to invite her, but… But it still hurt. You thought you’d be spending the evening with your best friend, he said you would. It was a special movie for the both of you, why invite her?

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” Veronica said, pulling you away from your mind.

“Uh, sure”

“I have to admit, I was really intimidated by you”

“By me? Why?”

“Well, when Michael talked about you I always thought I had to compete for his attention. It was always Y/N this, Y/N that… He assured me that you were just friends, but I didn’t believe him until I met you. I love that he has a friend like you. You really mean a lot to him so, thank you”

You nodded and muttered a “no problem”

She was right, you were just a friend of Michael’s. Why did you ever think you could be more? Especially with someone like her in his life? It was foolish, it was crazy. He would never look at you the same so, why keep trying?

“So, what are we watching?”

“Oh, um… I don’t know. I’m not staying” You said, hiding the pain in your voice.

“But Michael told me-“

“I’m spending the night at Luke’s today. I totally forgot”

You rushed out of the living room and went straight to your room, letting the tears fall as you started packing for a few days. You needed to get away as soon as possible. You couldn’t handle staying here at the moment, it hurt too much.

Just as you were packing the last pieces of clothing, you heard Michael opening the front door. And surely, a few moments later he was pushing yours open.

“What do you mean you’re not staying tonight?” He barged in.

Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see him, you didn’t want to see him, but he sounded hurt. Quickly, you wiped your tears with the back of the hand and tried to muttered something close to an unbothered tone.

“I’m going to Luke’s”

“You always go to Luke’s, are you two a thing or something? Because you seem to live there more than here”

You let out a small laugh, was he really that dense?

“There’s nothing going on between me and Luke-“

“Then why are you always in his place?”

“It’s none of your business”

“Well, Y/N it is. It is because I wanted you to spend the night because we rarely see each other anymore and now you’re ditching me again!”

He raised his voice a bit, clearly frustrated and confused. That alone made your anger take the best of you.

“Oh please, as if you really want me here”

Michael frowned “What does that suppose to mean?”

“Why did you invite her?”

“Veronica? She’s my girlfriend, I though-“

“I know that she’s your girlfriend, I get it. It’s just-“ You took a deep breath, trying not to cry or scream or both “It’s just that tonight was special, and I wanted to share that with my best friend. Only with my best friend. But I feel like everytime we try to do something together she’s always there and-“

“You don’t like her?”

“What? No, that’s the worst part. I actually think she’s great” You turned around and closed your bag, ready to leave “Michael I’m not going start a fight, I’m going to stay with Luke for a while. Don’t wait up”

You made your way out of the room, but before you could reach the door Michael’s hand grabbed you by the arm, making you stop.

“Michael” You warned “Let me go”

“No, wait. What do you mean with ‘that’s the worst part’?”

“I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“Yes, you are” Michael made you turn around. You were now looking at him in the eyes, he seemed hurt but you,, oh, you were in pain “Y/N, what is going on? You’ve been avoiding me lately, you’re not staying home, you don’t talk to me anymore, you’re dressing differently and sneaking out everytime I’m here. Is it because of Veronica?” You shook your head, slightly “Then what is it? Why are you pulling away from me?”

“Because it’s too damn hard!” You say looking away from him, unable to contain the tears any longer.

Michael’s eyes winded at your answer. His lips parted in surprise at your sudden outburst, wanting nothing more than to hold you but knowing you won’t let him.

“What?”

“You don’t get it, do you? No, you never did” You cry silent tears as your voice comes barely above a whisper “I can’t stay here because it hurts. Everytime I’m here she’s here too, like a reminder of everything I’m not. And I’ve tried-“ you choke “I tried to look more pretty, to be more ‘girly’ and feminine, losing myself every day. Hoping that maybe you’ll notice”

“Notice what?” Michael said softly.

You let out a breath.

“That I’m in love with you, you idiot”

Michael was taken aback by your answer, but he still wasn’t letting go of your arm. You love him? That’s what’s this all about?

“But I know you don’t feel the same. You never did and you never will. After all, I’m just Y/N. Just ‘one of the boys’ am I not?” He didn’t respond “It’s okay, I came to terms with that, I wouldn’t expect you to say something anyways” You released yourself from his grip and grabbed the last bag that laid on your bed “I’ll stay with Luke tonight and I’ll pick up my stuff in a few days”

Michael shook his head, as if he just realized what you just said “Wait, you’re moving?”

“What do you want me to do, Michael? Stay here? Pretend that things will be the same after this?! Go and have a movie night with your girlfriend and say that everything’s okay when I’m tearing myself apart in front of you?” You ask out of anger “I can’t do that, Michael. I need time”

“Y/N-“

“Why do you care anyways? I’m not a main character in your life. I’m not the type of girl you would fall for, or that you would consider feminine enough. I’m not pretty enough or funny enough and I’m tired of that. I’m tired of being an afterthought”

You turned around, already reaching for the doorknob when Michael’s hand wrapped around your waist, twisting you so your back was pressed against the door and your eyes were on him.

“Y/N, you were never an afterthought” He breathed close to you.

“Michael, what are yo-“

“Stay, please” But before you could say anything else, you felt his lips on yours.

The kiss was everything you dreamed it would be. Fast, rough and passionate. His hands traveled down your spine as he deepened the kiss, getting more needy by the second. Your hands flew to his neck, bringing him even closer, wanting to feel every part of him. You wanted to let yourself go, to fill these long needed desire. But you couldn’t forget about the girl waiting in the living room.

With all the strength you could manage, you pushed Michael away from you as the tears came flooding down again.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You spat at him in anger “You can’t do that to me. You can’t just kiss me and expect to fix everything. Who do you think I am?” You could tell he was trying to say something, but you were not in the mood to listen “I won’t let you do this to me. I won’t let you do this to her. I’m leaving, Michael. Get your shit together”

And with that, you ran through the door and didn’t look back.

A few hours later, you were settled in with Luke in his apartment. When you arrived, you asked him to please not say anything, that you weren’t ready to talk just yet. He just nodded and let you in.

You cried on his shoulders for what it felt like an eternity. Your head was pounding and your voice was hoarse. You’ve never felt so heartbroken before.

“C-can I stay here for a while? Until I find my own place?” You asked him.

“Of course, darling” Luke said, kissing your head “Take all the time you need”

You stayed like that for a while. He comforting you through your silent tears until you fell asleep.

A week passes by and you are not feeling any better. You haven’t been sleeping well and you’re barely eating despite Luke’s pleads. Ashton and Calum showed up one day to check up on you, but you still refused to talk about it. Maybe you were embarrassed, maybe the memory of that kiss was too recent, too painful to talk about. Maybe you just didn’t know how.

One night you fell asleep on the living room, the TV working as the background noise that drowned your thoughts. You were peacefully dreaming for the first time in days when the sound of muffled voices woke you up. You were still laying in the sofa, but Luke was nowhere in sight. That’s until you heard him talk.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Please, I need to talk to her” the other man pleaded.

Michael was standing at the door. He looked like a complete wreck. His hair was undone and a bit greasy from ruffling it with his fingers way too much, his eyes were bloodshot and glossy, still fighting to contain the tears in front of his friend.

“Look, man. I love you, but she doesn’t need this right now and-“

“Let him in, Luke”

The two tall men turned towards you. You were standing behind the sofa, your eyes never leaving Michael’s. Luke simply nodded and headed to his room, giving you the privacy you needed.

“I’ll be there if you need me” He said to you.

You muttered a small ‘Thank you’ to him before fixing your gaze upon Michael. He was still frozen by the door, unsure on how to say what he has to say.

Letting out a breath, you decided to break the ice “Michael-“

“I broke up with her” He said in one breath.

“You what?!”

“The night you left,,, I-I broke up with her because I couldn’t keep lying to myself anymore”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitantly took a step closer to you, afraid that he was overstepping again.

“All this time, for years, I’ve been avoiding my own feelings. Tucked them away at the farthest corner in my closet, hoping that they’ll fade soon. I couldn’t cope with them, I was too afraid to.

‘“I told myself that I was being foolish, immature and downright stupid for thinking that the girl I love would love me back. How could she? She was beautiful, shared my sense of humor, my interests and she was extremely cool. I told myself that a girl like that could never want me. But, strangely, she did, as a friend. And I was content with that, at least I would have her be part of my life.

‘“So I hid my feelings until I couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t feel them. And every day I would remind myself that she was my friend and I was beyond lucky for that. I kept letting myself down on a daily basis, trying to keep the thoughts away, hoping that one day I could believe them. But I never thought of the consequences my actions had towards the girl.

‘“Y/N, when you left I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like a vital part of me was missing and you took it away with you. And I deserved it, I truly did. Y/N, I was an asshole”

“Michael,”

“No, I was. Hearing you say those things about yourself, like you were broken and needed to be fixed, it broke my heart, darling” His voice broke at the end, fighting helplessly to contain the tears that were burning behind his eyes “I- I never meant for you to think that I didn’t love you for who you were. That you needed to change in order to get me to like you. You shouldn’t change for anyone, love, you are absolutely perfect the way you are. You always have been and always will be.

‘“Y/N, you were never just ‘one of the boys’, you are my best friend, my soulmate and the best thing that has ever happened to me by far. I’ve always known that, but I was just too much of a coward to let it show and I’m sorry.

‘“When you told me you loved me, god. Y/N, I’ve never felt so happy and confused at the same time! I couldn’t fanthom the thought of you loving me, it seemed surreal after so many years of telling myself that it was impossible, almost like a cruel joke. But you did, and I could tell by your eyes that it was true, and I hated myself for that. I hated the fact that I was hurting you instead of loving you like I wanted to. I hated the fact that you felt like you had to leave in order for you to fix what I broke. I hated that I ruined our first kiss by a stupid impulse because you didn’t deserve that. You deserve the world and I was so scared of the fact that I might’ve lost the chance to be able to give it to you.

‘“ I broke up with her the night you left. It wasn’t fair to you, to her or to me to keep denying my feelings any longer. And I know that I don’t deserve it, but I’m standing here to ask you for forgiveness. I’m sorry that I made you feel less than you are. I’m sorry that I broke your heart. I’m sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to tell you this the moment you walked out the door that night. I will keep apologizing for the rest of my life if necessary, Y/N. But I just- I just don’t want to lose you”

You were standing in front of him. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you took in everything he said to you.

He loved you.

He loves you.

And you love him.

Michael was staring at his feet, too afraid to look up and see the disappointment in your face. To scared to lose you and everything you meant to him. Maybe coming here was a mistake, maybe you don’t want to know anything about him anymore. And he deserved that.

“Well,” You finally say, swallowing the lump in your throat “You still owe me that movie night”

His eyes light up as he saw you smiling at him. He returned it by grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer to him. Leaning so your lips could met again.

Smiling into the kiss, you swore that you will never let go of the other again.

253 notes · View notes

kimnjss · 4 years

Text

studio session | myg

⤑ series: do it again

⤑ genre: smut, rapper!yoongi x model!reader, ex lovers au.

⤑ rating: explicit.

⤑ word count: 4.1K

⤑ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, fingering, pussy slapping, oral sex (f. receiving), brief clothed handjob, biting, hair pulling.

⤑ A/N: to be honest, i felt a little odd?? writing this. i wasn’t really motivated as i usually am, so if that translates throughout the chapter i apologize! i would need to, though! thank all of you guys for reading this story and giving me your feedback! the response has been amazing and iM SO HAPPY FOR THAT! so thank youuuu! i hope you enjoy this chapter, make sure to let me know what you think! x

Just, as usual, the door to Yoongi's Genius Lab was locked. In the past, you'd rush up to the door... typing in the eight digits that represented your birthday. You could still remember the way your heart would flutter at the sight of the red light turning green, allowing you access to his sanctuary.

Now though, you were more than positive that he had changed the code. Not bothering to, or really in the mood to try and guess what he could've possibly changed the code to, you knocked.

Three times, hard and loud, knowing how turned off to the outside world he was when he was behind those thick doors. Moments passed before the door was being pulled open, Yoongi's sleepy eyes and unkempt hair being the first thing you could focus on. Pushing a smile onto your lips, you lifted the to-go box for him to see.

“Why didn't you just come in?” He wondered, moving to the side so you could enter. Yoongi was pushing the door closed, crossing the room to sink back into his chair.

“I don't know the code.” You replied plainly, setting the food down on the table behind him. Yoongi shot you with a quizzical glance, his eyebrows furrowing. “You don't know your own birthday?”

Despite the monotone that was his voice and his bored expression, you still felt the butterflies spread their wings in your stomach. A blush creeping up your neck, toward your cheeks. So he hadn't changed it. You had no idea why that made you feel so warm, but it did.

Shaking your head, you forced your attention to the reason for this visit. “I brought you spicy noodles and steak. There are chopsticks in the box and I got you some vitamin water to drink.”

He nodded coolly, fingers poking through the bag to scooping out its contents. “You didn't get yourself a drink?”

“Why would I need one?”

He shrugged, standing from his chair. Yoongi took slow steps toward you, only to past you completely and sink down into the comfort of his black leather couch. “I just figured we'd eat together.” He was looking at you in the way he knew you couldn't deny.

Lips pouted, cat-shaped eyes slightly squinted, head tilted to the side. How he managed to look this adorable, just sitting there in his baggy black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He had kicked his shoes off sometime throughout the night, black socks replacing them. Who were you to reject him?

You were moving to sit beside him before you could talk yourself out of him. Ignoring the triumphant grin that broke onto his lips once he saw you approaching. “We'll just share my drink.”

No matter how many times you insisted that you were one hundred percent capable of feeding yourself, Yoongi didn't stop shoveling mouthfuls of food into your mouth. Each time he would feed himself, he would be quick with feeding you.

It all felt comfortable and familiar and you hated that. You were meant to be moving on, yet you couldn't bring yourself to leaving. Couldn't bring yourself to stopping and you were quickly realizing that you didn't want to. There was still so much there and you'd feel like an idiot if you just let it all slip away.

There had to be a way to work through all this, right?

“What are you thinking about?” You hadn't even realized how close the two of you managed to get while sitting there. Thighs pressed together, his arm loosely around your waist as you leaned into him.

His touch always felt so nice. It was like he had a sixth sense, in tune with your body. He always knew where to be gentle, when to be rough. Knew exactly how to make you feel good with little to no effort. Would you ever be able to find someone who knew you like that again? Doubt it.

“Just how you've been hogging all the meat. All I keep getting is noodles,” You faked a pout and he laughed, searching through the noodles to pull out a piece of meat. He brought it to your lips and you opened, eyes staying trained on him the entire time he pushed into your mouth.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a result of the way he was looking at you. Hungry as if he'd pounce in second now. The countless times you looked up at him as he pushed his cock into your mouth, no doubt that was the only thing running through his mind.

You could feel the atmosphere changing and from the darkness of his eyes, you could tell he felt it too. Clearing your throat, you shifted in hopes to put a little bit of distance between you two.

“What were you working on before I got here?” You tried to change to subject. Wanting to stick to your guns about at least one thing. You weren't sure if you'd be able to resist for long, the physical contact wasn't doing much for your situation either.

“Where did Hyoseop take you?” Yoongi ignored your question in his signature Yoongi way. You couldn't help but wonder how many times he tossed that question around in his head. How many scenarios he was able to come up with before he was driving himself crazy.

You shrugged, “Just around.”

He let out a laugh, a sound that you weren't expecting. “Must've been a really shitty date.” He slurped at his noodles, that annoying smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes.

“It was really nice actually.” Yoongi barked out a laugh, nearly choking on the noodles in his mouth. You glared at him, reaching to land a weak punch on his shoulder. “My bad, my bad.” He snorted, reaching for the drink and sucking back a long sip.

“I only guessed that that date was trash, but now I'm sure of it.” He breathed, pushing his fingers through his hair. “'Really nice' yeah, okay, Yn. Just say you were bored out of your mind.”

You hated him. So sure of it. Forget all the nice things you had said about him in the past, he was an asshole. How dare he make assumptions about your time out. How dare he laugh about it. How dare he be right.

Hyoseop was a nice guy. Really sweet. But he just wasn't fun. You two went to get ice cream and walked around the park until your dinner reservations. He was a little put off about having ice cream before dinner, something you and Yoongi made a big habit of. Hyoseop just didn't get it.

The conversation between the two of you was stale, to say the least. He made attempts to make you laugh and you spared him a sweet giggle. You just couldn't seem to concentrate fully on him. Mindlessly comparing every lacking quality to all the things Yoongi had to offer.

So you hated him.

“You don't know that. I had a good time,” You tried to convince him, although you didn't believe it a bit. He rolled his eyes. “You know you can't lie to me. Did you kiss him?”

“It was only the first date!”

“Bullshit. You kissed me before I even asked you out.” You had. Kissed him in his kitchen because he had spent the entire day making you laugh. Flirting with you and complimenting you. Namjoon had walked in, all wide-eyed and surprised as if the sexual tension between you two hadn't been thick enough to cut with a knife.

Things only escalated from there, gentle kisses turning hot and rough, innocent hand-holding turning to heavy petting, the feeling of his hands in your hair no longer having its sweet effect on you. When your first date came around you were sucking him off in the backseat of his car, sneaking past his friends and into his room where you guys fucked into the early hours of the morning.

The ache was back in your belly, a feeling you became all too familiar with after the two of you broke up. You missed him. Missed how easily things clicked with him, how quickly you were falling for each other. Or how quickly you fell for him.

“I didn't tell you how pretty I think you look in that dress.” The tip of his fingers ran over the end of your dress, slickly grazing your thighs as well. “Did you get all dressed up for me?” He grinned. You shook your head, swatting his hand from your leg.

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes, moving closer to you on the couch. His strong hand landing at the side of your neck, fingers reaching to grasp the hair at the nape of your neck. Free hand dropping to grip your thigh, pulling your legs up onto his lap. He leaned close and you leaned into him, heart pounding with anticipation. All you wanted was to feel his lips again.

You puckered, when his lips were inches from yours, eyes falling closed missing the annoying smirk that took over his features. His lips found your ear, brushing against the shell gently. “You're such a liar.” He chuckled and you shoved at his chest, pushing him back.

“You're an asshole.” Laughs left his lips, his body hunching over until he was sucking breaths into his lungs. You shoved him again. “It's not even that funny.” He was straightening his body, looking at you as he took deep breaths.

“If you want to kiss me, Yn... you know you can just go for it,” He teased and you rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were a bit afraid they'd get stuck like that. “I don't want to kiss you, Min Yoongi.”

Your legs still rested on his lap, the tips of his fingers mindlessly running over your thighs. Tracing the patterns that decorated your legs. “A shame. I want to kiss you.” You felt all the heat in your body rushing south, just from the sound of his voice, the honesty in his words.

“Shut up,” You grumbled.

“When you gonna drop the act? Admit you still want me, that you still have feelings for me?” His hand had traveled higher now, figure eights being pressed into your kneecap by his gentle fingers.

“Because I shouldn't. I'm trying to get over you.” He rolled his eyes, annoyance taking over his features. “Fix your face, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the reason I need to get over you? How you-”

His words cut you off. “Cheated on you. I know, I know. Are you ever going to let that go? It was one mistake, Yn.” You ripped your legs from his lap, standing on your feet. Frustration taking over as you paced around the room, pushing your fingers through your hair.

“That wasn't our only problem, Yoongi. You weren't attentive, you didn't care.” He was quickly standing, moving so he was in your sight again. “You think I didn't care about you? Are you fucking kidding me, Yn!?” His hand reached for yours, bringing the shiny rock wrapped around your middle finger.

“What's this then? How about the diamond necklace I bought you for our one year? The way I filled up your closets with whatever you wanted. How the fuck can you say I don't care about you when all I do is shower you with nice things,”

You ripped your hand from his grasp, ignoring the electric feeling having your hand in his ensued. “That's not the same thing and you know that.” You spat. “You don't fucking take me seriously, Yoongi. You just expected me to be your girlfriend; would get pissed if I wasn't able to drop everything to be there for you. All the fucking times you scoffed when you talked about my job as if it was a damn hobby,”

You were in his face now, finger poking into his chest as you spoke. You never understood the point of arguing with him. Not once did he hear what you were shouting. He never made the effort to make a change and if he did, it wouldn't last long. The annoyed expression on his face was softening, something you weren't use to seeing.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, fingers lacing with yours. “I hear you, baby. I do. Let me make it better. I can fix it, I promise. Please,” You had no idea what you were seeing, Min Yoongi didn't beg. No, he just took what he wanted, left the begging to everyone else.

His eyes were so pleading and so sad and you could feel your heart cracking. His thumb rubbed against your wrist lovingly as he took slow steps toward you. He brought your hand to wrap around his neck, smiling when he dropped his arm around your waist.

“I fucking miss you, Yn. At least think of trying again, please,” You felt as if you could throw up. Everything you felt for this boy was fighting its way up your throat. The way he was looking at you, with such sincerity didn't help your case either.

You were leaning into him, body taking on a mind of its own. Your lips were finding his, molding together like they were meant to. A breath you hadn't even realized you were holding mixed with his groan.

A fucking slippery slope. All you could do now was enjoy the ride.

You weren't able to resist yourself around Min Yoongi, that was becoming evident to you now. Somehow, he had managed to lay you back on the couch. His skillful tongue licking into your mouth, hips pressing into yours and making your head spin.

You tried to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to pump up his ego more than it already was. Then his lips were trailing down the side of your neck, biting and sucking on the skin. Tiny gasps left your lips before you had a chance to suck them back.

He groaned at the sound, pushing his hips into yours. A long moan slipped through your lips from the friction he had just created between your legs. “Yoongi,” You whimpered as he sat up, leaving too much space between you two.

You reached for him and he grinned, grasping your hands in his. His lips pressed wet kisses against your wrists, eyes staying on yours the entire time. Your hips lifted, begging to feel his weight on you again. “So needy.” He grinned. “Bet your soaked even though I haven't even done much,” You chewed on your lips, keeping yourself from telling him he was right. Again.

“Will you let me taste you?” Your nodding faster than you would've liked. His grin grew as he dropped your hands, reaching for your thighs. “Is that how we get the things we want?” He smirked, waiting to hear your words despite the way he was spreading your legs and lowering himself between them.

You whimpered. “Yoongi, please... I need your tongue,” The words fell from your lips naturally. His fingers reached underneath your dress, peeling your tights down your legs and pushing your dress up with his free hand.

“Fuck,” He breathed. No doubt admiring the lewd way your damp panties stuck to your pussy. Your body flinched, feeling his cool breath against your core. His eyes lifted, taking in your expression before lowering himself again.

Your breath hitched once you felt him push the lacy material aside. A hiss leaving your lips as he dragged the tips of his fingers between your folds slowly. He's finding your clit easily, rolling gentle circles into the nub. Your head drops back into the armrest of the couch, thighs shaking as he continued his teasing.

Yoongi was no fan of teasing when it came to him. He lived for teasing you, though. Watching how long he could play with you until you were losing your mind. There was no way you'd be able to hold out this time, it had been too long without his touch.

“Yoongi, please.” You pleaded, hips squirming as you tried to get closer to his lips. Greeted with his gummy smile, his eyes stayed on yours as he slipped a single finger inside your heat. You gasped when he curled it hitting that perfect spot.

Slowly, he adds a second finger, watching as your back arches. Only four days had passed since you had felt the stretch of having him inside you. Four days was like an eternity when it came to you two. Your skin is flushed and you can't help the whimpers that fall from your lips as you wait for him to get to the good stuff.

“You're so fucking wet,” His voice is hushed, eyes watching the easy slide of his fingers pushing in and sliding out of your pussy. “Go ahead, baby. Tell me, who else can make you this wet?” He stared at you, daring you to mention Hyoseop's name.

Rolling your hips, you were able to meet his movements. “O-only you, Yoongi. Oh... fuck, only you.” Shamelessly, you were riding his hand. You didn't care, though. The look on his face is enough to egg you on.

Your body jumps when he decides to brush his thumb over your clit. It was quick and so soft you barely felt it, but your body was quick to react. “So fucking sensitive,” He noted through a heavy breath. His eyes are back on your pussy, watching his fingers as he chews on his lip.

He knew that you only acted this way with him, no matter how many times you tried to deny it, how you tried to act like he didn't affect you. He knew. The knowledge had his ego growing ten times its size.

“You always open up so nicely for me. No matter what. Like you're made for me.” He groans. All you can manage is a small whimper, the feeling of his fingers being the only thing you can concentrate on.

Slowly, he's sliding his fingers from inside you. Your walls clench around them in protest, and he lets out a chuckle. His fingers trail upwards, closing your clit between his knuckles as he pinches. You let out a yelp.

A whine leaves your lips as he removes his hand from your heat completely. He lifts his hand toward your face and without a second thought, you're opening your mouth for him; curling your tongue around his fingers.

The sweet taste of your juices against your tongue and the hungry look on Yoongi's face had a moan falling from your lips. You could feel the hardness of his length, pressed against your thigh. You were quick to press a hand between his legs, feeling your way up to his long cock.

“Shit,” He groaned, slowly pulling his fingers from his lips. “Look at you. So fucking ready for me. So eager.” Yoongi leans into you for a moment, allowing your hand to stroke him through the fabric of his pants.

You watch as his brows furrow, his breathing quickly becoming uneven. His hips are slowly rocking into your palm and if you didn't know any better you'd say he was close. You're sure of it when his hand is quick to bat yours away, eyes opening as a new flush takes over his cheeks.

A giggle leaves your lips as he leans back on the balls of his feet to look at you. “Did I almost make you make a mess, baby?” You tease and he rolls his eyes. Four days was definitely an eternity for you two.

You can't help the string of giggles that leave your lips, them only being cut short from the sharp feeling of his fingers slapping against your pussy. You scream, loving the pleasant throb now between your legs. He grips your thighs, pushing your legs up toward your chest.

Heart pounding against your chest, you watch him. Mouth basically watering as you wait, watch what he'll do next. Yoongi dips his head down, a warm wet trail of kisses tracing your inner knee as he makes his way up.

Nipping his way up your thigh, Yoongi only stops to suck a hickey into your flushed skin. Your nerves are screaming, way too aware of what he's doing. Pussy dripping, clenching around nothing as he gets closer to where you need him most. A huffed breath hits your core, and your hips arch.

The tip of his nose brushes against your clit as he lowers his head and you hold your breath. Slowly, his tongue drags along your folds. As if he's testing the waters. Your fingers are reaching for his messy hair and he chuckles, the vibration sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

Yoongi licks into you a few more times, slow lack that before he's tossing your thighs over his shoulders and really diving in. Two fingers slip into your entrance, while he rolls his tongue against your clit. A long, high-pitched moan leaves your lips as you use the grip you hold in his hair to push his face closer.

Your hips lift, grinding against his face. Surprisingly, Yoongi doesn't push you down. He lets you have your fun, taking everything you're willing to give to him. His fingers brush the sweet spot deep inside of you at the same time his lips wrap around your clit, sucking.

You gasp, hips speeding up a bit. He loved to see you like this, a desperate mess trying to find your release. Loved it even more because he knew he was the only one that could get you like this. No matter who you fucked, who you let take you on dates, he was confident none of them could make you feel like this.

Because you were the only one that could make him feel the way he felt. Absentmindedly, his hips began to thrust, cock rubbing finding friction on the couch from the inside of his sweats. He was desperate for you too. Couldn't wait to bury himself deep inside you, feel you squeeze him in the way you always did.

His teeth grazed over your bud and your name falls from his lip, all high-pitched and whiny. All other thoughts leave his mind, the only thing on his mind is making you cum. A third finger slides into your wetness. You suck in a breath, enjoying the stretch. His fingers fuck into you quickly, his tongue rolling over your clit just as fast.

“F-fuck, Yoongi! Baby... keep-” Your hands are shaking as you grip his black hair, holding him in place so he wouldn't dare move away. “Don't stop, please.”

Satisfaction rushes over the boy's body. The sound of his name falling from your lips, he could tell how close you were from the way your pussy clenched around his fingers. He kept up with his pace, with the movement of his tongue.

His name left your lips amongst a breathy string of curses, legs squeezing him in as your body tenses. You had lost all regard for volume control, not like you had paid it much attention before. Yoongi's fingers continued to fuck into you, the sound filling the room and mixing with your whimpers.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You shout as a certain curl of his fingers pushes you over the edge. Incoherent words of praise leave your lips as your hips swivel and your thighs shake. He's not pulling back until your body relaxes. Droopy eyelids and heavy lids, you grin up at him.

Lips are wet with your release, a little swollen. His hair messy than before, standing up in areas you had been gripping. “Pretty girl.” His grin matches yours as he lifts his body until he's face to face with you.

His mouth finds yours, the kiss sloppy and wet. His tongue tasting of you as he licks into your mouth. His hands are planted on either side of your head. You can't help the moan that slips past your lips as his teeth bite down on your lower lip. He tugs it back, releasing it with a wide grin.

“What about you?” The prominent bulge in his sweats press into his hip bone and you want nothing more than to wrap your mouth around it or feel him deep inside of you. Both would be good too.

“Come home with me.” He suggests, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. The tip of his nose brushes against the length of your neck before he's biting into your skin, tongue quickly poking out to soothe the skin.

Would there ever be a time where you weren't so ready to do whatever this boy wanted? It was like you were incapable of saying no to him and he knew that. His dark eyes stared into yours until you were nodding. “Okay,” You smiled.

He was quick to capture your lips with his, kissing you much sweeter this time. The flutter in your chest didn't go unnoticed. There was no way you'd ever be able to get over him.

– months after deciding to end their three year long relationship, a sex tape hits the internet. fans go wild speculating that rap star, min yoongi and aspiring model, yn are the stars. old feelings arise as the couple try to figure out a way out of this.

⥦ masterlist ⥦

⤑ taglist: @randomkoalablog @hellotherehoneybee @goldenlilyz @strapsforyoonie @brilliantlybasicb @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @ratking101 @butterflylion @swanqook @jaiuneamesolitaiire @cultleaderyoongi @honeybeesrec @crzybtslove @bangtansbun @snaconakookie @bookoffracturedescapes @seoulgotmysoul @tae165 @jimintulips @korkanswers @softwithbubbles @hosucki @sayanne @heyitsbreeeeee @ladymidnightt @thecityrain @isimyazaki @crackhead1-800 @sailor-moons-butt @honeyoongles @neptu-pysch @ashleyjoyx @falsegodtae @osnapjenn @betysotelo18 @mochibabycakes @withlovestudyblr @hear-me-growl @dee-ehn @jeonkoookiee @comingjimin @purpleheartarmi @dammit-jjk @mermaid-vader @karissacranley @neptunejjk

1K notes · View notes

wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Descendants of Despair Part 55

Phil had his head down. He looked gaunt compared to the photos I had seen of him. When he reached our table, he lifted his head and his eyes lit up. “Thanks for coming,” he said as the guards stepped back, allowing him to sit opposite us. I nodded without saying a word, not wanting to give too much of my intentions away yet. It was far easier to build a picture of someone when you had the power. Dan greeted Phil in a typical bullheaded bloke style. I watched, trying to establish a baseline between their casual conversation. It wasn’t an easy task, as both men were doing their best to shelter. I guessed this was because they had a few run ins in the past. I was forced to rely on micro expressions, which is something that I didn’t like to do because it meant staring directly at someone to spot any slight change in their expression. Micro expressions usually only lasted around ⅕ of a second. It tended to make people uncomfortable and self conscious when spending this much time staring at them.

Once the typical small talk had run dry, and I had gathered as much as I could on reading Phil’s facial cues, I finally spoke. “So, you’re innocent.” I stated, matter of factly. Phil’s eyes widened briefly.

“You believe me then?” he asked. I considered his question. Believe him. Not so much. Believe the evidence we had so far that the man without a face was still active, absolutely. But did it mean Phil wasn’t involved in one way or another, not really. Still, when the truth wouldn’t get me what I wanted, lying was nearly guaranteed to. As long as the lie was something they wanted to hear, they’d believe it without question.

“Yes, I believe you. I want to know more about your connection with Michael Hansen and what he has to do with this whole thing.” I said clearly, my tone even and eyes maintaining direct contact. It was a good strategy to convince people that the lie was the truth, even if they were on the fence about it.

Phil smiled. “I knew I liked you. When I get out of here, I am going to take you out for a drink. Perhaps a meal.” I could see Dan was about to speak, and I knew what he was going to say would be something biting about Jake, so I kicked him under the table. The fact that Phil had deflected from the purpose of the conversation concerned me. I was about to respond, flirt if I had to, anything to get the truth from him, when we were interrupted by a form approaching the table. I glanced up and sighed. I had a pretty good idea who our uninvited guest was, so I had a choice. Play it stupid, and hope for the best, or put him off his game. The problem was, I wasn’t 100% sure I was correct in my assumptions, but the risk seemed worth it.

“Ah, my good friend Alan Bloomgate. Nice to finally meet you.” I announced, standing as I did and shaking his hand. This gesture was uncomfortable for me, but it also gave me an element of power in the situation. Alan paused, suddenly off his stride, surprised I had made the connection so quickly. I was thankful that my suspicion was valid. If I had been wrong, the officer would have had all the power.

“Is now a good time to discuss information you may have pertaining to the Hannah Donfort and Amy Lewis Bell cases?” Alan asked, directly to the point. I raised an eyebrow as I considered what he said. The question was stupid really, he knew full well that I had been avoiding that exact conversation. Stupid questions lead to stupid answers, I decided.

“Well, actually now is not a really good time, see I came here to spend some time with my close pal Phil. See, he’s practically family... and, you know how things go when you’re in prison, that time tends to be quite limited,” I announced, unable to keep my snarky attitude to myself, while exaggerating my relationship to Phil. I despised the police in general. They had never done anything to protect me. When I was on the street, they would walk past me like they were blind, even when I was just a kid. It tended to be easier for them, less paperwork and all of that. Unless I did something wrong, then they’d be all over my ass to protect the more upstanding citizens. Of course, my attitude towards them didn’t help matters. Still, it made me feel better.

“I’m sure we can arrange for you to see Mr Hawkins another time,” Alan said, his voice taking on a stern ‘you will not fuck with me’ tone. This riled me even more. I hoped Jake would do something before I ended up getting arrested for assaulting a police officer.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. Mr Hawkins really shouldn’t be in here at all, right?" I paused, thinking to myself 'at least not for everything that the man without a face has done'. "I know you make a habit of going after innocent people, but arresting an innocent man while being blind to the movements of the actual culprit?" I mock sighed, exaggerating it for effect. "Anyway, If you want my opinion on the aforementioned cases, then I’d suggest you cast your net a little further and leave us alone.” I replied, trying desperately to refrain from what I actually wanted to say. Dan and Phil both shot me awkward ‘won’t you shut the fuck up’ glances. However, I couldn’t really be arrested for being a bitch. They could hardly build much of a case on hurt feelings. The best they could do was hold me in a cell for a while. That would be inconvenient but not the end of the world.

As Alan glared at me, I suddenly regretted my response, as I found myself backed into a corner.

“Actually, I was about to tell Mr Hawkins that we would be releasing him on bail, if he is able to make the money,” Alan replied. This surprised me and put me further on the back foot. Just as I was about to dig the hole deeper for myself, alarms started sounding in various places throughout the building. Moving hastily, I grabbed Dan’s arm and motioned he should follow. As Alan’s attention was momentarily distracted, I slid past him and headed into the reception area, walking quickly, but refraining from running. I hoped Jake's alarms hadn’t caused a lockdown. On reaching the reception, I could see that the staff were all staring at the computer screen. Making my way out the front door, I turned briefly to face Dan.

“Can you text Jake the letter D. I’ll be in touch,” I stated quickly then, before he could respond, I was off at a run taking one of my less desired escape routes. I didn’t know whether I could trust him with that simple task, but I hoped he would do that for me, even if I had upset him.

Jumping over the buildings for my escape, I was careful to keep an eye out for the man without a face, but the bigger concern was Alan. I wondered just how much he knew and who he was working in conjunction with. If it was the Government, he now had a good idea where Jake and I were. If it was from my past, then he was a dirty cop and I would have a tail pretty quickly. Either way, I’d fucked up going there and hadn’t learnt much of anything, except that Phil was definitely hiding something. Sliding down the fire escape, I was relieved to see Jake pull up in front of me. He had the door open before I had cleared the small distance to the car. I jumped in and slammed the door, holding on as he sped away.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake growled. “I would have had you out sooner, but from what I could see, you hadn’t gained enough from Phil to make any clear judgements. I knew we had one shot at this...but fuck,” he hissed. I ignored his comment to try and forge ahead. We were in more danger now than we had been since we found each other.

“I think we need to meet up with Dan. He knows Phil better than I do and I have a few questions for him. Then we need to get the fuck out of here, because I have a bad feeling that one of our pasts is going to catch up with us.” I stated. Jake nodded, suddenly looking tired more than anything.

“You’re right, fuck, I’m so sorry, you know that right? I should have been stronger and stayed away from you. You’d only have your own problems to face, not this shit with Hannah and the Government. I screwed your life from the moment I entered it.”

Shit, meeting up with Phil had potentially been the worst idea of my life. Now, not only were we in danger, but Jake had regressed back to pushing me away. Admittedly, I had done the same thing to him in the beginning, but since I had consciously made the decision that life wasn’t really life without Jake, I had been all in. I would manage to live with the dangers of his life and I’d do anything in my power to shelter him from the dangers of mine. After all, couples were meant to share shit, right? And he made me stronger. His defenses, coupled with my own, should be enough to face anything.

As he drove, I glared at him, but he took no notice. Instead his eyes remained fixed on the road in front of him. “Fuck Jake.” I groaned. “You don’t get it, do you? The only purpose I had in my life, before you, was to try and fix the problems I have started. What do you think would have happened to me after that? When my problems were gone, with no purpose? I may have ended up going back to the street. I may have ended up dead. Now I want to live. Now, even after I have fixed my situation, I want to carry on. Because of you, you turnip,” I growled, then shook my head at myself. Jake sighed, slumping in his seat.

“Turnip?” he questioned.

“Ugh, I wanted to let you know how stupid you were being...without being mean?” I sighed. Jake snickered quietly at my response then sighed again.

“Nothing you can say right now will make me feel any less guilty.” He murmured. “I need to feel guilty right now. I need to feel angry and upset. After that, I’ll be more willing to think about our future. But right now, I just need to be angry.”

I nodded thoughtfully and sat back, trying to ignore his presence and give him the time he needed. Eventually he replied. “Okay, you better text Donkey Kong with his new mission,” he sighed with a side smile at me. I giggled. “Wait, why Donkey Kong now?” I asked. “Isn’t it obvious?” Jake replied. “He’s a giant monkey that I could see throwing things when he gets upset, and you are like a very talented jump man that can jump pretty much anything.”

I was glad that Jake had a bit of his humour back, so I decided to encourage him more along this path. “Wait, when did I become a man?” I questioned, unzipping my pants and making a mock show of checking. Jake laughed. “You had better let me check that later, I will be more thorough than you.”

“Hm, yeah I think I’ll allow that,” I giggled as I rezipped my pants. Jake took my hand and smiled. “Listen, what I said before, it’s because I’m scared. It isn’t because I don’t want you. You’ve given my life as much purpose as I’ve given yours. But I’ve given you twice as many problems as you’ve given me.”

“Hm, you’re right.” I replied, pausing and raising my eyebrows as I stared at him. “I can always get a few more, if you like! That way we can be even.” Jake laughed again but tried to turn it into a growl of disapproval. I snickered then pulled out my phone. “Okay, so where are we going to meet Donkey Kong?” I asked. Jake smiled then thought for a moment. “I guess we don’t have a lot of options. Let’s go back to the warehouse. At least we know he knows where that is. We will move on as soon as we have had this conversation...or before it if we see any signs of trouble.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling a weight of dread descend again. Pulling out my phone, I text Dan then sat back, eyes closed, as Jake drove us back to the warehouse.

Part 56

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