#i feel like most people i’ve had discussions with where i’m from sort of anticipated this

[pparacxosm]

.. who’s up in the polls of the us election?

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 258,

Author's Note/Content Warning: Blood/wounds. Stream of consciousness depiction of a panic attack. Severe self-loathing.

Spending the night in the archive again.  Much as it pains me to admit it, I’m still avoiding James.

On that note though of things I’ve been avoiding, I’m finally going to attempt to recount what happened when we got back from the expedition.  Thing is, when I’m writing these accounts, sometimes I get into a sort of tranced out flow state that feels eerily like reliving the experience, and I’ve been a little afraid of doing that here.  Sure, I’ve done it before with what were objectively worse experiences and come away feeling… well, “better” isn’t the right word, but there can be a sort of catharsis to it.  This one just hit differently though.

I think it’s the guilt.

Ten days ago now (almost eleven with how late the night is) we set out from the island we’d bookended the first and last nights of our journey on.  True, we were a bit tired and sore from days of rowing/paddling, but the overall mood was bright as the cloudless blue morning.  We weren’t excited, per say, but there’s a certain joyful anticipation on the last leg of a homeward journey.  Reunions with those you’ve spent an unusual time away from.  The comfort of familiar surroundings.  The promise of a proper bath and bed.  Simple pleasures to look forward to, all mixed in with a sense of accomplishment from having been somewhere and done something.  “Triumphant” is almost certainly too dramatic, but the emotion’s an easily indulged lesser cousin.

It occurs to me that most people of the Village wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.  Or would they?  The fishers, the shepherds, the hunters, the crystal collectors all leave home for days at a time at varying frequencies.  Maybe it’s the same for them, and I’m just falling into the trap of thinking I’m special in this way due to my outsider status.

But I digress.  Or perhaps delay.

As I said, we were somewhat worn down by the past few days and as such our progress towards returning was slower than our initial setting out.  We’d just pulled the boats alongside one another to discuss whether to make a midday stop on the next island we came across when we felt the resonance from the bracelets.  It was the first time one of us other than me had been in enough danger to set it off, and thus it was my first time being on the receiving end of that signal.

I’ve always struggled to properly describe what it normally feels like using the bracelets to locate one another.  When you’re actively moving toward someone, the easiest thing to do is to just generally think about them and sort of let your legs go on autopilot like when walking a route that you take every day and no longer fully register its passage.  Sitting stationary and trying to pinpoint where they are is a bit different.  More like when you close your eyes in a familiar room and can still picture where everything is in relation to you, or how you can pick up an object you set down a few minutes ago without looking at it.  A kind of integration with that sort of spatial sense memory.

Now, if that wasn’t totally obtuse, imagine that but instead of intentionally choosing to focus and picture where your target is your attention is forcibly yanked away from whatever you were doing or thinking about and pointed in a direction you’d been utterly unaware of and unconcerned with until just now when the intruding sense of “threat” drowned out and derailed your prior train of thought.  The best analogy I can think of would be something like a lightning strike going off nearby or a predatory animal growling right behind you.  Or perhaps suddenly smelling smoke and realizing your house is on fire.  And of course all the physiological symptoms of fear abruptly leap into action to accompany this sudden awareness.  Increased heart rate.  A chill as the blood rushes inward away from your skin to supply your vital organs.  Your stomach “dropping.”  Hairs raised.  Muscles involuntarily clenched.

With the shock of it all, it takes a few moments to register that you’re not the one in danger.  The sense of impending doom persists anyway.  As you start to stabilize you’re able to process that directional sense, along with an impression of who triggered the alarm.

Something had happened to Vernon.  Or was about to happen.  The strange part was, for some reason he was on the north end of the island, a decent ways into the jungle.

There was hardly a discussion beyond confirming that we’d all felt it before we abandoned any further thought of taking a break and proceeded to adjust our course so that we’d make landfall as close to him as we could.  Or rather, we let the bracelet autopilot do its thing while we just focused on going as fast as we could sustain.  This meant that Maiko and Cass’s boat quickly outpaced Lin’s and mine, but she (and I say “she” not “they” since it was obviously just Maiko paddling) slowed down to let us catch up once the alarm finally stopped some minutes later.

Just because Vernon was out of immediate danger, that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t hurt or in need of aid, and as such we spent the next several hours in a grim silence as we let the bracelets guide us.  Lin and I worked in roughly equal shifts, but Maiko only once took a brief break at Lin’s insenstance to let Cass take the paddle for a bit so she wouldn’t burn herself out before we got there.  I can only speculate how Cass must have felt at not being able to contribute more there.  I know I’d felt bad enough with my own weakness on the way out, and that was without a friend being in need.

The strange part of all of it though was that we could tell Vernon was moving back south, and fast.  Not a comforting sort of fast like he was healthy and unharmed taking a brisk pace back home, but uncannily fast.  Preternaturally even.  The mystery of what that was only deepened our concern.

In the end (or perhaps “at the beginning” of where things truly started to go wrong), we made landfall with an hour or so to spare before nightfall.  At Maiko’s cove.  Our originally planned landing point for where we’d split from Maiko and transfer Cass and whatever else to the other boat to return to the Village docks.  Vernon was there, at the treeline, lying seemingly unconscious, out of uniform, and with the front of his torn shirt stained red.

If it weren’t for the bracelets I would have feared he was dead.  No, that’s not right.  I did fear that and couldn’t tell if being able to sense him was a good sign or just wishful thinking born from denial in the face of loss.

Lin was out of the boat as soon as the water was shallow enough for her to wade through, bag of emergency medical supplies that had thankfully gone unused up until now held high to keep it dry.  By the time I’d beached the boat she’d already gotten his shirt open and was applying something to the wounds.  Maybe washing them out, maybe some sort of antiseptic.  Truth is, I couldn’t bring myself to watch too closely.  I just sort of stood there several paces away, keeping Lin’s back between me and my view of Vernon, unsure of what to do with myself beyond stay out of the way.  Maybe I should have pulled out a notebook and played the role of Archivist, recording the situation, getting in close for a better look, asking Vernon what happened once he woke up, but that seems inhumanly cold.

As it was, I’d had just enough presence of mind to grab Cass and hold her back.  Thought I’d shield the child from gore.  She protested of course.  That lasted until Lin shouted for someone to help.  I let go more out of surprise than anything.

And then I just watched as Cass and Maiko ran in to help.  Adjusting Vernon’s position.  Holding supplies at the ready.  Fetching items from the bag when Lin had her hands full.

And I just stood there, internal voice screaming that I should do something but offering no clue what.  Berating myself for being useless.  Berating myself for berating myself instead of helping.  Stuck in a loop.  Couldn’t Didn’t even think to ask what I could do to help.

Did they think I didn’t care?

Or did they just think I was useless?

I did, but I was.

Or did they even notice?

Would that be better or worse?

Useless.

I still have no idea how long Theo had been standing there watching us when he finally made his presence known, speaking up to compliment Lin as a worthy successor to her father and comment that Cass had an aptitude as an assistant for this kind of thing.  Talking with the others in the following days, none of them had noticed him before then either.  We figure he was probably there the whole time.  Whether he has some anomalous means of going unseen like the nature sprites (or if he maybe even is one) or if he’s just really good at hiding, we’re unsure.

I’m not sure when the last time was that I saw Maiko go stiff the way she did then.  When she first met Cass I think.  But with the location, the first time I saw her up close was what came to mind.  I thought for sure she would bolt then and there, and probably was about to when Theo addressed her by name and said he’d known about her for some time now.

We didn’t get a chance to ask about that when he changed the topic and started telling us what happened to Vernon.  Said that “for some reason” (in a tone that said he knew exactly why) the junior mediator had left the Village before dawn to go running around up in the northern jungle where he got attacked by one of the wild cats that live deeper inside.  “Fortunately” (with the implication that luck had little if anything to do with it) Theo was around to save him and carry him to safety.  He knew that we’d be back soon and this was a closer spot than taking Vernon all the way to Huan in the Village proper, so now here we all were.  He claimed he’d stayed out of sight as we approached so he wouldn’t scare off Maiko.

Lin and Cass started asking the obvious questions.  Maiko was still frozen.  I was still useless.  Vernon started to cough and wake up.  All of our attention snapped to him.

None of us noticed the crowd that had come up the beach behind us until one of them shouted something.  I can’t remember what.  Too overwhelmed by registering that there were people.

Too caught up with the pieces clicking into place and form the terrible conclusion.

Theo had made a threat.

Said I’d regret going against it.

We’d I’d ignored it.

Vernon was hurt.

We were all gathered together.

Our attention focused on Vernon and Theo.

In a cove where it’s easy to be caught by surprise.

Now there was a crowd.

Witnesses.

Maiko.

Witnesses to Maiko.

Maiko standing over Vernon bloody handed.

Red on red.

Still distinct shades.

Witnesses to Vernon’s blood on Maiko’s hands.

First impressions are important.

Maiko ran.  Lin shouted.  Chased after.

Gone into the woods.

Cass drew the same conclusion I did.  Started shouting at Theo.  Where’d she pick up that vocabulary?  Started punching him.  In the stomach.  Couldn’t reach his face.  Pounded on the chestplate of his uniform.

Barely registered Antigone push past me to pull her daughter off the old guard.  Must have been in the crowd.  Did I hear James?  Not sure.

Too busy processing being useless.

Vernon was awake.  Asking what was going on.

Looked at him.  Opened my mouth.  Nothing came out.

Theo started calling out.  Getting everyone calm and in order.  Got some people to carry Vernon back to the Village.  Told everyone else to get on back to the planned post-wedding celebrations.  Everything was fine now.  There was still time to set up before the sun went down.

A wedding.  The Archivist should be present for those.

People crowding around me.  Asking questions.  Too many people.  Too much noise.  Too close.  No good answers to give.  Already failed.  Already shut down.  Already got friends in trouble.  Should say something.  What to say.  Something.  Stop freezing up.  Useless.  In a loop.  Useless.  Thoughts gone recursive.  Why are you so useless?  Why don’t you do something?  This is all your fault.  You should try to fix it.  But what?  Something.  That doesn’t help.  Figure it out.  How?  Do it.  I can’t.  Yes you can, you’ve done it before.  When I’m like this?  Stop making excuses.  I’m trying.  No you’re not.  I am.  If you were you would have done something by now.  This is Theo’s fault.  Don’t shift the blame.

Looping.

Useless.

Broken.

Suddenly space.  Theo saying something to the crowd.  Hand on my shoulder.  Leading me back to the house.  Saying something.  No response.  Nothing more said until we’re on the porch.  He puts out a hand.  Know what he wants.  Inner screaming.  Cursing him.  Imagine smacking his hand away.  How could he do this?  What gave him the right?  How was he even capable of pulling this off?  Of planning it?  Getting everyone in just the right place at the right time?

Wordlessly, I open the bag with my journal and notebook.  Hand over my copies of Iole’s book.

He asks me if it was worth it.

Heart races.  Breathing gets hard.  Skin gets hot.

Pull the door open.  Slam it shut behind me.

Childish.

Stagger to the couch.  Grab it’s back for support.  Or maybe just something to grip.  To squeeze.  Try to steady my breath along with my body.  Slow down.  Not working.  This isn’t panic.  Something else.  Unfamiliar emotion.  Detached part of me clinically recognizes it.  Don’t like it.  Want to scream.  Screaming is rude, don’t do it.  It’s not like you to be loud anyway.  Try anyway.  Can’t bring myself to do it.  Just stretching my mouth painfully wide, tensing up my throat and exhaling silently.  Do I even know how to scream?  There’s an impulse to flail about.  To hit things.  Throw something.  Cause disarray.  Don’t throw a tantrum like a spoiled child.  Give in anyway.  Stop myself just short.  The furniture did nothing to deserve this.  To damage it would be cruel, petty, and wasteful.  You’re cruel, petty, and wasteful for considering it.  Take it out on something that deserves it.  Who deserves it?  Who’s this emotion directed at?  Theo.  Myself.  You missed your chance with Theo.  Harming myself is unthinkable.  That leaves self-loathing.  Already at the limit for that.  You need to excise this somehow.  But how?  The journal.  Can’t think clearly enough to write.  Don’t need to write, it’s as much a part of you as anything.

I barely remember making the “entry” I made that night.  Looks like I nearly tore straight through the page.  I think I might have passed out shortly thereafter.

When I woke up the next morning I finally thought to check to see if Maiko’s pouch was still in its hiding spot in the couch.  It was already gone.  Not sure if that means she got to the house and retrieved it before I arrived or if she snuck in during the night.

The next few days were… bad.  The less said about them the better.  It took running out of food to get me to leave the house.

When I did eventually talk to Vernon and Lin again, I was finally able to get a more clear picture of what exactly happened that day.  And the days leading up to it.  And the immediate aftermath.

Shortly after we’d set out on the expedition a couple in the Village announced their plans for a wedding.  With Vernon’s job he was peripherally aware of it, but wasn’t directly assigned to organizing it.  However, when he heard they were planning to have the reception/afterparty in a “scenic little cove up the coast that doesn’t get much use and shouldn’t wake anyone if things go late” he realized this could potentially be a problem and tried to talk his peers into changing the venue.  And he succeeded.  Crisis averted.  And then he found out the day before that they’d changed the plans back at the last minute.  He’d been checking the bracelets daily, so by then he was aware that we were on our way back and close enough that there was a good chance of us stumbling into that.  

Unable to think of any other way to warn us to change course, the noble, reckless, selfless fool resorted to the desperate plan of putting himself in danger to set off the alarm and get us to make landfall further north.  Unfortunately, he found more danger than he was prepared to deal with, but then Theo showed up, seemingly out of nowhere to rescue him.  He doesn’t remember anything between that and waking up with us all over him.

Vernon and Lin both tell me that he got lucky and the wounds were actually relatively shallow, looking a lot worse than they actually are.  He might end up with a bit of a scar, but nothing impeding, debilitating, or disfiguring.  I’m not quite sure how that works out compared to what I saw, but I’m not a medical expert and it wouldn’t be the first time human biology around here doesn’t line up with what I expect as “normal.”

As for Lin, like I said, she went chasing after Maiko when she ran off.  She couldn’t keep up though.  Not with Maiko going all out, and especially not since she’d given the pale ring back to me.  Eventually, she lost the sense of Maiko’s presence through the bracelet.  She kept heading in the direction she’d been going though until she found where Maiko had discarded hers on the ground.  I can’t imagine what that must have felt like, but I heard - both from several villagers visiting the archive days later and from Lin herself during our dinner at Vernon’s - that she staggered back to the cove while the festivities were still in progress (although it sounds like it’d become mostly people gossiping about what had just happened; I feel bad for the newlyweds) and climbed into Maiko’s boat.  It sounds like she had something of a breakdown herself, curling up in a ball, and resisting any attempts to move her.  Although when Lin told the story, the only attempt to remove her she mentioned was when her mother came to bring her back home long after everyone else had left.  When she went back the next day, the boat was gone.  As far as I know, she still has Maiko’s bracelet.

As I write this, it occurs to me that was the first time Lin’s ever mentioned her mother specifically.  It’s always been either “her father” or “her parents” (plural).  Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing or hearing her mother the one time I went to Lin’s house.  Then again, I was pretty out of it that night.

And then, like I’ve said before, over the next week or so Vernon (after what strikes me as a surprisingly quick recovery) and Pat did damage control, explaining the situation to everyone in the Village, speaking well of Maiko, and generally convincing people that she’s nothing to be scared of.  Vernon tells me that when he talked to Pat about it, the elder had suspected Maiko’s presence and our association with her for a long time but never knew for certain.  Allegedly he’d decided it was best to hold off on saying anything until one of us (or Maiko herself) did, but he’d made plans (prepared speeches and everything) for when everyone did eventually find out about her, whether by her own volition or something like this.  It seems the plan now for if when she comes back is to give her a treatment similar to what I got.  The standard outsider introduction to the Village, if you will.

We can only hope it works out so smoothly.

Once I finally managed to drag myself back to the Village (as I mentioned before) I started getting a stream of visitors that were really there more to ask questions than to get anything from the archive.  Some of it was about the expedition itself, some of it was about what happened that evening, but most of it was about Maiko.  The whole thing’s become a veritable bed of rumors and speculation, and frankly it gets tiring quickly.  Most people have managed to put two and two together though that Maiko was the one who pulled the cart on that morning we all rushed to the floating island.  Which of course feeds a whole subset of rumors and speculation about her strength in particular.

And all that is part of the reason Lin spent that week avoiding people as much as she could.  But perhaps the larger part of it was that there simply weren’t a lot of people in the various places she went looking for Maiko.  Mostly isolated spots that she’d told her about during all that time they alone spent together on the expedition.  Old campsites.  Favorite fishing and hunting spots.  Neat looking trees and rock formations.  That sort of thing.

I’ve already touched on Cass’s situation recently enough in the past couple days, and it’s getting late so I won’t reiterate that in detail here.

And so we all angsted over the ordeal and coped with it in our own ways, to varying degrees of functionality, caught back up with one another again, seemed to be starting to pull ourselves back together, and then Lin jumped aboard a floating island at midnight, Cass showed up at my door the next midnight, and now I’m up writing and excising my inner demons at the midnight after that.

So, was finally writing this as bad as I feared?  No, but it was still painful.  Did I find closure or catharsis?  I’m not sure.

But I think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

So that’s something.

<==Previous��         Next==>

[spencersawkward]

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted! 

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

[bakugosbratx]

NSFW 18+ The Assistant— AU Levi Ackerman x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Smut, degrading, cursing, punishment, dom levi, sub reader, bondage, bdsm, some angst, toxic relationship, spanking, cheating, etc.

Words: 3, 673

Check out my other works here

A/N: Me and my irl moot @idfkwtfgof came up with this idea so I decided to write it out. Enjoy this fifty shades of gray moment. I’ve been working on this for over a month 🙃 I’m sorry it took me forever.

Tags: @idfkwtfgof @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie

You take a deep breath as you approached the double doors in front of you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage. The silent hallways seemed to be echoing the thumps. Anyone in your position would be nervous too if they had to meet with the CEO of the Ackerman Industries. He was not one to enjoy much company nor request it. His gaze alone could intimidate the strongest of people and you are no different.

Fist resting on the wooden door in front of you, you hesitate, but close your eyes and knock anyway. You did not hear a response as you patiently wait. Instead, the door swings open to be met with the CEO himself, Levi Ackerman. Not a word was spoken, but he ushered you inside his huge office.

Scurrying, you slightly jump as you heard the huge door slam. You are in Levi’s office. Only businessmen and women are allowed in here. You feel not even worthy to be stepping on the same floor these successful people walk on. It could also be the fact that the office seemed spotless. For someone as busy as the CEO, he sure did know how to make a stack of papers seem neat in a stack.

“Sit.” Levi instructed as he strolled over to his desk chair and doing the said action. You looked around the room. Behind Levi is a wall of windows to overlook the city of New York. His desk his a beautiful dark brown that was so clean that you could see your reflection. Along with seeing your reflection, you can see —and feel— Levi starring at you. Meeting his silver orbs, you gulp.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Y/N?” Levi questioned, his tone remaining calm as always. Somehow, this intimidated you even more.

“No, sir, I don’t.” You admit. In all honesty, you are not sure why Levi called you into his office. He waited until almost everyone has gone home for the evening to set up this meeting. You have felt nauseous all day about it. Receiving an email from the CEO was enough to make anyone’s breath hitch, but to have a meeting — alone — with him is enough to make one soil themselves.

“I want to offer you a promotion,” Levi explained, his gaze hardening. “That is, if you want it?”

This is way better news than you expected. Levi has employees for a reason. He always calls the shots since it is his million dollar company, but why get his hands dirty when he can pay people to do it for him? Since no one is allowed in his office without special permission, this seemed a bit off.

“What does the job intel?”

“Well, my company is expanding even larger than anticipated this year. I need a personal assistant. Examining the work you have put in over the years, I decided you are cut out for the job. What do you say?”

You take a moment to contemplate his words. The offer is amazing and would definitely look great on your resume, but working so close to the CEO of the company is quite intimidating. Any bad habits you have developed better end swiftly or else it’s your job on the line. Levi is not afraid to terminate anyone not fit for the job.

“I’ll take it.” You smile, the words flowing out before you could even think any further.

“You start tomorrow. I expect you in my office 8am sharp. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Standing up, you straighten out your black pencil skirt and head your way towards the door. Levi’s eyes did not once leave your figure. The way you naturally sway your hips as you walk and the way the skirt hugged your hips just right. His eyes are enjoying the desires most men have yet when you turned to look over your shoulder, his eyes where focused on his paperwork.

You went home that night, excited to tell your significant other about your promotion. He did not even blink an eye in your direction. Instead, he is pissed that you are home later than normal.

“Babe—“

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed.

“I-I was called into the CEO’s office. I got a promotion!” You stammered, nervous under your boyfriend’s glare. He always made you feel small and his anger tends to send you over the edge. This is one of those many times.

“Why would he have you in there this late? Do you think I’m really that fucking stupid?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Babe, I’m being serious. I would never lie to you.” You argued.

“And how do I know that?” He countered. “How am I certain that you aren’t cheating on me? Or even hurt? Are your damn thumbs broken, Y/N? Can’t keep me updated ‘bout what’s going on? I was worried sick about you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll do better.”

Your boyfriend walked over to you, embracing your body into a tight hug. You had so much more to say, but to prevent any further escalation of an argument, you apologized and kept your mouth shut.

The next morning arrived. You woke up extra early to have time to do your hair and makeup, dressed in your nicest attire, and wear the most expensive of jewelry. Since you are going to be around the CEO for now on, you cannot show up to work appearing sluggish. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

“Dressed quite nicely, huh?” He spoke, meeting your eyes through the mirror. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“I have to be.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his orbs tracing your figure. He hated when you showed confidence. It killed him inside and knowing that other men saw your beauty as well made his blood boil. He just has to ruin it.

“For the circus? Your makeup looks awful and your hair is tremendous.” He scoffed.

You bit your bottom lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you prevented them from falling. You refuse to let him ruin your confidence. You are a strong woman and his insecurities shouldn’t be placed upon you. It is not your baggage to carry.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror. You feel your confidence crumble beneath you, but you remain strong. Turning around, you brush past him as you stroll out of the bathroom. You ignored him calling your name and demanding you to return. All he could do is watch as you left without even saying goodbye.

You arrived to the business earlier than expected. You have checked your hair and makeup more than once in the car review mirror. You are not necessarily even wanting Levi’s approval, — though he is quite handsome — you just want to look presentable. He is your boss, after all. He is not afraid to fire anyone on the spot. You are no exception.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you knock on Levi’s office door. You hear his approval to come inside and welcome yourself inside. You were not even receive a glance as you closed the door behind you. Levi’s gray orbs never left his monitor screen. You gulp nervously as you proceed towards his desk.

“I stopped to get some coffee. I brought you a tea,” you lay his cup on his desk, “just how you like it.”

He nods, still typing away. This did not help your anxiety at all. Is he regretting his decision making you his assistant? Are you disturbing him? Is he contemplating firing you? Your stomach turned at the thought.

The sound of the printer disturbed your nuisance thoughts. Levi grabbed the piece of paper and placed it on top of a neat stack. He stands up, finally looking at you.

“I have a meeting to attend to in an hour. I need these documents assorted in alphabetical order before then.”

Your eyes fall to the tall stack of papers. You definitely need more than an hour to get through them all. By Levi’s facial expression, you knew he was serious. Levi always looked serious.

“Yes, sir,” you grab the stack and meet his a gaze again, “I’ll get it done swiftly.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. Sit over there.” He orders, glancing at the couches and coffee table in the middle of his office. Maybe it is just your nerves, but his workspace seems bigger than remembered. This did not help your anxiety.

You began getting to work. You thought you are doing well on time, but time seemed to have passed you by. Levi is now towering over you, his unsatisfied silver orbs glaring down at you. You hesitate, but force yourself to meet them.

“Thought you said you would have this done?” Levi recalls.

“I-I’m really sorry, s-sir.” You stammered, expecting the worse.

“Sorry doesn’t sort the papers, Y/N.” He scolds, his silver eyes only being shown through slits.

“I—“

“We will discuss this after my meeting. Until then, I want my office spotless.” Levi continues, cutting you off. He begins walking towards the door and pauses once he reaches for the handle. “Oh and Y/N?”

You look up, meeting the CEO’s annoyed orbs. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re on strike one.” Levi warns. You did not even have a chance to ask questions as his office door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone to sulk in your thoughts.

You tidied up Levi’s office like he requested of you. Every paper went into its appropriate home, cushions are straightened out, rug is vacuumed, and you are currently dusting. This man is a clean freak by nature so there was not much to do. Still, your nerves were pulsating. This is only day one and you are not on Levi’s good side. You are becoming worrisome as your job is now potentially on the line.

The door opening made you jump. You can feel Levi’s silver orbs on you as you dust his bookshelf. He did not disturb you, though, as he proceeded towards his desk and went to work like nothing happened. Curiosity is begging you to speak, but you remain silent and complete your task.

You gather the cleaning supplies and place them back into the small closet. Returning on the guest side of Levi’s desk, he does not even look up from his monitor.

“I’m finished cleaning, sir.”

Levi did not say anything. Instead, he stood up and went to the window. His fingers grazed along the exterior which collected dust on the tips. He studied it for a moment. Your heart stopped as your breath hitched. You did not mean to forget the windows, but they look so clean already. They truly do not need much more cleaning.

“Seems like you missed a spot.” He remarks, turning to face you.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I thought—“

“Your cleaning is lamentable. Back to dusting. Now.” He demands, cleaning the dust off of his fingers with his handkerchief.

“Yes, sir.” You reply, gathering the cleaning supplies once again. You sprayed the windows and clean every inch of them until lunch time. Levi was sure to inspect your work before releasing you to go get something to eat.

“You’re dismissed.” He finally speaks. You are quick to collect your belongings leave his office. You stroll the long hallway to the elevator. You are finally alone with your thoughts and honestly, they were overwhelming. This job is very nerve racking and it’s only your first day. You are not making the best of impressions on your boss.

Digging in your purse, you check your cellphone. You have several missed calls and texts from your significant other. A pit in your stomach began to drown your appetite. You know this is going to cause a major fight between you two. A fight you did not want to participate in.

Reluctantly, you call your boyfriend back. He picks up on the second ring.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed, sending chills down your spine. The elevator doors open and you head towards the cafeteria.

“Working. I can’t be on my phone while I’m—“

“So work is more important than me?” He interrupts.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.” You argued, picking up a bag of chips and a drink from the dispensers before checking out.

“Then answer my damn calls, Y/N!”

“I can’t when I’m at work!” You exclaimed. You hand the cashier money before mouthing the words ‘thank you.’ She gave you a worried look, but you disregarded it. This is not the first time that have heard a heated conversation between you and your boyfriend.

You go find an empty table to eat by yourself. The bickering between your boyfriend did not end on a good note as the other line went dead. You slammed your phone back into your purse and forced yourself to eat your chips. You did not even want them. Your relationship is falling through the cracks, you are failing at your job, and you are on the verge of losing what is left of your sanity.

Time really slipped away while you fumed in anger because you are now late to returning to Levi’s office. Tears prickled in your eyes. This is not good at all. Levi is going to be furious. Even possibly firing you.

You raced to his office. You did not even take the elevator as it will take far too long to get to his office. You are panting by the time you arrive and sweat droplets formed at the top of your forehead. Your hands began to shake as your hand rested on the handle. You need to go in there, but your body did not want to move. Your boyfriend is already pissed. You did not want to deal with your furious boss.

Sighing, you forced yourself to go inside. “I am so sorry.” You blurt out as you enter inside. Levi is giving you a disapproving look.

“Take a seat, Y/N. We need to have a talk.”

Following your boss’ orders, you sit in the chair parallel to his. You begin to tremble as you expect the worse. Levi’s glare does not help you feel any less uneasy either. His silver orbs are staring deep into your soul and making you feel small.

“You know you’re on strike three.” Levi begins. You gulp.

“I know, sir. I’m very sorry. I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind for me.” You sigh, trying to remain brave. Levi can see right through it, though. His gaze hardens and he makes his way around to your side of the desk. He folds his arms but does not remove his gaze from you once.

“What punishment do you think you deserve?” Levi ask, hoping you have the same answer in mind as him.

“I-I’m not sure. I’ll take anything. It’s what I deserve.” You admit, a flustered feeling coming across you. Levi studied your features, clicking his tongue.

“Bend over the desk.”

“What?” You whispered, not sure if you heard your boss correctly. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His intimidating glare pierced through you.

“Talking to that lame ass boyfriend of yours must have you goin deaf. I said bend over my desk.” Levi instructs, letting go of your chin once you catch his drift. You do as your told, bending over his desk. You are uncertain what he is planning to do, but the removal of your skirt gave you a pretty good idea. Your cheeks felt hot as your bare ass is now exposed to Levi’s viewing.

“Lace panties, huh? You planned on being put in this position later?” Levi chuckles, his digits playing with the strap of your thong. You bit your bottom lip, not knowing what to say. A hard smack to your bare ass caused you to release a moan.

“I asked you a question. It’s only polite to answer, brat.”

“Yes. It was for my boyfriend.” You confess in embarrassment for more reasons than one.

“Oh, I see. Your toxic little relationship is in need of fixing, but the only thing you have to offer is your pretty little pussy.” Levi analyzes, rubbing his hand on your ass before delivering another slap. You wince in pain, but you mentally screamed for more. You wanted Levi to continue spanking you.

“That’s not it, sir.” You mumbled. His hand landed down on your sore ass once more while the other hand finds refuge in your hair. He pulls it, tightly, bending your head back.

“What really gets me is this mouth of yours. I suggest you use it to tell the truth before I stuff it.” Levi growls lowly in your ear, letting go of your hair to return behind you.

Another slap was delivered. Little melodies of moans escaped your lips that you attempted to conceal. Levi did not comment on it as he proceed with the punishment. Your cunt dripped with your slick. It is begging to be touched, fucked, anything Levi desires really.

A few slaps and a very red ass later, Levi’s digits founder their way inside your soaked cunt. “Someone enjoyed themselves, hm?” He teased, curling his fingers in you. You shuffle a bit, enjoying the sensation he is giving you. The removal of his fingers made you whine in a needy tone.

“I did, Levi. Please fuck me.” You cry, wanting his cock already. He chuckled at your begging, his hand rubbing your red ass then hitting it again.

“On your knees. Now.” Levi demands. You happily oblige before him. He pats your head in approval. “Good girl. You do know how to listen.”

Levi begins unbuckling his black belt. You are practically foaming at the mouth as he slides the leather out of each loop. He sets it on the desk before proceeding to unbuckle his pants, releasing his hard cock for you to pleasure. Your eyes light up at the sight. The tip of his erection is at your lips, ready for you to move forward. Your tongue teases his sensitive head before you let each inch slide in-and-out of your saliva filled mouth.

“Yeah, like that, baby.” Levi praises as you deep throat his length. You choke some, but continue taking all of his cock. Your tongue spends time playing with the veins in his cock while his head relaxes in your throat.

“The cock hungry slut having a hard time deep throating all my cock?” Levi mocks as you pull it out to catch your breath. A string of saliva connected your lips and his cock together as your lust filled orbs met his.

“Not a chance.” You grin, placing his dick back in your mouth. Levi groans in delight as you repeat the same patterns as before. His cock twitches inside your mouth as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down your throat. You gladly swallow it as his cock becomes overwhelmed, releasing his semen onto your tongue. Not a drop was spilled as you milked his cock for all he had to offer.

Pulling away, Levi praises you again. “Such a good little slut you are. Time we give your pussy some attention, huh?”

“Yes, please, sir.” You beg, eagerly. He taps his desk.

“Bend over my desk.” He commands. Following orders, you bend over his desk like before. You arched your back so your ass and pussy is more accessible for Levi. He spreads your legs out more so your weeping cunt is fully exposed. The cold air sent chills down your spine. Levi is already hard again as he stares at your pussy.

Aligning himself, the tip of his cock enters your dripping hole, sliding in perfectly. You moan as he thrust a rough rhythm. His hips slap against your ass and his hands cling onto your hips. You tightly hang onto his desk as he pick up the pace. You sob out pleas for more.

“Better quiet down. Don’t want your coworkers hearing me fuck you like the whore you are now do we?”

You did not even care. You wanted Levi and you wanted him bad. Groans and profanities filled the room from you two as Levi hits all the right spots. You babble incoherent sentences as you start to climax again on Levi’s girth. Your walls clenched on his size and released when he re-enters himself. This does not stop Levi, though, as he chases after his own high.

“Already cumming again, slut?” Levi teases as he is slowly losing himself inside you. He hit your ass again while his dick twitches. “Ask permission next time.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You cry out, not wanting him to stop. He pulls on your hair again, bending down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you up so much that you have to hide it from your boyfriend.”

“Please Levi.” You beg, not even caring anymore. You wanted Levi. You have wanted him for a long time and the feeling is mutual on his end. That is why he hired you, after all.

Levi’s cock could not withstand the pressure anymore. Releasing into the depths of your cunt, he huffs profanities as every drop enters inside of you. You gladly take it as you breathe heavily. He finally pulls out, leaving you a cum filled mess. Giving your ass a gentle tap so you will get up.

“You are dismissed for the day.” Levi grumbled as he situated himself and you did the same. You straightened out your outfit and fixed your hair. You will fix your makeup in the restroom. You proceeded to exit your boss’ office when he called out to you. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You purred, looking over your shoulder.

“Let your boyfriend know you’re my slut now.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[songbirdstyles]

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well. 

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.” 

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

 ---

 When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back? 

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

 --

 It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is. 

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car. 

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t. 

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

 --

 “I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

 --

 10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

 --

 After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading. 

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you. 

They make you think of him, though. 

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day. 

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made.  You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance. 

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

 --

 Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly. 

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door. 

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: prince xiao x servant gn reader

req: no | wc: 1.62k | royal au

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (you are here) | part 5

taglist: @hanniejji

a/n: low graphic pic

The following days at the palace are tense. Nobody wants to speak about Rex Lapis’s death, in fear that it will spike a new argument. Servants that rush and bustle around the halls can barely even stare at each other, for the siblings’ fights are so harsh and loud that their horrible words still ring in their ears.

Before, as the servants dined together, they spread hearsay. Now the dining hall is silent, with the only sound being cutlery and plates. Each loud clunk of cutlery against porcelain is piercing in their ears.

Rex Lapis upheld a certain peace. With his death, there was anticipation around the corner of every action. Would the kingdom collapse? Who would take the spot of monarch?

The Adepti’s meeting with the Liyue Qixing was only in a few days. If the reunion failed to find a new ruler, doom would surely initiate.

But that was not a servant’s burden. For now, as one of the most trusted, you were to speak with the funeral parlor to begin preparations for the Rite of Parting.

It had been many years since the last Rite of Parting took place, a parting wish for one of the Adepti. Each one was directed and prepared by the Wangsheng Funeral parlor, the only funeral parlor in the kingdom. Their current director was infamous for her humorous spirit, rare for solemn occasions, but however they may behave, the Rite of Parting will not be a matter to be laughed at.

Their consultant was also famous, even in his short term of work. He was known to be calm, reserved, polite, and extremely knowledgeable. Though his reputation did not prepare you to see your supposedly dead king again.

He smiles politely at you from his office chair while you gape at him. Gathering your manners, you greet him with a bow, “Pleasure to be doing business with you, mr. Zhongli. I’m-”

“(y/n), yes I know. Take a seat.”

He may not look like Rex Lapis and he may not have the exact same mannerisms, but this was your king. You were sure of it.

“Rex-”

“Zhongli.” He corrects. “Not many people have seen through my disguise, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You gulp, nodding. “I’m here to discuss the Rite of Parting.”

He cuts you off for the last time, “I know, and that is taken care of. Here is the contract, it has all the information you need. All you need is to take it to the Adepti and they will discuss it, but I have a feeling there’s information that you want.”

“I… yes, there is.” You gulp back the shock. This man in front of you is your dead king, but he’s going by the name of Zhongli. “Wha… why?”

“I’ve always been disconnected from my citizens. Despite this, they depend on me far too much.” He speaks of conflicting matters, yet he speaks of them so calmly and simply, even busying himself with paperwork as he does. “They create a false image of me, and they praise those ideologies. There are many things that they say I do, many ways that they say I behave, and amplified many qualities that I have always shown to be something greater. I was flawed, yet they thought of me as perfect. The people no longer followed a king, instead, they followed the pseudo-god of their imaginations.”

A frown paints his lips, and with a sip of tea, he smiles once more. “I am a regular man just like any other. I have desires and I have flaws and I deserve to take action on them. Do you understand now?”

“Yes.” It was true that the king was not perfect, just as Yuheng Keqing proposed. No person was perfect, and the same went for every monarch of each kingdom.

“You have more questions?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Who should be the new monarch?”

He smiles, in a cheeky way that you’d never seen on the king, “That’s making it too easy for you. Nevertheless, a question is a question. Who has governed Liyue for just as long as I have? Who upholds law and who helps the citizens? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the royal family.”

“The Liyue Qixing?”

“Precisely.” He clears his throat, “But like I said. I’m a regular man. All prophecies of mine are meant to be seen as suggestions, rather than definitive word.”

“Now, you must have something for me in return. I have given plenty of answers, so it’s time you give me some too. Why do you stay with the royal family? I formed this contract with you to become our servant. Now that Rex Lapis is dead, there’s no need to stay. Why are you still serving them?” That was a question you did not have a prepared response to, but one answer shone brightly in your mind.

“Xiao. He… I care for him, and he does for me.” It was simple, yet complicated. Simple, yet it showed all the feelings you had towards the prince.

“He was always attached to you.” Zhongli states as a matter of factly, in a way that brings warmth to your cheeks. “Just as the citizens of Liyue depended on me, he depended on you.” He chuckles, “Minus the fake ideologies part, of course.”

“Well,” He nudges the Rite of Parting documents your way, “I believe that is all. Good day, (y/n).”

“Good day, your majes-” He smiles, eyes crinkling as if he’s seeing an old friend.

“Have a nice day, Zhongli.”

“Welcome home.” Another thing you didn’t expect that day was Xiao waiting for you at the door of the palace, not to mention that he considered the place to be your home. “Where have you been?”

Ever since you comforted him, he was warmer with you. The loner prince who you knew nothing about suddenly became the person you knew the most about. You hadn’t noticed just how much he liked you until your meeting with Zhongli. “Gathering Rite of Parting documents. Where are the Adepti?”

Xiao griances, most likely remembering the horrible arguments from a few days prior. “Doing their own things. Can the meeting… wait for later? I don’t want to have a reenactment of what happened the other day at the moment.”

“Sure.” You nod. “I just need to drop off these papers with another servant. Is there anything you need afterwards?”

“I… have something to show you.” He looks at anything from you, arms behind his back. He seems nervous yet excited at the same time.

“Okay, I’ll be at your room as soon as I can.”

It seemed Xiao had a lot to show you. You had no idea what he had to show off, and you did not think it entailed leaving the city.

The prince walked ahead of you, leading the way. He didn’t dare look you in the eyes, and anything he said was short and to the point. Nevertheless, he did not seem to have a rude intention. He was merely nervous, and you know that because he’s showing the most emotion you’ve ever seen him express.

Xiao stops and sits on a rock platform once you reach your destination, the hill just about overlooking the kingdom’s harbor. “I sneak off to this place sometimes to look at the view. It clears my head.”

“Even after I tuck you into bed?” You ask, taking a seat next to him.

“I- yes.” He seems ashamed to admit it. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be?” You give up on seeking his gaze, taking in the sight of the harbor instead. “I can see why you come here, the view is beautiful.”

It’s lucky that you’re no longer looking at him, because if you locked eyes while he glanced your way, the prince would’ve flushed red. “This wasn’t the only thing I wanted to bring you up here for.” Your beauty under the slowly setting sky of Liyue was magnificent, it almost made him trip over his words.

“Well, what do you have to say?” As the blue sky turns into hues of warm colors -reds, oranges, yellows- it blends in with the warmth of Liyue. The beauty of it has you captured, but Xiao has seen it plenty of times.

“I like you.”

You turn to him to speak, which makes him immediately snap his head away from you. “Xiao, I-” Before you can assure him that you reciprocate his feelings, he cuts you off.

“I know a relationship would only burden you and distract you from your duties. I know that perhaps you wouldn’t have time for me. But… could we at least try?”

The warmth on his cheeks is forgotten when you laugh, which makes Xiao snap his head at you. Clearly he wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction from you. “Xiao, I was going to say I liked you back.”

“Oh.” He claps a hand over the lower half of his face in an attempt to hide his hot blush. Color stands out between and above his fingers.

Your laugh almost humiliates him more. “You won’t burden me, Xiao! You’d cause more joy than anything.”

He nods slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay.” You repeat. “Do you.. want to kiss?”

Xiao moves his hand just a bit, uncovering one of his cheeks, an invitation to kiss him there. He’s most likely never kissed anybody on the lips, so you’d have to save that for later.

Though a mere kiss on the cheek seems to overwhelm him. As much as you want to, you don’t tease him about it.

“Come on, let’s head back, my prince. It’s getting dark.”

My prince… no more ‘your highness’ from now on.

[populationpensive]

Difference

Found this in my drafts from when I was on burn service- not sure why I didn’t share it before. I think because at the time I wrote it, I was very angry and felt that I shouldn’t write something and post it out of anger. It’s been many months since this patient case, and I feel ready to share it. 

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I am frequently asked by a variety of people how I do my job. “How do you work in burn?? How do you handle seeing the things you see?” HOW?” I’ve got a simply and more thought-out/complex answer for that question depending on where I am or who I’m with. This week, I’ve been challenged by my job in profound way. While what I’m about to say is at times graphic and upsetting, I really want people to consider the unimaginable - that you, a friend, or a loved one may be put in a situation where who have to make a decision. 

We recently received a patient who was regrettably burned >60% TBSA in a house fire. Tragic story in all ways. This person, we will can him Bill, is almost 70  y/o with a variety of health ailments which limit function on even the best of days. Bill’s burns are on his face, back, chest, abdomen, buttocks, and bilateral upper extremities with severe inhalation injury. Most burns are full thickness or likely to convert. When we receive a new patient, we begin to fluid resuscitate them until we can speak with family unless they are quite clearly charred (yes, this is a thing and it is as horrific as you may imagine). 

We have a few decent mortality indices in burn. The most reliable index we have in the revised Baux score which accounts for age, %TBSA, and inhalation injury. The presence of inhalation injury generally pushes the likelihood of death up by 15-20%. By this index, Bill has an unsurvivable injury. This was, of course, explained to the family. They decided to move forward. 

Sometimes, it’s a crap shoot if someone will survive resuscitation. Families sometimes want to see if their loved one can make it through this process. Someone who is already older or ill will receive up to 20, 30, even 40 liters of fluid in 24 hours. In conjunction with normal burn swelling, this renders someone completely unrecognizable. 

Bill struggled a little with resuscitation initially and required more fluid that we anticipated. Because his injuries were circumferential, we had to perform escharotomies on the hands and arms. We make incisions in the skin down to subcutaneous fat from the upper arm to the wrist because the extraordinary amount of fluid compresses the muscles and starves them of oxygen; the escharotomy is meant to reverse compartment syndrome and potentially allow Bill to use him arms if he manages to survive. 

Bill survives resuscitation and daily monitoring of the burns reveals conversion to full thickness. All areas of full thickness (3rd degree) burn injury have to be surgically removed because that dead tissue will cause him to be septic in short order. We explain this to the family, but also caution that we are not confident that he will survive surgery due to his other health problems and depth of burn. We caution them that he is at a high risk of being completely colonized with bacteria, fungus, and mold. We are asked to proceed anyway. 

In the OR, we use large blades akin to a cheese slicer to remove this dead tissue. An initial large excision in the burn OR usually ends with the floor covered in blood and it is not uncommon for patients to lose up to a liter intra-operatively. Poor Bill had his entire arms filleted down to muscle, and that muscle is beginning to look necrotic. All the skin and fat on his chest is removed. Down to muscle. Which also doesn’t look healthy. Many of these muscles do not contract with electrocautery.

We took intra-operative pictures and showed the family. Sometimes, we do this if we feel the family might not fully understand what we are doing to their loved ones. Because, and I have to stress this, there is a VERY big difference between doing something FOR a patient and doing something TO them. We are currently doing things TO Bill at this point. 

“He’s a fighter! He believes in miracles!” says his family. Ok. But. 

We have weekly care conferences with all families to discuss goals of care. The family wants to proceed full steam ahead in spite of our advise. When we asked “what would your dad want?” (because we are MORALLY and ETHICALLY obligated to care about the wants/desires of the PATIENT), we were told that as his medical team that we were not privy to that information; “we won’t tell you that.” We were told that we were being “too serious” and that unless his organs fail and his neuro status is trash that they will press forward. We were told that they expected their dad to be in a wheel chair anyway so his future contractures from his burns “aren’t a problem.” 

It really took every ounce of patience within me not to not slap them. It really did. I understand the trauma and shock of a loved one being in that sort of situation. Not personally, of course, but I have seen this happen so many times that I know it is trying. Making decisions like this is so difficult. Families are forced to go through stages of grief at warp speed and processing everything is undoubtedly overwhelming. I know that. However. It is ABSURD that we were told we don’t have any right to know what the patient wants. Like, it doesn’t work that way. As the living next of kin, it’s YOUR JOB to be speak on their behalf. If they don’t want this shit done to them, you’re obligated to speak out. 

In the end, the patient coded. We brought him back. After this the family FINALLY came to terms with the unsurvivability of the injury. They let their dad go peacefully. 

What forever burns me up about this is that we were all medically hijacked by a family that could not see how cruel the treatments were to this individual. No matter what methods we tried or how sensitive we tried to be. By the time it clicked with them, we had effectively tortured their loved one and left them...left them like that. Half their skin missing. Covered in wet bandages ripe with bacteria. The smell. Everything. 

The reason why I so candidly write this is that I think it’s important to know that just because we have the medical ability to “fix” something does not always mean that we should. Of course, every patient situation is different and every family is different. But I encourage you as a providers and I encourage you as family members to really weigh the treatment options. What is the result of the option. If you’re a surgeon, speak candidly about what exactly you are doing. 

Because, in the end, there is a very big difference between doing something FOR the patient and doing something TO them. 

[killerskillercaptain]

Peace of mind part 2 / 2

pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader

word count : 3,206 K

summary : you’re the captain of your own squad, and you have a habit to go spend some time alone in a cabin located near the young recruits quarters. One day, you found Levi there who didn’t mind your company.

themes : deep talks, rain, maybe new beginnings, feelings development (on your side at least), slight interest from Levi’s side if you squint hard enough, life choices, fears, insecurities.

warnings : tw astraphobia (extreme fear of thunder), mentions of death.

You can read part 1 / 2 here

“Oi, why are you leaving? Isn’t this the place you come to for some “peace of mind” ? “Yes, but you’re here now” you replied in a quiet yet steady voice. “And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked looking at you nonchalantly. His tone was sarcastic, his eyes pressed you for an answer.

«Looks like it’s going to rain »

When the captain let out these words, it wasn’t long before cold droplets started to spill one after the other, soon the cabin was draped in watery curtains, making you and the captain take a step back to avoid getting soaked.

If you wanted to get back to your quarters, it was already too late for that, as the rain intensified rather quickly, both of you have been a bit too slow to react. But then again, who could have anticipated such a heavy rain in this time of the year.

« Dammit, i think it’s best to wait. We’ll get soaked down to the bone if we walk under this downpour»

You let out a small « yes », both startled and worried by the sudden change in weather. You were rather...uncomfortable being trapped in here with Levi Ackerman even though your mind was running with reprehensible scenarios right now .

Let’s face it, you always had a thing for the man, even if your only interactions with him consisted in you admiring him quietly from afar and frankly, you’d imagined you’d be thrilled by the idea of being stuck alone with the captain, but you were in such a state of unease right now because of the weather that you couldn't really care about that right now, because generally, heavy rain also meant-

Your thoughts were cut abruptly by the mention of your name.

You actually heard your name ?

Levi was facing you, and had just called you by your name. Not in a million years would you have thought he has it registered in his mind. He said it again as to carefully confirm he was not mistaking.

« That’s your name right ? »

«Yes » you let out in a breath, a little confused.

As if he was reading your mind, taking notes of your interrogative expression, he answered your inner pondering.

« I asked your superiors for your name not long ago. You may have heard of the initiative by now, Erwin and i are in the process of creating a special squad that i’ll be leading. Details are still confidential, but i can tell you that i have been granted complete freedom in selecting the members. »

He paused before continuing, focusing on you.

« and you might be in it »

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe and your mind went blank with the new information. You did hear something of the sort, but you did not imagine Levi considering, well, you. You'd imagined you need more than just skills to impress him. You did give your heart and soul to the cause, you chose to be a soldier, you didn't get thrown into it, you also made the conscious effort to be better and more effective on the battlefield. And right now you, were having a hard time believing that your efforts were actually paying off. Levi’s devotion and dedication served as a fuel to your own, and here you were, both of you discussing the possibility of working under his direct orders. You felt your stomach flutter, it was impossible to tell if it was from fear, anticipation or anything else.

You ignored the feeling when Levi broke the silence again.

« I’ve seen your ranking and your score since you enrolled in the Survey Corps. A few years ago your skills weren’t the impressive kind, but with time you managed to outgrow yourself. Forty titans taken down solo and more than thirty taken down in team, now that's impressive, so i went and asked for your name. »

The thought of Levi walking up to your superiors and asking specifically to be given informations about you made you feel a certain type of way you couldn’t quite pinpoint at the moment. He must also have asked Keith Shadis you thought then. That man always held you in high regards, and you were grateful for it. You never caused trouble, you were discret but efficient, you started to convince yourself that you were indeed, worthy of Levi’s interest, additionally, he did like quiet and efficient people.

The cabin was getting extremely cold with each passing minute, and you were still stuck with no sign of the downpour stopping any soon.

You started shivering, you were both in uniforms, with only your military jackets to keep you warm, neither of you brought your cloak.

If he had his cloak with him, would he offer it to you to keep you warm ?

A bright dash of light appeared somewhere far away but close enough to brighten the interior of the cabin.

Lightning ?

Your heart started pounding voraciously in your chest, and you were afraid Levi was about to witness a side of you that you were afraid might change his mind about you. Not noticing your hands that already started trembling, anticipating what’s to come, you swallowed a thick lump, trying to ground yourself on the wooden structure.

Levi seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but brushed it off. You stayed quite the whole time, you didn’t say anything at the news he just handed you.

You tried to pin your attention on the captain and what he just said, you tried to compose an answer to give him, or maybe just keep a thread of conversation going, but when you opened your mouth, a blasting sound echoed all around, followed by menacing vibrations in the air. The start of a thunderstorm, the sound was as if the sky got torn in half and soon enough, a harsh light spilled through and painted the entire scenery white for a second.

Instinctively you pressed your eyes shut at the sound. When you opened them, you were one inch away from Levi, gripping at his clothes for dear life, as if you were afraid to drown in the harsh light.

As if you were afraid to die.

Your fingers digged so hard into Levi's shirt beneath his jacket that you were positive you were leaving marks on his skin. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly backed off, body still shaking and lips starting to quiver.

« I’m so sorry Capt- »

Another thunderous blow tore the sky a second time, and this time you ducked on the ground with your two hands covering your ears, your eyes closed so hard that little watery pearls started forming at their corners.

To you, it seemed like it was going on forever, and then, you heard Levi pronounce those words you hated to hear about yourself.

« You’re afraid of the thunder ? »

Yes, yes you were

As horribly embarrassing, childish and pathetic as it was, you were.

Since you were just a child, the sound of the sky tearing up was something that made you unreasonably vulnerable. But you couldn’t help it, such an irrational fear was beyond your control and you were fortunate that a thunder erupting during a storm wasn't a very common event inside the walls.

In the rare occasions where it did happen, you felt your mind losing its grip on your body.

You didn’t answer Levi, you couldn’t focus on him, you just kept the palm of your hands pressed flat on your ears to try and hear the least possible of what was going on outside. You knew nothing was going to happen to you, you knew your body shouldn’t be trembling in this way, but you couldn’t reach your mind in these moments and ask of it to calm down, and this is what scared you the most.

That’s it. You thought

The only thought that emerged in your mind for a moment was how pathetic of a side you were showing levi at this moment. Just after he confessed he was thinking about you joining forces with him in fighting for humanity, here you were, scared out of your skull, and out of your control by the big scary sound in the sky.

He’s probably gonna review his opinion of you.

He's probably reviewing his opinion of you right now.

He probably thinks your not fit to fight under his orders.

You kill titans by the dozen.

But here you were, scared of the weather

Sitting down, you had brought your knees up against your chest now, ears still covered, you moved your hands a little as the sound seemed to have ceased only to put them back on quickly as the sky screamed and shook again. You had opened your eyes just to close them again in terror. In terror how pathetic.

You didn’t here Levi shift or make a move until you felt the hem of his jacket poking at your forehead. For a second, the sound stopped and you opened your eyes to Levi who took off his military jacket and handed it to you.

« Here, put it over your head, it will muffle the sound »

Out of surprise, and still a bit shocked from your tourment, you mechanically took his jacket and covered your head with it, pressing the fabric over your ears as the sky screamed again. It was working, you felt as if you were underwater, you still heard everything, but it sounded so far that you felt somewhat safe, only then did you realize that Levi did what he did.

He didn’t threw an insult at you telling you to get your act together

Instead, he silently offered some comfort, acknowledging your fear,

Validating your fear.

The hellish concert went on for three minutes. Three long minutes during which the sky threw a tantrum with unrealistic vibrations rippling through the air, as a shrieking wind joined in the outburst.

A lot of things happened during those three minutes, Levi coming to sit next to you on the ground, waiting for the storm to pass, and you getting intoxicated by the scent of the inside of his jacket, Levi’s jacket. This is what Levi smells like. You thought.

You were glad your face was covered as you felt it flush. Sure there was a faint note of sweat, but hey, you were soldiers, and soldiers sweat. But you could also recognize different other scents all converging into something you found extremely pleasing, almost soothing to you; a bit musk and something that resembled a type argan oil, you inhaled in silence, taking it all in shamefully. The feeling of being almost afloat under his jacket, the storm seemingly far away, as if you were cut from reality, only being able to breathe Levi's scent, the thought of him soon consumed you, leaving you feeling light-headed.

It was the closest you had been to Levi, since all these years, working together from afar; since you saw him for the first time when he proved to be everything but someone coming from the underground, both in manners and values, since the time you used to watch him ruffle Isabel Magnolia’s hair and feel that ache in your heart that grew more and more hungry.

When you watched him giving the hardest time to the young recruits

When you watched how loyal he was to Erwin, always present by his side watching over their mentees.

When you watched him from a distance, putting his horses in their stables, and staying a little longer to care about them and give them small gestures of affection

When you watched him sitting alone, by himself sipping his tea, holding his cup in his strange little way.

When you watched him accidentally sleep in the stable, on a bench, on a chair, so many times, while hesitant-and scared- subordinates would shake him shyly to wake him up.

When you watched him, from this cabin.

You liked climbing up this cabin, it was quiet, calm, but mostly, you could watch Levi all day long without him even realizing it.

You liked the cabin because watching Levi from a distance was calming to you.

You liked this cabin because observing Levi put your mind at ease.

When you found him up here, you turned heels as quickly as your heart started thumping on your chest, ready to live right away. You knew, soon enough that it wasn’t mere admiration for a comrade, it was more than that. Observing him from this cabin, you realized you wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder and tell him to go rest, the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to touch him, to feel him. There was so many things you wanted to tell him. Thank you for doing so much, you’re killing yourself go have some rest, thank you for bearing the weight of shielding humanity against its terrors, thank you for devoting your life, please take better care of yourself, we need you, we love.

I love you

Just know you have someone who cares so much for you.

Who wants to be by your side.

So badly.

But never did you approach him enough to have this much of him. Sure, you had your exchange of words and your eyes met on more than one occasion, but it was all wrapped in formalities, it didn’t feel human enough.

This

This feels human,

Him handing you his jacket felt human

You crumbling in front of him in all your pathetic glory was also human.

Now all you could think about or feel was Levi, you chewed on your feelings while trying to imprint in your head the only thing you got from him, this memory.

You suddenly felt a forceful tug, his hand was trying to move the jacket, you released your grip as soon as you realized that he wanted to take it off of you. The thunder had stopped for good, there was no roaring, no blasting echoes anymore. Just the quiet sound of the rain now. You loosened up, stretching your legs in a timid relief, your body trying to adjust to the now foreign calmness.

The captain didn’t say a word, and you stayed quiet as well.

The rain was quietly softening and the air was seemingly less cold, you realized your body had stopped shivering at all.

« I’m so embarrassed you had to see me like this Captain» you confessed broking the silence.

« Don’t be. Every fear has its reasons, even irrational ones »

You really thought humanity’s strongest would be repulsed by such a sight, he required people to be always strong or so you thought, but come to think of it, he always acknowledged human unescapable states like fear, regrets and sorrow., especially when those were almost inevitable on a battlefield. You never seen him dismiss any of those emotions when he witnessed comrades and soldiers experiencing them, even outside off the field.

« Do you...have any fears Levi ? »

You called him by his name, your question had a personal undertone to it that it required you to, or so you thought. And you couldn’t believe you actually had the courage to ask the strongest soldier alive if he feared anything.

« Regrets »

You turned to look at him, he was looking down at his jacket, his white shirt slightly wet from the rain it caught, you felt a little guilty witnessing that. You didn’t have a clue what was on his mind right now, but saying that, Levi was thinking about all the soldiers he lost under his commands, his two only companions he lost because of the choices he made, everything he lost, everything he couldn’t get back and everything he have regretted but decided not to, because he feared that if he’d let those regrets slip into the crevices of his mind, he’d never recover from it.

« I think it has been fairly gossiped about, but i lost my two truest and most loyal companions, i let them choose for themselves even though i wasn’t confident with that decision, it ended up horribly, but it was also my choice. It was my first time outside these walls, and also the last time i saw them alive. I feared regretting all of it, i feared the disappointment with myself was going to swallow me whole, but someone...someone who refused to succumb to their demons taught me once how dangerous it is to surrender to regrets, they can make everything loose its meaning in a blink of an eye. I used to fear sleeping on an empty stomach, i used to fear that stealing and killing would be my only reason to live. Now i fear everyday for my soldiers life, but what i fear the most is the regrets i could have, if you let them overpower you, they can make you believe that everything amounts to nothing.

Putting his palms on the wooden wall behind him, Levi pushed himself up, putting his jacket on, arms sliding slowly into the sleeves you were protecting your ears with just minutes ago.

« That’s why i make the choice, every waking day, not to regret any of my actions »

« So you don’t see me as a weak person ? »

« You killed forty human-eating monsters all by yourself, i don’t call that weak. As long as there is no thunder while you’re killing them i think we’re good »

You chuckled a little, your face already a bit brighter.

« It already happened Captain, and i did just fine, seems like it doesn’t affect me when i’m concentrating on something bigger and more frightening »

He was already heading for the door, your eyes following the black and white wings on the back of his jacket, he stopped just before going down the stairs.

« I’ll see you tomorrow at Erwin’s office for some paperwork regarding your new responsibilities »

You watched his figure disappear like it from your view like it always does, even though you were just been announced you’re gonna be working while being even closer to the threat now, you never felt happier. Yes you will be closer to the danger, but you will also be closer to Levi, hoping you could watch over him and maybe just maybe protect him as a token of your love. Be it from your admiration or your strong feelings, you knew your devotion to him had no boundaries. He wasn’t only humanity’s strongest in spilling blood and cutting flesh, he was also humanity's strongest for having a heart equally as great as his strength, but the world had yet to give him credit for that.

Listening to the creaking of the stairs as he went down, you couldn't help but remember when you found him in the cabin, staring at the sky. “And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked

You aren’t ruining the view

You are the view »

[flightfoot]

Miraculous Ladybug Season 4 Episode rankings (As of Optygami’s release)

ML season 4 has knocked it out of the park so far! It’s been absolutely amazing, and I’ve greatly enjoyed every episode.

That being said, some episodes have still been better than others (or have contained elements I find more appealing at least), so what better way to show that than with a ranking?

9. Queen Banana

We got a new hero this episode, and she is awesome! Vesperia and Chat have a nice little interaction, and while Vesperia gets taken out, it’s for a good reason - distracting Queen Banana so Ladybug can put glue in her pocket, disarming her. It was a really nice way of showing Zoe’s humility and ability for teamwork, even when it meant giving up the starring role, in order to complete the group’s overall goal.

The mini-movie felt like foreshadowing, what with the “Superheroine of Creation” being an obvious Ladybug expy, while the “Supervillain of Destruction” was a Chat Noir expy, though with fewer connections. Interestingly, it’s also used to parallel Zoe’s and Chloe’s relationship, with Zoe even quoting from the movie at the end.

And Andre’s character development was top-notch! Bully him around to do material things as much as you like, but hurting Zoe is off-limits. She’s Andre’s daughter too.

So why is it so low down? Simply put, it didn’t feel like it changed things as much as Sole Crusher did, nor did it showcase Marinette’s and Adrien’s relationship as much. It was good, but there was less to talk about concerning it than I thought there’d be.

8. Furious Fu

The first episode of Season 4 aired (even though it was episode 6 in production order), we got some lore drop this episode! Su Han gave us a better idea of what to expect from the Guardians and what their relationship with the kwamis had been like overall. Poor Plagg especially, he’s just treated like a bomb that could go off at any moment.

I especially liked seeing Ladybug and Chat Noir’s relationship this episode, and their differing reactions to Su Han and his proposals. Ladybug was insecure about not having defeated Hawkmoth yet and thought Su Han might have a point about the Miraculous being better in other hands, and for this to be something for the Guardians to handle.

Chat Noir meanwhile didn’t give a crap about Su Han’s authority, about this random guy who just showed up and tried to boss them around; but he DOES respect Ladybug’s, and made that known. That he’d give up his Miraculous, his ticket to freedom and also the vessel for one of his closest friends, Plagg, but only at LADYBUG’S request, not this dude.

But it also showed the limits of that, with him refusing to go along with even that when it’d mean that Ladybug would get amnesia. That he’d not only lose his Miraculous, but his closest, dearest friend as well.

The episode was well done, but just didn’t feel like it either changed things as much or showcased character development as much as the other entries on this list, which is why it’s lower.

7. Sole Crusher

This was our first look at a new character, Zoe, and she did not disappoint! She was absolutely adorable and I really felt for her, with needing to pretend to be nasty in order to not be practically disowned from her family. 

It showcased how much Marinette had grown as well, with having Marinette see through Zoe’s Mean Girl act when they reunite and not jump to hasty negative conclusions, like she did with Adrien, instead considering that there may have been other factors involved with making Zoe act differently while with Chloe.

Also character exploration and growth for Andre, of all characters! Very unexpected. I really wanted him to succeed in his original dream, and I was thrilled at him comforting Zoe, with him empathizing with her, with acting as a parent towards her, even with her being his stepdaughter and presumedly not knowing her very well before this.

Zoe’s ability to anticipate how she’d need to act in order to conform with her family’s expectations while still getting to do what she wanted (for the most part), like with her pretending to be all prissy and stuck up when interacting with Audrey, or pretending that her messaging with Marinette was a setup to betray and humiliate her, showed a great understanding of the people around her as well as some great acting ability. And her realization of how she’d been putting on acts like this for so long before this, of her people-pleasing and afterwards attempting to just be herself, felt like foreshadowing for Adrien’s own arc.

 And we got a few seconds of Marichat. Yay for crumbs!

6. Mr. Pigeon 72

This episode was PACKED. We got to see the followup to Gang of Secrets, with Ladybug freaking out and Alya trying to center her, as well as some followup to Lies, with Marinette trying to “help” Kagami get back together with Adrien. And on top of the stuff that forms the premise of the episode, we got to see Rena Rouge be badass again, Plagg and Ladybug team up, and even Umbrella scene 2, which I don’t think ANYONE saw coming!

Marinette was a lot of fun and we got to see some good stuff from Kagami and Alya here. It felt a little disjointed with how much was crammed into it and I missed Chat Noir, but overall it was really good!

5. Guiltrip

What an amazing episode! Rose is one of the least developed members of the class, mostly being known for being really sweet and being Juleka’s girlfriend, and not much else. Here, we got an inner look at her, at WHY she’s so positive, and how powerful that positivity can be. That she’s not innately positive just because, but that it’s a choice she makes.

Plus the class is AMAZING here. They care about their friends SO MUCH, even if they go about it the wrong way. We got to see Juleka and Rose caring about each other, and even though it went wrong, Rose understands why Juleka ended up spilling her secret and doesn’t blame her for it.

It also really showcased Marinette and Adrien, there different ways of dealing with serious issues, with Marinette jumping ahead and trying to do whatever she thinks will help immediately (help now, ask questions later) while Adrien tried to do the opposite, asking Juleka what she wanted first and trying to stick with that (ask questions first, then help). Both can be useful, depending on the circumstances.

Also got to see a bit more about Adrien’s turmoil, with him being borderline suicidal, and Nino feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to help Adrien with his father, hinting that something bad went down with Gabriel before this. 

There was just a LOT to unpack with this episode, but it all fit together neatly!

4. Lies

All of the “Truth” related episodes were amazing! Lies being no exception. Also our first (and so far only) Adrien-centric episode this season.

Lies catapulted discussion of Adrien’s looming identity crisis, as well as his deflections and near-suicidal behavior, stuff that becomes even more apparent in Guiltrip. The breakup was handled well, with it not being Adrien’s fault (he had to leave and lie for the same reasons Marinette did), but with Kagami’s reaction being totally understandable and valid. She was a very active participant in it, even testing to see whether Adrien had lied. And she was ALLOWED to be pissed afterwards, to not trust him, even though she could tell that he wasn’t just doing this for no reason. 

I wish we’d gotten more time with her as an akuma, but I can see why we didn’t. There just wasn’t that much time in the episode, and the emotional crux of the episode occurred between her and Adrien - there just wasn’t much she could do as an akuma that was gonna add much impact to the episode.

3. Optygami

Oh WOW did this episode make an impact. Major Wham episode in a season chockful of major revelations, status quo changes, and character progression.

 Nathalie and Gabriel actually had a pretty clever plan, spying on the revealed wielders this whole time using the “one sentimonster per wielder, but there can be multiple sentimonsters from different wielders out at the same time” loophole. It meant that Nathalie was actually doing something while she was benched, and I’m willing to bet that she’s the one who came up with the plan in the first place. Say what you will about her morality or her taste in men, but she is an effective supervillain who may be an assistant (and totally fine with that role, which isn’t so common), but one with a lot of agency. And using impostors and try to force a situation where Ladybug would have to give a Miraculous to one of them, and using that opportunity to plant a spy sentimonster in a Miraculous in order to discover Ladybug’s identity and the location of the other Miraculous? Was inspired!

We were baited on there being a Reveal, but that wasn’t exactly a shocker. In any case, we did have a bunch of OTHER cool, impactful stuff. 

Hawkmoth stepped up his game with his sentimonsters, making a couple of impostors to control the situation, with Senti Alec and Senti Nino. Seems like foreshadowing about there potentially being more sentimonsters in disguise...

The major developments everyone’s screaming about though, are:

1. Alya getting her Miraculous permanently, being the first “temporary” wielder to get that honor, and putting her in a greater position to help with any akuma that’s causing more trouble than usual.

2. And the one that’s gotten everyone theorizing, screaming, and writing fics: Chat Noir and Ladybug’s seemingly deteriorating relationship, with a special emphasis on how left out Chat is and just how much he’s being kept in the dark, and how he’s beginning to realize this, feeling unneeded. How much Chat’s hiding his hurt, and how that’s going to lead to some sort of emotional confrontation or breakdown down the line.

My ranking of Optygami may go up or down depending on whether future episodes follow through on what it sets up, especially with the foreshadowed Ladynoir confict.

Looks like we’re gonna have a hiatus after Optygami, considering that we don’t currently have airdates for any more episodes, but what a note to leave off on!

2. Truth

This episode was AMAZING. We got to see Luka and Marinette just hanging out casually, having fun together, like with the little trivia game they played on the way to the theater. Luka even showed a bit of a playful side, with setting up the last question so that the answer would end with “kiss me”. 

Luka was also allowed to feel negative emotions for reasons aside from protecting Marinette, with him feeling down and a little abandoned because of Marinette constantly ditching - something that was given more context, with how we learned that he never knew his father, and how much it bothers him that his mom won’t tell him who it was.

The revelation of Jagged Stone being Luka’s father was one that’d already been leaked way back in January, though few people believed it at the time and it got little attention. It gave Luka a plotline that had nothing to do with Marinette, something that was sorely needed and one that I’m hoping gets expanded on later.

Also had some great Ladynoir, with Chat Noir and Ladybug discussing their relationship during the akuma fight, when they were forced to be truthful to boot! Ladybug really does like Chat’s sense of humor, and Chat doesn’t have a problem with Ladybug’s status as Guardian, so long as it doesn’t interfere with their relationship.

1. Gang Of Secrets

Gang of Secrets was a great followup to Truth, showing Marinette attempting to cope with with breakup, and the subsequent realization that she has to lie to everyone always, and how little time and trust that leaves for her regular relationships.

Meanwhile, the people around Marinette worry and try to help and comfort her as best they can, even when they don’t really know what’s wrong or what to do. From the Girl Squad to Chat Noir to... kind of the kwamis (though with them it’s more lack of understanding of romantic relationships rather than lack of knowledge that holds them back), everyone attempts to help her, but it’s just not feasible under the circumstances for her to be helped the way she needs to be while keeping her secrets.

And in order to keep those secrets, she snaps, forcing all her friends away.

But they don’t take that easily. They want to be there for Marinette, they want to be friends, and become akumatized specifically in order to find out what was wrong, comfort her, fix whatever it was, and become friends again. They really care for her a lot.

And then- AND THEN-!

ALYA DEAKUMATIZES HERSELF

BECOMES RENA ROUGE AGAIN

AND MARINETTE EVEN CONFESSES THAT SHE’S LADYBUG TO HER.

It’s one of the biggest changes to the status quo we’ve had. Like, Master Fu being introduced changed what Marinette was doing, meaning that they could call on new heroes and she had someone to discuss Miraculous stuff with besides Tikki, and Master Fu renouncing his Guardianship and passing it on to Marinette changed what Marinette was doing on a day-to-day basis more, but... well, it didn’t represent as big of a change in themes, of things that had been built up for seasons. Breaking the Secret Identity Rule? DOES.

Also sets up for some potential LadyNoir conflict down the line, with her not having told Chat that she told her identity to someone else yet. I’m sure they’ll be okay in the end, but it could test their relationship and the rules they’ve lived by since they started being superheroes.

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

So that’s my ranking with the episodes we’ve had released so far. We’re a third of the way through the season and I gotta say, I’m really happy with it so far! Can’t wait to see what the rest of the season has in store for us.

[zirkkun]

❤️ULR Speed Date Event Results - Part 5/5!💙

And, very unsurprisingly, Ace is in first place for the amount of submissions he received, that being 82! Due to the fact that there was so many submissions, he has a lot more I debated between (and even though one of these was a joke response... it was still pretty story worthy):

❤️ Ary 💙 dragon anon ❤️ din 💙 Vee ❤️ Yours~ 💙 ya know, nyah :3c ❤️ Chaomingo 💙 Lilianna ❤️ Orly

And last but not least is the winner of Ace’s date will be revealed. You can read the date either under read more or on AO3!

🖤--✨--❤️

Undertale (c) Toby Fox Underlust by @/nsfwshamecave Underlust Reimagine by myself

Thank you for your support, but do remember to support and read Underlust (18+) if you can!

ulr masterpost || ulr main tag || ulr ask box || ulr comic beginning || kofi?

... the anon who submitted under the name Lilianna!

❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

Sans still didn't want to be a part of this. He didn't want to be doing this at all. But, unfortunately, his brother wouldn't take "hell no" for an answer. So now he was stuck on a date. With a human, no less. Oh joy. Despite the fact that living on the Surface was so saught after, he really wasn't finding it to be appealing.

At least, for the start of this, he was by himself. Maybe a long time ago, he would have been bothered by someone being late to an event like this, but for now, he was indulging in the silence.

She, Sans's date, decided that she wanted to meet at this park outside of the city, late at night, for a chance to watch the stars. Frankly, he didn't really care one way or another. But, he did eventually find himself standing at the ledge of a bridge, watching the stars twinkling in their reflection on a river. That and the dead silence, only bug noises chirping here and there; was shockingly more relaxing than Sans had anticipated it would be.

"There you are! Sorry I'm late!!"

And the relaxation was cut short. Oh well. Not that he didn't expect that.

Sans turned his attention towards the direction of the voice, spotting the human running up to him as fast as she could. Panting as she caught up to him on the bridge, she exclaimed, "I'm so, so sorry, things were backed up getting out of the city and --"

"i don't really care," Sans cut in. He turned his attention back to the river.

The human, a little taken aback, tried to brush over the harsh comment. She took a step towards the edge of bridge, holding on to the railing with a tight grip. The silence echoed in the park once more, but for the human, this was more awkward than anything else. She didn't really know what to say... is there a topic she knew offhand he'd be willing to discuss? Um... no, not really. 

"hey."

Oh! He said something first! "Yeah?" the human responded.

"do you think a fall from this height into the river would kill me?"

A brief moment of silence. It held both shock and interest from each halves of the conversation.

"What -- I don't know?! I don't really want to know!! That sounds painful regardless and I really don't want to find out!!"

But Sans just laughed at her sudden panic. "relax. i was joking."

"Th... that's a bit of a dark joke, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "It happens." He didn't elaborate, leaving the silence to once again consume the conversation into nothing. The human shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

She debated back and forth on another topic to talk about. Anything to ease the tension -- especially since it got worse with his topic of choice.

"Um... so, on that form thing, you asked me about stuff I like to do... but what about stuff you like to do?" she prompted, hoping it wouldn't be another dark joke response.

"hm." Sans pondered the question for a while, not really knowing what to say. When's the last time he did something he liked doing? Probably when he was working with the other Royal Scientists. Which was over ten years ago. "i dunno," he answered instead. "haven't done anything just 'cause in a long time."

"Oh." The human frowned. "Well, maybe we could do something together sometime then, and you can find a new hobby? Only if you'd like, of course."

Sans raised a brow as he flicked his gaze to her. "like what?"

"Oh, um... well, I like to bake, draw, and read... but those are all pretty boring so maybe not those..." she responded sheepishly.

Sans didn't react negatively, but he wasn't exactly enthusiastic either. He's practically read every book from the Underground cover-to-cover with how much time he's had on his hands, and his drawing skills were... not to be admired. And Papyrus has always been on his case to eat more. So... "i dunno, baking?" he blurted.

The human blinked. "As in, you'd want to do some baking together?"

"yeah, sure, whatever."

"You really don't sound all that interested."

"i'm not interested in most things, what's your point?"

The human shuffled back into silence for a brief while as she herself started to stare at the river, her eyes trailing down the reflection until they met the sky, full of crystal-clear stars. "You don't have to if you don't want to," she added. "I know you're already... not super excited about this current date, so please don't feel like you have to force yourself further."

Ah. There it was. The same kind of consideration that made him pick this person over everyone else in the first place. Some people had acknowledged him not wanting to deal with this, but their responses were things like, "Then why be here?" which only irked him enough to toss them aside. Some disacknowledged it, which he prefered, but something about when she said... "You seem like you don't want to do this anyways, which is all good," really hit him in a way he didn't expect.

Sans, however, did not even consider responding out loud, and instead just pulled his scarf up tighter on his face. Sans? Being honest and clear with his emotions? Haha. How funny. Easier to just push them aside. A void of feeling is much easier to deal with.

Well, he did give a sort of grunt of acknowledgment to her comment. But... it was really far after she'd said anything. So she thought he was prompting something new.

"What's that?" she asked.

"nothing."

"Then...?" But the human just shook her head. Maybe talk about something else. "You know..." She'd started a sentence, but didn't actually have anything to say. In a frantic moment to try and finish what she'd started, she said, "Time is a precious thing, isn't it?"

There was a pause.

"what'd'ya mean?" Sans asked.

"We only get so much of it. It's so limited and can be taken from us in a second."

"... yeah, and?"

"I just... I like spending time with people," she finalized. "There's only so much time I have available, and I want to be able to spend as much of it as I can with people I care about and doing things I've wanted to do. Thinking about it all is a bit scary sometimes..."

Sans debated the crass comment of "so what you're saying is i should leave and do something i'd rather be doing," but he figured now was not the time for something like that. He waited a moment to see if the human had more to say about the topic, but when she didn't, he decided to jump in with his own response. "worrying about what you might lose out on is kinda pointless," he said bluntly. "sometimes shit ain't gonna work out, and you'll miss out on something you'd have rather wanted. sometimes people are taken away from you when you least expect it and you're left wondering if you did enough for them or with them. but it's not the end of the world. you've gotta just work with what you're dealt with."

The human didn't expect such a long, nor deep, reply from him, and was a little taken aback by it. While these may have been things said before, or maybe she'd even considered them, it was different to hear them coming from someone who two seconds ago wanted to jump off the bridge. Frankly... does that mean she should take his words with a grain of salt, or...?

"sorry," Sans blurted. "said more than i shoulda."

"Wh -- n-no, don't worry about that!! I just... didn't expect you to have a lot to say on the topic. Or, I guess, to really reply lengthy at all. But it's okay! I'm glad you let me hear your thoughts."

He pulled his scarf tighter as he grunted a response, staring still at the reflection in the river.

[egyptian-sun-god]

Never Have I Ever (mildly critical lens)

1. BIG THING. NHIE is not a show that was made directed at me. Yes it has similarities with my heritage as Indian but I am not American. Not born there nor raised. I am a diaspora Tamilian though, and my schools throughout most of my life have had very little Indians and even fewer Tamilians in them. Usually its just me.  So while there is overlap, Devi and I would have innately different experiences and worldviews.

2. Why is her last name Vishwakumar and her Dad’s name Mohan? Where that coming from. Correct me if I’m wrong, but most to all Tamil people use patronymic's right? Like am I right or am I tripping? Someone correct me. I checked Mindy Kaling’s bio and she took her father’s last name so I might be tripping? 

3. Okay straight off the bat, Devi annoyed the hell outta me. Like no joke...I really dislked Devi. But she’s a traumatized teenager who has no common sense and too much hormones. I’ve seen ppl like her so I’m fairly happy we have a flawed and messed up portrayal of a POC and doesn’t feed into the idea of perfection. But also Devi’s mom is suprisingly lenient to Devi’s disrespect man. like I see why but woowowowowo....she’s uncharacteristically tolerant sometimes. 

Now even though I get that Devi is supposed to be flawed and unlikeable. Because she is immensely selfish and bitchy with shitty communication skills. Devi’s friends forgive her waaay to fast. Like ladies, what are you aiming for? SAINTHOOD? Like at least let her grovel a little bit for being such a bitch. 

4. Love interest. Y’all heard me. WHY THE FUCK IS BOTH OF HER INTERESTS WHITE or at least definitely white passing. Like they did Paxton dirty man. Like was it too much? Was it too much to wish for Devi to have more Indian friends or like an Indian/POC love interest? I feel personally that it is such a weird precedent that has been set with POC centric love stories. And this definitely should be a critic that has come up before. 

You know which love stories resonated with me? Nalini and Mohan. Because it represented the possibility of like marrying someone (going off the assumption they were arranged to be married) and falling in love after marriage. A very real scenario for many many couples. Kamala’s entire shenanigan with Steve and Prasanth and having to choose between the uncertain boyfriend situation but losing family but keeping family and going with an arranged marriage. Also props to Kaling for not demonizing arranged marriages. Please please let season 2 explore Kamala’s struggle more. Hell even that one off thing with Eleanor and the tech crew boy was funny. 

5. Kamala’s whole character was many vibes. Because counting down and stressing about marriage is such a goddamn relatable feeling. I ain’t that much younger than Kamala and let me tell you the anticipation/fear is REAL. And like her talking in Ganesh puja and like weighting the options of being a social outcast or going with the arranged marriage and with the hope that like you’ll find someone cool.

6. I don’t like how Devi tries to reject her Indian culture and I really really hope they develop that next season or something and get her to find a balance. Because at the end of that season she did get a good talking to about trying to be Indian enough or too Indian and finding that balance but it doesn’t feel like she’s finding that balance and her being jealous of the other Indian girl does not bode well for me. 

ALSO THEY FUCKING MISSED OUT SO BAD. You make a series about a Tamil American girl and you don’t name drop any famous stars. Thala Thalapathy, Superstar??? VJS?? Surya? Dhanush? Nobody? Why? Like Devi doesn’t know them...makes sense. But like Kamala is from town right? She has to have carried some of that. Like that scene when she called them for a movie right? Why not name drop some famous ass classic like Baasha or Sachein or Roja? Like a cool nod to the Tamil kids out there watching this series to see parts of their culture and language included. Like even the soundtrack and songs have no Tamil songs? Like not even one for the heck of it?? WHY? IS THAT NOT SO SO MUCH MISSED REPRESENTATION? Like typical Tamil things like making a beat out of random shit, Tamil kuthu songs, Typical Tamil mega serials, food and enjoying food together. Like why wasn’t the food stated or name dropped. 

Personally, NHIE was really really really white palatable and it didn’t really get it into any roots of our culture especially for a girl struggling to find roots as in where she fits. Like you gotta show both cultures and let the audience and Devi figure out where she fits. If you show long Netflix shows like Pretty little liars, show alternatives like mega serials such as Chitti or Mudiyaathu Karuppu or Mettioli? Or if you wanna be more modern name drop Tamil webseries’s? If you wanna show English pop hits, show Tamil album songs and kuthu beats. IF YOU WANNA REPRESENT, THEN ACTUALLY REPRESENT. Don’t pull this generic ass BS on me!

5. I hope the lack of tamil culture in the series gets corrected next season somehow. I don’t have ANY ANY faith that it will. But I can be hopeful. Also I lowkey like that Devi has like a “rival” of another Indian girl. I don’t like that is is rivalry cause brown sisters gotta support each other and that’s sort of been the general motto from where I’m from. But like I get why and it would make complete sense. 

I really really hope that Aneesha is like super super Indian. Proud of her culture and brings a lot of her culture and its facets to discussions and not afraid to make her culture a focal point of herself.  It would be a really good foil to Devi and it might spark some thought into her and accepting or at least recognizing the cool shit about being Tamil. I wanna see that mainly cause I used to be lowkey ashamed for having a strong accent when I speak cause I was made fun of and I didn’t like having different lunches or listening to different music and not being part of the more Western culture. But I learnt to ignore that and became like 3000 times more proud of being Tamil and wore like traditional clothes to school, ranging from kurti tops over jeans at first and eventually wearing full on chudidaars and saris (saris to proms at least, I couldn’t wear a sari on a daily, half sari probably, sari would be hard). Bringing traditional sweets and food and distributing them to anyone who would ask and trading lunches.  Please let me see a brown kid who is proud to be brown and straight up in your face about it at times. 

(Unrelated but to Tamil/Indian ppl who had other Indian/Tamil kids in your school like was trading lunches or like sharing lunches common? Like its a pretty common Tamil thing to do and I brought that culture of taking some of everybody’s lunch and giving everybody a part of mine everywhere I went. But like was that a thing? )

[elvish-sky]

You are the One Person I could Never Hate {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: I may or may not have written most of this on my phone on a three-hour car ride, but it was a good way to pass the time. I really like this fic, I had a lot of fun writing it and it's my first request, so I hope you enjoy it!

Anon Request from Tumblr: hi! I was hoping you take requests cuz I do have one of you do! Could you please write a Legolas x reader fic with cuddles? Maybe some jealous Legolas at some point too? Anything you want tho really! Love your stuff, can't wait to see more <3

Word Count: 2,414

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Summary: Legolas gets jealous of the time Y/N spends with Aragorn and Boromir.

Warnings: Jealousy, fluff, some angst, cuddles.

****

You are the One Person I could Never Hate

"Y/N, Aragorn, we're stopping!" came a shout from behind you. You and Aragorn turned to see Legolas beckoning towards you, with tired hobbits sprawled on the ground around him, and Sam starting a fire.

The two of you made your way back to the group and sat down, anticipating Sam's stew. Over the past weeks, you and Aragorn had grown close. To be fair, you had become close with everyone in the Fellowship in different ways. With Aragorn, it was a sort of quiet companionship. You shared a love of the wilderness, and he had been teaching you how to fight with a sword, compared to your two daggers. He had become a brother to you. The same was true with all the others in the Fellowship, except one. It felt different when you were with Legolas. There was something else there.

As Sam served the stew, you chatted with Boromir about herbs. You'd discovered that he had an interest in herbs and healing, rather unusual for a soldier of Gondor. The two of you often played a game while on the move that involved challenging the other's knowledge. You were currently discussing today's tally. "So that makes nineteen for Y/N and twenty-two for me!" said a smug Boromir. "No way!" you shot back. "I had twenty-three and you had twenty!" Aragorn jumped in, "Actually, as I recall, Y/N got the first eight and then proceeded to misidentify the next fifteen. Boromir got twelve." This declaration was met with nods from the rest, including Sam, who was, along with Aragorn, considered the expert. You rolled your eyes and shared a glance with Boromir, silently agreeing that you both had gotten more than Aragorn had said.

The night went on, and you began to grow tired. You glanced over the fire at Legolas, but he wouldn't meet your eyes. Feeling rather confused and even a little slighted, you got up, and with a yawn pronounced "I'm gonna go to sleep, goodnight everyone." With a chorus of goodnights coming from the group, you turned and walked over to your bedroll, laying down and drifting off as you watched the others begin to wander to bed.

You were shaken awake the next morning by the elf, and with a sharp "get up" he made his way over to wake up Gimli and then the hobbits. Confused by his abruptness, you got up and began to pack.

Once you started walking, you hurried to the front of the group, wanting to talk to Legolas. "Legolas- wait up!" The elf turned, saw it was you who had called out, and begrudgingly stopped. Once you caught up, you said, "I've noticed you've been a little out of sorts lately- is everything okay?" He replied with a curt "yes" and kept walking. You easily matched his pace and continued "you keep glaring at me, you won't talk to me, are you sure?" "I'm fine. Why don't you go talk to Aragorn or someone else you clearly seem to like more than me?" With that, he sped up, leaving you behind feeling more confused than ever, and even like you had done something wrong.

As the hobbits passed you, you sidled up to Aragorn. "What's wrong with Legolas?" you asked. "I think you might want to talk to him about it," Aragorn replied with a smirk.  "I tried that!" you shot back. "I think he might hate me. All he did was glare at me and say something about you and me." "I think that might explain something, and I've seen the way you look at him. Just try talking it out." Aragorn said. "Now, I'm just going to go speak with Legolas and clear up a few things. Why don't you catch up with the hobbits and see what in Middle-Earth Pippin is gesturing to Merry and Boromir about?" And in fact, once you caught up to them Pippin was giving some long-winded explanation of a planned prank on Gimli and Aragorn, which somehow included worms, water, and Boromir, who, it became clear, had had a hand in planning the whole thing. You decided to walk by yourself for a while, not wanting to be implicated once the crime was committed.

You walked on, Aragorn's words ringing through your head. ~"I've seen the way you look at him."~ You thought back over the time spent traveling with them all. You had found yourself admiring Legolas often, but you had brushed it off as the result of his elven looks. Now, though, you began to realize Aragorn knew you better than you knew yourself. He had taken better notice than you at how you blushed whenever Legolas touched you, even if it was just his hand on your arm as he stood up. What you didn't notice were the eyes of the elf upon you all the time, the way he would automatically move his body to shield yours at any sign of danger, and how whenever you spoke he would listen raptly, even if you were just composing more bawdy lyrics for Merry's newest drinking song. You hadn't noticed these things, but Aragorn had, and as you walked you went through your memories and began to notice them too.

That night at the campfire, Aragorn, the meddling moron, assigned you and Legolas to firewood duty. You followed him into the forest, slightly annoyed at Aragorn but knowing that you needed to talk with Legolas. Yet again lost in your thoughts, you crashed into something and fell over. Lying underneath you was Legolas, with a shocked expression on his face and dirt in his hair. "Y/N!" he exclaimed. "Watch where you're going!" "Sorry," you replied and rolled off him to offer him a hand up. He ignored it and sprung up without your help while saying, "Actually, Y/N, I need to talk to you." Confused, you replied, "You've been ignoring me for a week! What could you possibly have to say now?" Ashamed, he looked down. "Aragorn told me what you said to him earlier. He said you thought I hated you. I asked him to assign us to get firewood tonight so that I could talk to you about it." He continued, "I know I've been rather awful to you lately and I wanted to tell you why. I was jealous." You had been pacing around the small clearing you were in as he spoke, but at this, you stopped and turned to face him. "I was jealous of the way you seemed to gravitate towards Aragorn when we walked. I was jealous of how you bonded with Boromir and how easy and familiar you were with both of them. And I'm sorry I took it out on you. I understand if you are mad. I know you aren't even mine to be jealous about. I understand if you hate me now, for how horrible I've been to you. I was just trying to distance myself so that I stopped feeling for you."

Exasperated, you strode over to him, said "You are the one person I could never hate," and gently pressed your lips against his. He responded in kind, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he turned and pressed your back against a tree. You paused to draw breath, and as you did said, "I love you." Legolas whispered back "I love you more," and kissed you again. You ran your hands through his hair as his hands roamed across your back, and deepened the kiss.

You sprang apart as shouts came from the area of the campsite. You quickly drew your daggers as Legolas notched an arrow to his bow, and together you ran through the trees. You burst back into the campsite to find Gimli and Aragorn wriggling on the ground while Merry, Pippin, Boromir, and a rather amused Gandalf looked on, and Frodo and Sam attempted to protect the fire from the splashing water. You and Legolas joined in the laughter as the two victims continued to pluck worms and dump water out of their bedrolls. Once they were satisfied that there were no more invaders in their bedding, they began to advance on the rest of you with extremely annoyed looks on their faces. Pippin's amusement was fading quickly and disappeared completely along with Merry's as they were grabbed and tossed into the nearby stream to the sounds of even more laughter. Climbing out, spluttering, they both pointed their fingers at Boromir. "Throw him in too!" said Merry, and Pippin backed him up with, "Yes, do! He helped up with the whole thing and even gathered the worms!" Boromir denied this with a vehement "No I did not!" but was tackled by two soaked hobbits. With a yell, the three of them rolled over the bank and splashed into the river.

Merry, Pippin, and Boromir sat shivering around the fire while you and everyone else puzzled over the problem that had now arisen. The three pranksters, upon getting out of the river, had rushed for their bedrolls to warm up, soaking them in the process. Now, there were five dry bedrolls for ten people. "I can give Boromir mine," you announced. "And Merry and Pippin can share with me and Frodo," Sam offered. "Gimli and I each have cloaks and other clothing we can use, so that settles it!" said Aragorn. "Wait, Y/N. Where are you going to sleep?" "I'm sure I can figure something out," you said with a sideways glance at Legolas, who, upon understanding your idea, blushed a deep beet red. "Aha!" exclaimed Aragorn. "I knew you'd work it out!" And with a wink and a "sleep well" followed by a whole lot of sniggering from him and Gimli, he made his way over to take the first watch.

Meanwhile, you and Legolas made your way over to his bedroll, ignoring the stares and smirks of everyone else. "Y/N" he whispered, "I'm not sure if us getting in bed together in front of everyone else is the best idea." "Agreed," you replied, "we'd be in for a whole world of teasing. How about I take one blanket and you take the other?" "That sounds good." So you each took a blanket and lay down a respectable foot away from the other. But you were too cold to sleep with one meager blanket on the hard forest floor.

You waited until you heard everyone else's breathing slow, signifying they were asleep, and then you rolled over to Legolas, poking him to wake him up. "Hey," you said softly, "can I sleep here?" "Of course," he replied, and lifted his blanket so you could crawl in. You grabbed the blanket he had given you earlier and placed it over the one already there to give you even more warmth. Legolas pulled you closer to him and you pressed up against him, his breath whispering in your ear. "This is nice," you said as his arm snaked across your waist, and you inhaled the smell of him. He always had the scent of a forest about him, and the smell of rain. You thought they were two of the most wonderful smells in Middle-Earth. You drifted off to sleep with Legolas' arm around you, his breath tickling your ear, and his body strong against your back.

You woke early the next morning with a yawn and tried to sit up and stretch. You let out a hiss of pain as you felt your hair catch on something, and looked around to see if anyone else had heard. They were all still asleep except the elf on the ground next to you, who had been awoken by your gasp. "Melleth nîn(my love), what is wrong?" he inquired with a concerned look. "It's my hair," you whispered, "it's caught on this god-forsaken root!" He sat up and gestured for you to adjust yourself so that you were sitting between his legs with your head on his chest. He began to comb his hands through your hair, working out the knots and untangling it from the root. As he worked, he began to softly sing an elvish lullaby to you. You'd never heard it before, but the words sounded beautiful and his voice was exquisite. You relaxed as the one you loved sang to you and worked the tangles from your hair. You were happy to have this moment of peace with him as you watched the sunrise over the mountains to the east.

You were shaken from this spell by the sounds of the rest of the Fellowship rising for the day. You sighed and rose, rolling up the bedding that the two of you had shared and packing everything up. Most of the rest of Fellowship barely spared a glance to you and Legolas other than to look happy for you, but you saw Aragorn give him a subtle fist bump.

As you started the day's walking again, Aragorn passed you, and with a smug look on his face whispered "I told you so," in your ear. You managed to punch him in the arm before he got out of reach and saw him gratifyingly wince.

The day went on as you hiked over mountains and into valleys, waiting until Gandalf called "halt!" to stop for lunch. You sprawled down onto a rock and took out an apple from your pack, one of the ones you had saved from Rivendell. As you ate, with Legolas sitting next to you, you gazed around at the rest of the group, reflecting on how ridiculously lucky it was that they were all such good people. Sure, you all had good and bad days, but you couldn't imagine attempting this journey with anyone else. They had begun to feel like family.

Legolas noticed the sappy look on your face and nudged you, asking "Y/N, what on Middle-Earth is that face for?" "Oh, nothing," you replied. "I'm just thinking." "What kind of thoughts?" he inquired. "The good kind." With that Gandalf decided that it was time to start moving again, and so you jumped up and offered a hand up to Legolas, not expecting him to take it. This time, however, he did, and he didn't let go for the rest of the day. Your hands swung, intertwined, between you as you walked. When the sun set it highlighted them and they glowed with the light of a thousand suns.

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins

[hualianff]

Untethered (Bonus II) 《Bonus I》

For the first time in his life, XL feels like he can speak without the pressures and expectations of being a prince weighing down on his shoulders. He watches his facial expressions in the mirror as he rambles about the various meetings he had for the day. The subtle dancing of his eyebrows, rapid blinking of his eyes, and pinched corners of his lips—all indicative of how animated he is when summarizing his duties that seemed more like work than anything else.

The fact that HC is here, brushing his hair, and listening with occasional intrigued hums make XL reinvigorated as his role as prince. Despite the demanding energy, control, and fairness the role takes, XL is incredibly grateful for the privilege and promises himself to continue to fulfill this purpose to the best of his abilities.

So far, XL believes he’s done a sufficient job, preparing to ascend to the throne. After hearing him speak, he secretly hopes HC thinks so too.

“Ah, San Lang, thank you for kindly tending to my hair. It looks wonderful,” XL says once he feels the final knots come undone by HC’s broad strokes.

“Of course it looks wonderful. It is His Highness, after all,” the pirate captain comments smoothly. XL can’t help but smile at the compliment.

HC goes to place the comb back on the vanity. He switches it out for a short ribbon that shimmers silver when hit by the moonlight.

“Allow me to do one more thing,” HC adds. He gathers all of XL’s hair to fall behind his shoulders, the strands still a bit damp. With practiced movements, HC parts the prince’s hair into three sections, then begins braiding the pieces into a thick, tight section.

XL licks his lips in anticipation. Though he’s had his hair styled a thousand times before, this is HC who currently braids his long locks, a gesture that seems a bit intimate.

Not that you mind, XL briefly thinks.

“How have the last few weeks treated San Lang?” He asks, reminding HC of his promise to talk about his days on the ocean. HC pulls the pieces of hair tighter, focused on creating a simple yet consistent and neat braided pattern for the prince.

“Troublesome. There’s a new pirate ship we have encountered several times. They said they want to challenge us for our water territories, which is a load of shit because the sea belongs to no one,” HC spits out heatedly. His tone is harsh but his touch is gentle as ever. “I honestly think the captain wants to mess with me. Make me question my reign as the ‘most feared, ruthless, and violent pirate to sail the waters.’”

“Oh. I see,” XL says hesitantly. He’s not very familiar with the inside knowledge of pirate ways and society other than what is generalized by the public. And the palace’s gossip, of course.

Suddenly, a rush of hot air tickles XL’s ear. XL locks eyes with HC through the mirror, heart stuttering at the dark, hungry look in the pirate’s eye.

“What does His Highness think?”

“Think about what?”

“My reputation. Does the real thing live up to your imagination?” HC questions with a sly smirk, quickly tying the ribbon at the end of the braid, then moving it to fall over XL’s right shoulder. XL only has a few seconds to marvel at the stunning handiwork before HC leans forward even more, urging XL to turn toward him, their faces mere centimeters apart.

The pirate captain smells like manly musk mixed in with the ocean breeze. XL nervously gulps.

“I- um,” XL starts, feeling his face heat up. “Hmm, maybe not entirely...”

HC’s eye slowly flits down XL’s face. XL remains still, mentally kicking himself for wondering what it would feel like to close the small gap and-

“Fair enough,” HC remarks, pulling away, leaving a rush of air in his wake. “I suppose I’m not the madman people say I am. After all, His Highness wouldn’t have let me into his room otherwise, no?”

Something hot burns inside XL’s gut. He had to let HC in! If the pirate were discovered by the palace guards, he’d be imprisoned indefinitely for sure! XL was simply doing an act of service for HC...nothing too outrageous like HC implied.

Nope, none at all.

“You’re blushing.“

“San Lang better take a good look around lest this is the only time I invite him into my room,” XL huffs out, resolutely facing forward and avoiding HC’s penetrating gaze.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was simply teasing,” HC says, though he doesn’t sound all that apologetic. “A prince like you must have many admirers to choose from. I shall not take this privilege for granted.”

“Admirers? Where on Earth did you get that from?” XL asks, appalled. He hasn’t taken interest in any of the brides his father provided, much less traveled to other kingdoms in a serious pursuit to find one to marry.

“Is there not a ball happening this coming week? For you to choose a suitable woman to become your queen?” HC inquiries nonchalantly. He tucks a rogue curl behind XL’s ear, the prince subtly leaning into the touch.

XL whips around in astonishment, braid flying to his other shoulder.

“How did you know!?”

“I have ears on land, my prince. Even when I’m out sailing the sea,” HC says. “We have also passed numerous royal ships carrying your guests for the celebration.”

XL wilts in his seat.

It’s not much of a celebration if XL hadn’t wanted to host an engagement ball in the first place. Years of his father’s insistent pushing have led to more frequent gatherings with other royalty in hopes that XL finds a fiancé.

Unlike his parents, XL wasn’t betrothed from a young age. Furthermore, he hasn’t expressed  any interest in marriage even once becoming an adult.

(“Your mother and I were married at twenty. You, my son, are already twenty-two,” the king always said. “You should quickly find a princess who catches your eye. The sooner you get yourself a wife, the sooner she will start learning her duties as queen.”)

XL has successfully put off marriage for a couple of years, deferring to his rigorous training schedule and duties as prince as an excuse. Fortunately, his mother is willing to let XL take his time, as the king isn’t set to retire anytime soon. After all, XL learning his responsibilities as king is the most important task.

HC instantly notices XL’s deflated expression. He attempts to backpedal.

“I had no right to bring that up. If this is something Gege does not want to discuss, then, by all means, he may change the subject,” HC says quietly. Respectfully.

“No. It is fine. It is by no means a secret at all. The ball has been scheduled for weeks now,” XL murmurs while looking at his bare feet. He fiddles with the long braid, smoothing over the tightly wrapped strands absent-mindedly. “I’m not actively looking for a wife or anything. At least, I don’t want to...”

“Your Highness-“

“San Lang.”

HC’s mouth snaps shut. He straightens his back with his shoulders set square, standing at attention in front of the Prince of Xianle.

“Could you do something for me? A small favor, if you will.”

“Anything,” HC immediately answers.

XL subconsciously chews on his lower lip, a habit that his closest friend SQX reprimands him for doing because it tears up both the old and healing skin. Easy to overdo, not a quick fix, SQX claims.

XL rises to his feet. He holds his hand out to the pirate, palm facing upwards.

Where’s My Love – SYML

“Will you dance with me?”

“I’m afraid gege will be sorely disappointed with this one’s lack of skill,” HC says as a matter-of-fact, but he doesn’t hesitate to accept XL’s hand, his long fingers blanketing XL’s own.

The prince’s heart skips a beat as the pirate pulls him close until their chests almost touch. XL feels small; HC’s heeled boots to XL’s bare feet exaggerate their height difference, XL only coming up to HC’s chest.

XL feels small but strangely, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“San Lang needs only to follow my lead,” XL says, looking up with a smile. He properly intertwines their left and right hands, then places HC’s other hand on his shoulder. Finally, XL goes to hold the pirate’s waist, the thin fabric giving way to the hard muscle underneath.

“Gege must have danced with a lot of pretty women before,” HC muses, moving his feet as XL slowly guides him into a waltz. XL hopes it isn’t just him imagining a slow, romantic piece to harmonize their movements.

“Is San Lang jealous?” XL asks without thinking.

Goodness, did those words seriously just come out of his mouth? Other than his eyes widening in slight horror, XL schools his face into a calm expression, not wanting to seem conceited or even desperate.

HC peers down with a lazy smirk, almost crowding into the prince as they turn to dance in a circle. Despite XL’s effort to appear unfazed by the prospect of HC envying those who’ve had the opportunity to dance with the Prince of Xianle, the pirate still catches the hopeful flicker of XL’s eyelashes.

“A little bit. Though in a way, I’ve had my fair share of dances with Gege myself,” HC states proudly, referring back to their previous sparring sessions. The break in focus has HC stumbling over his feet, prompting XL to squeeze his waist as a reprimand to concentrate.

“Ah, yes. San Lang’s skill is undeniable in that aspect,” XL says, laughing. “He’s also the first and only man I’ve danced ever with.”

“What an honor,” HC purrs out, and then he lowers XL into an abrupt dip, holding the prince by his hip and upper back.

XL’s breath hitches, wondering how they seamlessly switched positions. HC tenderly stares down at the prince, a twinkle dimly reflecting in his left eye.

“San Lang...” XL whispers, clutching onto HC’s shoulders. His long braid feels heavy like rope where it hangs down, nearly touching the ground.

“Your Highness.”

Their faces are millimeters apart, skimming each other’s noses. They’ve never been this close before, especially not in the absence of any sort of weapon. No one besides the king and queen, palace servants, and bodyguards are even allowed to touch the prince.

Now here he is, in the arms of the infamous Crimson Rain, on the verge of letting himself want.

Tentatively, XL licks his lips before asking, “Why do you always come back?”

“Gege knows this answer too,” HC solemnly says.

XL tilts his chin up, eyelids starting to lower.

“I come back for you, my dear Prince.”

As HC leans down—still supporting XL’s weight—XL meets him halfway for their first proper kiss, alone together in the prince’s room where the pale moonlight spills through the balcony doors. It’s a light and airy peck, one that ends way too soon for XL’s liking.

When they pull apart, HC stands XL back up. The pirate notices XL’s robe has slid off one shoulder. He goes to pull it back up but XL quickly grasps his jaw for another kiss instead.

They part again.

“Just...one more-“ XL breathes out, adrenaline coursing through his veins. HC’s lips are warm and firm, easily pliable as they press deliciously against XL’s own. “...one more.”

HC gladly obliges.

Their kisses gradually pick up in pace, HC’s hands respectively exploring the span of XL’s back, his hips, and sides. XL eagerly pulls HC over to the edge of his bed, spinning them around so he can climb onto the pirate’s lap.

HC groans low in his throat, comfortably looping his arms around XL’s waist.

At this point, all of XL’s reservations have been cast aside and he’s going to act on the desires concerning a certain pirate that have been taunting him for months now, damn it.

XL surges forward with a force that knocks HC back against the soft mattress.

“Your Highness,” HC growls between kisses, still trying to cover up XL’s shoulder, and now his chest where the robe is loose enough to reveal noticeable cleavage. XL shifts a bit to align their hips, unintentionally rubbing against HC. “Shit-“

“Hua Cheng-“ XL hums, belatedly realizing his slip up. HC nips at his lip for his mistake.

“San L-lang,” XL mewls like the starved for affection prince that he is. HC’s tongue darts out to swipe across XL’s upper lip. Then, his lower lip.

XL naturally opens up for him, gasping as HC’s hot tongue licks inside his mouth with a dominance that consumes XL. The more XL lets his lust cloud his movement, the faster he feels himself harden.

When XL’s hands brush along HC’s hair, they accidentally graze onto his eyepatch. HC grunts in surprise, which has XL springing back as the situation of the last five minutes dawns upon him.

He sits up on HC’s thighs, placing his palms on the pirate’s chest. Underneath him, HC is a gorgeous vision–thick, wavy hair splayed out on XL’s pillow, lips swollen and spit-slicked.

“Oh my- oh my lord,” XL chokes out, completely breathless. “Was- was that t-too much?”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” HC replies with a rogue-ish smirk. “Come here.”

HC embraces his prince with long arms, squeezing tightly and pressing a series of kisses to the top of XL’s head. XL hesitantly rests his cheek on HC’s sternum, aware of how close their bodies are pressed together.

“Who knew Gege could kiss like that?”

“Like what?” XL questions petulantly.

“Like a shameless minx,” the pirate captain answers, chuckling when XL whines at the implication.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” XL shyly admits.

“Me too,” HC murmurs. XL lifts his head, crosses his arms on HC’s chest, then sets his chin on them. “Since the moment I saw you sitting alone at the pub.”

“You wanted to kiss the crown prince at first sight?” XL asks, pretending to be scandalized. HC kisses the tip of XL’s nose. XL scrunches it up in response.

“Hmm, my prince now.”

“Well, your prince would very much like it if San Lang stays the night.”

“I must be back at the harbor before dawn,” HC says, stroking XL’s hair. “However, I can most certainly afford to accompany Gege while he sleeps.”

XL happily snuggles close to HC, not worrying quite so much about the ball now that he has something going on with HC. To his astonishment, the pirate seems to return his affections quite enthusiastically. As a prince with the duty to serve his people, XL reckons he deserves this moment of happiness.

After another hour of blissful exchanging kisses and aimless conversation, XL feels himself begin to drift. He hears a whispered promise from HC who protectively curls around him.

“I will never bring you harm, Your Highness. Your heart is safe with me.”

XL falls asleep into a dreamless slumber.

***

Present...

As if it happens in slow motion, XL swings the sword with all the power he possesses. HC’s arms stretch open in vulnerability, lips forming into a small, understanding smile.

“Gege.”

Something inside XL shatters. The familiar term of endearment is for XL’s ears only. His heart pounds against his rib cage with the ferocity of an imprisoned soul, screaming at XL to ask not what he would wish for in death, but what is he willing to live for?

The answer is right in front of him.

“I’m back.”

Three things happen at once.

A deafening BOOM fires at the royal ship from the opposite direction, pitch-black flags with the symbolic skeleton of a fish piercing through the chilly air.

Simultaneously, a blinding flash of lightning strikes across the sky, signaling an even more intense downpour of rain that obscures everyone’s vision. Surprised screams echo somewhat mutely among the roaring winds.

Lastly, XL swings his sword so it barely skims the open blouse HC wears and keeps rotating until it crosses behind him, where he lets it go flying back to the royal ship.

At that moment, XL leaps forward into HC’s embrace, where those long arms encircle his waist, and both men are sent tumbling down into the crashing waves of the raging ocean.

《VI》

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge. 

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more. 

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence. 

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful. 

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se. 

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that. 

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel. 

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing. 

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode? 

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo. 

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too. 

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

[stomp-that-ho-regard]

Retcon

noun

(in a film, television series, or other fictional work) a piece of new information that imposes a different interpretation on previously described events, typically used to facilitate a dramatic plot shift or account for an inconsistency.

verb

revise (an aspect of a fictional work) retrospectively, typically by introducing a piece of new information that imposes a different interpretation on previously described events.

Retroactive Continuity

Reframing past events to serve a current plot need. [...] In its most basic form, this is any plot point that was not intended from the beginning. [...]

Post-hiatus C2, and the Great Retcon... 

(The retconning really started with the playlists, but we’ll come back to those.)

First, some context:

SDCC (July ‘18) - Marisha was asked directly about Beau and Yasha and if she and Ashley had discussed it. “After the first few times that I kinda put the moves on her, we were at break, and I could sense that Ashley was wanting to ask me something. And she was like, ‘Hey, I’m just curious... is Beau- ’ And at that exact moment someone’s like, ‘Yo Ashley! We gotta go! We gotta get on stage!’ And I was like, ‘Bye!’” Then Brian asked, “And you haven’t had a further conversation about it?” Marisha said, “Nope!”

(Seven months into the campaign, and no discussions. Hmm.)

NYCC (Oct. ‘18) - Marisha was asked about who would Beau get flustered over if they ever flirted back, and yes, she said Yasha and laughed, but then said, “It’s like throwing pebbles at a brick wall.” Meaning, she was putting stuff out there and not getting anything back. (And, she really wasn’t. I still remember when a major portion of the fandom, including the diehard shippers [of which I was one at the time], weren’t sure if Ashley was even interested in this. More than that, it wasn’t until the Zuala reveal, that the fandom and the players found out for certain that Yasha was actually into women.) 

(To me, Marisha’s answer here also suggests that at this point, there were still no discussions.)

Talks Machina for ep61 (May ‘19) - Marisha was asked ‘What was going through Beau's mind when Yasha revealed her past with Zuala? Has this changed any feelings Beau might have? Or has Beau's character growth allowed her to mature a little more with regards to her feelings about Yasha?’ Which Marisha instantly pegged as a shipping question. And she said, “I’m trying to figure out a way to answer this to not ruin everyone’s internal canon, in their brains. I don’t want people to overestimate Beau’s intentions towards Yasha. But then also, is that on me? Have I been leading everybody on?”

So, you had all of that, all the way up to ep61.

None of this indicates that ‘it’s been happening since ep1′ or that it’s ‘the slowest of slow burns.’ In fact, it shuts that down completely.

Moving forward to the Beau and Fjord convo (ep108)...

Marisha suddenly having Beau say “There was something about Yasha from the moment that I saw her”. She’s retrospectively attempting to give that moment more weight, when (based on the examples above) we know that the over-the-top flirting was just for fun. And truthfully, she really wasn’t flirting with Yasha any differently than she was flirting with any hot female NPC the party crossed paths with.

And now it’s clear that that one line she said is the reason why BY shippers have suddenly clung on to the idea that “It’s been happening since episode one! SLOooOowBuUuuUrn!!!!!” when its clear that it was not planned. (Not before the hiatus-from-hell, anyway.)

Then Marisha having Beau go from describing Jester as “She's fun. She makes me laugh. I like her ridiculous plans. I think she's complicated and layered.” to “It’s easy to lust after her”. I’ll direct you to Talks for ep85. After Marisha had mentioned that it was a bunch of little things that build, and then pinpointed a few of them, Brian tried to make a joke and said “So you’re saying it’s been more a series, than just one moment that you can point to and say ‘It was right here when I went, let’s fuck!’” Marisha specifically countered that with “It’s not even about 'let’s fuck’. It’s nothing sexual in this case.” (Having her backpedal on this so heavily was such a huge gut punch and was the thing that wholly soured everything for me.)

There were so many better, more delicate ways Marisha could’ve had Beau examine/come to grips with her feelings for both women, but all the reduction and saying they were ‘transferable’ was nothing short of insulting.

On that same Talks episode, Marisha also said this: “Going into this campaign all of us were like, ‘No relationships!’ I didn’t want it! I didn’t ask for this!”, while smiling. What this shows me is that she was thinking of a relationship in regards to Beau’s feelings for Jester. As if she was maybe even anticipating this culminating into something? Why even mention relationships at all if this was nothing serious and was always meant to fall by the wayside?

Brian then followed up with, “In my opinion, as a viewer, Beau’s someone who seems to be on the search for innocence. Whether innocence lost or just innocence in general. And to me it makes sense that you would be attracted to someone who exudes genuine and sort of intrinsic innocence.” Marisha replied with “Fairly astute.”

The next question was, ‘Beau has taken a pretty casual, no-strings-attached approach toward sex and relationships so far. How do her feelings for Jester compare to her previous romantic flings?’ Marisha answered immediately and very seriously with, “Noncomparable. It’s more than that.” She wasn’t playing coy and it didn’t take her a century to find the words. She didn’t even have to think about it. Succinct and direct.

How did all of that ‘organically’ disappear completely, after only 14 episodes?

(Everything felt more genuine back then, because it seemed like Marisha was going where the character was taking her, and not where she thought the character should be going.)

Post-hiatus, everyone and their mother are acting like BY is some epic romance-of-the-ages that was all mapped out, and like Beau having feelings for Jester was just some sort of temporary curveball. That Beau was confused, or was just missing Yasha and projected onto Jester. 

That’s really fucked up no matter how you try to justify it. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen another piece of media backpedal this hard, and this callously.

None of that squares with what we were shown or with what we were told. Until, everybody made a hard pivot and now they've done (and continue to) do everything they can to rewrite campaign history, even though we have plenty of footage that contradicts the new ‘company line’.

Now, where the retconning truly began, with the playlists...

Remember the first round of playlists? Those were released randomly, whenever the cast felt like posting them. I also don’t remember there being announcements every time one came out either.

This time though, they had a fixed schedule, complete with official twitter announcements. As they started to just get back into the swing of things, Yasha’s playlist was released right after the first episode back.

So, right out of the gate, they had to make sure they started to drill home a certain mindset for viewers. That’s why Yasha had a song called ‘Let Me Hold You’. (Lo and behold, a few episodes in, Beau randomly asks Yasha to hold her.)  A few weeks later, Beau’s playlist was released, and there was a song with the caption saying ‘Ultimately, all she really wants is someone to hold, and someone to hold her’. (But sure, no planning here! The wording is just a total coincidence, folks!)  

The other song, directly about Yasha, mentions ‘a crush forged in battle’ (ok), and ‘awkward flirtations’ (???). Yasha never openly flirted with Beau before the hiatus, until maybe right after the Obann arc, in a very vague way.

On Beau’s playlist, there’s nothing about Jester. The one track that mentions her is actually about Artagan. Which, after all they’ve been through together, is fucking ridiculous no matter how you slice it.

In addition to that, Marisha had made Beau’s time in Kamordah (ep92/e93), and the incidents with her family and the Hag, about the group now, not about Jester, fully contradicting her own reiterated words that ‘Jester saved Beau’.

When Beau was talking to her dad, reverting back to her old self and getting all riled up, Jester helped her in that moment, and saved her. Yes, the group was very supportive, and yes, Yasha said something to him before they left the house (that Beau was out of earshot for by the way), but Jester was Beau’s rock throughout that whole thing. 

With the Hag, when the group was having a hard time coming up with a solution, and they realized they might actually lose Beau, Jester stepped up and took control of the situation. She, single-handedly, saved Beau/the group from the Hag. And with that, Jester also became Beau’s hero.

In both instances, Marisha thanked Laura/Jester. First on Talks for ep92 with both of them on it. She reiterated, “You saved me. You saved Beau.” Then on Twitter after ep93 with, “Still processing last night. Saved by a cupcake? Eh - saved by @LauraBaileyVO ... again.” 

But now suddenly, it’s the group. Just the group? 

Now, don’t get me wrong. The entire party showing Beau support was incredibly important. The M9 showed her that they value her, that she’s important to them. It solidified the theme of ‘found family’, which was beautiful. But, to not also highlight how crucial Jester was in all of this, after making such a big deal about it? 

That is very deliberate retconning of some hugely important, highly emotional moments for Beau that directly involved Jester.

Any of Beau’s organic and genuine connection with Jester (which encompasses their deep friendship as well as Beau’s romantic feelings) has been massively reduced (and now erased), specifically to prop up a supposed ‘deep’ connection with someone else that was barely ever there, is still barely there, and has no actual depth at all.

Case in point, the BY date (ep126) showcased this fact to the most extreme degree...

Yasha’s infamous line: “I fell in love with you in Kamordah.” So, Yasha literally watched Beau relive her childhood trauma, and caught feelings during it. I’m not wrong in thinking that that’s just a little disturbing, am I? Also, if that’s the moment she supposedly fell for her, why did she not offer her any form of help? I mean, besides that one sweet moment with TJ, the entire time Beau was in Kamordah, she was the most broken down she’d ever been and needed some real comfort, which is something Yasha did not give her. (Jester did though. In spades.)

So, on multiple levels, this seems highly out-of-place. 

Several people have said that that line was not thought through. In my opinion, it actually was thought through and was only said specifically to have viewers completely dismiss everything else that happened in the Kamordah episodes. Despite the FACT that Beau and Yasha barely interacted during those episodes, they have now stripped down the party’s experience there, and twisted it into a giant BY shipping moment. (Further feeding into the retcon.)

Their ‘trip down memory lane’ was laughable. Most of the things that were mentioned, Yasha wasn’t even around for. 

Gee, remember when the cast was actually good at separating what they knew from what their character knew? When you start injecting what you know into your character (who isn’t supposed to know, because they literally were not physically there), you are metagaming. 

The entire date was one big metagaming bonanza. And it had to be, or else they would’ve had nothing to talk about. There is not one thing they have to call their own. To people who don’t have BY tunnel vision, it was made glaringly obvious that they have nothing in common and their dynamic is fairly shallow. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast are sitting there watching this unfold, smiling and nodding along as if it all makes perfect sense and isn’t utterly ridiculous. (And I’m sitting here wondering when I got shunted into the Twilight Zone.)

The shallowness holds true for FJ as well. Aside from both of them being from the Menagerie Coast, what exactly do they have in common?

While Fjord has grown as a character, as far as Jester goes, he still does not seem to have the capacity to fully understand her as a person, or fully respect her abilities/emotional strength/intelligence. He doubted her often, which led to Jester getting irritated with him several times over the course of at least the last third of the pre-hiatus episodes. He even continued to doubt her judgment (in regards to the Traveler) in the post-hiatus Rumblecusp episodes. But hey, they’ve kissed now (ep118) so all of that gets wiped clean, and he’s being touted as her ultimate romantic soulmate who’s oh-so-perfect for her.

For fuck’s sake, why does that sound like something pulled right out of a CW show?

(I'm convinced that the only reason FJ is ‘popular’ is because the shippers have projected Travis and Laura’s real-life marriage onto the characters. If Fjord and Jester were played by different people, or Travis and Laura were not together, people would realize how paper-thin and half-assed this pairing is and hardly anyone would care about it.) 

Beau and Jester had developed the deepest, most genuine friendship and overall dynamic in the entire party, that should have absolutely been given the chance to be explored further. They constructed a pretty solid foundation that could have easily been built upon, and the fact that it’s been unceremoniously pulverized and snuffed out in favor of such overwhelming tepidity and flavorlessness will never not infuriate me.

Finally, to finish this off, I will say with my whole chest, that that is one of many nasty, rotten patterns that I’ve seen far too much of in all kinds of scripted media, which is...

Not wanting to commit to the thing that’s actually growing organically, because it’ll ruffle too many feathers. It’s too inconvenient. It gets in the way. Because of course, nobody wants to do that. Nobody wants to take a risk, or you know, actually follow where the natural fucking chemistry is taking you. Of course not! Heaven forbid, we go down a different road! You have to go with what’s ‘expected’, no matter what, at the great expense of something new that’s come along that’s clearly better. Even when what’s expected is hollow as fuck and doesn’t make sense anymore, because characters have grown and dynamics have changed, they decide to dig their heels in with the most fanservice-y options instead.

Yet this is UNSCRIPTED media. A D&D campaign, that’s supposed to be mostly improvised. D&D, that’s all about taking chances/going with your gut/making bold choices/etc., from people who have claimed up and down that they “like to see things play out at the table”.

So why are those same disingenuous patterns being utilized here too?

One of the big reasons I got into CR was because I naively believed that because the format was different, that the storytelling would be different. I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about running into this nonsense here. That I wouldn’t have to worry about getting bullshitted, jerked around, and having my intelligence insulted left and right, but alas, here we are.

In conclusion...  [TL;DR, kinda?]

Reframing past events (between B & J, and B & Y) to serve a current plot need (railroading BY):                                                                                      

Beau playlist ignores Jester’s importance to what transpired in Kamordah. (minimizing/erasure)

Beau playlist doesn’t acknowledge/hint at Beau’s feelings for Jester. (total erasure. could have at least included a song about feelings being lost, or being confused about feelings for a friend, but Marisha took the cowardly route, and didn’t bother mentioning it at all.)

Beau playlist claims that Beau and Yasha have both been flirting forever. (easily debunked by session footage.)

In her conversation with Fjord, Beau says, “There was something about Yasha from the moment I saw her”. (it was just about hooking up then, and stayed that way for a majority of the campaign. This line suggests that Beau has had ‘deeper feelings’ for and/or has been ‘in love’ with Yasha since the first episode, that this was all intentional build-up, which again, is easily debunked by session footage, panels, and TM.)

In her conversation with Fjord, Beau says, “It’s easy to lust after her.” (minimizing/erasure/twisting of Beau’s feelings for Jester, which Marisha had previously stated were ‘noncomparable’ , ‘more than that’, and that her attraction is ‘nothing sexual in this case.’)

This isn’t a fucking conspiracy theory. This is plain evidence of a planned retcon.

[yuziyuanapologist]

stop the low talk

for the prompt “it’s all your fault” requested by anonymous, several months ago! sorry it took a while

jiang cheng/lan xichen, post canon, 2.4k words. no major warnings but discussion of past manipulation.

"Zewu Jun, open the fucking door." 

Long though it’s been since last he heard it, Lan Xichen would recognise that tone anywhere. No one else could speak with so much anger and yet make it sound so caring. For that matter - he'd recognise the knock, too, loud and insistent and threatening to become a ringing in his ears if he doesn't - 

“Zewu Jun, I swear to -”

It had always been Lan Xichen’s favourite thing to do, before - to open the door to Jiang Wanyin mid-exclamation. The shock on his face is too priceless, too precious to pass up on, and Lan Xichen smiles indulgently.

“Is there something you needed, Jiang-zongzhu?” he asks. “Or are you just here to catch flies?”

Jiang Wanyin snaps his mouth shut, and scowls, before rolling his eyes and answering.

“Why are there rumours of you coming out of seclusion?”

Lan Xichen’s chest seizes up. Yes, his seclusion. Hearing Jiang Wanyin - it had been a reprieve, of sorts. He had - almost - forgotten. All at once he is back where he is, beyond the threshold of a rarely opened door. In his prison, in his safety, in his hanshi. 

“Well, I suppose because - I am. At least, I’m beginning to plan for it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Jiang Wanyin replies, incredulous. “You know who I had to hear it from? Sect Leader Yao, Zewu Jun. Do you know how humiliating it was to have him know something I didn’t?”

“My apologies, Jiang-zongzhu,” he’s still forcing out the smile, unsure whether he’s hiding a teasing laugh or a sob. “Would you like to come in?”

Jiang Wanyin’s next move is predictable, despite the time it’s been. He’s torn between refusal, just to make a point, and acceptance, given that it’s the reason he’s here. He scowls again, and doesn’t speak, but barges in when Lan Xichen steps aside in anticipation.

As he slides the door shut, Lan Xichen smiles to himself. Though they’ve exchanged a few brief letters while Lan Xichen has been here - he’s missed - this. Jiang Wanyin being here, being angry and dense and yet caring, beyond what he thinks himself capable of.

Beyond what he realises, actually.

Or - Lan Xichen was supposed to learn to stop seeing people in a sweeter light than what they really are, in these years alone. Clearly it hasn’t worked.

*

“Jiang Wanyin, may I ask -” Jiang Wanyin narrows his eyes, but doesn’t reject it, so Lan Xichen continues. “- did you come all this way just to ask if I’m leaving seclusion?”

They’ve been sitting in silence for as long as it’s taken for Lan Xichen to make and pour the tea. He’d been expecting (well, no, he never expects Jiang Wanyin to speak the first word - he’s more cut out for the last, but he’d been hoping) for Jiang Wanyin to speak first, and explain himself before Lan Xichen had to express his confusion. It’s a risky business, to ask a question like that. Jiang Wanyin is defensive, especially if it’s an answer he’s not sure of. And this seems like it may be one of those times.

As expected, his scowl deepens. “I don’t know,” he clears his throat. “Yunmeng is too fucking hot at this time of year.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen replies. “Well, it’s good -”

“I wanted to see you,” Jiang Wanyin interrupts, forcing it out as though he's reluctant to admit it. “I thought if you were coming out of - then I might finally be allowed -” he clears his throat again. “Whatever. I just mean - having your brother at conferences instead of you has tested my fucking patience,” he says.

Lan Xichen brings his sleeve to cover his mouth. “Wanyin,” he warns, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You know I can’t allow you to say such things to me.”

“Like you could stop me,” Jiang Wanyin scoffs. “Can I not express happiness that you’re returning?”

“At the expense of my brother?”

“You have a free pass to insult Wei Wuxian.”

“Oh, I'm sure you manage that fine by yourself. Besides, I haven’t seen him to be able to insult him.”

“You haven’t? Isn’t he here?”

“He’s in Cloud Recesses, sometimes. But besides immediate family - you’re my first visitor.”

“First? But - it’s been -”

“Do you need reminding what seclusion is?”

“Don’t fucking - yes, I know what seclusion is. But - five years?”

Lan Xichen looks down, a deep sigh escaping his chest. “I still wonder whether it should be longer.”

“Longer? Are you out of your -”

“Quite possibly. Though, I think if that were to happen, it happened a few years ago now.”

Jiang Wanyin is silent for a moment, his nostrils flaring with that familiar unshakeable rage. Lan Xichen almost smiles, until his chest seizes with the thought of bearing the flame of the anger. 

"No," Jiang Wanyin says - it's about to burst, tide forth with fury. It's in the tension, the shake of the word. "You're not staying hidden away any longer. I won't let you." 

It's dangerous to give a response, when he speaks like this. One wrong move, and the dam will break. 

“Wanyin -”

“Don’t you understand how worried I -" he forces his mouth shut, exhaling loudly through his nose. "Without you there - it's -" he tails off into a mutter "it's stupid, whatever." 

"Wanyin," Lan Xichen tries again, his voice shaking. "I h- I had to. Everything that happened, everything I did -" 

"Did?" Jiang Wanyin scoffs. "Zewu Jun, please -" 

Lan Xichen closes his eyes. "I'm not going to argue this with you. I know what I did wrong back then, I've had five years to reflect on it." 

Jiang Wanyin is disbelieving. "Reflect? That’s not reflecting. That’s you fucking torturing yourself by staying in here, alone, pretending you remember, and forgetting that I was there too." 

"Wanyin," he tries to make his voice a warning, but he's so tired of it all. 

"It's not like I haven't been reflecting for five years too," Jiang Wanyin says. "More like twenty fucking years, actually. I know just as well as you what happened - better, even, because I don't still have Jin Guangyao in my fucking head." 

Oh. Oh, that's not fair. That's not - that's not what Lan Xichen wants to hear, and it can't be the truth, because he's been dedicating every waking moment to purging his mind of that name, and that face, and it still feels like Jiang Wanyin has crawled in between his ribs to clamp his fist round his heart. 

At Lan Xichen's silence, Jiang Wanyin learns regret, and lowers his gaze to the table, the blaze smoking out to embers. 

"I didn't mean -" 

"Yes, you did." 

If there's one thing he knows about Jiang Wanyin’s anger, it's that it comes with brutal honesty. He's not one to fabricate in his spite, only to spit painful dangerous truth. 

Lan Xichen waits for him to leave. He doesn't. 

"I just meant that-" his voice is breathy, like he's trying not to - trying not to - "You talk about everything you did as if you were at fault. Do you truly believe that?" 

"How could I put the fault elsewhere?" 

"Easily!" Jiang Wanyin exclaims in frustration. "You were manipulated and lied to at every turn. You -” oh - oh, is he -? Is that - a tear? “-were the only one of us who was kind enough to believe in anyone's good intentions, and had it used against you. That's not your fault. And if - if I had -" he lets out an angry huff, roughly wiping away whatever dampness was at the corner of his eye. "If I had believed in - anyone - half as much as you did - none of this would have happened." 

Interesting - to think that if they are in any way similar - Lan Xichen still may not forgive himself twenty years down the line. It seems that Jiang Wanyin wants to stop that from happening, but only in all the most useless, destructive ways. 

"So you want me to blame you?" 

"Yes - no - I don't fucking know," Jiang Wanyin struggles to form a sentence for a moment. "Why the fuck not? Wouldn't it help just to admit it’s all my fault?" 

For a moment, Lan Xichen only stares in disbelief. Then - he tastes the words in his mouth, bitter round his tongue. 

"It's all your fault." 

Bitter in one's mouth, and a fist in another's ribs. There's no way that Lan Xichen gives even a hint that he means it, but Jiang Wanyin winces. 

Lan Xichen shakes his head. "No. It doesn't help."

"Lying is against your rules," Jiang Wanyin mutters. 

"And yet you asked me to say that it was your fault." 

"Which is -" 

"A lie."

Jiang Wanyin exhales roughly, looking away across the room. 

"Wanyin, please -" Lan Xichen sighs himself into silence, then finds new words. "What good does it do, now, to go chasing fault?" 

"Better than letting you believe it's yours," Jiang Wanyin says. "It's just - five years. How can you take five years just to conclude that only you did wrong?" 

Lan Xichen lowers his gaze, shaking his head. "I - it's not so simple as that. What you said was right, too, that I was taken advantage of, but - at times, I knew. I knew that he was telling me what to think, and making decisions for me." He swallows. "And it was so much easier that way. I was so tired of - of being a leader, and having to take care of everything, and trying to fix Wangji and - and Dage and -" his eyes fall shut, his voice drops to a whisper "- it was just so much easier." 

Jiang Wanyin doesn't respond. At least, not audibly, and Lan Xichen can't bring himself to open his eyes again to see what furious expression he is contorting his face into. 

"Can we not talk of something el-" 

Jiang Wanyin's hand lands on his own. A soft touch, reassuring, but one that makes him jump because of all the things he would have expected - this? This is far down the list, if it even made it. And for it to be so gentle - it's as though he dreamt it. 

"He was the one who took advantage of that." He speaks with a gruff edge, as if he wants to pretend that he isn't being kind. As if it's easier to make this into a shouting match, as if he'd rather beat his opinions into Lan Xichen, over pressing them into his hand with a soft touch. 

Lan Xichen turns his hand so that the touch is fingertips to palm, but doesn't speak. He doesn’t know how, and besides, it's clear that Jiang Wanyin doesn't want him to say anything, and so he stays quiet, fixing his gaze on the touch of their hands. 

"You wanted to talk of something else?" Jiang Wanyin forces out. When Lan Xichen glances up, he's staring steadily across the room - seemingly anything but look at their hands still touching. But his fingers still press lightly into Lan Xichen’s palm, deliberate and steady - there's a palpable hesitance, but he doesn’t move away.

"Well, I'm sure there must be more joyful subjects for our first meeting after so many years," Lan Xichen replies.

At first, the only reply he gets is a noncommittal hum. 

“Have you thought of anything else?” he says eventually, and Lan Xichen laughs lightly at Jiang Wanyin’s weak attempt at his usual bitterness. Of course - the question is cruel, or - it would be, if Lan Xichen didn’t have his hand. 

But he does have his hand, and because of that, he allows himself a dangerous reply.

“I have, yes,” he replies, keeping his expression serene. “I have thought of you.”

The tension that floods Jiang Wanyin’s body is as he expected, but not as he had truly prepared for. Has he said too much, and too forward? After five years of mere letters, and before that, for how long they barely spoke truths in each other’s presence because of - 

Maybe Lan Xichen doesn’t remember the last time they were in each other’s presence in honesty. And, though he has thought of Jiang Wanyin for - for how long, he cannot even say - but despite that, there has never been a true indication that it would come to - and, with Jiang Wanyin so self sufficient, so deliberately alone, and distanced -

Lan Xichen is cruel, to speak his mind like this. Er-ge. Do you not think that you would be influencing his opinions? His leadership? I do not want either of you to be hurt, Er-ge.

Ah. Ah, Jiang Wanyin was right. A-Yao is still there. It's so difficult not to listen to him, though.

Lan Xichen shakes his head. “Forgive me-”

“Really?” Jiang Wanyin finally speaks, interrupts - breathless, the tension rushed out of him - he’s light as a child, the corners of his lips tilting up into excitement - 

“Would that - would that be okay? If I had thought of you?”

The breathless smile lasts a few seconds longer, until Jiang Wanyin seems to remember himself, and clears his throat, trying to force a scowl. (It doesn’t escape Lan Xichen’s notice that there are flickers of delight tracing through his expression.)

“Uh, I mean - I - yeah - I -” he huffs, and finally succeeds in scowling. “What do you mean, you thought of me?”

“I mean - exactly that,” Lan Xichen replies. “I thought of you. Some days I wondered what you were doing, whether you were okay. Some days thinking of you cheered me when nothing else could. And some days - some days, I missed you so desperately that nothing else mattered.”

Jiang Wanyin’s fingers have long since frozen still in his palm, but Lan Xichen moves now, to intertwine them with his own, and lowers his voice to a gentle whisper. 

“Is it okay?”

Jiang Wanyin clears his throat again, but allows Lan Xichen to hold on to him. 

“I mean, I think it’s stupid of you,” he mutters. “But I suppose - I mean - I did too. Think of you. Don’t look so fucking surprised,” he adds, after glancing up to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes, and immediately looking down again. “It’s not like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” confesses Lan Xichen. “I hoped. But I was never certain.”

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “How could you not know?”

It's all Lan Xichen can do not to burst into laughter at how dense he can be sometimes.

“Well, you know, you tend to scowl,” Lan Xichen teases. “It does give off the impression that you have less than positive opinions of the people around you.”

As if he can’t bear to acknowledge that Lan Xichen has a point, Jiang Wanyin shrugs. “Good. Let them think that.”

“Even me?”

His eyes fixed firmly on the table, Jiang Wanyin squeezes Lan Xichen’s hand, but doesn’t seem able to reply. With a fond smile, Lan Xichen understands that it must be too humiliating to admit it. 

“Wanyin,” he says, and reaches out his free hand to Jiang Wanyin’s cheek. "Do you want me to believe that you have such a poor opinion of me?"

His scowl relaxing, Jiang Wanyin sighs out a shake of his head, and leans his cheek into Lan Xichen’s palm.

"No," he admits, out loud this time. "I want you to know how I - that I -" he presses his lips together, displeasure at his own ineloquence.

Shaking his head once again, he seems to give up on words, and tightens his fingers round Lan Xichen's, bringing his other hand to the wrist of the hand cupping his cheek. He holds on, holding it in place as he turns his face to press frowning lips to palm.

Warmth swells in Lan Xichen, fondness as he's never experienced it. And still - the urge to tease, the urge to make fun where he knows that it will be taken with a roll of the eyes, and a scowl, and an understanding of the feelings it all holds.

"All of this, and you still won't let me see you smile," he says.

He's right about it - the roll of his eyes, the scowl, the understanding- and yet he's wrong, because deep within, in Jiang Wanyin’s heart in his chest, in his eyes - he is smiling.

And Lan Xichen sees it.