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wyvernest · 6 months ago

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cregan stark x f!targaryen! reader

first part - previous part - next part | all chapters list

>> Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North.

chapter cw: making out, fluff, angst

cw: slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, angst, follows book events with slight deviations, im planning to let jacaerys live! every chapter is about 2k wc

Your eyes don't stop searching the small paper for the slightest hope that what you've read is forged until he takes it from your hands, as gently as he handed it to you.

“It cannot be.” You mutter, thoughts spiralling with concern and chaos. “Cregan. This is just a cruel jest to keep me here. Is it not?”

His hands trap your arms slowly as he encircles you in an understanding embrace.

“Cregan.”

You break into a muffled sob as his palm holds your head to rest below his chin, caressing your hair. Your entire body shudders as you breathe in with another whine you failed to conceal.

He sits you down, and in the clumsiness of your shaking form, one of your legs ends up draped over his. But he doesn't seem to care.

He only stays with you, holding your head and torso to his chest, as if wanting to shield you from harm. But the harm was done, and Rhaenys was gone.

When you least expect it, he plants a kiss upon your brow, soothing and sincere, and your breathing slows with a deep sigh.

“This is war.” He begins, his voice calm yet rugged with experience and harsh truths, the deep humming of forests on gloomy winter mornings. “- and the finality of death harrows even the toughest of men.”

As you listen to him talk, your tears cease their stinging flow and your last whines halt, perhaps only to hear him properly, or simply for what he says is truthfully quelling the storm in your heart.

“ - but death is not only the end of a beating heart.” he continues. “One may die again, when all those they knew in life have also perished.” His hand came down to lay gentle strokes against your back. “ - and death is only absolute after the very last utterance of their name. Only then is one truly dead, and only then have they returned into the dirt, into the trees and rivers. This is the way of the Old Gods, my lady.”

You crane your head up from his hold to gaze at him. Your glassy eyes lock into his greyish ones, and for a fleeting second, you see past the ice. You see past the hardships and the weight of the realm, past the hard front of the true born leader.

You see - or rather feel - a man you can love for as long as you breathe. There is no turmoil, no doubts and fear. Only him and the love he already bears for you.

He takes your distress-ravaged face into his hands and rubs his thumbs on your tear stained jaw.

“Husband.” You whisper, a feather's width away from his face. “I'm…deeply sorry for this night. I shall make it up to you.”

He remains silent, yet his gaze stops your apologetic discourse.

Even as your hands find their place upon his chest, even as your eyes soften, your thoughts seemingly melting away into a hunger for affection and closeness, he doesn't dare advance. Not while it is your heart that stutters in its beat at the memory of the fresh ill news.

But you have never needed anything more your entire life.

His lips find your wet cheeks instead, his pecks warm against the cold spilled tears. In the moon glow, the drops shine on your skin; two fiery paths he follows as he kisses away your sorrows, one by one.

With your eyes closed, you lean into his touch, afraid it might disappear in a fleeting moment. His mouth doesn't stray far, laying love over your eyes, sides and jaw; wherever any mark of grief has been spilt.

Once again you find yourself orbiting the heat of his body, the warmth of his hands keeping your head still ever so gently, his feverish breath that hits your face in between every two kisses.

And yet all it took was a wrong involuntary turn of your head for your mouth to graze his.

Perhaps you only wanted to kiss below his eyes in return. Perhaps you only wanted to brush away a strand of his hair tickling your face.

It doesn't matter anymore. All you know is that he was more than eager to reciprocate the featherlight touch, pushing his own lips against your own as you now move against each other lovingly.

He leans into you, one of his hands on your face stroking its way to the back of your head to hold you more intently while the other drifts to your back, squeezing you against him.

Your own fingers move to tangle in his half tied hair, not pushing but rather surveying; the texture of his hair, the heated skin of his neck, right behind his pulse. You cannot feel his heart through both your dress and his leathers, but you assume he is at least half as enlivened as you.

His lips are soft and tender against yours, and his kiss longing and hungry, yet leaves room for you to back away should you wish it.

Only after you encourage him by moving your own lips against his at the same pace and with the same fervour does he deepen the bond.

You quivered lightly against the passion he radiated into your entire body, succumbing to both of your utmost needs and wishes.

You bent and curved into his gentle hold, and the thought that if he wished it he could keep you caged in his arms regardless, excited you. Your body was molten, his own hard and unmoving, his hold growing unforgiving.

You accepted him in your mouth as your breathings bloomed deeper and warmer, yet with all the force and ferocity of his yearning, the kiss remained profoundly loving and heartfelt. Only with a barely audible groan he let out with an exhale did your thoughts stray to more lustful vales, your thighs tensing for a moment.

You didn't let go of his neck as he didn't ease his grip on your back. Your breath has mingled for so long that you no longer know where you end and he begins. Souls tied, flowing into each other like ice cold rapids into warmer seas.

Your own body yearned to be closer and closer, restrained by clothing and air itself. And yet it is not carnal and savage longing that pushed you to such feelings, nor him.

It is something much greater; no mere desire would make one feel as if your very soul belongs more in your union, at the junction of your breaths and lips than in your own body.

Your arch into his arms, moulding yourself against him as your mouths dance and blood runs faster than blasted wildfire.

Tears stinging at the corners of your eye in sheer unfamiliar intensity and lack of air, you pull away for a breath only to return, and the taste of his lips anew is even sweeter than before.

The faint, delicate sounds of your ardent kiss, the shuffling of hands and the wooden-frame bed creaking quietly beneath his weight as he more and more turns to you strikes fire in your belly and sets your skin alight.

But you know little of his heart. It doesn't cross your mind how much he has secretly yearned for you since he first laid eyes on you.

Ever since that night, when you came down in the hall, so curious and troubled, how you struggled to accustom yourself into his home; ever since then he felt more and more drawn into dreams and hopes. Hopes that you would find it in your heart to love him willingly, unabashedly and sincerely, that the war and the pact wouldn't stain what your union could become. Dreams of seeing you merry at his side, of having you round with his children, children born of snow and fire.

You didn't know how he now bent into your maidenly touch with no force left in him to deny your invitations.

It had never crossed his mind that such a woman could live outside of tales and songs; one that would so perfectly fit against him, lips so sweet and skin so delicate that his chest ached with infatuated passion.

But a wrong turn and fleeting touch leads to another, and the leg you had over his lap brushes upwards, your heel grazing his hip in a seemingly lewd suggestion of your desire to climb on top of him.

Perhaps you did go too far. In your mind, you merely wished to embolden his sentiments. Yet the cut of the fresh news of your aunt's death dug back and deep into your memory as he pushed away and ended the kiss.

“I cannot.”

He winces ever so slightly when faced with your pained and confused eyes.

Your blood now boils with embarrassment of rejection. Pushing yourself back on the mattress, you look at him expectantly.

“It is not right to conceive in such grief.” He doesn't get up, but feels clearly unwelcomed by your insulted gaze. Yet you soften at the remark, understanding.

“I did not mean to suggest we ought to. Forgive me, my lord.” Your voice is ice cold, your words honest as they seep from the gashing wound in your heart. No, you did not mean to bed him over such bad omens of war, yet his refusal stings deep nonetheless.

“There is nothing to forgive.” He approaches you, careful and gentle. “Though I must say I am grateful to be the object of your affection.”

You feel your face heat up as he smiles, a slight smile aimed to offer comfort.

“May I share your bed tonight, Lady Stark?”

“You may.”

“It is not a command. If you wish me gone, I will go.”

Instead of an answer, you take your place on the soft furs, petting the vacant pillows beside you. He takes the hint and blows the candles by the bed before laying down next to you with an outstretched arm for you to rest upon.

You nestle close to him, head on his chest. Outside, Suvion must have found a cliff to sleep on, as you have found your own strength for the night. Winds blow against the window as the wooden frame quivers and whistles with thrill, and you grow cold and fearful of what may come upon your family.

“All foul things come to an end. I do believe the rightful queen prevails.”

“At what cost?”

There is a moment of pondering.

“That I believe not even the wisest can tell. But I shall shield you with all my might. And the North cannot be tamed by outsiders. Sooner or later even weeds wither in long, harsh winters.”

You drift into slumber in the warmth of his embrace and only for the promise of justice and safety.

a/n/disclaimer: the idea that a person dies 3 times, first when the body dies, then when everyone they knew dies and finally when their name is last spoken is a belief from ancient egypt, not from the asoiaf universe/not mentioned in the books. i just thought it fitted the context and the Old Gods since we don't know much about the belief anyways

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funnier-as-a-system · 2 years ago

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do you take asks asking for like. advice?? and if so um. how do you know? just in general but also how do you know that its not all some like. elaborate act that youre putting on to feel special? aside from just "if you feel bad about the possibility of faking you arent faking" because for all you know my guilt is faked too. if you dont accept requests for advice im sorry to have exposed you to this i just genuinely dont know who to ask

We do indeed take asks for advice! We're just really bad at answering them in timely manner, eheh.

I must admit I'm a little confused, because you seem to switch between the possibility of me being wrong about plurality and me being wrong about your plurality, but I shall answer both! (No offense taken to either question, if that was a concern.)

When we first discovered our system, we had a lot of the same fears; probably our biggest one was that we were just making up conversations in our head. It wasn't so much that we feared we were faking as we were worried about being wrong, so we get where you're coming from with usual "you're not faking" sentiments not helping. So what did we do?

We made what we call a proof book!

It doesn't have to be an actual book. A proof book is simply a record, mental, physical, or digital, of signs and symptoms that support your hypothesis of being a system (or, tbh, anything else you're questioning). While all the internal communication/hearing voices signs were dismissible as our imagination, we could not so easily dismiss evidence* such as not feeling in control of our body (depersonalization), uncontrollable accents, or the people around us noticing changes in our personality. Whenever we started doubting ourselves, we'd ask if the doubts had any good arguments, and, if so, we'd compare the arguments to what was written in our proof book. After all, people don't really talk about it, but sometimes the doubts have a point! It's not so easy to dismiss doubts that have a point – but at the same time, it's hard for doubts to adapt their argument against one piece of evidence to a book of evidence.

*now that we think about it, the name "evidence book" might have been better, but that doesn't roll off the tongue as easily.

We still have doubts, occasionally. But between the proof book growing as we do and our lived experience where living as a system has been better for us than living as a singlet with system suspicions, it's a lot easier to combat those fears.

If you're questioning being a system but have some doubts, you can also make a proof book! And in the end, if you find out it's all better evidence for something else that's not plurality, then hey! Look at you, already ready with a proof book to smash any doubts you have about that thing fitting you.

As for the people who come to us in asks, you're right that we can't tell for certain. But tbh, us knowing for certain the details of other people's lives isn't a concern. We're a mentally ill adult with worries like "what jobs are available in our area" and "what if I'm secretly a horrible person"; we don't really like to spend too much time worrying about doubting other people. Believing people at their word about something that doesn't really affect our life too much... it kind of just helps with the whole "leading a happy and healthy life" goal we have, y'know? Rather than scour asks looking for any sign of bad intentions, getting ourselves worked up, and possibly setting off a chain reaction of discourse and offense if we see faking where there isn't any, we just answer an ask and go on with our day. If someone who sends in an ask is faking, that's not our problem. If someone who sends in an ask ends up being wrong about their plurality, that's also not our problem. Our problem is the sheer amount of unanswered asks in our inbox. Of course, we'll do our best to give advice if they come to us looking for it [about their situations], but we're not in the habit of fact checking the lives of our askers. Just brings us down and makes us more fearful and untrusting of other people.

All that really matters is if we feel we did alright when answering their ask, which we really can't do if we just accuse them as faking. You see, even if one of our askers is faking, one of our followers may have a similar question or real experience close to what they made up, and those people may want to hear our response. In those cases, it's better to show compassion and interest for the sake of your audience, wouldn't you agree? By assuming honesty even when what's being said is strange, we create a better environment on this blog for not just ourselves, and not just our askers, but also the rest of our followers. And that's really all we want! We don't like suspecting people and people don't like being suspected – by trusting people on their problems and experiences, even if they sound strange or "faked", we're being kind. (Or at least, we're being open-minded, which is something we strive to achieve.) And kindness is often passed on, even if not by the person receiving it; if we take people by their word, no matter how strange, we inspire others to do the same, which amounts to a more accepting community. Which, personally, I think is much better than a community that accuses others of faking on a whim.

—

This has been rather long, so let's sum it up.

We combatted our fears by creating a record of evidence to support the theory that we're a system.

Never thought I'd say this line that's beginning to sound cliché on the internet, but we have bigger things to worry about than if any random ask in our inbox is from a faker.

Moreover, trying to figure out if people in our inbox are faking would just take a toll on our mental health. So we don't.

We want to be kind, inspire kindness, and make people happy, and an easy way to do that is to make this blog an accepting place where fakeclaiming is off the table.

If someone "tricks us", oh well, oh darn, fiddlesticks, you got me. You are now on par with our pre-teen sibling sneaking out to go steal mangos. Congratulations.

Well, this was a rather long response, but we hope we've been thorough in answering your query, anon!

#thanks for the ask!

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neko-rogers · 4 years ago

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But It’s Better If You Do

Trying to keep your relationship with your professor was easy enough, until you learned that someone had found out about it.

words: 7,424 tags: manipulative!peter, explicit noncon/dubcon elements, degredation, implied overstimulation, blackmailing, kidnapping, college student and professor relationship,

a/n: whew this had a lot of words compared to what i usually write. plus, since im bad at titles, i’ll just use my fav song titles lmao. (ps. erik lehnsherr aka magneto is here and im just glad i could put him in my little fictional world bc im d biggest slut for him)

A complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

The man in front of the class was practically pouring his heart out into the lecture. The chalkboard was filled with white letterings from left to right, not knowing where to start as you take down notes.

“It is important to keep in mind that bimolecular structure and function are dictated by the properties of the medium in which they are dissolved,” your professor explains while continually pacing from one end to the other among the students seated at the first row.

You decided to seat around the middle to the last row, knowing it was the least obvious way for other students in the class to notice how much you fawn over your Organic Chemistry professor rather than the subject itself.

Honestly you could listen to him talk for hours. All those information he had been discussing would not actually process through your thoughts. You knew that better than anyone.

But who honestly would invalidate your reason? Everyone can probably relate to hating Chemistry, no matter what subcategory it is.

Considering that this was probably one of the most difficult courses you had in your program. You were just thankful and lucky enough you landed on one of the hottest professors amongst the campus.

“Hey what did Professor Lehnsherr say about the problems during synthesis of proteins?” Peter asks.

In spite of being fortunate about everything else about this subject, you were not quite happy about Peter Parker following you around like a lost puppy. Especially during the classes you both have alike.

The boy constantly asks so much questions as if you were the teacher already. In addition, he seemed smart enough to figure things out yet somehow he keeps on bugging you for reassurance.

You did not want to be rude. He has not done anything to completely deserve your rage, however he was definitely getting on your nerves.

Honestly you would not want to be infuriated over his consistent queries, but you were just as distracted as he was, maybe even more. With this, you were looking dumber to him each day.

To anyones pride, it was probably a kick in the stomach. You knew you were not the brightest in this class, but it was best to leave the information to yourself. No need for anyone to point out how mindless you were.

And you really were not. You had other Science subjects you totally excel at. Sadly, Chemistry was just not one of them.

“Well, uh, I don’t think I got that part either.” You look aside where he was seated and awkwardly smiled at him before mentioning an apology, “Sorry, Peter.”

In return, Peter smiled at you and dismissed the question. You were not so sure whether to forget about it or take even the least bit of offense. You felt a little mocked by how easily he did it and innocently he smiled, but maybe you were just overthinking this through.

“It’s fine,” he tells. “I just didn’t get the third bullet, but I’ll try to review it in the textbook when I get home.”

“Oh okay, sure.”

“Speaking about reviewing,” Again, Peter tries to start another discourse.

“I was wondering if you got reviewers for the upcoming text for next week? We all know how difficult Professor Lehnsherr’s exams can get, right?” He lets out a forced chuckle, assuming it could lighten the mood.

As much as he tried to make small talks with you, almost everyday, today you really feel like you did not want to return the favor. Especially after having to bring up the test next week.

“I don’t really make reviewers, I usually just scan the books I have at home.”

Lies. You probably have a box full of index cards and sticky notes in your room.

You tried to use every studying tips every corner of the Internet could give. All those study-life hacks that really did not help much but pile up to your disorganized state of mind.

You fucking tried to study Chemistry. You really did.

“What, you don’t?!” He suddenly exclaims, not realizing the loudness of his voice as it almost caught the attention from people at front. “You seem to be busy all the time though. It’s like I always catch your writing or reading something in class.”

Maybe your mood was just off but it definitely seemed weird for him to say that. Though, you did not want to make something from what he said. It was not worth your time.

“I guess people are not always what they seem to be, yeah?”

Again, Peter gives out that soft chuckle and smile, “Then I guess so. You do make a point.”

He does not argue with you any further.

“Can I at least borrow your Physics book? I only bought Chemistry and Biotech for the semester. Didn’t know they would actually utilize it for once,” he scoffs.

At first you hesitated. You were reviewing for it too, but you already felt bad for being no help whenever he asks a question and often times disregarding him when your mood if off. Plus, you did just make it look like you were not much of a study-freak.

“Okay.”

He instinctively fist pumps the air and looks at you with a wide, grateful grin. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.” You grab the book he needs from your bag and hands it to him. He accepts it and places it inside his while also clearing the rest of his things.

Looking at his digital wristwatch wherein he raised his index finger up as if he figured something out of it, he says, “He’s going to dismiss the class in a few minutes. We should get ready for Cell Biology next period.

Oh how you hated it. Were you jumping to conclusions? Or was this boy really trying to be too close with you? Or was he just being nice and informing you to prepare ahead?

God, you did not give Peter Parker the right to cloud up your thoughts like this.

“Thanks,” you say, “but I need to talk to Professor Lehnsherr after class. Have to, uh, consult him about my concept paper that he made us submit last week.”

As he tidies his notebooks up and carelessly shoves it inside his backpack, he immediately looks back at you with a confused expression, “Oh, I can always wait for you–”

“It’s fine, Peter. Thank you though.” Two of your hands were instinctively waving in front of you, a meek gesture for him to stop coddling you or whatever move he had been trying to make at you.

“Are you sure? I–”

And if you were ought to be saved further from lashing out over Peter’s incessant attempts, you finally heard the words any student was longing to hear. “Class dismissed. I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Eri–err, Professor Lensherr just dismissed the class. Better catch up to him before he heads out,” you hurriedly said. And with a loud slam from your notebook, you quickly shut him out. In addition, you practically shoved every thing in front of you into your bag without sparing a second glance.

One strap of your back was slung over your shoulder as you hurriedly flew down the aisle. Professor Lehnsherr was midway into packing his things before you interrupted and approached him.

“Professor,” you call out. “I have a question. About the paper I handed in last week.”

“Uhuh.” He faintly furrows his eyebrows, trying to hide his already obvious bewilderment. “I forgot which assignment was that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

There were students still exiting in class. So you tried your best to make your conversation with him less suspicious. He was most likely doing the same.

“It was about the Chemistry-proposal thing.” You snapped your fingers a few times as you gathered your train of thought, but realizing it was not going effectively. “Well I just wanted to confirm it since, you know, I was hoping for any feedback from you throughout this week.”

“I’m not sure if I have read it. I’ve certainly been busy this week,” he clarifies. “Nonetheless, we can talk about it later. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll make sure to follow it up in my schedule, Ms. Y/N.”

Both of you made your way out the door once there were only a minuscule amount of students left in class. You probably had been looking at your professor with gushing stares, but you doubt the other people in the room could notice it. They were farther away from where both of you stood, much less would they be able to hear what the two of your were talking about.

“Oh thank you so much, sir!” You almost cried out and jumped in joy while reaching through the threshold. Moreover, you composed yourself before mumbling out, “I’ll see you later, Eric.”

In which you were certain no one would have heard it besides him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“I’m sure you’ll get a good grade in the exams, Y/N,” Eric leans back to his seat with a humble smile upon his face.

“Really? I doubt so, there’s a kid in your class that keeps bugging me out to a study date, or whatever you call it,” you sneer. You lick your lips as you finish taking a sip around the wine glass, setting it down and looking back at the man you were having dinner with. “It’s getting very annoying though, he surely knows how to get on my nerves.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to flirt with you, like any other college boys do.” He optimistically and maturely lays out the options. “It’s pretty normal for anyone to chase someone they are fond of, especially for young adults like you.”

It was a pretty obvious sign that he was trying to let his message reach you.

“Well, I apologize for my standards of men,” you say. “I just want to skip the whole heartbreak in college and character development. All that stuff you usually see in a typical teen romance movie.”

You sigh, looking down and saying, “I already found a man for me. Why would I stoop down for some guy who’s most likely wanting something from me, and dumping me once he got what he wanted.”

“Y/N, I don’t blame you for liking men that’s ten years older than you,” Eric assures. “But I want you to realize that you still have a lot to look forward after graduating

“And I look forward for you too!” You tried to not raise your voice, though having dinner in his house wouldn’t really catch anyones attention. “I can’t wait to finally graduate from second semester and be able to spend more time, publicly, with you.”

“Yes, I understand, honey.” He places his hand over yours as he tries to calm you down. “Like I said, I just want you to make sure that you’ve clearly thought this through.”

Eric adds, “There’s plenty of men out there. I don’t want to take away your opportunity of experiencing something new at such a young age.”

“I’m turning twenty-four! I promise you I’m thinking everything through.” Your voice was much weaker than a few seconds ago. The evident tone of strength fades even with one glance from the man in front of you. You felt yourself shrink in your seat. But you were sure he does not intend to frighten you into compliance.

“Sorry,” you pout. “Didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“I understand, and I won’t pressure you any more tonight, okay?” He tries to uplift your mood, detecting quickly the shift of the room’s atmosphere. “You deserve a good dinner tonight, like I promised, sweetie.”

His smile made you calmer. It was then that you realized why you were attracted to a man like him even if he was still your teacher.

The way he handles you in any given situation so sensibly. Though it may feels intimidating at first, he consequently tries to override the tone of the conversation which cheers you up.

With one hand, he hold yours and gently draws it towards him at the same moment he leans his head down. Eric presses a kiss against the back of your hand and you butterflies immediately fill inside your stomach. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Every doubt you had entirely disappeared now. If there were hints of you hesitating to continue seeing Eric, they were certainly long gone now.

“Let me drive you home after dinner,” he offers, like the gentleman he is.

Eric always does make sure you get home safe. However, you both agreed that he drops you off at least a block away from your house. Just in case people around your neighborhood might catch you, or worse your parents.

It was not like you were ashamed of your relationship with Eric. Cautious was the term.

You were only a few months in seeing him. Fair enough, he was your second semester professor and the both of you met before that period.

You were not only risking the wrath of your parents once they hear you’re dating an older man, let alone your Chemistry teacher. But you were also putting him at risk if ever his faculty finds out.

Eventually, the two of you pack up and end your conversation. Other than talking about college, the two of you also talk more about yourselves which has progressed you into learning more about each other’s personalities and likes.

He helps you out of his house and into the passenger seat of his car. It had been more than thrice wherein he drove you home, and the familiar scent of leather and the typical Glad air fresheners has clung onto your nose. You strap on your seatbelt on just as he was getting inside the driver’s side.

The ride was not entirely dead silent. Eric made a few more small talks before finally turning a right which was where he usually drops you off. It amazes you how instantly he remembered the way to your home, as you instructed him the first time.

“Thank you for tonight, like always, Eric.”

As always, you made your way out of his car prior to giving him a kiss. You only had to walk straight ahead, glancing at your home which had one dim light illuminating through one window.

Upon entering the house, you figured your parents were already asleep and a hint of the living room lamp was present. Taking the benefit of not having to be interrogated by anyone, you rushed upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the lights, and immediately closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. A smile was also visible after recalling your night with Eric.

As you made your way towards your bed, a piece of paper lays obvious in the middle of it. Your sheets were flattened and tidied, so you could obviously detect when something is placed on top of it. You have no memory of leaving it early in the morning before you left too.

When picking the paper up, you realized it was a piece of polaroid film. Its back was facing you, having no idea what to expect at the front.

At that point, the smile from your face turned into horror and all the color in you basically drained away.

The picture displayed you and Eric at one dinner night out from a few days ago, you still remember. It could have been anything but malicious, but the way his hand was intertwined with yours as both of you laugh away without worries. It was clear as day, the light shining perfectly at the both of you. Anyone can conclude what was happening in the picture.

You did not know this day would come. The picture was taken from Eric’s home to prevent such things like this from happening. So it puzzled you just as much at it terrified you.

This was definitely someone who had been stalking either one of you. It was not a mere instance like paparazzis who catch celebrities dating on the streets of New York.

Someone definitely have been observing the two of you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Days have passed, a week almost. Examinations are scheduled for tomorrow.

And you prayed that the picture you received would be the only thing terrorizing your dreams. But you were completely wrong.

From thereon, you started to receive more pictures, specifically one every morning and night, from your past hangouts with Eric. It were simple shots but had the power to completely jeopardize either one of you, mostly him at stake though.

It was obvious that the person behind this was definitely observing the two of you for a while. Probably even during the most earliest weeks when your relationship with him started.

Though it may seem unfair, you did not mention anything about it to Eric. It was enough the he was keeping with you, his job, and himself private – which clearly was not working out so well. You felt like it was your responsibility to handle this situation. You were so sure you did not try to publicize anything and kept it on the low.

Nevertheless, it was out there. Eric had not mentioned anything so you assumed he did not receive a picture like you did.

Currently, you were seated at the farthest row at the back of the room, somewhat near the corner. Physics was your last subject and you could not wait but finally leave.

In addition, you texted Eric that you would not be seeing him until after the exams. It was an easy excuse not to see him, saying that you wanted to focus on studying for it; however, you knew that you would just be busy thinking about the creepy stalker gallery you have been receiving.

“Hey.” Unsurprisingly, a familiar voice whispers next to you which disrupts your heavy train of thoughts. “You finished studying for tomorrow? I’m about to end my review with Chemistry later.”

“Cool.” Probably the one of the most basic replies in the universe. “I haven’t finished studying, I’m kind of dealing with a lot of things recently.”

You made sure to generalize your answer, but enough for him to sympathize and at least give you some space.

“Oh, sorry to hear about that.” Peter frowns. He takes his seat a few desks away from your left, leaving you to continue thinking. You were thankful for his gesture too.

Surprisingly enough the boy barely bothered you for the entire lecture. You were still engrossed on finding out whoever was stalking you, even so dating back to boys you evidently rejected during the first semester – who badmouthed you immediately afterwards. There were not a lot of names, so it was easy to remember who was who.

You traced back to each boy and remembered what they said after you told them you were not ready to enter a relationship – a complete lie, you just did not want to deal with college fuck boys.

Just as you expected from any of them, rumors have spread out about you which was mostly shaming you physically or mentally. Some were milder insults than the other yet at the end of the day you did not care.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “Who was that boy at Liz’s party.”

Your eyes were sealed shut, recalling a list of names while using your thumb and middle finger to massage your temples. It was getting frustrating and mentally exhausting.

After some time, you had so much word filling in and our of your brain that you were not aware that your own name was being called. Your heart practically skipped a beat after hearing it the first time, assuming that you were being called to recite an answer. But you became content after seeing that it was just Peter, who started tapping your arm to get your attention.

“Huh?” You lightly shake your head before turning your head aside.

“Oh, class was dismissed a few minutes earlier than usual–”

“Don’t forget to answer the assignment regarding thermodynamic concepts found it the book. You’ll hand it in immediately on Wednesday.” The professor addresses the class as they were already carrying their bags and themselves out the room.

You start placing your stationeries inside yours, packing your other things up until it was only a pair of earphones and your phone left in front. Peter stood near the aisle while looking at you just as you were zipping your bag shut.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he states out of nowhere causing you to furrow your eyebrows at him. “I forgot I still haven’t returned your Physics book I borrowed last week.”

Nodding your head and standing up, you shrug it off. “It’s fine. You can return it tomorrow.”

“Sure, but how will you do your Physics assignment?”

Oh yeah. Your professor literally reminded the class a few seconds ago.

“I think I might be able to do it overnight. How many pages is the task?”

“Eight, or nine I think.” He frowns looking very guilty at you.

“Shit,” you swore. That was a lot of pages than the usual assignments given.

“Yeah, professor said it could help add points if you somehow get a bad grade at the tests.”

“Never mind,” you tried to set his mistake aside. “I’ll try to do it within overnight tomorrow. I can ask for help from my friend tomorrow morning and–”

“Wait! I realized you can stop by my apartment to get it.”

“Oh–er, Peter, I don’t think I have time to–

“It’s just nearby the campus, I promise,” he assures and adds, “it wouldn’t be a hassle, it’s probably on your way home anyway so it won’t make a difference.”

“Uhm.” You were doubtful of him.

However, you did realize that you did not have anything to do after class. You were keeping distance with Eric for the meantime which meant that your schedule was mostly vacant after this.

“Please,” he begs, “I feel so bad for keeping it the whole week. I swear it’s like a few blocks from here.”

“Would it take more than twenty minutes?” You purse your lips, convincing yourself that you would rather force yourself to study at home than spend it at someone’s apartment.

“I only take around ten minutes to walk so,” he answers. “Unless you’re a slow walker, of course.” The tone of his voice seeming to be joking.

Again, he pleads. This kid will not fucking budge.

“Fine,” you blurt out. Though, you realized your sudden-almost lash out moment at the boy that you made sure to reiterate it but slower, “I mean, sure. I can stop by your apartment to pick up my book.”

An awaited smile and sense of agreement washes over you.

Peter then leads the way as you walked behind him, maintaining a short distance so people would not throw out any suspicious looks. Like in every college, everyone knows just how fast gossips formulate and rumors spread.

If you think about it though, it might avert anyone’s suspicion – mainly pertaining to your creepy stalker – with you and your Professor. But you were not prepared for that yet, maybe some time when you can finally think about its consequences through.

True to his word, as the both of you exited the campus, it took a short time before the boy in front of you told that you were about to enter through the entrance to the building of his apartment. You were not so sure if it was really a momentary walk or because you were so focused on thinking and keeping a distance.

At some points he did often look back in case you got lost from following him. Plus, like always, he asked you simple questions either about your day or your subjects to make small talk. In which case, you were barely answering him but definitely progressed compared to when he attempted for previous times during class.

In addition, as the two of you walked down the block, the number of faces you could only assume was in college decreased. Meaning that the glares at you eased up.

“Well, here’s my location.” A loud huff follows as he uses a key to unlock the door for the entrance to the building, “It wasn’t that far, was it?”

“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that far.” You agree as he holds the door for you and then walks right after you.

As Peter leads you upstairs onto around the fourth level, he proceeds to walk along the corridors. The array of same beige colored doors with small golden indents of unit numbers paraded along it too. Eventually he stops and inserts a key into the lock, twisting it until hearing the unlocking sound.

For a moment you hesitated to follow him. You just wanted your book and you were sure he can give it to you on a shorter span than your walk from campus to here. Was it that troublesome?

Entering his complex, you discovered how minimalistic it looked. To be fair it seemed quite small, the living room instantly greeting you through the entrance and a kitchenette at the side. But since his things were tidied up, it looked roomy.

You instinctively close the door behind you, slightly aware that it did not create a locking sound. Following Peter, you took a few more steps until you stood still at the passageway between his living room and entryway.

“Do you want a drink?” Peter asks.

“No thank you.” You were still trying to subtle. “I just want my Physics book, Peter. Please?”

He looked at you and paused for a split second. You could feel the frown behind the expressionless look. “Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he nods for a few times before turning around and proceeding to a seemingly narrow hallway. “I’ll get it in my room. Be back in a second.”

Your feet faintly paced back and forth, still where you stood a few meters between the entrance and living room. After a few more minutes, Peter emerges carrying the familiar book with one hand.

He approaches you within a few stops but stops in his tracks, leaving a distance from you. “Well uh,” he starts as his chin was tucked.

“I just want to tell you something before I hand you back your book.” He looks up at you with really pleading eyes. During other instances in university, you were definitely familiar with that look. However, this one probably ranked as one of the most downhearted ones.

You did not want to feel regretful for him. Though it definitely feels like you just kicked a puppy.

“Was is it?”

“I love you,” he blurts out as his face goes back from hiding and looking down.

It seemed awkward. You were somewhat expecting it, but you were also hoping that this day would not come – or not at least until you graduate and leave the university.

“Oh.” You honestly did not want to react.

Were you going to say sorry? How about thank you? Would it be better if you said you did not like him back? Or will the best response be that you are already taken?

“Peter, I–”

“Are you really dating Eric?” He shots up with eyes appearing almost teary.

What. The. Fuck.

“No,” you mutter. It was not much of an answer to his question. It was more on being quite horrified as your mind started jumping to conclusions.

The amount of things running around your mind right now was immeasurable.

Firstly, anyone could make two and two out of what he said, especially knowing that no one knows it even so around your circle of friends.

Secondly, you should have thought better. Your doubts with Peter should have been grater and you totally underestimated him. However, some part of you prayed that he was just an annoyingly awkward nerd who follows his friends regarding flirting tips.

Lastly, you turned around and ran.

You probably got your way with opening the door and taking two steps out. It was not long before you felt arms wrap around your waist and either side of your arms. You were then lifted and pulled behind while you tried to kick at the air as an escape. Did not work though.

Peter was surprisingly stronger than you thought. He already seemed fairly muscular at class, hiding behind those long sleeved sweaters and flannels.

Eventually the last thing you remember was the image of the door of his apartment open while you get sucked into the room further. Everything went black afterwards.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

When you felt that you were slowly restoring to consciousness, you were aware of the pounding at the back of your head and your arms.

You tried to move your hands, wanting to press against the parts of your body that were aching. But you felt incapacitated as your wriggled your wrists around and felt an unfamiliar sticky fluid enveloping around them.

“Glad you’re awake,” a voice says. “Does your head hurt?”

You tried to open your eyes, the dark lighting of the room not cooperating with your vision. A light from the window and a lamp were the only things that helped you form something out of the void.

From there you saw Peter Parker sitting closely beside you at the edge of the bed.

Hell please let this be a nightmare.

“What–” You groan, “What do you want from me.”

Your mind was building up your anger yet your body says otherwise. You felt exhausted and heavy.

Peter shushed you in a caring manner, “We’ll talk when you feel better. I’ll let you get more rest okay, sweetie?”

“Uhh.”

That was what you could remember the most. If you have awoken for other times in between your sleep, then you surely did not have an idea of it.

When you finally woke up, the level of your grogginess felt little to none already. You looked around and saw that the room was still dark and seemingly still nighttime.

As your head was twisting from side to side, you saw Peter appear from the doorway carrying a translucent cup filled with water in one hand. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

Instead of replying to him, your wrists writhe beneath the fluid that you are still not familiar of. You could not really look up to get a good view of what it was, but it was wet, sticky, and felt like super glue.

On the other hand, both your legs, ankles, and feet were free. The back of your thighs bounced against the bed as you struggled, but it would not do much since your arms were practically stuck.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

“That won’t help. You’re pretty much stuck there,” he says, Then he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, alike where you remembered him positioned from earlier, “Might as well talk to me until I let you go.”

“Okay then, when will you let me go?” Your voice was calm hoping you could talk your way out of this mess.

“If you behave for me like a good girl, okay?”

Shivers went up your spine as you cringed at his statement.

Immediately, your mood shifts from calm to furious after hearing his disturbing bargain. Then purposely rolling your eyes for him to see. “How the hell will I behave if you’re a creepy stalker! You disgust me!”

Peter hums, displaying a look wherein he seems like he was thinking. You were not sure if it was sarcastic or not, either way it annoyed the hell out of you. “Creepy stalker sounds overstated, it was more on being curious.”

You scoff as well as exclaim, “You sent me photographs of me and Eric at his house! Fucking hell, Peter.”

“Oh yeah that part.” He slyly pouts his lips to the side as he comes to realize what he had done, “I guess it was a bit creepy–” “What do you mean a bit? That was invasion of privacy!”

Despite being trapped, both your hands balled into a fist, feeling very furious at his dense answers. “I was living my own life! I kept my relationships to myself,” you cry out.

“Yes, but you weren’t completely living your life,” he whispers while gently combing his hair through the front of your hair. “You deserve much more than someone who couldn’t proudly tell that you’re his girl. Is he even a man? Do you really enjoy that kind of life, sweetie?”

“We were happy,” you weep. The evident crack on your voice was a signal that you were about to cry though you were not sure if it was because you were held hostage or because you were worried for Eric.

No one would understand your situation with him right now. Especially Peter.

“Trust me you weren’t,” he scoffs. “You deserve so much more, and I can give you that.”

“I’d rather be alone forever than be with you, asshole!” Your voice was inconsistent, clearly affected by how fast Peter’s mood also shifts quickly.

You also figured you were not looking entirely fresh while crumbling beneath him. Drops of tears and sweat were all over your face and neck, both your eyelids felt swollen, and your nose was almost stuffed.

Peter stand from the edge of the bed and advances to his desk from the side. A harsh bang echoed throughout the room as your body twitched out of shock.

“What does that dick have that I don’t?!” He grits his teeth as the curves of his jaw intensifies. A displeased look was written all over his face.

“P-please let me go.”

“I need you to answer, sweetie. We going nowhere unless you answer!” He was never going to let you go if you were not going to cooperate.

Every step he takes closer back to the bed just increases your heart beat further. He had rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to the edge of his elbows and you felt threatened looking at how firm his arms looked.

“Peter, p-please,” you hiccup.

As Peter returns to the edge of the bed, he does not hesitate anymore to keep a distance. His hands hover to either sides over your body and sets the left side of his head on your midriff, laying while also getting a good view of your vulnerable state.

He does not even look life he was struggling to make an effort to keep you down, but you could feel how heavy he was and was barely giving you a chance to move around.

“I can give you so much more, Y/N.” The way his gaze directs at you was definitely one of the creepiest things you have experienced. He had so much emotions yet completely lacked sympathy for your state of mind.

Shutting your eyes, you only cried further. You felt a hand cup one of your cheeks as its thumb wipes away the pouring tears. Like a broken record, you only pleaded more, “Please let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why.” You bawled, realizing he has no plans of releasing you anytime soon despite it. “I won’t tell anyone about this, I p-promise.”

��“I know that,” he says, “but you’re going to run back to Eric, probably tell him too, right?”

You did not want to answer, merely shaking your head as you resisted a cry from your lips. It was somewhat what you had planned, but now you were just scared shitless.

“You won’t tell anyone but him cause no one knows about it other than you two, right?” He corners your words.

“Eric would lose his job if someone, especially your parents find out, right?” Hell he was correct. He most likely had been stalking you for so long to find out about it.

“You love him so much, you wouldn’t want to hinde

It was terrifying that someone had been learning about you and your life for a while without your awareness.

“Please stop. What do you want... money?” you whimper.

Peter did not seem likes normal college boy; he does not think like one, too, for sure. Anyone with a right mind would not do something like what he did. No one would have the guts to do so.

“I just want you, Y/N. I want to give you what you deserve,” Peter answers as he sits up and leans his face closer to yours. His mouth leaves a small gap from your right ear as he whispers, “Let me make you feel good.”

“No–”

He cuts off your plea with a proposition, “If you let me, I might consider letting you free.”

“You want that, right? Want me to let you go...” His hand combs through the other side of your face, “just let me show you that I can do way better than him.”

Every ounce of your blood was trying not to give in. You were smart, you ought to find a way out of this. However, you realized that it will not be enough. You already struggled so much from the super glue around your wrists and you could not imagine how much more would it take now that Peter was on top of you.

Eventually you stopped struggling and let him be. There was no way out of this than to let him do what he pleases.

You feel his lips press against your ear first and then progresses over your cheek. His grip around your arms loosen after detecting that you stopped struggling beneath him. You could feel him smile on your skin, “That’s it, relax for me. Good girl.”

His hand reaches to undo your pants as his lips drifted on yours to force their way on making out with you. Another hand then presses under your jaw and throat. “P-Peter,” you choke, feeling lightheaded after being unable to breath properly though your mouth until the grip had loosen.

“Sorry, babe.”

He soon descends from your face to your neck and collar region. You were so sure he was leaving marks on you as you felt him suck and nibble against your skin. Like a controlling asshole he was, you expect to see bruises on your skin by tomorrow.

Despite having your hands fastened, he still moves your shirt upwards past your head. It halts and hands loosely around your arms as you emerge topless beneath the boy.

“Fucking beautiful,” Peter compliments your body under his breath.

Although he seemed to have time on his hands, he does not leave a second wasted. He also goes to haul your pants past your legs and ankles. The growing look of impatience on his face says it all.

Peter moves from your side and welcomes himself between your legs. He spreads them out to have enough space for his body and you could not feel more embarrassed than this.

You grit your teeth over each other as you felt him press fingers against your cunt. Instinctively, you clench around nothing as he continues to play with your entrance, making sure you get entirely soaked under his touch.

“You know you shouldn’t hold back. I know you’re loving it so far, your body says otherwise,” he teases before laying on his stomach and moving his head closer to your pussy.

Without a warning, he licks a strip of you making the back of your thighs quake lightly. Peter senses your reaction and continues to do so, using his tongue to play around and poke inside of you until you were slowly giving in without even realizing it.

Just as you thought you were getting used to his actions, he then inserts fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around it as he pushes it in and out.

“Oh,” you moan.

He continues, making sure he also does not leave your bud of nerves behind. The tip of his fingers and tongue alternate on playing against it, making you throw back your head out of pleasure.

“I bet he doesn’t please you like this,” he scoffs.

Eventually, at your vulnerable state, you could already feel yourself closing to an orgasm. Your toes curled as your temples throbbed, sealing your eyes shut as you accepted on giving in.

You bit onto your lower lip, trying to resist a moan. Somewhere inside you, you were still trying to fight back and not let Peter have the satisfaction he had been craving.

“You’re being so tight... Just let it out.” He coaxes and you hate how you did what he told you so.

The extensive grin on his face seemed priceless. He pulled back and you were aware that you seemed exhausted beneath him. You assumed he was done with whatever he wanted to do with you.

But when he started to take off his sweater and unbutton his pants, you realized it was far from over.

As he presents himself just as naked in front of you, he again welcomes himself between your legs. This time you get a better view of him and his muscles and abs. He gets a good view of your body too for sure as his hand reaches to start stroking his dick.

He places one hand on your thigh and pushes it farther to give him more room. Finally, he inserts in inside you and you automatically felt him throbbing between.

There was a growing heat between the both of you, and it only intensified as Peter started to thrust his hips forward and backwards. There was not even a rhythm from him as he moves harder after hearing you softly moan underneath.

The slapping sound echoes through the room that would eventually reek of sex and you felt ashamed that your body was enjoying all of this.

“Ah… ah… ahh… agh….”

“You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?” He brags as one hand was reaching for your breasts while the other holds your thigh up. “Fucking slut.”

Your body and mind were tired and could only hold so much longer. It was not a surprise when your stomach started to churn your the muscles in your thighs were cramping up.

Peter did no help after seeing you starting to wear out. He tried leaning in to make out with you and expect to moan into his mouth. You did for a moment, a combination of both your drools were streaming down from the corner of your mouth.

“We’re making a mess, huh,” he mumbles. “But I know you’re already a dirty fucking girl.”

He proceeds to deprave you with statements, “Can’t believe you’re enjoying my cock better than that old man’s... Such a fucking whore.”

You twist your head aside, trying to hide the fact that you feel like your temperature were burning up. You were so sure he could feel the increasing warmth of your walls either way.

Your eyes were rolling back as you resist arching your back, which was not really a success as the amount of pleasure was overwhelming.

As you writhe beneath him, you felt a hand on your cheek. It pushes your head back onto looking at front and at Peter. “I want you t look at me when you’re going to cum, sweetie,” he orders and you could not do much anyways.

The second time you came was a whole other level. You never felt this with any person you slept with so far, rather not this fast and intense to say. “That’s it, fuck, you’re tighter than I could ever imagine.”

Peter continues until it was his time to cum. The bed continues to move along with his pace and your body was basically abused to his liking.

And even if you were not aware of it, the boy was practically thankful that his agency decided to agree to soundproofing his whole apartment – his motive being for personal reasons, which they did not question any time soon.

You were helpless, you knew that. All you had in mind now was rest. Your eyelids were heavy and your mind was drifting to slumber.

The last thing you remember was Peter moving over your body to come all around your chest like a painter with its paint brush creating a masterpiece from your chest to your core.

“I love you.”

a/n: ily pls leave comments <3

1K notes · View notes

nol-an · 4 years ago

Text

it was good until it wasn’t || n. patrick

inspired by the prompt, “please don’t make me choose.”

2k worth of A N G S T!! um yea haven’t written in over two years and this is my first hockey fic so bear with me. feedback is always appreciated! (this is not proofread and im sure there are probs some plot holes- oops)

__________

For so long, everything had felt too good to be true. Nolan finally accomplished his dream of playing in the NHL, and you had gotten into your dream school in Philadelphia. To you, there was nothing more important than pursuing a career in the medical field and being able to do that with Nolan on your side.

At times, the long study nights, missed plans, and occasional stressed-induced breakdowns made you question if you were ever going to meet your end goals. That feeling was definitely not foreign to you, but it didn’t necessarily make coping with the thought any easier. It was a weird feeling — four years of undergraduate school almost felt like too much yet not enough time. There was so much you wanted to accomplish, and you sometimes wished you weren’t so ambitious because the days where you felt incapable of being successful were the days that you wanted nothing more than to wallow in your fears alone.

Luckily for you, Nolan was incredibly understanding of your fears. While he knew his life as an athlete was drastically different from your life as a student, he tried his best to understand your thoughts and always told you how much he admired your drive to reach your goals. No matter how often you tried to internalize your emotions, Nolan knew better and never hesitated to be your rock. Be it in the form of verbal or physical reassurance, his presence radiated a sense of comfort that always brought you out of any illusion of doubt you may have conjured.

He doesn’t tell you enough, but you have a similar effect on him. Your gentle touches, cute pre-game texts, and warm hugs never fail to bring a smile to his face. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not quite sure what he would do without you. It’s not really a thought he has to worry about, though, because for what felt like a blissful eternity, the stars aligned for you two. There were undoubtedly times when Nolan and you would run into disagreements, but the desire to make things work seemingly mended any issues in the relationship.

That was, however, until everything seem to come to a head. With your MCAT exam date approaching very soon and Nolan’s season with the Flyers starting just as quickly, it was hard for the two of you to bask in each other’s presence like usual. It wasn’t something either of you really noticed, as you both understood how important the other’s career was. You knew how important this comeback season for Nolan would be, and you tried your best to let him know that you would support him no matter what. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew a lot of doubts were rushing through your boyfriend’s head and you almost mistook his increasingly reserved demeanor as nerves.

In fact, you didn’t really give it much thought until Nolan came home from his fourth game of the season. As badly as you wished you could have attended, the remaining hours you had to prepare for the MCAT were previous and you reassured Nolan that you would be his number one cheerleader again as soon as you got the dreaded test out of the way.

Your nose was stuffed into a psychology textbook until your trance was broken with the slam of the front door to you and Nolan’s shared apartment.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted as you got out of your seat to hug your freshly-showered boyfriend. If the sound of the front door was any indication, you had a feeling that the game didn’t go as desired, and you didn’t want to push any touchy subjects. On more than one occasion, Nolan had told you how much he liked how he could escape from hockey in your presence. He loved that he could escape from that part of his life, loved how you made him feel like a normal guy. You thought this would be one of those nights where even the word “hockey” wouldn’t be uttered, but you were wrong. So wrong.

“You’re not gonna ask how the game went?” Your boyfriend pressed, his tone bitter. Pulling away from your hug, he turned his back to you all too soon and he walked towards the kitchen.

“I-I mean, you know I’m always here to listen about your games, but I just thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it?” you meekly replied, unsure of where he was going with the conversation.

You weren’t entirely sure what the outcome of the game was, but you were definitely confused. Nolan usually didn’t like talking about the Flyers’ losses, but you were so sure something went wrong based on his dramatic entrance into your shared home.

Prompted by his silence, you continued, “Um, so was it a win?” you uttered, regretting your words as soon as they slipped off your tongue.

Slamming his water bottle on the countertop, Nolan’s actions caused your words to dissipate. Silence filled the room, the tension almost palpable.

“Well you would know if you were there, wouldn’t you?” he replied, clearly annoyed by your seemingly stupid question.

Alright, so definitely not a win.

“Nols,” you tried to reason, “You know I wanted to be there so badly, but I couldn’t. The MCAT is almo-” you were abruptly cut off.

“I know. The MCAT is only two weeks away and it’s super important for you. It’s been the same thing for weeks now, you don’t have to remind me,” Nolan finished your sentence, his monotonous and resentful tone making it clear that he had already heard the same words from you numerous times before.

Had it not been for this same tone, you would have brushed off his comment. You would have instead attributed his harshness to tonight’s loss, which would have been the third one in a row. However, his response felt condescending — like he was downplaying how important the MCAT actually was to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you quipped. It felt like you just recited the most cliche line in the book, but your brain and heart had already started functioning at two different rates. If you attempted to say any more, your stress from the upcoming exam mixed with the rising argument you sensed would have surely sent you into a pool of tears.

“It’s just exhausting you, know?” Nolan started, “I know you’re busy with your own things, but it sucks seeing all of the other guys getting to hug their girlfriends and wives at the tunnel at the end of games while I know I can’t have the same with you. I mean, is it so much to ask of you to just be there for me? How am I supposed to believe that you want the best for me when you aren’t even acting like it?” he argued.

“‘So was it a win?’” he bitterly recited your earlier question, scoffing at it. “You could have at least Googled the score and pretended like you were keeping up.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your confusion immediately turned into anger and shock — you thought Nolan, out of all people, would have understood your situation. Not being able to wrap your head around his current state of irrationality, it felt like hours passed before you willed yourself to reply.

“I've attend almost every game of yours. I’m sorry I haven’t been so good at that recently, but you know how much I want to do well on this exam,” you seethed.

You were trying to stay level-headed, but anger consumed any possibility of making the discourse calm. “My life does not revolve solely around your career, and I’m sure as hell not going to always be able to put my life on hold to make sure I know what the scoreboard of every game is.” You couldn’t help but let every one of your words become coated in frustration. You thought everything you were saying was so obvious, and you couldn’t help but become more upset with the fact that you even had to reiterate these points to Nolan.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m not even dating someone,” Nolan dryly responded. “Feels like all you do nowadays is drone on and on about this test. Is this what the rest of our relationship it gonna be like? I mean, I can’t imagine what things are gonna be like once you’re in med school,” he hastily commented, pacing around the kitchen.

Every one of his words felt like a punch to your gut. His words hurt more than your face let on, every instinct in your body asking —no, begging— you to flee your current predicament.

“I don’t know what to say,” you truthfully replied.

“Is there even room for me in your life anymore?” he questioned, adding fuel to the fire. “It feels like I’m always second to your fantasy life as a doctor.”

This was your last straw. Sure, you could have tried to see the validity in his initial argument if you gave yourself time to cool down. But now, it felt like he was mocking you. The same person that made your goals feel attainable was starting to break down your confidence. The confidence that he helped you construct was now crumbling, brick by brick.

“Nolan, you mean so much more to me than that. Please, I would never want you to feel this way, and I know we can work this out we just need to tal-” you were cut off once more.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” he cryptically stated, letting your worst fears fester around the kitchen that felt way too cramped now.

“Nol, please,” you pleaded. Your anger immediately shifted to dread.

“I want you to achieve your dreams more than anything, but I don’t know if I see myself in these future plans if this is what the rest of your career is supposed to be like. Do I even have a place in your future plans?” Nolan sighed.

Your stomach dropped. Even though he didn’t explicitly state it, you knew what he was hinting at. It was your career or him, and he was making it clear that having both in your life wouldn’t be feasible. As if he pulled out the last brick, you finally let all of your walls down. Tears freely flowed down your face, as you tried to convince yourself that you were hearing wrong. You wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs. Of course you saw Nolan as part of your future. Hell, he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. However, his seeming disregard for your career aspirations was off-putting and made you reconsider everything.

Your eyesight, blurry from your tears, tried to focus on the hockey player. Your dejected state urged you to reason with him, but you were unsure of what to do.

“Please, Nolan. Please don’t make me choose,” you pleaded. In comparison to your vulnerable state, Nolan was composed. It was as if he rehearsed this, his blank stare void of emotion. You tried to come closer to him, but his body language told you that your touch wasn’t welcome.

“I don’t have to,” Nolan pushed himself off the counter, “The fact that you don’t already know your answer already tells me what I need to know,” he stated. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter, he headed to the front door before you could gather your emotions and form words.

Your anger, confusion, and hurt seemed to weigh you down, gluing your feet to the ground. As much as you wanted to stop his exit from the apartment, your body kept you in place. With a second slam of the front door, the gust of wind from the heavy door whiffled through your long-forgotten textbook, the sound of the pages ruffling mocking you. The silence following Nolan’s exit was deafening. You never thought Nolan would make you choose between your relationship with him and your career. You thought you knew a lot of things about life, really, but this was certainly something you were not prepared for.

Your world was spinning, orbiting into a field of anguish and heartbreak. As if your brain hadn’t quite registered the turn of events, you almost thought about calling for Nolan until you were cruelly reminded that reaching for him was no longer an option. Your rock was gone, and you were lost.

#nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick #nhl imagine #nhl fic #my writing

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littlebabycrybtch · 4 years ago

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oh my god im sorry but i HATE reading analysis discourse so fuckgin much. its so annoying and unnecessary and cruel bc per usual ableists just Scream over everyone and manipulate the view by focusing on the wrong points. disrespect towards this issue is never gonna work and yall would get that if you actually listened to the way the (usually nd) people felt about it and why, but ur too busy mocking them so you look good for consuming the Proper Medias tm. i mean you literally have to know this isnt productive, yall keep going bc you get a kick out of laughing at ‘unintelligent’ people.

‘uu ur teachers didnt oppress u by making u read to kill a mockingbird instead of the hunger games” ok listen 1. media you dont personally care abt can still definitely hold depthful value and be analyzed. oh my god lmao. the people who prefer ~that kind~ of media arent stupid and dont prefer easy thinking, its your own fault for Not looking into it yourself and just assuming its worthless, literally judging a book by its cover. LITERALLY avoiding the analysis skills you claim to have by assuming anything you read in highschool = smart, valuable and anything mainstream = stupid and useless. most books inherently contain symbolism and morals, a lot of these people CAN understand it, theyre just criticizing the inaccessibility of the writing that was forced on them academically. the people analyzing those medias instead of your favs are still taking in lessons even if they prefer to do it in a different format, i mean for instance THG is literally about fucking classism and racism and war you dumb hypocritical tunnel vision bitch, young adult media usually has a Lot of real world parallels in it that very much pertains to how teens see the world, thats the literal POINT, just cuz ur too elitist and dont respect children enough doesnt mean some books are ‘too stupid’ to analyze with any real social value, and 2. A BOOK NOT BEING EXCITING... OR EASY TO UNDERSTAND... IS LITERALLY SMTH VALID TO CRITICIZE IN MANY CASES, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE GIVING IT TO CHILDREN.... if a kid says “this is boring/too long/uses words that i dont know, so i cant make any sense of it” that doesnt always mean theyre lazy or w/e, if its not a book made for kids (bc kids can understand mature themes but that doesnt. mean you can just throw all the other skills they arent experienced with yet at them, they still need writing tailored to them), Thats your first problem, but sometimes ur book is just fucking boring all together. a book can have as much symbolism as it wants, if its not there to open the mind and provide necessary depth, but to feel self important and make you feel self important for getting it, thats not a good book. and with books i do respect now like TKAM i remember outright saying, “i literally cannot read this and dont get it at all” at like 10 yrs old, and my teachers didnt do shit to explain it or help me or give me any skills at all, they were just like. :) keep trying!! according to your scores we know you can do it!!! so, i did not keep trying, i gave up, and i guarantee if it had been a few years later it would have been easier. if i had been given the opportunity to read stories with similar morals that were made for my age range that i WANTED to read, i guarantee i wouldve gotten so much more out of that. but i was literally DISALLOWED, bro if i grabbed a book that actually interested me, i was told i couldnt check it out at ALL unless it was in the ‘range’ i was assigned, which was college level since i was in 4th grade. so if you think i shouldve kept reading, im being unironic rn, you need to go get a degree, become a teacher, and if a kid or teen says to you what i said, sit them down and TEACH THEM without shame, and fight for better regulations of what reading levels can be pushed on what age groups. if lit analysis is this important to you, FUCKING TEACH IT PROPERLY, that is literally the ONLY REAL SOLUTION to the problem you have, NOT SHAMING the people who were ALREADY FAILED BY THE SYSTEM.

the problem is not ‘idiots think symbolism is stupid’ the problem has ALWAYS been ‘the education system is flawed and how and when children are taught certain skills is so corrupted and damaging, the children growing up with it cannot Help but struggle later in life, and your issue should be with the system”. like can i be real. learn how to Emotionally ~analyze~ posts from sad kids with mental illnesses saying smth as basic as “i wish i wasnt forced to read mature books as a child without any themes pertaining to me at all bc it hurt my already fragile motivations for learning :/” without your ass getting defensive over the classics. bitches stan ‘the door is red to symbolize anger’ but think thg is just a stupid dystopia love triangle book................ ur not even that smart like yall are just elitist like LITERALLY just elitist if you mock the values ppl see in other books and claim theyre too stupid to understand ~real books~. a fucking mickey mouse cartoon could hold the exact same moral lesson as a 1200 page novel written by a college professor of 30 years, like the Exact Same Conclusions CAN be drawn no matter how many words and analogies and metaphors are thrown on top!! for many those fancy details make it more enriching but its literally possible to get the same concepts from “EASIER” material, that is not Lesser it is ACCESSIBLE and it should be ENCOURAGED all the same. yall are gatekeeping and its stupid, if you actually want ppl to analyze media then you’d applaud how they analyze their passions even when you dont share it, not shame them for struggling with understanding other stories. this rly boils down to either ‘i hate ppls preferences and wanna make them feel stupid’ OR the ever so lovely ‘i hate whiny disabled ppl and kids who were pressured to the point of burnout, and wanna make them feel stupid’. its fucking exhausting. idc how you guys feel, you talk to hear yourselves talk and its all just talk and nothing helpful, your disrespect doesnt work bc its an echo of the root problem. for gods sake shut up already lmao

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fanonical · 5 years ago

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hey im not trying to judge you, but you come off as kind of agressive sometimes? i know you don't mean to be an asshole, but sometimes people say things and you just lash out. example 1: someone asked you to tag discourse because it made them feel bad, and you insinuated they were just whining about the fact that you don't like dramione (which i 100% support, it's a shit ship), but maybe being mean towards that person isn't really the correct response? example 2 (1/2, I'll send a second ask)

(2/3, I'll need more sorry to bother you) example 2: someone tried to further your point of racism in the hp books, and you said "im starting to think you can't read at all", except the person wasn't saying you were wrong, they were saying something more to add to the discussion, and you talked to them like they were an absolute idiot, and i don't think that's really the way you should react? you can do whatever you want to deal with people you don't like or disagree with

(3/3) but insulting people never changed anyone's mind, it just invalidates your points, and people aren't going to listen to you if you keep treating them like shit. and yeah, sometimes they are shit and deserve to be treated so, but the only way that has been proven to work in changing assholes' minds (even though it doesn't always work) is laying facts, and proving you're smarter than them. so again, do whatever you want, but maybe at least don't insult people who aren't being assholes to you

so, first of all, as stated earlier, i’ve specifically gone out of my way to not say anything that could reasonably be read as aggression today. i’ve kept my cool and remained fair but firm. i didn’t call anybody “whining” -- your words, not mine -- i took issue with the fact that somebody suggested i’ve been blowing up at people, but actually, i have not been aggressive at all today. i am starting to think you all just read me as aggressive all the time because i am a trans woman, and that’s really, sincerely upsetting to hear, because i have just straight up, 100% not been aggressive at all today.

secondarily, no, this person wasn’t agreeing with me. i said “there is only one instance in the books where somebody is racist in universe” (which is true) and they took it as me saying the books are narratively racist/Rowling isn’t racist, which is not what i said (and nor do i believe it). i will admit this is the closest i got to snarky, because i really felt like they were just dismissing every point i have: they straight up were not reading what i was saying. i will admit, though, it was perhaps unnecessarily snarky. other than that, i have not even dipped a toe into the pool of rudeness today, even when completely warranted.

all i have been doing today is laying facts, proving people wrong, and not being assholes to people (even when it was warranted) to i think you have sort of proven yourself wrong: people will interpret me as rude, nasty, aggressive and spiteful for merely disagreeing with them, probably influenced by the fact that i am a trans woman and we are perceived as aggressive.

#discourse /#not hp /#anonymous

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star-anise · 6 years ago

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do you have any sources on the claims you made? im always willing to change my stance if you have legitimate backing for it haha

So first, I’m sorry for blowing up at you the way that I did. I’m not proud that I reacted in such a kneejerk, aggressive fashion. Thank you for being open to hearing what I have to say. I’m sorry for mistaking you for a TERF, and I’m sorry my response has caused other people to direct their own hostility towards you.

So, here’s the thing. “You can’t call bi women femmes” is pretty intrinsically a radfem thing to say, and I am deeply opposed to letting radfems tell me what to do. I’m trying to write this during a weekend packed with childcare and work. I’ll try to hit all the high notes.

The one thing I am having trouble finding is the longass post I talked about in my reply, that was a history of butch/femme relationships in lesbian bars, which had frequent biphobic asides and talked about “the lesbophobic myth of the bi-rejecting lesbian”; the friend who reblogged it without reading it thoroughly has deleted it, and I can’t find it on any of the tags she remembers looking at around that time. If anyone can find it, I’ll put up a link.

As far as possible, I’m linking to really widely accessible sources, because you shouldn’t intrinsically trust a random post on Tumblr as secret privileged knowledge. People have talked about this at length in reputable publications that your local library either has, or can get through interlibrary loan; you can look up any of the people here, read their work, and decide for yourself. This is a narrative of perspectives, and while I obviously have a perspective, many people disagree with me. At the end of the day, the only reason I need for calling bi women femmes is that You Are Not The Boss Of Me. There is no centralized authority on LGBT+ word usage, nor do I think there should be. Hopefully this post will give you a better sense of what the arguments are, and how to evaluate peoples’ claims in the future.

I looked up “butch” and “femme” with my library’s subscription to the Oxford English Dictionary because that’s where you find the most evidence of etymology and early use, and found:

“Femme” is the French word for “woman”. It’s been a loanword in English for about 200 years, and in the late 19th century in America it was just a slangy word for “women”, as in, “There were lots of femmes there for the boys to dance with”

“Butch” has been used in American English to mean a tough, masculine man since the late 19th century; in the 1930s and 1940s it came to apply to a short masculine haircut, and shortly thereafter, a woman who wore such a haircut. It’s still used as a nickname for masculine cis guys–my godfather’s name is Martin, but his family calls him Butch. By the 1960s in Britain, “butch” was slang for the penetrating partner of a pair of gay men.

Butch/femme as a dichotomy for women arose specifically in the American lesbian bar scene around, enh, about the 1940s, to enh, about the 1960s. Closet-keys has a pretty extensive butch/femme history reader. This scene was predominantly working-class women, and many spaces in it were predominantly for women of colour. This was a time when “lesbian” literally meant anyone who identified as a woman, and who was sexually or romantically interested in other women. A lot of the women in these spaces were closeted in the rest of their lives, and outside of their safe spaces, they had to dress normatively, were financially dependent on husbands, etc. Both modern lesbians, and modern bisexual women, can see themselves represented in this historical period.

These spaces cross-pollinated heavily with ball culture and drag culture, and were largely about working-class POC creating spaces where they could explore different gender expressions, gender as a construct and a performance, and engage in a variety of relationships. Butch/femme was a binary, but it worked as well as most binaries to do with sex and gender do, which is to say, it broke down a lot, despite the best efforts of people to enforce it. It became used by people of many different genders and orientations whose common denominator was the need for safety and discretion. “Butch” and “femme” were words with meanings, not owners.

Lesbianism as distinct from bisexuality comes from the second wave of feminism, which began in, enh, the 1960s, until about, enh, maybe the 1980s, maybe never by the way Tumblr is going. “Radical” feminism means not just that this is a new and more exciting form of feminism compared to the early 20th century suffrage movement; as one self-identified radfem professor of mine liked to tell us every single lecture, it shares an etymology with the word “root”, meaning that sex discrimination is at the root of all oppression.

Radical feminism blossomed among college-educated women, which also meant, predominantly white, middle- or upper-class women whose first sexual encounters with women happened at elite all-girls schools or universities. Most of these women broke open the field of “women’s studies” and the leading lights of radical feminism often achieved careers as prominent scholars and tenured professors.

Radical feminism established itself as counter to “The Patriarchy”, and one of the things many early radfems believed was, all men were the enemy. All men perpetuated patriarchy and were damaging to women. So the logical decision was for women to withdraw from men in all manner and circumstances–financially, legally, politically, socially, and sexually. “Political lesbianism” wasn’t united by its sexual desire for women; many of its members were asexual, or heterosexual women who decided to live celibate lives. This was because associating with men in any form was essentially aiding and abetting the enemy.

Look, I’ll just literally quote Wikipedia quoting an influential early lesbian separatist/radical feminist commune: “The Furies recommended that Lesbian Separatists relate “only (with) women who cut their ties to male privilege” and suggest that “as long as women still benefit from heterosexuality, receive its privileges and security, they will at some point have to betray their sisters, especially Lesbian sisters who do not receive those benefits”“

This cross-pollinated with the average experience of WLW undergraduates, who were attending school at a time when women weren’t expected to have academic careers; college for women was primarily seen as a place to meet eligible men to eventually marry. So there were definitely women who had relationships with other women, but then, partly due to the pressure of economic reality and heteronormativity, married men. This led to the phrase LUG, or “lesbian until graduation”, which is the kind of thing that still got flung at me in the 00s as an openly bisexual undergrad. Calling someone a LUG was basically an invitation to fight.

The assumption was that women who marry men when they’re 22, or women who don’t stay in the feminist academic sphere, end up betraying their ideals and failing to have solidarity with their sisters. Which seriously erases the many contributions of bi, het, and ace women to feminism and queer liberation. For one, I want to point to Brenda Howard, the bisexual woman who worked to turn Pride from the spontaneous riots in 1969 to the nationwide organized protests and parades that began in 1970 and continue to this day. She spent the majority of her life to a male partner, but that didn’t diminish her contribution to the LGBT+ community.

Lesbian separatists, and radical feminists, hated Butch/Femme terminology. They felt it was a replication of unnecessarily heteronormative ideals. Butch/femme existed in an LGBT+ context, where gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people understood themselves to have more in common with each other than with, say, cis feminists who just hated men more than they loved women.

The other main stream of feminist thought at the time was Liberal Feminism, which was like, “What if we can change society without totally rejecting men?” and had prominent figures like Gloria Steinem, who ran Ms magazine. Even today, you’ll hear radfems railing against “libfems” and I’m like, my good women, liberal feminism got replaced thirty years ago. Please update your internal schema of “the enemy”

Lesbian separatism was… plagued by infighting. To maintain a “woman-only” space, they had to kick out trans women (thus, TERFs), women who slept with men (thus, biphobia), women who enjoyed kinky sex or pornography or engaged in sex work (thus, SWERFS) and they really struggled to raise their male children in a way that was… um… anti-oppressive. (I’m biased; I know people who were raised in lesbian separatist communes and did not have great childhoods.) At the same time, they had other members they very much wanted to keep, even though their behaviour deviated from the expected program, so you ended up with spectacles like Andrea Dworkin self-identifying as a lesbian despite being deeply in love with and married to a self-identified gay man for twenty years, despite beng famous for the theory that no woman could ever have consensual sex with a man, because all she could ever do was acquiesce to her own rape.

There’s a reason radical feminism stopped being a major part of the public discourse, and also a reason why it survives today: While its proponents became increasingly obsolete, they were respected scholars and tenured university professors. This meant people like Camille Paglia and Mary Daly, despite their transphobia and racism, were considered important people to read and guaranteed jobs educating young people who had probably just moved into a space where they could meet other LGBT people for the very first time. So a lot of modern LGBT people (including me) were educated by radical feminist professors or assigned radical feminist books to read in class.

The person I want to point to as a great exemplar is Alison Bechdel, a white woman who discovered she was a lesbian in college, was educated in the second-wave feminist tradition, but also identified as a butch and made art about the butch/femme dichotomy’s persistence and fluidity. You can see part of that tension in her comic; she knows the official lesbian establishment frowns on butch/femme divisions, but it’s relevant to her lived experience.

What actually replaced radical feminism was not liberal feminism, but intersectional feminism and the “Third Wave”. Black radical feminists, like Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, pointed out that many white radical feminists were ignoring race as a possible cause of oppression, and failing to notice how their experiences differed from Black womens’. Which led to a proliferation of feminists talking about other oppressions they faced: Disabled feminists, Latina feminists, queer feminists, working-class feminists. It became clear that even if you eliminated the gender binary from society, there was still a lot of bad shit that you had to unlearn–and also, a lot of oppression that still happened in lesbian separatist spaces.

I’ve talked before about how working in women-only second-wave spaces really destroyed my faith in them and reinforced my belief in intersectional feminism

Meanwhile, back in the broader queer community, “queer” stuck as a label because how people identified was really fluid. Part of it is that you learn by experience, and sometimes the only way to know if something works for you is to try it out, and part of it is that, as society changed, a lot more people became able to take on new identities without as much fear. So for example, you have people like Pat Califia, who identified as a lesbian in the 70s and 80s, found far more in common with gay leather daddies than sex-negative lesbians, and these days identifies as a bisexual trans man.

Another reason radical feminists hate the word “queer”, by the way, is queer theory, which wants to go beyond the concept of men oppressing women, or straights oppressing gays, but to question this entire system we’ve built, of sex, and gender, and orientation. It talks about “queering” things to mean “to deviate from heteronormativity” more than “to be homosexual”. A man who is married to a woman, who stays at home and raises their children while she works, is viewed as “queer” inasmuch as he deviates from heteronormativity, and is discriminated against for it.

So, I love queer theory, but I will agree that it can be infuriating to hear somebody say that as a single (cis het) man he is “queer” in the same way being a trans lesbian of colour is “queer”, and get very upset and precious about being told they’re not actually the same thing. I think that actually, “queer as a slur” originated as the kind of thing you want to scream when listening to too much academic bloviating, like, “This is a slur! Don’t reclaim it if it didn’t originally apply to you! It’s like poor white people trying to call themselves the n-word!” so you should make sure you are speaking about a group actually discriminated against before calling them “queer”. On the other hand, queer theory is where the theory of “toxic masculinity” came from and we realized that we don’t have to eliminate all men from the universe to reduce gender violence; if we actually pay attention to the pressures that make men so shitty, we can reduce or reverse-engineer them and encourage them to be better, less sexist, men.

But since radfems and queer theorists are basically mortal enemies in academia, radical feminists quite welcomed the “queer as a slur” phenomenon as a way to silence and exclude people they wanted silenced and excluded, because frankly until that came along they’ve been losing the culture wars.

This is kind of bad news for lesbians who just want to float off to a happy land of only loving women and not getting sexually harrassed by men. As it turns out, you can’t just turn on your lesbianism and opt out of living in society. Society will follow you wherever you go. If you want to end men saying gross things to lesbians, you can’t just defend lesbianism as meaning “don’t hit on me”; you have to end men saying gross things to all women, including bi and other queer women. And if you do want a lesbian-only space, you either have to accept that you will have to exclude and discriminate against some people, including members of your community whose identities or partners change in the future, or accept that the cost of not being a TERF and a biphobe is putting up with people in your space whose desires don’t always resemble yours.

Good god, this got extensive and I’ve been writing for two hours.

So here’s the other thing.

My girlfriend is a femme bi woman. She’s married to a man.

She’s also married to two women.

And dating a man.

And dating me (a woman).

When you throw monogamy out the window, it becomes EVEN MORE obvious that “being married to a man” does not exclude a woman from participation in the queer community as a queer woman, a woman whose presentation is relevant in WLW contexts. Like, this woman is in more relationships with women at the moment than some lesbians on this site have been in for their entire lives.

You can start out with really clear-cut ideas about “THIS is what my life is gonna be like” but then your best friend’s sexual orientation changes, or your lover starts to transition, and things in real life are so much messier than they look when you’re planning your future. It’s easy to be cruel, exclusionary, or dismissive to people you don’t know; it’s a lot harder when it’s people you have real relationships with.

And my married-to-a-man girlfriend? Uses “butch” and “femme” for reasons very relevant to her queerness and often fairly unique to femme bi women, like, “I was out with my husband and looking pretty femme, so I guess they didn’t clock me as a queer” or “I was the least butch person there, so they didn’t expect me to be the only one who uses power tools.” Being a femme bi woman is a lot about invisibility, which is worth talking about as a queer experience instead of being assumed to exclude us from the queer community.

#cherryhearrts #staranise original #answered asks #ranting in bisexual #lgbt discourse #terf shit #exclusionist shit #radfem shit #apologies to my girlfriend for not including carole queen in this post #she just didn't fit baby

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xxjayjabbersxx · 5 years ago

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*slides in* so i heard you like Sammy... could you do post ink hcs for spending time/cuddling with him... and maybe the projectionist if you dont mind doing two in one

Alright I’m slowly coming back guys! I’m not gunna promise any amount of headcanons in a time period but I should be posting again. And Im so excited to do Bendy and the Ink Machine stuff OwO

YOURE DAMN RIGHT I LOVE MY SAMMY BOI -hears about the book discourse- Oh Im sorry i suddenly can’t, read -I refuse to read that book and I will base all my sammy stuff on the games only-

Sammy Lawrence

• Sammy is worried to cuddle with you at first because he might get ink all over you! He doesn’t want to soil you dear. You insist it’s fine and he eventually eases up and cuddles you

• the ink is surprisingly warm, and its honestly oddly comforting. Between Sammy’s strong arms holding you and the warm ink pressed against you, you fall asleep a lot of the time. It’s so just, safe. Which is funny, you think, since everything else here is out to get you

• Sammy loves to sing to you so so gently when you guys cuddle. Sometimes he hums, and you love that, because you can feel the noise rumble in his chest and its so amazingly soothing.

• As for spending time with you, he loves hearing your opinion on the things he’s working on. He’ll play music for you that no one else has heard and ask what you think. You love to sit next to him on the piano bench as he composes.

Norman Polk (The Projectionist)

• The man is so tall and lanky. He just kinda, wraps around you like a large inky spider when you cuddle. He was really nervous to cuddle with you for the longest time, because he’s covered in ink and well, look at him, he’s a monster!

• you of course don’t see him as a monster, and assure him of this time and time again. You love him, and you love being around him. He loves wrapping you up in hugs, and cuddling with you. Just like Sammy, the ink is surprisingly warm, and its a nice sensation.

• He loves when you just walk around the studio with him. He likes to patrol, and having you by his side makes it even more enjoyable. You two wander in comfortable silence, exchanging words every now and again. He makes you walk ahead of him so he can keep an eye on you and keep you safe.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #sammy lawrence #the projectionist #norman polk #sammy #norman #ask #cuddles #post ink #I love these inky bois #especially sammy!#thank youfor the ask!!!#request #headcanons #strong pikl smell #strong-pikl-smell

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420paki · 6 years ago

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i literally dont know anything about the beatles appart from hearing that john lennon was awful (homophobic,abusive,racist ableist u name it) but seeing little proof to any of the claims and since it seems u are a sort of beatles encyclopedia do u know if any of that is true? feel free to ignore this if u dont wanna bother with more of this discourse lmao

hi! i appreciate your asking. i used to have a comprehensive post explaining this shit but i’m not sure where it is, and i want to expand on it anyway. i’m just gonna go through all the buzzwords listed here, explain the foundations of the claim, and then decide if, in my opinion, they have any merit to them. i cant believe im answering this instead of doing my essay

homophobic: okay, this one mostly comes from an infamous incident at paul mccartney’s birthday party in 1963 where john, in a drunken rage, beat up DJ bob wooler to an absolute pulp after wooler (who was a gay man himself) teased him for having gone on vacation with the beatles’ gay manager, brian epstein. wooler insinuated that lennon must also be gay, and john was infuriated at this accusation. he would swear off violence completely following and was deeply ashamed of it, though of course, that doesn’t make it un-horrible and bad.

this part’s up for debate: i honestly think that in part, this is a stereotypical case of a guy dealing with same sex attraction, at least to a degree. his wife, yoko ono, stated in an interview that john wished he could’ve indulged in a relationship with a man. and the way he talks about his relationship with epstein is… gay imo lol. john seemed to have fairly progressive views on homosexuality in the years following this. by the time he became a radical leftist in the early 70s, he was openly pro LGBT.

racist: i suppose this one comes from woman is the n*gg*r of the world? yeah… that song is, um… a choice? first and foremost, it was composed by yoko ono. john was hesitant to record it and contacted friend bobby seale of the new york city chapter of the black panther party (which, as a side note, he was an ardent supporter of). bobby said it was a good idea and to go forward with it. it is in fact supposed to be a feminist song, but at the end of the day it uses a terrible slur, compares two separate forms of oppression, and doesn’t take into account the existence of black women. so… bad!

ableist: i can’t even argue with this one. yeah. yeah he was.

abuser: this one i saved for last because it is definitely the most pervasive one. there are a few things that feed into it.

1. the publishing of john lennon: the life by philip norman. i should say first of all that philip norman is a GARBAGE little man. all of his books, not just the ones about john, are full of lies and should be taken with a grain of salt. he’s the one who really cemented in place all of this shit about john, and accused him of being a wife beater, which simply isn’t true. john hit his first wife, cynthia lennon, once when he was 18. that itself is horrible and disgusting. but he promised her he would never do it again, and he never did. for the rest of his life, john never hit another woman. both yoko and cynthia confirm that norman is a liar. just as an example of his lies, in his book, he says that john once struck yoko and she hit her head on a wood burning stove at their home at the dakota. but the dakota is a mid century apartment building in the heart of manhattan and definitely did not contain a wood burning stove. so…. yeah. untrue.

2. john himself. john says that the beatles’ song “it’s getting better” is a biographical song. it’s essentially a song about a guy that used to be negative and beat his women, but stopped and is better now. honestly, i think that’s just him being stupid. he was really big into the peace movement in the late 60s, and i think he wanted to push the narrative that anyone can become peaceful. so he used himself as an example and exaggerated a lot, which he did often.

3. his relationship with his first son, julian. john was a bad father to julian. i can’t argue with that. there’s a lot of things that support this reasoning, but for the most part, what i can tell you is that i don’t classify it as abusive, more so negligent and childish on john’s behalf.

that was long, sorry lol… if that leaves you with any questions please let me know!

#beatle discourse

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valamerys · 8 years ago

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Hello! I'm fan of your writings and also your arts!!! I just want to ask about acowar. What are your thoughts abt it?? I read some the spoilers and such. And i hear some were a bit disappointed???? Also some parts were not satisfactory?? Im confused (help a friend hahaha) Were you happy after reading acowar?? Have a nice day/night! :)

Aw hi anon, I’m sorry if the #discourse about the book has been making you apprehensive about it. But yeah, I was very disappointed, and I think a lot of people were. I’ll be going into more detail in the future, but since you wanted big picture: primarily, it felt sloppy and unedited. Like a polished first draft. Weak prose, inconsistencies, loose plot threads that should have been smoothed over/ clarified and weren’t, writing shortcuts that felt lazy. Your mileage may vary, but a lot of people weren’t happy with how certain characters were handled, Mor in particular, for a lot of reasons. Personally I found the Feysand content pretty underwhelming; I really hoped this book would make me fall in love with them all over again and it really didn’t.

We got a lot of nice little character moments, and some fun concepts to play with fandom-wise (the Helion thing, the sisters’ powers, Az and Nessian got some good content) but overall my problems with the book outweigh anything making me enthusiastic about it. Of course, don’t let my opinion stop you from reading it and forming your own, but I’m.... not going to lie to you, I am Bummed.

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eagleslouis · 8 years ago

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I get what you mean! Is nice to just get this over with haha no! I can't haha sorry for the drama no I didn't mean I was forced but like nobody will ever considered not trying get into the universe the same year you're done with school you know? Like from all my school friends and classmates I can't think of anyone who didn't :( ah here is a bit different like we have university for free so we have a test of course we also have private universities but most of the best one are public one/ yeah

yeah it’s terrible like my grades were fine so everyone thought I was doing fine until I break down crying trying to sleep after that… I was pretty much dead inside lol yes I’m so grateful he was very helpful ❤ and thank you darling 🌟 I wish you all the best in the world 💕 🌠 oh my god! My cat does exactly the same!! I thought only cats did that?? Haha that’s so sweet!!!! Aww I think is more about the connection between the person and the animal then 😭💕 vet is the dream bc you spend yourtime with animals but I couldn’t handle see any of them sick or hurt 😭💔 yessss Steven’s mother is adorable 💕 and their friendship is so pure 🙏 yeah people are super bitter someone is treating Louis like he deserves to be treated 😔 I will try to find the picture buy he is holding a black cat and is sitting on a sofa I think the cat was his grandmother’s cat?? But I’m not sure kittens always prefer other kittens!!! Yes 👏 prove number 2 haha and true! That’s us with Louis haha 💙

i cant insert the little line because im on mobile but my reply is starting here jsjfjf. you said you had to wake up early today and bye because i woke up early (in my mind) too! i woke up at 9am and thats good tbh since i think i fell asleep around 1am. but anyway dont worry i understand!! college is so crazy to talk about since its so different everywhere 😫 but i would say its the same here with not taking gap years, like typically if people dont go to college the same year (or next) i think people just assume they arent going to college at all 🤷‍♀️. but im a little like uncomfortable that i wont be with my friends you know because one of my best friends is going to a college four hours away, but still in the state, where my other best friend is probably going to a school very close to me (we have like a college town, so just a lot of colleges in one small part of the city) but not the exact one you know? its annoying because i just got so confident this year in school having them around and now im going to have to repeat how i felt my first two years in school rip :((. but college free? SOUNDS LIKE A DREAM. the ones im looking at vary from probably $14k to $59k (but 59k is ABSOLUTELY a reach. i do not.. have that money) per year. but that includes tuition and room and board and personal expenses like everything. so thats why im always talking about needing a job to pay for it!! private schools and public schools tbh arent that severely different? it depends on the school id say but private schools are typically religious 😪 and way more expensive ofc.but anyway i just talked so much dkdkfj SORRY. im so sorry that you broke down and stuff though babe thats awful :(( yeah like even though most people didnt know (is kinda like that saying dont judge a book by its cover you know?), it is really really good that you had people around you 💓 and i know im like probably not much help lol but if you want you can always rant to me about anything! its definitely between the person and animals connection 😊 its sososo sweet like theyre the best 😭 my dog can always tell my mood to based just on the tone of my voice like!! what an angel!! also i know about the vet thing :(( i have a crazy story okay sorry but jsjfjc. two days ago there was literally a bird.. in my wall. like it was definitely in the wall (how it got there? NO IDEA) because i could hear it chirp (constantly. for like two hours.) and i heard it like? try to fly i think? i heard it like go against the wall if that makes sense. but anyway eventually it stopped chirping and my mom kept insisting it died but im like no!!!! i cant live knowing theres a dead bird in my wall 😭 we came to the theory that it just made its way out because.. i think it was too soon for it to die anyway? omg i hope so 🙏 but sorry!! that was kinda sad im sorry.

‘treating louis like he deserves’ i.. kno w. someone appreciating louis for louis and ignoring his relationship partner? realistic and well deserved. i really dont know that picture haha but if you do ever see it make sure to send it my way!! itll be evidence for that discourse if it ever starts 😎

#sorry omg #anonymous #ask

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queerascat · 8 years ago

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i found an old post about a poc ace and went on their blog and they know say they don't identify as ace because aces are bad, basically. and like, i'm literally crying. idk what to do, that just really struck me. someone who wrote about being queer, ace and a poc like me shitting on me and telling me my identity is inherently problematic when it's the reason i can't access mental health atm, which is something i need cause the 'discourse' & the violent abuse i faced on this website for (cont)

(suicide ideation, death threat and conversion tw) including death threats, caused me to fall back into suicidal ideation. and the only therapist available to me suggested conversion therapy (i live in a small central american country, there’s not much knowledge about these things- she thinks if i can be converted to straight, i will no longer suffer from my orientation). this is horrible tbh. i’m sorry to unload but as another poc ace i feel safe around you. i guess what i’m trying to say is that this ‘discourse’, which is just a bunch of people thinking they can gaslight and abuse aces or call the ‘bad’ or ‘cringy’ and don’t want to have any sort of intra community discussion but literally deny us our experiences and be abusive, is harming my mental health. friends i trusted turned out to be acephobic, send me literal death threats. in what kind of WORLD is that fucking ok? idk where im going with this, im sorry. do you know of any ways i can deal with this wave of ace and aro hatred that’s spread this website? i don’t know how to go about it. and now in the spanish speaking online lgbtq+ community, enbyphobes have copied it to exclude enbys for ‘being actually cis’ and are calling us ‘cisnb’ after regs in english calling aces and aros ‘cishet’ so that’s just fucking great :( that’s because the community is only now starting to realize enbys exist. and it’s also learning that about aspecs, so im starting to hear it in spanish too. i just can’t escape it.

i genuinely feel like i’m in no place to be giving any sort of advice on things of this nature– especially right now when i’m just managing to keep my own head above water for various reasons, but…

i’d first like to say that venting has been (and continues to be) a significant part of self-care / coping for me personally and i am beyond flattered that you feel safe enough to vent your feelings to me. no need to apologize, anon. i don’t know if i can be of any help to you, but i hope that the very act of venting in and of itself has been a step in the right direction for coping for you like it often is for me.

i also want to say that i’m very sorry to hear about all of the shit that you’ve been (and continue to be) put through. while i haven’t had your exact experiences, i can very much relate to feeling like you can’t escape “discourse” or otherwise harmful ideology as both it itself and the effects of it pervades other aspects and intersections of your life both on and outside of Tumblr. not to mention how it feels to finally find that rare, illusive something or someone that you share important but seemingly less common intersections with only to discover that that thing or person contributes to the very thing that’s, for lack of a better expression, fucking you up.

…ah, yes. like those old posts by a formerly self-identified ace and queer person of color who now not only advocates against asexuality but who does so in a way that blatantly shits on aces of color by pitching them against other QPOC, among other things. that’s some fucked up shit, ain’t it?

cough. anyway… my personal coping and self-care strategies.

my go-to strategies for coping and self-care certainly don’t work for everyone or in all situations, but with Tumblr and social media-related thing in general i often try to:

remove myself from the source of the distress.

even if only temporarily for a few hours, days, a week– whatever, i do what i can to mentally and / or physically check myself out of whatever it is that’s negatively affecting me and do my best to turn my attention to other things. i go to Starbucks, read a book, clean my apartment, focus on a personal project, catch up on shows, turn off my computer and my phone and finally make myself food– whatever. i focus on things that are actually tangible and perhaps offer some form of self-gratification even if it’s just in the form of tasting good because goddamnit, the time and cost required to get a caramel macchiato is (and quite frankly should be) far more worth it to me than the time and (mental) cost spent giving a damn about someone else’s bullshit. or so i tell myself.

if the source of the distress is outside of the internet, as might be the case with a therapist, i cut that person (or thing) out of my life even if it’s just by silently breaking off communication with them by not returning their calls or not going to their therapy sessions temporarily or indefinitely. as i said above, that person / those people / that thing is not worth the time or (mental) cost required of me by dealing with them.

limit or manage my exposure to the source of the distress when removing myself from it completely isn’t possible.

i feel like this often ends up being more taxing than simply removing myself all together, but blocking / unfollowing immediately upon coming across something or someone that can potentially or does set you off is important. blocking applies to more than just people, blogs or posts but also blacklisting tags, keywords etc using something like Xkit for Tumblr, the native block & mute features on Twitter, etc. if the distress comes in the form of asks, instant messages, etc then i disable those things at least temporarily, especially when blocking an IP fails to get the job done. i also avoid browsing through tags, which can be tough when you actively want to find something to help yourself feel better about yourself / your experiences / etc…

when the source of the distress isn’t online-based, i try to manage / limit my exposure by avoiding the person or thing in question when possible. again, actively avoiding someone or something requires effort on my part and can in and of itself be taxing, so it’s not ideal… but i do what i can.

venting.

while venting is by no means The Solution to anything and comes with its own set of risks / problems when done publicly, venting can be done in so many different ways. it’s a relatively easy form of instantly relief for me regardless of how small that relief may ultimately be. whether it be tweeting, journaling (online or pen & paper), venting on sites specifically made for that purpose, scribbling feelings onto a piece of paper and then immediately ripping that paper to shreds, typing heatedly into a text document and then closing it without saving– whatever, it helps for me to take even a moment out of my day to acknowledge how i feel and speak those feelings into existence beyond just the mess that is my own head at times. even if those feelings only exist in the world for seconds before i delete or physically destroy them because Anxiety And Shit, it still helps.

but perhaps most importantly is to:

focus on the fact that no matter what anyone else says or does, i am The Authority on who i am, how i feel, etc.

i know who i am, but i also know that who i am is not the problem even when others make me feel otherwise. regardless of how i may feel about the things that i face in regards to my sexuality, my gender, my race, etc, i try to keep in mind that those things that i face are a product of the society that i live in and the people who insist on interjecting their own personal bullshit into my life. imho, this is as true of Tumblr “discourse” as it is of life in general.

while it may not be possible to escape society or shitty people all together, there is a lot more to society and life in general than the bullshit that we find ourselves faced with at times. i try my best to look beyond or through “discourse” on Tumblr and see the communities of people both on an off Tumblr who, like me, are against such bullshit. while shitty therapists and shitty people in general may rebrand and rehash the same old tired, hurtful shit that’s been said to others for forever, i try to look past that and focus instead on the fact that a lot of people aren’t like that and have actually learned from the past and and are better for it. i try to focus on a future where i will have access to competent mental health resources and care even though i do not have that now…

…….i’m not sure why i ended up writing this short novel of a post that ultimately amounts to nothing, but yeah. anon, no matter how hard things get, please know that you’re never going at it alone. there are others out there struggling, coping, surviving in spite of the same or similar things, it’s just that if hardly anyone talks about it we end up feeling alone in it, unaware of others’ company…

….which is one reason why despite the potential risks, venting publicly even in the form of anonymous asks can be worth it sometimes and i very much welcome such asks on this blog.

all the best, anon.

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codename-bewareofthefangirl · 8 years ago

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I am like the happiest person when people write and talk the most because it makes me feel appreciated&taken seriously which doesnt happen often. So thank you!! I feel like I will hang out here for a long while ^-^ Can I request 7th sentence for MidoAka? My first time ever requesting anything to anyone so I hope Im doing it right

Hi dear! You’re welcome! I enjoy it too and you’refree to hang out as much as you want! I hope you enjoy this!

Human

Sometimes, people break. They have days when waking upis a torture, when everything seems to be falling down, when they just want tobury themselves in their room and shut the world outside. They feel insecure,weak, and anxious, not enough…They just crumble to pieces. It’s somethingnormal, even if everyone to think that it’s only them having something wrongand feel guilty about it. There’s no reason for it actually, with time they getused to the fact that from time to time they are going to feel like that. They’rehuman.

But for Akashi this was new.

He thought to be unbreakable, a born winner who couldn’tfail. He was the Emperor. But then he learnt the hard way that he was human too.Flaws and breaking downs included.

However, it was difficult for him to get used to it,to accept his weaknesses, to understand how to cope with it. He was scaredfeeling the “other Akashi” emerging from his consciousness, as if nothing had changed.He hated feeling lost in himself and didn’t want anyone else to discover it. Hefelt humiliated.

Therefore, he chose his own way to deal with it: onhis worst days, he just disappeared. Without traces, he would vanishes for afew hours or few days.

Now, unfortunately this didn’t affect only him, buthis boyfriend too.

When Midorima and Akashi weren’t still livingtogether, the first didn’t notice it particularly or took it more lightly. Heknew that his boyfriend sometimes felt suffocating or haunted by his past, or thatsimply didn’t feel well, but it seemed something so faint and ephemeral that hehadn’t to dp nothing more than what he usually did when they were together tohelp him out. Now that they shared the apartment, it was different. The firsttime Akashi had a crisis, he had just left a note on the table with written “Don’tworry. I’m going to return” and had escaped for three days. When he hadreturned, Midorima hadn’t talk to him for two weeks; he had thought he wasbecoming crazy during his absence: he didn’t know anything. Where he was, whyhe had left, when he was going to come back…Nothing.

In the end, Akashi had apologized first, a rare event.He had explained how he needed to be alone in those kind of moments, how hedidn’t want to hurt Midorima by dragging him down too and how he hadn’t to worry.The pointer, seeing his fatigue admitting his struggle, accepted his apologiesand didn’t push it further. He thought they had only to adjust, that thingswere going to change gradually by themselves. They trusted each other, theywere happy, right? But in five months that hadn’t happened yet and he wasfeeling consumed by this. Akashi’s nocturnal escapes made him feel worried,stressed and not enough for him. Why did he have to suffer alone? Wasn’t he theman he loved?

That’s why Midorima, that night, was waiting awake onthe couch. It was three in the morning and he was waiting sitting stiff with abook on his laps, wearing his blue, striped pajamas and the coordinated nighthat that only Akashi could ever find cute. The clock ticktocked loudly in thesilent room, but he was now used to it: after three hours he had stop countingthe seconds passing.

Finally, finally the door’s lock clicked.

Midorima didn’t raise his eyes, but his taped fingersstopped drumming on the cover.

Akashi padded inside the room, holding his breath tobe the most silent he could, but the light from the living room froze him for asecond. He sighed deeply, his attentions unnecessary, and closed the doorwithout holding back. Straightening himself, he reached the guy he knew waswaiting for him.

“Shintarou, I’m home.” He greeted in a quiet voice,the usual polite smile on the lips.

Midorima closed his book with a loud noise and finallymet his red eyes. He nervously pushed the glasses at their place, trying to notshow any emotion.

Akashi cautiously walked towards him, removing hiscoat and putting it on the seatback of the couch. Noticing the tense shouldersof his partner, he didn’t sit right away.

“Foe how many hours did you wait for me?” askedneutrally, still maintain his prince’s façade.

“For thirty-six hours, spent without sleeping,obviously.” He answered coldly. His words fell in the silent room heavy asrocks.

Akashi’s heart missed a beat, uneasiness filled him up,but his mask didn’t crumble.

“We have to talk, please have a seat.” Midorima askedformally, gesturing towards the armchair in front of him.

Akashi sighed deeply: he couldn’t even remember thelast time they had been so formal to each other. This wasn’t going well and hefelt already a grip around his heart. He felt scared.

However, he did as he was told, and sat down.

Midorima was taking his time to recollect what he hadto say and Akashi observed his trembling finger, the dark circles under his tiredeyes, the funny horse plush seated beside him…He had missed Midorima a lot andcouldn’t help feeling a more genuine, caring smile taking the place of his politeone.

Midorima finally cleared his throat.

“This can’t go on.” He stated, words forming nervouslyon his lips as he repeated the discourse he thought during that too long wait.Akashi paled, the fear became terror and he felt something breaking inside ofhimself.

Everything but not that. Not again.

The face he was showing must have been reallyterrified, because Midorima blinked surprised and rapidly corrected himself.

“I’m not breaking up with you!” he hurried, toneoffended about his insinuation, “If I had wanted to break up, I would have justmoved out without saying anything.” He explained bluntly ,fixing his glasses ina nervous tic.

Ah.

Akashi took a breath, feeling stupid for jumping thegun so soon, and showed a faint smile.

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding. Please, continue.” Askedgently, clenching his fist to fight the instinct to get up, reach him and plopon his lap to cuddle.

“I was actually referring to your nocturnal escapes.” Heclarified with a tired huff, “We have to talk about it. This is not how weshould deal with it.”

The red haired one bit his bottom lip and tried tosmile reassuringly.

“I’m sorry If I had worried you Shintarou, I’ll try toreduce the number or to return more quickly; but I feel fine, there’s no needfor you-“ he repeated words Midorima had heard a million times and that madehim explode.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” he exclaimed loudlyclenching his fist and glaring angrily; Akashi shut up startled and finally showeda hurt, confused expression.

“I apologize but-“

“Let me talk, Seijuurou.” Midorima interrupted himagain and, when the boy nodded, continued, “I know why you do it. First, you’retoo proud to ask for help or to show your weaknesses; second, you don’t want tohurt me.”

Akashi didn’t even try to deny it, it was the plaintruth. Shintarou knew him better than anyone else ever could.

“And it’s true that there’s only a limited number oftimes I can watch you breaking before I start to crack.” Admitted regretfully,knowing perfectly his limits, “But knowing that you’re suffering alone, farfrom me, it’s ten times worst. I’ve shown you my tenacity all those years, I’mnot going to break from this. So please, rely on me more, let me be by yourside. We can deal with whatever is torturing you together. I don’t want to endlike during our second year in middle school. So please, Seijuurou.” The pleain his words was so strong that Akashi felt his eyes dampening. Midorima nowwas just looking at him in silence, bended towards him as if he was ready toreach him out, green eyes scrutinizing his soul.

He wanted to answer, but his mind was blacking out andhe felt even breathing as difficult. He knew that this was what he wanted to heardeep down, but he had been to scare to admit it. He had been egoistic all overagain, hadn’t he? Being human and fragile sucked.

“I apologize…” he murmured trying to get a hold ofhimself but his emotions were swirling in his heart like crazy, “I wanted toprotect you, I didn’t want to hurt you again. I thought this was the bestsolution, but I made a mistake and I was too scared of your reaction to rely onyou. Im deeply sorry.” He admitted straightening himself.

“I’ve imagined it.” Midorima huffed rolling his eyes,feeling the knot in his stomach loosening, “When you need something, especiallyhelp, tell me it clearly as when you want to buy something absurd.” He commentedironically, the air between them finally getting lighter.

“If you don’t mind “Akashi gave him a soft glance andplayful smile, “Right now I would need a hug. And cuddling, if possible.” Asked,trying to be honest with himself.

The request made Midorima blush like crazy, much to Akashi’samusement, but he stood up and offered his boyfriend a hand.

“This is a good first step.” Admitted gladly that hiswords came through, “I’m here for this.” Assured confidently, fixing hisglasses.

Akashi smiled fondly and took his hand.

“Thank you, Shintarou.”

The boy sighed, averting his eyes embarrassed.

“You’re too spoiled, Seijuurou.” Mumbled before guidinghim towards their bedroom.

Akashi chuckled softly. He truly was, but only withthe guy he loved and only because he knew he wasn’t going to abandon him justfor that.

Some hours after, laying down in the bed cuddle up toeach other. Midorima asked a question that had always weighted on his mind.

“Where did you go during your escapes?” he asked curiously,his fingers tangled into Akashi’s scarlet hair.

The boy looked at him earnestly and answered immediately,without even thinking about it.

“Horse riding in my father’s estate.”

“Never mind.”

#kuroko no basu #kuroko no basket #akashi seijūrō #akashi is spoilt #midorima is stressed #midorima shintarou #midorima x akashi #midoaka #akamido #drabble #comfort #being human #ship #established relationship #The Trust #cuddling

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