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hier--soir · 1 year ago

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a lover's pinch | three

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel gets a little birthday surprise, and you get a little too drunk. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, pining, f!masturbation [barely], sending nudes, joel finally locks his office door, dirty talk, the slightest slip of possessive language, uh.. ahem.. biting, protected piv birthday sex, a messy dinner party, excessive alcohol consumption [i'm talking embarassing], irritating men, soft!joel. word count: 10.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: let the pining commence folks. hey siri, play brown eyed girl by van morrison. special thanks to @bageldaddy for the emotional support as i endured the labour that was the final hour of editing this. hope you guys enjoy! this is part three of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two.

Thursday.

A fortnight passes in the slow blink of a bleary eye.

Fall nudges Summer out the door, solidifying its presence in Maine with flaxen leaves and rolling grey clouds.

The rain comes at night. Rivulets of moisture that leak onto the windowsill, seep into the cracked wood there and fill your room with the sweet smell of petrichor. It clears before the sun rises most days, but you unpack of a box of sweaters and hang them in your closet, nonetheless. You enjoy communal coffees in the kitchen and try not to frown when the morning light doesn’t warm your legs the way it used to. Force yourself not to feel mournful when you get home one afternoon and find Pete on the sofa with a blanket over him.

And perhaps that’s why when you wake on Thursday to sunshine—to warm bed sheets, to blue sky, to bright whites and yellows coming through the window—you feel lighter. Start the day with a calm countenance that has you blinking sleep from your eyes and smiling drowsily as your fingers trail the windowsill and come off dry. You share a pot of coffee with Pete; let him explain soil vapour extraction to you for the fifth time. Listen, smile, nod, and don’t roll your eyes when he asks do you get it now? And when the time comes to get ready for the drive to campus, you are smiling. Shoulders loose, eyes bright.

It had been a tiresome couple of weeks.

As the middle of the semester drew closer, you’d spent days on end poring over a laptop with tired eyes and cramping fingers. Writing and editing—and then rewriting and re-editing—your first round of essays and analyses. Balmy afternoons spent nursing glasses of cheap wine with your roommates evolved to late night coffees alone in your room, eyelids drooping as you fawned over every word, every quote, every fucking comma – all of it for him.

Him who you hadn’t been alone with in almost fifteen days.

Him whose texts were seared into your memory, left unanswered on your phone.

Him who you could hardly look at during lectures, for fear of losing your train of thought.

Him who you were hellbent on impressing.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

And as busy as you’d been, it hadn’t stopped the stares. Brief, intimate glances from down the hall in the history commons. The flash of a knowing smile as you shuffle toward the exit after a lecture. The graze of fingertips against your elbow, muddling your mind as you rush to meet a text translation study group.

Watching, waiting, wanting – a near insufferable task since that afternoon in his office.

Late into the first week you’d discovered that, upon focusing hard enough, you could still feel the ache in your knees; the rug burns his carpet had left on your skin. And then you shoved the memory of it down; compressed it somewhere deep inside, hidden away until you had the chance to open it back up again, and take your time with him like you truly wanted to.

And it seems today was that day.

You stare out the window for a moment. Sip your coffee and rake in the greenness of the grass, the cloudless sky, the ray of sun shining across your bedroom floor – and decide you’ll wear a skirt to Joel’s seminar.

The pin on his shirt is blue.

Not cerulean, or baby, or steel.

Not like how the sky was blue as you drove to campus with your windows down. Not like clear turquoise waters on a white sand beach in Greece, or like a robin’s egg swathed in leaves and sticks. But a deep, rich colour. Royal blue. A folded circular pin, with two tassels coming out the bottom of it.

It’s the first thing you notice when you walk into the lecture hall – the thing your eyes snag on repeatedly as you wander towards the third row and tuck yourself into a seat. That vivid splash of blue against a plain white t-shirt. No buttons today; formal wear forgone in place of a simple tee that hugs the vast planes of his chest, snug against the thick span of his biceps. His arms are almost enough to distract you from the gaudy brooch.

Joel won’t stop moving at the foot of the room, pacing the same length of floor over and over again, waiting for the crowd to settle. Hands busy themselves at his waist, wiping a small square of cloth against the lenses of his glasses. A muscle in his forearm twitches with every swipe of fingers against glass, and the sight has a hazy flush rising in your neck. Despite yourself, you try in earnest to catch a glimpse of what the pin says. Bare thighs tensed in your seat as you tilt your torso forward, eyes squinting.

The last students wander in, and he’s shifting, sliding those glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and snatching the slide clicker from the desk. He offers a polite greeting to the room.

It doesn’t take long for someone to speak up. “Special occasion?”

Joel’s hands still, chin tilting down as he glances at royal blue and then back out at the group, a wry smile breaking across his face.

“Just a thing the faculty does here,” he clears his throat awkwardly, laughs a little. It’s a soft sound, his laugh. Tickles your ears and makes you want to smile in return. “Some of the others started it a few years back… they make everyone wear one on their birthday.”

A chorus of surprised well-wishes chime from around the room, and Joel waves them away with a broad palm, shaking his head.

Even from three rows back you can see the pink in his cheeks; the resistance in his eyes as he intercepts the kind words soaring in his direction. You recognise a shyness there, an unwillingness to be the centre of attention, and it surprises you. Joel always seems so confident, standing week after week in front of 30 odd people and talking for hours. But you suppose then he can hide behind his words; behind years of knowledge and study and practice. When it’s about him? He falters. Tries to hide. You almost want to curse at him for being so endearing. And maybe you would – if it wasn’t his birthday.

“Nah, none of that,” Joel tuts, shaking his head. “Let’s get started, alright?”

He claps his hands once, and the sound reverberates through the quietening room. The fabric of his pants clings to the meat of his thighs, tightening around muscle as he rests against the edge of the desk. You fight to keep your gaze on his face.

“Today we’re gonna start with talkin’ about the instigators in our parallel texts.”

And you try to listen, you really do.

Try to focus on his words as he talks, spouting thoughts about antagonists of war, about Helen and Menelaus, about Paris of Troy, but you can’t get past the spread of his thighs against the desk. The way his body moves when he finally rises, wandering to-and-fro across the space. How his thick thumb presses against the clicker in his hand, slides shifting on the wall behind him. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the rough spell of his drawl vibrating inside your mind, spinning it’s yarn, and tangling itself in the space where rational thought normally resides. Birthday. It’s Joel’s birthday. Your hands clasp in front of your face, knuckle snagged between teeth, biting down, clinging to some far reach of clarity; something to bring you back to the ground and halt the dallied trance you seem to come under whenever he’s nearby.

Birthday, birthday, birthday.

As he discusses the Judgement of Paris, your mind wanders to a teacher you had as a child. A stern woman in her sixties who was fearsome among the gang of six-year old’s you roamed in. One year it had rained on your birthday, a spitting storm of hail and thunder. And when you cried, she told you that it only rains on your birthday when you’ve been a bad little girl.

It was sunny the next year, but she wasn’t your teacher anymore, and there was no one around to praise you for how good you must’ve been that year. For how hard you must’ve strived to achieve such wonderful sunshine on your special day.

A wry smile splits your face, tucked into the back of your hand, for you know better than anyone else just how bad Joel has been. And yet today, for his birthday, the sun shines.

He steps closer to the front row of seats, and your eyes glean across the lettering on his pin; the words Birthday Boy laid out in gold. A huff of laughter escapes you, and then your eyes are drifting up, past tan skin and scruffy facial hair, to find Joel staring straight at you. Dark, intrigued eyes. Assessing you, undressing you. Frowning.

“Somethin’ to add?” he clips.

The smile slides off your face. “Sorry?”

“Do you have somethin’ to add?” he drawls, unimpressed. The words slow and paced out as if he were speaking to a fool. “You seemed amused.”

“Oh,” you blink.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, straighten up, aware of every set of eyes in the room on the two of you. Joel’s face is stony, unimpressed. It’s the first time he’s made direct eye contact with you since you stepped into the room, and he is… on edge, clearly.

“No,” you decide on the safe answer, tone firm. “Nothing to add.”

He stares for a moment and then nods. Mutters a stern Pay attention underneath his breath before returning his gaze to the rest of the room. You scoff quietly, and swallow down the stab of embarrassment his words bring. The feeling is sour in your mouth, like the seed of a lemon is stuck behind your teeth.

Two seats to your left you hear a poorly concealed titter. Turn your head to spot a woman, maybe a year or two younger than yourself, giving you a pitiful smirk. You arch an eyebrow. Mouth what?

She simply shakes her head at you and turns to look at Joel, all glossy lips and doting gaze as she listens to his continued ponderings about Menelaus' role in the Trojan War.

You watch her for a moment. Note the way she laughs at his jokes, smiles as he goes off on a mindless tangent about something you aren’t paying attention to; hanging onto his every word. And you wonder if this is how you look to other people when you watch him. Another stark-raving Maenad, thirsting and possessed by the spirit of this Bacchant of a man. The Roaring One. The one with bedroom eyes and cheeks like wine. Joel Miller; fraught, brooding, and willing to embarrass you in front of a room of your peers to feel an inch of the self-control you've so easily ridden him of. A Dionysian fit to oppose the doomed Bacchant inside of you, whose mouth foams and eyes roll in ecstasy at the mere presence of him.

He crosses the front of the room, back and forth, and you imagine him as a bull of a man. Golden locks and thorned head, thyrsus in hand as he commands the attention of an enthralled audience. Corrals them to follow him, to adore him. And yet the image you create is distorted at best, a watered-down version of the truth, for what spites you the most is that he simply… doesn’t have to try. There are no attempts to convince; no persuasion in his voice, no dishonesty necessary as the room swoons for him. As you yourself yearn for him. Covet his touch, his body, akin to that of a God’s.

And perhaps there is some immorality there, some gross misalignment of hubris, that yearns to reset the scale. To remind this man that indeed you have knelt before him, but he knelt for you first.

The thought has your thighs pressing together.

“Well, Juno hates Aeneas because she hates Trojans. And for that we have Paris to blame,” he answers someone’s question with a chuckle. Gains a few scattered laughs in response. “Because we all know how Juno feels about Paris.”

You rise from your chair, legs shifting before your brain can catch up. Take careful, tip-toed steps towards the exit. Joel’s eyes drift in your direction, curious gaze draping over the bare skin of your legs as he talks. Just for a second though, a split second, before he’s looking determinedly back to the room, and you’re disappearing from his line of sight.

“And so, she thwarts the Trojans every chance she gets,” his voice grows softer as you stray farther from the door, until it’s nothing more than a vague purr down the hall. You wander into the women’s bathroom and slip inside an empty cubicle.

Birthday, birthday, pay attention, birthday, they make everyone wear one on their birthday, pay attention.

Your brain is abuzz, nerves alight as you place your phone carefully atop the toilet paper dispenser. Trembling fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the warm skin of your thighs, and yes you’ve been wet since you saw him. Turned on from just the sight of him, the sound of his mellow voice, the idea that maybe, just maybe, today you will get to touch him again. You can feel how it clings to your panties, sweet soft warmth pooling out of you, a dizzying wetness that longs for Joel to come and find you. To take you in his hands, tilt you down to his parted lips, and drink it from the source.

Your fingers are cold against your skin. A delighted shiver swims down your spine as you graze them along the front of your underwear. Barely touching, hardly any pressure, simply grazing over the spot where your clit has begun to pulse. A little firmer now, you press against the thin material of your underwear, let it slip between your soaked folds. You bite your lip to contain a soft sigh, and smile as you feel how wet the material is getting. Once you’re satisfied you pull your hand away, leave a shimmering streak against your leg where you wipe your fingers, and reach for your phone.

Position one foot on the closed seat and rest your back against the cubicle wall, angling the phone between your spread thighs. Tilting your phone this way and that until the camera catches you in the perfect light; the flared material of your skirt bunched around your hips, the shiny smear across your inner thigh, the damp stain of slick against the front of your light blue panties. You take a few pictures. Trail your hand down your stomach and let it appear in some of them as well; fingers poised over the band of your underwear, just a tease. Finally content, you tuck your phone away, splash some cold water on your neck, and wander back into the lecture theatre.

Joel looks up when you walk inside. He’s seated behind his desk now, the room quiet as people jot down notes, eyes flitting between their laptops and the presentation displayed across the wall. Furrowed eyebrows and brown eyes shining with that barely-contained interest they always seem to hold when he looks at you these days. You offer him a nonchalant smile before turning your back to him. Sway your hips with exaggerated emphasis as you waltz up the stairs, slide back into your seat, and take your phone back out.

No one’s watching you now. Not your fellow Maenad, with her sharp judgemental eyes. Not even Joel. Your fingers dance their way into your text thread with him, and you select your favourite from the pictures.

You glance at the two lone messages in the thread, gaze lingering on the second message.

That can’t happen again.

Hesitation grips you, fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplate the seriousness behind the words. And then you hear him answer someone’s question, and the rough drone of his voice has you pressing send anyway.

Happy Birthday Professor x

You imagine you can feel the vibration of his phone. Feel it groan and shift in the pocket of his pants, screen lighting up. You wonder if he’s saved your name in his phone, or if a picture of underneath your skirt just popped up from an unsaved number. You try to focus on the article laid out in front of you. Stare at the messy under linings, at the notes on the margins made in your chicken-scratch handwriting, and wait.

It doesn’t take long to feel the heat of his gaze, almost paranormal in its effect. You can feel it’s weight – how it glides across your skin, sticky, viscous, and impossible to ignore.

When you glance up, you have to resist the urge to shrink into your seat. Joel’s face is a mess of emotions. Square jaw clenched tight; lips sealed. Stormy eyes that dart furiously between you and his lap, where you imagine his phone rests. Previously neat curls are now tousled and stressed over. You watch he glares downward, and drags tight fingers through the locks again. He doesn’t look up for a long time after that. Shoulders hunched forward, chin to his chest as he stares down.

Joel doesn’t stand up for the last 90-minutes of the seminar. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. And he certainly does not look in your direction again. Not until the little hand on the clock strikes 11 o’clock, marking the end of his seminar, does he even entertain your side of the room. And not until the last student files out the door do you rise and meet him by the desk, a knowing look in both of your eyes.

You walk ahead of him the entire way to his office. Joel keeps an all-too casual distance from you, but you can hear the weight of his steps against the hardwood floors. Can feel his looming presence over your shoulder – sense his bursting need to get you alone. You only fall into step beside him when the office door comes into view, and then he’s herding you towards it, palm pressing flat against the small of your back in trivial, insistent shoves.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Joel nudges you inside his office.

There’s music playing inside. Soft waves of sound undulating toward you from the record player, and yet when he drags the door shut behind him you still hear the undeniable click of his key turning the lock. The window is closed, curtains half-drawn, and the air in his space is warm; almost stuffy from lying dormant and empty for hours.

Silently, Joel makes his way across the room to where his record player sits. Your eyes trail him faithfully, trained on how his shoulder blades shift like tectonic plates beneath the thinning fabric of his shirt. The urge to wander forward and pull it off him is intense. To run your nails down his skin and leave marks on his body the way he’s done to you.

“You think you’re funny?” his voice comes, a low murmur that you almost miss through the music. He lifts a hand and pulls the glasses off his nose. Tucks them carefully onto the table.

“Funny?” you reply, mouth suddenly dry.

Joel shifts the needle, restarting the record. Momentary silence swells into a bright intro, and he’s turning to look at you, thick arms folding across his chest. Your heart is a galloping staccato behind your sternum. A bead of sweat glides from the hollow of your throat down your chest, dampening the fabric of your shirt.

“Sendin’ me that picture of your pussy all wet for me,” he tuts softly. “Knowin’ damn well, I couldn’t do anythin’ about it.”

You swallow as he takes a step towards you. His hands drift to the front of his body, and you watch with bated breath as long fingers begin working at the silver buckle on his belt.

“Y’gimme nothin’ for weeks, don’t even pay attention during my fuckin’ classes, and then…” he pauses, almost glaring at you. But it’s not contempt in his eyes. No, it’s something else, something deeper—black brown peppered with frustration and lust and… There’s a lump in your throat. Something heavy that presses against your windpipe and makes it hard to swallow.

“You get off on this, hmm?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Torturin’ me? Makin’ me wait?”

“I’ve been busy,” you murmur, eyes fixed on where he drags leather through the beltloops of his pants. He discards it on the ground between you – an offering, an invitation.

“Busy girl,” he murmurs dryly. “And what about now? Now that I’ve got you here all alone… you gonna make me beg for it?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of him on his knees, palms clasped in his lap, and it has that slick heat pooling between your legs. You want to denigrate him the way you feel he has done to you. Order him to kneel, to apologise, to fucking beseech you. But Joel’s eyes are dark, face drawn as he watches you. And you know that you’ve already gotten even.

Royal blue swims in your vision and you give him your best smile. Shake your head and say, “Not today, birthday boy.”

Something glints in his eyes, hands twitching by his sides. You mirror him, finally inching forward a step across the carpet. His belt is solid beneath your shoes.

He’s shifting in an instant, swallowing the final stretch of distance between you until his chest knocks into yours. The breath rushes from your lungs at the contact, and his hands are clasping your face, mouth slipping against yours in a brutal collision.

It’s rough, messy, teeth knocking and chapped lips. It’s the first time you’ve kissed since that night at the bar, and it consumes the both of you.

Joel’s body seizes yours, wraps around you and holds you to him, gripping the skin of your arms, your neck, your face, anywhere he can reach. Saliva pools in your mouth and wells into his, low sounds of desire being swapped back and forth between dripping tongues. There’s something desperate about it – how his lips bruise against yours. Something earnest and needy and urgent in the way his thumbs dig into your jaw, fingers tangling in the hair around your ears.

You’re gasping into his mouth, hands dropping to undo his zipper in a frenzied hurry. You can feel him behind the material, a firm bulge that becomes more and more evident as you work to get him undressed. His hands drop to your waist, your ass, and he’s pressing up, up, up the hem of your skirt, nails digging into skin as he squeezes and pulls you flush against him. Broad palms splayed across searing flesh, the tips of his fingers dragging dangerously close to where you’re aching for him. Your fingers shift from his pants to your own shirt, gripping the hem to tear it over your head—but Joel stops you. Bats your hands away and hoists you off the ground instead.

“Shit,” you huff in surprise, holding his shoulders for support as his arms tighten like a vice beneath your thighs and around your waist. He cuts you off with another sweltering kiss, and he’s moving. Stumbling blindly backward, a blurred mess of two people, all harsh exhales and clashing teeth, tilting back, back, back until his calves hit the armchair and he’s dissolving into it, dragging you down with him. Your knees sink into the plush fabric on either side of his waist, and his hands are on you, bunching your skirt up around your hips until your underwear is visible. He breaks the kiss and looks down quickly, lip curling upward as he takes in the sight of your barely covered cunt hovering over his lap.

“Fuck me,” Joel breaths. He cants his hips upward, clothed cock grinding against you. The pressure on your clit is exquisite. It has your nose scrunching up as your shallow breaths flutter the curls across his forehead. “Dress like this for all your classes?” he asks, fingers snapping at the band of your panties before his hand drops to cup your entire sex. “Fuckin’ filthy girl.”

“No,” you gasp as his palm settles over you. “Only—oh fuck, no, no, only yours.”

A rough sound escapes him, and he’s pushing the material of your underwear to the side. Thick fingers glide over the coarse hair on your mound, dipping in between your folds, right to the beating centre of you. You stare at his face while he stares at the swollen mess between your thighs.

“S’damn right,” he grunts. His eyes are ablaze. “Just for me.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, face warming at the words, and you’re whimpering as he rubs firm circles over your clit. Joel’s tongue presses against yours, coaxes your jaw open until it aches.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he marvels into your mouth. “Always so fuckin’ wet.”

A finger drops to your slick hole, slips slowly slowly slowly inside until the tip of it is curling against the soft spot inside you that he reaches so fucking easily. The air in the room is thin, his breaths a hot wash against your face, and a languid moan snakes its way out of your throat.

“Quiet.” Joel adds a second finger. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. Fingers so long, so thick – fingers that pale in comparison to his cock.

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Hmm?” he hums dangerously.

“Please,” your head tilts back, mouth ajar and thighs trembling as he works you open on his fingers. Joel lets out an impatient sound, and then his fingers drop from your swollen core, and he’s holding a condom. He must’ve pulled it from his back pocket, or between the cushions of the chair, but you don’t dwell on it. Don’t care where or how or why, too restless to be filled to ask; just give a pleased nod and lean back so he has enough room to free his cock from his pants.

The thick weight of it rests in his palm. He’s swollen and thick, the tip a deep rosy colour that reminds you of his flushed cheeks, his puffy lips, and has your mouth watering. And it’s wet with slick strands of precome that drip down his length to meet the movement of his fist.

“S’this what you were thinkin’ about?” Joel breathes shakily. “Got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip. Watch him tear open the foil packet and roll latex down his length. You ignore the familiar urge to say forget it just take me I’m here and I’m yours just fuck me. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. Drags his cock against the dripping seam of your cunt. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you repeat, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. “God, Joel, please.”

A sharp wet smack and a trembling gasp fill the air as he taps the tip against your clit, and then rests himself at the notch of your entrance.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he orders huskily, hands drifting to rest on the arms of his chair. “Go on, fuckin’—ride it.”

Breathing heavily, you reach down to grip him. holding his length still as you lower yourself over his lap.

There’s a stinging resistance there – your body pushing back against the size of him, against the angle.

Joel’s fingers drape against your clit and he rubs soft circles above the spot where you’re connected. You grip the back of the chair, face twisted in muted concentration.

“C’mon,” he breaths, jaw set with clear intention. “Fuckin’ drippin’ for me, y’can take it, I know you can. Yeah—yeah, that’s it.”

You sigh, body relaxing, and you’re pressing down, through. Sink down on him another inch, and then another, until he’s bottoming out inside of you and the skin of your thighs is flush with his pants and he’s making this rough, low sound from deep in his chest. Your mind goes blank for a moment, vision whiting out and lungs squeezing as you hold your breath and adjust to the sheer size of him, to the delicious burn between your thighs where he’s stretching you. And everything is soft and hazy around your mind, but you can see Joel’s eyes on you. The glassy, blissed out expression on his face as you clench around him. His hands drift to your waist, fingers groping bare skin underneath where he holds your skirt up.

“Fuck,” Joel pants. “So god damn tight.”

A pathetic whimper catches in your throat as you grind down, clit rubbing against the coarse hairs at his base. You’re so full, every sense heightened by the feeling of Joel, pressing you apart and making a home for himself inside of you.

Slowly—tentatively—you rock your hips forward, rutting against him in short, shallow movements. His hands encourage your body, guiding you along his cock as you gain confidence.

Soon enough your hips are lifting and dropping back onto him, over and over, tilting against him, doing whatever it takes to drag more hopeless sounds from his mouth. The music from his record player is a low, thrumming bassline in the back of your mind, every bright refrain of guitar punctuated by sharp gasps and elongated sighs.

Joel’s eyes shift from the space between your bodies to your face. Pupils blown, sweat beading along his forehead. Watching you, he seems to fall backward, into himself perhaps. His body goes slack against the armchair, head lolling back as he stares.

“Jesus,” he mutters lowly. “Missed this perfect little pussy.”

There it is again. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You clench around him at the word, rut your hips in a particularly rough movement that has Joel’s eyes rolling back and a guttural moan falling from his lips. His chest is heaving with ragged breaths, the tendons and veins in his neck on display as his chin tilts upward. A bright red flush has raised across the exposed skin of his collarbones, his neck. You lean in and lick the skin there, skirt your teeth across his pulsing jugular. Joel’s palm clasps the back of your neck, holding you against him. You can feel his thighs tensing below you, and then his hips begin to snap upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. The angle is harsh, and he's filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock bruising against the deepest part of you. You cry out against his skin, and the hoarse sound only spurs him on.

His wide palm shifts to hover at the base of your neck, slips beneath the collar of your shirt. Splays over your collarbone, dull fingernails grating against the skin above your breast, by your armpit. You lean back to let him see you, and his eyes drop to watch the way your hips roll over his lap. His finger snags on the strap of your bra and it snaps against your skin.

“Take it off,” you mutter urgently. Need to feel his skin against yours. Chest to chest. Heart to hea—

“No.” His hips snap up into yours faster, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand grips the armchair, one his shoulder, trying to find some kind of leverage as he pistons into you from below. That fucking Birthday Boy pin is still stuck to his shirt, and blue flashes in the periphery of your vision. A particularly rough thrust has a loud moan parting your lips, but as soon as it begins Joel’s hand is crashing over your mouth, fingers gripping your face to silence the sound. Your eyebrows raise, silently questioning overtop his hand.

“Need to shut up,” he grits out. “Gonna—ohhh—gonna get us caught.”

You glide your tongue against his palm, taste the salt on his skin. Feel his fingers squeeze your jaw harder in response. And then your own hand is moving from his shoulder, fingers gliding across the sweaty skin of his neck, to slot over his mouth. You stare at one another, wild eyes locked, palms sealed over slick lips, and something fiery pulls taught between you. Liquid heat spreads through your muscles, tightening and loosening with every movement of his body against yours. You can feel the coil at the base of your stomach tightening. Your pussy throbs in a rhythm sympatico to that of your heartbeat, and your fingers squeeze around his face.

You can feel the vibration of Joel’s moans against your hand, and then his teeth are sinking into the soft flesh of your palm. For a moment you wonder if he’ll pierce the skin. Let your blood seep from the wound and spill across his tongue; a sacrificial offering. Drink you down, devour you as he lies within your body. You bite down on his palm in return, holding his gaze as your bodies grind and rut against each other.

Your back arches suddenly, and your forehead knocks against his as your orgasm steadily approaches. Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours. Your shoulders begin to lock up, thighs burning, but he doesn’t let up. His hips collide with yours at a devastating pace, and his free hand drops between your thighs. The pad of his middle finger circles your swollen clit, and you jerk against him, every nerve inside your body fraying and sparking.

Joel slurs a curse against your hand and then you’re coming with a haggard whine into his hand, walls constricting around him in a vice grip. You close your eyes only to discover that royal blue is stained on the inside of your eyelids, unavoidable. He is unavoidable. Even in the darkness of your own mind, he lurks. The smell of him in your nostrils, the taste of his spit in your mouth. You think you hear a garbled version of your name spoken into your palm, and then a stinging sensation rips across your ass as Joel starts to come, fingernails dragging across skin, as he grinds his cock desperately into your pulsing heat. Your eyes flutter open, body shivering with the aftershocks of your high, and you watch him. Admire the way his jaw softens beneath your grip, teeth retracting and leaving dull indents on your skin in their wake.

There’s a low pinch between your thighs. It rings out minutes later, a sullen ache, as you lift your hips and let him slip from your wet clutch. His hands fall from your body, and you suck in stale air, taking a clumsy step off his lap to stand shaking on the ground before him. There are circular white marks on his cheeks, lingering reminders of how you held him, smothering his wanton groans of pleasure. You watch them slowly fade to pink, and try to settle the unsteady breaths that wrack your frame.

Your fingers drop lazily to adjust your underwear, but then those hands are tilting your hips, encouraging you to turn until your back is to him. They slip beneath your skirt, find purchase on the band of your panties, and slide the drenched material down your legs. You step out of them, and gasp in surprise when he flicks your skirt up again. A shiver travels down your spine as he glides a finger through your swollen cunt.

“Joel,” you whimper, lips poised to say that it’s too much, too soon, that you need a second to breathe.

But Joel exhales a quiet groan, and something sharp nips the sensitive skin of your ass. Peaking over your shoulder, you find Joel’s mouth there, wet tongue soothing over the mark his teeth made on your flesh. There’s a slip of blue clenched in his fist, held protectively in his lap beside his softening cock.

You feel the vibration of something against your skin, a murmur of words that you can’t quite make out, before he pulls back. Retracts all points of contact, carefully removes the condom, clears his throat softly as he tucks himself back into his pants. The tell-tale sound of the moment drawing to a close. You swallow down that familiar tang disappointment and hold out a hand for your underwear.

And then Joel surprises you.

This soft, teasing smirk lights up his face, and Joel knocks your hand away. A huff of surprised laughter escapes you as he rises and wanders toward the desk. You watch, stunned into silence, as he drags open a drawer on his desk and tucks that blue slip of fabric inside. It slides closed with a definitive thud, and Joel falls down into his desk chair. His eyelids must be heavy, because they droop closed while you watch.

There’s a damp patch at the bottom of his t-shirt that has your face in flames, but he doesn’t seem to care, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his body relaxes into leather. Your legs tremble as you grip the strap of your bag, taking that as your cue to quietly head for the door.

“Liked your essay.”

You pause with your fingers on the door handle. Turn to find that his eyes are still shut.

“You’re only saying that becau—”

“No,” Joel interrupts, the firm tone a sharp contrast to his lax frame. Eyes open now. “It was good.”

You hum quietly and rock back onto your heels. Unsure of what to say, you settle on offering him a small smile. He nods in return. The silence drifts back in, and you find yourself unable to speak until his eyes close once more.

“Happy birthday, Joel.”

So softly, so as to not disturb. And you aren’t sure whether he heard you or he’s already fallen asleep, but you do notice the corners of his mouth tilt upward ever-so-slightly.

Friday.

A crimson tablecloth covers the expanse of the table. Deep dark red, almost brown, reminiscent of old blood.

Plates smeared with remnants of a dinner long-past litter the surface, dirtied knives and forks stacked precariously atop them. Sauces have hardened to thickened globs on the China, sticky and stale and calling out to be cleaned. But the end of the evening is nary in sight, as Ian, your gracious host, deposits another bottle of wine onto the table.

“It’s a Cabernet Franc,” he slumps back into his seat at the head of the table, directly opposite you. “My parents brought it back from their trip to Bordeaux this past Summer. A gift.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for the thousandth time in three hours. Pour yourself a generous glass and taste it. Say, “I’m more of a Merlot fan,” despite being drunk as all hell and having zero knowledge to help discern between different wine grapes.

Pete offers a supportive smile, and you watch as his friends light fresh cigarettes that send plumes of smoke to the already stained roof of Ian’s apartment.

Ian’s girlfriend Claire, a wildlife and conservation biology undergrad, is draped across the chair to your left. Eyelids half closed; her slim fingers grip a half-smoked joint for dear life, hand hovering dazed in mid-air between her thigh and her face. You think back on the words Pete spoke to you this morning in the kitchen – there’ll be another woman there, don’t worry. And Claire’s great, I swear. You try to reconcile his words with the girl beside you, and the dank smell of burnt weed drifting toward you through the air. She’d been high when she arrived, and after speaking a measly three words of greeting in your direction, had sequestered herself to a chair and smoked through the entire dinner. When none of the others batted an eye, you held your tongue. And their nonchalance became clear when, upon completion of the meal—overcooked chicken, sticky carrots, and undercooked parsnips—Ian and Henry lit up cigarettes at the table too.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to attend the dinner party.

They’re really cool, Pete had blabbered into his mug that morning. We do it every Friday. It’ll be nice to have you meet some of my friends.

Oh, Pete. Cool, they are not.

Henry and Ian, friends from one of Pete’s environmental engineering units, are filthy rich. The kind that you can smell from a mile away. The kind that radiates from their expensive clothes, their manufactured pearly teeth, their god-awful haircuts. The kind of rich boys that have their own apartments in Portland, paid for by a Mummy and Daddy who holiday in Europe every summer—a trip that Ian has managed to bring up at least once an hour since the moment you met him.

The one beautiful, stunning, gorgeous saving grace is that there is alcohol – enough to ply yourself with in order to deal with Ian, who asked what your postgrad was in and replied slyly, “Oh, a fun one.” Ian, who, upon learning about your translation internship in Greece, said, “Sounds like you had a marvellous vacation.”

In return, you sat like a good little house guest—ornament—and listened to the three of them talk ad nauseam about engineering. Consume glass after glass of wine, decline cigarette after cigarette; you get profusely intoxicated as they debate—interrupt each other—the validity of different pollution control policies.

It’s not until early in the fifth hour of the dinner that Ian raises the topic of philosophy.

“It’s curious, that’s all,” he says, cigarette hanging limply between wine-soaked lips. “That these old guys would just hang out all day and… what, talk? Never understood why people rave about Socrates and Aristotle all the time. Just a bunch of sad sacks that liked the sound of their own voices a little too much, if you ask me.”

You hum against the rim of your glass, decidedly unbothered. Nothing you haven’t heard a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. His dining chairs are stiff, and your ass is aching against the heavy mahogany. Pete shifts awkwardly to your right. You can feel him looking at you, trying to gauge your impending reaction, and your face remains placid, numb from all the wine rushing through your veins.

“Is that what your degree is like?” Ian asks. “A bunch of old guys who love to listen to themselves talk?”

And that almost makes you crack a smile. You respond with a lacklustre shrug that neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, and definitely don’t think about—

“I don’t know,” Henry slurs, shooting a pointed glance in your direction. “I used to date this girl—”

“You fucked her once,” Ian interrupts.

“—Rita—"

“Rose.”

“—and she studied all that shit. Used to tell me about that guy who, he, uhm,” Henry pauses. Belches loudly. “He said something about God committing suicide and like, we’re his body or—wait what is it?”

“Mainländer,” you nod, mildly surprised. “Yeah, it’s a creation theory of sorts – God commits suicide to create the universe, and we’re all living on his decaying corpse.”

“What do you think of that?”

“Of a potential God’s potential suicide?”

“Yeah,” Henry grins dopily.

You sigh. “Would’ve been cooler if he left a note, I suppose.”

Henry guffaws loudly, leans back until his chair is balanced precariously on two legs. The cigarette falls from his fingers to his lap, glowing orange cherry leaving charred ashy marks on his jeans. If you were more sober you might’ve said something. But as if were, you just laugh and drain the final dregs of wine from your glass.

“So, your degree involves stuff like that?” Ian asks then.

“Sometimes,” you hum, already bored with the hint of mockery you sense in his tone. “We study the societies as a whole, so yeah, there’s talk about philosophy on occasion.”

“And mythology,” he wiggles his eyebrows from across the table, fluttering his fingers in the air. “Must be fun to talk about made up ideas all day.”

Henry clears his throat roughly and plucks the cigarette out of his lap, all remaining hints of laughter filtering into silence.

You stare. Feel your hackles rise. Sharper this time, as a more acute sense of irritation floods your system. “You do know that Greece and Italy are real countries with real histories, right?”

Claire moves for the first time in fifteen minutes, takes a long drag from her joint. Exhales in your direction.

“Sure,” Ian shrugs. “But you have to admit, all the stuff about the Greek Gods is a little silly.”

You spare a quick glance in Pete’s direction and find him wearing a tight, awkward smile, looking at you with something apologetic in his eyes.

“Silly,” you repeat the word slowly. It as though your brain is working at a thousand miles a minute, desperate to catch up with the conversation. Constantly two steps behind wherever Ian is dragging you. And he’s giving you this smarmy, sympathetic smile that screams oh your poor thing, you have no idea how poor your future job prospects are, and you’ve seen that smile a hundred times, had this conversation a thousand more, and you can suddenly envision yourself reaching across the table and pouring your glass of wine into his lap.

“And what about the rest?” you ask tersely. The collar of your shirt scratches against your neck, and his cigarette is spilling ash onto the fucking table, and he’s an asshole, and you want to throttle him for getting off on belittling you.

“The rest?”

“The rest,” you nod. “I suppose I can admit that those gods are silly, so long as we’re also admitting how fucking laughable biblical Gods ar—"

Pete says your name sharply. You pause, seal your lips shut. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the wary glint in his eyes a reminder that you’re a guest in Ian’s apartment. Ian’s apartment that was paid for by Mummy and Daddy; Ian’s apartment that has a crucifix above the kitchen entryway.

“More wine?” Pete asks smoothly. He’s rising from the table before you can respond, lifting the bottle and pouring a swell of red into your glass. Ian’s grin broadens, and a fresh round of irritation flares across the back of your alcohol sodden brain.

“Gimme a second,” you mutter, pushing your chair out. Your body sways as you stand, blood rushing to your head. Blinking the dizzy spell away, you grip Pete’s shoulder for leverage and make your way past him, shuffle down the hall and into a swanky bathroom. Your feet are heavy, mind a blur, as you collapse onto the toilet seat and rest your face against the cool tiled wall.

“Silly,” you grumble under your breath. “You’re fucking silly… asshole.”

Digging your phone from your pocket, you squint against its harsh light. Fingers fumble across the screen to your messages app. Tap Nora’s name, and hold your finger against the voice memo button.

“Nora,” you mumble, nose squished against tile. “It’s awful, you... I need you to save me.”

There’s a roar of laughter from the dining room.

“Why do men always have to be the smartest person in the room?” you continue as the sound dies down. The tile is cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the boozy flush that’s taken over your body.

“Pete is such an—” hiccup “—asshole for inviting me to this, I swear—”

Your phone hits the ground with a sharp clatter, and you curse, torso tilting forward as you reach clumsily for it. When you tilt the screen back to your face, a jolt rushes through you. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, at the picture. There’s the soft sound of rushing water in your ears – your pulse, you realise.

“No,” you mutter, senses sharpening the longer you stare at the picture; your soaked blue panties. At the voice memo underneath said picture, that had certainly not gone to Nora. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no.”

A moment of painful clarity comes when you make out the delivered sign below the voice message. Blurry eyes dance across the screen, vaguely deciphering the capitalised word MILLER. Panic swirls in your stomach, a churning writhing thing that feels a lot like nausea.

And then a text appears.

Are you drunk?

Your thighs are still numb from sitting for so long, so you slink dejectedly onto the floor and type out a response.

yes

that wasn’t for you

Ten minutes pass. You stare at the bright screen until worn-out tears prick in your eyes.

Doing okay?

tired

ate bad food, drank alotta wine

Probably time to go home.

cant drive

thought you hada phd? telling me to drunk driev

bad profeseor

Five minutes. Pete knocks on the door to ask if you’re okay and you assure him that you’re fine.

Where are you?

You type out the address carefully. Wash your hands in the sink and combs wet fingers through your hair to tame your appearance before skulking back into the dining room, where the vulture awaits you.

“I’m going,” you announce blandly. Claire is asleep, you think. Ian and Henry are playing an aggressive game of cards. Only Pete looks up.

“How are you getting home?” he frowns.

“Got a ride,” you mutter. Collect your things and give his shoulder a brief squeeze before slipping out the front door.

The air is cool outside the apartment building. A sharp breeze whistles through the parking lot, snakes it’s way beneath your clothes to curl against your skin. You welcome the chill. Rub lazily at the goosebumps on your arms as you glance at the last text from Joel.

Be there in 20.

You’re perched on the stoop when headlights finally appear. You curse, eyes smarting as you duck to avoid the harsh fluorescents, and then a black truck is idling a few metres away, engine purring. The passenger door kicks open and you squint, trying—and failing—to see inside through the darkness. Until—

“Get in.”

You’re barely in the car before Joel is pressing a bottle of water into your hand. The plastic is sweating, damp with condensation, and you sigh in relief. Press it against your neck, your face.

“Drink it,” he says sternly. You crack an eye open and look at him. He’s so close. Just a hairsbreadth from you, in a soft t-shirt and jeans. Glasses on the end of his nose. Fluffy hair—bed hair. There’s a soft frown on his face that dips and rolls in your vision. A downward tilt to his mouth as he puts the car in drive and tears away from Mummy and Daddy’s apartment.

“Hey,” you give him a lop-sided smile.

“Hey."

“Were you in bed?”

“You stink,” Joel ignores your question. “You chain-smokin’ in there? Christ.”

“Not me,” you huff in frustration. Take a small sip of water, careful not to spill on the seat. “They were smoking at the table. While we were eating.”

“Who was?”

“Pete’s friends.”

“Who’s Pete?” Joel grunts. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and his eyes are set on the road. Only when you don’t respond does he look back at you.

“Who’s Pete?” he repeats. Something stony in his voice. You smile.

“One of my roommates,” you offer. “Why? You jealous?”

“Quit it,” he bites out. “You gonna tell me where you live or am I s'posed to guess?”

Your smile spreads into a full-blown grin as you type your address into his phone. He snatches it from your hand and tells you to drink it all. You sit in silence for a while after that. Roll down the window and let your hand rest outside the car, fingers fluttering as the wind whips past them. He’s driving fast, green traffic lights blurring in your vision, and you feel your head spin faster, harder. Mumble under your breath.

“What?” he asks, voice too loud.

“Slow down,” you repeat, inhaling a deep breath. You feel him ease his foot of the gas instantly, a hand coming to hover over your knee.

“You feelin’ okay?” he murmurs.

“Mm.”

You let your eyes slip shut. Just for a second. A minute. And then—

“Hey.” A firm hand is on your shoulder. Thumb pressing into the skin beneath your collarbone. “Wake up.”

You jolt upright in the seat. Rub a palm roughly against your eye. Forget that you’re wearing makeup until you see black smeared across your hand.

Joel is saying something as you climb out of his truck, but you don’t hear it. Too busy pressing the door shut behind you and stumbling up the paved path to your house. Cool metal slides in your palm, numb fingers grappling for purchase. You scratch the key against the door’s aperture once, twice, and then feel it slip from your hand. A wave of dizziness hits as you watch it clatter against the ground.

“Shit,” you grumble. Bend down to pick it up. Rise and try a third time as silver swims in your vision. You hear a car door slam, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and slur another impatient curse under your breath.

“Let me help,” he says from behind you.

“It’s fine,” you protest, skin searing with embarrassment.

“C’mon.” Joel’s warm hand covers yours. Pries the key from your palm and unlocks your front door in a one easy movement. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can do it.”

“Just let me help you.”

You practically float down the hall, buoyed by the thick arm around your waist, towing you along. In your room, Joel clicks on the lamp in the corner. Dim orange light envelops the space as you fall back onto your bed with a huff, shirt riding up to expose a sliver of your stomach.

“You need more water before you sleep” he says. “And a fuckin' shower.”

“Mmm,” you agree, eyelids fluttering. “I'm… just gonna lie here for a second.”

The responding sound is that of heavy footsteps disappearing down the hall. A fleeting rush of liquid somewhere in the distance. Your eyes close for a minute, maybe two, and reopen to find Joel’s broad frame hovering in the doorway, holding a glass of water and gripping the doorknob as he assesses your most private space. Your eyes are hardly open, but you can see him in the dim light. Glancing into the darkness of the hall and then back to you, slumped messily against the pillows. After a thick moment of silence, he steps decidedly across the threshold, and closes your bedroom door behind him.

As you watch him, you begin to feel a sense of startling clarity.

Joel Miller, in your house. Joel Miller, in your bedroom. Joel Miller… seeing you make a complete fool out of yourself.

“Oh fuck,” you blurt out.

“What?” Joel asks sharply. He rounds the bed in two quick strides, and then he’s pressing a glass of water on your side table and sitting beside you. His weight on the side of the bed has the mattress dipping, your body tilting onto your side to face his back. A wave of nausea strikes suddenly, and you suck your lips into your mouth. No.

“Y'oughta warn me if you’re gonna be sick,” he warns.

“M’not.”

“You better not.”

“I won’t.”

“Think you’ll need about ten of those,” you hear him say. “But one glass is a good start.”

But there’s already an ocean inside you. Rocky, white-wash waves that lap at the walls of your stomach, press against your lungs, and have your mind swaying even as your body lies still. Fingers, moving faster than your brain, seek purchase. Crawling across the sheets to snag your index through a belt loop on the back of his jeans. Chilled skin against worn denim, an anchor. Something sturdy to calm the eddying current inside you.

“What’re you—”

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” you interrupt, eager to distract yourself.

Joel is silent for a while. Keeps looking down at you until he finally says, “Yeah,” so quiet that your ears strain to hear it.

There’s a hint of something there that you can’t quite read. An emotion that he holds clasped in tight hands, just beyond your reach. You let it be, mind distracted by the soft orange light emanating from the lamp. When you close your eyes it glows against the back of your eyelids, vibrant swaths of sunset and marigold that make it hard to fall asleep just yet.

“Seventy, right?” you tease.

An indignant scoff rings out, and you squeak as a set of rough fingers pinch at the skin of your exposed stomach. The quickest touch, just a graze of flesh, before he’s pulling back. You laugh easily, open your eyes to look at him again.

“Careful now,” he warns. But you can see humour in the lines by his eyes, the quirk of his lip.

Your finger wiggles against his belt loop, tugging on the material there once. A tired patience in your eyes as you wait.

“Fifty,” he finally concedes, smile wavering as his gaze darts to the sheets.

“Mhm,” you murmur. Lips part as you let loose a low, impressed whistle. It comes out as more of a lacklustre exhalation of air. Joel’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter when he meets your eyes again, a little more relaxed. “The big five-oh, huh?”

“The big five-oh,” he repeats simply. Tired as you are, you can see the question in his eyes. This searching, curious thing that rakes across your features, waiting to note any hint that you might be perturbed by the fact.

“S’nice,” you offer quietly instead. “Get any good gifts?”

The muscles in his neck strain, shirt tightening around his shoulders as he turns to look at you head on. Soft eyes gleam with something darker, teasing, as his lips pull into a lazy smirk.

“Sure,” he agrees, voice low, suggestive. “Good’s one word for it.”

Warmth floods your stomach and your toes curl. But you falter under the intensity of his gaze, a weary heat rising in your cheeks as your gaze lowers to his collarbone.

“Hey," you say quietly. “Look, I appreciate you helping me out tonight, I just…”

Joel’s eyebrows pinch the middle of his forehead, relaxation dissipating as he stares.

“Sorry,” you grimace, skin on fire. All of a sudden, your finger feels swollen in his belt loop, a promise that you can’t keep, the fabric branding hot against your skin as the words tumble out of you. “I’m just, I’m pretty wasted, and I’m grateful, you know, but I don’t think I can—we probably can’t fuck tonight—"

Joel says your name quickly. His hand is gripping your bedsheets, sun-kissed skin against pale yellow. “We’re not fucking.”

Unwitting relief courses through you, and you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay, I just wasn’t sure if you thought maybe… I don’t know—"

“Thought that if I gave you a ride home you owed me a fuck?” he asks plainly, expression tight. A dark, frustrated laughs spills from his lips and his shoulders are tightening, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt. “That’s not how this goes, darlin’. So don’t go thinkin’ that way, ever, y’hear me?”

You blink, eyes wide. Suddenly alert. Feel the warmth in your stomach spread to your chest, your thighs. Darlin’.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah, that’s—how does this work then?”

The indent between his brows only deepens as he gazes down at you.

“You call the shots,” Joel says. “I thought that was well established by now.”

His brown eyes look so soft in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Honeyed and golden in the warm orange haze. You stare at them for so long that you lose track of whether or not he’s answered your question. Forget everything that isn’t the lines beside his eyes, the dark speck of his pupils, the wild hairs of his eyebrows. You feel yourself drift closer to sleep again.

“Pretty,” someone says faintly. You. “You’ve got brown eyes.”

“Jesus.” He’s still frowning.

“Brown-eyed girl,” you sing—slur.

“Alright, Van Morrison,” Joel grumbles, the lines in his face softening. “Drink up.”

You do as he asks, gulping down half the water while he watches. His fingers rest cautiously at the base of the glass in case you drop it. And when you’re finished, he takes it from your hands, stands. Another wave crashes inside you when the mattress shifts in the absence of his weight, and you drift, unmoored, onto your back again.

Joel is staring at you. Towering over the bed, hands jammed awkwardly against his hips. His presence so large, so looming. He crowds your small space, his size ensuring that there is no room for another; only you and him, you and him, you and him, and you call the shots. You squeeze your eyes shut, determined to block that thought out.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you mutter. “If that’s alright with you, teach.”

Joel says something, but it’s a far away sound. You tuck your face further into your pillow.

You think you hear him say good night, or some version thereof, but you don’t hear him leave. Don’t hear his boots on the hardwood, or the creak of your bedroom door. Don’t hear his truck start up outside.

And when you wake, alone, you find that droplets of rain have settled on your windowsill, marking another wet September morning. But you don’t frown as you drag a sweater from your closet, nor as you draw the curtains and clamber back into bed. Don’t yearn for the warmth of Summer as the dull ache of a hangover ricochets inside your skull. For you can smell Joel on your sheets; can still feel his presence lingering in the corners of your room.

And that’s warm enough for you.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5

thank you for reading! x [and idgaf okay i was gonna put that birthday boy pin on him no matter what shitty excuse i had to come up with]

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 5 months ago

Text

Be still, my foolish heart.

Pairing/Au: Soft single dad!Joel Miller x Curvy f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 8816 (I know, I’m sorry 💀)

Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW

Summary: A meet cute at the clinic where you work leads to finding the best date you could ask for… our one and only Joel Miller.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, meet cute, a little bit of a slow burn, reader is curvy, has breasts and vagina and wears a dress, apart from that no other specific description is given, age gap (reader is 35, Joel is 46), Joel is a single dad and he is soft (what can I say, I’m a sucker for a soft Joel okay), reader doesn’t trust Joel immediately and she thinks he might be dangerous (he’s not, he’s cutest), Sarah is alive and well and she’s mentioned multiple times, mention of Tommy, Joel is a contractor, unprotected p in v (wrap it up IRL, folks!), pussy pronouns, mention of use of oral contraceptives (reader is on the pill), fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), dirty talks, elderly people being fragile and sick, slight mention of Joel’s prescriptions including antidepressant (game Joel took it so I put it in there), I know that prescribing medicine doesn't exactly work like that in America (not even in Italy for that matter) but allow me a poetic license (😂), reader has insecurities about her body, mention of bullying and previous toxic relationships that reader has been subjected to, internal reader’s voice inserts, pet names (pretty lady, good girl, honey, sunshine, baby, babe, angel), squirting (not specifically mentioned but still), Joel is feral and reader too.

I don't think I forgot anything but if I notice it I'll add it right away.

I made a mood board for the first time in my life, I know it's not great but I tried 💀 English is not my first language so please be gentle (I also have Covid at the moment… yeah, it’s 2024 and I caught it for the third time, lucky me), I hope there aren't too many mistakes, no beta so it's all my fault LOL, no proofreading. Title is an Hozier quote. Of course, because I love this man.

Oh sh*t, here’s what I was forgetting: the mirror scene is inspired by Polin (yep, it was a great scene ❤️) but I think I personalized and changed it enough to make it just Joel and reader's, at least I hope.

(Reader works in a clinic because I do this job so yes, she has this thing in common with me besides being curvy. Every time I write a curvy reader is so personal to me)

I might write something else about these two if you like, I really love this pairing and I hope I’m not the only one, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks to anyone who will read this 💐

Archive tags : @pedrostories

You are at your desk, absorbed in an email you are writing to a patient who is asking for prescriptions for medicines. The clinic is empty and quiet and this doesn’t happen often so you’re trying to keep up with emails and messages and phone calls that you have received in the last hour.

Suddenly the door opens and a man enters the clinic, at first you don't even look at him, you just say "Good morning" and continue typing.

He clears his throat and says “good morning” and stops in front of you, on the other side of the desk. He’s clearly waiting for you to shift your attention to him so you turn and look at him. For a moment you’re speechless. He’s a gorgeous man.

Tall and broad, dark hair slightly streaked with silver, strong aquiline nose, beard and mustache framing a pair of plump lips, perfectly designed jawline and neck.

Stunning.

You didn’t expect anyone like this ‘cause really, the doctor you work for has hundreds of elderly patients or families with children and you have never been interested in married men, you don’t even look at them but anyway, you never saw a single person that was attractive to you in this place before.

You smile politely as you ask “do you need anything?” and you want to sink into your seat because you don't even have makeup on and you're wearing the first things you found in the closet this morning. An old pair of jeans and a black top.

“Yes please, I need some prescriptions. I just changed doctor because my previous one is now retired. I always sent an email to his secretary but this is the first time I've asked for my prescriptions here so I thought I'd stop by in person especially since I was in the area. I’m working in the building next door”

Bingo.

That’s why you never saw him.

You quickly look at his hand on the desk for a ring and it’s not there.

His hands are gorgeous though, big strong working and experienced hands.

“Sure, can you tell me your name please?” you ask trying to keep your tone professional while being excited to know more about him.

“Joel Miller” he says and you find the way his tongue rolls up to pronounce the r at the end so delicious it’s almost embarrassing.

For a moment you're almost afraid he might hear your thoughts.

You turn back to the computer typing in his name and a moment later his medical records appear.

46 years old, born in late September, he lives in Austin. You look at his prescriptions and notice a reflux medication, another for high blood pressure, and an antidepressant.

Oh.

What happened to him?

“Well, Mister Miller, what do you need today?”

“You don’t have to call me Mister Miller, even if you’re younger than me I think?”

You look down in bewilderment, not expecting much familiarity from him since it’s the first time you’ve seen him but you answer anyway “Yes, actually. I’m 35”

“So you can call me Joel” he says with a smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth and hopeful eyes of someone who asks not to make him feel old.

“Of course I can” you hurry to answer “So… Joel, what do you need today?”

He gives you a grateful look and replies, “I don’t remember what it’s called but… my medicine for high blood pressure.”

“Oh yes, this one” you nod and proceed to prepare it, “just a moment, Mr Miller… uhm I meant Joel, I need to get the doctor to sign it,” you tell him as the printer gurgles, spitting out the prescription paper.

You stand up from your chair, feeling your legs a little unsteady, and once you’re in front of him his height impresses you even more. He’s imposing, you’re a curvy girl and yet you feel so tiny in front of him.

You notice that he looks you up and down and seems pleased, his eyes reflecting an approval that makes you very satisfied.

You move quickly to the doctor's office, enter apologizing and have him sign the prescription. When you leave you find him standing in front of your desk waiting, he looks at you again and you notice a certain sparkle in his eyes.

"Here you go" you say and hand him the prescription.

You feel his fingers lightly brush yours and a shiver of pleasure runs down your spine.

“Thank you,” he smiles at you, “you are very kind.”

“No problem, have a good day,” and you approach the desk to sit down again. You see him hesitate for a moment, as if he wanted to add something.

“Do you need anything else?” You ask curiously and a part of you really hopes that he will ask you for your phone number or if you want to go get a drink after work.

“Oh no, no thanks, see you next time”

His gaze drops to the floor as he says this, as if he's embarrassed, which you like because it feels like you're not the only one in the room who's been pleasantly shaken up by this encounter.

He puts his hand on the door handle and turns once more, smiling shyly.

You smile back feeling a sense of tenderness so premature that you wonder if you're losing your mind.

You go back to work but all you think about is him, you want to know more.

You enter his name again in the search bar and reopen his folder. Joel Miller. You wonder who he really is and what he does but apart from his pathologies and his date of birth you don't find much else about him. His address is there but you certainly won't use it for unorthodox purposes such as accidentally ending up in his neighborhood, you would pass for a stalker as well as a very unprofessional secretary.

Nothing stops you from noticing that he lives in a very quiet residential neighborhood though.

Will he be married? There are men who do not wear a wedding ring so it might not be safe to rely only on the fact of not having seen it.

You hesitate a bit before doing so because you already feel awkward enough for someone you've only seen once but in the end you type his address in the search bar to see if other people who live with him in the same house appear, usually families tend to have the same doctor for convenience.

You hold your breath as you stare at the white screen waiting and after a few seconds a result appears.

Sarah Miller.

“There I knew it, he’s married” you think, huffing and shrugging, but then you look better and realize that this Sarah is 14 years old. “So… he has a daughter”

No one else showed up in the results so you assume he is not married but he may have been and then got divorced. Unless his wife chose another doctor but that seems very strange to you.

You contemplate trying to Google his name but then decide it's best to wait until you get home, you can't use the work computer for personal stuff.

You sigh and go back to your work, completing your search just a second before the doctor comes out and asks you if you have any urgent messages.

Today everything is strangely quiet though, even if you wasted time looking for information on Joel you finish all the work, not without thinking about him at least once an hour. You feel silly, you shouldn’t have any kind of thought about someone you don’t know and with whom you have only exchanged a few words, the fact that he seemed interested and that he was about to ask something while he was about to leave could also be false projections that you have made in your head. And yet…once home, after taking a shower and putting on clean pajamas, you throw yourself on the sofa nibbling on a sandwich and open your laptop.

You open Google and type his name and the first result that comes up is “Miller - construction company”

It could be him, now that you think about it he mentioned he was working on the building next door which is in fact under construction.

You scroll down to the bottom of the page where the owners are listed and you see two names, Joel and Tommy Miller. You assume that Tommy is his brother. You go back to the Google page for a moment and check if there are any namesakes but no one else in the city has the same name. And just like that, you know what he does.

You don’t think you can do anything with this information, you live in a new apartment and everything is in perfect working order so you just have to wait. Before leaving he said “see you next time”, so now you find yourself wondering when the next time will be. Probably in a month, when he will need a new prescription.

Such a long time. But maybe this will help you, you tell yourself. It's just a passing thing, you tell yourself. You can't be so foolish as to project your fantasies onto him. You decide that this is okay, you'll just get over it.

_____________________

After a week you almost got Joel out of your mind. You worked quietly, met the usual old people who came to the clinic to be examined, no sign of him. You'd be lying if you didn't think about it anymore but you stopped yourself from doing something foolish like contacting him for a fake construction job to try to meet him.

You are preparing some prescriptions when the doctor comes out of the office and asks if you could please take some medicine to the home of a very elderly patient. It is something you usually do not do but the caregiver cannot leave her alone and her son is away for work all week so she had no choice but asking you to do that. It will take up extra time because you will have to go to the pharmacy and then to her house, the doctor offers to pay you overtime but you know the lady and say that it is not a problem, you can do it without compensation.

Of course you can do that for Rose.

When she was better and could move around quite independently you often talked when she came to the clinic, she immediately took a liking to you and treated you like a niece, she would bring you gifts, vegetables from her garden, other times sweets cooked by her.

She is a dear lady, you are happy to be able to do her a favor.

At 5:00 you leave the office and head to the pharmacy, pick up her prescriptions, and get back in the car to drive to her neighborhood.

Rose lives in a nice street with many rather large houses, well-kept gardens and white picket fences.

You knock on the door and Georgia, the caregiver hired by Rose's family to assist her, opens it.

You already know her, she has accompanied Rose to the clinic many times but lately her health has worsened a lot and she can no longer leave the house.

“Hi, Georgia! I I brought Rose’s medicines”

“Hey! How long has it been since we saw each other? Come in!” She says with a big smile.

Georgia is a very sweet person and a great professional, she has taken great care of Rose all these years. She is a qualified nurse and the granddaughter of a long time friend of Rose. Georgia had moved to Texas from Arkansas to attend college and since then she had always lived at her grandmother's house, who lived a few miles from Rose's house.

She took the job because she loved her and when her grandmother passed away Rose was very close to her.

Georgia offers you a coffee and some chocolate cookies she has prepared, which you gladly accept.

You chat a little while Rose is resting and then when it's time to wake her up to take her evening medicine you accompany Georgia to her room to say goodbye to Rose.

She is lying motionless in a bed, now forced to ask Georgia for help with everything, she is almost 85 years old now and you are so sorry to see her like this. Until a few years ago she was an energetic, witty woman, with lots of hobbies, she loved reading, gardening, cooking and going to the movies. Now she was a ghost of herself. And the worst thing was probably that her mind was still working, so she realized what was happening to her and this made her even sadder and more helpless. Her body did not respond, while her mind understood everything.

She recognizes you right away and greets you so sweetly with her now faint voice. It breaks your heart to see her like this.

She asks you for a hug and you put your arms around her little shoulders, holding her gently. She's always been good to you, she doesn't deserve this.

You leave the room, wiping away a tear, without letting Rose see you, and say goodbye to Georgia, promising to come back and visit them soon.

You stand in the driveway feeling helpless for a moment, you would like to do so much more. Some patients have become like an extended family to you, you have known them for years and seeing some of them fold in on themselves, increasingly frail and elderly is so bad.

You look up and see a black pickup truck driving down the road. There’s a man in it and he looks familiar. He pulls into the driveway two houses down and gets out. And oh, shit.

It’s Joel.

Joel Miller.

He lives in the same neighborhood as Rose and you didn’t even registered that in your mind before.

You don't know what to do, whether to get in the car and drive away pretending nothing happened or take the opportunity and go say hello to him.

It seems silly to say hello to someone you've only seen once, no matter how attractive they are. You walk to your car, rummaging through your bag for your keys.

You're about to curse because never once do you find something in your bag, it doesn't even matter what it is. Big bag? You find nothing. Small bag? You find nothing either.

Your eyes move for a moment to the asphalt and you see two boots approaching, you look up again and you see two legs wrapped in dark jeans streaked with paint and of course to those legs is attached the rest of Joel Miller's wonderful body.

Your eyes widen and you watch him stop in front of you, beautiful as a God. Even more beautiful than the first time you saw him.

“Hi! I saw you across the street and I was pretty sure it was you. I almost made a fool of myself, but hey, I was right!”

You lose your words, it's as if they've slipped out of your brain and melted at your feet.

At least you solved a dilemma, he greeted you first.

“Hi” you say shyly.

This doesn't make you any less nervous, you were trying to sneak out of this neighborhood unnoticed and you could say that he ruined everything and you don't know him well enough to know whether to be grateful or keep running away pretending to be very busy.

He has a daughter, a respectable job, a brother, lives in a nice neighborhood, and seems to lead a regular life. Is that enough to trust these days? Probably not.

This dude can be anyone, a serial killer, a criminal, a drug dealer, a thief, whatever.

How do you know he doesn't sleep with a gun on his nightstand or keep dead bodies in his basement?

Trust no one, is something you learned from a very early age and you always stood by it, safety first.

Have you been wanting to see him again for a whole week? Yes.

Did you just realize that you know nothing and that you might be risking something? This too.

“Can I ask why you’re here?” He asks, running his hand through his curls in a way that drives you instantly wild.

God, why is he so gorgeous, this doesn’t help at all.

You can always run to Rose and call the police if he suggests something strange and you’re in the middle of the street in broad daylight so you decide to take the risk and say the truth

“I came to deliver medicines to a lady who lives here” you reply, acting like he doesn’t have any kind of effect on you.

“Oh, so this is something you do? I didn’t know that”

“No, not regularly. I actually did it because it’s Rose, you know. She’s an adorable old lady”

He nods as if he knows exactly what you're talking about and actually says, "Sure, Rose. I know her. She used to babysit my daughter many years ago."

Okay, those are some great credentials. So maybe you can trust Joel Miller? Isn't he a lunatic homicidal? Maybe not.

Obviously you pretend you don’t know anything about Sarah and ask, “Oh really? You have a daughter?” raising your voice in surprise for a better result.

“Yeah I do. She's 14 years old and she's already giving me a hard time, she’s so smart and responsible that she’s basically parenting me” he shrugs while a little smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. You can see in his eyes how proud he is of her.

You giggle “well, she sounds so cool, I do love a tough girl.”

“Oh, she’s definitely your girl then”

You smile and think that after all, yes, Joel probably doesn't have any horrible skeletons in his closet.

And again he falls silent and looks uncertain and embarrassed, he lowers his eyes and then asks you, “You know, I’m going to be working in the building next to where you work for a little while longer, so I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me sometime?”

It’s like every word is bouncing around in your head as you think about what to say. Would you like to get to know him better? The answer in the end is, “Yes, I would like to, thank you” you feel your face heat up as you say it.

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he looks at you, he seems nervous, excited but above all happy.

“I’m glad you accepted. So…what do you think about tomorrow?”

“Okay, I have lunch break from 12 to 2, is 1 okay for you?”

You see his face light up “sure that’s fine. See you tomorrow then”

For a moment he raises his arm as if he wants to come closer and touch you, but then he immediately lets it slide down his side.

Gentleman, you note in your head.

It is not yet the time for such confidence, but secretly you hope that it will come soon.

You say goodbye to him and get back in the car and you see him waving at you in the rearview mirror.

“God, Joel Miller, I already know you’re going to be a threat for me. In the best sense of the word.”

_________________________

In the weeks that follow, you and Joel share a lot of coffees. Every day he waits for you outside the clinic at 1:00 sharp, you go to the corner café and chat for an hour before returning to work. He tells you a lot of things about himself and his life which you adore listening about.

He also confides in you that he was in therapy and had to use antidepressants for a period of time, when Sarah's mother abandoned them. You completely understand.

And the more you talk to him the more you get convinced that he’s a great person, you don’t have any doubt about that.

He never fails to compliment you, on your clothes, on your hair, on your eyes, on your nail polish.

He laughingly admits that the compliment about the nail polish was Sarah’s suggestion. “Dad, she told me, girls like it when you notice details.”

You laugh out loud and nod. “She’s right. And you’re right, too, you have a very smart daughter.”

He shrugs “I know,” and then adds. “It’s been so long since I’ve dated anyone, I don’t even remember how to do it anymore.” You lean slightly across the table and whisper. “Well, I think you’re doing great.” And it’s true. You feel spoiled like a queen.

He gives you a mischievous smile “oh yeah?”

“Yes, definitely” And you want to kiss him right there, in that crowded café.

Yet a voice inside you still can’t understand how someone like him, who could have all the women he wants, is inviting you, a curvy girl.

You shouldn’t, but you still have those latent insecurities from when you were 15 and boys in your class made fun of you. Somewhere inside you there is still that fragile and wounded teenager who thinks it’s impossible that someone could truly love you. Or even just desire you.

And you hate it, because Joel has done nothing but show you how much he enjoys spending time with you. And his compliments have always sounded sincere, his eyes are, they send you a reassuring image, full of admiration. He seems truly interested in you.

You're still in this internal monologue where you curse yourself for being like this when he asks you, "Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?"

Oh. He did it. He took the next step.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your mouth unable to help but curl into a smile you answer “yes!” a little too loudly.

You put a hand over your mouth as he looks at you amused “well, I’m glad you’re so excited about the idea. Should I pick you up at 8?”

“Yes, that sounds perfect” you reply, quietly this time but with a little firecracker in your chest that keeps banging where your heart is.

You finish your coffee and go out and he asks for your address which he writes down on his phone. You try to say that there is no need for him to bother but he insists on picking you up.

“Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it”

“Good, see you tonight” and this time his hand wraps around your arm and squeezes lightly as he leans down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You return to the clinic feeling like you're walking on clouds.

You come home after working as hard as you can while still feeling anxious and completely unsure of what to wear. You know you didn't do anything wrong and that's a relief because you certainly can't mess up your patients' medications.

You jump in the shower, mentally going over everything in your closet. You decide to exclude any black dress because no, simply no. It's a special day and you want to wear a color. Maybe the green dress? No, green doesn't suit you, you don't even know why you bought it. Maybe the red one? But that one is very low-cut and you've rarely felt good enough to wear it. Maybe the blue one? The blue one is low-cut, but not too low-cut, it hugs you in the right way, it doesn't highlight what you don't want. Yes, maybe it's the right choice.

You hum in the shower as you wash your hair, satisfied with your decision.

You come out feeling invincible. Joel Miller has asked you to dinner. It’s been years since anyone has asked you out. You didn’t like the ones who did, and God only knows how much you miss good sex. Someone who touches you just right. Someone who makes you sigh and whimper and feel alive in his arms.

Someone who kisses you and leaves you breathless and doesn't hesitate to make you feel simply amazing as he goes down between your thighs.

Joel seems to have all the makings and miraculously seems eager to give you exactly that.

You slip into the dress and look at yourself in the mirror. You like the image it reflects. To hell with those stupid kids who always gave you shit and made you feel horrible.

You're going out to dinner with Joel Miller tonight.

Joel fucking Miller who in the high school categorization is the equivalent of the football quarterback.

The High School Prom King.

God, that makes you feel so good.

He rings the doorbell at 8:00 sharp, just as you’ve finished putting on your favorite lipstick. You take a deep breath as you go to open the door, placing your hand on the handle, and mentally preparing yourself for what you’ll find on the other side.

Finally you open it and he’s perfect. He looks like a painting framed by your door.

You stifle a scream with all your strength and say “hello” to him in a high pitched voice.

Goddamn you.

He doesn't even seem to notice. “So, miss, are you ready?”

“Sure, thank you.”

You grab your bag from the hall table and walk out with him. He takes your hand as he walks you to his pick up truck, opens the door and helps you get in.

Once in the driver's seat he turns to you and says "you look incredible tonight"

And you're about to say that after all you could skip dinner, who cares, instead you could go to your room and fuck. But you decide to behave as well as him, this man has a daughter to take care of and it seems like he's not looking for a one night stand judging by how many coffees he's offered you and how much he's put in to get to know you, so much so that by the second time he could order for you with his eyes closed, so you just say “you too” with the biggest smile widening on your face.

And oh, it's so true. He left aside the flannel shirts and the worn jeans and with them he was already the most attractive man who had ever caught your eye.

He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a beige shirt that hugs his strong biceps. You can glimpse his soft tummy as he drives, the last button before his belt tightening in a delicious way, his meaty thighs wrapped in those jeans are mouth watering.

The work he does makes him muscular in all the right places.

The car stops in front of the restaurant and he opens the door for you again. He lets you enter the restaurant first, he addresses the waitress politely and they place you at the best table in the restaurant. You are impressed, he did all this for you.

The evening passes pleasantly, you talk a lot and chat about everything, by now there is a familiarity between you that you have built over the weeks, you feel safe and comfortable with him. Finally. After so many failed and wrong relationships you feel like you have found someone right. Joel is not ashamed of you, he doesn't try to change you, he doesn't comment on your weight, he is truly a breath of fresh air.

And you see the way he looks at you, enraptured. His eyes sparkle as he talks to you and listens to you. He listens to what you have to say and never makes inappropriate comments.

You both have a sense of humor and you like that, you manage not to take yourself too seriously and laugh together. Which is hot. Extremely hot. Every time you see that dimple on his cheek pop up, your knees buckle and your heart melts. He’s so adorable.

You also like the fact that he talks to you about Sarah, it makes you feel involved in his life, it seems like he doesn't try to keep you separate from it.

“Sarah is at a sleepover at one of her friends. So…would you like to stay over tonight?” he says it looking you straight in the eye and you already know what it means.

It’s the night.

The big night.

After all, you felt it and put on your favorite lingerie.

“Sure I want to,” you reply, taking his hand across the table and squeezing it. His hands big and strong…you can’t wait to feel them all over your body.

He insists on paying the bill despite your protests, you walk out of the restaurant and toward the truck when Joel grabs your waist and presses you against the door. He’s an inch from your lips, you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What if I say no?” you tease him with a mischievous smile.

His body is completely on top of yours and the truth is that you can already feel your panties getting wet.

“I would quit, but it wouldn’t be easy so I hope you’ll reconsider”

You giggle “okay” and you feel his hands tighten on your hips.

He presses his lips against yours and it's a sloppy, needy kiss, urgent, all spit and tongue.

It leaves you breathless and you wonder what he will do in bed if this is the effect he has on you with just one kiss.

In fact you are touching each other really for the first time, in these weeks you have imagined many times his lips, their taste, their softness, their warmth. Now you know that he exceeds all your expectations.

He's calmer now, his lips fit perfectly between yours, he gently nibbles your lower lip and continues to lick inside your mouth.

He’s divine.

Utterly divine.

His hands run up and down your hips and he's about to lift your dress and grab your thigh when you stop him. “Joel…”

He looks at you with bated breath and eyes begging for mercy. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Not here…please, take me home” you whisper and he sighs “okay”

You don't even know how you managed to stop but you want your first time to be just for the two of you, you don't want to risk prying eyes or voices shouting obscene comments getting in the way.

You're already nervous enough that he'll see you naked for the first time.

He makes you get back in the pick up and gets into the driver's seat, while he fastens his seat belt you cast an eye at his crotch and you realize he’s semi-hard.

While he's driving, you put your hand on his thigh, because he has to know how much you want him.

You squeeze gently and hear him grunt “Babe…don’t do it, I won’t make it home.” and you giggle.

His low, raspy voice drives you crazy, and for a moment while you're stopped at the traffic light you consider sliding down your seat and straddling him but no, just no, wrecking his car on your first date wouldn't be the best way to end it.

You take a deep breath, leaving your hand quietly on his leg, but you want… oh you want so much to move it up and reach his bulge and stroke it over his pants.

When he pulls up in his driveway in the cab of his pickup truck there's an electricity between you that could power a small village, you feel it fluctuating in the air.

He quickly unbuckles his belt and leans over you to unbuckle yours, not without kissing you. “Let's go, pretty lady, I feel like I can’t wait a minute longer”

You get out and run to the door, he nervously searches for his keys in his pockets and opens it. You don't even have time to look around, it's the first time you enter his house but you only see it fleetingly because he takes your hand and immediately drag you to the bedroom.

There’s a chest of drawers in one corner and a wardrobe, both made of dark wood, probably made by him.

In the center of the room there is a large bed with a headboard of the same wood, the walls are a beautiful cerulean blue, there are three paintings hanging above the bed.

The bed has beige sheets and a light beige duvet with white stripes.

It’s a very manly cozy room, he makes you sit on the bed and you feel how comfortable it is, it's like him, warm and soft.

He starts undressing in front of you, he takes off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans without taking his eyes off you, he seems hypnotized by you.

You suddenly feel like there's an emptiness in the pit of your stomach, you wonder if you're ready to make yourself so vulnerable in front of him.

Oh fuck, where did this come from now? Why? You were so happy just a second ago.

It was easy in public places, you were able to use irony and your defense tactics.

Now there’s just the two of you and you wanted that, you insisted for that and yet you feel exposed now.

You know it's right, your insecurities right now aren't from Joel. Joel makes you feel safe.

It's you, it's just you.

Joel notices your hesitation, comes closer and caresses your face then he gently takes your chin and raises your gaze towards his

“Are you okay?”

“Yes” you reply in a small voice.

“If you don’t want to do it, that’s okay, darling.”

Your voice cracks a little as you reply “no, oh no, Joel I want it”

“So what’s wrong? Talk to me, you can trust me, you know?” He slips his hand into your hair and caresses you gently, looking you intensely in the eyes.

It's so stupid, all night you've felt hungry and lustful for him and now… you're afraid that seeing you naked he might think he made a mistake.

“I…” you try to say. You know that he at least deserves sincerity from you “I… I’m ashamed”

Joel's eyes widen and a completely confused expression appears on his face “about what?”

He really doesn't seem to understand and it makes you feel a little frustrated

“About my body, about the fact that I'm not thin, I have stretch marks and many other defects and you will see them” you say it all in one breath feeling silly.

“Oh babe…no. Listen to me carefully: you’re absolutely gorgeous. You don't have to be afraid to undress in front of me, I'm sure that whatever is under your clothes is wonderful and deserves to be worshipped. I really like you. I'm not saying this just because I want to have sex. You’re beautiful, honey”

You feel tears stinging your eyes and you fight them back with all your strength “you could have anyone you want”

“I want you. I want you if you let me” his voice is firm, his fingers caress your jaw until they reach your lips and brush them gently.

“Do you trust me?”

Sure, why shouldn’t I. He’s never given me a reason not to. you say to yourself.

“Yes” you whisper

“I want nothing more than to make you feel good and I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“I know”

“And you can always talk to me about anything, okay? I don’t want to make you regret this”

He is sincere. He is absolutely sincere and you can clearly see it in his big beautiful brown eyes.

“Okay” you smile

“And by the way…your curves make me absolutely feral” he gives you a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?” you say with a hint of surprise

“Sure. Would you let me prove it to you?” his hand is on your shoulder now and lingers on the strap of your dress.

“Yes, please Joel… yes”

Damn insecurities, they were about to make you lose the best man you've ever met.

And now you feel impatient again and want his hands everywhere.

Now you notice his broad chest, the freckles scattered across his skin, the happy trail of hair that ends up hidden by his jeans.

Now you can enjoy the view of his muscular shoulders and strong neck and you can't wait to taste his skin under your tongue.

His hands move slowly over you, he slides the straps of your dress and reveals your bra.

“Get up,” he says, “I want to show you something.”

You look at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Come with me” he takes your hand and makes you get out of bed.

He takes you to a full-length mirror in a corner of his room “Sarah made me buy this because she says I have to look at myself before I leave the house. She says I make terrible combinations when I get dressed. Sometimes I'm in a hurry and wear my shirt inside out or something like that." he says smiling and shaking his head.

You giggle and the confidential tone with which he speaks to you makes you feel special.

“Well I don't know if it's the mirror's merit but you did a good job tonight” you joke.

You are in front of the mirror and he is behind you “look at yourself”

You become serious again and observe yourself.

“Look how beautiful you are” he says in his deep and slightly hoarse voice“can I?” he asks placing his hands on the clasp of your bra. You nod.

He takes off your bra and drops it on the floor. You look at that woman in the mirror, you look at her skin and the roundness of her breasts and her hard nipples and then you look into his eyes and you see nothing but admiration “God, your breasts are amazing” you hear him say “can I touch them?” and you nod again “yes, please Joel”

He traces the outline with his fingers and then cups his hands and fills them with your tits.

You don't miss the moan of pleasure that he tries to stifle in his throat “they are so soft” he squeezes them delicately “mmm baby, they feel amazing in my hands”

He takes your nipples between his fingers and tugs on them slightly “and these? Look how sexy they are, I bet they would be delicious in my mouth”

You feel your skin heat up and your head spin, you squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his hands playing with yours hard buds and his words go straight to your cunt. He’s so good at this.

“Open your eyes, honey” he whispers in your ear “don't stop looking at yourself”

His hands leave your breasts and for a moment you want to take them and put them back there but you let him. He slides your dress down your hips, until you're left in your underwear in front of the mirror.

“You’re stunning” he punctuates every syllable on your skin making you tremble “absolutely gorgeous”

His hand slides over your stomach and your belly that always makes you feel insecure “Is that what worries you?” he asks as if he can read inside you “that you don't have a flat stomach? Honey, your tummy is amazing.”

He squeezes it and it seems incredible to you how delicate his big hands can be “It's full and delicious and sweet and I can't wait to bite into it”

You squirm, leaning over his broad chest “Oh my god” you moan

He caresses your hips with both hands, supporting you “and these… they feel welcoming and warm and mmm baby, so sensual. Can you see it? They fit my hands so perfectly”

You look at yourself and you've never felt this way.

Guided by his words you finally see yourself beautiful and desirable.

He slips his fingers under the edge of your panties “Can I?”

“Yes” you say in a breath

He slowly slides them off, revealing your pussy “Jesus.” He mutter “look at her. Look how perfect she is”

He just touches your mound and you feel hypnotized, his voice, his hands, the warmth of his body, it’s all too much.

“Oh baby… I love that you left that little strip of hair”

You can't hold back anymore and you whine “touch me Joel, I want more”

His voice vibrates on your soft skin again “Tell me what you want, in detail” He bites the spot where your neck meets your shoulder “I want to hear”

“Oh god… I want… I want your fingers inside me, stretching me just right” you babble “I want to feel full”

His fingers slide between your folds “God baby you’re soaking wet. It’s all for me?”

You squirm under his touch nodding repeatedly, you feel desperately needy and hungry.

“Yes. Please Joel”

“Please what, baby?” He ask maliciously

“Make me yours, make me all yours”

“Can you see how beautiful you are now?”

“Yes” you nod “yeah. Don’t make me wait any longer. I need you, Joel”

You can swear that right now you feel really beautiful and also the luckiest woman in the world.

“Oh, you're getting impatient now… I like that” he says in a hushed tone.

He's still behind you and holding you close, he's still wearing his jeans but you can feel his hard cock pressing against your ass.

You look small in his arms, he surrounds you completely.

He brings you back to the bed and makes you lie down, you are completely naked and yet you no longer feel ashamed and inadequate.

He takes off his jeans, remaining in a pair of black boxers.

At the sight of his erection poking out against the fabric you lick your lips in anticipation.

He lies on top of you, his eyes on yours, looking at you intently “You’re perfect, honey” and then his mouth crash into your neck, kissing and licking everything he can, he takes your skin between his lips sucking and biting like he was starving for you.

“Your skin is like velvet and you smell so good, fuck”

And you whimper and cry and clasp your hands on his shoulder digging your nails in them and you feel like you don’t need anything else in this life.

He lowers himself on your body, grazing at your skin with his lips, lingering for a while on your nipples and mumbling at how good they are.

“I love touching you with my mouth, tasting your curves against my lips” until he reaches your tummy giving sloppy kisses at it and then he bites it. His teeth are attentive and gentle but at the same time eager, like he wants to taste your whole being.

And then he come to your mound and traces your thin strip of hair with his tongue and you buck your hips and move one of your hands through his curls and you plead “more, Joel, please”

He grunts at you when you tug his hair and you look at him with the most miserable begging eyes you can pull out “You want it so bad, babe? Want me to eat you out?”

You mewl a yes and he smirk “want to come on my tongue?”

You nod again “yes”

He places himself between your thighs “God, she seems made for this. So sweet scented and pretty. I bet she tastes so good”

And in an instant he dives into your pussy and his nose bumps your clit as his tongue begins to lick you up and down, delving your folds and making your hips jerk.

Your legs are wrapped around his back and his hand is on your tummy holding you in place “god, you look so beautiful like that, my precious angel, all spread and ravenous for me” every word vibrates on your clit and make you moan loudly. It’s like a demon took possession of your body, an insatiable and aching demon that wants nothing but pleasure.

He nudges at your entrance with his tongue and you cry again for more “your fingers, Joel, please, give them to me”

He pushes two fingers inside your soaking wet hole, they enter just easily and he curls them up inside you reaching for your sweetest spot.

“fuck, yes” you howl “god they feel so good, they feel so fucking good, Joel”

“I know baby, I know, you’re taking them so perfectly”

He continues to swirl his tongue over your clit as he pump his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace when you can’t hold your moans anymore and you’re so loud you almost fear his neighbors can hear you “God, Joel, I’m coming - I’m - coming ah- god you’re incr- ah” you’re totally babbling trying to get a complete sentence out of your mouth and you can’t, you just can’t because he’s too much and you never felt that good before.

“Soak my fingers, babe, soak my face, give it all to me”

Your pussy clench around his fingers and you feel breathless as your orgasm washes all over you, his dirty talk made you over the edge.

You whine his name as you come, again and again and he doesn’t stop lapping at you until you’re calm.

He lies down next to you, wrapping his arms around you, you bury your head in the crook of his neck and sigh, “Oh, Joel.”

His hand sits on your ass squeezing gently “Such a good girl for me. I can’t believe you almost called yourself out from this”

You playfully pinch one his nipples “don’t make a fool of me”

“I would never” he says, kissing your hair “I’m just saying that you’re too good to not be taken care of. Your body deserves to feel passion and lust and all of that”

“On that note… there’s something else I’d like to do” you look at him maliciously

“What, baby?”

“I would love to… uhm… fuck, I would love to give you head”

He tilt his head “excuse me miss? Watch your mouth!” You giggle hiding your face in his chest and he laugh, and then he goes serious and ask “You sure? You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to”

“Yeah, I know” and you raise your face to kiss the lovely bald patch in his beard and you move to his ear and you whisper “I really want that though”

“As you please, sunshine”

You cup his bulge in his boxer and stroke it gently over the fabric “someone else here needs to be taken care of too”

He grunts “yeah, baby, keep going like that”

“Actually… I can make it even better” and you move from his side getting on your knees on the bed and then sitting on your heels as you keep stroking him.

You lower his boxer and his cock spring free, he’s already hard as rock. You lick your lips “delicious” and he looks at you mischievously “I guess you can be naughtier than I thought, baby”

You smirk back at him, lowering yourself on his groin and kissing the tip of his cock, just the tip, gently as a feather.

You giggle and pull back as he bucks up his hips to your mouth “so impatient, aren’t you?”

“It’s just… I didn’t have anyone giving me head in a very long time”

You open your eyes wide “I don't believe it”

“I swear” he says in a lower hoarse tone “I didn’t… I had some one night stand here and there but nothing serious, you know, I needed to be focused on Sarah and my work. so everything was quick and meaningless”

You can’t imagine Joel having meaningless sex with anybody, he’s so respectful and attentive with you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Joel Miller, do you mean to make me believe that all the women in the neighborhood aren’t in love with you?”

“Oh Rose loves me for sure” and you laugh “but about the others… I don’t know, some of them tried a couple of times but I always rejected them. I told you, I didn’t have time for complications”

“Then why you’ve changed your mind now?”

“Sarah threatened to sign me up for Tinder if I didn't find someone. And then I met you”

You giggle “so you went out with me to be safe from Tinder”

“At first, maybe. But now you know that it's not just that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

What he just did speaks volumes about how much he likes you.

And you’re even more convinced now.

You lower your head and lick the tip again swirling your tongue around it and he moans.

You slide your tongue flat along his length and wrap your hand around the base. It's big, bigger than you expected but you don't feel intimidated.

“Oh baby, you’re so good to me, what have I done to deserve such a perfect girl?”

He gasps when you took all you can of his cock in your mouth, feeling his length sliding over your tongue and his musky taste invading your palate, you whine beginning to suck like you’re desperate, stroking the rest of it with your fingers.

It doesn’t take too much before you start feeling him throbbing between your lips, he’s right on the edge as you suck and lick and kiss him like the most delicious lollipop you’ve ever had.

He pants loudly bucking his hips “Baby I’m almost - AH- almost there”

You make his cock pop out of your mouth “finish inside me, then”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m on the pill” you nod straddling his crotch and positioning his cock at your entrance.

You slowly lower yourself feeling the tip force its way into your hole and you moan with every inch that pushes its way inside you.

You stay still for a moment feeling his cock fill you up completely.

He says nothing but he looks you in the eyes and the brown of his pupils has become incredibly dark.

Eventually you start moving on top of him, placing your hands on his chest, your pussy making lewd sounds and your tits bouncing, he takes them in his hands squeezing them as he sinks into you, deeper and deeper and harder and harder.

You’re basically riding him and you've never felt so wild and free, your insecurities just disappeared clouded by your pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so gorgeous like this, look at the way your hips move, it’s so fucking amazing”

You throw yourself onto his chest as you feel his seed paint your walls, you take his mouth with yours stifling his moans that echo inside you.

He slides a hand between you, searching for your clit, and his calloused fingers begin to move over it. You end the kiss to look into his eyes, “don’t stop” he whispers “come for me baby.”

Your head feels light and your vision blurs as you feel your orgasm building up from the depths of your tummy, your pussy clenching and squeezing his cock.

You gush all over him like never before, making a mess of his crotch and the sheets underneath, crying his name so hard.

You rest your head next to his, inhaling the smell of tobacco, wood and the sweat of his neck, and you laugh, you laugh joyfully, “God,” and he does the same, wrapping his arms around you and caressing your back “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, I'm sorry”

He holds you tighter “you don't have to be sorry, darling, it was wonderful”

“I made such a mess” you murmur

“So what? Nothing that laundry can’t fix. And I’m good at laundry, you know?”

He kisses your forehead and stroke your cheek “I haven't felt this good in ages”

“Yeah, me too” you kiss him wrapping one your leg around his.

You both stay quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth, kissing every now and then suddenly it hits you and you say, “Do you know who we owe all this to?”

“No, I don’t honey, to whom?” he asks confused.

“Rose” you say “Think about it, if I hadn't brought her medicines that day we wouldn't be here now."

“That’s true. I think we should go visit her and bring her a nice present.”

“Yes. She will love the story of how we met.”

You kiss him again and think about what gift could match this. Probably none, because it's the best thing that's ever happened to you.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #fanfic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller au #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #the last of us hbo #joel miller comfort #joel miller x curvy reader #joel miller x f!reader

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2-years-of-kp · 10 months ago

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Happy two years of KinnPorsche The Series and welcome to this year's anniversary event!

In celebration of the show and us as a fandom, this event will host prompts and a rewatch, so we can enjoy the show once more, and to encourage creativity and new creations for its second anniversary. Starting from April 9th, the event will run across 28 days; dedicating two days to each episode and one prompt pair as listed below.

Any and all creations are welcome! You don't have to follow the prompts, they are just here to give you some inspiration if you'd like.

Make sure to use the tag #kpanniversary2024 on any anniversary-related posts so we can reblog them to this blog and feel free to add your writing to the Kinnporsche Two Year Anniversary collection on AO3 as well!

Got any questions? Feel free to send an ask!

REWATCH SCHEDULE

Apr 9-10: Episode 1

Apr 11-12: Episode 2

Apr 13-14: Episode 3

Apr 15-16: Episode 4

Apr 17-18: Episode 5

Apr 19-20: Episode 6

Apr 21-22: Episode 7

Apr 23-24: Episode 8

Apr 25-26: Episode 9

Apr 27-28: Episode 10

Apr 29-30: Episode 11

May 1-2: Episode 12

May 3-4: Episode 13

May 5-6: Episode 14

PROMPTS

List 1: Your Favourites

Ep 1 - Apr 9-10: Favourite Main Character

Ep 2 - Apr 11-12: Favourite Supporting Character

Ep 3 - Apr 13-14: Favourite Episode

Ep 4 - Apr 15-16: Favourite Location/Set

Ep 5 - Apr 17-18: Underrated Character

Ep 6 - Apr 19-20: Favourite Romantic Relationship

Ep 7 - Apr 21-22: Favourite Platonic/Familial Relationship

Ep 8 - Apr 23-24: Favourite Scene

Ep 9 - Apr 25-26: Favourite Outfit

Ep 10 - Apr 27-28: Underrated Ship

Ep 11 - Apr 29-30: Favourite Family

Ep 12 - May 1-2: Favourite Parallel

Ep 13 - May 3-4: Underrated Quote

Ep 14 - May 5-6: Your Choice!

List 2: Your Interpretation

Ep 1 - Apr 9-10: Fate

Ep 2 - Apr 11-12: Misfit

Ep 3 - Apr 13-14: Heroes

Ep 4 - Apr 15-16: Tension

Ep 5 - Apr 17-18: Regret

Ep 6 - Apr 19-20: Comfort

Ep 7 - Apr 21-22: Heist

Ep 8 - Apr 23-24: Haunting

Ep 9 - Apr 25-26: Trust

Ep 10 - Apr 27-28: Manipulate

Ep 11 - Apr 29-30: Villains

Ep 12 - May 1-2: Identity

Ep 13 - May 3-4: Secrets

Ep 14 - May 5-6: Legacy

RULES AND GUIDELINES

Any kind of creations (fics, drabbles, fanart, edits, gifs, videos, etc.) are welcome!

Use the tag #kpanniversary2024 so your creation can be reblogged to this blog.

Be respectful of other people; this event is no space for negativity.

Mature and NSFW content is welcome, but must be tagged properly - both on Tumblr and on AO3.

Feel free to skip days, only participate for one day, etc. however you like!

You can participate in the prompts, the rewatch or both - it is up to you!

Late submissions are allowed.

One prompt or a combination of both prompts can be used, and all prompts are open to personal interpretation.

Multiple creations per prompt/prompt pair are welcome!

You do not have to follow the prompts, any creations during the course of the event are welcome.

Since this event is meant to celebrate the show itself, no actor content or behind the scenes content will be reblogged.

DISCLAIMER

This event has drawn inspiration from the previous year's anniversary event, as well as Kinnporsche Week in 2022.

Happy creating!

#announcement #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #vegaspete #kimchay #kimporchay #kinnporsche event #kpanniversary2024 #kinnporche the series #kpts #kpedit #kinnporscheedit

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helenazbmrskai · 7 months ago

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Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke [2/2] - End

Title [Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke.]

Pairing [Northen Duke! Yoongi x Reincarnated! Reader]

Genre [Fantasy Romance, Reincarnation, World in a novel AU, smut, angst]

Summary [You might be a lady with a significant house backing you but Yoongi thinks he’s not lacking anything as a husband candidate. He could give you money, real estate, jewellery, dresses everything you wanted so why did you reject him so confidently? The Duke of the North is getting a stack of marriage proposals daily that could fuel the fire in the fireplace all day long in his office so why did YOU reject him again?]

Words [10,1k]

Warnings [harassment, mention of blood, mention of hunting animals, sexual content: oral sex, unprotected sex]

Rating [+18]

A/N: This is not perfect but I hope you guys will like the ending of this story.

Masterlist // part 1 // I don't do tag lists anymore I'm sorry!

As a quote “knight”, you wear your dress and accessories like armour on your way to the battlefield which is called idle chatting with the noble ladies. You feel like you got accustomed to your circumstances by now being in a new world in a stranger's body.

You completely merged yourself with Y/N. It gives you an advantage that some things come to you naturally but on the other hand, it’s scary because if you accept this as your reality then that means you’re stuck here forever. Don’t be mistaken after you died in your previous life and reincarnated this is something to be grateful for – this is your second chance at living. Even if you’re aware of all that you keep wondering if your family back there is ever missing you or if they are living well, or if your friends or coworkers think about you sometimes. It feels like you’re living a double life. The people around you have a conception of your personality they’ve seen you grow up with them but in the end – you’re not Y/N. If you think about that you feel miserable.

They don’t know you. They now Y/N.

Even if Y/N now is – you.

There’s only one person you can be truly yourself is surprisingly when you’re with Yoongi.

Can’t make much of an excuse today as you’ve avoided attending these events altogether. Avoiding Yoongi. There’s no fantasy romance novel without a hunting competition scene so you know these gatherings quite well. The men go out hunting and the person who gets the rarest animal as prey wins the competition. All this time women are dressing up and gossiping all day. You’re not too keen on joining them today but since you were personally invited you cannot refuse even if you wanted. The moment they set their eyes on you behind their fancy fans you know they are up to no good.

This is the time when the female lead is ridiculed and humiliated so why are you in this situation when you’re supposed to be the villain bullying people? They invite you to sit but their smiles tell you they’re not really happy to see you show up in their circles.

“It’s been a while Lady Y/N.” The first to speak is Duchess Hee; as far as you know, you’ve never talked before. You greeted each other in formal settings but that’s about it. Whilst her expression is controlled you could sense hostility from her. Even though you’re not going out much Y/N is still getting new enemies on top of the old ones – can you call this the buff of the villainess? You’re unsure how to assess the situation so you decided to grasp the atmosphere first and speak carefully for now.

“Yes Duchess Hee, have you been well?” You gracefully sit on the empty chair between two ladies who continuously glare at you. Y/N is a notorious troublemaker who disregards everyone under her status so the ladies seem surprised at how coordinated you are. You just wish things go well enough that no one tries to pull your hair today.

“Of course. I haven’t seen you much these days perhaps were you sick?” It’s obvious that she’s trying to mock you. Everyone knows that you were on probation by the order of the duke after the mishaps you created in the social circles.

You have no idea why she’s attacking you all of a sudden but you need to be smart about this.

The rule is that the one who gets angry first is the one who loses so you need to keep your cool no matter how they try to provoke you. If a reasonable amount of time passes then you can excuse yourself that you’re not feeling well and you can get out of here.

You need to hold out until then.

“No, I’ve been well thank you for asking. I’ve been reflecting on my actions during that time. If I caused trouble I hope the ladies could forgive me with a gracious heart.” Smooth. Some of them seem taken aback that you apologised so they are momentarily at loss of words. Some awkwardly laugh it off and some keep glaring. The duchess however keeps her eyes on you probably trying to find some fault in you to get started.

Since Y/N had a bad temper her visceral reaction was to get angry at the slightest disrespect but you’re different. You’re not that easy to provoke. You’re a modern woman who worked in a capitalistic company for years – some backhanded rude comment won’t do much.

“It feels like the lady is a different person. How unexpected. What could have made you change so much? Perhaps .. a new lover?” You almost spit out the tea when you hear the duchess’ inquiry. This is so unexpected that don’t know what to say for a moment.

“Ah, yes? Well, no I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” You try to cover up your slip-up but the duchess’ smile is getting bigger but not in a good way. What is she up to?

Is she on the Min Yoongi fanclub as well; because that would explain so much.

“I see. I must have heard wrong then.” She let it go too easily, something smells fishy here. After that, the conversation finally drifted over to other topics like gem mines and dresses. It was clear they were talking in a way that you couldn’t contribute to the conversation but you’re not too sorry about that as you were not going to participate in the first place. Their plan to make you isolated in a conversation to make you feel bad is surprisingly mild. You’ve been expecting much worse.

“The tea is very fragrant. Recently my family imported jasmine tea so I hope the ladies enjoy this fresh taste.” To be honest the tea is pretty bland but everyone agrees and the marchioness looks pleased by the other's reaction. When you’re not saying anything they all look at you.

Since you feel pressured by their gazes you lift the cup to get another sip as you’ve not touched your tea all this time. You prefer coffee however, if you said that it would just be another thing to nitpick.

“Right, it’s delicious.” For some reason the ladies look impatient, they were sure this would work but you’re not reacting how they want you to. No matter how much backstabbing they are doing with their politely crafted insults you’re not budging.

It’s subtle but the lady on your right makes eye connect with the Duchess right before her hand slips and your dress is ruined by the dark liquid. She made it seem like an accident but there’s no way her hand would naturally slip like that – it was intentional.

It’s hot though. Your smile never falters after all this is a good opportunity to make your leave natural.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry my grip is feeble lately. I hope you forgive me.” You internally sigh at the bad acting; she’s even snickering under her nose behind that fan it’s clear what the intention was. She’s not really sorry she just needs an excuse to blame it all on you. If you get angry they will say you make a big deal out of a small mistake. They all saw it so there’s no way they don’t know it wasn’t an accident. There’s no point in proving or arguing.

“I see, maybe you should see a doctor about it it would be unfortunate if the lady gets sick. I will take my leave then I have to change my dress but I hope the ladies will enjoy the tea.” What you want to say is: – Eat shit all of you. You suppress a smirk as you take your leave it’s satisfying enough to see their angry faces since you dodged their attempts at bad-mouthing you. Many people witnessed the scene as you’re surrounded by noble ladies at each table – now they can’t spread false rumours as there are so many witnesses. If you got angry everyone would probably believe the twisted tales they told each other later but you managed to leave them with nothing.

This is pretty satisfying. Fufu.

Even if you’re drenched in tea Y/N is still pretty and eyes naturally follow you when you leave.

“Are you alright?” You’re surprised to meet Namjoon on your way back he holds up a handkerchief so you can clean your hands. You tried not to pay attention to him since earlier but you cannot ignore the fact that he’s been following you since this morning.

You didn’t think you could get away with rejecting the soon-to-be-blackened third male lead (as the second is your brother) but this is too much. What is Min Yoongi trying to do? Annoy you to death with his aid following you around unless you say yes or what?

“I’m not going to explain since you saw everything.” You narrow your eyes down on him but you accept the handkerchief nonetheless from his outstretched hands. Even as you start walking again he keeps following behind you.

“Do you want to say something Mr?” You stop abruptly if you have to listen to him anyway you will just listen to him now. You’re pretty tired from earlier you had to be on your best behaviour even though it was clear they were trying to provoke you.

“Ah, yes. I apologise but the Duke would like you to think about what happened last night and give him a positive answer.” You snort after hearing that – not too ladylike.

“You mean marry the duke?” Namjoon nods. “Ha, alright..” After a moment of followed silence,-“ I considered it again and I’m still saying no.” You turn around thinking that it was the end of it but Namjoon catches up with your steps in no time.

“Can I at least know the reason?” He asked timidly. Quite persistent, well he’s the only one who was with him till the end.

“Like I said I want love in a marriage. If the duke can’t love me then I can’t marry him.” This is good. If Namjoon tells him this he will probably give up now. You come up with such brilliant ideas today that you’re pleased with yourself. However – this was not the end.

Yoongi is riding a horse through the forest he already caught his prey so he’s not too interested in the scenery he’s already on his way back when his aid Namjoon appears.

“Did you tell her my message?” Namjoon bows in front of him as a greeting but looks nervous. He’s thinking about how could he tell the master that the lady rejected him again without a hint of hesitation in her voice. Reading his aid’s mind Yoongi’s brows furrow in distaste. She might be a lady with a significant house backing her but Yoongi thinks he’s not lacking anything as a husband candidate. He could give her money, real estate, jewellery, dresses everything she wanted so why did she reject him so confidently? The Duke of the North is getting a stack of marriage proposals daily that could fuel the fire in the fireplace all day long in his office so why did she reject him again?

“The lady told me to tell the duke she won’t marry you if you don’t love her. She wants a love marriage, not an arranged marriage.” Namjoon is carefully delivering her message to the duke who looks deep in thought after hearing that. Namjoon is also astonished by the fact that you don’t want to marry him. He has the wealth and authority which every woman is after. To think that she demeaned the duke to love her is insane.

He's afraid to see his master’s reaction. In all his years Yoongi never got interested in a woman before if anything it looked like he didn’t even see them. At Balls, he never danced no matter who asked or who tried to get close. The duke was never interested.

The duke didn’t answer but Namjoon thought that this was not the end of this. Yoongi seemed deep in his thoughts all the way back to the camp. The servants unloaded the bear he caught; a rare black bear that will probably ensure his win at the end of the hunting festival.

Back at his tent, he ordered a bunch of romance novels and while Namjoon found it a weird request he always did everything that his master ordered and then the research started.

He had once disinterested eyes but after your rejection he caught himself studying you whenever he could lay his eyes on you. His interest is rarely piqued but you keep showing him interesting things. The mystery of what you’re thinking in your head is driving him mad.

You softly hummed as you were getting ready for the award ceremony you’re in a good mood since you haven’t heard from Namjoon after that and when this is over you could go back to the mansion.

You only listened halfheartedly to the speech the king was giving as you already know who will become today’s winner. Or at least you thought so. In the original, the crown prince got first place with a deer but now everyone is celebrating Yoongi. He shines brightly his hair is perfectly styled and his dark uniform fits him perfectly he’s circled by nobles offering endless congratulations but he looks disinterested in them like always. He keeps looking over the faces when his eyes finally meet yours.

This is not how it was supposed to go. Whilst things deviated from the original little by little with your intervention this scene shouldn’t have changed. Yoongi didn’t have that many scenes within the novel as he usually showed disinterest in most things. You can’t imagine why he would win this competition when he hates bothersome things.

Oh. No, Why is he coming your way all of a sudden?

No one in the crowd expected him to stop right before you. No one actually believed he would accept the flower crown as Yoongi had never been involved with a woman before even if a lot of women desired him. But now he’s standing right in front of you handing you the flower crown. Your mouth would be hanging open by now if it hadn’t been for the large crowd that gathered around the two of you. Your father and brother who was standing next to you seem just as shocked as you are.

“What is the duke doing?” You try to push the crown away but Yoongi is relentless. If you won’t accept it gracefully he’s going to put it on your head with his own hands. This would be funny how he places the crown on you with a face that is devoid of any emotions.

“Are you going to reject me?” Hah! He knows well that you can’t. It’s tradition for the winner of the hunting competition to present the flower crown to the woman he wants to court or to a lover. With this Min Yoongi just announced to the world that he’s interested in you!

No matter what you say at this point the angry ladies whose eyes are stabbing you in the back with their intense gazes wouldn’t believe you in a million years that you’re not trying to covet their beloved duke. For a moment you wished you could be like him and read his thoughts for once.

You’re furious inside but you can’t show that. Even if you don’t like it you have to gracefully bow and accept his gift. Your eyes are a different story as you discreetly shoot arrows with your gaze. This means you have to attend the ball as his partner as well which is held on the last day. Originally you wouldn’t want to attend but now you’re obligated to.

Everyone’s attention was clearly on you and that made you sick.

You hurried away before anyone could ask you anything and you decided to rest at the family tent before you have to start getting ready for that bothersome ball. Who does he think he is? If you get entangled with the main leads no one can predict what will happen to you in the future. Normally you would be happy to be the centre of your favourite character’s attention but not when your life is on the line.

You can understand now when they say reading and experiencing something are two completely different things.

You’ve never thought that you would treat this way your favourite character to be honest you should be happy, even if he has an ulterior motive that is unknown to you for now, you’re the only woman he ever asked to marry and you actually thought about helping him somehow but the opportunity is too sudden. Also, what will you do if the story ends? If he lives and you live. You can’t live with him forever you know that this feeling and excitement and affection you have for him will fade away. You’ve always thought of him as a character you liked but he’s not in a book anymore; he’s right in front of your nose. There’s no way you can live in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life.

Can he even fall in love with you? Even at the last line he never looked at a woman. Maybe he falsely interpreted your words from before? Maybe he thought he had to show everyone he loves you like in a fake dating situation. Yes, if you talk to him he will definitely understand.

With a newfound determination, you left to look for him.

Namjoon doesn’t show outwardly that he’s surprised by your sudden visit but you could tell by the sudden hitch in his voice while greeting you.

“-Lady..” You ignore his greeting and go past him inside the inner tent. You’re perplexed for a moment when you see Yoongi’s shirtless back. He was in the middle of changing his clothes when you barged in but he doesn’t look fazed by it.

Namjoon hurriedly follows after you sweat is rolling down his temple as he apologises to his lord for letting you in. You’ve gone too far to back down now so you stand upright and cross your arms.

“Please, lady..” Namjoon struggles to try to get you out before his master unleashes his sword. He doesn’t like to be interrupted. You have no idea that Namjoon is fearing for your life but he actually admires you for your boldness not many can stand in front of his master without trembling in fear and you kept rejecting his marriage proposal. If anyone can be a match for his master it could be you.

“Go back I’ll handle it.” Yoongi dismisses Namjoon but he’s hesitant for a moment before he decides to leave the two of you alone. He has faith in his master that he won’t kill a noble.

During the flower crown ordeal you had so many things to say to him, curse him ask him why – so why is that you’re suddenly speechless in front of him? Yoongi drops the used shirt on the sofa. He can see anger in your eyes. He’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking.

He catches himself thinking that your reactions are quite amusing.

This is a first for him.

After you get over the initial shock of seeing his fit body you gather yourself to speak.

“Does the duke not care about my consent? The duke should know what it means to give out a flower crown. I don’t remember being the duke’s lover.” You’re fuming with both of your hands struggling in a fist.

Instead of replying the duke turned around and started looking for something on his messy desk. When he found it he approached you. Without realising you received it from him and when you looked at the book by the title alone you could tell it was a romance novel.

You can’t picture why the duke has that.

“You said you want love. I’m learning how to love you.” You’re rendered speechless by his words. He looks so serious that otherwise, you would think he’s joking.

“Do you want to marry me that badly?” You ask in disbelief. This doesn’t make any sense.

“Yes.”

He didn’t even hesitate and your heart felt weird because of it.

“Why?”

You’re quite close. Probably as close to him as anyone was ever before. His face doesn’t show anything but you can’t just accept his words. “Why are you willing to go to such lengths to marry me?”

You look deeply into his eyes. Yoongi realises you’re not scared of him. This is also a first. Everyone who knows about his achievements fears him. He’s the Duke of the North, a war demon who never lost a single battle. His hands reach out to touch your face and as he expected you don’t flinch away if anything it looks like your eyes sparkle in the dim lights. He sees fire in them.

“I can’t tell you the reason unless you marry me.” Only family members can know about his powers, he can’t go against traditions. You’re smart and witty and that answer doesn’t satisfy you at all.

Shouldn’t you know everything before you marry someone? – Most of all the reason why they want to marry you.

“What is the duke thinking about? I can’t tell.” You sigh disappointed by his answer but you perk up when he replies.

“That’s what I want to know too.” At that moment his thumb runs over your lower lip feeling with his fingers how you take in a huge breath of fresh air. Your eyes go wide as if you come to a conclusion but before he could ask you about it Namjoon appears again making the two of you break up.

Suddenly conscious of the intimacy of your bodies you step back and Yoongi’s hand falls from your face.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but the lady’s maid is here. The maid said that the lady should start getting ready.” Right. You forgot about the banquet. Knowing that you can’t delay any longer you decide to leave for now but it’s clear that the conversation is not over and Yoongi could feel it too.

“Alright. Please pick me up when I’m done preparing.” Yoongi nods and you leave just like that.

He looks down at the thumb that touched your lips he read this inside the book that could be good to seduce you but he needs more practice. Feeling up your lips was not unpleasant like he thought it would though. You keep surprising him and his chest is starting to feel weird whenever he sees you.

You need to stick to him during the ball this is your best strategy if you don’t want to be chewed out by hungry wolves. Now all of Yoongi’s fanclub is going for your throat so you need to be as close as possible to ward them off. Thinking about how everyone’s eyes will be on you tonight is giving you a headache.

The maid selected a beautiful deep purple dress for you to wear with the appropriate heels and accessories. Your hair is in an updo with some locks framing your face. In this period it takes too long to get ready but there’s nothing you can do about it.

Even if you go while looking pretty or not everyone will try to find fault in you. You can hear it in your head how they will whisper that you somehow bewitched the duke.

No one can be ready when you step into the ballroom while holding Yoongi’s arm your outfits ridiculously matching despite the short notice. Everyone is gossiping like you expected.

They don’t even try to be subtle about it.

The first to approach you is your father and brother and your fingers unconsciously tighten around the duke’s sleeve. The three men exchange pleasantries but your father doesn’t like beating around the bush for long before he asks what everyone is curious about.

“I had no idea the duke was interested in my daughter.” You virtually facepalm yourself when hearing that. That is like saying to my face that I’m no match for the duke. You were known to be notorious but this is getting ridiculous. He should be saying that the duke is not good enough for you!

“I fell in love with her at first sight.” Everyone is silently eavesdropping and it looks like their ears and mouths are reaching the floor by now. Your reaction is not too far behind as well. You were thinking: ‘Don’t tell me that he read this in one of his romance novels as well’.

Can you even avoid getting married to him at this point now? Unlikely as how everyone is so focused on your life at the moment. It feels like you become the century’s sensation with this.

“Haha. The duke is just joking.” You try to lighten the mood but you can’t really get Yoongi and your father out of that weird exchange of looks. If he wants them to believe this he should say it with some emotion damn it. You want to yell this into his face but you don’t of course.

“No, I intend on marrying the lady.” Now he has done it. But seeing your father’s shocked expression is funny. You don’t think there’s anyone in the ballroom who’s not left in shock after hearing that. Even a lady from the Duke’s fan club fainted hearing that.

After your father left many noble couples approached you inquiring about you two was the first thing everyone did but Yoongi didn’t say much regarding the matter besides what he told your father and you were not going to elaborate further so soon after the men talked about business and the wife asked you some general polite questions. Going around for so long soon your feet started to hurt and the dress felt uncomfortable to wear. All you wanted to do was go back to your room and get some rest.

“I’m not feeling too well so I think I’m going to leave.” As a last resort, you interrupt the men’s conversation to get Yoongi’s attention. You reached your limit and just thinking about what happened today makes you feel exhausted. After you got your nanny kicked out you thought that things would calm down for a while but it seems like you were mistaken.

Now you have to deal with an even bigger trouble and his name is Min Yoongi.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi scans your body looking for the cause of your unwellness which is surprising. You didn’t think he would ask about what’s wrong with you. You expected him to let you go with some curtesy words and while his face is as impassive as ever he is looking only at you.

Thinking about that makes a small shade of pink being introduced to your face. Maybe you have a fever. Yes. That’s probably it.

Reluctant to say it in front of the noble couple you reach for him to whisper into his ears so no one else could hear you. “My feet hurt my heels are uncomfortable to wear.” Thinking that it’s enough to explain why you want to leave you turn around to actually go when the duke holds you by the waist sliding one of his hands under your legs to pick you up. You almost let out an unladylike shriek but you manage to hold it in at the last minute. Your hands circle his neck to find stability.

“What are you doing?” Dropping the honorifics in your panic you whisper yell at him to let you down. This is so embarrassing.

“I read it in a book if a lady tells you their feet hurt you need to carry them.” What kind of stupid book that is – you want to yell but you just lower your head so your eyes don’t meet with anyone as Yoongi carries you out.

Now you’re really not going to live this down. If some were skeptical now they are actually convinced that Yoongi is in love with you.

Can you even call this fake dating? He literally said he is going to make himself fall in love with you so you marry him!

You sit bonelessly on the sofa in Yoongi’s tent. He’s actually going to treat the wound on your feet as you try to grasp the situation. You feel exhausted now that you got to sit down.

If you think this through there’s no way you can claim it now that you have nothing to do with him. It might be your best bet to marry him. From your conversation earlier you keep thinking about what he said about wanting to know what you’re thinking. His sudden interest in you probably has something to do with his mind-reading powers. Could this be that he can’t read your thoughts? That could be possible.

He wouldn’t have asked otherwise so strangely and you keep thinking about being possessed in a novel and refer to him as your favourite character there’s no way he wouldn’t ask about it if he knew. Maybe…

Maybe he can’t read your thoughts because you’re not originally from this world? – Y/N’s family’s power is to block powers so that could be a good explanation as well. You can’t really ask for confirmation since you’re not supposed to know that he can read minds.

You don’t realise you kept staring at him while you were deep in your thoughts. You wince when he puts the ointment on your wound roughly your hand goes to hold his wrist to stop him.

“Be gentle it hurts.” You look at him with a frown but he actually listens as he becomes more careful with his touches. His hand is full of callouses and cuts probably from wielding his sword. Now that you remember it he was called a war monster in the novel. Most times when he was mentioned he was looped in with his war achievements or his lack of interest in women. It’s interesting to know these little things that his desk is messy and that he’s not as scary as everyone makes him out to be. He can be quite gentle.

“Thank you.” This time you’re sincere.

This is the calmest tone you’ve ever spoken to him now that you’ve realised. You tried to keep your distance as much as you could you were quite rude to him until now. You’re not going to apologise though your anger was justified he did get you into this mess without your consent.

The silence that fills the space is not uncomfortable for some reason.

“It’s just a small cut you will be fine.” His tone is like usual but his actions cannot be told to be.

“W-What are you doing?” His lips are touching your feet. A small warm kiss is planted on your foot as if he’s wishing for your pain to subside. The duke is a rational man – this is probably another scene from that damn novel but why is your heart beating so loudly in your ears? After kissing it his eyes directly meet yours as if he’s searching for something in the depths.

“Did your pain go away? I want to know if the book had the facts right. It doesn’t seem medically accurate.” You’re too dumbfounded to reply but after regaining your senses you pull your feet away and the duke finally gets up from his kneeling position.

“This is not about the pain! It’s to make the girl’s heart flutter!” You avoid his gaze looking to the right after your sudden exclamation. You can’t believe you really have to explain this to him.

“Then did your heart flutter?” This is a dangerous thought – but maybe – just maybe his little head tilt looked a little cute. What should you do? Lie? Tell the truth?

“Everyone would be flustered in that kind of situation.” You try to rationalise what you’re feeling right now is not attraction. It’s going to fade away – he’s just a character you liked in a book. No need to get worked up.

“So – are you going to ask me again or not?” Trying to hide your embarrassment you get to the point. You decided not to run away from him – at least for now. You can come up with a plan later and if it doesn’t work out then divorce is still a thing in this period too.

“Will you marry me now?” He looks surprised. While it’s hard to read his expression you can disamble some of his emotions if you look for it hard enough. After all, he’s not that mysterious Duke of the North – but you don’t think the readers would be disappointed finding this out.

He’s still charming.

“Alright. Let’s get married.”

You said that but you still have some concerns. The novel’s development is truly out of hand this time. It’s also concerning that you haven’t seen the main protagonists yet. Taehyung is absent from the hunting competition but the main couple should meet during the imperial ball.

However – everyone only talks about your marriage with the duke. You were not sure if it was safe to marry the duke but to be honest, this could work in your favour. Now you can’t be the villainess who falls in love with Taehyung at first sight since you will be a married woman. If you don’t interfere they will have no reason to execute you and your favourite character won’t kill you because for some reason he needs you alive – so this is not so bad. Your reputation is slowly but rising among the aristocrats who witnessed your behaviour as you haven’t caused much trouble. If you exclude the scandal with Min Yoongi but it wasn’t even your fault.

Your father didn’t say a word when you said you were going to ride with Yoongi back to the capital. Your brother was a different story – he did try to object but failed as your father dismissed him. You don’t delude yourself that things will be that easy. Whilst your father didn’t object outwardly now because of the public eye it doesn’t mean he can’t reject the proposal when it’s inside the mansion. Wouldn’t be so bad to get out of that house either as you have mostly bad memories from that place.

The duke delayed his trip back to the north until your marriage is settled so now you’re on your way to the capital. Even if you don’t hold a big wedding both families have to agree to the marriage and then give the marriage application to the royal palace for registration only then it could be a legal marriage. It will take some time until everything is sorted out but that’s fine since you need to meet with Jungkook. You need to tell him the news but he probably knows about it by now. Still, you can’t rest until the house of Summer is taken down or someone else takes over his place preferably a better duke than him because a war would not help you survive here either.

“Will you tell me now why we have to be married?” The journey back to the capital will be quite long you decide to get some information out of him if you have to share the carriage with him anyway. The swaying of the carriage makes you uneasy so it’s better to focus on something else.

“We’re not married yet.” No shit Sherlock. You hold back the reflex to roll your eyes. He would look at you like a crazy woman if he could read your thoughts so you’re almost 100% sure this is the reason he wants to marry you.

“If you tell me doesn’t that mean I cannot take back my word since I would know your secret, Duke Min?” Your persuasion might work at least he’s thinking about telling you now.

It’s silent inside there’s no other sound than the carriage rattling on the road and when you’re about to give up trying to persuade him to tell you the atmosphere around the duke changes.

He’s always serious but he looks even more so now.

“Our family’s power is to read the human mind.” You take some fake time to process this – you can’t give him the suspicion that you already know about his powers. So you keep quiet and appear to be thinking before you speak up. Now – this is something to start with:

“So—you read minds. What does that have to do with me? Perhaps, you can’t read my thoughts?” It doesn’t seem like he suspects you he probably thinks you have good intuition. Hopefully.

“I can’t. But that’s not all.” Now you’re actually curious. You stay in your seat anticipating his answer when he instead touches your cheek again. This is not the time to recite some romance novel bullshit. “If I touch you like this I can’t read anyone's thoughts.”

This is crazy. Not just you – but no one. Do you really have some kind of power that you’re unaware of? Even if your family’s power is to deflect other powers that wouldn’t answer why touching you blocks out everything. In theory, it should only work on you.

“You really can’t hear anything?” You’re a bit excited this is new. You carelessly grab his hand that’s holding your cheek startling Yoongi in the process. Thanks to the bumpy road you lose your balance and land right on your companion’s lap. He grabbed you without thinking holding you by the waist both of your legs hanging off to the side your face excruciatingly close to his.

“Sorry, I lost my footing.” You try to get up but the road is really not letting you off the hook. If anything Yoongi has to pull you closer to not fall over with you in tow.

“Were your eyes always this pretty?” One hand goes to put some hair behind your ears. W-What is he saying now? You’re confused for only a moment before you realise. Romance novel.

After this trip is over you really want to know what kind of trashy romance novel he was reading as a reference and you would appreciate it if he did not try all of it out on you in such unexpected situations.

“I can’t believe the duke really said that with a straight face. If you want my heart to flutter you have to do better than that.” You were half joking and half serious but he doesn’t have to know that.

“Like what?” You didn’t expect him to ask but he found you in a playful mood. Since he wants to become your lover you’re going to prank him. After that, he will think twice before reciting such cheesy lines.

“A kiss probably.” You try to smile seductively with just the corners of your lips tilting upwards but that smile soon remains frozen on your face as warm chapped lips meet with yours.

It’s a kiss. The duke is actually kissing you.

It’s awkward your lips are touching but there’s nothing else. To think the duke doesn’t know how to kiss is funny.

You’re the first to pull back as you can’t keep back your laughter anymore. “I guess there’s one thing the duke is not good at.”

His face is as serious as ever but if you look closely he kinda looks offended by your statement. His hand tightens around you it looks like he has a competitive side to him as well. You keep learning new things about the duke.

It’s probably an impulse to prove you wrong but he pulls you back by holding the back of your head in place. It’s not just a peck now it’s transforming into a real kiss as he moves his lips over yours. It’s clumsy but somewhat charming. His tongue comes out unexpectedly but you’re not gonna stop now – you open your mouth to welcome his tongue and intertwine it with yours. It’s messy but it does make your heart flutter.

His breath on your face, his fingers in your hair you’re hyperaware of every little body part that touches his.

Before you get entirely lost in the sensation you pull back, stopping the kiss before it could devour you. You’re not the only one breathing hard the duke is panting as well. His hand is still around your head and his touch is especially gentle.

This weirdly romantic moment is interrupted by the trusted aid Namjoon yet again. It seems like he comes always at the worst moments.

The ride back home felt a lot shorter with Yoongi than when you were on your way to the hunting festival with your family. You feel shy. You get off Yoongi’s lap before the carriage door opens and someone sees you in a compromising position. The nation is shocked enough as it is.

“Maybe my heart did flutter a bit.” The words are quietly uttered but you’re sure the wind carried it away enough for the duke to hear it however, before he could register the hidden meaning behind your words then the carriage door opens and you accept Namjoon’s hand to get off first.

You’re too shy to watch his reaction or afraid to find the lack of it. Only Namjoon can see the rare sigh of his master looking somewhat flushed but he dismisses it, after all, the weather is quite hot here in the capital. He could be just feeling hot due to the long journey. The clothes they bought are not suitable for this warm weather but neither of them complained as this will be a mere visit so there’s no need to buy new clothes that would never be worn again after leaving for the north again.

The schedule suffered a setback as the duke suddenly proposed marriage and until everything was settled the departure was delayed. Yoongi offers you his arm to hold onto and you after a moment of thinking intertwine your arms going in the direction of your father’s office. You spotted the family carriage so they arrived by the time you got off. It’s not farfetched to think they expected your visit as both your father and brother seem to be waiting for the two of you. They are not visibly displeased but deep in their thoughts.

Your brother’s eyes automatically go to your joined hands wearing an uncomfortable expression. Of course, they wouldn’t want to let you go so soon. A part of you like to think selfishly and blame them. A thought enters your mind: they probably want to keep you here since you started to be useful lately. On the other hand, your calmer mind thinks more about the truth that they feel ashamed of their behaviour. If you leave them so early there’s no way they could amend their wrongdoings. Your brother feels guilty after everything that happened and there’s a hint of overprotectiveness in him as well as your brother. Even if you know all this you have no reason to provide them with forgiveness. A person needs to take responsibility for their actions.

You were not planning to leave this early but you decided to accept his proposal now that you know his secret they wouldn’t let you live if you suddenly tried to escape or go back on your word.

Even if you decided not too long ago to go through with it you’re shaking with nerves. You tried to make yourself feel better that you could divorce him once everything is over but now knowing the truth there’s no way you could cut ties so easily. While worrying won’t solve anything you’re still anxious. This is the best you can do for now since being his wife and him needing you means that he won’t kill you even if someone orders it. The plot has already changed but there’s no guarantee that the story won’t try to change back to its original.

Whilst your father looked reluctant to agree to this marriage he didn’t try to stop you surprisingly. He asked you if that’s what you want and when you answered with a yes he relented.

Your brother was a different matter – he kept glaring at Yoongi throughout the entire ordeal. Fortunately, Yoongi did not pay much attention to his animosity as they politely spoke about the preparations that needed to be done. There won’t be a big wedding that you are thankful for. You’re already the talk of the town there’s no need for more publicity.

In the last couple of days, everything seems to settle one by one quietly. The palace agreed to the marriage without objections however they set a condition which you were not expecting. The king wants to throw a ball before you head over to the north in honour of your marriage but you feel like there’s an ulterior motive behind this. Even if you suspect it you have no room to refuse the king so you and Yoongi agree to attend.

Leaving the house undetected in the meantime becomes quite challenging as the wedding preparations were reduced to be completed in two weeks you were moving in a tight schedule, dress fitting, and writing all the invitations you did not have much time on your hands to sleep not to tell about you private matters that you wanted to take care of before you permanently head to the north. The house staff also seemed busy with the preparations. A room was prepared for Yoongi and his men to stay in the house you couldn’t just let your future husband sleep in an inn whether your family liked him staying or not, there are enough rumours surrounding the two of you as is.

The preparations were not the only obstacle standing in your way sneaking out but the duke decided to follow you almost everywhere. While writing the invitations he used your office as his attending to his paperwork constantly being near you even if you were doing other things in the same room and when you asked why he had to work in your room he just answered with:

“Spending time together is a sign of affection.” He looks up from his stack of papers. That damn romance novel again.

“Have you heard of the line that ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ you should try it sometime.” You shake your head, murmuring it under your nose that he’s unable to hear you but when he looks at you questioningly you decide not to dare and repeat it.

One of these days you were feeling tempted to find that book and burn it so he cannot use it again as a reference. But you have to think about this, in worst case scenario he finds an even more romance infused book with ridiculous lines and plots to recreate. It’s not like you could learn romance through a book but you need to give credit where it’s due as he puts real effort into it at least. Looking at his unique circumstances as a child and as an adult you could see why he would want to learn romance from a book in a practical way. He was never showered with parental love and he had no means of growing fond of people too as he could hear their thoughts. He had no reason to. The means are clumsy but he’s trying hard to fall in love with you and making you fall for him as he put it. You never had a boyfriend who took dating this seriously before. It’s not that everything he does annoy you. You started to grow fond of the romancing lines that he recited with an indifferent face.

He's always honest which makes him a bit unapproachable at first but after spending time with him his honesty while it’s blunt he’s not saying anything out of malice. He’s just too sincere. It’s refreshing as you don’t have to look for underlying meaning. If you ask him something he answers without hesitation it’s good since you don’t have any misunderstandings. When you asked why he wanted you to fall in love with him he simply answered that ‘it means you won’t leave me’. You were so surprised that you started laughing his honesty was so absurd. It was kind of cute.

It took a considerable amount of time and scheming for you to finally be able to meet with the information guild in secret. Jungkook expected you to come by one of these days so he was not too surprised to see you. It felt like greeting an old friend he even teased you about suddenly getting married while having some good tea as company. Now that you both earned each other’s thrust you told him everything he needs to be wary of while operating secretly. Your purpose is to stop the war from happening and you need help to bring down the Duke of Summer but you need to be extra careful with your steps not to seem suspicious. You part ways with a wedding gift as Jungkook called it in your pockets. It’s a communication sphere that you could easily carry with you. It was a short meeting but you couldn’t help it as you had to go back to the wedding preparations.

You’re getting the jitters as you lay on your bed. Tomorrow is the d-day. You’re actually thankful for your brother for once. His purpose was probably just to separate you but that meant you had all day to yourself to get your thoughts in order before the grand wedding without Yoongi looming over your shoulders. It seemed at the last minute you had different opinions on small weddings as you had to send out tons of invitations. The maids made sure everything was perfect for the big day – this is the busiest and most carefree atmosphere this place ever got. It would have been a lot easier if you didn’t need to walk on eggshells all this time. Dodging the servant's rude comments and their ignorant behaviour they all changed when the masters started to change.

You’re only sorrowful that the real Y/N couldn’t experience this. The misunderstanding has been cleared but she’s nowhere to be found. Will she ever come back or you’re stuck as her forever? Time can only tell how things will work out in the end. But one thing is certain you’re not going to give up and you will live through this ending.

Yoongi is even more handsome when formally dressed he doesn’t look nervous unlike you. You join hands at the altar and the priest tells you your wows. The exchange ends like a blur with a light kiss on your lips. The rings on your fingers glisten in the bright light.

You’re pronounced as husband and wife. You’ve married your favourite character. This is crazy but this man in front of you is now your husband. You bit all ten of your nails by the time you’re done preparing for the wedding night. You were bathed very throughoutly and put in a nice nightgown that you haven’t seen before in your life.

Yoongi is already sitting at the edge of the bed when you enter the bedroom and he looks relaxed after his bath.

You later learn that he’s only relaxed because he has no idea what you should be doing on a wedding night.

You were aware of his unfortunate childhood and that the previous duchess and duke were not on the best terms with each other if you could call people who never met each other after getting married even ‘be in a relationship’ and now you’re convinced that their wedding night might have been the start of their miserable life.

Once the head of house Min gets engaged they get a script of how to produce an heir Yoongi explained but seeing the document yourself you feel sorry for the previous duchesses’ they had to endure a loveless marriage and probably a painful first time where their opinions were not even considered.

Sticking it in is not how a married couple should have sex. You don’t know who wrote this but this person clearly never had good sex. It’s weird to hold this piece of paper in your hand but since your marriage with Yoongi is not an ordinary one you learned that he got this paper this morning urgently to read before the ceremony. Even Namjoon were unaware of the contents as he was only the messenger. Arranged marriage is how house Min kept their bloodline going by getting sold daughters living miserable lives. You don’t want to be one of them. Thankfully you have an advantage that the previous duchess did not have; a power that could contain their madness.

You’re sure Yoongi will never try to hurt you if he wants you to be with him and provide him with blissful silence.

“If you try to do what this text says I’ll definitely never forgive you.” You toss the paper to the side after tearing it apart.

Yoongi’s in luck since he married a modern woman. You know enough about sex for the both of you to get a pleasant experience and you don’t think topping it would be much of a feat after reading what the previous heads were doing to their woman. No wonder without knowing or receiving love it would be hard to know about these things. The wives were too consumed by hate because of everything that had happened to them and the dukes had no idea how to love their wives at the brink of their madness. That is truly tragic.

You don’t believe however that Yoongi is not capable of feelings.

Even after spending this short time with him, you could see his character changing and you’re not only speaking about his determination to learn romance through those trashy romance novels. He actually listens, laughs and feels jealous. He used to be pretending to get close to you but you don’t think he did that kiss just to play out a scene. He does things impulsively too.

Initially, his interest was the only thing that fueled him to get closer and keep you by any means.

“What am I supposed to do then?”

This is crazy. Are you really allowed to corrupt your favourite character? Duh, you’re his wife now. The little you in your head reminds you. Y/N is you now even if you tried to deny it so many times this is your reality. You need to stop thinking that the life you’re living is someone else’s and you need to forget that these are characters in a novel.

You’re living in this novel now and this is your reality.

“You should kiss me.” A switch just flipped inside your brain. Just like in the carriage, you straddle Yoongi and his hands grip you through the small gown you wear that doesn’t conceal anything. It’s so thin he could feel your warmth. Yoongi sees your overall aura change, you suddenly look possessed. It stirs something in him seeing you riled up.

The consequences be damned you’re going to enjoy your wedding night with your favourite character.

– The war, the family struggle, the main characters that you haven’t met yet all of that can wait one more night at least. –

Yoongi kisses your lips gripping your bare thighs always listening so well. His tongue messily enters between your lips and you follow along with his rhythm the lack of his experience makes your job easier to dominate the kiss. Push and pull until both of you pant like dogs into each other’s open mouths. The blood from his head rushes to his lower regions. Unaware that he’s getting very aroused by your actions but you could feel the outline of his cock through your thin clothes. He might not know what to call what you do to him but he surely knows how that makes him feel.

That piece of paper definitely didn’t prepare him for you.

Your lips on his neck and your wandering hands are overwhelming him but he doesn’t dare to push you away, no, it feels too good to do that. You not only give him peace of mind without knowing what everyone thinks around him but show him new sensations and make him feel in a certain way. Feel loved. Even the slight pain that he feels as you mark him up is a pleasurable experience for him. Only after you get rid of his clothes that he sees his own cock fully hard. Your hand and mouth are already around it.

Sounds keep escaping his lips embarrassing whines and moans as your hot lips curve around his cock.

It’s warm wet and tight inside that Yoongi’s back arches off the bed shooting his load soon into your awaiting mouth seeing the signs of his orgasm. He cums embarrassingly fast. He doesn’t know what to do to contain this fire licking its way up inside his veins he follows your directions kissing you all over mimicking you hoping that it will feel good for you too, flipping you over as he hovers over your body kissing every inch of your skin making you moan as your fingers card through his messy hair. You hold his face close to your chest his lips kissing over your breasts and nipples. He reaches your pussy with your guidance his tongue first darts out to get a taste. Yoongi can feel his heart beat like crazy you’re wet and glistening for him. He keeps licking and flicking the tip of his tongue over your puffy bud loving how you say his name when he does something you especially like.

His lips are coated in your essence love how messy he gets with his licks. No matter what he does you keep shaking under him sighing his name. Your husband keeps your legs apart deflowering you sinfully with his tongue insistently rolling over and over your sensitive clit until you cum with a cry of his name. You pull him up for a heated kiss catching your breath but your hand impatiently aligns his cock with your wet opening.

Attempting to describe the feeling of how your warm walls hug him is futile but you can guess how good it feels for him when you see his eyes tightly shut and his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. His hips move on their own after you show him the way the initial discomfort after being stretched soon ebbed into a dull ache replaced with pleasure after some perfectly angled thrust on his part. He gets cockier and more confident with his movements as you moan louder when he finds a good spot he’s getting addicted to the feeling when you tighten around him.

He could do this all night with you. With your legs tightly wrapped around his torso or your leg on his shoulder hitting deeper in every position and angle your pussy feels tighter and wetter that he feels his orgasm build rapidly again. He keeps pushing inside you and pulling back until just the tip remains not caring if the bed shakes under you the wet squelch that your sexes make and the creaking of the bed is the song that you listen to all night long.

You lost count of how many times he finishes inside of you his cum dripping down your thighs when his passion finally subsides. The aftermath hits you hard feeling sore all over but utterly satisfied.

After sharing this heated night with your favourite you feel like you could accomplish anything in this life.

Novel. Or real life.

Yoongi got to experience many firsts with you. For the first time in his life, he desperately wants to cling to someone. Be loved and love in return. He welcomes your lazy kisses with his arms strongly holding you to his body. “If I can love, I promise to only love you.”

There’s nothing more you could ask for. Your smile reaches ear to ear and whilst Yoongi needs to learn a lot of things you’re ready to tackle this life with him and hopefully reach your happy ending.

#yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #btsghostie #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts imagine #yoongi x you #bts reincarnation au #bts au #bts non idol au #bts fantasy au #kpop fanfiction

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ruegarding · 4 days ago

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for context, @rosabell14 is referring to tags on this post.

ok we're going off-road w this one

generally speaking, i like the concept of "some things aren't meant to be controlled," which annabeth says to percy after he controls the poison. this is said and then immediately forgotten abt, however, this could be another angle of change, a reoccurring theme in hoo, as well as a continued theme from pjo.

obviously, from pjo, the change is addressed w the myths, the theme of yielding, and w the conclusion of the story:

hoo continues this concept of change w the percy-jason switch, the greek-roman conflict, the idea of what an identity is and how to change it, etc. there's a lot of individual character work w this idea, but there's less of a mythological concept attached to it. gaea is a static and flatly written antagonist, octavian becomes incredibly flat as a character and his development into this sort of fanatical antagonist that is never explored, there's a lot of teeth-gritting abt how the gods are gods and they never change and everyone just has to accept it, the myths aren't challenged in the same way they were in pjo, etc. there's a few major exceptions, i'll get to that.

this is a glaring issue i have w hoo. it wouldn't be as bad as a standalone, but hoo makes the entirety of the previous series meaningless. in tlo, percy asks for kids to get claimed and be trained so when (or if) they have to go on dangerous quests/fight monsters/etc they're both older and more experienced. this is the conclusion to the war and how the status quo is changed (disability accommodations expanded to reach more ppl and work more effectively).

hoo, however, does not do this. camp jupiter infamously has a child army while the adults are retired, all of the new characters are younger than percy (who is still 16), and only two of them have spent a long period of time training, although hazel's isn't formal/in a camp (and piper doesn't even learn how to fight until book four ffs). this sort of immediately bastardizes pjo in a way that is never acknowledge by the series and makes it, and anything after it, a failure as a continuation of pjo.

and that's where this theme could've come in. when bob is remembering who he is, him and percy have this back-and-forth abt identity. percy relates to bob bc he, too, just had his memory erased and that vulnerability exploited (annabeth's perspective in this conversation is very different bc she doesn't have this same experience nor does she understand percy's feelings abt it. a good way to build tension using different povs, but, once again, doesn't get fully utilized). in the conclusion that conversation, there's an interesting moment:

this is that idea again, "some things aren't meant to be controlled," like fate, like identity. titans are meant to "be the same...forever." and here percy is, not only as the catalyst for change by throwing bob into the river lethe, but also by encouraging him to commit to this change once bob should know better. this was percy's role in the previous series, as well, where he constantly challenges the perspective of other characters to be more quote human unquote.

afterwards, annabeth has a similar moment w damasen:

i also think these are very funny to have side-by-side, just as character analysis, bc percy is very much both insecure and empathetic like u can choose ur future, it's up to u, etc, whereas annabeth is like i am right, listen to me.

anyway, both of these moments repeat the idea from pjo/tlo: immortals can't change. but they are changing. and they will change. the rules of the world are malleable (i also think hazel's monologue abt seeing the minotaur as a victim would be another aspect of this to explore). what abt traditions? what abt camp jupiter's child army? how should these change? going back to the og thought, tho, what shouldn't change? what are the "some things" that aren't meant to be controlled? how do you balance traditions and reform (great opportunity to use octavian btw!)? why can't a god be human, act human? why are the ancient rules important? that's an important discussion to have if we're growing this universe.

i don't particularly like that hoo immediately reverts back w the premise of the story, like i was talking abt earlier, nor do i think these characters were introduced or used well in canon, but using these characters, these moments, these conversations, rick could've salvaged this mess by embracing change isn't a static thing. he doesn't, tho, so it's all lost potential.

separately, something i've always liked abt the akhlys fight is that percy wins the literal, physical fight against her, but loses the metaphorical fight. he gets to walk away, but he walks away miserable. and this is bc the gods aren't ppl, they're physical representations of concepts. and percy has this thought abt tartarus and gaea while in tartarus, and i believe it's brought up in boo, but it's barely relevant. it's something i wish was explored more.

now onto specific characters. i talk abt my general idea here, ie this moment in tartarus is forcing percy and annabeth to confront their worst-case scenarios.

for annabeth, i've repeatedly gone on record to say i hate the way annabeth is written in hoo, here is an example, ie her fatal flaw does not come thru in her character (i also think she and percy switched characterizations from pjo to hoo, but...). separate issue is that annabeth's character revolves around percy a lot. so there are two issues i would focus on, largely bc she's not written well and doesn't have established unique conflicts. like,

this is a big revelation at the end of hoh, that she has to "step back" and she can't "protect everyone she love[s]." except it doesn't make any sense. tlo ended w annabeth telling percy to give luke her knife which luke uses to kill himself. not to mention, thalia's sacrifice on hbh. ALSO. percy accepting the prophecy and "taking the brunt of the danger"! and finally. annabeth has been at camp for 7-8 years. 1) she should have relationships w these ppl and 2) she should care that some of the ogs died in the previous war (which would also require rick to figure out who died lol). but the point is, this isn't a new conflict for annabeth!

the thought she had in moa abt having to accept she's not always the best person for the job:

this is not built up nor is it delivered on, but would be interesting, given that she demanded to be on the quest and if there was an actual power struggle instead of writing her as the de facto leader. this would be a better conflict than accepting that "she couldn't protect everyone she loved" when she has historically not been able to protect everyone she loved.

anyway, back on topic.

first, this moment exists to challenge her perception of percy, which is important to challenge bc she quite frankly has an unhealthy attachment to him. other ppl have said this better than i, so here's a post abt codependency and p*rcabeth and here's another one i rbed a while ago.

tldr; rick treats annabeth's abandonment issues/possessiveness/codependency as like. cute, peak romance. and he's been doing this since pjo, right, like annabeth's abandonment issues and possessiveness didn't matter when it was thalia joining the hunters,—bc there's no romance trope here w thalia—but gods forbid percy speak to rachel.

and this doesn't change in hoo. in fact, it's worse. like,

i'm going to [statement redacted] rick for this. what part of this is cute??? i'm killing it with fire.

so anyway, i want to treat annabeth's possessiveness/etc as an actual, consistent, character flaw, that she can grow out of, even. maybe even connect it to her hubris or her rsd. explore her feelings abt luke now that we have her pov to do it in. the fallout from this moment w akhlys is a great way to begin delving into that bc it's a shocking moment for her.

second, and going back to the theme of change, annabeth is different from percy in the sense that she has a different relationship to the gods than him (which i'm comparing bc i think rick (and fandom) has a hard time giving these two consistent and separate personalities/beliefs post pjo). the two times she has rebelled against the gods directly were bc of percy's influence (again, this is percy's role in pjo), 1) in the zoo truck, a scene that only takes place bc percy challenged her view of the poseidon-athena rivalry and their place in it, and 2) w hera where the first words out of annabeth's mouth are literally "percy is right."

i find this interesting especially bc her fatal flaw is hubris, which is common in mythology and frequently ends up fatal bc ppl challenge the gods. so, annabeth using the gods and these stories to keep her hubris in check makes complete sense.

and it seems like this is the same approach she's using w percy:

percy is directly challenging a god for power, and more than that, he's challenging a domain he's not supposed to have control of at all.

very interesting! does not get explored. such is common for hoo.

for percy, this scene is part of a long-running conversation of his powers (which is a huge part of his disability coding!!!!!). and it doesn't go anywhere.

percy has established anger issues and implied emotional dysregulation. this has been a thing since the beginning, literally chapter one of tlt! punishing percy for this when he's clearly not getting the support he needs is. a choice. also there's the issue that hoo kinda. erases this aspect of percy's character until the confrontation w akhlys, which is a separate but related issue.

there really should've been more buildup to this outburst (eg: in son percy punches a shelf in the library and immediately feels guilty bc he scares frank and hazel. percy is in an incredibly stressful situation; this should've happened more), but that would mean rick would treat it and the disability conversation seriously (which falls flat after son) and do less teeth-gritting abt the whole gods thing.

so, to go back on my "using the different povs to build tension was wildly underutilized" train, a featured part of almost everyone's pov is that percy is very kind, and gentle, and forgiving. i discuss a moment w frank being impressed w percy's selflessness here and he also says that he would follow percy anywhere, jason says percy is "a nice guy" after like 2 days, nico has his whole thing, hazel says "percy was a child of poseidon’s better nature," going on to describe him as gentle, etc.

and all of this praise goes nowhere and kinda just becomes percy is so awesome...and then turns into everything is percy's fault in boo...it's bad writing.

but it's an interesting opportunity to play w perspective. percy in pjo is dehumanized in that he is both villainized and idolized, and obviously hoo is continuing the trend w idolization. rick sets up a great plotline w this in moa:

and this doesn't go anywhere bc apparently percy's problem is that he needs to learn to step back. which. part of this is bc rick recycled plotlines from percy and gave them to other characters, which means that percy cannot be in character anymore without making themlook bad (the recycled plotlines i'm talking abt are the idolization, imposter syndrome, wanting to step back but constantly pushed into the spotlight, being seen as different/elevated status bc of ur parentage, struggling to connect to who your parent is, even the dehumanization as a weapon is straight out of percy's writing in pjo). this is a big problem w hoo in general ie characters becoming ooc by necessity (see: bad writing). the other part to blame is that rick is literally trying to redo tlo what w the whole "you are not the hero." it's all the same from pjo except written worse. it's a running theme of hoo (and a bonus). bad writing all the way down!

ANYWAY. so pjo ends w percy at an elevated status bc he 1) survived an unsurvivable prophecy, 2) was offered godhood, and 3) turned down godhood to improve the lives of the demigods while all the demigods watched. and he has the curse of achilles but. we all know how that went. the point is, all of this puts percy on a pedestal. i like to think it's the biggest reason hera kidnapped percy: if he said no, if he refused, she would've lost the support of almost all the demigods at chb (also the metaphor for the audience lol). i think making percy go on the quest, or at least to new rome, is the only good bit of world building rick did between books.

the problem is, rick is kinda all over the place w how percy is perceived and misses both the point of percy's character (callback to what i said abt his disability) and the world building of the previous series (what happened to power-scaling, narrative consequence, etc fr). that's what creates the flip-flopping "percy is perfect" and "everything is percy's fault," and neither are particularly good reads.

going back to annabeth, i don't think she's an exception in idolizing percy. she has no reason to see percy's vindictive side bc he works hard to hide it. even w crusty, annabeth is preoccupied. annabeth is smart, she's not omniscient. instead, there's the famous "percy is too nice" from som. i also like to think this is why she keeps trying to talk to percy abt luke as if luke is a good person who didn't try to kill percy. she doesn't understand that percy would hate luke for betraying him bc why would he? percy is a good person.

(for the record, i think the exceptions are: 1) grover, who chooses not to bring it up w the exception of his nemesis comment in tlt, 2) rachel, who made a painting where percy's "expression in the picture was fierce—disturbing, even—so it was hard to tell if I was the good guy or the bad guy" and simply said that's how he looked, and 3) arguably nico—considering percy has attacked him before—but i do think "very [dangerous]. to his enemies." does a good job of capturing that, it just doesn't go anywhere).

so, to condense all of this, ppl are idolizing percy in terms of both strength and morals and percy feels stifled by this knowing that he is not as strong or good as ppl think (and also by the fault that he was demonized prior and has corresponding low self-esteem bc of that lol). keep this in mind, i'm changing the topic.

in botl, percy's torture scene is used primarily to set up how powerful he is. he can cause an eruption that necessitates the evacuation of thousands of ppl and wake the biggest threat in greek mythos, but he would never know that if he wasn't back into a corner. bc that's not who he is. he shies away from power and titles. he wins his fights w strategy and very rarely relies on his powers to overpower his opponents.

just to clarify, i categorize percy's powers in two sorts of ways: involuntary and voluntary. involuntary is like speaking to sea creatures, healing in water, things that don't require a lot of energy/effort/focus. he's not scared of this. he's wary of the voluntary, powerful explosions, the things that set him apart from his peers. that's what i'm referring to in this section.

so, percy has to come to terms w the fact that he 1) blew up a mountain, 2) survived blowing up a mountain, and 3) woke typhon. and what does he say immediately after that?

he immediately deflects! he wasn't in control, it wasn't him that's powerful, it was an accident, and besides, he can't do it again bc he almost died. and what's even more interesting is the only time he uses his powers after this (in botl) is when grover asks him to stop the fire in the woods.

so, what lesson did percy actually take from mt saint helens? that he's dangerous. very interesting to use this teaching moment and have the protagonist come to the quote wrong unquote conclusion.

in hoh, we don't have a purpose for the torture scene. there's no significance to confronting how powerful percy is. percy is not addressing his self-sacrificing tendencies nor his propensity for bottling his emotions up. there's no questioning of p*rcabeth's relationship. there's no questioning of the gods. it's a cool scene w no narrative purpose.

so, take two. what is percy supposed to be learning from akhlys? how do we relate this to percy taking the wrong lesson from mt st helens?

at the end of botl, nico comes up w the river styx plan and percy takes almost a full year to agree to it. how much further ahead in the war would they have been if percy had accepted the curse sooner? how many fights could percy have won faster if he used his powers? if he trained his powers? if he trusted his powers?

there's a really interesting comparison w phorcys and akhyls where percy doesn't attempt to fight phorcys bc he assumes he won't be able to overpower him,

but w akhyls he tries anyway,

bc he's backed against a corner. and he succeeds.

percy is a character who very much embodies duality. i've talked abt this before wrt his loyalty being both his greatest strength and greatest weakness and how it clashes w his desire for freedom, but it's true for almost every trait. he's honest and manipulative. he's ruthless and merciful. he's kind and violent. he's looked up to and looked down upon. he's the saint and the scapegoat. etc etc. and percy responds to this by frequently trying to deny his quote worse unquote traits until they eventually bubble up and explode out of him. this is part of why juno calls him a loose-canon (which btw, i love. everyone has been treating him as a loose canon and no one on this side has the balls to say it until then, seven books in).

all this to say, *ethan voice* it's abt balance! this moment should've been abt percy confronting his unfair treatment! the idolization from his peers! the demonization of his flaws/disability!

thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

#if u think hoo p*rcabeth is the pinnacle of romance do us both a favor and don't read this post <3 #anyway #they call me the rambler #this is an excuse to talk abt many things i have thought abt but didn't want to make individual posts for #so this is only mostly on topic and it may or may not make sense #good luck 👍#percy #annabeth #hoo crit #answered #take a shot every time i say “anyway” in this post lmfao

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fortuna-et-cataclysmos · 2 years ago

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In defense of s5 finale

I hear and see a lot of people expressing dislike of the season finale, some also in the tags and comments of my analysis/speculation posts. So I wanted to further expand on this.

Gabriel's victory -being remembered a hero despite everything wrong he did, especially abuse to Adrien- has left a sour taste in many people's mouth; many blaming the scenarists and not shying away from calling it "bad writing."

But I think that that was exactly what the scenarists wanted to do? The perfect world Gabriel leaves behind is unsettling, unfair, and I think that the creators have done their best to show that implicitly but clearly. I think that we are supposed to be irked by the finale.

Why do I think that? Because there were a lot of small things that gave the message that, as @emsylcatac iconically put it, "this is the bad place." I touched upon some of those in my previous post on how this was a victory for Gabriel and Lila, and a defeat for Ladybug. I'll try to list them more clearly here.

Gabriel a hero

This is the one thing everyone has the most problem with. At the end, Gabriel was declared the hero who gave his life to defeat the Monarch, who was none other than himself. Some artistic choices here are so over the top that I believe they were specifically made to irk us.

If the silver statue itself wasn't enough, the exact quote of Caline Bustier is:

All the rings that have been highjacked by the Monarch have been recycled into a statue in honour of the great Gabriel Agreste.

Then Tsurugi Tomoe goes on to say:

Beyond the visionary entrepreneur and genius creator that he was, we are celebrating a hero today.

See, everything bad about Gabriel has been flipped. If you count literally exploiting people visionary entrepreneurship, sure, he was that. And genius? He couldn't get the miraculouses of two teenagers for an entire year despite having all the resources, and he ended up succeeding only with the help of another extremely powerful person (Tsurugi Tomoe) and even then he ended up dying himself.

As of creator, he was literally a destructor. He destroyed Paris more times than anyone can count, and everything was fixed every time only thanks to Ladybug. Let's not also forget how he destroyed the Miraculouses to exploit their power.

Adrien's comment about his father

This is another thing many people have had problem with. It is so outrageous that I won't believe the creators would expect us to take at face value.

At the end, Adrien acknowledges that his father died to take down the Monarch, and says:

I don't know if one day I'll manage to become like him.

Lo and behold, the man who had emotionally neglected and abused his son to no end has turned into the said son's hero and role model. Adrien not only looks up to him, but also wants to make an active effort to become like him. Hell, he even doubts if he can be as good as him.

No way this line can taken at face value. There are many children's shows with abusive parental figures nowadays (like She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, the Owl House) that have all handled the conclusion to that abuse generally well. The watchers' expectations are high in this respect; the scenarists would know that such conclusion, if not ironic, would not satiate the expectations of the spectators.

Lack of accountability: Gabriel and Tomoe

As many many people have pointed out, the general lack of accountability in this season finale is infuriating. So Gabriel mentally tortured THE ENTIRE WORLD POPULATION and not only never faced consequences in life, but also is remembered as a hero in death?

What about Tomoe?

Not only she has not faced any repercussion for being basically a supervillain, but also she is still a respected public figure who can go and make a speech backed by the mayor, in front of the freaking French flag. If that doesn't irk you, I don't know what will.

Worse is that, she goes as far as saying in her speech that:

I'll make sure to continue his legacy.

So she'll continue to be evil. Great hint that she'll continue being an antagonist in season 6.

As you can see, the new world that has been created is extremely unfair and problematic. No way this can be "the good place," an actual "happy ending."

Everything is fixed! No problems anymore!

Also, you'd realise that the world is perfect, a little too perfect. It is like a green utopian dream.

Caline Bustier has been the mayor "only for a few weeks" (direct quote from the episode), and she has already fixed all the problems possible in Paris. Not only that, she has also solved inequality and class struggle (again, mentioned by herself). Let's make Caline the President of the World already.

Funny that LITERALLY ALL THE PROBLEMS of a city could be solved, while the exact same episode showed Majestia, the freaking Supergirl of the ML universe, acknowledged in her nightmare that:

Even with all my superpowers, I'll never manage to solve all the problems of the world.

Well, Bustier says that she has no superpower, that people working together can accomplish that. Kudos to her and her democratic spirit. But like, perfect city in a few weeks? Even Mayor Bourgeois who wanted to send all the trash of Paris to space would realise that that's impossible.

There is no perfect solution, yet the world is perfect

Ladybug acknowledges that there is no perfect solution to Gabriel's situation. Trying to bring back his wife, he has caused irreparable damage to himself and to Nathalie, effectively leaving Adrien an orphan. He still hopes that Ladybug can fix it all. But she can't because of the nature of the wish: for one thing gained, another thing should be lost. In Ladybug's words:

There is no perfect wish. Every time a power is used for personal gain, it causes catastrophes. (...) We'll find a solution, but it will never be as perfect as one would wish.

Interesting, given that the world ends up being completely perfect?

All the problems are solved, literally everyone is happy, Marinette and Adrien are finally together. But the wish was made for personal gain, no? So where are the consequences? Where is equivalent exchange? The catastrophe, the price of the perfect, green, just world? I think we'll see that in season 6.

The dream world

The new world is seriously giving me weird vibes. Like it is a movie set. For those who have watched The Good Place, you'd know how in the town everything feels a bit too bright, artificial, perfect. I get the same vibes from the post-wish world.

The Agreste mansion is covered by green vines?? Way to hide the atrocities that were planned and happened here.

Here is a screengrab I found on the internet from The Good Place (the ladybug is a funny coincidence lol)

I am getting the exact same vibes!

Also, I have expanded on that in my post on "running out of time" theme, but basically in the ML universe usually the "real" stuff are associated with the night and the rain while things that happen in the sun turn out to be fake or erased/forgotten. So the feeling that I get from this finale is that, this new "perfect" world is not genuine; that the seeming happiness it brings will be soon destroyed (I doubt erased), just as it happened in other fake reality episodes like Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, Oblivio, or Jubilation. As I argued before, this is not a permanent victory. Hell, it isn't even a real victory, not with the secret Marinette is left to keep from Adrien.

Not a real victory

Another thing that makes me think that this ending is not genuine is the lack of Chat Noir in the finale. Yes, I am a fervent Ladynoir stan who was hoping for some Ladynoir action (if not reveal) and was hugely disappointed by the lack of Chat's engagement in the final fight, but now that I think of it, this may have been on purpose.

Notice how in Conformation, Ladybug says:

Our only way to win against him is to fight him together.

And yet, soon thereafter, she is catapulted into a fight with the Monarch.

Notice also it wasn't her choice to unify the miraculouses and face the Monarch alone. She had to, because Chat Noir wasn't there.

Let's remember that this show spent the entire season 4 explaining how Ladybug assuming all the responsibility alone leads to disaster, how she needs Chat Noir to share the burden with him.

Let's also remember how in season 5, especially at the beginning of it, we see Ladybug change her behaviour towards Chat Noir: she gives him more responsibilities (the Bunny Miraculous, the identity of certain holders if I am not mistaken), and how at one point she confesses that Chat Noir has been very serious and responsible lately (and then promptly develops a crush on him).

So taking on the Monarch herself is really against everything they have built up in season 4 and the beginning of season 5. That's why I think that this "victory" is so wrong: it was "won" only by Ladybug. Maybe if Chat Noir were there, he would have prevented the Monarch from making the wish (hypothetically, then we would have an entirely different timeline). If his identity were revealed the way Marinette's was, Gabriel could have controlled him through his amok. In any case, their defeat or victory would have looked very different from this.

In the end, we must remember that this world is far from being a victory for Ladybug: she has, after all, LOST. She couldn't stop Gabriel from making the wish. And while this world looks perfect, and we got what seems like a forever happy after ending for Adrinette, their happiness is set in a non-genuine victory and world.

So I think we shouldn't be angry with the show-runners: there is a reason why this ending feels and is wrong. If it were all wonderful, it wouldn't be the season finale. It would be the finale, period. And I believe that everything that has been disturbing us in this season finale will be addressed, if not consist of the core conflict of season 6. Let's all take a deep breath and turn to fan fiction or fan art till we get the new season now :) (at least that's what I'll do lol)

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 5 #from fortuna #ml conformation #ml recreation #ml analysis #ml meta #ladynoir #adrinette #ml speculation

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germanbrosweek · 7 months ago

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German Bros week is back for 2024! With the theme, dark academia!

Like previous years, the first six days of the event have two prompts each; one word prompt and one quote prompt for you to choose from, and the last day is a free day to do whatever you want.

Day 1 (Aug 18): Diary | "That's an invasion of privacy!"

Day 2 (Aug 19): Mentor and pupil | "I think you're finally ready to use what you've learned."

Day 3 (Aug 20): Studying | "I always feel like I'm being watched in here, and not cause of the other students.”

Day 4 (Aug 21): Late night | "Did you hear that?"

Day 5 (Aug 22): Hidden | "Whoever hid this, hid it for a very good reason."

Day 6 (Aug 23): Experiments | "This is a mistake."

Day 7 (Aug 24): Free Day

Use the tag #germanbrosweek and @ this blog when posting your work, also be sure to check the rules page and faq page for more information, or send an ask if your questions are still left unanswered.

Reblogs are appreciated! They help to spread word about this event!

@hetaliacalendar @heta-on-the-books @hetaliahappenings

#germanbrosweek #admin post #hetalia #german bros #aph prussia #hws prussia #aph germany #hws germany

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leothil · 11 months ago

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fic recs: archive edition 15

Hello again and happy 911 bts posting season! To cope with the longing for S7 and maybe find some more inspiration for spec and spiraling sessions, why not take a look at some fall 2021 fics. We've got AUs, codas, and a whole lot of Eddie and Buck talking in the kitchen.

Find all the previous archive recommendations here!

a touch of someone else (to save me from myself) by allyasavedtheday (@littlespoonevan) Canon divergence where Eddie joins the 118 in S1 instead of S2, which means Eddie meets Buck 1.0. Very sweet and funny! 19.4k words, rated T

at the kitchen table by iphigenias (@oatflatwhite) Coda to 5x03. Eddie is single, Buck isn't, and they address the elephant in the room. The truest tag of them all: "the inherent homoeroticism of Eddie and Buck in a kitchen" 1.6k words, rated T

Bases Loaded by @lamardeuse It starts with them getting together, and Eddie asks to go slow. Every scene is a slow escalation one step further, and I'll be honest this is probably up there in fics I've reread the most in this fandom. Also look at this artwork by @luluxa, I'm obsessed with it! 2.1k words, rated E

tell the whole wide world and this room by @hattalove Established relationship fluff where Eddie proves he actually listens to and remembers all the random fun facts Buck tells him. I'm-melting-over-it sweet, and yes, they're, naturally, in the kitchen. 5.2k words, rated T

everything i feel for you (it hits me) by lecornergirl (@clusterbuck) Buck kisses Eddie, freaks out, and runs to Maddie and Chimney. Quoting the author: "for frida, as an apology for dragging her into this clown car of a fandom." Seeing as I'm still here two and a half years later with no end in sight, I think the apology isn't needed anymore. 1.6k words, rated G

Enjoy, everyone!

#911 fic rec #buddie fic rec #fic rec #buddie fic #911 fic #frida's archive project

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agentrouka-blog · 2 months ago

Note

In one of your posts you talk about how wall imagery is used to describe Sansa’s boundaries (her “wall of courtesy” which deflects Tyrion, an unwanted lover foisted upon her by her situation as a captive in KL). The post also mentioned how Ygritte cried after scaling the wall from fear (the wall again deflecting an unwanted lover foisted upon Jon as a captive of the FF) . So clearly there’s some associations being made between those two and wall imagery. It got me thinking, isn’t there a moment in the books where Jon thinks that Sansa’s eyes would tear up at the sight of the wall in wonder, contrasting Ygritte’s reaction? 👀

(my wall of ice tag) (I'm not sure which post you specifically refer to, so I just linked to the tag.)

That quote by Jon is actually not referring to the Wall, but happens quite a bit beyond the Wall near Craster's Keep, where the landscape has been transformed overnight as the rain-soaked surroundings have frozen.

The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he'd dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all. (ACOK, Jon III)

While the quote doesn't create a direct contrast between Sansa and Ygritte, it creates a beautiful comparison between Sansa and Jon. One sees "magic", and the other would see "an enchantment". It's GRRM showing us how their aesthetic and romantic sensibilities match pretty well and that Jon actually knows and appreciates this about Sansa. Consider his utterly poetic language here. And we know that Jon is correct in his assessment of Sansa, because we see her respond in this way to other scenes of natural beauty, during the cloud castle scenes and the snowy garden in the Eyrie where she will proceed to build her snow castle. Both of which happen in the dawn light, as well.

Furthermore, the scene is a direct answer to a moment in the previous book:

The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. "As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?" He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. "You do want to know what's on the other side, don't you?" "It's nothing special," Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder's wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. "The rangers say it's just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice." (AGOT, Jon III)

Ironically, this conversation is between Jon and the man who will be Sansa's forced husband and contemplate what's on the other side of her wall of icy politeness.

Tyrion never makes it past the ice wall, either one. Jon discovers magic there, that reminds him of Sansa.

#jonsa #wall of ice #parallels

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carriesthewind · 7 months ago

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I can't stop thinking about the notes on this rage-bait post about To Kill a Mockingbird.

Some of it is the sheer number of people falling for the bait and believing that the school district in question banned the novel:

But there's also this...tone to so many of the notes that I find fascinating. And I think two sets of comments illustrate why:

Every time I look at these tags I feel like there is something more to unpack. If I am being kind of flip, I can roll my eyes at someone "sigh[ing] at the lack of reading comprehension" while falling for outrage bait.

But more seriously, I feel like this comment is completely right about needing to be uncomfortable and leave sterile environments in order to grown and change...but that comment exists in the context of the writer being so deeply uncomfortable at the mere idea that an over 60 year old book will no longer be taught to some children that they completely fail to interrogate the underlying story. There's a failure to take the next step. It's possible the writer was uncomfortable when they first read the novel, but to quote a tag I didn't capture here, it's "one of [their] favorite books." The book doesn't make *them* uncomfortable at all. The writer is not willing to interrogate that the school district might have had good reasons for switching the book out of the curriculum. Instead, they assume that the reasons are because "people don't understand" the book - the writer "see[s] what they look for."

I love To Kill a Mockingbird. (Hell, I'm one of those white future-public defenders who read the book and saw the movie and watched Atticus with my soul in my throat and, while I was not directly inspired by him, he resonated with a deep part of me.) It would be an uphill debate to convince me to remove it from a teaching curriculum - but then again, I'm not in charge of any teaching curriculum and have zero relevant expertise. I've read now a number of different articles and reactions to this incident, and the reactions rarely have anything to do with the reality of what decisions were made and why. You have to jump through numerous links to find what appears to be the original parent complaint:

Yolanda Williams said she found out that students were saying the N-word and laughing in the classroom, and it was offensive. “Students were laughing out loud at the teacher’s response. That’s unacceptable to me,” she told the board. “Is there not a better way to teach about that era and the horrors of that era, other than having kids laughing in class when the N-word is said? It should not be required reading for all students. My child shouldn’t have to sit in that class like that.” “It’s not a conducive environment,” Yolanda Williams said. “It’s not just the book, but supplemental material that had the N-word.

(How much do we value, how do we weigh, one way of learning about the history of racism, against the pain of a black child? Whose comfort are we willing to sacrifice, and for what?)

The second comment I come back to is much shorter, but I feel like it's where everything fell in to place for me:

Were the people made uncomfortable by the book white people? How many of them? I don't know for sure - although I know at least one of the parents, as quoted above, was black - and neither do any of the commenters.

Why do we read "people" and see "white people?" And in a way, I'm asking a rhetorical question - because of course we do, because the tweet is set up that day. And, even more so, of course we do - because the people the book is for are white people.

To go back to the previous comment, the one I can't stop unpacking: the writer quotes a famous line from the book, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

And yes, I love this quote.

But.

To Kill a Mockingbird was written by Harper Lee, a white woman.

The narrator of the book is Scout, a white child.

The hero of the book is Atticus, her white father.

The embodiment of the theme, the person whose skin Scout tries to step into, is Boo Radley, another white man.

Do you remember, the man who was murdered? Do you see him in that picture at the top of the post? How long does it take you to remember his name?

When do we step into his skin? When do we walk around with his perspective?

I love To Kill a Mockingbird. But if a school district wanted to teach a book to embody this quote, aren't there so many better ones?

Another commenter on the post appears to have actual lived experience with this book being removed from the teaching curriculum.

#to kill a mockingbird #usual disclaimer: please don't try to find any of the people whose comments I quoted #they were reacting to the screenshotted tweet in the way that the tweet was designed to provoke

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lucky-clover-gazette · 6 months ago

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kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 4

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘Does it bother you to think of him hurting your country?’ ‘You know it does. Are we playing now with the fate of nations? It won’t bring your brother back.’ There was a violent silence.

the girls are fightinggggg (love damen calling laurent on his misdirected bullshit)

‘You know, my uncle knew who you were,’ said Laurent. ‘He spent this whole time waiting for us to fuck. He wanted to tell me who you were himself, and watch it wreck me. Oh, had you guessed that? You just thought you’d fuck me anyway? Couldn’t help yourself?’

i’m sure it’s easier for laurent to entertain the notion that nothing damen did was real at all, and doing so also hurts damen, so two birds one stone

‘You said, “Kiss me”,’ said Laurent, each word enunciated clearly. ‘You said, “Laurent, I need to be inside you, you feel so good, Laurent,”’ He switched to Akielon, as Damen had, at the climax, ‘‘it’s never felt like this, I can’t hold on, I’m going to—’’

i did my complex analysis of laurent’s mean girl era last chapter. this is a good example of him just being a petty bitch for the reasons outlined in that analysis

‘Charcy,’ said Laurent, ‘was a distraction. I have it from Guion. My uncle sailed for Ios three days ago, and by now he has made landfall.’

and it worked, and laurent was too emotionally compromised to anticipate or prevent it. imagine laurent learning that, directly after being tortured. and now he’s dealing with this. Ls on Ls on Ls.

(or did he know? stuff he says later makes me think he might have, but then again, he also lies to damen a LOT in this scene)

‘I see. And my men are to die fighting him for you, the way that they did at Charcy?’

i mean the previous chapter already established that they both know laurent meant to be there, but if they’re doing cheap shots, i guess this works fine in a pinch

Laurent’s smile was not pleasant. ‘On that table is a list of supplies and troops. I will give it to you, in support of your campaign to the south.’ ‘In exchange for,’ said Damen, steadily. ‘Delpha,’ said Laurent in the same tone. He felt the shock that made him remember that this was Laurent, and not any other young man of twenty.

He had not come here prepared to negotiate. Laurent had. Laurent was here as the Prince of Vere facing the King of Akielos. Laurent had known who he was all along. The list, written in Laurent’s own hand, had been prepared before this meeting.

all true, but don’t underestimate the fact that laurent did NOT anticipate falling in love or actually trusting you as an ally

He said, ‘Did you plan this from the beginning?’

so "from the beginning" is complicated here. if i'm going to try to sort things out to the best of my ability, i think a good place to start is making a list of things laurent could NOT have expected at the beginning of the series, when he was presented with damen:

that damen would not immediately take any opportunity provided to him to escape captivity

that damen is a respectable and admirable person and invaluable strategic and military asset

that damen and laurent would fall in love (and even still now, i don't think laurent is letting himself believe damen really cares, and certainly isn't letting damen do the caring)

that the regent would try to assassinate his own nephew. laurent says in the text, at some point, that this was a genuine surprise, and that he didn't think his uncle would ever go that far

but, okay, even if laurent didn't expect the assassination attempt, or any of the other minor things in vere like the patras debacle, did he expect at some point to find himself and his men forced to do a military campaign? he must have, which is why he started the correspondence with delpha. i suppose he could have planned to do that from vere, too, and just adjusted things when he was forced to travel. and nothing that laurent failed to expect directly got in the way of the foundation of his plan, if his objective was to obtain delpha and make enough allies that together they can take down the regent.

so to answer damen's question, yes! laurent planned this specific long-term objective (taking delpha, getting kastor and the regent in ios, methodically turning a faction of powerful akielions against kastor and gaining the support of vask and patras) from the beginning. because he recognized damen the moment he saw him, laurent could immediately put together that kastor is allied with the regent, who would totally come up with something like this to torture laurent. and so laurent put his mental energy into planning a way to gain enough political and military power to defeat both kastor and the regent, and further manipulate them into being so confident that they would have no time to retaliate when the people laurent enlisted attacked them. i don't think laurent gave a shit if kastor lived or died, or stayed on the throne, as long as the regent was defeated, but it made sense for kastor to be a priority as well since the alliance between kastor and the regent makes the regent more powerful.

and, to be generous to laurent, none of this really has anything to do with damen. like none of it is designed to punish him, it doesn't even really involve him. it's another instance of laurent just living in a different genre from the start. damen's pov has been so fixed on his relationship and interactions with laurent, but there's been so much more happening that we just haven't seen. and laurent, i think we can assume, is and has always been deeply focused on things other than their relationship.

but even now, this plan doesn't do damen direct harm. the most harm it does is make things awkward with nikandros, and make damen feel bad about the regent being in his own country (which was probably going to happen anyway). but still, damen is super pissed. he doesn't realize or admit it, but i almost think the fact that laurent always had this plan makes him a little insecure. like, to realize that he hasn't been as important or useful to laurent as he previously assumed. on top of all the other stuff pissing him off about the situation, he's also jealous of an abstract plan, because it's had laurent's attention from the start, and right now laurent is choosing that plan over their friendship/relationship. a kingdom, or this.

laurent doesn't want to deal with "this," and honestly has some pretty pressing matters beyond "this" to handle, so he's chosen "a kingdom." even if damen's heart is still stuck with "this," he'll have to follow laurent's lead and focus on "a kingdom" too. i'm sure they'll both do a perfectly professional and functional job of this, and it won't make things inconvenient or uncomfortable for any of their allies at all.

‘The hard part was getting Guion to let me into his fort.’ Laurent said it steadily, the private edge to his voice a little more private than usual.

do they ever talk about it? like does laurent ever tell damen what happened in the cell?

also i like how damen doesn’t take this as like flippant and arrogant, as he would have in book 1. he immediately clocks that laurent is hiding something and just deflecting.

Damen said, ‘In the palace you had me beaten, drugged, whipped. And you ask me to give up Delpha? Why don’t you tell me instead why I shouldn’t simply hand you over to your uncle, in exchange for his aid against Kastor?’

like you ever would.

‘Because I knew who you were,’ said Laurent, ‘and when you killed Touars and humiliated my uncle’s faction, I sent the news of it echoing to every corner of my country. So that if you ever crawled back onto your throne there would be no possibility of an alliance between you and my uncle.

good failsafe, laurent didn’t know he wouldn’t need it. although i’m sure it’s both vindicating and hurting laurent to hear damen threaten this, making the failsafe necessary, even if we know that damen’s heart isn’t in it.

'Do you want to play this game against me? I will take you apart.’

this is all very complicated and unnecessary and frustrating to damen, but it's laurent's area of expertise. this kind of emotionally evasive manipulative political negotiation makes him feel empowered. the approach laurent takes in this scene is almost certainly a way for him to cope with the things in his life that feel uncontrollable and uncomfortable, by doing something familiar that he knows he can control.

‘Take me apart?’ Damen said deliberately. ‘If I opposed you, the remaining scrap of land you hold would have a different enemy on each side, and your efforts would be split in three directions.’ ‘Believe me,’ said Laurent, ‘when I say that you would have my undivided attention.’

this is soooo amy dunne of him

Damen let his eyes pass over Laurent slowly, where he stood. ‘You’re alone. You don’t have allies. You don’t have friends. You’ve proven true everything your uncle ever said about you. You made deals with Akielos. You even bedded an Akielon—and by now, everyone knows it. You’re clinging to independence with a single fort and the tatters of a reputation.’ He gave every word its weight. ‘So let me tell you the terms of this alliance. You will give me everything on this list, and in return I will aid you against your uncle. Delpha remains with Akielos. Let’s not pretend you have anything here worth a bargain.’

damen honey i’m so sorry but you cannot win this one. especially when you yourself would probably lay down your life on instinct for laurent if someone randomly came into this tent and tried to kill him

‘Please,’ said Laurent, ‘insult me further. Tell me more about my tattered reputation. Tell me all the ways that bending over for you has damaged my position. As if being fucked into the mattress by the King of Akielos could be anything other than demeaning. I am dying to hear it.’

and somehow laurent still manages to turn even his own shitty decisions back on damen, implying that even if laurent owned up to being fucked by damen, it couldn’t be anything other than demeaning, and damen is a fool for considering it to be genuine lovemaking

‘Did you think,’ said Laurent, ‘that I would come here without the means to enforce my terms? I hold the only proof of Kastor’s treachery that extends beyond your word.’ ‘My word is enough to the men that matter.’ ‘Is it? Then by all means, reject my offer. I will execute Guion for treason and hold the letter over the nearest candle.’

cunt (affectionate)

‘Are we going to play another kind of pretend?’ Damen said. ‘That it never happened?’

and in this game of pretend, damen doesn’t get to hand-feed a pretty blonde named laurent >:(

‘If you are concerned it will go unmentioned between us, never fear. Every man in my camp knows that you served me in bed.’

“you served me” GOD laurent you are such a bitch

And that is how it is to be between us?’ said Damen. ‘Mercenary? Cold?’

if laurent was normal, there are plenty of reassuring things he could tell damen to explain that they can do this together, and ios will be okay, and they're in a good position to win as a team. but since he's being a salty little bitch, he's not going to do any of that, and he's going to make damen feel extra bad by using their romantic history against him. and despite all of these slights against him, damen knows that he has no choice but to give laurent delpha and ally himself with laurent's cause. because laurent really has planned this from the beginning. sure, current damen probably still would have done all that if laurent had just asked, but book 1 laurent had no idea of anticipating their allyship, and book 3 laurent is intentionally trying to push him away.

‘How did you think it would be?’ said Laurent. ‘You’d take me to your bed for the public consummation?’ It hurt.

this is a brutal scene for damen, even if i understand laurent’s headspace. i’m sorry buddy, breakups are no fun.

actually, do you think damen has ever experienced a breakup? he’s a prince who grew up with a harem of sex slaves. jokaste just kind of did whatever she wanted and damen was chill with it. so probably not.

It was too neat. He hadn’t thought as far as Kastor’s defeat, or who would become kyros in Ios, the traditional seat of the King’s closest adviser. Nikandros was the ideal candidate.

not laurent doing damen’s job for him…

‘I see you’ve thought of everything,’ said Damen, bitterly. ‘It didn’t have to be—you could have come to me, and asked for my help, I would have—’ ‘Killed the rest of my family?’

i mean, laurent definitely wants the regent dead. i think this is just a dig about auguste, and furthermore about damen not telling laurent the truth at any point.

also, damen straight-up admitting that he would have helped damen is something laurent would have needed a gun to his head to say out loud, and there aren’t even guns in this world. i said this in a note last chapter, but laurent assumes that damen is just as terrified of attachment and vulnerability as he (laurent) is, but we see that damen is willing to swear attachment and make himself vulnerable in order to support laurent and build trust. laurent is just denying that aspect of damen, because he’s traumatized and stubborn and doesn’t want to be let down.

Thickly, Damen remembered running his sword through the man he’d believed was the Regent; as if killing the Regent would be his expiation. It wouldn’t.

that explains why damen acted how he did in battle. but he also knows, in the reality of this moment, that it wouldn’t have made up for auguste even if he had killed the regent. killing a member of laurent’s family isn’t going to make up for the fact that he killed a member of his family.

He thought of all Laurent had done here, every piece of impersonal leverage, to control this meeting, to ensure it played out on his terms. ‘Congratulations,’ said Damen. ‘You’ve forced my hand. You have what you want. Delpha, in exchange for your aid in the south. Nothing given freely, nothing done out of feeling, everything coerced, with bloodless planning.’

this is almost laurentian, in terms of dialogue. very poetic and theatrical. damen is not handling this breakup well, and it’s almost like he’s defensively taking on some of laurent’s overdramatic bitchiness. it’s a reaction from him we haven’t really seen since book 1.

this dialogue also feels slightly anachronistic, in a good way. with some minor editing it could be a believable text that modern au damen would send after laurent breaks up with him in a formal email even though they still have to work on an assignment together. i think it's the "nothing given freely, nothing done out of feeling, everything coerced, with bloodless planning" that really gives off the vibe of an emotionally compromised teenager trying to cope with the fact that they still have to see their ex in english class.

‘Good,’ said Laurent. He took a step back. Then, as if a pillar of control had finally collapsed, Laurent surrendered his full weight to the table behind him, his face drained of all colour. He was trembling, his hairline pricked with the sweat of injury. He said: ‘Now get out.’

laurent: i won. get out. also laurent:

Laurent had known who he was, and had still made love to him. He wondered what mix of yearning and self-delusion had allowed Laurent to do that.

may i interest you in the “sam reads capri” tag on my tumblr blog, damen?

also i just think “he wondered what mix of yearning and self-delusion has allowed laurent to do that” is a BANGER line. maybe one of my favorites in the series. astute, bewildered, devastating (sad), and devastating (scathing) all at once.

If he’d imagined it, it was as a single, cataclysmic event, an unmasking that, whatever followed, would be over. Violence would have been both punishment and release. He had never imagined that it would instead go on and on; that the truth had been known; that it had been painfully absorbed; that it would be this crushing pressure that wouldn’t leave his chest.

damen always thought that he would be the one to rip off the bandaid for them both, so the entire time he has been saving them the pain by waiting. but now he knows that laurent never had a bandaid, and he (damen) has been left to slowly and painfully pry off his own. the pain isn’t over, it’s just beginning. and laurent has felt it this entire time, in a way damen put off for himself.

Laurent had tamped down the smothered emotion in his eyes, and would endure an alliance with his brother’s killer, though he felt nothing but aversion. If he could do it, Damen could do it. He could make impersonal negotiations, speak in the formal language of kings.

(also wow do i want to tell damen that laurent isn’t averse to him, he’s just lashing out, and badly needs someone to show him love and support at this time. but as always, oh fuck, he can’t hear me. and to be fair, it isn’t really in-character for damen to just passively accept poor treatment, or to force laurent to accept his support when he’s been told to go away.)

The ache of loss didn’t make sense, because Laurent had never been his. He had known that. The delicate thing that had grown between them had never had a right to exist.

and yet it did exist, and it does exist, and it will exist, and that’s why we’re reading about it.

damen and laurent both feel like they have a right to their kingdom’s thrones as princes, but they don’t have the right to simply be people in love. again, a kingdom or this. the themes are theming.

If it hurt, it was fitting; it was simply kingship.

what did i just say??? THE THEMES ARE THEMING!!!

If he could give Laurent up, he could do this.

stoppp can someone get him a pint of ice cream and an olivia rodrigo album (should i make lamen divorce era playlists. like one for each of them.)

Damen remembered hoping for a homecoming where it could be between them as it was in the old days. As if friendship of that kind could survive statesmanship.

damen’s being soooo broody about the ways kingship nerfs his social and romantic life, omg. it’s a hint of his immaturity and relative youth to other people in power, and his difference in jadedness and trauma compared to laurent. he is still lowkey a frat guy who wants to party, even though he cares about his schoolwork and future prospects

‘He’s playing us against each other,’ said Nikandros. ‘This is calculated. He is trying to weaken you.’ Damen said, ‘I know. It’s like him.’

"yes, honey..."

nikandros private twitter venting moment #4. especially considering damen’s response

‘He left us at Charcy.’ ‘There was a reason for that.’ ‘But I am not to know it.’

damen doesn’t really know the reason, but he can assure nik, there was a reason. nikandros private twitter venting moment #5.

It was not worth Delpha. He could see that Nikandros knew it, as Damen had known it. ‘I would make this easier,’ said Damen, ‘if I could.’ Silence, while Nikandros kept his words in check.

nikandros private twitter moment #6. this time he just posts a blurry picture of laurent’s offer and captions it with “🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬”

‘The men will talk,’ said Nikandros. He was pushing the words out with distaste, he did not want to say, ‘About—’ Damen said, ‘No.’ And then, as though Nikandros couldn’t help the words that came out next, ‘If you would at least take off the cuff—’ ‘No. It stays.’ He refused to lower his eyes.

kind of curious why, in this moment, damen is so determined about this. he’s had reasons in the past, but it would be cool to get some current insight, if it’s not just an instinctual thing

Nikandros turned away and put his palms flat on the table, resting his weight there. Damen could see the resistance in Nikandros’s shoulders, bunched across his back, his palms still flat on the table.

nikandros private twitter moment #7. he just posts this meme with no further elaboration:

Into the painful silence, Damen said, ‘And you? Will I lose you?’ It was all he allowed himself. It came out in a steady enough voice, and he made himself wait, and say nothing more.

AWWW poor baby :( no like fr damen :(((( it’s going to be okay

As though the words were coming up from the depths of him, against his will, Nikandros said, ‘I want Ios.’ Damen let out a breath. Laurent, he realised suddenly, wasn’t playing them against one another. He was playing to Nikandros. There was a dangerous expertise in all of this; in knowing how far Nikandros’s loyalty might be stretched, and what would keep it from snapping. Laurent’s presence in the room was almost tangible.

i think this was more an unintended outcome of the plan, but i’m sure mean girl era laurent would be pleased to know that his actions inadvertently incentivized damen’s best friend to declare himself loyal to his ex (laurent) instead

‘Listen to me, Damianos. If you have ever valued my counsel, listen. He is not on our side. He is Veretian, and he’ll be bringing an army into our country.’ ‘To fight his uncle. Not to fight us.’ ‘If someone kills your family you don’t rest until they are dead.’

i know this is nikandros trying to convince damen that laurent isn’t just going to let go of what damen did to auguste, and can’t be trusted as an ally. but it also makes nikandros accidentally sound like a book 1 laurent apologist, by making the statement with “you” as if it’s a universal maxim. like, if nik was in laurent’s shoes, he would have wanted damen tortured and dead too. nik is an interesting guy, because he's a little more aggressive with his principles unprovoked than damen, but he’s also similarly limited in perspective due to his status and lack of humbling experiences. i’ll try to do more complex analysis in addition to memeing on him, if/when opportunities arise

Nikandros was shaking his head. ‘Or do you really think he’s forgiven you for killing his brother?’ ‘No. He hates me for it.’ He said it steadily, without flinching. ‘But he hates his uncle more. He needs us. And we need him.’

damen going full ant with a bindle :(((

‘You need him enough that you would strip me of my home, because he asked you to?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen.

nik private twitter vent #8. this time he literally just tweets a single “.”

The men came to attention as he passed, and said only, ‘Exalted,’ if he spoke. It was not like sitting around a campfire swilling wine, exchanging low tales and ribald speculations.

he should be at the club

Jord and the other Veretians from Ravenel had been sent back to Laurent to rejoin his army in the extravagant tents at Fortaine.

jord and the others standing awkwardly nearby laurent’s tent, trying to ignore the muffled adele ballad playing within

Alone, he didn’t have to be King.

i can’t believe that damen, groomed from birth for eventual kingship, now resents that kingship almost exclusively because it means he can’t be boyfriends with laurent. blonde man brainrot

He wasn’t alone. She was naked, at the base of the stark pallet, her full breasts hanging downwards, her forehead to the floor. She didn’t have palace training, and so could not quite disguise the fact that she was nervous. Her fair hair was caught back from her face in a fragile clasp, a northern custom. She was perhaps nineteen or twenty, her body trained and ready for him. She had prepared a bath in an unadorned wooden tub, so that if he pleased he might make use of it; or of her.

the way this is written, especially in the context of the series so far, makes this hard to read as anything other than revolting. i think this is due to a few craft elements:

the clinical description, lacking sensuality entirely

damen relating the things he’s observing to the aspects of the institution that he understands (she wasn’t trained in the palace = slaves are trained to do this. she was placed here for him to use = she didn’t show up here because she wanted to be here, or even knew him at all, or wanted pleasure of her own). unlike his past self, who passively understood the institution but chose not to think too hard about what it implied, the mental connections damen has made through being a slave himself prevent him from regarding this slave with the same thoughtlessness

damen's observations portray the anxiety and vulnerability of the slave, rather than willingness or submission. in book 1 we have a lot of moments where damen thinks of slaves as lovely, sweet, aimless non-people, almost like they're lobotomized. he regards them in a way that's both condescending and unconcerned for their free will, because they don't want or need free will, because they're slaves. his issue with the mistreatment of the akielion slaves in vere wasn't with their enslavement itself; it was with the cruelty of their masters, non-slaves who have free will and therefore should use it honorably. at the time, he truly believed that, as long as a master is kind, a slave has no reason to feel anxious or vulnerable or afraid, because there is honor in a slave's submission. if book 1 damen noticed that a slave was nervous, he would have found it adorable and charming, and would have taken it as an invitation to prove himself a caring master. but that doesn't even cross his mind here, while noticing this slave's nervousness in book 3.

another interesting craft detail: a sort of parallelism in the last part. damen notices that the bath, an object, has been prepared for him—just as the slave, a person, has been prepared for him. he groups them together, in that their same designated function is to be used: "he could make use of it; or of her." and that's where he stops the description altogether, because i don't think he feels comfortable with what that similarity between person and object implies.

it's easy to simply tell a reader that a character has evolved. if this story was written by a different author, there might have just been a moment where damen said out loud, "actually i've realized that slavery is bad," while the topic was otherwise avoided beyond its relevance to the story.

it's much harder to show, consistently throughout the story, exactly how that evolution has occurred, and the difference in damen's perspective compared to how he'd thought about slavery at the start. well done, pacat.

He had known that there were slaves with Nikandros’s army, following behind with the carts and the supplies. He had known that when he returned to Akielos there would be slaves.

… but seeing it in person is still viscerally uncomfortable

‘Get up,’ he heard himself say, awkwardly, a wrong order for a slave. There was a time when he would have expected this, and known how to behave around it. He would have appreciated the charm of her rustic northern skills, and bedded her, if not tonight then certainly in the morning. Nikandros knew him, and she was his type. She was Nikandros’s best, that was evident; a slave from his personal retinue, perhaps even his favourite, because Damen was his guest and his King. She got up. He didn’t speak. She had a collar around her neck, and metal cuffs around her small wrists that were like the one that he— ‘Exalted,’ she said, quietly. ‘What is wrong?’ He let out a strange, unsteady breath. He realised that his breathing had been unsteady for some time, that his flesh was unsteady. That the silence had been stretching out between them too long. ‘No slaves,’ said Damen. ‘Tell the Keeper. Send no one else. For the length of the campaign I will be dressed by an adjutant, or a squire.’

see my previous comment. this is really well-done, especially the panic attack-esque reaction and ptsd trigger. i made a comment a WHILE ago about the way both damen and laurent have ptsd in this series, but it manifests differently due to their proximity to their own traumas. laurent’s trauma was prolonged but a few years in the past; he’s had a lot of time to learn how to cope with it since. but damen’s trauma began when the story began, and it’s been intense and unrelenting basically the whole time: his father’s death, kastor and jokaste’s betrayal, his enslavement, his time in arles, his loss of identity by laurent’s side, and his forced return to his royal identity and obligations. that’s a lot of shit to unpack, and most of it is still happening. it's raw, and damen has had no time to process. nor has he received comfort, or even acknowledgement of what's happened to him as the trauma it is.

"he realised that his breathing had been unsteady for some time." this is a person experiencing a ptsd trigger for what might be the very first time, realizing as it happens just how quickly and thoroughly trauma can disorient his mental, physical, and emotional awareness and self-control. there is the complex intellectual development i discussed in the previous comment re: damen's feelings about slavery, but it's also this visceral gut reaction that tells damen and the reader that things will never be the same.

‘Wait.’ He couldn’t send her naked through the camp. ‘Here,’ he unpinned his cloak, and whirled it around her shoulders. He felt the wrongness of it, pushing against every protocol. ‘The guard will escort you back.’

he felt the wrongness of doing the right thing, but he still did it anyway. i think that is a big moment for damen, especially relating to akielion slavery.

i know i talk a lot about laurent in these notes, because i love laurent very much. but i also love damen, and i’m glad that he is our narrator. his pov is a big reason why these books work, in their chosen genre, at all. and i do think that this genre was a choice—laurent may be living a gritty psychological thriller, but a big theme of the series as a whole is that laurent was sweet in the past, and has the right to a life where he can be sweet again. but laurent, as we meet him at the start of these books, is heartless by choice. damen is many things, but he is never heartless. and whatever genre these books are, i think they're deeply defined by the fact that they're written with heart. they are not cynical, and they are not jaded. that's why damen, and not laurent, is our narrator. laurent's cynicism and jadedness are a foil to damen's idealism and trusting/forgiving nature. while damen does have some things to learn from laurent about strategy and cultural misconceptions, the ethos of the series matches damen's emotional and philosophical outlook far more than laurent's. ultimately, damen's heart helps laurent reclaim his sweetness, and become a better ruler and happier person. damen's heart is also what leads damen himself to reform akielion slavery, unite his kingdom with vere, and step out from his father's shadow. this is, at the end of the day, damen's story. and i don't think it would be the same story, with the same meaning or heart, if it was told by anyone else.

which, regarding meaning—in addition to the individual chapters, i do want to start thinking more about some of the more overarching things going on with capri. so i might as well start now. and if i had to start formulating an overall series thesis at this point in the re-read, i think it would have something to do with the concepts of submission and captivity.

captivity and submission both imply, in our common perception, a coerced and degrading loss of free will. and we certainly see that, in the way damen and laurent have both been held captive and degraded throughout their stories. we also see how, despite being victims themselves, they both have used captivity and submission to coerce and degrade others (laurent coerces and degrades damen to avenge his brother) and deny them free will (damen is complicit in the institution of akielion slavery, which denies slaves free will). for a lot of the series, damen and laurent are in constant disagreement about which of them is morally worse—damen thinks laurent is worse because of the coercion and degradation, laurent thinks damen is worse, and therefore deserves the coercion and degradation, because damen is complicit in akielion slavery and killed his brother. but we as the reader start to realize, as the series goes on, that they're both right about some things, both wrong about other things, both hypocrites on occasion, both doing harm, both trying to help, both captors, and both captives.

from this, it would make sense to assume that captivity and submission are the problem here, and the story's thesis is that those concepts are always dishonorable. however, i don't think that's the point at all. i think capri is about the ways captivity and submission can be honorable, if actively chosen with the moral responsibility, complex thought, and emotional depth of a person with free will. after all, what are loyalty and integrity, if not freely-chosen emotional and intellectual captivity? what are vulnerability and attachment, if not physical and emotional submission freely given?

damen and laurent are both complicated people who do dishonorable things. however, in their own respective arcs and in their shared romantic plotline, they both come to understand the multifaceted nature of captivity and submission, and reclaim those concepts as sources of empowerment, healing, and positive change. it's the difference between damen being forced to submit to laurent as a slave in arles in book 1, and damen choosing to stay by laurent's side in book 2 as a man. it's the difference between laurent submitting to his uncle, being manipulated into vulnerability so he can degraded and abused, and submitting to damen, making himself vulnerable despite his trauma so he can be truly loved and cared for.

this isn't a fully formed thesis yet, but it's good to at least get it cooking. and i'm not trying to guess the author's intention as much as summarize my own succinct interpretation. there isn't, like, One Right Answer here, and i'm not setting out to read the author's mind.

but still, i dunno, man… i think i'm onto something. after all, we have these major arcs about damen realizing slavery is wrong and laurent struggling with submission, and yet both of them proudly choose to keep the cuffs. and in a more metatextual sense, the evolution of this story's genre and purpose (slavekink erotica -> whatever the fuck these books are) is not irrelevant. so i'll keep an eye on it, and hopefully come up with something solid by the end of the re-read. i unironically love the challenge of writing a succinct thesis, which is not the nerdiest thing i've ever said, but it's definitely in the top 5.

#capri #sam reads capri #captive prince #kings rising #lamen #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #this one is very damen-centric yay <3333

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trueloveistreacherous · 1 year ago

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Hello, everyone!

So I decided to do another celebration, because I had so much with my previous one (and because I couldn't do another classic follow forever anymore because of that stupid character limit, couldn't tag all the blogs I love). I still can't believe I have been here for 12 years now lmao and a lot of people are still following me, so I wanted to show my appreciation once again to all of my followers! I am so grateful for all the love you’ve been sending me (whether through your tags on my gifsets, people tagging me in their gifsets or your sweet messages) for all these years I’ve been in this site. Thank you so much for following me and sticking with me and my multifandom mess of a blog.

For this celebration, here are the rules:

you must be following me

reblogging this post is not required but is appreciated

Then you can send me the following:

📺 + a tv show episode for a timestamp roulette gifset

✨ + two characters/ships/dynamics/shows for a make me choose gifset

📝 + a show/ship/character and a song lyric/quote/poem of your choice and I’ll make a gifset of it. here are some examples: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x and x or i can make something like this: x and x. (I’d like for your requests in this to be specific as possible!)

💜 + list a few of your favorite things/interests (regardless if I know them or not) for a special gifset from me! (mutuals only)

TV shows I can gif: brooklyn nine nine, parks and recreation, the good place, abbott elementary, only murders in the building, ted lasso, barry, russian doll, the bear, the get down, ER, severance, leverage, leverage: redemption, the nanny, the office, icarly (2021), a league of their own, girls5eva, freaks and geeks, the afterparty, poker face, mythic quest, shrinking, bad sisters, hacks, atypical, shadowhunters, euphoria

All the posts I’ll be making for this celebration will be on the #marellas12thyearceleb tag! You can also check all the stuff I made in my previous celebration here!

Tagging some mutuals below the cut:

@montygreen, @nessa007, @jakeyp, @benjiwyatt, @forbescaroline, @royalarmyofoz, @narliee, @userlarri, @dani-clayton, @siobhans-roy, @rosamundpkes, @scratchybeardsweetmouth, @janinegregory, @crowley-anthony, @nick-nellson, @amy-santiagos, @maisieepeters, @katecastle, @chandler-monica, @mcbride, @b99peraltiago, @gilliandersons, @sophiedevreaux, @levy-tran, @veryfrstnight, @prideandprejudice, @softdavidrose, @useyourtelescope, @shivgirly, @petersthree, @laurabenanti, @singularities, @rebecca-weltons, @morgana-pendragon, @jakeperalta, @bellamysgriffin, @sharpesjoy, @saw-x, @matlillard, @fawad-khan, @damn-salvatore, @tylrgalpins, @stydixa, @gamoraswonder, @kitsebastianconnor, @miriammaisel, @hauntedlilies, @rachelsennot, @riley-keoughs, @kitconnor

#marellas12thyearceleb #let's see where this goes <3

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rumicworldweek · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Rumic World Week 2023! To celebrate Rumiko Takahashi´s 45 year long career and her birthday the event will run from October 4th to October 10th.

Prompts:

DAY 1 ♦ OCT 4TH -> favourite manga and/or anime

DAY 2 ♦ OCT 5TH -> favourite chapter or episode

DAY 3 ♦ OCT 6TH -> favourite main character

DAY 4 ♦ OCT 7TH -> favourite dynamic

DAY 5 ♦ OCT 8TH -> favourite secondary character

DAY 6 ♦ OCT 9TH -> favourite scene or quote

DAY 7 ♦ OCT 10TH -> free choice ♦ Happy Birthday Rumiko Takahashi!

Alternative prompts for writers and artists. Or anyone that doesn’t feel inspired by the previous ones.

DAY 1 ♦ OCT 4TH -> pre canon

DAY 2 ♦ OCT 5TH -> smile / laughter

DAY 3 ♦ OCT 6TH -> missing moment

DAY 4 ♦ OCT 7TH -> alternative universe

DAY 5 ♦ OCT 8TH -> hurt / comfort

DAY 6 ♦ OCT 9TH -> festival

DAY 7 ♦ OCT 10TH -> free choice

To participate mention @rumicworldweek in your post and/or tag your post with #rumicworldweek.

The prompts were chosen in order to encourage everyone to participate.

You’re free to combine the two lists or pick only one or alternate between the two.

You can combine the days or skip some. You can choose which manga/anime to use for each prompt. Ranma can be your favourite main and Rinne your favourite manga.

Any type of participation is welcome. Drabbles, graphics, fanarts, gifs, fanfics, playlists, scans, colorings… text posts explaining why Ranma is your favourite character. Everything will be reblogged here. Feel free to send an ask if your post wasn’t reblogged.

If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask!

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theorphicangel · 2 years ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦!) 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 |

synopsis: 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝟑 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐒𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

tags: roommates au, fem!reader, eventual smut, mutual pining, friends to lovers

taglist: lmk if you would like to be tagged!@xxdarkdarlingxx @katestrophes @drdaddystrange @bejewelledd @medli-komali @fondalilly @alyssa212 @apolloshaiku @xinsonyax @chunea @asa-the-ace @thevelria @midnightdrearyyy @hybridrainbow @mrsackermannx @burningxaces @omlbarnes @flowersun @taehyung-luv @velouria17 @444chim @hybridrainbow @xinsonyax @crbin-quinn @amourely @sujiroses @srdcee

Chapter 03: March

Previous Chapter.

Next chapter ~

Warnings: blood, bleeding, nothing too gory but just a heads up, reader gets glass shards in her foot I guess, tweezers needed

Oi–you’re making a fucking mess.”

As a response you shrug helplessly at Levi who stands beside you begrudgingly.

There’s a metal whisk gripped tightly in your hand as you mix the contents of butter and brown caster sugar in the bowl. The contents soon become sprinkled across the kitchen counter as you quicken your circular motions.

“How am I not supposed to make a mess?” you retort, “You do realize baking is supposed to be messy.”

“Everything is messy when it comes down to you.” Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause your movements to glare at him in total offense at his statement.

He scoffs lightly and you don’t miss the way that the corners of his mouth are slightly tilted up, clearly amused that he’s succeeded in pissing you off. He clarifies his point further by providing an example.

“Even the simple task of filling a glass with water leaves you flooding the entire kitchen.”

“Okay, one; that was a complete exaggeration, two; so what if I accidentally spilled some water one time? – big deal.” you huff, your hand keeping a tight grip on the metal whisk as you mix.

Before long you nod towards a bowl placed near Levi.

“Put the eggs in.”

His hand moves slightly before pausing abruptly and once again there’s that goddamn look on his face. That one expression that manages to irk every single bone in your body yet at the same time it causes your cheeks to flush with warmth under no reasonable explanation.

“Looks like someone has no fucking manners in here mhm?” he hums softly before reaching for the bowl of eggs anyways. The low vibrato in his throat was unexpected by you – causing the pit of your stomach to turn into absolute butterflies..

“You don’t deserve any after calling me, and I quote, ‘messy’. ’' you pointed out, purposely avoiding the way that his eyes lingered on your face whilst in the middle of pouring the beaten eggs into the bowl.

“I was only stating the truth.” His gray eyes were still latched onto you which only further succeeded in making you feel intimidated. Consciously, you chose to avoid meeting his eyes and instead pour all of your focus onto the task of mixing the eggs with the butter and sugar.

“Flour.”

“Mix first.”

“I am.”

He tuts at you with his nose scrunched up in disgust. “You’re not even doing it properly.”

Levi had tried to keep a hold of his patience throughout, yet at the sight of the contents beginning to land on his usually spotless, clean and gleaming counter you knew it would be before long til his true habits started to peek through.

“Let me-” he began.

“No.” You shutted down his offer firmly before he could even finish. Shaking your head you continue. “I’m an independent woman and I know how to mix flour and butter.”

“If you wanna call mixing by spilling the raw ingredients out on the counter then clearly there must be something wrong with you.”

You snap your head towards him, breaking your promise of no eye contact, that warmth which you had just felt turned to irritation.

“Say one more word, I dare you, and I’ll kick you out for the rest of the night. ” You warn seethingly, pointing a finger at him to add to your threatening glance which unfortunately fails in any attempt to even cause horror to him.

But you weren’t totally bluffing either.

If he was going to doubt and cause negativity over your preparation for tonight's sleepover with Petra and Hange then maybe it’d be better for him to stay away.

Levi quickly caught onto this notion of yours and backed down immediately. No chance in hell he was going to leave the three of you in his apartment and turn it into a warzone.

“I don’t even be around anyways, brat. I’m staying in my room.” Levi quips back hastily.

“Good.” your jaw clenched, now focusing on using all your strength to mix.

“Good.” he repeats after you.

You let out another groan at the contents beginning to stick together, making it difficult to mix.

Evidently you weren’t about to ask Levi for help, especially not after your whole ‘independent’ speech.

But wordlessly Levi maneuvers to stand behind you unexpectedly, which in the process, causes your body to freeze including the hand which is holding the metal whisk.

Pausing, your brain comes to the realization that you can feel his front just about touch your back with him fitting perfectly behind you like a jigsaw piece. At once, completed. The smell of his favorite aftershave suddenly takes over your senses as you lose focus on your current task.

Your body begins to short circuit, internally panicking at his close proximity and failing to conjure up ways of how to react in an appropriate manner. Yet, before your brain can even figure out a solution his hand swiftly meets your own on the handle of the whisk and in a matter of seconds he’s soon helping you stir in more circular and concise movements.

“See.” His tone is lowered as he speaks near your earlobe, making your spine straighten and your body lose its focus. “You’re already making less of a mess.”

Your throat grew dry at the low tone of his voice and in fear of your own voice sounding too strained to even give a response you decided to remain silent and instead watch on as his hand continued to keep a tight clasp onto yours.

With his other hand he brought around the bowl which contained the chocolate chips for your cookies.

You should try to focus on mixing and try to seem unfazed by Levi’s rather odd behavior. He’s still standing behind you, pouring in the chocolate chips cautiously as you now steadily mix the batter solo.

Growing with frustration, body and mind unsure of whether it was sexual or just pure annoyance, you chose to address his unusual manner.

“Do you mind?”

“Just supervising.” he states in a deadpan manner. “ Am I distracting you?”

Despite his voice being expressionless you can’t help but feel as if there’s almost a tone of joy in his voice, as if he’s pleased that he’s succeeded in annoying you.

You tut aloud at his statement.

“I don’t need to be supervised and also, no I’m not distracted you’re just-”

“Just what?”

Your mind now breaks down into full panic mode, searching for a suitable word to finish your sentence and after failing to come up with one, as a desperate impulse, your hand immediately stops mixing at the exact moment your eyes land on the opened bag of flour.

Too busy studying your face, Levi doesn’t notice your scheme until you reach a hand inside the opened bag. His eyes begin to widen, mentally cursing himself for not catching onto your plan sooner.

“Oh, don’t you even-”

But before Levi ever had the chance to attempt to move away from you or look for cover a cloud of white flour landed all over his clothes – which were black.

A heavy pause of silence rings in the air. You freeze, your hand still in midair as you take note of Levi’s expression.

Yep. He was going to fucking kill you.

Levi’s eyes remained closed, white powder all over his black turtleneck and even his dark bangs were coated in flour.

Inhaling heavily, he slowly opened his eyes and after just one glance into his glossy eyes regret began to run through your bloodstream. Adrenaline soon joined, taking over as your fight or flight kicked in. Cowardly of course, you pick flight.

Attempting to run past him, your body comes to a sudden halt with your waist stopped by his strong forearm and your eyes subsequently meet his which were dark with clear revenge.

Fear now overtakes your body, evidently through the nervous chuckle that leaves your lips, “I-I was just kidding Le-”

Yet to finish your sentence, white powder is the last you see before immediately closing your eyelids. In a quick second you too are coated in white. Wiping the flour off your face, you hear the sultry tone of your name slip off his tongue.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish, I thought you out of all people knew that?”

And to your surprise when you met his eyes again, they were filled with light humor, teasing you to even dare to continue onwards.

Taking that dare, you again attempt to reach for the bag of flour. Levi’s arms suddenly cage around you, dragging you away from the counter. A playful shriek erupts from your lungs as he places you behind him. And with haste, he himself cups another scoop of flour and chucks it over at you.

Using this to your advantage, you use his attack to provide for your counter, dodging around him to reach inside the opened bag of flour.

After further attacks from both sides, the two of you finally come to an agreed truce. Breathless, you glance around at your shared kitchen. The counters and the kitchen floor mirrored the state of both you and Levi being covered in white dust.

You weren’t looking forward to this clean up.

“Are we putting these cookies in or what?” Levi asked in a dry tone as if he wasn’t just chasing you around with flour less than three minutes ago.

Rolling your eyes, you both work fast to complete your task and as soon as the cookies are placed in the oven, a heavy sigh leaves from your lips.

Motioning to grab the kitchen broom, Levi’s voice stops you from doing so.

“Go shower.” It’s not a statement but more of an order from him. “You’re disgusting.”

You snort, “I could say the same for you to be honest.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t start this shit did I?”

“Fair enough.” Following his advice you begin to head over to your room pulling off your oversized shirt before you even reach your room leaving him with the last view of you in a lacy bra.

Before he could even react you’re already gone, his eyes glued you to your now shut door.

Heat rises throughout him which helps to snap him back into reality as he curses himself silently for acting like a horny teenager.

By the time you emerge from your room, he’s gone. The dishes are all tidied and the floor and kitchen counter are practically gleaming. The tray of baked cookies are placed, left to cool, filling the apartment with its sweet scent.

—

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I dunno’ he’s been moody all afternoon.”

“Maybe he just needs to get laid.”

You and Hange snort at Petra’s comment and she shakes her head propping herself up on her elbows.

“I’m serious- when was the last time he had a girlfriend?” she asks in a low tone, half whispering.

Hange hums in thought at this question. “I think it was years ago now, last year of college I think, I can’t remember her name if I’m being honest with you.”

“Really?” you say, your eyes widen in surprise and a weird sense of sympathy fills your heart.

Hange hums again before they continue. “I don’t think it ended well but he’s never talked about it.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Sad as hell.” Petra interrupted, “We gotta find him a new girl.”

Hange nodded in agreement, “But what would be his type?”

“Anyone who can put up with a broody, sullen, tea fetish kind of man.” Petra noted.

“Ah– so you!” Hange turned towards you and you rolled your eyes.

A series of snickers and giggles were heard from underneath your makeshift fort in the living room of your apartment. Levi was currently standing in the open kitchen cutting up some vegetables on a chopping board where he raised a brow at your giggles. He couldn’t hear the conversation but he had a gut feeling that somehow he was the heart of this topic.

He glimpsed over to the makeshift fort, chairs placed messily across the living room as a large fluffy blanket was strewn over. He exhales through his nostrils before shrugging, carefully chopping up some cucumber.

Petra rubbed her eyes sleepily, “He’s a lonely guy and I did have some hope when you moved in with him but… never mind.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned, a crease appearing between your brows.

“I thought you and Levi-'' Petra coughs suddenly with her body jolting and with innocent concern you pat her gently on the back it being unbeknownst to you that Hange had elbowed Petra as a sign to shut up.

“Me and Levi what?” you repeated, trying to get her to finish her sentence.

“Hoping- th-that someone would finally stand up to his ways, y’know he has a stinky attitude.” she speaks quickly, avoiding your eye contact and you grow suspicious of her change in tone.

“Right.” you say, a little deflated. A part of you sensed that it wasn’t all that Petra wanted to say.

“Are you done with our hot chocolate Munchkin?” Hange called out loudly, from underneath the fort.

No response was heard.

“See! I don't know how anyone would put up with him! How do you do it?.” Hange questioned in a curious tone.

You shug lightly with a soft smile stretched out across your lips.

“Guess I’ve just gotten used to his habits.”

—

“They’re taking up all the fucking space.”

Your hand is quick to find his arm in the dark and pinch his skin. Hearing him quietly seethe sadistically gives you satisfaction as he's ready to curse you out but you soon cut him off.

“They are our friends and we are having a sleepover.” you whisper in a low tone.

“So you had to build a fucking fort in the middle of the apartment like fucking children?”

“Yes, yes we did.” you admit without shame.

He shrugs, “You’re cleaning this up tomorrow and-” he squints his eyes at you before continuing, “I’m not helping you move your mattress.”

“Suit yourself, I’m an independent woman.”

“You can’t even fill your gas up without-”

“That’s not the point right now.”

“Right, of course it isn’t.” he says, his tone thick with sarcasm and despite the lack of light you could swear that you saw a smirk.

Your eyes fixate on him in the darkness, the glow of light comes from the outer world. The glass sliding doors leading to the balcony showcase tall skyscrapers with windows still lit up, you think of those who work deep in the night; the city that never sleeps.

There was comfortable silence between the two of you, yet every now and then a slight hiccup came from Hange and their snoring would discontinue for a few seconds or so before abruptly picking up again.

“How come you’re not under there?” Levi questions, his voice is quiet just loud enough for you to hear him.

“M’ not tired.”

That was a complete lie.

To be honest you were staying up and waiting for a response back from Daniel who hadn’t replied to your suggestion for another date for a whole week. You figured that he might be busy and you didn’t want to disturb him but you couldn’t help but feel deflated, part of the reason why you called your friends over.

A distraction from your otherthinking mind.

Levi silently observed your disappointed expression as you picked up your phone, the screen light illuminating your face, noticing how those eye bags that were all too familiar with him began to show up underneath your own eyes. Tired eyes which search for new notifications and attempt to hide disappointment at the sight of getting none.

“Expecting something?” he asked, he didn’t mean to say it out loud but the words soon left his mouth before he could stop himself.

You shake your head with a soft sigh, setting down your phone on the floor.

“No, no– it’s nothing.”

Rain lightly tapped down at the windows, soon blurring the sight of the city. Endless raindrops raced versus each other creating clear streaks down the window pane.

Thunder rumbled in the darkness of the city and every so often lightning flashed, brightening up the room of the messy living room just for a split second or so.

Petra and Hange were laid on your mattress together cutely curled up underneath your fort. You’d already taken enough pictures to store up all your phone memory but it was without regret.

“Aren’t you going to go to bed? What happened to staying in your room?” you inquired, keeping a light teasing tone in your voice.

He’s sitting beside you leaning against the sliding door that leads to the balcony. There's only a few meters between the two of you, you can’t remember how you both came to be sitting here right now. Levi shakes his head softly, his midnight bangs shifting a little above his eyelids.

“Can’t sleep.”

You knew all too well about his insomnia, something that he tried to hide when you first moved in. Surprised with his routine, you bluntly assumed that he was a morning person – the complete opposite to you – without realizing that he’d been up for most of the night.

You let out a low hum at his statement and said nothing more. There wasn’t anything you could do to comfort him and after knowing him for so long you knew how much he hated pity.

It only occurred to you that he had insomnia when you had woken up to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night once and soon became startled by the sight of a shadowed figure sitting on the couch in the dark. As a result you let out a shriek, dropping the glass on the floor.

Shards spilled everywhere on the floor and you stumbled behind, forgetting the fact that you were barefoot. It wasn’t until Levi had reached the lightswitch that you realized that it wasn't an intruder after all.

A loud seethe from your mouth as you clenched your teeth.

“Fucking hell you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed, leaning back and using your hands to support you on the counter. You couldn’t move now, with pieces of glass strewn all over the floor. Before you knew it he was standing directly in front of you, his infamous scowl written all over his face at the sight of the mess.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Looking back at it now, the irony of him asking what you were doing almost makes you want to laugh. This was a mess that he had caused, which was why you grew in frustration at his question.

“What am I doing? What the fuck are you doing? Sitting in the dark like a complete fucking freak?” you bite back, your tone holding slight hysteria.

Ignoring your question, Levi’s gaze lowers with his dark locks strewn over his eyes. His gray eyes widen a little as they linger at your feet before he murmurs softly, “You’re bleeding.”

“I am currently aware of that, seeing as there are shards of glass surrounding me.”

At this point, the two of you were still fresh roommates, unaware of each other’s personalities and behaviors which caused you to clash more frequently than you would’ve liked to hope.

Levi tried his best not to bite back into a remark, holding his tongue as he walked away.

Typical. You had thought, Of course he wasn’t going to help you out of this mess.

Slowly, you attempt to walk around the shards of glass, wincing as the dark shade of red dripped across the kitchen floor.

But before you could make any progress he came back, a dustpan and brush in his hand.

“Don’t move.”

His tone was sharp and as much as you hated him at this moment you still managed to follow his instructions.

“You should be wearing shoes too.” you blatantly point out, yet of course he was going to be stubborn enough not to listen to you and instead he continued to sweep up the shards of glass until it soon became safe for you to move.

But before you could he was suddenly at your feet, “Can I check?” his hand hovered at your ankle as he glanced up at you. Hesitation was clear in your expression as you pondered on wanting his aid.

He’s practically a stranger to you, which was weird.

However, comparing this possible weirdness to the extreme level of pain that’s shooting from the heel of your foot, you figure it wouldn’t be as bad.

After a short pause of consideration you nod silently allowing him to approach you. You try not to tremble under his touch whilst his fingers gently lift your ankle and check for any fragments of glass.

“You got glass in your heel.” he mumbles, unaware of how much heat is now rising to your cheeks at this intimate position.

“I’ll get it out myself.” you attempt to leave his grip in your faux confidence yet his fingers close a little tighter around your lower ankle stopping you from placing it on the ground.

“Get on the counter.”

Again, you were getting sick of those orders yet you were in too much pain to argue back, with his support you sit on the counter whilst he inspects your other foot.

“I think it’s fine, does it hurt?”

He looks up at you with his glossy gray eyes and you don’t know whether it’s just the bright kitchen light messing with your vision at 2 in the morning or the fact that the pain in your foot is causing your own eyes to water but there was something in his look that made your demeanor slightly relax and begin to trust him a little.

For once, you notice the look of sincerity and concern in his eyes. You caught onto the slight crease between his brows pulling together like a force that he couldn’t control. And finally your eyes fell to his jugular, where he swallowed thickly in anticipation for your response, silently hoping that you wouldn’t be in too much pain.

Based on your failure to respond in time, he bluntly pushed for an answer, unsure of what to make of your weird staring.

“Does it hurt?”

You shake your head softly, “I don’t think so.”

Levi stands up straight again, nearing towards you. “Try.” he says, this time in a less authoritative voice than before.

Quickly you get the hint that he wants to get you to stand on your good foot after checking for shards.

Hesitantly you place your arms on both of his shoulders and use him for support, you slowly slip down from the counter onto your good foot without any sort of pain erupting from your body.

“I’m good.” you say, still leaning on him for balance. His hands currently hover around your waist, not completely touching you, just there as a foundation in case you do lose your balance.

“Think you can make it to the couch for me?” he gently proposes, and it’s only up until now that you realize how close you are to his face.

The crease between his brow is still there, his concern relentless for you. As well as the glow of his gray eyes becoming even more apparent to you, this up close to him. The tinted pink of his lips are getting harder to ignore and just as your eyes catch onto them, you notice his tongue run across his bottom lip in apprehension.

“Yeah, I think I can.”

Using your good foot and with Levi on your other side for support, you stumble around the kitchen island and make it to your couch, grateful that the kitchen and living are both open to each other.

Making your way over, you couldn’t help but notice the firm of his body against yours, the tone of his muscles helping you over. Guess you underestimated him for his height. Oh, how wrong you were.

With Levi’s hand wrapped around your waist, you surprisingly grew quick to feel comfortable under his touch, opening up your trust for him as he guided you to the couch.

His hand placement remained on your waist especially to aid you in taking a seat on the couch, grabbing a small stool he propped your bad foot onto it, careful to grab you by the ankles as gently as he could.

Switching from the bright kitchen light to a warm glow from the lamp situated on the table adjacent to the other end of the couch, your eyes were grateful to not be put underneath the strain for any longer than need be.

You mutter a thanks as Levi makes sure that you’re comfortable enough before he awkwardly announces, “I’ll be right back.”

He disappears into his room leaving you to reflect on the past few minutes alone, you stare out into the city. Tall, giant buildings stood with squares of light illuminating from within, a collective signal for all those who can’t sleep.

Before you know it, Levi’s back with a few items in his hands. He places them down on the table: a tweezer, a little hand towel and some ointment.

“Looks like someone got their medical degree.” you tease, knowing all too well that his degree was practically the opposite.

He snorts in response to your joke which enlightens some sort of spark in your body. It’s a foreign sense of satisfaction that you even made him laugh like that. Well– a quarter of a laugh you suppose but it’s better than nothing.

Soon his face turns serious as he approaches you, metal tweezers in his hand. Once again, his hand hovers over your ankle not yet touching you and again another feeling emerges from your body. The desire of his skin to touch yours as gently as he did the first time.

“This’ll hurt.” he warns in a dry tone.

“You don’t say?”

The corners of your lips turn upwards at the satisfaction of pissing him off, yet it soon falls once the tweezer grips the shard of glass. He hasn’t pulled yet, but you can sense the pressure of it.

Levi’s hand now rests on your ankle, steadying your foot. He meets your eyes which search for consent. You give it away all too freely, observing as he focuses on pulling out the shard.

A sharp groan leaves your mouth in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still looking down, “Nearly out now.”

You close your eyes in order to focus on the touch of his fingers on your skin instead, a wince of pain leaves through your gritted teeth as you open your eyes slowly.

The glass is finally removed from your foot, stained with red, immediately he stands up to throw it away but not before he places a towel to stop the bleeding from your heel.

He’s back in a blink of an eye and the worst part is yet to come.

Just as Levi reaches for the disinfectant bottle your foot squirms away, all too knowing of the pain that is ahead.

“Do you wanna risk your chances of an infection?”

“I rather would.”

With a click of his tongue he draws your foot back towards him and for some reason under his touch you don’t resist. You squeeze your eyes shut again in anticipation of the burn that’s to come.

One of your eyelids peek open watching as Levi steadily pours some disinfectant on a pad of cotton.

Before you know it, a sharp stinging pain emerges through your foot, you seethe heavily, cursing every swear word you know underneath your breath.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if it weren’t for you.” you say bitterly as Levi dabs up your cut, “Why were you even awake at this time?” you question, your tone is a little softer now that the pain is subsiding.

Levi remains silent for a few minutes, dabbing the cotton pad until the pain soon becomes numb to you. You almost think he didn’t hear you until you put it down to the fact that he chooses to blatantly ignore you.

It’s not until he’s thrown away the cotton pad and made sure that the bleeding on your foot has stopped until he speaks up again.

“I can’t sleep and I’ve always struggled to.”

You frown in confusion.

“Insomnia.”

“Oh.” it’s all you can say and immediate guilt pours through your body. “Shit, I didn’t mean- ”

“It’s fine.” he sways a little, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I shouldn’t have been sitting in the dark anyway.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s alright no harm done…well…,” you looked down at your foot. “ A little harm done.”

“Thankfully.”

You almost want to question him on that but hold your tongue.

“Guess I learned something new about you then.” you say instead, propping your both feet up on the little stool. Your foot still stings but it’s manageable.

“I guess you did.”

“What are you thinking about?” Levi’s words snap you back to reality as you emerge from your memory, a sensation of nostalgic warmth in your body.

You smirk, an obvious smile in your tone. “Thinking about that time you made me drop a glass and I got a glass shard in my foot.”

He snorts quietly. “I didn’t make you drop that glass, you did that to yourself.”

“Only because someone was sitting on the couch in complete darkness like a complete-”

“Freak.” you both finish at the same time.

The shared memory is now something you both laugh about from time to time, soon becoming a private joke between the two of you.

Fiddling with your fingers, another sea of silence overtakes the two of you. The snores of Hange soon become easier to ignore.

Lighting flashes up in the room again and just as it does a question pops up into your head simultaneously as you think back to your conversation with Petra and Hange earlier on. You wonder if he minds you asking, afraid to cross the personal line and ruin the mood.

You hesitate for a moment before deciding to go for it anyways.

“How come you don’t look for love?”

It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask but it was close enough, nothing too overly personal.

If Levi was being honest, you caught him off guard with that question. Something that you’ve grown good at doing lately with him. He swallows thickly letting a beat or two pass before he answers.

His tone was quiet. Too quiet. You’d almost think he was shy at answering your question.

“Never came across it.” he finally spoke.

“Never?”

“Not even once?” .

He shakes his head before continuing, his thumb rubbing across his nose. “Well…there was a thing in college.”

“A thing?” You instantly think back to what Hange had told you earlier.

Levi rubs his hand on the back of his neck almost in a nervous manner.

“There was this girl…” He pauses for a second searching for the right words. He lets out a deep exhale. “Long story short, she fell for some other guy.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t feel sorry about it, it was a long time ago.” Levi says, reading your mind. “I’m over it.”

A sense of relief quickly replaces the sense of pity, glad that he moved on.

“I hope you do find someone.” The words slip out before you could even think about it. “You deserve it.”

He scoffs blatantly.

“Hey, I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“In what way?” you ponder, attempting to push the conversation.

“In your own little freakish way.” You knew he said that as a joke but neither of you laughed, he continued on. “You have a crazy sense of optimism, you know?”

Now you scoff, shrugging slightly. “I may have heard that once or twice before.”

Another moment of a comfortable silence passes before Levi grabs the opportunity to change the subject.

“How’s Daniel?”

That was the question you’ve been asking yourself all night too. You look away embarrassed by your answer. And although Levi couldn’t see you as clearly in the dark, he knew your body language had changed as well as your mood causing him to curse himself for even asking that question in the first place.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to ask him that lately, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back though.” you joke half heartedly.

“You deserve someone who’ll text you back.”

“He’s probably just busy.”

Levi hums nonchalantly yet you knew that he doesn’t believe that for a single second and to be honest…?

You’re not sure if you believe it too.

“So what is your type then?” you face him again, and just by the midnight moon he can just about guess the outline of your face.

“What?”

“Hange and Petra were trying to guess your type.”

“Oh. really?” he mutters, he should’ve known that you guys were talking about him under there, it’s almost humorous to him so instead he flips the question over to you. “What do you think my type is?”

“Anyone who can name every single tea in the world.”

He scoffs and then utters in faux exasperation. “How could you possibly know?”

“Mhmmm, probably from the fact that you are the biggest coffee hater I have ever met in my entire life.”

He clicks his tongue, “Don’t blame me for trying to save you from a heart attack with those five cups every day.”

“That’s a total lie!” you huff, “It’s only three, as a maximum.”

“You drank five last Friday.”

“Whatever!”

If there’s one thing Levi likes about you, it’s the way you can easily immerse yourself into his jokes and play along with his sense of humor. Something that not many can catch on to.

“Okay okay, seriously what is your type?”

He sits in silence whilst in deep thought, his hands clasped together as he thinks. Just by squinting you can just about make out his side profile, thanks to the aid of lightening every few seconds helping to accentuate his fine details.

“How about you tell me?”

“Huh?”

“You can guess what my type is for yourself instead.”

“Someone who…understands you.” you swallow thickly, unsure why you had nerves admitting this to him. “Without them saying anything at all, someone who can read your mood or temperament without any conversation. And also, being able to be in each other’s company without having to hold a conversation.”

He hums in agreement, which encourages you to continue.

“Someone who is loyal and I guess can instantly lift up your mood. They would bring out your soft side and love all your flaws as well as your strengths. Someone who can take care of themselves and is hardworking.” You pause, eyebrows furrowed. “Uhm– I’m not sure what else.”

“That’s pretty accurate.” he confirms, turning to look at you. You can just about make out the shadow of his hand that is currently outstretched by his side. Reaching out casually between the gap between the two of you.

And for some reason that you will never or can’t ever explain, you reach out to join him. Surprisingly so, his hands are ridiculously warm compared to your own.

“Freakish cold hands.”

You smirk, “Sorry Mr built like a sauna.”

“That was a weak comeback.”

“Mhmm I think that was pretty good.”

Suddenly his hands leave yours, your skin turning cold as the two of you jolt at the sound this time not of the thunder but of Hange’s mumbled words.

“Shut the fuck up, lovebirds, m’gonna barfffff-” they trailed off before a loud snore followed.

You stifled a giggle whilst attempting to keep your voice low, “I didn’t know Hange was much of a talker.”

“Me neither.”

“Right. Guess my type then.”

Levi lets out a huff, looking out straight ahead, lightning fills the room again as the rain batters down heavily against the windows.

“Someone who is…loyal too, they’ll never leave you deserted or leave one text unanswered.”

You hold back a smirk at the indirect reference to Daniel. “Someone who’ll take time out for you and spend time with you– to the point that they’ll know everything about you, from your favorite color to the last shirt you wore. But most importantly– I think– you just want someone to love you as much as you love them.”

He turns to glance at you and for once you’re glad that he can’t make out your face fully, your heart pounds in your ears as his words settle deep into your skin, finding their way into the corners of your heart.

You don’t say anything in response, the silence confirming that his knowledge was accurate.

It’s not surprising that after all these years of living together you’d obviously grown accustomed to one another. If there was one thing that was surprising it was the amount of information that the two of you had unconsciously collated to be able to reach your assumptions of each other.

It wasn’t expected. Yet, the two of you were more than comfortable to be this open with each other which was a huge development from the awkwardness that the two of you had when you first moved in.

Now you don’t think you’d change this friendship with Levi for the world.

Right?

“Guess we knew each other more than we thought.” Levi mutters under his breath.

“I guess we did.” you confirm.

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#lover #angel writes #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #aot x reader #levi x you #levi x reader fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi aot #aot x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan levi

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