#you gotta answer all your own questions and that is literally a power in itself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

igbylicious · 9 months ago

Text

HIIIII I’M HERE TO LOVINGLY RAMBLE AT YOUUUUUUUUUU („• ᴗ •„) ♡

Says the person whose bestie is Hongjoong? 🤣 But yeah, also canon. 💅✨

asdhjadshj ohmygod THIS HONGJOONG EVEN WORKS AT A FASHION HOUSE LOL. as a designer, but still! you can’t tell me they wouldn’t ask him to model a few of his own pieces~

this is what im picturing Hwa looking like when he’s modelling here

look at him face!!!!! we love an awkward boi in this household uwu

Random as fuck fact, but i learned this word in a another fandom (black butler), and it made me smile to see it used here :))

ohhhhh i know abt that show through tumblr fandom osmosis but i didn’t know there was hanakotoba in it! that’s such a cute coincidence!!!

-under my breath- fuck him over the counter while hes wearing his work apron

*bites fist* oh noooooo that is what they could have done if reader hadn’t tried to bail on Woo!!!!!!! Wooyoung could’ve just offered Hwa to close up and they’d be in BUSINESS. they could have worked out all the tension between them in the fun way, punish him a lil for breaking a rule asdkjkjads oh reader honey… what a lost opportunity, she really did mess up… ( ╥ω╥ )

Like, he might think he’s helping my making light of it. If he knew what an avalanche of emotions and thoughts this all set off in Reader’s head, he would be so upset :((

iSAK I KNOW WE’VE JOKED ABT OUR BRAINS COMMUNICATING BUT I GOT AN EXCERPT HERE THAT’S LITERALLY FROM MY DRAFT FOR YOUR QUESTION ABT IF THERE’S EVER ANY HICCUPS BETWEEN WOOSAN (no i did not forget abt that!! tho this chapter gave a partial answer already lol!)

‘for [Wooyoung] humour is a way to take power away from the thing he is joking abt, to make it lighter’

WHAT IS HAPPENING AR EYOU ACTUALLY IN MY BRAIN

(but yeah i think humour is very multipurpose for him! like also when he teased San abt not being sensible; that was part bc 1) he loves teasing San, but also 2) to signal that everything’s alright, things are kinda ‘back to normal’, almost like a reassurance for San ;; )

and i am happy the kiss scene came off like that ahhhhh! i really wanted it to be clear Wooyoung had zero bad intentions ;; it was just him misjudging and not paying enough attention to her body language — and then she reacted so clumsily in return bc it punted her right into an anxiety spiral, which escalated the tension between them. no villains, just humans being human!

TRANS PERSON MOOD!!!!!!

!!!!!!! omg i was tunnelvision-focused on the aro-ness while writing but GOD YEAH ABSOLUTELY 🤝 it is SO STRESSFUL when you have to keep reasserting your boundaries & needs regarding like, your identity and your authentic self ;;

It’s so cool how you set up the backstory with Hongjoong leaving ; ; it’s such an interesting parallel to what Reader is imagining will happen with Woosan. And it seems to be the root of those particular insecurities of hers as well :’((

lol i ended up doing waaaaaay more planning for this fic than i expected asdjkadsjk like, the original wip name was ‘woosan smut fest or smth’. just straightforward fucking! xD but ahhh i’m so pleased you caught onto that!!! (´ ω `♡) and yeah, between Hongjoong leaving and The Asshole, she was primed for some massive anxiety abt Woosan ;;

me, overanalyzing: omg… san is the mountains and Woo is the woodlands bc hes a fox……. whoagh.

*gasp* this is now canon. there is a lil fox hidden in one of those artworks (✿◕‿◕✿) now i gotta figure out what reader is lol

i had to look up what a box-tie is, and it looks so cozy and also restrictive in a Good way. he would look so good in that =u= his arms and shoulders are so, like… slender. i think a box-tie would accentuate how small he is, but also how relatively muscley his shoulders are. he would look a little pathetic but like in a 100% endearing way obviously.

rip i thought abt linking reference pics in the chapter itself but then i forgor asdjkads! i’m glad you found smth!!! and YES HE WOULD LOOK SOOOO GOOOOOOOODDDDDD I JUST KNOW IT *bites fist, foaming at mouth* also ohmygod the way you’re describing Woo is making me a lil insane think abt the differences of his physicality compared to San’s; while it makes Woo look smaller, with San, i’m guessing the opposite happens and it’d only emphasise how wide he is in the shoulders, esp with how it’d open up his broad chest bc his (muscular *_* ) arms are drawn back and ohgod their contrast would be soooo aesthetically pleasing side by side (and now i am spiralling asdjadskjasdjk godddddd i want, nay, NEED them both tied up at once and just admire their contrast and play with them and asdjhasdhjadshjashda x_x)

…makes him bouncy? chicken butterfly?

asahjdahjadhjsdajhdsshjddhj!!! xD (i’d suggest it is not the rope, but San (and sometimes reader uwu) who makes Woo bouncy once he’s tied up hehe 〜(￣▽￣〜) )

this added such a comfy mood and feel for me, the sentence feels almost like getting a Sannie hug :’)

ack! like a Sannie hug is exactly what i was going for!!!! (≧◡≦) ♡

yikes! :D

asdkjasasd yeeeeeeep there’s a reason why Hongjoong was a lil worried when his bestie stepped into smth new! ;; also i love the concept “girlfriend zoned” as a reversal. it really is more accurate than friendzone! if someone steps into a friendship with a predetermined goal of romance, and the other person can’t or doesn’t want to conform to that fantasy, that’s not the other person’s fault! don’t project your expectations and fantasies onto other ppl like that!!!

Woo lives in the moment so much, and i think that’s probably true about the real Wooyoung as well. He strikes me as the type, anyway :)

Wooyoung: “but i was so caught up in the euphoria of having mindblowingly hot threesomes, that for like a minute i lived in a world where ppl don’t ever stop having mindblowingly hot threesomes” (valid of him, tbh lol)

(i agree, he strikes me as the type too!! ^^)

the ehndhnhjnh >w< YES, bite his ass!!

it’s nom nom time!!!! >:3

they’re already hugging each other, lot of skin contact, lovingly tied up by San. i think it’s easier to be open and honest this way, potentially.

a big YES to literally everything you said abt them being tied up together!!!!! (♡°▽°♡) they were in a very vulnerable, intimate space, and yeah, they just had to lay there and listen to each other! Woo and reader had cooled down enough to be comfy in that position, and get those last remnants of unease out of their system; reader may have teased him abt it, but San knew exactly what he was doing ♡( ◡‿◡ )

also really liked the Seonghwa cameo =u=

they find each other no matter what universe they’re in!!! (◕‿◕)♡

seriously i never know how to thankyou Isak!!! your thoughts are so much fun to read and to respond to asdjdajkdaskjj ty for providing this writer with enrichment in the enclosure (´,,•ω•,,)♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt9

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: You visit Wooyoung at work, where one of your ground rules is tested.

wc: 7.7k

ch. warnings: gratuitous Seonghwa cameo, angst, a fight that lasts for like 15 minutes oop, sorta hurt/comfort, non-sexual bondage, dom San, sub Wooyoung, sub reader, rope space, mentions of past arophobia and amatonormativity

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: there is no smut bc i split this chapter up for length — but the next update will make up for that, promise!!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

a/n³: in-fic time, less than a day has passed between the end of chapter 7 and the start of chapter 9. this feels worth mentioning, considering what happens in this one lol

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

The florist shop where Wooyoung works has a colourful and refreshing showroom, filled with creative flower arrangements, lush potted plants and idyllic garden ornaments. Sweet fragrances permeate the air, bright sunlight comes in from the large storefront windows.

The place is small and packed tight, greenery within arms�� reach wherever you stand; but organised and clean enough that it does not overwhelm the eye. And your vantage point by the counter gives you a nice overview of the store, including its two employees currently at work — but right now, they’re not exactly busy with selling flowers.

“Just relax, hyung!” Wooyoung says, exasperated, waving a hand at his friend and coworker. “Look natural!”

He has a camera pointed at Park Seonghwa; an absolute sweetheart and strong contender for the title of ‘most attractive person you have ever met’.

(A title that Wooyoung and San and literally every single one of their friends are in the running for. You’re still not convinced they didn’t hire their entire social life from a modelling agency.)

You watch them with amused interest. You’ve only met Seonghwa twice before, but he had enthusiastically greeted you when you entered the shop earlier. Now all that bright friendliness has faded, replaced by a stiff smile that’s stretched uncomfortably across his face.

“I don’t look natural?” he asks, nervous in his role as a model. “Why do you need me anyway, isn’t all this for the webshop? Why aren’t you taking photos of the displays?”

Wooyoung sighs impatiently, shaking his head at Seonghwa’s obliviousness. “Are you kidding me? The internet is gonna eat your face up. This is going on all the socials, hyung, we’re going for a viral sensation here! Viral! Now go stand next to those hibiscus and look pretty, alright?”

While Seonghwa moves around the store for a good spot, Wooyoung shakes his head and gives you a pointed look.

“Can you believe this? Man has a phone bursting with selfies and now he gets camera shy? I really thought this’d be a cake-walk.”

You giggle at Wooyoung’s mumbled grousing, and give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. You never actually planned to visit Wooyoung at work today, but after last night activities, you’d been overtaken by an unshakable urge to check in on him.

He’d been yours to take care of, bound and blindfolded, and you can’t shake off an oddly protective feeling, like he is still yours to take care of even now. (San also always insists on dropping by at your place after an intense scene. You always poked fun at his overprotectiveness, but now you understand his chivalrous instincts a little better.)

There really was no need for you to worry; Wooyoung is energetic and upbeat, firing off jokes at Seonghwa in an attempt to relax him.

“What if I pretend to be a customer? Just to set the scene, distract him from the camera,” you suggest to Wooyoung. “But no pictures of me!” you add quickly. “I don’t need to be on this place’s instagram or whatever, alright?”

Wooyoung perks up at your offer. “Yeah, that could work! Come, hyung, pretend it’s just another day on the job.”

He ushers you to join Seonghwa between the colourful dahlias and asters, where you exaggeratedly clear your throat and roll your shoulders, readying yourself for your acting performance.

“Okay, so help me out here,” you tell Seonghwa, overly serious. “Let’s say I want to give my neighbour some flowers. What type of bouquet would I need to communicate my sympathies because his boyfriend never stops bullying him?”

“Oi!” Wooyoung protests, but he has to bite down a laugh to keep his camera steady. “Hwa, maybe you should put together something for a poor guy whose boyfriend’s neighbour keeps bullying him!”

But Seonghwa lets out an adorable giggle, and his smile relaxes now you’ve put him onto a task — no matter how silly the task is. “Well, edelweiss are often associated with courage, that seems appropriate here, right?” he says, meandering through the store. “Or what about some red camellia? Means ‘to persist with grace’ in hanakotoba.”

“San does show remarkable grace throughout his many struggles,” you agree solemnly.

“Same can’t be said about you,” Wooyoung retaliates with a grin.

You stick out your tongue at him, very much proving his point. But then you quietly hang back while Seonghwa enthusiastically digs into the particulars to fulfil your fake request. Your distraction works exactly as intended; now that he has relaxed, his natural sweetness gets a chance to shine on camera.

Seonghwa continues babbling about flower language at you, until the photo-shoot is put on hold when a soft bell chimes through the store. The door opens, and an actual customer steps inside.

Seonghwa helps the distraught-looking young man, who seems to have made some disastrous choices in his relationship — but you don’t listen in on their conversation for too long. Instead, you and Wooyoung reconvene at the counter.

He takes you through his haul of photos, badgering you for feedback. Your lack of expertise never seems to stop Wooyoung from valuing your opinion, always eager to hear what you have to say. So you point out the photos you like best, and happily let him use you as a soundboard.

He nods thoughtfully when you admit to liking the photos where Seonghwa is still just slightly nervous; there is endearing about his tentative smile, making his beauty approachable rather than intimidating. “Maybe you could a few from that side of the store too?” you suggest, gesturing to an area to the side. “The succulent arrangements there are really cute.”

“Oh, good idea!” His eyes flicker over the displays, and already you can see the gears in his head turning, working out the best angles and observing how the natural light falls.

“Do you want me to take over the camera for a bit?” you ask.

“You? Why?”

You shrug, idly looking through more of the photographs. “You said you wanted a viral sensation, right? Getting some shots of you definitely won’t hurt.”

“Are you saying I look sexy?” Wooyoung grins as he leans on the counter, running a deliberate hand through his hair.

“No, that’s what you’re saying. I never used that word,” you tease him. “…But yeah. You look pretty sexy.”

You see no point in lying. There’s something unreasonably appealing about Wooyoung in a dark green apron, fitted around his slim waist; especially combined with a simple off-white shirt, rolled up to his elbows to show off his veiny forearms. He has his hair partially tied back into a half ponytail, the loose strands falling attractively into his face.

Wooyoung lets out a pleased giggle, bumping his shoulder into you and sticking close. His fingers reach to play against your wrist, tapping and drawing circles on your skin. He’s been acting especially clingy today, making you wonder if he also feels the remnants of yesterday’s scene just like you are.

Either way, you don’t give too much thought to his touchy-feely mood, until you keep looking through the photos — and see yourself back on the screen.

“Woo, didn’t I tell you? Not me!” you complain, whapping him on the arm, but it’s hard not to be struck by the picture; the way he has caught your face in the sunlight, your eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as you play customer for Seonghwa. Wooyoung has always had an uncanny ability to capture your happiness in his photos, bringing your inner joy to the surface. Sometimes the intensity of your own expression catches you off guard, making you wonder if your smile ever used to be that wide before.

Wooyoung pats your shoulder reassuringly, holding you into a half-hug. “This photo isn’t for the socials; it’s for me,” he grins and leans in, his lips suddenly pressed against your skin for a firm peck on the cheek.

You freeze instantly.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks, but then his memory kicks in. “Ahh right, sorry sorry! No kissing when we’re not— Yep, got it.”

“Yeah,” you say awkwardly. It’s fine, you tell yourself. Wooyoung forgot a boundary, he corrected himself; that’s all. Drop it and move on.

But Wooyoung, caught up in his playful mood, is not dropping it. He tilts his head, his eyes curved with a happy smile of mischievous curiosity. “So really, not just on the lips, no kisses at all? Any room to haggle out a deal? How about… on the top of your head?” he teases, pretending to move in. “Or the tip of your nose?”

Wooyoung keeps feigning more attempts at a kiss, treating the line drawn by your ground rule like a tightrope, balancing right across and threatening to topple over.

And there is no safety net underneath, not for you.

Your good mood shrinks away as Wooyoung happily jokes around, a tightness freezing you up. “No, no don’t,” you say, stiffly pressing a hand against Wooyoung’s shoulder to push him back. “Don’t fool around, Woo. Not this time.”

A strange mix of guilt and discomfort tangles sharply around your chest. Discomfort at Wooyoung’s flippant reaction to your boundary, guilt for having a boundary against one of his preferred displays of affection in the first place.

Wooyoung sobers up when he sees how badly he misjudged the situation. “Hey, sorry alright?” he says, raising his hands in apology. “I didn’t realise it was a big deal.”

In a way, you agree. The kiss itself didn’t need to be a big deal, not if Wooyoung had just let you shrug it off.

But either way, it is part of a big deal.

Once again, you hear the clock in your head, ticking away until the end of your arrangement with San and Wooyoung. Right now, it’s louder than ever.

Most days you just try to enjoy the moment, and avoid thinking too much about it. Now the full weight threatens to come crashing down on you, right in the middle of the flower shop.

Usually you imagine it ending by a slow drifting of interest; a gradual, undefined shift where you fade into the background noise of each others’ lives. Still friends, hopefully, but no longer closely entangled the way you are now.

But the kiss is a blunt reminder that things can also shift in a different direction; San or Wooyoung might grow to want things, feelings, that you cannot offer them. You are happy with the way things are now — but how long before they aren’t? What if this one small stupid kiss is the first of many clashes? What if this is the first sign of some inherent incompatibility between their needs and yours?

What if they ever decide that what you can give them isn’t enough?

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you stay stiffly, trying to keep the tight spool of emotions contained.

Hurt flashes across Wooyoung’s face at your obvious attempt to brush him off. “I’m worrying about it a little,” he says, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “You know I didn’t—”

But Wooyoung swallows down the rest of his words when Seonghwa joins him behind the counter with an armful of flowers for the customer. Wooyoung magics on his friendliest smile, amicably chatting away with the distressed young man while Seonghwa deftly assembles a beautiful arrangement of soft rosy and lavender hues.

Together they comfort their upset customer, assuring him his girlfriend will love these, though you know they’ll be like two gossiping aunties the moment this poor guy leaves the store.

You try to relax during the wait, but suddenly the store’s sweet floral aroma is cloying to the senses, threatening you with a headache.

You just want to get out, take a few deep breaths of fresh air, and ease down your discomfort without Wooyoung constantly casting glances at you. His bright customer service smile hides most of his true expression, but there is definitely a worry in his eyes, and you can’t stop thinking about the earlier hurt on his face.

The customer leaves with his flowers and a soft jingle of the door chime, and Seonghwa turns to Wooyoung.

“How about we do a video too? Talk the boss into making a tiktok account for the store?” Seonghwa suggests, his nerves fully flipped over into excitement now that he’s gotten comfortable with the camera. In his enthusiasm, he clocks a beat too late that something is off with his coworker. “Uh, Wooyoung? Everything alright?”

“Not sure,” Wooyoung says, lines drawn on his brow as he looks at you. “Are we alright?”

“Yeah, I just— I’m gonna head back, see you later, okay?” you say, the headache no longer just a threat.

Wooyoung’s worry falls away from his face to make way for disbelief, and an annoyance prickles to life as you try to brush him off — again. “Wait, are you serious? C’mon, it’s only like five minutes ‘til closing time, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t be like that.”

Unsure, Seonghwa looks between you and Wooyoung. “Hey, why don’t you just leave early, Wooyo?” he offers. “It’s pretty quiet today, I got this. My turn to close up shop anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wooyoung hesitates, but gives in when Seonghwa gives him a friendly nudge. “Yeah, see you tomorrow. I owe you one, Hwa.”

The way back to the apartment building is quite possibly the most awkward that things have ever been between you and Wooyoung — which is saying something, considering the whole ‘you walking in on him and San having sex’-thing that kicked all of this off in the first place.

Neither of you bring up what just happened, honouring an unspoken agreement to wait until you’re back home. There are a few stilted attempts at smalltalk, like you and Wooyoung are both trying to keep some thin thread of connection alive; but there is mostly just silence.

Wooyoung quietly trudges next to you with his face drawn, hands stuffed in his pockets, and plenty of thoughts on his mind. (You can’t help but wonder; how many of those are second thoughts?)

It’s a painful contrast with how affectionately clingy he was before, but thankfully the apartment building is just one quick subway stop away, and then it is only an elevator ride up to the top floor. You follow Wooyoung into San’s place without really thinking about it, like that’s just where you are supposed to be.

Inside, Wooyoung shucks off his shoes and barely waits for you to follow him into the living room. “Okay, we’re home, can we talk now?” he says, looking back at you with a tight expression on his face. “Cause that back there? That wasn’t cool.”

San, who had been hanging out on the couch, puts down his phone and blinks in surprise at the heavy tension that just walked into his apartment. “What wasn’t cool?”

“It’s not—” you start, but Wooyoung bluntly interrupts you.

“I kissed her.”

“Wait, you what?” San says, now outright startled.

“On the cheek,” Wooyoung explains, then crosses his arms as he turns back to you. “And no, I shouldn’t have — but when you tried to ditch me like that? That wasn’t cool either.”

His frustration is contagious, and you feel yourself responding in kind. “You know what else isn’t cool? You doubling down on the whole thing and making a laugh of it instead of just backing off,” you bite at Wooyoung.

Anger blooms inside you; anger that has very little to do with that stupid kiss on the cheek.

Every time you have to remind him or San of a boundary, it feels like you are speeding up the clock on this relationship, rushing closer towards the end. And you can’t help but resent Wooyoung for making you do it twice.

“You think I like telling you no? I don’t!” you snap, the frustration now burning behind your eyes. “Whenever I gotta push back against something, I feel like I’m pushing you away. I don’t want that! I don’t want to push you away, so just— Stop making me!”

“Make you?” Wooyoung snaps back. “I didn’t make you do anything yesterday. You started on that whole ‘we can still be friends after we stop having sex’ business all on your own, and that felt like a pretty big shove to me.”

Poor San looks completely out of his depth, uncertain as he glances back-and-forth between arguments, but his eyes widen at Wooyoung’s words. “Wait, you want to stop this?” he asks, staring at you in shock.

“No, of course I don’t!” you say, flustered that San’s takeaway is the exact same as Wooyoung’s had been. “Why do you guys keep asking that?!”

“Because you’re the one who brought it up!” Wooyoung says, rolling his eyes at you.

Your mouth opens, then closes again. Shit. That’s… actually a good point. “Not because I want us to stop,” you say, your heated anger slowly cooling down to brittle embarrassment, “I’m just…”

“Wait, hang on, hang on,” San says, finally willing himself into motion.

Carefully, he takes your and Wooyoung’s hands, then leads you to sit on the couch with him in the middle. He doesn’t let go of your hands.

“So let me get this straight. You” — he looks pointedly at Wooyoung — “are upset because you don’t want her to push us away. And you” — he turns to look at you — “are upset because you also don’t want to push us away? So what the hell am I missing here? Aren’t you on the same page? Can we please maybe entertain the idea that you guys aren’t actually mad at each other!”

Now it’s Wooyoung’s turn to cool down, the frustration seeping out of his shoulders. He sighs, something releasing in his breath, then meets your eyes with a tentative grimace.

“I’m not mad at you,” he admits awkwardly. (San lets out a sigh of relief.) “What you said yesterday… maybe it shook me up a bit more than I realised.”

You mirror his grimace, struggling to meet his eyes. “I’m not mad either,” you say, equally awkward. “Sorry, I didn’t really think about how that question could sound to you. I was just looking for reassurance, I swear.”

San squeezes his hand around yours, daring a cautious little smile now the thorn has been taken out of this conversation. “Reassurance for what?”

“Just what I said,” you say with a rueful laugh, unsure how to explain better. “That we’ll still be friends even after things between us change.”

Wooyoung makes a noise of exasperation.

“No but see, that kinda pisses me off,” he says, getting worked up again. “Listen, I get what you were saying, that we don’t know what will happen in the future. But why are you so convinced we’re stopping this any time soon? Sure, we don’t know if it will go on forever, but isn’t that the same for anything? Hell, who can even say if San and I won’t ever break up either?”

“Um, I can?!” San interjects, giving Wooyoung a distressed look.

“I didn’t— Sannie, I’m not saying we will!” Wooyoung says, interrupting his own vehement monologue with a fond laugh, patting at San’s hair. “I just mean you never know! But bringing up stuff like ‘after’ and staying friends…” Wooyoung looks at you with a faded smile. “It made me feel like you got one foot out the door already.”

His words sink in slowly… and for the second time today, you’re forced to admit that Wooyoung sure is making a good point.

(And despite everything, you can’t help but feel a small burst of happiness at Wooyoung’s complete distaste at the thought of ending your arrangement.)

“Maybe… yeah. Maybe I do have a foot out,” you say wryly. “Past experiences have turned me into a bit of a pessimist, I guess. But if they taught me anything, it’s that whenever I got something more involved going on, one of two things always happens. Usually, the whole thing just… dissolves. Not always on purpose, but it does. We’re having fun, but then the fun wears off or it isn’t convenient anymore or something else comes along that’s simply more important.”

“You’re important to us,” Wooyoung protests, sulking.

“Yeah, well. I’m important to Hongjoong too. He still left,” you say sharply, and for the first time, you allow yourself some bitterness in that truth. (Obviously you would have told him to go, had he asked. He never asked. And really, what right did you have to expect him to? You are ‘just’ friends, after all. But fuck, it hurts.)

Wooyoung flinches back, blinking in surprise at your tone, and a fresh wave of guilt bubbles up inside you. You hate it. Why, even in the privacy of your own mind, do you feel guilty for not wanting to be put in second or third or last place for once?

You sigh, reaching across San’s lap to rest a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh. “Sorry Woo, that wasn’t fair,” you say, not thinking too much on if that’s true or not. Right now, you’re tired and just want to smooth things over, not set off another argument.

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung mumbles; and for a moment you worry that it is not fine at all. He stands up, shoulders low from fatigue as he stares at the floor — but then he grabs your hand without even meeting your eyes and pulls you up on your feet, right into a hug.

His grip on you is so tight it knocks the breath of out of you. One of his hands finds the space between your shoulder blades, fingers clinging at the fabric of your shirt, while the other cups the back of your head, drawing you even closer into his warmth.

You can’t see his face, burrowed against your shoulder, but you think you can hear a muffled “you couldn’t push me away if you tried”. A cautious smile curves around your lips, and you gently return his hug, carding your fingers through his dark hair.

It only takes a moment for another set of arms to join the fray, and you let out a soft ‘oof’ as the full strength of San wraps around you and Wooyoung, his firm body pressing into yours.

“You guys scared me,” he pouts, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. “Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me? Are we all good now?”

You free up an arm to clutch at San’s shoulder; still a bit unsteady but reassured by their dual presences. “Better, definitely,” you allow with a soft smile.

Wooyoung lifts his head up. There is no anger in his face, but the furrow of his brow still hasn’t relaxed. “We are good,” he mumbles. “I still feel kinda shitty. I know I fool around a lot, but it was just supposed to be a bit of fun. Never meant to actually upset you.”

“I know,” you say, gently brushing through his hair. “It’s okay. Sorry I tried to shut you out.”

San looks from you to Wooyoung, gears turning behind his eyes as he sees you’re both not fully at peace yet. “Let’s take it easy tonight, alright?” he says with an encouraging smile. “You two go freshen up or take a nap or something, I’ll order some food, and after that we’ll make sure everyone gets all nice and relaxed. I may know just the thing.”

A ping of curiosity goes off at San’s last words, but you know asking won’t be any use; he likes to keep his surprises. “Thanks, San,” you smile back, “and thanks for snapping us out of it.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be the sensible one around here,” he grins — and lets out a tiny, cute yelp when Wooyoung lovingly bites his shoulder.

“You think you’re the sensible one?” Wooyoung says in teasing disbelief, right back to his menacing ways.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Yeah, I’m with Woo on this one,” you say. “Sense? San, you bark at Byeol.”

San makes an offended noise. “Byeol grew up around pups, she doesn’t speak cat!” he defends himself, endearingly earnest.

“Ah yes, perfectly sensible,” Wooyoung drawls, exchanging a grin with you; and as your eyes meet, you know that things will be alright between you.

San tries to glare at you and Wooyoung, a look that is completely neutralised by the pout on his lips. “You two really want to piss off the guy who’s about to buy you dinner? That a road you want to go down?” he threatens, but there’s a poorly hidden, happy gleam in his eyes.

Wooyoung throws his arms around San, pressing an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. “Love you, babe!”

You hug San with equal enthusiasm, nuzzling against his shoulder. “Thank you, food daddy!”

“‘Food daddy’?!” San gives you a startled look but quickly sighs in defeat, patting you and Wooyoung on the head. “Fine, fine. Go take a shower or something and I’ll handle it.”

A long shower and a hot meal later, you find yourself in the familiar space of San’s bedroom; the white walls contrasted by dark sheets and curtains, with their the monochrome artwork of vast mountains and woodlands. A place you’ve come to associate with safety and pleasure; a place that eases the tension in your body just by breathing the air between these four walls.

Soft music drifts through the background; one of San’s easy listening playlists, relaxed and unobtrusive, and he even took the time to light a subtly scented candle. The atmosphere is quietly intimate, but also distinctly chaste, with none of the usual heat.

You are kneeled down on the bed, doing some light shoulder stretches to warm your body up, comfy in a basic sports bra and a pair of sleeping shorts. Wooyoung is dressed in a shirt and baggy boxers — and adorned by lines of rope stretched across his chest, already halfway into a box-tie. He submits to San’s work with a languid smile, slowly letting the outside world slip away.

“Of course your ‘thing’ would involve rope,” you tease San, then sigh in bliss at a particularly satisfying stretch. “Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Hey, if it works, it works,” San says with a wink. “Besides, you sure were eager enough when I pitched the idea.”

To literally tie you and Wooyoung together? A little on the nose, perhaps, but god San had looked so cute when he suggested it, so proud of himself for his ingenious plan, and you’d hardly object to such a thing anyway.

You realised long ago that bondage is a bit of a favourite between San and Wooyoung, and they are no strangers to non-sexual forms of rope play either. Both for the intimacy and calming benefits of the act itself, and to test out complex ties or positions in a low intensity environment.

San finishes the box tie on Wooyoung, securely cinching both his arms and wrists, ropes crisscrossed prettily across his chest. Already you can see the shift on Wooyoung’s face; in the right mood, rope is one of the few things that truly slows him down, its soothing effect reaching all the way into his very core.

“Everything good?” San asks, his voice like velvet while he checks the knots. “That’s it, slow your breathing,” he hums, raising and lowering a hand in time with Wooyoung’s breath, guiding him deeper into an almost trance-like state. “Focus on the smell of the candle, how the rope feels against your skin, holding you in. Nothing in the world except the three of us in this room.”

He tenderly cups Wooyoung’s cheek for a soft kiss, lingering close as their foreheads touch.

“I’m right here, I’ll be right next to you,” San whispers. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright?”

You smile softly at San’s reassurance. Even when he is forced to divide his attention between two subs, San always finds small ways to stay connected, especially when one of you is in a vulnerable state.

Wooyoung briefly rubs his nose against San’s, then lets him go with a content sigh. A familiar warmth spreads in your chest at being the witness to their intimacy, their willingness to share unguarded moments of delicate happiness.

Then San turns to you, and treats you to a moment of delicate happiness of your own with a light brush of his knuckles across your cheek. “You ready?” he asks with a small grin, looking far more relaxed himself too. Like the act of tying up Wooyoung unwound something inside him as well.

You nod, filled with gentle anticipation. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then let’s get started,” he says, holding up a piece of rope with a playful spark in his eyes.

You settle down while San goes to work, a feeling of serenity washing over you with the knowledge you are in safe hands. He is as meticulous as always, an easy rhythm to his movement, like the cords are an extension of his body, wrapping himself around you.

San’s slightly calloused fingertips brush against your sports bra and against bare skin. Even with zero intent on arousal, there is a sensuality to the way his hands move over your body, leaving a trail of rope that are not unlike his fingertips; slightly coarse but still soft. There is no restraining element to your decorative harness, but it feels secure around you, grounding your senses. With every cord San lays across your chest, he reduces the world further down to just this place, this moment; no thoughts, no worries, no conflict.

You glance at Wooyoung to find him watching you with a slow, dopey smile, all his earlier tension evaporated. His smile widens when he notices you looking, and your own lips curve up in response.

The diamond chest harness snugly hugs your breasts, and you feel the odd urge to preen, filled with a surge of confidence at how they accentuate the soft curves of your body. You arch your back just lightly, and Wooyoung bites his lip with a breathy laugh; he will always respect the need to show off.

“Looks nice,” he says, slightly raspy from the effort to summon his voice.

“Back at you,” you hum, casting an admiring glance at Wooyoung’s body and the ropework. “San did well.”

San strokes the back of your head, and gives the nape of your neck a small, appreciate squeeze at your compliment. “Ready for the next part?” he asks, looking from you to Wooyoung with a quiet intensity in his eyes, fully absorbed in his role of caretaker.

Once he is sure you are both still comfortable and in a good mind-space, San helps you down on the bed, on your side with one arm outstretched in wait. Then he helps Wooyoung to lay next to you, your arms neatly wrapping around Wooyoung’s waist as you scoot close, until your chests are pressed up against each other.

Wooyoung gives you a half-grin, his trance-like slumber disturbed by the change in position. He is close, so incredibly close that you can see even the faintest blemishes on his skin, tiny faded scars and small traces of acne. There is something mesmeric about them, grounding you deeper into the reality of the moment, the reality of him.

“Yeah, I like this,” Wooyoung sighs, wiggling closer while San ties up your wrists behind Wooyoung’s back, trapping you together.

“Good,” San says, his eyes curving as he finishes the last knot and looks up at you. “How about you? Still comfortable?”

More than comfortable; small jolts of excitement are firing off inside your veins at Wooyoung’s proximity, but you take a few slow breaths, guiding yourself back into the easy-going atmosphere. “Very,” you joke, squeezing your arms around Wooyoung. “As far as methods of conflict resolution go, this is definitely a new favourite.”

“See? Told you it was a good idea.” San grins at you, grabbing another length of rope; his work is not done yet. He starts on Wooyoung’s ankles, whose expression has gone thoughtful at your comment.

Tied up the way you are, there is no escaping Wooyoung’s pensive gaze — but you don’t try to, meeting his eyes while he is brought into an even deeper state of constraint. He slowly blinks at you, pupils dilated in the dim light of the room.

“What was the other way?” he asks.

“‘Other way’?” you frown, trying to work out what Wooyoung is talking about.

“You said that whenever you’re involved in this type of situation, there are two ways for it to end,” Wooyoung says, still looking at you intently. “You never told us the second one.”

San perks up in curiosity at the question.

Ah shit. You groan, reflexively trying to hide your face in your hands — but they are securely locked behind Wooyoung’s back, so all you do is pull him in closer into the soft cushion of your chest. He is happy to let you, the ropes of your harnesses pressing into each other.

“Wait, is it embarrassing?” he asks, almost a little too eager; Wooyoung loves embarrassing stories.

“Not— not exactly,” you quickly disillusion him. “I told you it usually ends because interest fades, right? Well, the other way is… the opposite, pretty much.”

“Too much interest?” San asks, his hand now on your ankle, nudging you to bend your knee and hook your leg over Wooyoung’s.

You breathe out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah that’s spot on, actually,” you say, following San’s guiding touch. Your hips neatly line up with Wooyoung’s, and San starts to anchor you together. “Last person that I had a friends with benefits type of deal with, he… Well, he started to have some romantic ideas about me, about our deal. When I couldn’t feel the same way about him, he made it real damn clear he took that personally. Blamed me for wasting his time. Now… Now I don’t know if we ever really were friends at all.”

Saying it out loud hurts more than you expected, a painful reminder of how he’d seen your friendship as nothing more than a stepping stone.

You had genuinely liked him, enjoyed his company, but none of your time together had any intrinsic value to him except as a prelude to romance. Didn’t matter that you’d been upfront from the start; he’d still convinced himself that his feelings for you would magically change yours, like he was the one person who’d finally ‘fix’ you. His word, not yours — and that had hurt the most of all, threatening to undo all the work you’d done to teach yourself you were not broken in the first place.

Frustratingly, sudden tears burn behind your eyes. It is the vulnerability of the bondage, you tell yourself. It is because you are tired. It’s definitely not because of some asshole who’s not worth a single spare thought. Dammit, you can’t even wipe your face right now, forced to try and push back your tears through sheer willpower.

Wooyoung scoffs loudly, breaking your concentration.

“What a fucking asshole,” he says, shaking his head. He tries to grab onto your hands, still tied behind his back, but the best he can manage from this position is for his fingers to graze against your wrist. “His loss, if he thinks any time spent with you is a waste.”

“Agreed,” San says, squeezing your knee. The ropework around your leg is half-finished and forgotten. “The friendzone is criminally underrated, if you ask me,” he says, and somehow he manages to be joking and completely earnest all at once. “And our zone? Some cool hot gal lets me be her friend, and she’ll let me smash? I fail to see the problem.”

You hiccup a laugh, tears shaking loose from your lashes. “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I’m a damn platonic catch!”

“Damn straight you are!” San grins, his hand warm and reassuring on your leg.

Wooyoung still looks intensely at you, his eyes flickering across your face, tracing your tears. Briefly, the thought strikes you that he wants to kiss you.

Right now, with your bodies trapped together, there is very little you actually could do to stop Wooyoung from kissing you again — but you do not panic when he leans in, filled with absolute trust. A trust that Wooyoung proves himself to be deserving of when he just clumsily brushes his nose against your cheek, an awkward attempt at wiping your tears.

You start to giggle when you realise what he’s doing, and Wooyoung joins in when he realises how futile and ill-conceived his efforts are. “San? A little help here?” he laughs, leaning back to his original position. He shakes his head at his own silly impulse, his bright smile even more beautiful and contagious from so close-by.

San does not hesitate, grabbing a tissue from his nightstand before he lays down behind you, leaning over to properly wipe your face. He does not return to his ropework, opting to stay close for a proper cuddle. His cheek presses against your shoulder, an arm slung heavily across your waist so his hand rests on Wooyoung’s hip.

“Just, for the record,” San says, his voice so close to your ear it raises goosebumps, “all jokes aside, I really am happy with how we are now.”

You manage to turn your head just enough to give San a grateful look, gently bumping your forehead against his. “Me too,” you say, and hesitate for only a moment to say more. “You… you guys do know I care about you, right? Like, a lot.”

“We do,” he smiles, dimples and all, while Wooyoung tries to squeeze his hands around yours again.

“But sometimes that only makes more difficult, to try and figure out how to navigate all this,” you say, grimacing again. “Even now? Right now? Some tiny part of me is worried that I gave off the wrong signal by saying that. It’s like I’m trapped in some weird split, and I’ll either push you away or lead you on, even by accident.”

Wooyoung chuckles dryly. “You get stuck in your head a lot, don’t you,” he observes almost conversationally.

“…Yeah,” you admit with a chuckle of your own.

“You know,” San says gently, “it’s not like I never thought about this kind of stuff either. Where it’s going, when you might break things off. Maybe I should’ve brought it up myself, I don’t know. Maybe I was worried where that conversation might go.”

Wooyoung blinks in surprise. “Wait, you also thought we might stop having sex anytime soon?”

“…You really never considered that??”

“Not until yesterday! Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“I just—” San shrugs, a little helpless. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

(It is an odd thought; all this time, you wondered how much time you’d have before San and Wooyoung inevitably moved on, while San wondered the very same thing about you.)

Wooyoung’s frown returns, and he shifts a little against his restraints. “Hey, you know I don’t like it when you don’t talk about what’s bugging you. Even if the thing bugging you isn’t me.”

The last part is light-hearted, but you can still sense his concern, a history of past conversations in his voice.

It is a new side they are showing to you; allowing you to witness not only the intimacy of their happiness, but the intimacy of their disputes as well. Somehow it’s both uncomfortable and a comfort at once; you are literally trapped between them, but there is something revealing about this kind of vulnerability, their willingness to let you into their lives. The pretty and the unpretty parts of it.

“I— Yeah no, you’re right. I should’ve,” San says quietly, reaching to brush his fingers across Wooyoung’s cheek. “Sorry.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, but there is a budding grin on his lips. “Seriously, this all would’ve been sorted out so fast if either of you just talked to me about it. Idiots.”

“I did talk to you!” you splutter in protest.

“Yeah and here we are, not twenty-four hours later! Case closed!”

(Damn, he really won’t stop making great points today.)

“No, not ‘case closed’,” San says, huffing a laugh. “That’s what I was trying to talk about!” His face goes a little softer, leaning over your shoulder just enough so he can make proper eye-contact with you. “Listen,” he says gently, “we don’t have to work out anything definitive right now, but I— we’d like it if you stuck around for a long time. If you want.”

He rushes to add the last part, like he’s worried even the tiniest hint at anything remotely resembling a commitment could make you bolt like a startled deer — and you can hardly blame him for that.

You give him a quiet nod, unable to do much more right now than acknowledge his offer, then you look at Wooyoung, to see where he is at right now.

“Yeah, I’m with San,” Wooyoung says earnestly, but you spot the playful gleam in his eyes even before he opens his mouth again. “Seriously, what do I care if I get to kiss you or not, if it means we get to keep you around? I’d rather learn a little self-control than miss out on you.”

You exhale a soft, fond laugh. “Thanks, Woo. I know what a sacrifice that is for you,” you tease him, but you squeeze your arms around him a little tighter to make clear you really do appreciate it.

“Oh, it’s a huge sacrifice. Don’t you dare think I’m treating this lightly,” Wooyoung says, absolutely treating it lightly “Do you even realise just how much I love smooching my friends? So. Damn. Much. You better be grateful!”

You’re fully aware of how much he loves it; you’ve seen often enough how he — and San — menace their friends with kisses the same way you like to menace Hongjoong with hugs. In hindsight it’s a small miracle that it took this long for either of them to slip up and lay one on you at the wrong moment.

You try to move your arm to reach back and touch San, and are mildly surprised when you can’t, still restrained by the ropes around your wrists. They’d almost been forgotten, like they are as natural to your body as wearing clothes.

“…Hey, is it weird that we just had this whole heart-to-heart while me and Wooyoung are tied up?”

San just shrugs, giving you a small grin. “As long as it works for us. That’s how we’re doing this whole thing, right?” But it does pull his attention back to the bondage, and he testingly feels at your bindings. “Does it all still feel good?”

“Really good,” you sigh. “Definitely worth revisiting this type of thing under different circumstances. Ah… I think Wooyoung agrees,” you blurt out the last part; his cock gave an enthused twitch at the suggestion of doing this again, noticeable even through his boxers.

“Oh, does he now?” San purrs, running his hand over Wooyoung’s chest harness.

Wooyoung is predictably shameless. “Hey, I’m enjoying myself. I’m all for a redo without clothes getting in the way.”

“Then we’ll make that happen soon, for sure,” San says, biting his lip. “Want me to untie you now, or stay like this for a bit longer?”

You and Wooyoung exchange a look, coming to an unspoken, unanimous agreement. “Bit longer.”

San hums, the heated look in his eyes softening back into affectionate warmth. He nestles back against you, throwing a leg over yours to hook his ankle around Wooyoung’s; creating another connective thread between the three of you as the bedroom settles into a relaxed, almost dream-like space.

You’re still restrained, but you have never felt less trapped. Instead you surrender your body and mind to the rope, to San, even to Wooyoung, although he is just as tied up as you; and you know you are welcome here, your presence treasured for exactly the way you are.

The feeling lingers even after San carefully untangles you and Wooyoung, enveloping you like a soft, serene glow.

You feel it in the gleam of San’s eyes as he rubs circles into your wrists, gentle deep pressure to encourage your bloodflow. You feel it in the weight of Wooyoung’s head resting on your shoulder, so quiet that you think he has dozed off until he giggles at an exchange of small jokes between you and San.

You feel it even after you leave their physical presence behind to turn in for the night; it’s right there in the ease of your thoughts, in knowing they won’t carelessly discard you.

The timer has stopped, no longer ticking away in your head. Instead San’s offer echoes through you, resonating stronger with every repeat.

“We’d like it if you stuck around, for a long time. If you want.”

In truth, you never gave much thought to what you actually want the future with San and Wooyoung to look like, other than some vague idea of ‘existing in each others’ lives’. You always assumed the choice would be made for you, and to fill in any details would only set you up to get hurt.

Now they have extended a hand to fill in those details together. And you don’t know what it’ll look like exactly — a platonic commitment of some sorts, something that works for the three of you regardless of traditional conventions — but you do know that you want to stick around. For a long time.

The next morning, you wake up to find a 4AM text from Wooyoung.

hey so non-sexy kissing is off the table but i can still bite u right

You snort tiredly, still half-asleep. Like he hasn’t been doing plenty of that already! But you resolve to go see him today, and give an in-person demonstration to show him exactly how you feel about bites.

#whiway

553 notes · View notes

datawyrms · 4 years ago

Text

Half a Decade Late

Valerie was finally promoted to the main headquarters of the Guys in White. There she finally comes face to face with Phantom, who disappeared five years ago, locked in a cell. For Phic Phight 2021, @lexosaurus' prompt!

Nothing proved ’harder workers get ahead’ was only a capitalist lie than the absolute hassle getting promotions within the GIW. Of course she’d gone right to them for employment, it was the only organization large enough to actually pay people that took her resume of ghost hunting seriously. She had experience, actual knowledge and even her own gear but had still spent years getting jerked around to various small operations, basically just using her to train all their useless recruits while still just considering her a ‘fellow’ field agent. It wasn’t like she had the option to quit in protest, no one else was in the market for ghost hunters. As far as most people knew ‘ghost intelligence’ was just a joke cover story that the agents were very attached to. They didn’t want any more Amity Parks, so if she wanted to live somewhere new and still do her job...these guys were it. She’d been very clear, she wanted to be in the main office, where everything happened. That didn’t stop them from constantly assigning her literally anywhere but the actual headquarters. Maybe they finally ran out of other places, she still half expected to get stopped at the door and be told about a new field mission they absolutely needed her on immediately. It didn’t happen. Valerie Grey finally got to clock in as an Ecto Containment Officer at the main branch. Where they kept the strongest creatures, developed the new anti-ghost equipment and did more than just splattering a ghost down to nothing. Sure, she liked a good ghost obliterating, but it got boring after a while. There were only so many ways a ghost could beg for it’s useless afterlife before it became white noise. It didn’t stop any new ones from showing up, or tell her anything new. Just got rid of one pest, permanently. That wouldn’t help explain some ghosts, the powerful ones that showed up again and again. It wouldn’t explain the one that stopped showing up either. There was no way that life ruining ghost just got ‘bored’ and vanished without notice. It was still out there, plotting something. She just knew it in her bones. She had to be ready for it. There were traces of that ghost, hints of his ectosignature that she came across in the field, he was still out there. The GIW was just a means to an end, she didn’t trust them to be ready alone.

Sterile corridors and simplistic signs were expected, but even the break area was doing its best impression of a frozen tundra. Fantastic for morale? Probably not. Made the coffee pot easy to spot, at least. Even if she preferred to avoid the stuff in uniform. It stained too easily, and just made her wish for her red battle suit. She took a cup to at least have an excuse for her scoping out the place, she could pass it off to someone once she got to the containment area. A quick double check that everything was in place at the mirror before heading right back out to the winding halls. She wasn’t going to be late, she didn’t have time for that. Maybe a red tie was against protocol, but no one had been stupid enough to bother her about it yet. Judging from the deferential nods from her latest coworkers, that wouldn’t be changing. No one who worked here couldn’t know who she was. The only Ghost Hunter who got out of Amity Park without getting corrupted by the ectoplasmic monsters. It was a shame, Jack and Maddie Fenton used to be a serious force for humanity. Five years ago they suddenly flipped the script, denouncing their work and calling for peace with unreasonable fiends. Their daughter Jazz likely had something to do with it, but Valerie had her own theories. Danny, her friend and once boyfriend had gone missing around that time. Leverage to ensure the Fenton’s ‘good behaviour?’ The whole thing reeked of ghosts. To think she might have gone the same way. Back then she was actually listening to the pest, starting to really consider them a ‘good’ ghost. Like that was actually possible, when he’d just been playing to emotion and her own desire to give up in fighting a dangerous foe over and over. So much for that. That monster showed it’s true colours, sure enough. Something the GIW never bothered to look into, even as she wrote report after report about the incident, how unlikely it was for the Fentons of all people to change that drastically without constant possession. Not worth the resources, even when it was easy to see what tech was built on the foundations the couple had laid. They were throwing away so much to focus on little outbreaks of ghosts instead of making more of a lasting change. Stupid. That was what the funding was ‘meant’ to go towards, as if helping the Fentons would be less productive than making a slightly different ectogun.

She almost hoped there would be a problem, just to prove this is where she should have always been.Even if it seemed distinctly unlikely. She had to swipe to get into the lab, then yet again to actually get to the cells. Or the ‘vault’, as if the higher ups wanted to pretend the creatures in there were inert materials instead of cunning and dangerous beings. Even though they had someone posted at each door, and someone on guard inside as well, herself today. To get acquainted with the place mostly, she had more than enough training on ‘proper handling’ procedures.

“Hey, you can swap with me today, if you want.”

Valerie blinked, eyebrow already raised at the posted guard’s suggestion. “I can handle watching caged ghosts.”

They had the sense to look embarrassed, taking their hand away from the oversized ectogun to loosen their tie- which was tied rather poorly now that she got a better look at it. “I’m sure you can, it’s just, well.” They wouldn’t stop fidgeting with their tie now, eyes checking that no one was really paying attention to the guards. “H0G02 is awake today. No one likes those days.”

“Then all the more reason to get used to it early.” She didn’t give them time to sputter another excuse, swiping her card and striding past without another look. As if people should be worried about a captive ghost being awake. Maybe some of the people here never got a spine before joining up.

It wasn’t as cold as she expected it to be. Or as dark. It was actually brighter, thanks to the extra row of fluorescent lights. On some level she expected the room to reflect the monsters kept here, a shadowy icebox of a space. Of course it wasn’t. These were defeated creatures under human control, of course their cages would be bright and clean, the air warmed for human comfort. The ghosts might not like it, but why care what they wanted? It wasn’t like there were many to begin with, mostly green oversized vermin with blank red eyes. Most had the sense to cower back as she walked past, but a fair few didn’t even twitch. Calling a ghost of all things lifeless was foolish, but it was the only word coming to mind...she had to focus. She didn’t pity these things. Why so many creatures though? The real dangerous ones, the most monstrous ones were the ones that could play human, the ones that had conniving minds that only worked to cause destruction and terror. These were just feral things, annoying but hardly more impressive than a coyote when you knew what to do. Half of them she’d barely rate above ‘feral cat’. A light near the back flickered. Strange. When it flickered a second time she was already releasing her helmet to pull it on. Not nearly as easy as just willing it on, but at least she could carry it in a pocket without needing to rely on some ghost’s power. Three steps and her gun was ready, not that she expected to need it. Really, she worked on autopilot, legs still moving as she stared at the largest glass cage at the back of the room. Or more accurately, at what was in it.

“Oh, newbie. ‘Sup.” The ghost rasped out, blank green eyes watching the ghost hunter. A teenaged boy with a shock of white hair, a black jumpsuit, but the voice of a seventy year old chain smoker. Just sitting in a painfully bright cell, watching. Not exactly as she remembered him, but close enough.

“You.” The disgust was easy to voice, even as her brain struggled to catch up. He was here? Looking practically exactly as he had when she was still a soft hearted freelancer?

He only gave a sputtering laugh at the aggression. “Me? You’re not that mad about the light, are you? I’m bored, Tie.”

“What are you doing here?” That wasn’t the important question really, she should be more concerned that he apparently was able to manipulate light fixtures from his cell...but she’d been hunting after this ghost for five years. Protocol could go shove itself up the director’s ass.

“Same thing I do every day Tie, being some government property!” His laugh was wrong, not from amusement like she remembered. A desperate cackle that didn’t fool anyone. “You new enough to still have your soul in there?”

“Answer the question, Phantom.”

The smirk slid off the ghost’s face. “Wh’ad you call me? Like I’m only calling you Tie cus the red sticks out, I can call you Shooty if you don’t like it, newbie.”

The response made her insides run cold. It had to be Phantom, and the terrible sense of humour was just like him- but the ghost wasn’t quite right. What was this? It couldn’t be some copy of the ghost kid, could it? “I called you by your name, ghost.”

“Never heard of em.” The ghost crossed his legs and looked away, apparently bored of the person holding a weapon. “What day is it?”

Surely he was playing around. “What do you think your name is, then?”

He didn’t take his attention off the ceiling, looking more bored than anything.“Day first, Tie. Gotta know how much of a head start I’ve got.”

“Like you’re in any position to bargain.”

“Hm? Whatcha gonna do Tie? Let me be unconscious for a few hours? Scary. Day first.”

There was the Phantom she knew, snide and sarcastic when he really had no business being so. “I could do worse than that.”

“Doubt it. You gun grunts gotta listen to the freaks out there, remember?” His shoulders shook with a silent laughter, but it looked more like spasms. “No more mishandling the goods, yeah? Day Tie, comeonnnnnn”

Since when was he so interested in the calendar? Not to mention how weird it was how he kept referring to himself...and pretending he didn’t know his name. “It’s Monday.”

That got his attention, the casual rocking halting as he looked at her again, disturbingly still. “Monday, really?”

“Lying is your thing, not mine.”

He grinned. “I like you Tie, so you’ll probably be fired in like a week. Maybe it’s the red.” The tension left the ghost completely, she hadn’t even noticed how stiffly he’d been sitting until his spine relaxed as his elbows rested on his legs. “Pretty sure I’m H0G02. Least that’s what all your creeps call me.”

There was no way Phantom of all ghosts would call himself ‘H0G02’. He had to be a mimic of some sort, a ghost that modelled himself on the once well known Amity Park menace. “You like me because I told you it was Monday? Seriously?”

“I like the Mondays more than you, if that helps.”

“Not particularly.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” He was watching her again, more curious than anything. She shouldn’t be glad to see a spark of something in those eyes, but he was far less creepy this way.

“What’s so great about Monday? You’re a ghost.” She didn’t really care. She should be asking important questions. She was just...playing along to see if it really was Phantom. That didn’t stop her for being grateful for the helmet.

“Monday is the farthest day away from Friday.”

“Wouldn’t that be Saturday?”

“It hasn’t been Saturday or Sunday for...like four years? Those days don’t exist, I think you humans made ‘em up to prank me.” Phantom shrugged, sounding completely serious. Not even a hint of amusement or a grin. “Pretty good one, all you new guys keep it up.”

He was going to be completely useless if he kept saying nonsense. How could he be useful in finding out what happened to the Fenton’s son if he couldn’t even talk about the days of the week sensibly? “Fine, what’s so bad about Friday then.”

“Ohhhhh, you’re really new, Tie.” the ghost flopped onto his side, bored of sitting up apparently. “You know, the day they keep me around for? That day.” He wasn’t quite still, his right shoulder moving very, very carefully. Hiding something.

She didn’t have the patience for this.“What are you hiding there.”

“Tie has good eyes. Gotta remember that.” Phantom muttered, getting onto his back, a blue shard of ice melting off his arm.

“You don’t really think that some ice would help you out of there?”

“Out?” He looked mystified by the suggestion, but that could more be seeing his face upside down. “That glass doesn’t break for anything, I should know.”

Which didn’t explain why he’d been trying to hide the fact he’d made ice at all. He knew it too, but apparently playing stupid was still one of his favourite tactics. “Knock it off and just answer me.”

Phantom’s frown didn’t change, green eyes staring intently at her helmet as if hoping to see through it. “I could show you why?”

It didn’t sound like a threat. “Sure, why not. It’s gonna be a long day.” If it was? Then she’d show him that she wasn’t someone he could mess with.

Ice wrapped itself around the ghost’s lower arm alarmingly quick, a wickedly sharp blade of ice with serrated teeth jutting from the scrawny arm at an awkward angle. It was practised, something this ghost must have done often in all the time he’d been gone from her life. Yet it was so different from how Phantom usually chose to fight. That was a weapon to tear and maim, not to shock, stun or bruise. It looked wrong on him. The idea that this ghost wasn’t Phantom at all only grew more credible with that thing on his arm, even if ice powers were to be expected. His eyes flicked back to green, still fixated on her as he lifted the arm and stabbed down hard. Right into his other arm. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you doing!” She couldn’t remember the last time Phantom had ever been frightening on some primal level. This- with the disturbing snap of bone as the edges of the blade caught and tore made her hair stand on end. “Stop that, Phantom. What’s wrong with you!?”

“Cancelling Friday.” Phantom was laughing as the blade melted away into the pool of green rapidly spreading from his self inflicted wound. “I said you’d probably get fired Tie.”

“Forget Friday you idiot, cover the wound so you stop splattering everywhere!” He was just a ghost-a ghost messing with her. A ghost she’d fought with and had heard scream in pain. This...thing wasn’t him. Her heart didn’t care what her mind thought, insisting he needed help.

The ghost sat up, his left arm holding on by a shred of his suit before splattering into the puddle, but the left behind stump stopped dripping almost as quickly as he’d lost the limb. “Aw. Maybe Tie does have some soul left. You actually sound worried.”

“Of course I am! You slashed your arm off!”

“So?”

He didn’t seem to be in pain. If it wasn’t for the mess of green and the lack of a limb, she’d almost say she imagined it. Why did she care? “You wouldn’t do this sort of thing.”

“Uh. Yes I would? You just saw me do it. I’m down for an encore.”

The idea just made her feel ill. “Don’t.” Did she want this to be Phantom or not? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well I’m down an arm. So the coats are going to be very whiny about how much ectoplasm they can get out of me.”

“You must have felt that.”

“Sure. Isn’t nearly as bad as when they start ripping as much ectoplasm as they can out of you. Every single Friday.” He actually rolled his eyes, like she should just know this.

Why did they bother keeping Phantom around if they just wanted ectoplasm? He might be strong, but no ghost had limitless amounts. They’d just fall apart and stop existing. That’s why the weakest ones never even left the Ghost Zone, they couldn’t survive without constantly being around the stuff! “What makes you so special then? Not your attitude.”

“I’m just lucky enough to make my own ectoplasm. Who knew food was easier to get then high grade ectoplasm? Not me.” His remaining arm pointed to her weapon, his smile stretching. “Bet ya your weapon’s fully powered from Fridays. Yours and every other thing they use in this hellhole.”

“Ghosts can’t do that.” The lie was absurd. It went against everything they knew about ghosts, even before food entered the equation.

“Y’know, Tie. I think I knew a ghost hunter that wore red once.” the ghost’s eyes went unfocused, unmoving as he looked listlessly into space. “It’s a good colour.”

“You knew me. Quit fooling around with this not remembering crap.” Valerie threw her helmet aside, no longer caring. She had to know who this ghost really was. She had to know if everything he was blathering about was a lie. So what if it wasn’t ‘safe’.

His eyes didn’t change. “Y’know how hard it is to remake a brain? Cut me some slack Tie…”

“I mean it. Look at me Phantom. If you’re the ghost I know, you can stop pretending to be something else.”

“You lose the details. Arms and legs are easy. The brain though? Way too hard.” He kept rambling to himself, not reacting even as she put a hand to the glass to get his attention. “Y’know how many times they’ve cut it open? I don’t. I lose track after like. Eleven. Maybe. Pointy Shoe said my best was fifteen but I sure don’t remember that.”

She wanted him to just stop talking. She wanted this ghost to be some strange creature she didn’t know. To not have the only possible link to someone long lost a shattered husk. “Phantom. Do you remember the hunter in red’s name?”

He finally blinked. “I’m not this Phantom guy, Tie.”

“Okay, whatever, forget that part. The ghost hunter in red, what do you remember?” She insisted, knocking again in hopes it would keep the ghost’s focus.

“Wish I’d told em something.” he held up his gloved hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t remember what that something was, don’t ask.”

So he was Phantom? He couldn’t be. That was so non-specific it could be anything. “You never explained how you’re the only ghost that can make their own ectoplasm.”

“It’s in my name Tie! Come on. Thought you guys were smart or whatever.” He did a very awkward one armed attempt at crossing it, eyebrow raised. “The H? The feeding a ghost food thing?”

She didn’t really get the whole naming scheme they used here. The fact it mattered wasn’t making her gut unclench either. “What about the H?

“Hybrid? Might have been Human. That might have been a joke.”

Valarie’s mouth was drier than any desert when he said it that easily, that casualty while kicking his own arm aside. “You’re saying you aren’t all ghost.”

“Yup. Not yet! Trust me, I’ve tried,” the bubbly high pitched laugher clawed out of the ghost at that. “I tried so much. Guess it’s another thing I’m a failure at, eh Tie?”

Something told her not to ask. She had to know. Five years she waited, five years apparently knocked Phantom clear from reality.“Does Danny Fenton mean anything to you?”

He just laughed harder at the question. “Really Tie?”

“Yes, really.”

“That’s the name I scream at em. Don’t know why. Feels good though.”

“Is it your name?” Had he had contact with Danny? Been part of whatever made him go missing from everyone’s lives? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

“They get reallllll angry when I say it is.”

There was no way the GIW had a human captive for five years. There was no way Phantom could be the Danny she knew. The ghost was just lying. He had to be, she desperately needed him to be. “Were you fused with a human or something? Got stuck when possessing someone?”

“Nah. Been like this before I got here, pretty sure. You can check your fancy gear though. There’s some non-ghost DNA in it. Lucky lucky me,” he lay back down in the mess of ectoplasm, ignoring how it clung to his hair. “Thanks for the Friday off! I hate those.”

There was no reason to need air. Talking to a ghost she didn’t even like shouldn’t make her feel like she was being crushed under a boulder. Panting for air, outside the room would make her look pathetic and weak, but she needed the space, needed to be away from that...mockery of a ghost.

“He does that to everyone. He’ll repeat the whole thing in a week or so, but he’s a really good copy the first time you see it.” The guard gave a comforting word, apparently unsurprised by her sudden unscheduled departure.

Oh, there would be no ‘next time.’ Not if he was right about her weapon. But she nodded instead, letting her ‘coworker’ think she was just overwhelmed. Even if all she could think of was how many ways this place would burn if that ghost- that thing had been a human once. She was good at telling when ghosts lied. Phantom didn’t sound like he had. No matter how much she tried to convince herself he did.

#Danny Phantom #phic phight #phic fight 2021 #valerie gray #how obvious is the angst #100%#but maybe in a different way then usual?#the comfort is only the FLAMES OF POSSIBLE REVENGE

196 notes · View notes

thinkingisadangerouspastime · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, first off I ship Zutara and I come in peace. I was pointed your way by a friend when I asked for people who ship kataang who are nevertheless willing to hear different views. I have lurked on blog a week and finally got up my nerve to ask how you or any other Kataang can deny that the last part of book 3 was completely Zutara but then stopped abruptly with no buildup? You can finesse tone on text so I'm not being sarcastic or bitchy, it is a serious question (1/5)

In The Southern Raiders, Katara realizes she has been wrong about Zuko. In Ember Island Players, she realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was, and in the finale, Katara does not care a whit that Aang is gone. I am serious and as someone who is no Aang stan but likes him, I’m actually annoyed by how little anyone cared about his disappearance. It went from “Aang’s gone!” to “Okay whatever, let’s find Iroh so he can kill Ozai.” (2/5)

Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic. I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed. (4/5)

And then literally at the end, Mai shows up after Zuko not talking about her at all for six episodes and declares herself Zuko’s girlfriend. And Katara kisses Aang after being annoyed with and by him arguably since The Southern Raiders. I get that Kataang “won” and I’ve made peace with that, but ... I can’t understand why Kataang shippers are okay with such a crap story. I swear on my gmom [sic] if they’d done this for [Zvtara], I’d be mad as hell. So I don’t understand, I really don’t. (5/5)

As always, I shall begin with a disclaimer: anon, you do not have to agree with this post. No one has to agree with this post, as it is strictly my own thoughts on the subject matter raised here! As per usual, I will not be putting this in the main tags - much less the Zvtara tag! - because I have basic fandom decency, lmao. If you (the general you, not anon specifically) do disagree with this post, that is totally fine, I simply ask that you are polite in expressing your disagreement (if you choose to do so at all! no one is expected to, lmao. i promise).

Alright. Formalities are out of the way!

I’ll admit I giggled a little bit when you say you lurked on my blog for a week, because I’ve actually talked about this subject numerous times in the past! I just found it funny you hadn’t stumbled across any posts about it yet, lol. So, as a heads up, know that I will be providing several links in this post since - again - this subject and related subjects have been analyzed a multitude of times before. I highly recommend reading them all! Mostly because I don’t intend to spend forever restating what’s been said over and over and over lmaooo. I will provide the resources, but it is up to each individual to take advantage of them.

To begin: your ask actually contains a few logical fallacies, anon! I do not mean this as shade or to belittle you - I fall victim to this issue all the time myself. Anyone who writes analyses or participates in debates does! Humans are imperfect and often like to cut corners to reach a conclusion. It is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about because - as the existence of your ask in inbox indicates - you are willing to learn more. So kudos to you, my friend!

Alright. So what logical fallacies am I talking about here? (For the record: specific definitions of logical fallacies were taken from here.)

1. Hasty Generalization.

“A hasty generalization is a general statement without sufficient evidence to support it.” Numerous claims are made in this ask that I have absolutely no doubt you believe to be true, anon, but there really isn’t any concrete evidence to support it! I will go into more detail later, of course, but let’s quickly look at one example:

“In Ember Island Players, [Katara] realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was…”

For the time being, I will ask but one question: from the show itself, not fanon, how do you know this?

2. Causal Fallacy

Ah, this guy. My own worst enemy, tbh! “A causal fallacy is any logical breakdown when identifying a cause,” of which there are several types. “One causal fallacy is the false cause or non causa pro causa (‘not the-cause for a cause’) fallacy, which is when you conclude about a cause without enough evidence to do so.” In your ask, you claim:

“I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed.”

Again, for the time being, I will ask only one question: from the show itself, not fanon, what led you to believe this statement?

“Another kind of causal fallacy is the correlational fallacy also known as cum hoc ergo propter hoc (Lat., ‘with this therefore because of this’). This fallacy happens when you mistakenly interpret two things found together as being causally related.” In your ask, you claim:

“Katara was all over Zuko (honestly, again not being a jerk) in the finale until for whatever reason, she wasn’t. She was giving him a pep talk about Iroh, she was going with him to Azula, she was healing him and saying he saved her not the other way around. I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”

I will ask one question: from the show itself, not fanon, why would you believe these are indicative of romance? (Consider the context the show is situated in, too - e.g. the war, Katara being Azula’s only available match in skill, etc.)

The reason I bring up the issue of logical fallacies is again not at all to make you feel bad, anon!! You were simply trying to express your point to me and I greatly appreciate you taking the time to do so. See, your ask actually presents a larger fandom trend:

Misconstruing fanon as canon.

What you have offered to me, anon, are fanon conclusions. To clarify: there is absolutely nothing wrong with fanon. I adore fanon interpretations (an example I have used in the past is Kuzaang - like, I don’t care that there’s no canon basis! I do what I want lmao!), but a line has to be drawn between exploring fanon interpretations and expecting everyone to take that fanon as canon. Again, anon, this is not your fault! It is not any one person’s fault, lmao. It is an issue of fandom as a whole, and all of us fall victim to it.

With that in mind, I will break down the different components of your ask. I will also do my best to be brief - as aforementioned, I and others have analyzed this issue numerous times before, lmao. To avoid confusion, it would be best to read through each or at least most links as they are provided!

Firstly, there are two posts I have made in the past that almost directly answer your overarching question here in this ask. Please read them prior to continuing, as I will occasionally reference them:

This post explains how Zvtara was not built up from TSR/EIP-onwards, and how their supposed “canon enemies to lovers arc” is a completely fanon construction.

This post explains the issue of the “canon Zvtara” rhetoric from rabid zkers (and you, anon, are absolutely NOT one, in case you were worried).

Alrighty. With that out the way, let’s get into it!

“In The Southern Raiders, Katara realizes she has been wrong about Zuko.”

Gotta start by saying that TSR is not about Zuko. TSR is, first and foremost, about Katara. Katara does not realize she was wrong about Zuko, because here’s the truth - she wasn’t wrong about him. Zuko did horrible things to the Gaang. Katara was not wrong to hold him accountable for that. What Katara does realize is that holding such rage so close to her chest is bad for her. This rage was not solely anger against Zuko, either; it was of course about Yon Rha, too, but it was also anger towards Kya and Katara herself. Essentially, TSR is where Katara realizes she has to forgive herself. Zuko is only one part of her journey (similar to Aang’s role in the episode, if a different end of the spectrum).

This post explains how TSR was fundamentally about Katara.

Additional resources about TSR:

This post explains Aang’s comments to Katara in TSR and how Katara herself recognized their validity.

This post explains why both Aang and Zuko were important to Katara in TSR.

This post is an extensive breakdown of Aang and Katara’s relationship within TSR.

“In Ember Island Players, [Katara] realizes Aang is not as mature as she thought he was…”

You provide no context for this claim, so I’m going to work with the assumption this is about their reactions to the play itself and the infamous kiss!

There is something important we must keep in mind when discussing EIP: the play they watch is literally imperialist propaganda. It is meant to demean the entire Gaang, and indeed it does exactly that. You mention Katara and Aang specifically, so I will recap what I have explained before about their depictions in EIP: Katara, an indigenous woman, is hypersexualized and portrayed as overly emotional (and thus “irrational”). This reinforces the Fire Nation sentiment that women of the Water Tribes are less intelligent and less suited for “responsibility” than Fire Nation women. Aang, a pacifist and the sole survivor of genocide who is also canonly the male character most comfortable with femininity and spirituality, is portrayed as a flighty, airheaded woman (this is a well-known imperialist tactic meant to emasculate the target, seeing as masculinity was often equated with power in fascist regimes; thus, they effectively belittled Aang before the FN audience). This reinforces the Fire Nation sentiment that the Air Nomads were foolish, weak people who deserved to die.

In other words, of course Aang and Katara were upset about how they portrayed in the play. It is understandable that tensions would be running high and consequently that mistakes (we all know the one) would be made.

This post explains how EIP belittles each member of the Gaang (and why the play is not indicative of Zvtara).

This post talks specifically about EIP and their portrayal of Aang and Katara.

Now onto the kiss. As everyone knows and no one has ever disagreed with, Aang was wrong to kiss Katara. Point blank!

But what people do misunderstand is Katara and Aang’s feelings regarding the kiss. Given your above quote, I assume you believe Aang kissing Katara supposedly made her realize that Aang wasn’t as mature as she once thought. On the surface, this seems like a logical conclusion! But digging deeper reveals… well, there’s nothing that indicates this conclusion at all. Even jumping ahead to the finale, when Zuko has doubts over Aang’s return, Katara demonstrates her faith in Aang (although of course she’s nervous - I won’t deny the obvious, lmao) as she says, “Aang won’t lose. He’s gonna come back. He has to.”

In other words, nothing in canon suggests that Katara believes Aang is immature because of what happened in EIP. She still trusts in his return, as she did even before she knew him (and arguably is more confident in him now, given the 60~ episodes of them growing closer). Furthermore, when Aang does disappear, Katara doesn’t have an outburst about how “immature” it was for him to “run away again.” The viewers know Aang didn’t run away, of course (fans who insist he did are not worth arguing with, anon - they don’t understand the show, rip), but that is a luxury the rest of the Gaang is not afforded. And yet even though Aang has vanished off the face of the planet, Katara still believes he will save the world. If anything, that signifies the utmost confidence in his skill and maturity!

To go back to the kiss itself, this post explains the true source of Katara’s conflict in turning down Aang (hint: she says it herself in the episode! you know, the whole war going on) and why the EIP kiss did not sink Kataang’s relationship.

Additional sources about EIP:

This post explains how the EIP kiss was resolved through narrative parallels.

This post explains how the EIP kiss is so often blown out of proportion.

“… and in the finale, Katara does not care a whit that Aang is gone. I am serious and as someone who is no Aang stan but likes him, I’m actually annoyed by how little anyone cared about his disappearance. It went from ‘Aang’s gone!’ to ‘Okay whatever, let’s find Iroh so he can kill Ozai.’”

As I already touched upon, Katara didn’t need a soliloquy to emphasize her connection to Aang once he disappeared. She trusts that he will return. She says so herself. I guess I just don’t understand how you got from Point A, Katara has consistent faith in Aang, to Point B, Katara and the rest of the Gaang didn’t care about Aang’s disappearance. It’s honestly a bit more like Point A to Point Z, lmao! If you would like to expand on your logic here, I would love to hear more!!

There are a few specific aspects I want to note about your rationale, though. You argue the Gaang moves from ‘Aang disappeared’ to ‘let’s find Iroh,’ but the Gaang actually went from:

1. Aang disappeared!

2. They search the entire island for him.

3. Okay, they couldn’t find him, so they track down June and have her try to find Aang.

4. June says to them, “No, I mean he’s gone gone. He doesn’t exist.” (And she clarifies to Sokka that she doesn’t mean dead, either - she means Aang has totally blinked out of their world.)

5. Only after all of this do they decide to track down Iroh.

The Gaang cares immensely about the fact that Aang is gone, and you could actually argue they waste time by trying to track him down. They don’t give up until June essentially tells them that some Spirit World shenanigans were involved. Even if you don’t think they reached that specific conclusion, I have to ask: What else were they supposed to do? They were told Aang didn’t exist! How are they supposed to fix that?

Well, they can’t. So they do the next best thing: they find Iroh, the man who knows Ozai better than anyone and is also one of the most talented firebenders in the world. In my opinion, that’s a very logical step to take.

I’ll be blunt here, lol: in my opinion, nothing of what you listed in your ask is inherently romantic.

Okay. I am going to assume you’ve read the first two posts I linked earlier (“Zvtara did not have an E-L arc” and “the ‘canon’ Zvtara of rabid zkers has issues”), because I do not intend to rehash everything they contain, lol. Consequently, I presume you realize by now that there was no canon romantic interest between Zuko and Katara.

And as I always say, just because there wasn’t a canon romance doesn’t mean people can’t take fanon routes! Of course they can! That’s the entire point of fanon! But fanon is not canon, and I am strictly referring to canon in my discussions.

You claim Katara was all over Zuko, which in itself I don’t think is an accurate assessment, because she doesn’t really do anything with Zuko outside the three points you bring up (other than the June gag, which I addressed in one of the aforementioned linked posts). So I’ll go ahead and break down each instance you provide!

1. “[Katara] was giving [Zuko] a pep talk about Iroh”

Katara asked Zuko if he was okay. She asked him if he was genuinely sorry. She reassures him that Iroh will forgive him. That’s… all. Not to diminish the significance of this conversation, but it’s not exactly an intimate, romantically-charged discussion (unless fanon-ized). But on that note, let’s tackle the canon significance of this moment!

Katara knows firsthand the challenge of forgiving Zuko. And she knows that Zuko understands how hard it was for her to forgive him (note: Katara’s anger was totally justified, and anyone who disagrees is probably a rabid Zuko stan lmao). She also recognizes that Zuko is terrified it will take Iroh the same struggle to forgive him that Katara went through. This scene is not related to romance at all. It’s about compassion. It’s about Katara and Zuko’s friendship having progressed, slowly but surely, to the point where she’s not afraid to extend empathy to him anymore (seeing as the first time, beneath Ba Sing Se, did not go so well; you know - Aang died and all). It’s about Zuko recognizing his own fallibility (and the audience recognizing how much he’s grown). He questions how he can even face his uncle after all he’s done to the man, which is a far cry from his entitled attitude in TSR, where he demanded to know why Katara didn’t trust him when everyone else had forgiven him.

To make this moment, this moment about Zuko’s relationship with his uncle who is all but a literal father to him, this moment of vulnerability, of guilt, of remorse, of growth, to claim this powerful moment is about a nonexistent romantic relationship? In my opinion, that is incredibly reductive to what this scene is supposed to signify. And again, there is nothing wrong with people exploring such a possibility in fanon, but in canon? Nah. It doesn’t track.

2. “[Katara] was going with [Zuko] to Azula”

Don’t forget that at first, Zuko planned to take on Azula alone. He doesn’t request Katara to accompany him until Iroh tells him that he’ll need help. As such, Zuko’s immediate agreement with Iroh is reflective of his personal growth (Book 1 and 2 Zuko would have argued and insisted he didn’t need any help). It also demonstrates, however, that Katara was not obsessively on Zuko’s mind. He doesn’t choose Katara until Iroh points out that Zuko will need assistance in taking Azula down. This means that Zuko’s choice of Katara to join him is a tactical decision, not an emotional one. And by all accounts, it’s a damn good decision! Zuko witnessed firsthand beneath Ba Sing Se a) how powerful Katara was (e.g. that wave after Aang died) and b) how Katara was the only one who could take on Azula*.

Of course, besides the fact that Katara was the only match for Azula, who else was Zuko going to choose? Sokka and Suki, while talented in their own right, were no competition for Azula. Toph, while the greatest earthbender in the world, was needed to metalbend the airships. Katara was the only (and the best!) option.

Also, on their trip to face Azula, the only thing they talk about within their three lines of canon conversation are Azula and Aang. Not exactly a romantic flight, lmao.

*Zuko never saw Aang fight Azula on the drill.

3. “[Katara] was healing [Zuko] and saying he saved her not the other way around”

Actually, this is what the transcript says:

Zuko: Thank you, Katara.

Katara: I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.

You’re right about how their lines refer to them saving each other, but you posit it as a romantic moment, when the lines are actually pretty straightforward. Zuko thanks Katara as she heals him from the partially-redirected lightning strike, and Katara thanks him for trying to redirect the lightning away from her and in doing so saving her life. In terms of canon, there’s nothing romantic about this, lol! (Which I talked about extensively in the E-L post, if you need to reference it again.) The reason being is that you have to take the show itself into context when you do analysis. If there was no canon romantic buildup between Zuko and Katara, why would these lines in canon (not fanon! fanon is free rein, lmao) be interpreted through a romantic lens?

Well, they wouldn’t be interpreted as such. Plain and simple.

“I genuinely don’t get why this isn’t seen as romantic.”

Because looking through a canon lens, they aren’t romantic. That’s all. You are of course welcome to view them as such through a fanon lens!! It’s just about recognizing the line between canon and fanon.

“I will grant you that Zuko would not have allowed Azula to kill anyone but I feel the point here was Zuko realizing his life was pointless if Katara was killed.”

I asked earlier what content in the show itself led you to believe. I have wracked my own mind, and I cannot think of anything that would point to this conclusion. Zuko was in Katara’s good graces for 5 episodes. That’s 8% of the show. Not exactly a lot of time for Zuko to start believing his life would be pointless if Katara was killed, is it?

This post explains the improbability of Zuko having a crush on Katara within canon.

This post explains how Zuko’s racism towards the Air Nomads in TSR and the finale is, well, exactly that - racism (and not a sign of a crush on Katara).

And, of course, as has been said a million times, Zuko taking the lightning for Katara out of romantic interest would completely undermine his redemption arc. Since it has been said over and over and over, I will be brief: Zuko taking the lightning is significant because it is a selfless act (one of his only in the series), and it directly parallels his selfish act of choosing not to intervene when Azula killed Aang with lightning beneath Ba Sing Se. This moment demonstrates Zuko’s growth, how he has learned to accept unconditional love from Iroh and the Gaang and Mai and even Ty Lee and sure, even from Appa and Momo, too. To make this moment of pure selflessness about a nonexistent romance? To force a fanon romance in replacement of canon redemption and canon platonic significance?

Such a decision speaks wonders about a person’s priorities, in my opinion, as well as how amatonormativity impacts them.

Furthermore, Zuko’s choice cements Katara’s position as his surrogate sibling, as she is Azula’s primary foil. Zuko chooses the sister who heals over the sister who harms. I won’t go too much into it here, because it has already been talked about extensively before! Thus, I offer you this post that explains how Zuko and Katara - in canon - are positioned as surrogate siblings as well as Azula’s role in this matter. I also offer this post that lays out through screencaps how Zuko and Katara - in canon - treat each other like family.

Additional sources about the final Agni Kai:

This post in part discusses fanon misinterpretation of the final Agni Kai and why such a lens is not true to canon relationships.

This post explains why the final Agni Kai is not intended to be romantic.

This post explains how the final Agni Kai is primarily about Azula and how reducing it to be a big Zvtara moment is detrimental to both her and to Zuko and Katara themselves.

“And then literally at the end, Mai shows up after Zuko not talking about her at all for six episodes and declares herself Zuko’s girlfriend.”

This point could probably get a post of its own, lol, but fortunately I and others have already written a few! I will link them below - first, however, I question your choice of “declares.” Technically, yes, Mai does say outright that it doesn’t hurt how the new Fire Lord is her boyfriend, but your phrasing implies Zuko resisted her proclamation. When… he doesn’t. In fact, he embraces it, asking if that means she doesn’t hate him anymore (read: he asks if they’re back on good terms again). Zuko clearly doesn’t have a problem with the girl he loves wanting to be with him again - so why do some parts of fandom so adamantly insist he does? (Not you, anon - I am referring to the rabid fanoners, lol.)

Also, regarding how Zuko hasn’t talked about Mai for six episodes, we’ve gotta be realistic with this assessment in terms of canon:

1. It was the crux of the war. They were either going to live or die. There was no time for romance at this point! Sokka and Suki weren’t professing their love on the battlefield, lmao, so it’s not exactly strange that Zuko didn’t bust into a monologue about how he missed Mai. I think they were just a little bit distracted by the possible end of the world, lol, and all that jazz.

2. Zuko probably thought Mai was dead. He knows what Azula is like. He knows his sister doesn’t have time for people who get in her way (Aang can testify to this, lmao). So can you blame him for not wanting to think about how the girl he loved had died (to his knowledge) to save him?

You gotta cut the kid some slack, lol. Anyways! Additional sources about Maiko:

This post breaks down the notion of Maiko and “deserve.”

This post rationalizes through a canon lens why Mai’s arrival at the palace surprised Zuko.

This post is the mother of Maiko metas, explaining in tremendous detail why their relationships works, is relevant to canon, and was well-implemented for what its role was.

“And Katara kisses Aang after being annoyed with and by him arguably since The Southern Raiders.”

What in canon has led you to the conclusion that Katara was annoyed with Aang? What specific moments from TSR to the finale made you think Katara was annoyed with Aang and remained annoyed with Aang? Are there any, or are you thinking about fanon interpretation? (Canon vs fanon strikes again!)

In TSR, Katara explicitly thanks Aang for understanding her perspective. Nothing there is indicative of annoyance (and as in the links provided earlier, she was not angry at Aang/Zuko/etc. so much as she was at herself. well, she was a little bit angry with Zuko, lmao). In EIP, Katara is understandably angry at Aang’s decision to kiss her, but Aang completely backs off, and we see in the part 1 of the finale that there are no hard feelings or weird tension between them. Katara in fact actively expresses concern for Aang after Zuko sporadically attacked him when she demands of the firebender, “What’s wrong with you? You could have hurt Aang!” Even when Aang and Katara do butt heads later in the episode as Aang tries to think of a way to defeat Ozai without killing him, Katara doesn’t stay frustrated. Like I said - when she and Zuko are flying to Azula, she demonstrates her unwavering faith in Aang through her belief that he will return. So… where is the annoyance that you feel was present?

With all this mind, i.e. looking strictly at canon, Katara wasn’t annoyed with Aang during this time. Thus, Katara kisses Aang because she loved him. Because he backed off and gave her the space she needed to make a decision about if she wanted to be with him (hence Katara being the one to initiate the kiss). Because the issue was never about if she reciprocated his feelings (they both knew they loved each other) but rather it had to do with the war. At the end of the finale, the war is over, and there is nothing that prevents them from being together. Simple.

This post explains how Katara’s feelings for Aang develop throughout the series (and were not neglected, as rabid zkers like to claim, for some reason? again - you are not one of them, anon).

This post also covers Katara’s interest in Aang throughout the series.

“I can’t understand why Kataang shippers are okay with such a crap story.”

I mean, you definitely don’t have to ship Kataang. It may not be your cup of tea, and that’s totally okay! But as the above links demonstrate, Kataang was a fantastic story. It was well-implemented into the narrative from Day 1. The soulmateism is unparalleled!

Also, it’s worth noting that A:TLA itself was essentially pre-written. The writers knew how the story would end from the get-go, including that the show would end with Kataang. A few Zvtara gags were thrown in to add a sense of “who will Katara choose?” drama as the show aired, but Zuko and Katara were never planned to end up together. One reason so many newer fans are fine with Kataang from the start is that there’s no tension of waiting a week for a new episode when you can watch all 61 episodes straight through on Netflix, lmao. It’s even more obvious now than when A:TLA was airing that Aang and Katara will end up together, if that makes sense. (Although I talked about this in the E-L post linked earlier, so you probably understand this point already, as it was explained in detail there!)

All of this is to say that Kataang is not a “crap story” in terms of writing (again, personal taste is a different matter) because it was woven in from the beginning and had powerful narrative significance! (Kataang represented numerous complementary components of the series, such as yin and yang, push and pull, air and water, Oma and Shu, etc.)

Now. If you really and truly want to understand why Kataang shippers like Kataang, anon, consider reading some Kataang fanfics or exploring some Kataang headcanons. I read fics involving Zvtara more regularly than you might think, lol, because… well, it’s just a ship. I understand the appeal of romantic Zvtara and I can actually appreciate it when it’s well-written! I’m sure if you’re willing to put in just a little legwork (you don’t need to go the whole mile, lmao - ‘tis just fandom), you’ll realize why people like Kataang, even if it isn’t exactly your thing. You have the range, anon!! You got this!

I hope I managed to answer your questions, my friend! As always, you do not have to agree with anything I have said here. It is totally fine if you and anyone else disagrees! Everything above is simply my own perspective on the matter. Thank you for taking the time to read my response and all the different links I provided! I hope it has expanded your understanding of the subject at hand!

#i spent all day writing this lmaooo #TWO WHOLE HOURS SPENT COMPILING LINKS #amy answers #anon #amy analyzes

251 notes · View notes

thestarsanctuary · 4 years ago

Note

hi! I was hoping you could do a Bakugo, Midoriya, Todoroki and Kirishima (separate) with an s/o that has Tourettes, preferably they/them pronouns please. I hope you're having a good day <3

Of course! I was gonna take a break in the middle of my (unspoken) break aka me being lazy, but this request was so nice I- I had to 😔✋🏾 it was definitely the heart. It got me.

MHA BOYS WITH AN S/O THAT HAS TOURETTES

TW FOR ODD LOOKS AND STARES/BULLYING(ISH)

BAKUGO

Bakugo wasn’t really sure when he first met you about why your head was twitching or why you were repeating the sentences Aizawa had said sometimes, as he didn’t know you had tourettes. He never even spoke to you like the others did so you never had the chance to tell him until Kirishima did.

When you two started dating he started seeing patterns of when you would get to stressed and start jerking or spouting out random things you heard from youtube videos, he did his best to make sure you knew he was there for reassurance, whether it was a hand on your hand or just pure presence.

There were times when you would have ticcing fits and he would have to sit and rub your back and watch you, and in those times you realized he really was there for you.

He likes to do this thing where he rants on about things he doesn’t like to try and distract you- I’m not sure how he has so much he doesn’t like but every time it’s a new odd topic....sometimes it can literally be something like how he hates trees because when it’s fall he has to rake up the leaves and you have to say

“Bakugo they literally help you not die.” It really is a mystery sometimes how he’s so smart.

Sometimes you can be a bit upset with your tics. It’s not that you’re insecure or that you’re ashamed, but they’re difficult to deal with. The control that you could have isn’t there and that’s stressful in and of itself, and in those moments Bakugo realizes the best thing he can do for you - is make you understand that you are just like the rest of the class and the rest of the people in the world.

“Listen it doesn’t matter if you’re different because to me you’re still cool, you’re still funny, you’re still incredibly sarcastic and while I don’t enjoy that for the most part- you’re my extra regardless of whatever you feel. Get that bull out of your head.”

I mean, he wouldn’t date anybody less than the best.

MIDORIYA

Midoriya is the predictable character in the relationship. He researched about Tourettes and what he could do in times when you needed him, I mean he’s not perfect but he’d rather know something rather than nothing.

You tended to be the one who was more of a risk taker, and sometimes your tourettes got in the way of that- which could frustrate you to no end then causing harsher tics like hitting or yelling, and those were the times Midoriya tried to get anything too dangerous either out of your hands- or just out of the way so you didn’t get hurt, he was smart with it.

Other times he could be too much for you, almost treating you like a kid so you had to remind him that you know and understand precautions, but that you also want to live like everybody else and that is nothing short of your business.

You’re favorite activity with him was when he would help you study because he made it so fun for you. It could be hard to pay attention in class sometimes and do your work after school so Izuku would come over and assist you. He would make sure you guys took breaks and that you understood the topic at your own pace.

“Izuku can you like- give an example?”

“Well it’s just kind of- wait what is an example-“

In many situations Midoriya LOVED holding your hand, like he did it at any time, any place. It was something he thought wasn’t too much in public and it was reassuring for you both. When you’re tics got too much you could squeeze his hand, and other times when he wouls get anxious or something would happen he would squeeze yours. It was cute and handy!

There were instances when Midoriya definitely had his mistakes with your tics and how to deal with them but he was willing to take his time and learn because who would he be without his perfect person stayin’ by his side?

KIRISHIMA

Kirishima is probably the most sympathetic with your tics because he stay prepared for them. It’s never been like “Kirishima can you” but it’s always been more like ‘Kiri how do you always know’ and there’s never been an answer that he gave other than ‘I gotta stay ready for my lovely lover~’

Kirishima likes to do this thing where he goes “neck” after you have a rough day with your tics and with massage your neck for you or your back, depending on how your tics were. He likes takin’ care of you, and it’s not like he doesn’t know you can’t take care of yourself because hey, you didn’t get into 1-A by being a pushover.

Sometimes you’ve had times when people in school just aren’t all that accepting and Kirishima will clap back unprovoked.

“Sometimes I think about how sad you have to be to make fun of them and dang man, you got a therapist?”

Other times you’ll basically respond for him, like I said, you can DEFINITELY take care of yourself.

Whenever you’re in the car or on the bus on a trip in the case that you’ve gotten real excited (which is natural being around your boyfriends and your friends at the same time) he’ll play this playlist he made of your favorite songs and sing to distract you. Does he sing well? That wasn’t the question- but he does sing, only for you though because the other students keep dissing him.

He has a reflex of rubbing your back during free period or at lunch. I don’t think this is relevant but it’s something super adorable, and sometimes he just gives you his hand to look at and play with when you have anxiety as well to keep you calm.

Also irrelevant but other times he’ll facetime you before you guys go somewhere and ask what to wear because he wants to match with you, and it’s so cute because you could lie so hard and he’d believe everything you say.

You two are kinda a power couple like- you both can hold your own but also are such nice people, good job makin’ the rest of 1-A feel lonely guys.

TODOROKI

Todoroki is a simple guy. He doesn’t want to overcomplicate things for the most part because “why would I act like your guardian, if I’m literally your boyfriend” and that’s that.

He tends to try and keep you calm, as it’s something pretty simple for him, he knows a bunch of tactics for distractions or when those are obsolete, he’ll just sit there with you, and maybe rub your back or get a water bottle for when it’s done, he just never wants to do too much because he knows your capabilities, and he knows your limits.

He is also a large hand holder. Mostly because he doesn’t like the idea of PDA for the most part, and he doesn’t like leaving your side either, because you’re very comforting to him. It’s a given we all know he needs love and comfort please.

There have been times when people look at your because of your tics in public and Todoroki has had to give a little glare back because of the disrespect being blatantly put out. In rarer times you will both glare at the same time, those are the coolest moments of you as a couple.

Shoto doesn’t really care much for your tics only because he’d rather just make sure you’re ok then watch Avengers rather than treat you like a child if anything, and that’s because you told him first that you wanted a boyfriend not a babysitter (speakin’ facts) and at first he didn’t understand and he thought you didn’t want his help but soon understood otherwise.

Some cute things I like to think of are that he likes to put on your favorite songs when you’re anxious and try to dance for you. It’s not good- let’s start with that, because he’s kinda...stiff, but the attempt is absolutely adorable (and oh so funny).

Other things are he likes to call you cheesy nicknames when you’re cuddling because he likes your reactions everytime, because according to him, yeah he said it himself, you are very adorable when annoyed. Don’t @ me!

Overall he just loves spending time with you whenever he can, you’re truly a safe-haven for him.

EL FIN

Alright tourettes is a real thing y’all, so I didnt make this rainbows n cupcakes bc im sure that’s not always how it is.

If anything in this is offensive or too much for somebody I can take it down and re-do it! I’m not too sure how it is bc it feels kinda repetitive but we’ll see I guess, and thanks to the person who requested my day was fine thanks 😩✋🏾.

I also included some things I like to do (play with hands and listen to music) because i have anxiety and I known that can worsen tics and can also come with tics (a lot of ppl with tics have adhd, anxiety, or some sort of disorder along with it)

- SS <333333

#bnha #bnha x reader #tourettes #tourette syndrome #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro kirishima #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #kirishima x reader

238 notes · View notes

star-sworn · 3 years ago

Note

1) Which kh trio do you think works out the most? I mean it’s gotta be the wayfinder trio right?

2) which trio is your favorite?

1. What an intriguing question anon…I agree, it’s gotta be Wayfinder as a group, simply because they’re the only ones that actually attend a school with consistent training. You could argue that killing Heartless literally seven days a week in violation of child labor laws as Roxas, Axel, and Xion did during their time in Organzation 13 kind of counts as a workout routine too? But yeah I would go Wayfinder WITH THE ONE CAVEAT that damn, have you seen Riku’s biceps? That boy works out enough for the entire trio. While Sora was taking a ride on the Mountain Coaster, Riku has been all aboard the Gain Train, if you know what I mean. Though as I think about it, I was a state level swimmer growing up, and so I can personally say that Sora’s abs have to be insanely strong to swim like a merman for hours on end, so… maybe this isn’t as clear cut as I once thought, anon. But Terra for sure is a gym bro. He needs those big strong arms to hug his friends real tight. Also look at his Break Time. Literally just flexing on all of us.

2. This one is tough, and if this turns into an actual novel, I cannot be blamed. So my answer is super basic, but it has to be the destiny trio. I absolutely adore Sora: he’s my darling boy, I miss him every day, and he alone would make this trio my favorite. He’s so positive, so kind, so protective of those he cares about, and I think what I love most is that, through and through, he really is just an ordinary kid, with ordinary dreams. I really feel that, while Sora likes going to all these worlds, likes meeting new friends and helping them with their problems, and he understands his role in saving the world and accepts that responsibility, he doesn’t care about being some big hero. He just wants to find his best friend, and go home to the girl he loves, his other best friend. His desires are so small, so simple, so human, I just can’t describe how much I love him for that. Second, because I am a ride or die Sokai shipper, and I could go on about them for literally 358/2 days, but I’ll try to keep it brief. Just look at the cave drawing they made when they were like four years old: even if it wasn’t romantically back then, they’ve literally loved each other almost their entire lives. Sora considers Kairi his home. He’s sacrificed himself twice for her. He spends kh1 and 2 yearning for her, dreaming about her. How he finally puts her first at the end of 3, and says "she's out there, alone... not for one more second." Going against Riku, against Mickey, and saying: i've done everything anyone has ever asked me to do. I've saved the world, I've saved all these people. Now I want to do what I want to do. I want to be with her. I can't stand that she keeps getting ripped away from me. She needs me, and I can't be without her for one more second. Swoon. Also, did you see remind? the gratuitous hand holding? the three dates they went on? One Heart? Just end me now. And the way he reaches across the divide of reality itself to save her in Melody of Memory? That their vow gave him the power to keep her safe like that? I don't care that shit's romantic as hell.

And this isn’t just because of Sora. Little kh1 Kairi, with no weapon, no magic, she’s surrounded by Shadow Heartless, so what does she do? She throws her arms around Sora. Literally shielding his little Shadow form with her own body. What about when Sora is tackled by a mob of Heartless toward the end of kh2? She jumps off a freaking balcony–once again, without a weapon of any kind. In kh2, when she reunites with riku, she's so happy. and when he tries to leave before Sora can recognize him, she pleads "Riku! Don't go!" and grabs onto his sleeve. She would do anything to stay with her boys, both of them. People always talk about how protective sora is of kairi (and I live for it), but Kairi is exactly the same when it comes to Sora. They both make that vow. And then how she holds on to him in kh3, keeping him on the edge of life itself? How he tells her, “I feel strong with you, Kairi!” with this big grin, and she blushes? I will never be over that. They’re both so devoted to one another, it’s just that Sora’s devotion is more prominent. Kairi is also brave and loyal, and she does her best for her friends no matter what, too. She literally gave up a year of her life sleeping to try and find Sora.

And going back to kh2, I also adore Riku. His whole arc, from childhood (and love) rival in kh1, the fall from grace, to his redemption in kh2? Absolutely beautiful. What struck me during my first playthrough of kh2 was Riku in the background. He wants so badly to atone for what he's done, yet he’s so ashamed he doesn’t want anyone to see his face, to know it’s him. It’s such a complete 180, to become so humble after being such a jerk. He creates that portal so Kairi can escape Axel. He teams up with Namine and does just enough to save Kairi, then tries to run away before she can find out it’s him. In his mind, he just wants to get her to Sora. That’s such a shift from “I have to be the one to save her” in kh1. And when Kairi jumps off the balcony, he saves her from the Shadows, then puts a keyblade in her hand(!!!) and literally fights with her, back to back. And do I even have to explain the end of 2, how Sora and Riku reconcile and Riku admits he was jealous of Sora? And then its Kairi’s letter connecting her heart with Sora’s yet again to open a door to the light for then to get home? While they’re playing Sanctuary??? Literally high art. I know Kairi is still kind of a lesser character in kh2, but kh2 still did a great job making it feel like they all love each other to death.

Which brings me to my one and only gripe with kh3: the destiny trio, or lack thereof. Before the paopu scene, Sora and Kairi literally don’t even make eye contact with one another. And before we rescue Aqua and Ven, the whole game is just everyone idolizing Riku and weirdly and not even tacitly bullying and disparaging Sora (which I was not here for). Even Riku is like “lol yeah you’re not good enough to save Aqua and you’re dumb for even trying” and then what does Sora do? He saves BOTH their asses. I digress. Now I know, in an interview Nomura talked about how kh3 was meant to show change. And since the other trios are all in peril, they’re all sort of frozen, static. So this kind of has to be referring to the destiny trio, and I do think we see that in 3 with the paopu scene. There’s a shift, and Sora and Kairi definitely have something they just can’t share with Riku. But as much as I love Sokai, I feel kh3 really needed at least one scene where they were all together, actually being friends like they used to be. Just going from 2 to 3, they seem like barely friends at times. But I do think they tried to show Riku being distressed when Kairi was killed, and sad when she went to sleep during Limitcut, but the execution was a bit poor.

And I have to say, seeing Riku, the guy who put the keyblade in Kairi’s hand’s and fought by her side in kh2 telling her to stay behind for literally no reason while he goes to Quadratum, that stung. It felt like such a betrayal of the love these three have for one another. And honestly, I’m getting a little tired of Riku, only because he’s already had one incredible and complete arc, arguably an arc and a half including DDD, and I just feel like he should take a backseat for a little while. Now, it’s my hope they’re playing the long game with this, that it will be up to Kairi–Master Kairi–to team up with/save her boys down the road, but I’m also way too hesitant to truly believe that’s what they’re planning. So in sum, I absolutely adore all three members of the destiny trio as characters in their own right. But especially in the sequence from 1-2, I love their friendship, how they’re doing everything for each other, that all they really want is to make sure the others are okay, that they grow and change in order to treat each other better, it’s just so beautiful. I think kh3 had so many balls in the air, it was trying to balance so much and tie up so many ends and set up so many new things that the destiny trio just kind of got lost in all of it. So I'm really hoping in the next phase maybe they'll get to team up together. Here's hoping, right anon?

Thank you for letting me gush about kh, anon! I’d love to hear your thoughts, or anyone elses! Happy 20th anniversary, I hope you're having a good day today. :)

#long post #if you're reading this you're a real one #after playing 0.2 though I really like the wayfinder trio a lot too #I just adore ven and his relationship with sora in bbs makes me actually cry #and how aqua sees these apparitions of Terra and Ven that you chase through the Dominion in 0.2?#how she's like #i dont care of theyre not real i MISS them #wow that really got me #in some ways i think right now the other two trios are more functional than the destiny trio?#and i love wayfinder trio too #but like #how could they compete with SKR? its not even fair #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts meta #destiny trio #sora #Kairi #Riku

15 notes · View notes

castieltrash1 · 5 years ago

Text

dangerous territory → clint b.

gif credit (x)

summary → clint stays behind during a mission, leaving you alone with him in the avengers building. seeing him sprawled out on the comfy lounge room couch gives you some naughty ideas -- only adding to the tension your relationship already has.

word count → 6.7k (literally wtf)

warnings → i ignore the entirety of iw/endgame except for clint’s makeover, extreme sexual tension, smut; switch!fem!reader, switch!clint, couch sex, oral (both recieving), fingering, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

a/n → literally idk if i should be ashamed or not but im Horny 4 Hawkeye!!! oopsie !! also there are like .3 smut fics for him on here and im determined to fix that

---

Quiet was not a word you’d use to describe the Avengers Facility.

In fact, with Steve’s loud orders, Bruce’s lab explosions, and Sam’s boisterous laughter -- not to mention the never-ending petty arguments that managed to revert the Avengers to 11th graders in their first debate club -- it was the farthest thing from quiet.

But, now, with zero disagreements and zero distractions, you’d been able to enjoy the building all to yourself. Almost. Of course, the one time you got to avoid a mission, you ended up falling into an even worse situation.

You’d covered for Wanda last mission, and she’d insisted on paying you back for the newest one. It wasn’t high stakes by any means, but the work itself had countless components and everyone who was nearby -- or at least on the planet -- had been called in to fill some role.

Everyone, of course, except you. And Clint.

Suddenly the idea of being stuck in the Quinjet with everyone’s post-mission moodiness sounded very appealing. You could feel a headache growing as you wandered around the kitchen, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid him. He was not supposed to be here. Hell, he didn’t even like stepping foot in the place unless the world was in immediate danger.

Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice his odd attitude. Natasha gave him a confused look when he mentioned staying behind, but decidedly hadn’t commented, almost like she’d already pieced together the reason for Clint’s actions. Knowing her, she probably had. But, even Wanda shot a glance that worried you -- though you seemed to be the only one to catch her squinted green gaze before it disappeared. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what she saw in his mind.

Sure, you had a couple of ideas as to why he would choose to isolate himself with you, but you tried to not let those thoughts consume you. The others wouldn’t be back till midday tomorrow -- if all went well -- and you were not about to spend the next 36 hours soaking your panties with stupid fantasies.

Unfortunately, even when ignoring Clint, your mind was still focused on him. When you passed by the gym or shooting range, antsy to get your daily work in, one quick thought of seeing Clint’s arms -- tensed as he loaded his bow, muscles straining and eyes focused on his target -- was enough to have you quickly walking in the opposite direction.

But, now, as you make your way into the lounge to relax, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You have just as much of a right as Clint does to walk around whenever and wherever you please. In all honesty, you feel even more entitled considering you’re the one actually living in the tower (at least most of the time.)

He’s exactly where you expect him to be -- he may be fast and quiet on his feet, but you’ve been keeping tabs on him, for your own sake.

It’s a bit odd seeing a book instead of a bow in his hands, but you’re not entirely sure you should be focused on how his fingers wrap around the thin pages, thumbing the corners so gently--

“Done avoiding me, are you?”

Well, shit.

His gaze remains on his book -- though the very few pages he’s turned assures you he’s not paying attention to whatever riveting story Tony has stocked his shelves with.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. There’s a moment of temptation to take a seat next to him on the couch, as close as possible. To feel his strong arms around you, smell the raw masculine cologne he always wears a bit too much of -- heavy on his neck and sharp jaw that you know your lips could curl around so perfectly if given the chance.

You swallow heavily and take a seat in the chair across from him, sinking into the expensive fabric.

“Tony picks good furniture, right?” Clint sighs, book closing without so much as a dog-ear mark as he leans back.

It’s silent for a second, and you’re entirely sure you’ve missed a part of the conversation during your mini black-out, but Clint doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, waiting patiently for your answer. You consider it a small win and accept the change in topic with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think price made such a big difference.” There’s a firmness to the chair that keeps you from sinking, and mentally, you consider if it’d be strong enough for other activities. “How much you wanna bet he spent on each of these chairs?” you question, genuinely curious. “I gotta guess at least two grand.”

Clint’s cool eyes glint playfully. “Three,” he challenges with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. “Though, you should really try this couch. Definitely my favorite thing here.”

There’s just a hint of suggestion in his tone -- the kind that you’d miss if you weren’t trained in reading people. It’s not unexpected, though. You’d have to be a fool to not recognize the exact same longing stares, the same lingering touches that Clint offers you. But, that’s what makes it all more intimidating. It’s an unspoken thing, and at this point, that’s what feels most convenient -- even if your lonely nights spent moaning his name are growing far too common for comfort.

Still, you can’t exactly ignore him, and his eyes follow you closely as you make your way to the couch, falling into the comfy cushions with a huff.

“Wow.” You laugh. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time down here.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “So you have been paying me some attention. Interesting.”

If he notices you shift as far to the other end of the couch as possible, he doesn’t mention it.

“Don’t take it personally, Barton,” you huff. “I’m used to keeping an eye on everyone around here.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he manages to see right through the half-truth regardless.

“So you avoid everyone, then?” There’s no hurt or misunderstanding in his voice, not even confusion. He knows what you’re doing, knows why you can’t bear to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the couch.

He just chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach clench unconsciously. You expect him to keep pressing you, work you up until you spill your guts, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even say a word as you hear the rustling of paper and feel the couch move slightly as he shifts.

You turn your head towards him and open one eye, then both as they go wide. Clint has taken on a whole new level of comfortable, feet perched on the coffee table and one arm resting on the back of the couch while his free hand flips through the same first few pages as before.

In all honesty, you suddenly find yourself happy that Steve and Tony are gone -- otherwise they’d be scolding Clint for his manners, and most definitely not ogling his firm legs in those tight, black jeans.

You drag your gaze back up his body, stopping near the hem of his shirt, where his new position has allowed for the fabric to ride up his stomach. It’s just a sliver of skin but the image is enough to make your heart race. There’s a faint dip in the muscled hip line leading to his jeans, and if you stare extra hard, you can see the light trail of thin hairs disappearing under the fabric.

Swallowing heavily, you quickly look back at Clint’s face, holding back a gasp as he stares back at you.

“So,” you fill the silence before he can, mentally thanking Natasha for her training on keeping your composure. “How’s that book of yours?”

Clint just grins for a second -- you both know he’s caught you. “It’s alright. Not the most interesting thing in the building right now, though.”

You gulp. “Yeah… The place is big. Lots to explore. I don’t think I’ve even seen every room--”

“I have a feeling you know that’s not what I mean,” Clint cuts you off with a chuckle, and you send him a challenging glare.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you scoff.

He hums, before his tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You’re sounding awfully like a broken record today.” His icy, pale eyes return to his book, and you watch as he lifts his thumb to his wet lips, tongue darting out the lick the tip. You can practically feel the action, and almost whine in disappointment when his hand returns to flip the page.

Clint is downright grinning at this point, and you know he’s taking in every breath, shift, and blink of yours. “But, I know you’re not actually confused,” he continues. “In fact, I’d argue you like this game of ours a bit more than you should.”

You know if you brush it off again, he’ll drop it. He’s too nice to make you uncomfortable, and his statement hangs in the air with a heavy weight.

“You know, Barton?” you shift from your spot on the couch, eliminating a good chunk of the space between you and him. “I think you’re smarter than most people give you credit for.” He raises a brow, and you would believe his undisturbed look if you didn’t see his fingers twitch against the spine of the forgotten book.

“Tell Nat that,” he jokes, and you grin. Seeing that little crack in his facade, the way he fills the conversation with a joke, the discreet but heavy swallow he tries to hide -- it’s all enough to power you to move closer, until there are mere centimeters between you two.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll be telling Natasha anything from this conversation of ours.” Keeping your attention on the slight tense of his jaw, you push the book from his hands, and he immediately drops his feet from the table to discard it in their place.

You pause for a second, glancing at Clint’s lap then back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and grab your hip.

“Get over here already,” he groans, both arms wrapping around your waist to situate you in his lap. His hands are warm and firm and everything you could have ever imagined, and you automatically roll your hips down onto him. There’s a pleased moan from you both, and his own hips jolt in a way that sends you even closer to him, until your chests are touching.

He immediately dives for your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he breathes you in deeply. “I gotta admit,” he murmurs, letting his lips graze the bottom of your jaw in the most sinful way, “you look so much better sitting here than standing around in the kitchen.”

You drag your fingers through the long hair on the back of his head, tugging it playfully. “You’ve been watching me, Barton?”

He hums, squeezing you just as teasingly. “I do a lot of staring when it comes to you, babe.”

You pull him from your neck by his hair, and he looks up at you with the most mischievous glint in his eyes. The nickname makes you undeniably flustered, but you force the embarrassment away.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that’s what you call creepy,” you mumble, leaning down so Clint can feel your words against his own lips. He immediately darts forward, but you pull back with a sly grin, watching his eyes darken at the action.

“I think,” he growls, catching you off guard as he pushes you back onto the couch, making you jostle as you try not to fall off the edge. He steadies you with a large hand, and you only jolt again when he uses his free hand to spread your legs, caging you in as his hips drop between your parted thighs. “You’d be a hypocrite for saying that.” He drops back to your neck, and you can feel his smile before his teeth sink into your skin lightly -- just enough to make you gasp.

He continues to litter your neck with kisses, and you watch in awe as his toned arm tenses by the side of your head -- the thick black lines of ink rolling as his muscles flex.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, back arching as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to right below your chin. “You gonna fuck me?”

Clint bites the edge of your jaw in retaliation to your words, before he pulls back just enough to stare at you with a lustful gaze.

“Not yet, baby. Not that easily.” One of his hands trails up the front of your thigh, before it busies itself with the hem of your shirt. You try to hide your disappointment, but Clint notices it, of course, and just shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you leave this couch anytime soon. You’ve made me wait long enough for this… I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, and you hungrily reach and tug until he’s as close as possible -- until you can feel the denim of his jeans scraping deliciously against your thighs as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. It’s messy and entirely uncalculated, and your nails catch in the wrinkles of the back of his shirt while his own fingers tug impatiently at the bottom of yours.

You part from him for a second, and his own greedy mouth follows yours, only managing to press against the side of your lips. “You act like you’ve made this easy for me,” you retort, and his chest rumbles against yours as he chuckles.

“Oh honey, I think I’ve made it quite obvious I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day you walked in here.”

“Clearly, not obvious enough.”

Clint huffs, warm breath hitting your cheek. “What’d you want me to do? Huh?” He shifts so his words make their way directly to your ear, each syllable accentuated with a puff of hot air. With him this close, neck just below your nose, you can take in the heavy smell of that sharp cologne you love so much.

His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, but instead of the obvious trail up, his hand trails down to play with the hem of your shorts. “Tug these little things off in front of everyone? Show them all how worked up you get me wearing these? Is that what you want?”

Your hips lift in a silent plea, and you groan. “They’re comfortable.”

“Maybe for you, but I find myself very uncomfortable when you wear them.” He snickers, and if you weren’t so turned on, you’re sure you’d roll your eyes. Only Clint Barton could make a joke about untimely hard-ons during a time like this.

“Then why don’t you take them off?” you groan, and he shakes his head while muttering something about you being bossy.

Still, his words betray him as he tugs the fabric down your legs, as slowly as possible while his eyes drink in the new area of exposed skin. “What part about taking my time with you did you not understand?” The corner of his lips tug in that mischievous way of his, and you have a sneaking feeling his patience is as fleeting as your own.

Proving your point, Clint tosses your shorts over the back of the couch with a grin, then pushes you further up the cushions. You’re almost sitting, shoulder blades knocking the arm of the sofa while your legs bend at the knee to accompany Clint, who scoots back. It’s the perfect and most disastrous angle to be at as you have to both feel and watch his deft fingers trail up from your knee.

You’re a hundred percent sure the effects of your arousal are extremely obvious, but he doesn’t comment on the wet patch of your panties -- though you see his eyes focus on the area between your legs for a second too long before his gaze flickers back to your thighs.

His calloused fingers trail the edge of fabric around your legs, rough skin providing a type of friction you can’t begin to explain. His touch is fleeting and he changes the amount of pressure with every swipe of his thumb, always pushing just enough to let you know he’s holding you down. That you can’t escape him -- as if you’d even think of trying to do so.

“Your legs are so sexy, you know that?”

You let out some type of pleased whine, a sound that Clint relishes as he tightens his grip on your thighs. “Make the prettiest sounds, too,” he continues, and then his fingers are right there. One hand holds your left leg down, while the other covers your panty-covered core. His thumb rubs into your desperate, throbbing clit, and you use your little amount of freedom to push your hips up, wanting, needing more.

Clint immediately presses you back down, and you watch his tattoos shift just slightly as he adds more weight to his hand on your thigh.

“Please, please.” You revert to begging at your lack of movement, losing all shame in regard to your desire. It’s obvious you need Clint -- any excuses or lies from before long forgotten. You need his movements to speed up, the slow circles of his thumb providing barely enough friction.

He just chuckles, but relents a little and you downright purr as the thin fabric of your underwear drags against your tingling nerve endings. It’s impossible to move under Clint’s weight, but all the muscles in your lower half flex and twitch as they desperately search for release and relief.

“How about…” Clint trails off, fingers moving upward to grab the waistline of your panties, “we get these off?”

You’re sure if you nod any faster you might make yourself dizzy, and Clint just smirks in that knowing way. That way that lets you know he has you right where he wants you. Right where he’s been waiting to have you.

The article of clothing is soon flung behind his shoulder just like your forgotten shorts -- and you can only faintly remind yourself to make sure you grab everything before the others return. Though, at this point, you think anyone could walk in on Clint between your legs and you’d still be begging him to make you cum -- audience or not.

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groans, palms sliding between your thighs to spread them, giving him a full view of your glistening core. “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.” Seeing his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and greedy fingers, you’re not sure you can reject that statement.

He removes his hands for just a second, but you don’t dare close your legs, and he has the audacity to wink. Before your mind can even process the action, though, he’s pulling his shirt off, arms crossing over his chest as they show off in their full glory. Hips, stomach, chest, arms -- they’re all exposed so quickly and your eyes drink in the features as fast as they can. Clint throws the shirt to the side -- you have a feeling he’s utilizing his perfect aim to create a clothing pile -- but you just stare at his shoulder, where the ink spreads to areas you’ve never had the chance to see before. The olive green accents contrast against his tanned skin, which has gained a light sheen from the sweat of his arousal.

As he leans back down, Ronin’s portrait stares you dead in the eyes -- quite literally. If you didn’t know the deeper meaning, you’re sure you could mistake the skull as a danger warning to the man pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee.

Short hairs chafe your legs as Clint makes himself comfortable, pressing his jaw against you. When his hot breath dances over your center you almost squeeze your thighs together, but he’s there to push them apart with a chuckle.

“No, no…” He pulls away barely, and you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re gonna give me what I want, ok?” His fingers are gentle, and so are his eyes when he glances up to you. He’s hopeful, pleading almost, but stays respectful. “If that’s ok, of course.”

You almost want to cry, because how could he think any differently, but you just nod. “Please Clint, touch me.”

He sends you a lopsided grin, and then he’s right there, pressing a kiss against your clit. The feeling is completely different from before, lips slick and soft unlike his rough thumb. All the air in your lungs leaves your body as you let out a sigh of relief, body finally relaxing as it gets the touch it needs.

You reach down and your nails scratch his scalp lightly before you grip his hair in a tight hold. He nuzzles against your hand and groans against you, and the feeling of control makes your blood run hot through your veins. One of the most powerful men on Earth is between your legs, sucking softly on your clit like it's the only thing he could ever want.

He traces circles on your thighs with his coarse fingers as he warms you up with gentle licks and the occasional curl of his lips around your most sensitive area. You let him have the satisfaction of your spread thighs, but you periodically tug on his tousled locks to remind him that he’s the one between your legs. It’s the perfect balance of dominance -- the type that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head.

Clint presses another kiss to your clit before traveling lower and the intimacy of the action makes your skin flush. You can tell he’s not going to be holding back for much longer though, if the desperation of his descent is any indication. His fingers join his attack as he spreads your folds, tongue dragging the entirety of your core.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he mutters, mouth impatient as he covers as much skin as he can at once. It’s fast and downright dirty as he presses his tongue into you, eliciting a groan from your parted, panting lips. You’re dripping at this point, and he laps up the mix of saliva and arousal with a yearning thirst.

It’s all so overwhelming. His fingers are digging into your skin -- likely to leave faint marks -- and the scruff framing his jaw scrapes and leaves your skin burning, while the softer locks between your fingers are a comfort to steady you.

The heat building in your body is entirely unbelievable, and your back digs into the couch as you arch into Clint, desperate for all he’ll be willing to give you. You press him closer, and he moans at the power in your hands -- the control you have despite him hovering over you. It’s a mental trip for you both, your stomach and pelvic muscles clenching as they react to his generous, eager giving.

“God, Clint, gonna cum.” The words barely feel like they’re coming from your own body, jaw slack as you tremble in his hold. His index finger presses into you slowly, while his thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. The change of stimulation has you reeling, your grip on Clint loosening as you feel his warm words against you.

“Kinda the point, sweetheart.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you know Clint is smirking -- you can practically hear it in his voice.

His finger curls to press against your front wall, and he rubs it gently once, twice, before he lets the digit drag out, sinking in again even slower. The leisurely thrusts continue as his tongue returns to circle your clit, his cocky words from before silenced as he puts his mouth to work. Your breath grows heavier, heart rate increasing with every second. His middle finger joins the first with a steady push, and you clench desperately as they curl and press and rub and reduce you to nothing but putty.

You’re right there and Clint knows it -- somehow he knows it. His fingers move faster, harder, and his lips wrap around your clit with even greater determination. There’s a shift, fingertips grazing the perfect spot as he sucks desperately and it’s over. You’re crying out his name, thighs shaking and you clench and flutter around his never-ceasing fingers. There’s a moment where all senses leave you and all you can feel is Clint, and the spread of warmth between your legs. Your ears ring and your own moans become faint background sounds.

And then, you’re pulling his head back, his tongue still trying to work your sensitive clit. He fights your tug on his hair but you must be begging because he finally relents with a huff. You can hear his breathing, and you feel his shift as he leans back over you, fingers still working you through your high.

“Look at me,” he demands, and his free hand drags down your cheek. “C’mon, open your eyes.” He forcefully grabs your chin, and your eyes open too quickly for your mind to process. It’s all so bright and you have to blink away the splotches of color coating your vision. Clint takes up the entirety of your view, lips wet and eyes dark. “There you go, baby.” He’s grinning and panting and his fingers are still fucking moving.

You whimper and glance down -- as much as his grip on your jaw will allow -- and the view of his tattooed arm between your thighs, veins pulsing as he fingers you is imprinted in your mind permanently. It’s a never-ending high that goes on for a second too long before Clint finally, finally eases his fingers from you. They’re practically dripping with your release, and he wastes no time bringing them to his glossy mouth.

It’s hypnotic to watch as his lips close around his fingers, nostrils flaring as he sucks them eagerly. They come out clean, and his chest rumbles with a groan. “Can’t get enough of your taste. Fuck.”

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, chest heaving and shirt clinging to sweaty skin. But, there’s finally a moment where your legs feel somewhat solid, and you take advantage of the opportunity, bending your leg to put the bottom of your foot on Clint’s bare chest.

He shoots you a confused but intrigued look, and you respond with a lopsided grin as you push him backward, until he’s the one stumbling to find a spot against the arm of the couch. Faintly, you consider the move would be much sexier with a pair of heels digging into his skin, but this will have to suffice for now. Maybe next time -- if there is a next time, of course.

“Now, what are you up to, baby girl?” Clint is practically vibrating with excitement as you gather the strength to push yourself off the couch, ignoring the slight twitch of your exerted thighs.

“Take your pants off,” you say, with little shame. “Now.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone get undressed so quickly and the hastiness of Clint’s actions leave him with very little coordination. It takes him three tries to get his belt undone, and he pokes himself with the metal prong when his eyes return to glance at you.

Raising a brow, you put your hands on your hips, and he speeds up. The button and zipper take him twice as long, but the sound when he finally tosses his belt and jeans off to the side is well worth the wait.

He licks his lips, looking up at you -- waiting, watching. Your earlier thoughts regarding his legs are heightened tenfold as you take in his toned thighs and hard cock in-between. He’s thick, the bulge pressing against his boxer-briefs making your heart skip a beat. The mere idea of him stretching you open has you growing too impatient for what you have planned.

“Keep going.” You swallow and hope your voice doesn’t sound too shaky.

Clint’s quick fingers make work of the fabric, and you focus on finishing yourself off. You pull your shirt off and let it drop to your feet before your hands move to unhook your bra. You’re barely sliding the straps down your arms when you hear Clint huff, and you look back to him.

“I wanted to do that,” he almost whines, chest puffing.

You roll your eyes but laugh, and toss your bra to him. He catches it with a wink, before throwing it behind him. Immediately, his gaze drags over your chest, excruciatingly slow. You know he’s taking in every inch, every natural mark that decorates your torso. Normally, you’d feel odd being examined so closely while still being at a decent distance -- but Clint is observant and his eyes are hungry.

Finally, his dark eyes reconnect with yours. “You gonna come sit or should I just grab you?” His tone is playful and daring, but you hear the hint of arousal that suggests he wouldn’t be opposed to tugging you into his arms. You don’t have time for games anymore, though, so you stand between Clint’s legs, and he pats his thigh playfully.

“Hmm…” You bite your lip and shake your head, eyes glistening with mischief. “Not yet…”

You make your descent to your knees perfectly paced, fluttering your lashes as you look up to Clint from between his thighs. He cusses and his arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to the torture he knows you’ll be sure to deliver.

“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you tease, fingers sliding up his thigh. Your nails against his skin have him tensing, muscles quivering.

He groans, and tosses his head back. “That was before I made you cum. Just wanna fuck you now -- make you shake again.”

You pinch him. “Sweet-talking will get you nowhere, Barton. You should know that.” But, you still let your palm graze over his hard cock, twitching at your touch. He’s firm and warm, and when your fingers wrap around his length, you realize how deliciously thick he is, filling your grasp fully. The length is there too, just enough to not be intimidating, but the girth has your core throbbing.

“Fuck, Clint,” you groan, giving a slow jerk of your wrist. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He’s pulsing in your hand, skin flushed and precum beginning to drip from the head of his cock. It coats your hand on the second stroke, easing the drag. Soon enough, he’s practically glistening, and your mouth waters. You have to taste him.

He calls your name, voice trembling, as your tongue darts out to flatten against his tip. “Oh God, please.” He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his tensing thighs, and you’d grin if you weren’t taking him deeper into your mouth. Another part of the burning, fervid desire deep in your veins lights up as your lips wrap around him -- tongue greedy for more as it laps everything it can reach. A growl reverberates through his entire body, and the sound makes your thighs clench.

You spare him a glance, and he looks destroyed. Sweat gathers on his forehead and the veins in his arm pulse as he grips the cushions to stay steady. Sane. Calm.

His knuckles are white and you relieve them by grabbing his left hand in your own, thumb rubbing over the back of his palm. He’s squeezing you like you’re his lifeline, and you reward him with your free hand around his base.

“Fuck fuck, I’ll cum too fast with you doing that,” Clint grunts, and you watch his chest heave as he tries to steady his breathing.

You pull off him with a line of spit, breaking it with your hand as you use the saliva to glide your fingers. He’s still throbbing, and you trace his underside vein with your wet thumb. “I thought that was the point, right?” You repeat his words from earlier with a grin, pressing a kiss against his thigh as your hand speeds up. He’s so close and he needs it so badly, but he finally pulls his hand from yours to grab your moving wrist.

“Not until I fuck you.” He pants, and begrudgingly removes your hold from his cock. “And a couple times, at the very least.”

Your heart races at the mere thought of as many rounds as you can handle, with Clint making you cum again and again. Still, you stand slowly, silently hoping he’ll push you back to your knees and cum down your throat.

But he doesn’t. He watches closely as you straighten out, and you quickly move to straddle him. “Fine, but you’ll let me ride you, understood?” Your thighs brush over him with the lightest touch, and with just one solid movement, you could have him sinking into you. But, you wait. You watch as he swallows heavily, eyes hooded.

Clint gives you a lopsided smile. “No complaints here, babe.” And with that, you reach down to hold his length, pressing the tip against your clenching, wet, core. He gasps, but you shift just slightly, until he bumps your clit. It’s too much and too little all at once, and you let out a soft cry as he jerks upward, precum coating the swollen nub. You reward yourself with one more drag down from your clit before letting the head of his cock push into you.

You’re immediately clenching around his length, and Clint’s calloused fingertips dig into your hips as he helps steady you. It only takes a couple breaths and a slow spread of your thighs to take him fully, arousal coating his cock quickly. He barely holds himself back from rutting into you right away, but you rock your hips and grip his shoulders regardless.

“Fuck,” he half-groans, half-whimpers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you roll again, letting out an incoherent babble of his name as your clit gains friction from his own warm body. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thigh onto his, and it has you shuddering. It’s so dirty and your fingers move to Clint’s hair, desperately clinging at the long strands. His forehead presses to yours, and he smells like the most dangerous concoction of sweat, cologne, and mint toothpaste you’ve ever had the honor of inhaling.

You join in an almost-kiss that’s all teeth, but he brushes his tongue against your cupid’s bow in a much gentler way, and you know he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine in reaction. He squeezes your hip gently in reassurance, and then his grip on you tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but you can feel the years of arm workouts, and you know there’s no way to escape -- as if you’d ever want to.

Clint’s knee jerks and then he’s thrusting up into you with such force it leaves you breathless. He holds you down and all you can do is gasp and hold him tighter as he pushes into you harder and faster. Every shift provides a new angle and friction as his tip stimulates your sensitive walls.

Your thighs shake desperately and you can hear the wet slap each of his movements provide as you coat his cock in warm slick. He grins at the sight, one hand drifting from your hip until it reaches your throbbing clit.

“Look at you,” he coos and punctuates the words with a rough circle of his thumb.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, but the lack of Clint’s hold gives you a second to grind against him. He grunts as you do, and you chuckle breathlessly against his parted lips.

“And look at you.”

He retorts by way of another rub against your clit, and your laughter quickly turns to a drawn-out moan.

“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum.” He pants between every word, but he’s determined to deliver the compliment that makes your face too warm. You’re not sure how he knows you’re so close -- it must be way more embarrassingly obvious than you thought -- but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he’s letting his cock drag inside you slowly, with a hard thrust every few seconds. Not when the pressure on your clit is changing so rapidly you can’t breathe.

When you do cum, with a broken cry and shaking torso, Clint doesn’t let up. He goes faster, harder. It’s a never-ending high that turns your brain to mush, and your body into even less. Your thighs burn and your toes curl but all you can feel is the delicious length buried deep inside you.

It’s only during the beginning of the cool down that you tug a little harder on Clint’s hair, and roll your hips a little more. “C’mon, Clint, please. Please fill me up.” His chest rumbles against yours with a throaty growl, and you continue to ride out your orgasm as he fucks into you with a few more desperate, shaky thrusts.

He cums in you thick and warm, with a groan of your name. It tumbles from his lips sinfully, and you commit the sound to memory. The rasp of his tone and the sight of his wet, swollen lips.

It’s not until he eases out of you slowly, and you feel the drip down your thigh that you’re grounded and reminded of exactly where you are. On a multi-thousand dollar couch. Owned by Tony Stark.

“Oh my god, Clint.”

His eyes are closed and you’re sure he’s about three seconds from sleeping for eighteen hours, but he manages a tired smirk. “I know. That was good.”

“No! I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He half-opens one eye. “What?”

“I think we stained the couch.” A quick glance between Clint’s thighs all but confirms it, and you’re not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by the very large wet spot staining the blended fabric.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now. After everything that just happened.”

You playfully slap his shoulder as you roll onto the cushion next to him with a huff. He nudges you back with his arm before clearing his throat, and letting out a butchered impression of your voice. “Oh Clint! Your dick was just so amazing!-”

“Oh my god!” You cover your face but nothing stops the laughter that rumbles through your chest -- even if he’s got your tone completely wrong. He just chuckles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side with a sigh.

“How much do you think we’ll owe Tony by the end of the day?” He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, but presses a chaste kiss to your hair. “C’mon, you don’t think I haven’t planned out every surface we still need to fuck on before they get back?”

“Clint!”

“See, you keep screaming my name but for all the wrong reasons.” Now you can feel his grin against the top of your head, and it comes into view as he stands with you still in his grasp. You’re not sure how he maneuvers it, but he’s got you in his arms before you can even blink, and the look he sends you tells you not to complain or even question it. He’s not even out of breath -- all things considered -- and when you glance in the direction he’s heading, your eyes widen.

“You have got to be joking…” You squirm in his arms as he sets you down on the table used for almost every meeting, and the mere thought of defiling it forever makes you squeeze your legs together shyly.

But, Clint is quick to spread them, all with a cocky grin and a far too confident tone.

“I don’t know about you…” He begins, as his fingers trail up your thigh. “But I think we could reach ten thousand by midnight.”

If you distantly hear FRIDAY warn adamantly against it -- neither of you mention it.

“Better get started then, Barton.”

---

1K notes · View notes

cacti-are-like-flamingos · 4 years ago

Text

Wished by Anonymous

Request: Hi! I love your blog! I hope you have a nice day and I got through your rules and I hope this is within what you are comfortable with! Can I request a Marco with a reader that is literally a real phoenix? Like she doesn’t show her powers but when someone (Izo) gets hurt very badly, she just burst out into this bright red phoenix and start heling everyone while hurting the enemy? Thank you!

...

None of them could believe their eyes.

Not even when they could feel the very heat from your flaming feathers as you flew past them.

Not even as they watched you, from the very corners of their eyes, jump off from the wooden railings of the ship and transform into the very fiery bird they see before their eyes. Clawing away at the enemy as you flapped your enormous wings, the winds produced with every wave being the equivalence to those produced by some of the strongest hurricanes.

It was magnificent you see. To be in the presence of such beauty, surrounded by the warm glows of golden embers and wisp of red. The glow so bright that it blinded all, the hue so vivid that it bathed the blue skies into a deep vermillion. No more could clouds be seen, no more could the sun be seen --- everything was bathed in red and gold, no other hue existed.

“You dare hurt my friends? My brothers and sisters?” Your voice boomed through the battlefield. Your presence was strong, stronger than even those given the title of Yonko. But how could that be? You hadn’t held the ability of the Conqueror’s Haki nor had you yet to take a bite of the Devil’s Fruit --- by all reason, you were supposed to be an ordinary person, err, pirate at the very least. Yet the question remains, how was this possible?

It was then at the middle of watching you battle the foes, tearing them down by the tens and disintegrating them with the mere look of the eye, that the Whitebeard Pirates had begun to feel a strange sensation course throughout their bodies. A sensation that began as a warmth of sorts before settling into a sort of coolness. They watch in awe as their wounds, licked by your flames, disappear as though they had never been inflicted in the first place.

“Uh, did you know about this?” Ace inquired, landing right beside his brothers, his own flames licking the soles of his feet.

“That (Y/N) was a freaking phoenix? Hell no. Never even saw it coming to be honest.” Thatch admitted, a chuckle rumbling out from his chest. Scratching his strangely formed beard, he sent a smirk over to his blond brother,” What about you, hm Marco? Knew that the love of your life was of bird kin too, eh?” Said man rolled his eyes, yet his gaze never left your figure. He watched with great pride as you defended the crew with swiftness and grace unlike anything he’s ever seen before. He watched as you made your way over to the badly injured Izo, your figure hovering carefully over his battered body. And with a single wing, you laid it just inches above him, the feathers gently caressing his wounds. With every lick, the open skin would mend itself back to a close, the skin blushed with newly found life. Izo’s jaw slackened, eyes widening in shock upon your arrival.

“(Y/N)? I-Is that really you?” He asked. His voice shaken and hoarse. He could still taste the iron of his blood in his mouth.

“Hop on, you idiot!” You yelled out, stretching your wings away to expose your back. Seeing this, he, with his replenished energy, found himself strong enough to haul himself up from the ground and onto your back. His hands, bruised and calloused, gripped tightly onto the flesh of your neck. “Hold on tight cause I’m gonna burn these fools to the ground!” It was a simple line of dialogue as it was a simple line of truth.

There wasn’t much after that, everything was as you told.

Nothing but scorched grounds and shadows of those who once stood.

They dared not to speak of the screams that still lingered in the air.

Returning back towards the ship, you were greeted by a merry sight. Everyone stood by the railings of the Moby Dick, smiles upon their blushing cheeks as they roar in applause upon your arrival. If you were in your human form they would be met by the shake of your head and the sight of your smile. Hovering just above their heads, you made way for the middle of the deck, your crewmates backing up as to not get caught by your wings. Hopping off your spine, Izo stumbled as he regained his footing, his hair breaking away from their bondage and flying wildly as you body was overtaken by yet another blinding glow.

As the glow died down, you gracefully landed upon the wooden planks, the fire that once surrounded you now overwhelmed by the nip of the sea’s freshness. No longer did you smell the addictive scent of smoke, but did you smell the equal addicting scent of sea salt. Turning around, you look up to the Gunner, a worried fold upon your brows.

“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt that bad right?” You inquired, voice dripping wet of worry.

An angry vein popped out from his forehead.

“Fuck off! What I want to know is when were you going to tell us about...about THAT?!” He yelled angrily at the top of his lung, earning a small pout from you.

“Well if we’re gonna be like that, your makeup is smudged.” If looks could kill... Raising your hands above your head, you made a face as you slowly backed away from him. Putting your hands into your pockets, you spoke, “I was gonna tell you...eventually.” Clicking his tongue, the Gunner’s gaze softened. Walking up to you, he hesitantly placed a hand upon your head, a smile slowly erupting upon his painted lips as he whispered a small thanks before moving way. And with that, the festivities began.

By the time the afternoon sun was no more, every one had gone below deck to enjoy a swell meal prepared by their favorite chef, Thatch. You could even hear their loud cheers and singing even from where you stood. Their joy breathing into the very cold sea air she breathed, their energy running course through her veins as she felt a warmth blossom upon her bosom. A warmth caused by familial love.

“So, when were you planning to inform me of your...abilities-yoi?” A familiar voice spoke from behind you. It was then that you felt another’s chest press firmly against your spine, their breath right beside your ear. You felt his arms wrapped around your waist, the muscle rippling under his bare skin. Leaning back into your wall of muscle, you breathed out a sigh. Feeling as all the tension in your body quickly faded away. He always did have that affect on you strangely enough.

“I don’t know...I mean you never asked.” He grunted, finding dissatisfaction with your answer. You sighed, “I really don’t know. It’s just something I don’t really talk about. Well mainly because if it were a known fact that I was an actual phoenix, the World Government would be even hotter on my trail.” Humming, he held you in silence for just a few minutes more before kissing your temple, his lips chapped but soft.

“At least now we know for a fact that we’re going to have baby chicks-yoi.” You chuckled, gazing out into the sea with a soft expression. “Yeah I guess so.” “Then let’s go.” You froze, “Huh?”

Shifting in his arms, you tilted your head upwards. Your eyes peering through your lashes as you gave him a look of disbelief. But you were only met by the sight of his usual expression of half-lidded eyes and that lazy smirk of his.

“I hate to admit it, but watching you turn into an actual phoenix and slay the enemies really got me hot and bothered. So let’s get going.” You had no time to react for he quickly threw you over his shoulder, a hand sitting on your ass.

“Whoa, whoa! Wait! What?!” A few men still hanged around the upper deck, so upon seeing your situation they couldn’t help but laugh. Wolf-whistling as they watched Marco take you in the way of his room.

“Can you believe that? Soon enough, there’ll be mini-Marcos and mini-(Y/N)’s running around the Moby Dick!” Haruta jested alongside Vista, a mug of beer in his hand.

“Gurararara~! I’m going to be a grandfather!” Exclaimed joyously Whitebeard, a grin on his face as the rest of the men cheered you and Marco on. Smirking, the pineapple man pated your rear,

“See-yoi? Now we gotta meet everyone’s expectation-yoi. There’s no escaping tonight-yoi~!”

Fuck.

...

Original Request

(A/N): If you’re going to request something, read the rules.

Hope you enjoyed!

#marco the phoenix #marco the pheonix x reader #marco the phoenix imagine #marco one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece oneshot #one piece #reader #reader insert #romance #requested

157 notes · View notes

normal-thoughts-official · 3 years ago

Note

Do you think Alec and Magnus use condoms? How do you think warlocks deal with STD?

REALLY interesting question, i must say that i love it. thank you anon. i hope you know that i will take it way too seriously

okay, so the first question is, ARE magnus and alec susceptible to STDs? unexpected p-words are not a problem because warlocks are sterile anyway (and, if you subscribe to both magnus and alec being of the same AGAB, also because it's not possible to get both gametes or whatever), so let's focus on the STD aspect (really important!). i think human STDs would not affect them, or at least not magnus. maybe alec because shadowhunters are notably more susceptible to weaknesses humans have, like disease and mortality and whatnot. but would human STDs affect warlocks?

i tend to go with no, because warlocks are immortal. immortality, especially as it is built in the sh verse (immortals can be killed but their body won't die on its own) kind of implies that they have, like, supercells or superorgans or something, that don't deteriorate - or, alternatively, that can rebuild way faster than they could be deterioriated. im saying that because stuff like aging and eventually dying is essentially the process in which your body can no longer replace dying cells at the same speed at which they die, which leads to your body weakening as a lot of its functions are impaired. therefore, immortality as in not aging and not dying on your own but still being able to be killed if you are, say, stabbed, implies that that process simply doesn't happen. so we have one of the two: either the cells don't die, or the speed at which they are replaced never changes

in my understanding, this implies that diseases don't affect immortals. maybe they can even contract them, but their body is too strong for it to have an effect. like having a disease without symptoms. but i tend to believe that rather than living with 8945134081 deadly viruses and bacteria inside them just sleeping around, the viruses and bacteria simply can't live inside them - both because superbody means super-immunological system and because superbody means that the bacteria and viruses essentially have no place to grow in, as they can't break their cells or whatever it is that that particular strain does

like - and that is true particularly for viruses as far as i remember, not so much bacteria - the way these mfs work is that they attack the cells of a body and use them to reproduce. but if you are talking about a body that has cells that are essentially unbreakable or so highly regenerative any attack on them is dealt with so quickly it doesn't even have an effect, i don't think any virus should be able to break into their cells in the first place. they would die without reproducing and bam, done. if you are going with the second theory (warlock cells do die, they just can keep replacing them as much as they want without a problem) then you probably have a situation where the virus can reproduce, but its reproduction doesn't lead to any problems because the dead cells are replaced as fast as they are killed. in that case, the warlock would be, technically, carrying the disease indefinitely. but i tend to think that considering how strong that body is and the fact that they have an immunological system (as they are half human and have no reason not to inherit that from their human parents) that is ALSO mega strong would mean these viruses would probably be eliminated quickly

bacterial diseases are different since mostly what bacterias do (again as far as i remember) is that they live inside the body, not necessarily inside the cells, but using the body's space to reproduce, and eventually their presence - usually due to the fact that they produce toxic elements that affect the host - leads to nearby cells dying/the space they are in deteriorating, etc. but again warlock's cells are either essentially unbreakable or highly regenerative, so that wouldn't be a problem, and they could overpower invasive bacteria easily before a colony could form. so, no human bacterial diseases would be able to flourish, either

and that's not even considering the fact that as they are half human they probably have an immunological system that is ALSO superstrong and therefore able to fuck up any disease causers. or the role magic might take in protecting the body, like, who's to say the magic itself doesn't kill any invasive bacteria or viruses that come into the body before it can do anything? why not?

so all of that, allied with the fact that many viruses and bacteria are evolved to develop within the systems of a particular species (for example, that particular virus has evolved to grow in a cow's digestive system, and therefore can't survive for long in a monkey's or a human's), is interpreted by me as "warlocks can't contract human diseases", since warlocks are a different species from humans, as are shadowhunters. sure, they're hybrids, which makes this part of the argument a little more complicated but obviously their demon side is stronger than their human side, since they are immortal. and demons definitely aren't getting rabies or whatever because that is just too fucking lame

so okay! no human STDs. we have established that now. bUT, i think it's possible that warlocks are able to contract their OWN diseases - strains that attack warlocks specifically, particularly a warlock's magic, since again they kind of have a superbody but i feel like the magic is a more fragile thing, especially as they aren't fully magical (because they're half human)

don't ask me how these work <3 obviously magic can interact with non-magical beings and elements so maybe there are bacteria are viruses that developed specifically to settle in magical components, but that sounds like a huge evolutive leap since magic is so different from like, cells. or maybe there are also magical beings that work as disease transmitters in a similar but essentially different way. and they probably can also be transmitted via sex because i mean, why not? sounds as good a mean as any

but, could magnus and alec transmit those to each other? i don't think so, because shadowhunters have wildly different magic from the one warlocks do - their magic is angel magic, warlock's is demon magic, AND, furthermore, they work in completely different ways. for starters, shadowhunters magic is so pathetic diluted that some of them don't even consider it magic at all. i mean, that is also because of good ole racism (hardly the first time racism led people to call the exact same thing by different names so they can convince themselves their way of being is superior even when it is the same) but there is a huge difference because warlocks are able to conjure and interact with magic and have it as a part of their beings and experience of the world through it, whereas shadowhunters can "borrow" particular powers for a small period of time at best. it is possible that the magic doesn't even exist within them, they are just capable of handling it inside their bodies for some time, which is why they need runes to use it and it has a limited effect

so i think diseases that affect warlocks could not be passed between magnus and alec, and WOW is it weird to realize that magnus and alec are of different species. like i knew that but when that knowledge comes to practice it's just so weird. anyway

and idk if diseases that affect warlocks would be able to live dormant inside shadowhunters and then be transmitted because, like i said, shadowhunters have completely different magic if they even have it at all, and i don't think the disease beings that live in warlock magic would be able to be inside their body. so, to answer your first question - i don't think magnus and alec would NEED condoms, because i don't think they are capable of passing STDs to each other, and in at the very least magnus' case (debatable for alec, i tend to think that because shadowhunters are essentially human they can catch any disease humans can, altho maybe they have a rune to begone them) i don't think they can even catch human STDs. and magnus has a cum kink so that probably means no condoms

as for how warlocks deal with STDs! like i said i think they are only affected by STDs (and diseases in general) that affect their magic, not their body. so, they probably have treatments for those. we gotta remember that warlocks have a very developed society full of academics, so they probably have worked to find cures for magical diseases, if they exist at all. so, there are probably particular treatments for those. i don't think magical diseases abound or anything, particularly because the amount of magical beings is pretty limited and magic is so different from non-magical elements so non-magical beings such as viruses and bacteria would have to change a lot to be able to evolve into magic-affecting beings. again, if they even exist. but yeah i think they as a (group of) society(ies) have worked on cures for those. which is funny to think about because like, do they blast the magical diseases with begone rays or something? please say yes. id love that

with all of that being said, i hope u know that i was planning on answering asks the next weekend (not this one, the other one) cuz ive been busy as hell lately and it'll be the first time i'll have time lmao, and i was literally just in a bathroom break between readings when i saw this ask and i just couldn't resist answering it. this is it. what broke my studying resolve. magical STDs. you should be proud

mandatory disclaimer that please for the love of god use condoms, you are not immune to STDs. also, this post is about show canon, not book canon, so i don't care if this is in accordance to what the books say. also, i'm no expert in healthcare, this post is just for fun, so don't take anything i used to build my arguments as scientific truth or anything like that

#sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #dirty words #hello everyone! i have been gone for quite some time. please accept: this #now back to studying #lore #meta #ask #anonymous #long post #im not sure if this is very comprehensible but i did my best

15 notes · View notes

vivithefolle · 4 years ago

Note

Not sure if you already talked about this. (I’m pretty sure you have) but someone seemed to notice that when the trio get into fights, Hermione’s always in the right. Even when she’s supposed to be wrong she always seems to be half right. That kind of bothers me. Especially since it’s evident in the whole Scabbers situation.

I have indeed, on Quora, so let’s move yet another answer of mine to Tumblr!

Hermione is seldom wrong in the Harry Potter books. Sometimes she makes mistakes but those mistakes are either completely swept under the rug or downright ignored.

It’s partly due to lazy writing and partly due to Rowling’s own growing bias in favour of her Author Avatar that was fuelled by Steve Kloves, the primary advocate of the Hermione Granger Is The Perfect Girl Ever line of thinking (an utterly ridiculous line of thinking mind you).

Lizo: Steve, Hermione is a character that you have said is one of your favorites. Has that made her easier to write?

Steve: Yeah, I mean, I like writing all three, but I've always loved writing Hermione. Because, I just, one, she's a tremendous character for a lot of reasons for a writer, which also is she can carry exposition in a wonderful way because you just assume she read it in a book. If I need to tell the audience something...

JKR: Absolutely right, I find that all the time in the book, if you need to tell your readers something just put it in her. There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue. One is Hermione, the other is Dumbledore. In both cases you accept, it's plausible that they have, well Dumbledore knows pretty much everything anyway, but that Hermione has read it somewhere. So, she's handy.

Now this, right here, is the exact core of the problem.

Rowling herself admits it: if she wants the readers to have information, she puts Hermione in the scene. Hermione is our primary means of exposition because, like *grits teeth* Sssssteve puts it, it’s easy to assume that she’s read about it somewhere and it makes sense.

That’s all well and good but at first, if you notice, Ron also gave us exposition about the wizarding world, mostly about its culture. He was able to recall the exact year of the Wizarding Confederation that outlawed dragon breeding in Philosopher’s Stone! He explained what were respectively a “Mudblood”, a “Squib”, and Parseltongue, Hermione doing a little exposition about the history of that last one! He was also able to identify Sirius, after being dragged into the Whomping Willow, as an Animagi!

But then Goblet of Fire happens and you can notice the first change that will exponentially grow through the books: instead of Ron, pureblood Ron, born-before-the-end-of-the-war Ron, lived-through-the-aftermath-of-the-war Ron, identifying the Dark Mark, it’s instead Hermione, muggleborn Hermione, lived-as-a-Muggle-for-most-of-her-life Hermione, has-no-idea-about-the-emotional-impact-of-the-Mark Hermione who looks terrified as the Dark Mark shoots into the sky!

And it only will get worse, by the end of the series, Hermione pretty much knows about everything the plot needs her to know, instead of having to work with things she knows but can’t always apply to the situation:

Suddenly has a deep knowledge of Magical Law (in the will of Dumbledore’s chapter, while we had Rufus Scrimgeour who could have provided it to us, or to a lesser extent, Ron could have explained how a wizarding will basically worked)

Is suddenly an expert at finding edible plants and mushrooms. Apparently books are always the goddamn answer in JKR’s world, you can literally learn anything from them

She can decipher all the Tales of Beedle the Bard (may I remind you that they were written in Runes, okay Hermione may have a few years of Ancient Runes education BUT I once tried to translate a 3k+ story I had written for fun, from French to English, which means I knew what the subtleties and intentions were, I knew which turns of phrase I had to preserve so it would make sense in the end, and it still took me two gruelling weeks to get a satisfying result!)

Has suddenly grown a sense of quick-thinking (escaping Xenophilius’ house, using the jinx to make Harry’s face weird-looking) despite it being the only remaining flaw she had at the time (remember when she turned her back on her enemy while he was still conscious just to compliment Harry, and almost died as a result, even though she had been training in the DA to learn how to fight Death Eaters?) Quick-thinking under pressure can be learned, but it takes time and a lot of work to force your brain to override its instinct - and it’s fine because we’re all human and different. But no suddenly Hermione is the Greatest Strategist Evah™ and those silly boys (who actually were the original quick-thinking ones, and one of them was established as the strategist early on) better be grateful for this literal goddess because she protects them from all harm with her superhuman brain.

Somehow knows about Quidditch stuff - she knows about a Snitch’s “memory-touch”. Why should she give all the answers? Why can’t Ron give us this particular tidbit of information?

And then when we come to something Ron actually knows, the damn narration itself goes “woah a book that Ron has read but Hermione hasn’t??? shocking!! incredible!! Ron is not dumb, somebody call the news channel”. But… is that really so surprising? We’ve never seen Hermione read wizarding fiction or even Muggle fiction. We’ve never seen Hermione with anything other than schoolbooks in her hands. Of course Ron has read books she hasn’t read since she doesn’t seem to read fiction at all!

Sorry, bit of a tangent over here.

There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue.

So, that’s one part of the problem: the fact that Rowling, after making Ron our insight into magical culture and Hermione our provider of knowledge, ended up saying “eh whatever I guess Hermione can tell us everything we gotta know because it’s more convenient for me”. Which is a decision that was not based on Hermione’s character, but simply lazy writing. Long story short, it probably went: “Could Ron explain this bit of trivia? Meh, better make Hermione say it cause she’ll have read it in a book. It’s convenient and I won’t need to bother myself with exploring Ron’s characterisation.”

(And thus completely forgetting that Ron could maybe ask his big brothers via owl and provide us with a good heap of extra advanced knowledge - Bill is supposed to have aced his NEWTs after all.)

The other part of the problem is quite simply that Hermione is more often than not, either painted as a victim by the narrative (which makes more people take her side, classic manipulation tactic), or made to be right anytime it’s about a plot point.

Hermione’s mistakes are never explicitly stated, corrected, or even pointed out as being unethical.

Hermione only gets one mistake expressedly pointed out as being a mistake: her misadventure in Polyjuice Potion. The rest of them? Even her crush on Lockhart can’t be counted as a mistake - people get crushes all the time, based solely on physical appearance, it’s not something awful or terrible (Except when it’s Ron who crushes on someone. Ron crushing on someone is absolutely forbidden, and he must be punished with much ridicule and humiliation if he thinks he can get away with not worshipping Hermione like the goddess she is. The nerve of him, really.).

Throughout the books Hermione eventually morphs into Rowling’s Powerful Angel of Vengeance, that punishes the people who dared to do something she disliked - Rita is silenced but at a very ethically dubious price; Marietta gets scarred for life because she was more loyal to her mother than to a bunch of people her friend insisted she hang out with; Umbridge is led to a very, very alarming fate that is never made clear but some people have ideas and they’re not all very kid-friendly; Ron first is “helped” without knowing it because Hermione can’t be bothered to have faith in his capabilities, then when he fails to dutifully reward her for “helping” him, she causes him bodily harm before actively bullying him for not mind-reading her interest in him; causes even more bodily harm to Ron because that’s how feminism works; etc.

Hermione’s mistakes are always justified through the plot itself (which is lazy writing).

Turning into a cat? Only affects her.

The Firebolt? Scabbers? Well, in the end, it was really sent by Sirius Black and Crookshanks really wasn’t the culprit. Therefore all the feelings that were hurt and all the trust lost are irrelevant because Hermione was right all along.

Trying to free the house-elves? Well, it’s the intent that counts, right? And we’re never told enough about house-elf lore to know whether they’re poor brainwashed victims or powerful Penate-like symbiotes who need to serve a wizard to survive?

Kidnapping Rita Skeeter, trapping her and blackmailing her? Rita may be one foul little beetle, but that’s going a bit far, isn’t it? Harry approves? Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then…? A main character can’t have a dubious morality, right?

Manipulating Harry into forming Dumbledore’s Army and forcing him to relive a traumatic event with the same woman she’s kidnapped and blackmail and that she knows he hates? In the end, it all works out for the best and Harry’s hurt feelings don’t matter since it’s all about the greater good.

Using the centaurs to get rid of Umbridge (which poses the highly distressing question of what did the centaurs do to her?), realizing that the centaurs aren’t nice little horsies that are going to gently obey her every orders like good Disney princess’ companions, my goodness could this be an opportunity for character growth - nevermind, here comes Grawp the Giant Ex Machina, saving her arse and protecting Hermione from all that scary possibility of introspection. Thanks, Grawp Ex Machina.

Trying to dissuade a highly stressed-out and irrational Harry from rescuing Sirius by telling him exactly what he needed not to hear, a.k.a. “you have a saving people-thing” which causes Harry to completely go bonkers and go save his godfather without thinking twice? Well she was right after all, it was a trap! Nevermind how mind-boggingly insenstive and inadept at dealing with someone else’s feelings she was being, she was right! That means it wasn’t Hermione’s mistake!… probably. (Geez, I’m sensing a pattern here…)

Endangering Cormac’s life (Confunding him WHILE HE’S ON HIS BROOM) to promote Ron’s success? Oh but that’s so romantic! (Yeaaaah, how romantic to display exactly how much faith you lack in your crush. Top it off with a broken neck and that’s a picture perfect first date!)

Assaulting Ron with magic and causing him even more scars than he already had? But he was being cold with her first, right? And he totally should have known she was asking him out! It’s not like her invitation was even worse than his attempt to ask her out two years earlier! Plus she’s just a teenage girl expressing her emotions, anyone who tries to find fault in this is a disgusting abusive misogynist pig! Ha!

Getting all jealous that Harry is better than her at Potions, then pretending she’s not jealous by claiming that TEH BOOK IS EVIL, HARRY, and giving him the cold shoulder too? But no, she’s right, look, Harry used Sectumsempra and he almost killed Draco, nevermind that he’s very horrified about it! Hermione was right, like she always is!

Hermione Obliviating her parents, which pulls her from the “ethically dubious” zone into the “wow okay I’m pretty sure that this counts as a violation of basic human rights” zone, makes her one of those quirky wizardfolk who have the privilege to control those simple-minded Muggles because it’s for the greater good? But nooo she’s crying about it so it’s obviously very sad and angsty and it shows her devotion to the cause!

Splinching Ron while fleeing from the Ministry? Eeeh, but he’s fine, they’ve got Dittany, he’s good as new!… blood loss? Anaemia? What’s that?

Hermione was wrong about the Deathly Hallows not existing? Um, um, that doesn’t matter, LOOK DOBBY IS DEAD AND HARRY IS BACK TO LOOKING FOR THE HORCRUXES!! Therefore Hermione was right, the Hallows weren’t important for their quest, therefore the Hallows might as well not exist, HERMIONE WAS RIGHT NO REALLY I’VE GOT RECEIPTS -

The books never forget to remind Harry and Ron of their own shortcomings and moments of weakness.

Harry’s wrath and recklessness cost Sirius his life. This is the lesson he has to learn from his entitled behaviour in OotP: actions have consequences, and the greater your responsibility, the greater the cost will be.

Ron’s envy and insecurity lead him astray; they’re used to humiliate, ridicule and torture him throughout the books. They’re supposed to teach him that he’s worth something - but how is he supposed to believe that, when nobody ever tells him he’s worth anything? When nobody ever apologizes to him? When his feelings are taken for granted over and over? When his two friends seem to discard him whenever he does one thing wrong?

Hermione is never punished. Hermione is never said to be wrong, never shown to be wrong, never called out on her behaviour. From Prisoner of Azkaban to mid-Deathly Hallows, she stays exactly the same character. She doesn’t grow up. She doesn’t learn. She doesn’t change. She has virtually no character arc.

The only time, THE ONLY TIME IN SEVEN BOOKS, the only time we have something remotely resembling a call-out of Hermione’s horrible behaviour is with this sole quote in HBP:

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

Note how it’s about “girls” and not Hermione in particular, which implies that any girl would do what Hermione does to Ron. Thanks for the generalization, JKR, but I like to believe I’m actually a decent sort of person that doesn’t resort to petty cruelty and exploits my friends’ insecurities whenever I’m angry with them.

Hermione NEVER has to apologize. Hermione NEVER has to learn from her mistakes because she’s always presented as a victim when she really isn’t. Hermione NEVER develops into something more - she’s emotionally stuck at fourteen years old. Even less than that when you consider that her reaction to Ron’s return in Deathly Hallows is to trash him with her fists - and she was going to get her wand!! The utter psychopathic b- wanted TO THROW BIRDS AT HIM AGAIN!!! - and this reaction is an appropriate one for a four-years old girl, but certainly not for a supposedly “mature” seventeen-years old.

(Yes, because what separates a child from an adult is the ability to reign in your emotions and not succumb to your impulses. Exactly what Ron did when he left the tent (notice that he had drawn his wand, then he left before he could start hexing Harry), he left to calm himself down. Exactly what Hermione fails to do when Ron returns (she has the impulse to strike him and immediately succumbs to it, which proves to us that The Brightest Witch Of Her Age has all the maturity of a very small child).)

All of that, on top of the awful portrayal in the movies which removes all of Ron’s characteristics to stuff them into Hermione and turns her into some impossible epitome of perfection, eventually contributed to the portrayal of Hermione as the one who is always right and knows everything.

Add to it JKR’s own ridiculous bias (“Ron was quite emotionally immature compared to the other two”, yeah right I don’t see him trying to force freedom onto unwilling creatures or making Harry fly into an irrational rage with mere words but you do you, Jo) and the sexist misconception that “girls are innately more mature than boys”, and you get yourself this apparent behemoth of righteousness that was literally the sole reason why those two silly boys survived everything, and don’t you dare criticize this angel of perfection OR ELSE.

#vivi answers #ask #hermione granger critical #hermione granger #hermione critical #harry potter series #ron weasley #jk rowling #anti jk rowling

107 notes · View notes

echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

The Baldr to My Odin

Word Count: 2300

For: @sailor-toni

Summary: Pariah has recently acquired a son and wants to get to know him better. This is a sequel to Fool's Errand!

You can read it on AO3 or down below the cut

Pariah leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and watched him sleep. After all the things that had happened in his afterlife, he never expected to find himself in this situation.

Never in all his wildest dreams, and he had his fair share during his entombment in the sarcophagus, did he picture himself as a father.

His son sighed in his sleep and rolled into a new position. The boy’s mouth fell open and the small breath that escaped made his fringe billow slightly.

Pariah couldn’t help the fond smile that graced his features and crinkled the scar under his eye. There was so much he wanted to teach the boy, so much he wanted to see the boy do for the first time.

There were so many ‘first times’ he had already missed.

Adoption was both a blessing and a curse in that way. He wasn’t sure what the child had experienced already. He really didn’t know what things he didn’t know about.

Although that was in itself its own challenge. It could even be fun to discover these things.

Pariah was drawn from his musings as he felt something encroaching on his territory. The boy gasped in his sleep and woke instantly. He jumped up from the mound of overstuffed pillows and blankets and hovered above the bed, awake and alert.

“You sense that too?” he asked.

Phantom looked to him and nodded, “Please tell me you were expecting visitors?” he asked with worry tilting his brows together and mouth into a frown.

Pariah simply shakes his head, “Let’s go see who this intruder is then, shall we?”

The boy nods and floats along in Pariah’s wake.

Once they reached the entry hall they could hear some fool shouting at the closed doors. Their words are muffled by the thick wood and stone bricks but the intent is easily grasped.

“Doesn’t sound like a welcoming committee.” quips the boy, “I was kind of hoping it would be someone with presents.”

“Why would there be presents?”

“Well, I was recently adopted so that’s like a birthday, right? And I was crowned Prince, so maybe a party for that too?”

Pariah laughed good-naturedly, “I suppose a coronation ball could be arranged, but we should wait on that a little. I did raise a bit of hell when I woke up after all. Let them lick their wounds before telling them to celebrate our good fortune.”

“I guess that’s fair.” the boy relents.

“Good. Now, wait here while I greet our unwelcome guest.”

Pariah waits until Phantom has landed silently on the stone floor before finishing the journey to the door.

It opens with a thought and reveals a small band of animalistic warriors. Their bright white fur glistens just like the snow from the frozen wasteland that they call home.

They hesitate upon seeing him there.

Good.

He makes quick work of the small army but decides not to finish them off completely. That’s an awfully violent thing to do with his son watching.

It was also completely unnecessary. He merely needed to show them that he was still the king. He was still just as powerful as he had always been.

It would be easier to let them run away and spread the news than to let the rumor spread slowly if they didn’t return.

He waited until the last of the icy beasts had disappeared on the emerald horizon before he turned back to his keep.

“Were those yetis?”

“Yes? They are the denizens of a region called the Far Frozen. Old enemies of mine from before your time.”

The boy simply nodded before changing the subject. “I don’t see many ghosts use ice. Is that a common or uncommon thing?”

“I would say uncommon. Fire tends to be the most common elemental aspect.”

The pair walk back into the keep and Phantom continued his curious line of questioning. “What do you think I’ll be?”

Pariah paused in the hall and thought, “It’s hard to say,” he paused again and looked down at the boy, “You haven’t shown any inklings towards anything? Wait,” he looked the smaller ghost over, “When did you achieve ghosthood?”

“Uh, if you mean when did I become a ghost?” Pariah nodded and the boy continued, “I guess that was about a year ago, I think? Maybe a little less.”

Pariah just blinked as he tried to process the information. How could such a young ghostling be so strong? He couldn’t believe that something the equivalent of a baby had nearly bested him in a one-on-one battle?

And he’s so little.

Where does he even store all of this endless bountiful power?

And there’s no reason why he wouldn’t get more powerful as he ages.

“Uh, Dad? You okay?”

Pariah blinks and refocuses his attention on his overwhelmingly powerful child, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He takes a breath to recenter himself so he can stop worrying his son, “I just hadn’t realized you were so young.”

Again, the joys and surprises of adoption.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Aw come on! I just had a nap. I’m not tired.” the boy pouts as he floats to sit cross-legged in the air.

That was unexpected. The boy had been so obedient earlier, what changed?

The battle.

Had he been that ready for a battle he now was wide awake? That must be it.

“Have you ever used a sword before?”

The boy crosses his arms so his elbow resting in his hand and a finger to his lip as he ponders, “Well I’ve held the Fright Knight’s sword a couple of times and there was this one time I used the neck of Ember’s guitar to fight Youngblood when he had a sword. Other than that, no.”

If anything was constant about this boy, it was how full of surprises he was.

“Well then let us see how much you have to learn.”

The boy floated upward and beamed, both literally and figuratively, with excitement.

How was it that this child was exactly what he had always wanted despite having never wanted one before he found him?

He was both powerful and graceful. The fluidity of his movements as he flew along besides Pariah as they walked to the training grounds made him wonder if maybe the boy was made for this. Was it his destiny to be a ghost? Born only to become something greater?

So rare and seemingly impossible. He was a perfect dichotomy.

Pariah grabbed two short swords, tossing one to the boy, “Let your training commence.”

===============================================

The pair dueled for several hours. Pariah made sure to hold back just enough to not overwhelm the child, but not too much so that he wouldn’t learn anything.

“I’m impressed with how well you are picking this up.” Pariah encouraged as he went in for a quick counter-strike on the boy’s unguarded left side.

“Really?” Phantom replied as he just barely dodged out of the way.

“I don’t give compliments just to stroke egos.”

“Isn’t that a waffle?” the boy says as he parries

He nearly misses the easy block in his confusion, “What?”

“Oh wait, I’m dumb.” The boy lowers his sword as he floats backward in thought, “I’m thinking of Eggo’s. Am I hungry?”

Pariah doesn't think he can continue this lesson if the boy is so distracted. Although it was very wise of him to float out of range while he lowered his guard. He sheaths his sword into the course dirt beneath him, “Are you hungry?”

“No?” He hums to himself in thought, “maybe if I think about it more.”

“Are you often unsure of your own needs?” he asks gently taking the sword away from his son and placed it near his own.

“Sometimes. I think I just get distracted by other things, you know? Like if I’m super focused on something I literally can’t think of anything else. Bodily functions included.”

“Ah, I see.” Hyperfocus was great for battle, but could easily be an Achilles heel if not monitored.

“Wait that actually made sense? I’ve tried telling other people that but they didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“I’ve felt the same way myself. A good way to keep that in check is to be around people you trust. That way if you work yourself too hard, they can pull you out of it.”

The boy smiled. He had the sweetest smile.

But then he wavered, his body sinking to the dirt below as he tried to steady himself.

“Whoa, I got kind of dizzy for a second there.” he blinked and shook his head as if that would make it go away. Instead, he stumbled forward into Pariah’s waiting arms.

Pariah brushed back the boy’s fringe and noticed he was much warmer than before. They might have been training for an extended period but he was sure he hadn’t worked the boy that hard.

“The suit.” the boy’s breath was shaky as he gripped onto his father for support. “I think it’s still on. I, it,” he stammered and his words started to slur together, “gotta get it,” he was panting now, as if the effort of standing was more strenuous than an uphill run, “get it off. Gonna,” he looked up and his eyes were full of fear, “please?”

Before he could finish the boy passed out. Pariah easily scooped him up and took him back inside.

He took the boy into his bedroom and gently lay him in the nest of blankets and pillows. He ghosted his hand down the boy’s arm. The energy of the armor buzzed and he could feel it as it tried to leech from him as well.

The boy was right, the armor was poison. Donning it was dangerous, but the thought of leaving him exposed seemed even more so.

Especially after they had already been attacked once before since he had been here.

There was only one ghost he could think of that would have the answers, but he wasn’t someone he was ready to see just yet.

Phantom whimpered in his sleep and Pariah sighed. He really hoped this wouldn’t backfire.

Pariah went to his study and picked up the broken pocket watch. He clicked the release on top to open the small timepiece. The glass was cracked and the time was stopped. Stopped at the moment he had been betrayed.

Pariah pushed down his resentment and wound the clock.

“I didn’t think I’d be receiving a call from you so soon,” a familiar voice spoke from the doorway.

“So soon?” Pariah turned to face his guest, “Was it truly inevitable that we would meet again?”

Clockwork smirked that knowing smirk of his, “Of course. Now, what’s the question you want me to answer today?”

“Don’t you already know?”

“Yes, but I do prefer to hear it from you.” he admitted then added, “In real-time.”

Pariah shook his head, “It’s easier to show you.” he led them to the boy’s room and waited.

“Do you really need my advice on this?” Clockwork asked. His tone wasn’t demeaning, just curious.

“I don’t know which would be better for him. I feel both options are equally terrible.”

Clockwork hummed to himself as he floated closer to the boy.

Pariah tried his hardest not to get defensive. He did his best to not attack someone he had just invited into his lair. It was difficult to just stand back and let someone as powerful as Clockwork be so close to his child.

Difficult, but not impossible.

“Remove the armor.” He turned to Pariah, “Unless of course, you wish to kill him outright?”

“If death is the result of inaction, that doesn't sound too terrible.”

“For you maybe, but he isn’t going to like it.”

“He’s already a ghost.”

“True. But he’s also a child, he’s still alive. The living aren’t all that excited about the concept of death.” Clockwork floated back over to Pariah, “besides he’s currently the most perfect anomaly. Would you really wish to destroy that?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pariah easily walked past the other ghost to his son’s bedside. Certainly, he was strong enough to keep the boy safe without needing to swaddle him in such dangerous protection.

He reached forward and through the armor. He pulled the boy up and out of the cursed metal and relaxed with the child.

Using his other hand he waved the offending armor aside with his ghostly energy and placed the boy back down to rest.

Once he was settled in, he transformed back into his human form.

This didn’t make Pariah feel any more at ease but he resisted putting the armor back on.

“Let the boy rest. He’ll be alright.” Clockwork consoled as he hovered dangerously close to Pariah himself. “You know, fatherhood looks good on you.”

Pariah turned to the purple-clad timekeeper, “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means it’s been an awfully long time since we were alone and I think there’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

Pariah did not miss the coy implications of that statement. He was merely taken off guard by them.

“And what makes you think I forgive you?”

“Time heals all wounds.”

“Even the sting of betrayal?”

“Especially that.” Clockwork’s smile softened, “Now come, let’s give the boy some privacy while we get reacquainted.”

Surely a private conversation wouldn’t be too bad. He had missed the company of the other, but he didn’t think they would ever be as close as they once were.

Clockwork wasn’t one to move too quickly, there was no reason to worry about any trickery or line crossing.

They walked back to his study, it was Clockwork’s favorite room after all, and talked casually, like old friends.

He missed this.

#phic phight #phic phight 21 #Danny Phantom #ghost adoption #Pariah Dark #Dark Ages (ship)#but just a tiny bit hinted at the end #sailor-toni

20 notes · View notes

oneoftheextras · 5 years ago

Text

Slurred Words

Aizawa x teacher!reader

masterlist | tip jar

question #14 prompt: “Should you be drinking that much?”

warnings: Alcohol consumption, sexually suggestive themes, a lot of angst and protective Aizawa

“SHOTS!” Hizashi shouted across the bar, ushering you towards him from your place on the dance floor. Nodding your head and dance-walked over to the bar where your friend waited for you.

It was very rare that the teachers of UA were able to let loose and celebrate, what you were celebrating, you didn’t know - probably the fact that no students had died this year.

Nezu had organised the night for you all to try an alleviate, with Hizashi’s help of course. There was no way you were partying without that loud mouth having a say in every decision.

He’d chosen a nice, low-key club - not too big that you got lost, but small enough that you didn’t feel distanced from everyone.

Well, some people were making a point of distancing themselves. And by people, you meant person. And by person you meant Aizawa.

“Yo, Y/N” Hizashi handed you a shot, you clinked your glass with his and you downed them together. Slamming the glasses down on the counter with a collaborative “Woo!”. “You’re keeping up pretty well” he shouted at you over the music, you smiled a goofy smile at him, you were on the edge of sober and tipsy. No doubt you would stumble over that line in about 10 minutes when the Tequila kicks in properly.

“I want to dance!” you shouted back to him, you were in a really good mood and had a tonne of energy, “Then let’s go dance” he said, “But first” he grabbed your hand, stopping you from going anywhere just yet. He ordered two more shots for you both. He drank his with insane speed, and then proceeded to drag you towards the crowd of dancing people.

You just about managed to drink your shot and place it on a nearby table before you got sucked into the whirlpool of dancing bodies.

Smiling at up Hizashi you stated the obvious, “I’m having a great time”, “I’m glad” he replied bluntly, you continued to dance with him until he leaned into your ear, “Stop me if I’m crossing a line here, but what’s the his-happening with you and Shouta?” he asked, his question took you back for a moment, not sure what he meant. You didn’t know how to answer so you just shrugged.

The truth was, you’d had the hots for him for a while. At first you thought he was just the weird member of the faculty, the one that liked being left alone. But the more you talked to him, or listened to him talking to others, the more he intrigued you.

It started out as general interest, listening to his views on the world and his opinions - which he hardly gave. Then it turned into a crush, watching the way he would command his classroom and hold all the power had you mesmerised.

It was the type of crush where your tummy would flip when you heard his name being mentioned, or butterflies would escape your heart when you saw him walking towards you in the halls.

Not to mention the way he made you feel when he was playing the role of the villain for the student’s physical exams.

Mic gave you a knowing look, raising one eyebrow. “Why?” you asked back. Sure, you and Aizawa were colleagues and you got along well, but you didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t even use his first name the way that Mic does.

“He’s giving you some serious stink eye” he finally said and gesturing behind you with his eyes, you started to turn your head to see what he was looking at, but he span you around underneath your arm to make it seem like you were dancing. He swung your body around and made you switch places with him.

“You’ve gotta loosen up, you were about to make things hella obvious” he laughed, never stopping dancing with you. Now that you were facing the other way you could see what he meant. Aizawa was sitting at the bar, staring at you, but as soon as you made eye contact he snapped his head away and shifted his gaze to his drink.

“I didn’t think he would want to be here” you yelled to Mic, “He doesn’t, but Nezu and I organised some guards to stop anyone leaving before 11pm” you gave him an expression of disbelief and burst out laughing. It was hilarious that he had hired guards to stop literal Professional Heroes.

Unfortunately, you’d decided to laugh just as the song was changing so your chuckles echoed through the bar. This made you laugh even harder, but you tried to your best to conceal it, swaying forward and bumping into Mic. You were definitely tipsy now.

“Another drink?” you asked him in between giggles, you glanced towards the bar as that’s where your tipsy brain wanted to go, and you saw Aizawa staring at you again. Although this time he didn’t break eye contact. It actually seemed like he was getting up.

“I think we need to space drinks out a bit more for you” Hizashi said, trying to stabilise you a bit more, luckily the song had changed to a slow song so you didn’t look too out of place. You put your arms around his neck and swayed yourself to the music, smiling up at him. “You’re a cool friend, Yamada” you praised him.

“Ahem“ someone cleared their voice ”May I?” you heard them say, it was so quiet you almost barely heard it. But you would always be able to pick this voice out of a crowd.

“Be my guest” Mic said, and he unwrapped your hands from his neck for a second and then placed them back down. You were enjoying the music so much you’d closed your eyes so you could vibe.

You sighed heavily, but as you did you inhaled the most intoxicating scent, it smelled of coffee and oak wood. Feeling the aroma fill your nostrils and surround your entire being, you chuckled, knowing exactly who had their hands on your hips.

“So you’re not always grumpy” you teased opening your eyes, you were greeted by Aizawa’s grey orbs, he’d scrapped his hair back into a low bun and only a few strands of hair were framing his masculine face. “I try my best not to be” he chuckled back, you felt his laugh vibrate through his shoulders and into your arms.

You swayed with him for a while just to enjoy his company, a few of the other teachers were turning their heads to look at the two of you - most definitely more to see if THE Eraserhead was allowing himself to have fun.

Taking a chance, you pulled yourself closer to him so your chest was on his, it worked in your favour as it pushed your assets closer together. You weren’t too sure what you were trying to achieve, but you were too tipsy to care anymore.

“You have a hard outer shell you know that Aizawa” you teased, making sure you were making eye contact with him, it was very rare that he would let anyone get this close to him. You could actually see his features more clearly, and it made your heart flutter even more than it already was. His defined jaw line, the small amount of stubble he had, even the way the bags under his eyes creased when he smiled.

Wait.

He was smiling.

“God damn” you exclaimed, “You’re even hotter when you smile” you let slip. He stopped for a beat to stare at you, but carried on swaying with you, you completely missed his hesitation, but maybe you would have noticed if you weren’t so inebriated.

“I mean” you stopped dancing completely and shook your head, realising what you’d just said “I’m going to get another drink” you nervously laughed and unhooked your hands from his neck and walked towards the bar.

You really didn’t want to let go and walk away from possibly the only chance you’d ever had at being physically close to him, but you could feel your face getting redder.

Ordering two more shots, you drank the first one before the bartender had time to put it down. You stared at the second for a moment before lifting it up to your lips. Before you could allow the liquid to enter your mouth another hand put itself over yours and stopped its momentum, a little bit of the spirit sloshed out and was now running down your bottom lip.

“Should you be drinking that much?” Aizawa more said than asked. Your eyes traced up his scarred hand and followed it up to his scolding eyes, your lips still parted from your attempt to drink.

You both stood their frozen in position, was he actually expecting you to answer? You watched his eye line shift from your own orbs to your lips and your breath hitched, no doubt he felt it, his hand was too close to your mouth for him not to.

“I’m an adult” you answered flatly and pretended to nip at his hand, he quickly moved it away with a shocked expression on his face. Smirking you giggled slightly, did he seriously think you were going to bite him? Only if he asked you to - no bad drunk thoughts!

“You’re not acting like an adult” he shuffled slightly towards you, close enough for you to smell his aftershave again, as well as feel his body heat. Shot still in hand, you still hadn’t moved from your previous position, it felt like if you did then this interaction would end. “You’re acting more reckless than some of my first years” he teased, at least you thought it was teasing, you’d never seen or heard him talk like this before so it was new territory.

“Is that so?” you paused for a moment “Aizawa-sensei” you continued, finally knocking your head back and consuming what was left in your shot glass. Hearing a few low chuckles come from the man next to you, you broke eye contact.

“So, you think I’m hot?” he recalled your words and readjusted himself again, now having one hand on the bar and slightly facing you. “What of it?” you said defensively, not letting his presence push you backwards.

Letting out a small laugh “It’s not like you ever noticed me anyway” you mumbled to yourself, your bout of confidence fading. “What?” Aizawa was taken aback by your drastic change in attitude,”This is the longest conversation I think we’ve ever had” you semi-explained.

“‘Cause I never know what to say to you without making myself look like an idiot” Aizawa shocked you, was he letting down his guard? “I think of a million things to say, and a million ways to say them, and by then the moments gone” he couldn’t make eye contact with you.

You couldn’t do anything else other than stare at him as he glanced at his shoes and then back up to you, you felt your heart beating out of your chest as he scanned your face with a mixture of adoration and lust.

“I get lost in thought” he said so lowly you barely heard him, “What thoughts?” you were brave enough to ask, letting him back you up so your spine was against the bar. “About how much I want to know how your lips taste” he breathed, licking his bottom lip, and raising his free hand to brush a stray hair out of your face and behind your ear.

You leaned up towards his face slightly and then quickly stopped, you were second guessing yourself. It didn’t matter, your instigation was enough for him, he took the opportunity he had and pulled you into him - kissing you deeply.

It felt like fireworks were exploding all around you and your tummy wouldn’t stop doing somersaults. “Aizawa” you whispered in disbelief, almost inaudible.

“Shouta” he breathed, struggling to catch his breath, “Please call me Shouta” he lightly begged. “Well, Shouta” you emphasised his first name, earning a little groan from him “I would very much like to go somewhere, less public” you finished. “I would very much like that too” he agreed, kissing you again.

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta x reader #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #teacher!reader #mha #mha fanfiction

357 notes · View notes