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reira-layla · 1 year

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Look After You

Plot: Throughout the years, Akira takes notice of the relationship between Akito and Shigure. Before his death, he asks something of Shigure that the boy never expected to be asked.

Requested by anon

Title comes from the song, Look After You by The Fray.

"Can I hold her?" The boy's voice was shaky. He had been overcome with emotion to the point where even speaking proved to be difficult. Fortunately for Shigure, Akira understood how much Akito meant to him and the rest of the zodiac children.

"Him. Don't forget that. Only for a few minutes, alright? It's late and your parents are likely worried about you."

"Oh, they don't know I'm here. They didn't even hear me sneak out of the house," Shigure said with a mischievous smirk. It was late but after sensing that the baby had been born and hearing her cries from far away, all Shigure had wanted was to be near her. Although the other boys had thought he was a bit ridiculous for wanting to see the baby that night rather than waiting until they were summoned, he cared little about what others thought.

With wide eyes, Shigure watched as Akira lifted Akito out of her cot and held her close to him. Although he would never admit it, Shigure was nervous. He'd never held a baby and this wasn't just any baby. She was special and knowing that he would be the first of the zodiac children to hold her made him even more nervous. This was the child he'd dreamed of and had longed for since that dream.

"Put your arms just like this," Akira instructed. Shigure did as he was told, not taking his eyes off of Akito. Gently, Akira placed Akito in Shigure's arms. His first observation was that she was much heavier than he'd expected. Purple eyes stared up at him, observing him. Only a few hours old, Akito was very alert for being so tiny. Everything about her was amazing. Their eyes met and it was as if their souls recognized one another. Just as Shigure had suspected, their connection was much deeper than that of god and the dog spirit.

Shigure could feel Akira's eyes on them, studying their interaction. Akito closed her eyes and pressed her face against Shigure's chest as if taking in his scent. It was a moment he'd remember forever.

"Why didn't the others come with you? Surely they know that Akito has been born."

"They do. They wanted to wait until morning. They didn't want to bother you." Shigure's eyes never left Akito. He didn't know how he was possibly going to leave her side when it was time to go home.

"And you were the exception? It seems like you couldn't wait to rush over here." Akira took note of the boy's lack of proper winter attire.

"Yes, I needed to see her… him, I mean." It still bothered him that they were raising her as a boy. It wasn't fair. "Akito," he stroked the baby's cheek. She was fast asleep and content in his arms. "Do you think she understands how important she is?"

Akira smiled at the boy. "Even if he doesn't, we'll all do our best to make sure he knows." There was an unspoken understanding between the two. Akito was special and that was all there was to it.

"It's getting late, Shigure. You'd better get home now. You can see Akito tomorrow if you'd like."

Reluctantly, Shigure handed Akito back to Akira. Both his arms and his heart felt empty without her near him. "I'd like that a lot. Can I come by after school tomorrow?" He didn't know how he would sleep or even function at school the next day after having met Akito.

"Of course. Bring the others along with you." Shigure simply nodded to assure Akira that he would do as he'd been told. As he walked to the door, he looked back once more to see Akito. She had woken up and was staring at him, watching him go. For what felt like the hundredth time that night, his heart skipped a beat.

It didn't take him long to get home and sleep came a lot easier than expected now that he had the promise of seeing Akito again the next day.

One year later

"Come here. You can do it," Shigure cheered.

Newly a whole year old, Akito had just learned to walk and it was exciting for all of the zodiac children as well as the child's father. The older boys visited her often but Shigure had come by nearly every day since Akito's birth. It was something that Akira had taken notice of.

Wide eyed, the baby made her way over to Shigure. Each tiny step was calculated. When she reached Shigure, she collapsed in his arms and sighed as if walking such a short distance had exhausted her completely. Maybe it had. The boy wrapped his arms around her and told her how proud he was of her.

"Shi…" Akito tugged at his sleeve, signaling that she wanted him to help her up. Shigure had attempted to get her to say his name for months but naturally, she could only say the first part of it. He was content knowing that she could at least say part of his name whereas she refused to even try saying the names of the other boys.

"He seems to really enjoy your company, Shigure." Akira smiled as he watched the two together. Ren had absolutely no interest in Akito. The woman refused to hold her own child, leaving Akira and the maids to tend to Akito. Jealous as she was, Ren wasn't around when Akito said her first word or when Akito took her first steps. When the other children were around, Ren made herself scarce, refusing to interact with any of them. Her jealousy was evident to everyone, including Shigure. Out of fear that he wouldn't be allowed to visit Akito anymore, Shigure never asked Akira about Ren. His own mother had told him that it was none of his business.

Akito pulled herself up and hugged Shigure's neck. "I enjoy her-...I mean, his company, too." He hated having to refer to her as a boy and oftentimes, he'd refer to her as a girl on purpose.

"Gure!" Ayame exclaimed as he and the other boys entered the room. The loud noise caused Akito to cry and she held onto Shigure even tighter as he attempted to comfort her.

"Ayame, you must tone down your voice when you visit. Akito isn't used to loud noises," Akira scolded. Initially, Akira had moved to pick up Akito when she'd started to cry but after seeing the way Shigure had comforted her, he didn't feel the need to.

"Shigure, why don't you show the others how well Akito can walk now."

Shigure looked at Akira and nodded before turning his attention to his friends. He noticed that Kureno wasn't with them. "Sit down, face me, and hold your arms out.

Ayame was the first to volunteer. Doing as Shigure said, he held his arms out and called for Akito to walk to him. The baby turned her attention towards Ayame as she held onto Shigure. With wide eyes, she shook her head and started to cry again. Clearly she wanted nothing to do with Ayame after he'd made her cry.

Hatori was next. Shigure gave the same instructions. This time, Akito slowly began walking towards Hatori. "Don't let Akito fall," Shigure commanded. Hatori had never seen his friend so serious and stern. Akito reached Hatori and then collapsed into his arms as she'd previously done with Shigure.

"Shigure, your mother sent us. She wants you to go do your homework," Hatori said as he held Akito.

"I don't want to. There's always later for that."

"Shigure, you should listen to your mother. School is important and you know you're welcome to visit Akito after school tomorrow, as always." Akira often felt like a father figure to all of them. Shigure rarely listened to his parents but would listen to Akira simply because he knew being in the family head's favor would allow him to spend more time with Akito.

With the promise of seeing her again the next day, Shigure began to walk towards the door with his two friends. Akito began to cry as they walked away and it took everything in him to avoid running back to comfort her. After a moment, the crying had stopped and Shigure assumed that she'd been comforted by her father.

One year later

The two year old sat on the engawa eating an apple and watching the older boys dig in the dirt. Shigure had lied to everyone and claimed that he'd found gold buried outside of his house. The "gold" he'd shown them was actually fake gold from his new fish tank. Although Hatori had his doubts about Shigure's gold, Ayame had believed it without questioning it further.

Shigure joined Akito on the engawa, laughing hysterically as he watched Ayame throw himself into a bush to search for gold. Akito looked over at him and laughed along with him, emulating him. She had no idea what he was actually laughing at.

"It looks like you two are having fun. What is Ayame doing in that bush?" Given that he'd always been so sickly, Akira had never been given the chance to have a normal childhood and Shigure assumed that the family head enjoyed living vicariously through them.

"I showed him some pirate gold from my fish tank and said I'd found it outside," Shigure said with a smirk. Hatori was nowhere to be seen so Shigure assumed he'd gone home, defeated by not having found any gold.

"Shigure," Akito said softly, handing him her apple.

Without hesitation, Shigure took the apple from her and looked at it before looking back at her inquisitively.

"I think he expects you to eat it." Akira said with a soft chuckle. Shigure froze. It was rare to hear any sort of laughter from Akira.

"Bite. Now." Although still young, Akito had become quite demanding. She knew what she wanted and she knew that those around her would do whatever she told them to do. Akira had made it a point to tell Akito how special she was daily.

Shigure did as he was told and then handed the apple back to her. She giggled and crawled up onto his lap.

"Someday I won't be here and I expect you boys to take care of Akito when that day comes. You know how special he is. When I'm gone, I want you all to remind Akito of that." Shigure wondered if Akira ever spoke to the other boys like this or if these rare conversations were only reserved for him because of all the time he spent with Akito.

"I will. Even if the others dont, I will." The boy sounded so sure of himself.

"That's what I was hoping to hear. Akito seems happier when you're around." Akira looked down at Akito, never taking his eyes off of her as she handed her apple back to Shigure. He knew that his child would be loved just as she was meant to be.

Two year later

"Do you have any chocolate?"

Shigure set his book down to look at Akito. "Why would I have chocolate? I probably have some at home but I don't think your father allows you to have chocolate this early. I'm not allowed to have chocolate right now either," he lied.

Without answering his question, Akito tugged on Shigure's shirt and pulled him along with her as she made her way inside her room. When the doors were closed, Akito flashed two chocolate bars she had hidden in her kimono. "I won't tell if you won't."

He laughed and took the chocolate she offered him. Together, they ate their chocolate in silence while sitting beside one another. As expected, Shigure finished his chocolate before Akito. Laughing as he looked over at her, he saw that she was covered in chocolate. There was no way that anyone wouldn't know what she'd been doing.

Before Akito could finish her chocolate, the door opened and her father stepped in. He raised an eyebrow at the scene. "Akito, are you eating chocolate?"

"No," she lied, hiding the rest of her chocolate behind her back as if that were enough to clear any suspicion. Shigure couldn't hold back his laughter. He found it oddly adorable that she truly thought she could get away with doing something like this behind her father's back.

"It was Shigure's fault. He gave me the chocolate," said the mischievous four year old.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to speak to Shigure's parents about his behavior." Akira winked at Shigure before looking back at Akito. "Go get cleaned up. There's chocolate everywhere."Clenching her little hands into fists, Akito stormed out of the room to get cleaned up.

"Don't worry. You're not in trouble. I know it was Akito's idea but I didn't want him to think he was in trouble either. Akito gets upset very easily.” Akira was often understanding in a way that Shigure wished his own parents were. Maybe he was only like this with Shigure.

“I need to get home now.” Shigure didn’t want to leave Akito but knowing that he’d get to see her the next day was enough for now.

Two years later

Akito was fast asleep in Shigure’s lap. It had become a routine that he’d come and read to the six year old after she finished up with her tutor each day. It wasn’t unusual for her to fall asleep in the middle of the story. Shigure took no offense, understanding that she was exhausted after a long day.

He ran his fingers through her hair, basking in every moment of their closeness. Exhaustion nearly consumed him as well after a long day at school but he refused to miss a moment with her.

“Shigure?” The boy had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the door open. Akira stood near the door, taking in the scene before him. He looked more sickly than usual. Shigure knew the family head was in poor health but he hadn’t realized just how bad it had gotten.

Much to Shigure’s surprise, Akira came over to sit near them. “How long has Akito been asleep?”

“Not long. Akito tends to fall asleep around this time of day, whenever we’re reading together.” Shigure set the book down, once again thinking to himself that Akira looked very frail. Although he didn’t want to think about it, given how much Akito loved her father, he knew the family head was knocking on death’s door.

“Shigure, I’ve been wanting to speak to you. I’m not doing well. The doctors say my body is failing me and I don’t have much longer. Akito knows to an extent but doesn’t quite understand what’s happening. I know she’s scared,” he said. Shigure couldn’t help but go wide-eyed upon hearing Akito’s father refer to her as a girl. It was the first time he’d ever done so in years.

“I have something to ask of you and I understand it’s a very big thing to ask of a twelve year old boy. I’ll be gone soon and when I am, I’d like for you to look after her. She’s going to need someone to be there for her, to remind her of how loved she is. I ask this of you and not the other boys because I know how much you love her. I knew the first night that you came to see her that your love for her runs deep. Please look after her.”

Again, Shigure ran his fingers through Akito’s hair. The girl was still asleep and had no idea what her father had asked of Shigure. “Of course I will. I’d do anything for Akito. I’ll always keep her safe and I’ll always love her.” He didn’t need to be asked. He swore on the day of Akito’s conception that he’d love her all his life.

Her father died a few days later. Akito had been there with him as he took his last breath. Shigure had learned the news from his mother. He couldn’t explain it but he felt more upset than he thought he would. Of course he was sad for Akito but part of him was sad that Akira would never get to see them grow together. Even at such a young age, Shigure was convinced that he’d marry Akito someday. Realizing that her father wouldn’t get to see that made him sad.

A knock at the door took him out of his thoughts. The boy opened the door and was taken aback when she immediately jumped into his arms. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was crying.

“Shigure, my father died.” He held her tighter, wanting to take the pain away but knowing that he had no way of doing that. Feeling helpless, he led her inside and held her as she cried. He stroked her hair, making her as comfortable as possible.

Soon she had fallen asleep in his arms and he found himself hoping that she was having dreams sweeter than her reality. “I’ll always love you, Akito. Even if everyone else leaves, you’ll have me. I’ll look after you, just as your father wanted me to,” he whispered to her as she slept. He vowed to love her no matter what.

#akito sohma #akigure #akira sohma #fruits basket #shigure sohma #fanfic #request

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humanwheatleyslefttoenail · 3 years

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why do you ship chell and glados if glados is basically her mom

Okay this is actually a pretty common misconception in the fandom that unfortunately a lot of people have taken as canon, but I’m feeling nice so I’ll answer your question.

Basically, anon is referencing a theory from around 2012 that Caroline is Chell’s mom. The evidence for the theory is as follows:

- The turret opera calls Chell “bambina”, which means “little girl” in Italian

- Chell’s name can be found on a Bring Your Daughter To Work Day science project

- GLaDOS references the possibility of Chell being adopted multiple times

- GLaDOS is significantly nicer to Chell after discovering she’s Caroline

And, anon, you’re right, it does sound like a pretty good argument at first glance. The problem is that a lot of these points don’t actually hold up to scrutiny.

For example, although “bambina” literally translates to “little girl,” it’s often used in the same way “baby girl” is used in English - it can mean child, but contextually it’s usually a flirtatious term. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)

For Chell’s science project, it doesn’t work as evidence for the theory because GLaDOS killed the scientists around 1998-ish, when Caroline had presumably been uploaded several years earlier and Cave was already dead. Also, Chell’s in her 20′s, and since we know from Lab Rat/Portal 2 that people don’t age in stasis, and that Doug put Chell at the top of the test subject list only weeks after the takeover, Chell was 28 at the time of the takeover. The science project is really only an Easter egg and doesn’t actually fit into the canon timeline let alone prove anything about Caroline and Cave.

GLaDOS talking about Chell being adopted is a pretty strong point, I’ll admit, but also it’s important to remember that maybe half of what GLaDOS says is true. And even if we take what she says at face value, she also says there’s a man and a woman in stasis with Chell’s last name, which could not have been Cave and Caroline because they were already dead at that point. And the official book Final Hours Of Portal 2 confirms Cave and Caroline were not married and could not have shared the same name anyway. It was also the 50′s, an an unmarried couple of two likely famous people having a child would’ve been scandalous, and yet we see no hint of something like this affecting their company.

Also, although GLaDOS is nicer to Chell after the Caroline reveal, that’s not necessarily indicative of a mother-daughter relationship, and neither is any of their interactions. It’s just. GLaDOS being friendlier.

Finally, when this theory was made (and let’s be honest - it still is happening) Chell was constantly whitewashed to hell and back.

Chell is Japanese-Brazilian, and Cave and Caroline are white, so it would be a near impossibility for her to be their biological child (and insisting otherwise is kinda. just. whitewashing). And although people will cry “adoption!”, based on what I’ve previously proven, that’s pretty much impossible. This theory that somehow she’s Cave and Caroline’s daughter erases an important part of her identity. [Disclaimer, I am white, but this is what I’ve heard from around the fandom]

With all that said, the idea that she’s the daughter of Cave and Caroline really doesn’t hold weight when you really analyze the canon. It’s surface level analysis that doesn’t hold up. And honestly? The idea kinda cheapens the story. It’s much more powerful that GLaDOS learns to care about Chell and becomes kinder than just. Oh, she remembered she’s related to Chell.

But to actually answer your ask.

Why do I ship them?

Well, they aren’t mother and daughter, I think that’s pretty obvious now. But if you actually look at a lot of subtext in Portal 2, without the lens of the mother theory, it’s actually pretty romantic!

I know that sounds ridiculous, but bear with me!

Now - it’s totally okay if you don’t ship them. I get it. Their interactions in Portal 1 and the first half of Portal 2 are toxic if not outright well. Y’know. Murderous. I completely understand why that turns people off from shipping them, and ultimately, shipping is a personal thing. To each his own.

But before you judge me, let me present my case.

Exhibit A: Portal

Portal is kinda gay. No, really. Chell and GLaDOS are enemies in this game, but the entire focus is on their relationship (good or not) and the power struggle between them. They are opposites, two sides of the same coin, different representations of opposite ideologies. People have analyzed Portal as a relationship metaphor, or as a metaphor about women’s role in society - either way, the heart of Portal is the complicated dynamic between Chell and GLaDOS.

That’s not necessarily enough to code a romance, but a lot of popular (and especially popular queer ones) ships begin with opposite ideologies, symbolic powers colliding. Portal cements their relationship as a toxic one, something on the verge of falling apart and hurting both parties in the end. The ending image, of Chell and GLaDOS side by side after the battle, reinforces the symbolic parallels between the two.

The companion cube is also pretty symbolically important to this interpretation. It’s literally a representation of someone’s heart, and you are told to protect it and preserve it under GLaDOS’ orders, and then you have to destroy it regardless of how you actually feel about doing that. You are destroying GLaDOS’ heart, so to speak.

There’s also the ending song, Still Alive. The lyrics speak for themselves.

They hint that GLaDOS’ feelings about Chell are more complicated than they may appear (if she’s not being sarcastic...) and she literally talks about Chell breaking her heart (also, think back to the companion cube. Yeah.). The entire song is structurally similar to many a breakup number, with the laments of “I’m glad it happened, but also leave.”

At the end, we also see that the long promised cake GLaDOS was supposedly lying about was real the whole time. Before Portal 2 came out, it was mostly interpreted as a stinger ending (along with the nicer lyrics of Still Alive) to make you question GLaDOS’ true motives and intentions.

She actually did have a real cake waiting for you. (Side note - not really evidence, but in Argentina, “torta” means cake in Spanish. It’s also a slang term for lesbians. So. Do with that what you will). The cake is what GLaDOS offers you to lull you into the sense that she cares about you, so discovering that “the cake is a lie” wakes you up to the realization that she doesn’t. Except then the idea is subverted one last time, at the very end, showing that the cake is real and at least some of what she said she meant.

You also see the companion cube. You know, GLaDOS’ symbolic heart?

Now, okay, you might be thinking I’m extrapolating a bit too much. And you might be right. But Portal is not the only game in the series, and if you’re asking me about Cave and Caroline you obviously know about Portal 2.

Exhibit B: Portal 2

If you thought Portal was gay, Portal 2 turns that up to 11.

Even before GLaDOS wakes up, you’re treated to some visual subtext. A few of Rattmann’s drawings representing the events of Portal 2 focus a lot on the relationship between GLaDOS and Chell, with more of the cake symbolism.

In this, you can see a face layered on top of GLaDOS. This could be foreshadowing about Caroline, and likely is, but also resembles his other drawing of Chell. It insists that Chell is a part of GLaDOS, or reinforces parallels between Chell and Caroline, hinting at something either way.

In this picture, we also see Chell standing on top of GLaDOS, in the same position where the overlay of the feminine face was, again referencing the parallel. It also presents them as opposites, fundamental parts of the same thing and both connected to the same basis, but on opposing sides.

When GLaDOS wakes up, she returns to her antagonistic role, but there are more hints to something deeper just like in Portal.

Here, in her awakening lines, she references Chell not unlike an estranged ex. Also worth noting that GLaDOS is pretty much the personification of testing (in a sense, she is testing since she can control all of Aperture like an extension of her body), and insinuates that Chell loves to test. And that she reciprocates that feeling.

In test chamber 10, she says this:

It’s supposed to be threatening, but it does read as almost... sentimental.

There’s also another chamber with companion cubes in Portal 2. I already talked about their symbolism in Portal, and the same pretty much applies to them here. However, GLaDOS says something interesting about them during this level:

Once again, meant to be intimidating, ends up coming off as “well, GLaDOS, why were you going to give Chell a heart shaped representation of yourself that says ‘I love you?’” And you might think I’m stretching the GLaDOS’ heart metaphor thing a little far here, and I might agree, if the companion cubes didn’t literally sing Cara Mia for you.

Cara Mia is the turret opera from the end of the game, which is all about how much GLaDOS cares about Chell. More on that later. But the companion cubes play a song called Love as A Construct, and when you get close to them, they sing a specific part of the song that has the tune of Cara Mia. These things literally exist to sing about GLaDOS’ feelings.

Which makes this line a lot more. For lack of a better term. Tsundere-ish.

Then, right before the escape, she starts talking about the confetti from her fake surprise.

I really don’t have to explain this one. What else does GLaDOS consider an inconvenience but might miss anyway? Or, more aptly, who else?

Then, during the escape, she teases a (fake) final test chamber in front of you, and forms the panels in the shape of a heart. No, really.

Up to this point, a lot of the points I’ve presented are interspersed with a fair amount of antagonization on GLaDOS’ behalf, more Foe Yay than anything actually hinting at something deeper than GLaDOS being conflicted about whether she loves or hates Chell. But things really ramp up after Wheatley’s betrayal, when the two of them are forced to team up. (I should also note here that “enemies to lovers” is a pretty classic queer romance trope.)

Here, GLaDOS is put on an equal level with Chell and they have to rely on each other if they want to survive. For the rest of the singleplayer campaign, GLaDOS becomes a lot nicer and even friendly to Chell. There comes a point where she starts referring to Chell as a teammate, calling them “we.” She begins to consider them one unit, two opposites unified. Here’s what she says after the lemon rant:

You can not only see her using we, but actively talking about how her and Chell are going to fight Wheatley together. There’s also that last line - “let’s explode with some dignity.” GLaDOS has fully accepted the very likely possibility that she and Chell might die together. That she might die on the same level, and the same team as Chell. And she seems... surprisingly okay with that, as long as she and Chell go together.

It’s during the Old Aperture levels that Chell and GLaDOS also discover that they have a lot in common. This is the part of the game where GLaDOS figures out she’s Caroline, that she’s human. Or, that she’s like Chell. And Chell discovers (from what we can tell anyway) that Caroline is kind, that she’s funny and smart and so many of these things she never noticed about GLaDOS before. Now also with the knowledge she is fighting alongside another human being.

You can also draw parallels between Chell and Caroline, both intelligent women ultimately betrayed by their seemingly innocuous male friends before being trapped in Aperture and forced to team up with one another in a way that will free both of them. We see that really, GLaDOS isn’t that different from Chell - she too has been imprisoned in this place against her will, but in a completely different way. Once again, the idea of two sides of the same coin applies here.

I’ve written another meta about this before, but I also think the whole idea of repressing a part of your identity and hating it, before bonding with another woman and then realizing that it’s okay to be like her and to be on her side. It’s okay to be yourself and meeting her is what helps you discover this new part of yourself. Is kinda inherently gay. GLaDOS’ discovery of her own humanity just fits so well into a queer realization narrative, to me at least.

Then, Chell and GLaDOS escape Old Aperture and have to get through Wheatley’s tests.

Here, GLaDOS isn’t just begrudgingly on Chell’s team. She’s actively helpful. She wants to help Chell solve tests, defends her from Wheatley’s insults, and makes jokes to lighten the mood. Things that can really only be explained by her caring about Chell, especially the part about the insults. See below.

After the two escape Wheatley’s testing track, right before the boss fight GLaDOS has a few other things to say.

GLaDOS is not going to betray Chell, because of some kind of conscience. But she could easily ignore that back in her body, and yet? Here she’s deciding not to, and for no good reason. She didn’t have to say that to Chell, but she did, because she cares and she wants Chell to live.

And then, moments before the fight:

The final lines imply that GLaDOS does not think of Chell as an enemy anymore, and that it doesn’t matter what Chell thinks because they are in this together and they are getting revenge together. It’s pretty heartwarming to be honest, to know that even in a fight that will almost certainly kill you, she is there rooting for you and caring about you, even if you don’t feel the same way about her. It no longer matters to GLaDOS whether you even reciprocate - you staying alive, you making it through is enough for her.

So Chell fights Wheatley and sends him into space, all well and good, and at this point, GLaDOS has the option to kill Chell. But not only does she not, she actively saves Chell, and holds her hand in the process. If you don’t believe me:

And not only that, but when Chell goes unconscious from her injuries, GLaDOS sits and waits for her to wake up. It’s also implied that GLaDOS carries her to the elevator, since it’s where she wakes up but not where she passed out. In the scene where Chell blacks out, you can also hear the part of Love As A Construct that sounds like Cara Mia. Yeah. Yeah.

If you think that this cannot possibly get any gayer, you are wrong again, because then GLaDOS makes her final speech. Which is really just a love confession, let’s be honest.

The “surge of emotion?” Do you mean love, GLaDOS? And the idea of GLaDOS considering Chell her best friend, despite everything these two have done to each other? The idea that GLaDOS, out of all people, forgives someone?

Except this isn’t even Chell’s final send-off. GLaDOS writes her an entire opera of turrets, that sing a literal love song. (Note what I said earlier about the use of the word “bambina”).

It really can’t get any more obvious than that. “My (affectionate romantic term here), my dear, I adore you.” How. Is. That. Heterosexual. In. Any. Way.

So Chell goes to the surface, set free by GLaDOS (think of the saying “if you love something, set it free), and you think that’s the end. Until GLaDOS gives you a companion cube so you aren’t alone on the journey, and from the burn marks, you know it’s your first companion cube. Her original heart, her first gift to you, a piece of her that she wants you to carry with you to remind you that she does care about you after everything. It also gives the lyrics to Still Alive a much more genuine meaning.

Portal 2 ends, and then the ending song, another GLaDOS number plays. Just like Still Alive, Want You Gone is structurally a break up song and very obviously about GLaDOS missing Chell and “counting on” (read: caring about/loving) Chell’s tendencies and quirks.

She’s accepted Chell completely, and yet also given Chell the one thing she wants most. Only wanting Chell gone can mean GLaDOS not wanting Chell in her life anymore, but can also mean she wants to give Chell the freedom she’s wanted for so, so long. It’s the best thing she can give.

In the co-op campaign, GLaDOS also references still caring about Chell.

And that’s the end of the Portal series. Except. Brace yourself. Despite the games being over, there is STILL more subtext somehow. It gets. Even gayer.

Exhibit C: Supplemental Evidence

Valve has made a lot of extra/cut content for the Portal series, and I’ll be looking at some of it below.

This official valentine from Valve shows GLaDOS offering a romantic partner cake, which as we’ve established before, is very symbolic of GLaDOS’ feelings about and/or relationship with Chell.

There’s a lot of other concept art and official art that emphasizes their relationship too. See below.

There’s also some cut GLaDOS lines that are even gayer than the source material and again, sound like confessions or references to a breakup:

The idea of “discovering things about someone”... how much more obvious can it get?

The developers have even confirmed a lot of my commentary on Chell and GLaDOS’ relationship in The Final Hours Of Portal 2. See these quotes from the book/this post:

The devs literally describe it as a romance. They use terms like “cheating,” they wanted to write a romantic duet, JoCo purposefully wrote the endings like love songs. It is literally, blatantly said by the creators of the game that their relationship is interpreted romantically. By the creators of the game.

And if Word of God confirmation isn’t enough for you, have a song written for a cut alternate ending by GLaDOS’ voice actress, Ellen McClain. The song is literally nothing but GLaDOS talking about caring about Chell, about not wanting her to die/leave GLaDOS alone, about wanting to bake a cake with Chell, about waiting for Chell to wake her up. It’s so genuinely sweet and sad, and really, really romantic in the most heartwrenching way possible.

JoCo also came back for the Portal levels in Lego Dimensions, writing one final breakup song for GLaDOS to sing about Chell. It comes off as GLaDOS not wanting to admit she misses Chell even though she obviously does, trying to replace their relationship but failing, and even explicitly forgiving Chell/wanting her to come back.

Also, the “finally I understand,” as if only now GLaDOS understands just how deep her feelings for Chell are... What else can I say?

In Lego Dimensions, GLaDOS also outright rejects anyone who isn’t Chell.

In Conclusion:

Why do I ship Chell and GLaDOS?

Well, ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether I ship them.

Because I think it’s glaringly obvious Portal does.

#chelldos #chell #glados #portal #portal 2 #tw fatphobia #whitewashing #fandom racism #long post

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Five)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) panic attack, miscommunication, fingering ( female receiving)

Notes: here’s ch5! Hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @getmemyfries @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope

Previous --- Next

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The silky robe is a deep burgundy and it looks divine draped over your skin…Taehyung watches as you stand between his spread legs and the silky material begins to slowly slip off your shoulders. He can’t help but gulp when the robe falls down your arms and your matching lingerie set is finally exposed. The material that covers your breasts is lace, he can see your hardening buds and he sighs out in satisfaction… the rest of the lingerie top is sheer and flowy. He only observes as the robe finally falls to the floor and you step closer to him, bending down giving him the most immaculate view of your cleavage…god, he can’t wait to have your tits in his large hands. He is a man of self-control though. He just wants to watch you for a while before he even touches you, which ultimately drives you crazy.

You finally begin to crawl into his lap, settling over his bulge. He leans away from you, his head hitting the cushion of the sofa when you continue to bend forward until your lips are on his neck. Taehyung smirks and releases breath after breath when he feels your tongue run up his throat.

“Taehyung…” you whisper, “Taehyung, what are you thinking about?”

“Taehyung what are you thinking about? Hello?”

“Taehyung? Earth to Tae?” You continue to wave your hand in front of his face. You both are sitting on the living room couch watching a Disney movie when Taehyung obviously stopped paying attention. The boy is completely zoned out.

“Tae?”

“Huh? What?” his eyes zone back in and he’s whipping his head in your direction. “What?”

“I asked what you were thinking about, you really zoned out there.” You giggle. Taehyung’s eyes skim over your body, you’re wearing a t shirt and some shorts…definitely not the lingerie set he was just imagining you in. Yet somehow you still look sexy and it’s driving him nuts.

“Oh nothing.” Taehyung grins, feeling himself grow warmer at the memory of his imagination.

“Movie night is boring you, huh?” you steal the blanket from Taehyung’s lap and wrap it around yourself. “We can play a game instead? Or maybe, hear me out, just maybe, you can show me that song you’ve been working on.” You eye him, waiting for his reaction.

“It’s not ready.” Taehyung pouts, “I promise I’ll show you when it’s ready. I’m just stuck.”

“Maybe I could help? You never know.”

“y/n…” he whines, “Just wait.” Then he’s scooting a little closer to you, “Patience isn’t really something you’re good at, huh?” he teases then his voice goes lower, “I’ll have to teach you.”

“Fine, fine. I can be patient.” You roll your eyes at him, you unwrap the blanket from yourself and put it out in front of you, offering to share with your roommate.

Taehyung accepts the invitation by inching closer to you and going under the blanket, his body heat sticking to your skin.

“Want to go for a walk?” Taehyung asks, snuggling further into the blanket.

“A walk? It’s so dark out?”

“I bet the moon looks nice over the ocean.” Taehyung points out softly, “I bet it feels nice and cool.”

“Hmm, okay.”

Taehyung was right, the moon looks absolutely hypnotizing over the water. You two are sat in the sand near the shore and you can feel the mist of cool water greet you as the waves come in. It feels amazing.

“Can you believe it’s been a little over 6 months?” you sigh, “Time is flying by.”

“You don’t sound as bitter as you usually would.” Taehyung playfully bumps his knee into yours. “You like my company that much?” he teases.

But you tense at his words…he isn’t that far off and you know that’s dangerous, almost as dangerous as him.

“I’m tired of being so bitter.” You admit, “Doesn’t mean I love this situation. I want to return to the real world…I have a lot of things to take care of. I can’t use the island as an excuse anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“My life is a mess, Tae. This island was like a break from that…I know that sounds crazy—”

“No, I get it.” Taehyung says softly. “I get it.”

“But can you believe we are still here? I mean, we flirt but I don’t know if it’s getting us anywhere.” You whisper. “And are they really taking us seriously?”

“What’s that mean?” Taehyung raises his brows, “Take us seriously?”

“We don’t view each other that way.” You say as quietly as you can, making Taehyung’s heart race. “We never will.”

“Oh.” Taehyung drops his head low, “Right.” Then he raises his head. “So are you saying you would never view me in any way besides a friend?”

“Obviously.” You chuckle, “That’s what we agreed on.”

Taehyung let’s your words marinate for a second…you’re right you two agreed to get along and nothing more. But things change? Taehyung is the type to realize things pretty quickly and go for it. He’s questioning a lot right now. Is he just super fucking attracted to you? Or does his feelings run deeper than that. And he just got his answer.

The fact that you say you would never view him that way has him feeling down, like a major state of depression is coming, like a large storm cloud is making its way over his body.

He wants you to change your mind. He wants you to like him. Why? Isn’t it obvious? He likes you.

“I guess.” He finally says after a long while, he doesn’t know what else to say honestly. He knows you aren’t anywhere near ready to hear his feelings and honestly he isn’t ready to say them out loud yet either. He knows he isn’t technically dating Hana but he still feels like he’s doing something wrong…like he’s cheating or just straight up betraying.

“Let’s walk.” He says standing to his feet, he leans down to help you up by the arm.

“Okie.”

You two begin walking down a path underneath the starry sky, his hand keeps bumping into yours as he talks and you grow nervous at the small contact. You can handle it, or so you think but when his skin touches your skin you feel a bolt of electricity fly down to your lower belly.

“And Jimin is my favorite.” He chuckles, “I mean, don’t get me wrong…I love all the guys but Jimin and I go way back. He can read me like his favorite book and vise versa.”

“That’s awesome. I wish I could meet them.” You admit shyly and Taehyung smiles down at you.

“You can!” he grins, “When we get out of here, I’ll fly you to Korea so you can visit me and you’ll meet the guys. Trust me, they’ll love you.”

You nod your head blushing like a middle school girl who just confessed a crush, you can’t help how rosy your cheeks get.

“You really think you’ll want to see me after this? Aren’t you tired of me yet?” you joke.

“Why? Are you tired of me?” Taehyung’s voice dips down an octave. “You can be honest.”

“No, Tae. I’m not tired of you….yet.” You bump your shoulder into his side and he chuckles.

“Good. Because…” Taehyung pauses, not entirely sure of what he was going to say. “Because…” he begins again. “I think I’m just getting used to you.”

“Only now?” you half joke, teasing him. “We—”

“I just mean,” Taehyung clears his throat, cutting you off. “I think I mean like I’m used to you in a way that I look forward to spending everyday with you.”

Oh. Oh. You stop walking abruptly making Taehyung stop as well, he blinks at you in confusion like ‘why the hell did you stop so suddenly?’.

“You look forward to spending time with me?” you swallow down your spit as you try to speak. “That’s…really sweet of you.” You admit.

Taehyung walks to you and stops just when his toes hit yours, “I can be very sweet.” He whispers to you. “I can show you.” Then he’s taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers, you only stare up at him confused by his action.

“For the cameras?” you ask as quietly as possibly.

“Not everything is for the cameras y/n. When are you going to get that through your pretty head?”

~~~~~~~~

Lately, Taehyung is confusing the hell out of you. He’s doing things he wouldn’t normally do, you think. You can understand flirting for the camera but why is he doing shit even when the cameras aren’t around? It’s not like you hate it…no, it’s not that. You hate to admit it but you fucking like it. A lot. The way he leans into you, the way his hands grip at your waist, the way his touch absolutely melts you. But it’s dangerous. You can’t get attached to him. He’s the first real friend you have in so many months…and that makes you feel pathetic. Poor guy is forced to be friends with you, flirt with you and so on.

You can feel the anxiety start to build…you hate this. You hate how easy it is for you to break, for you to crumble. It’s one of those days, right? You’ve barely made much of an appearance downstairs and you know that worries Taehyung. But today is just one of those days. The heartbreak of your real life seeps into the joyous façade of your island life. Fuck, you hate this. You hate how messy everything is and how nothing feels right or feels real.

It feels like your old life is becoming more and more out of reach, like you run after it, extending your hand out but it’s too far away from your grasp and that has you feeling helpless.

And that overwhelming dread suffocates you. Its hand wraps tightly around your throat, threatening to cut off your air supply. You’re sat up in your bed, your knees pulled into your chest as you try your hardest to level out your breathing, but it’s no use. No fucking use. The dread is too strong, its fingers leaving bruises around your neck.

“Breathe…breathe.” You repeat the words over like a mantra but your throat burns as tears threaten to pool your eyes so you keep them screwed shut.

Suddenly, you hear soft knocks on your bedroom door. Your head snaps upward. Shit.

“Y-Yeah?” You manage to choke out.

“Can I come in?” Taehyung’s voice is muffled on the other side of the door, his voice laced in concern.

“Uh…” you try to calm yourself down so you can respond properly.

“C-Can you just come by later?” You weakly suggest.

There’s a few beats of silence, you start to think he’s given up on you and left when you hear his soft voice once again,

“I have strawberries.”

You feel the pounding of your anxious heart relax just the tiniest. He brought me strawberries…of course he did.

“Umm sure, come in.”

Taehyung slowly creaks the door open, exposing himself.

He walks to the side of the bed, approaching you carefully, one hand carrying a bowl while the other carries a can of whipped cream.

“Snack?” He shakes the can in offering.

You try to smile, you really want to at least. But you feel your chest growing heavier and tighter, your breathing once again becoming uneven. Images of your family and your friends—the ones who didn’t totally shun you—come to mind and you just can’t take it anymore. Everything is too much. Tears well deep inside and before you realize it, tears are racing down your cheeks. You look up at Taehyung, without say anything you are begging him to comfort you. You weakly smile.

“Its…hard.” You admit between choked sobs. It so fucking hard. You miss your old life—believe it not—and the life you have now…is just playing pretend. Everything’s just too much for you right now.

Taehyung seems…surprised. He looks like he’s being torn apart.

“Woah, woah.” He rushes to set the bowl and can down on the nightstand.

“Hey, shh shh.” Taehyung sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He reaches for your shoulder and begins rubbing it soothingly. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

You cry even harder at that. You reach your hand towards your shoulder and grab his, holding it tightly. You try your best to calm down, his touch relieving some of your pain.

“That’s it… In and out…good.” He continues rubbing your shoulder, even with your hand attached to his. He then releases your hand and finds his way into your hair, massaging your scalp, slowly and tenderly. A long sigh escapes you.

“I…I’m sorry for this…” You take a deep breath, “I just miss them so much.” You laugh pitifully, your head falling into your hands. “I know it’s pathetic.”

“No!” Taehyung’s stern voice startles you. “Don’t you say that. It’s understandable y/n…if anyone understands you, it’s me, right?” He reaches for your hand. “And I think you’ve been amazing, it’s okay to break down every once in a while.”

You manage to nod your head, as you stare down at your connecting hands.

“I know I can’t make up for the people we’ve been ripped from…”

“Don’t do that.” you say, squeezing his hand. “Don’t compare yourself with people from my old life.”

“I…sorry.” He breathes out, squeezing your hand back.

The two of you let long moments of silence pass between you, they are comfortable moments though. Just feeling his hand in yours is enough to make you breathe easy again.

“We have each other.” He says out of nowhere. He gazes into your swollen eyes and he can’t believe he didn’t notice before…he always thought your eyes were dark, plain, boring but he sees how gorgeous and deep they are. They look like the setting sun, they look like they could hold stars, they look mesmerizing.

“Yeah, we do.” You try to smile. “Will you…will you stay with me tonight?” Your voice is small and timid. Taehyung is surprised to say the least, that you would request such a thing but he’s softening his features and smiles for you.

“Yeah, of course.” Taehyung breathes out. He rises from the bed and walks to the other side, he makes his way to the spot he is supposed to occupy.

“This is okay, right?” he asks, making sure.

You can’t help but swallow hard as you answer. “Yes.”

Taehyung slips into the bed, sliding underneath the sheets…yours are way softer than his, he thinks. He lays on his side, facing you.

“I miss my sister.” You whisper. “She could be so annoying and over protective but,” you pause, trying not to cry again, “But I do miss her.” You laugh as Taehyung stays silent.

“My-my mom’s cooking, it’s the best. We may not always get along and we kind of fight a lot…but her way of apologizing or making sure I am okay is by cooking me some amazing meal.” You turn to your side as well, your back facing him. You’re too embarrassed to look at him.

“My dad…he always comforts me…he always has my back when I fight with my mom…” you chuckle and then you feel Taehyung’s hand on your back. He begins tracing circles on the fabric of your shirt.

“You know I use to go to this coffee place almost every single day. I miss it. That routine. It’s called Cozy Coffee…a small, family owned shop. Only one of its kind. I would read, write, journal. Just relax. Every day.” You breathe out, missing your comfort spot.

“My friend Layla…who isn’t really my friend anymore…she used to give the best advice. She would probably know exactly what to say to help me get through this situation.” You say a little bitterly. Taehyung feels his heart start to ache as he listens to you.

“You have me to get through this.” Taehyung whispers.

“I know I have you, Tae.” You move from your side to your back. “It’s crazy…I’ve only known you for 6 months but I…” you pause, hating yourself for admitting this. “I feel so close to you.” You quietly admit. “Can I ask you something?” you don’t wait for him to respond as you begin speaking again. “You think if we had met organically…we would get along?” you swallow hard before continuing, “Or are we only getting along because we like, have to? Because face it, you have no one else to talk to and—”

“y/n.” his tone is firm. “Don’t.” he warns. “Don’t think of it that way.”

“Just because you say that doesn’t mean I won’t.” you snap, surprising him.

“We will still talk after we get out of here…we will visit, we will make this work…” Taehyung tries but you scoff.

“If that’s even possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“We live so far from each other. And sure, we have texts and video chats but what about the time difference? Huh? This isn’t going to work afterwards. I’m already…” you take in a shaky breath, “I’m already getting so attached to you.” you then release that same shaky breath. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch when I don’t hear from you months at a time…” you shake your head, “and that’s okay! Because you’re just living life.” You clear your throat, he can tell you’re on the verge of crying. Fuck, what does he do?

“I’m sorry.” You wipe your face with your hands, “This convo took a turn, I’m sorry.”

Taehyung feels his heart aching still, it hurts. He hurts because you’re hurt. He just wants you to feel better.

“C’mere you baby.” He says while tugging on your arm towards his body…you barely even think about it as you scooch closer to him and you let him hold you in his arms for a short hug. You pull away just as quickly as you get comfortable in bed again.

“Get some sleep y/n. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

The A.C is kept rather low, and the buzz of the spinning fan keeps things cool…so, Taehyung’s arms wrapped around you is more than welcome. WAIT. Your eyes shoot open now, realizing your position. Your back is facing him, and your-your butt is shoved into his crotch. If the word ‘shoved’ was too aggressive you apologize but shit is true. Your ass is shoved deep into his crotch, you mean, you can feel everything. It’s an awkward position to say the least…you mean, or is it?

You glance around the room, your eyes fluttering all the way open. It’s now just hitting you that you two really slept in this room together.

His limbs are heavy, slung over your smaller body. His body is acting like your own personal heater, it’s pretty nice, not gonna lie. And his scent—don’t get started on his scent. His breathing is calm, each fan of his breath tickling your skin. Should you try to escape his hold? Or just let it be? Is it weird if you intentionally stay? Your mind is starting to race with a thousand questions, your overthinking getting the best of you. You lay still while your mind drowns in thoughts of Taehyung. Suddenly, you feel Taehyung stir behind you, so you immediately slam your eyes shut in panic, pretending to be asleep.

You can feel Taehyung sit up, just the slightest , one arm still under your head. But then Taehyung slips down further into the sheets once more, his body moving even closer to yours. His arms engulf you into a tight back hug, you can feel his face nuzzling the back of your neck. And the worst part is you feel him inhale you, snuggling impossibly closer. This makes you tense and melt at the same fucking time. He just nuzzled and inhaled you like you were what? He fucking safe space? You feel pulled into him, drawn to him. So you sleepily turn over in his arms, you wrap an arm around him while keeping your other arm safely tucked into your chest. You open your eyes to take a look at Taehyung’s sleeping face when you are met with two wide eyes. He looks…shocked at first but then the corners of his lips turn upwards. He gently squeezes your body into his and slowly closes his eyes again.

How can he sleep again?! Your mind is racing, your heart is racing, your body is racing even if you are frozen. Your nerves are very present, you feel your stomach turn, you feel butterflies flying, you feel restless. But Taehyung? He is absolutely fine. And that makes your body feel an ache you wish it didn’t.

~~~~

“Uh, can I help you?” You wait impatiently for an answer…you were just falling asleep!

“Sleepover.” Taehyung says nonchalantly while pushing past you, entering your bedroom.

“Um, sleepover?”

“I can’t sleep. I want to cuddle. Very innocent stuff.” Taehyung says as he pulls back the covers on your bed.

“Tae…” you hesitate to close the door, “What do you think you are doing?”

Ever since your little panic attack and your little sleepover with Taehyung, he has gotten used to the idea of snuggling closer to you even on places like the couch. And now tonight, he is here in your room requesting to sleep with you. You go red just at the thought.

“Don’t be a brat, y/n.” he says slipping into the bed and patting the spot next to him, “Now come over here.” He grins at you and you flush.

“Fine…” you can’t say you hate the idea…after getting a taste of cuddling once you have been yearning for his touch…just a little. You turn off the lights and step over towards the bed, sliding inside and snuggling in the blanket.

“No, come here.” He softly commands, “Lay on my chest…ah, wait.” He stops you from moving. “Do you mind if I sleep with my shirt off?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before so sure.” You mumble. Taehyung winks at you before he’s lifting his shirt over his head, sliding back down into the bed. “Now come.”

Taehyung slips an arm underneath your head as you lay down on his bare chest…you won’t lie…his warm skin on your cheek has you melting.

“So you think you and Hana would be a couple by now?” you decide to ask but you cringe at your own question. Why the hell did you bring up Hana? Taehyung’s face falls into a frown.

“Probably...maybe…I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Why are you saying sorry, it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“Somehow it feels like it is.” You admit, you lean a little closer to Taehyung, your body feeling heavier and heavier.

“It’s not…” he wraps his other hand around your waist, “I don’t regret meeting you y/n.”

“Do you mean that?”

You lean away from him and scoff, “Your life could be perfect right now but I’m ruining it.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” Taehyung warns, “It’s not you—”

“It is me! This company paired you with me! A complete and total stranger!” you whisper, “You’re stuck here with me, Taehyung. You’re forced to be what, friends with me?”

“No one’s forcing me to do anything. I genuinely enjoy spending time with you…” Taehyung tries to explain, he’s becoming really confused. Where is this all coming from?

“y/n…”

“What?” you snap and he flinches, “sorry…what is it?” you ask more softly.

“I could say the same about me, that I’m ruining your life too—”

“My life is already a mess before you.”

“We’re friends y/n. When we get out of here I will find you on twitter or what—”

“I don’t have social media.” You say.

“Fine, we will eventually exchange numbers. You get the point, we’re friends. Real friends.”

“Sorry I’m just overwhelmed…” you finally admit, “We’ve been here over six month Taehyung…why are we still here? How hasn’t anyone found us yet? Aren’t they looking for us?”

“I’m sure people are trying.”

“I don’t hate being with you.” You say, “But I want to go home.” You begin to sniffle and Taehyung panics. He tightens his hold on you, he wishes he could bring you in even closer.

“I know. Me too.” He admits, hugging you tight. “But at least we got each other, right?”

Taehyung is the closest thing you’ve had to a friend in months…you don’t want to get this attached to him. When you guys get sent home…he’s going back to Korea and you back to your home and he will move on with his life and you won’t have him anymore.

“Sure.” You reply weakly, “Sure.”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore.” Taehyung whispers.

“What should we talk about then? Or should we just go to sleep?”

“No, I want to chat.” He chuckles. “Why do you seem nervous around me sometimes?” he decides to ask, his hand loosening around your waist.

“Me? Nervous? You’re just imagining that.” You breathe out, “and if I have been it’s not like you have never been nervous around me…right?”

“Who says I haven’t?” His chuckles come out dark and low. “I think I make you nervous.”

His hand slides down until he grips at your thigh before he’s letting go and gliding his fingers across your thigh and up to your hip. Your bare legs feeling the electric touch of his fingers. You suck in a long breath at the contact.

“W-Why would you make me nervous?” your eyes flutter shut and you bite down on your bottom lip as he continues to stroke your thigh. Your breathing picking up unknowing to you, your chest rising and falling faster than before.

“Your body tells me I do.” He says slowly, his voice deep.

Your quick breaths fan across his chest…he obviously knows you are getting affected.

“What does that mean?” you sigh but Taehyung doesn’t answer he just continues his ministrations on your skin. The way your shorts ride up gives him access to your thighs and hip. He lightly strokes you over and over, making you lose some of your composure. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. And Taehyung knows this. He knows he should probably stop…but your skin feels so warm, so soft. His fingers skid across your upper thigh again and he notices how you exhale deep long breaths at his touch, how you close your eyes, how you bite your lip.

“If I don’t make you feel nervous,” he begins, his light touch never stopping, “then what do I make you feel?”

“Good.” You breathe out, “You make me feel good.”

Taehyung raises his brows in amusement, clearly liking your admission.

“You don’t know how good I can make you feel y/n.” Taehyung’s voice goes low, it makes the goosebumps on your skin rise.

“Taehyung…” You open your eyes again and find his, his gaze is so dangerous you could honestly feel the torture of it forever.

His hand travels lower to caress your calf, then he’s sliding it back up again this time closer to the inner part of your thigh. Without thinking you slightly spread your legs apart, letting his fingers play with your more sensitive skin.

His touch is sending heat waves throughout your body and God, you are melting at his burning hot touch. You start to dance your hips around, too turned on to actually feel embarrassed.

“Jeez…you’re really getting worked up.” Taehyung darkly chuckles. He stares down at you with dark, intense eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“S-Shut up.” You breathe out. “We probably…we probably shouldn’t do this…” you say, your voice strained.

Taehyung only smirks. “Do what? What exactly is it do you think we are going to do?”

His fingers slide closer and closer to the place that he shouldn’t. Your inner thigh is dangerous enough…but he lightly strokes you closer anyway. He knows exactly what he is doing.

“Do you think I’m going to make you come?” he teases. You hate how deep his voice gets when he talks to you like this—not that he’s ever said anything this bold.

“Lay on your back for me.” You nod your head until realization hits you.

“WAIT WHAT?” you sit up. “I am not going to like, have sex with you! Plus how can you even be sure I would come during sex?” You cock a brow, “You are a real cocky bastard, you know that?” Taehyung rolls his eyes all the way to the back of his head.

“We aren’t having sex.” He assures you. Oh. A little tiny voice in your head is asking why not. “And I definitely could make you come during sex. Jeez y/n, what type of incompetent guys have you been with?” Taehyung smirks, sitting up as well.

“T-Then how would you make me come?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze. The gaze that drives you fucking nuts.

“With my fingers?” He shrugs.

“Aren’t you afraid this will ruin our friendship?” you pull at the ends of your hair, you know, a bad fucking habit.

“Not at all.” He says with total nonchalance. Jesus this guy is something else.

His features soften as he stares down at you, “Just let me take care of you.” He says.

You need to say no. This crosses way too many lines. But you can’t. You won’t. You figure you can just forget about it because that’s your only choice since you are already nodding your head in agreement.

“Then relax for me.” Taehyung uses his hand to softly push you down by the shoulder. “Please.” He licks his lips watching you ease yourself back on to the bed. You never break eye contact with Taehyung as your chest heaves again. How does he affect you this quickly? You are full of nerves, no shit, but you are so turned on by Taehyung’s low voice and sharp gaze that you nod your head, going along with his words.

“Good.” He says and you let out a long, harsh breath in response. Almost a moan.

“Taehyung…” your voice comes out more breathy than you intend and you immediately blush. You can feel his erection struggling in the confines of his sweats, poking the side of your thigh, you hope you calling out his name is making him suffer even more. Taehyung hasn’t made another move yet, just staring at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Please…” You reach for his hand and set it between your inner thighs. Wow, when were you this bold? He immediately smirks.

“Patience, baby.” The pet name has you rolling your eyes and not in a sassy way. Your lips part and your eyes are half lidded, you are a goner. And from what? This barely counts as foreplay! You are just so deprived of sexual attention. Taehyung watches you and you feel him rut against your thigh, God he feels so big.

“Sorry,” he says weakly, his own breaths sharp.

He takes a moment to compose himself, but to be honest you wish he wouldn’t. Taehyung lets out a long breath becoming even more serious, if that is possible. His hand is already dipped between your thighs and you are sure he can feel how desperate you are by the way you squirm. Even though he hasn’t even touched you. But you ache for his touch, it honestly hurts.

Finally, he cups you in his large hand. “So warm.” He says lowly. He wastes no time, using his fingers to move your shorts and panties to the side and swirls two fingers over your aching clit. You are dripping in arousal, his fingers getting coated in your juices within seconds.

“Did I make you this wet? Just by barely touching you?” He sounds genuinely surprised. Taehyung continues to glide his fingers between your folds.

You try to stay quiet, not trusting your voice at this point. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched that the feeling of his fingers, his long, beautiful fingers has you struggling to keep quiet. But you choke out when Taehyung slips a long finger inside you, pumping in and out very slowly. You whine at the sudden contact.

“I asked you a question.”

He enters another long finger into your greedy cunt. You want more of him. You are starting to think his fingers aren’t enough, but that’s your horny haze talking. His fingers begin thrusting into you, twisting his fingers in a way that has your body rutting against him. You can’t help the long dragged out moan that escapes your parted lips. Maybe they are enough, holy shit.

“Who made you this wet?” he asks almost like he genuinely wants to know like it’s not obvious.

Taehyung inserts another finger. Fuck. You moan over and over, loving how he explores you.

“Huh, baby?” he questions while you squeeze your eyes shut, while your mouth hangs open.

“I need you to use your words.” His fingers come to a sudden stop, he pulls them away from you. You gasp at the loss of contact. How un-fucking-fair. Your eyes shoot open, looking at him with eyes on fire.

“Y-You!” You finally choke out, “You made me this wet! Please Taehyung, please don’t stop.” You are a whining, withering mess. Taehyung just watches you, a dark smile appearing on his face.

“So greedy.” He says, his wicked grin taking over his face. “So fucking greedy.”

And before you know it, his fingers are back inside you but this time moving at a greater force than before, leaving you fucking breathless. His long fingers are reaching places so much deeper than you ever could.

“There…there. Don’t stop.” You pant.

The slick sounds of his fingers pushing into your body is delicious and disgusting. Between your moans and his harsh breaths and the sound of his fingers inside your body…it’s music to your ears.

“Need…need more…” you pant, your hand coming to your mouth.

“More? I got you babe.” His fingers leave your core, leaving you frustrated. How was this more? But then suddenly those same fingers are on your clit, your most sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Gonna—gonna make you feel so good…” You glance Taehyung’s way to see him with his gaze directed towards you already, his dark eyes somehow even darker.

You bite back a moan, your hand still covering your mouth.

“Let me hear you. Don’t cover your beautiful sounds.”

His fingers rub your aching clit even faster, harder, added pressure that is making you see stars and you aren’t even coming yet.

“So close Tae, I’m so…so”

“Yeah baby? Wanna come?”

“Yes yes yes” the coil twists tighter between your legs, already ready to snap. Taehyung repeats his motions, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Taehyung watches with parted, panting lips as you lose all composure.

“Fuck, y/n.” Taehyung grunts under his breath, his voice taking you to the end.

Your body is twisting and turning, your hair is stuck to your forehead as the sweat builds up. Your eyes are slammed shut and your lips are apart releasing moan after moan. His other hand is at your core as well, two fingers entering you.

“Come all over my fingers, y/n. Let go baby, let go.”

Taehyung’s words has your vision going white, your entire body goes tense and then you are letting go. Cumming all over Taehyung’s fingers as his pumps slow and you begin to come down from your high. Your hand reaches up and grips his left arm, you whine at the feel of his muscles underneath your touch—only further turning you on. You clench your thighs together, bucking your hips into his slowing hand. Finally, you grind against his hand one last time, letting out all your last moans.

“You did so good.” Taehyung teases, his fingers leaving your body.

“Shut up.” Your breaths are heavy but you smile. Taehyung’s breathing isn’t much better. What do you do now? Say thank you?

“I’ll wash up and bring you a towel.” Taehyung informs you, breathing out roughly. He is painfully hard, you could feel him rutting against you the entire time he fingered you. Probably why you came so fast, honestly.

You hear Taehyung in the bathroom washing his hands. The sound of the running water giving you time to think. Sooooo what the fuck just happened? Did you just let your friend, your roommate, your fellow victim…finger bang you? Finger bang…what are you, 14? Either way, what the fuck? This is a lot to take it…you didn’t hate it. What do you do with that thought? No guy has ever made you come that fast and just from his fingers? Dear Lord, dear sweet baby Jesus. This is obviously because you haven’t come in so long…you mean, you’ve touched yourself, don’t get it wrong but it only ended in frustration. But tonight…you met a different fate. A fate that was in the hands of your friend. Your fucking friend. All the sudden tears prick your eyes—you’re just friends. You quickly pat your eyes dry with your T-shirt and shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. Why are you disappointed you’re just friends?

Before you know it Taehyung is back in the room, he’s holding a towel in his hand. He walks to your side of the bed and crawls on top…he looks hesitant. He almost looks afraid of you.

You reach for the towel, its warm and damp.

“No, I’ll do it.” Taehyung smiles softly, his eyebrows creasing as he does so.

He takes the damp towelette and begins cleaning up. You hiss at the contact, you are still incredibly sensitive. He only takes a few seconds to clean up the mess you two made before he’s pulling back.

“Thanks…” you mumble. Him cleaning you up was oddly intimate. Maybe it’s not that odd how intimate it felt actually. Because you know what? It was fucking intimate! This whole fiasco was intimate as hell! And it’s all your fault.

Taehyung sits on his knees, awkwardly might you add. You don’t know what to do with the towelette so you just throw it behind him. He looks at you with slight disgust before he’s smiling.

“Really?” he gives you a pointed look.

“What? I’ll throw it in the dirty clothes basket in the morning.” you smile back, then you become shy. Yes, fucking shy. Like you weren’t just a moaning mess for him minutes prior. You don’t know what to do with yourself. What do you say? What do you do? A sigh of relief is pushing past your lips when you realize Taehyung probably feels the same. He is looking at you like you might break. Suddenly you don’t feel relief, you feel guilt. This is your fault, you did this. You allowed this. What does he think of you now? You don’t just usually let your friends finger bang you—uh, you really need to stop saying it like that—this is bad.

“Aren’t you going to lay down?” You gesture to his side of the bed real awkwardly.

“Yup.” He then rolls his entire body over yours, like his weight wouldn’t crush you, landing in his previous spot on the bed. He sinks down into the sheets, leaving like a foot of space between you both. He is literally on the edge of his side of the bed. Shit. You did this. Now you’re fucking awkward.

“So.”

“So…”

Taehyung isn’t one to get weird after a sexual encounters but this is you we’re talking about, the girl he is stuck on an island with, the girl who is apparently his best match, the girl he definitely wants to fuck and last but not least, the girl he has real romantic feelings for.

He had the fanfuckingtastic idea of fucking you with his fingers…yeah, real smart on his part. He feels himself fill with pride that he was the first and only to make you come since you’ve been here.

He knows you two need to talk. What could this mean? He knows you enjoyed yourself…he knows you loved every moment his fingers were inside you. He is well aware of that fact. Your moans and cries of pleasure are indication enough.

He needs to talk to you though, he needs to hear how you feel. He wants you. He wants you so fucking bad. Taehyung smiles because he has a feeling this will turn out alright.

“So about what just happ—”

“Thanks for that,” you’re quick to cut him off, “but can we pretend that never happened?” you laugh, humorless.

Oh.

“Okay.”

~~~~~

It’s been a week. A fucking week. And you have hardly even looked at Taehyung much less spoke to him. It’s kind of hard to ignore the one person you live with but he guesses in such a big house he’s able to stay out of your way. Because that’s what you want, right? He thinks that’s what you want. You’ve been spending an awful amount of time in your bedroom and your dance studio and not a whole lot of time in the common areas. So basically fuck Taehyung, right? At least that’s what he’s thinking.

You…you regret it, right? Letting things escalate? You want to forget all about your little sleepover—like it never happened. And he has no one to blame but himself. But he couldn’t contain himself…touching you felt so good, felt so right. And the way you reacted from his simple touches…you want him, don’t you? At least that’s what he thought. He knows this is his fault. And he wants to take responsibility, as a man, as a decent human being…but he doesn’t know how to talk to you. When you two do pass each other, you either look at him with a tense, tight lipped smile or you don’t even acknowledge him at all. Both fucking hurt him. He feels like if this was the real world this is where you ghost him and he hates people who ghost.

Taehyung is just lying in bed, chest being crushed by a massive fat man as he wishes you would just talk to him. At this point that’s kind of all he wants. He has to accept this fact...this is an unrequited love, isn’t it? He groans in frustration, a heavy hand dragging down his face.

“y/n…” He whispers your name like a secret. It escapes past his lips without him really realizing. Why did the company set him up with a girl who will never feel the same? The thought rings in his head. The more he thinks about it the more he hates the company. He fists his hands in the sheets beneath him until his knuckles turn white. This fucking company is the one to blame for everything. He could be home, he could be making music, hanging with his friends and maybe even have Hana to call his. But no, he’s here. With the most amazing person he has ever met and it’s all one sided.

Would he change things? Wish he never came here? He honestly doesn’t know. But he can’t change things so why even ask that stupid question. Does he really wish he was back home and maybe be with Hana? But Hana didn’t do this to him. Didn’t make me feel lost and crazy and so fucking happy to even be in the same place as her. He loosens his grip on the sheets, flattening his palms on the bed. No, Hana was never the one for him. That he is certain of. But if you don’t feel the same way then you’re not the one for him either. And that fucking crushes him.

He huffs out a long breath and sits up, he tangles his fingers in his hair trying to soothe himself. It doesn’t really work but it was worth a shot. He gets off the bed and heads toward the door, he wants to wash his face with cold water, he needs a refresher, so he exits the room and begins walking towards the bathroom. As he reaches the door, he hears the sound of your bedroom door opening. You are leaving your bedroom for the first time today he believes and you immediately stop in your tracks when you spot him. Your eyes go wide and your mouth falls open just the slightest. He stares at you, just stares at you. His expression hardens when he remember this is you ghosting him but you speak up. Actually speak up.

“Hi.” You squeak out.

Explosions. Taehyung feels explosions everywhere. His heart is exploding, his mind is exploding, the world is exploding. How does one girl manage to rile him up this much? All you said was say hi…

“Hey.” He grumbles, not really doing much to hide his bitter tone.

You can’t help but wince at his response.

“Umm,” you start, your eyes darting all around the hallway. “Wanna…” your words get lost on your tongue.

“Wanna what?” he says harshly, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“Wanna watch a movie?” you whisper, your eyes down at your feet.

“Do I wanna watch a fucking movie?” He scoffs. Loud and clear.

“Oh.” You say, your eyes finally meeting his.

“Oh.” he mimics, his stiff expression never letting up.

“Taehyung—”

“What?” there’s a bite in his tone.

“Please watch a movie with me?” Your eyes are pleading. God, that’s when they are his favorite.

Taehyung stares at you from across the hall, just staring, he lowers his arms to his side and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

“What movie?” He finally asks, his tone still tight.

“Any movie, it doesn’t matter.” You rush to say, feeling hopeful he will take you up on your suggestion. You shift from one foot to the other, your nerves spiking. He loves seeing you nervous like this, he can’t help it.

“Can we talk first?” He takes a few steps towards you but you clumsily move backward, backing away from him.

“We’re talk-talking right now.” You breathe out, your eyes never leaving his.

“You know exactly what I am talking about y/n.” his voice goes lower.

“Just wanna watch a movie.” You take another step back.

“Jesus y/n,” Taehyung rolls his eyes at you, “you really suck ass at confrontation.” He bites back.

You’re quiet for a moment, your eyes still on Taehyung. You suck in your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard. You are lost in your thoughts, trying to focus on the specific one you need. You’re swaying from side to side, clearly thinking of how to respond to him.

“You fingered me, big deal.” You finally huff out, rolling your eyes.

“It’s not a big deal? Then why haven’t you talked to me all fucking week?” He takes a few steps closer, closing the major distance between you two. This time your feet stay planted on the ground.

“Was worried you might take it… the wrong way.” You say, your eyes slide to the side. You understand this is a weak ass excuse but…

“Take it the wrong way?” He takes another step forward.

“Yeah. We’re just friends, right? Friends don’t let friends get them off. Didn’t want you to think this was something more.” Your words slice through him, cutting him up. Something more. Of course that’s what you were worried about. You just didn’t want him to catch feelings for you or whatever the fuck. Well too fucking late babe, he thinks bitterly.

“Right.” He finally says, taking one last step forward. He won’t lie, his heart doesn’t feel good. It feels sick probably, like it has an aching fever. Taehyung leans forward until his lips are barely touching the shell of your ear. His warm breaths tickling your skin.

“Just friends also don’t moan out for them over and over wanting to come.” He whispers, “And just friends don’t enjoy what we did as much as we did.” His deep voice sends chills across your body as you sigh out. “But right, we are just friends.”

“Yeah.” You release a shaky breath, “So…A movie?”

“Sure, y/n.” he leans away from you and he gives a half smile, he looks pained. And it hurts you. You nod your head towards the stairs and he nods in agreement.

But there’s still a lingering tension in the air, you can feel and you are sure Taehyung feels it too. There’s no way you are imagining a tension this thick. Somethings not right and after all of this, and you aren’t sure it ever will be.

You’re full of regret. Don’t get it wrong, you don’t regret crossing the line with Taehyung…you regret telling him to forget about it. You just got so scared…he is closest thing you have to a friend and you hope you didn’t ruin that. But there’s more. You feel something more and that scares you too. What happens if you tell him you liked it and you want more but he rejects you first? He beats you to it.

“Should I make some popcorn?” Taehyung asks, his hands fiddling with the TV’s remote as he lowers the volume.

“Sure.” You respond a bit awkwardly. You find your way to the couch, sitting on one end, pulling the blanket to your lap.

Taehyung takes his time in the kitchen, he gulps down a glass of water as he waits for the popcorn to finish in the microwave. Once the timer is going off he takes it out and pours the popcorn in a large bowl and makes his way to the living room finding the sofa and taking a seat on the other side of it.

“You can sit closer Tae…” you shyly offer, your hand gesturing towards the spot next to you but Taehyung stares at you with hard eyes.

“No thanks. I’m good here.”

“Seriously Taehyung? You pout, “Can we try to be a little normal?”

“Don’t know if that’s possible.” He quickly retorts, staring straight ahead now.

You frown at that, your lips turning downward in the most animated way. This is a mess. Everything is a mess. And it’s your fault. You feel bad, so fucking bad. You feel like Taehyung hates you. And that thought breaks your freaking heart into a million and one pieces.

“Taehyung?” you start to inch closer to him and he whips his head in your direction.

“”What?” He leans away from you, confused why you are scooting closer to him.

“Taehyung…” you sit as close to him as possible and he looks at you with a face void of emotion. You eye him carefully and he looks numb. This just makes you feel worse. Tears start to prick your eyes and your face scrunches up…Taehyung’s features soften when he realizes how close you are to crying.

“Cry baby.” He states, his voice much softer than he intended. “Come.” He pulls you by the arm, bringing him to his body.

“Taehyung.” You sniffle.

“What is it?” he replies back easily this time, no harshness in his tone…like, instead it’s the sound of comfort.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, burying your head into his chest. You inhale him and his scent makes you feel dizzy. You breathe him in again, getting high off of him. You start to silently cry, your tears wetting his shirt…he doesn’t say anything though, he just rubs your back soothingly.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, almost hesitant.

“Everything.” You admit. “Sorry for what I said in the hall…sorry for…” you cry a little more.

“For?”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to forget about that night.” You finally push out, sliding your eyes to the side. Taehyung blows out a puff of air and offers you a small smile.

“Why did you?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know.” You answer with a half-truth. Taehyung creases his brows, pulling them together so dramatically as his expression hardens again.

“You don’t know?” he pinches his nose with his fingers. “Listen…did you enjoy it?” he asks bluntly. His eyes finding yours again and it’s that same gaze that drives you insane.

“Taehyung…”

“Did you enjoy it y/n?” he asks again, this time more demanding.

“I…” the words get lost in a lump in your throat.

“Words y/n.” His hardened expression intimidates the fuck out of you to say the least. “Is that what you are afraid of? That because you liked it so much…you’ll want more?”

Bulls fucking eye. You swallow down your response. You just let your mouth open and close and open and close again, unable to say anything.

“What did I say about using your words y/n?” Taehyung scoots closer, making you feel fucking suffocated…but not entirely in a bad way.

“Tae…” his name escapes you in a breathy moan.

Taehyung stares down at you, his eyes narrowed and serious. He breathes out roughly before scoffing.

“I think we’re done here.” He states coldly, he stands to his feet and begins walking away, leaving you confused and breathless.

Done? How? What does he mean? Taehyung then continued to avoid you for several more days…until…

~~~~~~

“I’m not doing it.” Taehyung yells out, loud enough for you, who is in another room to hear.

“What?” You shout back, wiping your forehead with a towel. “Did you say something?” It would be the first time he’s saying something to you in several days.

“I said I’m not doing it!” and with that you hear him bolt up the stairs and after a few seconds the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut could be heard throughout the house.

“Jeez…” You step out of your dance studio, sweat patted dry into your skin. “What’s he throwing a tantrum over?” but somehow you have a feeling. You walk into the living room towards the bright TV, you face falling at the sight. The TV is bright white with black letter painted across, showing the ‘Request’ that has your face as white as a ghost.

Request: make out for 1 Minute.

Penalty: no power for 5 days.

You reread the words at least 30 fucking times, letting each syllable sink in,

you sigh to yourself, feeling fucking lost. You know you have to talk to Taehyung, his reaction also repeating in your crazy mind. You slump your shoulders as your head bows down in defeat. He fucking hates you, wants nothing to do with you right now. It’s just some kissing right? You both have literally done worse. You have to talk to him. You lift your head and look in the direction of the staircase, your lips pulling into a pout. How would this go?

“I said we’re not doing it.” Taehyung plainly states. He sits on the edge of his bed, fists balling up the end of the blanket. You look between him and his cool statement and his fists of frustration.

“Taehyung we—”

“We can just take the penalty.” His tone is firm.

You look at him incredulously. Take the fucking penalty? 5 days without power?

“You’re saying you would rather have 5,” You lift up your hand showing him your five fingers in case he doesn’t know what 5 looks like, “5 fucking days without power then to just kiss me? Like really?”

“Really.” He stands from his bed, stepping in front of you, walking you backwards. You step back until your back hits the wall next to the door. Taehyung stops only a few inches away from you, looming over your body.

“So…I’ll be taking a nap now.” He says flatly.

Is he serious? He really won’t do this with you? You have seen each other naked for Christs sake! You’ve never not done a request! You get that he’s mad at you, but 5 days? 5 whole days?

“It’s just a minute Taehyung…” You murmur more to yourself than him. Hurt probably written all over your face. You are feeling absolutely rejected. A feeling you hate the most.

“Yeah.” he takes a step back. “A minute I don’t want to be a part of.” He spits out at you.

Fucking ouch.

Things with Ben hurt. Bad. But Taehyung wanting nothing to do with you? Hurts worse.

You look down at your feet, fidgeting with your digits.

“Why are you being such an asshole?” You say between deep breaths. You can’t cry. He’s quiet. Too quiet. You suck in a shaky breath, “I already said sorry so why are you treating me this way?” You don’t mean to sound so pathetic but you do because well, you are. He lets silence linger in the air. You can’t muster the courage to look up at him, he’s probably void of all emotion, probably will give you some robotic answer. If you are even lucky enough to get an answer.

You hear Taehyung exhale through his nose but that’s it. Without even sparing him a glance, you turn towards the door to take your leave but then you feel Taehyung’s hand on your arm stopping you.

“Wait.” His voice is rough. He clears his throat and releases his grip on you.

You turn to face him, finally lifting your head to see him. His eyes are narrowed and his lips are set in a firm line. At least he has an expression.

“What?” you mumble, your eyes glossy.

“Don’t cry.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing even more. His gaze is not one to fuck with.

“I won’t.” you say, unconvincing.

“y/n…” his gaze begins to soften.

“I won’t” you repeat, still just as unconvincing. Your eyes gloss over even more and you feel your throat beginning to tighten.

Taehyung relaxes his features even more, and to your surprise he reaches forward and rubs your shoulder.

“Please don’t cry.” His voice loses its edge, all softness now.

“I won’t” You choke out, barely able to keep your lip from quivering. A single tear falling from your eye.

“If I agree to do the request will you stop?” he asks, still rubbing your shoulder.

“If you-if you stop being an asshole I’ll stop.” Another tear.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just…I just had to be firm with you.” He admits, his voice low.

“I don’t understand…” You cry out. More tears fallen on your cheek.

Taehyung looks at you with an odd expression you can’t decipher.

“Trust me, I know.” He says, defeat lacing his tone. “Can you just…respect my decision?” he adds on.

“I just don’t see the big deal…” you sniffle, “We’ve done worse.”

“And look where that got us.” He laughs bitterly.

He’s not…wrong. But still, for some reason you keep pushing it.

“It’s just a minute Tae.” You try again, wiping your flushed face of tears.

Taehyung raises his brows at you and sets his lips into a firm line again, he places his hands into his pants pockets and rocks back and forth.

“Wanna do it that badly?” he lightly snaps. “Fine.”

You feel the shift in his mood again, he’s been a roller coaster lately—it’s so unlike him. Are you doing this to him? Damn, girl you toxic as fuck.

You step forward and reach for his hand, he lets you.

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask.

“What’s wrong?” he mocks your voice.

“Taehyung please—”

“I want to kiss you.” He states. “And…and...” he tears his gaze away from you, looking all around the room instead. “And you just don’t get that.”

Taehyung steps forward, a fire in his eyes as he speaks up again.

“It’s cruel for me, don’t you think? I get to kiss you until that timer goes off and then what? I have to pretend we didn’t just do that? Have to pretend we didn’t do something I have been wanting to do for god knows how long! I have to pretend we’re just fucking friends?” he shouts, laughing bitterly again.

You’re…stunned. Taehyung takes a step back again, his eyes never leaving yours. You look up at him with pinched brows and a confused mind.

“But yeah, let’s do the stupid request. That’s a great idea.” He rolls his eyes.

“Taehyung…” You start to feel guilty, like maybe and by maybe you mean obviously, you struck a chord.

“No y/n, we’re doing the request.” He cages you with his arms on either side of you, he leans forward until his nose is brushing yours. “I’m going to kiss you, and I am not responsible for what happens after that.” He leans away again, “So, I’ll see you tonight.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #the island chapter 5

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marvellovegalore · 3 years

Text

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

Part 3 -

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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Regarding Konaka’s influence on Tamers (or how much he actually didn’t have)

(Rest assured that if you’ve had a conversation with me recently about this issue, I’m not vaguing you; this conversation has come up a lot in the last few weeks, especially in my private chats, so this is just me deciding that I should write something about this for once since it’s been weighing on my head lately.)

I think, right now, with what happened regarding the DigiFes debacle, a lot of people are having complicated feelings about how to feel about Tamers, and this is completely understandable. I think there are also some things that may be inevitably unavoidable, such as starting to second-guess certain nuances in the series and what they might lead to. All of that is perfectly reasonable, and in the end, it’s going to be up to everyone to decide how they feel.

In light of this, a lot of people have been bringing up the fact that, while Konaka was the head writer, he was by no means the only person working on it. This is very much true, but I’d like to add something else to the equation: this is an issue that goes much deeper than the usual claiming death of the author for the sake of sanity. The full picture is that Konaka has always had much less influence on the series than the fanbase tends to attribute to him. Official statements have been very clear as to not attribute the entire series to him, and, among all the other controversial statements he’s made, Konaka himself has at least been very active about crediting the other staff members as far as their influence on the series! The idea that he was the only person who ever did anything substantial for Tamers is something I’ve been warning against since long before any of this happened (if you want proof, I have a post from April with this sentiment in it), and right now we just happen to be seeing what’s basically the worst possible outcome of the fanbase constantly worshipping him like the only real creative heart behind the series to borderline cult-like levels...when that’s never been true, and has resulted in unfairly taking credit away from people who deserved it.

I’ll go into detail below, and I hope this can help people understand the situation better and sort out how they feel about it.

Note that I make references to his infamous blog in this post, which I’m deliberately refraining from directly linking for obvious reasons, but all of the information is still there, so it should be verifiable if you decide to look for it yourself.

Personally, I’ve always found it really bizarre how there’s been this obsession with portraying Konaka as some kind of auteur whom the entirety of Tamers depended on. I’m not saying this out of spite towards him, because, again, even he himself was very insistent on disclaiming credit for things he wasn’t actually responsible for (he was quite humble in this respect, actually). Not to mention that I think it’s a mistake in general to constantly pin a single person in a multi-person production as the sole heart behind it, and the Digimon fanbase has historically had this strange double standard behind it when it comes to uplifting him as the only heart behind Tamers when nobody says that about any of the head writers for...anything else. (How many times has Nishizono’s name ever popped up when talking about Adventure? People are usually more obsessed with talking about Kakudou or Seki.) Konaka’s work is certainly distinctive, but Tamers had a lot more going on besides just that.

In fact, based on his own statements on the matter and all of the other official information we’ve gotten about Tamers production, while you can’t really quantify such things, it’s generally been estimated that Konaka was responsible for something like only a fourth of the series. Which is an incredibly low amount compared to what the fanbase would have told you before all of this happened, because of this fixation that he must be the genius mastermind behind the whole series. Not only that, this “brilliant auteur” image of him was so inflated that people were attributing way more of 02 to him than he deserved; 02 episode 13 was the only thing he contributed to the series and he was specifically brought on as a “guest writer”, and the overall plot of the episode was determined by the rest of the production staff and not him -- but ask the fanbase and they’ll tell you stories about how he invented some grand planned arc for 02 that got cancelled, or even that Tamers exists because of a “writer revolt” from him and other writers not being allowed to do what they wanted. (You know, as much as I understand 02′s a controversial series, it would be really nice if people didn’t make up completely baseless stories like this just to scapegoat it...)

I honestly cannot emphasize enough how much of the problem we’re in right now has been horribly enabled by the weird pedestal the fanbase has been putting him on. This is to the point where there’s even been a double standard where some of the more unpopular/criticized elements of Tamers must not have been the fault of a brilliant writer like him, and in fact was forced on him by the executives (this excuse had always been brought up anytime someone doesn’t like something about Tamers, just to make sure the image of him as a perfect writer was maintained). Turns out, as per his own admission on the infamous blog, while he wasn’t the one who initially had the idea of putting Ryou in, the part that rubbed the fanbase the wrong way -- that he came in as an accomplished senior who was better than everyone and played up by everyone in the cast -- was unabashedly his idea (he apparently was enamored with the idea of having someone like Tuttle from the movie Brazil). Again, this is a weird scenario where even Konaka himself has been more humble about this issue than the fanbase’s perception of him; he fully admitted whenever he had trouble writing certain parts. For instance, he doesn’t actually like writing about alternate worlds, felt they were out of his comfort zone, and only wrote in the Digital World because the franchise needs one; he’d stated that if he’d had his way, the Digital World arc wouldn’t have come in as early as it did, which might be a pretty shocking statement for a Digimon fan to hear.

If you want even more specifics, here are some extremely major parts of the series that Konaka was not actually the one behind:

The character backgrounds. Konaka stated on his blog that he wasn’t interested in going too much into character backstories because he felt it was too plot-limiting to say that a character is the way they are thanks to something in their past or background (basically, he cares more about plot than character for the most part), and that he’s also not into worldbuilding. Certain things like Ruki going to a girls’ school were supplied by Seki, who infamously loves worldbuilding, family backgrounds, and character settings.

Certain nuances of Ruki’s character, especially the part where she’s pigeonholed into uncomfortable places due to being a girl, were informed by Yoshimura Genki, writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02 (who eventually would go on to create an entire career out of feminist cinema).

According to the posts on his blog, Impmon’s character arc didn’t have much input from Konaka himself and was largely written in by Maekawa Atsushi (also a writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02).

The whole concept of Yamaki being redeemable in the first place was something Konaka didn’t originally plan for; he’d initially intended to make him a straightforward antagonist, but, of all things, his Christmas song, combined with the input of the other writers (especially Maekawa) humanizing him, led to the development where Yamaki eventually changed sides and became sympathetic. (This makes Konaka’s recent stunt revolving around Yamaki a bit painfully ironic.)

The director, Kaizawa Yukio, was deliberately picked because he didn’t have experience on the prior series, for the sake of changing things up, and he spent Tamers as a period of studying what Digimon should be like. Based on what he’s hinted, it seems Konaka's writing style and choices were able to have as much influence as they did because Kaizawa approved of them -- that is to say, Konaka’s detailed imagery and descriptions were extensive enough that Kaizawa could go “sure, let’s go with that.” But in the end, nothing Konaka did would have gone through unless Kaizawa and Seki (among many others) didn’t also approve of it or provide input. Moreover, Kakudou Hiroyuki (director of Adventure and 02) has also been stated many times to have been a valuable consultant on invoking Digimon so that the new staff could understand what to aim for and how to get the right feel (and also assisted with providing stuff for the mythos, such as the Devas). Nevertheless, Kaizawa also seems to have had his own strong opinions and input on the story; he especially seems to get passionate when it comes to the topic of making the story something the kids watching it could relate to and imagine. (He would eventually go on to direct Frontier and Hunters, along with several episodes of the Adventure: reboot.)

So in other words, looking at this, a lot of these things that people emotionally connected to and loved about Tamers are things that literally were not his personal creation, and were largely contributed by the other writers! Of course, Konaka’s “creator thumbprint” is very obvious -- he was the head writer, after all -- and all of this had to go through his own vetting to make sure he personally liked it as well -- but nevertheless, you can see that this very much was a collaborative effort from head to toe, with him being very open about this fact himself. Insisting on making sure that this fact is well-known isn’t just a coping mechanism to try and remove his presence in the series, but rather a desire to get people to seriously stop giving him credit that really should be going to others (especially since, again, even he himself was very diligent about assigning that credit).

In the end, I’ll leave you with another thing to keep in mind: Konaka doesn’t get paid anymore for Tamers work (unless they make something new like the DigiFes thing), so continuing to buy Tamers merch and supporting the series through fanart and such will probably end up going more towards the Digimon IP as a whole. Basically, if we’re just talking about Tamers specifically, what degree this is going to matter is only really relevant to the content in the original series, which is now twenty years old and remains unchanged. By Konaka’s own admission, he wasn’t into all of these conspiracy theories until 2010 at the earliest, so while it’s understandable to be a bit wary about the themes in Tamers having traces of the base sentiment, the original series itself does not seem to be an outlet for alt-right propaganda, and it’s probably forcing it a bit much to read into it that way. Konaka’s also repeatedly insisted that all of his attempts at a Tamers sequel have been rejected and that he’s been doing increasingly strange swerves to get around members of the original cast not entirely being available, and the Japanese audience has turned out to not be very fond of the contents of the 2018 drama CD and the stage reading for reasons entirely separate from the politics, so it’s also unlikely we’ll be getting a Tamers sequel from him or something in the near future.

So -- at least for the time being -- what’s done with him is done, and the remaining question is how all of us feel about Tamers. I think everyone will have differing feelings on it, and that’s perfectly understandable. Personally, given everything I just said above, I’m going to continue treating it as a series very important to me, and one that many people (including, as it seems, a very different Konaka from twenty years ago) worked on with a lot of effort and love, although you may see me getting a bit more willing to be critical about the series and its themes thanks to my concerns about some of the sentiments in it and what they imply. I also completely understand that there are probably people whose associations are going to be much more hurt and who will have a much harder time seeing the series the same way ever again, and I think that’s reasonable as well. But at the very least, going forward, I hope all of us can understand the depth of this situation, give credit where it’s due, and not force credit where it’s not due.

#digimon #digimon tamers

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 3 years

Text

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion.

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit.

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”.

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.”

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins.

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.”

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me.

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

read all my lyric analyses here

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 12 FINALE

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: How lovely it has been, to go on this journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every person who has liked, reblogged, or left a kind comment on this story. Combined, you all have genuinely changed my life. I'm writing more than ever, more consistently, and I'm having a blast. So if you like this story, and wish it wasn't ending, well... maybe don't worry too much. There will be a sequel of sorts, same timeline but new reader, instead focusing on Cassandra. Also oops this is hella long. And mostly dialogue. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB, Pt 11: Cadence

Chapter 12: Cadence (Reprise)

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

Truth be told, she had never expected much of anything to come from this. ‘Twas not that she thought her daughter to be talentless, or that she denied the capabilities of the servant-turned-teacher, rather that she knew just how difficult it was to keep Daniela’s attention for any measure of time. Even as the weeks went by with undeniable progress, there was a part of her awaiting the collapse of it all. How long would this instructor last? How long before they were drained of blood, either for some perceived insult, or merely out of boredom? Surely, in the end, Alcina would not need to lift a single finger.

And yet here she was, at the end of a concert, pride roaring within her chest. What had she missed? What clues had eluded her, what had changed within her child’s nature? She knew that there were hints of deeper affections, fragments of a would-be love, but she had thought them miniscule. Thought that those feelings were doomed to crash and burn, unable to live up to the expectations set by decades of romance novels. Well, maybe they had failed. Maybe, somehow, Alcina had missed something else entirely.

The thought might have sent a shiver down her spine, if she weren’t so readily distracted by praising her youngest child… or by the looming shadow of a life-changing revelation.

“Mother… we need to talk. I… I have a confession to make,” Daniela explains, hesitantly slow, but with a conviction she rarely ever showed. Taken aback by the unexpected announcement, Alcina pauses, silently awaiting some form of elaboration. Instead, Daniela takes her hand, pulling her towards a set of chairs. They sit gingerly, each feeling the weight of terrifying possibilities upon their shoulders. When she at last continues speaking, she does so without a trace of showmanship or false bravado, trading it in for heartfelt sincerity. “I love them. All of this- these lessons, this concert- has been for them. For my sweet, innocent little songbird.” So here it was, the birthplace of her fears, brought forth from her mind into reality.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Alcina muses, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. Something itches in the back of her throat, and she yearns for her pipe, or even just a normal cigarette to distract herself. Without one, she is left to metaphorically chew on her thoughts. Realistically, there has to be some way to deal with this, some way that she can convince her daughter of the sheer foolishness of this mess. “Daniela… how can I put this in a way you will understand, hmm?… The two of you have only known each other for three months. There is no chance that you truly love them, or them you. How close can you possibly have become?”

“When have I cared about anything for three whole months? I dedicated myself to-” Daniela is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing the rest of her little family. It was guaranteed that they would have heard the conversation from outside, seeing as they were all inhuman, though they perhaps intended to intervene. A single hard glance from both of the room’s occupants convinces them to change their minds. “Wait, Ava, can you get us some tea, please? Something tells me I’ll need a soothing drink soon.” Hesitating in the doorway, the butler in question eyes the both of them, naturally tempted to stay and fill the role of a therapist.

“I do believe my daughter gave you an order, Ava. Don’t tell me you have forgotten the stipulations of your agreement with Mother Miranda?” Alcina interjects. With that said, the butler finally moves, exiting with an apologetic bow. An awkward silence hangs in the air once xe closes the door behind xerself, as Daniela takes a moment to recall her place.

“Three months is a long time for me. I put all of my energy towards both them and what they taught me, almost every single day. Even when their work kept them busy for too long, I still practiced, because I wanted to make them proud! For all my flirting, I’ve never bonded with anyone this way before now,” she says, hating the way her voice gets a little shaky. No matter how much confidence she has in her own writing, it is another thing entirely to be convincing out loud, with a truth she had been hiding for so long. All of her practice had been with lies. Now she had to contest with the hope that the strength of her emotions would be enough. “That song we played together, at the end, they wrote that for me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Oh, my dear… I want you to be happy more than anything. But we both know that your ‘history’ is stained with a number of incidents. You have always been absorbed within those books you read, and the fantasies that they provide for you. It is one thing to enjoy these stories on the side, but another matter entirely to let them corrupt your relations with others. As your mother, it is my duty to keep you safe, first and foremost,” Alcina proclaims, sitting up straighter, trying not to let her frown evolve into a full out scowl. Beneath the table, her hands ball into fists, clutched tight to stop herself from breaking the table. In the back of her mind she could think of little other than dismembering that damned piano instructor. Focusing on the discussion at hand, she takes a deep breath before finalizing her point. “You don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, nor what it feels like. Your books are not ideal models for reference. One- or both- of you are going to end up suffering, and that is something I cannot allow, regardless of how ‘happy’ they make you before then.”

“You’re right,” Daniela whispers in defeat… or a feigned version of it. A split second later she’s making eye contact with her mother again, lips curling up into a smile. “I didn’t want to admit it, especially not to someone as attractive, talented, and charming as my Songbird, but I didn’t have to. They understood from the very start. We talked about it, about my expectations and my shitty behavior, and we worked on it. We’re still working on it. Maybe there will be bumps along the way, just like in every relationship, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worth it in the end. What we have is still real, and they make me want to be a better woman. I know they’ve already helped me make the change.”

Once more the door opens, making the conversation pause, as Ava near-silently brings in the requested tea. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have felt as ear-shattering loud as a gong. Every second that passed felt like it dragged on, stretched out by the tension in the room, as though xe was moving in slow motion. The ‘clink’ of ceramic against the table makes xer flinch, almost spilling the tea. Neither Alcina nor Daniela react, or even acknowledge xer presence with anything more than their eyes, instead remaining impassive until xe makes a hasty retreat.

“Use what you’ve learned on someone else, then. Perhaps another one of Miranda’s experiments will someday provide a suitable match. But this ‘songbird’ of yours? They’re nothing. A human, a servant, they are not worth your time, nor are they worth mine. No matter what words or songs they weave, or illusions of grandeur they show you, you will end up getting bored of them. I’m afraid it is inevitable, my dear,” Alcina says, as soon as the door is closed once more. Then she attends to her tea, with the composure of someone convinced that they had just won an argument. On the other hand, Daniela was not so quick to give in, some of her worry melting into anger.

“How can you say that? How can you be sure? We were all human, once! Even Mother Miranda was human. And my Songbird is no mere human- they are wondrous, with flowery prose and lovely melodies, with soft-lipped smiles and reassuring eyes, and don’t even get me started on how beautiful they are!” She rambles, voice getting louder with every word. All at once it is too much for Alcina, who sets down her glass a little too hard, nostrils flaring as she stares at her daughter. When Daniela speaks again, she does so with love coating her tone. “We have weathered each other’s anxieties with no signs of stopping. I promised that we would weather yours.”

“I only want you to be happy. I need you to understand where I am coming from. This may be your longest lasting infatuation so far, but you have yet to honestly convince me that this is any different from your past ‘distractions’. I’m sorry, Daniela, I simply cannot allow this to continue,” Alcina sighs, hating to break her youngest daughter’s heart like this. There was only one thing that Daniela had yet to try. Maybe two, if she was willing to resort to begging.

“Can’t you trust me enough to give us a chance? Cassandra of all people seems to understand. Bela went as far as to lie to you, for our sake! She never does anything she thinks will hurt me, or you, or any of us. Please, mother, please. How can you ever know if what I have will last, if you cut it down now? Are you going to wait forever for some ‘perfect candidate’ for me? And what if that person loves someone else? Or what if the ‘perfect’ person doesn’t exist! What if we’re stuck waiting for them like Mother Miranda waits for another child, hmm? Would you have me spend another century alone, my only memory of genuine romance being poisoned by the thought that you broke us apart?” Daniela’s words ring throughout the chamber, echoing a damning accusation, somehow more bitter than the taste they left in her mouth.

All at once, Alcina’s heart takes a hit like no other. Her hands damn-near tremble, her lungs ache, her lips purse, and her brow furrows. So be it, she thinks.

“Bring this ‘Songbird’ here. Let me talk to them.”

—————————

Goddess, you are practically vibrating at the speed of sound, palms sweaty, nervousness trashing your mind. What the hell had Daniela done? Last thing you knew, she was determined to keep your secret, even if meant being unable to celebrate with you. But now you were getting tugged along by her, while tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She had said something about “mother” and “important”. That was all the context that you had been given. When you round one last corner, pulling up in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s study, you are shown a sight that somehow makes you feel worse: Bela, Cassandra, and Ava are all resting outside of the room. They appear exhausted, and motion for you to be quiet as you approach.

“They’ve been listening in on our conversation,” Daniela admits with a whisper. Then she’s pulling you into the study, ensuring that the door doesn’t open wide enough for the eavesdroppers to get spotted. Something told you that Alcina was already well aware of their presence. “Alright, mother, here is my Songbird. What did you want to ask us?”

“Daniela… leave us. My questions are for ‘Songbird’ alone,” Alcina replies, seemingly confirming the absolute worst of your fears. This was where you would die. By her hand, without your lover by your side, after what could have been the happiest night of your life. Of course. But Daniela is not willing to go without a fight. As soon as the words leave her mother’s mouth, she is moving between the two of you, just as she had when she first called you her teacher. Before she can speak, her mother stands up and stares her down. “Don’t make me ask again- there will not be a third time.” When she still hesitates, it is your turn to be brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll be okay,” you promise her, reaching out to take her hand. Instantly she’s returning to your side, hand cupping your cheek, eyes filled to the brim with sadness. “Firefly… ‘Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days’. I love you. Nothing is going to change that, not now, not ever. We’ll be okay.” Maybe not now, you think, but you’ll be okay eventually. Cassandra and Bela, and Ava I suppose, will make sure of it.

“Okay. We’ll last until the end of days. I love you too,” Daniela says, swallowing the lump in her throat. With one last kiss she pulls away, wishing that her departure didn’t feel so much like a betrayal. She pauses in the doorway, meeting your gaze, unable to bring herself to move until you give her an accepting nod. The door swings into place with a click, sealing the room and your fate.

“So,” Alcina begins, returning to her seat as she does. For now you stay standing, unsure of just about every part of this situation, especially your upcoming role in it. “You have been deceiving me. That alone is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and yet you stooped so low as to do far, far more. I had hoped you had, somehow, managed to teach my daughter a real lesson, that you had inspired a love of music in her, that you had made an honest difference in the way she learns. But all this time… it has been nothing more than a ruse.” The last word comes out dipped in venom, acidic enough to make you flinch. Thankfully, your beloved was not the only person who had a gift with words. More than that, this was a topic that you had spent numerous nights thinking about, making you as prepared as you could ever hope to be.

“You know, as much as I desire to claim that I am that interesting, or that Daniela felt so strongly from the very start, I can do no such thing. The truth is this: Music is what brought us together in the first place. It was the catalyst for our first real interaction, the first time she ever looked at me as more than just another servant or bloodbag. We bonded because of it, and so when we went to play together, to learn, Daniela honestly did connect to it,” you explain, despite the fire in Alcina’s expression. To your surprise, she does not interrupt you, and you take it as permission to keep going. Which was very good, considering that being nervous only made you ramble more. “Music is something we’ve shared for the entirety of our relationship. Even if it’s not something she would do much of on her own, I know that she’s grown to care for it more than she might be willing to admit. And, well…

“Even if you decide that what I’ve done is unforgivable, even if I’m destined to die within the hour, I know in my heart that everything the two of us worked on still matters. Because, like it or not, she is capable of growth, of change, of progress. And even if I die, someone else will come afterwards. Daniela will get to use music as a way to forge connections for the rest of her life, now that she knows it works, now that she knows how it works. And every goddamn time that she plays, or Bela plays, or you play, she’s going to remember me. She’ll remember every moment we spent together, every piece we ever played. I’ll live on in the melodies we made. In the song that you can’t quite place, that gets stuck on loop in your head. In the song the maids sing to themselves between shifts. In the quiet evening when the rain against the window feels so much like a familiar rhythm that your daughters can’t help but start humming along, without even thinking, muscle memories in sync.”

“Are you trying to convince me that there’s no point in killing you? That, regardless, you will be in my life until the end of time?” Alcina’s eyes are narrowed, but there isn’t even a hint of anger in her tone. Just curiosity.

“No, not really. Guess I’m just making peace with my fate the best way I know how- by remembering the echoes I’ll leave behind,” you answer, pausing to wipe a few tears from your eyes. All you can think about is how much Daniela will miss you. How much pain you think she’ll go through. Because at this point, who are you trying to fool with your hope? Yourself, or the people listening?

“Hmm. I think I understand. Now, tell me… what was that you said to my daughter a minute ago, before she left the room? It sounded familiar, though I cannot place it,” Alcina questions, idly toying with her glass of tea. You’re not entirely sure why it matters to her, but you have no qualms delaying the inevitable by answering. Besides, it was a chance to talk about how much you loved Daniela (and you’d never skip such an opportunity).

“It’s a line from a poem she wrote for me. “Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days”. A promise. The song Daniela and I played together… I wrote it in response. My way of doing what she asked of me, I guess. Like I said, she’ll always have the music we shared,” you answer, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Damn this… I can hardly believe I am asking this, yet I feel I have no choice: Tell me, do you love my daughter? Do you honestly, with your entire being, desire a future with her? Or was this a game of survival you couldn’t afford to lose, that turned out to be more ‘fun’ than you had anticipated? Show me your heart, as it is, bare as it would be if I tore it from your chest, this very moment.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, using the very same tone she reserved for maidens who got a tad too close to refusing her.

“Alright. It was a game. At first. Daniela wanted a distraction, something to entertain her. I didn’t want to die, like I had heard so many of her ‘playmates’ did. I can’t tell you when things changed, at least not for her,” you confess, with a shaky breath. Did that make you a monster? One worthy of death? If so, you wondered if it actually made you more fit to date Daniela. “For me… I just remember her smiling wide at me, hand on my cheek, having just cracked some lame joke. Next thing I knew, well, I knew. We had a spark of something, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to make her happy, you know? All the sudden there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I just wanted to see that smile again, everyday for the rest of my life.

“To answer your question: Yes. Goddess, yes. A thousand times yes. A ‘yes’ for every smile she’s ever shown me, for every butterfly in my stomach, for every time she’s held my hand, for every breath she’s stolen from my lungs, and for every single time my heart has skipped a beat in her name. I love her. I know we haven’t been together long, but the things I feel are undeniable. I will give her every part of myself, for as long as she wants me, for as long as I am blessed to live,” you pour your heart out, weaving your heartbeat into every turn of phrase, spilling your lifeblood onto the very conversation.

“And what will you do if she does change her mind? If she grows bored of you, as she has done with a dozen others?” Alcina counters without hesitation.

“I will weep. I will fall to my knees, and mourn this beautiful thing. But I will cherish every memory she leaves to me. Every moment where I am hers is a moment worth living, worth remembering. It will be better to have loved her with all my heart for a little slice of her immortality, than to love another, lesser so, for all of my life.” With that, Alcina sets her empty glass of tea onto the table, eying you with an unreadable expression. Something seems to stir in her chest, and at last the mask crumbles. She smiles.

“I see. Daniela, you may come back in now. Do not bother pretending that you have not been eavesdropping.” Not even a full second passes before the door opens, revealing a shaking Daniela, both of her sisters quite visible behind her (though they quickly move out of frame, leaving behind Ava, who gives a cheesy thumbs up as the door closes in xer face). She rushes to your side, taking your hand, looking stunned that you were still alive. But what shocks her more is what her mother says… “Of all the women I have ever known, family or otherwise, you are, perhaps, the most determined. Normally only in… ‘spurts’. Yet here you are, defying what I have come to expect of you. It almost feels as if I have been fooling myself this whole time, falsely believing that there is more than one possible outcome. So, ‘Songbird’, I say this: Three months ago, I agreed to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my daughter, for the sake of her happiness. Now, I suppose it is only fair that I do so once more.”

“Wait. Are you saying-” Daniela is once again cut off by her mother, who seems eager to avoid a trademark rant.

“Yes, yes I am. For the time being, the two of you have my blessing. I cannot say that I am entirely convinced of your chances at success, but, having seen the strength of your affections for one another, I sincerely hope that you will prove me wrong. Now come here, Daniela. I never got to finish telling you what I thought of your concert…”

—————————

In the glowing comfort of your girlfriend’s room, with the fireplace keeping things warm and cozy, you lay with your head against Daniela’s chest. One of her hands absentmindedly plays with your hair, and you release a sigh of bliss. Ava had assured you that xe would let Daphne know the good news, as xe thought that having one of the castle ladies visiting the servants’ quarters might cause a stir (and Daniela was far from willing to let go of you so soon). Now the two of you were just enjoying time holding each other close. Regardless of Alcina’s concerns, you knew that everything would be looking up from here. Assuming that Daniela didn’t have any more surprise confessions to involve you with.

“That was one hell of a surprise, Firefly. But I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. I love you, and I don’t know how long I could have survived without being open with it,” you say, a light teasing to your voice. Beneath you, Daniela chuckles, but holds you just a bit tighter. Then she places the softest of kisses to your forehead. “I’m always gonna love you, Firefly.”

“Until the end of days?” She asks, in a delighted whisper, grin practically audible.

“Until the end of days.”

—————————

Elsewhere in the castle, a caring mother takes another long, hungry drink from her glass of wine, staring intently into the fireplace. By her side is a silver-haired servant, who wordlessly watches her every move.

“There’s still a chance that this will all end horribly. Only time will tell, of course… but I can’t help worrying for her, she’s my daughter,” Alcina proclaims, gripping the glass hard enough for a web of cracks to form along its bell. But it does not fully shatter. No, it remains just steady enough to still be of use to her. For now. “Of course, you knew about this all along, didn’t you, Ava?... I know that you value how close you are with my children, and I know that they trust in you as much as I do… but if there are relationships or entanglements that I am unaware of, I expect you to tell me, or there will have to be consequences, regardless of your affiliation with Mother Miranda. Do you understand?”

Sighing, the mute servant pulls a notebook from xer pocket, opening it up to pen in a fresh script. There’s much tension in the air, and it only gets worse when Alcina catches a glimpse at what the note reads. As xe hands it to her, she scowls, and the wine glass fully breaks into countless shards. Immediately, Ava gets to work, picking up the largest of fragments with xer bare hands, refusing to complain about the resulting cuts. All the while Alcina stares into the fire, thoughts racing, wondering if maybe this time she could end her daughter’s problem before it was too late. Beginning to brainstorm ideas, she sets the notebook aside. Inside, in perfectly penned cursive, is a very, very dangerous piece of knowledge. The sort that could affect not only Castle Dimitrescu, but the entire village.

“In that case… there’s something you need to know about Cassandra- and Mother Miranda’s lovely little ‘pet’.”

#daniela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #it's really here lads #this is it #gonna go cry now #oh my god #i can hardly believe it

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atiny-ahgase · 3 years

Text

The Promise And A Stray Pup

Title: The Promise And A Stray Pup

Chapter 2: Promise You’ll Be Good

Author’s Note: Okay so I usually write the author’s notes before I even write the story idk why… I just do. Anyway, I had no idea how this is gonna turn out soo..yeah.

Summary: Y/n returns home in search of a hybrid friend that she had left oh so long ago. Will she be able to help him? Did their friendship withstand the hands of time or did it crumble from the pressure?

This is chapter 2 of the Series “A Pinky Promise And A Stray Pup, you can read chapter 1 here.

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Pairing: Hybrid Yunho x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Genre: Hybrid au, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Smut, Dom Reader, Sub Yunho, Edging, Controlled Orgasm, Masturbation

Contains: Hybrid Yunho, Gender Neutral Reader, Fluff, Smut

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You paced through the narrow hallway of your one-bedroom apartment for what seemed like the millionth time. Releasing a loud groan you dove unto the soft cushions of your couch, burying your face in one of your many throw pillows. It had been exactly 2 days,14 hours, and 27 minutes since you had last seen Yunho...not that you were counting or anything. He seemed kinda off during your last interaction, his breathing seemed strained and his cheeks were a bright shade of pink, granted his face seemed to be tinted that light shade of pink quite often. His voice wasn’t the smooth sweet melody that you had already become so used to, it seemed deeper, almost huskier. Sure, he had just woken up but still, something felt off to you. Maybe you were overthinking it, over-analyzing the situation as you usually did but how could you not? He hadn’t contacted you for two whole days. Sure, he could be busy with work but when you visited his workplace they said that he hadn’t been in on that day. Then where was he? What could he possibly be doing?

What if he was sick? What if he had realized that you weren’t the same kindergartener that he had met so many years ago? What if he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? What would you do then? Everything that you had done since the moment you and Yunho had parted ways was all done to meet him again. You studied extra hard to get a scholarship, you worked extra shifts to pay off apartment expenses, you settled on choosing this apartment because it was closer to your old school. Everything that you had done was all for him but...what if he didn’t want that? What if he was having second thoughts? Where would that leave you? What would you do when your entire reason for bettering yourself decided that you weren’t enough?

He said that he’d come to visit you again but it's been two days and still nothing, you were starting to worry. Sure you hadn’t seen him for twelve years prior but now even a day without him feels unbearable. You’d wondered how you had survived so long without having him by your side. Even your tiny apartment felt as though it had tripled in size since his absence, the walls seemed to have expanded overnight, feeling far too large for just you. Yunho seemed to fit so perfectly in your life so the fact that he wasn’t there next to you felt like such a foreign feeling even though he had only recently reentered it.

Your worrying carried on for the remainder of the week and before you knew it classes had begun. The first couple of days were pretty basic; mostly consisting of introductions and lesson plans. You had even somehow managed to befriend the bespeckled hybrid boy who sat next to you in your Math class. His hair was dyed a soft orange which highlighted the warmth of his smile, he wore an oversized hoodie and round-rimmed glasses. Even seated he towered over you, and to be quite honest you were originally incredibly intimidated by his large stature but that lasted a solid two minutes. His dog-like playfulness immediately shining through, casting away all of your prior fears. You had both managed to get pretty close before your class had started, him laughing at all of your jokes, his tail happily wagging behind you as he clutched his stomach, tears springing from his eyes.

He introduced himself as Mingi, a dog hybrid who only moved in a few months ago, apparently he wanted a fresh place to make a new start and opted for somewhere quiet. Surprisingly you both shared a lot of the same courses which was great for you because now you had a seat buddy. The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly and it was finally time for lunch, you and Mingi sat on the wooden benches across from the school library, taking in the way the yellow leaves danced in the wind as the breeze sang a gentle song. Your shoulders brushed each others’ as you listened to his stories about his hometown, your attention hanging on to every single word that he spoke. His way of telling stories captivated you, it was as though you were watching a movie, every scene that he set was so vivid, it was as though you were living through each moment. Before long your school day had ended and it was finally time to go home. Walking out from your final lecture for the day you looked up at the sky “, Looks like it’s about to rain,” you hypothesized.

“Please don’t jinx it, the UNI’s Shuttle doesn’t drop me off at the front of my house and I really don’t wanna walk through the rain,” he explained with an exasperated sigh. Soon after his words were uttered a thunderous roar was heard from the sky and raindrops began falling unto the earth below. You could hear the displeased groans from your friend beside you which caused you to let out a small laugh. “Alright Mingi tell me where you live and I’ll think about giving you a ride”, you jokingly said while pulling him in the direction of your car. “You’re the best Y/n,” he said before engulfing you into a hug from behind. “Mingi you’re gonna crush me then I’lldie before I drive you home,” you exclaimed while trying to control your laughter. Were all dog hybrids this affectionate?

Mingi lived fairly close to the supermarket where Yunho worked which was great for you since you found yet another excuse to ‘drop in’ after you had dropped Mingi off. Unfortunately, Yunho wasn’t there yet again and quite honestly it was starting to get on your nerves. You released a loud sigh before heading to your car and driving home. It was only upon arriving home did you notice Mingi’s jacket seated comfortably on your back seat. You playfully rolled your eyes before retrieving it and bringing it into your apartment. Pulling out your phone you sent him a quick text informing him that you were holding his jacket for ransom and if he doesn’t buy you breakfast tomorrow then he’ll never see it again. You know just a basic text. After that was done you decided that your couch was as good a place as any for Mingi’s jacket to rest for the night.

Not long after getting comfortable, you heard someone knocking at your door. “Who could that be?” you thought. You didn’t know that many people from around here and even if you did they didn’t know where you lived. Getting up from your couch you walked over to the door pulling it open to reveal who was on the other side.

“And here I thought that you forgot where I lived,” you remarked as you looked up at the dog hybrid towering above you. Of course, it was Yunho, the only other person in town that knew where you lived was your landlady, and something was telling you that she had little to no reason to come knocking on your door at this hour. “I’m really sorry Y/n,” you heard him say softly, if it had been any quieter you would not have heard him at all. Looking at his face it seemed a lot paler than you remembered and he wore a tired expression as though he hadn’t slept for days.

“I wanted to come to see you sooner but I was really sick and I wanted to call but I didn’t have your number,” he began to explain in a voice that was even gentler than what you were used to. Even the yellow of his eyes seemed to dull significantly, how could you stay mad at someone in that state. To be honest, he could have shown up at your doorstep in peak condition and no excuse, and you’d probably still forgive him. For the longest time whether you were together or apart you had the softest spot for Yunho, even with the greatest determination once you looked into those golden eyes your heart would surely falter.

“You should probably come in, it’s getting pretty chilly these days,” you smiled up at him before further opening the door allowing him inside. Closing the door you sat on the couch and patted the spot beside you expectantly. Yunho taking that as his cue quickly filled in the empty space next to you engulfing your body in his warmth. You had quickly become used to having him next to you so much that his absence for those few days had you feeling incredibly cold. “I really am sorry Y/n, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he explained as he placed his head on your shoulder nuzzling into your neck.

Placing your hand at the nape of his neck you were about to comfort him about the situation; since he seemed to be beating himself up quite a bit. However, before you could otter a word you could feel his grip on you tightening slightly.

“Y/n” you heard him say no louder than a whisper, his voice deeper than you were used to, “Whose jacket is this?” Referring to the green jacket which was placed on the couch.

“Oh, that’s Mingi’s he forgot it in my car-,” you began but before you could finish you felt a sharp pain at your collar bone followed by the soothing sensation of his warm tongue gliding over your bruised skin. You could feel it caressing your skin so tenderly that goosebumps began to form all over your body. “Yunho,” you whimpered in his arms while struggling to escape his grasp.

“I don’t like it. Why are you spending time with other hybrids when you already have me?” he calmly stated, punctuating each word with gentle kisses running along your throat. “I’ve only just found you, I’m not letting another hybrid take you away from me. You’re mine and I’m yours” he continued on while tightening his grip on you even more. His body pressed firmly to yours as he continued to nip on the tender skin of your neck.

The area began to burn with the most pleasant of pains, your body aching in the best way imaginable. But you knew that you couldn’t stay like that otherwise he would just continue to misunderstand you. “Yunho could you just listen-,” you tried to reason with him as best as you could even though you could hear your voice falter as his lips reached your collarbone. This was the second time he had done this and as pleasurable as it is also beginning to get tiring.

You kept on telling yourself that this was bad no matter how good he made you feel. You couldn’t deny that you could easily become addicted to the sensation of his body on yours; completely trapping you in its warmth. But you couldn’t just let him do as he pleased. It’s true that hybrids have a more difficult time controlling their emotions but this is not an excuse. He couldn’t just continue to act on impulse every time his emotions get too strong. It gets easier with time and a hybrid of Yunho’s age should already be adequately good at it.

But I guess that’s the difference between Yunho and other hybrids his age, they were probably trained better than Yunho. He lived his younger years on the street so there is a possibility that he still hasn’t perfected self-control. He was like a puppy in an adult dog’s body; succumbing to every urge that comes his way. Gathering your thoughts you took a deep breath before speaking. “Yunho sit,” you said in a stern voice, much more than you ever thought you could muster up. You felt his body become rigid against yours but he made no actions to remove himself from you. “Yunho sit!” you said with a little more force; your eyes piercing into his. You heard him whimper before he peeled himself away from you to have a seat. You had expected him to return to his previous spot beside you but he didn’t. Yunho opted to sit on his heels at the base of the couch; right where your feet had lain. His head hung low as his palms gently rested on his knees.

Seeing the sight before you left you struggling to remain seated, he looked so ductile, so obedient and something about it made you feel so hot. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes and you loved it, although you had been the one to stop his previous advances it was almost as though you were at the mercies of your instinct, you wanted nothing more than to completely devour him. You took a deep breath in the futile attempt to gather your thoughts before speaking to him, he’d probably let you.

“Yunho I let your behavior slide twice before, but at this point, I’m beginning to think that you want to be scolded by me,” you stated while coking your eyebrow up. “No I don’t I’m sorry,” you heard him mumble towards the floor. Placing your hand on his cheek you felt the way his body shivered at your touch. “Puppy shouldn’t you look at me when I’m talking to you,” you whispered your face only a few inches from his. You could clearly see his lips quivering as you took in the strained features of his face.

“You’re right I’m sorry,” he whimpered, his fists clenched against his jeans. “And exactly what is my puppy sorry for?” you inquired, your lip twisted up in a slight smirk. It amused you; someone so much smaller than him, could have so much power over him, just the thought had you shivering in your seat.

“I’m sorry for attacking you and for not coming to see you,” he stated, his pleading eyes drowning in your own. “And what was the reason that my dear puppy couldn’t come see his owner?” you continued on loving the pure look of ecstasy on his face when you referred to yourself as his owner. His knuckles tightened as his body began to tremble, clearly holding itself back from the pleasure that was clearly bubbling inside of him. “I was sick,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Oh were you now?�� you edged on, your pointer finger gliding across his adam’s apple. “Please,” he whimpered before he began to hunch forward in an attempt to ease the pressure building up at his crotch. “You say that you’re sorry but apparently that doesn’t apply to all of you,” you confessed before gently placing your foot on his crutch. The sound that he released was probably the most beautiful you’ve ever heard; it almost made you want to end your teasing, almost.

Removing your foot from his crutch you stare in awe at the thin thread of clear liquid which connected your toes to the ever-growing bulge in his pants. “For someone who is soo sorry you seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit,” you stated as you wiggled your toes, almost playing in the precum coating them. From your seat above him, you could see him frantically shaking his head as he rocked in place on the floor beneath you. “Oh, so you’re not,” you inquired as you brought your face on the same level before you continued, “then maybe you should start answering me honestly? There is no need to be this stubborn with me”.

“I was in heat,” he replied; his head hung low as his ears began to redden. “So my puppy left me worried and alone cause you couldn’t keep it in his pants? Seeing the state that you’re in I can’t say that I’m surprised,” you replied, your eyes never once leaving his quivering body. Leaning back into your seat you took one final glance at him before speaking, “Take it off.” You could hear him release a sigh before reaching for his shirt. “No,” you interrupted him mid-action, “just your bottoms.” With crosswinds coming in so quickly Yunho was dressed in a caramel-colored knitted turtleneck and a pair of black jeans. You didn’t think that turtle necks could turn you on to this extent, just the thought of Yunho wearing turtle necks to hide the marks that you’ve left on his neck got a fire burning deep into your core.

You were so lost in your thoughts that the only thing pulling you away was the load, animalistic groan which escaped the hybrid’s lips as he slowly touched himself. His nimble fingers teasing the tip of his erect cock, urging it to release even more precum than it already was. The clear liquid flowed from the tip of his reddened cock down his hand, coating it in the perverse liquid. “I don’t remember telling you that you could touch yourself now did I puppy,” you stated watching as he briskly removed his hand from his aching cock; wincing as the cold breeze caressed it. “Do you want me to touch you?” you inquired.

“I do,” he began; his breathing short and strained, “but I’ve been bad.”

“That’s true but that doesn’t mean that my puppy doesn’t deserve to be cared for now does it?” you rhetorically asked.

Finally leaving your place on the couch you crept beside him, grasping his dick in your much smaller hand, your mouth watering at the sight. Almost immediately you could feel Yunho bucking his hips upward, chasing his much-desired release with great intensity. Taking your free hand you gripped his hip harshly, your nails grazing along his side. Yunho moaned at the pain, his body shivering as his head dropped to rest on your shoulder. “Stay still for me okay baby,” you whispered, your breath tickling his ear. Continuing at a rather snow pace you ran your hand along Yunho’s engorged dick, tracing its veins with your fingers and watching as his entire body twitched in response. You could feel him leaving tentative kisses along your shoulder but you didn’t stop him this time, he was finally being good so he deserved a little treat. Right?

You tightened your grip as you continued to pleasure him, enjoying the sweet sounds of his moans in your ear; you could listen to it all day but that might actually break him and you couldn’t do that to your puppy. “Close, I’m close. Please can I come,” he begged into your shoulder as his hands caressed your sides ever so slightly; the searing heat radiating from his entire body paled in comparison the that of his pulsating dick. He looked as though he was ready to burst but resisting until you gave him the go-ahead trying with the utmost desperation to be good for you. Should you allow him to release or should you let that pressure build up inside of him just a little longer to see how long he could fight against his instinct?

Your thought process was interrupted by your phone ringing on the couch cushion behind you, you weren’t all that interested to answer but you had an idea of who it might be so you decided to play with your puppy just a little longer. “Yunho could you grab my phone for me please,” you asked, your free hand caressing his back to get his attention. Looking at his face caused shivers to run through your spine; it was nothing like you’ve ever felt before, your body was screaming with pure ecstasy. His face was flushed pink and glistening with perspiration, his teary, yellow eyes were almost engulfed by his dilated pupils and only heavy breathing could be heard from his swollen lips. Yunho was always irresistible in your eyes but seeing him in this state; he looked absolutely delectable.

You had expected him to put up some sort of resistance but he didn’t, he simply stretched forward; groaning at the new angle in which you were holding his dick, and grabbed your phone. “Who’s calling?” you inquired, already having a decent idea of who it is. From the growl that escaped Yunho’s lips, you already knew that you were right but you still wanted to hear him say it. You didn’t say a word to him you simply stopped the movement of your hand and looked at him, your eyes boring into his in an attempt to deduce his next move. Was he really that against you talking to Mingi? Or was it just because of the timing of the call? “Mingi,” he whispered before handing me the phone. Taking it from his hand you could see Yunho attempt to fix his clothes. “Stay,” you simply said to him before answering the still ringing phone.

To be quite honest you weren’t really paying any mind to what Mingi was saying; your senses focused on the whimpering hybrid beside you. You had already begun caressing his dick once more while still being on the phone with Mingi, you didn’t mind too much if Mingi found out what you were doing but Yunho on the other hand tried his absolute best to keep his noises at bay. This continued on for a few more minutes as you tried your best to keep Mingi on the phone, testing how long Yunho could hold out. Quickening your pace on his ever-flowing dick you could see Yunho convolve as he clung unto you, his teeth threatening to tear through his lush lips. He was almost at his breaking point.

“Mingi could you just hold on please my friend is calling the apartment phone,” you lied, “oh no you don’t need to hang up it will only take a minute.” Placing your phone against your shoulder; but not really attempting to muffle any sound, you turned to Yunho, “Are you coming today or not?” you enquired in the best nonchalant voice you could muster up. To Mingi it would just seem as though you had a friend over but Yunho knew better, his needy pants and muffled whimpers understood all too well. Looking up at you he nodded his head frantically before burying his face into your shoulder once more in a desperate attempt to muffle his sounds. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, if he was asked to his entire body would have surely combusted right there and then.

“Okay then hurry up,” you replied before returning to your phone call. “Yeah I’m gonna watch a movie with a friend in a bit, you should come next-,” you continued your conversation until you felt a sharp pain on your neck causing you to yelp, followed by a splash of liquid landing on your hand. “Are you okay?” you heard Mingi ask. “Yeah I’m fine I just bumped my toe,” you explained with a slight laugh trying your best to calm your breathing. “Well that’s good then,” he continued, “but please be careful else you’ll make me worry.”

“You don’t need to though, I already have someone like that and he’ll be here soon so I should go,” you stated before saying your goodbyes. You could sense a slight opposition from Mingi on the phone but that didn’t bother you much cause you had someone else to worry about. You look one last look at the quivering hybrid who had collapsed on your living room floor before you stood up.

Rushing to the restroom you began filling the bathtub before retrieving a damp cloth and heading back to the exhausted hybrid in your living room. After cleaning up most of the mess you told Yunho that he needed to take a bath which resulted in him releasing a groan before attempting to get up. Standing beside him you watched as his legs shook releasing a small giggle at the sight. “Shut up,” he said with a slight pout on his lips. “I really did a number on you didn’t I,” you continued.

“Please stop talking,” he groaned as he slowly made his way to your restroom. “Are you going to make me?” you pushed on loving the personality gap that he was displaying. You loved how he went from a whimpering mess to the playful yet slightly defiant Yunho that he currently is. You felt his grip on your arm, pulling you closer to him until your bodies were connected. “Do you want me to?” he inquired, his golden eyes searching yours. “Huh?” was the only thing that could leave your mouth, unbelievable, even after all that you’ve just done to him he can still reduce you to a deer in the headlights that simplicity? “I’m yours,” he whispered just softly enough for you both to hear; like it was a precious secret only to be shared between you too, “I’d do anything you want me to. Whatever you want from me I’ll give it to you.”

#ateez #ateez au #ateez hybrid au #hybrid au #ateez fanfic #ateez hybrid fanfic #ateez hybrid #ateez smut #ateez fluff #yunho hybrid #yunho fanfic #jeong yunho #jeong yunho fanfic #gender neutral reader #I honestly dont know what else lol I havent done this in a while

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mollymauktealeef · 3 years

Note

uhm, for your prompts: geraskier, with jaskier hiding geralt (and maybe ciri) from nilfgaard in plain sight, like. without magic, he manages to make the soldiers go away with empty hands? thank you!

sorry this took longer than expected! i haven’t been feeling very well recently so it got left alone for a while. hope you like it though!

warning/s: none

(ao3)

“You there!”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier mutters sharply recognising the no nonsense tone of a solider and feeling the dread settle in his gut like a block of ice.

Geralt’s fingers twitch at his side, his swords are sadly tucked away under Roach’s blanket just under Ciri’s leg for safekeeping as she sits astride the saddle.

They’d been reluctantly placed there - at Jaskier’s suggestion - so they could move through town unhindered by locals looking for a Witcher’s aid or at least so the trio could draw a little less attention than they normally would. Something they might have gotten away with if Geralt hadn’t been sour about hiding his swords so much he’d childishly left down his hood. Revealing his rather distinctive and famous white hair for all the land to see.

And now there are soldiers.

So the idea of going incognito had clearly failed in it’s execution and now Geralt is without his weapons in easy reach as the squelch of many heavy boots marching through the mud approach them from behind.

Jaskier watches out of the corner of his eye as Geralt’s hand releases the reins for Roach’s bridle and skims along her flank to the hidden pommel slowly. Jaskier shakes his head in warning and thankfully the Witcher listens, stilling his hand.

The last thing they need is more attention and Geralt beheading the local guardsmen would be like sending up a flare for Nilfgaard.

Jaskier chews on his lip, racking his brain for a way out of their predicament. He see’s Geralt’s hand move again, not for the swords this time but to rest on Ciri’s shaking knee in comfort. The princess huddles under her cloak, shrinking away from the danger approaching them and Jaskier’s heart aches for her. The lingering trauma of being hunted has left a stain on the once happy princess that Jaskier and Geralt have tried their best to erase. But situations like these always undo that hard work in moments.

Jaskier sighs at the loss of progress shrinking deeper into the folds of her cloak and decides on a course of action, one that might just avoid darkening that stain on Ciri’s heart.

“Oi! You deaf?” Another voice yells and Jaskier straightens his spine and prepares to dazzle his audience into submission.

He spins round dramatically, plastering a wide happy grin across his face. It’s not his most eye-catching outfit but he should be able to draw attention away from the Witcher and his child surprise well enough. Presentation is key for misdirection after all.

Jaskier glances over the small patrol quickly, filing away the small details that he can use to his advantage. Just like any other ballroom or tavern he’s stepped foot in. Reading the room is how you own it and Jaskier wouldn’t be a famous bard if he couldn’t quickly and effectively discern the lay of the land. A loud tavern full of boisterous laughter needs dance music and bawdy songs, a noble wedding with dignified guests needs jaunty jigs with easy beats to dance to and when enough wine has been drunk, a few romantic epics to get everyone in the mood. The stage is a little different but the details are the same.

He silently curses as he recognises the dark armour and golden sun stretching across it and prays to whatever deity likes Geralt in one piece in the vain hope that things will go smoothly. But for now, it's up to him and every skill he’s honed at every banquet and party he’s ever been to, to get them through this peacefully.

“Fine gentlemen, what can I aid such noble soldiers with today?” he greets loudly as he skips forward putting himself between the approaching soldiers and Geralt. A few of the men flinch at his volume. Jaskier notes the overly red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the slight sway in their stance. Too much patrolling the tavern rather than the streets and very recently too.

He has to play this right. Be loud and obnoxious and they’ll want to get rid of him quickly to ease their aching heads. Too much though and he runs the risk of raising questions. It’ll be a fine line to tread, a thin tightrope between freedom and a noose but it’s something he’s managed before and for far lesser stakes.

“Your friend, where does he hail from?” The Captain asks shrewdly, eyeing Geralt’s exposed white hair with narrowed eyes. Jaskier rocks on his heels full of nervous energy.

“My cousin you mean? Well he and his daughter come from Lettenhove of course! As do I,” Jaskier bows deeply, throwing as much theatricality into his performance as possible, “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. A pleasure to meet you, good sir!”

He doesn’t often drag out his nobility but the situation calls for it. Perhaps enough for the men to back off, in fear of upsetting nobility.

“And your...cousin’s white hair? A familial trait?” The captain asks skeptically. His title isn’t enough to brush away their questions but there is a touch more hesitancy than before so Jaskier counts it in his favour. He still grimaces a little and racks his brain for a plausible lie to help them escape the situation with as little screaming and entrails as possible. Tiny streams in deep forests are not ideal for removing Nilfgaardian guts from a Witcher’s hair after all and after this fiasco getting Geralt to agree to enter any form of civilisation will be a nightmare.

So Jaskier does what he does best.

He tells a story.

He lets his face drop into a more serious expression and sidles up closer, a little too close for comfort, for a not so much conspiratorial whisper, “No, no, my good sir. Not at all. You see, it's such a terrible thing. Truly terrible. A curse.”

At least two of the men take an involuntary step back as though such a thing could be catching. Good, Jaskier thinks snidely, superstitious morons swallow a lie father easier than a wise man.

“Twas laid upon him by a spiteful sorceress. He’s quite sensitive over the whole thing as I’m sure you can imagine,” Jaskier placed a hand over his heart as he hammed up the performance a degree or two, “My poor dear sweet cousin spurned the witches advances you see, his heart already belonged to another. Fiona’s mother, she hailed from Nilfgaard, such a sweet woman. Not that it mattered to the spiteful witch! The sorceress was quite enraged by it all and so cursed my poor cousin to bear the likeness of the ugliest creature she knew, a Witcher.”

Jaskier winces internally and sends a silent apology to Geralt and hopes the man won’t take too much offence but there’s no other option for them.

“How unfortunate,” one of the men comments in a heartfelt manner and Jaskier dabs at his dry eye in agreement.

“Yes it is and such happenstance that we should be looking for a Witcher,” the Captain says, unconvinced. But Jaskier has the rest of his audience on tenterhooks and a crowd can sway a single mind.

He scoff’s loudly and slams his hands onto his hips.

“Nothing but trouble I say, for we’ve been stopped by every knight and good soldier from here to the Pontar! It’s made our journey to Oxenfurt doubly long and I’m due to begin teaching next week! The delay!” Jaskier wails dramatically and the men collectively wince at his volume and shrillness, “Thankfully with my tenured position the faculty will be most forgiving of my lateness! But truly it has been nothing but trouble!”

“Hmm,” the Captain wavers and Jaskier pushes his advantage, leaning in a touch too far again.

“I shall tell you good sir the best way to tell a Witcher from my unfortunate cousin is the swords, for Witcher’s carry two on their backs and my dear sweet cousin can only swing a pitchfork!”

“Viscount’s right Captain, no swords,” one of the men speaks up and they all turn to look at Geralt’s back, covered in a muddy cape but bereft of the notable twin swords.

“He could have thrown them,” the Captain suggests but quietly, not fully believing his own words and Jaskier tries not to let his relief show.

“Thrown them?! Why my dear Captain, that would be a waste of fine silver and steel! Who in their right mind would throw away a silver sword! Pah! A fool, that’s who!”

The Captain ruminates for a few moments and then nods, “Right you are, carry on m’lord.”

Jaskier’s knees feel a little weak as the men shuffle round and begin their march back up the street they came. He waves them off jauntily despite the nausea swirling in his gut.

“Many blessings to you and safe journey my good men!”

As soon as the men are out of sight Jaskier stumbles as the relief falls on him like a ton of bricks. Geralt grips his bicep, pulling him back up as he stares down the street after the patrol.

“Gone?” Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

“Thank Melitele,” Jaskier exhales and drops his head against Geralt’s shoulder heavily.

“Ugliest creatures?” Geralt asks and Jaskier groans.

“Darling I apologise wholeheartedly for such a lie but how else was I to excuse your appearance?”

Geralt snorts, thankfully with more amusement than anger, “Good thinking.”

“Thank you love but might I suggest putting several fields between us and them before more questions are asked?” Jaskier points out and Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, squeezing him close for a moment before letting him stand on his own steadying legs.

Geralt takes Roach’s reins once more as Jaskier falls into step next to him, he spares a glance over his shoulder at the near empty street behind them and hopes they can put enough road between the patrol and them before nightfall to breathe a little easier.

“Are you really a viscount Jaskier?” Ciri questions quietly, hunched over under her heavy cape atop Roach. Jaskier startles at the sudden question but settles into a sardonic smile.

“Unfortunately so my darling, though the title does have its uses here and there.”

Ciri thankfully doesn’t press the issue as she flicks her gaze over her shoulder worridily. More concerned with the soldiers than his checkered past.

“I didn’t think they’d leave so easily,” she mumbles and Jaskier reaches over to pat her leg softly.

“Fear not my dear, they were easy to fool and won’t be following us anytime soon.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ciri asks, her tone skeptical and a little sharp. A princess on the run yes, but still a princess and one growing from a child into a woman and not shy about demanding she be treated as such. Jaskier chuckles.

“Simple. I saw all I needed to, to lead them astray. I’ll teach you how to read men like open books soon enough darling,” Jaskier winks and Ciri worried at her bottom lip for a few quiet moments.

“Teach me now?”

Jaskier shares a glance with Geralt, raising an eyebrow up in question and Geralt simply nods his permission. Well if his Witcher is okay with it then who is he to argue giving the young exiled princess another knife in her growing arsenal.

“Very well, what did you notice about them?”

She ponders for a moment, “There weren’t that many?” Ciri offers hesitantly. Jaskier beams encouragingly.

“Well spotted! A small patrol left in an unremarkable town. Tells us quite a bit. These fools aren’t high on the pecking order. They aren’t given more responsibility or better yet aren’t trusted with more,” Jaskier explains and Ciri leans forward in rapt attention. “What else could you see?”

“They hesitated,” Geralt says and Jaskier turns his attention on the Witcher’s soft smile.

“Very good my love,” Jaskier pecks Geralt’s cheek in reward, earning a giggle from Ciri.

“That matters?” she asks.

“Indeed, a lack of confidence speaks to their inexperience or perhaps they’ve acted hastily in the past and been reprimanded making them hesitant to act similarly again,” Jaskier explains, falling into his old teaching habits easily.

“What else did you see,” Ciri questions curiously and Jaskier hums thoughtfully.

“Dented armour that hasn’t yet been fixed, means coin is tight or flowing elsewhere. Mud caked into clothes and bulging chest plates. These men have become lazy and spend more nights in a tavern than marching around town. Ruddy cheeks and bloodshot eyes tell me they enjoy their drink, a bit too much most likely. Given the hour it was either a heavy night of drinking with a spectacular hangover or they’ve just come from the tavern. Whichever it is, their minds and body long for beds not battle and that my fair girl is where you can take advantage,” Jaskier lists and Ciri looks suitably impressed with his observations.

“Enough to confuse them?”

“Perhaps enough to lose them in a winding tale with dramatic flair,” Jaskier shrugs, remembering many a glazed drunken gaze and how he used it to his advantage in the past.

“The loudness helped too,” Geralt offers slyly and Ciri laughs as Jaskier pretends to take offence though he preens at the small but fond smile on his Witcher’s face and the ease settling around Ciri’s shoulders once more.

“Nothing makes a drunken soldier recoil quicker than a loud bright bard,” Jaskier winks.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #jask writes #nessie

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

Not Enough - Oikawa (Haikyuu) x Reader x Gojo (JJK)

Summary: Your relationship with Oikawa feels more like a curse than anything else as it comes to a close. (~4.2k words) or tl;dr gojo is mr. steal your girl

Warnings: breakup, idk Gojo is a warning, cracky angst?, pegging mention, yandere themes

A/N: Ngl I’m patting myself on the back for making a crossover fic work somewhat LOLLLL, you can roll your eyes if you want this is hella melodramatic.

(if you wanna commission more niche things, you can always dm me <3)

---

“I-I think it’s best for us to end things here, Tooru...”

Oikawa’s fingers tightened around the cell phone in his hand at the sound of your shakily delivered proposition, and further at the abrupt pregnant pause thereafter - not because he was angry, nor afraid, but out of an all-encompassing confusion.

Two things were wrong with this situation. First of all, it was late enough for you, thousands of miles away, that he was genuinely surprised that you were still awake in the first place and the fact that your voice was thick with tears was particularly upsetting, implying that you’d been up all night before you decided to call. Second, you had to be feeling unwell because you were talking pure nonsense.

He must have not heard correctly. You wanted to ‘end things’?

End what? You and him? That couldn’t possibly happen.

Moments passed, maybe even a full minute, and Oikawa stood perfectly still in spite of the uncomfortable combination of a weightless sensation in his legs and a feverish pounding in his chest as he tried to let himself understand what you were saying. Suddenly lightheaded, he realized he had been holding his breath while you remained quiet on the other end of the line. Maybe he was hoping for you to fill the silence, but he knew you wouldn’t offer anything additional; he could tell from the single soft sniffle that betrayed your sadness.

He sucked air into his lungs.

“I... don’t know what you mean,” Oikawa replied, his voice steady even if his body wasn’t.

You continued.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s really hard… and I get so lonely, and I know it’s wrong, but sometimes it hurts to see you so happy without me…”

Your voice was smaller still, enough that he strained to hear you past the rush of blood past his temples. For a moment, he considered pretending he couldn’t hear you say such unpleasant things just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality unfolding in front of him in this disdainfully sunny early afternoon, while he stood in the middle of the hallway right outside of his high rise apartment.

The fact that you had finally given up on him after all this time.

In a small way, Oikawa couldn’t blame you. While he had been gone chasing his dream, the emerging star had just as quickly been running further away from you day by day. He knew this was mostly his fault: he called you less frequently and whenever you did talk, the conversations were shorter and less substantial until you and he both felt like your interactions were a simple chore, a checkbox on his never-ending to-do list.

But yet, he could and would absolutely blame you. Long distance was hard but you had promised you’d stay by his side, hadn’t you? You’d promised him, rain or shine, through drought and storm. What could possibly be the issue now?

Even if you hurt, it would only be temporary, and he could always make up for it in full or even twice-fold. In fact, he was on his way to come see you in person this very second; it would just be mere hours before his flight would depart. Coming suddenly on holiday like this was meant to be a surprise, and his suitcase beside him was filled with gifts and souvenirs for you that would, at least partially, assuage your hurt.

At least he thought. Maybe the issue stemmed deeper, starting with the very fact that you weren’t such a fan of gifts - what you really craved was loyalty and quality time - and that too, he had chosen to ignore. Because it was easier to love you the way he wanted to love you, rather than the way you wanted to be loved.

You were often indecisive anyway. Did you ever truly know what you wanted?

“___, stop being silly. I love you -”, he paused at this last declaration for emphasis, gauging your reaction, of which you gave him none, then continued, “-and I’m coming to see you before the sun sets tomorrow,” he insisted, a stern edge in his voice to further supplant the denial that was keeping him able to breathe. Strength returning to his limbs, he resumed his path to the elevators, dragging his belongings behind him.

You were silly. You missed him and you were delirious from loneliness and sleep, and that’s why ridiculous things were coming out of your mouth, that’s all it had to be, he figured. End things? What you had was something precious and irreplaceable. Nothing could be better than what you were together.

It would be you and him for life, at least to him.

Unfortunately for you, that ideal had long since perished.

Any other time, you would have paused, your breath hitching in your throat, your heart pounding as you conjured up the image of your Tooru coming to be in your arms once more, to cross the vast distance and be yours again as it should be. He’d be quick to show you that he chose you over crowded gyms full of adoring spectators, a perfect set, the rush of victory, or a pretty Instagram model.

Any other time before, but time had run out with both you and him unsuspecting, in a flash of clear blue eyes.

---

A few months earlier...

“I’m not interested.”

Your voice was flat and so was your expression. Muttering a soft ‘excuse me’, you walked past the tall young man who had taken the fact that he’d helped you reach an item on the highest shelf (despite the fact that you were still somewhat tall, you still had struggled), as an invitation to follow you around the grocery store.

The stranger had started off indiscreetly at first, and you had to admit, when you’d passed him in the aisle, you had given him a double-take, and it wasn’t just because you were wondering how he could see the food before him with a black blindfold wrapped over his eyes, so you hadn’t thought too much of it. He was admittedly handsome - at least the lower part of his face was - and his relaxed voice and posture as he reached over and handed you your box of cereal reminded you just a smidge of your Tooru.

Your Tooru wouldn’t be caught in that nondescript dark ensemble, though.

Saying “thanks” and continuing on your merry way should have been enough. But instead, this same man had immediately started walking besides you as you pushed your cart as though he knew you, making comments about your groceries.

“I’m not particularly fond of eggs, but they’re a good source of protein.”

“You seem to have a sweet tooth, just like me!”

You probably should have been concerned about this man’s mental state, but he didn’t exactly seem harmful or delusional, just weird. But you were almost done with your shopping trip, and now he was in line with you with a single bag of chips in his hand, and it occurred to you for a while that this stranger might try to follow you home.

“Do you need something, sir?” You told him in exasperation.

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild confusion, still a smidge too close behind you and raised his bag of chips. “No, I’m fine.”

“Why are you following me?” You finally said, bolder than usual in this semi-crowded grocery store. You had had enough of being polite and you’d tried very hard so far. Today had been a long day and you just wanted to cook a meal and sleep, not argue with strangers.

“Oh, I was trying to be friendly,” he replied, shrugging, as though that were normal behavior, and thus here you were, switching lanes abruptly while making it clear to him that he needed to leave you the fuck alone.

Checking out of the store with your items occurred without incident but you had to admit you were both irritated and confused about that encounter, and again, while you didn’t exactly feel malicious intent or really any sort of ‘creepiness’ from the young man, the behavior was nevertheless alarming. You surreptitiously glanced over your shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t still in sight, only to catch him walking in the other direction, whistling again with the single bag of chips in his hand, now paid for.

Again stunned, you found yourself lost in a stare for a moment, a million questions in your head.

What was he trying to accomplish? And most importantly, how could he see with that blindfold?

What did he look like without it?

Quickly realizing your questions were getting absurd, you decided that whether he was attractive or not was a completely inconsequential thought, because the fact of the matter was that he had to be clinically insane. Absolutely.

With that thought in mind, you texted a friend briefly sparing the least salient details.

Call me in about thirty minutes if I don’t call you first. I’ll fill you in later.

Just for safety’s sake, but thankfully, you didn’t think you’d ever seen him again.

You may have brought up your odd encounter to Tooru that night, if he had managed to return your call.

---

“Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you when I land tomorrow. I love you, ____.”

Before you could protest, the line cut off abruptly and you lowered your phone to your lap. Now it was no longer just your voice wavering, but your entire body trembling as you sat over the side of your bed. You lurched forward, the pit of your stomach heavy with guilt.

Your Tooru was coming to see you and for once, he was the last person you wanted to see.

---

You had left your home a little later than usual but given that you would rather die than miss your morning coffee and croissant, you still stopped by your neighborhood bakery.

Noting that the line was a little longer than expected, you queued up, humming softly to the beats of your favorite song, not registering that the man standing before you had turned slowly in your direction and was now smiling down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here again.”

Your eyes furrowed as you looked up, then almost yelped in surprise when your eyes registered the same white-haired stranger who had stunned you at the supermarket lined up just two paces before you.

What the-

Of all the coffee shops in this city, why here? The hairs on your neck stood up on end, worse when he decided to keep speaking.

“Let me buy your coffee,” he proposed, tentatively. “Only condition is that you have to drink it with me.”

Today, the strangest of strangers almost looked normal; rather than a blindfold, his eyes were hidden by a dark pair of sunglasses and his hair had been allowed to fall into a slightly windswept cut. He was also dressed less eclectically, in a loose-necked long sleeved shirt and a pair of fitted dark jeans.

Like this, you could call him fashionable. He was definitely forward, at the very least.

He was obviously flirting and normally you would have a curt prepared answer for him, but the manner in which he leaned forward, smirking with hands on his hips, again felt too familiar. Like Tooru, who had forgotten to call you back and instead sent you a quick text that promised he’d get back to you.

If he remembered.

Before you knew it, and almost embarrassed as soon as it left your mouth, you blurted out, “I… have to go to work.”

It wasn’t a lie but for some reason it came out like one. Perhaps because what you would have normally said was, “I have a boyfriend,” without giving him a second look.

He frowned nevertheless.

“That’s too bad,” he finally said, letting out a loud sigh, excessively dramatic for the situation. You stared at him, dumbfounded, and he suddenly clasped his hands together, preparing to say something else but the barista had called for the next customer.

He made a motion for you to go before him, and flustered, you obliged, giving the barista a look that implored for help in any way he could offer it. The barista knew you well enough to ring up your order before you even asked for it, but not well enough to sense that the man behind you was actively harassing you.

“I can buy my own coffee, sir,” you murmured once you saw him rummage in his pockets and pull out his wallet while the barista went off to toast your pastry.

He grinned widely.

“Call me Satoru.”

---

“A drink for you, sir?”

The flight attendant’s voice betrayed a hint of irritation under her sweet tone of voice, hinting that she had been waiting for him to answer a while, and Oikawa realized that he had been staring at his phone for a lot longer than he expected. He flashed her his classic pearly whites before nodding, but the wheels in his head were still turning.

A mere couple of hours into the first leg of his flight back to Japan, he had taken to poring over his last few conversations with you.

Conversations that, at least from his end, had become pressured, short, and at times, he had been downright dismissive.

But he loved you - you had to understand that! It was a lot to manage: being available for you but also giving 150% of himself to the game.

So what if he missed your calls but kept his Instagram up-to-date? So what if he was a little bit too cozy with his fans (and known to be so)?

There was always you, and you were supreme. He’d do anything for you.

“Wine?” The attendant offered him the higher octave in her voice making it clear that Oikawa had managed to charm her back into her retail persona.

Maybe a glass, but he’d limit his drinking. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you when you met.

---

You were shocked.

Satoru stopped a car that was meant to crush you, and you were still trying desperately to comprehend what had just transpired.

You were possibly too eager to escape that coffee shop, to get away from the young man whose presence both unsettled your stomach and made your face grown warm, that you’d hurried out into the crosswalk, somewhat complicated drink and slightly crisped pastry in hand, and right into the path of a car hurtling through a red light.

You didn’t have time to scream or rarely even time to drop your drink, but the impact of your carelessness and preoccupation, between him, being late to work, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had yet again forgotten to text back, never came.

Instead, the car seemed to halt to a stop almost immediately before you, before him who now stood before you with lips held into a neutral expression, and one hand in his pocket. Even if time seemed to stop for a split second, the force that should have struck your body didn’t, instead hurtling around you in a terrifying gust of wind.

But you were safe.

There was a shatter of glass windows as energy redistributed and the car took the brunt of the shock, and airbags deployed, engulfing the driver who could have possibly ended your life.

When Satoru finally turned to you slowly, looking at your cowering form, you finally caught a glimpse of piercing blue. For once he wasn’t smiling, and he was suddenly much more terrifying than anything else.

As though the mask had come off.

He didn’t ask if you were okay. Instead, he asked you to control your grief.

---

You shouldn’t be able to love anyone so much that your heart breaks repeatedly.

Something about you had to be pathological - it couldn’t be normal to feel the pain of separation this acutely. It was just a long-distance relationship, even if he was just getting more famous and less available by the day.

You shouldn’t wake up wondering if you could still breathe without him.

You shouldn’t.

---

“I’m a sorcerer,” Gojo revealed as he stirred a warm caramel latte, as though he had said the most natural thing in the world.

You tilted your head over so slightly, knit eyebrows betraying your confusion.

“... Like a circus performer?”

The repetitive turn of his wrist halted almost immediately and he looked at you, the constant smug smirk immediately awash from his features.

“Do I look like I belong in the circus?!” He half-exclaimed, half-whined, as though you were the only patrons in this bustling coffee shop. Part of you was bent on saying yes, but you kept mum yet staring at his face in distress, you find yourself stifling a giggle.

Now that he’d saved your life, you felt (and probably erroneously so) obligated to at least indulge him in coffee, and your curiosity about the young man sitting before you a whole day later now waffled between morbid and genuine.

Cursed energy? Leaking from you? Sorcery?

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair once he realized you were more entertained by his distress than anything else, crossing his arms and raising his legs on the table. You stared at the bottom of his shoes with mild disgust but instead focused on his face.

He really was like your Tooru, the boyfriend that slipped away from your reach in your nightmares, causing you to wake in a cold sweat. You shook the thought of your head, a quick barely perceptible movement, and crossed your own arms.

“You’re sad enough that I can sense it, which despite the fact that I am obviously quite gifted, can be a bit of an issue long term.”

“Why would it be an issue to you?”

“Because grief creates spirits and spirits are a pain in my ass.”

You furrowed your eyebrows again.

“So you followed me because you thought I was sad?” It sounded far fetched enough but absolutely on brand for a weirdo like the man before you. You took a sip of your tea - you’d picked chai for this… meeting. It wasn’t a date.

He grinned, an elbow rested on the table propping up his chin as he leaned back towards you.

“No, it’s because I thought you were beautiful.” ---

For the first time in a year, Oikawa’s first step back on Japanese soil did not immediately bring him joy but anxiety.

It was odd for him to feel anxiety, this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, but of course it would dissipate the moment he saw you.

But first, a warm shower in his new hotel room. Then he’d go to see you.

It felt odd not to have you waiting for him, your million dollar - no, priceless - smile on your face, so he could kiss you dramatically in the midst of all watching to again reassert that you are his, and his alone.

But you were upset, and understandably so.

So he would come to you, as a good boyfriend should.

---

“I have a boyfriend,” you told him immediately and indignantly, as you got up to leave. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not interested.”

He didn’t rise as fast as you did, watching you calmly instead as you balled your fists in irritation. It’s so shameless how he flirts, you thought. He’s so bold and rude and even if he’s a ‘sorcerer’ as he claims, there’s no spell that he can cast onto you that will make you leave Oikawa for him.

Not your Tooru, whose last Instagram post features a beautiful, tan, large-breasted and bikini-clad woman you’ve never met.

“Where is he then?” Satoru said in a low voice. He didn’t necessarily mean to cut but it did anyway. A lump formed in your throat.

“Overseas.”

---

The sound of chirping crickets is surprisingly loud for this part of the city, Oikawa considered, as he made his way towards your apartment building. It was an atypically warm evening for this point in the spring and he briefly mused if that is what excited them. Maybe they were cheering for him. They sounded a lot like the crowds if he closed his eyes.

He also hoped you had room for the gifts he carried with him, the most important of which was a Cartier bracelet he would hand to you once he departed, with a solid gold T for Tooru.

If he was on the search for fame and glory, he had to spoil you too, right?

To think that you were so angry with him that you had not yet contacted him since he had landed.

He knocked on your door finally, noting the shuffling of too many feet towards the door. This was the right door. He didn’t understand. Did you have friends over?

He called, and you didn’t immediately pick up.

---

“You have to leave!” You hissed. The statement was a plea and it was a command and it was a curse.

The blue of Satoru’s eyes was less electric in the dim moonlight, now more of a cool ice. Bare naked like this and barely visible save for the cracks of the illuminated city through your blinds, he was unfairly beautiful, as though he were carved out of marble. Again like your Tooru. Like, not better.

But still, he was there when Tooru wasn’t.

But Tooru was there now, knocking on your door, having traveled thousands of miles despite the fact that you had broken up with him just yesterday.

It was too little, too late.

But you didn’t love Satoru. He was just a band-aid for the loneliness that wrung agony out of you.

Right?

“I don’t want to leave,” your makeshift lover replied, flatly.

Your glare was sharp and instant, but Satoru matched your look, less pointed but unwilling to sway.

An unstoppable force, no different from the day he’d saved your life.

But he’d caused the problem in the first place, hadn’t he? Would you have run out so carelessly if not for him?

Your voice softened as you slipped on your clothes. The fight was lost before it started.

“Please? I… I can’t do this to him.”

Only a plea was left.

Your phone started to ring and your throat felt as though it would close up.

“___?”

Before you knew it, you heard your front door open and your heart dropped into your throat.

---

“What the fuck-”

Blue eyes were cruel.

Oikawa prided himself on his height but Satoru was taller, and his smirk was wide, while Oikawa’s face was ghostlike, devoid of any appreciable expression. Stunned.

“So you’re the boyfriend?” His voice dripped with mock amusement and he patted him on the shoulder before swinging open the door wide, letting Oikawa into his own girlfriend’s apartment, only to stand face to face with you whose feet seemed glued to the floor in shock.

“I.. T-Tooru..”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

His voice came out as a cry and his tears hot and fast. You never thought you’d see him crumple so fast, for you, for anything.

Your mouth opened and closed, and your hands shook but again, you stayed planted to the same spot while Satoru, still shirtless (but at least with the decency to have worn a pair of pants before answering the door), settled himself on the couch.

Before you could open your mouth to find a word to defend yourself to your sobbing boyfriend, your visitor let out an exaggerated yelp.

“____, you really showed no mercy on my asshole, did you?” he jeered. Then covering his mouth, he made a gesture of ‘Oops.’

What could you do?

Oikawa looked like he would stop breathing any second. He wanted to fight and maybe scream, but what use was that?

You had broken up with him yesterday.

You approached slowly, attempting maybe a touch, anything that would make your mistake less grievous.

You’d only been seeing Satoru for several weeks to… you weren’t sure why, really? Tooru was the one you loved. And to see him curl up like this… someone who was normally so proud...

You were disgusted with yourself.

“Tooru-”

“You said you’d wait for me.”

It was shocking how quick he rose, broken dignity, gifts and all.

“Tooru!”

He turned to leave, while Satoru contented himself on picking the earwax from his ears. It was easier to be like this, insufferable, than to gracefully accept the idea that his object of affection loved someone else.

He’d coveted you from the day he’d met you.

“Tooru!!!”

You were running after a man who gave 150% to everything, yet again.

Everything but you.

But had he at the very least given you 100%? You weren’t sure.

Oikawa was the last person who could accept the thought of someone else. You weren’t sure if he’d call you ever again. You weren’t even sure you wanted to break up.

Cursed energy. Maybe you didn’t just leak cursed energy. Maybe you were just cursed.

Heart shattering to pieces once Oikawa was no longer within view, you made it back to your room. Satoru was there waiting, and you couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but his arms were open, and so you fell into them.

#oikawa x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #commission work #crossover fic #haikyuu x reader #jjk x reader #haikyuu x jjk #mae.writing

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 3 years

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hey so i'm hoping to get some writing advice about creative burnout? like i seem to write in fits and spurts. some months i can churn out a oneshot or chapter everyday and some months i can do one (1) creative thing only. so i'm wondering how to prevent creative burnout and how to just create more smoothly <3 thank you!

Creative Burnout & How To Ward Against It

First, I’d like to preface this all by saying you’re definitely not alone. You probably already know this, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.

I know from personal experience that creative burnout can leave you feeling hopeless, detached from yourself—the kind of identity crisis no one needs in 2020.

So buckle in, folks. It’s a dosy.

I. The Symptoms

Not to be the local WebMD page here, but signs of burnout can include:

Procrastination (more than usual)

Dreading writing and feeling stuck or overly perfectionistic when you try

Physical tiredness and/or irritability

Feeling like everything is monotonous

It’s more than just writer’s block. It’s a physical and emotional exhaustion response to something that goes deeper than a simple lack of inspiration. In my experience, and from a bit of research, I’ve found that what your brain is really looking for is dopamine.

Dopamine is essentially your brain’s chemical reward system for doing something interesting or exciting to you. As someone who is diagnosed with ADHD, I have chronically low levels of dopamine, so this is a constant struggle for me—but it is absolutely made worse by creative burnout.

II. The Problem

Studies have shown that the more we do A Thing the less that thing will give us dopamine (unless a component of the activity changes regularly). This is because eventually our brains desensitise to the stimuli provided by the activity, and subsequently, we become disengaged.

But it’s not necessarily The Thing (i.e. writing) that becomes boring. Actually, more than a few factors could be at play here, and the first step to finding a solution is to identify the problem.

1. ENVIRONMENT LACKS EXCITEMENT/CHANGE—

Sometimes, the monotony of everyday life can feed creative burnout. This becomes especially applicable in quarantine when you’re not leaving your house.

What we don’t realise is that even something as small as the variables of driving to and from work, or interacting with passing coworkers, gives us dopamine. So if you have the same routine every day that does not involve any added variables, your brain will begin staunching that dopamine supply.

2. EITHER TOO EASY OR TOO CHALLENGING—

In 1975, Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, coined the term “flow”, which refers to a heightened state of creativity and concentration on an activity. Csikszentmihalyi posited that if your skill level is equal to the level of challenge in any given activity, you will experience this state of flow.

The chart below is taken from Csikszentmihalyi’s own study on the subject of flow and motivation. It examines “your skill level” on the x axis in relation to the “challenge level” on the y axis.

Essentially:

Too much challenge + not enough skill = anxiety, worry (which might lead to procrastination and perfectionism)

Too much skill + not enough challenge = boredom, apathy (which might lead to monotony, irritability, and other depression-like symptoms)

Skill level = Challenge level = Flow

3. NOT ENOUGH “ACTIVE” STIMULATION—

When it comes to dopamine seeking, there is a distinct difference between active and passive stimulation in the brain.

Active stimulation is any form of activity that you have to actively engage in. For instance; exercising, doing a crossword puzzle, or reading a book. These kinds of activities not only give you dopamine, they also facilitate critical thinking and problem solving thought processes, which act as catalysts for creativity.

Passive stimulation, on the other hand, comes in the form of television, social media, and YouTube. It’s anything you can consume without having to actively engage. Passive stimulation will indeed give your brain dopamine, however, it won’t activate your creativity.

The problem also lies in the speed at which you receive the dopamine from passive activities. Passive stimulation is so easy to access that the more you consume, the harder it becomes to pick up active stimulation. Your brain expects a hit of dopamine just by picking up a phone or turning on the TV—it becomes addicted to the quick fix of a Netflix binge.

III. The Solutions

Based on the problems mentioned above, I am going to list a few solutions. Keeping in mind that not every solution will work for everyone, these can act as both preventative measures and remedies for someone who is currently burned out.

1. CHANGE UP YOUR ENVIRONMENT/ROUTINE—

Aim to do at least one thing per day that will add “variables” to the monotony. This can be as simple as going on a long walk, dressing up in that bold outfit you always wanted to wear to the office but never did, or sitting at a different workspace in your home.

Anything you can do that’s simple, but might provide an extra variable to your day to spice things up. Note: this shouldn’t be the same thing every day.

2. CHALLENGE YOURSELF MORE—

If you find yourself bored by your work, try challenging yourself more. This could mean setting goals for yourself that go a bit beyond what you’ve been doing.

For example, if you’ve been writing 500 words per day, see if you can beat your own word count every day for the next week. If you’ve been writing mainly fluff pieces, switch it up and do an angst piece. See if you can write a book in a month, or start a blog where you don’t write fiction at all!

Anything you can do to add a little kick to your workload. Note: Beware of challenging yourself too much! This can lead straight back into burnout.

3. CHALLENGE YOURSELF LESS—

If you’re on the flip side of that coin, and find that you are anxious, procrastinating, and perfectionistic when it comes to writing, fret not. Just because you’re experiencing any of these things, doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing the job with your skillset.

It just means your perception of the job needs to be shifted.

Procrastination, at its heart, is a fear of failure, which results in actively avoiding the negative emotions associated with the task that causes this fear. Perfectionism is a type of procrastination that is a combination of a fear of failure and a fear of success (or, more accurately, other’s critiques of your success) all at once.

Neither have anything to do with your actual skillset, but they have everything to do with your perception of your skillset. Obviously, this is a harder thing to fix, as it has to do with deeply ingrained levels of self-esteem.

What I can offer you is a tactic to trick your mind into thinking you’re capable.

If you have a task, big or small, and you are feeling overwhelmed by it (like you might go curl up in bed and scroll Tumblr), immediately break that task up into smaller tasks. Keep breaking up the smaller tasks until you have the smallest possible part of the bigger task without doing nothing.

Then do that smallest possible thing.

If your goal is to write a 2000 word one shot, a small part of that task is writing half of it. An even smaller part of that task is breaking the one shot up into “scenes” and writing one scene. For instance:

Jude wakes up to a sore throat, a runny nose, and a fever.

She tries to go to work, but Cardan, being the mother hen that he is, threatens to never make her another grilled cheese sandwich (her favourite food) ever again if she doesn’t stay home.

Jude agrees begrudgingly, and Cardan sits her down in front of the TV with a bottle of Gatorade. He leaves to go get medicine from the store.

When Cardan comes back, Jude is worse than before. He makes her soup and saltine crackers and spoon feeds her.

She complains the whole time and, in her feverish state, threatens to never buy him another bottle of wine (his favourite food) ever again if he doesn’t let her feed herself.

Each bullet point represents one “scene” of about 200-400 words each. Obviously, there will be more details that you work out as you write. But with these five smaller scenes, your goal is no longer writing the 2000 word one shot. Your goal is writing the first of the five scenes.

If you complete the smallest possible task, you can stop, and you’ll still feel like you’ve accomplished something because you can cross off that task from your list. But chances are, by the time you cross off one task, you may have inspiration enough to keep going.

4. ENGAGE IN ACTIVE STIMULATION—

Since active stimulation has been proven to turn on the creative “tap”, try incorporating more of these activities into your daily routine:

Exercise: As the resident couch potato, I hate to say that exercising is good for creativity, but it is. Even if it’s just going on a short walk, so long as you’re moving.

Reading: Sometimes you have plenty of ideas, but no words to fit those ideas. Fill your well of words by carving out an hour or two each day for reading a good book.

The Creative Process: In the writing world, the creative process is a process of about 20-30 minutes that the writer partakes in every day before they start writing. This process should be creative, but also have nothing to do with writing. You can try colouring in a colouring book, painting, organising a page in your bullet journal. Anything that is creative but does not make you think about everything you have to do that day. Think of it as creative meditation.

Listen to music: Having APD, I personally can’t listen to music while I write. However, studies have shown that if you listen to at least ten songs per day, it will significantly benefit your dopamine levels and overall mood. If you’re like me and prefer to work in silence, maybe stick on a couple songs during your creative process. If you can manage music and writing together, get out those headphones!

5. KEEP A REGULAR SCHEDULE—

I know this is the most cliche point in the book, but it’s valid. This doesn’t mean do the same thing at the same time every day over and over, because ultimately we’re looking to avoid monotony.

But having pillars of structure to bolster the excitement can definitely work to keep you from slipping into burnout. Going to sleep, waking up, and having your meals at relatively the same time every day are good examples of this.

Feel free to change up the things you do between breakfast and lunch, but make sure you have those pillars of consistency so your brain knows that a break is on the horizon and doesn’t get tired.

6. PACE YOURSELF—

This is particularly difficult for those of us who are coming out of a creative burnout, but I urge you to pay special attention to this one. If we are suddenly hit by inspiration and the writing is flowing and flowing and flowing, eventually we will hit the point of highest dopamine capacity for writing.

Not putting a check on the flood of inspiration coming out of a creative burnout, I’d argue, is actually a guarantee that many of us will experience burnout all over again. It becomes this vicious cycle in which we are trapped.

While it feels great to write non-stop and receive immediate validation for that work, try to limit yourself to how much you’re writing and how immediately you post your writing (if you plan on posting it).

Whenever I finish a one shot or a chapter of something, I like to allow at least one day for editing before I post. This timeframe is important, because it acts as a buffer of rest between writing marathons.

You can take however long you need for the editing process, but definitely make sure you have a set amount of time in place. Otherwise, your brain might not have enough time to come down from what is essentially a writing high, and you will always need to reach greater heights in order to achieve that same level of dopamine.

~~~~

Overall, the most important things to take away from all of this are:

Change up your environment

Keep your brain actively stimulated

Have pillars of structure between which you can run about chaotically to your heart’s content

PACE YOURSELF!

Hope this helped. Happy writing!

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Tip Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

Celebrate 2K with me!

#this one was a spiritual one y'all #thanks for the ask babes!#writing #writing tips #writing advice #writeblr #writing tip masterlist #writer #writer's desk #writer's life #writer's problems #writer's block #ao3 #fanfiction #creative burnout #asked and answered #em answers #danaanruhn #thank you for 2k!! 🥳💜

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magicpumpkin3 · 3 years

Text

Idia Shroud x (Fem?)reader

Warning: NSFW; light!dom/sub; maid outfit; pegging(kinda); Idia is kinda OCC'ish

Note: thank yous go to → @intynidad Check out their blog! It's... interesting ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Note 2: sorry for shitty writing, author is new to smuts :). (My second ever smut tbh)

"…P-please… stop!" Idia desperately trys to hide his legs as much as possible with that stupid skirt. He has nothing against maid outfits. It's more opposite way actually, he loves them! It's not that he's wearing one right now, no. It's you, staring at him. And all of this because of a stupid bet! He could've sworn, you were horrible at this game but no. You just had to be lucky today and win. And loser, who's punishment was to wear a maid outfit, is him. Blushing like a mad man, sitting in a corner of your room, Idia trys to hide from your eyes.

Giggling like a five-year old kid that just got their own toy as present for Christmas, you slowly walk towards your boyfriend. "Hey, you look wonderful, no need to hide!" His hair bursting in bright red flames even more, Idia lets out a groan of frustration. "It's n-not, I'm…You…m-me…" And there he goes mumbling again. You love him to the depths of your heart but sometimes he needs to be a bit louder and clearer with his words and thoughts. Though, you can't blame him. We've all been there, still there at some point actually.

Sitting on a floor, turned away from you, keeping his knees close to his chin, Idia trys so hard not burn your entire room. "Idia~…" Hearing your voice sing-song his name, makes him want to hide himself even more. Your gentle touch on his arms makes him jump in surprise. "You okay?" Asking him gently, making him want to tackle you and hold you for ever. How can you be so brave? He slowly, a bit shackly, turns his head towards you. Red as Riddles hair, he tries to to mutter something out.

He's so cute like that. Not being able to hold yourself together, you bend forward and give his lips a small peck. Small whimper escapes him. "It's n-not fa-funny…" Chuckling to yourself, you lightly shacke your head. "Yes, it's not funny how gorgeous you look." Oh boi! You can practically see steam leaving his ears. Gently placing one hand on his thigh, that are covered by black stockings and another on his shoulder.

Shuddering because of the gesture, Idia sheepishly looks you in the eyes. Staring at you, like you're one of the great seven. He suddenly feels your lips on his. What starts as a small tender kiss, turns into a heated make out session really fast. Your tongues dancing together, pushing one another. Moaning into your mouth, he closes his eyes in a bless.

Pulling away, breathing heavy, you look at him. Such a mess, flushed all over, breath wrecked, he trys to avoid your gaze. Though, his body speaks for him better then his words. Idia now is fully turned to you and is sitting on his knees before you. Looking so delicious, it's almost painful. Scooting closer to him, you now place your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you. Staring into one another's soul, you kiss each other again.

He can feel your hands slowly moving down his body. They gently, like afraid of scaring him, caress his sides, pushing on his sweet spots, that make him hitch his breath. Almost bitting his own tongue, and yours too off, when he feels you go beneath the skirt. Breaking apart, breathing in and out rapidly, Idia looks at you. Thin line of saliva still connecting your mouths.

You slowly, bend forward and start leaving trail of kisses and small bites down his neck. Idia sinks his teath down his bottom lip to keep himself quiet. Soft cry leaving his throat. You move one of your hands up his thigh. Reaching beginning of his underwear, you teas it a little, pulling and tapping it. You can particularly fell his cock twitch.

"P-plea-se! I…Ah! Pl-please…Hn...I c-can't!…" Face flushed, tongue rolled out a bit, your boyfriend trys to say something. "Yes, dear? You want something me to do?" You ask Idia in teasing manner. Your hand reaches his erection. Slowly stroking it through his underwear, you keep smiling at him with that grin of yours. "Use your words dear."

"P-please!!! More ah!" Right when he finished his thought out loud, you put a pressure on a head of his cock. Bucking his hips towards your hands he whimpers and crys in pleasure. Pushing Idia down, you pin his hands over his head. Kissing him heatedly again, you push your knee between his legs. Moaning into your mouth, he arches his back towards your other hand that is playing with his nipple under that stupid outfit.

Pulling away, you rise a bit to look at him. Flushed all over the place, hot rigged breath, eyes slightly open, his neck and collarbones with few of your marks. Maid outfit pushed down his shoulders to expose more skin that was begging for more marks. Realising his hands, you carefully help him to get those short sleeves out of the way. Front falling down a bit reviling his erect nipples, making you bend down and press a few teasing kisses to them.

"Idia, do you trust me?" You asked in husky hushed voice. He looked you on the eyes with a second doubt nodding. Smiling like Cheshire cat, you press a fee kisses to his face and get off him. You can see the confusion on your boyfriends face. "Be a good boy and wait for me here." Coying it sweetly, you quickly leave the room.

Laying down, all alone, Idia's hands without him noticing it, reach to his bulge. Slowly, with shaky hands he removed his underwear from his also shaking legs and slowly started touching himself. Moving fingers up and down his shaft, he exhales with a small whimper. Your loving hands feel so much better then his. Squeezing around himself he began to pump his hand up and down. Precum leaking out already. He closes his eyes and groans with pleasure.

What a beautiful sight you walked on. Him, moaning your name out like this, legs bend a bit, like waiting for someone to rail him in the ass, jearking himself off in that cute outfit. It makes you get even more turned on. Slowly walking closer to him, you sit down near your boyfriend. Apparently he got too consumed by the filing and didn't see you. Not to worry. You know just the way to get his attention. Reaching your hand, you slowly add pressure on his hand over his cock. Choking out a gasp, Idia opens his eyes and looks at you.

"I'm…I-" Before he could say anything, you shut him up with a kiss. He melts immediately. Slowly, you move one of your hands towards his asshole. He crys out in a kiss of the feeling of your fingers massaging hole. Breaking a kiss, you bend even further, whispering into his ear. "Sorry for, keeping you waiting you". You put mote pressure, more moans follow. "I thought we could try something…" Smiling like you're a devil in a flesh, you push your index finger in.

Silent scream left his lips. A few trails of droll roll from his mouth. Idia clings to you shoulders and crys out into your ear. You slowly start to move your finger inside, slowly trying to add another. "It-it! Insi-side!!! Agh!" After having all four fingers inside of him, rhythmetically fucking him, he's already almost sits on your hand. One of his stockings has rolled down, and his whole outfit was steady only on his abbs. Suddenly you stop and pull your hand away. Low whines and crys of disapproval are heard from your Idia. "So the thing I wanted to try…" you turn your back to him and grab something. "Well…what do you think?" Turning back to him, you revel a strap-on. Not too big, not too small. Medium. Glaring at it for a few moments, he realizes what's it for. He almost immediately got on his back and raised one if his legs. Turning his head away from you, he trys to hide behind one of his own arms. Chuckling to yourself, you smile down on him, putting your toy in place, getting the lubricant oil and getting ready. Whole time your boyfriends eyes were glued to you. Getting on top of him and placing one of his legs over your shoulder, you bend down and hover over him once again. "Say what you want~" you say in a husky voice. Idia desperately trys to push himself on your toy but you keep moving away. "Neh-neh! That won't do, dear. You have to tell me what you want." Even though Idia shuted his eyes long time ago he could feel you smile at him.

"I-I want…"

"yes?"

"I w-want you to…to," here he goes again, trying to push himself on a strap-on.

"Shh~. Tell me I'll do it" moving away from him, you kiss pulls on his neck.

"I want y-you! To!…"

"Yes?"

"I want you to fuck me!" Almost yelling it out, Idia opened his eyes and looked at you. Holding on to you for dear life.

"Very well then"

A loud cry echoes through your room. Pushing in slowly, you sigh, as if you could feel how it feels to be inside of your boyfriend. Slowly bumping in and out, you thrusts deeper with each push. Head rolled flames a bit purple, not quite red, not quite blue, droll dripping from his mouth, tongue also out, Idia moans and crys like madman. You're truly grateful that your dorm is as far away from any 'crowded places'.

Kissing and sucking on one of his nipples, you slowly start to use your free hand to jerk him off a bit. Almost immediately his head shots up and he's pressed flushed to you. You start to move more aggressively and harsh, making him particularly scream your name and how much 'he fucking loves it'. You can feel his cock twitch when you hit one specific spot inside of him, making him scream from pleasure, literally. You start to hit it over and over again, making him see stars. Burning fire inside of him, grows bigger and bigger every single time, you touch one of his sensitive parts. He's so close he can feel it.

Suddenly he stops you. Looking down at him worriedly you ask "Everything okay?" Before you could mentally prepare yourself Idia half says, half huffs "C-can you…ri-ride me but k-keep t-the stra-pon i-inside?…" You at loose of your words. "I mean...we can try?" Slowly detention strapon from yourself, you get on top of him and line his dick to your entrance. Slowly pushing yourself onto his shaft, you sigh and shiver from the feeling. You can feel Idia buck his hips tawords you.

Slowly you, you start to ride him. Skirt up, revealing his crotch area, where your body's connect, hands holding into a carpet to keep himself from hurting himself or you, he looks at your eyes with his golden once. You smile daring at him, you start to move even harsher. Moaning in unison, bumping and crying out in pleasure.

A great idea comes to your head. Leaning back a bit, with one hand, you try to find with another the tip of a strap-on. Finally finding it, you grab it and push in your boyfriends hole a bit. Hearing a raw crys of pleasure, as you ride him.

Hot bubbling feeling inside of you getting stronger as you get more aggressive. Pushing in harsher, ridding more rigged you make eye contact with him again. And it's your both breaking point. You can feel him twitching inside of you and realising hot semen into you, he almost screams but bite's his lower lip just in time to just moan really loud. He stills and now it's your time to cum. Hot knots inside are vanishing. Your vision is unclear, white noise filing your ears.

After what felt like an hours, you collapsed on top of him. Giggling to yourself, you make a mental note to make more bets like that

#ah yes #smut #twst smut #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twst idia #twisted wonderland Idia #twst x you #twst fanfic #twst fic #twisted wonderland fic #author is bad at smuts #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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bratkook · 4 years

Text

girls in bikinis. (m) kth.

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: smut, pwp word count: 5.3k warnings: exhibitionism, unprotected sex, partially clothed sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, creampie, he fucks her in roller skates okay and its light and playful author’s note: this came to me as i washed my dishes and listened to this song by poppy and idk what possessed me to write this when i have 2471819 other wips i should be focusing on but i hope u enjoy it lmaooo

As the sun beats down on Taehyung, beads of sweat trickling down his neck while he cruises on his long board along the concrete path right on the beach, he doesn’t think he regrets encouraging your new hobby more than he does right now

You see when you first voiced your desire to learn to roller skate Taehyung had found it endearing, even going as far as purchasing the skates for you as a surprise because you had been so excited watching videos online of other girls gliding around.

When you finally got them and slipped them on, stumbling around like a baby deer discovering they had legs, he thought it would be an adorable hobby. Seeing you bundled up with your knee pads, matching elbow pads ready to catch your fall and a helmet strapped tightly under your chin.

It all screamed cute.

But your determination had set it, constantly practicing out on the sidewalk or in the shoddy parking lot of your apartment complex, not caring how many times you bruised your tailbone with your nasty falls until they slowly minimized.

Soon enough Taehyung had stopped providing you ice packs and comforting words when you took a tumble and instead he had begun to watch in awe as your strides got more confident, no longer afraid to apply pressure onto your toe stops when you caught some speed, mixing in some cool spins as you skated around him in circles.

With that added confidence came the fact that you no longer needed to be wrapped up in safety gear as extensively as you used to be which is what landed him in this situation, watching you glide along beside him with the skimpiest outfit on.

This no longer screamed cute, no this entire thing was currently shouting sexy in his head so loud it was a surprise no one around him could hear it.

Taehyung swallows down a groan when you push out so you’re ahead of him now, the scrape of your wheels mixing in with his own. His eyes trail up your body, seeing how your legs glimmer in the sun thanks to the body oil you had lathered on before you, making your entire body look like its glowing.

The expanse of your legs are out for the world to see and he’s almost positive if you bent over just slightly he’d catch a peak of the underwear you currently had on because these black cut off shorts were purely for aesthetic purposes.

Its not until you whirl around on your skates, gliding backwards with your arms and head bobbing along to the music you had blasting from your phone in your back pocket, that his eyes zero in on your tits. Taehyung can’t hold the groan back this time, not with the way he sees them bounce and jiggle with each stride of your legs, only being caged in by the tiniest triangle bikini top you had so graciously slipped on.

He knew you did this on purpose, did this just for him, color coordinating your orange top to match the suede of your skates and passing it off as a cute notion. Taehyung had gotten drunk a few nights ago, and with the added alcohol came the slip of his tongue, confessing how hot he thought you looked as you rolled around and how much hotter you’d look if you did it in just your underwear.

You, being ever the people pleaser, weren’t going to let him down. Of course you weren’t clad in your bra and panties but this was definitely second best and when you catch his dazed out expression it proves you right.

His foot mindlessly keeps pushing himself forward, coming back onto his board robotically to continue the glide while you shimmy your chest at him tauntingly.

“My eyes are up here.” You quip teasingly, your hand coming up to rake through your hair as you shoot him a dazzling smile. Thats when he finally blinks out of his daze, meeting your eyes with a cheeky smile on his own face.

“Oh I know,” he shrugs, rocking on his board as he glides side to side, his wheels kissing the edge of the path each way as he does so, “prefer staring at your tits though.”

A snort leaves you at his comment, swirling back around to face forward, slowing your pace down until you’re once again right beside him. You turn your head to look at him, smirking when you see him staring at you already, “Figured, that’s kind of why I wore this.”

“Ah,” he sighs out, his hand reaching forward to grab your own in a sweet notion as he matches your speed, “so I fell into your trap?”

The soft laugh you let out makes the horniness that's clouding his brain clear up, paired with the fact that he can no longer see the way your boobs bounce with every crack on the floor, he has a moment to cleanse his impure thoughts.

“Yeah, it’s all going according to plan.”

Taehyung laughs fully at that now, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles, his ash blonde hair being fluffed up from the wind and the speed at which he pushes off the floor, “Oh yeah?”

A small hum is your only response, mimicking his movements and pushing forward once more to make room for bikers approaching you, once again giving him the glorious view of your ass and legs.

“And how does this plan of yours end exactly?”

You spin around once more, the action smooth and nothing at all compared to the way you struggled months ago, your hand still grasping his own as he helps guide you from any oncoming people. There's a glint in your eye that he can’t pinpoint but he knows its trouble, it usually always is with you.

“With you fucking me.”

His brows arch up at your lewd comment, how you said it so nonchalantly, almost as if you were discussing a grocery list. His balance falters slightly as he wobbles on his feet, your hand being the saving grace that stops him from face planting onto the hot cement. That would definitely sober his filthy thoughts up just as quickly as they came, nothing like good road burn to help him stop sinning.

“Well let's go then.” He chokes out, ready to drag you to his awaiting car, maybe you’d let him defile you in his backseat if you were this horny but you shock him once more when your shoulders shrug. A playful frown on your face as you look behind you, your eyes focusing on the surrounding buildings, “Why?”

“What do you mean why, you said you want me to fuck you or am I reading this all wrong?”

Another laugh bubbles out of you, the sound sweet and angelic as if you aren’t currently thinking of him rearranging your guts in the unholiest of places

“Oh no, I definitely want you to fuck me but why leave?”

That’s when the realization hits him, his eyes widening up as his mouth drops open when he understands just what you’re suggesting, “Here?”

A simple nod is sent his way, your smile widening when he looks around in exasperation, almost as if he can’t fathom that you’d let him do whatever he wanted to you in any location. “But we’re in public!” He hisses out, his cheeks warming up to a blush and its adorable.

“So, I’m horny and I want you to fuck me. Are you game?”

As adventurous as Taehyung was, he'd never, ever, fooled around in public and as much as he wanted to, the fear of getting caught and possibly being thrown into jail always stopped him. But the way you look right now is making all of his logical thinking go straight into the gutter and he can’t find it in himself to care, not when he can see this whole thing play out in his mind.

With every blink of his eyes he sees flashes of you, pressed against the side of a building as you moan out his name, the feel of your oiled up skin against his fingertips as he grips into your hips and fucks you from behind, the thrill of having to keep quiet.

He feels his cock spur to life in his shorts and that is absolutely the only convincing he needs to make his feet come down with a thump, haphazardly hopping off of his board and yanking you to an abrupt stop, his hands having to catch you before you topple over from the force of it all.

“Hell yeah I’m game, but if we get caught it’s all your fault.”

He wastes no time scooping his board up and tucking it underneath his arm as he takes off, dragging you behind him while he hauls you off the bike path and onto the crowded boardwalk. His grip on you is secure as your wheels wobble on the uneven path, his pace speeding up when your laughter reaches his ear.

A smirk spreads onto his face as his eyes bounce along each building, determined to find a location good enough for your rendezvous. The small whispers you send him make him feel like you’re a little devil perched onto his shoulder, luring him into making the worst decisions with the best outcomes.

“You gotta be quiet Y/N.” Taehyung whispers with a laugh, his hands placed on your ass, pushing you into the small alleyway between two buildings you had both deemed good enough for the scandalous act you were about to perform.

You have to bite your lip to prevent teasing words from slipping through, your heart was currently pounding in your chest as reality hits you, not believing just how easy it was to convince Taehyung do to anything involving sex.

It’s almost comical how he rolls you deeper into the small hiding spot, his board slipping from its spot under his arm and landing on the floor in a loud thunk. The sound echoes all around you but he can’t focus on that right now, completely ignoring the scowl you send his way after he had just shushed you into silence.

“You gotta be quiet–” You mock him, the end of your words being muffled out when he slaps his palm over your mouth, a taunting look on his face as he pushes you against the brick wall. The heels of your boots thud against the building as your back presses flush against it, the gritty texture of the wall digs into your back but any complaints you have get stuck in your throat when you see the look in his face, your breath huffing against his hand, the tiniest smile creeping onto your lips.

“Don’t worry about me baby,” he whispers out, his face inching closer to yours. His eyes sneak a side glance towards the opening of the alley way, seeing the occasional person walking past blissfully unaware that the two of you were tucked away in here, “unless you want people to see how desperate you are for my cock you need to keep that pretty mouth of yours closed okay?”

A stiff nod and a hum against his palm is all you give him, your eyes staring straight into his as he takes a moment to ogle you. His gaze trails down your neck, onto the swells of your chest covered in the tiny orange bikini, his head tilting slightly as he watches the rise and fall as you try to steady your breathing.

“Nervous?” Taehyung teases, choosing now to remove his palm from your mouth.

“No,” you breathe out a laugh, resting onto your left toe stop as you sag against the wall, “I’m excited.”

Of course you were, this had been your plan after all. Get Taehyung so hot and bothered he’d do anything you asked and he had fallen right into your grasp, not that he had any complaints.

“You fucking minx.” He jokes, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss, the smell of the sunscreen he had slathered his face in invades your senses, it reminds you of summer and you know after today it’ll also remind you of this moment.

Your lips drop open as he licks his way into your mouth, groaning when his tongue slithers against yours. Your arms hook around his neck, tugging him closer as he lightly licks the roof of your mouth before pulling back with a hum.

“Gotta be quick yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, letting his hands grip your sides, his thumb softly rubbing your waist on his way down to the button of your shorts, “hurry.”

The bouncing wheels of skateboarders whizzing by a few feet away has you gasping in excitement, Taehyung shooting you a wink when he catches the thrilling look on your face at the prospect of getting caught, “You got it.”

Taehyung pops the button of your shorts open, the sound reaching your ears, aiding in the small rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The metallic scrape of your zipper being yanked down joins the air, his long fingers dipping into the waist of them and tugging them down your legs until they catch around your knees from the way your thighs are spread out.

He eyes the tiny pastel orange panties you chose to wear, your entire outfit being carefully thought out for this exact moment and it makes him chuckle under his breath, he really had fallen right into your trap.

His fingers toy with your underwear, following the edge of it as it curves into your inner thighs, a shiver wracking through your body at the ticklish feeling, a slight detour being taken when his thumb presses into the damp patch decorating the front of it.

A wiggle of your eyebrows is sent his way when he eyes you teasingly, “Who would’ve thought you’d get this wet just thinking about me fucking you out in the open.”

“Please, I get soaked just thinking about you doing literally anything.”

He knew that much to be true, taking pride in being the main reason your panties were ruined.

Its not until the sound of people talking reaches his ears that he remembers he needs to hurry up, the idea of being caught was definitely hot but actually getting caught wasn’t so he once again grips your hips and turns you around.

Your heavy wheels clank against the ground at the change of position, your hands gripping the rough wall to keep you steady as he moves you, the rolling of your wheels only making him laugh.

“Uh, you’re gonna have to lean on your thingy to stop from rolling.”

“My toe stop?” You tease, putting pressure on your right foot to help stabilize you as he places a palm on your back, his fingers tracing the ties of your bikini top as he pushes you forward.

“Yes you smart ass.”

With you no longer rolling back onto him he deems himself ready to continue, his palms roaming over the smooth expanse of your exposed ass. You had clearly covered your entire body in that damn oil, not leaving a single area bare of the jasmine scented liquid which Taehyung had now decided was his new favorite thing.

“Hurry up and fuck me.” You whine out, your hips jutting further back, not at all expecting the swift slap he lands on your left cheek. His large palm swats against your skin so hard it bounces off the walls, the gasp getting stuck in your throat when everything falls into silence once more, half expecting someone to peek their head in from how loud it had been but it luckily never comes. He soothes your warm skin with his palm, kneading your flesh gently as he bit his lip.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for me baby.” He scolds, his thumb hooking around your underwear and yanking it to the side, revealing your dripping slit to him. His other hand comes forward to let his fingers trail up your folds in a teasing motion, softly tracing up and around, not being able to resist teasing you further. When his index finger glides through your slick with ease his mouth drops open in awe, forever being prideful at the effect he has on you.

The small whine spills out of your lips when he slowly dips his finger in, enjoying the way your walls pulse around the tip of it before he pushes in to the hilt, starting a slow rhythm as he pulls out and thrusts back in, quickly adding a second finger and scissoring them inside of you to properly stretch you out for his cock.

“Mm Taehyung,” you sigh out, your head falling forward to rest against the cool wall as he continues to fuck you open. Each thrust of his long fingers has you keening, more of your arousal gushing out of you in excitement, becoming more and more desperate as he continues, “fuck I’m ready please.”

He playfully hums in thought from behind you, not entirely convinced two fingers would be enough for you to adjust to him. “I don’t think you are Y/N.”

The way your pussy clamps around his third finger when you feel the tip of a prod at your entrance proves his assumption correct, but he could take care of that. He knew you body well enough, having the motions down to a science. The way he curls his fingers, alternating between spreading them out and nudging against the sweet patch inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you’re fully relaxed in his hands, your hips rocking back into him at the feeling of being so full.

“There you go sweetheart,” he coos, his eyes slipping shut for a moment as he focuses on the wet thumping every time his palm hits your ass when he thrusts into you. The softest moans fill the otherwise silent alley, your fingers desperately clutching the wall, no doubt scraping your skin but that was a problem for later on, right now all you could think about was how amazing Taehyung’s fingers felt inside your cunt.

“Fuck, nngh please Tae.” You plead, twisting your body slightly to crane your head over your shoulder, hoping the clear desperation etched onto your features was enough to have him whip his cock out and fuck you like you wanted.

Your wide eyes glimmer with unshed tears from frustration and he takes pity on you, slipping his shiny fingers out of your pussy and popping them into his mouth like second nature. As if you needed him to do more to turn you on he has to go and lick your arousal off of his digits like it was his favorite candy.

“Okay,” he murmurs out, undoing his own shorts and yanking them down just enough for his cock to spring free. The visual of it out in the open almost makes those tears pool over, his large hand wrapping around the girth of it as he lazily pumps his aching length inches away from you, “you ready?” He questions, bringing his palm to his mouth to noisily spit into it, using it to lube up his cock as he steps closer to you.

“Yes.” You breathe out, rolling your lips together as you face the wall again, your head hanging low as you wait, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

Taehyung steps in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread apart, yanking your underwear to the side to reveal your sodden folds to him once more. He licks his lips over as he guides the head of his cock towards your entrance, the slight pressure of it pressing against you has you sighing out, gritting your teeth together to keep from shouting at him to hurry up.

Finally, he eases his way inside, his bulbous head breaching your entrance, the stretch that accompanies it beating the feel of his three fingers from before. This was what you wanted, his thick cock stretching you apart and filling you up the way he knew best.

Taehyung holds in a groan when your walls tighten around him when he bottoms out, his hips fully flushed against yours, the two of you panting as he stills inside of you.

“You okay?” He whispers, his fingers moving to grip your hips once more to help ground himself as he waits for a response from you. The sound of more people approaching has your walls pulsing around him and he groans, “Fuck, of course you’re okay. You fucking love this huh?”

A small whimper of his name is all you let out, the idea of being caught in the act making the words stick to your throat, instead you push back onto him, urging him to move.

Taehyung takes the hint, a smile gracing his face as he slowly inches back, beginning to rock into you in a steady rhythm, his pace increasing every time you let a tiny moan slip out from between your grit teeth, a small reward for being vocal because he wants you to let anyone listening know it was him making you feel good.

“Answer me baby.”

The squelching sounds of his dick hammering into you fill the air, the lewd moans finally leaving you with no qualms about who could possibly hear, “Fuck, yes I love it.”

He hums in appreciation, his hips fucking into you with more force at your admission, new determination settling inside of him to get you to fall apart, not an ounce of shame remains at getting caught.

Taehyunt can’t lie, he knows he loves it too, loves the way you’re letting him claim you in public, the way your moans echo in the space you’re in, your hand gripping the wall. A squeal leaves your lips, mixed in with a breathless laugh, when he angles his hips just right.

“Such a good girl,” he grunts out, gripping your hips tighter when you squeeze him, “letting me fuck you like this. Want everyone to see that you’re mine huh?”

One of his hands curls around your front, trailing up your body until he reaches your skimpy top. He yanks the fabric of your bikini to the side, his palm squeezing a handful of your tits as he continues to thrust into you, the coolness of his palm contrasting with the warmth of your chest.

“Just yours, only yours.” You slur out, your brain turning into putty when his dick curves just right. The way his hand squeezes and tugs at your exposed nipple has your mind spinning, your body being jostled by his thrusts and in turn making the foot that remains flat on the floor roll back and forth from the force.

“Ah, baby,” he laughs as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipple, hearing a small hum in response from you, “you’re rolling again.”

Taehyung slows his thrusts, rocking in to you more calmly as you grunt in frustration, neither of you took into account how inconvenient fucking in roller skates would be.

“My calves are cramping from holding my feet like this.” You admit with a laugh, feeling Taehyung lean his head forward until it rested in the juncture of your neck, his soft breaths hitting your skin as he chuckled.

“Okay, here bring them down flat.” He guides you, holding you steady as you even out the weight on your skates, a tiny yelp escaping you when you begin to roll down on the uneven alley floor. Taehyung repositions his feet to rest right behind the skates to keep you from sliding further, an experimental thrust of his hips being sent your way to test the hold, “Better?”

When you no longer roll back, just bump forward slightly, you sigh in relief, “Yeah, so much better. C’mon keep fucking me.” You plead, your palm coming down to wrap around the hand currently groping your tits, urging him on and he listens.

“Whatever you want baby.” He mumbles against your skin, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder as he pulls his hips back, rearing forward in a brutal pace that has you nearly shouting out. Your body hunches forward more freely now, no longer afraid of rolling away, instead your hand slides down the rough wall as you moan out his name.

His eyes catch on to the way you’re soaking his cock, leaving it slick and shiny with your arousal each time he pulls out. Taehyung feels like his mind is swimming, the whines of his name and the way you rut your hips back on him is the only anchor keeping him in the present.

He releases your nipple, trailing the hand down your front until it dips past your underwear and reaches your clit. Your reaction is instant, a loud gasp filling the air as your walls clamp down at the stimulation when he begins to rub tight circles on your sensitive nub.

“Oh god Taehyung,” you cry out, placing both hands on the wall and throwing your head back in pleasure, “you always fuck me so good.”

He grunts at your confession, the slight ego boost inflating his chest, the tiny licks of pleasure curling in his gut as he feels his release approaching, “Mm yeah? You’re creaming my cock baby, you enjoying yourself?”

Taehyung marvels at the way your back arches further, focusing on the way your ass bounces with every thrust of his hips and he can’t help himself when he delivers another harsh smack onto one of your cheeks, watching as the skin ripples and smarts at the slap.

“Ah,” you mewl, the sting of his palm sending tingles of pleasure up your spine. Your velvety walls pulse around him, always one to enjoy a little pain with your pleasure, “yes! F-fuck, I’m close Tae.”

He can tell, the way you’re sucking him in further every time he pulls out, desperate to keep him buried to the hilt, “You gonna cum like this? Gonna let everyone hear what a filthy girl you are?”

The taunting tone of his voice has your stomach tightening, the small coil of pleasure winding up inside of you with every roll of his hips, every deliberate flick of his finger against your clit. Your head turns to the side, having a clear view of the opening of the alley way, seeing the occasional person walking by. You never thought you’d enjoy the thrill of this as much as you did but the oncoming release you feel is evidence enough that you were thoroughly enjoying yourself.

“C’mon baby, let everyone hear you.” He groans out, a smile gracing his face when he hears the way you instantly do as he says, lewd moans of his name bouncing off the wall as you edge closer to your release. “Good girl.”

Your walls spasm around his cock at the praise, a few more flicks of his finger paired with his length expertly hitting your g spot every time is all it takes for your orgasm to crash over you. Your head falls forward, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as your mind momentarily blanks, every nerve in your body lighting up as you come undone.

“Oh fuck–“ your moan dies in your throat when your body tenses up, small shocks coursing through you as he continues to roll your clit, enjoying the small twitches your body gives him.

Taehyung gasps when your walls tighten even further around him, his hand retreating from your clit to firmly grasp your hips to continue fucking you through it, seeking his own release now, grunt of pleasure escaping his open mouth and reaching your ears.

“Shit,” the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy is what sends him over, his thrusts getting sloppier until hes surging forward, his cock twitching as he pumps his hot cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim with a sigh of your name.

Your forehead rests against the cold wall as you try to catch your breath, the pounding of your heart can be felt in your ears as you come down. The breathy moans of Taehyung get closer as he tucks his chin over your shoulder, still buried deep inside of you.

“That was...so fucking hot.” He confesses, a wide smile spreading across his face when he feels your body vibrate with laughter.Carefully, he slides out of you, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact.

When Taehyung pulls away and slips his softening length back into his shorts, his eyes stay glued to the way his cum coats your folds, slowly dripping out of you. That was totally unacceptable so he gathers some of it onto his fingers and stuffs it back inside you before he readjusts your underwear to fully cover you, sliding your shorts back up your legs and helping you spin back around, readjusting your top with a grin.

“My legs feel like jello.” You admit when your balance falters, Taehyung having to grip your hips tighter to keep you from toppling over onto the gross floor.

“What can I say, my dicks just that good.”

He dodges the smack he knows is coming, a deep laughing filling the air as he ducks away from you, laughing louder when your horrible aim makes you wobble around.

“Tae!” You whine, an adorable pout on your face when he only laughs some more. Your arms cross over your chest as you stare at him with a slight scowl, “Help me.”

The smile on his face softens as he looks down at you, his hands trailing along your arms to unfold them and gently clasp his fingers around yours. “Of course I’ll help you baby.”

That satisfies you, standing up straighter now that he had a hold of you, “You think we can make it to the car without either of us face planting it?”

His eyes narrow in thought, the odds really weren’t in either of your favor but an idea pops into his mind, the curl of his lips indicating just how evil he was but you miss it, too focused on not catching your wheel on a pebble. Your legs were once again reminiscent of bambi and as much as he acted like he was unaffected, blowing his load in you had made his own legs feel boneless too.

“I mean, if we fall at least we fall together?”

Right, that seemed to be the best outcome but it was fine by you and way better than the two of you staying in this dingy alley way for much longer.

He leads you out of the alley, bending forward to pick up his discarded board before exiting the hiding spot and reentering the real world. It feels like you hadn’t seen the sunlight in ages, your eyesight spotting for a second before you adjusted to the brightness of your surroundings.

Taehyung uses that to his advantage, placing his board back on the floor as he stares at you, not yet noticing that he had let your hand go because the sun was absolutely blinding.

“I’ll race you to the car.” He shouts out, not giving you a moment to respond or argue about it before he hops onto his board and takes off, his foot pushing off the floor in a haste to win.

Your mouth drops open when you see him bolt, your brows furrowing tightly on your forehead, in disbelief that he had abandoned you after claiming he’d help you, “Asshole!” You shout after him, missing the way he smiles when the words reach his ears. With that comes the scraping of your own wheels as you take off after him, a small grimace on your face when you feel the way your ruined underwear sticks to your skin.

Soon enough you’re speeding right past him, your hair flowing behind you and the muscles on your legs flexing from the force of your pushes. Taehyung lets out another loud laugh, a change of position from earlier, this time you had fallen into his trap and everything was going according to plan. With you now a few feet ahead of him Taehyung can freely ogle at your body without a care in the world.

Checkmate.

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