#I’ve cracked so much and so often under stress but it’s also been something that’s holding me together yknow?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaketsparrow · 2 months

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SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)

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*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.”

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.

It was empty.

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.

“Please, call me Jacob.”

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.

“Hey.” He prods.

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement

You need to focus.

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.

“What…? What problem?”

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He inquires.

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.

“Words.” He barked.

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

#jake kiszka #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #jake kiskza x reader #jtk x reader #jake gvf #professor fic #gvf #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka angst #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut

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forevamark · 1 year

Text

preview! time lapse (l.mk)

remember when i said ‘would be posted tomorrow.’..?

... and that was months ago? well i lied. LOL life has been rough lately. but here’s the preview of what i’ve been working on very very slowly.

genuinely, trying to post by next week i swear this time yall hehe

Pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

Tags: pre idol debut to idol au, christmas and new years time line, slice of life moments, college student reader, substantial plot leading to smut, very dialogue heavy, angsty moments, slow burn, relationship struggle, lovers to exes to lovers

Intended for 18+ readers, minors do not interact.

Preview Word Count : 2k+

Projected Word Count: 10k+

Summary: Mark has always had the dream of becoming a big music star, meanwhile your aspirations lied with academics and coexisting with Mark. Mark struggles with telling reader that he will be leaving for Korea to pursue his music career very soon, in fear of losing what they have.

warnings are under the tab.

Warnings: cursing/swearing, teasing, oral male receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), breeding kink, possessive domination, spanking, slight choking, praise

not really edited- so sorry.

“What do you think about this?” Mark asked as he sat above you strumming on his guitar. You were sat on the floor between his legs focused on your eight page paper.

“In a sec,” you reply while wrapping up the sentence you were on.

“Take a break…” Mark whined trying to pry the laptop from your speedy fingers.

“Mark, it’s due in two days. I will listen in a sec.”

“Mhmm.” He sulked, leaning back into the sofa continuing his chord progression.

Days like this were stressful- due to the plethora of assignments that piled on- but soothing in a way. Your schedules never aligned this often, but Mark was so entirely enamored with you he’d do anything to spend his free time just being with you.

“I can’t believe it’s been three hours and I only have my thesis done,” you sighed while resting your head on his knee.

“You got this,” he replies while running a hand soothingly through your hair while the other wrote something down on the notepad next to him, “I believe in you.”

“Do you need anything to help you focus? Am I being too loud?” he asks while going to the kitchen and lighting your favorite candle, “I can make you a snack?”

“Do you mind getting me some fruit? I feel like I need some brain food.” You asked while cracking your knuckles and continuing to type away.

Mark nods and walks back over, handing you a cut persimmon with the skin peeled off. He always knew what you needed before even saying it out loud.

Humming in appreciation you immediately start chewing on the sliced fruit.

Eyeing him from the corner you see him looking out of your apartment window. It was raining hard outside, Mark’s favorite.

“Anything else you need to work on?” you ask. He shrugs his shoulders.

“Not much else, I want your opinion on what I have then I’ll see what I can add from there. Don’t worry though,” he turns to look at you with a small smile, “I can wait.”

Mark has always been supportive of your dreams and aspirations. It was a shock when he told you he wouldn’t be joining you at university, but rather pursuing music instead. Although an adjustment, you supported him and he rooted for you. It seemed to be working out, he passed the first two rounds of auditions for a big music company and it looked like things were finally looking up for him.

Some days you wouldn’t see him at all, and some days he picked you up from class and would stay glued to your side. He claims that he ‘soaked up inspiration from you’ hence the constant quality time and skinship. He knew you were working hard, pursuing a higher education was so important to you and your family, and he wanted to be present every step of the way.

Unbeknownst to you, Mark also had a dark cloud overlooking him just like the city in front of him. He hasn’t yet told you that he passed the third and final round of auditions for his company and would be slated to move to Korea before the end of the year to begin his training. He couldn’t bear to break the news to you, not yet. Not when you were so close to finishing one of your hardest semesters yet.

“I think I can pull you away from that screen now y/n,” he says while tugging you away from the black and white screen.

“Hey! I’m not finished yet! I thought you said you could wait” you pouted trying to get loose.

“You’ve been working non stop, you aren’t being as productive anymore.” He chuckles while slotting you to the seat across from him.

“Hi.” he smiles at you.

“Hi.” you respond back.

There’s a moment of silence shared between you two. The only sound being the soft pitter patter from outside hitting the patio. Mark stares at you lovingly, you can tell something is wrong but you can’t find the words to ask him just yet, too entranced by the current hold he has on you.

“So, the song, yeah?” you finally whisper aloud.

“Hold on,” he replies, licking his lips and searching every inch of your face, memorizing this very moment to inspire him for what he’s about to play.

“What’s the hold up? Don’t get stage fright in front of me now Lee,” you lightly say while giggling.

“I, I just want to make you proud, okay?” he finally says with sad eyes.

“You always will, Mark.”

Guilt washed over Mark. Things were great, perfect even. But he just had to aspire for more. He should be satisfied with what he has now, he’s close to home, a stable music career here in Canada, and most importantly, you. But just like you, he had the moon but he wanted every damn star in the galaxy. He didn’t want change, but nothing could satiate the hunger for something more. He was leaving, because he knew that this life, now, isn’t enough.

“Okay.” he takes a moment to gather himself, taking in some deep breaks and shaking his nerves out through his hands.

“Let’s hear it!” you shuffle sitting up straight in your chair.

Mark lets out one final breath before starting a low strum on his guitar. Flashes of memories over the course of your relationship flashes before his eyes. Your first snow day in Canada when you couldn’t get the ice off of your windshield, to the countless nights of watching reruns of Glee in your small shared apartment.

He hits the chorus for the first time, opening his eyes to look around the room, unable to look at you just yet. Pictures of you two littered the walls, filled with your smiling and laughing faces.

Mark mumbles small noises of nonsense to fill in the parts he doesn’t know what to put in between, sometimes trying out some lyrics at the top of his head. He shakes his head and chuckles when words don’t rhyme or quite fit, in return you share a smile enjoying him delving into his craft.

It’s something about the way that Mark is able to lose himself completely, in his own little world and for brief moments you’re able to enter his mind, envisioning every note in a flow of synesthesia. He’s able to create color and landscape through sound, and what’s crazier is that he doesn’t even realize the extent of his art.

“And… I guess that’s it. What’d you think?” He asks as he lets out a final strum. The warmness of his music is still palpable in the room, despite the cold and dark weather that demands to be let inside.

You take another moment staring at the man in front of you. Mark bit his fingers in anticipation. His large white tee hung loosely on his shoulders, his ripped jeans bounced waiting for your feedback.

Everything is perfect.

Nothing can take this moment away from you two.

No words could exactly encapsulate how you felt so you decide to throw your arm around him.

Mark lets out a sigh of relief as he sets his guitar to the side, “so I guess you liked it?” then reciprocated by pulling you into his lap.

“I loved it, Mark. I can’t wait to hear it all together, I really liked that chord progression, I can definitely hear it on the radio one day,” you mutter into his shirt.

The pitter patter of rain outside was accompanied by the soft whimpers from the man whose chin sat upon your head.

“I’m always going to be here for you y/n,” he jaggedly says.

You two sat in each other's embrace for what seemed like eternity.

“Let me show you something,” he says, breaking the silence and adjusting your position to where your back was flush against him.

Mark sat the guitar in your hands, “Let’s start from the top, yeah?”

That night Mark taught you the song on his guitar, sometimes you filled in lyrics that felt right.

“They know we got the chemistry…” Mark sings.

“Love how your body feels on me, when you get back let me get that…” you finish with a small laugh.

“Yo!” he jumps up, lifting your laughing frame into the air, “That’s a bar!”

“Are you jealous that I may be a better rapper than you?” you giggle back.

“You’re coming for my career, babygirl!”

—

Six more hours.

Six more hours until this paper is due, and you’re almost done with this last page.

Six more hours until the hell that was this semester is finally done.

Six more hours until you can crawl into bed with Mark and take a long deserved nap.

“Almost there baby,” Mark says while massaging your shoulders.

“I got this,” you say while typing furiously.

“Hell yeah you do.”

Your train of thought was interrupted by Mark’s ringtone going off from behind you.

“I’ll be right back, when I come back you better have this paragraph done!”

Sending him a stiff salute you continued to trudge on as he stepped into your bedroom and closed the door.

“Mark! What’s going on my man! Happy holidays!” his new manager cheered into the phone.

“It’s going well, just spending some time with family and friends while I can,” he replies while laying down on your bed and grabbing a stuffed My Melody to hold against him.

“Well, I’m glad you have been enjoying your last moments of freedom while you can. Speaking of which, I do have an early Christmas present for you!”

“Awesome! What is it?”

“Well, the company wants you to start as soon as possible. I played them your audition and they think you can finish your training in less than a year!”

“That’s amazing!” Mark shoots up and runs his hands through his hair, “when do I fly out? Next year I hope?”

“Mark, I did say Christmas present didn’t I? You’ll leave the day after the 25th. I bought you some more time to spend with your family, but you’ll be spending the new year here, in Korea!”

Mark felt his heart drop. That was in two weeks.

Two weeks to eat all the food he can.

Two weeks to brush up on dancing.

Two weeks to say goodbye to his family.

Two weeks to erase all traces from his friend groups’ antics.

Two weeks till he has to leave you.

“Uh… two weeks… wow that’s really soon.”

“Absolutely! Now rest up Mark, this year is going to be the craziest experience of your life!”

His manager kept going on about the potential future he had coming for him. But Mark couldn’t seem to focus on all the new found information. Slowly feeling the aroma of you envelope him fully, being surrounded by you everywhere, it was suffocating.

How is he going to tell you?

“I finished it!” he heard your jumps of triumph in the distance, echoing all the way to the pits of his empty stomach, “I’m finally done with this God awful semester! One more year till graduation!”

You burst through the door interrupting Mark’s pensive state, wrapping yourself into him.

“You okay babe?” you realize pulling away slowly, eyeing his sweating frame, “you look a bit sick, want me to make you some ramen?”

“Oh no I’m fine, just fine really,” he shallowly laughs pulling himself away from you and moving to turn on the fan, “just got a little warm is all.”

“Who called?” you asked before flopping on the bed and sighing, “was it your manager? Did you get the job?”

“Uh yeah…” he shuffled, not meeting your eyes, “It was my manager, he had some good news…”

“Oh my God, did you pass?” you pounced on him awaiting the news.

“Uh… yeah, I did.” he lied.

“Markie!” you showered him in kisses and tight squeezes, your love for him unfaltering, “When do you leave?”

“Not for another year,” he smiled, not looking at you.

“Hopefully you’ll still be here for my graduation…” you sighed, “but nonetheless I’m glad I get to keep you to myself for a bit longer.

---

anddd that’s it for now! see yall in a week! any and all comments appreciated, and as always, tag list is open!

xoxo, eva <3

#forevaeva updates #forevamarkupdates #forevamark full fic #marksmut #mark lee smut #nct mark lee #nct mark smut #mark lee fanfic #nct mark lee fanfiction #mark lee fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct fic #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct au #nct aus

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i-never-forgot · 1 month

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I wanted to ask for curiosity sake BUT!!! What does Lu wear/look like when he’s evolved into a fully fledged Lucario? We’ve seen Eliana but I don’t think we’ve seen him yet, and I’m SUPER interested :O

I’m not great at drawing Pokes besides Eevee (especially from memory) so the one other time I’ve drawn a Lucario recently I decided…not to post it🥲

But! I don’t give Lu enough attention (plus I’ve been meaning to post some more refined sketches of this duo), so…here you go!😊

Team Relic!

I’ve previously shied away from giving them any specific identifying features because I am frankly terrified of unique character design (I’ve never been particularly good at it tbh…I always draw a blank on what I could include that wouldn’t be terribly cliche…all my OCs weep bc of this lol), but I decided to try my hand at it.

Eliana as an Eevee is taller than average, perhaps the greatest indicator of her physical age despite being a first form Pokémon (still tiny tho). Her paws are a darker shade of brown, similar to the tone in the inside of her ears, and instead of having a somewhat coarse, stiff, straight fur like most Eevee, hers is smoother, silkier, and almost curly (to reflect the texture of her hair as a human more closely). Her fur is also a tad longer, so some of these errant cowlicks are visible. She wears the knot of her scarf in the front sometimes because she does (thankfully) have enough dexterity to tie it on her own, but it takes her a while. Most of the time Lu does it for her.

[Lu develops a habit of either smoothing down said curls with his paws or introducing her to the concept of mutual grooming as a response to either of their occasional insomniac episodes or when one of them is anxious, but only in the privacy of their room. Otherwise, he keeps a paw between her shoulder blades under her ruff and strokes the fur under his pads as a self-soothing tactic, such as when running into Team Skull.]

As a Leafeon she grows extra lithe and lanky, so she has a bit of fawn clumsiness at first because she’d gotten so used to her shorter legs. Her nose scar from Grovyle is fully healed by this point, so it’s faded a bit, but she hadn’t been able to see the dead patch of skin where Dusknoir’s Ice Punch frostbit the flesh around her throat and rendered it hairless before, so she wears something over it almost all the time bc she hates the reminder.

[Later on she continues to wear it bc it distresses Dusknoir to see it a whole lot—it’s hard to coax him back from his guilty spirals, so she only goes “naked” when her things need to be washed after exploring.]

[She doesn’t even realize she has to allow herself time to photosynthesize a certain amount of time per day so the first week she couldn’t figure out why she felt so awful until Sunflora pointed out that her ears and tail looked a bit wilted. Sun baths and afternoon naps become a main stay after that point, although Lu does have to occasionally remind her when she starts to feel down without realizing she’d forgotten to do so.]

[She feels a little naked without her ruff because she’d grown the habit of tucking her chin/mouth into it when stressed out, so when she swaps her Guild scarf for a Virid Collar, she’s grateful to have the extra fabric to nuzzle into when she’s overwhelmed.]

[She can also contort into the oddest shapes to sleep. Lu can’t understand it, but it’s because she and Treecko would often have to wedge themselves into crevices and cracks to rest.]

Lu is pretty much your run-of-the-mill Riolu, although he’s a little slimmer and taller with a bit of a longer narrower snout.

However, when he evolves into Lucario, he fleshes out and gets a bit bulkier after all the exploring they’ve done. His chest spike is broken in an accident, and he develops early gray hair along his muzzle (losing your best friend prematurely to sudden vaporization will certainly affect your stress toleration in the long run huh).

[His fur thickens up in the winter and he’s the best to snuggle with, but given the fact that Treasure Town is coastal it rarely actually gets cold enough to last the whole night without having to peel yourself away for a chance to breathe.]

Let me know if there are any other details or questions you wonder about :)

#fisara’s answers #ao3: in the morning light #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky #my art #eevee/eliana #riolu/lu #lucario/lu #leafeon/eliana

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yr-obedt-cicero · 1 year

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Hello! To start, I really enjoy your blog, and I just want you to keep up the good work! Your takes on things are really fascinating to hear and I hope you continue to do as you’re doing! :))))

Finally, I have a little speculation, though there isn’t much of a basis: is it possible that perhaps Phillip had been experiencing some kind of depression (not in the strictest sense, but this is as close a term as I could think of) shortly before his death?

Again, there isn’t much basis for this and is more of just a shower thought— but his gifted kid burnout combined with his rigorous schedule and the expectations put upon him by his father seems like something that could definitely lead to some less than stellar mental health. Of course his reckless behavior could just be his natural demeanor, but I’ve noticed that openly looking for conflict and potentially harmful situations is often something experienced by people experiencing depression or deep stress.

Again, this is merely speculation and has no real backup— I wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter. Again, keep up the excellent work!! ^^

Thank you!

Unfortunately, there isn't enough information on Philip to actually confirm or deny this. But I do think that it is a considerable possibility. Something to note that aligns with this idea, is that Philip's rebellious behavior seems to have really only sparked during his teen-to-young-adult years. Perhaps we just don't have enough accounts of Philip as a child, but it truly seems as though he had reached a breaking point of some kind. Wether it was; stress, gifted kid burnout, or just growing up his whole life being groomed into the perfect heir and he got fed up with it — or maybe some of his friends were bad influences? Once again, we'll never know for sure. But as you said, it very well could have been because of degrading mental health. Considering the amount of expectations and pressure that were put on Philip, I wouldn't be surprised if it had caused him insecurity, or depressive thoughts. Especially if rebelling was his way-out from all the stress. But while dwelling on this subject, I came to two sort of likely possibilities;

For one, let's remember certain mental disorders tend to run in families, and some research claims having a close relative with a mental disorder could mean you are at a higher risk. But then again, if a relative has a mental disorder, it does not necessarily mean you will develop one — many other factors also play a role in such. So, reminder to one of Philip's closest family members, his own father, who was likely bipolar. Philip very well could have inherited it from Hamilton, or even picked it up because he was quite close with Hamilton. Hamilton, himself, was known to crack under pressure and become wildly rash or reckless. For example; Hamilton nearly challenged the whole Republican party to a duel in a fit of rage after he was heckled and mocked publicly. Or even just his poor impulsivity, like writing a whole disparaging pamphlet in regards to John Adams. All of which took place in - or after - Hamilton's 40's, where he was under immense stress due to politics. So, for all we know; Philip could have likely learned this, or inherited it, and thus lashed out at Eacker because of the academic pressure or expectations he faced. Which is very likely considering the many traits and similarities between Philip and Hamilton.

The other possibility; it should be noted Philip had a bad reputation with alcohol. There is the whole case of him getting in debt to a tavern while on a trip, but also it is reported that both Price and Philip were likely drunk before confronting Eacker. One could theorize that Philip likely turned to alcohol - not just to goof off with his friends and other kids his age - but also to find some sort of comfort in the pressure he faced. There aren't any real indications that Philip was using alcohol as a coping mechanism specially, but once again, one can theorize. So, if Philip was struggling with some sort of depression, this is likely one way to try and decipher it.

Honestly, Philip had a lot on his plate with being the eldest, all his academic pressure, not to mention considering how the Reynolds Pamphlet or affair could have damaged the family — it is quite likely this all took a toll on Philip's mental well-being. And it's not like the 18th century was the admirable time period for mental health awareness. So, even if Philip was dealing with this all, it likely wouldn't have been accounted for, or truly cared for as it should have been. To be quite frank, I also heavily doubt Angelica was the only one of the kids who had poor mental stability.

#tw: mental illness #tw: mental health #amrev #american history #philip hamilton #alexander hamilton #historical alexander hamilton #history #hamilchildren #hamilton family #hamilton kids #hamilkids #hamilton children #queries #sincerely anonymous #Cicero's history lessons

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arsonistsam · 2 years

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I have at least one strange memorable dream per night often they’re anxiety dreams. Here’s another one I had a few days ago under the cut:

I had a dream where my dad came back to life. Wasnt that he had never been dead he came back. I didn’t see the coming back part. He was just there and we were driving in the car. He was driving. And I was reading. Something about a supernatural cake where the four main characters were turned into mini cakes in the shape of what are those toys. Pop-ups? Anyway I was in the car with my dad and we were talking about how crazy cars were. I was saying how much I missed him. How there was nothing at the house for him. He was driving quickly but not over the speed limit. But he has his phone in his hand and was swiping through something, metaphorically I was in the backseat and couldn’t read it cause it was out of focus. We pulled up to the house that didn’t look like my house and it was dark outside. I told my dad “If this is a dream I’m glad I got to be with you again.” I had said this multiple times before in the dream. How happy i was to have one last chance to see him. He kept telling me not to talk like that because he was back for good. When he were parked on the wet street. I turned to my dad and I said “there’s nothing in there. No clothes. No food. No- something else. You know aunt Rebecca’s claiming that she always wanted (his dresser)- it doesn’t matter now”. When we got out of the car I said to my dad “this doesn’t look like the house.” I started to get the idea more and more that this wasn’t happening. On the inside though it was clearly my house. We go into the house and suddenly my dad has 3 dogs. They’re dirtying up the floor. Cause it was raining outside. I tell him. “We can’t have 3 dogs. We’re turning into Will Graham.” When I opened the door for some reason more dogs came in and a chicken. My dad was in the dining room but he was also in his room and couldn’t see that I was upset. I opened the door again to let the extra dogs out. One of my dd’s dogs also left but the chicken stayed. It was peaceful for a second. One of the dogs had been had been the Dalmatian but was now a human girl. Pale with long dark hair and black clothes. She fell to the ground and started convulsing on the floor. I was scared she was going to get me. Like a zombie virus. then I thought. This wouldn’t happen. This is a dream which means I can do anything I want. I tried to make her stop. I couldn’t. I tried to break my own finger and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I ran, flailing into the dining room and something said “he’s kermiting” which was supposed to be a better version of a line I wrote once (in the dream canon) “X character was at Y character like Kermit.” (Future Sascha it was definitely Dean and Cas and this cracks me up) There was another “at” in there somewhere near the end. Then my alarm sounded. I hope that’s not the last time I see my dad. But I think my body or my brain or my soul, whatever makes the dreams, was so stressed when we thought I was going to die yesterday that it was like “well here’s a bon voyage gift.” I’ve dreamed of my dad being alive before but I feel like he’s always out of reach. In the picture but I can’t see him at the moment. This dream was about my love for him but also all the things he did that frustrated me. I was under the belief that he was not back for good and that helped me discover the fact that I was in a dream. At least my house still looks like my house. And we don’t usually have to park on the street. We have a driveway. I can’t lucid dream- or at least I can’t control the world around me

#obviously that wasn’t the last time I dreamt about my dad au dream about him most days

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trevinokofoed94 · 2 years

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dikanamai · 2 years

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Ok, I need to watch Encanto 2957950281 times more to absorb every bit of it, but in the meantime here's a list with some little details I loved:

—That habit Mirabel has of wiping her hands before touching a doorknob. We see little Mirabel do it before her magic door, excited about the upcoming gift; but 10 years later she keeps doing it, as if she had developed a subtle anxiety about closed doors. Or perhaps she just sweats a lot, lol; Bruno's "you're very sweaty" seems to back up that. It was something so mundane that I loved it.

—The GLASSES. As a short-sighted woman who's been wearing glasses for more than 25 years, I really really really appreciated Mirabel's glasses and all the unconscious movements associated to them. Every time she had to readjusted her glasses because they fell or slipped over her nose, I was like 8D (that scene in Bruno's room with her glasses full of sand, omg)

—Actually, Mirabel herself is just amazing. I was afraid they could give us the dorky-girl-with-glasses archetype, but thank God they didn't. She's unique and so tree-dimensional: her expressions, her body language, her energy, her optimistic but not childish behavior. The latter is very important, tbh, because optimistic female characters are often infantilized and portrayed as too innocent and easy to fool. Mirabel's actually pretty mature (emotionally mature, at least), and brave and strong and soft and loving, and she seems just real, not fitting any defining archetype/trope that constrains her personality. How awesome is that, folks.

—Mirabel and Antonio’s scene under the bed, it’s probably one of the sweetest things I’ve seen in a Disney movie between relatives T_T I can't believe how much love they share, it made me feel at home all the time.

—Everything about the triplets, asjflgljshaklaldk, from Julieta's "my brother lost himself in this family" (no idea what does she say in the English version, I watched the movie in Spanish) to Pepa's rain cloud anytime someone mentions her brother. These three are so great, I wish they had had more screentime together.

—The fact that Pepa's actually pretty done with her mother's pressure! *—* All those "¡Ya lo sé, mamá!", "¡Ya lo estoy intentando!", "¡Alégrate de que no sea un huracán!" every time that Alma remarks she 'has a cloud' were wonderful. It adds an extra layer to Pepa's character, but it also felt so realistic, because it's not like if everyone in the house were following Alma mindlessly without a word. Her daughters are grown up women too, and they confront her when necessary, even if they keep respecting her as the head of the family. Another portrayal of the dynamics between the family's elders that I really appreciated.

—The fact that Julieta spoke out to her mother to be gentler with Mirabel, and how clear she was later telling Alma that Mirabel's desperation was her fault. The way Julieta protects and loves her daughter means a lot, because she clearly adores her, but she also escapes the stereotype of cheesy loving mamá without personality which only purpose is to stand there and support the main character in everything like some sort of dummy. Perhaps Julieta thought Mirabel was imagining things when she saw Casita's cracks during Antonio's fiesta, but she didn't gaslight her daughter about it, she was genuinely worried about her stressing herself out to that point, because Julieta knows better than anyone what such stress can do to a person (due to her brother and her sister), and understands the value of taking a break.

—Actually, one of my absolute favorite things of the movie was this network of relationships. We're used to see how everything usually focuses on the main character: we see how everyone interacts with the protagonist, what they mean to the protagonist, all the paths seem to lead to the protagonist. But here there're many stories running on the background: the relationship of Pepa, Julieta and Bruno with their mother and between them, the husbands/brothers-in-law supporting their wives and children, the missing abuelo and the abuela's trauma, Dolores' secret love, Isa and Luisa's worries, Bruno's guilt… Every one of them has their own story, and the tapestry they create is just great. I've always missed this kind of thing in Disney movies and I'm so happy they've finally given it to us.

—Felix and Agustín are the best husbands/fathers ever, my God. I saw someone commenting Felix and Pepa have Gómez/Morticia vibes and THAT'S SO TRUE, lol. Also, the amount of casual kisses or affectionate touches the couples shared made me smile so much, it's wonderful being able to find some healthy, functional marriages in their fifties being in love and acting like a team.

—THAT MOMENT when Mirabel goes to check the candle and hears Alma praying to Pedro, alsjfkgldjajtl, omfg, that hit hard, because my abuelas ALWAYS DID THE SAME THING. One of them widowed some years before our Civil War, when she was on her thirties with 4 children to raise, and Alma reminded me of her so much I'm getting emotional again right now writing about it T_______T

—How well Luisa portrays not just the middle-child complex, but also the pressure that society imposes on women to be strong, to handle every chore and every burden, to never take a break, to not show weakness, to be always available for other's needs. Madre mía, they did something great with Luisa's character and I have a lot to say about it. Also, that what she needs to learn is that she deserves rest, time to take care of herself, to be more than a mula de carga, and that crying is ok if you need it. What a beautiful moment when, during "All of you", she says "yeah, but sometimes I cry" and Isa and Mirabel just go "ME TOO :D" and they hug, like… yeah, we're a mess, but we can be a mess together, and that's fucKING WONDERFUL.

—The same goes for Isa, because she represents so well both the eldest child complex and the stereotype of perfection society imposes on women. I love how all her little gestures of annoyance towards Mirabel showed how much effort she was putting on keeping her façade in place. She played the role of perfect nieta for Alma to make her proud, and it's absolutely realistic that her little sister without any responsibilities and her carefree attitude were getting on her nerves. From Isa's point of view, Mirabel has nothing to prove to anyone, because nobody expects great things of her, while she has to carry all the weight of being not just the eldest sister, but the eldest nieta. I'm the youngest in my family, so Mirabel's feeling of isolation, of never being enough, of being left behind, is more relatable to me. But I know the struggles eldest children have to face too, and the tension between these two is one of my favorite parts of Mirabel's journey. They reminded me a lot of some of my best friends' relationships with their sisters, and their reconciliation left me very emotional too.

—All the little tics and rituals of Bruno, lol. And his design, his behavior, his love for his family, EVERYTHING ABOUT BRUNO. The idea of Dolores hearing him in the walls all those years (and communicating with him somehow) lives rent free in my heart. But I especially love that moment when Alma cut off his speech with a hug and that loving "Brunito" before kissing him softly, it made my fucking day. That, and the triplets' reunion, THAT GROUP HUG, HELL YES, I ASKED THIS MOVIE JUST ONE THING AND IT GAVE IT TO ME, HOW COULDN'T I LOVE IT.

—THE CLIMAX with that amazing argument between Alma and Mirabel, omfg, I was on tears the whole scene. I loved how afraid of confronting the abuela Isa and Luisa were, bending like puppies, and I thought it was necessary they reacted that way, because then Mirabel's speech could stand out. Mirabel is the family hero in that moment, the only one brave enough to yell to Alma all the truths she needs to hear and tell her to stop that madness. And I also love Alma's outburst, spitting out all that shit that was eating her from inside (the problems began with you, Bruno left because of you, Bruno left because he didn't care about us, I'm losing all of them because everything is going to hell because of you). Fuck, I love Alma so much, because she's a broken woman with so so soooo much fear that it blinds her, and she's losing what she cares the most about because she's unable to handle it any longer. After 50 years forced to be the strong matriarch everyone relies on, she finally reaches her limit, faces something she doesn't know how to manage, and when she blows up, so does Casita. She's imperfect, she was wrong, she screwed things up, and the movie LET HER BE THAT WAY without vilifying her, because she's not a villain, she's just a fallible human. That's the point: women are people and they have the right to be something more than the pure, sweet lil princess or the evil witch. I know it's not perfect, I know they could've done better, but really, this must be one of the best examples of complex female characters in Disney, if not The Best.

—THE WHOLE SCENE OF DOS ORUGUITAS, but especially those last kisses Pedro gave to his babies and his wife, just before facing their attackers, HOLY SHIT T__T AND ALMA'S BREAKDOWN SEING HIM DIE *cries an ocean*

—And finally the very best thing of the whole movie: Alma acknowledging Mirabel's pain and apologizing, AND Mirabel acknowledging Alma's suffering/trauma and showing her explicit understanding. THIS is the heart of Encanto and I can't be more grateful for it. Coco failed spectacularly achieving this, because Miguel never acknowledged explicitly Imelda's grief. The most sympathetic thing he said to her great-great-grandma was "you don't have to forgive him if you don't want to", and so a lot of people just saw in Imelda an overdramatic bitch full of senseless hate. That pissed me off, like if being abandoned by your husband at 20something with a 4 years old baby to raise right after a fucking war wasn't bad enough to cause her her own trauma (but, well, what can I say, Pixar uses to be pretty hostile towards its female characters and women in general). I was expecting a lot more of Encanto, and the movie gave me just what I wanted, SO THANK YOU SO MUCH. The ¿sorority? (what's the fucking term for "sororidad" in English?) between the women in this movie is so outstanding I wanna scream.

And that leads me to the last point: I LOVED that Mirabel's adventure wasn't an individual search of some kind of great achievement for herself nor learning how to be strong alone. I LOVED Encanto was about a girl talking and bonding with her family, listening to them, making them listening to her, walking together the path of understanding and forgiveness and working together to rebuilt their relationship. The more I think about it, the more I feel like crying again, because holy shit… it's beautiful af.

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opalesense · 3 years

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Could I possibly request something? 🥺❤️

Recently I’ve had a lot of homework stacking and stacking. I had two really big papers due two days in a row and I’m in the middle of all-nighter part 2 T_T;;;

I highkey feel like I’m going to pass out any minute- and hypothetically, if I did— how would Diluc/Childe/Scaramouche/whoever else you want to write for react to seeing their s/o asleep/passed out on the floor? Like. It can be in their office or in the middle of the hallway or something lol. Up to you (:

Either way— I appreciate all your amazing work! Please keep it up🥺❤️

the rest you deserve

diluc, childe, scaramouche & gn!reader

1.1k words • ~7 min. read

warnings: none!

notes: i relate to this request so much... my sleep schedule has been all over the place and i often find myself falling asleep at ungodly hours LOLL anyway make sure to get some rest and take frequent breaks if you can – you deserve it! also i’ve never written for scaramouche before so... i apologize if he’s out of character somewhat ^^”

diluc

when diluc spots you passed out in the middle of the hallway of his manor, all the paperwork you were carrying carelessly scattered over the floor, he shows immediate concern and rushes to your side, checking to see if you’re okay. after all, it’s not everyday he casually finds you lying in the middle of the floor, slumped over and seemingly lifeless...

even after seeing signs of you breathing alive and well, the initial panic doesn’t go away. he gently lifts your body into his lap to put you in a more comfortable position and tries to wake you up, just to make sure you’re really okay.

“wh... what happened...?” your eyes refuse to open, the drowsiness weighing your actions down. you could just barely see the light of the hallway as well as diluc’s long, red hair draping onto your shoulders.

after diluc explained how he found you and listening to your clarification of how tired you’ve been, he sighed with relief, “you really scared me for a moment, laying on the floor like that. let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

“no... i still have so much work to do,” you recalled the paperwork you had been carrying to your office beforehand. but diluc waved his hand in protest before using it to run his fingers along your scalp, shushing you gently.

“let me take care of it. what matters is that you get the rest you deserve,” he reassured you.

you drifted back to sleep not long after hearing that, completely engulfed in the feeling of his fingers massaging your tired head. as he slowly lifted you into his arms and carried you into bed, tucking you in with caution to avoid awaking you, the thought of your overwhelming exhaustion lingered in his mind. he didn’t want to see you like that again, or let you feel like that again – not under his watch.

so he went back into the hallway, picked up the papers, and went straight to work.

childe

childe had been cooking dinner for the two of you while you sat at the table working on some assignments and listening to him ramble about his week. being so busy with work almost all the time, he was so happy to finally spend an evening with you at home and even happier to share some of his homemade snezhnayan delicacies with you.

but in the middle of one of his stories, he suddenly heard a thump behind him. he didn’t think much of it at first, but then got concerned when he heard nothing from you for a moment, no reaction or anything. he stopped what he was doing to turn around and see you slumped over your work, eyes shut closed and arms limp over the table.

he quickly rushed to your side and started to shake you awake in slight panic. “[Y/N]? are you okay? can you hear me?”

“...huh? what?” your eyes immediately fluttered open and met his own blue gaze. he exhaled in relief and stood up straight, pretending to wipe the sweat off his brow. “phew! i thought you died on me for a second!”

he leaned down once again, never lifting his hand off your shoulder in an effort to keep your body supported. he curiously asked about what caused you to fall unconscious like that and after listening to you explain why you’ve been so exhausted, he nodded slowly in understanding.

“we should get you to bed then,” he stood up to lift you over his shoulders. you tried to refuse, but your drowsiness began to kick in once your weight was lifted, your body instinctually telling you it was time to relax.

“every good warrior deserves rest to maintain their strength!” he reassured you. “besides, when you wake up, you’ll have a delicious snezhnayan meal ready for you in bed!”

“childe, that really isn’t necessary, i have so much to do!” you whined as he plopped you onto the bed and started to tuck you in. “i need to get back up, there’s simply no time–“

“i won’t let you lift a finger today, [Y/N],” he said in a more gentler, brotherly tone as he sat next to you. “just relax and let me take care of everything, okay?”

scaramouche

scaramouche had been letting you work in his office while he was also at his desk, writing away at several confidential files. despite harbingers spending plenty of time out in the field, sometimes they had to take care of boring paperwork just like everyone else.

the two of you worked in silence for awhile, too focused to bother each other. but as the day went on, you slowly found yourself being consumed by exhaustion, the silence making things worse and causing you to drift off to sleep. scaramouche didn’t notice for a while, his mind buried into his own work, until he heard your body slump to the floor with a thud.

he stared at you for a moment in confusion before slowly standing up and walking towards you. “this better not be a prank, [Y/N]. i don’t have time for pranks,” he scowled while letting electricity audibly charge up in his hands.

but when he realized you weren’t responding to his warning, his face grew concerned. he halted his annoyance and kneeled down to your limp body, deciding to gently poke you awake with jolts of electricity.

you suddenly yelped in shock when he finally woke you up, quickly propping yourself up and looking at your surroundings in panic. “wh-what’s going on?!”

“oh, so you really were asleep?” he let his realization sink in as well as slight guilt for waking you up so suddenly. after apologizing and hearing you ramble ablut how stressed and exhausted you were, he put his hand up to pause your thoughts.

“stop. i get it. just... go back to sleep,” he pointed at the couch sitting at the opposite side of his office, “i’ll wake you up when it’s time to go home.”

“but what about my work–“

“sleep,” he said once more, a bit more sternly this time. “i’ll take care of it. you need to get some rest.”

“are you sure?”

he looked down at your tired face and glanced at the pile of papers you had on your desk. surely a few extra hours of work wouldn’t hurt as long as he wouldn’t have to see you so tired anymore. even if he was tired himself, he felt it was the least he could do for you to show his concern and appreciation for you.

“i’m sure,” he extended a hand to help you get up, which you accepted gratefully. after he made sure you were as comfortable as you could be on a couch, he carried your paperwork over to his desk, cracked his knuckles, and got to work.

#diluc #diluc x reader #childe #childe x reader #ajax #ajax x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #mine #boom #requested

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe crack #idiot writes crack #lu four #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wind #lu twilight #animatic #legend and four are best friends shoot me

262 notes · View notes

ltleflrt · 3 years

Note

Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜

#ltleramblings #writer's angst #also i think some of these problems can be solved with a prologue #but that's something i'm literally exploring in my current WIP #so I have no idea if I'm doing it right #and i might be breaking all of my own rules with it lol

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rayofsunas · 3 years

Text

s/o goes on a mission with them.

A/n: so, as you may or may not have seen by my recent “updates” I’m obsessed with genshin, and I’m pretty sure for one day I played for a solid 5 hours- my eyes hurt pls. but I did miss writing, I’ve just been unmotivated and busy with college stuff (mainly stressing, I haven’t even started my essay yet shh). n e ways, here’s an update, I hope this quenches your thirst 🙊

Summary: s/o goes on a mission with them.

Parings: Kaeya/Reader, Diluc/Reader, Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader (all with a fem reader)

Warnings: crack, swearing, worrying Teyvat bois

Word count: 1.7k

Kaeya

when you’re assigned to be on a mission just the two of you, you assume he’s happy, and don’t get me wrong, he totally is!

usually you’re never on missions together, deciding it was better that way because you both get distracted (you realized after marrying, space was always nice too, space was healthy)

though the decision mainly came about because you two good around a lot... and other things 😏

no but deep down he’s worried when you go on this mission together, it’s been a while since the two of you have, a little too long, and the nerves came back

he’s always worried whenever you go on missions, and sure he’ll always be there to protect you when he’s with you (not that you need it) but anything can happen

sure taking out a bunch of Hilichurls was deemed easy, especially together, but he still worried

he never said a word about it though, he’d always keep a watchful eye on you (he does have a reputation to keep after all)

“Ya know, you did well today.” You said plopping down beside your husband, using your pyro ability to light the twigs and leaves in front of you.

“Of course I did,” he boasted, eye lighting up in the dark of the night. “What kind of Knight would I be if I hadn’t, babe.”

You groaned in annoyance, this was the ever so haughty husband you knew.

“Please, I could’ve easily wiped your ass if it weren’t for the fact that we haven’t been paired together in a while; I forgot about your skill.” You teased. The cryo user glared at you.

“Skill? Surely, I have more than one.” He snipped teasingly. Your head shook, feigning innocence. “Are you sure?” A hum sounded in your throat. “I couldn’t tell... Maybe if you hadn’t been staring holes into me every time I used my sword, I could see your progression.”

Kaeya visibly tensed, but he tried to make it go unnoticed, you saw his shoulders raise slightly.

“Hmm?” You laughed wholeheartedly.

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me, mister.”

Despite having been caught, a grin spread across his face, he was enjoying your teasing tonight it seemed.

“There’s a reason we don’t go on missions together, but, I did have fun with you today, despite the worrying part.”

Diluc

um, the ever so stoic and emotionless fire boy is WORRIED AF

and he accidentally lets it show

he’s totally fine if you’re only going against a few low-rank Hilichurls and Slime, but against any of the Hypostasis’s, he’s worried for your wellbeing (after a few days of trying to beat one of the Hypostasis’s I finally did, APPLAUD ME PLS, I was crying)

the very first mission you went on together, the job was done quickly and without much trouble, but before and after, he would not stop asking you if you would like to be escorted back to the Knights headquarters

he said it was his duty to protect any and every Mondstadt Citizen

you knew he was also just particularly worried about you

despite being worried, he is happy you’re here, though wishes it were under different circumstances other than battle

he rarely sees you, so it’s a nice change to be placed on a mission together instead of alone, you missed each others company

BUT HE’S STILL WORRIED

“I’m a Knight of Favonius, I don’t particularly need to be escorted back, I appreciate your concern though.” Poor Diluc, the face he made looked like pure defeat, you used the Knight of Favonius card on him. And yes, you were capable, but he did know a certain Knights of Favonius Captain who he loathed a little too much,

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You scoffed at his jab, though it didn’t necessarily hurt too much.

“Please, I can handle myself. We’re not all like Captain Kaeya, but even then give him some credit!”

“I know you’re more than capable but-”

”No buts! Let me do what I know how, please. Or else I could slip up, and then actually put myself in danger.”

“Okay...” You nodded, sending a soft thanks to your lover's way, but he just stared at you before muttering, “But let me escort you back to Mondstadt.”

👁 👄 👁

“I’m sorry, did you hear a word I just said?”

“I see your skills darling, but-” He paused, noticing how your arms folded across your chest. You were annoyed. “I’d much prefer if you took care of the greatest battle of all; Kaeya.”

“Kaeya does not need my assistance.”

“He’s probably in a ditch somewhere, and it would be much appreciated by Jean if we did not leave him to rot there,” Diluc explained.

You had seen Kaeya earlier, and yes although he usually frequented the bars and whatnot, he was surprisingly sober. He hadn’t promised he would stay that way, but it would take hours for said man to get completely drunk to the point where he was immobile. You had only left Mondstadt four hours ago.

“Amber can find him. She did last time,” He watched in disbelief as you sauntered off towards the hill in front of you, dead set on continuing your mission. “Come on I see an Electro Hypostasis ahead.”

“Also, you could’ve just said you were worried about me, instead of trying to send me back home! Kaeya is fine, worrywart.”

Xiao

it’s not that he’s worried about you and it’s not that he shouldn’t be worried either

he can be both given the right moment

the only reason he doesn’t want you going with him is because he claims he focuses better on missions alone

you could understand where he was coming from, but you would’ve liked to have gone with him when he first left

you mentioned going on a mission with him in Liyue the night before he locked you in your Liyue Harbor Guesthouse room

you were still asleep when he’d snuck out and had found a note in the sheets where he’d previously been sleeping hours ago

it read, went on a quick mission, be back soon. - Xiao

...one of the cleaning ladies had come to your rescue after seeing various lounge chairs from the hallway stacked and pushed against the door (she was supposed to clean the room that morning after having seen Xiao leaving, figuring it was empty to begin cleaning)

she was shocked to see you hurriedly throwing your shoes on and grabbing your spear, confused obviously

she’d asked if you were being held against your will or if you were in danger, but you’d dashed off before you could give her an answer

eventually after asking a few Liyue Harbor Merchants, you were able to get a rough estimate as to where your boyfriend went

when you finally caught up to him, out of breath, he was somewhat shocked to see you

“Hey!” You called after the ancient man, watching with glee as he turned around with wide eyes. “Locking me in the room seriously?”

“I didn’t think you’d catch up. I left hours ago.”

“I thought so too. But one of the Merchants gave me a shortcut to your destination.”

“Interesting.” He said, hand going to his chin in thought.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?!”

“Interesting.” You mocked

He stared blankly, without a doubt the gears working in his brain, spinning and ticking at an unbelievable rate.

“No, one more thing... How did you get out of the room? I barricaded it.”

👁 👄 👁

Scaramouche

you better be someone who can handle yourself, and you probably are, or else he would not be able to stand being with you romantically AT ALL

he’s had you practice with him, just to show him what you’re capable of, before he ever allowed you to travel with him

after deeming you a worthy opponent, he decided you would fair well with him

he would’ve never allowed you to come if he knew you’d be a burden, slow him, or get hurt

after you proved yourself, he does not doubt you so he’s not going to be worried at all

he’s only worried if you start slowing him down, then he’ll think you’re incompetent to be traveling together

if you slow him down, you’re being sent home, no questions asked

though because he does love you, you receive a bit of a less severe punishment for doing something wrong on a mission

he may ask you once or twice to keep up with him, or take your enemies out without less hesitation, but that’s if he feels particularly generous, most of the times he’s harsh and will not tolerate your mistakes, no chances given

fortunately for you, he felt extremely generous today

It was truly evident that you were slowly pissing off the sixth Harbinger and he was losing his patience with you. Yet you continued flirting with him to get a rise out of said man (yeah, same); he often reacted, and you enjoyed it when he did. You liked seeing him react and appear differently than always being so uptight and mean.

It was a common belief that he often traveled with a young woman, who had Pyro for a vision, and she was strong but often loved to distract and tease her fellow Harbinger. You were not so surprisingly, that young woman.

“Keep up, I won’t ask you again.”

Today, you were on a mission together which wasn’t rare, but your other mission was to piss him off as much as you could. So, you purposely walked behind him, very slow. Pretending to take in the chilly scenery of Snezhnaya, although you had seen it thousands of times, acting as if it was something new.

“You said that the last two times.” You said, cheerfully laughing to yourself when you heard him growl lowly. He didn’t pay any mind to your retort but began showing more signs that he was aggravated.

He hissed, “There’s not much to admire, you can barely see.” Yes, he was right, he’d caught onto your antics very fast, but that didn’t matter.

“As I said, if you keep slowing me down, I’ll continue without you.” Your eyes rolled. Would he?

“Leaving a member of the Harbinger behind wouldn’t be very honorary, but if I must, I will.”

A pout took shape on your lips. “Please, you wouldn’t leave your lovely girlfriend out here to freeze would you?”

“You have pyro abilities, you would fair just fine.”

“Hmm... I suppose so, but I’d get lonely.”

“Then be quiet and walk faster.”

1.13.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #kaeya x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

That Shirt

Klaus Hargreeves x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2083 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader and Klaus decide to get married, but they run into a few issues, only remedied by his unique wardrobe

—————————————————————————————————

You knew it was crazy.

The idea that you had even considered getting married didn’t make any sense at all but you couldn’t help it..

The truth was that you loved Klaus, more than anything in the world, and when people loved one another, they got married.

It was what normal people did, what you would have done if Reginald hadn’t turned you both into some kind of vigilante superhero squad.

All things considered, it was probably the most mundane thing you’d do in your life.

Still, that didn’t mean everyone else in your interesting little family was so keen on the choice you were making.

Of course, they were shocked by the announcement of your engagement, but you didn’t really think it was going to be as big of a deal as they were making it. You were both adults, and only related as far as your adoption went..

It wasn’t hurting anyone.

...but given the fit Allison was currently throwing, you would have thought you had suggested that you end the world, again.

“I just can’t see you going through with it. I mean, Klaus?” she repeated, for what felt like the fifteenth time since you got here. You wanted to go impromptu dress shopping, seeing as you wedding was in two days, but she wasn’t having it.

Instead, all she wanted to talk about was how bad of an idea getting married was, and the worst part was, if you were her, you would have been doing the same thing.

You knew Klaus, and you knew better than anyone how flippant and strange he was, but you weren’t a child. You knew what was best for you, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

Even if it didn’t make any sense to someone as close to you as Allison.

You understood why she was doing this, why she was your biggest critic, but you also couldn’t make your every decision based on that. You had all lived your entire lives like that thus far, and it wasn’t worth it.

By this point in your life, you wanted to be able to make the choices your father had taken away from you all for so long.

“I know it’s not the choice you would make for me, but I could say the same to you. Like Luthor is such a prize” you shot back, using her crush against her as you so often did when she tried to tease you about Klaus.

She thought this was so strange, but you both knew that sometimes these kinds of things didn’t make any logical sense.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-” she tried, as if she hadn’t been the one to start this in the first place.

All you wanted was to marry the man you loved, and Allison was the one trying to force cold feet on you.

“I do, actually, and every day, I wish you could accept it” you sighed, turning around and leaving the way you’d come without much more in the way of an order.

You loved Allison and you knew that at some point, she would come around. Until she did, you were just going to have to go find a dress yourself.

...unless, of course, there was another way.

There was always one place you could go when the rest of the world felt like it was against you. A place that wasn’t much of a place at all.

“Woah there, why the long face?” Klaus cooed, rolling over in bed the second he heard the door, open and close in succession, followed impressively closely by a heavy sigh from you.

You had that far away look on your face, the look you got when the world made choices for you that you didn’t agree with.

Not that figuring that out was the hard part.

“Oh nothing, I just found out that Allison doesn’t think we should be getting married. So, it must be a tuesday” you grumbled, flopping down on the space on his bed Klaus had made for you, having already anticipated your deflating into him.

There was no good reason a man like him should have been so good at reading you, and yet, even with his brain scattered five ways from Sunday, he could crack you open like a book.

“It’s okay honeybunch, I still think getting married is a great idea” he allowed, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he did his best to focus on actually making you feel better. The two of you knew this was going to go down this way.

The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why you cared so much.

You had never worried about the opinions of your siblings before.

“I’m not kidding, Klaus. What if it is one big mistake?” you sighed, ignoring the soft kiss he pressed to your forehead as you further retreated into his frame, rather than focusing on the disaster that surrounded you.

You were supposed to get married in two days, and so far, you didn’t have anything.

The two of you had decided to have your wedding in the backyard of the manor, so it would be small and private, but even then, there was still so much that had to be done. There had to be food, places to sit, and a dress.

You still needed a dress.

“We aren’t ready for this” you muttered, your words buried so far into his chest that you weren’t even sure that he had heard them but the more you thought about it, the more you hoped he hadn’t.

Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t a mistake.

You knew that marrying Klaus was the only thing you wanted to do, and that it was going to make you happy.

...and thankfully, Klaus knew it too.

Even after all these years, there wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

It was clear to him that the stress was getting to you, and because of that, Klaus made up his mind. This was one of those times when it was his job to take care of you like you had taken care of him a million times over.

After all, he was going to be your husband pretty soon and husbands didn’t let their wives stumble into nervous breakdowns.

“Okay, get up grumpy. I’ve got an idea” he prompted, all but rolling over you to stand up. You were going to get a dress with Allison, but given the circumstances, it seemed she wasn’t going to be joining you.

Instead, the man in front of you was going to use every bit of fashion prowess and skill he had to figure something else out.

All he had to do was get you up out of bed.

“There’s no point. I doubt anybody's even going to come”

Those words were little more than another groan from your throat, this time flowing seamlessly into the fabric of Klaus’ sheets. Evidently, since everyone else thought your getting married was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t worth throwing a big party.

Maybe it was stupid.

You weren’t children anymore, and the idea of a big white wedding was one that seemed sort of out of place for you. If your father could see it now, you were sure he would lock you in your closet.

He hadn’t raised you to get married, or care for anyone in the first place.

Not that he managed to actually raise you to do much of anything.

“What if this whole wedding is just to get back at him? What if it’s one big mistake?” you repeated, your voice just as small and uncertain as he could have expected when you did manage to raise your head from the mattress.

However, as much as Klaus wanted to rush to your side and convince you of just how wonderful an idea this was, it wasn’t going to make a difference.

His words weren’t going to make you feel better. Klaus knew that if he was going to make a real difference, if he was going to convince you that this was what you should be doing, it was going to take something bigger.

Something grander.

Thankfully, before you could wallow anymore in your upset, Klaus found exactly what it was he was looking for.

“Hold that thought, for one second” he prompted, leaving the room for just a second with the garment he’d been searching for tucked under his arm, hidden from your curious gaze.

You had no idea what he could have had going on, or why he wasn’t taking this more seriously but you knew Klaus well enough to know that there was no stopping whatever off the rails thing he had in mind.

It would just be better to let him do his thing, and maybe, he may even help you figure this out by the time he’s done.

He did have a habit of surprising you like that.

“Here! If I wear this, no one will pay any mind to what you’re wearing” Klaus teased, entering the room again with a start, a smile so wide there that you feared he may physically tear the flesh of his handsome face.

After so many years with Klaus, you had learned not to be shocked by anything he brought to the table.

That being said, you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking a little bit at the dress shirt Klaus was currently wearing, waiting for your input.

It was quite the shirt, flowy with an ornate pattern in emerald green and black, finished with a red-orange trim.

“That actually works quite nicely with your complexion” you shrugged, only standing when he offered a hand to you, the cuffs of that shirt flapping as he moved in a way that brought a smile to your face.

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to remember who frustrated and flustered you were, that garment had to have been the most hilarious thing you’d ever seen.

“I sure hope so, this is my nicest outfit” he defended, shooting you a wink that let you know this was his plan all along. Always the clever jester, he knew it would be better to distract you than to let you wallow in your own self-pity.

You wouldn’t have looked at it as something to get married in, not at first, but the more you studied the truly hideous shirt, you understood just what he was getting at.

Klaus was quick enough to pose it as a joke, but the point behind his actions was loud and clear to you. As long as the two of you were together, it didn’t matter who was there to witness it or if you were wearing a potato sack.

Marrying the man you loved was the most important thing, and if he wanted to get married in something like that, you would happily stand by his side.

“I love you” you gushed, barely holding back a cheek-splitting grin of your own as you admired the beautiful disaster in front of you.

Klaus had always been the most authentic, raw person you had ever had the privilege to know and the fact that you were lucky enough for him to love you as you loved him was all you should have been thinking about now.

Your wedding was supposed to be one of the best days of your life, after all.

...and, even though it wasn’t here yet, you knew that it would be as long as Klaus was by your side.

“You love the shirt, but I’ll take it” he grinned, reaching down to capture your hand in his own before leading you back toward the entrance of the room, his focus set on something that you couldn't have hoped to predict on your own.

Not that you got a chance to ask him to tell you before he took it upon himself to fill you in.

After all, there was still a problem at hand, even if he had managed to put it into perspective for you.

“We still have a little bit to do before this shirt and I can make you our wife” he teased, only further proving to you that this was the man you wanted to marry. Only Klaus could talk about his shirt like its own entity.

To be fair, though, there was nothing more you wanted than to be the Lady Hargreeves, floral shirt or no.

#klaus hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #tua #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x ps reader #klaus hargreeves x plus size reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x ps reader #the umbrella academy x plus size reader #the umbrella academy imagine #tua x reader #tua x ps reader #tua x plus size reader #tua imagine #number 4 #The seance

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parvulous-writings · 3 years

Text

Stars //Sith!Obi-Wan x Pregnant!Reader

Request: Heya! First of all, I just want to say, wow!!! I loved wvry word of the Vader x Reader you did, and reading your notes, I really don't mind it as an AU! I've never really read anything to do with Sith Obi-Wan before, though to be fair I only just got into Star Wars again 😅 This isn't really a request, but from what I can see from your posts, you seem to really like Obi-Wan, well, Ewan Mcgregor in general 😂I wanted to ask if you could write another x Reader, but this time a Sith Obi-Wan AU?Thanks for reading! -Red ❤ p.s, @rey-is-not-a-skywalker, you're welcome for requesting the sith x reader, I guess you're obsessed as I am 😂 p.s the second, I'm loving the new pfp!

Requested by: Red

Summary: The reader has some news for Sith Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: The reader is AFAB, pregnancy

Words: 1.7K

Notes: You would be correct in assuming I love Obi-Wan and Ewan McGregor as a whole. Also I’m glad you like the new pfp! I am also in love with it! :) Did I self indulge with this oneshot? I think you know the answer. Leave me alone, I am too much of a simp at this point. I have never been pregnant, so some of this may be inaccurate.

Not my gif

An old Jedi’s fall from grace was a never a pretty sight to see, it was no glorious tale to tell from any side. It was full of hurt, pain, hatred, suffering. This was more than true for the fallen Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. His downfall was the least expected out of those who turned away from the light, he had always been the most loyal of men, the most faithful of soldiers. Perhaps, in part at least, this was what drove him away from his original allegiance. He was an exceptional leader of course, the most fantastic of generals, but besides that, in the larger picture, to the Jedi Order as a whole he was nothing more than a faceless defender of the galaxy. Just another of the tens of thousands Jedi. Another factor that led to the man’s path to the dark side, was you. What you made him feel. The passion, the love. An indescribable feeling, all he could say about it was that it was truly wonderful. He did not mind the fear, or the hatred that came with it, for you made it all worth it. The massive highs compared to the lows outweighed them greatly, and thus he gave it all for and to you. His passion, his loyalty, his love. Everything he had, every fiber of his being, he gave it all to you. If he could turn the worlds on theirs heads, and you gave the word, he’d do it.

You had initially been shocked at the man’s sudden change of life-plans and of loyalty. Though, the more you thought about it, the more you began to convince yourself, perhaps he had made the right choice. He wasn’t so uptight in regards to public affection now- he’d often smother you with kisses in front of company, or hold your arm or hand as you wander about in cities or halls. Despite the Sith being the darker beings of the Force, the life you now lived was almost... Peaceful. After a while, you very much enjoyed it. There weren’t so many rules now, and you both felt free. Though, not everything about your new life was free or peaceful. There were times that Obi-Wan was pulled away from you much like in the way he was during the times of the Republic and the Jedi Order. He’d be wrenched from your embrace for weeks or months at a time, and the holocom conversations you shared were not the same as actual conversations. The comforting presence you both gave to one another were missing, and it was painfully obvious to the pair of you.

One particular night, whilst Obi-Wan had been away, you were staring out at the stars- each of them twinkling from their position on the blanket of the night from their positions thousands of light-years away. They fascinated you every night, though you knew some of the planetary systems by name and had visited a few yourself, you couldn’t help but imagine what could be hiding away on them, what could be awaiting discovery. They also distracted you from something plaguing your mind on this particular night, something you needed to get off of your chest. It had been bothering you more and more over the last few days, ever since you had made the discovery.

You are brought from your train of thought by the bleeping of your comm. You move leisurely to answer it, there was only one person who could be calling you at this time of night, but you knew he wouldn’t mind you taking a moment longer than usual. You answer your lover’s call, and a murmur on the other end of the line hushes- he must have been talking to someone as he awaited your answer. “Ah, my beloved.. I thought you had fallen asleep.” He mused quietly, his smug expression clear even through the blue hologram, and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “No. I was looking out at the stars,” You tell him, plainly. Sunsets and night skies held a special place in both of your hearts; you had spent many nights on Coruscant looking out at them, telling each other the wishes you had made on shooting stars that you rarely saw. You heard Obi-Wan sighed quietly. He knew your habits when he was away, and what they meant. “I should be returning soon, my dear.” He assured you, lowering his voice to nothing more than a whisper. “I am trying to get this done, you know, but it’s not as easy as-” “I know, I know.” You cut him off, wrapping your arms around yourself, looking down at the floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Obi-Wan’s brows furrows, clearly he’s noticed your odd behaviour.

“Something’s bothering you.” Obi-Wan notes, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his long robe. “Tell me,” He demanded. Though his tone was soft, it was still very much a command. You start to shake your head at him. “I would rather not... Not over the comm.” You start, looking over to his projection. He looks even more concerned than before- partially because you disobeyed an order from him, and partially because you were willingly withholding information from him. You never did either of those things, not with him. You were both in balance, and trusted each other completely. He knew this had to be incredibly serious for you to say something like this. “Then I shall return immediately.” He no longer cared for his assignment; he would much prefer that he knew you were safe and out of harm’s way. You start to shake your head more frantically. “No, Kenobi- you must finish the task the Emperor has given you, he-” “Can wait.” Obi-Wan finished abruptly. You could tell from the way he stood and held himself- chest out, shoulders back, spine rigid and straight- that he could not be swayed on this. “He can wait.” He repeated, wanting the words to sink in, for you more than himself. “I will be returning, whether you agree with me or not. I will be back by the morning.” And with that, those final harsh words, he ended the call. You sighed quietly, running your hands over your face in exasperation and stress. You hadn’t wanted to pull your lover away from the mission he had been given, you had wanted to wait just a few more days till he returned as had been planned. You sighed deeply, moving away from the comm, heading towards bed as you strip off your clothes. You nestle under the covers, wrapping your arms around yourself for some comfort.

By morning, you were well rested. As your eyes started to crack and flutter open, you became acutely aware of the arm around your waist, and the head buried into the back of your neck. You shuffle slightly to look over your shoulder, smiling slightly at the peaceful expression on the face of the sleeping man behind you. By rights, you didn’t even have to turn over to know that it was Obi-Wan, you knew the feel of his aura and his touch. Still, it provided a sense of comfort, knowing with more certainty that it was him. You shuffle round to face him fully, brushing some of his auburn locks away from his closed eyes. His nose scrunches ever so slightly at the contact; and he too starts to wake up. It’s a slow process for him, and always had been. Even during his time serving the Order; though your mornings together were few and far between, you had noticed this little pattern of his. His eyes crack open like yours had done, and a drowsy smile moves over his lips. “Good morning, darling...” He yawned softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “You look stunning...” He told you, his lips still pressed against your skin as he gave you the compliment- no doubt the first of many that morning. “You flatter me, Obi..” You murmur in reply, and presses kiss after feather-light kiss over your jaw and neck. “I speak only the truth for you, my love...” He trailed off for a moment, as he started to push himself up onto his elbows. “Now... Onto business...” He mused, “You still need to tell me what’s bothering you.” He pointed out, and he was right, as he often was. “So, I would start talking, my dear.”

Though his demeanour is playful, you know you shouldn’t argue this time around. You sit up, leaning against your pillows as your try to think of how to start talking about your recent discovery- despite it’s wonderful connotations, it was not as easy as one might think. “Obi...” You begin. “Darling.” He replied, hardly missing a beat. “I have some... Rather pleasing news.” He nods, prompting you to continue. “You... Are going to be a father.” It takes him a moment to actually register your words, for their meaning to sink in. He practically tackles you back into the bed when it clicks somewhere in his mind, the widest smile on his face. He’s laughing breathlessly, hardly able to believe the news or contain his excitement because of it. “Is it so?” He asked, his hand splaying over your stomach as he spoke. “My, my...” He mumbled- and it was moments like this that showed how much he had changed from his old ways. Had you given such news to him whilst he was still a Jedi- he would have panicked at first, asked if you wished to keep the child, and if you had done he would have likely asked you to leave to a slightly more rural planetary system. He had no fear now, and so didn’t need to ask you. He accepts it with ease in these times, and is more than happy to receive such news. He had no fear in rearing a child now, so long as you wished for it too. He paused as this thought washed over him, then gave you a curious look. “Are we... Keeping the child?” He asked, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think we could be wonderful parents... If you’re not away so much.” You poke your finger into his chest. “Alright... I will discuss it...” He mused, resting his head near you abdomen, gazing at it in wonder. He could hardly believe that your child- the fruits of both of you- was growing there, and he was more than just excited to meet his child. He pulled you close again, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances as the morning wound on, till you eventually fell asleep again in his arms, comforted by his presence.

#sith x reader #star wars sith #kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #sith obi wan #sith obi wan x reader

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

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You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch.

You were put out.

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden—

His voice shocked you from your thoughts.

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?”

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways.

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride.

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it.

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you.

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea.

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words.

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away.

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you.

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin.

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed.

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was.

“I-I can change—”

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point.

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you.

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could.

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted.

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably.

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt.

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible.

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion.

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

“Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been—

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning.

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine.

“‘Uh-huh’, who?”

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before.

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced.

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled.

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you.

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot.

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting.

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!”

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch.

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue.

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking.

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs—

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver.

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest.

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?”

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

“Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass.

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.”

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks.

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands.

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler.

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e— nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise.

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more.

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course.

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!”

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead.

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings.

“TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?”

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position.

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same.

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine.

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation.

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut.

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....”

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed.

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest.

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’.

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?”

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you.

....

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courageous-she · 3 years

Text

Needing You- Charlie Gillespie

Charlie x female reader

Summary: You’re having a rough day and go to your best friend for some comfort

Word Count: 3037

Author’s Note: I haven’t really written in a while but became a SIMP for this boy after watching JATP. Here’s something I thought up while I should have been working at work. Also the formatting may have gotten a little wonky so sorry for that. Um anyway, hope you enjoy!

You: Hey, are you home? Charlie: Yeah, why, what’s up? You: Can we hang out? I don’t really want to be alone rn Charlie: Sure thing! I can come over? You: Actually, can I come over? I don’t feel like being in my apartment rn Charlie: Of course, doors unlocked <3

You locked your phone, resting it on your chest and letting out a long sigh. Life had just been hitting too hard lately, so you texted Charlie hoping he’d be able to distract you and take your mind off of things. You simply needed some quality time with your best friend and to not think about everything going on in your life right now. Luckily, Charlie was always down to hang out and was always flexible on what the two of you would do.

You lifted your head just enough from your starfish position on your bed to glance over your outfit. You’d changed into your comfy clothes when you got home a few hours ago. These would be fine, Charlie has seen you in worse clothes, and probably in an overall worse state than this. Shrugging, you stood from your bed and grabbed your keys, making your way over to the bus stop at the end of your street.

Quietly opening the door to Charlie and Owen’s apartment, you carefully left your shoes at the door. You looked up and noticed Owen and Jeremy sitting on the couch in the small apartment living room. “Hey, Y/N” Owen and Jeremy said at the same time, both giving a quick nod of the head. You waved back, making your way down the hallway to Charlie’s room. It wasn’t odd for you to come over to the boy’s apartment, so Owen and Jeremy didn’t question it. Owen was more used to your frequent visits than Jeremy because Owen actually lived there, but both boys knew how close you and Charlie are so it would be odd if you didn’t show up at some point during the week.

Charlie’s door was open a crack, a low light creeping out into the hallway. You pushed the door open just enough to slide your body through, and closed it when you were all the way inside.

“Hey” Charlie said softly, sitting up slightly in his bed and closing his laptop. Instead of responding, you pulled the covers back on his bed and slid under. Charlie watched you, slightly confused, but lifted his arm for you when you began to crawl under it resting your head on his chest. His arm around you hugged you closer, while his other hand came around to rest on top of yours that was resting on his stomach.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” he asked, voice soft. You shook your head ‘no’ on his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” Again, you shook your head. Charlie’s chest rose up before he let out a long sigh. It wasn’t often you got like this, but when you did it always broke Charlie a little inside. “What can I do to help?” “Is it okay if we just lay here for a while?” you finally said.

“Yeah, ‘course it is. Want me to put on a movie for background noise or somethin’?” Charlie asked, leaning over slightly to grab his tv remote. You simply nodded a ‘yes’ against his chest, knowing he would just choose a movie for the two of you.

Charlie ended up choosing “Onward”, a Disney movie was bound to put a smile on your face, he thought. The two of you silently watched the movie, staying in relatively the same position. As the movie was coming to a close, tears began to make their way down your face, landing on Charlie’s shirt. He looked down when he began to feel the wet spot on his chest. Moving so he could see your face better, Charlie smirked at your current state.

“Are you crying?” Charlie asked, the goofy smirk not leaving his face. You lifted your head from his chest, glancing between his smirking expression and the puddle on his chest.

“What? He never got to meet his dad! After all that!!” you said, pouting out your bottom lip so you didn’t start sobbing. Charlie chuckled before sitting back and pulling you back into him.

“Haven’t you seen this before? You knew this was coming” he replied while turning his attention back to the screen.

“Just because I’ve seen it already doesn’t make it any less sad, Char.” But he could tell by the tone in your voice that you weren’t talking about the movie anymore. He grabbed the remote, stopping the end credits. You started to sit up, wiping the remnants of tears from your face.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked, voice soft and understanding. You hugged your knees to your chest, resting your head on your knees facing your friend sitting next to you.

“Everything is just so overwhelming right now. It’s like nothing can go my way and just keeps piling on top of me. I feel like I’m drowning and I’m so over it.” There was a comfortable silence between the two of you for a moment “I hate feeling like this” you whispered. Charlie put his hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“Hey, hey, look at me” he said. Your eyes remained fixed on a random spot of his bed. “Y/N, please” he whispered. You shifted your gaze so that your eyes met his. “I know that things might be really tough right now, but I know you, and I know how hard you work, and I know that you will get through this. You have the weekend to forget about things and relax for a bit too, I’m here to get your mind off of the stress.”

You smiled at his reassuring words; he always knew what to say. You moved so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Char, don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know, probably die or something” he said casually. You punched his shoulder jokingly and laughing at the boy next to you. “You hungry? We can order some food”

“I didn’t bring my wallet with me” you said, remembering that you’d only grabbed your keys on your way out.

“Don’t worry about that, it was on me anyway.” Charlie said, scrolling through UberEats on his phone for something to order. “What are you feeling?”

“Char, I’m not letting you pay! At least let me Venmo you?” you asked, already beginning to feel guilty at the fact that he offered to pay.

“Y/N” he said, putting his phone down and turning to face you, “You’re not paying,” he placed both hands on your cheeks, squishing them slightly, “Do not. Worry. About it.”

“But Charlie,” you replied, turning your body to face him straight on, “I. Feel. Bad” you mimicked his position, placing both hands on his cheeks and squishing them. And there the two of you were, hands on each other’s cheeks, squishing them. That was until you heard Charlie’s bedroom door slowly creak open.

“Hey guys, Jer and I were just wondering if you wanted to order food?” Owen asked, walking in while looking down at his phone. When he looked up and noticed the way you two were positioned, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Uh, I’m sorry, did I walk in on something?” he asked concerned, but slightly amused.

“Perfect timing Owen!” Charlie said, taking his hands off your cheeks and grabbing his phone again, “Y/N and I were just having the same conversation”

“I was thinking maybe Chinese?” Owen asked, resuming his scrolling on his phone. You and Charlie looked at each other, an unsure look on your face.

“Eh, not really feelin’ it” Charlie replied, going back to his phone for food inspiration.

“I was kind of craving pasta from that Italian place down the street” you said.

“Pomodoro?” Charlie asked, and immediately he looked at Owen and they gave each other the same look. “Yes!” They both said at the same time.

“I’ll go ask Jer what he wants, text me your orders.” Owen replied, leaving the room. But before Owen asked Jeremy what he wanted to eat, he explained in detail what he saw when he walked in on you and Charlie. The two boys grinned at each other, knowing how the two of you felt about the other, and knowing that neither of you would say anything to the other.

When the food arrived, the four of you sat in the small living room eating, joking, and watching a variety of YouTube videos. You loved hanging out with the guys, it was always entertaining and you definitely got a workout from how much you laughed.

After everyone had finished eating, the four of you decided to put on a movie. You sat next to Charlie on the smaller couch, leaning into his side, while Owen laid out on the bigger couch and Jeremy had a spot on the floor with some pillows.

You’re not sure how long into the movie you made it, but eventually you fell asleep on Charlie’s shoulder. He hadn’t noticed you fell asleep until Owen brought it up.

“Hey man, she out?” he asked, leaning up on the couch. Jeremy looked over too, noticing your sleeping figure resting against Charlie. Charlie glanced down at you, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Yeah, she must’a fell asleep” he said, eyes resting on you a little longer before turning to look at Owen. Owen smirked and looked at Jeremy, who matched his smirk before the two boys looked back at Charlie. “What’s the look for?” he asked confused.

“Oh, come on, Charlie!” Jeremy said, “You are head over heels for her!” he whisper shouted.

“And you have been since day one” Owen added.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Charlie whisper shouted back. The boys couldn’t see but underneath the blanket, Charlie was pulling you closer to him. He felt like he had to protect you despite there really being nothing to protect you from.

“Don’t avoid it Charlie, it’s so obvious” Owen retorted.

“The only question is, when are you finally going to tell her?” Jeremy asked.

As Charlie was forming his response, his felt you shift next to him. All three boys shifted their gaze to you, hoping you hadn’t heard what they were talking about. You shifted so that your face was resting in the crook of Charlie’s neck. He shivered at the feeling of your breath on his skin.

“Char?” you asked, too sleepy to open your eyes. Charlie squeezed your side to let you know he was there.

“What’s up? You alright?” he asked.

“ ‘m fine. What time is it?”

“Uh, it’s about 12:30”

“Shit!” you said, quickly sitting up from your comfortable position and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, “The last bus leaves in 30 minutes, I gotta go!” You started to stand up from the couch, but Charlie grabbed your hips, sitting you back down on the couch.

“Chill, Y/N! I’m not letting you get on a bus in the middle of the night! You can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch tonight” Charlie said, trying to calm you down. Jeremy coughed from the other side of the room, giving Charlie a look. Jeremy was crashing on the couch considering that he didn’t actually live there and had planned to spend the night. Charlie shot back a ‘not now’ look, returning his focus on you.

“I can’t take your bed. I’ll take the couch” you said, not wanting to put your friend out any more than you had tonight.

“Well, actually, I-I’m supposed to be sleeping on the couch” Jeremy finally spoke up. Charlie shot him a look, causing Jeremy to shrug and shy back out of the conversation.

“Then I’ll take the floor, but I’m not taking your bed” You said, bundling the blanket that was piled next to you.

“Y/N, you are not sleeping on the damn floor. Either you sleep in my bed or we’re both sleeping on the floor. End of story” Charlie said, a little more stern this time.

“Well with that logic, why don’t we both just sleep in the bed?” you asked, shrugging. Charlie’s eyes went wide. Owen and Jeremy’s heads quickly turned their attention to you, smirks threatening to appear on their faces.

“I-I mean, if-if you’re cool with that, yeah we could do that” Charlie stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected you to offer to share a bed with him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to pass this opportunity up.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t cool with it, but now that we’ve settled that, I’m tired. Goodnight boys!” you said, standing up and waving.

“ ‘night!” Owen and Jeremy replied, waving as you made your way back to Charlie’s room. What you didn’t see was the two boys silently cheering Charlie on as he slowly stood and made his way to his room.

You were already tucked away when he made it, closing the door softly behind him. He made his way through the dark and found his way to bed. He slipped in next to you, laying awkwardly on his back, not exactly knowing how to sleep next to you. He turned his head to look at you. Your back was facing him, breathing slow. He figured that you’d already fallen asleep given how tired you were, so he got comfortable and eventually fell asleep.

Charlie woke with a start when he heard you start to cry out in your sleep. He couldn’t make out what you were saying but he knew that you were having a nightmare. He immediately pulled your back close to his chest, arms wrapping around you. His cheek was pressed against yours as he whispered in your ear. “Hey, hey, you’re alright, I’m here, you’re okay” You woke up, heart racing, and hands grasping Charlie’s arms that wrapped around your middle. He loosened them enough for you to turn around and face him.

“What would I do without you?” you asked, cuddling closer into his chest, eyes closing in comfort. Charlie took a deep breath, he felt like now was the time to tell you. Tell you how he really felt, how much he wanted to never be without you.

“Y/N?” he whispered?

“Yeah, Char?”

“Can I tell you something?” He was trying to keep his nerves down, knowing you’d be able to feel him shaking.

“Of course, you can tell me anything.” You replied, shifting to lean slightly over him. He mimicked your position, the two of you leaning to face the other. “I like you. Um, like more than a friend kind of like you. And I don’t want this to ruin what we have so if you don’t feel the same way that’s- that’s cool we can forget I said this.” Charlie rambled. You were taken aback by the sudden out poor of emotional truth. Charlie was beginning to accept that you didn’t feel the same way until you made a move. You leaned in and kissed Charlie, all of the bottled-up feelings coming to the surface.

“I like you too, Char,” you whispered, hand cupping the side of his face, “God, I’ve liked you since the day we met” you laughed, remembering your first encounter on set with Charlie. Charlie sighed from relief from next to you.

“I was so scared you didn’t feel the same…”

“How could I not, Charlie? I literally couldn’t survive without you.” You spoke. A smile crept its way onto Charlie’s face before he leaned in for another kiss, deeper and more passionate than the first. The two of you spent much of the rest of the night like that, moving between sleep and giggly sleepy kisses. The next morning, the two of you slept in a little later than normal, and laid in bed cuddled up watching TikToks, sneaking kisses in between. It was a kind of bliss you didn’t think you’d ever experience. Both of your heads turned when a short knock was made against the door.

“Are you guys dead in there?” Owen asked through the door. The two of you chuckled from the bed.

“We’re fine Owen!” Charlie shouted.

“Are you sure? It’s like noon-thirty and I haven’t heard anything from either of you?” Owen shouted back. You laughed at the boys, moving to get out of the bed and answer the door. Charlie pouted at the lack of you next to him. You opened the door to see a concerned looking Owen.

“Good morning, Owen” you smiled.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked, noticing Charlie’s lack of shirt and a messy bed.

“No, you didn’t. We were just getting up to grab some breakfast” you replied.

“Oh, well I was going to ask if you guys wanted some waffles? Jeremy and I just made some” he said, still looking between you and Charlie, attempting to put the pieces together on what happened when the two of you went to bed last night.

“I’d love some waffles! Let me just grab my sweatshirt and I’ll be right there!”

Owen nodded, leaving the room. You turned to look for your sweatshirt somewhere on the floor. Feeling two arms wrap around your waist, you giggled, placing your arms over Charlie’s.

“You know you don’t have to go out there.” He said, lips hovering just over your ear.

“No, I don’t have to.” You said, “But we need to eat.”

“There’s something right here I could eat.” Charlie replied. You spun around quickly in his arms, slapping him lightly on the upper arm.

“Charlie!” You couldn’t believe how quickly he responded with that!

“What!? It’s true!” he winked at you.

“Well too bad because that is currently not on the menu. I want waffles!” you said before breaking free of his grasp, grabbing your sweatshirt and skipping out of the room to the kitchen. Charlie was left standing in his room, mouth agape, but laughing at how you handled that. What would he do without you?

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