#Why do you get defensive now and not when the document dropped? Because there is solid evidence for your bullshit. That's why. You know it.

[foxilayde]

Half Of You (Part 1) [Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader]

PART 2 HERE

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Talk of fertility, pregnancy. Reader's name is "Vin".

Summary: You're ready to be a mother, you enlist the help of your best friend.

A/N: Something that wouldn't leave my head, more parts to come.

Santi’s fork hangs in the air, where once his mouth was jovial and smiling, it is now….  Not that. He’s gaping at you and his wrist bends limply, letting the fingerling potato fall to his plate. 

A tense silence falls between you.

“Well…?” You encourage, smiling and trying to maintain the lightheartedness of the previous ramblings.

“This—you— want me to—?” Santi chokes and drops his fork completely, choosing instead to gulp from his full glass of wine.

Well, his reaction isn’t unexpected. 

You bend your head down and stare up at him through your lashes when he wipes his mouth and attempts to blink himself back into reality. God, maybe this was a bad idea, maybe this is asking way too much of him.

“You… want me to… be the father of your baby? Is that… is that right?’ 

You bite your bottom lip and nod effusively. “Yes.” You reiterate. “Well kinda. I don't want to get hung up on semantics here, but yeah, I want my kid to be…well, half you.” 

Santiago shifts back in his seat and nods, now staring at you dubiously from the corner of one eye. You catch the server’s eye, headed towards your table and you give a vicious shake of the head, causing Maurice to turn heel back to his other tables. At least you won’t be bothered. 

“Like I was saying earlier… I want a baby.”

“O—okay.”

“And I tried going to the fertility clinic…”

“Uh huh?”

“And—were you not listening AT ALL before?”

“No! I was!” Santiago’s defensiveness squeaks out like the halt of rubber on linoleum. 

You blink at him repeatedly across the crisp white linen clothed table. “Because this is all seeming like brand new information to you when I say this.”

“I’m sorry okay, it’s just a lot to take in… go on. I’m re-absorbing.”

“Re-absorbing?”

“Yes. I’m allowed to re-absorb.”

You take a deep breath. “Alright, well, Mr. Brawny, I have come to the decision at this point in my life that I’d like a baby.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I didn’t like the idea of getting the… you know, DNA ‘donation' from a stranger.”

“Sure.” Santiago chugs his chalice of ice water and begins to chew on the dregs of cubes.

“And I want you to be the… DNA donor, so to speak.”

“DNA donor.”

“Well the term ‘father’ holds a ton of implications.”

“Doesn’t it.”

You fix him with a cocked stare.

“Sorry, Vin.”

“Like I said earlier, there’d be all kinds of forms and documents and such to keep this… copacetic.”

“Like you mumbled earlier, more like.” Santi murmers behind his wine glass. 

You sit back in your chair and cross your arms. 

“If you don’t want to do it, I’m not going to make you do it, Santi. We can forget this exchange ever happened as far as I’m concerned and I can just choose someone from the binder at the fertil—“

“No, no, I didn’t say that.” He holds both palms out wide in supplication before lowering them uneasily to the tablecloth.

“Everything alright over here?” Maurice pops in at the wrong fucking moment causing you to shut your eyes completely. What part of the head shake did he not understand?

“Yes, it’s going very well, can you please just give us a few minutes?”

“Certainly. I just wanted to remind you both that the kitchen has a time limit one when we can start your dessert, so if you were thinking about anything on the menu, just give me a wave, alright?”

“That’s fine, Maurice, thank you.” You smile warmly at him. Maurice bows out and you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

“So… you don’t wan’t me involved at all? You just want, what? My DNA?”

You toss the accusation around in your head for a minute before admitting, “Yes.”

Santiago nods and braces his feet against the carpeted floor once again, regaining strength and alertness. He starts and then stops again many times before settling on the classic question of, “why me?”

Its a fair question, a good question. Why? Why out of all the potential candidates, the binders full of Ivy Leage Doctors, professional athletes, men over 6 feet tall without commitment issues, why it is… Santi… Santi that you want to be the father of your child? It is crazy on paper. Something that doesn’t add up in any column, in any statistic. You don’t know why yourself, let alone how you can answer his inquiry… but you try.

“It just felt so… impersonal, you know? You sit down in this doctor’s office and you’re expected to pick out the father of your child from this, this, this… magazine? Without any photos. Like, yes, contestant 565B was captain of the debate team at Yale—“

“Yale?”

“Yeah.”

“Well you should definitely go for that guy.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks and look down.

“But I don’t want that guy.”

Santi grits his teeth and swallows. 

“I just… I don’t know that guy, and he sounds like a real dick on paper, you know… he sounds…. depthless, shallow. Like he’s got nothing underneath or behind him. Does that make sense to you at all? That’s not how I want the father of my child to be… I want him to be real… and the more I flipped through that binder and the further I got through those pages, I realized that I needed someone real. Someone I know, someone I trust…”

“And you thought of me?”

“Who else?”

“Why not Fish?” 

“Fish? Are you serious? Seriously serious? Or are you just fucking with me?” 

“I’m mostly serious.”

You stare at Santi for a long incredulous moment waiting for him to crack that tell-tale smile of his in jest. But he doesn’t. His eyes are wide and bright and his mouth is forced into something placating and neutral. 

“Pope!”

“What?!” He cries out defensively. You only ever call him Pope when you’re angry.

“Decided on dessert, have we?” Maurice pops in, scaring you have to death.

“No!” Both you and Santiago nearly shout at Maurice.

“No, thank you, just… just the bill.” You smooth your blouse down and wipe your eyes with your palms. Fuck, this maybe wasn’t the best place to carry out this conversation. You thought it would be a nice gesture, to take Santi out… for some deluded reason, you had imagined it going much smoother than this. 

Maurice scurries off and you and Santiago are left staring at each other over half-finished meals. 

You take a deep breath. “If I wanted Fish or the Millers or fucking Redfly, I would have asked them out to dinner. Not you.”

“Why me and not them?”

“Are you kidding me? Your’e my best friend. You… you do know that, don’t you?”

Santiago nods softly. 

“Fuck, Santi, I don’t want that to, you know, sway your decision or anything. Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you should be, I don’t know, indebted to me. You don’t owe me this. This is big.”

“Redfly went to Princeton, you know?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true.”

“He never went to Princeton!”

“That what he says.”

“On a walking tour, maybe!” 

Santi’s eyes crinkle with laughter. 

“You trying to get me to have Redfly’s kid or something? Would that be… would you rather I ask him?”

Santi inhales deeply and drags a palm down his rough stubble and shakes his head silently at you. “You’re right.”

“Pardon?”

Santi’s eyes scan the room, the way he does when he’s nervous. “If you’re determined to have a…”

“A? Baby, say it with me. Bay-bee”

“Shut up. A baby, a little person.”

“Uh huh…?”

“And if it needs to be from someone you know?”

“Yeah, it does, I know, it’s weird that its so important to me, but—“

“It should be me, then. You’re right.” Santi leans forward in his chair, retrieving his fork and takes a bite of his potatoes. 

“Yeah? Are you saying yes?”

Santi nods at you with a full mouth and without thinking you wipe a bit of orange sauce from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. 

“Don’t do that!” He admonishes with a mouth full of potato. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” You quip back with a laugh. 

He swallows, “Yes, mom.”

For some reason, it makes your face hot when he says it and luckily Maurice comes at that moment, placing the leather bound check between you and Santi. 

Santiago reaches for the little folder and you swat his hand away. 

“No way! I invited you out, my treat.”

He lifts his hands away in apology, “Just being a gentleman.”

You grab your card from your purse, fitting it into the folder using the item to gesture towards Santi’s lap. “Well, I’m asking for your… DNA, the least I could do was buy you a steak first, huh.”

Santi glides his tongue slowly over his bottom lip. “So, how are we going to do this, exactly… are we starting? tonight?”

“Tonight? It’s almost 9 o’clock. What kind of vampire hours do you think the fertility clinic keeps, Garcia?” You laugh and take a sip of wine. Santi scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, wasn’t thinking.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, Santiago. You thought—!”

“Stop.”

“You really thought—“ You cover your eyes in embarrassment, “I was asking you to, what? Knock me up? Like this whole time you thought I was asking you to fuck me!?” And thats when Maurice comes by to take the folder (“I’ll be right back with this”)

“Jesus, that guy has the worst timing, right?”

“Santi!”

“Well, kinda?” 

You scream softly into your palm and kick his shoe under the table. God this is humiliating. The poor guy, no wonder he had been looking at you like that. Jesus. 

“No, Santi, no.”

He shrugs wildly, “I’m sorry? I just assumed. Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine.” You laugh. “The process is a little more… effective than… that.”

“I dunno, Vin, I think I could knock it out in one try.” Santi leans back in his chair, propping up a hand on his hip. The gesture subtly confident and thoroughly suggestive, causing your face to burn once again.

“Shut up!”

“Oh I’m going to get in all the jokes I can out of this.”

“Do you want to know where the babies come from or not?”

Once agin Maurice swoops in to deposit your check on the table. Christ only knows what he’s made out of the pieces of your conversation he’s overheard throughout the evening, “Here’s your receipt and I hope you two have a lovely evening.”  

“Thank you.” You mutter, opening up the receipt to sign. 

“Thank you, Maurice. Everything was great. I think I’ve seen something like it in movies? I go to the clinic, jerk off in a cup?”

“You couldn’t have waited to say that till he was out of earshot?”

“Oh please, give the poor guy something to talk with the back of house about.”

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Yeah, you jerk off in a cup. And then you sign away the parental rights to the cup.”

Santi scratches his chin and nods. “And they just… “

“Just? What?”

“Turkey baster it into you or—?” 

“Turkey baster it into me?? Huh, you know, I wonder if that Yale guy’s sperm is still available…” 

“Okay so what do they do? Tell me.”

For all his teasing, his moments of sincerity bowl you like a strike down a lane, and in this moment where his eyes are so earnest on yours, you’re reminded of why you chose this person to be the father of your future child. 

“There are a couple of ways to do it. The first attempt would be something called IUI where I take a medication that makes me ovulate and then they’d take your sperm and sort of inject it into my uterus.”

“How is that different than a turkey baster?”

“I guess you’re kind of right?” You laugh, “It’s pretty similar.”

“So they do that once and boom you’re pregnant?”

“Uh, no, they do that for 3-5 sessions and if that doesn’t work then I’d do IVF.”

“That one sounds familiar… what is it?”

“They take your sperm and my eggs and make viable embryos and implant them into my uterus.”

“Multiple?” 

“Well some don’t take, most don’t take, so they do a few at a time.”

“Okay.”

“And it might not work on the first few tries on that one either, so there is the possibility you’d need to do more than one self-love session at the clinic before all is said and done.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yep.”

“Or…” Santi lilts off suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggerated seduction.

“Don’t even—”

“I’ve got a more cost effective option for you to consider.”

You cross your arms and shake your head, but you can’t help your goofy grin.

“A bottle of wine and some Barry White.”

“Pope!” You laugh and toss your napkin at his chest. It’s exactly his sense of humor and you’re so relieved that he’s taken this well, that he’s agreed to do this and most importantly, that you’re friendship has emerged from this request of yours intact. 

Santi wipes his mouth and stands, offering you an arm. “You ready?” 

“Yeah.”

“Ice cream?”

“Absolutely.”

“Handels?”

“Duh.”

You make your way out of the restaurant, arm in arm with Santiago.

“Goodnight, Maurice!” Santi calls over his shoulder. You punch him softly on the chest.

“You loved torturing him!”

“I wouldn’t say that… but the opportunity to say the phrase ‘jerk off in a cup’ rarely presents itself in a fine dining setting and I enjoyed the experience.”

“You watch your mouth or you won’t be getting any ice cream.”

“You’re scary good at that already.”

“Gotta practice the mom voice, it’s one of the most important parts of the job.”

“You’re going to be great at it, you know.”

You let the compliment hang there, still arm in arm, stepping in unison to Handel’s Creamery.

“Yeah. I know… And thank you.”

Santi squeezes your arm tighter in his, warmly, reassuringly. He’d make a good dad too, you think. But you don’t tell him that, instead you debate over ice cream flavors all the way down 3rd street. 

[theearlgreymage]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

Soooo -- The lovely @ic3-que3n decided to tag me in this little game. Because they know I am eternally procrastinating on all my WIPS.

(Original Ask Game)

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

Vogue in Paradis (And I will be using this specific WIP for all remaining questions)

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Fashion Designer Erwin + Makeup Designer Levi = Rivals to Lovers Office Romance

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Guys. Come on. This is ME we're talking about - they are going to fuck. Explicitly.

4. 🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

This one was originally unnamed when the premise for it was created. I started this a while ago, and then set it on the back burner, but then Lewi dropped this amazing art and it sparked that flame of motivation to continue it -- and gave it a Title.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

Either May Their Blood Boil will get an update OR I will finish Vogue in Paradis

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Despite how meticulously I keep my Google Drive organized, there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to my Docs Names. Most of the time it is just an extremely vague phrase. But I do keep my Docs ORGANIZED. Each fandom has it's own folder, and within that there are folders for oneshots, series, ideas, and @ic3-que3n (yes - they have a whole ass folder because they put that many ideas in my fucking head.)

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“Smith.”  At the mere mention of Erwin’s name, Hange starts laughing.   “Stop that,” I sneer at them as I lean back in my chair and cross my arms defensively. Already anticipating where this is going to go – which is why I didn’t want to say anything to them in the first place.  “Stop being in denial then,” Hange wheezes out between fits of laughter.  “I’m not in denial!”  We’ve had this argument before – anytime I bring up Erwin, Hange insists that I have a crush on him. Which I do not.  “Keep telling yourself that,” Hange drawls as they wipe a tear of laughter away from their lash line.  “We’re not having this discussion.”  “And you’re still not getting laid.”  “Hange.” I practically snarl at them.   It doesn’t perturb them in the slightest. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong,” and I’m about to answer their demand but then they keep going. “Tell me you don’t think he’s a whole ass meal. That you haven’t thought about what he’s hiding under those bland Oxford shirts and wool pants.”  “I don’t –”  “Or that you don’t think he’s infuriatingly good at his job.”  “That has nothing –”  “Or that you can’t seem to keep your eyes and ears off of him in joint meetings.”  “Well that’s only –” “Or that it’s a damn shame no one has been able to take him off the market.”    The silence that falls over us is uncomfortably tense. And I can’t decide if I want to crawl beneath my desk at the sudden, horrifying, realization that I can’t deny a word they just said – or leap across the table and strangle them for making me realize I can’t.  “That’s what I thought,” they chime triumphantly as they lean back on their hands. Pushing a pencil cup out of its place.  “Get. Out.” I snip between clenched teeth. My hands balled up in fists in the crooks of my elbows to keep from lashing out at this idiot I call my best friend. 

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

Hmm. No. I'm holding this information incase I un-scrap the idea.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I have a WILD backwards-reincarnation plot cooking in my head right now. I'm going to make the CANON the reincarnation and write a whole pre-canon/part reincarnation for my blorbos. And I am ITCHING to write it like it's no ones fucking business, but I'm determined to get some other projects off my plate first so that I can give it the attention that it rightfully deserves.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Hahahahaha...ha...ha... Well. You see...That's not an easy answer. Because I am not good at math and cannot count that high... But. In the last 30 days...Going off of WIPs that I've typed at least 500 words on... 11...

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Yes 😎

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Bless. You're too sweet my love ❤️

And now so I can spread the procrastination, I’m tagging...

@artsyunderstudy @shrekgogurt @buffy @j-nipper-95 @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hushed-chorus @martsonmars @skeedelvee @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @palimpsessed

[santoteez]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Three

Genre: Smut, Fluff (? Debatable)

Idol: Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups) of SEVENTEEN

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Gym Sex, PlusSize!Reader(not extremely detailed or anything), unprotected sex, semi-public sex?, fingering (f receiving), squirting

Seungcheol sighed as he completed his final rep of the night. The pull-up bar banged against the rest of the cable machine, relieved to be put out of its assault.

Although he wasn’t one to let the woes of the idol career get to him, there were times when Seungcheol just couldn’t help himself. Like when variety show hosts decided it’d be fun to make jokes about his relationship.

Let it be clear that Cheol wasn’t the jealous type. No, he took pride when Y/N received too-long stares during their routine strolls, or when the barista’s fingers lingered a bit too long when they collected her payment, only for their face to drop when she promptly spun away from the counter and into his arms. No, he wasn’t a jealous boyfriend.

But there were some things he just couldn’t ignore.

“S.Coups, you’re such a busy guy! You’re the leader of a 13-member group, the leader of said group’s hip-hop unit, and you just got off a world tour. Now, you’ve revealed the most shocking part of all: your 13-month relationship with Y/N. How do you make time for everything?”

“Well, when you want something enough, you simply make time for it.” He smiled.

“Truly impressive. Now, tell us a bit more about Y/N. I know you want to respect her privacy and all, but just tell us what you think we and your fans need to know about her.”

Cheol beamed at the thought of his girlfriend. “She’s great. I was walking past a building- I won’t say where- when I noticed her drop a handful of documents. The wind was blowing so I stopped because there was no way she’d get them all herself. I helped her to her car and we’ve been inseparable ever since. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. She’s the sweetest person I know and she’s always there when I need her. “

“And do you do the same?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you also always there when she needs you?”

Cheol flinched, recalling all the times he’s had to postpone or take a rain check on their plans. Then, he remembered the nights when he fell asleep on her on Facetime or she’d arrive at his apartment excited for a night in to find him dozing off.

“I’m sure I’ve let her down in the past year, as I’m not perfect. But It’s always my goal to make it up to her.”

The host scoffed. “She wouldn’t have to go through all of that if you had a regular job. Or even a job like mine. I’m just a TV host. My workday ends. I could easily make it to important events since I don’t have anything like a world tour in the way.”

Cheol shifted in his seat, remembering the time Y/N’s work dinner fell on the same day as a special stage. Shaking hands with her boss with sweat dripping down his temple after running all the way there was not a good look. “Right.”

“Well,” The reporter snickered. “Maybe Y/N should be with me.”

“You?”

“Or someone like me. That could be there for those crucial moments.” He shrugged.

Cheol laughed. “Let her be the judge of that. We make it work between us. No one else matters beyond that.” His knuckles tightened around the arms of the chair.

The host raised his hands in defense. “I’m just saying.”

“Thank you for having me.” Cheol stood up from his chair, heading for the door.

“You’re leaving?” The host turned to the production staff. “Is it over?” He asked, to which they shrugged. “Well, I guess we’re done!” He said, and the cameras stopped rolling.

They missed Cheol’s fists colliding with the host’s face.

So now, here he was, turning his anger into fitness.

If the world thought he wasn’t a reliable boyfriend to Y/N, it wasn’t long until she thought the same. He had to intercept before it was too late.

Which is why he called her over.

Sat in the corner of the gym, on a barely-used bench, Y/N watched as Cheol’s back muscles stretched and contracted with his every move. She watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed wildly after every sip of water.

She shifted in her seat, heat rising throughout her face and neck. When he called her over, she rushed over, excited at the thought of a late-night stroll afterward. But, her mind now had other plans. She took a deep breath as Seungcheol lifted his shirt to dry off his face, his sweat-glistened abs on display for her greedy eyes alone. This gym was privately owned, and the owner was a friend of Seungcheol’s. It was also after hours, so no one would be arriving for hours to come.

“Ch-cheol.”  She spoke, her voice barely a whisper, but he heard it.

He turned to her, smiling as he took in her beauty. He beckoned her over, chuckling softly when she wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m sweating.”

“I’m aware.”

“Let me shower first.” He tried to pull away, stumbling when Y/N didn’t let go.

“You’re not that sweaty, it’s fine.” She tilted her head to look at him. “Even if you were, I’d still want my hug.”

Cheol stared at her, raising his hand to caress her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“For all the times I’ve missed a date or turned up late. I’m sorry I’m not always-” 

Y/N pressed her lips against his, silencing him mid-apology. 

“Are you doing this because of that shitty reporter? I told you, he’s an old classmate of mine. Always had a thing for me, even when I declined numerous times. I actually have his mom on Facebook. And what do you know, she had not seen the clip yet. So, I sent it to her. She said she’d ‘deal with that knucklehead.’” Y/N smiled as Cheol burst out laughing.

“Don’t let his words get in your head. I’d never leave you for him. I knew what I was signing up for in this relationship, and I’m happy here. I want to be with you.”

Cheol took one look into Y/N’s sparking eyes before he leaned in, closing the gap between them. 

He tried to take his time, to be gentle. And it lasted all of 5 seconds before his kisses left Y/N constantly breathless. He pushed her onto the workout bench,  yanking her leggings down her legs.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m in a rush.” His face was flushed.

“It’s okay, me too. Keep going.” She whispered.

Cheol slid his fingers under the waistband of her lacy panties - the ones that drove him crazy, was this her plan all along?- and let out a shaky breath when the pads of his fingers found her clit.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

Y/N whimpered as she rolled her hips to lean into his touch. With her promotion and Cheol being busy with promotions, they’d barely found any time for…this. Hence why Y/N felt like she was losing her mind.

“Cheol, just fuck me already.” She pleaded.

He kissed her temple, a rather innocent gesture while performing such a lewd act. “I want you to cum first.”

“Seriously?”

“You cum on my fingers first or not at all.” He met her gaze, stoic and almost unfazed by her frustration. “Do you understand?” He plunged two fingers inside her, knuckle deep.

Y/N felt the heat spreading across her cheeks as she nodded, her breaths becoming ragged as time went on.

Her hand flew up to wrap around his wrist, keeping him still as her body shook.

“There we go. Didn’t that feel good?” Cheol asked, sucking his fingers clean.

He smirked when Y/N whined. “I know, I know. I didn’t forget.”

She was positive her heart skipped a beat when Cheol lifted his shirt over his head. The room was relatively dark, but the moonlight highlighted her boyfriend perfectly.

“Are you sure you want to do this here? This isn’t like you, baby.” He teased, despite knowing her answer.

She tugged on the waistband of his sweats, pulling him towards her. “Hurry up and fuck me the way that reporter can’t”

Cheol groaned, his dick hardening even further, which he hadn’t thought was possible. He yanked her panties off, abandoning them on the bench as he lifts her up by the thighs.

“Wait, Cheol. What are you doing?” She yelped.

“Shh, I’ve always wanted to fuck you just like this.” He pressed her back against the wall, strategically placing her between the pull-over machine and the treadmill.

“What if I get heavy?”

“You’re not. I love your size.” It was true. Cheol loved every aspect of his girlfriend. From her plush thighs to her full breasts to her soft midsection, he was obsessed. Then add her intelligence and charisma on top of that? How did he get so lucky?

He momentarily moved his hand from her thigh, pushing his sweats down just enough to let his cock spring out. The tip was leaking already, begging to be stimulated. Without a second thought, he brought her thighs up to wrap around his waist. He took grasp of her hips with both hands and slid his fat cock into her tight, little hole.

Y/N clawed at Cheol’s back with her long nails. She gasped as he pulled out almost completely before bottoming out again at a harsh pace, not even giving her a second to adjust.

“Cheol, baby. Hold on.” She managed as she held on for dear life.

“Uh uh. You can handle it.” He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, the faint traces of her perfume infiltrating his senses. “Good girls take what they’re given. You’re gonna be my good girl, aren’t you?” He gritted, not letting his pace falter even for a second.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good for you. So, so good.” Y/N could feel the sweat on her back allowing her to glide across the wall. “Just don’t stop, please.”

Cheol brought a hand to her face, pressing his lips against hers. His kiss was hot, hungry, and desperate. 

“You’re gonna cum soon, huh? Gonna cum for me in the middle of my friend’s gym? Gonna let me breed this tight, little pussy? Fill you up until it leaks out?” 

She nodded. “Baby, look.” She ran her hand over her stomach, where the bulge had not gone unnoticed. “I can feel you right here.”

Cheol huffed. “You’re killing me here, baby. I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“Cum inside me, Cheol,” She whined. “Wanna be full of you.” She stared at him through lidded eyes.

He shook his head. “You first, baby.” 

Y/N’s body shook as Cheol’s wandering hand rubbed jarring circles on her clit. Her mouth fell into a silent scream and hot tears rolled down her cheeks as her orgasm overpowered her being. Her body stilled as she squirted, her fluids coating Cheol’s abdomen.

“Fuck…” He mumbled, following suit as his white, hot cum filled her pretty cunt. The visual and intensity of her orgasm had been the final push he needed to cum.

They stayed like that for a while, trying to regulate their breathing.

Cheol broke the silence. “I’m gonna set you down now, okay?” He whispered as if an octave higher would scare her away. When she nodded, he helped her to her feet and stabilized her footing when she stumbled slightly.

“God, I needed that.” She laughed softly.

“You and I both. Shower?” He asked.

Y/N side-eyed him.

“Just a shower. I swear.”

“You said that last time.”

“...Okay, maybe I did. But can you blame me? I can never get enough of you.” He laughed when she glared at him.

The following morning, Cheol’s cell phone woke him up. 

“Hello?” He asked, not bothering to see who was calling.

“Choi Seungcheol. Did you fuck in my gym?”

That woke him up. “Nope.”

“Then what are these damn stains on the bench and on the floor between the machines?”

“...Okay, maybe I fucked in your gym.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. I have a mop, a bucket, and rags. Be here in 15 minutes.” And the line went dead.

Cheol groaned, sliding out of bed.

“Do you have a schedule today?” Y/N asked groggily, opening her eyes momentarily when she felt him move.

“No, I’ll be back soon. Keep sleeping and we can go out for breakfast when I get back okay?”

She smiled and nodded, closing her eyes again.

His phone rang a second time.

‘I heard you, I’m coming.”

“There’s panties on the floor. Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?”

“Okay, I forgot them there. I’m coming. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He laughed as the man on the other end spewed a line of profanities down the receiver.

Very tired but I’m trying to power through in order to finish what I started :)

This was not proofread so forgive any typos but I’ve read it multiple times and I didn’t find any! <3

-pluto

[crystalelemental]

Time for me to continue my anti-Stadium Gloria agenda. Damage calcs are out! Not all of them, Gloria's only got Fire and Flying listed at time of writing. The sheet shows she's top of the food chain for Flying-type DPS and sync! That's amazing! Except as often, the raw numbers are misleading and this is why you check your own calcs for functional application.

This is the grid I'm working with for Gloria's sync nuke and DPS hybrid. Sync node +50, Haymaker, and the physical moves +2 for Bounce. I am assuming level 140, EX, 5/5, first sync, Flying Zone is active, and with Crit Strike 2 lucky cookie, with foes having base 50 defenses and no debuffs. These assumptions are standard for all calculations across all sync pairs. Unique to Gloria, we have -2 Rebuff, and +2 physical moves up next in effect. Here's the results:

Now that's a lot of damage. Max Move is pre-rebuff. 100k sync is nothing to scoff at, and does, in fact, outperform Skyla. Skyla uses the grid below, wiith the .

Skyla is close, but misses out slightly. Gloria is definitively the best sync. As for DPS, please know that I can only attach 10 pictures and can't put up Liza's grid, but it's Tough Sync 3, Phys Boost 2, Towering Force, and all four sync nodes, with the usual assumptions of CS2 skill, level 140, EX, Flying Zone active, foe at 50 not debuffed.

Gloria hits harder, but remember she's two-turn. With +2 moves up next (featured right), Liza wildly outpaces her. Without, her two-turn damage is slightly behind without more emphasis on boosting. So Gloria does win the DPS race by a hare. Get it? Ehhh?

But enough of this! We need to talk function, because the problem with the damage calcs as listed are that even their lower bound is too high. It says that outperforms Anni Skyla. Which means, they're assuming sync connects to a rebuffed target. That doesn't happen in most situations. Sides will not receive rebuff if center is targeted for Max Move. LG stages will have two HP bars with no rebuff. We have to know what her sync does when the rebuff isn't present, to really understand what we're dealing with outside of the single target she beats down. Similarly, Bounce will not always get the Phys Bonus +2. Foes won't always be attacking AoE at her, and evade tanking with Slippery Slope really cuts into her energy, so we need to also assume DPS without the +2 phys up next. With all prior assumptions staying the same:

Without rebuff or moves up next, DPS drops off a cliff. Remember, this is two turns. That DPS is listed as equivalent to Lysandre pre-Crit Strike from the expansion. That's how weak she's hitting without any buffs. Similarly, sync just evaporates to literally a third of its prior strength. Not only do you lose the rebuff modifier, but you lose her sync condition. Suddenly, you're operating on fumes. 33k on a Tech sync, from a PokeFair, is not respectable. You know what else can hit for 33k on sync?

Lodge Calem. Granted, this is with holding SEUN until sync, but the fact that a Lodge pair who is also a Striker can outperform you is...damning. To say nothing of Summer Liza, who also outperforms this and gets AoE.

But of course, Gloria is not limited to her own rebuff. Application of off-type rebuffs can still at least activate her sync. Bearing that in mind, someone on Reddit reminded me that Gordie exists, applies a Fire rebuff for her main set to thrive off of, and can at minimum set up something for her. Provided there is a +1 rebuff not of the Flying type, Gloria then gets:

67k. 2/3rds her full power. Much improved! Still behind a lot of top sync nukers.

I demonstrate all of this for a few reasons. One being...double check the calcs. If you see something in the calculation document that feels like it's not accounting for something, run the numbers. PoMaTools lets you build a grid and assess damage with a lot of reliability, and is a quick way to check their numbers. Which for some reason never exactly match mine? I dunno.

The second is to build skepticism when you start hearing "best DPS/Sync in the game" and are immediately tempted. Gloria is about to be addressed with several superlatives: best Fire sync (if rebuff is applied), best Flying sync (if type rebuff is applied), likely best Fighting sync (if type rebuff is applied), best Flying DPS (with rebuff and moves up next in effect but also it's two-turn). All of these statements are technically true, but come with the caveat of their difficulty to set up. This is why Type Shift Hyper Beam/Giga Impact remains relevant, even as those pairs start to fall off a bit. They're big damage with no strings attached (accuracy check notwithstanding), and even there you see it's not the full truth. Consider where the damage is coming from, and why it's turning up so high. Because sometimes, you'll find out it's not easy to sustain.

The last, and most personally significant, reason I bring this up is to say...I was right. I had a lot of people push back on my assertions regarding Gloria on Reddit, and it turns out I was spot on. I might even do this for Fire damage, since I have those calcs up. Depends on how petty I'm feeling.

[blitzendoggo]

Goodbye, For Now

Goodbid needs to get the Sky Skimmer for his contract, but his heart is not in it. Or, more accurately, his heart is in it too much.

**This is a Crackship

Goodbid/Skyskimmer (1617 words)

~~~

"So let me get this straight," S.G. says suspiciously. "You want me to get Mercury off the ship and into a tavern so you can then steal the ship?"

"Yep," Goodbid says with his most persuasive smile.

"And why would I do that?" S.G. asks, crossing her arms.

"Because you get to spend some alone time with Mercury." Goodbid all but bats his eyelashes at her, trying to convince her to go along with his idea, just this once.

"Yes, but you'd be stealing Sky Skimmer!" S.G. snaps, being defensive and protective over a boat that doesn't belong to her or even her (not-) boyfriend.

"Well, according to my contract, I'm also supposed to bring Mercury with me for extra pay," Goodbid growls back, not backing down from S.G. "I'm doing him a solid by getting him away from that ship!"

"If you lay a hand on him," S.G. hisses, raising her hand threateningly.

Goodbid holds her eye contact for several seconds. His smile becomes pinched at the edges. "S.G., I like you, and I like Mercury, so for all of our sakes just get him the hell away from that ship for two hours, okay?"

"I'm not going to let you steal from Mercury!" S.G. snaps, her accent becoming heavier and harder for Goodbid to understand.

"The ship isn't even his!" That makes S.G. stop. She stares at him, waiting for him to continue. "I found some documents that prove that the ship is a generations old family vessel."

"Are you saying that Mercury stole the ship?" S.G. growls.

"No, of course not! I like him just as much as you do, if only in a different way," Goodbid says, his voice dropping, as he eyes the door. No one is around, but he has to remember to not start screaming again or it might draw attention. "I don't believe he knowingly stole a ship. All I know is that there is a family who is willin' to pay a hitman to go out and find this ship and bring it back to them."

"Aren't you going to have to kill Mercury?" S.G. asks, distrustfully.

"No, they didn't care if I brought Mercury with me, they just want the ship."

S.G. lowers her hands. "This still doesn't feel right," she says, in an almost mournful way.

"Okay, how about this," Goodbid says, trying to relieve her guilt. "I give you a cut of the money that you then use to help Mercury buy a new ship with." S.G. tilts her head to the side, giving Goodbid the distinct impression that she is considering it. Goodbid almost wishes she wouldn't. He wants her to tell him to break the contract, that it's not worth losing such a beautiful, loyal ship for a bit of money, but he has a contract to follow, so he continues, "you'll look like the hero; besides, he'll never know that it was me that stole it."

S.G. grits her teeth, but she still slowly nods. "I swear if this goes south Goodbid, I'm selling you out," she hisses, pushing past him and heading towards the door.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Goodbid says honestly. He waits an extra five minutes before leaving the room, no use in starting rumors about what they were doing in that small room with a locked door.

*

While S.G. is a master gaslighter, she cannot for the life of her flirt with Mercury. Goodbid, normally would find this utterly hilarious and would find Glib to make jokes about this with, but right now he really needs her to up her game.

Its prime time to go to a tavern, all S.G. needs to do is to ask.

After an actual hour of S.G. trying and failing to get Mercury off the ship, Glib finally decides to toss S.G. a bone and suggest that they go for drinks. Glib and Goodbid both have used this trick on Mercury. Glib will get to the bar and will use his vampirism as an excuse to dip and Goodbid (when he's not trying to annoy S.G. by holding a better conversation with Mercury) will make up a random excuse about not wanting to be hungover the next day.

While he waits an extra ten minutes behind some boxes, he can't help but admire the ship he stands on. The craftmanship is practically godly with the intricate designs that line her walls. The wood is dark and high quality, even to Goodbid's untrained eye. The whole ship gives off a magical and majestic appearance even before you realize that the ship is indeed magical, which just adds to her perfection.

Its perfection, he means.

Because it's a ship, not alive. Not capable of emotions.

After the ten minutes has past Goodbid gets up, stretching as he does, and walks to the wheel of the ship. He lays his hands gently on the rudder and Sky Skimmer flutters her sails in question.

"Easy, girl, we're just gonna go for a little ride," Goodbid says, gently stroking the wheel as he guides it towards Wainua. Sky Skimmer flies steadily for a few minutes before seemingly realizing where they are headed and slows to a stop.

Goodbid internally groans. This is gonna be a long trip, he thinks to himself before gently placing his hands back on Sky Skimmer's wheel. "Come on, Sky, your family just wants you back," he says, gently running his hand down her wheel, trying to soothe her.

Her sails relax for a moment before bristling again and flapping, but still not turning around.

"What?" he asks, genuinely confused. "Were they not good to you?"

The ship flutters her sails in a way that tells Goodbid that they weren't cruel to her, but she's still reluctant to return.

"You just want to stay with Mercury?" He asks, stepping away from her wheel and slowly walking to her mast.

Her sails move in a nodding manner.

Goodbid clicks his tongue and places his hand lightly on her mast, in a caring way. This ship is so beautiful and has a personality, Goodbid would even venture to say it has a mind, which makes him not want to take the ship where she would be unhappy. She likes Mercury better than her original family, so she should be allowed to stay with Mercury, but that sadly isn't how the world works.

"You still have to go back." His voice is light as it trails off, almost apologetic in sound. "If I take you back then Mercury won't be hurt because I also like Mercury," Goodbid says, tracing his hand up and down the beautifully worn wood of Sky Skimmer mast. "I won't hurt him, but someone else will if they get another hitman on the job."

The entire boat jolts at the implication that someone would hurt Mercury if Sky Skimmer isn't returned to her old family.

"Shh, girl, I know," Goodbid says soothingly, as he places his back against her mast and sinks to his knees. "I don't like it either, but once you get there, you could probably run away."

The ship almost perks up at that suggestion.

"Yeah, you could escape the boat yard and come back to Mercury," he says with a soft smile. "You could come back to S.G., and Glib." He stands up and slowly walks back to her rudder, gently running his fingers over the spokes. "Back to me."

There's a soft moment that they allow to hang in the air before Goodbid is forced to break it.

"But in order for you to run away, we have to get you there first." With a gentle tap of his heel, Sky Skimmer is sulking forward.

"I know, it hurts to leave," Goodbid says sympathetically as he brushes his fingers across the wood of her wheel. "But the faster you get there, the faster you can get back."

With his gentle prodding, Sky Skimmer picks up speed and is racing toward Waniua. Goodbid full body laughs at the change in her mood as she rockets forward.

The ride takes barely an hour which Goodbid spends admiring the view -both of the landscape that they pass, and the gorgeous ship he finds himself on. When they near Waniua, Goodbid, nudges Sky Skimmer to float in the water, as to not draw too much attention. He calmly steers her to the meeting location that he had set up with the family. He looks over the edge of Sky Skimmer at the sea for a moment before leaning on her rudder.

"I have to go get one of them and bring them back here," Goodbid tells her. "But once they are here, I won't be allowed back on the ship, so this is goodbye for now." He leans down at places a gentle kiss on the top of one of her spokes.

Her sails flutter mournfully as Goodbid gets off the ship and walks up the dock. He resolutely does not look back, nor does he think about the possibility that Sky Skimmer won't return to him- Mercury, he means. Not himself, because why would he need to refer to himself.

Its not like he's done something so stupid as fall in love with a sentient ship. Of course not, that would be foolish and entirely unprofessional of him.

He gets to the end of the dock and can't help but throw one last look at the beautiful ship before squaring his shoulders and walking up the stairs.

She will come back to them. Back to him.

She has to.

[lawyeronabike]

Book Talk #3: A Clockwork Orange, Free Will, and Motives of Christian Ethos

Does motive matter in ethics? If you do the "right" thing for the wrong reason, is it still right? If you do the "wrong" thing for the "right" reasons, is it still "wrong"? Put your thinking cap on your gulliver, my droogies. Today, we're examining Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange as a case study in ethics, as well highlighting a major flaw in Christianity (a noble pastime if there ever was one).

Part I: The Plot of A Clockwork Orange

I'll include only what's needed for the analysis here. It's still a book worth reading.

The book can roughly be into three parts. The first third is Alex committing horrible, violent crimes so we understand who he is and why he gets treated the way he does later in the book. After a rape and burglary goes bad, the woman he raped dies, and he is incarcerated for murder.

The next third documents Alex's time in prison, including his volunteering and selection for a clinical trial called "the Ludovico Technique." It a fictional form of aversion therapy that involves Alex watching violent and pornographic films while being injected with drugs to make him nauseous. The technique is a "success." When he leaves the program he becomes violently ill when he gets horny or tries to engage in violence. Admittedly, he was previously a rapist, but this procedure closes off even the possibility of consensual sex. Alex is now also incapable of being violent, this includes an inability to use violence in self defense. Because of the background music that was used in the films, he can't even listen to classical music any more, which used to one of his greatest joys.

(To make sure he watches the film, his eyelids are pried open, with scientists administrating eye drops. It's the definition of a captive audience.)

The last third follows his journey back in the free world. Mostly, it involves him being down on his luck. People are cruel to him, and many of the people he brutalized before going to prison, now seeing his defenseless state, exact revenge on him, beating him senselessly. Many readers feel sympathy for Alex at this point. He's no longer the monster he once was. He literally cannot be. One of the last scenes of the book is him being locked in a room, subjected to the blasting of classical music. To save himself the agony of his conditioning, he autodefenestrates (jumps out the window) in an attempt to kill himself.

The music was still pouring in all brass and drums and the violins miles up through the wall. The window in the room where I had laid down was open. I ittied to it and viddied a fair drop to the autos and buses and walking chellovecks below. I creeched out to the world: ‘Goodbye, goodbye, may Bog forgive you for a ruined life.’ Then I got on to the sill, the music blasting away to my left, and I shut my glazzies and felt the cold wind on my litso, then I jumped.

-A Clockwork Orange: Part 3, Chapter 5

Yes yes. I know left out many important plot points and symbolic details. The entire book is worth reading, and it's not that long either.

Part II: What A Clockwork Orange is Interpreted to Mean

Now that we have essential plot elements laid out, we can ask. Is Alex is now good? Most interpretations of the book at this point conclude that Alex is neither good nor evil. Take for example, an analysis by Thomas C. Foster, a professor emeritus of English at the University of Michigan-Flint. In his 2003 book, How to Read Literature Like a Professor, he states

When his capacity to choose is taken away, evil is replaced not with goodness but with a hollow simulacrum of goodness. Because he still wants to choose evil, he is in no way reformed. In acquiring the desired behavior through the “Ludovico Technique,” . . . society has not only failed to correct Alex but has committed a far worse crime against him by taking away his free will, which for Burgess is the hallmark of the human being.

Morality requires choice. We don't condemn hurricanes for their evil nature. Hurricanes are amoral, as hurricanes have no agency. People are understandably uncomfortable about thinking of human beings as being without free will. It would seem to undermine a core assumption on which society is built. And yet...

Part III: What Burgess Doesn't Get - The Problem of Free Will

For starters, it probably doesn't exist.

Perhaps the believers and the nonbelievers can be one day united in their skepticism of free will. For nonbelievers, there are deterministic arguments. But don't think that let's believers off of the hook.

Many Christians believe in an omniscient god. This appears to be directly incompatible with free will. I figured this out when I was about twelve or thirteen. If god knows I will choose A, then do I have free will to choose B? Not if god is omniscient.

(If "god's plan" is a real thing, then you can kiss free will goodbye)

Part IV: "Good" Things for "Bad" Reasons

So let's take a step back from that for a second and assume, for the sake of argument, that free will exists. Who actually has it in a meaningful sense. Believers? Or nonbelievers?

Many Christians believe that actions on this earth determine your eternal place in heaven or hell, and that your placement there depends on doing various "good works."

(I know it's a theological debate between protestants, who believe in Sola Fide, or faith alone as a ticket to heaven, and Catholics, who believe it requires faith and good works.)

As a further side note, the requirement of faith itself has troubling implications. You don't control your faith. If I asked you to change your religious beliefs, right now, you couldn't' do it. In many respects, your beliefs can better be described as something that happens to you, rather than something you choose.

So assuming there is, in fact, free will, and ignoring the troubling implications of a faith requirement, let's talk about the good works component. Let's say you have a believing Catholic who wants to go to heaven. They are as convinced of heaven and hell and the truth of the bible as they are of gravity. They volunteer to feed the homeless. Did they do so in any meaningful way?

Let's put this another way. Imagine I approach you with a shovel in my hand. I credibly threaten to beat you senseless unless you feed the homeless. You comply. Did you do good by feeding the homeless? Is it even possible to know? If you help other people for a a selfish reason, how should that be morally judged?

These two situations are not so different. If you truly believe in the fire and brimstone, there are only two key differences separating the above scenarios. One is the depth of punishment and reward. Christian hell is a far greater punishment than being beaten with a shovel. The other is immanency. Being sent to hell won't happen immediately, but the catholic still believes it will happen. It seems to me that the punishment being delayed does not actually change the moral calculus. Whether punishment and reward are served immediately or in fifty years, the people in the above scenarios are still acting pro-socaily for selfish reasons. In this way, such a person, like Alex, has become a Clockwork Orange. Organic on the outside, mechanical on the inside, and stripped of any meaningful choice.

The book itself seems to recognize the tension between being a christian and being a person with free will.

‘Choice,’ rumbled a rich deep goloss. I viddied it belonged to the prison charlie. ‘He has no real choice, has he? Self-interest, fear of physical pain, drove him to that grotesque act of self-abasement. Its insincerity was clearly to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice.’

‘He will be your true Christian,’ Dr Brodsky was creeching out, ‘ready to turn the other cheek, ready to be crucified rather than crucify, sick to the very heart at the thought even of killing a fly.’ And that was right, brothers, because when he said that I thought of killing a fly and felt just that tiny bit sick, but I pushed the sickness and pain back by thinking of the fly being fed with bits of sugar and looked after like a bleeding pet and all that cal.

-A Clockwork Orange, Part 2, Chapter 7

Ironically, this means that atheists, who will be more likely than Christians to deny the existence of free will, are more likely to actually have it in any meaningful way. Should free will exist, the only people who are able to make meaningful choices are those who believe that life is unhindered by any cosmic balancing scales, or those that are willing tot defy god.

Part V: "Bad" things for "Good Reasons"

The bible is a mess of a book, and much of it justifies and supports slavery. Many people in the American antebellum south believed slavery was a righteous thing, permitted by god. Liberating slaves would be wrong, as it would be stealing. It is in this moral conundrum Mark Twain places his titular character in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Huck, believing it is dictated by his religion, writes a letter revealing the location of Jim, a runaway slave. But he hasn't sent it yet, he first reflects.

I saved him by telling the men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateful, and said I was the best friend old Jim ever had in the world, and the only one he’s got now; and then I happened to look around and see that paper.

It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I’d got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:

“All right, then, I’ll go to hell” — and tore it up.

It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming. I shoved the whole thing out of my head, and said I would take up wickedness again, which was in my line, being brung up to it, and the other warn’t. And for a starter I would go to work and steal Jim out of slavery again; and if I could think up anything worse, I would do that, too; because as long as I was in, and in for good, I might as well go the whole hog.

-The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Chapter 31

Huck is willing to suffer eternal damnation, in a very literal sense, to help his friend. He believes he is doing the "wrong" thing, and is willing to do it anyway. What if Huck didn't believe it was wrong to protect Jim? Does that change the morality of his choice? Is Huck's good deed greater because he's willing to suffer enormous consequences for it? Is it less of a good deed because he believes he's doing the wrong thing?

(When in doubt, rely on the power of friendship)

Few people today would believe that freeing slaves is a wrong act, regardless of what the bible says. So to drive the message home, let's take a more controversial example.

Inhabit, once again, the world of religion, the dogma of heaven and hell. If you could kill somebody, and know they would go straight to heaven, should you do it? Let's say you already knew you were going to hell. What would you have to lose, spiritually speaking?

The Mormons make a particularly interesting example for this. They are a denomination that rejects the doctrine of original sin, meaning children are sinless when they enter the world. They also believe that children can't sin until the "age of accountability," which modern practice sets at eight years old.

For all men must repent and be baptized, and not only men, but women, and children who have arrived at the years of accountability.

-Doctrine and Covenants, Section 18 verse 42

And I also beheld that all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven.

-Doctrine and Covenants, section 137 verse 10

One can imagine a mormon zealot serially killing as many children as possible under eight years old in order to secure them a place in heaven. After all, it's all downhill after eight. They may very well fall prey to temptation. From this perspective, it's best to give them a speedy trip to the afterlife. If you truly believed the same mormon doctrine as them, could you condemn them?

Part VI: Recap

Let's examine our characters again, and ask if any of them are truly good.

Alex: Does the "right" thing, given literally no choice in the matter

Catholic Zealot: Does the "right" thing, but is given no meaningful choice in the matter. They believe that failure to do do the "right" thing will be met with eternal torment, so their actions are selfishly motivated.

Huckleberry Finn: Does what he believes is the "wrong" thing, but for selfless reasons, and is willing to go to hell.

Mormon Zealot: Does the wrong thing, for selfless reasons. Willing to endure hell so others can make it to heaven.

Obviously, killing kids to send them to heaven should get you sent to an insane asylum. I feel I've waded in the waters of delusion land long enough that it may be helpful at this point to remind the reader that there is no god. There is no heaven. And the is no hell. And yet...

If you take the Clockwork Orange perspective, that being good requires moral choice, you need one of two things. You need to believe there is no god with any moral care what happens here, or you need to be willing to defy god. To cower at god's might, to do what god says to save your own skin, can not be considered moral. It is, at best, as our friend Thomas Foster puts it, merely a "simulacrum of goodness."

Part VII: Sacrifice-Off

I'm not the first to note that even according to the bible, Jesus's sacrifice doesn't seem so special. Crucifixion definitely seems painful (if you ever see me up on a cross, please mercy kill me), but Jesus was not alone. Crucifixion was not an uncommon method of execution in Roman times. Allegedly, Jesus rose from the grave after thee days, making it so he didn't even give up his life. Afterward, he went to heaven. In the grand scheme of things, even the most immense torture for a finite period pales in comparison to infinite reward.

Now let's take our Mormon zealot. They believe with 100% certainty that they are going to hell. They are willing to take infinite punishment to defy god's will and save as many souls as possible.

Jesus never believed he was going to hell. He didn't even believe he was going to stay dead. Who, in this case, is willing to sacrifice more? If mormon theology was true, could you condemn the zealot? Who would be more deserving of the title "Messiah?"

Part VIII: Conclusion

There's even more symbolism to talk about in A Clockwork Orange, and even a case to be made for Alex as a warped Christ figure (which Foster makes in his book). It will have to wait for another time.

A Clockwork Orange, in it's most mainstream interpretations, is about the value of free will. A reader is supposed to be horrified by the crimes Alex commits and subsequently even more horrified at the loss of his free will. I'd like to remind the christians that if free will is real and it is so important, you are not meaningfully using it. They've castrated themselves, letting their own judgment atrophy, all to adopt the appearance of good. At some point, you will have to use your own brain to figure out what what is right and wrong. As we've learned today, religion cannot teach ethics. It can only teach compliance.

Now I'm not in the business of playing hide the ball. I'll tell you what I think. There is no objective morality. Subjectively, I measure morality by utilitarian standards. Theoretically, the reason you do something doesn't change its moral impact on the world. But that's just my opinion.

[redwineconversation]

Lyon - Olympique de Marseille Preseason Postgame Thoughts

You know when you go to the dentist and you're like, this is going to suck, but you know you have to go anyway, so then you're in the chair with a drill in your mouth and you're questioning every life choice you made that lead you to this moment?

That's a little bit what watching this game was like, except I've had dentist appointments more enjoyable (probably because I've never had braces or a cavity, but we can talk about dental hygiene another time).

Anyway, let's recap an experience that somehow was more painful than a trip to the dentist.

My feelings about Sonia Bompastor's youth academy experiment are well documented at this point, and they haven't changed. There's just such a massive gulf between the youth leagues and the professional league, and the transition is brutal. Not every player who shines in the youth leagues will make it as a professional player and not every player who becomes professional will have the same statistics and profile as a pro as they did in the youth league.

You can't compare the two, which is why it puts me on such a back foot when we have academy players integrate the pro group without sending them out on loan first. It's just such a huge step. and as I said, there's a gulf in talent that shouldn't be ignored.

Out of all the academy players who were on the field today, I would say maybe on Maelvine Mendy and Alice Marques were the only ones who deserve to train with the pro group. The others had no business being there. I don't care what potential an academy player shows in training or with the youth leagues, the differences are too great between academy and pro, and Lyon should have too many aspirations to be treated as a stepping stone. That's what you have mid-tier teams for.

We are - and by that I mean I am - in for a very, very long season if Melvine Malard does not get shipped off in loan this season. Extending her to 2026 was one of Bompastor's biggest mistakes. She has suffered such a drop in confidence that she can't control a game while playing with youth players and can't score against a D2 team.

If anything, it just shows that the 2021-2022 season was an exception, and she was being propped up by better players and better playmakers. When both of those were taking away from her, she was exposed for what she is.

Therefore I fully anticipate Bompastor starting her every game this season because she "showed promise in training".

Laura Benkarth made her first appearance for Lyon, and there was some good, some bad. I'd rather have a player like her on my team sheet than not, and as this was her first game with Lyon I'm willing to give her a little bit of slack. She made some really good saves, especially on the penalty, and was a little bit hung out to dry by Lyon's statuesque defense on two of the goals. So it's a little hard to really get a read on her for how she will do in a game with proper defenders in front of her, but for now, at least I wasn't recoiling in horror.

Marozsan still runs at the speed of a drunk lumberjack and played with maybe 20 percent interest, which is kind of on par with most of her performances last season, so at least she was being consistent. That being said, even a player of Marozsan's calibre would struggle to make something happen with the players around her, so I can't really rip into her for that. I was a little surprised when Ines Benyahia took the penalty instead of Marozsan, because Marozsan is a player even I would trust for penalties, but Benyahia scored so I guess faith is relative.

On the topic of Benyahia - I think it's vital she goes out on loan. If I am desperate for Malard to go out on loan because I want her to stop handicapping my team, I think Benyahia would benefit from regular game time, because it would increase her game sharpness and maybe overall fitness as well. She has talent but it's not going to do her any good unless she can have a proper go at things, and due to her position and - hopefully - Lyon's ambitions, it's just not something she is going to get at Lyon.

The final score was 3-3, which doesn't really tell us anything except that the academy players won't win you games, which everyone other than Bompastor knew already.

[timomaraus]

April 19, 2023

CNN New clue may explain why Vikings disappeared abruptly from 15th-century Greenland (Editor's Note: It was all because Minneapolis promised them a fancy new stadium, and said they could keep the luxury box revenue.)

CNN Why these 'world famous' burgers are cooked in 100-year-old grease (Editor's Note: Clearly, fame is not achieved in an instant.)

CNN Toddler crawls through White House fence, prompts Secret Service response (Editor's Note: Boy, they're really training these election deniers younger and younger.)

CNN You can now apply for your share of a $725 million Facebook data privacy settlement. Here's how. (Editor's Note: Let's see...$725 million. 2 billion users. I can hardly wait for my 30 cents!)

CNN A rare hybrid solar eclipse will bring three types of eclipses in one (Editor's Note: Plus it can be either electric or gas-powered.)

CNN Top British defense official cast doubt on veracity of leaked Pentagon documents and says UK hasn't 'skipped a heartbeat' on intel gathering (Editor's Note: To be clear, spies rarely skip. They often slink, but rarely skip.)

Washington Post You can't refuse a TSA pat-down, but you do have options (Editor's Note: Yes. They're called trains, buses, and cars.)

Washington Post A brash new network's goal: 'Fox News in Spanish' (Editor's Note: Right. Can you say Dominion in español?)

Washington Post Tax season is getting longer. Blame climate change. (Editor's Note: Talk about unintended consequences. Or, as long time subscriber Bill D. noted, now it's blame climate change, when it used to just be blame Obama.)

CNN This legendary sandwich was created by accident (Editor's Note: One day a fumble-fingered chef dropped it in the bubbling vat of 100-year-old grease and voila! A Monte Cristo!)

CNN 2 cheerleaders were shot in a Texas supermarket parking lot after one opened the door to the wrong vehicle. A suspect is under arrest (Editor's Note: We've seen three similar cases in the past week. A white man shoots a black teenager mistakenly knocking at his door. A young white woman is shot by a white man after she accidentally turned up the wrong driveway. And this story. Why do I find this worth commenting about? In the first two cases, the identities of the white shooters have been withheld for many days. In this case, the photo and identity of the Hispanic shooter is the lead story on CNN.com. In case you ever need a good example of 'implicit bias' in the media.)

[justesenbentley]

Eximiousnovel Fey Evolution Merchant novel - Chapter 467– Lord Guard Envoy miniature zealous quote-p2

Jamfiction 《Fey Evolution Merchant》 - Chapter 467– Lord Guard Envoy fragile substantial reading-p2 why did francis drake and henry hudson attempt voyages to the new world

Novel-Fey Evolution Merchant-Fey Evolution Merchant Chapter 467– Lord Guard Envoy rock erect Whenever the two Defense Envoys spotted the content with the brocade field, their eyeballs increased. They exchanged seems and saw the term of distress and disbelief on each other's encounters. These persons were definitely obviously S-rank pros and possessed Misconception Breed of dog feys. They often not have summoned any feys, however their informal movements ended up already within the exact power point since the Mom of Bloodbath. This became the day around the world Cleansing that they has been waiting around for weeks and evenings. Nevertheless, this very day got actually get to be the moment of his memorial. That was the time of the World Detoxification that he or she has been waiting around for time and night time. Having said that, this day acquired actually become the day of his funeral service. “My lords, don't you observe that this sea vicinity has no daily life in any respect? This is due to they set the water Burial Lotus Flower during the water.” Lin Yuan reacted by moving forward and bowing into the Spirit Guards. It was subsequently evident that this Indigo Azure Safeguard Captain might be far more familiar with Duan He as compared with Jiao Hanzhong. One other Character Defend looked over the heavens that has been producing the planet Cleaning and sent out blaze-elemental electricity. One time Lin Yuan accomplished his document, a shout has come from the horizon. “Who is bringing about difficulty at Indigo Azure City's seas place!?” The tiers of darker clouds during the skies suddenly unveiled snow powder. While they dropped, they gradually transformed into goose feathers. Lin Yuan believed to Liu Jie, “Brother Liu, aid me to hand this brocade box for the two Lord Shield Envoys.” Following listening to Jiao Hanzhong discuss the carcinoma fey, both the Spirit Guards turned stern. But once they observed that someone made use of the entire seas spot to foster the carcinoma fey, Ocean Burial Lotus Bloom, both Soul Guards frowned all the more intensively. Lin Yuan shook his travel and casually given a brocade box to Liu Jie. He was originally likely to hold back until the harshest time of the planet Cleanse before he tossed the Cold Snow Pine over and executed its exceptional expertise at total energy. This could be regarded his biggest infiltration before his death. Being the Indigo Azure Guard captain, the center-older guy got obviously known Jiao Hanzhong's ident.i.ty. Seeing that Jiao Hanzhong's Frosty Snow Pine was dealing with the entire world Cleansing, he quickly asked for the aid of both the Mindset Guards. If this type of was purely your own feud, the Indigo Azure Safeguard Captain as well as the two Soul Guards wouldn't assistance him. Nevertheless, if he transformed his approach to outline, the Soul Guards wouldn't make it possible for Lin Yuan to get rid of him now. When Lin Yuan listened to Jiao Hanzhong's words and phrases, he sensed it was rather miserable just for this emperor-cla.s.s pro. Jiao Hanzhong was already within the emperor-cla.s.s and possessed Fantasy Particular breed of dog feys, but he still believed the Zheng primary family was the everlasting help and support even at his demise. Liu Jie walked near Lin Yuan from behind and aimed at his own mask, signaling he would take it off. As part of the Radiance Hundred Sequence, Liu Jie may well be a see to do this accident and convey to each Character Defend Envoys. Liu Jie was rather bewildered because he walked toward the two Shield Envoys using the brocade field. A History of the Army Experience of William A. Canfield The layers of dark clouds from the atmosphere suddenly published snow powder. While they dropped, they gradually transformed into goose feathers. Jiao Hanzhong said to Lin Yuan inside a serious tone, “I will perish today, but you have killed a member of the Zheng primary family's Nightmare Squad, just for the thunderous vengeance from your Zheng most important friends and family!” The Indigo Azure Defend Captain was setting up for more info regarding the problem here through Duan He, so he gone over toward Duan He. Liu Jie walked near Lin Yuan from behind and pointed at his cover up, signaling he would take it off. As a member of the Brilliance Hundred Pattern, Liu Jie may well be a witness to do this event and convey to the two Character Safeguard Envoys. A Flock of Girls and Boys The Indigo Azure Safeguard Captain was making to get more information in regards to the circumstance here through Duan He, so he gone over toward Duan He. If this was purely your own feud, the Indigo Azure Shield Captain plus the two Spirit Guards wouldn't aid him. Even so, if he changed his method of explanation, the Soul Guards wouldn't allow for Lin Yuan to get rid of him now. So, Jiao Hanzhong shouted to the Indigo Azure Shield Captain and also the two Mindset Guards with image resolution, “Lord Nature Guards, there is a carcinoma fey. The two Character Guards didn't summon any fey. One of those waved the fretting hand and produced a spatial vitality s.h.i.+eld to guard the Cold Snow Pine, for the time being helping Cool Snow Pine to isolate the icy snowfall that had been dropping. Lin Yuan said to Liu Jie, “Brother Liu, help me to to hand this brocade field to your two Lord Shield Envoys.” Lin Yuan naturally wouldn't lay to those pros who protected the Brilliance Federation. As such, he required the specific body in the Seas Burial Lotus Flower out of your Soul Secure spatial sector and said, “It holds true we uncovered this Ocean Burial Lotus Blossom from the seaside ocean. Even so, I wasn't one that placed it right here. I wouldn't change the total ocean place towards a gone area exclusively for a single Sobbing Seas Crystal.” Jiao Hanzhong said to Lin Yuan inside of a deep tone, “I will perish these days, nevertheless, you have murdered a member of the Zheng principal family's Bad dream Squad, exclusively for the thunderous revenge from your Zheng principal family!” Chapter 467: Lord Shield Envoy At the same time, Jiao Hanzhong's eye flashed with desire. The man in the Indigo Azure Defend armour a.s.sessed the situation of the barren tropical island. Once he discovered the planet Washing which has been descending out of the atmosphere, he frowned slightly and bowed towards the two Character Guards. “My lords, I hope that it is possible to guide this emperor-cla.s.s experienced through the Zheng loved ones to go through this tribulation.”

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[bluejayblueskies]

jontim hugs 32 or jonmartin touch 16

touches prompt list

16 - massaging them

wow it has been so very long since you sent this ask and i am very sorry for the wait! i hope you enjoy this season one jmart nonetheless <3

.

Martin has been living in the Archives for a few weeks now, and it’s been … fine. It’s not like document storage is a five-star accommodation, but it has a bed (cot with approximately six blankets stacked on top of it that Tim had insisted he take), entertainment (jigsaw puzzles and books and Sasha’s old phone that he can watch videos on if he’s okay with the incredibly slow buffer time from the Institute’s shit internet), and amenities (microwave and electric kettle, repurposed decontamination shower, semi-private bathroom). And there isn’t a worm-infested woman knocking at his door every ten minutes, which is … something, at least.

Another aspect of never leaving the Archives is that Martin has seen more of Jon in the past few weeks than he’d seen of him his entire first few months working here. He’d known that Jon almost always stayed later than the rest of them, waving them away with an absent yes, goodbye when they left for the day. He just hadn’t thought that later meant often misses the last train and has to sleep in his office.

The first time that Martin had hesitantly poked his head into Jon’s office just after midnight, mug of chamomile tea in his hand as a sort of peace offering to ply him into maybe going home and getting some rest, he’d seen Jon slumped forward, head resting against his hands and back arced into a position that looked truly uncomfortable. Martin discovered three things that day:

Jon snores, quite adorably, little inhales and exhales that sound more akin to the wheezing of a cat than the rumble of a human.

The lines of tension that decorate the corners of Jon’s eyes and mouth and forehead disappear in sleep, leaving behind something soft that makes Martin finally put some stock in Sasha’s claim that Jon isn’t quite 30 yet, no matter what he says to the contrary.

He maybe—probably—almost certainly—just might … be developing a little, tiny, inconsequential crush on his boss. Which is … great. Just what he needs.

It wasn’t until after Martin lay down in the cot, full mug of chamomile tea sitting on the makeshift bedside table next to him, that it occurred to him that had he not been here, Jon would be using the cot right now and would probably wake with significantly less back pain. (Not that the cot is the pinnacle of comfort.) And then Martin just feels guilty.

Maybe that’s why, when Martin walks into the break room one morning to see Jon already there, waiting for the kettle to boil and rubbing at the back of his neck with a grimace, he says, “Do you want some help with that?”

Jon startles and drops his hand quickly, like he’s been caught stealing the last biscuit from the box. “Er, with the … with the tea?” Then, more stuffily: “Because I can make my own tea, thank you.”

“N-not with the tea. I know you can…” Martin bites his lip to keep himself from saying I know you can make your own; I bring you tea because I care. “With, uh. W-with your back?”

Jon frowns. “My … back?”

“You just … you were…” Martin sighs. “It just seemed like your back might be sore, what with you … you know. Sleeping at your desk.”

Jon blinks once before his expression turns into something defensive. “I’m fine,” he says, clipped and sharp.

Martin has had enough experience with this reaction to know that it comes from a place of embarrassment rather than a place of genuine anger. (Though he hopes he won’t have to placate this particular outburst with oolong tea.) He also knows from experience that pushing the matter will get him nowhere and will likely cause more harm than good.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t be just a little bit pointed about the fact that he doesn’t believe Jon one bit.

“All right,” Martin says with a shrug. He grabs a breakfast bar from the counter, eyes the kettle, and—determining that there’s probably enough water in it for the both of them—leans against the counter a few feet away from Jon to wait. He peels back the wrapper of the breakfast bar, pretending like he doesn’t see Jon wince as he reaches into the cabinet for a mug. Jon lifts a hand to his neck as if to rub away the tension but stops halfway and then drops it self-consciously.

The kettle boils, and Martin makes his tea—enough milk to turn the liquid a rich caramel color, just enough sugar to make itself known upon his tongue. He hesitates just a moment, lifting the tea to his lips and taking a sip, when Jon surreptitiously rubs at the small of his back, like he thinks if he puts his hand beneath his suit jacket, Martin won’t see it. Ridiculous man. But Jon doesn’t say anything, so Martin sighs, says, “See you in a bit,” and leaves to get ready for the workday.

.

.

.

Martin told himself that he wasn’t going to bring it up again. He did, really. It’s just … well. He’s always been a carer, by nature or by habit, and there were only so many times he could catch Jon sleeping at his desk or rubbing at his neck or taking paracetamol with his tea before he broke.

“You know,” he says as he picks up a chunk of tofu with his chopsticks and points it at Jon, “before I worked here, I briefly had a job as a massage therapist.”

Jon looks up from his noodles, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Which is … fair, considering that they’d been talking about the latest library acquisitions just a few moments prior. “You … did?”

“Yep. I like to think that I got pretty good at it too before I quit.”

Martin was adequate at best. He hadn’t fudged his CV for that job, but he had fudged the interview just a bit. Stressful times and all that. He doesn’t even remember why he quit—probably too many last-minute cancellations when his mother had a particularly bad day, or maybe he found something that paid better. But he did pick up the basics, and he remembers enough to ease at least some of the pain in Jon’s back. Probably. He’ll be careful.

“Ah.” Jon twirls his chopsticks in his noodles, staring at the resulting clump for a moment before putting it in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. It delights Martin more than he’ll ever admit that Jon has been willing lately to eat dinner with him—even if it is just cheap takeaway Chinese food that makes Martin feel greasy just looking at it. Martin gets the distinct feeling that Jon would forget to eat at all if Martin didn’t pop his head in around six and suggest that they pick something up. Jon is always elbow-deep in some statement, blinking owlishly at Martin like he’s just now remembering where he is and that he has actual human bodily functions to take care of.

Martin waits a moment. Then, when it appears that Jon isn’t going to say anything else, he continues, “I actually remember a lot of it—helped Tim out a few times when he pulled his back rock climbing.”

Jon hums and puts a piece of chicken in his mouth.

Martin holds back a sigh. Blunt it is then. “I could help you with your back too if you’d like.”

Jon stares at him, swallows. “What?”

“I know you fall asleep at your desk a lot,” Martin says, trying his best to not make it sound like an accusation—and not quite succeeding, given how Jon’s hackles raise just a bit. “And I know that it makes your back sore, so I’m just saying … I could make it better. A-at least a little.”

Martin cannot for the life of him parse the expression on Jon’s face. Confusion, maybe? Surprise? Disdain? God, Martin hopes that’s not it. He rambles on before Jon can say anything. “I just—I know that you would normally be sleeping on the cot if I weren’t using it, a-and I’m really thankful, um, again that you’ve let me stay here, so, you know, i-if I can help with this I’d like to, but o-of course you can say no, I—I wouldn’t want to pressure you—”

“Okay,” Jon says.

“—if you don’t—” Martin cuts off, aware that his face is slowly growing warm and flushed. “Okay?” he repeats.

Jon nods. His shoulders are tight with tension and his lips are pursed, but his voice is soft and genuine when he says, “I would … greatly appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Right. Right!” Martin sets his food down, maybe a bit abruptly. “Right now, or…?”

“After dinner would be best, I think.”

“Right.” Martin picks his food back up again and makes himself take one bite, then another. This is great. This is great! This is what he wanted—to help Jon, to get him to agree to be helped. No need to be nervous at all. Nope. Just going to be giving his boss and fledgling crush who used to hate him but seems to be actually warming up to him a massage. It’s completely fine.

It’s not until they’re in document storage—Martin determined that the cot is probably the best place for this since Jon can lie down semi-comfortably—that it occurs to Martin that he’ll be touching Jon. On the back. Without a shirt on. Probably.

“This, um. I-it’s usually easier if you, er. If you take off your shirt. But if you’re not comfortable with that, you can leave it on! That’s fine.” By the grace of god, Martin’s voice doesn’t come out sounding like he’s having a minor crisis. Small mercies.

Jon looks at the cot, then at Martin, and shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Then, he takes off his stuffy tweed jacket with the elbow patches and unbuttons his crisp white dress shirt and it’s only years of practice controlling his emotions that keeps Martin from making a complete fool out of himself because Jon is shirtless in front of him and he’s so pretty.

Focus. Be normal. Martin can be normal about this.

“Right,” Martin says, his voice carefully neutral. “So just … lie down there. It’s easier with an actual massage table because there’s, you know, a hole for the head and all that, but if you just—yeah, that—that should work.”

Martin flutters his hands in the air a moment, glad that Jon is facing down and can’t see him visibly flustered, before kneeling next to the cot. “Right. Okay. B-be sure to, er. Tell me if anything hurts or if you want to stop, o-okay?”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon says, his voice slightly muffled.

Martin pinches his lips together, takes a deep breath through his nose, and tentatively puts his hands on Jon’s back. Jon is warm, and when Martin begins massaging Jon’s upper back—gingerly at first, then more firmly like he’s actually meant to—he notes how little separates bone from skin. Martin puts that out of mind lest he do something terribly coddling like ask Jon if he’s eating enough and focuses on the knots in Jon’s muscles, of which there are many.

He continues in silence for a while, working his way down Jon’s back until he’s hit the limit of what he can reach without Jon taking off his trousers as well. (Martin is not going to ask Jon to take off his trousers. He might actually die.) Martin considers, several times, starting up a conversation—maybe seeing if he can prompt one of Jon’s long rambles about whatever obscure topic has caught his interest because Martin loves how Jon gets when he’s excited about something. But Jon is so relaxed under his hands, letting out occasional sighs and losing a bit of that tension he always carries with him with every stroke of Martin’s hands, and Martin doesn’t want to break whatever fragile moment they’ve created. Instead, he lets the silence persist as he moves up and begins working on Jon’s neck.

Then, Martin pushes a particular way on Jon’s neck and Jon lets out a low, breathy sound that Martin would be inclined to call a moan if he didn’t know any better. He pulls his hands back and asks, concerned, “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

Jon takes a moment to respond. When he does, the soft, relaxed quality of his voice is different enough from what Martin is used to that it brings him up short. “Yes, I’m … I’m quite all right. Just … a bit tight there.”

“Oh.” Martin worries his hands together. “I’ll be gentler then.”

Jon makes a noise of dissent. “No, it’s … it feels good. I will tell you if it hurts, Martin.”

“All right,” Martin says slowly, still nervous. He tells himself that that’s why his hands are a bit shaky when he places them against Jon’s skin again. He takes a moment to steady himself before continuing, taking extra care to listen to Jon and pick out any pained noises should they occur.

Martin is fairly certain, a flush rising up the back of his neck, that the noises that keep slipping from Jon are not ones of pain. He really, really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

When Martin finishes with Jon’s neck and moves on to his scalp, Jon quiets, which Martin isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed by. Martin presses the tips of his fingers to the top of Jon’s head, the base of his skull, his temples, massaging gently. He allows himself to enjoy the feeling of Jon’s hair against his hand—softer than it looks, tight curls tugging at his fingers—and the way that Jon’s breathing goes even and slow. Martin almost thinks that Jon has fallen asleep until he finally pulls his hands back and Jon makes a questioning noise, turning his head slightly toward Martin.

“Well, that’s—that’s it,” Martin says, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. He’s not entirely sure why. “All done.”

“Mm.” Jon shifts as if he’s going to sit up, but he seems to lose the motivation halfway there and settles back down again. His eyes are half-closed, and he looks relaxed and peaceful and exhausted, and god, Martin’s heart can’t take this. He’s only human.

“Here.” Gently, carefully, Martin takes two of the blankets from the shelf he’d set them on and drapes them over Jon before he can talk himself out of it, ignoring Jon’s half-hearted sound of protest. “Sleep.”

“I … can’t,” Jon says, even as he pulls the blankets ever so slightly tighter around him. “This is your living space, it …. it wouldn’t be fair to…”

“What wouldn’t be fair to me would be for you to spend another night sleeping at your desk and undoing all of the work we’ve just done.” Martin gives Jon a look firmer than he would normally dare to, but Jon is half-asleep and as close to a puddle as Martin’s ever seen him, so he’s feeling just a little bit bold. “Just for tonight, take the cot. You’re already lying down. I can sleep on the couch in the break room—it’ll be fine.”

He makes to leave, but as he passes by the cot, a thin-fingered hand clutches at his and manages to wrap around his wrist. Martin really, really hopes that Jon can’t feel the way his pulse jumps at the contact. “You shouldn’t … that couch is bad for your back,” Jon mumbles, sounding like he’s a few minutes from drifting off entirely. It’s quite adorable, though Martin will never tell Jon that.

Then, Jon says, “The cot’s big enough—we can both fit,” and Martin bluescreens.

“What?” he says eloquently, trying to wrangle his thoughts into something remotely coherent.

Jon grumbles and shifts, scooting toward the wall and holding the blankets up to demonstrate the admittedly large enough available space next to him. Where on earth did Jon get this cot? “Just lie down, Martin.”

Not knowing quite what else to do, Martin does.

Jon makes a pleased noise that sends heat rushing to Martin’s cheeks. He drapes the blankets—and with them his arm—around Martin. Martin takes a shallow breath and waits for Jon to pull his arm back. And waits. And waits.

It’s not until Jon lets out a soft snore that Martin realizes that Jon’s fallen asleep, his arm still draped across Martin’s side and his hand still resting lightly against Martin’s stomach. As Martin lies there, stiff and oh-so-very aware of Jon’s presence behind him, he feels Jon’s breath tickle the back of his neck.

There’s no way he’s going to be able to fall asleep like this. None. Absolutely not. Nope.

.

.

.

When Jon wakes, his back feels better than it has in months, his brain isn’t foggy and sluggish, and he’s very, very warm. And very cuddled up against the back of Martin Blackwood, who’d given him the best and only massage Jon’s ever had and had, apparently, disintegrated every modicum of professionalism he had in the process.

Martin is still asleep, chest gently rising and falling underneath the palm of Jon’s hand. It’s still early—five in the morning, according to the clock on Martin’s makeshift nightstand—and, well … Jon wouldn’t want to wake Martin. It would be rather rude to put an early end to Martin’s relaxation after Martin had helped him with his the night before, and it’s not like he expects Martin to begin work any earlier than the rest of his assistants just because he’s been sleeping in the Archives.

And it is so very warm.

Jon closes his eyes and lets the gentle cadence of Martin’s breaths lull him back to sleep.

[nevertheless-moving]

Quinlan's hands had dropped to his face sometime ago. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how to comfort him. He had asked, and quite frankly, Obi-Wan could really use the help of another shadow for the final Kamino infiltration.

"I know it's a lot to take in—" he began softly, only to be cut of by a hoarse chuckle.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Quinlan asked, looking up at him incredulously.

"See what?" the time traveler asked nervously, twisting to stare at the holoboard mapping Sidious' master plan, a carefully constructed counter at the end of every twisting vine strangling the republic.

"What this looks like!" Quinlan replied, gesturing broadly.

"I'd say it looks terrifying," Obi-Wan answered dryly. "And you can see why, given Palpatine's position, I've had to respond secretly."

"Respond!" Quinlan ran a hand through his hair, barking out another laugh. "Respond. For fuck’s sake, if it were anyone but you telling me this—and if you were telling anyone but me—Obi-Wan you haven't just responded, you've won."

"Well—" Obi-Wan hedged, edges of his lips curling up. "I admit, it would be very difficult for the Sith to win at this point, even should I die, I've got deadman's messages prepared for the Council and relevant Senate members. Still, my current defense against the clone army is hardly acceptable, so you see why I need your help infiltrating the Kamino command center when I make my move—"

"Obi-Wan." Vos pressed his hands together, thumbs digging into his chin and inhaling sharply. "That's not what I mean. I mean that you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, have won the galaxy. You could literally declare yourself Emperor today."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Don't be absurd. What, just because I've got the command codes to disable the droid army and the bombs under the Senate and Temple?"

"Or activate them," Quinlan said gently.

Obi-Wan scowled. "Don't joke about that—I would never—"

"I know," the psychometric interrupted, tone careful. "I know you wouldn't. But you could."

Obi-Wan shifted uneasily, staring at his plans again. It...had occurred to him of course, that an unscrupulous actor could do tremendous damage with the information he had painstakingly acquired. It had been difficult, to thread the line of giving Sidious and his allies the rope they needed to hang themselves, while still making sure he could pull it taught at the critical juncture. He had been proud of how he had managed, but the end result was...an awful lot of power. Consolidated in his hands, instead of Palpatine’s. 

“I still couldn’t—this still isn’t enough to actually control the galaxy, that’s the point. Sidious needs war to break out first, and he needs to be seen as the one whose ending it, first—it’s the only way to get the more influential  democratic systems to give up their powers. Anyway, back to the point, I obviously would rather not take away the clone’s freewill, even with something as innocuous as Order 6, which is why I need you to disable the orders at the command center.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, I’m on board with the plan, I just—” Knight Vos pressed his hands to his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you—you already have the power that Sidious would need a war to achieve.”

“What are you talking about? No I—”

“You’re rich!” Vos burst into motion, flipping frantically through glowing screens to pull up the distribution of BK’s funding. “You’re funding the non-partisan corruption watchdog movement, and providing social services—if that was public knowledge—if any of this was public knowledge—you would instantly be a shoo in for Supreme Chancellor.”

"That’s...an exaggeration,” Obi-Wan protested.

“Is it?” Quinlan asked manically. “You are in the top 10,000 wealthiest people in the galaxy. And, unlike the other 9,999, your funds are clean. No trade federation, no blanking clans, no mining guilds. Just incredibly popular music and ridiculously smart and/or lucky investments in value neutral to actively humanitarian businesses. Can you imagine how much the good leaders would respect you, if they found out all this? How much the gold-diggers would try to cozy up to you, when they find out that you’re just giving away your multiple fortunes, try to encourage you to invest in infrastructure projects on their homeworlds—”

"I—”

“And that’s not even the whole picture! That’s just where the money is coming from, and how it’s being used. BK already has a cult. People adore him. The clones already feel like the owe him, since it’s public knowledge that he’s a major supporter for the resettlement program—when they learn about the anti-chip stuff—Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to have statues put up once you uncover Sidious’s plots—”

“I don’t want people to know about the vode’s chips—integration is difficult enough already,” Obi-Wan said lowly.

“Yes, fine,” Quinlan said, pulling up the alarming schematics of the droid foundries. “The trade federation’s still on thin ice after the documentation of their maneuvers of Naboo—When the galaxy sees these—learns you're blowing them all up before they pull a Naboo on the entire galaxy—they’re going lose their minds. Obi-Wan, it would be so easy for you to control the galaxy right now. I know the Sith did the groundwork and you were just ripping away the reins from the guy who actually did want that, but you were scarily successful. You actually have the narrative that Palpatine is trying to fake.”

Quinlan paused, smirking. “And you’re way hotter. Pretty sure if you came out in all black and said you want to grind the galaxy to dust beneath your heel, people would line up to get stepped on.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, falling back into a chair. “...I don’t...I didn’t...see it that way.”

The Kiffar Knight sighed. “Like I said if it was anyone else—but you’re you, and I’m me, and I 100% believe you when you say you successfully plotted total galactic domination accidentally. Just...let’s pull the rug out from this guy’s feet before we tell the council, or I think they’ll have to arrest you.”

(rest of this au here)

[blackbat05]

Dad Adventures

Dad Shangqi x Mom Reader

A/N: I have gotten through my difficult week! Seriously those two weeks felt more like two months. To celebrate that, here’s another Dad Shangqi headcanon! Goodness me, you know what? Just look at me as a main Shangqi writer with other characters as side dishes. As usual, enjoy! Like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG 13

Warnings: A heck load of fluff. Points may jump here and there since my brain is still trying to recover from my last two weeks.

Anyone who is familiar with Chinese culture, at least where I’m from, in my grandparents’ time, they preferred having boys.

Hell no Shangqi ain’t having that shit though. Boy or girl he’ll love them both equally. As long as they are healthy and happy, what more could he ask for?

But why do I feel that he wants a girl more? Baby girl would wrap him around her little finger. Before she’s even born, he promises to teach her self-defense to fend off guys in years to come.

‘Please Shangqi, take it easy though,’ you tried to hide your laugher, seeing your husband very serious.

‘Hey, don’t blame me. With your looks, she’ll be chased by so many guys. She needs to defend herself, tell the good from the bad. Actually little bean,’ he talks to your growing stomach, ‘all guys are bad.’

‘Shangqi!’

When your baby girl is born, he cries. A lot. Katy (who has been appointed godmother) secretly records this.

He’s there by your side during the whole process. He’s grateful but apologetic that you had to go through such a long and painful process. ‘You did great baby, you did great,’ he leans to brush your sweaty hair aside, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

Let’s face it ok? Having a kid isn’t all sunflowers and rainbows. When your baby girl’s born, you guys barely have enough sleep. Nevertheless, Shangqi’s always the first one out of bed whenever the baby monitor beeps.

‘Shangqi let me go,’ you tell him one night.

‘No, you need rest from carrying our little dumpling for nine months.’ He gently gets you back in bed, leaving no room for argument.

He calls your mom secretly to make Black Chicken soup (heh my mom cooked it for me before when I was feeling like really tired and it’s so good!)

He may or may not have messed up the recipe a few times. But A+ for efforts!

When you’re better, you finally go back to work. Shangqi takes on the role of a stay home dad when he’s not Avenging.

You come back home to different views everyday. All of them are very cute.

One involved, your little baby snoozing away on Shangqi’s chest as his computer is placed on the coffee table beside the sofa. You see he had just ended a meeting with Sam, Bucky, Carol and Wong.

Another scene involved her on the high chair, baby food all over her face as Shangqi attempts to feed her dinner.

When she grows older, maybe at 4 years old? She starts learning basic martial arts. Xialing is particularly enthusiastic about seeing her niece. She can’t wait to guide her around the training compound back home - she tells your daughter that one day she’ll be like the many powerful and strong women who are now training under Xialing’s leadership.

‘And when she is old enough, I will tell her who kicked her father’s ass,’ Xialing smirks at her brother. Thankfully you were out with your daughter looking at the beautiful scenery the place had to offer.

Before we end of this imagine I would see your little girl getting along so well with the rest of the avengers whenever they popped by to drop of some documents for Shangqi or just - hang.

Among all the avengers so far, she has attached herself to Auntie Carol. You’re secretly happy and proud because you hope one day your girl would be as strong as these amazing women.

Carol drops by when Shangqi is out for a quick grocery run. You take the time to catch up with her as she has been away from Earth for a while. Your little daughter runs straight into Auntie Carol’s arms and will not leave her side even when you called her.

But the moment Shangqi is back, she slowly crawls down the sofa, running to her daddy. ‘Hey dumpling!’ He affectionately gives her smooches to her chubby cheeks while you and Carol watch from the sidelines.

‘Shangqi’s a great dad,’ the Captain smiles, sipping the last bit of her tea.

Don’t you know it. You were so glad for this little family.

A/N: That’s it! Squeezed out ideas from my brain! Thanks for reading! Gosh I’m so whooped for Dad Shangqi!

[generallybrontidefeelings]

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

[leviiattacks]

Hi, you're a very talented writer and your works are very beautiful. Can I request one where Levi's fem s/o does the ignore your boyfriend prank? Thank you so much and take care of yourself ❤️

author note :: thank youuu i’m glad you think that anon !! this isn’t good at all bc i’m just very sick and yeah,,, i’m sorry if this doesn’t live up to your expectations but i needed something to do and ended up finishing this. hmmm what is this is it fluff?? idk it’s captain levi and survey corps member reader though :-) requests are open so feel free to drop by if you’d like :D word count :: 3.4k 

you should NOT be bothering levi as much as you are because he understands you need your own space to relax sometimes

but come on... you’ve been ignoring him for an unreasonable amount of time now??

and he’s not talking about groggy ignoring, it’s not the type you do when you’ve just awoken from a restless night’s sleep

no. you’re talking to everyone apart from him.

and it’s driving him up a literal wall

did he do something wrong???

has he made a mistake so large that you’re too scared to bring it up???

are you finally sick of him??

will you break up with him?

levi winces when thinking of that specific question

but he’s the type to silently keep his worries to himself as soon as he sees any indication of a bad omen

currently, he’s mentally preparing himself for you to break the news to him any day now

but little does he know you’ve just pulled a prank hoping for him to whine and complain a little

the point of this all is to elicit an out of character reaction

;-)

the idea came from historia at first

her playing such a foul trick on ymir didn’t go unnoticed and little by little ymir’s resolve crumbled away throughout the day

she went quite literally ballistic trying to get historia’s attention

and watching it all play out made you want to try it out with levi

you’d be a FOOL not to

WELL!!!! the fun part about this is that you’re a bit actually, no. a lot, more stubborn than historia!!!

and instead of committing to the prank for a day you’ve chosen to see how far you can stretch this out

if you have to drag it out for two days so be it

you have good reason to

levi isn’t the most affectionate man, your relationship is kept a total secret from all of the cadets

meaning pda never happens

and,,, listen you would love to kiss him before expeditions without having to drag him behind your horse for cover

to be frank the back of a horse does smell rather unpleasant and it’s not as romantic as you’d like for it to be

honestly you’d rather have everyone stare and gawk in awe watching the two of you make out

seeing them put two and two together realizing what it is that’s going on between you and the captain would be hilarious

especially since reiner said last week he could never picture levi dating anyone

AND!! he even had the audacity to say he thinks someone like him would never date someone on the team

is it really not that obvious to them?

do you and levi lack chemistry?

silently fuming you walk away and even then none of the cadets get the hint

but you do think mikasa has known for a while. her senses are sharp and whenever she sees you and levi together she makes a u-turn heading in the opposite direction away from the both of you

but even if she does she isn’t going to tell anyone about it unless she’s directly asked so it’s not like the cat will be out of the bag any time soon

it’s silly getting worked up over reiner’s comments but it’s kinda disheartening having the relationship be kept a secret

and you thought even if it was there would be at least a hint of a rumour, like it should be decently obvious it’s been months since the two of you began to see each other

ESSENTIALLY, this is your plan to “accidentally” let the cadets figure it out

eventually levi will have to get restless enough to do something bold

that’s what you think will happen

but then the reality of the situation hits you at the end of the first day

he seems to be dealing with it just fine ?????

after giving him the cold shoulder he shows no signs of returning at all

...

WHY IS IT NOT WORKING???

mayday mayday mayday....?!??

red alert....?!??

you are about to bang your head against a wall he’s the one who’s meant to be suffering over this not you

but again, you’re stubborn and won’t give in easily

by the end of day one levi has approached you two times

two...

each time you’ve given him completely blunt responses

it’s frustrating you that he’s just dealing with it as it comes

and when he does speak to you it’s not to ask what’s wrong

the first time he approaches you is to ask if you’ve seen petra around which makes your blood boil a little because everyone knows petra has a big, fat, MASSIVE crush on him

you know he won’t ever reciprocate or anything for a number of reasons but you can’t help but feel annoyed

the second time he speaks to you is to ask if you’re willing to help hange out with some paperwork

??????

he doesn’t even look interested in asking you what’s wrong

honestly you would drop this plan but you’re in too deep now

may as well keep it up.

the second day rolls around and it’s not your best day

you burn breakfast

trip over a broom and hit your leg rather hard against the dining table

spill an ENTIRE cup of tea over hange’s important documents

and you haven’t slept a wink after overthinking your relationship status for hours on end

maybe this prank wasn’t a great idea

you’re hunched over the documents close to tears not knowing how you can save them now

there’s nothing you can do and even though you know hange will be okay with it, (they’ve never cared much for paperwork) you just don’t want to inconvenience them with this mess

“y/n?”

looking up you see eren standing by the doorway of the kitchen watching with a humored expression as you place paper towels over the disaster you’ve created

“captain’s looking for you.”

perking up a little internally you make sure to remain as disinterested as possible on the surface

“what does he need?”

“i don’t know he didn’t say.”

“tell him i’m busy.”

and that’s all that occurs during day two

you pass by levi and occasionally his gaze flicks to you but he doesn’t take any action to address you in public or in private

you end up going to bed even more disappointed than you were the first night

the prank definitely isn’t going the way you want and instead of it leading to levi cornering you in front of everyone and dipping you into a dreamy swoon worthy kiss it’s led to you developing doubts.

many doubts.

but you aren’t giving up any time soon, now more than ever you want to be reassured levi even wants this relationship because he’s not acting like it

it’s admittedly a bitch move on your part for pulling this prank in the first place but you expected him to ask how you were doing it has been forty-eight hours after all

if the roles were reversed you’d force him into a room until he would tell you

so you can’t explain his weird behaviour at all

maybe he doesn’t like you as much as you think

that thought makes your eyes sting at the corners

he’s always been reserved and a little lost when it comes to opening up but you’re beginning to lose hope if he finds it this hard to ask if you’re okay

drifting off to sleep before you can wallow in your thoughts any more you wish tomorrow is better

it’s the third day and to say you’re exhausted is an understatement

midday and you’re training in the sweltering heat

the lack of sleep you’ve had recently paired with your stress isn’t doing you any good

a little dizzy you attempt to hold onto a nearby tree for stability but end up somehow missing the mark by a MILE??

tumbling to the floor painfully you hiss at the collision and rub the back of your head which is now sore

footsteps approach you in a hurry and for the first time in days you’re face to face with levi

“you okay?” concern is very much evident in his voice and that eases your nerves

without you even responding he’s turning you around just to check in case

nodding wordlessly you try to get to your feet when you feel a shift.

your ankle without warning gives out on you and you’re sent crashing back down to the ground

closing your eyes and bracing for impact you’re pleasantly surprised when levi catches you by the waist

your weight is leaning onto him and you’re looking down to the floor

hange is yelling from across the courtyard telling levi to drop you off at the infirmary but he doesn’t need to be told that

his instincts do the talking for him and he’s already slung you over his shoulder and begins carrying you towards the base

“levi. put. me. down. this position’s embarrassing.”

he doesn’t respond and you can hear sasha and connie cackling at the compromising situation

swatting his back you’re huffing and puffing yet he’s still ignoring you

you’re being given the silent treatment but you suppose you do deserve it

sighing you deal with the stares you receive on the way there

this is levi and at this point nothing is seen as abnormal when he does it

you can’t really look behind you to see levi’s expression either but when a cadet walks past and mouths “y/n, what the hell did you do??” you know you’re in for it

eventually he reaches the infirmary and without even letting you get a word in he plops you onto the bed albeit a little rough

“what’s with the cold shoulder?” he places both his arms by your sides leaving you trapped

“i-”

“if you want to break up you can just say that instead of beating around the bush.”

you’re stunned by the harsh tone of his voice, he doesn’t have his usual soft timbre and your eyes glaze over in defense

“you want to break up?” your question hangs in the air

chewing at your lip anxiously you know if you bite any harder you’ll draw blood

“i don’t care. if that’s what you want, sure.”

oh.

oh no.

this isn’t going how you planned

nails digging into the flesh of your palms you hang your head low

he doesn’t care at all

if that’s what you want????? really???? that’s his response??? he won’t even fight for you???

it’s silent as he bandages your ankle and you’re burning in a mix of embarrassment and fury.

“i was just pull-” choking up in the middle of your sentence you feel yourself automatically frown

“i was just pulling a prank on you. you know how historia did with ym-“

really you’ve always been terrible at holding back your tears and a few spill over the edge and you sob

why are you like this why why why why why?????

yeah,, you get why everyone calls you overly emotional from time to time but really you swear you feel your heart shatter a little at how levi’s acting

shielding your eyes with your sleeve you cower away from him

lord have mercy.

levi wants to curl up into a ball and die from the wave of embarrassment that hits him

a prank.

a trick.

and he didn’t catch on.

and now you’re crying.

because he thought acting tough and cold in case you wanted to break up with him made perfectly logical sense???

spoiler : it didn’t make any sense...

but now it’s made him look like he hates you??

but he doesn’t hate you

no, no, no. not at all.

he could never hate you.

you’re always willing to help anyone out, you’re genuine, always say sorry even when you don’t need to, unapologetically yourself at any moment, you’re fearful yet push it all aside to be courageous and most of all he loves your little hobbies because who in their right mind actually enjoys gardening??

he’s convinced people who say they like gardening are looking for something unique to make themselves stand out but really you enjoy it and it’s quite cute

ok, ok no more getting side tracked whilst talking about your love for plants

he could name so much more he admires about you but he’d be here all day

“i tried to talk to you yesterday but after you refused i thought you hated me and wanted to break up. that’s why i was acting like that just now.” he slowly tries to explain his point to you

“i know i’m hard to love so when you began to ignore me out of the blue i figured you didn’t want to-”

cutting him off without giving him the option of finishing his sentence you’re wide eyed in horror. he was NOT meant to interpret the prank this way.

“levi?? for as long as i’m alive i’ll never get tired of you. i promise.” his heart rate shoots and the intense magnetism between the two of you becomes stronger by the second

you pause for a second gathering yourself.

“and i’m sorry i should’ve thought about how you’d feel. the reason i did it was stupid.”

levi kneels by the bed and takes your hand in his, he graciously lifts the sleeve of your uniform and ducks down to press a soft kiss onto your wrist.

your heart flutters seeing him be so careful and gentle with you and bashfully you look away

guilt overwhelms you at that moment because you really are horrible for putting him through all of that.

levi cares for you he does

he may be silent about it and not the best at being public with it but you know how he feels.

you feel it in the way he looks at you

you feel it when he helps you mount your horse

you feel it when he double checks your harnesses before expeditions

you feel it when he tends to your injuries

and, you definitely feel it right now when it sinks in that he was acting like he hated you just so you wouldn’t feel bad if you really did want to break up with him.

he’s always been bad at picking up on hints and cues so you now understand why he interpreted it as you wanting nothing to do with him

of course he wouldn’t ask how you were if it looked like you wanted to skin him alive

“what was the reason for the prank?” he inquisitively asks genuinely wanting to know what it is he can do for you

“i...” you’re wandering off and suddenly don’t want to tell him

“i wanted you to kiss me.” you whisper in a rush

he cocks an eyebrow up even more lost. “i kiss you all the time?”

“i mean, in front of everyone else.”

he blinks and his mouth forms into an “O” shape

it’s a little awkward now

he doesn’t bring it up again so you assume he doesn’t like the idea of letting everyone know just yet

and that’s okay!! you respect that!!

after all, you can’t get mad at him for it, it’s the best choice.

you don’t want people to accuse him of having bias towards you and it’ll probably upset petra and hinder her performance if her crush just suddenly starts dating out of nowhere

your gaze is back on levi and he’s now double checking the bandage on your ankle after tending to it

“you can’t walk for a few weeks.” he tsks

“be careful next time.” he’s always been blunt when he does show he cares and you warmly smile after not talking to him in days.

you feel the need to apologize again

“to make it clear i really am sorry, i should have thought more about you.”

he scoffs and rolls his eyes

“i’m overjoyed that my beautiful girlfriend doesn’t want to break up with me. now, stop moping around about it i’m over it.”

he scoops you up effortlessly and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“y/n, for the record, i’ll work on not jumping to the worst case scenario first.”

you love this aspect of your relationship

being able to understand how your flaws impact the other and choosing to make changes or adjustments

it’s sweet and you must be smiling like an idiot when thinking of it because levi blows a puff of air onto your forehead knocking you out of your daydream

feeling a little less light headed than before you notice he’s walking back out towards the courtyard

why is he doing that...?

“you’re walking in the wrong direction?”

“no i’m not.” he replies with a smug grin

oh my god

no he isn’t

oh my god

is he???

you’re bright pink in the face as you turn to look at him panicking when you hear hange’s group returning

eren can be heard arguing with jean as per usual and now you’re smacking levi’s chest even harder

“you don’t have to do this no, no, no. it’s okay really.” it’s funny how you’re begging him not to do what you’ve been waiting on for three days

but you really don’t want him to feel like he has to do this

as if he’s read your mind he replies. “i’m doing this with my own free will.”

he gives you one last grin and pushes you up against the wall, your back is against the cold yet solid surface and you tense up

oh god. it’s happening he’s diving down and it’s as if everything is moving in slow motion.

gradually you feel the familiar feeling of your heart jumping out of your chest

both of your lips mould together, he’s hoisting you up again preventing you from slipping away. hungry hands grip at your thighs and a knowing smile twitches across his mouth.

nipping at his bottom lip he groans and you nearly forget why it is he’s kissing you

that is until you hear a SCREAM from your right

“eren what the fuck are you yelling at?” jean’s voice can be heard scowling in the distance but you’re too distracted by levi’s mouth to care

eren must be speechless because nothing is heard until jean reaches the scene

“OH. MY. GOD.”

“WHERE IS REINER??? HE’S NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS.”

“you’re both overreacting.” mikasa makes her appearance and you’re not sure if she’s seen you and levi yet because your eyes fluttered shut long ago

“Y/N AND THE CAPTAIN????? WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE MIKASA??” eren’s voice sounds so distressed you guess you’re right for assuming he may have had a crush on you at some point

“it was obvious, i don’t know how no one else knew.”

finally levi pulls away and you’re panting practically gasping for any traces of air

“what you looking at brats?” levi snaps in their direction and mikasa nonchalantly shrugs and walks away

jean and eren however, dash away at LIGHTENING speed probably on their way to let everyone else know of the shocking new development

levi pecks your forehead and you nudge your nose against his.

since that day you and levi have been able to get away with a lot more pda

you can hold his hand and stare at how pretty your hands look laced together

you can nuzzle your face into his neck without any questions 

you can loop arms with him and even if he acts like he doesn’t enjoy it he genuinely does like walking around with you latching onto his bicep

although he still prefers the privacy of his office he’s more than happy to give in once in a while

and at the end of the day you’re ecstatic because there’s no more kissing behind your horse!!!

GONE ARE THOSE DAYS

wooHOO

honestly, you’re over the moon about it 

and so is levi

:-)

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Dude socks was so domestic and cute and comforting I might cry!! Can I request a sirius black imagine where the reader is like a confident and fun/sarcastic person that is friends with the marauders and has a playful flirty relationship with sirius. They both like each other but the reader is kind of scared of commitment so they always take a step back whenever sirius takes a step forward and sirius finally corners them about it and finds out its readers insecurities and all ends well? Thanks!

She's not afraid [S.B]

Sirius Black x Reader

Word counts: 4.8k

A/N: This was a very entertaining request and it took a while because every day I feel like I'm going to pass out from nausea haha. But writing is super relaxing for me.

I was hoping it would be shorter and now I feel like something was missing, but I hope you like it. Especially you, nonny!

And thanks for your nice comment, I'm glad you liked "socks"

(The title refers to the song of one direction because it reminded me a lot of its lyrics)

"If you had to choose between a chocolate-flavored shit and a shit-flavored chocolate, what would you choose?" he murmured, his voice echoing through the room.

You and your friends were in the common room in the so-called “study group” that Remus had insisted on creating for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and ended up with topics from the other subjects. It was true that everyone fulfilled the boy's whims, because none had the heart to say no to something (which he often took advantage of) and now every afternoon you met to read some documents, comment on your doubts and practice spells and even potions.

But if anyone couldn't take things seriously, he was Sirius.

The only thing that kept it there was his love for Moony and also the opportunity to watch you study for a full hour. Or watch you do anything, to be honest.

Everyone frowned at Sirius' question, not understanding the nature of it. James, who was the only one who could listen to him, was busy analyzing a herbology book in detail. And by analyzing I mean sleeping on top of it.

“The chocolate-flavored shit, of course. What good would it do you to have chocolate if it tastes awful?" you answered seriously. Suddenly all eyes in the room were on you and most of them seemed half disgusted half confused. "What? Sirius asked" you said shrugging your shoulders and pointing at him with an open palm. The young man grinned widely and you returned the same smile, both of you holding back the urge to laugh.

"I can always trust you, pretty," he said happily. "And now that I think about it, you're very far from me, don't you think? Let me get closer” he murmured determinedly, getting up from his seat with a book in hand and all the intention of placing himself in the same armchair as you. But halfway there an arm stopped him abruptly.

"Go back to your seat," Remus demanded, not looking away from his book. Sirius complained.

"Why?" he said indignantly. You turned your gaze to the notes you were analyzing, but the smile on your mouth didn't fade and Sirius noticed.

“Because having the two of you together is having a time bomb. Go back to your seat,” he murmured just as seriously. Sirius watched him and in the middle of his tantrum he wrinkled his whole face trying to imitate Remus "I can see you Sirius"

"Since you've been a prefect, you have become unbearable," he muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," he replied like a little boy, dropping on the couch and taking the book from him again in the middle of a snort. You watched him with amusement and he stared back at you, so you mouthed ‘Better luck next time as he looked back at his notes. You felt Sirius's gaze, it was not something easy to ignore, but you tried not to stop yourself from the spirit from passing all the subjects that had suddenly invaded you.

When you couldn't take it anymore you looked up and again mouthed ‘What?’ Trying not to get caught by Remus. Sirius sneakily pointed to a scroll and his quill and you knew what it was all about.

Turns out that Sirius was extremely smart when he put his mind to it and he himself had enchanted a couple of scrolls that only you and he knew about. When you wrote in one, it was reflected in the other and when you finished whatever you were writing this was erased. At first you had not believed him because doing that involved very advanced magic and Sirius was not the archetype of an exemplary student to do that. But once you tried them you realized that you had indeed underestimated the boy and the curiosity to know the most intelligent and creative part of him invaded you. I mean, he was when it came to the pranks but you never imagined a Sirius smart underneath the idler you knew.

Y/N, can I ask you a very personal question? he wrote it. You tried not to sound too concerned and replied:

You can do it, but I can decide not to answer it. It turned out that Sirius was really weird lately and you were worried about what he might say, but usually it was pure nonsense.

The scroll went blank and you waited a few seconds for Sirius's pretty handwriting to appear. You tried not to look at him too much because you knew beforehand that he would get a scolding from Mr. Lupin.

Are you a dementor? he wrote.

You frowned at the words, searching for some logical explanation for his absurd question. Obviously you weren't. Sirius, seeing your confused face, supported a giggle and wrote again.

Because you take my breath away.

You read the words, going over one by one, and couldn't bear the urge to look at Sirius over your glasses with that annoyed look that you liked to fake so he wouldn't notice that you actually liked his scoundrel flirtations.

That was horrible, Sirius.

I made you blush so I don't think it was that bad.

Of course I didn't do that.

Of course you did. He wrote. And you didn't want to look at him because you knew you would just agree with him and blush even more. You look beautiful when you do that, he added. You bit your lip and looked at the parchment for a few seconds just before writing on it.

Stop saying such things to me, Sirius.

What do you say? What do I continue to say to you my best compliments and flattering your qualities? Perfect.

You stifled a laugh and shook it softly, keeping that smile that Sirius loved to observe.

You considered him a wonderful, handsome and kind boy, who was always looking for a way to make you laugh. The spark between you was something that everyone could perceive, including yourself.

I need to study, Sirius. Goodbye. You wrote and that ended your little talk.

For the rest of the hour all your attention was focused on the topics you were studying: Aconite (also known as monkshood or wolfsbane) a mundane plant with magical properties. The name had seemed funny to you and Remus had assured that it had nothing to do with werewolves.

Herbology was a very simple class for you, especially with the help that sometimes the best student in the class gave you: Frank Longbottom.

"Well, the hour is up, do you want to discuss any of the issues or...?" he was interrupted by Sirius abruptly closing the book and who with a wave of his wand put away all his notes "Everyone except Sirius, would you like to discuss something?" he asked, rolling his eyes at the brunette's innocent smile.

You all denied and Lupin ended the meeting. Everyone scattered in different directions, including James who seemed to have magically awakened as soon as the hour was up, but you stayed in the sitting room with your feet tucked up on the red velvet chair.

"What happens?" Sirius asked from behind, not noticing your presence. He jumped onto the couch and flopped into it.

"Nothing, do I need to go where everyone goes all the time?" you asked raising an eyebrow. The boy smiled and shook his head as he leaned on one of his hands, closing the distance between you. "Weren't you the one who was dying to get out of here?"

"Correction: I wanted the session to end, at no time did I speak about the company" he replied and you smiled "Speaking of which, I was thinking..."

"You think?"

“When I want to do it, yes,” he said amused “But let me talk and then you make fun of me. I was thinking that this weekend we are going to Hogsmeade and I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere "

"Sure!" You answered animatedly and his eyes lit up "Will the others go too?" You continued, but the boy was suddenly disappointed.

"Hmm, I was thinking of something... different."

"Different?"

“Yeah, something like… you know, you and me. Alone”

And with that, you were paralyzed in your place.

You'd been alone with him countless times, just like that time, but it was one thing to chat in his common room or in class and quite another to ask you out at Hogsmeade.

"Oh, sure. Something like… a walk or shopping for chocolate frogs at Honeydukes, right?" you said quickly, trying not to show your nerves.

"Hmm, I could think of something else like Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop," he said with a smile. You gulped and watched him with concern. That place was usually full of cheesy couples. "Even though I have all those pink things, I could take them if I'm with you..."

"No," you said abruptly. Sirius was silent and you watched his smile diminish considerably. “I mean, no… I don't wish we were alone. We are always accompanied by the group, why not do it now?” you asked with an awkward smile. The boy was close to you and apparently he did not expect that answer, as his face reflected it quite well. But you were too busy with nerves eating your stomach to notice.

"Uh... yeah, I guess I'll tell them then" he exclaimed softly.

"Yes! It will be more fun and we can go for butterbeer if you want. And I could buy you those sweets that you like, what do you say? " you asked trying to sound a little more animated. Sirius was good at pretending and his disappointed look on his was replaced by a smile in an instant.

"Yes, that would be fine" he replied. His hand traveled to your cheek and he ran over it gently, resting at the base of your jaw for a moment. His hands were callused and very large compared to yours "Then we will go with everyone, as always" he sighed. His hand went up a bit and you felt him tug at your earlobe.

"Hey!" you screamed trying to reach for her head to hit her. Sirius dodged it quite skillfully and it made you laugh.

"I think I'll go to my room. See you tomorrow?" he murmured with a tight-lipped smile as he rose from the couch.

"Sure, see you tomorrow" you replied in the same way, watching him walk towards the exit. You released your contained breath and let your head fall against the back of the chair, processing what had just happened.

You were very sure of what Sirius had tried to do and you didn’t understand the reason for your reaction. I mean, you had completely paralyzed shortly after blatantly flirting with the boy. You had had many dates in your life, why would this be any different?

You looked down the hall where Sirius had gone and remembered his disappointed fase. Should you go look for him?

No, maybe it was best to just let it go and gradually he would forget about it. Yes, that would be the best.

You looked at the seat where he had previously been and you also touched your cheek, hoping you could relive the touch that he had given you. For a few seconds you felt guilty that you responded so rudely to his request, but then you simply shook your head to drive those thoughts away.

"I should be sleeping" you thought aloud. You weren't even sleepy and it wasn't even too late, but you imagined it would be easier to lie down on the bed and not think about it anymore.

You took your things in silence and climbed the stone stairs, leaving behind that memory that you hoped would soon be forgotten.

It had been a few days since that incident and luckily things hadn't changed at all between you and Sirius. He really seemed to have forgotten what happened, so the weekend trip to Hogsmeade unfolded in the most normal way in the world.

Sirius was still flirtatious as ever, teasing you and taking every opportunity to be close to you. You liked his company, he made you feel quite calm and you always had something to talk about. If it wasn't this, it was that, and when you weren't talking you were laughing.

"How could you not fall asleep in Slughorn's class?" James asked. His head hung from the ledge where he was lying and played with his glasses. "The only thing that could distract me was Snivellus's voice."

"Don't call him that," Lily said in a stern voice and you snorted.

“Why do you defend him so much? " you asked wrinkling your nose. Lily looked at you just as seriously.

"Because he’s my friend and he does not deserve to be mistreated like that"

"Mistreat?" you asked incredulously “Have you heard him mocking us along with his entourage of snooty Slytherins? Who you should take care of should be that Lucius and Regulus" you said rolling your eyes "No offense, Sirius" you added. The boy was leaning against the wall with his tie unbuttoned resting on his shoulders.

"It's not offensive, it's the truth" he murmured amused, shrugging and giving you a smile.

Lily didn't say anything else, but she seemed annoyed and she didn't speak for the rest of the afternoon. Peter and James started arguing about things you weren't really interested in so you decided to focus on the scribbles you were drawing on a worn parchment.

You felt an extra pressure next to you on the couch and it wasn't even necessary to look to know who he was.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing" you said simply, keeping your eyes on your scroll.

"Can I talk to you?"

"You are doing it" you replied with a smile. Sirius rolled his eyes and took the quill from your hand, forcing you to look at him.

"Can I talk to you alone?" he asked seriously. Oh no, trouble again...

"Why alone, dear?" you said as a joke. Sirius was too close to you and you tried not to get flustered by it "Is there something you need to say to me that others can't hear?" you asked with a tight-lipped smile, the kind you wear when you're uncomfortable with something.

Sirius cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck unconsciously. You knew he did that when he was nervous.

"Well... to tell the truth something like that" he murmured with a smile. You felt your heart beat faster "Do you think we can go to my room?" he asked.

"To your room?" you said, your voice an octave higher than normal.

"Yeah, you've been there a thousand times," he laughed.

"Eh, is what you have to tell me very urgent?" you asked. You were a bundle of nerves and you really didn't understand what it was.

"Yeah boo, it's important," he said gently. His hand traveled to yours and took your fingers against his. You turned pale because he didn't say urgent but important.

“So, uh, come on. The faster the better, right?" you expressed nervous. You got up from your place and walked to the bedrooms without looking back. You heard an almost deathly silence in the common room and then laughter, but you didn't have time to look when Sirius was already shoving you from the lower back.

The walk to his room was very silent, the first omen that something bad was about to happen. Once you were in his bedroom he let you in first and closed the door behind you, managing to startle you with the simple sound of the latch.

"Why are you closing the door?" you asked nervously, with the volume of your voice considerably louder. Sirius noticed this and quickly removed the latch he had placed on the door.

"I just didn't want to be bothered, that's all," he said with a frown "You're a bit strange, are you sure you don't mind being here with me?"

"No, no, nothing like that" you rushed to reply, waving your hands in an exaggerated way. Sirius found it cute when you did that "You're the one who's suddenly strange, I'm not"

"Yeah, maybe I've been behaving a little weird lately" he smiled, in that way that reminded you of a child "But I promise you it's for good reason, in fact it's what I want to talk to you about" he started to say.

You panicked, total panic screaming at you to get out of there at all costs. The look Sirius gave you, the nervous posture of him and the way he was smiling at you. You knew what that was.

"McGonagall!" You screamed out of nowhere before he could continue

"Excuse me?"

“I forgot that I have a very important meeting with McGonagall, to see the matter of one of my grades. It is essential that I go today and I forgot, can we have this talk later? " you said clasping your hands in a sign of prayer.

Sirius looked, for the second time, disappointed.

"Sure, school is more important," he replied, trying not to sound affected. You grinned widely and walked in the direction of the exit, eager to leave his room.

"Thank you Sirius, you are an angel"

"I know I look like one, but I'm not quite sure I am," he joked, but his smile was not as bright as before. You laughed in response and stood on the balls of his feet to place a kiss on his cheek.

"See you later, I promise," you murmured hastily, leaving without giving him a chance to say anything else.

"Yes... I can wait" Sirius spoke to himself, with a hurt tone. He released his breath and lay down on his respective bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt something strange in his chest, something that wanted him to cry out.

You walked down the hallways, desperate to get away from the questions he might have asked, and when you were outside your common room you didn't stop. On the contrary, you ran and ran through the corridors hoping that no one would find you.

You didn't stop until you were outside the castle, until you were on the same black lake. And once there, you collapsed to cry.

You entered through the portrait of the fat lady, making sure to remove your shoes first so as not to make noise when entering. It was late and you had spent all day wandering the castle only to never return to your common room, wearing James's cloak so as not to be discovered.

It had been a few other days since you spoke to him and you still didn't feel ready to face him. Especially when, that afternoon, you had come to your room totally agitated and your two companions had bombarded you with questions.

Did he already tell you? they asked. What was he supposed to say? What was that important thing that Sirius was going to do that you had avoided?

The worst thing was that you already knew, that was the reason for your flight. Your mind knew what was going to happen and refused to accept it.

But you had also wanted it, you had been waiting for that question for years and now you were simply hiding from everyone so you wouldn't have to face that change.

"I was wondering where you were," said a voice in the dark, making you jump instead. The fireplace was off and the darkness did not allow you to see well who it was, but it was not necessary because you recognized his words perfectly “Well, I was not wondering where because I have this wonderful map to which we all owe a lot, but I was wondering why” he murmured showing you 'The Marauder's Map'. It was night, you couldn't move anywhere anymore and you knew that sooner or later that moment had to come. Still in the dark you saw the silhouette of him get up from the couch and walk in your direction "Are you avoiding me?"

"Sirius..."

"Of course you're avoiding me," he answered himself. The boy took a step towards you and your reaction was to walk two steps back. Sirius stifled a laugh “That's what I refer. Whenever you seem to move towards me and I get closer, you move further away" he muttered. You thought that maybe he was not only referring to the literal part of the sentence “I don't blame you, but I sincerely wonder why you do it. I am a very curious boy” he expressed somewhat ironic. His words hurt because you knew you couldn't give him an explanation "And you're very smart, I'd say too much, and I'm sure you knew my intentions from the moment I asked to speak to you, right?" he continued. He took another step towards you, you stepped back "Do you not like me? You can say no and I will never blame you, but I would have preferred a no sincere to the uncertainty in which I find myself” he explained. Another step, another step "Won't you say anything?" he asked without losing his temper. You were surprised by how calmly he could react to all situations when you were struggling to stay on your feet.

"Sirius, it's not what it seems" you tried to justify yourself. But the man said nothing, because you knew he wanted a more substantial answer than that. You refused to look at him and felt him take another step in your direction, repeating the previous sequence. But this time you felt your back crash against the stone wall and Sirius's arms at your sides, imprisoning you against it.

You looked at his clothes. He was still wearing his uniform but he looked more scruffy and some items were missing. His shirt had a three-quarter sleeve, thanks to the fact that he had picked it up himself.

"Y/N, please" he spoke in a soft voice "I do not ask you to reciprocate, I only ask you to give me an answer"

"I'm terrified Sirius!" you finally said, in a louder voice "I'm completely scared, what else do you want me to tell you?"

"Are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of how you feel about me" you murmured sincerely. Maybe it was time to be honest with him, because you had no other alternative anyway. He had cornered you to it, literally “It scares me that things will change between us, okay? And I like you too, I like you a lot, but I'm afraid of what might happen next" you whispered without looking at him. The heat that emanated from his body hugged you “I like you to tell me all those compliments, even if I say otherwise. I like when you touch our hands, I like that we escape together from class, that when we walk around the outside of the castle you cut flowers to put in my hair, I like to see you every day and I like the cute nicknames you call me with. I like everything about you, Sirius. And that's why I'm so scared of losing you" you exclaimed with a cracking voice. Sirius kept a pious gaze on you. You could feel a bit of his accelerated breath "I've had a lot of good people in my life who have ended up leaving, I don't want that to happen with you..."

"And how will you know if we don't try, love?" he spoke. His voice came out hoarse and with his hand he gently took you by the chin to force you to see him "You could have told me this before and I would have stopped insisting, or we would have discussed it as we are doing now" you looked at him, eyes clouded with tears restrained, and Sirius smiled at you tenderly "I'm not going to force you to do anything, I never would and I never will. But I would... I would like to have something with you. I really like you and if you don't agree I will respect it, but it would be a dream come true to be able to form a relationship "

"Sirius, I don't know how to do it."

"Me neither!" he said, almost excited and managed to make you smile. He carefully wiped the tears that fell from your cheeks. “We could learn together and I promise you that if it doesn't work, I won't let you. If we are not a good couple then we will be friends again and problem solved. But how about we realize that we are ideal for each other? " he muttered. His thumb left slow and delicate caresses on your face “I don't know how to love either, nobody in my family knows how to do it and that's why I never learned to do it. But… being here at Hogwarts I knew what it was like to have friends, to have friends. I learned that my heart races when I see you and that I also like all those things you do for me. I like you to know what my favorite sweets are and buy them for me, I like it when you detangle my hair, when you force me to study, even if I don't like it, because you care about me. When you know that I am sad and you do everything to cheer me up, even when you call me in horrible ways and make fun of me" he laughed, making you smile too "And if you give me the opportunity I know that I can make you very happy and I would also be very happy to be with you. I planned for many days how to say these words to you, but I think now I speak from the heart when I tell you that I like you like no one else has. I'll take care of you, I promise. And I already told you that if this doesn't work, and you decide that way, we will continue to be friends” he concluded. In his eyes you could see that he was also nervous, that he had the same fear as you but that he was better hiding it "Now, if you want me to list the many advantages that I would have as a boyfriend, then doing it" he continued, with a more naughty tone "Don't pay too much attention to me, but I give some excellent kisses..."

"According to whom?"

"According to me!" he said obvious “If you want to check it I am totally available. I mean, just so you know I'm not a liar," he muttered innocently, making you smile from ear to ear.

"Are you sure about this Sirius?"

"From my kisses? Of course"

"About us, you great idiot," you said rolling your eyes and gently pulling a loose lock of his long hair.

"Ouch! If you are going to insult me ​​and pull my hair like that I would prefer that we were in a more private place, my dear” he murmured flirtatiously, putting one of his hands on your waist and closing the distance between you. You looked away but he forced you to look at him again "Of course I'm sure, only if you're sure too" he replied. You sighed, feeling in your stomach a more pleasant emptiness than the previous ones.

"Then ask me"

"What do you want I ask you?"

"What were you planning to ask for days, silly" you said rolling your eyes. Sirius smirked.

"Can you let me copy your Potions project?" he said pretending to be confused and you tried to free yourself from his grip due to lack of seriousness, but he did not allow it. He took you from behind him, putting his arm around your lower back so that his torsos collided and the space between his faces was minimal. You had to lift your head to watch him, but he also looked down to save you a bit of work. His smile faded, but despite the darkness in his eyes you could glimpse a sample of the love he professed for you "Would you like me to be your boyfriend?" he asked softly.

You would remember that moment all your life, his voice low, his sounding in the middle of the darkness with the question that would start his beautiful love story.

"I wouldn’t like it," you said just as seriously, looking into his eyes with a smile. Your hands went up to the back of his neck and you pulled his face gently to place a kiss on his cheek. He smiled "I would love it"