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euphorajeon · 2 years

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yeah i know (you'll always stay) | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, smut | college!au, boxer!jk, childhood friend!jk, friends to lovers

— word count: 4.3k

— warnings: harsh words, tattooed and pierced jk, too much use of the pet name 'baby', kissing, making out, markings (hickeys), fondling, nipple play, heavy petting, dirty talk, mentions of oral sex, implied penetrative sex, gguk gets a bit mean in the middle :c (dw it's only in the heat of the moment), all this happens in a public gym though no one is inside other than jk and oc

— summary: a boxing lesson with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn when he decides he's had enough of your blabbering mouth.

— author's note: the summary is highkey meh and it's not a social media au pls dont be fooled by the pic.. hehehe. also it's my first time writing explicit smut so pls be gentle with me asdkdjksjd with that said i hope you enjoy! :)

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

Jeon Jeongguk is annoying.

It’s the first time you’re back in the boxing gym he frequents after months vacating it, never setting foot inside the place in the time you were separated with your boyfriend. There have been many occasions where he encouraged you to come on your own and meet with his trainer — who is familiar with you too by now — but you never did. Something about feeling like you don’t belong there plays a big factor on why. The boxing gym is his setting, not yours.

Apparently Jeongguk thought your reasoning does not make any sense at all, taking your words too literally by saying the boxing gym is a public setting and anyone can train there as long as they pay for it. You had spent the whole drive to the gym bickering about this, both you and Jeongguk too stubborn to back down. When you reached the gym, he took the final words by pointing out that there are a few people inside the building, proving that it is a public setting. You had rolled your eyes as you took a seat in your usual corner, still ogling your boyfriend as he works out despite his being annoying earlier.

You think he’s done being annoying, but here he is doing exactly that by asking you to get off your seat and put on a pair of boxing gloves.

“You’re kidding, right?” You give him the stink eye as he gulps down water from his huge water bottle, chest still heaving from the exercise. You’re too busy staring at his post-workout state that you almost miss him shaking his head no at your question.

“But you just finished!” you blurt out.

He lifts an eyebrow (the one which used to be pierced, thank God it’s gone now), confused by the lack of relevance. “So?”

It’s irritating how he doesn’t see the connection and how he looks so unbothered about all of this. Even more so when he continues lifting his water bottle to his lips, now taking slow sips as he gives you a challenging stare, silently asking you to elaborate. You hate that you’re feeling a bit hot just from his stare alone.

Still, you try to maintain your annoyed expression, refusing to give in. “You’re done which means I’m gonna be doing this by myself which means I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of these people and I don’t want to do that,” you say in one breath. “So, no, I’m not going to put on the gloves, Jeongguk.”

“Who said you’re doing it alone?” Jeongguk smirks, reaching inside his duffel bag to pull out a set of clothes which he thrusts into your hands. “I’ll be your training partner. Go get changed.”

You open your mouth to voice out an objection, but he beats you before you can get anything out. “Go or I’ll do it for you right here.” The firm tone he uses means he’s serious, so you make your way towards the changing room with a huff. It’s not fair how easy he makes you do something, even when you try your hardest to refuse.

You come back from the changing room to an almost empty space, your boyfriend being the only other person in the room. He’s gotten rid of his boxing gloves, replacing them with the pads that are usually on his trainer’s hands. He’s also put on the protective head gear which hides most of his face, highlighting his big doe eyes behind it. But that’s not what you are focused on.

“Why the fuck are you sleeveless now?”

Your question gets answered with yet another smirk, this time with a shrug that’s too suspicious to not mean anything. “It’s hot, why else would I be sleeveless?” He then gestures to the boxing gloves, signalling for you to put them on. “Come on, I only booked an hour of private session. Can’t afford to waste any more time.”

You grab the boxing gloves in your hand, but before putting them on, you smack your boyfriend in the chest with it first. “You’re so annoying, you know that?” you hiss as he laughs, both of you knowing exactly why he chose to go sleeveless just now.

“You love it,” he says with a grin.

After that he starts protesting about the time again, urging you to put on the gloves so you can start already. It’s actually endearing how he booked a private session for you two so you don’t have to be self-conscious about your lack of skills in boxing in front of other people, but the way he keeps talking about it sours it a little bit. You know it’s because he doesn’t want to waste the money he has invested for the time, but still.

As it turns out, he was right to hurry you into starting, because you’re not good at any sports and so you learn really slow about it. You’ve lost count of how many times Jeongguk has to correct your posture and the way you punch, as well as taking your ill-powered jabs and missed hits. You’ve apologized probably a hundred times at this point.

“It’s fine,” he exhales, tired from holding his posture more rather than taking your hits, “at least now I can take this thing off, no way you’re gonna bonk my head when you can’t even hit the pads on my hands.” He’s talking about the head gear, which he takes off after he did so of the pads on his hands. “Go take five, babe. You still did great for a first-timer.”

You release a huge breath, not realizing that you’ve been holding it while you were exercising. You didn’t even do much yet you’re already sweating buckets, and it feels like no air is enough as you continue to inhale as much oxygen as you can into your lungs. It’s a wonder how Jeongguk can do this on an almost daily basis, with more power and accuracy than you just did. Your boyfriend might just be superhuman or something.

“How are you not — out of breath — like I am?” you pant, water bottle in hand. You can’t even take a sip because you’re breathing too hard. “Oh, wait. It’s probably — the sports bra you packed. Haven’t worn it since — high school.. yeah.. probably it.”

Jeongguk stares at your heaving chest as you continue struggle breathing, though you eventually manage to take a gulp of your water. His eyes don’t leave your figure even when you’ve stopped panting, making you raise an eyebrow in question. “What?”

He shrugs. “Maybe take it off if it’s making you hard to breathe?”

You scoff. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

“I’ll take off my shirt in return.”

“HA! Nice try, Jeon.” You shake your head at him in disapproval. “Let’s continue so it can be over sooner.” You move to put the gloves back on but Jeongguk stops you, reaching for the gloves himself instead.

“Before we proceed, let me show you the correct technique first,” he says, walking over to the punching bag that you haven’t had the chance to use yet. He gives it a few jabs, jumps in place three times, then punches some more with increased speed. You don’t pay attention to his posture or punching techniques at all, instead choosing to stare at his flexing muscles that he chose to expose up to his shoulders today. You’re kind of grateful that the side that faces you is his tattoo-less arm, because if it had been his tattooed one, you’re not sure you can hold yourself from jumping him right then and there.

“Babe, come here and see how I punch so you can hit the pads correctly later,” he beckons you over, already getting into position to start punching again. You walk closer with your arms crossed in front of your chest, making sure to push it up a bit since Jeongguk made a comment about it earlier. He’s been distracting you with his arms for the past half hour, it’s only fair for you to try to do the same.

“Oh, you’re done showing off, I see,” you say in mock surprise. “We all know you’re just trying to get me to stare at your muscles. Honestly I don’t know why you’re still doing that, it’s obvious that I always stare and it doesn’t really affect me like that anymore.”

Jeongguk breaks his boxing stance, standing to his full height. His eyes glance at your pushed up chest for a second, making him let out a half chuckle half scoff. Then he takes off the boxing gloves while making eye contact with you, which you hold firmly because two can play at this game. He throws the gloves to the ground harshly.

“Let’s see if it really ‘doesn’t affect you like that anymore’.”

His takes the hem of his shirt in his hands, pulling it off his body in one quick move. The piece of garment suffers the same fate as his boxing gloves: thrown carelessly to the ground. You don’t break eye contact with him even as he reaches for the gloves again, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t back down either, putting the gloves back on without taking his eyes off yours. You almost lost it because holy shit how can someone put on boxing gloves without even looking at it??

When the gloves are secured properly on his hands, he says: “Now let me show you what showing off is.”

Jeongguk then goes back to the punching bag, taking a stance in front of it once again before he starts punching, hard. Now that his upper body is void of any clothings, your eyes roam freely across his body, from his bulging bicep to the taut muscles of his back. From his shoulderblades, you go down his back until you reach his tiny waist. It’s the one thing that will always fascinate you about Jeongguk, how his wide shoulders come down to a waist that slim it’s almost unreal. Oh, he would look so good in a crop top.

As he continues his rapid fire at the punching bag, you can’t help but wonder about his front side, so you make your way around until you’re on his right side. His tattooed side. His inked arm looks even better when it’s flexing like this, and the newly-added colors seem to be dancing following the rhythm of his punches. Aside from his tattoos, you can also see the front of his torso from this side, his sweaty heaving chest the next destination your eyes land on. Then they come down to his taut abs, the firm lines forming an eight-pack instead of a six-pack like most people have. The way his whole body is taut from the sheer power of his punches makes you feel things that you have to hold yourself from tackling him down to kiss him senseless.

Jeongguk delivers one last punch to the punching bag with a resounding smack, making you break focus from your activities tracing your boyfriend’s muscles with your eyes. Breathing heavily, he catches your eyes and seems to just notice your change in position. His stare is still piercing, and the sound that comes out of his mouth when he says his next words almost sounds like a growl.

“One last thing.”

You thought he’s going to jab the punching bag for one last time, but he lifts a leg instead, giving a very hard kick to the poor thing. The power of his kick sends the bag and the frame shifting, it tears your gaze away from the way his thigh muscles flex. You can feel yourself getting damp down there as he approaches you while taking off the gloves before he chucks them at you almost angrily.

“Your turn,” he spits out harshly, eyes burning into yours. His harsh tone triggers you to feel as angry as he sounds, prompting you to shout your response at him: “Fine!”

Feeling a burst of courage along with your anger, you take the hem of your t-shirt and pull it off your body exactly like your boyfriend did earlier. It leaves you in the sports bra you haven’t worn since high school which has been restricting your breathing a bit, but you must admit it makes your boobs look good. No wonder Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off you now, even more so when you bend down to retrieve the boxing gloves he threw at you.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say through gritted teeth as you pull on the left glove. “So fucking irritating,” you continue pulling on the right one. “And so fucking infuriating.” You finish putting on the gloves, ready to punch anything now.

Instead of the punching bag, you go for Jeongguk’s chest. He looks a bit shocked at that, but remains composed as you continue hitting his chest while talking. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove here.” Another jab.

“I already said I always stare at you.” Punch.

“I already admitted how much I like your muscles.” A jab at his abs.

“How much I like your tattoos.” A shove at his tattooed shoulder.

“How much I love your body.” Another punch at his abs.

“What else, huh? Do you want me on my knees for you?” A shove at his chest with both of your hands.

“Okay, fuck, you’re hot! Smoking hot! So fucking hot I had to hold myself from kissing the fuck out of — mmph!”

Your sentence is cut off abruptly by Jeongguk’s hands gripping your jaw and him kissing you harshly like he wants to devour you whole. The way he presses his lips against yours is bruising, you’re sure your lips are gonna be swollen after this. You try to return his kisses with the same pace, but it’s proven a difficult task as he’s set an unforgiving pace to begin with.

When he bites into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, you cry out in pain as your hand comes up at his chest to push him away. Only then you both realize you’re still wearing the boxing gloves, making Jeongguk grunt unhappily.

“Fuck, take them off. Now,” he demands, lips going back after yours, not even giving you a chance to properly take the gloves off. You reach blindly for the strap, but are still unsuccessful even after almost a minute of trying. Jeongguk lets out a frustrated groan when he feels you slipping away from the kiss, pulling away from your lips to yank your gloved hands into his so he can take the damn gloves off already.

“Can’t even take them off without me,” he growls, his hands wrenching the gloves off your hands. “Do you need help taking your clothes off too? Huh?” He tugs you forward by the hips, lips connecting back with yours. This time he sucks on your bottom lip, a silent apology for the bite earlier. “You have no idea how hot you look in that bra, baby,” he whispers in between kisses and sucks. “So fucking sexy, I’d have you right here, right now.”

You can’t help but let out a moan at his words, feeling your legs shake. If there was a dampness in your underwear before, there’s definitely a wet patch on it now. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk starts kissing down your jaw to your neck, where his cold lip ring constrasts the warmth of his lips and mouth. He focuses on a spot where your shoulder meets your neck, and settles there with his tongue and teeth abusing your sensitive skin until it turns an angry shade of red.

While his mouth is busy up there, his hands find home on your waist, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts to stroke the skin there. You’re so overwhelmed by all the sensory stimulations that you almost stumble when Jeongguk moves his legs forward. He notices that, so he puts his hands under your thighs to haul your body up before leaning your back against the wall so he can continue his assault on your neck peacefully.

One of his hands that was previously on your thigh moves to your ass, squeezing the round flesh and eliciting yet another moan out of you. You can feel his smirk against the skin of your neck, fully satisfied of your responses to his ministrations. Feeling that your neck is covered enough by various shades of red, he kisses his way to your shoulder as his hand that’s previously on your ass moves back up to slide your bra strap off the shoulder so he has plenty of room to work. You can feel yourself gush out more wetness down there.

“Baby, look at me,” he tells you, separating his lips from your skin for a moment. You try your hardest to open your eyes and look at him through your blurry vision. You could cry from how turned on you are right now. “Can you hold yourself up?” he asks.

You’re not sure, but you nod nonetheless. Holding your arms around his neck and crossing your legs around his waist, you steel yourself as he lets go of your thigh, letting the wall and his body alone supporting your weight. You thought it’s because he wants to hold your face with both hands when he kisses you again, but you thought wrong as you let out a whine of pleasure when his left hand comes in contact with your right breast. He holds it gently instead of squeezing like what he did to your ass, but what prompts the sound is the way his thumb rubs tight circles on your nipple through the fabric of your bra. He’s too attuned with your body that he knows your nipples are very sensitive when you’re turned on like this, even under layers of clothing.

“You like that, baby?” Jeongguk exhales, seemingly not faring any better himself. His thumb continues its movements on your chest while his mouth goes back to sucking bruises onto your shoulder. Too busy feeling both sensations, you fail to notice that his right hand has gone from your shoulder. It’s two seconds later that you almost slip off the wall as you let out a surprised whimper when two fingers of his suddenly press down on your soaked core.

“Fuck, you’re drenched,” Jeongguk says breathlessly, starting to rub slow circles on your clit. You’re sure by now your underwear is far beyond ruined from how much wetness is coming out of you right now. But Jeongguk is not Jeon Jeongguk if not a menace.

“This is gonna make it worse, sorry baby,” he warns seconds before crashing his lips back on yours, the pace weirdly slow and sensual instead of harsh and passionate like earlier. You think nothing of it, accepting his kisses as how he gives them. But then he licks at your bottom lip, and the gasp you let out is used as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth. When his tongue meets yours, your suspicion is confirmed.

The fucker has a tongue piercing.

He’s been licking around your skin with that damn piercing on and you are too far gone in pleasure to realize. He continues to lick his way into your mouth, each swipe of the metal against your tongue making more wetness flow out of you. At this point, it’s a waterfall down there and you’re sure he’s aware because his fingers haven’t stopped their movement since starting it, instead going faster with the help of the added lubrication.

“What the fuck, Jeongguk?!” you manage to whisper-shout in between kisses. There are so many things you have to say to him regarding the newest addition on his tongue, but he gives you no chance as he speeds up the movement of his fingers on your clit. He alternates the pressure between hard and light to tease you, all the while swallowing your moans of complaint right into his mouth.

You feel the coil in your belly tighten rapidly with the way Jeongguk’s fingers don’t let up the pace, and you hurriedly grab his wrist to pull his hand away from your center. He’s way stronger than you, though, so the hand stays where it is and his fingers continue their assault on the bundle of nerves.

“Stop — stop — ! I’m gonna — cum — !” Your grip on his wrist tightens. “Jeong — guk! Please, don’t wan’t — to come in my pants — !”

“Oh, what’s that? You want to come on my tongue instead?” Jeongguk breathes out, his finger giving one last flick on your abused clit. You shudder, imagining the ball of metal on his tongue coming in contact with the most sensitive part of your body. “Hmm, you’d like that wouldn’t you, test out my new piercing as you sit on my face like it’s your personal seat?”

You don’t have the energy to respond, too busy getting oxygen into your lungs. Your core is still throbbing painfully after being denied the release it so badly needed (you denied yourself, so you can’t really blame anyone else), and it clenches around nothing when Jeongguk decides his taunting hasn’t concluded yet.

“Or I can continue what I was doing with my fingers, rubbing you as I insert a finger or two, feeling you gush out even more of your juices for me.” He goes back to kissing your neck pink and purple, moving to your other shoulder that’s still clean of colors. This time, though, instead of only letting your bra strap fall from your shoulder, he coaxes your arm out of the loop so he can pull down the cup part and letting your breast fall free. He wastes no time in rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally giving it a pinch. You can only whimper as a response.

His mouth moves downward when he deems your shoulder colorful enough, and before you know it, he has your nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it. Even with his mouth full, he’s still determined to keep your core nice and wet for him by spewing more filthy words from between his lips.

“Or would you rather be bent over the bathroom walls as I pound you from behind?” His question sounds like a promise to your ears. “I remember that one time we did it in your shower and you came so much I thought you were going to pass out.” The image conjured up in your brain of the memory is vivid, you can remember the numb feeling in your legs after you both finished. Jeongguk had to carry you out of the bathroom because your entire body had felt like mush.

Apparently, you’re not the only one with vivid memories of that day, because Jeongguk shudders in your arms before he drops his face into the crook of your neck. “Ah, shit, I’m so fucking hard right now.” He pauses for five seconds. Then, “shower with me?”

“Only if you promise to put that fucking tongue piercing to good use,” you snap through your teeth, still reeling because your boyfriend now has a tongue piercing. “And bend me over. Slam me against the walls. I don’t care, just fuck me good.”

“Oh, baby, I’ll give you the best fuck of your life.”

Later, when you’re both done with your gym activities and back in your house, watching TV on your couch, Jeongguk makes a confession.

“It’s fake, you know. My tongue piercing.”

“What??” You stare at him with wide eyes, not believing him even the slightest bit. It felt real when it touched your tongue and your.. another sensitive area.

“No, not ‘fake’ like it doesn’t exist, but it’s not actually pierced to my tongue. It’s a clip-on,” he explains, sticking his tongue out before tugging at the metal, the piece of jewelry coming off his tongue without leaving any marks. You stare in awe at the ball now in Jeongguk’s hand.

“I looked up reviews online about tongue piercings, and actually still feel iffy about getting it pierced for real. Then I found this in one of the comments, and thought, why not try it, right?” He gives you a smile as he puts the clip-on piercing aside. “Besides, I know you’re not fully on board with this idea either, so I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do. But I see you liked it, huh? It felt good, right?”

“Well, yeah, I almost died,” you mumble, hiding your face in his shoulder. It’s crazy how different you both are compared to an hour ago when you were busy getting it on in the gym showers. You can feel your face getting hot at the memory of him bending your body over the cold walls as water streamed down from overhead. “Maybe keep it for after hours only?”

He laughs before kissing the top of your head softly. “I mean, it’s a great compromise,” he considers. “Besides, if I do get one, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you for, like, weeks. Who can go around without kissing for that long??”

It’s your turn to laugh as you cup his cheek, angling his head so you can slot your lips against his in a soft kiss. “Certainly not you, big baby.”

Jeongguk turns his body completely to face you, pulling you into his lap so he can continue pressing his lips against yours with soft sighs slipped in between. He sneaks his hands under your t-shirt and rubs circles onto your hipbones, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“You wanna go again? I think I can go for a round two.”

“Hmm.. no, too tired.”

“I’ll put on the clip-on and let you sit on my face. You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Tomorrow, okay? I’m seriously really tired and could use a nap right now.”

“Alright, tomorrow.”

“Don’t pout, you baby, tomorrow I’ll ride your face and anything else you want me to do.”

“Mmh, kay, love you.”

“Love you too, now shush or I’ll throw the clip-on out.”

— a/n: thanks for reading! any feedbacks here would be greatly appreciated :D

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casablancarossa · 6 months

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All I need is you.

<<an [18+] taemin x reader story>>

Pairings : Taemin x female!reader

Genre: Smut, Mini Angst. Extra Extra Mini Fluff

Content Warning : 18+, Minors DNI, Unprotected Sex, Implications of SelfHarm/Depression. Pillow Talk

Synopsis: Taemin was no-show which left you feeling pretty down and unwanted, but its Taemin and he will do anything to make sure you no longer doubt how much he wants you.

Authors Note: It's long, its steamy. So here ya go darlings. BTW, while this is a continuation of 'Please Amore', didn't realize I was going to write about mirrors again. With a man this good looking, of course he would have a inclination towards mirrors.

Also I refuse to be held liable for how long this post is.. I couldn't write one moment and suddenly I couldn't stop writing.. So Yeah.

God bless the metamorph concerts.. so many pics to use .

Enjoy Reading!!

"So... amore.."

Taemin's dulcet call doesn't even come close to budging you out of your position in bed. Poor guy is practically unprotected in bed as you had managed to form a cocoon out of the blanket and remained in there, huffing something about a forgotten date or plan, or something along those lines. His arms reach out, placing a hand on the soft covers, pushing it down far enough so that he could see your face.

You were far from impressed and it will take every inch of your being from being livid and if your boyfriend was not so damn adorable, you would have probably used the pillows and hit him repeatedly until its feathery innards exploded. "You made me wait like a fool... in front of the company building, no less." you hissed through your teeth. The cocoon you were in had finally exploded, chucking it towards Taemin, immediately walking towards the door.

Not even the beckoning meows of Kkoong stopped you from huffing and immediately dropping onto the couch, grabbing the throw to cover your legs.

"Y/n-ah, you know I didn't mean to bail" Taemin's voice called out from the bedroom. It was followed by the noises of slippers shuffling on the floor as he waddles out, now cocooning himself with the blanket. He moves towards you and really pushing the cute act, plopping down to lay on top of you. "I'm sorry..." he mumbles, burying his head on your lap.

"One night, Taemin. All I wanted was one night" you sighed, folding your arms to stop yourself from dropping an ounce of affection.

"When I get back from Japan, I promise, we can have a fully week of uninterrupted date nights."

"No point now is there", you huffed quietly.

Being in the same room as Taemin made your heart break, and the more physical distance there is between you, the better it is, letting the silence heal your wounded ego.

With Taemin's schedule suddenly ramping up since his concert and amongst TV appearances and being holed up in the studio, you had rarely seen him the last two weeks. Maybe three. Within that time period, Taemin had flaked out on maybe four planned dates. Two of which he planned himself, but at least you were at home and half ready, so it didn't bother you. Three if you included tonight, but this time you had gotten ready and stood outside SM's building for over an hour, and only got the text from Taemin saying there was traffic it'll probably be an hour or two before he gets home. When you asked for an elaboration, no response.

It wasn't like Taemin to not respond and you were too annoyed to rationalize his actions, immediately jumping to the worse conclusions an angry woman could possibly think of. He is either cheating, or he is dying, and the former seemed more likely in your head. Now, you know, Taemin wouldn't dare enter an affair, honestly you didn't think it was possible, but Taemin would always be upfront about missing things due to schedule because it was his way of facing accountability. It was no secret that he has picked his schedule over you at times, not intending malice, but he would often think these things would be done on time and he would be home in time for you.

Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall as it quietly ticked. 2:15. It had gotten so late and it dawned on you that you had been moping for over 3 hours and Taemin had only walked through the door maybe an hour ago. "I'm going for a shower, then go to bed. You should sleep, you still have an early schedule tomorrow", you mumbled, shifting your body so that Taemin's head would drop on the seat of th couch.

His eyes followed your hunched figure making way to the bathroom, noting how hard you were trying to act casual. Act as if you weren't pissed at all, but he could see it in your face. How your lips curled down to a frown and your eyes seemed void of any emotion. Taemin quietly remained on the couch, waiting for the sound of water hit the floor. It puzzled the man that he didn't hear music coming from your end, usually your shower times would always have music in the background. The bathroom was your studio and you thought that the shower was loud enough to hide your singing, but this time it was silent. At that moment it clicked in Taemin's head that you were really not happy.

Filled with enough resolve to pull an all-nighter, Taemin would try to make you feel better, even at the cost of sleep. He might as well tidy up and create a cozy space for you, grabbing the plushies that were resting on the windowsill and throwing them to the bed.

As he was chaotically, setting out the comfy pillows and blankets, the string lights and the scented candles, Taemin noticed the mess of clothes, roughly kicked under the bed along with a pen cap. He thought of the situation as odd, investigating the clothes and noticing that it was one of the dresses he bought for you. White silk with lace trims and pen marks just at the hem.

Taemin put two and two together and dropped everything he was doing so he could sneak to the bathroom to see if his assumptions were correct. And it was. He managed to crack the door slightly and through the reflection of the bathroom mirror, he could see parts of your body, covered in pen marks, specifically in writing and he didn't need to read it to know the contents of it.

Often, during your 'low' days, instead of wallowing in sadness and damaging your health, you would write the demeaning thoughts that raptured your brain. The comments were harsh, hurtful and downright despicable, but they were words to yourself and usually at the end of the night, Taemin would carefully wash away those words, filling you with words of affirmation and making sure that you knew how amazing you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are and how grateful he is to have a partner like you.

"Amore? I'm coming in.."

The voice snapped you out of your zombied state, looking up to see Taemin, open the door a bit more as he watches you carelessly scrubbing at your thigh trying to get the writing off. Your body spin slightly to hide yourself, you didn't want him to see you like this. In your head, you have been doing so well, but after being bailed on, your insecurities were set to over 9000 and with so many female idols professing their crush on Taemin, you suddenly felt unwanted.

The feeling of the warm shower felt nice against your skin, but Taemin's timid kisses on your shoulder had caught you off guard, suddenly feeling as if fire coated your body. "Don't take my job away from me", his husky whisper, caused the hair on your neck to stand and soon your body was shifted to sit on the edge of the bathtub next to the shower.

You looked up again to see that Taemin had not taken off his clothes, subsequently getting soaked, as he adjusts the shower head so at least the stream could reach your feet from where you were sat. His hands grabs the sponge and soap and began working on the space just above your knees. "If you had told me, I would have dropped everything..."

"I don't want to be that type of person who disrupts her boyfriend's schedule.."

"I don't care. If I had known that you had a bad morning, I would have re-scheduled everything for after Japan.."

"It's fine amore... It's just a stupid overreaction.." your voice was a low whisper barely audible but there was a hitch on your throat that let Taemin know, it was anything but an overreaction. In part, he could tell it was his fault.

"So what did you write?", he asks despite having already read the legible parts before he scrubbed it off.

"Oh you know.. the usual stuff.." you began, feeling at ease as most of the ink had faded, becoming illegible enough that you or Taemin couldn't read it. "..mostly, how much I hate you.", you finally teased.

"That's fair. You could hate me all you want. But, I still love you", Taemin beamed despite letting out a defeated sigh, his hands carefully massage your calves with much earnestly as his head lowers to plant a trail of kisses on your thighs.

"You sure? Am I not too.. much?"

"Never..." Taemin placed an arm on either side of you, propping himself up so he could kiss your lips, pushing a little harder at your reciprocation. "All.. I ever wanted.. All I ever needed is here in front of me", he breathes out slowly, staring at you as your foreheads press together.

"I'm sure... you have said that plenty of times.." you sighed defeatedly, pulling away so you could grab the sponge and continue scrubbing at your arms, bending it at odd angles to get everything off.

You were no stranger to letting Taemin be fully aware of your insecurities and fears. You have been together for a while now and maybe his enlistment helped you stay secure, but now that he is out an about, it kind of itched at the back of your head. You weren't conventionally the type of girl that Taemin had relationships with. He is deceptively close to a lot of the female stylists, and heck up until recently, worked with an ex until the end of the 'Guilty' promotions.

"Don't speak like that.. I hate that you think that you don't deserve being loved.. especially from an idiot like me". Taemin's words were so adamant and full of intent that it caught you off guard.

There was a moment of silence that clouded room and Taemin took the opportunity to rid your body from any more nasty words. You watched him closely still trying to decipher the faded letters on your skin, frowning as he makes his own assumptions and then frowning at you disapprovingly before leaving kisses whenever he successfully scrubs a bad word off. As he turns off the shower, you observed how clothes were sticking onto his body and you couldn't help but admire how he kept his physique.

Gods. I don't deserve you. You let out a scoff, laughing to yourself of how stupid you were feeling. But seeing Taemin look equally hurt, washed all those worries and anger that was directed at him.

He flashed an endearing smile towards you, crouching down so that you were at the same eye level. "Y/N-ah, I will spend the rest of my days, trying to show you how much I love you.. if you'd let me", his last words were cut off by him placing another kiss at your lips, settling himself in between your legs. quickly wrapping your legs around his waist so he could pick you up.

"Woah, woah wait, Taemin, I'm still drenched. We're both wet mops!" you squealed as your body get lifted from your seat, wrapping yourself around Taemin's torso, trying not to slip. See he was surprisingly strong. You had thanked Minho for that, and you weren't necessarily lighter than Taemin either, being on a thicker side but he swears he loves that about you. More to love, he says.

You both giggled like little school children as Taemin carries you back to the bedroom, while in your head you cursed yourself for needing to go back out to clean the trail of water droplets before it causes an accident. But by the time your body had been dropped onto the fluffy blanket that Taemin had set out, all thoughts had left your head. The room was surprisingly warm and warmly lit too. Your head tilted back to see the string lights had been set up and the smell of peonies and vanilla covered the room. You were so distracted, you didn't even see Taemin trying to herd Kkoong and Daeng out of the room as he closes the door behind him.

It didn't take long either, but soon you found yourself under Taemin as he crawls on top of you, staring into your eyes lovingly. He couldn't help but be mesmerized at how much you were like a ray of sunshine to him. He would never let anything harm you. Not even himself.

That being said, on closer inspection of your body, he could tell by the faint bruising on the intimate parts of your body, that recently he had been rough in bed with you and while you didn't complain, he was aware he needed to show his affection and need for you in a more gentle manner this time. "Amore? Can I love your body as well please?" he asks so sweetly that you could only cup his face, and turn your head away, trying to not get embarrassed.

There was something pure about every time Taemin asks for permission. Usually he takes what he wants and it drives you insane (in a good way), but when he tries to be more loving about it, it felt like it was the first time for both of you; playful, clumsy, shy, always asking if things are okay and whether a line was crossed. But Taemin had done it so beautifully where sex was at your own pace and intensity, at moments like these, you were in charge, not in the dominant sense, but in general. Yes, he'd still dominate you, but it felt different. Instead of being the obediant submissive, that succumbed to the naughty wiles of your boyfriend, you felt like you were his only air to breath, a goddess to worship.

Taemin did revel when you are like this though. To see you flushed on the bed, when your legs would twitch and rub against each other when his finger would graze down your torso. Delicately, he would trace down from your lips, down your neck and over the hill of your breast and down your stomach. It was tantalizing and almost overbearing for you to handle. His movement was light as a feather and would apply enough pressure to on certain parts to bring you back to him.

Quickly, Taemin peels his wet shirt off his body, sighing in comfort before turns his attention to you again.His body shifts a little bit, lowering his body onto yours, bringing his lips to your ears. "I know this isn't enough to make up for tonight.. " his low shuddering voice, caused your to mewl, rolling your head aside, exposing the areas, you needed him to stimulate.

Slowly, resting his weight on your body, he leaves tantalizing kisses on your neck and collarbone, repeatedly whispering your name as if it was the only word he knows. His devious hands roam the sides of your body before quickly grasping the back of your knee on one leg and pulling it up to wrap around his waist. The movement caused his hips to thrust gently, making you feel through his sweatpants, his bulge, protruding and grinding onto your naked core.

A bare moan barely escaped your throat before Taemin occupied your vacant lips, weighing down in the kiss with so much need and urgency. You were suddenly in a daze when he left your lips and targeted your breasts. Just a little nip made your body almost sit up but Taemin shot down that reaction by keeping a firm palm just on the middle of your chest, essentially, holding you down.

Taemin had always played like this, being so agonizingly slow and unpredictable and his tongue darted out, lapping at your nipples before sucking on the area around it. Your back arches upward, feeling the built up tension forming in between your legs and suddenly you were need to feel something more and not even grinding through his sweatpants is going to cut it.

"Amore.. please.." you whimpered shyly, turning your head to stare at the wall, using one of your hands to cover your face.

"Hm?"

"Please take me.."

"I don't think you're being serious", he lets out a soft giggle, teasing you as he sits up, trying to shift down the band of his sweats, pushing down his boxers as well.

Seeing his dick pop out all the sudden made your eyes roll, biting your lip and mumbled your initial statement under your breath, horribly failing at controlling yourself.

"Oh.. I guess, I should put this away then.." his voice was so playful that it ticked a nerve.

"Oh for the love of god Taemin, please!" your tone was a mixture of desperation and annoyance, but as you tried to sit up to scowl at him, Taemin with his best effort, pinned you back down on the bed again.

Taemin was holding you down by the shoulders, boring a hole through you with his eyes, but you were so flushed and excited that you couldn't even look at him in the eyes. Your body however was telling a different story as your legs have parted, allowing Taemin to slot himself in the middle, now with shaft pressed in between your bodies.

Carefully, one of his hands, held onto yours, bringing up just to the side of your head. His other hand reaches down and guides his member just to your heated core, gently pushing himself in until he was fully engulfed in you. The slow spread made you wince. Naturally with Taemin's busy schedule, there wasn't really enough time to have sex constantly and that left you feeling pretty tight, as if you walls forgot the shape of his dick.

"Oh...fuck", he hisses, if it felt too tight around him, god knows how it must be for you. "Are you okay? Do you want me to take it slow?"

Your head feverishly shakes from side to side, assuring him that you're okay, gently patting your hand on his arm, mouthing the words 'keep going'.

One slow movement out and Taemin quickly thrusts his hips, causing a jolt in your senses, covering your mouth with the back of your free hand to prevent any loud noises. Your boyfriend frowned, adjusting himself so he could finally lower his torso on top of yours.

"No no, I want to hear you", following through his words by resting head in the direction your face was pointed at, close enough that his ear was pressed against your lips.

Wasting no time, Taemin moves his hips again, finally hearing the soft yelp that left your lips, whimpering needlessly as your body feels overwhelmed with how you were coming undone beneath him. Every time he snaps his hips forward, you could feel your legs raise each time, groaning as he hits new depth in you in this manner, which made you mumble profanities into his ear.

Snickering, Taemin tries to reach upwards, grabbing a pillow before kissing you gently on the lips, his sudden slow pace winds you down before fully pulling away.

"My my amore.. look how wet you are" his eyes practically shined seeing your legs spread, seeing how your region was throbbing from suddenly feeling empty.

"Shut up..." you could only manage to whine before you felt his hands snake under you, pulling your hips up so he can place the fluffed up pillow under you.

As he attempts to push your hips and legs further up and closer to your chest, so he can scoot himself closer to you, your hands immediately dart forwards, digging your nail into his arm to catch his attention. Taemin slightly raised his head, his eyes were so dark and like a mist of lust had clouded over them and he was trying to hard not to lose control around you.

You could only flash a sweet smile before struggling slightly to raised you hand, enough for your fingers to caress his cheeks before using your other arm to lever you upwards, enough so that you could reach to tug at Taemin's hair before pushing his head down slightly.

"Clean me." the soft request from you was met with a low growl from Taemin before smirking at you. He was more than happy to comply, quickly shuffling downwards so his face was mere inches from your groin.

"Say it again...", he whispered,, casting a cool breath on your pelvic area, slowly blowing a trail further down, waiting for your words.

"Please clean me, amo---ahh", you could barely finish your statement before Taemin's tongue dart out, giving your clit a tentative lick, placing the flat muscle firmly against it. He loved how you moaned uncontrollably. He knew how much it took within you to ask him to basically eat you out. While you had no issue sucking his pretty little soul out of his dick; eating you out at your request was not something you did often. It usually got you going quick, and the orgasms you would experience is far from your general orgasms, you knew that, he knew that.

It wasn't long before his lips cascaded downwards, forming a suction at your entrance and happily sucking up the trail of wetness that managed to form and drip from your core. The way he lapped his tongue around the entrance of your pussy could drive you insane. but Taemin being Taemin, he couldn't help himself.

Mustering enough strength, he finally hoists your legs around his shoulders, while he sat up to a kneeling position. Taemin's arms wrapped so tightly around your waist, not only to keep the lower half of your body upwards, but he was ready to devour you.

It was already hard on your to almost balance your weight on your shoulders and if it weren't for Taemin's grip around your form, you would have been rendered helpless, quivering, when his tongue descends into your pussy, twirling his tongue for a bit before attacking the main prize once more, back to your clit. You had been so overwhelmed that your bud was so sensitive to any type of friction and when Taemin decided to continuously flick at it with his tongue before giving it a quick suck, its like hot white flashes burned into your eyelids.

You wouldn't last long in this state, not that it mattered to your boyfriend, he was more than determined to let you orgasm in his mouth. "F-fu..ck, Taem... fuck.." you could only muster two words repeatedly as your legs almost clench around his head and suddenly you had enough strength to indeed balance your weight on your shoulders, arching your back and needlessly grabbing onto his dark locks.

In response, Taemin's efforts were doubled. "Cum for me". His words vibrated through as his hold went from around your body, to white knuckle death grip on your hips, making sure you couldn't escape even if you tried. And there you would finally grace his tongue with your orgasm as your legs twitched endlessly and a squeal finally breaks free from throat. He would diligently lap it all up, making sure not a single drop was wasted.

"Mm, such a good tasting girl" Taemin chuckles before finally letting your body drop to the bed, letting your catch your breath. "What do you think Amore? Should I finally fuck you again? Or should I make you watch me show you how amazing your body is?"

His questions piqued your curiosity, you obviously wanted nothing more than Taemin in you. You've been so needy for him that not even rummaging through your collection of sex-toys could please you, but because you took to long to respond, it was practically obvious you wanted to see what the second suggestion meant.

The devilish man, finally smiled, leaning down to give your forehead a quick peck before shuffling to the other edge of the bed, holding your hand and guiding you to sit with him on his side. He motions for you to stay where you are as he gets up to scoot the clothing rack, meant for robes/towels/clothing ready to be worn for the day, aside , revealing a wide full body length mirror.

Quizzically darting your eyes between your reflection and his, you were snapped out of your confusion when Taemin gently lifts your head by your chin with his finger, leaning down to capture your lips, softly moaning your name out.

"My love... my life...", he's doing it again. The low rumble in his voice, the voice only you hear in private. Desperation, desire all molded into a sweet tone as he kisses down your neck and out your shoulders. "My sunshine.... Y/N.. Amore", he continues on as he moves back to the bed, kneeling behind you as he pulls you just slightly back from the edge, enough so that you could lean back and rest on his chest.

Equally, Taemin's frame shrinks just slightly so he can bury his face on the crook of your neck, lavishly decorating it with kisses and little nips to stir a sound out of you. A hand reaches down between your legs, fingers tauntingly circling around your clit once more before a lone finger knocks at the entrance of your pussy, slightly pushing in.

That sensation alone was enough for your head to rock back against Taemin's shoulders, mewling slightly with your eyes closed, while his actions beforehand was weird (to you at the very least), all those questions and worries were out the window when a second finger joined the first, gently spreading your apart. It wasn't his dick, but by God was Taemin talented with his fingers. Being skilled in playing the piano only meant good things for you, naughty things for you. Taemin eagerly pumps his digits on and out of you before hooking them to look for a sweet spot. A spot that would knock out your senses before you knew it.

Once you let out a breathless gasp, he knew he had found that sweet spot and continuously massaged it, stimulating it, all the while you had not even noticed a third finger already in you, stretching your tight hole more than you could ever dream. The slick noises your pussy made drove Taemin insane. The fact you could feel him grind his hard-on on the small of your back, drove you insane. You feel the hard muscle twitch so hard behind you, it was practically slapping against your skin and the thought of it plowing in and out you, had you soaking.

It didn't take long but your legs were fully spread open, one leg raised up on the bed and the other still somewhat planted on the bed with your foot on the floor, on your tiptoes. You had become a whimpering mess only chanting your mantra of Taemin's name and God. You tried so hard not to clamp your legs shut because it could be game over if you tightened around his fingers, but something in your started stirring and the pressure built up once more.

Taemin uses his free hand to move your head to look at the mirror, whispering into your ear. "I want you to watch... I need you to see", and with that he shifted his weight, focus and energy on the hand that pleasure you. He pumped in and out of you one last time until his middle and ring finger were knuckle deep into you before hooking up and down in a crane like motion.

You finally mustered the energy and attention to look at the mirror. Oh. So this is what he wanted you to see, to make you see how much he knows your body, how much he coveted it.

"I want you to see how beautiful you are.. how much I burn for you", he callously whispered into your ear. "Look at yourself amore, look at us.."

Like he said, because he was sitting behind you, you couldn't see his face, but now you could see, how your mewls excited him, how when your lips part to sing his name, it caused him to bite his lips, and when your head would roll to the side, he would take a deep breath in, inhaling and absorbing your scent. There was something in his demeanour and actions, everything you did had an effect on him and oh boy his damn eyes. His damn eyes gave him away. He looked at you like you were his reason to live, he looks at you like he was the fucking luckiest man on earth because you chose him. Despite the ups and downs, he had you and to know that he could witness you like this, it was perfect.

While your head may be resting onto his chest, face slightly away, your eyes were still fixed on your reflection. There was something hot about it. To see yourself come undone, a whimpering broken mess on the merit of his fingers alone.

His arms and general hand was still, but you could feel his fingers manoeuvre wildly in your and suddenly those squelches became more audible. His spare hand roams around your torso, grabbing at whatever as he is in deep focus trying to achieve what you didn't know your body could do.

As the pace of his fingers intensify, so did your breathing. Suddenly it was ragged, quick paced like you had ran a marathon and the slight brush of his thumb against your clit, was the final catalyst that sent you to a different type of nirvana. The pressure you felt was not just another orgasm. You watched your reflection as Taemin had managed to make squirt, spraying onto the floor and mostly pooling in his hand. But he didn't stop there, he quickly pulled out his fingers out of you, quickly brushing his hand like a fan over your entire pussy and clit , making the spray more dispersed eliciting more than just a squeal, it was more like a guttural scream that had your whole body convulsing.

The moment had you collapsing onto the bed, narrowly avoiding Taemin, as you try to catch your breath, half rolling your torso around the bed. "Holy... good fuck..." you gasped out, suddenly your mouth felt dry and your throat felt drier. "Wha.. what the fuck amore" you let out a low chuckle, slightly bewildered that happened.

"Soon it won't just be my fingers that makes that happen" he giggles, reaching over to give your ass a little smack. "How about it Amore?", his body turns to face you slightly.

Your head whips to look up at him and his erection standing proud, you were so dazed that you didn't even expect your body to move on its own accord. Suddenly you were on your knees and elbows, on all fours, hunched over and eagerly placing Taemin in your mouth. Gratifying him his own moment of pleasure. After what you just experienced, this is the least you could do to thank him.

Once your lips had formed a seal, enough to make a pop when you pulled away, Taemin whined. It wasn't just you, him too, sensitive aching to feel bliss. For a moment the thought crossed both of you minds, you were only sucking him off to give your pussy a break, but none of you could complain. Well, Taemin would, but feeling the back of your throat with his dick sent him on whirl. He didn't even need to hold the back of your head to keep you down, you were so willing already to take as much of him in your mouth.

It took a lot of self-control not to grab your hair and push you down so hard that you couldn't breathe, but eventually Taemin buckles, his body arching forward as he braces himself on your back. The motion of your tongue swiping on the underside of his dick before puckering your cheeks in to create the sweet vacuum he would empty himself in.

Soft groans would only escape Taemin now as you head repeatedly bobs up and down his shaft, tantalizing the tip with your tongue, playfully placing kisses on his pelvis as you move to pump him with your hand. He straightens himself, head rolled back, slowly losing the ability to stay in control and you could only look up to see his chest rising and sinking rapidly each time your grip tightened just enough. The way his adam's apple with also bob on his neck as he struggles to speak. "N...no..."

"Do you want me to stop?" your voice steeped in panic.

Taemin shakes his head, chuckling in amusement.

"D-did I do something wrong?", now you sounded worried, shifting to sit up in the same kneeling position Taemin is in.

"Relax amore.. tonight was supposed to be all about you..." he whispered.

You yelped as he grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you towards him as he throws you down onto the bed, quickly positioning himself on top of you in a straddle. His hands navigate to search for yours before clasping and pinning them on either side of your head. You both giggle as you faux struggle against his grip, attempting to lean upwards to peck the corner of his lips.

"I'm serious.. Y/N, tonight is all about you, I'm here to make you feel pleasure.. love... joy... all the good things in the world, my amore" Taemin cooes as he looks down at you.

His eyes were so different again. There was glimmer in those chocolate pools that captivated you and the way he smiles at you made your heart skip a beat because gosh, his smile would be the solution to any shiity day possible. The way he would laugh, or pout when he is being a bratty boyfriend; the way he would nonchalantly do gentlemanly things without even you asking him to do it.

"Taem..you don't... you don't need to do all of that. I already know it.." you sighed as you managed to slip your hands away from Taemin's hold, finally allowing your arms to hook around his neck and pull him down. "You're such an idiot.. but I love you so much Amore" you giggled before pecking his lips.

Taemin smiled once more, deeming that one kiss was not enough, going for another one. Then another one. Followed by a third.. a fourth and essentially you two were back to making out again. Ravenously chasing each other lips, how your tongues would battle for dominance, or how you two would bite each other's lips as a way to communicate. A quick nip would be a 'please I need you', a long swipe of the teeth would be a 'show me how much you want me', but a long bite, followed by the pulling of the other lip was a 'i'm begging you'; and that is what would happen, round after round, your lips would nibble on Taemin's lower lip, hungrily moaning for more as your body begin to roll upwards against him.

Taemin shuffles once more, guiding your legs so he can kneel in between them, dotting hurried kisses up and down your body, letting out a soft growl as he pushes your legs back, allowing to align himself at your entrance, agonizingly dragging the tip of his cock up and down your slit, bumping against your clit from time to time, making you carelessly whimper in anticipation. "Should we pick up where we left off Amore?"

You could barely respond a 'yes', he didn't give you enough time to but the pleased and relieved moan you let out as you feel his dick slowly entering inside you, lets him know, it was time. He buck his hip, gently adding more force behind his thrust to gauge how sensitive you are. But as you were so relaxed and lost in the pleasure of being filled, he picked up the pace.

The two of you get so high of the primal way Taemin fucked you, like his life depended on it. The way your walls clenched around him in a periodic rhythm in time to his thrusts drove Taemin to moan your name. You like it when he does. He gets so whimpery and cute. He wouldn't be like this if he used other 'terms' of endearment, but by god, he just fucked you the same way.

Soon your hips were rolling to meet every thrust, almost pushing him in deep inside you again and it made you see stars. Your eyes would roll back, the same way your back would arch off the bed, feeling overwhelmed as Taemin would slow his thrusts, pulling out fully before slamming in again, in one quick motion. When it felt like his thrusts were causing you to slightly shift away from him, he would grab your wrists the laid on your side, keeping you still, in place as the slow deep thrusts cause you mind to go blank.

You couldn't tell, but you were barely keeping it together. The strings of nonsense you manage to let out from your lips was inane babble to Taemin's ears. You didn't want him to fuck you like this. You needed him to be closer, on top of you, so you could whisper sweet nothings into his ear. To tell him to go slow, to feel every inch of each other.

When Taemin tried to pull out for another big thrust, that's when you leaped into action, immediately sitting up, only to hook a hand around his neck, and pulling him down with you again, staring into his eyes. "I need you close... to... me" you panted.

The man smirked slightly, supporting himself on his elbows, whilst his hands were busy playing with your hair, pulling strands of your face, that way he could study the small expressions that decorated your visage whenever he thrusted. When it was a quick one, your eyes would shoot open, lips slightly parted and inaudible scream would leave you. When it was slow and deep, your lids would be half hooded, lips reddened from how hard you were biting it and delightful moan was soft and music to his ears.

Your body would only continue to squirm and writhe in pleasure as Taemin moves his hand to cup and your breasts, gently pinching your nipple before slowly and softly dragging his nails down the side of your body, reaching to pin his hand between your ass and the mattress. Every time his thrust had you lifted off the bed, he would slap your ass gently causing an excited giggle out of you. "Oh it sounds like some wants their ass red.."

Another giggle as you nod you head, looking up at Taemin with doe like eyes and feigning innocent face, which drove him wild. How could his sweet love pull such an angelic air around her while agreeing to having her ass slapped about. It was a good tactic to get what you want and you want nothing more than to feel like you could lose you senses as Taemin pounded into you.

Taemin raises himself enough so he could bring your legs together again and in one motion, flipping you around so you were on your stomach. Not needing to be told what to do, you tried to keep yourself as flat to the bed as possible, except for the slight bed in your back to perk your ass up in the air, wiggling slightly to taunt Taemin.

The man could only smirk, testing your tolerance by giving a gentle slap and listening to your pleased mewl. He places himself behind you, slapping each cheek with his dick before spreading you apart once more. Taemin wasn't stupid, he knew why you liked this position. Not only can you have the satisfaction of your cheeks being marked, but with your legs closed tight and in this bent form, you were impeccably tight. Tight enough that Taemin would have second thought fucking you in this position because it almost felt like he was breaking your walls down.

A slow hiss ripped through Taemin's teeth as he insert himself, groaning profanities. It felt tighter than it did, when you two started earlier on and at this point, he might not last much longer. Like instinct, Taemin's hands placed themselves just on the base of your spine, holding you down as he proceeds to move his hips, causing your to moan wantonly into the matress. It was erratic and aimless, you didn't know what to feel, but the pressure of being held down and being fucked in angles and depth that you didn't know could happen, your body was almost begging to release.

In your position, you swing your arms to stretch in front of you, grabbing hold on the blanket and gripping at it whenever Taemin used his weight to pile drive into your aching core. The groans and mewls and fully turned into a fully vocal and resonant cries of pleasure. Taemin had a kink for your sinful moans and you will scream the house down for both of your pleasure because you are starting to become overwhelmed.

As your head tries to turn to look back at Taemin, you catch yourself, your reflection in the mirror. Ass perked up in the air with your own personal god, fucking you like the world was about to end. Watching Taemin's reflection as he drops his all into his thrusts made you wetter than possible, Is that how we look like.. Is that how slutty I look? Fuck.. look at him, he looks so good fucking me like this. You were so enchanted by the view, you didn't even realize Taemin was looking at you through the reflection.

"Don't we look good amore?" he groans with a quick thrust. "I told you, see how beautiful you look like this" Another thrust.

It's not like you haven't watched porn, nor have sent countless of masturbation videos to each other before, but there was something deeply erotic and sensual about how Taemin's movement would have a ripple effect on you and the sight of his face as it contorts in pleasure, how his soft lips would part to moan your name before cursing under his breath.

Shyly hiding your face behind your stretched out arm as you continue to look in the mirror. "Amore.. I want to see you cum in me..", you hummed before crossing your legs and bending your knee to raise them up, essentially keeping Taemin pinned close to you.

"But first..", he slaps you ass as he feel the heel of your foot bump against his backside. "It's time for you to scream my name again".

Taemin adjusts his knelt position, and now focusing on pumping his dick in and out of you. He kept on hand applying pressure on your lower back to hold you down while the spare hand took turns in slapping each cheek, or carelessly drawing lines down your back with his nails.

It suddenly got too much as the thrusts became shallow but effectively rubbing against you sweet spot, making you cry out his name. "Oh fuck... amore... Taemin.. please". The more louder you got the more wilder the thrusts were and this time, Taemin's hands were at your hips practically slamming you onto him, each time causing you to shudder uncontrollably. "F-fuck.. fuck.. fuck.." you drawled out as the eruption of your orgasm is finally about to hit like a double deck bus.

Overwhelmed, slightly broken, the culmination of multiple orgasms back to back did lay bearing on the intensity this orgasm brought. Whilst the hight pitch scream of you lover's name filled the room, it hits you again, the sound of the loud squelching and slight spray that dared to slip Taemin' out of you. What's worse is you had your eyes open and you could see it in your reflection how intense that was for you. Warm waves of euphoria washes over you and Taemin could see it in your eyes that slight moment where daze hits and you felt that post-orgasm numbness fog your brain in an instant.

"Told you, you'd do it again...and not by my fingers this time. You did so well amore" Taemin's words of affirmation brought you comfort, although you weren't sure it was processing in your head fully.

However despite how tingling your body is, how your legs quivered as your orgasm basically washed over Taemin. Your walls pulsated, tightening further around him and it was enough to tip him over the edge.

You would continue to watch Taemin essentially lose himself, a mixture of focus and tiredness encompass his face. His eyes hooded and clouded with ecstasy. His rapid breathing mixed with the frustrated grunts, he was all too close to getting to the same state as you.

Taemin's head would throw back again, groaning nothing but your name as he would have exploded out of you mid thrust if it weren't for your legs pinning him closer to you. You used the last of your strength to keep him in places as he empties himself in you. "F-fuck. Y/N-ah", he groans as his body keels over, his now sweat ridden forehead resting on your back.

There was a moment of silence that felt like eternity as both of you catch your breath together and Taemin finally pulls away, resting against the headboard and smiling at the sight that graced him.

"Stay still amore", he finally breaks the quietness before getting up.

He slowly guides and manouvers your body around, still bent over but now you were back at the edge of the bed, but with your back turned against the mirror. Taemin sat beside you and gently patted your ass. "Do you want to see how creamy you are amore?" he teased.

With a puzzled look, you attempt to twist your torso, so you can half turn to see what Taemin meant. And creamy you did. The imagine of you slightly spreading yourself to see the final mixture of both Taemin and yours, pool slightly out of your entrance, dripping onto the bed.

"I will never get sick of seeing you filled up.." Taemin giggled, talking to you through your reflection. He beamed up once more as he took the opportunity to let you see him lean over and naughtily nip at your cheek, slapping it once you let out a pained moan.

You laugh as you push Taemin down on the bed, scooting over to straddle him, quickling teasing him by pinching his cheeks and trying to tickle his sides. "If you keep on filling me up mister.... we'll end up having a responsibility nine months later.." you huffed slightly.

"Then maybe..." Taemin's devilish grin pops before, using his hands on your waist and pulling you upwards closer that you end up sitting on his chest. He looks down to see the trail of your orgasms line his torso. He tentatively licks his lips before gently biting his lower one.

"You idiot.. eating me out now, is not going to 100% stop a pregnancy.." you laughed, slightly flicking his forehead before dismounting him. You grabbed one of the blankets and wiped Taemin's chest free from your debaucherous sins, before throwing it aside and settling in beside him.

"Hey Y/N-ah... "

"Mm?"

"I love you..."

"I love you too."

"Next time, tell me when you are having your lows so I can catch you and make you feel safe... " he mumbles softly, turning to face you as his arm drapes over your body for a hug.

You pursed your lips before smirking at him, getting the weird feeling of being annoyed because he is being so damn cute and aggression is kicking in. Your hand reaches up to aggressively pinch his cheeks.

"You are such a cheese. A baby cheese. My cheese", you sigh contentedly.

"Yes. Your baby cheese" he chuckles before lowering his frame so he could nuzzle against you, resting his head on your chest as you begin to hum and play with his hair.

"By the way.. can you lie for me and tell the rest of the members I'm sick? It's not much, but lets have that date.. at home tomorrow...or well.. when we wake up.." Taemin mumbles half realizing the time.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"It's okay. You're worth it..." he slowly drifts off followed by the soft sounds of his snores.

"Okay, Amore... tomorrow, it will be a day just for us.. "

#taemin x reader #taemin fanfic #taemin x female reader #taemin scenario #taemin smut #shinee smut #taemin x you

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tommock · 5 months

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I DNF'd Mistorn: Here's Why

Disclaimer: You asked for this. Let me start there. Don't get mad at me, Mistborn lover. If you clicked on this link, and that means you are taking the dagger into your own hand. The wound is self-inflicted!

I did not finish Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. I know, I know, its actually called The Final Empire. The name Mistborn has stuck with so many readers for a reason, so I'll continue to use it as a shorthand. The book didn't work for me, but I think WHY it didn't work for me might be interesting to read about, especially for fellow authors.

If you have read and enjoyed the Mistborn books, or any work by Brandon Sanderson, I'm delighted. I want to applaud any work of fiction that brings people joy (so long as it or its author is not reprehensible in some way (he said, covering his ass)). I don't want you to think this is me taking shots at you or at Sanderson. I'm just talking about a work of fiction and what it did to my brain.

Believe me when I tell you I have no delusions about being some high-handed minister of good taste. You should see some of the anime I watch to destress at the end of a long day trying to be a self-published author, editor, and, well, just an ordinary semi-functioning human being.

I've read many, many books and loved them, only to come back to them later and find they were … less deserving of my matured tastes. Sometimes books meet us at the right time. If Mistborn was, or is, one such book for you, I would be a jerk and a fool if I tried to tell you that you were wrong for liking it. That isn't what this is. But, if you're at all curious why I didn't like it the way you did, here are my thoughts.

Instead of trying to construct some long elaborate essay, I've decided to present my reading notes as I was writing them. If you're at all familiar with my SPFBO9 opening reads thread, this is in a similar, though much protracted style. This is my travelogue of the first few chapters. If these notes are rough or feel stilted in places, I'm sorry. I DNF'd the book a few months ago, and I found in trying to clean up my notes that I was making up commentary to fill in gaps and I don't think that's fair. I've tried to provide some context where I could.

Pages referenced are from the first mass market edition, published August 2007 by Tor

My Notes:

Starts well enough. Interesting introduction to the fantastic elements of the environment (the ash fall) and the enslavement of the skaa. Some neat 2nd world titles “obligator,” etc.

Not great, not riveting, but competent introduction of world and one protagonist, Kelsier. He doesn't know what to do with Vin, though. Disconnect between the characters as we're told they are and their actions. Lacking coherent motivation.

(P.5)The slave that stands and stares defiantly sending a chill through the lord so-and-so is a bit melodramatic. Both actions struck me as over the top.

(writing note)…too many “of courses”

The writing is competent and descriptive. The Mist at night is another interesting setting detail.

(p.6) I immediately dislike Kelsier. “I’ll have to cure them of that (fear of the mist) some day.” This is has an unsympathetic arrogance about it. If this is also the man who stared defiantly at lord-so-and-so, hes blasé about endangering these people, and seems to look down on them, much like lord-so-and-so. I suspect this impression is not intentional. I suspect I’m supposed to think him strong and clever. We’ll see.

(7) rolling his eyes at these people. This seems intentional. But it’s also annoying.

(10) beatings beatings beatings. These “peasants” and their daily beatings. Did I mention the beatings? Their lives are harsh! There are beatings!

(‘) what is this talk about Tepper “leading” the skaa? Leading them how? They’re slaves! What decisions are they making? No, really. What is this forced little conflict? It’s pointless.

(‘) “How do you do that?” “What?” “Smile all the time” - there’s no reason for him to ask this. It’s unmotivated dialogue. How do you smile all the time? How? No. Why, sure. “You keep smiling. Is something about our home funny to you?”

(19-20, ch.1) I’m having trouble with Sandersons storytelling. This is coming across as heavy handed and simplistic. Here’s Vin. She was betrayed. There are betrayals. This boy who came to get her who’s nice enough will also betray her. But the ash is free…

I wonder if we’re going to slowly work through the alphabet section by section. Ash, then beatings and betrayal… who knows what could be next? Crime? I bet it’s crime.

Also - Reen’s sayings and betrayal. I think in general I find it a bit affected when we meet a character and they’re immediately thinking of their backstory … but that’s probably not fair of me. I think what comes across as affected is Sandersons execution. There’s a very light fiction - YA quality about Vin’s angsty introduction. I might have loved it if I read it at 14, but not now.

I’d like to think of an example of what would be more appealing to me - the introduction of a character with similar enough circumstances… Actually, Gideon the 9th might be a good example. We get to hear Gideon’s voice in the prose and the dialogue and get a strong sense of her character as well as the specific and very interesting world building details of how she got into the 9th house. Here, Reen’s betrayal is left completely unexplored, and so I wonder why bring it up at all except for that cheap YA punch in the gut of “my brother betrayed me and now I’m here.”

Maybe Sanderson felt some necessity to move faster here. He wanted to get to the city theiving … but it isn’t working for me, so obviously I think it was a mistake. Obviously he was hoping this would create a sense of anticipation that we would eventually find out HOW Vin’s brother betrayed her, but because he leads with it and then doesn’t explain it, it makes it seem like it doesn’t really matter HOW Vin was betrayed, what’s important is that she was betrayed and now she doesn’t trust anyone. It’s just a bit weak.

THE HEAVY HANDEDNESS (People being mean to Vin - her hard life) (21) the slap in the face (23) Theron looking Vin up and down - “eyes lingered on her … running down the length of her body. … She was hardly enticing (didn’t even look 16); some men preferred such women, however.” (24) “what do you know?” “Enough” - Vin hurts her, expositional dialogue about her brother’s debt and selling her to a whorehouse.

(25) fearing Vin would disappear in a scene she doesn’t have much to do during, we get these unnecessary interjections of her watching the interaction, followed by the explanation of Camon thinking Vin is his good luck charm. This should have been presented earlier, because it just interrupts the dialogue here. But also, it feels inaccurate after Vin made such a useful critique of Camon’s servants. She seems much more useful in other ways than a luck charm, and comfortable offering her criticism without the slightest hesitation.

This chapter ends rather abruptly and without much Go to it. Vin uses her Luck and gets our stuffy official to consider her boss’s mundane business proposal.

The notion that Camon brings Vin along because he thinks of her as his luck charm feels really thin, especially on a job like this where everyone has to look the part. Which raises an important question: what was Vin doing there? I mean literally. Why didn’t Camon have SOMETHING for her to do. Camon didn’t dress her up in any part, she didn’t have any kind of cover story as his daughter or nurse or anything. Just some kid in the room dressed … who knows how while important official business is discussed. She just floats somewhere, doing nothing, as far as anyone is concerned.

VIN’S MOTIVATION Where is it? What does she get out of making this work for Camon if he has no idea what she’s doing? Why is she avoiding him if this is such an important job? Why is she helping him at all?

The pieces are there, but Sanderson doesn’t put them together.

Camon should know about Vin’s ability to “smooth things over” in some capacity. This would give him a serious reason for her being there on this crucial job. Vin should be motivated to help him because if this lucrative job works out, it will go a long way towards paying off her brother’s debt. Now suddenly there is a sense of urgency for her instead of just having a bad time owned by a “crew leader” getting slapped around. The scam itself isn’t enough. Frankly, it’s kind of boring at this point. It’s a slow moving beurocratic swindle.

(32) Kelsier. Sanderson is doing a good job introducing some thieves’ cant here as Dockson and Kelsier are planning their job, talking about how they need a “Smoker.” Someone is a good Tineye. The loss of a man to the Steel Ministry underscores the mortal risk these men are taking. But … there’s something about all this crime play that feels a bit cute, like Sanderson had only a passing, generic understanding of (fictional) gangs/criminal organizations. He’s spent his world building energy on the fantasy aspects of the story - the dystopian Tolkien Lord Ruler and Steel Ministry, skaa, ashfalls, mist - but not on developing the criminal world of the characters, linguistically speaking. They’re all crews working on a job headed by a crew leader. This is the world we’re living in, most immediately, and yet it feels the most underdeveloped.

“Kelsier shook his head. ‘No. He’s a good Smoker, but he’s not a good enough man.’ Dockson smiled. ‘Not a good enough man to be on a THIEVING CREW … Kell, I have missed working with you.”

This stopped me dead. I laughed at the book and put my hand over my eyes. “Thieving crew” is just silly. It’s sixth grade D&D language, but even more ridiculous is the sentiment of Dockson’s statement: that character is somehow a moot point because they are criminals. It’s as if he’s saying: we’re breaking the law, so we’re the bad guys, and bad guys don’t work with “good men.”

Here we see Sanderson’s shallow understanding of the characters he’s portraying. They are stealing from slavers who exist in the service of a brutal, oppressive dictator. But put that aside, and consider we’ve just been told one of their ilk had been caught and beheaded by the Ministry. The risk these people are facing couldn’t be higher. Working with people they can trust, a stand up guy or a “good man,” would be one of the most important things to them. From their point of view a “good man” doesn’t mean a patron saint of the poor, but it means a hell of a lot. If a guy is a drunk who cheats on his wife, you can’t trust him not to turn on you. If he gambles too much, you can’t trust him not to gamble on your safety. He doesn’t keep his apartment clean, how can you trust him to be conscientious about keeping you alive. It all matters - even more so because he’s on a “thieving crew.”

Now, Sanderson probably didn’t give this line more than a moment's thought. He was writing fast and sailed right over it. But that’s exactly the problem. It gives the book a kind of childish, YA feeling.

(33) “Kelsier turned with curious eyes.” I’ve written lines like this, but I almost always revise them because I write about eyes too much. The point is his eyes aren’t curious, Kelsier is, and it shows on his face. I can’t picture curious eyes, and I’m sure you can’t either. And I would cut the next line of dialogue - going to chastise my brother … we already know he was going to do this because he said so, and the line just isn’t very good anyway. A look of curiosity from Kell, and the promise from Dockson “it’ll be worth your time,” gets us out of the section better. Sometimes the best repartee between characters is a look.

(33-34) the scenes with Vin remain heavy handed, and affected. This section adds almost nothing to the story accept for the disappointingly narrow view of a fantasy underworld that the women in it are only ever whores. This from a world crawling with Smokers and Tineyes? I think not. The clumsy presentation of Vin’s awful life is what makes these sections particularly affected. With her particular ability to use her Luck, I can’t help but wonder why she’s even still here. That seems to be the story to me. Not the abuse, but why she remains when she clearly has the power to get out. She can smooth over deals with reps from the SM, but she hasn’t thought to calm some member of the crew and then just … walk? Go literally anywhere in the city and use her Luck to get work where she won’t be whipped and slapped. It seems like the easiest thing in the world, so why hasn’t she done it? This is what the story here could have been, and it would have been so much more interesting.

Obviously she has to be there so Sanderson can have terrible things happen to her so she can be saved by Kelsier just like he saved the other raped scaa girl (let’s all take a moment to roll our eyes) and then her character can have a trajectory from passive victim to active hero - but that’s an excuse, and excuses don’t make good stories.

That said, as is, these two pages could be cut entirely and with very minor revision to the next session, nothing would be lost. It introduces a hideout we don’t need to know about, abuse that is redundant, over the top and unmotivated, and then Camon says “it’s time.” It’s just a prelude, in which nothing happens, before the actual scene. So just cut to the actual scene.

(36) we finally find out what the Camon job was supposed to be, I suspect because Sanderson finally decided what the details were. It would have been much more interesting to know this earlier, just like it would have been more interesting to understand about the particulars of Vin’s brothers betrayal earlier, so we could understand the context of the story being told.

But a LARGER ISSUE continues to emerge. First Camon tells Vin nothing about his plans. She says she is apparently the only crew member who didn’t know what was going on. Then, as they sit in the waiting room, in the vey belly of the obligator beast, he tells her everything. Why? Because Sanderson wants us to know even though he never decided who this character was.

He wants her to be a passive victim of inordinate abuses by a group of irredeemable villains, who only avoids constant sexual assault through the exhausting use of her secret magic so she can be saved and then learn how to be powerful later. But he also wants her to be a smart, capable member of Camon’s crew who is considered as such, because he knows passive protagonists aren’t interesting and because he wants us, the reader, to know what’s going on, and also think that Vin is cool. She can’t be both at the same time. She either needs to be less of an abject, pathetic victim, or she needs to be less involved in this big important scam - and that means she knows less about it and does less to make it work. As is, he’s done too little with either idea of her character and both Vin and Camon are an unmotivated mess.

(42) steel inquisitor. Cool, creepy, disgusting - something straight out of hellraiser.

(43) “Besides, I’m not about to let a possible Mistborn slip away from us” Ah!

Ch3 (45) after the meeting with the obligator (that was a trap), is the first time Vin ever expresses any interest in getting away. Much too late Sanderson gives us a much too thin reason why Vin hasn’t run away (considering the conflicting versions of her character as mentioned before). It’s little more than an afterthought.

(47) in no more than 2 pages Vin goes from never thinking she could make it on her own to leaving for good, telling herself she’d survived sleeping in alleyways before, she could do it again and - “Reen had taught her how to scavenge and beg. Both were difficult in the Final Empire … but she would find a way, if she had too.”

So far, this is all based on a bad feeling. More motivation conflict - Vin has no problem telling Camon directly how his plans won’t work and that he should change the way the servants are dressed, helps him succeed with her luck in both plans, but sees no reason to tell him “I have a bad feeling about this. That was too easy. Why did that obligator suddenly agree. Doesn’t this seem weird to you?”

Sanderson has many of the right pieces, but he hasn’t been able to put them together coherently.

(45)(And, just as an aside, I’m not sure why a girl who has spent to book so far reiterating to herself that EVERYONE WILL BETRAY ME is going out of her way to tell Ulef she has a bad feeling and to get him to come with her. Sanderson says “if he would go with her, then at least she wouldn’t be alone.” But he has also up until this point defined her character by a near constant desire to be alone - when she is introduced sitting in the window of the hideout thinking her brothers word “Vin wasn’t on duty; the watch-hole was simply one of the few places where she could find solitude. And Vin liked solitude. ‘When you’re alone, no one can betray you’- (37) at the “It’s just another betrayal, she thought sickly. Why does it still bother me so? Everyone betrays everyone else. That’s the way life is … She wanted to find a corner - someplace cramped and secluded - and hide. Alone.”

(47) "Bringing Ulef was a good idea. He had contacts in Luthadel." These after the fact explanations are no good. This isn't Vin thinking this, it's the author coming up with more justification for Vin's action, but in order for her character to seem active and motivated, this needed to be revised into the section where Vin decides to bring Ulef. Now it's just tacked on - oh, yeah, and, by the way, if you weren't sure it made sense for Vin to do this, Ulef probably knows people. So, there.

It doesn’t wash. Who is this girl? Can she not stand the idea of being alone, or is it the one and only thing she wants? Is she strong and resourceful in spite of her circumstances, or is she a passive victim? Does she believe everyone will betray her, or does she desperately want to believe otherwise because she can’t live in such an unkind world? Sanderson doesn’t seem to have been able to make up his mind. Maybe some of these details were added in revision on the suggestion of beta readers and the result is a checkerboard character. I’ve seen that before where you make a suggestion to a writer and they add your suggestion but they don’t make the necessary changes to the rest of the book so that the new material earns its place, they just throw it in and dust off their hands - job well done, gotta stay on schedule to publish! But now I’m just writing fan fiction about Sanderson’s process. I don’t know.

(55) Vin’s “weakness” - the contradictions/inexactitude of characters seems to be an ongoing issue for Sanderson, at least for Vin. Is she weak and has to pretend to be strong, or is she strong and often chooses to pretend to be weak (so far she has seemed to be weak and act weak, other than her Luck).

Well, that's as far as I got. Kel shows up just in time to be the wrath of justice for Vin. He's the superman who will make everything alright for this feckless girl. Our hero. Did Sanderson lay it on thick enough? Did you get that these people were all so irredeemably and stupidly bad? Aren't you so glad this strong man has shown up to be Vin's vengeance, just like had been telegraphed all along?

Sorry, I don't mean to be sarcastic. This part of the narrative really isn't so bad, its just been so heavy handedly and clumsily lead up to that there's no thrill in it for me. It isn't a bit satisfying. I'm just glad I don't have to read about any of these shallow side-characters anymore. Except, I have no intention to read on, so I don't have to read about any of them anymore.

Is this book bad? Yes and no. I don't want to read any more, and only read as far as I did as an examination of storytelling, so for me its bad. You only get so many eyerolls before I have to say that. The sentences are very clear and coherent. On their own, they are coherent. Together, they fail to paint of picture of coherent characters who drive the action of the story. If you don't have that, at least in my book, you've got nothing.

The images work. The setting, in its broad strokes, is eveocative. I'd love to set a DnD campaign in a world of ash and a dark lord and all that (I'm not the least mad about the cliché of the dark lord, by the way. Who doesn't love archetypical stories?) But, as near as I can tell, there are no human beings in this book. No one is real. The characters are just that, only characters in a book. They are paper cutouts. They fall flat when the hand of the author isn't pushing them around and making them do things.

Fans often hold Sanderson up as the gold standard of a fantasy author who produces work fast. And having read this far into Mistborn, I can say this about it: It reads like it was written fast.

Yes, Mistborn was an earlier book of his, so I can't judge him by it alone. But it is a work that is so often held up as a favorite by his readers. That's why I picked it up, to see what all the fuss was about. There were many things I enjoyed, but what I enjoyed wasn't the narrative. The story and the characters who moved it were the thing that I enjoyed least. The unique magic and broad setting details and description of places and creepy Inquisitors were what I liked best. The proper nouns were fun.

But proper nouns don't make a story for me. So I did not finish Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.

If I were looking for a light fantasy read that I didn't have to take seriously and I could pick up and put down whenever I wanted because it was never that exciting or particularly witty or clever, but managed to string along one event after another and kept them going, more or less, whether it made much sense or not, until the end, I think Mistborn would be a fine book to dip into. Lots of people have read it. But then, that seems to me to be its major appeal. It’s a book you can talk about with other people.

It's not enough for me, though. There's lots of fun fantasy books out there that feel more coherent, and, well, INTERESTED in the story they're telling. Interested in violence and revolution and crime in an oppressively totalitarian, dystopian world. Interested in the plight of a young girl who only wants … well, what does she want? To be safe? But the only way she finds she can be safe is to go toward danger and realize how very strong she is? Maybe this story would like to be that, but it hasn't been for the first 60 or so pages.

Sanderson's novel felt more interested in the large and vague story shapes around the characters - a city, a dark lord, slavery, soot snow, bad mist, some kinds of magic, and (I cringe to say it) rape and thieving and beatings - but not in the world of their lives.

I've heard good things about The Way Of Kings from people who did not like Mistborn either, but its safe to say at this point that I have reservations about my reading tastes being a good match for Sanderson's work, at least at this point in time.

If I'm looking for fun I'd rather read another swanky, noir fantasy by Douglas Lumsden any day, or the next gothic gaslamp fantasy mystery by Morgan Stang, or discover my next favorite author, indie or otherwise.

I don't think Mistborn was terrible by any stretch of the imagination. Sanderson has delighted readers for over a decade now! He's prolific, hard working, and he delivers what his fans want, and he and they continue to be richly rewarded for his efforts. He is a Name in the genre, often listed alongside the greats. And why not? Isn't pleasing readers what this is all about? Taylor Swift has oceans of adoring fans, and she's no less deserving of her accolades. Brandon Sanderson is the Taylor Swift of fantasy, you could say. I just don't like her music either.

#books and reading #brandon sanderson #Mistborn #book review #book critique #dnf #fantasy books

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it-happened-one-fic · 1 year

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Fight Till the Very End - Jade

Author Notes: The header for this fic, which also serves as the inspiration for this is, comes from @thegoldenshi-shi and is a lovely design for Punk Jade (Follow the link to see the full picture!) I listened to Jane Child's "Don't Wanna Fall In Love" while writing this and I honestly had the time of my life. As a fair heads-up this fic contains a bit of a headcannon of mine involving Jade and his punk phase. I highly recommend both the song and the art! As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Fluff/ Flirtation/ Romance/ feat. punk Jade

Word Count: 1749

It was one of those days at NRC where you really didn’t know what to think. And truthfully, that wasn’t exactly odd when one lived at a magical school with a talking cat monster in a haunted house.

But this instance was unique because it also robbed you of words. So you didn’t say anything at all as you stared at Jade, who smiled at you in return. Far-too-pleased with himself, judging from his expression.

But he probably was pleased with himself. After all, he was the reason for your loss of words and utter surprise.

In your defense, though, it wasn’t everyday that one saw the usually well-pressed, carefully dressed Jade Leech in an outfit that could only be described as very, very punk.

With cornrows long enough to reach past his knees hanging from his now spiked-up hair, a chain connecting his pierced ear to a sparkly new nose ring, black cloth arm cuffs that extend from his wrists up to his biceps so that his shoulders were visible, and a low-cut top that showed a considerable amount of cleavage paired with silver necklaces that only accented his full black ensemble, you could definitely say this was different from Jade’s usual suit and tie.

It wasn’t a bad different, though. In fact, if you were to be honest, he looked really good. Frustratingly so.

Especially since something about Jade’s expression, from his amused smile to the glint in his mismatched eyes, made you feel like this was all part of some elaborate scheme.

You adored all of the Octatrio, but you were also no fool and knew perfectly well that all three of them enjoyed their little plots and games. So this being a part of some new plot was all too possible.

But at the end of the day, you were never going to learn anything if you just kept staring at Jade. And the longer you stared in stunned and perhaps awed silence, the more amused the young man seemed to grow.

So at last you broke your silence, tilting your head as you continued to scan Jade’s new ensemble, “Well... You certainly are dressed up today. Is there something special going on, or…?”

You trailed off, half-pondering the possibility of some new event that required new clothes and half-hoping that Jade would fill in the rest for you.

And he didn’t disappoint, chuckling softly and shaking his head as he answered, “No, there’s nothing special going on… Rather, Floyd just happened to mention to me that you might wish to see how I dressed back before you arrived at NRC.”

His eyes were all a glimmer as he shifted, almost as if he were posing for you, but there was no way to ever prove it since Jade seemed to be perpetually posed. Another part of his charm, you supposed.

You blinked, refusing to give him what he wanted and instead questioning the obvious: “You had a punk phase?”

If he was disappointed, Jade didn’t show it. Rather, he seemed oddly pleased by your persistence in not reacting to his new look as he nodded, “Yes, I only changed my style of dress a little before you joined us at NRC.”

A part of you wanted to ask why he stopped, wondering if it had something to do with marketing the Mostro Lounge or himself with his infamous butler persona, but another part of you decided against it.

After all, Jade was hardly one to really let others' impressions of him hold him back. It wasn’t like he hid his love of mushrooms, and he seemed to revel in others' occasionally frightened reactions towards his and his brother's general aura of illegal activities.

And perhaps concerns about someone using his jewelry as a handle to yank him down while he was indulging in said illegal activities had something to do with it. It would be tempting to use that chain against him after all if you were in a fight with Jade, though you honestly didn’t think it would do much good in the long run.

As you thought more about Jade going about his usual activities, a smile crossed your face at the mental image of Jade doing his usual work as part of the waitstaff in such get-up “Does Azul know you're dressed like this?”

The grin that spread across Jade’s face was perfectly evil, “No.”

You nodded, letting out a little “Uh huh,” as you began to circle the young man. Taking a closer look at his entire ensemble.

“How did you get your hair to grow out so fast? Extensions?” You eyed the many, many cornrows that swayed with every motion he made. Half impressed by how tightly they were braided.

“Magic, Dear. Floyd helped.” You almost rolled your eyes at the way his explanation rolled off his tongue. Magic. Of course they could use magic to grow their hair out if they wanted.

You finally made your circuit back around the young man, and Jade’s eyes immediately latched back onto your face. The amusement within their depths was obvious as he continued to gaze at you. Ever patient as the two of you played whatever this game was.

“Why did Floyd think I’d be interested in seeing you all,” You gestured vaguely to Jade as you paused, searching for the right word as you fought to keep the smile off your face, “Dressed up?”

The more you evaded actually giving your thoughts on his attire, the more amused Jade seemed. And both of you knew why.

It was because he looked nice. In fact, he looked practically beyond nice. He looked amazing, rather like a devastatingly attractive bad boy male lead from an 80’s movie whose sole purpose was to sweep some poor, good girl female lead off her feet.

At least a part of this game was him getting complimented, but you could see that easily becoming a slippery slope that would end with you in the same position as the good girl female lead.

He tilted his head, pretending to ponder your question, before a smile slipped smoothly onto his face. Confident that he would win whatever this was by the end, “He mentioned how much time we’d been spending together and said he thought you might be interested in learning a bit more about us. I must admit that after what he said, I was curious to learn what you might think.”

You nodded because it was true. Jade had been hanging around you more and more lately.

Initially, you’d wondered if you had something he or Azul wanted, but it had quickly become obvious that wasn’t the case. Instead, it was more like Jade had his own personal stake in spending his time with you. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you would say that Jade was genuinely trying to charm you.

It was hard to not let your eyes scan over Jade once more. It was odd to see him like this, but it was also interesting. Almost like he was opening up and showing you just a bit more about his person, and judging from his words, that was true. Though you also couldn’t deny that this still seemed like a part of some elaborate plot.

But you weren’t the only one who was staring at him. In fact, it seemed like everyone that walked by was staring at the usually menacing young man.

Normally people did their best not to look too closely lest they draw his attention, but either the shock of seeing Jade in punk clothes was so great that they didn’t care or they were confident that he was too focused on you to notice their stares.

And Jade was focused on you as he stepped closer to you, leaning down slightly so that he entered your personal space. You had enough room to retreat if you were uncomfortable, but he was close enough to easily hold your attention solely on him.

“And, what do you think?” His voice had softened, almost as if he were trying to lull you into giving away every secret thought that went through your brain. And maybe he was, but you weren’t about to lose quite so easily. Not when you weren’t sure if you were even ready to face your thoughts and feelings towards him.

But you smiled, used to his many charms by now, before nodding. Not about to lie to the young man even as you refused to surrender, “It looks nice. I bet you were popular back in your old school if you dressed like this back then.”

He grinned, his sharp teeth flashing as, for once, he didn’t even bother to hide them at your words. But he was pleased. Not only had you complimented him, you hadn’t backed down from the subtle challenge.

But you’d already decided that even as Jade slipped continually closer, you weren’t going to just give way. Even as you felt your fondness for him growing, you’d already promised yourself you’d fight till the very end.

In no way were you prepared to fall in love in this world that wasn’t your own. You couldn’t take that on top of everything else. Not when it could so easily hurt, what with your future being so unpredictable.

And it was scary how close Jade pulled you to the brink of falling for him, even despite your defenses.

At this point, you knew perfectly well that if you did slip too far, it would be him that you would fall for. But you weren’t going to make it easy for him. Not when he made that cutting edge that love held feel something impressively close to good.

So it didn’t matter how charming, easy to get along with, or attractive Jade was, and it didn’t matter how tempting it might sometimes be. You weren’t surrendering. And if Jade’s expression was anything to go by, he liked that.

Despite yourself, you found yourself smiling back at him, not quite able to stop it even as you felt yourself slide a bit closer to where he lingered. Waiting for you to fall.

But Jade leaned back, murmuring a soft but incredibly pleased, “Thank you,” as he slipped out of your space. Retreating for now, but no doubt already plotting his next attack in his head as he smiled down at you. Perfectly smug as you both prepared for the next round.

And you’d be ready.

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cinna-wanroll · 2 years

Text

On Homophobia Surrounding Queer Obi-Wan

Queer people get asked to settle or let things go so often that it baffles me. As a genderqueer, bisexual, and gray romantic person, my experiences get invalidated or criticized daily. It is exhausting. I feel that queer people are often pushed into scenarios where they have to prove who they are, but not too much, lest you cause discomfort to some cishet people who may be sensitive to "that sort of thing." Queer characters and expressions are, unfortunately, no different.

What's my point? My point is that I should not be up at 3 am, my stomach turning, because of something I knew was bound to happen. As soon as I read that Obi-Wan's identity was going to be elaborated upon in Padawan, I expected the incessant whinings. I expected the shocked, ridiculously wounded alpha-male routine. And yet, as @sunflowersinheaven 's post: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/sunflowersinheaven/691110776621219840?source=share crossed my dashboard, I began to spiral. At first, sure, it was vaguely amusing. Then, it became sickening.

Still, I have a few things I would like to address:

This is not new. Obi-Wan was referenced as bisexual in the Revenge of the Sith novelization. Those claiming that this is to fulfill Disney’s queer agenda need to admit to the fact they didn’t know everything prior to this now, and if they have such a problem with it, then why not call out Lucasfilm too? They aren’t trying to preserve representation that is marginally accurate, they’re being a bigoted assholes.

People saying this "doesn't prove Obi-Wan is queer" are fooling themselves. No, it's not pushing lgbtq+ identity(s) onto him just because he's around queer people. Obi-Wan uses gender-neutral language when expressing attraction, and he even addresses the fact that he generally finds the group of people he's with attractive. Obi-Wan says that he may want to kiss ALL of the people he's surrounded by, except for a character who uses she/her pronouns. Hmm. That does not sound super heterosexual to me. As a side note, for those who read this more in an a-spec interpretation, I am approaching this from an opinion that Obi-Wan experiences sexual attraction. I read this as Obi-Wan being confident that he finds people attractive but unsure whether he wants to act on that attraction. Therefore, somewhere in that bi umbrella is where I see his identity. At Obi-Wan's age (now, obviously, everyone's experiences with attraction are different and equally valid), I was sure I liked many genders. Now, what I wasn't so sure of was my romantic or sexual attraction toward them. Writing a character uncertain about their identity does not invalidate their current feelings. Sexuality and attraction (romantic and non) are fluid. And Obi-Wan being young is not an excuse to use homophobic/invalidating rhetoric to try to flip around on queer Obi-Wan supporters.

People who blame the author for "ruining Obi-Wan's character," need to do some serious self-reflection. Why does a character being queer ruin their character for you? That is astoundingly ridiculous to me, especially coming from a group of people who so often express the opinion, "Oh, well 'gay people' always make their sexuality their entire personality," and various other bullshit. Really? And yet, you can't seem to overlook a character's sexuality, which ruins everything they are to you. Some of these people are the same ones who were creaming themselves over the Kenobi show, TCW, etc. Which, I mean, hey! Kenobi has been my favorite man since I was five. I get it! And yet, I'm still a fan, unlike the manchildren wailing about the fact that Obi-Wan likes men. Sad. Now, if they're claiming that Obi-Wan being anxious and emotional in the book ruined his character... leave your fragile masculinity at the door and remember what it was like to be a teenager for fucking once. I only say "teenager" in this circumstance not because I feel adults can't feel this way (I am an emotional, anxious WRECK y’all), but because these are not traits Obi-Wan keeps into adulthood.

People who say this is either trying to invalidate his relationship with Satine or can't be true because of his relationship with Satine need to shut up. If you know my blog, you know I am a day one Obitine stan. What I refuse to engage in is bigotry based on my personal ship preference. (Although I am a multishipper). Select members of the Obitine fandom; do better.

To the people complaining: Please stop. I am tired, and people on the internet need to work on their goddamn (not so critical) thinking skills. If you don't want to accept part of a character, examine why. Your prejudice and weak claims that this is only to feed the "woke agenda" are rooted in misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia, and I hope I never have to meet any of these people in real life.

#obi wan kenobi #padawan #homophobia #star wars

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opheliadawnwalker3 · 4 years

Text

The Watching

Author’s Note: This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s fic swap. I picked @sherrybaby14 :) Hope you like it hun and Merry Christmas!!

Synopsis: Reader has been dating Thor for about a year and is celebrating her first Yuletide on Asgard. But she’s unprepared for certain traditions that are expected of her. Or that these traditions also involve Thor and his companions.

Contains: strong sexual content, cunnilinguous, penetration, threesome, voyeurism, some audience participation, fluffy holiday cheer

Wacchinsrinn- Old Norse means “The Watching”

*****************************************************************************************

You stand in the elaborately decorated banquet hall, carefully nursing another full goblet of Asgard’s famous honeyed wine. Thor had left you alone, mere moments before, no doubt to personally welcome his people to the Yule celebration. In the corner, several Asgardian citizens play musical instruments and the rest are either drunkenly dancing, feasting on delicious foods or laughing uproariously. Eager faces are painted with intricate symbols and there is much joy and carefree energy in the air. Normally, you’re not such a wall flower, but being surrounded by Thor’s fiercely lively people is a whole new experience for you. You had already witnessed the burning of the wooden Yule wreath earlier and had cheered with the others when it was sent hurtling down the hill and fell among the stars. In the corner of the vast hall stands the Yule tree, decorated not with the colored glass balls you were accustomed to, but small statues of previous kings and mythical creatures. After seeing the God of Thunder for over a year, you were overjoyed to hear him say that he wanted to finally bring you back to his world. His kingdom.

It happened to be close to Christmas, but other than the typical mandatory bland office party and receiving a few Christmas cards, you really had no other plans. Why on Earth would you ever pass that up? The chance to not only see the place he grew up in, but to be among his people and culture. His friends and-

“Well, well...don’t we look fetching this evening?” A sly familiar voice utters behind you, erupting a subtle heat across the back of your neck. Turning, you see Loki, sharply donned with tailored green silks and a gray pelt clasped around his shoulders. Instead of his usual absurdly large golden horns, a delicate golden crown balances at his temple.

You raise your goblet to him. “You clean up rather nicely yourself.”

Loki tilts his head, keen emerald eyes slowly trailing down your body and you could almost swear he could see right through the crimson silk of your gown. His lips curl into a devious smile and your heart flutters against your will. “Do enjoy the festivities...mind the honeyed wines. They are much stronger than the tepid liquors served on Midgard.”

You roll your eyes as you defiantly take another sip. You would be lying if you said, you weren’t already feeling buzzed. The warmth that spreads across your cheeks, that familiar light headed feeling. You would have to pace yourself. You can’t make a fool out of yourself at your first Asgardian Yuletide. And you were here with Thor for God’s sake. You didn’t want to humiliate him or yourself.

A loud clang sounds near you and your attention is momentarily drawn to Volstagg, one of Thor’s infamous Warrior’s Three, laughing boisterously as he picks up his dropped axe. No doubt, in the middle of a drunken retelling of old battle stories.

Lips brush the shell of your ear and you automatically tense up. Your breath hitches as slender fingers ghost over your bare shoulders.

“I look forward, to seeing much more of you later.” Loki purrs huskily into your ear and you are rooted to the spot. His alluring voice holds dark promises. Your brows furrow in confusion and before you are able to ask just what he means by that, Thor’s voice cuts across the room. You look over to see him cross the room with jovial presence. His bright blue eyes crinkle with happiness at the sight of you.

Loki withdraws from you completely and you let out a sigh of relief. The wine...it must have been the wine. You would have to drink water to spread it out.

Seemingly unbothered at Loki’s closeness, Thor smiles warmly as he slips his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You sigh, relishing the comforting feeling of his lips and presence as you pull him in closer. For the past year, Thor had been a beacon of light in your boring, mundane life. He would entertain you for hours with tales of his childhood, battles and stories about his time with the Avengers. He made you feel exciting just by being in his presence. Feel incredibly safe just by being in his strong embrace. He never left you wanting whether physically, mentally or emotionally. You only hoped you did the same for him.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Thor’s deep voice rumbles against your mouth.

“I am. I just wish we could-”

“Ah there’s the lovely couple. Starting Wacchinsrinn a bit early are we not?” You recognize Fandral’s charming voice sounding next to you. You pull back from Thor slightly with a raised brow.

“Wacchinsrinn? What’s that?”

Before the smaller roguish blonde can answer you, Thor laughs and quickly begins to lead you away from the two men. Confused, you look back to see Fandral and Loki exchange knowing smiles.

“What on earth was that about?” You ask, setting your now empty goblet down on one of the long wooden tables. Funny, you hadn’t even remembered drinking it all.

“Just Fandral with one of his jokes. Pay the scoundrel no mind,” Thor replies playfully before spinning you around wildly among the other dancing patrons. You wish to press him further but a mixture of the otherworldly alcohol and contagious euphoria around you, causes your curiosity to melt away and you gather your skirts to join the dance.

**********************************************************************************

About an hour later, Thor leads you down the hall by the hand. You stumble a bit and giggle with tipsy merriment as he turns the corner to open a pair of grand ornate doors. You tilt your head in confusion as you take in the lavish yet unfamiliar chambers within.

“Hey this isn’t the same room, you showed me earlier. This isn’t yours, right?”

“You’re right, Y/N. This is our room.”

“Ooo our room you say?” You tease as you take in your surroundings, Thor walking in behind you to shut the doors. Inside the chamber was a large king sized bed with a full canopy and intricately carved designs in the wood. The sheets were golden and there was a table set with trays of cheese and fruits and silver pitchers no doubt filled with mead and wine. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. You look back at Thor whose looking down at you with an expression you can’t quite decifer.

“What’s with all the chairs pointed facing the bed? Kind of an unusual arrangement, isn’t it?”

“It’s for...Wacchinsrinn.”

“There’s that word again. What is it?”

Before Thor can respond, there is a low chuckle and suddenly Loki appears next to you.

“Oh dear, you haven’t told her. How irresponsible and devious of you, brother.”

“Hush, Loki.” Thor looks down at you and brings a massive hand to cup your face. “Please forgive me, Y/N. I didn’t want you to worry or feel pressured to do anything.”

“Although it is an Asgardian tradition. I don’t believe Y/N wants to be the cause of the King’s refusal to uphold a tradition maintained for thousands of years.”

“Not the time, Loki...”

“I disagree. I think it’s the perfect time...”

“No he’s right. I’m not going to stand in the way of you upholding your kingly duties. Whatever you need to do, I’ll support you.” You encourage, placing a hand on Thor’s arm.

“How touching, but your amorous participation is very much required.” Loki interjects with a dangerous smirk and Thor sighs, clearly conflicted. You look back and forth between the pair.

“My what participation?”

Before Loki could reply, Thor raises his hand in front of him.

“Loki, leave us.”

“Oh, I think not. This is all rather entertaining for me.”

“Leave now.” Thor’s tone is tense and clipped and you can’t help feeling a little nervous. What is going on? Why all the secrecy? And what exactly is expected of you?

“So tense, brother. Perhaps you should have her tend to you first and help get those bothersome...kinks out.”

Thor says, nothing, merely glares at Loki, before the latter sighs in reluctant surrender.

“Very well, I suppose I could check on the rest of the rabble and see if they are ready to bear witness.” And with that, Loki disappears, leaving you and Thor alone once more. You look up at the god and cross your arms.

“Thor just tell me. What’s the tradition?” Your eyes widen briefly when you think back to all of the those Viking and Pagan shows you watched in mild preparation for the Yule celebration.

“I won’t have to do an animal sacrifice will I?”

Thor smiles and shakes his head as he brushes his fingers along your jaw. “No animal sacrifices will be required of you, I promise.”

“Okay...then what is expected of me?”

Thor pauses for a moment in quiet contemplation, gathering his thoughts before he eventually sighs. “On Asgard, the act of coupling is a merry and happy occasion. Asgardians do not view such an act with such...modesty as on Midgard.”

You nod, following along and very curious as to where this is going.

“And so...the notion of sharing such a joyous act with others...is considered...a generous gift.”

You eyes widen slightly as the realization begins to wash over you. “And when you say sharing...you mean...??”

Thor gives you an embarrassed smile. “Those closest to us shall bear witness to our union.”

“So...your companions are just going to watch us?”

“If that is agreeable to you. It is not uncommon for them to join in should all participating consent.”

You chew on your bottom lip and cross your arms. “So that’s what everyone has been referring to all night.”

“Yes.”

You contemplate for a few moments more, weighing your options in your head. You should be appalled that your boyfriend just sprang this on you, royalty or not. But you just can’t find yourself to be angry. On the contrary...the idea is intriguing. You’d always been fascinated by the thought of voyeurism. Whether watching someone else or being watched yourself. But you’d never had the courage to explore it. There was even once an incident where Hawkeye accidentally walked into the room while you were riding Thor at Avengers Tower. Instead of being embarrassed...you only clenched tighter around Thor’s cock. Even felt a pang of disappointment when Hawkeye quickly left the room with amused apologies. Maybe this was your chance to finally explore one of your fantasies.

You finally look back up at Thor, his handsome face etched with worry and concern.

“Okay.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I want to do this. For you, but mostly for me,” You admit, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. You see a flash of green in the corner of your eye and Loki appears next to you, holding two goblets full of wine. He gives you an impish smirk as he holds one out to you.

“How about a little more wine to take the edge off. Perhaps numb your defenses a bit,” Loki drawled as you eagerly accept the wine. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. Thor watches you carefully as you take several large pulls of the sweet wine, embracing the numbing warmth that pools down your body.

“Are you sure about this ,Y/N?” Thor asks softly, his usual booming voice now quiet with uncertainty.

You set your now empty goblet on the table next to you and give him a confident smile. Sure, you felt emboldened by the wine, but you also felt very eager for what lays ahead Thor reaches up to cup your jaw with both hands, his bright blue eyes melting any doubts you might have had.

“Because if you’re not, then damn the traditions. I will never ask you to do anything you’re not ready for. We can leave now, go back to Midgard and celebrate your traditional Christmas.”

You feel your heart swell with appreciation and adoration and you turn your head slightly to kiss his fingers. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course I will. You mean more to me that anything.”

“Then I want to do this. I’m happy to do it.”

Thor leans down to press his lips to yours once more in a sweet gentle kiss to which you eagerly reciprocate. Next to you, Loki chuckles as he takes a sip from his goblet.

“Not to break up this touching little moment, but the others are getting restless.”

Thor reluctantly pulls away, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Then we shall not keep them waiting.”

The potent alcohol flows within you, but something else pools within. Excitement and pure unadulterated desire. Loki chuckles and you feel his hands on your hips as he presses in close behind you. Surprised, you look up to Thor for guidance, but he merely stares at the pair of you with a calm unbothered expression.

“And will you allow any of the witnesses to enjoy her as well?” Loki insinuates, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I myself, am curious if she tastes as good as she looks.” Your breath hitches and your heart begins to pound harder at his carnal implications.

Thor smirks and gestures down to you. “That is entirely up to you. If you desire another, then it shall be done.”

You let out a soft gasp, completely taken aback by this turn of events. But certainly not upset at the prospect. You would be lying to yourself if you never thought about how alluringly charming and attractive Loki is. So very different from your Thor, yet enticing all the same. When will you get another opportunity like this?

“Yes...I...I want you both.”

“Very well, then let them all in and we’ll begin the Wacchinsrinn.”

Loki presses a brief kiss to your neck, before gracefully leaving the room. You feel your nerves beginning to flutter in your gut, battling against your arousal and the tension in the air from the possibilities.

Thor steps up to you and carefully traces his hand down your front. Your nipples harden through the thin silk and you lick your lips.

“Who...who will be watching us?”

“The Warriors Three, Lady Sif, Loki and Heimdall will watch from the Rainbow Bridge since he cannot personally attend. But do not be nervous. You are perfection. This is a gift not only for my companions but us as well.”

You take a deep breath, heartbeat speeding up when you hear approaching footsteps and the large ornate doors open.

Fandral walks in first, his eyes drinking you in. “Ahh lovely, Y/N...you look ready for your first Wacchinsrinn. Tell me, has Thor prepared you properly? Because if not, I offer you my services. I’m told I’m quite talented in such matters.”

“Oh do settle down, Fandral. She has already chosen me to help...alleviate the tension. Do enjoy your seat, though.” Loki retorts playfully as he unclasps the fur from around his shoulders.

Fandral winks at you as he gracefully drops in his seat. “Well I suppose that silver tongue has its uses after all.”

The combination of alcohol, nerves, and your excitement for things to come, make your skin tingle with anticipation.

Lady Sif follows close behind, dressed elegantly in a fitted gown of midnight blue. Her usually tied up long hair, hangs down her back in loose curls. She takes her place in the middle seat and crosses her legs expectantly as she gives you a small encouraging smile. She gives a side eye to Volstagg, who decided to bring a large turkey leg to the ceremony, as he sits next to her.

“Honestly...must you eat even while we bear witness?”

Volstagg lets out a good humored laugh as he takes a bite of the roasted meat. “What is the point of enjoying such stimulating entertainment without filling my gullet? No point in doing things half way, I say.”

Hogun silently joins the group and crosses his arms, his stoic face betraying nothing. Thor stands tall and acknowledges all who are present.

“Now that we are all here, its time to begin. We thank those closest to us in sharing this moment. May this gift offer you many blessings and good omens on and off the battlefield.”

“And what a gift it is,” Exclaims Fandral, holding up his own pint of mead.

“Hear, hear!” Volstagg agrees excitedly. Sif and Hogun remain silent, but their subtle expressions hold a keen interest.

The Warriors cheer and you can’t help but smile at the almost absurd nature of it all.

“My desired and I shall drink from the cup and then proceed with Wacchinsrinn,” Thor exclaims as he holds out another goblet will only half full. The both of you drink from it and Loki takes the empty goblet away. Thor wastes no time undressing with unwavering confidence and leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss.

“It is time to be worshipped, like the goddess you are,” Thor purrs in a husky voice against your lips as his hands trail down your waist. His pretty words and deep tone makes your thighs clench together as your pussy throbs.

You feel Loki press in close behind you and he carefully pushes your hair off your neck. Their closeness is intoxicating. “But first you must bare yourself to us,” Loki whispers lowly in your ear as dexterous fingers make swift work of the clasps on your shoulders. The top slips down revealing your breasts and you gasp when Thor’s hands begin caressing with eager, calloused hands. Loki grips your hips as his mouth traces a tantalizing path up your neck.

Your fingers tangle in Thor’s blonde locks when he lowers himself to capture a pebbled nipple in his mouth. His mouth is hot and he licks and nibbles your breasts. You’re suddenly feeling very flushed, your skin scorching under their ministrations.

You feel Loki’s teeth against your throat and he chuckles into your ear. “You should think yourself fortunate. Our great grandfather would often bend his women over the table in the banquet hall during Wacchinsrinn. For all of Asgard to see. This way is far more...intimate.” With that he grabs your chin and kisses you greedily.

After a few moments, the two men lead you to the bed. Thor sits down first and pulls you back between his spread legs. His cock full and hard against your back. His kisses you once more and you feel his hands slide up your thighs, taking the crimson silk of your skirts with it. You lean back against his thick muscled body and stare up at Loki, who remains at the foot of the bed fixed with an expectant sneer.

“Would you like Loki to taste you? Allow him to thoroughly ready your body for me?” Thor questions as his fingers reach your eager cunt beneath the silk. You moan, your hips raising slightly to feel every caress of his fingers. He chuckles arrogantly and you hear the lewd sounds of his fingers easily slipping inside you.

“Well...it seems she’s already quite ready. We may not need your services after all, Loki,” Thor exclaims playfully, displaying his fingertips already soaked in your arousal.

“That may be brother, though I should like to hear it from her lips that she does not desire my mouth on her delectable quim.” Loki replies as he slowly pulls the green tunic over his head with smug ease, revealing his pale yet toned upper body. Both men know you’re not saying no at this point. In fact, no, is the farthest thing from your mind.

You give him a mischievous grin as you beckon him with just the crook of your finger and Loki obliges, crawling up between your spread thighs with a dangerous smile. He looks as though he may just devour you whole.

When his mouth meets your cunt, you immediately relax back against Thor, enjoying every sensation as Loki unravels you. His tongue glides along your slit with expert ease, rolling and flicking over your throbbing clit. Thor’s beard tickles your bare shoulder as he nips the skin and caresses your breasts. You felt trapped between the two brothers in the most heavenly way.

“How does she taste, Loki?” You hear Volstagg call out and your eyes snap open. You had almost forgotten you were being watched. You bite back a whine when Loki raises up slightly, your cunt already missing his mouth.

“Better than the finest of delicacies on Asgard. She truly is a delicious well of vanilla and honey.” Loki brags and your breath hitches when his lips immediately return to you, wrapping around your clit and gently sucking.

“I knew it. Pay up Fandral,” you hear Volstagg boast and Fandral sighs as he drops a few coins in his companions outstretched hand.

Beneath you, Thor undulates his hips into you and your cunt clenches tightly, wanting to be filled.

“I can feel Heimdall’s ever watchful eyes upon us. He is thoroughly enjoying the sights as well. He wonders if you would like my cock deep inside you with my brother’s mouth still upon you.” Thor whispers softly into your ear as he pinches a nipple.

Between Loki’s adept mouth and Thor’s touches and carnal words, you can barely form words of your own. But you manage just the same.

“God yes. Please, Thor...” You mewl pathetically as your thighs twitch around Loki’s shoulders. His fingers massage and squeeze your spread thighs.

With that, Thor raises your hips and lines your soaked entrance with his tip. Loki raises his head slightly to follow your cunt. His piercing green eyes staring up hungrily at you. Being worshipped by these men...feeling several pairs of eyes on you at once...its all very intoxicating.

“Lower yourself upon me. Let me feel you clench desperately around me.” Thor commands softly against your temple, his hands gripping your hips and holding you above him. You nod eagerly and you sink down onto him completely. Your pussy is dripping and more than ready, yet Thor’s thick shaft still stretches you slightly and the pair of you moan loudly. Loki chuckles against your flesh, sending vibrations over your clit and making your cunt tighten around Thor.

“By the gods...your grip is always so exceptional. I could just feel you squeeze me all day, though I’d be fighting the urge to drive into you with everything I have.”

“Move her skirts. We would like to see too,” Lady Sif commands from her seat. You briefly raise your eyes to meet hers and her expression is heated and very much satisfied.

“As the lady commands,” Thor agrees as he rips the silk away, baring the rest of you to the room.

You mewl loudly as Loki begins to speed up his tongue, sucking at your clit a little harder. Your fingers reach up to tangle in his dark tresses as he brings your body closer and closer. Your hips roll atop Thor and you continue to mercilessly squeeze his cock sheathed inside you. That familiar icy hot numbing sensation spreads over you as your body climbs higher and higher towards the peak.

“She’s definitely close. Such a sweet thing, they’ve barely had to touch her,” Fandral observes smugly.

“True, but I still bet that she will last through the night.” Lady Sif replies with subtle arrogance.

“Ah, shall we bet on it then, Lady Sif?”

“You have nothing I want, Fandral.”

“How about if I polish your armor for a full moon?”

“What, and let you leave spots all over my-”

“Will you two stop your incessant blathering? She’s about to fall and I would like to enjoy it in its entirety,” Hogun finally quips in with a surprisingly gruff voice.

You cry out as Loki’s mouth unravels you, causing your cunt to pulsate tightly around Thor. He grips you atop him as he hisses into your ear.

After a few more languid licks of your slit, Loki finally sits up from between your thighs and pulls you into a deep kiss. Your inner walls tighten around Thor yet again when you taste your own juices on Loki’s lips.

The room erupts in applause as the Warriors clap and cheer wholeheartedly.

“A good first round, I’d say!” Volstagg exclaimed as he slams his empty goblet upon the floor in celebration.

“I agree. I think Y/N is fully warmed up now. We’re going to need much more wine and mead before we proceed forward.”

“And more bread!” Volstagg adds, tossing an empty turkey leg upon his plate.

“I wonder if Y/N, will allow Loki to continue to tend to her,” Lady Sif muses aloud.

At that, Loki finally pulls away from you, licking your bottom lip with an imperious smirk. “I will of course, perform as such, should she require it of me.”

Thor laughs, clamping a hand on Loki’s bare shoulder. “Well down, brother. But I should like you to sit this next one out for now. I wish to ravage her myself this time.”

“Such a bore...but I will concede for now.” Loki sighs snidely before lightly touching your jaw and leaving the bed.

With Thor’s cock still buried inside you, you look up at him with an impish expression. “So, there’s more to Wacchinsrinn? We’re not finished yet?”

He brushes his lips against your temple as his hands tighten on your hips. “Oh no, my love. We go until you cannot go any longer. When you have had enough, then we will stop. But I know you and....I know you have several more hours in you.”

As he thrusts up into you again accompanied by the supportive cheers of his companians, you smile, truly feeling full filled for the first time in a long time.

From his post on the Rainbow Bridge, the ever watchful Heimdall smiles at the glorious sights before him.

Taglist: @sherrybaby14 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @lucifers-trash-stash @cherienymphe @imanuglywombat @threeminutesoflife @charmed-asylum @thefangirllife @justagirlinafandomworld @queenoftheworldisdead @searchforanotherway @sapphirescrolls @hurricanerin @cockslut-padalecki @different-type-of-hell @darkandinvitingfics @buckybarnesplumwhore @oneoftheprettynerds

#thor x reader au #thor x reader smut #dark! thor x reader #thor oneshot #thor odinson #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor smut #smut fic #loki x reader #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

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Almost Is Never Enough

Summary: Ever since Steve had come out of the ice all those years ago, his only goal had been to get back to Peggy Carter. A home that was waiting and forgetting him all at once. But that doesn't make it any easier to watch him go.

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Angst, angst, just a little bit of angst, fluff, language.

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Thank you to the wonderful @remmiesour for this request. It’s been a decade, but I finally got around to it! I’ve never written for Steve and honestly I didn't think I ever would but, famous last words I guess! Enjoy!

Ever since Steve had come out of the ice all those years ago, his only goal had been to get back to her. A home that was waiting and forgetting him all at once. She was there, and if it was the last thing he did, he would be too.

So, when the opportunity presented itself, when he could actually find his long lost love, you already knew he had made the decision before the words fell from his lips.

You knew. But god, that didn't make it any easier.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen, falling in love with the world's most unavailable man. In every sense of the word, it was an accident.

And yet, there you stood, eyes trained on his face as he laughed with his friends. The sound ripping through you like it always did. For the past week you had been trying to memorize the sound. The way it filled the room, pulling smiles from everyone who heard it.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with Steve Rogers, but that is exactly what you did.

“Ya know,” Bucky’s gravely voice started behind you, pulling your attention away from Steve and towards his friend. “If you're planning on telling him, I’d do it now.”

You furrowed your brow at the brunette, a false confusion clouding your eyes. You shook your head, only pulling a scoff from his stubble framed lips.

“Don’t play that with me. I see the way you look at him.” He smiled softly, watching as your eyes flicked back to the godlike man.

Bucky was only trying to help. But in your case, you were just too late. You had your moment. Several if you were being honest. Steve deserved someone who wasn't afraid to tell him how they felt. Someone strong and brave.

Someone like Peggy Carter.

“I missed my chance.” You hummed, taking a sip from the bottle of stale beer in your hand. You grimised at the bitterness, the liquid courage doing nothing for your spirit. Only serving as a half assed reminder of what a coward you really were.

How many times had those three words almost fallen from your mouth? How many moments passed- longing stares and lingering touches? Surely too many to keep count. But it didn't change the truth.

He didn't love you, and he was leaving.

“I think that he deserves to know what he’s leaving behind.” Bucky whispers against your ear, the words pulling at your heart.

Only you and he knew the truth. Today was not a celebration of wins… It was a send off.

“He deserves to be happy.” You choked out, your eyes meeting Steves from across the room, his softening when he was your hollow form. You faked a smile, though it didn't fool the Captain as he began to make his way over to you.

“And what about you?” You snapped your head to meet Bucky, your eyes serious and tone stern.

“Stop it. Please.”

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as Steve approached you. His voice calling your name melted over you like honey in tea. So sweet, but always ready to burn if not careful.

You met his gaze, his blue eyes sparkling down at you, inviting you in. You could drown in the oceans of his iris, in fact, you had on many occasions. Tonight was no exception.

“Could I steal you away for a moment?” He asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts, coated in kindness.

The moment his eyes met yours, you were a goner. A mess from the second he said your name. It was pathetic, but then again, isn’t that what you were? Doomed from the first day he walked into your life, taking up every thought in your head.

“Of course.” You tried to smile, forcing it on your quivering lips. You hoped Steve didn’t notice, and of course, he didn’t. He never noticed. If he had, perhaps you wouldn’t be in this mess.

Steve pulled you along, hand in hand as he led your outside into the night. Darkness acting as a veil covering your hurt. Part of you wanted to scream. Needed it. Though, it wouldn’t do much now.

“Do you remember when we first met?” His question echoed around you, pulling you to the memory of your first encounter.

Of course you remembered. It replayed in your head like a broken record every night. A thousand ‘what if’s’ swirling around the memory.

The day he asked you to dance at one of Tony’s elaborate fundraisers for charity. He was like something out of a dream, the way he walked across that dance floor to you. The way his voice asked that daunting question. The way you swooned the moment his hands touched yours, pulling you in and spinning you around the room.

It all felt so distant now. As if you had made the entire thing up in your head.

Sometimes you wish you had.

“I remember you being a terrible dancer.” You joked, worrying on your bottom lip as Steve's laugh echoed around you.

“See, that's the problem. I don’t have much practice and I owe a dame a dance.” His words were sincere and yet dripped in venom. They cut you deep, poison darting straight to your heart.

“You want me to help you… Dance?” You tried not to let your face show how truly hollow you felt.

You had to force yourself not to cringe away when he took your hand, pulling you gently against his chest. You could have died right there, drowned in your own self loathing, overcome with jealousy for a woman who, at this very moment, was nothing more than a tombstone. She was gone, nothing but a memory and still- Steve picked her.

With a broken breath, you rested your hand on his shoulder, shivering at his touch. You should pull away, save yourself from the ache. But the way he held you- gently and with a foreign love you would never feel from Steve, your body stayed. You had wondered what it would be like. Wrapped up in his arms, your name on his mouth, his lips on your throat. You had imagined it more times than you cared to admit.

One dance couldn't hurt.

You let him take the lead, swaying you slowly into the night. His hand on your waist, guiding you to a silent melody.

“Ya know, there was a moment that I thought it might be us.” His words whispered against your neck, freezing you in time. You swore your veins turned to ice at the cruelty of his remark. All you could do was gape.

Steve pulled away to look at you, watching your face turn pale and eyes fill with tears.

“How could you- This is a bad idea. I can’t do this, Steve.” You choked out, horrified at how little your voice sounded. You hated how he made you feel, small and broken. If you were, it was only because he made you that way.

“I didn't mean to-”

“Didn't you? I respect myself too much to beg you to stay. But what the fuck, Steve? How can you stand there, one foot out the door and tell me that?” You were shattered, hand over your heart as if it might fall out at any moment. “I’ve followed you around like you were the sun. I’d do anything for you. But I won’t watch you walk away. Not when all that’s waiting for you is a ghost. I love you too much, and it breaks my heart that you can’t even consider that I could… That I might…”

“Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry. I just-” Your name fell from his lips like a plea, but you couldn't stand there and listen to him try to mend what was already so irreversibly broken.

“No- Just stop.” You blurted, turning away and pulling yourself from his grasp. “I’ve been second to her my whole life. I’m numb to it now. But don’t make excuses for your shitty decision. If you want to go, go.” With that, you pushed away from him, heading back to the party and away from the man who, come tomorrow, would be forever out of reach.

The next morning you woke up, eyes burning from the tears shed the night before and chest heavy with guilt.

Part of you knew there was a better way to say the things you did, but another part reveled in your cruelty. Basked in how dumbstruck Steve looked standing on the lawn. Maybe it was mean, but so was he.

It wouldn't matter for long. The afternoon sun was creeping in and soon he would be gone. Nothing but a distorted memory of a man you used to love. But at least he knew. At least when he laid beside his consolation prize he would remember you. Maybe he would hurt. You cringed at the idea.

No matter how much you wanted to hate Steve, your heart simply wouldn't allow it. That was the worst joke of all. You despised the man you loved.

Buck: He’s waiting for you…

You looked down at your phone on the bedside table, wiping away the tear that rolled down your cheek. You knew it was time. This was the moment that you had prepared for. But you made a promise last night- one you were far too petty to fall back on now.

Though even still, as the seconds lulled by, guilt began to eat away at your brain and before you knew it you were half way out the door. Your feet dragged you down the hall, forcing you to confront the horrible truth.

You knew he was gone before Bucky even spoke the words. His eyes filled with a sadness only you could know. Shoulders slumped as he struggled to hold his gaze. He shook his head, affirming your worst fears as Sam’s panicked voice broke through the tension.

“Get him back here!” He shouted, his tone filled with dread. It was torture to watch, unberable to feel.

A loud crackle erupted through the air almost knocking you off your feet. Through the piercing white flash, you saw a figure. If you didn't know any better you would have thought-

There, in all of his glory, was Steve Rogers. Perfect and untouched. Like a statue carved from marble.

All you could do was gape, hand over mouth as he stepped down the tarmac, a smile that could instill world peace plastered on his pink lips. Your whole body vibrated with nerves. Somewhere between anger and hope.

Your name fell from his lips, but you couldn't hear it over the hammering of your heart, your feet already carrying you across the field.

“What the hell are you-”

“It’s you, doll.” He beamed, his words only fueling a rage that was threatening to boil over the closer you got. “It’s always been you. I can't believe I didn't see it until-”

Your fist colliding with his stoney jaw cut him off before he could finish. You pushed against his, palms thrashing at his chest as he tried to fend you off. Of course, he could if he truly wanted to, you knew this.

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begged, holding your wrists tight as you went to take another hit. You tried to yank yourself away from him, but it was no use. “I was stupid, doll. A complete idiot and I didnt see what was right in front of me. Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me I still have a chance.” Steve's eyes brimmed with tears as your heart thundered in your chest.

You could only blink, your mind racing between a thousand reasons to walk away. To close the chapter on your love with Steve for good. So why did you stay? As if it wasn't torture enough. As if he hadn't beaten your heart black and blue with his carelessness. You wanted to run, but amidst the broken shards of your heart was a naive girl desperate with hope. And so, with a half step, you closed the distance, taking the deadly plunge as your lips collided with his.

Steve drank you in, his mouth moulding to yours the instant you met. His hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you in until you arched back against him. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for how completely and irrevocably intoxicating he was. His presence over you melting you into a puddle before him.

Steve's tongue gently ran across your bottom lip pulling a gutteral shutter to wrack through your body. The taste of him permanently cemented into your mouth. It was the soft moan that escaped the back of his throat that finally did you in, buckling your knees as you held onto the soldier for dear life.

It wasn't until Sam’s voice echoed around you that you finally pulled away from Steve. Your body’s untwining as the rest of the world came back into focus.

“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on? What is she talking about?” Sam shouted, pointing his finger at you exasperatingly.

“I- I… I don't…” Your words fell to the back of your throat, the memory of Steve’s lips ingrained in your skin. You couldn't think, much less form a coherent sentence as he looked down at you, that boyish grin plastered on his mouth. The way his eyes sparkled, tears filled with a longing you had seen many times, but never from him.

“Were you not coming back?!” Sam blurted abruptly causing Steve to snap his head in the falcons direction.

“No.” Steve spoke simply, his gaze returning to you. Eyes filled with an answer you had been wracking your brain for. “I could never leave my best girl.”

You scoffed, your gaze only leaving Steve’s for a moment. His words were kind, his lips intoxicating. But there was a nagging in your heart, pulling you from your dreamstate and back to reality.

“Best girl, huh?” You signed, leaning into him as you chased his touch. “I think I’m going to need you to prove that, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled, the low rumble vibrating through your chest. His smile seemed brighter than you’d ever seen, reassuring you that this was the only place he wanted to be. “For as long as I can, darling.”

#steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

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summary: wanting to impress the cute zookeeper feeding the monkeys, you lie about your field of studies. once the truth is revealed, it is too late to take it back. but even when you’re being honest, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to believe you. little did you know you should have listened to that story about the boy who cried wolf...

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: ANGST, smut, a hint of fluff

warnings: lying (in case it wasn’t obvious from the title), punishment, spanking (with a belt), bondage (with a necktie), bruises, crying, aftercare, a lot of trust issues, yelling, jealousy, biting, mentions of blood, marking, hickeys, possessiveness, blowjob, slapping, hair-pulling, sexist assumptions, implied angry sex, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of cheating, unfair accusations, breaking up, trust issues resolved, making up, ambiguous ending

author’s note: happy jimin day, everyone! ❤️ here’s a little something to celebrate it. just a disclaimer, i don’t condone lying and toxic relationships and i in no way associate my writings with the actual jimin. i just used the song lyrics for inspiration. without further ado, hope yall enjoy this story ❤️

word count: 5.3k

The lie that’s gotten too big Is trying to swallow me up Caught in a lie Find the me that was innocent

You were having fun on your annual visit to the zoo with your best friend Tessa (it was tradition between you two) when you spotted a really attractive guy feeding the monkeys. He seemed so sweet and attentive towards the adorable animals that you couldn’t help but feel an immediate attraction towards him.

“Oh my gosh, this zookeeper is sooo cute,” you whispered in your bestie’s ear.

“I mean, sure, but he’s not really my type,” Tessa responded, remaining forever loyal to her boyfriend. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“What am I even going to say?” you sighed. “We don’t have much in common.”

“You can’t know for sure unless you give it a try,” she encouraged you.

You shrugged, finding her suggestion sensible enough, and approached the handsome zookeeper.

“Hello there,” you greeted him cheerfully. “That sign over there says don’t feed the monkeys,” you joked.

“Well, it obviously doesn’t apply to me, since I work here,” the guy chuckled lightly.

“Um, yeah,” you replied. “Sorry, that was silly of me. Actually, I’m studying biology and I’m on a field trip to learn more about monkeys. And what they like eating.”

You didn’t know what came over you to utter such a blatant lie. You were actually studying acting. So, it was extremely easy for you to fool the attractive stranger. But you just wanted to impress him or find something to talk about. And the lie left your lips before you could think twice about it.

“Oh, really? Well, monkeys are omnivores, so they pretty much eat anything,” the zookeeper explained. “Many people think they just eat bananas but that’s far from the truth. They also enjoy fruits, seeds, small insects and lizards.”

“Wow, that’s really helpful, thank you so much,” you responded in amazement.

“Do you...maybe...want to feed them some strawberries?” he offered generously.

“Isn’t that...against the rules?” you mumbled nervously.

“Technically, it is, but since I just explained what they eat, I’m sure I can turn a blind eye to this tiny transgression,” he teased.

“Ah, that’d be amazing, it’s really sweet of you to offer,” you said, taking the plate of strawberries the zookeeper gave you and giving the red fruits to the monkeys. After they were done feeding, you asked boldly: “How can I repay you for your kindness?”

“By letting me feed you instead?”

“Huh?”

“Dinner,” he elaborated. “Let me take you out for dinner.”

You grinned excitedly, immediately accepting his suggestion.

“I’m Jimin, by the way,” he introduced himself.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, shaking his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“How are we going to arrange the time and place for our dinner date?” Jimin inquired. “Are you on social media?”

“Um, no,” you lied, only getting deeper into this mess. If you told him your social media accounts, he would immediately know you were, in fact, not studying biology, but acting. “You can have my number, though.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Jimin smiled sweetly. Exchanging numbers, you parted ways.

Going back to your best friend Tessa, who was a couple of metres away, you saw her giving you a thumbs up. Obviously, she hadn’t heard your conversation, but judging from the smile on your face, it went well. Soon enough, however, you cracked.

“I think I made a terrible mistake,” you confessed. “I lied to him that I’m studying biology and that I don’t have social media accounts.”

“What did you do that for?” Tessa seemed confused by your life choices. “I mean...why?”

“I don’t know, I panicked we wouldn’t have anything to talk about,” you shook your head.

“And if things get serious, how are you going to explain that?” Tessa argued.

“No idea. I guess I’ll figure something out.”

“My advice is you tell him on your first date.”

“There wouldn’t be a second date if I do,” you pointed out.

“You can’t know that,” Tessa continued trying to convince you to do the right thing.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure yourself more than her.

Once the time for dinner with Jimin arrived, you had come up with hundreds of questions for him so that you wouldn’t have to talk about yourself. Luckily, Jimin was great at holding a conversation and sharing funny stories about the animals he was attending to. However, at one point, he switched the focus on you. Being a gentleman, Jimin insisted that it was impolite of him to do all the talking. And of course, he had to bring up your lie.

“Tell me more about your major.”

Despite knowing it was wrong, you’d come prepared, having done some research in biology. So, you only continued to lie harder through your teeth in your misplaced attempts to impress him. After the first one, it became progressively easier to keep lying and build a whole fake persona for yourself. By the end of the night, it was obvious Jimin was having a lovely time. And even though you were enjoying yourself, as well, the guilt was threatening to consume you. Just as you were trying to find a way to come clean, he offered going out again two days from now, so you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth...

One month later

Things were going quite smoothly for you and Jimin. You two would talk about all sorts of things such as music, books and films, so it was almost easy to forget your lies. Until one night. You two were watching a movie at his place when you had to go to the bathroom. And made one fatal mistake. Leaving your phone on the table. Who would have thought a notification from Facebook group chat Acting Class (exposing your two major lies about studying biology and not having social media at once) just as Jimin was reaching across the table to grab a snack? Who would have thought it’d grab his attention, make him question everything he knew, or thought he knew about you?

When you returned from the bathroom, you could immediately tell he was angry by the look on his face.

“Why did you lie to me?” Jimin confronted you. “You said you were studying biology and that you’re not on social media. Well, your Facebook account seems to disagree with both these statements.”

“I’m really sorry,” you replied dumbly. “I just wanted to impress you.”

“I get why you lied at the zoo,” he shook his head in disappointment. “But why didn’t you tell me at our first date? We’ve been going out for a whole month, Y/N, and you continued to lie to me.”

“Because I was dreading the conversation we’re currently having,” you admitted. “I like you too much and didn’t want to let you down.”

“Well, congratulations, you played yourself,” Jimin replied coldly.

“What will it take for you to give me a second chance?” you whined.

“Take off your clothes,” he orderded.

“W-what?” you whispered in shock. You were pretty sure the situation was anything but sexual.

“Did I stutter?” Jimin hissed.

Gone was the bubbly sweetheart you had fallen for. His demeanour did a 180 degree turn and you figured the wisest thing would be to do as he said. Removing your clothes while standing, Jimin was comfortably seated on the couch, shooting daggers at you. You felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. The reason why you liked acting so much was that it was easy to put on a mask and be someone else for a change. While with relationships, you had to be open - open to share and open to get hurt. And it was your mistake that you had incorporated the element of acting into your relationship.

“Lie on your stomach,” he commanded you, getting up from the couch and then, added a joke. “Pun-intended.”

Even though it was objectively quite funny, you were certainly not in the mood to laugh. Doing as he wished, you saw with your peripheral vision that Jimin was removing his necktie. Soon enough, he used it to bind your wrists tightly. And before you could register what was happening, he took off his belt. Hearing the sound of metal and leather in the air, you shuddered, already anticipating what was to come. Proving your suspicions to be correct, Jimin landed the first blow on your bare ass. You flinched a bit when the leather part of his belt made contact with your skin. He used one hand to hold your legs down so that you wouldn’t move too much. You’d never felt so humiliated in your entire life but you imagined that must have been how he felt when he discovered you’d been lying to him. Jimin kept spanking you with the help of the belt until your butt was painted red and you whimpered in pain. You had started counting in your head but after the thirtieth hit you’d lost count. Eventually, he noticed your tear-streaked face and messed up mascara, choosing to stop. Untying your hands, Jimin traced a finger down your wet cheeks.

“Am I forgiven yet?” you asked in a small voice, blinking at him innocently.

“Oh dear, oh dear, my angel,” his angry self immediately vanished and Jimin was back to being the softest boyfriend. Hugging you sweetly, he wrapped a giant blanket around you, caressing your hair. “Of course you’re forgiven. Just don’t lie to me ever again. Be my good girl and you’ll have no reason to worry.”

“What if it’s a white lie?” you pouted. “For example, let’s say you’re wearing a dreadful shirt and you ask me what I think. If I say it looks great, ‘cause I don’t want to hurt your feelings, does that count?”

“Darling, you would never catch me wearing a dreadful shirt,” Jimin smirked, confident in his sense of fashion. “And yes, it counts. I want you to tell me the truth about anything or next time you won’t get away with such a light punishment. Am I making myself clear?”

If the belt thing was considered light punishment, you feared to see how much worse it could get. So, you agreed with his demands immediately.

“I won’t ever lie to you, Jimin, I promise,” you vowed sincerely, burying your head into his chest. “I really want to be your good girl and make you proud.”

“I’m counting on it, angel,” he kissed your forehead softly.

Three months later

Things were going great. After the incident when you’d gotten caught in a lie about your actual studies and having social media accounts, you and Jimin were more than happy together. He was the sweetest, most accepting boyfriend and you were the epitome of honesty and truthfulness. It was almost picture-perfect.

But all that changed one night. You were chilling at a bar with your bestie when Jimin suddenly texted you, asking if you were free to hang out.

You: Sorry, I can’t right now. I’m out with my bestie, celebrating the end of the semester 🤪🎉🍷

Jimin: Oh, alright. Have fun, then! ❤️

You: Tomorrow I’m all yours, though 💋

Jimin: Can’t wait, babe 😏

You forgot all about your exact phrasing until the following day came and you met up with Jimin at his place. Excited about spending more time with him, you couldn’t help but grin in anticipation. However, the second you noticed his grim expression, the smile disappeared from your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked cautiously, wrapping your hands around his neck. To your utter dismay, he pushed you away, a little more harshly than you deserved.

“What’s this?” Jimin wanted to know, showing you a couple of pictures of you and your best friend Damian he must have posted last night. Most of them were of the fancy drinks you two were sharing, as well as the cool setting at the bar. But in one of them, Damian was kissing your cheek.

“Um, photos, duh,” you chuckled, thinking the answer to your boyfriend’s question was ridiculously obvious.

“I can see that,” he replied angrily. “I thought you were out with Tessa. Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie,” you explained, already growing exasperated.

“Tessa is your best friend,” Jimin pointed out. “Who is this Damian guy?”

“Yes, Tessa is my best friend. But so is Damian. You can’t expect me to pit one amazing friend against another. Damian is my bestie just as much as Tessa is.”

“Yeah, well, why the fuck was he kissing you, then?” Jimin spat out and you immediately guessed what this was all about. It wasn’t about you “lying” as he’d assumed. He was jealous.

You couldn’t help but giggle, finding the very idea of you and Damian extremely amusing.

“Is this funny to you? I’m dead serious, answer me,” Jimin insisted, visibly upset.

“Yes, it is funny to me,” you rolled your eyes. “First of all, not that it’s any of your business, but Damian plays for the other team, so you don’t need to feel threatened.”

“I don’t feel threatened,” he replied, still sounding pissed.

“Second of all,” you continued. “It’s completely natural to kiss your friends on the cheeks.”

“I don’t kiss my friends on the cheeks,” Jimin grunted.

“Well, that’s not my problem, is it?” you teased.

“How would you feel? If you saw a picture of me kissing another girl’s cheek?”

You shrugged. You were definitely not the type to get jealous easily.

“I wouldn’t even bring it up,” you responded honestly. “Because I trust you. And you obviously don’t.”

Jimin shook his head, suddenly feeling like he was the one being attacked.

“I do trust you, it’s just that I was surprised and I jumped to conclusions...”

“I’m all yours, you know that, right?” you ran a hand through his hair, attempting to reassure him.

“God, you’re so frustrating,” he hissed under his breath and kissed you hungrily, biting your lower lip until it drew blood, as if to claim you.

You quickly gave in, allowing him to mark your mouth and your neck as he pleased, knowing that it would make him feel good about himself. Biting really hard into your skin until you were certain you’d have hickeys, Jimin took the “I’m all yours” part of your sentence a bit too literally.

“You’re mine. No one else’s,” he whispered with determination. And you simply nodded, agreeing with his words. “On your knees, darling.”

You hurried to follow his order, because you knew that if you acted like a brat, it would only get worse for you.

“Open your pretty little mouth for me,” Jimin commanded and you did as he asked obediently, taking his cock into your mouth. After a while, you realized this wasn’t you giving him a blowjob, this was pretty much him fucking your face at an unrelenting pace. Occasionally slapping you lightly and pulling your hair firmly. He came into your mouth about three times. Eventually, he stopped. But only when he noticed your eyes were red from all the crying and your lips were trembling with the effort of keeping your mouth open. After he was done humiliating you, Jimin’s gentle side seemed to return.

Pulling you up on your feet and cuddling you on his bed and kissing your slightly bruised skin, your mind was dizzy with contradictory thoughts. You knew that objectively you hadn’t done anything that bad. And yet, the way Jimin was treating you proved that you had, in fact, fucked up. Despite that, something just didn’t sit right with you. Even though a part of you enjoyed being treated like his slut, you couldn’t understand why he was punishing you despite you being nothing but truthful towards him ever since the biology incident. But you couldn’t put it into words. Until it was too late...

One year later

You had landed your first acting job. Even though you’d be just an extra in this movie one of your former professors had been working on, you were super excited about it. And any normal boyfriend would have been happy for you. But unfortunately, one tiny mistake in your past continued to haunt you in your present.

“Hii, babe, I have great news! I got my first acting job,” you told him as soon as you found out, expecting him to at least smile or give you a pat on the head. No such thing happened.

“How did you get a job so quickly after graduating?” Jimin asked you in suspicion instead of congratulating you.

“I mean, one of my former professors is the director of the movie and he wanted to support the beginning of his students’ careers. It’s really sweet of him, don’t you think?”

“Did you like...blow him or something?” he scoffed.

“Jimin, how could you say that? First of all, I would never do something like that. Second of all, is this how little you think of me? You think I’m not perfectly capable of landing a job?” you snapped at him, feeling quite dejected by his words.

“I was just kidding,” he rolled his eyes. “No need to get so butt-hurt about it.”

“Butt-hurt? I just don’t get why you don’t trust me, we’ve been together for more than a year. If this is about the biology thing, I apologized hundreds of times. You seriously need to let it go.”

“Well, I can’t. If you’re so successful at lying to me once, what’s to stop you from doing it again?”

What Jimin said really hurt you. So much that you couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same room as him, let alone share the same bed (since you’d moved in with him two months ago).

“I need some time to think about us. Just...I’m gonna clear my head.”

He simply nodded and didn’t try to stop you. When you got outside and were left alone with your thoughts, you kept remembering similar situations where Jimin would attack you for the littlest things. And even though you had not lied to him since the biology incident, he still seemed incapable of trusting you. And it was honestly so frustrating. You couldn’t understand why he was still with you if he didn’t believe a word you said. It made you feel terrible about yourself and about your relationship as a whole. Just when you were starting to think about whether or not breaking up would be the healthiest decision for both of you, your phone buzzed with message notifications.

Jimin: I’m really sorry, angel

Jimin: I know I overreacted earlier

Jimin: I trust you, I really do. And I’m not just saying it ‘cause you left

Jimin: I will try to do better, I promise

Jimin: Please, come back, let’s talk.

Jimin: And if you don’t want to talk, we can just cuddle

Jimin: Or do anything you feel like doing

Jimin: Fuck, I miss you already

And as hurt as you felt, you knew you would come back. Jimin always knew just what to say to make things right. And you couldn’t imagine your life without him in it. So, you texted back:

You: I’m on my way

And talk you did. Jimin really apologized for not believing you and kept reassuring you he would refrain himself from overreacting again. And you trusted him. That was your second biggest mistake. The first was lying that first and only time. After you talked, he used the one weapon that instantly disarmed you. One that he knew you couldn’t fight against. One that always had you asking for more...

Three years later

You were so forgetful. When you were younger, people kept warning you that being that forgetful would work against you some day. But you never listened. And now that you were staring at the two little lines, you wished you’d listened. Wished you hadn’t forgotten to drink your pill. These damn lines. You felt like they were mocking you.

When Jimin returned home from work, you were all panicky and awkward and jumpy. You would have to find the right time to tell him. But he seemed so tired. Maybe you’d wait until tomorrow. Or the weekend. Yes, that would be better. He was more relaxed on the weekends. As you were mentally preparing yourself for the moment you’d have to utter those three little words out loud, you unconsciously kept avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin wanted to know, sounding worried.

“N-nothing,” you answered, not sure if it was the truth. On the one hand, you were happy about the news you’d discovered. On the other, you were really nervous how to share them with Jimin. You’d talked about the subject in the past but it was always as a joke or as something that was to happen in the distant future. Only it didn’t seem that much distant now.

“Are you lying to me again?” he asked. Well, of course that’s the first thing that came to his mind. Classic Jimin, the king of trust issues.

“Jimin, stop,” you shook your head, disappointed. “Just because I’m not ready to talk about something does not automatically mean I’m lying.”

“Just tell me the truth right now and I won’t get mad, I promise,” he tried to coax you into letting it out. “I won’t even punish you for it.”

He was unbelievable. You hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve getting punished!

“Well, congratulations, you ruined a perfectly happy moment. I’m fucking pregnant, are you happy now?” you angrily replied.

“Is it...someone else’s? Is that why you’ve been acting so jittery?”

“Are you insane?” you yelled. “I would never cheat on you.”

“Then you wouldn’t have a problem doing a paternity test?”

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered, feeling more disappointed than ever.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Jimin responded coldly.

“Do you trust me so little that you would immediately assume I’m capable of cheating on you?”

“Have you given me reason to trust you?”

You shook your head, absolutely disheartened.

“Fine. We’ll do your stupid paternity test. But once you see the proof that you’re the father, we’re done. You can see the baby occasionally if you wish, but us, that’s over. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t believe me. I don’t want my child to grow up in such a distrusting environment.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jimin murmured, unintentionally repeating your words.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” you mirrored him, even acting out his exact expression, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

When the results were out, there were no surprises. Like you’d said, Jimin was, in fact, the father. But despite your earlier threats, once you spotted Jimin tearing up upon seeing the little fetus via the ultrasound, you forgot all about it.

“Please, please, I promise you, I’ll treasure you and the babe so much,” he practically begged you to not put an end on your relationship.

And you knew he was telling the truth. So, you gave him one more chance.

Nine months later

When you first held your child in your arms, you were so overwhelmed with affection for the little Sunhee that you knew it in your heart that your daughter deserved better. Deserved to be loved and trusted unconditionally. And even though Jimin had been nothing but caring and sweet throughout your pregnancy, you still couldn’t forget how quickly he’d judged you back then, how he’d even went so far as to accuse you of cheating. And how much that hurt you.

So, you made a decision. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but in that moment, you felt like it was the right one. You would wait until Jimin was asleep, leave a letter explaining your choice and run away from the hospital. You’d go back to your family’s place. You knew they would be understanding and be supportive of your decision.

As for the letter itself, that was what it said:

Dear Jimin,

By the time you wake up, Sunhee and I will be out of the hospital. Please, don’t look for us. You might find us but that’s not the point. I need to be away from you for now. Don’t worry, I’m not a monster and of course, you’ll be able to see your daughter. I’m just asking you to give me some time alone. You owe me that much.

If you’re wondering what I’m referring to, let me spell it out for you. Every time you doubted me or didn’t trust me, even though I was telling the truth, it hurt me. At first I tried to shrug it off and even blamed myself for being so sensitive. For example, when you confronted me about hanging out with Damian or about landing a job so quickly after graduating.

But when you accused me of cheating on you, when you assumed that you were not Sunhee’s father, that is what hurt the most. It meant that you thought so little of me. And that broke my heart. In a way, I’m not confident is possible of repairing.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not blaming you for what you said or did. We’re all flawed and human, so it’s okay to make mistakes sometimes. After all, I find that I myself am not so innocent and might be partially responsible for our current predicament. Twenty-two-year-old me was so interested in impressing you that she uttered a very stupid lie. One that she regrets everyday.

My point is, all the stuff you said about me cheating, I won’t hold it against you. Life is too short to hold a grudge and I advice you to think about that, as well.

Not for me but for yourself. You’ll find that you can be much happier with an open heart.

Love,

Y/N

One month later

As expected, your parents accepted your decision and told you they’d do anything to help you out. The past month had been difficult, but you were happier than ever. And you truly believed you’d made the right call. Jimin kept calling you and texting you despite your request. For some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to block his number just yet.

At one point, you decided to be the bigger person and let Jimin be around Sunhee for three hours each weekend.. Naturally, you didn’t want to see him, so your parents organized the whole meeting at their place and you always made sure you were somewhere else. You had nothing left to say to him.

One afternoon, you were doing grocery shopping. Usually, you would be inseparable from Sunhee but this time, your parents had convinced you to allow them to have some grandparents-granddaughter bonding time, as they so adorably called it. Which was why you were currently alone at the supermarket. And which was why you ran into someone you didn’t expect to see in your neigbourhood. Judging from the fact he lived twenty minutes away...

“Hi there,” Jimin greeted you, stopping his shopping cart near yours.

“Um, hi,” you responded, already making an escape plan. Could you jump and sprint from the left? Or the right? The lane was too narrow and Jimin’s shopping cart was blocking the away. You mentally reprimanded yourself for being such a dork. You were not a criminal, you didn’t have to run away.

“You look really good,” Jimin smiled nervously. “How...how have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” you uttered blankly. “God, this is so awkward.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled, somewhat trying to alleviate the tension. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

“I’ve said what I wanted to say in the letter,” you pointed out.

“But I haven’t,” Jimin replied. “Just hear me out, okay? I know you don’t owe me anything after my atrocious behaviour but...please?”

You nodded, finding it impossible to reject his plea combined with his watery eyes. After all, what harm could listening to him do? You texted your parents that you’d be out for longer than intended and they were absolutely overjoyed they would get to spend more quality time with little Sunhee. You laughed to yourself and followed Jimin on a bench at a park nearby. You didn’t feel comfortable going to his place just then and you felt like having a conversation in a public space was the safest alternative.

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, awaiting Jimin to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

“First of all, I wanted to apologize for being a total asshole. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that and I’ll forever regret what I said to you.”

You smiled gratefully, finding it like a good sign that he’d realized how much his words had hurt you.

“Second of all, I wanted to admit I’m a hypocrite. And a liar. I’ve never told you about my past relationship and how much it scarred me. My ex-girlfriend had been lying to me for over a year and it turned out she had been cheating on me. So, maybe that’s part of the reason why I have trust issues. I’m not using that as an excuse for how I behaved towards you, I just felt like it was only right to tell you the truth.”

“Thanks, I appreciate you letting me know,” you replied, honestly.

“And third of all, I know I don’t deserve it but could you maybe consider giving me another chance? I promise you I will change for the better and treat you with utmost respect and care. Even if you lie to me, I won’t get mad and attack you.”

“Which I won’t,” you sighed. “Lie, I mean.”

“Even if you do,” Jimin insisted. “We’ll communicate and discuss any problems which might arise like a normal couple instead of me yelling at you or punishing you unjustly.”

“I don’t know, Jimin,” you were still hesitant about all this. “How can I be sure you’re not just saying this? How can I be sure you actually mean it?”

“You can’t,” he grinned sadly and gently took hold of your hand. “But that’s what makes it exciting, don’t you think? Life’s a mystery. We don’t know what will happen in three months or in three years. I don’t know if I’ll make another terrible mistake that might hurt you again. But what I do know is that I am ready to spend the rest of my days atoning for it. And making you and Sunhee happy.”

“Gosh, you really do have a way with words,” you shook your head, already on the verge of giving in and taking him back.

“I’m begging you, angel. This one month without you has been actual hell,” Jimin spoke passionately.

“Let me think about it, okay?” you asked even though you were already certain what your answer would be.

“Can I hug you while you think?” Jimin wanted to know.

“You want to sway me?” you raised your eyebrows. “Go ahead, then.”

“Maybe,” he chuckled mischievously, wrapping his arms around you. “So soft. Just like I remember.”

You closed your eyes contentedly, breathing in his warm embrace. It was impossible to resist him. Even though he had hurt you, this time you were a 100% positive Jimin would do better. You didn’t know what exactly had changed between you two, maybe it was the time spent apart. But it was like some invisible wall of mistrust had been demolished. Leaving nothing but honesty.

A couple of minutes later, Jimin asked:

“Did you make up your mind? Will you give me a second chance?”

“Hm...no,” you joked with a smile on your face.

“Was that a lie?” he teased, already suspecting what you would say next.

“It depends. Do you want it to be?”

“Of course. I want you back,” Jimin pleaded, still holding you tightly.

“Then, yes,” you admitted. “It was a lie.”

The End

#bts #jimin #jimin x reader #bts angst #bts smut #jimin angst #jimin smut #bts x reader #jimin fic #jimin au #writing

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

😏 Hey, it's me, back again. On my knees, begging for more filth. I want some post mountain grovelling. I want Geralt on his knees. One of Jaskier's hands in his hair, holding his head still. The fingers of Jaskier's other hand in Geralt's mouth. <insert Gopher gif here>

Forgiveness

Not exactly filth? There is smut... but it caught plot. For those wondering... Jaskier's hair and beard looks something like this.

Rated: E

Length: 2.5k

CW: dom/sub vibes, subspace, oral sex

______________

Fear was not something that Geralt was accustomed to feeling. The trials had made sure of that, but the trials were created with monsters in mind, not bards. There had been a time when being afeared of Jaskier would have seemed preposterous. The worst thing that could have happened was the bard getting too close to a fight and getting hurt because of Geralt, but even then, Geralt had never been scared of Jaskier, more scared for him. Losing Jaskier to the witcher’s way of life would have been unforgivable, so Geralt made sure it didn’t happen.

Jaskier was gone.

And yet he still wasn’t safe. Geralt had torn his own heart into pieces to keep Jaskier safe, and now fucking Nilfgaard was destroying everything. Rumour had it that the army were looking for Jaskier, looking for a way to Geralt and to Ciri. So it was time for Geralt to swallow his pride and make amends. He’d travelled to Oxenfurt with his young ward in tow to search for his dearest friend, the man he’d broken. Ciri had been a surprising blessing in his life. Just like Jaskier, she had brought light to his life when there had been none, and he was beginning to realise that isolating himself did not make him stronger. His friends, brothers, lovers were more deadly than any sword or sign. Alone he was just one man, motivated by survival and a sense of duty.

For Ciri he would tear down the Continent.

For Yennefer he would climb the highest mountain.

For Jaskier…

He sighed. For Jaskier he would break his own heart, and for Jaskier he would try to make it right again.

It was more terrifying than any manticore or griffin.

A knock on the door, that’s all it would take. Instead he was just lurking outside the office, an elaborate “Professor Pankratz” painted in fine golden calligraphy on the panelling. Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose, every instinct he had was telling him to run, take Ciri back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and leave Jaskier. Surely no harm would come to him at the academy.

“Are you going to stare at my door all day, Geralt, or shall we go inside?”

Geralt’s eyes widened as he spun around to face his friend. He hadn’t heard Jaskier’s voice in years but there was no mistaking the lilting accent and the playful way that he spoke. No one else spoke quite like Jaskier. The bard’s voice may not have changed but Geralt was taken aback by Jaskier’s appearance. His hair, which had always been short and scruffy in the decades that Geralt had known him, was now long, the ends ticking just below his chin. The long locks were tucked behind one ear, and his fringe had grown out. But it was the beard that really drew Geralt’s attention. He’d never realised that Jaskier could grow a beard, he’d never even seen the bard with stubble before, and yet here was Jaskier sporting a thick beard that was as rich in colour as his hair, no sign of any grey despite his age.

He looked beautiful.

Piercing icy blue eyes burned with cool fire, and Geralt was reminded why this trip had worried him. Jaskier had been his most loyal friend, and despite his profession, the bard was dangerous. His tongue was sharp and his temper was short, for Lillit’s sake, he’d even tried to condemn a man to death with the blasted Djinn.

“Well? Come on, witcher, get inside or get out,” Jaskier said with the cool authority of the professor he had become. Gone was the eighteen year old fool that Geralt had met in Posada.

“Right, yes,” Geralt grumbled and stepped aside so that Jaskier could open the door. He trailed in after the bard, feeling very much like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“I never expected to see you at my door, Geralt,” Jaskier muttered as he busied himself around the room, sorting out his books and scrolls from his satchel, carefully placing his ink bottles on the messy desk, and shrugging out of his teaching robes.

Underneath the dark robes, he was wearing an elegant dark green doublet with matching breeches, gold thread stitching at the seams. To Geralt’s surprise, the bard's doublet was fully buttoned, hiding both the chemise and the mass of chest hair that Geralt knew was underneath the emerald fabric.

“I never expected to come,” Geralt admitted.

“Excellent, now you can leave again, it was good to see you old friend. Close the door on your way out.”

Jaskier’s words stung, a dagger between his ribs, poison running through his veins, but Geralt couldn’t give up, not without a proper fight. “I came to apologise.”

“Oh, ho, ho, that’s rich, witcher. What’s next? You’ll go and fetch your Child Surprise?”

“Ciri,” Geralt mumbled.

That seemed to have an effect, Jaskier froze, his back to Geralt. The bard slowly spun round and peered at Geralt. “So you finally found her?”

“I did.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jaskier sighed, pushing his hair from his face and scratching idly at his beard. “Did she mention me?”

“She did.”

“So, tell me Geralt, are you here because you want to apologise, or because the princess demanded it?” Jaskier’s tone was sharper than any witcher sword, this was the man who had destroyed a knight’s honour with a few well-placed rhymes and catchy songs just because he had insulted Geralt, and Geralt wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.

“Nilfgaard are coming, Jaskier. I couldn’t leave you in danger. They are looking for you, because of me.”

Jaskier scoffed, throwing his arms up, almost knocking an ink bottle flying. “Nilfgaard, wow. Yup, yes, should have expected that.”

“I’m here to protect you,” Geralt growled, “and- and because I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Jaskier hissed, stepping forward so that there was barely any space between them, his sweet chamomile scent now flooding Geralt’s senses. “You should have led with that, witcher.”

“I-”

“Fine, you want to apologise. On your knees, grovel. I won’t follow you blindly again, Geralt. I need to know you won’t hurt me. You want to protect me?”

“Yes,” Geralt answered without hesitation.

“Then know that no one on this Continent has ever hurt me like you did on that fucking mountain. Forgiveness will take time,” Jaskier said haughtily, and Geralt dropped to his knees. He finally saw Jaskier’s rage for what it was; a shield. Jaskier was trying to protect himself… from Geralt.

“I am sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice shaking but sincere. “I only ever meant to protect you. I lashed out. I was hurting after Yennefer. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, but-”

“Hollow excuses.”

“But I was scared,” Geralt finally glanced up, and oh what a sight. Jaskier was looming above him, his hair almost coppery in the candle light. He looked like a messenger from the gods. “My life is a dangerous one. I fucked up Yennefer’s life with one breath, how could I possibly risk doing the same for you?”

“You already did.”

“But you’re alive,” Geralt whispered quietly.

“I would have rather died, Geralt,” Jaskier hissed.

“Don’t be so dramatic, bard.”

“If it meant giving up my life with you. Life with you was the greatest adventure, there was never a dull moment. I got to live every single day. Now look at me, I’m trapped in a cage without the best friend I’ve ever had,” Jaskier spat. “So you’ll have to do better than that.”

Geralt lowered his gaze once more. He was running out of options, but there was one more card that he held close to his heart, rarely even admitting it to himself. They say that love can conquer anything. It hadn’t been true for him and Yen, but perhaps the sorceress had been right and their love was just an illusion created by his wish and the spell she’d cast on him.

“I love you,” he whispered, loud enough for human ears to hear but still a quiet admission, one he’d never said out loud before.

Jaskier didn’t say anything. Instead, there was a gentle tug at Geralt’s hair as Jaskier pulled the tie from its place. Geralt stayed still, letting his words hang in the air. The bard’s fingers began to gently run through Geralt’s hair, each touch sending warm tingles down his spine, and he felt his breathing relax almost into a meditative state. Jaskier had done this before when they were on the path, braiding Geralt’s hair whilst he meditated, but this felt different, there had never been this spark burning between them before.

There had never been those words lying heavy on Geralt’s tongue before. “I love you, Jask,” he repeated, his voice more slurred this time and he felt almost as if he had been drugged, his head feeling foggy. The haze got thicker with every stroke of Jaskier’s hand through his hair.

“Oh, dear heart,” Jaskier cooed, his voice sounding almost like a dream. “You have no idea how long I’ve yearned to hear those words.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt mumbled. “Forgive me, Julek.”

“In time, my darling, in time,” Jaskier breathed, his scent sweeter now, something akin to arousal. It was hard to tell through the fuzziness in Geralt’s head.

There was a low whine, that Geralt vaguely registered as coming from him. Heat was beginning to thrum through his body, and he slowly realised that at some point he’d shut his eyes, completely submitting to his bard in his attempts to earn Jaskier’s forgiveness. He felt Jaskier’s fingers cupping his cheek, hooking under his chin. Geralt whimpered as he struggled to open his eyes.

“There you are, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, “apology accepted, dear heart.”

“Jask…”

“I know, I know, I’m here,” the words washed over Geralt like a warm breeze.

“I- I- want…” Geralt didn’t know what he was asking for or what he wanted, but his head was spinning and suddenly the hand in his hair wasn’t enough. He’d gone so long without seeing Jaskier, and now that they weren’t together, it was like a dam had broken. All the things he’d been denying himself for years…

“Shh, Geralt, I’ve got you,” Jaskier hummed, and before Geralt could protest, he felt the press of Jaskier’s fingers at his lips. Eagerly, Geralt opened his lips, taking the digits into his mouth and sucking gently. He gazed up at his bard, drunk on the feeling of his own arousal.

Geralt had never seen Jaskier in his element at Oxenfurt before but the calm way in which Jaskier commanded the room was enticing. This was Jaskier’s office, his space. Geralt was the guest here, not the other way round. Usually Jaskier had to fit into Geralt’s life, but now it was Geralt’s turn, kneeling at the professor’s feet, a willing student, begging for another chance.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head so that his long hair fell in front of his eyes. “Do- do you want this?”

Geralt hummed around Jaskier’s fingers, nodding his head. It felt like a stupid question. How could he not want this? It was everything he’d never let himself dream of. He tried to say yes, but the word was muffled by Jaskier’s fingers.

“Gods, darling, you look so beautiful like this,” Jaskier cooed, and there was a sharp tug in Geralt’s head. He moaned around Jaskier’s fingers, vaguely aware that his cock was now painfully hard in his trousers. “That’s it, my love, sing for me.”

Geralt moaned again, sucking at the fingers in his mouth, enjoying the weight on his tongue. He’d never done anything like this before, but with Jaskier it just felt right. When he’d come to Oxenfurt he hadn’t expected anything like this to happen. He’d been praying to whatever gods were listening that Jaskier would forgive him, anything more than that had been an impossible dream. Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed happily, shifting his weight until he was in a more comfortable position, the one he used for meditating. Like this, he could sit at Jaskier’s feet for hours should the bard wish.

But instead, Jaskier pulled his fingers from Geralt’s mouth. The emptiness left an ache deep inside Geralt that he hadn’t expected, but Jaskier’s other hand cupped his cheek, tilting his head so he was forced to look up at the bard. There was an undeniable fondness in Jaskier’s eyes, and between the beard and the extra weight he’d put on now that he was settled at Oxenfurt, he looked so warm… cuddly.

And Geralt wanted him.

“Can I- do you want my cock?” Jaskier stumbled over the words, a break in his previously mask of calmness. “We don’t- it’s just a suggestion…”

“Yes,” Geralt breathed, gazing up at the man he loved. In fact, he could think of nothing he wanted more in that moment. He swallowed, his mouth dry as he shuffled forward to nuzzle against the bulge in Jaskier’s trousers. Jaskier groaned as Geralt mouthed at his erection through the fabric. “Please, Jaskier.”

“Go on then, witcher, please me.”

Geralt’s fingers shook as he untied the lacing at the front of Jaskier’s trousers, and they moaned in unison as he finally took the tip of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth, the taste of precum bitter on his tongue.

“Gods, Geralt, I never thought I’d see the day…”

Geralt just hummed, licking at Jaskier’s slit before bobbing his head, slowly taking more into his mouth. There was another tug at his hair and he hummed, relaxing into his movements as Jaskier slowly began to rock his hips, gently thrusting into Geralt’s mouth. All the while, a steady stream of soft praises fell from the bard’s lips. Geralt had never felt particularly aroused from sucking cock before, but at Jaskier’s feet, the gentle words lingering in the air and the rhythmic touch of fingers caressing through his hair, he was closer to cumming than he thought possible.

He gasped as he pulled back, biting back a moan as he rested his head on Jaskier’s thigh. “I- Jask, fuck…”

“Shall I take you to bed, darling?” Jaskier cooed, gently pulling Geralt to his feet.

His legs were shaking and he fell into his bard's waiting arms, burying his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. Geralt hummed as he kissed Jaskier’s neck, the soft bristles of the bard’s beard warm against his skin. “Your beard is soft,” he murmured, running his lips along the edge of the beard until they were ghosting over Jaskier’s lips, a tease of a kiss yet to come.

Jaskier laughed, pressing their foreheads together. “The luxuries of Oxenfurt, my dear witcher.”

“Smells good too,” Geralt hummed, finally capturing Jaskier’s lips in a chaste kiss. The bard moaned quietly and his fingers dug into Geralt’s side, pulling him closer. “Smells like home.”

After a few moments of being lost in each other, Jaskier finally took Geralt’s hand, lacing their fingers together and leading him through the office to the bedroom that lay beyond. They had a long way to go before Geralt was truly forgiven but this was a start.

This was their start, their new beginning, a new chapter in their adventure.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #professor pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

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n1kolaiz · 4 years

Text

"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."

Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu

Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human

I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.

According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.

The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."

Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.

Sound familiar?

Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?

But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.

Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.

And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.

Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:

"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."

- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.

When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.

Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.

"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"

Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.

Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.

In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.

And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.

And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.

Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.

The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.

Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?

Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'

There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.

Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.

No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.

This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.

And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”

- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.

Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.

Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?

Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.

Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.

Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.

Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (；・∀ ・)

His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.

(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)

But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.

Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.

“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”

“I’d prefer you don’t go.”

This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!

An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:

I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.

Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.

To summarise,

Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.

Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.

His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.

However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.

His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.

However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.

Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.

fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter

“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.”

excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs wan #bsd wan #bsd dazai osamu #bsd characters #literature analysis #literature #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #bsd atsushi #bsd analysis #bsd atsushi nakajima #.ryley.speaks

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Text

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

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weelittleweasley · 4 years

Text

a day in the snow (h.p.)

prompt as requested by anon: after being friends for two years, you had been toying with the idea of how and if you should tell harry that you have feelings for him. but will the fear of rejection hold you back?

pairing: harry potter x fem! reader

warnings: food

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: this could be read as a sequel to may i sit?, but you don’t have to read it to understand this fic! happy reading! oh! and requests are still open ;)

Soft, powdery white snow covered the Scottish hills that rolled in the distance. The green grass now hidden beneath blankets and blankets of freshly fallen snow. Untouched snow was soon replaced with trails of snow shoe footprints and laughter of students as they weaved their way to Hogsmeade. It was a perfect winter’s day. Cold enough to keep the snow from melting and make you shiver if you wore the wrong jacket, but not cold enough from keeping you from dragging Harry through the snow to the town.

Harry would have much rather stayed inside and kept warm in the comfort of the common room with the roaring fire in front of him, blanket over his lap as he enjoyed the chatter of his closest friends. You, on the other hand, lived for days like today. You insisted it would be an adventure; out in the snow, romping around, enjoying each other’s company. Although Harry insisted you had gone to Hogsmeade so many times in the past, you had practically begged him to go today. You needed some excitement rather than being cooped up in the castle all weekend long. With a groan and exaggerated roll of his head, Harry finally gave into your pleas. He couldn’t resist you for longer than five minutes of constant begging.

Linking your arm in his, the two of you trudged through the snow, you laughing as Harry bemoaned about snow getting into his boots. “Don’t be such a party pooper, Potter,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes. “We’ll make a day of it. We can get Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks, shop around at Honeydukes, maybe venture into Zonko’s,” you list off excitedly. It would be a pricey expenditure, but you had just received your monthly allowance from your parents and you were certainly planning on spending a chunk of it today.

“Or we could head back to the castle, get a blanket, sit by the fire in the common room, sneak into the kitchens. You know the house elves love me,” he smiled as you scoffed at him. “We’ve been to Hogsmeade hundreds of times, why can’t we enjoy a day inside the castle?” he implores you as a bright smile appears on your face as the village comes into your view.

You drop Harry’s arm and make a mad dash for the village, giggling wildly. You turn to face him, walking backwards now, “We are in that castle every day, Harry. I need a change of scenery once in a while and what better place to do so,” you speak merrily. Pure joy was laced in your voice as Harry sighed and shook his head with a smile. He couldn’t deny the look of childish glee on your face as you stood there, waiting for him to catch up to you, clapping your hands like a toddler on Christmas morning. “Now come on, let me treat you to a Butterbeer,” you extend your hand out to him as he gladly accepts it, swinging your arms back and forth.

The gesture was simple, something you and Harry always did. But you couldn’t deny that every time Harry held your hand, flashed you a toothy grin, cracked a joke and looked your way to see if he had made you laugh, it always made your heart flutter and mind races with a thousand and one thoughts. Harry had been your mate, a close one, for almost two years now. After the night you two had formally met, you were inseparable. You spent nights in the library studying (mostly fooling around and pissing others off), running through the corridors playing elaborate games of hide-and-seek, exchanging small glances during class. Together, you and Harry just made sense. The two of you got along like you had known each other your whole lives and yet, nothing more evolved from your friendship. You had managed to convince yourself that a friendship was all you signed up for and all you wanted from Harry which was a total lie. Harry made you feel like you were the only person who mattered; like when he was with you, you had his full and undivided attention. Harry made you feel safe.

But you ignore the butterflies that danced around in your gut as you walked towards Three Broomsticks, Harry opening the door for you as you slid in carefully. “Go on and find us a seat, I’ll grab us drinks,” you instruct him as he smiles and nods.

You approach the bar and see Madam Rosmerta, drying some mugs. She catches your eye as she flashes you a brilliant smile, “Back again, Miss (Y/L/N),” she beams as you nod. “What can I get for you, my darling?”

“Two Butterbeers please,” you request, leaning against the bar, removing the woolen gloves from your chilled hands. The Three Broomsticks was warm, in temperature and the environment. The pub was bustling in customers, varying in age, old and young. Some Hogwarts students were tucked away in booths as you surveyed the area, some on what looked like dates, others messing around with friends.

Madam Rosmerta gives you a look, raising one brow suggestively. “Two?” she asks as you nod. “You fancied your way into a date now? Who with?” she implores. But before you can protest that you were just in for a quick drink with a friend, her eyes land on Harry who waits patiently at a table. Madam Rosmerta dramatically gasps, “With the Chosen One?” she gawks. “Nicely done, my darling. Way to go!” she hits your arm encouragingly.

You shake your head feverishly, “No, no, Harry and I are just mates. We’ve always been mates and always will be.” When the words tumble from your mouth, your stomach feels sour. Always been mates and always will be. Nothing more and nothing less for you and Harry. Stuck in the friend zone. Madam Rosmerta gives you a look to tell you that she’s not buying it. You insist, “Really. Harry is a good friend. We’re just spending the day together as mates.”

She smiles at you as she pours you up two brimming mugs of Butterbeer, the copper mugs foaming wildly with the delicious beverage. “That’s how it always starts,” she teases as you play with the hem of your lavender jumper. “Just mates usually means something more is on the way,” she winks as you lightly laugh. Reaching into your pocket, you look for a few sickles to give in exchange for your drinks, but Madam Rosmerta stops you. “These are on the house,” she insists. “A toast to best mates,” she winks.

“Thank you,” you blush before you part from the bar, walking over to the table with your drinks. “For you,” you slide the mug over to Harry who thanks you before you sit down and take a sip from the refreshing beverage.

Harry takes a glug from his mug before speaking, “Alright. Well, now that you’ve got me here, what’s on the agenda? I want the full (Y/N) (Y/L/N) experience.”

You smile at your best friend and shake your head. Harry could be a pisser, but he sure knew how to make you smile. As you ran off everything you wanted to do for the day, you became very aware of Harry’s gaze as he looked at you. His green eyes held so much tenderness, gently resting upon you as you spoke with such glee in your voice. Occasionally, he would permit a small smile to appear on his lips as you would catch him and ask what he was smiling about. He would brush it off and simply say, “Nothing. I find it sweet when you get excited about things.”

In response, you scoffed and rolled your eyes whilst inside your stomach did and flip and your mind screamed about how much you liked him. How you wanted to hold his hand and tell him how much you cared for him. How you wanted kiss his lips and lay your head on his chest, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. But instead, you continued blabbering on about the day ahead of you.

After finishing at Three Broomsticks, you and Harry walked down High Street and made a stop at Honeydukes. Inside were countless shelves filled with sweets and treats beyond imagination. As soon as you stepped foot inside, you immediately ran to the shelves to pick out your favorite sweets. Harry laughed at your impatience; you couldn’t even wait for him to grab you a basket. “We have to stock up on all the good stuff, Harry,” you say very intently as you grab three parcels of Jelly Slugs. “Godric knows that once Ron sees the stash, he’s bound to consume half of it,” you huff as Harry laughs. You weren’t wrong.

Harry watches as you select a few Chocolate Frogs, Chocolate Wands, and Cockroach Clusters from the shelves. “Easy does it, you don’t want to spend all of your money in one place,” he warns.

You flash him a look. “Geez, you sound like Granger,” you laugh as he rolls his eyes. “Last time I checked if Harry saw me buying this many sweets, he’d be encouraging me to buy more,” you tease as he rolls his eyes. “Come on, what do you want? My treat.”

Harry looks at you and shakes his head. “(Y/N), no. You already treated for Butterbeer, I’m not letting you buying me sweets too,” he tells you as you shake your head.

“Madam Rosmerta covered the cost of the Butterbeers, so that doesn’t count,” you reveal to him as he gives you a confused look. But before he can question why she would cover the cost, you speak up, “Come on, Harry, if you don’t chose, I’ll chose for you.” You nudge his arm as he sighs giving in as you smile widely.

You knew Harry didn’t want you wasting your money on him, but you hardly considered it a waste. You wanted him to enjoy himself too, especially since he didn’t want to leave the castle and you practically forced him out. This was just a small way to express your gratitude.

Now, your shopping basket was full of sweets and was considerably heavy. But it was no problem. You swiftly paid the cashier and carried out a large bag of sweets out of the shoppe as Harry laughed as you struggled to carry it. “Give it here,” he laughs as he takes the bag from your hands, easily carrying it in just one of his. “Light as a feather.”

“Oh, shut it, Harry,” you laugh alongside him as you trudge through the snow, enjoying how lively the town was today. People made chatter, buying things from the shoppes, children playing in the snow, indulging in sweets. The scene made your heart swell. You loved how alive and well the town seemed. As you looked around, you felt Harry’s gaze on you again as you caught his eye. “Why’re you staring at me?” you laugh as Harry blushes.

“I can’t look at my best friend?” he defends himself. “Rather me close my eyes and walk around blindly?” he teases as he screw his eyes shut, pretending to feel around for directions. “Someone help. My best friend is mad that I dare look at her so now I’m forced to walk around like this!” he jokes as you roll your eyes.

But before you can say anything, you hear someone call out for Harry’s name. You both turn around and see Ron jogging over to you both as Harry looks at you. “Go,” you smile at him. “No need to ask me for permission.”

Harry smiles as Ron runs over to him, the two of them immediately babbling about something that Ron found in Zonko’s. Behind Ron is Hermione who walks over to you with a small smile. “Enjoying yourself?” you wiggle your eyebrows at Hermione.

She rolls her eyes, “Ron and I were in Zonko’s for nearly three hours.” You laugh at her complaint. She sighs, “But it made him happy. So in a weird way, I guess it was worth it.” You poke at her sides, teasing her for her innocent crush on her best friend. “Oh, stop, you’re one to talk! Harry told us he wasn’t feeling well today and he wasn’t going to come out with us,” Hermione reveals.

You stop poking at Hermione’s words as they fall from her lips. You twist your face with confusion. “What do you mean he didn’t feel well?” you ask as Hermione restates what she had previously revealed. Did Harry lie to his two best friends, so he could spend the day with you? You shake your head, “No, Harry told me he wanted to stay in the castle today. He didn’t want to go out today all together,” you justify.

Hermione gives you a knowing look. “Sure, he could have told you that, but you know Harry likes to give people a hard time. He would have gone with you whether you begged or not,” she smiles. “Even if you didn’t go to Hogsmeade, you would have stayed at the castle with him, wouldn’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer to the question when a rosy hue appears on your cheeks. “(Y/N), drop the charade. You both have been infatuated with the other since you met each other,” Hermione places a hand on your arm, rubbing it. “Everyone sees the glances you two steal, the way you laugh at his jokes, the way he literally drops everything to be next to you...don’t wait any longer.”

If this all was true, then maybe it really did mean Harry had deeper feelings for you. But the possibility that people were reading into it and Harry saw you as just a close friend loomed over your head like a dark rain cloud. The fear of Harry looking into your eyes and telling you that this relationship of yours was merely platonic would break your heart. You would rather keep your secret just that, a secret. That way you could prevent yourself from being hurt. But then there was the risk of keeping this secret hidden deeply and hurting yourself by watching him live life with another girl, someone who wasn’t you. And that was what made your stomach churn.

Before you can ask Hermione advice, Harry speaks up, “(Y/N), you ready?” You look at Hermione who gives you a reassuring squeeze and wink as you sigh. Turning to Harry, you nod.

“We’ll catch up later,” you tell Hermione who gives you a curt nod. You walk over to Harry who extends a hand out to you to walk back into the castle. You accept it, letting your hands swing back and forth, letting the negative thoughts in your mind float away as you enjoy the feeling of his gloved hand holding yours.

Harry gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he notices you ruminating in thought, nibbling on your bottom lip. He knew your nervous habits like the back of his hand and he monitored them carefully. “What’s bothering you?” he asks quite simply. You look at him, puzzled. “Your biting your bottom lip. You always do that when you’re overthinking something,” he tells you as you sigh defeated. He knew you too well and that was the problem. “You know you can tell me, (Y/N). We’re best friends.”

Best friends. That’s exactly what you were. “Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Anything,” he smiles as he continues to swing your hand back and forth.

But you stop walking and drop his hand, tucking both your hands into your jacket pockets. Harry watches as you do so, gulping, nervous as to what you had to say. “Did you...did you tell Hermione and Ron that you didn’t want to go to Hogsmeade with them today because you weren’t feeling well?” you ask.

Harry looks at you blankly before inhaling deeply. “I did, yes.”

You, even more confused, now try to clarify. “But you came out to Hogsmeade with me instead? You told me you wanted to stay in the castle, so why didn’t you? If you weren’t feeling well, you should have told me that and I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me,” you tell Harry who just stands there. “Harry, you know you don’t have to follow me around. I could have gone with someone else today.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not the point, (Y/N). That’s not why I came with you.”

“Then why did you come with me?” you ask, genuinely needing to know the answer. Harry remains silent for a moment as you groan. “Harry, I need you to be honest with me. You tell some of your friends one thing and then you tell me another. I’m just confused and I need at least a little clarity as to what is going on inside that head of yours,” you exclaim.

Harry stands there silent again as you look at him, with an exhausted expression on your face. Was it really that hard to tell you the truth? You shake your head and start walking away from Harry, whispering under your breath, “This is ridiculous.”

Before you can take another step away from him, Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back to him, spinning you around to face him. He wastes no time, cupping your cold cheeks in his hands and pulling you into him, connecting his lips with yours. You are taken aback by the sudden move, but you instantly melt into his touch, kissing him back. His lips are cold from the weather, but the kiss is warm and sweet and genuine. The kiss is revitalizing; it makes your heart speed up and makes you pull him closer to you, wanting more and more and more until you can’t take anymore. Harry only kisses you harder as you relax into the kiss. As you kiss, you can feel snowflakes fall upon your cheeks and eyelashes. The scene was picturesque. Two friends now kissing in the middle of the snowy pathway as freshly fallen snow surrounds them like halos.

Gently, Harry pulls away and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs as you keep your eyes closed, savoring the sensation of his cool lips on yours. “Does that clarify things?” he asks as you lightly smile, fluttering your eyes open, looking into his green ones. “I always want to be with you, (Y/N). I lied to Ron and Hermione because I wanted to be with you. I will take every opportunity to be with you because I’m absolutely head over heels for you.”

His words make your heart flutter. It was everything you have ever wanted to hear and you can’t help but smile like a goofball at his words. “You are?” you say in disbelief, breathlessly as you hold onto his arms tightly, not ever wanting to let go.

“Head over heels,” he repeats. “And I’m willing to do anything to prove it to you.”

You smile widely before pressing your forehead against his. “There’s no need. Because I’m head over heels for you, Harry,” you confess as Harry smiled brightly at your confession before kissing the tip of your nose gently. “Quite the pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into, huh, Potter?” you tease him.

Harry shakes his head, “One I don’t plan on getting out of any time soon,” he tells you before kissing you again sweetly as the snow showers over the both of you.

#Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x ravenclaw!reader #harry potter x ravenclaw #harry potter x slytherin!reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x original character #harry potter x gryffindor!reader #harry potter x reader imagine

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

Headcanon - When an old classmate has a meal at your house

This work, 当男同学来你家吃饭, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

You didn’t expect a chance encounter with an ex-classmate to result in him inviting himself over to your place for a meal. Unable to reject him out of politeness, you were left with no choice but to agree.

You give Victor a call, getting him to prepare more dishes tonight. “Teacher Victor, an old classmate will be coming over for dinner. Yup, just one.”

“Eh? Your husband does the cooking? He doesn't have a job?” Your old classmate gabbles on after hearing what you said. “Men who don’t have jobs aren’t reliable. Just think about it.”

You feel like beating him up. Giving him a frown, you explain. “He has a job. It’s just an off day.”

“I’m saying this for your own good,” he speaks solemnly. “Someone who has a high income and a stable job in LFG like me are definitely reliable.”

Initially planning to retort, hearing that he’s working in LFG makes you decide to let him discover the situation for himself afterwards.

Despite standing outside your home, you’re already able to smell a familiar fragrance wafting in the air. Pushing the door open, you greet, “Hubby, I’m home!”

Victor happens to be bringing the dishes out from the kitchen. “Wash your hands first. You’ll get to eat soon.”

Your old classmate stands rigidly behind you. He didn’t think your husband was actually the CEO of LFG. What was it that he said earlier? That your husband doesn’t have a job? That your husband isn’t reliable?

Wanting to rub salt into the wound, you speak up. “My old classmate was worried that you were jobless when he heard you do the cooking, so he came to take a look~”

“N-no, CEO, I...” Your old classmate stammers incoherently. Seeing this, your heart feels smug. As expected, you’re the only one who can bully Teacher Victor.

“Mm.” Victor nods unaffectedly. “Let’s eat.”

Grinning, you hook your arm with Victor’s. “Did you make my favourite sweet and sour pork ribs?”

Casting a fleeting glance at your old classmate, his line of sight returns to you. “Yes. There’s also the chilli pepper fillet steak you wanted. Go and wash your hands.” He tousles your hair, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Your old classmate: Is it too late for me to leave?

[ GAVIN ]

When Gavin heard that you were going to bring a male ex-classmate home for a meal, he naturally felt upset.

After instructing him to be a good host to your ex-classmate before heading to the kitchen, Gavin very unwillingly pours him a glass of water. For a moment, the air in the living room turns tense without your presence.

“Are you Gavin? I often saw you standing at the door of the classroom during high school. I didn’t expect the two of you to end up together.” Your ex-classmates takes the initiative to start a conversation.

“Back then, she was already meant to be mine.” Gavin’s words are needle-like and unfriendly.

Your ex-classmate chuckles, not taking it to heart. Just then, you step out of the kitchen, calling them over to eat. When Gavin sees you, his expression relaxes slightly.

“Are you still working at the same company?” You find a topic to talk about during dinner.

“Yeah, there’s much to look forward to - promotions, a raise, marrying the person I love, and reaching the pinnacle of life.” Your ex-classmate lifts his head, as though gazing towards the future.

Beneath the table, Gavin gradually clenches his fist.

“Also, how’s your boyfriend doing?” You scoop some vegetables onto your plate.

“Boyfriend!?” Gavin’s hand pauses mid-air while he prepares to reach for a dish.

Scooping some pineapple duck cubes into his bowl, you respond calmly. “That’s right. He’s been together with his desk mate since high school. They even went to the same university.”

Your ex-classmate gives Gavin a mischievous look. “Do you regret being so hostile towards me now?”

“...” Gavin flushes in a second.

[ LUCIEN ]

What happens when one meets a rival in love? There’s no need to worry - let Professor Lucien teach you how to defeat the rival.

The moment Professor Lucien enthusiastically invited your ex-classmate who used to court you (and is still pestering you even now) to your home, you already knew that something didn’t feel right. His smile was especially frightening.

Taking your seats, that feeling becomes even more evident.

“Eat more of this garlic beef, it’s high in protein.” Your ex-classmate ignores the awkwardness, scooping dishes onto your plate. He glances at Lucien, as though trying to provoke him.

You don’t fancy the food he has scooped for you, and you cast a pleading look at Lucien.

Lucien prepares another bowl of rice for you, taking your half-eaten bowl of rice away with a smile. “She doesn’t like garlic.”

“Also, I’m very particular about cleanliness, and I don’t eat things touched by someone else’s chopsticks.” You add, causing your ex-classmate to feel slightly embarrassed.

“They’re just some common home dishes. Do help yourself to them.” Lucien dispels the tension in the air, but you can sense the discomfort of your ex-classmate.

“Try the steamed ribs in black bean sauce I just learnt how to make.”

Lucien brings a rib to your mouth, and you instinctively bite it straight from his chopsticks.

Your old classmate: ...

You seem to have forgotten how you mentioned being particular about cleanliness earlier. The taste and texture of the ribs are just right. “Lulu, your cooking skills have really improved. I want this again tomorrow!”

“Sure.” Lucien gives you an affectionate smile, giving it a try himself. It’s indeed a success.

Your old classmate: ...

He feels really full.

[ KIRO ]

Kiro has never felt so unhappy while having a meal.

He crunches the cartilage of the pork ribs, as though grinding that man’s bones into smithereens. His gaze is fierce.

When Kiro and you snuck out to go shopping, you had bumped into an old classmate, who was at best an acquaintance. Out of politeness, you mentioned that he could come over to your place for a meal sometime.

But you didn’t expect your ex-classmate to take it literally, saying that since the opportunity has presented itself, he might as well visit today. Left without a choice, you and Kiro could only return home to cook.

“Miss Chips, these are the coffee ribs we made together. You like them~” Kiro emphasises on the word “together”, looking at your ex-classmate smugly “Here~”

“This too. I specially made it for you. Try it.” Little Kiro starts rattling on.

“And this. It’s very nutritious.”

“I specially asked Savin to bring over this fresh beef. See if it tastes good?”

Watching as the food on your plate morphs into a small mountain, you release a resigned sigh. You lift your head, looking at your ex-classmate. “Go ahead and have more.”

Kiro chimes in. “That’s right, eat more. Treat it like it’s your own home. After all, Miss Chips and I don’t really know how to cook. Usually, we’ll just have fun improvising and making some dishes.”

Your old classmate: ...

Is he eating food or eating dog food?

[Note] In Chinese slang, “dog food” (狗粮) refers to public display of affection!

[ SHAW ]

“Shaw, tidy the house. Tonight, an ex-classmate from high school will be eating at our place.”

Hearing the mildly uncertain tone of the little brat over the phone as he asks if your ex-classmate is male or female, you chuckle to yourself, finding him unusually cute.

“Yup, he’s a guy.”

“Got it, got it. You’re so troublesome.” Shaw pouts at the other end of the line, picking up his keys and preparing to head out.

Bringing your old classmate over, the first thing you see at the entrance are couple photos.

They’re all mounted in elaborate frames.

Pursing your lips, you’re about to ask when and where Shaw got them. The further you step into your house, the more photos you see. The ones where you’re both fooling around, getting angry with each other, being happy...

They’re all memories of the both of you.

You fail to notice how your ex-classmates’ face turns darker and darker, and how the look in his eyes becomes gloomier.

Donned in an apron, Shaw brings out the dishes. “Your husband did the cooking today. Surprised?”

Hearing the way Shaw addressed himself, your ex-classmate immediately takes a step backwards. “Sorry, the fuel in my house exploded and I need to put out the fire. We’ll meet again next time!”

You: ???

Shaw: Tch, at least he knows his place.

More translated and original works: here

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

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moved-to-void-kissed · 3 years

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Flowers Hiding Thorns

Telanthera’s involvement in a plot to overthrow a cruel nobleman and distribute his wealth among the rest of the court is accidentally revealed to none other than the head of the nobleman’s household servants, Camellia. Luckily, the situation finds itself working out much more smoothly than either woman first expected. (1256 words)

Made it just in time for this to be my piece for the twenty-first day of sapphic September!! This is also the first piece of content I’ve created for my selfship with Camellia, who is an OC created by @vampking! Technically, this takes place before our relationship actually starts, but.. it still counts, right

Reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but by no means required! Comments should be enabled on the document (which is how I recommend reading it) if anyone wishes to leave any comments, but a transcript is also available below the readmore.

The estate’s regal presence was clear even in the depths of night-time, as the shadows of imposing buildings loomed ominously over their painstakingly-managed grounds. Only a few lonely figures could be seen moving through the mansion, as all those who were awake would have been lowly servants restoring the halls to their peak condition for the apparent benefit of the noble’s guests. Such effort on their part was only a small piece of a grand social affair, designed solely to impress to excess - and the woman holding the wax-sealed letter was sick of it.

“You know I can’t abide by his needless extravagance,” she was muttering in a low voice to a tall man standing in the corner of the room. “All this has to end, for the benefit of all of us.”

“And it very well will, with your assistance in this affair.” replied the man, similarly quietly. “The weightier the fool’s throne, the harder it inevitably crashes down when he sits upon it, no?”

“Yes, quite true,” the lady nodded, before stepping closer to hand over the letter she was holding. It contained a long list of the observations she had made of the estate the two were currently staying in, little insights and quirks of the buildings or the servants’ paths from her perspective. Although they were not perfect, given the lady’s position as a noblewoman, they were nevertheless more useful than anything her peers could have picked up on if asked to, since her early years were spent in a position much closer to a servant than their master, and even despite rising into the higher ranks of the social circles, she always maintained a courtesy and gratitude towards those who assisted her in some way.

“You’ve made the right choice here, Telanthera.”

This remark earned the man a glare that was only half-obscured by the low light, and the lady’s response came in a much less smirk-filled tone. “I suggest you don’t use any names here unless you want a listening ear throwing a spanner in all your well-planned works.”

“Oh, but of course, my dear. Now then, on the note of such, we’d best leave it here, don’t you think?” he asked, stepping back off of the curtain he had been leaning on with the merest sound. “It’s in all our best interests to have you here to assist.”

The man left the room with the smug confidence of one who has always known power and fortune, closing the door behind him silently. Telanthera felt she had done what she needed to, and after taking a moment to compose herself, she also opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. It was long and sprawling, still somehow retaining an air of pompous grandeur in the relative darkness, but the darkness gave it an ominous nature, as well.

As the noblewoman carefully tried to keep her movements quiet yet without provoking suspicion, her mind decided to worry about the consequences of her actions. What would she do if someone caught her out of her bedroom this late at night? One of the most low-ranking servants might be tirelessly cleaning or adjusting the curtains; she supposed she would have to try and emulate enough menace to convince them not to talk about seeing her, though she doubted whether such a tactic would work. It probably would, given that those kinds of people were thought of as expendable and nameless by the tyrant - which is what she tended to call the man whose estate she and other nobles were currently staying in, the man a small selection of those other nobles (which now, as of this night, included herself) were planning to topple and seize the numerous assets of. He was not their direct ruler, so she hesitated to think of these acts as revolution - but he definitely acted like he owned everyone and everything, and at the end of the day, seeing him crumble was all that was important.

That plan should work, she thought to herself, nervously. As long as I don’t run into someone more loyal to the tyrant, someone higher up in the hierarchy, I’ll be alright.

At that moment, the exact sort of person Telanthera hoped not to meet appeared in front of her.

The woman’s bright green eyes seemed heartless and icy in the low light, and her expression belied no hint of surprise or of being caught off-guard. Despite the late hour, her dark brown hair was still tied tightly in a long ponytail, as if she was always on-duty and ready to act. Her dark suit was impeccably neat and proper as well, matching the unmistakeable air of authority she was exuding.

“Camellia Smith, head of the household, in charge of managing household affairs and new servants.” Telanthera had written this down a short time ago in the letter of information she had just handed over, and the fact she was extremely unsure of what to do caused her to absent-mindedly state these facts aloud.

“..That’s correct. I doubt most of my liege’s guests would take the time to recall that as well as you apparently have.” replied Camellia, now also somewhat unsure of how to respond. But such feelings never lasted in someone as well-trained as she was, and she quickly regained control of the situation, standing steadfastly before the nervous noblewoman.

“Might I ask what has caused you to be awake so late at night, my lady?”

“It’s- I-” Such a loss for words was something no person of noble birth should experience, having painstakingly practiced the finer details of etiquette and proper composure from a young age. However, Telanthera was not well-accustomed to the position the Amaranth family had recently reached, and some would argue this meant she was not well-fitting for it, either.

Camellia pressed on, and in the process, confirmed Tel’s worst fear. “If I may, it would not be wise to leave the door of your room ajar with writing implements visible on the table.”

She knew about their plans! Surely someone so important within the tyrant’s servants would expose them!

“Every step should be taken to keep confidential matters and business out of the knowledge of those they do not concern. Surely you understand why this is important now?”

Again, Telanthera was lost for words, though this time because the servant had said something she was not expecting. Was this some elaborate method to try and get more information out of her?

Then something even more unexpected happened.

“I trust you can make your own way back to your room, my lady?”

“I- That is true, yes. There’s no need for you to accompany me, Miss Camellia.” Telanthera asserted, still rather nervous.

Something about this brought the tiniest hint of a smile to Camellia’s face. “Very well then. I wish you a good night’s rest, my lady.” With this said, she began to walk away, in the direction Telanthera had come from.

“A-And the same to yourself, Camellia. However, regarding what you may have seen-”

“Don’t worry.”

What?

She turned to face the lady with the confidence of any noblewoman. “You may already have noticed this, but my brother is also a servant here. Whatever loyalties you believe lie with my liege, are reserved only for him.”

And with that, she turned the corner, seeming to disappear in an instant.

Telanthera hurried back to her own room, still confused, but now wearing a smile of relief.

Perhaps her plans were not ruined at the first hurdle after all.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #cloverse selfshipping #that's definitely not been a tag before now but I know multiple people including myself have F/Os from it so now it's a thing /lh #this post is okay to reblog!#sapphicseptember2021 #selfship #selfshipping #love: tea for the liege (camellia)#selfship: a dance of endeavours (camellia/telanthera)#self‑insert: scourge of royalty (telanthera)#this is technically pre-relationship but it's fine right #have some worldbuilding #it's nearly midnight #selwyn i really hope this is okay #I am readily going to admit that this may not be my best work but hopefully I’ll have more time tomorrow for something #I think it’s Aqua time again #I say that because I’ve been trying to keep the selfships varied rather than doing too many of the same ones in a row

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