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daisys-reality · 22 days ago

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PAC: What mythical creature would like to guide you on your life/shifting journey (advice) ? ♡ ๑

general tarot reading disclaimers apply here, don't limit yourself to this in any way. you can read this even if you're not a reality shifter! dividers were made by me, the pictures are from pinterest but edited by me. this reading has been requested by one of my followers! for more tarot readings, check out my masterlist. now, think about your life or your reality shifting journey so far and choose an image from above and read your pile. i can feel that many of you might feel drawn to more than one reading! you can also choose an emoji btw:

📥 ࿔ 💿 ࿔ 📤

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 📥 the dragons 🐲

Hello my pile one shifters 👋 for you guys, I got some advice from the dragons ... this was only done with oracle cards and my intuition, I didn't feel the need to draw any tarot cards but I will still call this a tarot reading out of principle. I hope you don't mind :3

▪︎ You might have always been drawn to the supernatural, the mythical or magical part of this world since you were a kid. The dragons can see that you have a gift for seeing the unseen and knowing the unknown - be more aware of those talents. You are a very spiritually strong individual and your energy is very potent. Especially when your mind is clear, your operating at your highest frequency - so always try to clear your mind before making decisions about your life/journey/going through with your shift. While your interacting with so many (heavy) energies, things, people in your daily life - because of your sensitive nature (strong senses, and not weakness!)- its important that have healthy outlets to balance it out, like having a healthy diet, joyful times with friends and family, regular self-study times and things like that. You neglecting your life balance (-> you feeling ungrounded), and you clouding your mind with your otherthinking tendencies (-> you becoming hypersensitive) is contraproductive in regards to your shifting journey, or rather in regards to you awakening your full potential! Be more mindful please. I can't stress enough how super duper effective it would be for you if you started your own little daily mediation routine - it would make you sooo powerful!! You would actively train your mind powers lol. Your current confines are like ant-sized in comparison to your energetic existence.

▪︎ Also, your whole being (energetically) is so gracful (even if you don't 'behave' graceful irl and are more rough and untamed). Your energy is peak sophistication. Your awareness is very intense. It's like your always hyperaware of your surroundings - you always naturally dive into it fully, which gives you the ability to intensely experience the world you live in but it can also make you struggle detaching from it because the attachment is already formed. Your mind ends up clouded with worry which leaves you standing in the fog wondering how to get out again? From which direction did you even come from? How did you end up there in the first place? Everything just happened so quickly, it was just a brief moment and then you were already there...fully involved.. a part of that world. But who were you outside of this? You don't even remember your former self anymore... but do you need to? Honestly, no! You have put so much effort into building yourself up, cultivating yourself in this world. This is all you, even if you decide to leave this world behind. It's time to be more present - don't focus on the past (you) or future (you or alternative 'you's), its all in the mind anyway. Darling, just sit down for a moment, find your breath and notice the abundant energy surrounding you and let it nourish your gentle soul. Also little tip on the side, make your home a cozy home and enjoy good food with many nutrients - you deserve it ♡

▪︎ So, back to what the dragons have to tell you: Everyone lives confined within their own mental cage (this moldable, ever-shifting reality) - holding us all in place while also holding us back from our greatest potential- limiting us at the most unconscious level. This cage shifts and morphs as we grow and live forward - it is very multilayered. Breaking through requires awareness, continued effort, and bravery from you because once you break through one layer, another one presents itselfs to you. What's important for you now is to keep going forward, to break through every layer. Don't ever stop - the unique life you desire requires it from you. The dragons understand that moving outside can be exhilarating but also destabilising for us humans. In addition to that many companions in your life might not understand what you're going through and might not pose as a reliable support in this journey, and you too might struggle understanding what you're going through/heading towards at times - but this is part of the process. Leaving the confines - the known- behind, you're stepping into the unknown. So the advice is: Even if you feel scared, deep down you know, that you should choose freedom. So, take that step out of your comfort zone, be brave!

▪︎ Remember that your life is about you. It's not your responsibility to take care of everybody's problems - even from your so called friends or family. This is solely about you. Let go of those toxic attachments and (emotional and mental) baggage you took on over the past years. Just burn it down!! Worrying about those things and thinking about a solution for everyone will not bring you closer to your personal ideal world but further away. Who are you doing this for? Who asked you to do this? Who will thank you for it? Didn't you just decide it yourself? Please realise that this is meant to be done BY yourself FOR yourself only. This is just about you, be a bit more selfish. </3

▪︎ Notice how you often forget to take a breather, how you get a little numb to everthing and start spiralling when life gets too hectic and too overwhelming... If you never pause and take a moment to fully recognise the good you have every now and then, then the bad stuff in life will always knock you down much harder than it would have otherwise. So, try to consciously slow down and focus on the present moment from time to time, to re-center yourself and your focus. As I said before, when your mind is clear, you then know what you should focus on and then your energy rises in potency! Some of you might think you thrive on chaos or stress but what strengthen your drive are not those things, rather your will to flee and escape those said things! But when you focus only on escaping again and again, are you even looking ahead? Do you even know what you should head for? Do you know what would do you good? What life would actually make you happy? I think you're pretty confused at the moment because your focus is still set on escaping and not on thriving - you need to rewire that! You lived with that outdated focus already for too long. Even if it made you come a long way, having achieved many things, it's time to literally shift your focus!

Let me know if you enjoyed this and whether this resonated or not! 💫

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾 💿 the fairies🧚‍♀️

Hello my pile two darlings 💫 for you guys, I got some little advice from the fairies! This reading was only done with oracle cards and my intuition, I didn't feel the need to draw any tarot cards but I will still call this a tarot reading out of principle. I hope you don't mind :3

▪︎ Ok, first of all, a more metaphorical message. Your tears are magical, and have the ability to open portals for you! Every time you cry, you release all the emotions that have been building up within you, you let them go and let them run their natural course. The moment you allow yourself to cry, you break into the next level of intimacy and vulnerability with yourself and others. In those times, you can sense how human you are. It humbles you, and you may even allow yourself to be held by yourself, the universe, or your loved ones. So, grieve it all that still lingers and release it. If you feel like you have to let yourself sink down in disappointments, melancholy or despair - do it, once you acknowledged it and released all your tears, it will bring you a shimmer of clarity to your innocent doe eyes💧✨️ Negative thinking, intrusive thoughts and doubts hold you back? Nah, that's not the case with you! They bring you even closer - even if the journey feels turbulent and difficult, you will always rise from the ashes of your grief anew like a phoenix, getting stronger and more powerful every time with a much clearer vision. It's how you process it all and how you purge the overdue and old baggage and make space for your dreams.

▪︎ You need to become friends with yourself! The fairies want you to speak more gently and kindly to yourself. Maybe practice doing so in front of a mirror. The fairies want you to purify your awareness and for you, to look deeper within and witness this "deeper self" that has been hidden and overshadowed by all that you perceive and consume in this world - distorting your sense of self. In this world, everything can be like a mirror - they can shatter, flatter, distort, reflect, or project an image back to you that you think to be true... You are very vulnerable to this. You might be someone who easily and quickly starts obsessing over things or who falls easily for people and ideas - fixations in your life that lead you astray... you need to realize this power and danger this mirroring effect this world has - especially on you. It can help you connect and bring you closer to your true self, or it can do the opposite. This world can be tricky to handle. The fairies want you to put your phone down for once and to stop all the comparisons and the fixations and to let this mirror world stand empty for some time... instead, rest and spend time with your 'deeper self', the pure and not-distorted you.

▪︎ The faries can see that you've been suffering for too long and that something needs to change or rather transform. You should not run from or deny the uncomfortable things in life or burn everything down by rage. In the past (years), you lived your life driven by the unconscious mind and all its fears and aversions. It's time that you for once and all take a stand and decide to live consciously instead. You should no longer run from who you are, from what has happened to you or from what you have done in the past. Release the 'dead-weight' so that the sky can clear up and the sun can finally shine its light into your life so that you can lighten your spirit and so that you begin recognising yourself again. And perhaps you will see something that hasn't been there before! Allow the transformation. Free yourself from the suffering and shift your whole essence. If you're into chakra work, it might be helpful if you work on your first three chakras - root, sacral and solar plexus, especially focusing on movement from the first to the third for the energy to evolve)

▪︎ Again, I see the fairies strongly emphasising that you should treat yourself like a friend or as your true best friend. Try to put some time in your daily routine to unplug, to step back and to relax and spend some quality time with yourself. For some of you, trying out yoga videos on YouTube might be something you would enjoy, also guided meditations, trying out reading a book with a genre you usually don't go for, taking a morning stroll around your neighbourhood and maybe discovering places you've never been to before! When we explore different/new things, we also get to know more about ourselves, having new reactions, thoughts, feelings and realisations about us and this world. So take the time in your life to recharge, in that way you also pay respect to yourself, treating yourself with kindness. For some of you who are a bit more advanced with perhaps witchcraft, trying out simple spells might helpful - with that you can practice focusing your attention on something as well as setting intentions and making decisions on what you truly want.

▪︎ Another message for you: You might be a lot on your phone and spend a lot of time scrolling through, e.g., shifttok, shiftblr, and other reality shifting posts. To you, it might feel like everyone is confidently chattering of how confident they are in their shifting skills, beliefs or experiences and about how free they feel - which you wish you could relate to, but you "haven't gotten there yet". Listen: It's alright. Learning skills and gaining confidence usually don't happen instantly or overnight. (Usually! I'm not saying it's impossible) But shifting your mindset and transforming it to be the one, e.g., that can shift instantly, which might take some time, practice and quite a bit of unlearning of toxicity. But you know, miracles can happen, and nothing is impossible. Take the advice to heart, but stay always stay open-minded and excited for all the good things that can happen in life! Sometimes life takes unexpected turns 👀.

▪︎ Other activities that might help connect with your true self and help you progress on your shifting journey: Putting on a candle & meditating while focusing on the flame; putting on your favourite songs and dancing to them freely (it'll help you find inner harmony); spending time in nature and enjoying the weather/different seasons; breathing deeply/breath work; relaxation exercises; doing spellwork (be careful though!); mirror work; crying sessions lol; doing little rituals or offerings to yourself, nature, your dr or the universe and asking for help or guidance (you can make a little altar & and decorate it lovingly, you can offer little things, e.g. a crystal, a coin, an apple whatever - your intentions counts, its also good exercise to set intention and to strengthen your focus on what you want); writing something down on paper (a question, request or a burden) and burn it, releasing it to the universe - be very attentive in the days afterwards, pay attention to your dreams and sudden thoughts they can give you hints/answers; travelling and exploring unknown places; gazing at nature and animals; sunbathing 🌞👒

Let me know if you enjoyed this and whether this resonated or not! 💫

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 📤 demonic entity❤️‍🔥

Hello pile three🫶🏻 for you guys, I got some advice from a demonic entity🐈‍⬛. This reading was only done with oracle cards and my intuition, I didn't feel the need to draw any tarot cards but I will still call this a tarot reading out of principle. I hope you don't mind :3

▪︎ You might feel at times like you're being haunted by this life or the universe. There is this big and at times all-consuming feeling of lack within you, of wanting, of craving to fill yourself with something, anything literally (if you're desperate enough). You might have always felt a deep longing for something meaningful in your life. In your heart, you know that there's "more out there" waiting for you in the world. The past few years might have left you feeling pretty disoriented, desperate for direction, grasping for meaning, and longing for a solid foundation. Especially at this time, you might have really struggled with being confronted with this lack of clarity and existential dread. This part of the journey you're on does not offer any comfort in this regard, but everyone has to pass through it. You're stepping through wastelands right now. If you can embrace this discomfort for now, KNOWING that you will soon reach more abundant lands, you can tap into potent energy. The dark and the bright sides, the ebbs, and the lows of this journey strengthen your vision and your creativity (creative energy). You have already found truths about yourself and this world that would have otherwise remained hidden and you will find more. Remember that you are not alone and you have more tools at hand than you think. Turn towards the discomfortable aspects of this journey instead of away. Spend some time in silence, being patient and sitting through these moments of not knowing, to find out your true vision and purpose, before you go around attaching superficial meanings to plans/activities "because it's what I should do next or because it's what's expected of me" just to save face - no, no, no. Be with the nothingness. Be with the impatience. Emptiness has immense powers - if you can settle into it, you will hear its whisper of wisdom soon. Some of you should try out practising entering the void state maybe!

▪︎ At this time, you might have fallen in the mental trap of 'nothing is ever enough' - feeling a lingering sense of dissatisfaction and dis-engament ... but the problem, or rather the issue lies within you. What you crave is your own validation that you are enough, that you are someone with value. When you fill your heart and are less dependent on external validation and input, only then you see the true value of this world you live in. It may seem empty/meaningless to you right now, but it's actually full of potential (like the void), yet you keep seeing it as 'not enough' - "always needing more and more to fill this uncomfortable hole". Do not ever doubt your worth. You're capable of so many wonderful things, and you deserve all the wonderful things in the world. There will always be someone in your life who doubts what you're capable of (looking at all those antis), but this should not distract or influence you! Especially when you're confronted with someone like this, you should step up and decide to be your own biggest fan and supporter! Regardless of all the outside opinions, please believe wholeheartedly in yourself, your worth, and what you're capable of !!! This is coming in strongly. Tell yourself YOU ARE ENOUGH (sorry for screaming lmao). Also, this demonic entity just wants to forcefully shake you awake to make you see how valuable you are and how much potential you have inside !! And they also want you to start feeding yourself with nutritious food that reflects your self-love, self-kindness, and self-confidence that you have. Do not put things into your body that make you feel bad! And pelase do not focus too much on presenting yourself a certain way, especially on social media but also in your DRs. Others shouldn't matter on your journey or at least they shouldn't be your main focus. Don't share everything with the outside world, some things are better meant to be kept to yourself. Let others for once wonder about what you're doing, be less transparent.

▪︎ This entity sees that you have this queen energy (regardless of your gender) within you - and there is something dualistic about the queen. She can be graceful and eloquent when she rules over her realm, inspiring her people, or she can fall into disdainful, petty moods looming over the realm like a dark cloud. In the rightful position/space, you can be so radiant, forgiving, and patient, trusting that the gods (felt the need to say gods) have your back. For your journey, you should try to embody this positive energy of the queen role more - develop deep trust in yourself and your existence, devolpe your resolve (& set clear intentions), and strengthen your power! This demonic entity wants you to put your anxious nature aside because you should fear nothing, even they can see that divinity itself holds you dear. There are so many entities that have your back. So, be still and listen but move with courage and resolve when you decide to move forward. And be careful with your tendency to fall into wrath, self-righteousness, or an overly demanding attitude. For now, they just want you to do things that make you feel good/better about yourself and your existence in this world, do things that warm your heart and make you feel alive. Listen to your heart for once and give yourself some love. Give yourself the comfort that this journey right now doesn’t provide. What's important (& helpful to you on your journey) is that you invest some time in self-care - whatever you wanna do. Treat yourself to some sweets (sweetened strawberries maybe?), idk, remove all your makeup and uncomfortable clothes, put on something comfy, and make yourself feel good !!

▪︎ And last but not least, I want to emphasise one more time, that you should really do something about this unhealthy 'more, more, more' mentality (your addictions to consume and to be validated to fill this gap within); give yourself some validation and realise that there is endless potential in emptiness. If you feel empty right now, know that you have endless potential within you, and you can do anything with it - whatever you truly desire !! So, what's required from you right now is to clear your mind and heart first, then to be decisive about what you want, and then to be willing to act on it. Once you do, you might face some opposition, people telling you that you're being hasty (they don't know what you've been through) but sometimes it is better to be honest, swift and direct when you act instead of hesitating and procrastinating all the time. And I think you would prolly go crazy if this takes any longer lmao. You can no longer hesitate. This is a journey of you becoming yourself. Sometimes we have to put an end to something and to cut it from your life to grow. So, cut through what's essential and release all the old baggage you're still carrying with you. All this is happening for the sake of your transformation, you're being pushed to be the best and brightest version of yourself, so that you stop at nothing. You're meant to be spiritually and physically strong - and you are already stronger than you think! So, believe in yourself, be courageous and step into the unknown - I know you can do it.

Let me know if you enjoyed this and whether this resonated or not! 💫

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 3 months ago

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i can def see voodoo!reader not being herself ever again if she cannot practice her true self. image her losing everything, her sparks and the batfamily reaction??

they will never see that smile again.

they are just a empty shell

I feel like the Batfam will try to mirror her religion as hard as they can, so you can do your ceremonies, pray to your lwa, offer food, and dance for your altar. You’re most likely to wake up early before everyone else to dance for Bondye as the morning sun rises, not just to praise your lord or expel your amulet of darkness, but to avoid Bruce and the others. It's like a game of cat and mouse; you have to escape them at all costs. But soon they figure out your morning dancing, and by the goddesses, now you're dancing for them every early morning, like a little puppet on a string—maybe a wind-up ballerina in a box—except they won't stop winding you up. Bruce will find a new dress for you to wear, the most luxurious one he can find. He knows you dance for Erzulie, so why not wear something expensive to show how much you care? Not because he wants to see a little girl in a dress he picked out for her. Dick, oh god, might just be the worst out of them; he'll brag about you like you're some kind of mythical creature, like you're out of this world. You’re not. He's so invested in your life that he's starting to invade your personal space. He's the reason why you can't dance in the morning anymore. Jason, my god, he's controlling. If you see someone playing on the drums in the Gotham subway and you're feeling the beat, you start dancing. Then a group surrounds you, clapping on beat with the drums. You use your dress as a way to guide your movements. You're having so much fun until you see a tall man in a red hoodie staring at you with those bright green eyes. You drop your dress to your sides and immediately stop moving, saying "sorry" in a soft voice and running over to Jason. If you didn't know any better, he looks like he might shoot up the whole subway. Tim, oh, he's getting bad at hiding his newfound obsession—YOU. He installed cameras all around the manor. If you're cleaning up with Alfred while listening to music, he’ll see you do some freestyle dances. It’s even better when you think no one’s around, so you blast music in your room, but there’s a camera there. He’s laughing as he watches his baby sis dance her heart out. He'll never share these videos with the fam; they're for him and only him—his pretty bird in a cage. Duke will learn how to dance or drum just so you don't have to go to your temple. Sometimes he goes off beat since he's so busy watching you; it makes you misstep, and you fall on your butt laughing. Now Duke’s obsession is getting worse. Sometimes he picks up the pace or slows it down just to watch you stumble; that way, he has an excuse to help you up or make your time at the manor longer. His little sis is struggling with the dances; he has to help, or else how will she become high priestess? But behind that sweet smile, as his strong hands help you up, he’s going behind your back to elder mambo, telling them you’re not capable of being high priestess if you can’t get the dance right. Don’t be mad; he’s looking after you. Damian, good goddesses, he's acting like a little boy. "'Ukht story please," he says in a sweet voice, pulling on your dress. You can't even notice his yandere tendencies, but they're strong. He's acting like a sweet little boy sitting on your lap as you tell him the story of the Great Bondye. He’s staring at you the whole time. "'Ukht stay still; I want to paint you." He draws you like a goddess dancing in the hot rain. He'll sit in your lap at breakfast, sticking his tongue out at the others. But don’t be fooled by that cute face; he’s just as bad. These boys are tiring, Indra. You have no time to clear out your amulet of darkness, and you're missing your church and your lwa. You need a long break before you go insane. You miss your mambo, the girls you used to dance with, the marching parade—you miss it all. Oh, great Bondye, whatever will you do? The serpents are sucking you dry of all your love and joy; they're ruining you. But what the lwa value more is family. Should you stick to family?

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kiame-sama · 9 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 6

(Quickly running out of Monster men drawings to use as my chapter pictures. May be a hot minute until I get the next chapter out since my laptop can barely stay conscious long enough to draw another one and I want to only use the monster AU versions of the characters for this series.)

Warnings; multiple yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, monster AU, eating Humans mentioned, more AU history, Cater is not having a very Cay-Cay day, food is an excellent way to bring groups together, Fauns, Satyrs, Kelpies, Crow Fae, Unicorns, Water Nymphs, vampire bats, dragons, cervitaurs, Raiju, Mermen, Cecaelia, Gnolls,

~~~~~~~~

Lunch finally rolled around and you were surprised that Ace and Deuce had actually taken Trey's words seriously and accompanied you to classes. Ace had loudly complained about his volunteering for a little bit but once he saw how many students actually took an interest in you, he stopped complaining and started viewing the task as a kind of important role only he could do. Naturally, Deuce was far less irate about the situation though there were times he almost came across as a punk when it came to others trying to harass you. Both had adjusted well to being around you and come lunch Deuce was actually taking pride in explaining things to you.

"-and that's what makes Fauns different from Satyrs."

"So Fauns are the nicer version of Satyrs?"

"For the most part. Satyrs are known for being loud and always wanting to fight-"

Ace cut Deuce off, shoving an uncooked carrot into the Faun's mouth to silence him. You had seen the two interact and you got the distinct feeling that the Faun and Satyr had more of a brotherly relationship with one another. Where they both had different personalities, when they did agree on something it was practically a law to them.

It was fascinating to hear that these monster men had similar names to the mythical creatures from your world and you wondered why such an overlap existed. Maybe the Humans from your world did interact with this world in the past, or maybe it was just a coincidence. Still, it seemed almost too close to be mere coincidence.

"Anyway, now that Dunce here is done talking-"

"You know my name is Deuce-"

"Like I said, now that Dunce is done talking, I have questions for you, (Y/n)."

You almost laughed at the back and forth banter of the two Goats- Faun and Satyr respectively- as their voices fumbled over one another. Truth was, you had been expecting far more questions than the few they threw at you between classes, so now was as good a time as any to ask.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"So, you don't have magic? Like, at all?"

"No magic whatsoever. Where I came from, magic is a myth and no creatures have magic."

"Okay. But how do Humans survive? No horns, no claws, nothing to protect themselves from bigger creatures."

"We make weapons. I know you all have bows, arrows, and knives, we have the same. Guns too, but I haven't seen any guns used here."

"Wait, what is a gun?"

"Basically an automatic bow that fires little pieces of metal using explosive powder that needs a spark which launches the metal through their target."

Ace seemed almost excited by your vague explanation of a gun, opening his mouth to ask you another question. His voice died in his throat as his gaze locked onto something behind you, prompting you to turn around to look at whatever it was that had unsettled Ace.

Standing not too far from you was the large figure of the Horse-man Trey. Ace told you he was a Kelpie, but you just couldn't make that connection seeing as he looked like a big white horse and not a water kelp-horse like Kelpies were supposed to be. He was clearly making good on his threat to check in as he approached you with a patient smile on his face.

"Hello (Y/n), have Heartslabyul's first-years been adequate guides for you today?"

"Yes. Grim doesn't even have to try half as hard to keep me safe now and I haven't been late to any of my classes other than the first one."

Trey gave a genuine smile at this, nodding his head as he was pleased to know his choice had been a good one. Seeing the centaur made you wonder about Cater and what may have become of the air-head student. In some ways, you worried asking would have a negative effect, but you were so curious you couldn't help but inquire about him.

"So... What happened to Cater?"

"He is being dealt with by the Headmage. He's lucky he isn't going to get expelled for what he did, but once the Headmage is done with his punishment, he's going to be turned over to Riddle."

"Is Riddle mad about all of this?"

"Well... I actually haven't told Riddle yet. He has a short fuse and isn't going to take Cater's actions well, especially since he asked both Cater and I to protect you if we happened across you. Odds are Cater is going to be collared and kicked out of his room for the foreseeable future."

This made you frown in contemplation at the prospect of the Red-haired student being punished too harshly. Though you were upset Cater took photos of you without asking and likely set several poachers on your trail, you didn't want harm to come to him. Sure, he was stupid and made a stupid choice, but he shouldn't be hurt or kicked out of his home for it.

"... If he is kicked out of his room, is there anywhere else he can go?"

"No. Riddle is very strict about rule-breakers being banned from the dorms so long as they have one of his collars on, and most other dorms aren't keen to house a student that isn't theirs. He's probably going to be sleeping in the Heartslabyul lake if Riddle doesn't ban him from there too."

The morality of the issue weighed on you and made you worry about the ditzy redhead. Though you didn't really trust Cater or his clearly impaired decision making skills, you still felt like he deserved basic decency despite his actions. You knew firsthand how the creatures that lived around campus were genuinely terrifying and dangerous, so you didn't want him thrown to the metaphorical or actual wolves.

"Can... can Cater stay in my dorm?"

Your question earned you several dubious looks from the Goats and Trey as if you had grown another head or said something unhinged. Even Grim had to pause his hesitant raw veggie medley- the only thing the cafeteria served today- to stare at you in surprise.

"You- you want Cater in your dorm? Why?"

"Well, it wasn't like he knew what he was doing was bad, and I don't think he should be left outside for his poor choice."

"(Y/n), do you realize how vicious poachers are in Twisted Wonderland? You will be hunted every moment of every day because Cater couldn't keep himself from posting you to that stupid Magicam app he is obsessed with. The second you are unguarded you will be attacked. The Headmage is even considering assigning Sam and Vargas to your dorm just to make sure poachers can't get in, or even moving you to Diasomnia so Malleus can protect you. I don't think you understand just how seriously we need to take your safety."

"I'm just a Human though, I'm not a princess or someone important. Why all the fuss?"

Your comment made Trey let out a long and exasperated sigh, his gaze leaving your confused form as he tried to keep in mind just how new you were to their world. Humans were never just Humans in Twisted Wonderland, and them simply dying out has made a far felt ripple in the history of every known species. For so long, so many species had adored and tried to protect Humans, but even they couldn't save the fragile species from the hunger so many magic users had for their very flesh.

Most things in the technological realm and cooking realm- pastries and phones included- only existed because Humans led the way to them being invented. Even now, technology has been mostly stagnant for over a hundred years with only the Shrouds having any aptitude as far as advancements were concerned. Trey himself had Humanity to thank for his family's bakery and the many cuisines local to the Queendom of Roses.

"(Y/n), Humans have never been 'just Humans' to us. Maybe to Sunset Savana, but never to the Queendom of Roses. Even Briar Valley had laws in place to protect your kind from everyone else. I get you may not understand it, but compared to most other species, Humans were better than most in the emotional and critical thinking department. It was Humans creating new inventions, coming up with unique ideas, and above all else, peacekeeping between the various species and races to the point they were called Beast-Tamers. Most wouldn't even speak to their Fae counterparts until Humans got the two to interact amicably."

You were somewhat surprised to hear all of this, having been under the impression that Humans were mainly pets to the other species. It was interesting to hear what Humans were credited for and that despite all they did to help, they were still hunted as food until extinction. The few from Savanaclaw you interacted with had been both sides of the spectrum of threatening you or being peaceful to you and it made you wonder just what kind of species were still keen to get a taste of your forbidden flesh.

"Honestly," Trey continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if several Kingdoms and Queendoms sent ambassadors to take you away from Night Raven for your own safety. I just know the international law makers are going to have a field day the moment it becomes common knowledge that you're here."

It made sense that Trey was stressed about this, you knew from your own home how aggressively endangered and near-extinct species had to be protected, but you still felt Cater shouldn't carry all the blame. If it wasn't Cater, it would have been someone else. Just because he was the fool to do it first didn't mean that others wouldn't have tried or succeeded in the same endeavor.

"Still, if he gets kicked out of the dorms tonight, will you at least tell him I will let him stay with me?"

"If you really want me to," he sighed heavily, "I guess I can tell Cater about your offer. I won't tell Riddle though, knowing how that Unicorn is, he will actually harm Cater for even thinking about taking shelter with you after what he's done."

~•§•~

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Riddle was beside himself with rage and even stomped his hooves against the marble floors of the Headmage's office, almost cracking the stone with his rage. Cater was trying to sink into his chair and hide from the Sophomore Housewarden who was beyond the point of furious with the water Nymph. Not only did he get a dressing-down from the Headmage, but he was going to be thrown at the mercy of his own Housewarden who was known for being an absolute hard-ass on rule breakers.

"It wasn't like I was trying to target her! I just-"

"SILENCE! YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, CATER DIAMOND!"

The firm tone Riddle used made Cater shut his mouth and bow his head, trying to avoid upsetting the Unicorn further. There was no way he would be able to go back to his room at this rate and odds are he would be sleeping in the forest if Riddle had anything to say about it. Plus, he still had that essay to write for Trein that was due tomorrow.

"He apparently took a selfie with (Y/n) and posted it to Magicam with hashtags indicating she is Human. By the time I got him to delete the post, it had been downloaded several thousand times. Since then I have already received a call from the Royal Sword Academy Headmage to confirm a Human lives here now, and what we as the heads of our schools can do to protect her. No doubt representatives from Briar Valley and the Queendom of Roses have already been dispatched and will arrive on the island soon enough, not to mention how many poachers are likely on their way here as we speak."

Cater knew how upset Riddle was given the fact the Unicorn's horn was humming loudly with magic and the Unicorn himself was a bright red. Things really weren't coming up Cay-Cay today.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

~•§•~

You felt a bit more comfortable with the school as a whole by the time classes had finished for the day. Practical Magical Theory was an interesting class, even if you really didn't have the faintest idea what they were talking about. According to Ace, you were lucky you didn't have Flight Class because there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to participate in the class itself. Still, you were happy to have a moment to let things settle down for a bit.

Ace and Deuce walked you to your dorm, but had been called to Heartslabyul by a quick text from Trey, leaving you alone in the dorm with Grim. Despite the beginning of the day being an absolute wash, the rest of the day hadn't been too bad. It was around this time you decided you may as well start on making some dinner. You could hear Grim's stomach growling already as you both went to the kitchen.

"Are you gonna make something good like you did for breakfast?"

"I'm going to try to."

"What are you gonna make?"

"Well, I was thinking we have the stuff here for a really nice soup-"

You were promptly cut off by the Kitchen door swinging open with a loud bang. Clearly, you were going to have to tell the professors or even the Headmage Crow about securing that side door given how it had already been used twice by others seeking to get into your dorm. Luckily for you, those that walked through the door had at least two familiar faces in the group.

"Sorry for interrupting," Lilia called out, happily making his way over to you in an almost bouncy gait, much like a bird hopping around, "hope you don't mind I brought Malleus, Silver, and Sebek too. I heard one of the Heartslabyul students blew the whistle on you being here in NRC. Figured you could use a bit of extra protection in case any poachers try their luck. Besides, the nest here is just as big as Malleus' nest in Diasomnia."

It was then Malleus spoke, his voice a deep rumble in his chest as he looked over you.

"They will not lay a hand upon my hoard without paying with their lives for such a transgression."

It was clear the Dragon was not happy with the events that took place and he seemed to be quite content claiming you as one of his Hoard. When Lilia explained it to you last night, apparently the moment Malleus decided he was adding someone to his Hoard, he became extremely attached to that person and would even become violent in their defense. Given the way others talked about him, he must have been a genuinely frightening and powerful person to command such fear and respect.

"... So does that mean I'm making soup for all of you or..?"

"If you don't mind. I certainly want another bite of your cooking, (Y/n)!"

Lilia took his perch back on the counter and swung his feet, seeming rather impish and almost childish in his behavior. You just shrugged and nodded, gathering enough ingredients to feed the group several times over. Your hope was that there would be some left over for you to take during lunches. As nice as it was to have raw foods once in a while, you'd rather your meals be cooked.

Grim clearly only trusted Lilia and sat next to the Bat to watch you bustle around the kitchen. He even let out a soft purr when Lilia began to pet his forehead and ears. Where you would have scolded them for sitting on the counter, it wasn't like you didn't have enough counter space already. Starting the broth and preparation was rather simple for you and it was clear those standing around you were keen to watch you prepare the soup.

"(Y/n)," Grim meowed, "where did you learn to do all this fancy stuff?"

"Humans usually cook their food. So I just learned while growing up. Of course there are some things you can have without cooking, like a sandwich or a fruit salad, but most big meals are better cooked. Now, that doesn't mean every Human can cook well, but most are good enough at it."

"So does that mean I can have more of the food you cook?"

"Like a bigger portion? No. But you will always get to have some of whatever I make, okay?"

Grim purred loudly at this, his face lighting up with an excited smile. Clearly the little creature was pleased with your arrangement even if it meant he had to go to boring classes with you. The food was absolutely worth it and he got to sleep in a mountain of pillows and blankets after a long day. It was all way better than the hole in the ground he occupied when he wasn't actively running for his life before he met you.

Once you got most of the soup started, you knew it just needed to be covered and cooked, listening idly to Lilia talk with the others about the events of breakfast and the Gnoll that invited himself in. It was when you finally got this moment that you took a good look at the other two visitors who were either Silver or Sebek, seeing as Lilia didn't point out who was who.

Much to your surprise, one of them reminded you of the Kelpie and Unicorn you had met earlier but he had an obvious three point antler rack attached to his head. His lower half was that of a reindeer and was fairly fluffy compared to the short coats of the Kelpie and Unicorn. Part of you wanted to test if he was as soft as he looked, but you figured it would not be considered appropriate to pet him.

The second new face was an almost canine like man with pale green hair that was slicked back and spiked up at the ends. His eyes were intense as was the apparent scowl that held his features, two sharply pointed dog ears atop his head. Bright yellow-green eyes tracked your every move and regarded you with as much curiosity as you regarded him. The similar medium length tail fur swayed lazily as his tail slowly began to wag when you looked at him.

The soup was beginning to smell rather good and it was clear four of the five others in the kitchen were taking note as they occasionally sniffed the air. Lilia, Grim, Silver, and Sebek were clearly keenly interested in the scent but it was Malleus' behavior that caught your attention. Instead of sniffing or lifting his nose as the others did, his forked tongue slowly slid from between his lips like a snake as if he were tasting the air. You almost laughed at the oddly reptile behavior before his gaze suddenly snapped to the door of the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway was a curious looking man that seemed to have fins on the sides of his head. His almost scaled skin had a kind of faint green tint to it with intense blue undertones, his eyes being two different colors with the right one being a pale gray and the left one being a bright gold. Atop his head were tousled blue-green locks with a singular black stripe that crossed over his forehead above his left eye.

"Oya, it seems I'm not the only one with culinary interests. Apologies for intruding, but the lovely smell drew me in. Would you mind telling me what it is you're making?"

You were surprised to see the almost Fish-like man despite how polite he was being with you. Instead of hopping in to defend you, Lilia looked at you for what you wanted to do with this interloper. Malleus seemed rather keen to rid you of this newcomer's presence but you held up a hand to stop him from acting. Part of you worried this new visitor was dangerous, but because he was wearing a school uniform you figured he was just another student.

"Soup?"

"... May I ask what kind?"

"Only if you tell me your name first and what you were doing around my dorm."

"Ah, forgive me. It seems in my haste to get to the heart of the matter, I forgot my manners. My name is Jade Leech, I'm the Vice-Housewarden of Octavinelle. I'm going to assume from your appearance you are the highly talked-of Human now living on campus. Azul informed us that you would be remaining here for the time being. As for what I was doing, I am rather interested in the foods that grow wild above water, so I was out gathering some mushrooms to sample."

He lifted the foraging bag that hung over his shoulder, showing you the contents within. He was right in that he had gathered up a fair few number of mushrooms and there were several that you actually recognized. You were no master of mushrooms- of course- but you still recognized a few species that were safe for you to eat, seeing several button mushrooms among the many gathered.

Those would be great in the soup you were making, and it was early enough that you could add them right in and they would cook just fine.

"Okay, Jade. I believe you were at least out gathering mushrooms which is innocent enough. I'm actually curious if you wanted to trade for some of those button mushrooms you have, they'd go great in the soup I'm making. In return I'll tell you about it and you can have some to eat if you'd like."

Jade actually seemed to brighten up at this, his smile becoming less strained and his expression smoothing from the stressed way his brows had been pulled together. It was almost as if he had been wanting to ask for some soup but was far too polite to actually inquire. He nodded and set his bag on the counter, letting you pick out the little rounded white mushrooms from the selection he gathered.

"I'm quite partial to the cuisines the different kingdoms have to offer. Rare as it can be to find those who are masters of their craft, I would still like to sample the meals above the ocean waves. I would be grateful for whatever knowledge you can share with me. It isn't every day that someone adept at cooking graces this school."

"Hey," Grim interrupted loudly as you set to dicing the mushrooms, "that's my Hooman you're talking to! She only cooks for me, but I'm kind enough to share with all of you. Don't forget it, got it?"

Jade gave a rather patient simper to your primary companion, resting his right hand over his heart in an almost polite gesture.

"But of course. I'm simply interested in learning to make such meals for myself. I'm certain Azul and Floyd would be keen to taste such a wonderful smelling dish."

This seemed to satisfy your little companion as he nodded with a pleased smile, watching you add the mushrooms to the rather large pot you decided to make the soup in. Thankfully it was a cauldron type pot made for cooking soups over firepits. The fire so dutifully warming your meal crackled pleasantly even as you stirred the bubbling mixture.

"Do you want to ask them to come over, Jade? I made way too much. Honestly, everyone here could all have a bowl, a second bowl, and I would still have enough soup for the rest of the week. I think I went a little overboard in the food department. Should have probably started with a smaller pot, but we're already this far..."

Jade seemed surprised at this, but nodded respectfully and pulled out his phone. You were curious just what Jade was as you really hadn't seen many fish-men during your day, but you weren't going to ask him. If he wanted to tell you what he was, that was his business. Didn't make you any less curious though.

"If you're certain? I'm sure Floyd will be thrilled to have something new to try. He doesn't like some mushrooms, but I don't believe he has tried the ones you've selected, and he certainly hasn't tried cooked mushrooms yet. Azul may try to heckle you into a deal, however. He is always looking for new ways to improve the Monstro Lounge."

"Yeah, of course I'm certain. I offered, didn't I?"

He nodded and began tapping away at his phone, but Lilia seemed rather keen to speak up. The Bat had been listening keenly to the conversation and felt he needed to make himself clear to the notoriously crafty student.

"If Azul threatens (Y/n) or tries to force her into a deal, we will have more than a few problems, understood?"

"He is aware. Believe it or not, those of us from the Coral Sea are actually quite fond of the legacy of Humans. Even Floyd has been babbling excitedly about meeting (Y/n) here."

"That's right, Humans were popular among the various merfolk kingdoms. You all even have a famous story involving the mermaid princess falling for a Human and joining him on land."

"Yes. She struck a deal with The Sea Witch to gain legs she could use to dance for the Human man she fell in love with, too bad the deal didn't hide her gills or fins though. Still, the Human loved her."

You listened to the conversation as you stirred the soup, glad that all of the flavors seemed to be coming together rather well despite the large amount of food you found yourself making. Judging from the conversation Lilia and Jade happened to be having, Jade was a Merman of some kind and apparently Mermen were one of the 'safe species' for Humans to interact with. Though you knew not to judge an individual by the species, it did put you at ease to know he was one of the safer ones.

It was as you were taste testing the soup that the door to the kitchen once again flew open as another visitor invited themselves in. It was offical now, four times proved it was far too easy to get into your dorm through that door. Maybe Lilia would be able to fix it for you, or Malleus seeing as Lilia said it was the Dragon who had mostly fixed up your current abode.

"(Y/n), you're an absolute angel! I thought I was going to have to sleep in the woods once Riddle temporarily banned me from Heartslabuyl! He won't even let me sleep in the lake even though I'm a Lake Water Nymph because of what happened. You believe me when I say I didn't mean to put you in danger, right?"

Cater had thrown himself at your feet, holding onto your legs as if he were some abandoned pet seeking shelter from a blizzard. Around his neck was a thick metal collar that extended out to the sides in black and red colors, forming a heart-shape that locked in the front with a golden and black padlock. He was careful not to get in the fire that was dutifully cooking your soup even as he groveled at your feet.

"O-oi! What's the big idea with everyone coming in that door? It's dangerous to leave that thing unlocked."

"That's what I'm saying! So much for protected and safe with that thing in here."

You couldn't help but slightly grin at Grim as he voiced your own concerns out loud. Lilia simply regarded the door, snapping his fingers to close it as a large metal bolt affixed itself to the door before clicking into place.

"There. Now it can't be thrown open anymore. But why is Cater here? Cater, when did Riddle collar you and why?"

Cater seemed to realize there were others standing around you as he suddenly straightened up, clearing his throat and taking several steps back from you. He tried to play off the desperate display he had just shown and was failing miserably. Cater looked much worse for wear than you remembered him being and you genuinely began to hope the Unicorn hadn't actually harmed the ditzy redhead.

"Well... I may have 'accidentally' posted a picture that told everyone that (Y/n) was a Human and was on NRC grounds, but I totes didn't realize it would put her in danger! Honestly!"

Lilia's bemused smile almost instantly fell away into a glare as he regarded the man standing by your side. You added a bit of salt to the soup as you wated, watching the thick broth bubble and roil with vegtables and diced meat. There were a lot of things you could do in that moment, but something told you it was best to let Lilia handle this situation.

"And what did you think was going to happen, Cater?"

"Tbh, I thought that I would just get a follower count boost and everything would be fine. The Headmage and Riddle sure made it clear I was wrong for thinking that. Lessons learned!"

"It only cost us the safety of the last Human left in Twisted Wonderland."

"I said I was sorry!"

Everyone except Cater seemed to be exceptionally upset as they all glared at him, making him duck behind you as if you were the best shield from their rage. You just let the tall student try and fail to escape the ire of the others. For once, a polite knock came at the kitchen door, breaking off the aggressive staredown taking place.

"Hey, why are we here, Azul?"

An almost sing-song voice hummed from somewhere on the other side of the door, prompting Jade to walk over and open the door for who you assumed to be the two he was talking about. In strode a rather lovely looking man with snow-white hair and shining mauve blue eyes hidden behind thin framed glasses. Around his face were lovely and intricate black markings that reminded you quite a bit of the tentacles of an octopus. Behind him lumbered a rather tall man who almost looked identical to Jade if not for the swapped eye color and slight difference in height.

"We're here because Jade told me there is a profitable venture to be had and I am not going to miss out on this chance to make the Human's acquaintance, Floyd."

The shorter one hummed in a smooth voice and you almost giggled at the rather fact-of-the-matter tone that the white haired one spoke with. You felt it was safe to assume the rather lovely man was Azul and the near identical to Jade fish-man walking with him was Floyd.

Floyd almost made a show of sniffing the air, following his nose to where you stood in front of the pot of soup, watching him curiously. Once his gaze fell on you a wide grin overtook the slight frown he had been pouting with. You could see the way his eyes trailed over your figure due to the bright yellow of his right eye highlighting his pupil as it darted up and down.

"Ne ne, what is such a cute little Shrimpy doing this far above the water? You're so small I just want to squeeze ya."

He took a single step towards you and this seemed to be enough for the two- Silver and Sebek- to suddenly intercept him with swords drawn, creating an 'X' that blocked the tall Merman from approaching further. It was more than a little surprising to see weapons suddenly drawn, but maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised. Lilia did say he came over to guard you again and even brought the others for the same purpose.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt them, I just want a little feel on if Shrimpy is as soft as they look!"

"Floyd, that's enough. She was polite enough to allow me to invite you and Azul over and she is quite the rare specimen, you can't threaten her so casually and expect those guarding her to not be upset."

"I didn't threaten, I just said I wanted a big ol' squeeze."

"Same difference where you are concerned."

"Eh, you're so boring sometimes, Jade. Anyway, what is Shrimpy making over there? Smells good~!"

You were stunned at the almost aggressive behavior from Floyd given how calm and level headed Jade had been thus far. Maybe it was just a quirk of Floyd's to be a little more hands on than others. It honestly made you glad to know your self-appointed guards took their task seriously as they still refused to let the large Merman near you. Speaking of your guards, Floyd didn't seem put off by their aggression in the slightest and almost seemed amused by them as if it were all one big game.

Tension was thick in the air as the almost aloof Floyd smiled at you, watching you grab several bowls and begin ladling out ten total servings. You were not really all that surprised when there was still more soup to go even after you filled enough bowls for yourself and the ever increasing number of guests.

Maybe you were right to make so much after all. Hopefully your surprise guests had all shown-

"Why is the door locked? Hey, Human, I smell food in there! I already ate all the Dandelions from this morning! Can I have some of whatever you're making? Please? I'm starving out here."

Peaking through the windows to the kitchen was a familiar grizzled muzzle of the Gnoll you had met that morning. Ruggie was staring with those unsettling bright blue eyes and you were unsure if you wanted to laugh or scream. You scolded yourself in the back of your mind, remembering that animals would often return to places if they were given food prior and no doubt the Hyena man sought to do the same.

"Should I let him in, (Y/n)?"

Lilia asked, eyeing the lock on the door as Ruggie began to loudly whine and cackle for attention. You just sighed and nodded, knowing the Hyena wasn't going to leave now that he knew there was food ready and waiting just inside.

"May as well."

The Gnoll was quick to enter once the door opened and he happily grabbed one of the ten bowls, immediately scarfing down the soup without even glancing at the now large group of men standing in your kitchen. You didn't bother offering a spoon to Ruggie as it was clear he didn't need or want one. Despite the odd group that had gathered under your roof- technically it was the school's roof, but now wasn't the time for semantics- they all seemed keen to dig in when you passed out the bowls.

Getting yourself a bowl- seeing as Ruggie had taken one of the ten- you were able to finally take in the meal of your labors. It wasn't half bad and those button mushrooms added just the right earthy flavor that really brought the soup together. All of your visitors clearly liked the soup as well and Grim was the first to ask for seconds.

"Miss (Y/n)! This is a fantastic meal! I don't think I've had such flavors in anything I've eaten before! I would only think a meal from my liege could possibly taste better!"

"Sebek," the white haired one interrupted the shouting one, "you don't need to yell at her."

"I'm talking at an adequate volume, Silver. You dare say this meal isn't divine?"

"That's not what I said at all."

Lilia giggled as the two odd characters argued, hopping off the counter to serve himself another helping of the plentiful soup. Despite the absolute lack of respect for your personal space they all seemed to share, you couldn't help but smile as well. The many men you had met were odd and so unique in many ways but none of them actually seemed all that bad once they relaxed and got talking.

Maybe these monsters weren't as monstrous as you thought when you first met them. Hopefully their worries of poachers would just prove to be worries, but you knew you weren't truly safe yet and anyone could be a threat if they genuinely wanted to be. You just hoped there wasn't another shoe waiting to drop on your peaceful evening.

~•§•~

"Trey?"

"Yes, Riddle?"

"Invite (Y/n) to tomorrow's Unbirthday party. It has become rather clear to me that no one can look after her the way the Queen demands, so I will step up and take on that task."

"Riddle..."

"She will be safe with me, I will do whatever it takes to ensure it."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #my monster au #twst monster au #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU

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strawberry-bubblef · 3 months ago

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Diasominia x Zaunite reader

Request by anonymous: Maybe how about a headcanons with Yuu who is born and raised in Zaun? Most importantly how would cast reacts to Zaun's environment once Yuu trusts them enough to tell about it? (Or maybe cast would see for themselves somehow?)

Synopsis: You have always kept your past a secret, but as their relationships deepen, the truth about Zaun slowly unravels. A city of smog, struggle, and survival far from the world of NRC. How will their lover react to the harsh reality Yuu once called home? And more importantly, can they bring comfort to the one who endured it all?

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: ⚠Mentions of poverty, crime, substance abuse (shimmer), survival struggles, and environmental pollution. The setting of Zaun includes themes of danger, societal disparity, and rough living conditions. Reader's past involves hardships, but the story focuses on comfort, understanding, and romance.⚠

Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle,Scarabia Pomifiore, Ignihyde, Diasominia

Since you didn't specify her past,I'm just gonna assume that she's an orphan like 99% of the Zaunite cast.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had always been… different.

It was obvious to anyone who had ever met him. His towering figure, the long, graceful horns, and the aura of authority that surrounded him made him seem more like a mythical creature than a mere student.

But you, somehow, never found him intimidating.

Not the way others did.

You had seen real monsters, had been one yourself in the streets of Zaun, and while Malleus exuded an otherworldly power, you saw the quiet sadness behind his eyes,the longing for a connection that went deeper than just his royal title.

When you first met him, his gaze was intense, as if trying to decipher the complexities of your existence. You didn’t think much of it at first,after all, who could understand Zaun? But when you finally exchanged a few words, you noticed something.

He was curious about you.

“I’ve heard of Zaun,” he had said one evening, his voice rich and deep, “but I’ve never met anyone from there. Tell me… what is it like to live where the sun rarely shines?”

His tone wasn’t one of judgment, nor of pity. It was simple interest, something you rarely got from others.

You had laughed softly, a little bitterly. “A lot of people die before they see the sun, Malleus.”

His eyes narrowed in thought, before he quietly murmured, “Perhaps… that is why you have such a light in your eyes.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “What?”

He didn’t seem to notice how his statement had affected you. His thoughts were always far ahead, his mind a maze of arcane knowledge, ancient stories, and mysteries beyond your reach. But for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of vulnerability,something raw and human in his expression.

“…It’s rare,” he continued, as though he were still thinking aloud, “for someone to carry such a light, despite the darkness they’ve lived through.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Malleus…”

For a moment, it was as if the world around you faded away. The hum of the dormitory, the chatter of other students,everything fell silent. It was just the two of you, standing in the hallway, with only the flickering glow of magic and moonlight surrounding you.

And then, ever so gently, he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“If you ever feel lost,” he said softly, “you need not wander alone. I will guide you, as I have always been meant to.”

You stared up at him, feeling your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. The way his words hit you was not in the way you thought they would. It wasn’t just kindness,there was something deeper there.

Before you could respond, a soft chuckle echoed through the hall. It was light, almost teasing, and when you looked up, you saw the faintest hint of a smile on Malleus’ lips.

“…Ah,” he said, his voice lowering in a whisper. “It appears I’ve gone too far in my usual manner of speech. My apologies, Y/N.”

You shook your head, a smile creeping up on your own lips. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to—”

Before you could finish, a voice interrupted.

“Malleus.”

The voice was regal, commanding even.

Lilia appeared from the shadows, his grin wide and knowing. “It’s rare to see you so… expressive.”

Malleus scowled at the interruption, but his gaze never wavered from you.

You could feel his attention,intense, focused, as if everything else in the world didn’t matter. And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind being the one he focused on.

Zaun was never a place for the faint of heart.

It wasn’t just the danger lurking in every corner or the constant hum of machinery,it was the very essence of the place, the air that smelled faintly of metal and oil, the sharp sounds of distant machinery grinding together.

But when Malleus insisted on visiting Zaun with you, there was something different in the way he held himself.

Most people would have been nervous, apprehensive about the sharp edges of the city. But not Malleus.

He walked beside you with his head held high, unbothered by the dim lights or the low hum of machinery. His presence was like an anchor, steady and calm, even amidst the chaos.

You, on the other hand, felt every muscle in your body tense as the familiar streets crept closer.

“You don’t have to do this, Malleus,” you said, trying to steady your breath. “This place… it’s dangerous. You don’t belong here.”

He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable.

“I belong wherever you are,” he replied simply.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you shook your head. “You don’t understand. This place isn’t for people like you.”

He reached out and gently took your hand in his. The warmth of his touch was enough to make you pause.

“I understand far more than you realize,” he said quietly, his voice soft but unwavering. “I understand what it is like to carry a burden, to stand alone, to be misunderstood.”

You froze, looking up at him in confusion.

Malleus’ eyes softened. “Zaun may be a city of darkness, but it is also a place of resilience. You are a product of that resilience.”

He squeezed your hand, his smile small but genuine.

“You are not alone, Y/N.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia was many things,mysterious, playful, and an absolute enigma to those around him. Yet, to you, he was someone entirely different.

From the very first time you met him, his playful teasing made you a bit wary. After all, you had seen the darker side of people,those who used words as weapons, who hid their true selves behind laughter. But Lilia? He was different.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and yet when he looked at you, there was something more. Beneath the playful jabs and cryptic words, you could sense the care he took in understanding you, something you hadn't experienced often.

It was a night like any other when you first opened up to him. The moonlight streamed through the trees, and the two of you found yourselves alone in a quiet part of the garden. You had been talking for hours, but it wasn't just about trivial things. No, this time, you had decided to let him see who you really were,the scars, the history, the loneliness.

“I never really had a choice,” you said softly, your eyes drifting to the ground. “In Zaun, you do what you can to survive. You do what you must to keep going.”

Lilia studied you closely, his smile gone. There was a rare seriousness in his expression as he processed your words. It was a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. Slowly, he stepped closer, his voice low, almost gentle.

"You think you're the only one who's had to survive?" His words caught you off guard, and you looked up, surprised. "Everyone has their battles, Y/N. Some just don't show it as clearly as others."

You frowned, unsure of where this conversation was going.

Lilia tilted his head, his eyes twinkling once again with that playful edge, but this time it was different. It was as though the mask he wore was slipping just slightly, revealing the sincerity behind it.

"Zaun might have taught you how to survive, but that's not all you are," he continued. "You're someone who keeps going, no matter how tough it gets. You remind me of a certain someone I know."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself.

Lilia grinned. "Me, of course." He winked.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension easing a little. Even in his teasing, there was something undeniably comforting about him. It was like he was always one step ahead, always able to make you feel understood,without ever fully admitting he understood everything.

And yet, there was a softness there, in the way he didn’t push when you weren’t ready to share more, in the way he patiently waited for you to open up on your terms.

The way he held your gaze then was different too,familiar and intimate, the kind that left a warmth in your chest.

“Zaun may have made you who you are,” Lilia said, his voice softer now, “but it doesn’t define you. You’re more than your past. You’re someone who creates their future, and I think you’ve got quite the future ahead of you, Y/N.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his words settle in. For once, someone had acknowledged what you were without making you feel like you were defined by your past mistakes, by your struggles.

You wanted to say something, to thank him, but the words never seemed enough. Instead, you just let out a quiet sigh and smiled.

“Thanks, Lilia,” you whispered, unsure if you’d ever be able to find the right words for someone who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

His smile returned,mischievous, playful, but with an underlying sincerity that sent a warmth through your chest. “Anytime, my dear Y/N. Just don’t expect me to always be this nice, okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile back, the heavy weight of the world on your shoulders feeling just a little bit lighter, if only for that moment.

The streets of Zaun were everything he’d imagined,and more.

Lilia’s sharp gaze took in every detail, his fae senses picking up the scent of burnt metal, smog, and something a little darker in the air. His lips curved into a smile, though it wasn’t one of amusement; it was something more like curiosity mixed with recognition.

You had warned him. You had tried to prepare him, to explain what life in Zaun was like. Still, there was something in seeing it firsthand that made the reality hit him harder than he expected. The crowded streets, the flickering neon lights casting eerie glows, the people moving with a sense of purpose and survival,he could feel the undercurrent of tension in the air, the constant buzz of danger just beneath the surface.

“This is it, huh?” Lilia murmured, his voice thoughtful, almost distant as he took in the grimy walls of the buildings, the ever-present haze that hung low in the sky. He didn’t look at you immediately, but you could feel the weight of his thoughts as he observed the rough landscape that shaped you.

He didn’t seem horrified, but there was something in the way he looked at the city. It wasn’t pity,he didn’t feel sorry for you. Rather, it was the kind of understanding that came with seeing something familiar from a distance, something he had been around before but never fully experienced. The shadows, the lights, the hidden dangers,it was all too close to home for him, but in a way that was different from the life he had known.

For a long moment, you both walked in silence, your footsteps echoing on the cracked pavement as the city bustled around you. The cacophony of Zaun was relentless,the shouting vendors, the clatter of distant machinery, the rattle of old pipes. It was a harsh symphony, but it was your symphony.

When you spoke, your voice was soft, almost too quiet to hear over the noise. "This is what I meant when I said there are no rules. No one’s going to help you here unless you can do something for them in return."

Lilia’s eyes finally turned to you, his usual smirk gone. Instead, his expression was something deeper, something more contemplative. "I understand." His voice was steady, but there was something in the way he looked at you,something that almost mirrored the world you were showing him. "It’s not a world built on kindness. It’s about surviving. But… you’re still standing, aren’t you?"

You nodded, a small, tired smile on your lips. "I don’t have much choice."

Lilia’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned back to the chaotic streets. "No," he agreed quietly, "but you’ve made it this far. And you’ll keep making it."

He didn’t need to say more. His understanding was enough, and somehow, it was all the reassurance you needed. Because in a city like Zaun, survival wasn’t just about getting by,it was about finding the strength to keep moving forward, even when the world seemed like it was against you.

“Don’t carry this alone,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Just like now.”

And with Lilia by your side, you weren’t as alone as you once thought.

Silver

Silver had always been quiet. The stoic, reserved type who preferred the calm and stillness of nature to the bustle of crowded halls or the frenzy of battle. You could always count on him to be there when you needed someone to lean on, but he wasn’t the kind to express his feelings openly. He said little, but his actions spoke volumes.

That was part of why you felt so comfortable around him. Silver wasn’t one to push, to rush you. He was patient, and he understood that sometimes, silence was more powerful than words.

It wasn’t until a late evening walk that you began to realize how much he truly cared for you.

You had been walking through the courtyards of the school, the sound of your footsteps mixing with the chirping of crickets and the rustling of the trees. You had your hands tucked into your pockets, and your thoughts were miles away as you drifted in and out of memories of Zaun.

Silver, as always, walked beside you. His presence was comforting in its own quiet way, but tonight, you could feel that something was off. There was an air of tension around him, though he hadn’t said a word.

“Silver?” you asked, pausing in your steps to look up at him. “You okay?”

Silver glanced at you, his silver hair catching the faint light of the moon. He hesitated before answering, his blue eyes studying you carefully.

“I’m fine,” he replied in his usual low voice, but you could tell there was something more beneath the surface. “Just thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, sensing that he wasn’t being entirely honest with you. You nudged him gently. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately. What’s on your mind?”

Silver exhaled slowly, his eyes moving to the side. He looked a little uncomfortable, as if the very idea of sharing his thoughts made him uneasy. But despite his usual guarded nature, you could see the vulnerability in his expression.

“It’s about you,” he finally admitted. His words were simple, but they hit you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “I know you’re from Zaun… and I can’t help but wonder what that’s like for you.”

Your heart sank. You had never really spoken about Zaun with Silver before. You’d never gone into detail about the chaos, the struggle, and the way life was shaped by harsh circumstances. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat.

Silver, sensing your hesitation, took a step closer. His voice was softer now, almost as if he were afraid of intruding on something too personal. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just… I want to understand you better.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his words. There was no judgment in his eyes, no pity,just a quiet concern that made your heart ache.

“I… don’t really know how to explain it,” you said finally, your voice tinged with a sadness you hadn’t expected. “Zaun is… it’s hard. It's not a place anyone should have to grow up in. It’s full of danger, of people who are just trying to survive. Every day is a fight.”

Silver nodded slowly, taking in your words. He didn’t interrupt or offer a solution. He just let you speak. Let you say whatever you needed to say, in your own time.

“I know you want to protect me,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “But Zaun is different. It’s not like your world. There’s no peace there.”

Silver’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours with a quiet understanding. He didn’t speak, but you could tell he was absorbing everything you said. There was no rush, no push for you to explain further. He just wanted you to know that, whatever it was, you weren’t alone in it.

“I don’t need to understand everything about Zaun,” he finally said, his voice steady. “I just need to know that you’re okay. That you’re safe. That’s all I care about.”

You blinked at him, surprised by his sincerity. There was no bravado, no pretense,just the quiet honesty that had always made Silver so different from others. He wasn’t trying to fix anything; he was just here, now, with you.

“I’m not always okay,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “But I’m surviving.”

Silver nodded, his hand brushing against yours in a simple, reassuring gesture. You could feel the warmth of his touch, the unspoken bond between the two of you.

“I’ll help you however I can,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “No matter what.”

For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it. Silver’s words were like a lifeline, a promise of support you hadn’t dared to ask for.

But Silver wasn’t one to make promises he didn’t intend to keep. You knew that much.

You smiled faintly, relieved, as you continued walking side by side. “Thank you, Silver.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I’m just doing what’s right.”

But you knew that Silver’s “right” was more than just duty. It was his quiet way of showing that he cared.

A few days later, Silver insisted on accompanying you to Zaun. You had been reluctant to invite him at first,Zaun wasn’t a place you would take anyone who didn’t have to be there. But Silver had been insistent, and despite your reservations, you found comfort in the idea of him being there with you.

You took him to the lower levels, the ones you knew best,the gritty, rough streets where people fought to survive. The air was thick with smoke, and the constant noise of machines and distant arguments filled the space. It was as overwhelming as ever, but with Silver by your side, you felt a little less burdened by it.

Silver stayed close to you, his posture more alert than usual. You could see the way his eyes darted around, taking in the sights, the sounds, and the people who passed by. It was clear that the reality of Zaun was far more jarring than he had imagined.

“Is it always like this?” Silver asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the streets.

You nodded, your expression somber. “Yeah. It doesn’t change. People just live like this.”

Silver stayed quiet as you led him further into the maze of alleys. He was taking everything in, but there was no judgment in his gaze,just a quiet understanding that perhaps, he would never fully grasp what it was like to live in Zaun, but that didn’t matter. He was here, and that was enough for you.

As the day wore on, Silver’s discomfort grew less noticeable. He didn’t speak much, but his presence was a constant reassurance. It was clear that while Zaun would always be foreign to him, he would stand by your side no matter what.

And that’s all you really needed from him.

When you finally returned to the safer part of the city, Silver seemed exhausted but not shaken. His eyes met yours, and in that quiet moment, you saw the promise he had made earlier reflected in his gaze.

“I don’t think I could ever fully understand this place,” he said softly, “but I understand you more now. And that’s enough.”

You smiled, your heart full, knowing that despite the differences between you and Silver, you had found something rare in each other: a quiet bond that didn’t need words to be strong.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek had always been a little… intense. His loyalty to Malleus was unwavering, and his fiery passion often led him to speak in a way that could come off as overbearing or a bit too much for most people to handle. But to you, it was different.

You had always been someone who didn’t back down. You didn’t shy away from his relentless energy or his tendency to speak without thinking. In a way, you were the perfect match to his intensity, and he recognized that.

You were sitting with him one afternoon, and despite the sun shining brightly, the tension in the air was palpable. Sebek had been in the middle of an enthusiastic monologue about his admiration for Malleus,something that, at this point, you had heard more times than you cared to count but today, something felt off. You weren’t exactly listening anymore, your thoughts drifting to your own past.

It wasn’t until he stopped talking that you realized how quiet things had gotten.

“You’re quiet today,” Sebek observed, his tone lacking its usual energy. He was staring at you, his yellow-green eyes focused with an intensity that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. “What’s on your mind, human?”

You hesitated for a moment, but his gaze was unwavering. There was no escaping Sebek’s directness, not that you would want to. But still, it felt strange to talk about Zaun with him,his idealistic view of the world was so different from the harshness you had experienced growing up.

“I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain it to him. “I guess it’s hard for me to put it into words. I come from a place where survival is everything. Where you have to fight for every scrap you get. Nothing is ever handed to you.”

Sebek’s expression remained the same,stoic, his posture straight and rigid but you could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to process what you’d said.

“That sounds… awful,” he said after a long pause, his voice quieter than usual. “No one should have to live like that.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the weight of the conversation. “It’s just how things are.”

He shook his head, his brows furrowing in concern. “I don’t understand. Where’s the pride in that? Where’s the honor in struggling just to survive?”

There it was again,his idealism. He didn’t see the world like you did. He saw it through the lens of a knight, someone who believed in valor and strength. But you? You had learned the hard way that survival wasn’t about honor,it was about doing whatever it took to get by.

“I know you mean well,” you said, meeting his gaze with a small, rueful smile, “but not everything is as black and white as you think.”

Sebek’s eyes softened, though his expression remained serious. “I don’t understand it. But if you say it’s what you need to do, then I’ll trust you. I’ll support you.” His voice was firm, but there was a subtle tenderness to it that made your heart beat a little faster.

You weren’t sure if it was the weight of his words or the sincerity in his voice, but something shifted between you two in that moment. He wasn’t just a knight with unyielding loyalty to his prince anymore,he was someone who was offering you his own brand of loyalty. Unquestioning. Unbreakable.

“You’re not alone in this,” he added softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you need anything, I’ll fight for you.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, but you said nothing. Instead, you just nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. Despite how overwhelming Sebek could be at times, in that moment, you couldn’t deny that you felt safe in his presence.

You wanted to say something,something that would show him just how much that meant to you. But the words never came. Instead, you just leaned in a little closer, allowing the silence to speak for you.

Sebek shifted slightly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind you that, maybe, just maybe, he understood.

“Now,” Sebek said with his usual enthusiasm returning, “let’s focus on what’s next! No more of this gloomy talk. If you need me, you know I’m always ready to charge ahead!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Typical Sebek. But as much as his boisterous nature could be overwhelming, there was something undeniably comforting about it. No matter what happened, he would always be there for you,through the chaos, through the struggles, and through the moments when you needed someone to fight beside you.

A few days after that conversation, you invited Sebek to visit Zaun. You had seen his loyalty, his fiery passion, but there was a part of you that wanted him to understand your world. To truly see what had shaped you, what had made you the person you were.

Sebek had been reluctant at first. “I am not a coward,” he had said, his brows furrowing as he tried to hide his unease. “I can protect you from anything!”

But you had been insistent. You had never asked him for anything like this before, and he could see that it meant something to you. So, he agreed, though with many protests along the way. He was uneasy, unsure of what to expect. And perhaps, deep down, he feared that seeing Zaun might change the way he viewed you.

When you finally arrived, Sebek’s discomfort was palpable. The streets of Zaun were chaotic, the air thick with pollution. The neon lights flickered overhead like fading stars in a night sky that never quite knew peace. The air was heavy, the smell of chemicals and burnt metal inescapable. It was a far cry from the calm and order of the Isle of Sages.

Sebek kept his hand near the hilt of his sword, his posture stiff as his eyes darted nervously around. The loud clanging of machinery and distant shouting from the alleyways unsettled him. The bustling crowd seemed to go about their business with a nonchalant ease that was nothing like the structured order he was used to.

You walked ahead, guiding him through the streets with the kind of ease that came from familiarity. Sebek stayed close to you, his anxious energy barely contained. “This place is…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words.

“It’s home,” you said simply, turning to look at him. “But I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

“Used to?!” Sebek repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. “This place is a nightmare! The streets—look at the people! They’re so… so—”

“Surviving,” you finished for him. “They’re just surviving.”

Sebek looked at you, his eyes wide. “But this is a place where people have to fight to live? Where the air is poison and the lights flicker like some kind of nightmare?”

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice a little more somber. “But this is how it is. How it’s always been.”

The shock on Sebek’s face was undeniable. He had lived in a world where honor, strength, and duty were his guiding principles. But here, the people of Zaun were just trying to get by. They didn’t have the luxury of ideals like honor, they had to make do with what little they had.

“Stay close,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. You could see the fear on his face, and for a moment, you realized how much of an outsider he felt here. “I’ll keep you safe. Just trust me.”

Sebek didn’t say anything, but he followed you with a tight grip on his sword hilt. For the first time since you’d known him, he wasn’t the confident, almost overbearing knight; he was just a person trying to navigate a world that was foreign and terrifying to him.

By the time you made it to the small, safe space you knew in the lower levels of Zaun, Sebek was visibly shaken. His hands were clenched into fists, his shoulders tense.

“I—I don’t know how you do it,” Sebek said quietly, his voice shaky. “How do you survive in a place like this? It’s not—it's not right.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “It’s not perfect, Sebek. But it’s home.”

He swallowed hard, and when his eyes met yours, there was something raw in them,something that had softened over time, something that was no longer just a knight's duty to protect.

“I don’t know if I can ever understand this place,” he said softly. “But… I understand you better now. And that’s what matters.”

His words were a promise,quiet, yet firm. You weren’t alone. Not now. Not anymore.

“Thanks, Sebek,” you said, giving him a small smile.

He nodded, his voice low but steady. “I’ll always fight for you. Always.”

In that moment, you realized that, despite everything, Sebek’s loyalty hadn’t wavered. If anything, it had only deepened. And for that, you were grateful.

English is not my first language !

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intheorangebedroom · 3 months ago

Text

Tonight you belong to me, epilogue

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town. Lee discovers life on her own.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, Orange bedroom besties 🧡 Here we are, this is the end! I'll see you on the other side 🧡 @frannyzooey marry me? 🧡

Word count: 8.6k (I'll never learn)

[prev] * [series masterlist] *

Epilogue: In The Beginning

He comes to you every Friday, in the loneliness of your room, in the hollow space of your life, through the cold hard rectangle of your phone.

Hey, baby.

Hey, Frankie.

How’s my girl doing?

The caress of his voice convokes the memory of his touch, of the bedspread’s synthetic fabric, stained and slippery, and the rough material of the brown rug abrading your knees.

You close your eyes, so you can see it better. His freckles, his dimple. The dip between his collarbones. His skin of gold, the smoothness of his curls, gliding between your fingertips.

His cold hard stare. His soft sad eyes.

I’m good.

You close your eyes and smile, because he’s there, still, another week, true to his word, and the modulated sound in your earpiece lets you hear his own relief, breathed out in a smiling exhale.

Through space and distance, through memories, his hands ghost your skin.

Sometimes, the round accents of his low husk guide your hand downward, down between your legs, wringing wistful waves of pleasure out of you.

Let me hear you come, baby.

It’s a distant echo. A forlorn imitation of what his body did to yours in the motel room. Outstretched shadows on a cave’s wall.

And afterward, his voice sounds pained, hurting the same way your heart feels bruised.

Sometimes, most times, he just wants you to talk.

Tell me. What’d you do this week? Learn anything new?

Is it worth it? What you've learned in this seven day gap, this open wound of a time-stretch, waiting for his voice to fill your ears like his body once filled your life, is it all really worth it?

Your bones are worn out, your skin feels too big. Your heart is shrunk, aching, heavy like lead, blackened like coal, near the wild creature crying ruby tears.

And yet, you learn. Every week, you have something new to tell him. Every week, intently, he listens.

In the loneliness of your room, in the hollow space of your life, through the cold hard rectangle of your phone, your love continues to grow, nurtured by words and silences.

—

In a surprising turn of events, you don’t entirely dislike New York.

The city still mildly scares you. Its buoyant history feels like a sparkling secret you’ll never be let in on. Its mythical aura makes you feel small and provincial. It’s definitely too big, too noisy, too stressful. And, you’ve learned at your expense, ridiculously pricey.

But it is also completely, blissfully anonymous. People don’t only ignore who you are, they also do not care. Since you got here, your name hasn’t once elicited the silent gasp or double take it never fails to provoke down in Tampa.

And instead of drowning, forever disappearing, you wake up every morning and breathe in a big gulp of saturated New York air, making the conscious choice to tame the current.

Spring is undecided, imprecise. It oscillates between chilly mornings and warm afternoons, cumbersome jackets and disorientation.

Your shabby blue suitcase stands out like a sore thumb in a corner of Polly and Ava’s living-room, styled with slick 1950s furniture, straight lines, confidential art pieces, and quality material.

Thrown from a life sentence in a glass tower into this transient condition, you vacillate, but hang on tight, and you wait, in between Fridays, to be tethered by the thread of Frankie’s praise and encouragement.

On weekdays, from 9 to 5, you sit behind a black square desk on the third floor of a modest Manhattan publishing company, proofreading copies of psychiatric essays for typos.

The work is dull, tedious, an entry-level position hardly above an internship, but the task is concrete, its results tangible. It provides you with a decent salary you might owe entirely to your connection with Polly, and the priceless satisfaction of a job accomplished when the working day is done.

You miss him.

Summer is unforgiving. The entire city smells like hot trash, melted asphalt, car exhaust and overwrought engines. The combined heat from millions of strangers' bodies pressed together in urban proximity is otherworldly.

The nearby presence of the Atlantic Ocean, centuries of waves, dark and unfathomable, is impossible to conceive. Your frazzled eyes search the city sky in vain for the line of the horizon.

The commute from your furnished studio apartment in Jackson Heights is uncomfortable and never-ending. You read voraciously, to prevent your mind from wandering to the square window with the yellow curtains, the black-edged mirror and the one dollar store painting of the Appalachian. Your lost paradise. Your unexpected home.

At night, you’re too tired. Too tired to eat, too tired to read any more, or even watch television. You stumble onto your empty bed and pray for an empty sleep.

On weekends, you seek refuge in air-conditioned museums. There, in the bustling silence, among crowds of eclectic tourists snapping performative pictures in square format, your life is suddenly, quietly upturned: art understands. Art heals. Art is the key to translating your raw feelings. A catharsis for your searing emotions.

You miss him.

With fall come crisp winds, clear lights and yellowing leaves, and the city turns another kind of spectacular. You finally seem to find your bearings.

At work, you’re given more responsibilities, along with your very own intern. A tall, polite young man in an awful suit that hangs off his lanky frame, he stops blinking every time you address him, hungry eyes snapping to your lips every now and then. It makes you smile, what you do to him.

In your kitchenette, which is really more of a narrow corridor than anything else, you’ve taped a world map on which you pin a round, colourful thumbtack for every new cuisine you taste. Cold burritos shared with Frankie on the motel’s dirty carpet are hard to beat. But Columbian chicharrón ranges at a close second.

Forsaking rest, you spend your Sunday afternoons in a 1st Ave cinema, which specializes in pre-war films. In the solitary darkness of the red velvet-lined theater, you fall in love with Louise Brooks, with Pabst’s German realism, and Murnau’s Sunrise. New names and faces crowd your thoughts during your daily commutes: Bette Davies, Theda Bara, Marion Davis... Slapstick comedies have you kicking your feet, and you devour every book and article you can dig out on the Hays Code.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you clock off early and hurry uptown, where you attend evening classes in art history in a small overheated classroom decorated with faded museum postcards from all over the world.

The attendees form a small mismatched crowd of second-chancers, seeking meaningful connections more than a proper education.

Thierry is the first to approach you. A stupidly handsome, late twenty-something man, sporting a dark Mohawk and second-hand bespoke shoes matched with a leather perfecto, Thierry claims to be French Canadian, and you know better than to call him out on the obvious fib. If anything, you’re more than willing to play along. Thierry takes you out as often as you’ll let him, sometimes to cafés and thrift stores, but more often to gay bars. He says you’re the best wingman he’s ever had, with your distant demeanor and the melancholy in your gaze.

“My peers love your brand, bébé,” he says.

On one of these drunken late-evenings turned early-mornings, in a Brooklyn dinner with greasy pleather benches, over eggs Benedict and burnt filter coffee, Thierry tells you he was born Travis, in Nowhere, North Dakota. His voice remains surprisingly steady when he explains how, tired of living in fear, he ran off to New York with less than 18 dollars to his name. But his eyes won’t meet yours. Too shiny. Too liquid.

He tells you about the straight man, married with children, who once broke his heart, and asks you about the one who broke yours.

“I didn’t need a man to do that,” you answer in earnest. You watch the tears brimming in his dark blue eyes. You hear him say, “I love you, Lee. You’re the best friend I have,” and you believe him.

Around mid-October, Vera joins the Thursday evening class. She’s prompt to initiate conversation, and soon, you spend every other Saturday afternoon in her quaint Brighton Beach apartment, eating blini with homemade jam, mesmerized by her deep gravely voice as she recounts tales of her life in the USSR. Of how she fled the country, back in 1986, with nothing but grit, a suitcase full of photographs, and a heart bleeding memories. She speaks, you find, simply because you are willing to listen. Before you leave, she hugs you strong enough to crack your spine.

Vera was a mother, once. To a blond boy named Igor, who died of undiagnosed leukemia not long after he’d learned to walk.

When you leave her place, your clothes are impregnated with her scent, bergamot tea and vanilla tobacco. You take a long stroll to Coney Island in the brisk dusk, clutching your scarf high on your face. The sharp Atlantic wind makes your eyes water. Shivering, you sit on a boardwalk bench, and marvel at the Wonder Wheel’s lights, brightening the crepuscular fall.

You miss him.

Ava seldom has time for you in her ever busy schedule. Sometimes, the two of you meet for a quick lunch, and every once in a while, she takes you to an art performance where young adults with edgy haircuts douse their naked bodies in paint in front of a live audience to protest climate change or human trafficking. You don’t always understand, in truth, you rarely do, but you always welcome the opportunity to broaden your horizon.

Polly makes sure to have you over for dinner at least once every two weeks. The regularity is touching. Some nights, you feel like indulging, and take a cab back to your place.

You learn. Every day, you learn. Through sweltering heat and ice-sharp cold, through lively chatter and the crackling of dead leaves. Through loneliness, yours and other’s. You learn.

Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, home is people.

And you miss him, you miss him, you miss him…

—

Twenty-nine Fridays.

Frankie once more sat down behind Lupe’s desk at the dispatch center, to count down the weeks since your departure on the large cardboard calendar.

There’s 29 of them now. Soon, those empty Fridays will outnumber the ones you filled with your skin and your scent.

Your absence has torn a gaping hole inside his chest, and loneliness came pouring in to fill it. The feeling is alienating. It’s worse than shame, worse than fear, fear of hurting and fear of dying. The grief is all encompassing. It’s worse than everything he’s ever been stricken with.

“Time will help, hermanito,” his sister had said shortly after you’d left. “Time is gonna make it better, don’t worry. Paso a paso.”

Will hadn’t said anything. Will would never lie to his face.

Frankie knows, just like Will does, that time ain’t gonna do shit. If anything, time will only make it worse.

Time has forsaken him. Everywhere around him, people go on with their lives, moving forward, making plans.

Lua’s curls grow longer, her babbling evolving into fully formed words, and her balance becoming surer as she explores the world around her with her big bright eyes wide open. His beacon. His pride. His little miracle.

Marcus moved in with Lupe. There was a proposal, quickly followed by talks of a spring wedding.

Tess’ll be starting college soon, sponsored by the Redfly Family trust, her little sister already attending middle school.

Will went back to Colorado, where he found a counseling position at the VA office in downtown Aurora.

Benny quit the MMA circuit and followed his brother, like he always does. Met a girl back home, a brunette with water-clear eyes, a kind heart and a sharp sense of humor. Now, they work together on her father’s tree farm, and he says things like, “she gave me a purpose.”

And Frankie’s stuck here. Stuck inside his pain, locked up within his loss with a hole the shape of you inside his chest, surviving on the promise of your voice every Friday at 7pm. Of your cheery tone when you talk about what you’ve discovered and learned, your new friends, your new tastes, your unassertive victories. Your steady healing.

Only he knows your life up there can’t always be milk and honey. But you won’t tell him about the hardship. Bottling it up for his sake, he assumes, but then, where’s his fucking purpose?

His longing just follows him everywhere, dimming the sun, turning his food all wrong, turning his friends to enemies, places that once brought him solace no longer meaning relief. The cab of his truck devoid of your scent, a song on the radio that you’re not here to hum, and his blood turns to lead. The whole world around him, a reflective surface to reverberate his grief.

So Frankie waits. Minutes, hours, and days. He aches and simmers and he waits. He’s cut for grit and patience and restraint, anyway. He waits for time to remember about him, to let him hop back onto that fast-paced train, he waits to be alive again. Hold your body close to him, feel the coolness of your touch, breathe in the scent of your perfume. Be your man. Keep you safe. Forever and always.

He waits, until one afternoon in early December, when Lupe approaches him in the break room after his shift.

“We need to talk,” she says.

The following morning, a Thursday, an incoming call wakes him up. The sound of your sobbing comes in shaky and muffled through the receiver, and his spine grows rigid.

“I need to see you,” you say.

And Frankie knows he’s done waiting.

—

The front door rattles with three successive knocks. Like a bloodhound, you still, head perking up, a near white-knuckle grip on the vacuum handle. You press the tiny button on your headphones to pause the music, and Kate Bush’s voice fades to silence, allowing the vacuum’s roar to resurface. You kill it, too.

It’s impossible you could have heard anything over all this din.

You balance the vacuum handle against the dresser to grab your phone that’s lying there, and check the time on it.

Noon. Frankie’s plane just took off. He isn’t due here for another three hours. Leaving you just enough time to finish tidying up the apartment, take an everything shower and hop on a cab to go pick him up. You purposefully postponed the cleaning until the very last minute, so you wouldn’t go insane waiting for him in these last hours.

A little pang of guilt flares hot across your neck and cheeks, quick and sharp, at how shamelessly you begged over the phone, a couple of days prior. Letting him hear your sniffling, the sound of your tears rolling down your face, if you could have, just because you couldn’t bear the misery of crying on your own anymore. Unabashed and so very selfish in your need of him. Of his hold and his warmth. His eyes and freckles. The weight of his body, the low thrum of his heartbeat. Petulant like a child. Please, please come here.

You snatch the headphones off your head. The room is silent. Three floors down, the neighbor’s yelling at her husband again, their baby crying. No one in the hallway knocking on your door, then.

“Damn it,” you mutter, tossing the headphones on the dresser and padding over to the minuscule entryway. Wearing nothing but your sleep shorts and ragged college t-shirt, all of which should have been in last week's laundry load. If someone’s here, they’re in for a smelly treat.

You wrench the door wide open, like a dare, like a vain wish, and you’re met with the solid wall of Frankie’s broad chest.

A gasp, yours, short and high-pitched, and he collides into you, his arms circling your waist, pulling you flush against him. His face burrowing in the curve of your neck, his hat knocked off his head with the force of the collision. A hard press, a sharp inhale, he’s hoisting you up and carrying you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

Your heart, black and shrivelled, is suddenly too big for your rib cage. The wild creature’s purrs are deafening. Dopamine floods your brain, you’re madly happy, a relief so intense you’re trembling.

“I’m not leaving this stupid city until you’ve given me this t-shirt,” he says, his mustache grazing the tender skin behind your ear.

He smells like cold air, and underneath it, him. Old leather, a hint of sawdust, blond and taffy-sweet, and you smile through the tears lumping the back of your throat, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, fingers threading through his curls, digging into his thick jacket, socked feet dangling an inch above the floor.

“It’s gross. I’ve been sleeping in it for a week, at least.”

“Yea, well, that’s the point, baby.”

You laugh, a choked up sound, half elation half sob, the curve of his own grin felt against your throat.

“I’ve missed you. Fuck, Lee, I’ve missed you so much,” he groans, and his words, rasped and warped, bear the weight of his loneliness. Months worth of sleepless nights.

His large hands span your back in all directions, a needy grasp at the soft curves of your hips, back up to your shoulder blades, and down to your waist, making sure —Are you real?— making up for everything that’s been lost. Your back arches into his chest, into his pulsating life force, your leg hitching up along his cold denim.

There’s all of his strength, all of his need in this embrace. Forever imprinting the shape of you into his flesh.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you whisper.

His right hand leaves your back, barely, just long enough to slide the strap of his black rucksack off his shoulder, before it returns to you. Fingers curling around your nape, his forearm aligning with your spine. The metal of his belt digs into your belly as you push into him with a near matching strength, no space left between your bodies for anything but this bright beaming bliss.

Entwined like honeysuckle and ivy, you stand there, in the entryway, under the dangling naked bulb. Basking into each other’s scent. Bodies thrumming high and strong like a power line of the highest voltage.

“Let me look at you,” he says after a while, hands cupping your face, dark eyes raking over your features under his creased brow, “how are you feeling, baby?”

His gaze flicks over to the thin scar in your hairline before it locks with yours, and it’s a binding spell, again, always, intact and unaltered. Black magic and fate, things that aren’t even real except he makes them.

“I’m good!” you laugh, your fingers curling around his forearms, a stubborn little tear hanging from your lashes. “I’m good, now.”

“Yea? Good,” he nods. “You look good. You look fantastic.”

Your lips pinch down a bashful, incredulous smile. He leans back into you and presses a pointed kiss to your lips, greedy, wet, open-mouthed, and you respond in kind, eager, starved. He tastes of coffee and him, and you might lose your sanity with how content you are feeling, how happy, how frighteningly complete.

His hands snake under the hem of your t-shirt, and there’s the cold tip of his fingers, the warm cup of his palms, spanning the expanse of your back, roaming over your shuddering skin and your body ignites in their wake, coming back to life, inch after inch after touch.

You’re the first to break the kiss with a sudden concern, irrelevant, futile, and he’s holding your face again, his eyes hooded with want, drinking you in.

“I thought your plane landed at 3pm. I wanted to come pick you up. I’m not even done cleaning, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I got to the airport too early,” he chuckles. “Figured I could change my flight. I should’ve texted you.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” you start, but his face slots back into the curve of your neck, and you flinch with a new sensation, as he nuzzles his way up, his plush lips a soft caress over the shell of your ear, his scruff a soft tickle. A dark shade of amber pooling down inside you. The thinner hair on your nape standing up.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Frankie,” you breathe out, voice weighed by that thick and sticky thing coiling in your center. “It must have cost you a fortune.”

“Got a veteran discount. And even if I didn’t, I couldn’t fucking care less about the price,” he murmurs into your skin.

A veteran. A pilot. Once more, always, the notion turns your blood to mush, thick like molasses, saccharine like a schoolgirl crush. And then, a thought, overwhelming, terrible: this man, a veteran, a pilot, dropped everything to fly across the country and make sure you were okay. Because to him, you are worth it. Because he cares. Because you’re his.

Pride, fierce and territorial, tightens your belly. Pride and that something else.

“Do you want something to drink?” you manage to ask, a reminder that you’re still very much your mother’s daughter. “Coffee? Something to eat? Do you need to rest?”

“Thanks, baby,” he says, straightening up to let you see the wicked grin dimpling his gorgeous face, “I got everything I need right here.”

—

Through the density of his body, tense and giving, through a need stronger than the both of you, in the stifling intimacy of a closed motel room, month after month, week after week, you’ve learned him.

Out of necessity, you’ve allowed time and physical distance to come between you and him, only to find the knowledge is still there, constituent to your very being. Ingrained, ineradicable. Like an instinct, like the sun’s fiery circle burnt into your retinas through closed eyelids.

Mellow inside and out, lightheaded and boneless, you follow him to the kitchen. Standing close to him by the steel sink as he washes his hands, enraptured, enamored, chest pressed to the back of his arm, cheek rubbing the brawny swell of his shoulder. Humming, like a cat purrs.

You lead him into the room where you eat, sleep, and dream of him, bare walls, sparse furniture you never chose, a single narrow window. It’s supposed to be home but doesn’t feel like it, until he steps in, and everything changes.

He looks massive in here, just like he did in the kitchen, too large for your everyday life, all proportions distorted, your perspective reframed by the scale of his shape.

You watch him undress, and the details of him resurface. The plane of his solid chest, the breadth of his shoulders, when he removes his jacket. The graceful arabesque of his wrist tattoo, his lean forearms, when his flannel slides off his frame. The dip of his collarbones with its firework of sparkling freckles. His tanned skin, his softer belly, his scars and old wounds, when he tugs off his t-shirt. The trail of darker hair underneath his navel. His thighs, as he slides down his denim, thick and strong, his knees, his calves, the harmonious shape of him, the sum that surpasses the parts, everything so perfect, and you realize just how much you remember, how delusional you had been, thinking you could go on without it.

Everything pushed to the back of your consciousness, so the separation could be bearable.

As he stands before you in the gray midday light, your desire is tinged by mute apprehension. You fled Tampa moved by the urgent necessity of your own survival. Now that you've shed most of your scarred skin, now that the danger no longer feels imminent, how will you survive his absence, once he’s gone?

Frankie calls your name, his round husk roping you out of your head, and you ask, “Should I keep my t-shirt?”

“Not today. Today, you take off everything.”

Sat on the edge of your bed, he beckons you, guiding you to stand between his spread thighs with firm, tender hands. The reverence that softens his mahogany eyes, the love and want you find there, it’s all yours. Yours to keep and treasure.

The tip of his fingers thread along your curves in a delicate touch, brushing down the back of your legs, up to the small of your back, along your spine. Then down your arms, his lips nestling into the inside of your wrist, smooth and fragrant. A soft trail of love, light kisses and caress, shedding weeks of longing in their wake.

You cup his face, thumbs slotting in the bare patches of his scruff jaw, and relish in the way he leans into your hold.

He bends into you, his mouth a wet press to your soft belly. The scrape of his teeth, gently teasing.

Twining your fingers into his thick curls, your fingernails scrape over his scalp. The echo of his groan reverberates deep into your center, slick leaking warm down your folds. You tug his face back to look at him, and ever so quiet, he hums, the sweetest sound, the greatest gift, eyes flickering shut under the pleading arch of his brow, a smile curling the corner of his lips. So much abandon. So much trust. You’re falling.

A fleeting memory tugs at your heart, wistful, indelible. Yours for the night only, and your breathing falters, you’re sinking deeper.

Yours forever, if you’d only say the word.

“Do you remember when you wouldn’t let me touch your hair?” you tease, but there’s hardly any air left in your lungs.

His smile broadens.

“Remember when you told me your name was Marion?”

Your laughter rushes out of you and his eyes flash open, his smile fully bloomed, transforming his face, all dimples and crinkly eyes.

“Come here, Marion,” he chuckles, sitting you over his sturdy lap.

All at once, you’re crushed against his chest to the music of his rumbling mmhs, before his embrace loosens, head dipping, nipping at your collarbone, calloused palm skimming up the underside of your breast.

“Fucking perfect,” you hear him growl before his mouth latches around your nipple.

You keen, quiet, grateful, eyes fluttering close as his tongue twirls around the hardening bud, hanging on for dear life to the breadth of his shoulders. So many sensations, after feeling so little for so long. There’s a live-wire buzzing down from your sternum to your core, and your pulse’s a desperate staccato, you struggle to remain afloat.

With an appreciative sound, he sucks on your nipple, a rough hand squeezing your breast, and when he bites into the soft flesh of it, it shoots straight to your clit. Your hips bucking forward of their own volition, seeking more.

Under your folds, his cock twitches, exquisitely stiff for you, already.

“I could come like that, you know?” you pant, rolling your hips into the bulk of his want.

A shake of his curls, and he lets go, his mouth releasing your breast with a wet sound.

“No,” he husks, teeth ghosting the column of your neck, “you’re coming on my cock. Put it in.”

Your heart stutters, skips a beat, or two, or several.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs but he’s not moving you away, and there’s no space between your sealed bodies, no leeway for any movement. You’re trapped in his hold, pinned to his skin, glued to the amber golden light of him. And your hips keep rolling, and your heart keeps tripping, and your want keeps swelling.

His lips wrap over the beating vein in your neck, sucking on the tender skin, sharp and stinging, teeth sinking into the surfacing blood. You lean into him, lean into the bite, lean into the pain.

You give yourself to it, all the love and the want and the affection, lose yourself in it, limp and pliant as it pours inside you, and everything has a name, now, everything is right, as his touch dissolves all the hurt calcified around your heart, all the fear you wouldn’t let out, all the failures and the doubt.

You breathe out his name, and he breathes out yours, and you’re whole, bright, in bloom. Brimming with life.

He fits in your hand, warm and hefty, smooth skin and bulging veins, throbbing under the caress of your thumb, leaking thick and tangy over your knuckles, and you’re desperate for a taste, but you can’t let him go.

“Put it in, come on” he grits, but there’s no bark to his words, only need, bleeding into the bruising furrow of his fingers into the plush of your ass.

A lift, you’re weightless in his hold, and he’s pushing thick and stiff at your entrance. Your face hanging above his, lips parted, trembling, and it’s already too much, the way everything within you pulsates and tingles.

His gaze levels with yours, and his eyes spear into your eyes before he lowers you onto him with an unyielding grip and a shaky exhalation. And with each splitting inch, the searing girth of him stretching you blind.

Fingers curled around his biceps, forehead pressed to his, you sink down to the hilt. The coarse hair at his base grazes your clit and sweat beads over your temple.

With measured breaths, he pauses, giving you time to adjust. Eyes skittering over the small line splitting your brow, the quiver of your lip that you're too full to bite down on.

For the first time ever, there has been no Stop me. This is something else.

This is what comes next. What you’ve earned, what you’ve prayed for.

There’s a tremor in his frame, the only evidence of his waning control, and he grabs at your ass, rocking you onto him, languid, scorching, a deep grind, perked up nipples grazing his solid chest, and you're already ascending.

“Frankie,” you whine, plead, beg, walls a frantic flutter as his cock slots right into the center of you in rolling waves.

“Let go, Lee” he rasps, “let go, I got you.”

With the hushed assurance of his words, round and sincere, your release crackles and tenses. You slump in his arms, undone, rebuilt.

“I’ve missed you, Lee,” he presses into the slope of your shoulder, “God, I’ve missed you.”

—

He’s insatiable. Some of it is reminiscent of your first encounters at the motel, when his hunger was indiscernible from his rage.

Tied up, with your arms behind your back and your face buried in the mattress as he holds your ass up with a bruising grip on your hips and pounds into you hard, rough, relentless.

His fingers tangled in your sweat-damp hair, your knees on the hard tiles of the shower as he fucks your throat until you forget how to breathe.

And suddenly reverential, his gentleness nearly too much when he wakes you up to cover your body in kisses and strokes. Overwhelming, the desperation with which he seeks the contact of your skin, his gaze spearing into your eyes as he grinds deep into your heat.

The urgent, low husk of his voice when he murmurs, “Tell me what you want, Lee, let me give you what you need.”

When he sits you on his face and relents control, when you pull on his curls to press him closer to where you want him, shameless and wanton, riding your release.

—

“And what about the Russians?” you ask, propping your chin on his chest. “Have you ever fought against the Russians?”

“Jesus, woman,” he laughs, “how old do you think I am?”

“I’m not talking Cold War Russians, I’m talking CIA stuff. I know you lot, Delta operatives.”

“Oh yea?” he grins, cocking an eyebrow. “What have you heard?”

A mischievous expression dances on your face and he chuckles again, a wider grin pulling his lips. Lightheaded, is one way to put it. Melting inside is another. Giddy like a teenager with your levity.

Your eyes flicker down to his dimple and you lift your hand off his chest to brush your finger into the dip in his cheek. You keep it there for a beat, seemingly absorbed, enthralled by the touch, and then it’s over. You lower your head back onto him, cheek resting right over his scar, he knows there’s no coincidence to it.

Frankie lets out a silent sigh. His head lolls back on the fat pillow. Twenty-nine Fridays, carved out and hollow. Twenty-nine weeks, 1123 miles, carrying his love and hunger like a penance, and then this. Your naked body tucked against his, under the thick downy comforter, in this tiny room saturated with your scent. Your taste on his tongue. Your easy laughter. Your gaze sinking into his eyes. It's a blessed sensory overload. That old slicing ache in his chest singing another song.

Somehow, you look younger than when he last saw you. Maybe not younger, just more carefree. Understandably so. Those last weeks in Tampa, you had become so frail. But you’ve put on some weight since. It sits harmoniously on your figure, suits your features and brightens up your face. Means there’s more of you, too, and he can’t keep his hands from roaming your curves.

He knows he’s gotta talk to you at some point. It’ll kill the mood, probably. Inform you of that decision Lupe took that will affect his life for the foreseeable future. Affect yours as well, maybe. To some extent at least. That insane rippling effect. His past choices always breathing down his neck, when he’d give everything for a clean slate.

But you look so fucking delicious. He went so fucking long, too fucking long without you, now he cannot get enough. It’s too soon to risk it.

There were plans. An itinerary you had drafted in the short lapse of time it had taken him to organize his trip here, and that you’d texted him on the night before his flight. Things you wanted to show him, places that matter to you. The Coney Island boardwalk, the Guggenheim, and some marine paintings in the Frick Collection you were excited to share with him. He’d texted back with some requests of his own: your office building, the place in Brooklyn where you attend the evening classes, your favorite places to eat.

But since he arrived, he’s kept you in, or you have him, he cannot tell. Either way, the two of you haven’t left the dim apartment, and any notion of time has been reduced to the alternation of semi-dark urban nights and stonewashed winter days.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that your apartment barely looks lived in. Bare walls, save for that map in your kitchen, if he can even call that a kitchen. Your suitcase standing beside the dresser, like you’re ready to take off. No curtains, no rug, no lampshade. It’s almost like you don’t really want to settle. Like you’re still trying to decide if you truly belong here.

The only evidence of you is taped to the mirror above the dresser. A Polaroid of a kid in pigtails blowing raspberries, washed out yellow and blurry by the years. Your sister, if he had to guess.

And that receipt tucked between the pages of a leather-bound book on your nightstand. From the cantina. That very first Friday he brought food to the motel. He checked the date stamp.

It breaks his heart, the way you’re torn and scattered. Neither here nor there. His guilt might be irrelevant, misplaced, but it churns his insides nonetheless.

Still, New York is where you live now. You’ve made some good friends, work a job you seem to like enough to give it your best. It’s probably just a matter of time before you store away the suitcase.

Part of him wants to go out and explore this city that has robbed you from him. Learn everything he can about your life here, so that when he flies out on Saturday morning, he can picture you in your environment, going about your daily life. Anything to try to survive your absence.

He wants to meet your family. A dinner is scheduled sometime this week with your sister and her girlfriend. He’d like to meet your friends. Further explore the mixed emotions and feelings he experiences whenever you mention these people, whenever he thinks of them. Gratitude, for the affection and comfort they give you. Envy, for the parts of you that are familiar to them and that himself will never get to know.

The person you are when you’re with them.

“Frankie?” you call quietly, your leg a smooth brush against his as you hitch it higher.

“Yes, baby?”

“Have you ever thought about how people are like… made of layers?”

“That’s funny, I was just thinking about it.”

“Really?” you exclaim.

Your head pops up comically, and his jaw tenses. Why can’t he bring himself to let you see the dopey smile that melts his face whenever you look at him like this? Until now, he’s never felt vulnerable demonstrating his affection.

But things with you are different. That living pull between you is too big, bigger than him. He senses it thrumming behind your lungs while it whirs inside his chest like an answer, constantly, it might bleed him dry with its intensity. Like first love. Pristine. Brand new. All encompassing.

“Mmh,” he grunts, gathering his brain. “Yea. Or maybe like puzzles?”

“Yes,” you agree, your tone serious, and you scoot up a notch, propping your head in your hand, so you don’t have to crane your neck to look at him, “puzzles, exactly. And everyone you know holds a different piece of you.”

“Yea, pretty much, I guess.”

“And so the puzzle of you is never truly complete because the pieces are never all together at once.”

You pause, pondering over your reflection.

“Do you think all the pieces could fit together, if they were assembled?” Frankie asks after a moment, a strange sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, like his center of gravity has suddenly shifted.

“Probably not,” you muse, head shaking imperceptibly, your gaze lost somewhere in the distance.

The memory of the motel room resurfaces, stifling heat, amber lighting. The distance that sometimes clouded your eyes, your silent retreat within yourself, that inner world of yours, your island. Week after week, getting closer, within his reach, yet never fully accessible. He swallows thickly.

“I think you got all my pieces,” you say in a casual tone, in contradiction with his thoughts.

He tightens his grip around your waist.

“I don’t think I do, baby. But it’s okay,” he lies, as if he’s not free-falling from the sky, plummeting straight into your ocean.

Slipping out of his hold, you sit up on the rumpled bed, your naked back turned to him.

“Do you think I’ve got all your pieces?” you ask.

“God, I hope not,” he sighs, running a palm over his face.

Hugging your knees, you lean forward, away from him. The room is thick with a compact silence, as if all the sounds were absorbed by fresh snow.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks, brushing his knuckles along your spine. A shiver fizzles under his touch.

“I was wondering… Is it important? Do you have to know someone to love them? What’s the right balance between knowing your partner, and knowing yourself? What’s the tipping point?”

His hand splays over your lower back.

“The tipping point to what?”

You shake your head in frustration, straightening your back, your knee bumped against his thigh. Offering him your profile, but not your direct gaze.

“I don’t know how to explain. When do you start losing yourself to be what others… what people expect you to be? At what moment do you start feeling isolated? Misunderstood? In a relationship, I mean? Because that’s the beginning of the end.”

“Fuck, Lee, I don’t– I don’t have those answers,” he frowns, sitting up with a cinch. “I know I love you, all of you, even the pieces I don’t know. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to be someone else.”

Reaching behind you, you take his hand and weave your fingers with his. Your fingertips are cold, and he squeezes his into the back of your hand, to imprint some of his heat into you. Some of his words, too.

At last, you fully turn. Under your scowl, something darkens your gaze. Something Frankie cannot decipher. His face close to yours, his eyes boring into your eyes, the moment tightens his throat, decisive, important. The pregnant silence. The gray winter light painting shades of blue on your pale skin. The old pain spears through his heart, sweet and beaming. It’s gonna split him in half. He knows he’ll never forget it. Never let go of this sensation.

“I trust you, Frankie.”

“I trust you, too.”

Your brow shifts, the tiniest inflection, and your eyes widen, luminous like a rising sun, like a summer morning.

“I promise I’ll always be honest with you.”

“I promise I’ll always be honest with you, baby,” he rasps, the weight of his secret sitting on the back of his tongue.

—

On the fourth day, at last, you venture outside, ushered by your sister’s and Polly’s dinner invitation.

The itinerary had to be stripped to the bare minimum. Frankie will be flying out in two nights. Your heart stutters and sinks every time you think of him leaving.

The cold is unforgiving, the sky a gray shade of white, heavy and full like a quilted blanket. Against reason, you offer to take him to Coney Island, where the Atlantic wind will freeze the ears off your head. You’re not sure why it’s important for you to take him there, but he says he’s game.

Bundled up in your thrift store coat, your face half concealed between a scarf the size of a tablecloth and a wool hat, you watch him brave the cruel temperatures with nothing more than a Sherpa lined trucker jacket over a fleece shirt, and his ragged Standard Heating Oil cap.

As you stand and shiver, waiting for the bus —the first act of an interminable route— the tip of his ears poke out from underneath his curls, reddened by the frosty air. Sliding your numbed-out hand in his, you’re surprised by the warmth of his palm. Your mind wanders to the harsh conditions his former life has trained him to endure. You squeeze his hand with all of your strength.

Later, sitting side by side on the subway’s hard plastic seats, you rant to him about your love-hate relationship with the NYC Metropolitan Transportation Authority. The never-ending rides, ideal for reading, listening to music, or idle contemplation. The welcome aloneness of anonymity, in a sea of indifferent strangers.

He listens, his sharp profile tilted down in concentration over your words, and you’re mindful to downplay the downsides, the maddening time-consuming sprawl of the city, the promiscuity, the last-minute route changes and the undecipherable PA announcements.

It’s not a lie as much as an omission. You can’t send him back over there with the knowledge that despite all its perks, you’ve failed to make this place your home.

Thinking of your earlier promise, you fall silent, the deafening thunder of the train’s wheels over the tracks ringing out in your ears like a metallic injunction.

Your head lolls onto the round slope of his padded shoulder. His large hand curls over your thigh with a strong squeeze as he presses his lips to your temple.

“What are you thinking, baby?”

“I was thinking that I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to living here,” you confess.

His shoulder slumps under your cheek.

It’s another hour on the F train before you make it to the ocean.

On the boardwalk, by the deserted amusement park, the wind slices through you, biting the exposed skin of your cheeks and chilling your bones. The defunct Parachute Jump stands erect like a skeletal sentinel, guarding over the memories of summers past. The graceful Wonder Wheel’s silhouette stands out in bright colors against the bleak December sky, like a benevolent promise, the assurance of continuity and the return of better days.

“I think it’s my favorite season to be here,” you murmur.

“I can see the appeal,” Frankie rasps against the wind, eyes trained on the line of the horizon over your head. His arms circling your waist, the wall of his solid heat at your back.

“What have you told your sister about me?” he asks after a moment.

“Not much. Are you nervous?”

“No, not really. Wait, should I be? Her girlfriend’s a shrink, right?”

You laugh heartily, and immediately regret it when air made of pure frost rushes inside your lungs, freezing its way to the very end of your bronchioles.

“Polly’s nice, don’t worry about her. Don’t worry about either of them. I love them, but I’m not waiting for their blessing.”

You’re done abiding that collective “we.” Another resolve rising up to the surface without your conscious knowledge of the process.

“Oh shit, look at that,” Frankie exclaims.

Above you, snowflakes descend from the white sky in a fast-paced twirl. Your very first New York snow. It’s neither fluffy nor cute, though, more like fierce little icy shards barreling toward you like small crystalline weapons.

Your first thought is of his child.

“Has Lua ever seen the snow?”

“No.”

You squint against the wind and the stabbing snow, against the white daylight and all of your past hesitations.

“I can't wait to meet her, you know.”

He pulls you in closer, reaching out for your body through layers and layers of winter clothes.

For a while now, the feeling has grown steady and strong inside of you, taking up more space each day. Nurtured by the pictures and many stories you’ve asked Frankie to share with you. This time, you’re better equipped to name it, from the very beginning. And it’s strange, in a tranquil kind of way, the unconditionality of this love. The irrationality of it. You love her, without any reason for it. You love her, just because.

“How is it, being a parent? Did you know from the start what to do?”

“Oh fuck no,” he scoffs wryly. “Most of the time, I feel like she’s the one teaching me how to be her dad.”

The honesty of the statement makes you smile.

“Do you think you could bring her, next time?”

“She’s gonna have to get used to it.”

Frankie’s words reach your ear as you’ve already spoken yours. You whip around in his arms to face him, struck by the look on his face. Like he’s trying to chew his molars.

“Wait, what? Used to what?”

“She’s gonna have to get used to the snow.”

—

Your eyes are fucking blazing, so big they eat up half your face. A single teardrop clings to your lashes, from the near polar gale, probably, and you’re shivering cold.

He can’t stall any longer. Not again. Not this time. Not when he just gave you his word to always be honest with you.

“Lua’s mother's getting married. They’ll be moving to Rochester in the spring. Her fiancé’s from there. His father passed away a couple weeks ago, and his mother has ALS. He wants to move back to take care of her.”

“Rochester… New York, Rochester?”

Frankie nods. Against his chest, your lean figure grows stiff.

“She’s taking Lua with her?” you ask in a thin voice.

Frankie nods again. The wind picks up in gusts, those sharp snowflakes falling down obliquely, murderous, whipping your faces relentlessly. He wants to get you somewhere inside, somewhere warm. What if you get sick when he’s about to leave?

Why you seem to fall for the things that are the most arduous to love is a complete mystery to him. This place in the winter. Him.

Your fingers curl around his lapel.

“She’s taking Lua, yea. We talked about it. I’m gonna have to relocate. There’s no way I’m seeing my kid less than I already do. I started scouting for jobs in the area.”

“Is that why you came here? To tell me?”

“I came here because you said you needed to see me, Lee,” he answers, the hint of a scowl sharpening his tone.

You tilt down your face and furrow into his neck, your woolly hat a fuzzy tickle against the scruff of his chin. Your unrelenting tenderness, that brought him back from the darkness.

“I’ve checked the flights here from up there. It’s a short trip, a little under two hours. I could come down to visit every other weekend. If you want me to, of course” he adds, his voice warped with sheer fucking terror, his heart thumping in his throat.

“I don’t like it,” you shoot right back, rising your face to look him dead in the eye.

It’s that same look again, the one from that very first night at the bar, feverish, lost, hopeful against all odds, against your better judgment. Instinctively, his hands fly to cup your face. It’s cold as marble, and his palms ignite at the contact of your skin, again, still, always. Your eyes pool with something dark and dense, your fingers leaving his jacket to cuff his wrists.

“Every other weekend isn’t enough, Frankie. It’s not enough.”

“What are you saying, Lee?”

“I'm saying I want to go there with you.”

His pain huffs out of him. Disbelief in a puff of white breath.

“You want to follow my ex and her new husband to fucking nowhere up north, when you just settled here?”

Brow pinched in a stern expression, you nod frantically between his palms.

“Yes. I want to be with you.”

“What about your sister? Your job? Your friends? What about–”

“I can find another job,” you cut it, words punching out of you and landing straight into his gut. “You said it’s only two hours to fly here, I can visit them, I want to be with you, Frankie, please, please, plea–”

His mouth crashes over yours, silencing your plea. Your lips are icy-cold as you press back into his kiss. He feels your arms rounding his back, your little fists bunching his jacket, clinging to his shoulders. He could swear he feels your heart, too, pounding loud against his, leaping out into his rib cage, exactly where he wants it, where he needs it, next to his, to keep it warm and safe.

How did he get here, on this freezing boardwalk, facing the dark immensity of the Atlantic Ocean on the cusp of a second chance? On the verge of everything he never dared to long for? Everything he has ever truly wanted?

“You’re gonna come with me, baby?” he chokes, the words rolling thick over his tongue.

“Yes,” you sniffle, a tear running down your cheek.

“You’re gonna let me love you? Gonna let me build you a home?”

“Yes, Frankie,” you nod again, a smile tugging your lips, more tears slipping down your face, and he’s surprised the wind doesn’t turn them into pear-shaped diamonds.

“Okay. Okay, alright,” he smiles. “Can we get somewhere warm now?”

You laugh, leaning into his hold. Blue lips, red cheeks, pink scar. Eyes of gold.

“Yes,” you agree with another sniff. “Remember when we wished for seasons?”

The End

****

End notes: alright, Orange bedroom besties, raise your hand who thought they wouldn't end up together? I tried, this time I really tried, but there's nothing I can deny this man... or you, I guess? This series took a big chunk out of my life. It consumed a lot of my heart, time, energy, brain, emotions... Wow, look at that, not unlike therapy, huh? Anyway, enough about me, my point is, THANK YOU. Thank you for your patience, I know I'm the slowest and I feel terrible, thank you for reading, or for just passing by, thank you for bookmarking for later, engaging, lurking, liking, commenting, reblogging, sending an ask, reccing, thank you for supporting me in any way and manner, thank you thank you thank you, Ily and I appreciate you, genuinely, so very much 🧡 Thank you Kelli my love, for beta reading that whole damn thing with so much kindness, for teaching me so patiently, for holding my hand every step of the way, for listening to my endless rambling, for being you, smart and talented, selfless and gracious, for being my friend. This is a story about hope, and your stories brought back hope into my life. I love you, I like you, I admire you, until the end of times 🧡 Thank you Lua @pedrit0-pascalit0 for letting me love you on main, oops I mean use your name! Thank you for sharing your thots on the Pilot™ with me, thank you for being a menace in DMs and keeping me alive and alert with your smart and talent and humor. Ily. Big loads 🧡 @dreamymyrrh you know what you did, and everything you gave this story. I'm so grateful for you 🧡 I love you more, I don't want to hear anything, shhhhh 🧡 Now I'm gonna go lie in the dark utterly terrified that I won't ever have another idea or write another word rest a little bit and get back to work as soon as inspiration strikes again!

THANK YOU ALL 🧡

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violet-eng · 1 year ago

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fem!reader studies Neuviotter! | Fluff 🧸 with Otter Neuvillette… 🔞with Human Neuvillette.

Summary: You're a Sumeru's researcher obsessed with Fontaine otters. So you basically adopt one... unfortunately it looks like that isn't an otter at all...

Warning: 🔞 MDNI. ALL SMUT IS WITH HUMAN NEUVILLETTE! Somnophilia, oral (fem! Receiving), p i v. Unprotected sex.

1.8k words.

Not edited.

⏜︵⊹︵⊹︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜⊹︵⏜︵⊹︵⏜

The prestige of your research precedes you. A diligent student with a flamboyant gait, brilliant ideals and precise knowledge. You arrive at Fontaine from the Sumeru Academy with a precedent never seen before, with your lively, attentive eyes and your notebooks covered in leather the same color as your eyes.

Word spreads immediately that the wise y/n, scholar of the Academia, has come to Fontaine to study a creature that has captured your attention to leave the green land for that of the primordial sea. Could it be that you want to study a mythical creature that lives in underwater caves? Or perhaps a glorious bird has captured your thirst for knowledge?

How surprised your guides were when you shouted with excitement, unable to contain your joy like a little girl, when you spotted a little otter poking its head out of the crystal clear water. You jumped up and down, unable to contain your happiness, exclaiming how amazed you were to see one so close.

Alone, you photograph the otter and go so far as to dive underwater with it, surprised more by how clever it is than by your new curious ability to breathe underwater. What a joy it is to find a group of creatures frolicking with a clam in their midst, spinning in the water and turning to look at you. You may have been down there for an hour.

Back on the surface, sitting on a rock with your feet in the water, you jot down the details in your notebook, tracing with the vague lines of a sketch the elusive shape of the little animals. Concentrating on your task, on defining the details of its snout, you notice on the other bank an otter, different from the others, grooming its head with its small hands.

You watch it carefully, the creature seems a little larger than the others, slender and almost like a gentleman...

"A gentleman otter," you whisper, enraptured by the delicate and magnificent figure grooming itself in front of you.

The otter makes sounds as he wipes his own face, lying on the surface of the water, carving his features and nose, while his two gnawing teeth peek through his pearly fur. Its small hands wash its own belly, almost ironing its fur as if it were the robe of a great lord. Deeply adorable. You hastily sketch the picture in front of you, not missing a tender detail of the cuddly toy floating carefree on the calm current.

The otter watches you with a lost look, black eyes that seem not to contain a single thought. The bliss of the ignorant. And you wave at him from your rock with a smile.

The otter swims toward you, and when he's within striking distance, he watches you, as if studying you.

"How smart you look," you say, clutching your notebook to your chest, "and very adorable. Look at you," you show him the drawing.

The otter stares at the paper with a certain analysis, but his unmistakable expression doesn't change. Then he seems to comb an invisible curl out of his furry head and approves your sketch with a formal nod.

"What a gentleman," you squeal, climbing down from your rock and returning to get your things. The otter emerges from the water, shaking his body to dry himself from the water, though he remains fluffy.

"I thought you were waterproof," you laugh at the sight of the expressionless furball, seemingly oblivious to his adorable embarrassment, "you're different, aren't you?" you approach him with a rag, trying to dry him.

You pull him onto your lap, paws up and his belly exposed as you dry his chest with your cloth, as if he were a baby. Then you wipe his little hands and then his paws. His face is now dry. The otter played with your bracelets, making funny noises and showing his little pearly teeth.

"Do you like it?" you ask, putting it down. The Otter nods enthusiastically. "It would look very cute on you," you add, taking off one of your bracelets and placing it around his neck.

The elastic of the bracelet is lost in his white fur, and the pendant stands out as if it were the clasp of a breastplate.

"You're missing a hat, and you could pass for another Fontaine gentleman," you exclaim, pleased with the result, as the otter poses like an elegant gentleman, his small chest puffed out, almost proud of how adorable he looks.

"It's getting dark, I should get back now. See you another day, Mr. Otter," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving your hand.

The otter hurries to follow in your footsteps, prancing subtly near you, his wet nose brushing against your ankle.

"You want to come with me, huh?" you kneel before him, and he touches your nose with his paw. "Fine, fine. We'll have a sleepover."

The place you're staying in is small but cozy, and it gets even cozier when you turn on the heat and put food on the table. The otter sits in a chair across from you, on a mountain of books, and tastes several of the snacks you've served him, though you see him going crazy over some consomme purete and the big glass of pure spring water you've served him.

"You like that, I noticed," you say.

"Burp," the otter replies with a burp that he seems to regret immediately.

"You have more manners than many people," you tell him, wiping his whiskers with a napkin.

"Okay, I'll brush your teeth and then off to bed," you say happily, with the idea of reading to the little animal before bedtime.

You sit him on your sink in front of the mirror, lift his jaw and brush his teeth with your toothbrush and toothpaste, first one side and then the other, make him drink some water and then spit it out, although he swallows it.

"Not your thing to waste water, apparently."

The otter nods.

Then you brush his head, chest, back, and tail, letting him groom himself, and when you try to remove the pin, he hides it in his small hands.

"Okay, okay... I'll leave it to you," you smile.

And then you lie in bed with him in your arms, illuminated by the dim light of your lamp, holding a book with an adventure story in it. You read aloud to him, stopping when you hear him whistling and snoring.

"Good night, Gentleman Otter," you kiss him on the forehead before turning off the light and going to sleep. ....

You're not one to dream, not at all, but ever since you came to Fontaine, you couldn't help but have these nightly fantasies about Iudex Neuvillette. That stoic and serious man, how good his face would look contorted with pleasure as you sucked his cock.

You had dreamed of a similar situation many times, you had dreamed of him against you as he pinned your frail figure against his desk and thrust into you, biting your lower lip. You had had your first fantasy after a trial, thinking how manly he would look behind you, his cock buried in your ass....

All those dreams had been vivid fantasies, and tonight's took the prize.

You lay on your bed, him biting your neck as he rests behind you, his hands playing with your breasts at his whim, his tongue sliding over your skin, enjoying the nectar of your pure complexion, his cock swollen against your clothed ass.

"Mmmmhhhh, Monsieur~" you moan, writhing in his grip.

The wonderful thing about these dreams is that you don't know how you get into these situations, but you know how to enjoy them. Because from one moment to the next, the oh so taciturn Iudex Neuvillette has his face buried between your legs, tasting your folds and your clit with his trained tongue.

"Right there~" you moan, arching your back as you feel the desire well up from his mouth, his tongue drawing lustful strokes across your sex, his deep sighs stoking the fires of your passion.

His hands wrap around your legs, and for a moment you swear it's real, the way his nails dig into your skin, leaving reddened marks in their wake, and his thumbs sink into your thighs, anchored to you with no intention of letting go.

Then you feel him thrust into you, opening your silken walls in his wake, his thick cock making its way to your center, molding your walls to his erect, large form. You feel him rub against you as your insides embrace him with little restraint.

You hear him moan and feel your legs rise up over his shoulders, his cool hands at your ankles pressing down on you, thrusting slowly but deliciously, almost as if you were made for him.

"Monsieur Neuvillette~" you moan, clutching the pillows, your hips bucking at the growing warmth in your belly, your hands seeking your own pleasure.

"Warmer than I thought," he whispers, "

it is almost like n your dreams... though this time it feels so real...

You look at him for the first time, his face sweaty, his cheeks flushed as his locks of white hair fall down your legs. His strong arms hugging you, his pecs rising and falling, holding breath... lower down, his chiseled abdomen twitching as his cock buries itself relentlessly inside you.

The sound of his balls against your skin blows your mind and makes you realize that it's not a dream, that Iudex Neuvillette is really fucking you (and very well, much better than you expected).

"Monsieur..." you try to sit up, but he has touched your cervix with his cock, and you do nothing but collapse under him, filled with the pleasure of his gentle thrusts.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks you reverently, in a tone of sublime courtesy and lofty superiority, as if he were not mercilessly fucking you at his whim while you sleep.

"Don't stop," you whimper between words, not wanting to waste the opportunity you've been dreaming of since the first time you saw him, "damn it," you exclaim at the wave of heat surging through your chest and legs as you hear him chuckle under his breath, quite pleased with what he's managing to make of your body.

The orgasm hits you warm and rough, just as Neuvillette did with his cock, careful not to leave his seed inside of you. And your breath comes back as you feel him caress your back as if to reward you.

You feel his lips on your forehead, and the way his arms hold you beside him as your eyelids droop at the inevitable.

"How did you get here?" you babble, half asleep, caressing his chest as he draws soft circles on your arm.

"You invited me," he whispers as he brings your hand to his neck where your bracelet encircles his skin and the charm falls to his chest.

"You'll explain it properly tomorrow," you murmur between confused shuffles...

#genshin impact smut #neuvilette smut #neuvilette x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #Neuviotter #otter #Otter Neuvillette #genshin #genshin x reader

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laylasverse · 23 days ago

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ALL ALONG HALLOWS EVE ᰋ is a shifting ask game centered around your supernatural realities. dedicated to @damixo for giving me the idea. ﹙ reblog for asks & send emojis to ask ﹚

🧳 ◞ what do you have shoved into the compartments of your suitcase? create a moodboard of your favorite clothing items.

🚬 ◞ do you have someone on your tail? someone chasing you for the truth? or are you out of know as well?

🔍 ◞ putting you under the magnifying glass, what are you made of? what are your abilities? how did you get them? did you inherit them or were you bitten in the woods while trying to find a dead body?

🕰️ ◞ are you racing against a clock? an impending doom? a witch-hunt? what is the plot of your reality? is it based on any media here?

📻 ◞ what're you putting on the radio? name a few songs that perfectly fit your reality?

🦇 ◞ everything goes! give us all the little bits of lore you want.

🍂 ◞ are you stuck in season? in an endless loop of foggy mornings in a teal-tinted world like bella? only experiencing the same environments over and over because they fit the aesthetic of a moody mythical creature?

🦉 ◞ do you have any wise old owls? people you can turn to to guide you through your powers?

📜 ◞ how does the world perceive the mystical and mythical? carrying pitchforks and chanting? building altars and studying histories?

🪵 ◞ describe the hidden forests you've discovered. your favorite spots to go hide when the world gets too loud. how did you find it? do you only go alone?

#layla's ꫂ᭪ games #shiftblr #shifting #reality shifting #shifting blog #shifting realities #shifting ask games

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kingdomfall · 1 month ago

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Demon culture is very interesting to me. These demons are selfish, greedy and their whole social structure is based on power. Yet we don't see demons fight for power or doing something untoward someone to get something they have. A lot of powerful demons don't seem to be abusing their power to push around weaker demons. The only indication of this is the many ear tribe. But you know what happened with them? They were given to a student for a scala, a scala which in the goal was founding a country for them were they can support each other and have some modicum of freedom from being just tools to powerful demons.

When they're too stress they fall into their evil cicle, were they can become aggressive. This was so prevalent that they built systems to relieve that stress (devidols, theme parks ect). The fact we don't know much of evil cycle out of pseudo stuff like Iruma's evil cycle and what we saw of Kalego's breifly is sad to me (he cares so much).

That is not even going into the return to origin and demons that want to return to origin. These faction of demons are so fixated on how the demon realm was that they want to destroy the current demon realm. And it might seem that demons back then ate humans? Now I'm thinking of when or if humans and demons coexisted together or when humans passed thru the demon real. How did they become mythic creatures?

But anyway moving on

The government of the demon realm is very interesting itself. They have the demon king and the 13 crowns as well as the demon boarder patrol. Now we know that their hasn't been a demon king in years. They waited so long to apoint anyone or find a way to find someone suitable. The only reason things got moving is because the demon real was falling out of control. The demon king is lead by the king maker, guiding them on how to become the ruler and how the demon world works. Yet apparently if the demon king doesn't want the king maker around then they don't have them around, like what? And it's clear that the position is important and hold great power before it fell into obscurity. The boarder patrol is supposed to protect the demon real and keep the human realm and theirs closed. Yet we clearly see that demons in the boarder patrol have different ideas on what they should protect the demon realm from.

Man, I don't know where I was going with this. I guess I just wanted to ramble. I love Iruma go read the manga if you can. And if you want to support Nishi Osamu more they have another manga called "Ichi the Witch" go read it, it's good.

#m!ik #mairimashita iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school! iruma kun #ramblings #Analysis? Maybe who knows. Not me #I love Iruma and it should be talked more in manga and anime space

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theriu · 11 months ago

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How To Frustrate A Faun

Me: (holding up rare flowers) Special delivery!

Faun: You got them! Thank you so much, I could never have gone near a hydra. Was it difficult?

Me: Nah, turns out I knew him and he exchanged some for a favor. On that note, I need to wash my sword.

Faun: (eating a flower; eyes roll in delight) Fantastic! My dinner party will be a hit with these in the center dish!

Me: Oh yeah, people'll be fauning all over it!

Faun: . . . I thought we agreed when I hired you that there'd be NO puns?

Me: Shoot, I completely forgot! My baad.

Faun: (deadpan stare)

Me: Sorry! It's hard to stop when I get goating—going.

Faun: . . . (sighs) Well, I can't fault your actual work, so I'll let it slide. Let me grab your pay.

Me: Thanks! So what dish are you using the flowers in?

Faun: You know, I haven't completely decided. My mother is coming and she's a bit picky, but I know she likes a good salad, so I could use them to top a Mediterranean mix or brighten up a simple spring salad. What do you think?

Me: I'm sure which . . . ever . . .

Faun: . . . ?

Me: (sweating)

Faun: . . . No, no don't you do it—!

Me: I’m sure whichever you make will satyr.

Faun: (throws money bag)

Me: (catches and runs) I sense you aren't kidding, boy I feel sheepish, guess it would behoof me to leave, don't bleat 'em all at once!

Faun: (yelling in distance) I'M TAKING A STAR OFF MY YELP REVIEW!

Me: PROBABLY FAIR!

------

(A/N: I had this one on the backburner for months because I had so many goat puns but couldn't get the delivery right. I wish I was actually this quick-witted in person, but then again, I'd probably have more enemies. XD; )

For more assorted nonsense, visit my How To Guides for Mythical Creatures Masterlist!

#fauns #mythology #how to guides for mythical creatures #htgfmc #puns #goats #mythical creatures #monsters #cryptids #river puns #bad puns

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thepinkpanther83 · 2 months ago

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And They Were Roommates (Pt.19)

Chapter Nineteen: “Soup, Sickness, Stardom”

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Previous Chapter: Chapter Eighteen: “Man Flu” Next Chapter: Chapter Twenty: “A Feast for the Dysfunctional”

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter Nineteen: “Soup, Sickness, Stardom”

The coffee pot gurgles behind you like it’s mocking your existence.

You’re hunched over the counter in Eddie’s faded Hellfire Club shirt, trying to remember if your body has always felt this… off. It's probably just the lack of sleep. And the cold. And the fact you spent last night dodging a man who whined like a dying poet and then actually vomited with enough flair to earn himself a posthumous Oscar.

Yeah. It’s definitely just that.

The bathroom door creaks open behind you. Eddie emerges, steam trailing after him like he’s some mythic creature risen from the swamps of Vicks Vaporub. His hair is damp, curls clinging to his face, and the sleeves of his hoodie are too long, hanging past his fingers like he’s shrinking inside of them.

“You look alive,” you murmur, handing him a mug of black coffee.

“I feel like I won a war I wasn’t trained for.” He sips, eyes fluttering closed. “You’re an angel. I saw you in a dream. You were feeding me soup on a flaming pirate ship.”

“You told me I was pudding.”

“Multifaceted dream. I contain multitudes.”

You open your mouth to sass back- but something shifts. That same off feeling from earlier tightens just behind your ribs, nausea cresting so suddenly that your mouth waters.

“Ugh- shit.” You shove your mug down and bolt past him toward the bathroom.

Eddie flinches, dodging instinctively as you rush by. “Whoa- what the hell?!”

The answer comes in the form of retching.

You don’t even get the door all the way closed.

He hovers uselessly just outside, pacing in his socks. “Oh no. Oh no, did I actually infect you? Are we in some twisted co-sick AU now?”

You groan a reply, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain.

“I told you not to kiss me yesterday,” he laments, guilt already pooling in his tone. “I was like, ‘no babe, I’m a biohazard’, and you said, ‘you taste like cherry cough drops,’ which was hot but dangerous.”

You groan louder.

He gives the door a gentle knock. “Babe? Sweetheart? Please say something that’s not puking.”

You finally catch your breath and croak, “You’ve cursed me.”

“I knew I was patient zero.”

You rinse your mouth, dragging yourself upright. He’s waiting outside the door, hair puffing up wildly as it dries, a little furrow of worry between his brows.

“Back to bed,” he says firmly, guiding you with a hand on your back. “Doctor Munson will now be taking care of you. I’m certified in… vibes. And tea.”

You chuckle weakly, collapsing onto the couch as he tucks the same blanket around you that he’d dramatically flailed in yesterday. His hands are warm, lingering on your shoulders.

He disappears into the kitchen for a minute, clanking around like a well-meaning but incompetent nurse. When he returns, it’s with dry toast, a full glass of water, and a ginger ale he probably fished from the back of the fridge. The toast is unevenly buttered. The water has one of those bendy straws in it for no reason. You could cry.

“This is awful,” you mumble through a bite.

“I know,” he says proudly. “I’m horrible at this. But I’m here.”

You look at him- still pale, still sniffling a little, and your chest aches, though it’s not just the bug that’s got you off-kilter. He’s looking at you like you’re fragile and precious and his.

Something churns inside of you, but it isn’t the toast.

You’d gone back to bed, you’re not sure for how long. You’re not sure what woke you first- the sunlight slicing across your pillow or the faint, ragged strumming of Eddie’s guitar from the living room.

Your stomach churns again before you even move.

At first, you chalk it up to the lingering scent of cold meds and used tissues clinging to the walls like ghosts of the night before. But then you sit up- too fast, and the room tilts.

“Shit-” You lurch out of bed, one hand slapped over your mouth as you barrel toward the bathroom again. You barely make it in time, gripping the cool porcelain as your body revolts.

The sound of strings stops mid-strum.

“Babe?” Eddie’s voice is muffled, tentative. “You okay?”

You wipe your mouth and flush before croaking out, “Guess you really are contagious.”

There’s a pause. Then: “I’m really sorry, babe.”

You emerge a few minutes later, pale and sweaty, and find him standing awkwardly in the hallway. His hair’s still wet from his shower, damp curls sticking to his neck, and he's wearing the same ratty Corroded Coffin hoodie you thought you’d stolen weeks ago.

“C’mere,” he says, tugging you gently into his arms. You resist for a second, but your knees disagree, and he’s warm, solid, even if he smells faintly of eucalyptus and day-old soup.

He kisses your forehead, frowning. “You’re burning up.”

“You just fried your own brain with cold meds, Munson. Maybe your internal thermometer’s busted.”

“Still.” He tucks you closer, his voice unusually soft. “Let me take care of you today.”

You start to protest, but he’s already steering you toward the couch like a sleep-deprived nurse with a vendetta. You’re tucked in with Sir Reginald III guarding your feet before you can blink.

“I made more toast,” he announces. “And tea. Like a real nurse. Nurse Munson, at your service.”

You glance at him, skeptical. “The toast better not be burnt.”

“It’s not burnt,” he scoffs. “It’s… crispy. With flavor.”

He disappears into the kitchen just as your stomach flips again. You will yourself to breathe through it.

He returns a few minutes later balancing a plate, a mug, and- of course, a paper crown for you.

“Thought you should be queen for the day,” he says, plopping the thing on your head. “Since I was king of suffering yesterday.”

“You’re still a drama king.”

“True, but now I’m a functional drama king.”

You’re finally starting to feel halfway normal again when Eddie’s pager buzzes loudly against the coffee table. You both stare at it like it’s some kind of cursed relic.

He groans. “If that’s Gareth again, I swear to God-”

The shrill ring of the house phone interrupts him.

You blink. “...Okay, that’s weird timing.”

Eddie scrambles off the couch, blanket trailing behind him like a tattered cape, grabbing his pager as he goes. “That’s my bat signal. I can feel it.”

He nearly slips in his socked feet rounding the corner, grabbing the receiver off the wall-mounted phone like it's a live grenade as he checks his pager message.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Just presses the phone to his ear and walks a few steps away, eyes wide.

“Hello? ...Yeah, this is Eddie Munson. Who’s- oh, hey! Yeah, I got your page- right, yeah, my girlfriend and I were just sick- what? No, not that kind of sick- what? No, man, not like that- look, what’s up?”

You watch him pace, running a hand through his hair as he listens. Whatever he’s hearing makes him perk up like a dog at the word walk. You swear you see the fever lift off him like steam.

He turns toward you, eyes wide and electric with something dangerously close to hope. You raise your brows.

“Okay,” he says into the phone. “Yeah. Yeah, I can be there. Just tell me when. Thanks- seriously. Alright.”

You watch, toast halfway to your mouth, as Eddie’s posture shifts- still sick, still tired, but suddenly alert. Listening hard. His mouth moves fast, hand running through his curls. His tone is serious. Polished, even.

You barely catch the tail end: “Yeah, I can talk more- give me a second, let me grab a pen.”

He spins around, eyes blazing.

“I think this is the call, sweetheart.”

You blink. “The call?”

He talks for a bit longer, taking notes. He hangs up with a clang and just stands there for a second, staring at the phone like it might ring again and change its mind.

“…Well?” you finally ask.

He turns to you, stunned. “They want us back.”

You blink. “Who’s us?”

“Corroded Coffin!” he grins, suddenly animated, fever forgotten. “That guy from the gig- he said we’ve got a sound. Wants us to come in and talk about doing another show. Maybe a set at the Hideaway or somethin’ I don’t know. He said maybe even a studio day down the line if we don’t screw up.”

You just stare, watching the way his shoulders lift like someone finally told him he was allowed to dream again.

He mouths to himself: Local. Producer. Wants. To. Book. Us. Again.

He grins so big it almost splits his face. “Baby, we might actually get to do this.”

Eddie Munson might actually be going somewhere.

You’re already along for the ride.

And suddenly, even with your stomach still lurching with sickness and your head pounding, the whole morning takes a sharp left turn.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Eddie's voice is gentle but persistent, his brow furrowed so hard it looks like it might snap off his forehead. He's crouched by the front door, one boot already tied, watching you wrestle yourself into a pair of sneakers like it’s a full-body sport. You’re pale, and when you pause to catch your breath, he makes a noise in his throat like a suspicious cat.

“I’m fine,” you insist, dragging the heel of your palm across your temple. “Just- didn’t sleep much.”

He doesn’t buy it. Of course he doesn’t. Mother Hen Munson is in full cluck this morning.

“You look like you got your soul sucked out by a ghost,” he mutters, standing up and brushing his curls back with one hand, the other already reaching for the tote bag he stuffed full of last-minute ‘just in case’ items.

“Gee, thanks. Really building my confidence here, Eddie.”

“I’m serious.” He hoists the bag and starts ticking off fingers like a man possessed. “Tissues. Cough drops. Thermos. Tea. Extra socks. Those ginger things Wayne swears by, even though they taste like boiled regret.”

Your eyes roll so hard they almost fall out of your head. “Did you pack me an overnight bag or a survival kit for Everest?”

“Not that it’ll be today, but it’s an hour long drive to a place with no CVS and questionable plumbing,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “If you die of a cold mid-gig, the band’s gonna look real stupid accepting our Grammy posthumously.”

You smile despite yourself, cheeks pinking just a little. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He shrugs, strapping the bag over one shoulder. “I contain multitudes.”

But then his eyes soften again, and he steps in close, resting a calloused hand against your forehead like you’re breakable porcelain. “You really sure, sweetheart? I’ll call the guys. We don’t have to do this today.”

Something about the way he says we squeezes your heart in a way you’re not quite ready to examine.

“I’m okay,” you tell him again, gentler now. “Really. Just... need the wind in my face and some loud-ass music.”

Eddie nods slowly, still not convinced, but willing to let you win this one. “Alright. But if you faint mid-power chord during practice, I’m catching you and finishing the solo.”

You smirk. “As long as I go out to your greatest hit.”

“‘Hot for Teacher’ it is,” he grins.

“Eddie.”

“Fine, 'Crazy Train.’ Happy?”

You laugh. It sounds like gravel and sunlight. And for now, that’s enough.

You settle into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, the door creaking shut with a stubborn thunk. The vinyl squeaks under your weight, and for a second, the silence hangs heavy, save for the soft purr of the engine and the click of Eddie’s lighter.

He cracks the window and takes a drag, not even trying to hide it.

“You know that’s not tea,” you murmur, nose wrinkling.

He exhales out the corner of his mouth. “It’s medicinal.”

“You’ve got VapoRub in your pocket and tea in the thermos. Pick a side, Munson.”

“I’m on my side,” he croaks, then coughs hard enough to make his eyes water. “And my side needs nicotine.”

You don’t argue. You don’t have the energy. The wave of nausea that slammed into you back in the apartment is retreating for now, but it’s left a salty, metallic taste in your mouth and a pressure behind your eyes like a hangover that forgot to bring the party first.

Eddie glances over as he shifts into gear, his hand lingering on the stick like he’s debating pulling the van back into park.

“You sure about this?”

You nod once, quick and decisive. “I need air. And motion. And not to feel like a sick slug under a heat lamp.”

Eddie snorts. “That was poetic. Gonna write that one down for the next album.”

“Put it right after the one about puking into the void.”

He grins and nudges your knee before pulling out of the lot. The engine rumbles like a beast with indigestion, and the city blurs past in autumn-time browns, yellows and oranges.

It’s quiet for a few minutes- peaceful, even. Then Eddie reaches for the tape deck with a look of solemnity usually reserved for funerals or Metallica bootlegs.

“Brace yourself,” he says.

You arch a brow. “For what?”

“For the ultimate motivational playlist.”

You don’t get to argue before the speakers crackle and wail with the unmistakable opening riff of Dio’s Rainbow in the Dark. The volume is too loud for this hour. Too loud for two sick people. Too loud for the van, which shudders like it might just vibrate into another dimension.

You wince, gritting through a spike of nausea. “Jesus, Eddie.”

“What?!” he shouts over the music, eyes wide and innocent. “It’s classic healing frequencies!”

“You’re gonna heal me with metal?”

“Metal, sunshine, and the promise of pizza on the way back.” He pauses. “Mostly the pizza.”

Despite everything- despite the pounding in your head and the fog in your limbs, you let yourself smile. You roll down the window a few inches and let the wind slap your face. It helps, a little. Just enough.

He glances sideways again, this time a little longer than safe. “You sure you’re good?”

You nod, slower now. “Yeah. Just- keep driving. I’ll tell you if I need to puke again.”

“Please aim for the bucket,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the old 7-Eleven bag crumpled near your feet.

“Oh my god, Eddie.”

“I’m just saying, this van is vintage. If you ruin the carpet, we both lose.”

You roll your eyes and tip your head back against the window, the thrum of the van and the guitar solo humming through your bones. Outside, the buildings start to give way to trees and signs for cheap motels and diners. You're not sure what waits for you at the end of this adventure, but you know one thing for certain:

If this is the start of something big, you’re not letting Eddie do it alone.

The van pulls into Gareth’s driveway with a groan of brakes and a final, dramatic sputter like it’s sighing relief. The house looks the same as always- brick with a crooked mailbox, garage door half-jammed open and the unmistakable hum of amps and muffled drum thuds leaking into the afternoon air.

Eddie throws it into park and shoots you a look, part nerves, part defiance.

“Ready to ruin their day with amazing news?”

You smirk. “As long as I don’t throw up on any of them, I’d call it a win.”

Eddie reaches across the console and gives your hand a squeeze, warm and dry despite the lingering congestion in his face. “Rock ‘n roll, sweetheart.”

Inside the garage, it’s full-band chaos in full bloom. Gareth is behind the drum kit with no shirt and too much energy, Grant’s wrestling with a tangle of cords near the amp stack, and Jeff’s hunched over his guitar like it’s whispering government secrets.

They barely notice when the garage door creaks open and Eddie strolls in, triumphant as a cat dragging in a mouse.

“Ladies and gents!” he croaks dramatically, voice still rough from his sickness. “Your fearless leader has returned- with backup.”

You follow a beat behind, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway as Gareth flings a drumstick into the air and catches it.

“No way,” he grins, standing up with a clatter. “Thought you were half-dead yesterday.”

“Three-fourths dead, actually,” Eddie says. “But I was resurrected by the gods of potential opportunity.”

Grant glances over, eyebrow cocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eddie pauses for effect, then grins wickedly. “We got the call.”

He lets it hang in the air.

Jeff squints. “Like… a phone call?”

“Like a producer call.” He wiggles his fingers theatrically. “Local guy. Rick Altman, he says we should meet up with another guy, Nate Caputo. Owns a studio out in the sticks- Live Mike. Rick wants to hear us. Booked us a demo session with Nate.”

The garage goes quiet except for the soft fuzz of a speaker that’s still powered on. Then Gareth drops the stick he was spinning.

“No shit.”

“No shit,” Eddie repeats, beaming. “Wants to hear what we’ve got. He said he liked the sound from the last gig- word got back to him from that guy who was there. We made a blip, boys. A real one.”

Jeff slowly sets his guitar down and runs a hand through his hair. “Wait. Live Mike Studios? That place is legit. Like… tape-to-reel, analog everything, high ceilings, bad coffee, good acoustics-”

“Hour out of town, central Indiana, middle of nowhere, real deal,” Eddie confirms.

Grant stares, blinking. “He’s gonna record us?”

“Well, we’re gonna record for him,” Eddie clarifies. “But yeah. He said bring a set. Give him something that sounds like Corroded Coffin raw, but tight.”

Gareth whoops and grabs Jeff in a messy, full-body hug. “Holy shit, dude!”

“I told you those extra rehearsals weren’t a waste,” Jeff yells back.

“Guys,” Grant says, eyes huge. “Do you think he has, like, a snack table?”

“Oh my god, Grant.”

You slide into the garage fully now, leaning against Eddie’s side as the band continues to spiral through disbelief and excitement. He lets you rest there, arm slung around your shoulders, hand rubbing absent circles against your sleeve like his body needs to keep moving.

“So,” you finally say, “When do we go?”

They all turn to Eddie.

“This weekend,” he says. “Saturday. He had an opening. We’ll head out early, lay down two- maybe three tracks if we don’t implode. I already called off from work.”

“You-” Gareth looks like he might cry. “You didn’t even tell us before calling off?”

Eddie shrugs. “Some risks are worth taking.”

Jeff grabs a sharpie and starts writing something on the wall behind the amp stack- DEMO DAY: 11/15 in big, crude letters.

You feel a warm coil of pride wind in your chest. It’s messy, it’s sudden, and no one here has showered in what seems like a while- but it’s real. It’s something. And they’re doing it together.

Eddie glances at you, voice lowering. “You still good to come?”

“I’m not letting you drive an hour out into the cornfields of Indiana without a co-pilot,” you say, deadpan. “What if you get a nosebleed halfway there?”

He leans down, brushing his nose against your temple. “Then I’ll bleed on the tape. Make it punk.”

You nudge him. “Promise me you won’t stress about this. Just do your thing. Be you. You’re ready.”

He holds your gaze a little too long, lips parting like he’s gonna say something heavy- but Jeff interrupts with a loud clap.

“Okay! Game plan: we meet here Friday night to rehearse, pack up gear, maybe sleep a few hours. Leave at dawn. No coffee for Grant after midnight, no energy drinks for Gareth ever again, and Eddie- don’t lick anything weird before we go.”

Gareth snorts. “Dude, he always licks something weird.”

Eddie just grins. “Not this time. I’m saving my weird for the demo.”

It’s been a week since Corroded Coffin laid down their demo, and Eddie’s practically glowing- mostly healthy, loud, and riding the high like he was born on stage. You wish you could say the same about yourself. The nausea’s stuck around like an uninvited guest, hovering just beneath the surface.

The van rattles to a halt in the gravel lot of The Riff House- a punk haunt tucked behind what looks like a shuttered mechanic shop. The building leans with age, graffiti tags crawling up the brick like vines. Its neon sign flickers weakly, buzzing like a dying bug in the hazy afternoon light.

Eddie kills the engine and grins, eyes already scanning the front door like he’s home.

“Not the Hideout,” he says, unbuckling with flair. “This place has a real stage. Monitors. A green room. The toilets flush. Baby, we’re basically famous.”

From inside, the low hum of a bassline pulses through the walls- steady, alive, and unmistakably loud.

Eddie turns to you, his fingers still drumming on the steering wheel. “You alive?”

You groan, peeling your forehead off the window where you’d been leaning. “Barely.”

He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentleness that contradicts his usual bravado. His fingers linger a second, warm against your clammy skin. “You look like shit, babe.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, swatting weakly at his hand. “Real confidence booster.”

“Hey, I’m just saying- if we’re gonna charm this guy into giving us a shot, we might need to play up the ‘tragically ill but still rock’ aesthetic.” He grins, but there’s concern in his eyes. “You sure you’re up for this?”

You take a deep breath, willing the nausea to stay at bay. “I’m not letting you walk in there alone.”

Eddie’s expression softens. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something sappy, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he just nods and grabs the tote bag from the backseat. “Alright. But if you puke on the producer, we’re blaming it on the burritos we ate on the way up here.”

You snort, pushing the door open. The fresh air helps, even if it’s laced with the scent of stale beer and gasoline. Eddie rounds the van, slinging the bag over his shoulder and offering you his arm like some kind of gallant knight. “M’lady.”

You roll your eyes but take it, leaning into him more than you’d like to admit. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” he corrects, squeezing your arm.

The inside of The Riff House is exactly what you’d expect- dim lighting, sticky floors, and the kind of ambiance that makes you question your life choices. A few patrons glance up as you enter, but most are too absorbed in their drinks to care.

Eddie scans the room, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he spots a balding man in a leather jacket waving from a corner booth. "There's our guy," he murmurs, voice dropping into what you've dubbed his "business Eddie" tone- lower, smoother, with just enough confidence to mask the nerves.

You can feel the shift in him- the way his posture straightens, the way his fingers tap a silent rhythm against your hip like he's already playing an invisible guitar solo. He's electric right now, vibrating with the kind of energy that makes people either want to follow him or get the hell out of his way.

The producer- Rick Altman, if you remember Eddie's rambling correctly, stands as you approach, extending a hand. "Munson. You look like hell."

Eddie grins, all teeth. "You should see the other guy."

Rick snorts, then glances at you. "And you must be the infamous girlfriend. Eddie here wouldn't shut up about you."

You manage a weak smile. "Sounds about right."

Eddie squeezes your side, his thumb rubbing small circles through the fabric of your shirt. "She's my good luck charm," he says, and there's something in his voice- something soft and private, just for you, that makes your stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with nausea.

Rick motions for you both to sit. "Alright, let's talk business. You got the demo?"

Eddie's already pulling a cassette from his back pocket, sliding it across the table like it's a winning poker hand. "Freshly remastered. Gareth nearly cried when I made him redo the drum track six times."

Rick raises a brow. "Six?"

"Seven," you correct dryly. "But who's counting?"

Eddie shoots you a look that's half exasperation, half fondness. "Traitor."

The conversation shifts into talk of gigs, studio time, percentages- things that would normally have Eddie vibrating out of his skin with excitement. But every few minutes, his hand finds yours under the table, his fingers brushing your knuckles like he's checking you're still there. Like he's making sure you're okay.

And when Rick finally leans back and says, "Alright, kid. Let's do this," Eddie doesn't whoop or fist-pump like you expect, he just exhales, long and low.

Your breath catches for half a second. Just long enough to register the weight behind those words. He wouldn’t say things like that lightly, not when it’s real. And this? This is real.

Rick eyes the two of you for a beat, like he’s seeing more than what’s being shared. Eddie snorts and slides you closer to him in the booth, pulling you close without a second thought, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You lean back against the cracked vinyl, letting the noise of the venue fade as Rick dives in.

“We’ve got a window,” he says, already pulling out a folded calendar and a battered notepad. “Caputo’s got another act pulling out of a weekend slot in December. I’ll get you on stage, record a video, then we can book you in the studio again for a fuller session- maybe five tracks this time. Think you can swing that?”

Eddie nods, fast and eager. “We’ll be ready. We’ve got more material. Tighter, heavier.”

Rick scribbles something down. “Good. You got a following yet?”

Eddie smirks. “A cult one.”

Rick chuckles like he’s not sure if it’s a joke. “Start pushing your sets. Flyers, zines, hell, write your band name in Sharpie on every bathroom stall from here to Bloomington. You want this to go somewhere, you gotta make some noise… on and off the stage.”

Eddie nods again, more serious this time. “We will.”

You glance sideways at him, noting the set of his jaw, the fierce little glint in his eye. This isn’t a dream anymore- he’s treating it like a job. A purpose.

Rick eyes you again. “You gonna be there next time, Miss good luck charm?”

You meet his gaze, a hand on your stomach like it might calm the tiny storm still brewing low and slow. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Rick nods. “Alright. I’ll put the date on hold. Don’t make me regret this, Munson.”

Eddie flashes that feral grin again. “I only disappoint authority figures.”

Rick laughs- like really laughs this time, then tosses the calendar back in his bag and rises. “I’ll be in touch. Keep your phones on and your asses in gear.”

He’s gone before either of you can say more.

Eddie exhales slowly, letting his head tip back against the wall. “Holy shit.”

You reach for his hand under the table, threading your fingers through his. “It’s happening.”

“It’s happening,” he echoes, almost like he doesn’t believe it. Then his voice drops low, teasing. “Think you can survive a full month out in the middle of nowhere with me while I become a rock god?”

You smirk, biting back a wave of queasiness. “As long as you promise to get famous enough to buy me ginger ale whenever I want.”

He grins and leans in, bumping his nose against yours. “Deal, baby.”

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin

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soracities · 2 years ago

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"People thrown into other cultures go through something of the anguish of the butterfly, whose body must disintegrate and reform more than once in its life cycle. In her novel Regeneration, Pat Barker writes of a doctor who “knew only too well how often the early stages of change or cure may mimic deterioration. Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.” But the butterfly is so fit an emblem of the human soul that its name in Greek is psyche, the word for soul. We have not much language to appreciate this phase of decay, this withdrawal, this era of ending that must precede beginning. Nor of the violence of the metamorphosis, which is often spoken of as though it were as graceful as a flower blooming."

Rebecca Solnit, from "The Blue of Distance (II)", A Field Guide to 'Getting Lost

#q #lit #quotes #essays #literature #rebecca solnit #the blue of distance #a field guide to getting lost #and still i rise #reading #m #x

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kingofpopmj · 1 year ago

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Just Promise Baby, You'll Love Me Forevermore

Summary: Michael and Y/N take part in an interview together.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Actress!Reader

Warnings: fluff, Fluff and more FLUFF Requested: Yes

"Hello everyone, we're having some last minute lighting issues. We should be good to go in a few minutes. Please stand by." A tall man with long brown hair and a headset announced to the room.

The interviewer stood alone tapping her foot, a young twenty-something brunette woman. She had become a household name overnight because of this very interview, her first high level project. She wore a figure hugging navy blue pantsuit with light makeup. She was nervously checking her clipboard every few seconds, scribbling down last minute notes.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Thank you so much for being here." Y/N's sweet voice filled the air, introducing herself as if everyone didn't already know her name, but it said a lot about her character. She gracefully made her way around the room kindly making conversation with each person present. Her undivided attention was given to each individual, nothing less, she hung on their every word, asking thoughtful questions in return and in those few moments they were putty in her hands.

"Hello, how are you? I'm Michael. Thank you for taking part in this project with us." Michael Jackson—THE Michael Jackson followed a few paces behind Y/N, his version of walking appeared more like gliding. Eventually, he caught up with Y/N, securing a firm arm around her, his thumb rubbing circles in her hip. They continued greeting everyone and they swept them off their feet as a team. A beautiful, kind-hearted team. It was truly indescribable— like watching two mythical creatures prove their existence right before our eyes.

It was overwhelming— in the most amazing way possible. The star power aside, they seemed very normal. The two of them genuinely enjoyed meeting everyone, didn't leave anyone out and remembered every name. Michael stole glances, numerous lingering stares at his beloved. The way he looked at her, you could feel his emotions, he didn't just think she was beautiful— she was his everything. He didn't laugh or smile until he saw that she was doing the same. The protectiveness was evident. He wasn't jealous or threatened. He was cautious and confident. The way he watched over her wasn't possessive, it was sweet, like she was as vital to him as his own beating heart.

"Let's get our stars set with microphones." A short woman shuffled over to Michael and Y/N, guiding them over to their seats. They were going through the process of being wired up and I couldn't help but to admire their carefree nature.

They stood in front of one another, pulling silly faces at each other, giggling and enjoying themselves. They somehow managed to make this room feel like a home and everyone in it extended family.

"That works. Daryl, thank you." Y/N smiled, placing her hand on the assistants shoulder, the redness taking over his face and growing deeper by the second as he scurried off.

The couple shared a moment, whispering to one another with coquettish smiles. Michael moved to stand in front of her as she took her seat. He removed his coat without a second thought, Y/N waving her hands in the air as if to reject the gesture, but he paid no mind. He carefully placed the coat across her thighs, protecting her from wandering eyes and cameras. A tender kiss to her lips before he walked off for a moment.

"Hello, I'm Leslie, I'll be conducting the interview today. I can't believe you're here! This is insane! This is so cool!" She became very giddy, barely catching herself from continuing, Y/N sweetly matched her enthusiasm. "I mean, it's such an honor to meet you. I'm a huge fan. You're so talented." She spoke quickly, her eyes shining brightly with excitement. "You're even more beautiful in person. Thank you for agreeing to this and selecting me to be your interviewer. I know this interview is the first of its kind. I'm incredibly grateful to be part of it."

Y/N listened closely, nodding her head, following along, silently studying the woman before her, then standing up and leaning in for a sweet embrace. Leslie was visibly losing her mind, Y/N shared words of encouragement as she held her. She's sweet, astonishingly delightful and humble.

“Thank you so much. Leslie, you’re very kind. I appreciate you taking us up on the offer. We took time to watch your interviews and were blown away by your style. We knew immediately you were the one we wanted to create this with. We're really excited."

"I still can't believe you two know who I am. I'm so nervous. I apologize in advance if I become even more of a blubbering mess when Mr. Jackson joins us. I know he's your—"

"Oh, please call me Michael. It's lovely to finally meet you." A delicate voice sounded from behind Leslie. Y/N watched as he made his way to the seat next to her, a smile on her face and a light blush across her cheeks. Michael held his hand out to greet Leslie, but she was frozen.

"I'm— Wow— Okay." She stuttered. "This is real. This is happening. Michael, it's great to meet you. I'm a huge fan of you. Both of you. I'm actively struggling to process all of this." She giggled as she gestured toward the two celebrities in front of her. "I— wow. This is mind boggling."

"Thank you. We feel the exact same way. We admire your work as well." Michael said with soft laughter, as Leslie appeared to forget how to breathe. He then directed his attention to Y/N.

"You grow more beautiful by the second. My love, how do you feel, are you comfortable?" He kissed her cheek, gently resting his hand on top of hers. Michael made a habit of asking her that question throughout their relationship. If for any reason she didn't feel safe in a space, no explanation was needed, just a yes or a no and Michael would whisk her away. He knew firsthand how this industry operated and he intended to protect her at all costs.

"You're such a flirt. I’m doing just fine. Thank you honey." She giggled, hiding behind her long hair.

"The two minutes we had to part in the hallway were dreadful.” Michael pouted clutching his chest for dramatic effect.

"Those two minutes were nearly unsurvivable." Y/ N sweetly agreed while caressing his cheek.

It was beautiful to watch them interact in a somewhat private setting. The way they love one another was so authentic, so intimate, but not far enough to be uncomfortable for those in their company. It was real. They're just two people, with unfathomable talent, insane lifestyles but deeply in love and undeniably their true selves.

"We're ready to go!" A man's voice echoed through the studio.

Leslie nodded, taking a few deep breaths and glancing over her notes one last time.

"Three, Two, One." The cameraman spoke, pointing over to Leslie, signaling her to begin her introduction.

"Good evening, I'm Leslie Johnson, thank you for joining us tonight. Tonight is vastly different from our usual programming because tonight you are witnessing history in the making. Our first ever live interview with undoubtedly the two greatest stars this generation has ever seen. They are gifted with talent you only see once in a lifetime. These two phenomenons aren't only loved and respected for their craft, but also the positive impact they make to protect the earth and all of humanity. They have gracefully taken over the business and they are just getting started. Please help me in welcoming our guests for tonight, as if further introduction is needed, the people's sweetheart, Miss Y/N Y/L/N and the one and only, Mister Michael Jackson." She held her smile as the camera fanned out, Y/N and Michael now on screen.

"Thank you for having us Leslie." Michael spoke up for the both of them.

"Thank you both for making this production what it is. I must add that 100% of the proceeds for tonights event are being graciously donated to the charities of our guests choosing." The entire crew behind the cameras began cheering. Michael smiled, covering his face slightly at the scene in front of him. Y/N, reached over holding his hand, smiling ear to ear as she admired him. She helped calm his nerves and soon enough he wasn’t shielding his smile.

"Let's get started!" Leslie clapped. "I'll start with a question for Michael, you've been in this industry since you were five years old, there is so much pressure in your chosen profession, with the mass hysteria that follows, how do you preserve who you are and remain so humble?"

"That's a great question." He spoke softly, shifting in his seat, then continuing. "My upbringing plays an important role in that, my values and morals were something instilled in me at a very young age. As I’ve grown up in this industry, as you pointed out, I witnessed many great artists and their careers. I knew early on what I wanted to do and how I wanted to accomplish it, so watching those that came before me helped to navigate through tough times. It's a difficult lifestyle, but I remind myself daily how thankful I am for the gifts god has blessed me with and the opportunities he's allowed me to experience. Also, it helps to surround yourself with beautiful people who you admire and who help you grow in ways that you never imagined possible. I'm very blessed." A visible warmth took over his cheeks as he very bluntly referred to his girlfriend sitting next to him.

"Lovely, it's amazing to see how you handle everything thrown at you. It's clear that you have a beautiful heart and being in your presence it's overwhelming because of how genuine you are. It's difficult to wrap our minds around it, because you don't let the fame get to your head. It's admirable. I would like to know, Y/N, how you feel, is there anything you would like to add?"

"Michael is one of a kind. All his talent aside, Michael the person is so incredibly caring, hysterical, gentle and thoughtful. I feel that's why people fall in love with him. They hear his music, they see him perform and it's so magical that you want to know how it came to be, you want to understand the real person on a deeper level. When you dig deeper you find this soft-spoken, intelligent, compassionate and crazy handsome man. To fall in love with him is inevitable." As Y/N spoke, Michael watched her intently. He worshipped her, the love struck look on his face and you just knew, you could feel him falling more in love with her with each passing second.

"That sounds like you're speaking from experience." Leslie joked. "Y/N, you made your acting debut as a toddler, though you didn't have many speaking lines in your first film, you managed to capture the hearts of people all around the world. My question is, how have you managed to gracefully grow into the young woman before us today and still have a firm hold on our hearts?"

"My guess is as good as yours." She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "l'd say, I did my best with every opportunity I was blessed with. Although it was difficult at times, I focused on protecting who I was and who I wanted to be away from the spotlight. I was lucky enough to be surrounded by a team that protected my privacy to the best of their abilities. This helped me to have the most normal of a childhood I could, but unfortunately, I still missed out on a lot. I shared most of my life, whether I wanted to or was forced to, the media can be very invasive at times. However, I've tried to make the best out of every situation, so I think that's something that people related to and also, many people feel as though they've grown up with me."

“Yes, I can't imagine how difficult it must’ve been to deal with grown men chasing you around with cameras at such a young age." Leslie responded with a hint of a frown as she processed Y/N’s explanation.

"Now, it's just me she has to deal with." Michael surprisingly perked up, making camera noises with his mouth and holding an imaginary camera. Y/N laughed uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking as she held her stomach. Michael sat up straighter than before with a triumphant grin on his face, proud of himself for making her laugh.

"She has the best laugh, doesn’t she?" Michael gushed, watching adoringly as Y/N tried to compose herself.

"That she does." Leslie smirked, enjoying watching Michael become more comfortable. "This next question is for both of you. You're two of the most recognizable faces in the world, everyone is curious, how you manage to go out and have a peaceful day or night out on the town?"

"It's definitely a challenge. There is definitely intense planning that goes into anything we do. Thankfully, we both have incredible security teams, so they join forces for us when we want to get out and explore together." Y/N responded quickly.

"We've accepted that if were out in public we will never truly be alone. Privacy is out of the question, which we've made our peace with. We don't mind meeting fans, conversing with locals, that’s not a problem. They are always very kind and respectful. Paparazzi on the other hand are a different story. They add a layer of uncertainty in the air and they can be very aggressive. If they just calmed down and gave us a bit of personal space we could all coexist peacefully." Michael added.

"I'm glad you brought that up Michael, you gave me the perfect segue to my next question. It's well known that photographers and paparazzi can become very intense when trying to capture a shot. Y/N, there was an incident last month when you attended the Grammy Awards with Michael. There was a massive commotion that took place on the red carpet. Many theories have been circulating the media, which purposely paint the two of you in a negative light. I feel that due to the nature of the issue you two should get the opportunity to tell your side of the story. The truth. Would one or both of you like to answer this and set the record straight?"

Y/N appeared to grow more nervous as the question left Leslie’s mouth. She tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted her gaze over to Michael, who was already looking back at her.

"Leslie, there are people that push boundaries that simply shouldn’t be pushed." Michael began, shaking his head softly, enveloping Y/N's hand in both of his. "That night, there were a few photographers that were screaming louder than the others, really nasty things, specifically towards my lady. We did our best to drown that out until it became physical. Y/N endured bruises down her arm and back from being aggressively grabbed at, so I had no choice but to step in. On top of that, they attempted to photograph up her dress, which is just despicable. I did what needed to be done to keep her safe. I will not apologize for that."

"It was a terrifying experience, the backlash that followed was so unexpected and hurtful." Y/N's demeanor growing more guarded as she thought of how to answer. "I never thought something like that could happen. Michael did get into a bit of a physical altercation, which has been completely taken out of context as well. Although he was very upset he still attempted to diffuse the situation using his words, but he wasn’t given much of a choice. In the end, he protected me and I'm lucky he was there." Michael followed every motion of her lips intently with a small smirk on his lips.

“Michael, I have to say what we’re all thinking, who knew you had such a mean right hook.” Leslie chuckled. "Thank you for such honest words. I empathize deeply with what you were subjected to. I’m glad you have such an amazing partner. You two complement each other beautifully. I just have to ask, everyone is curious, since Michael is in the music industry and Y/N is in the film industry, how did the two of you meet?"

“Well, this man is sneaky let me tell you.” The smile on Y/N’s face, squeezing her eyes nearly shut. “So, Michael had his people contact mine to plan a meeting of some sort. He insisted he wanted me in a music video—”

“Babe, you’re forgetting a very important detail. We had met at the Oscars the night before and she basically asked me on a date—”

“Oh, you are exaggerating!”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I can’t wait to see you again.’ with a very flirtatious wink.” Michael reasoned, shifting in his seat to face her.

“You showered me with compliments Mr. Jackson. Within five minutes of meeting one another he told me it wasn’t until he met me that he believed in love.”

“And I was telling the truth.”

“And I was flirting.” She winked at him, causing his face to turn a bright shade of red.

“I guess it’s safe to say there was a mutual interest between the two of you. Will we ever see Y/N star in one of your music videos?”

“You know it’s something I’d love to create. I mean she has inspired a lot of my writing process these days. It seems fitting that my muse be in a video or two or three..” Michael’s voice becoming more playful as he tried to conceal his smirk.

“Y/N, how do you feel hearing you’re his muse? Would you be interested in starring alongside Michael in a film?” Leslie questioned, keeping the conversation moving.

“I’m flattered. It’s very flattering.” Y/N’s hand pressed against her cheek as she tried not to giggle uncontrollably. Michael licked his lips as he watched the effect his words had on her. “He’s so sweet. I’m a fan of everything Michael creates. Honestly, his voice is hands down my favorite sound. You know, to make a film together would be awesome. I would love that! I think Michael would do a phenomenal job.”

“You’ve been together for quite some time. I’m sure you’ve had some lovely adventures with one another. Are there any special memories you’re comfortable sharing with us? And, is there anything you look forward to experiencing together that you haven’t yet?”

“First vacation together?” Michael raised his eyebrow at Y/N.

“Michael invited me to accompany him in Italy.” Y/N had this sparkle in her as she looked back at Michael. It was like they were the only two people in the room.

“Italy? Wow. Michael, you brought out the big guns.” Leslie laughed.

“Oh yes. I was on tour at the time and thankfully I had scheduled days off in between each concert, so it worked out perfectly.”

“That was the first time I saw him on stage.” Y/N gushed.

“How was it to see Michael in action? What is the most memorable thing?”

“He’s magic. There’s no other way to describe it. I always tease him about it because he makes it seem like he’s just going for a walk. Performing comes so natural to him. He said, ‘I have to go do something.’ Kissed me on the cheek then went on stage in front of hundreds of thousands of people. He was so nonchalant about it. It’s a sweet unpretentious kind of confidence.” Y/N giggled, reaching over to tuck Michael’s curl behind his ear, which he playfully rolled his eyes at.

“I was trying to impress her. When she arrived at the stadium, I was reminded just how out of my league this woman is—”

“Oh stop!” Y/N poked his side, causing him to let out a deep laugh. “You were very intimidating to meet Mr. Jackson.”

“So were you dear.” He brought her hand to meet his lips. “So were you.”

“Bubbles watched me like a hawk! That boy would squeeze in between us if we sat next to one another. He was difficult to win over.”

“He loves you now.”

“Yes. At the end of our first date, Michael walked me back to my room and as we were about to kiss goodnight, I was launched into the pool. Bubbles’ and I have been inseparable since.”

“That was just his way of welcoming you to the family.” Michael shrugged, biting his lip hard to keep from hollering. “It’s like an initiation.”

“Initiation?” Y/N’s tone was enough to make Michael lose it. His signature fedora nearly fell off his head as his laughter filled the air.

“You are his favorite now. Y/N comes over and he’s glued to her hip. He pushes me away now.”

“He threw an entire cake at Michael the other day.” She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders began bouncing rhythmically.

“Yes! The candles were lit too.”

“What happened? Why did he throw the cake at you?” Leslie asked between laughs.

“It was Y/N’s birthday. We had finished singing to her and I leaned in for a kiss which he absolutely lost his mind over.” Michael explained, “Fortunately, most of the candles blew out as the cake flew through the air, but one did burn a hole in my coat.”

“I didn’t know Bubbles had such great aim.” Leslie spoke in shock.

“Bubbles’ is very passionate.” Michael’s face was serious “He’ll yell at me if I’m stealing too much of Y/N’s attention.”

“Aw, he’s not that bad.” Y/N tried to reason.

“He’s not bad. He just bullies me sometimes.” Michael fake pouted and crossed his arms. His beloved leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to comfort him although she couldn’t help giggling just a little bit.

“Oh no!” Leslie exclaimed. “It sounds like you’ve got competition. Speaking of kisses, Michael, every picture I see of the two of you, you’ve got your lips on Y/N. You are usually very reserved, what is it about Y/N that brings out that side of you?”

“I’m comfortable when I’m with her. I’m able to be myself. Also, nothing will stop me from showing my lady some love.” Michael pulled Y/N closer, gently placing his finger on her chin turning her head to face him.

The kiss was short and sweet.

Michael was very deliberate when it involved Y/N. He never wanted her to doubt his love for her. He knew how he wanted to make her feel. Then, did whatever it took to accomplish just that. The look in Y/N eyes said it all, Michael never missed.

“I have to ask, as we begin to wrap things up. Michael, Y/N, where do you see yourselves in five years? Are there any goals you have as a couple or as individuals you’d like to share?” The brunette spoke, flipping her page over quietly.

“Together? We will definitely be married and have at least a dozen little ones running around Neverland.” Michael answered quickly, his tone very matter of fact as if we should’ve known that already.

“Bubbles’ does need siblings.” Y/N added with a smile.

“How would you two juggle family responsibilities and your careers?” Leslie asked carefully.

“Well, I think we’d figure it out along the way. The most important thing to us would be raising our babies. We didn’t have much of a childhood ourselves, so we’d be very hands on in order to give them everything we didn’t have. When it comes to our careers, if Michael is touring we’d join him on the road, if I’m filming on location they’d come along. It just depends. Maybe one of or both of us would want to be stay at home parents. At the end of the day, what’s best for our children is the number one priority.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself lovely.” Michael complimented her, practically gawking at her, clearly loving that they were on the same page about their shared future.

The interview came to a close shortly after. Michael and Y/N went around the studio the same way they did when they first arrived. They had intended to say their goodbyes, but enjoyed everyone’s company too much to leave just yet. They posed for photographs and signed every item sent their way with a smile on their face. What should’ve been just a few hours turned into a daylong event. The couple stayed for a little celebration party and treated the crew to a lovely dinner.

Three months later, Michael and Y/N were the headlines of every publication. Their faces were on every television channel. The media was in a state of hysteria that has never been seen before. It turns out that the couple was husband and wife. They had gotten married and managed to keep it secret for a whole year, but that wasn’t the only surprise.

The Jackson’s were expecting their first child together.

Y/N was about five months along.

The pair was thrilled about starting their family.

The craziest part of the whole story was a detail that the media would never know. Three months earlier, Michael and Y/N shared their news with everyone present in the studio that day. They felt comfortable enough to trust us with such a precious moment in their lives. Since then, the couple enjoyed a somewhat quiet three months without anyone spoiling their announcement or betraying their trust.

We didn’t just make history that night we formed a bond, an incredible friendship that would last a lifetime.

#michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson imagines #michael jackson fanfiction #michael jackson fanfic

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 1 year ago

Note

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Yandere Jotaro!Medusa x Blind!Darling x Yandere Emperor DIO

Darling and Jotaro have been friends since childhood, however Darling is blind so she doesn’t realize that Jotaro is a mythical creature a Gorgon (Along with his mother and family) so her family think that ‘Jotaro’ is an imaginary friend since he would hide when others came near (This is when they were children)

When they got older, Darling refused to marry Emperor DIO so he sentenced her to become the next sacrifice for the monster, unless she changes her mind

She refuses to marry DIO because of how much he overtaxed her village and wants nothing to do with him

So imagine her surprise to find out her friend IS the monster and he’s pleased that his bride was given to him on a silver platter (As his other option was to attack her village)

I was suddenly struck with my Mythology obsession and I’m currently plagued with mythology ideas, I kinda went crazy with this so I want to hear what you think

Ok. So darling got lost in the forest as a child only to be found by Holly. She tells her that she can offer her safety as a horrible storm is approaching but she must by no means open her eyes. So Holly leads her back to the den and offers her food and shelter.

She tries to get an idea of where darling came from. Darling explains that she's blind but she knows there is an obelisk on the outskirts.

Knowing she's blind she allows her to open her eyes and even play with her own son. Very early in the morning she guides darling towards her home town before telling her to keep going straight as it is too dangerous for her to go any further.

Darling come back to the forest regularly to meet with Holly's son Jotaro. They would play but the moment another person came he would disappear. Until one day as teenagers he never came.

Shortly after darling would begin working with her family. Years later she would catch the eye of the Emperor, Dio. Most despised him for how he ran the kingdom. Darlings family's business was struggling and the emperor took advantage of that.

He offered her family riches beyond their wildest dreams as a dowry for her hand. She refused. Knowing it was far too good to be true and tells him she would never marry him under any circumstance.

So he asks her that again as she's bound down to stone in the nearby woods. Being offered as a sacrifice to the beasts that lurked. She's still firm on her stance and he leaves her to die. If he couldn't have her then no one would.

Later she feels a presence and calls out to them.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" A deep voice asked.

"I refused to marry the emperor, so he tied me to this rock so that I'd be eaten" she replied earning a slight chuckle from the man.

"You're stubborn as always (Y/n)" they comment. There was only one person you knew that called you stubborn.

"Jotaro, is that you?" She nearly exclaims as he starts cutting at the ropes.

After freeing her he would take her back to the den. Holly is surprised to see her son brought a lady home even more so that is the girl she saved all those years ago. She's quick to assume he's picked her as a mate but he denies it, even though he's wanted her to be for years.

He's really protective of darling now that she's back in his life. He does however let her return to her town once so that she can ease her parents. However another person sees her and Dio finds out and is quick to search for her.

It takes a while for darling to find out that Jotaro along with his mother are Gorgons but she isn't afraid as they've saved her life twice.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere x reader #yandere #monster au #🧚‍♀️ anon #yandere dio #yandere jotaro

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violetstormms · 28 days ago

Text

Dca x Reader Mermay 2025

With Mermay coming to a close I decide to make a list of all the fun Sun, Moon, and Eclipse fish filled fics I have found so far. Remember to look at the tags and read at your own discretion. Also did I miss any? Feel free to leave your recommendations in the comments below :)

What to Do When Your Selkie Roommates Won’t Move Out by Vale_In_Time

archiveofourown.org/works/62676994/chapters/160450585

After leaving your toxic workplace for good, you find yourself with no prospects or plans for how to proceed with your life. Using this as an opportunity to focus on yourself doesn’t pan out either, as the injured Selkie you find seems determined to inconvenience you as much as he can. What’s more, his frenemy decides to join in as well.

Stuck living with two mythical beings as roommates, you do your best to prevent yourself from opening up to them, no matter how much they fail to do the same with you. You just don't see the point in getting attached when they’ll eventually leave you.

But what you don’t realize is that leaving you is the furthest thing from their minds. After all, Selkies mate for life.

A Step by Step Guide on Mermaid Courtship by foggystarrs

archiveofourown.org/works/55731688/chapters/141477898

You find two merpeople stuck in a fisherman's net and decide to help free them.

You don't expect to see them again after that night, but it turns out that they have other plans. As you're suddenly being showered with gifts and shiny trinkets from the depths of the ocean, you start to wonder what you've gotten yourself into.

After all, you didn't expect the two mers to suddenly start courting you.

or basically, Mer! Sun & Moon try to romance the reader, but reader is as dense as a rock.

Hidden Treasures by Mx_Nix_Winks (ShugoRyuu)

archiveofourown.org/works/65891896/chapters/169741282

Was it wise to keep visiting the enchanting creatures you found hidden away in some forgotten about lab beneath the main building of Fazbear Aquatic Innovation's research facility and Aquarium? Probably not. Most assuredly not.

But....

You knew what it was like to be stuck in rehab with no-one else to talk to or interact with and, well, it's not like management was going to notice if you took your breaks down there with them. Which also, now that you think about it, why were they so hidden away from not only the public but the general scientists on board?

What the Tide Keeps by Cipher_the_Sidhe

archiveofourown.org/works/51887593/chapters/131198389

Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Mega Water World, the premier aquarium in the world! Enjoy our state-of-the-art rides and attractions, our dazzling animal performances, and prepare to be amazed by the stars of our show: live mers!

You are a mer handler at the illustrious Mega Water World. Or, you were, until something happens to the mer in your care and FazCo buries it all under red tape. Driven by grief and guilt, you team up with a fellow handler to uncover and bring to light the company’s unethical practices surrounding the mysterious mers they keep on display. But what do you do when your search for the truth brings you face to face with two abandoned mers wasting away in the ruins of one of FazCo's old holding facilities? The mers are hurt and scared, but you are determined to make up for your past failure. You are going to take care of them, even if it kills you. And with two traumatized mers to contend with, it just might.

Sing Me a Song, Siren by Rosescarletful

archiveofourown.org/works/61192015/chapters/156369805

You are a nurse shark mer with a nice territory and a cozy den. You are fine, being by yourself. It has been this way for a few years now.

Now, two giant sirens come and invade your territory, and neither of them act normal! You guess they can stay with you...if they can learn to behave.

[A nurse shark teaches two sirens how to mer, and the sirens teach them how to open up.]

Broken Beneath by SupDoc13

archiveofourown.org/works/62322811/chapters/159463558

You flinch at a loud beep deep within the building and back up against the glass looking out into the darkening water. You hold your breath, straining to hear any other noise above the droning of the waves above you. After a few moments of silence, you breathe out a sigh.

Tap tap tap. The relief is short-lived as you hear noises on the glass behind you. Tap tap. Craning your neck, you meet white eyes. They stare right at you.

DCA AU where the DCA are mermaids but they're still robots. Also it's the 90's.

I'm Literally Just a Janitor How Am I Still Alive? by Demi5503

archiveofourown.org/works/65107804/chapters/167441599

Part of hiding how inhuman you actually were meant keeping a low profile, not drawing unnecessary attention. So taking a job as a janitor felt like the perfect way to fly under the radar. You even found a way to get off Earth using your profession after getting hired by Alterra to clean the Aurora. Once you got off planet, you were sure you could live freely without hiding anymore, without worrying you were about to be snatched up by the government for testing like your parents had done to you. Imagine your surprise when you survive the ship crashing on an alien planet. An oceanic alien planet, where most everything would like to kill you. Perhaps you can survive long enough to get off this murder ocean with the help of your new friends?

Delving Through the Deep by Floating_Qui11

archiveofourown.org/works/65352520/chapters/168157648

Go out there and die trying.

Or stay inside, and die that way. Sinking into the abyss...

Well, you never wanted an ellipses at the end of your story. Maybe a period.

Fuck it, an exclamation mark then. You'll try your best, it's all you can do. If you go down, you sink swinging your fists.

A Subnautica DCA Au, where the only one you can count on is yourself.

...And maybe those two big fish

The Lighthouse Keeper's Keepers by Bearitt

archiveofourown.org/works/65225968/chapters/167786407

Sun and Moon have proven their sentience, have gotten married and retired from working at the daycare; letting newer androids take over their old position. They've responded to a job listing in a rather remote village where an old fisherman who cares for the village's borderline neglected lighthouse is getting too old to look after himself, much less the lighthouse.

So they've agreed to the position, both of caring for the fisherman until he passes as well as the lighthouse once he does. The years they spend being caregivers to the fisherman and listening to him tell tales of the Mer he befriended in his youth make Sun and Moon think the poor man must have been losing his mind with age. They never thought that on the day they would be spreading his ashes they would happen upon the myth he befriended; you.

You’re a siren of the sea; a cross species of a Sea Angel and a Spotted Lagoon Jellyfish. Years before while exploring a new area for a potential den you ended up stranded in a tide pool where your current worst fear came to life; a young human saw you. Luckily, this human had a huge heart and was more than willing to help you, though he couldn’t understand a word you were saying.

The Most Precious Thing by Chat_Rivary

archiveofourown.org/works/65634256/chapters/168997594

Eclipse couldn't remember the last time he'd seen land, the last time he'd seen another living creature. Lost in the middle of the ocean, and even more so in his feelings, the animatronic was only interested in surviving because of a promise, until he met a creature straight out of legend. With your arrival, the animatronic regains hope, but, like the sea that comes and goes as it pleases, your paths part again, leaving Eclipse alone once more, filled with the simple memories of this extraordinary, supernatural encounter.

So what happens when, many years later, you meet the Captain of the Red Death, the most feared and cruel pirate of all the oceans. What happens when you can't help but find a certain resemblance to your sweet, gentle sailor, the one you met, and never forgot since, years before ?

Song of a seashell (curses of the sea) by LemmonesANDblues

archiveofourown.org/works/58047439/chapters/147782806

Your work as a watcher to keep the people and mer folk safe. You keep watch for any sirens along the coasts and or in the water path ways. Sirens are easy to spot because they look more “beast like” on their top half and are a bit larger than mermaids. While mermaids look more human like on their top half. Both species are larger than humans but it is not uncommon for a human to have a relationship with mermaids. You have seen some of their hybrid children and they have the ability to walk on land and or be in the water.

Over The Deep End by Lucky_Duckyyy

archiveofourown.org/works/65144428/chapters/167549434

You only wanted a momentary escape, it didn't matter how as long as you found a way to be free when no one was looking.

But... If you were told you'd be stuck in the dark, living in a cave lacking in privacy, with a Jellyfish mer, a Shark mer, and a mer that's of a species you never even heard of, you're not too sure you would have taken that risk.

Bioluminescence by StormiiREDD

archiveofourown.org/works/65118283/chapters/167471893

Glowing red enters your line of sight. You freeze. An eye. A red pupil upon a sea of black stares at you through the glass. That thing, whatever it is, knows you’re in here. You are so utterly fucked.

One human, a planet made entirely of water, and three mers designed specifically to kill.

Another Great Day of Saving the Sharks by Kezibun

archiveofourown.org/works/56002465/chapters/142229113

There are many benefits of being a marine biologist, one of which you enjoy is researching Mer-creatures, more spesifically Celestials.

Celestial Mers also known as The Sun and Moon Sea monsters, are fish mimicking mer creatures, one active at day the other at night, they usually pair up in a mutual symbiotic relationship they rely so heavily on eachother that now it's almost imposible for one to survive without the other. So what happens when one is seporated from it's daycare? An impending rescue mission of course.

Ocean Symphony Fiasco by Melanierana

archiveofourown.org/works/47178157/chapters/118868140

You're a surfer but due to some unlucky circumstances you have to sit out for a couple of days. So you go to a zoo where you meet an interesting creature.

TW: reader get insulted by teenagers, swearing and mention of blood

starting out good.

Celestial Scales by Anxiouscr0w

archiveofourown.org/works/56163733/chapters/142673113

A hotspring surrounded by dense jungle, only two miles from Baywind village, acts as a safe space for you after long days. With each passing day over the years, you've felt like you're being watched, eventually being approached by a small group of merfolk. One wants to befriend you, one would die if it meant killing you too... and neither of them are telling the truth about the pair of eyes in the fissure.

Light of the Depths by xNoriDorix

archiveofourown.org/works/64992334/chapters/167093812

It was supposed to be a normal expedition. You, one of the junior biologists, were there for a reason - the practice that you and others had to go through on the giant spaceship Aurora.

It would be all right, because a flight across the galaxy cannot threaten anything dangerous... or so you thought.

Thought, until the moment when the spaceship you were in, crashed. And you, were one of the lucky ones who managed to get into the lifepod... or were you not?

Now you are alone, on this planet-ocean: where there is only water, strange creatures, some celestial sirens and their buddies, and also... wait. Why these sirens are so smart (and beautiful)?

It seems that you, young biologist, will have to figure out all this alien fauna, but also the secrets that this planet hides.

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