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wistfulrat · 4 years

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a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. -

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. - other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK. - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys. -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss. -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry fic rec #drarry fic #soft drarry #OK FINE I RAMBLED BUT WHAT DID WE EXPECT #alexa play futile devices

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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Birch (Centaur)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human/Male Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Communication Disorder, Social Communication Disorder, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Reader, Semi-Verbal Autism, Semi-Verbal Reader, Overbearing Mother, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Ableism Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4758

Commissioned by an anonymous party, Birch finally gets his own story! The reader, who has a communication disorder, meets and somehow befriends a beautiful centaur named Birch, who lives in the woods with his family and is known throughout the town as being a bit of a playboy and a flirt. When he realizes how poorly the reader is treated by her mother, he immediately tries to rescue her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You first saw him when you were thirteen year old. You and your mother came to Coleville to beg for work after your father had kicked you both out of the house for another woman. You and your mother worked in the laundry and kitchen of the town’s most popular tavern, washing bed sheets and tableware, so you hadn’t really had the chance to meet him when he came into town to trade. You were only ever able to watch him from a distance

He was massive, friendly, and beautiful. His horse body was the size and color of a buckskin Andalusian, with a pale tan body fur and black socks. His skin was suntanned from working in the fields of his home farm and he always wore a simply-made tunic. His hair was short and black, and his tail was long and black, but his eyes were a bright, clear blue. He smiled easily and seemed to get along with everyone. You fell in love with him as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Well, no, you knew even then that it wasn’t love, it was just fascination and infatuation, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were overjoyed every time you saw him. Not that he’d ever notice you. You were just a plain, poor, chubby laundress with red, chapped hands and a future of working in a tavern for the rest of your life. Why would he even glance at you?

You wouldn’t be able to speak to him, even if he did. You were terribly shy and timid. You’d always been that way and couldn’t help it. Talking to people, looking them in the eye, facing confrontation, it all made you terrified and shaky. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t your parents, although you really didn’t speak to them that much, either. You were sure the most used word in your vocabulary was sorry.

When you were younger, your parents had hoped you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Once you hit puberty and was still unable to speak, your mother began to despair of you, pushing you to talk and berating you when you couldn’t, which only made you withdraw more. You couldn’t blame her for being exasperated with you; you were just as frustrated with yourself as she was. She never said it, but you knew she blamed you for your father rejecting you both.

Even though Birch usually came alone, you were sure he must already be married or have a lover, though he was openly flirtatious. You knew he’d had a few girls in town on occasion, having overheard them bragging about their nights with him, though they all seemed to be one-night trysts or affairs that didn’t last long. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in settling down with anyone and was the playboy type. He was gorgeous enough for it.

Once or twice, he came to town with his family members or to visit family members who had settled here, like his brother Cetzu, the lizardfolk man running the orphanage with his wife. They were all a strange lot: some were human, most were not. You only ever saw one other centaur, and he looked nothing like Birch; he was a younger, smaller piebald named Yew with black skin, white hair, and pale eyes. You’d heard rumors that there was a mixed family in the woods, living on a farm, and that they were all sorts, but it didn’t really seem real to you until you saw them all together.

He’d come to town one day to buy seeds and supplies and came into the tavern for a drink. For centaurs, alcohol was basically food to them, so they drank heavily and often. A lot of centaurs you’d known got pretty rowdy, but Birch was always mindful. He held his ale well and knew when to stop before getting fully inebriated, careful not to make an ass of himself. He was considerate. You liked that about him.

You were working in the kitchens at the time when he arrived, and he sat at one of the tables designed for four-legged folk. It was a long table with no chairs or benches, but flat cushions instead. He folded his legs under him and flagged the waitress, smiling his dazzling smile, and ordered ale and some roasted vegetables. You were neglecting your work, but even if it was just a few seconds, you wanted to commit his image to memory as often as you could.

“Oi!” The waitress, Cathy, hissed as she came toward the door of the kitchen to put in Birch’s order. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” You said, barely audibly.

“Go take him his ale,” She said. “We’re understaffed. If you’re going to be in the way, the least you can do is be useful.”

“I…!" You protested, but she pushed past you into the kitchen to yell at the cook. With you heart in your throat, you rushed to fill a clean tankard and skittered it over, setting it down on the table in front of him without looking at him.

“Ah, that was fast,” Birch said, his voice deep, rich, and wonderful to the ear. “You’re a lovely little thing. Are you new, sweet pea? I haven’t seen you in the tavern before.”

You looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to stay and try to be friendly, or retreat back to the kitchen, so you were frozen there with indecision, looking at the floor.

“Hey now, don’t be shy, love. I don’t bite,” He said, you assumed in an attempt to be flirty, reaching for your hand. You snatched your hand away impulsively and ran back to the kitchen.

Your heart was racing and your mind reeling. Why did I do that? You thought, covering your face with your hands. He probably thinks I’m crazy or a complete shrew! I should never leave the back rooms again and just stick to washing dishes.

After a few moments, though, your mother pulled you away from washing by the arm.

“What did you do?” She asked angrily. “One of the customers is asking for you!”

You panicked. “I… I just… I brought him his drink…” You whispered in terror.

“Come on,” She gripped your arm and pulled you back out into the tavern common room, where Birch was still sitting. He looked at you with a frown. Oh god, he looks annoyed, you thought nervously.

“Miss,” He said, and you stared at your feet, unable to look up. “I think I may have frightened or upset you. I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that not everyone is receptive to my personality or sense of humor.”

You were completely unable to speak and kept your head down, your shoulders hunched.

“Say something!” Your mother hissed at you, and you could only shrink into yourself further. “I’m sorry, sir,” Your mother said in exasperation. “My daughter is as timid as a field mouse. She can’t speak to other people and she never looks people in the eye. She can barely even speak to me. She’s always been like this.”

“Oh,” He said, sounding concerned. “Is she unwell?”

“Probably,” Your mother replied in annoyance, and you pulled away even further. “Though the doctors can’t tell us what’s wrong with her. She usually stays in the kitchen and laundry away from the customers. I don’t know what possessed her to come out here and bother you.”

“C… Ca…” You stuttered, struggling to speak in your defense, looking back toward the kitchen, where Cathy was hovering by the door.

“Oh, did Cathy ask you to bring me my drink?” He asked kindly.

You nodded fervently.

“I understand. I’m sorry that she put you in an uncomfortable situation, and I apologize for making it worse.”

Your mother sighed wearily. “Sir, don’t apologize to her. It’s not your fault that she can’t function like a normal adult.”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and hugged your arms around yourself, desperately wanting to escape back to the kitchen.

“Even so,” He said, his voice cold, but softened when he addressed you. “I’m very sorry, miss.”

You nodded once and shuffled quickly back to the kitchen, unable to keep the tears from falling. Your mother rejoined you a few minutes later.

“You could have at least apologized to him,” He said, taking the plates as you washed them to rinse them off and put them in the rack. “Why do you have to embarrass me like that? How hard is it to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry’?” She sighed sharply and wiped her hands. “Don’t you dare get us fired.” And she walked off, leaving you weeping into the dishwater.

Cathy heard the entire thing and came over sheepishly.

“Hey… I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your ma,” She said. “I forgot about the speaking thing. I was just in a rush and I didn’t think.”

You shook your head. Cathy was the one person who you might call a friend. She was a little brusque and had a short fuse, but she was one of the few who didn’t make fun of your stuttering and silence or look down their nose at you.

“Listen, Birch is a really nice guy. He plays around and has his fun with the girls, but he’s never hurt anyone on purpose. He wasn’t trying to make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

You nodded shortly. You knew that. He was being friendly; that’s just how he talked to people. But being humiliated in front of him was a torture unlike anything you’d felt before, and it hurt.

The next day, you were feeding the chickens in the coop outside of the tavern when you looked up and saw him exiting the tavern. He noticed you right away, and you turned immediately and tried to flee.

“Hey, wait!” He called. “Wait, please!”

You stood with your back to him but you stayed put. You heard him trotting up to you, his hoof-beats heavy.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize again,” He said. “To just you this time. I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, but what she said… that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turned to face him but you didn’t look up, focusing instead on his large hooves. You shook your head. No, he was wrong. You did deserve it.

“You can’t help how you are,” He said. “It’s not your fault. I have a little brother who has trouble talking to people, too. It’s the exact opposite of your problem; he says exactly what’s on his mind with no filter. He can’t control it and it embarrasses him sometimes. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand that it can be hard.”

He was so nice. You were able to lift your head a little, but you still couldn’t look him in the face.

“My name is Birch,” He said. “What’s yours?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you shut it again.

“Hmm,” He hummed. “Can you write?”

You shook your head.

“Um… sign language?”

You answered no again.

“I see,” He said, sighing. “I… I’ll be honest… I don’t want to leave you here with that mother of yours. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with her, but the way she talks to you…” He pawed the ground in annoyance. “It bothers me. Does she do that a lot? Make fun of you in front of other people?”

You shrugged, embarrassed.

He sidestepped in an anxious way and swished his tail. “I have to go back home later today,” He said. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“Well… alright,” He said. “Look, um… if you ever need to… you know… leave this place, talk to Cathy. She knows where my family’s farm is. She can help you get there. If you need to.”

You nodded again, and he turned to leave, but an unfamiliar impulse compelled you to rush forward and take hold of the hem of his tunic. He stopped and looked at you, though he could only see the top of your head.

“Th…” You gulped, your throat dry, your heart beating in your throat. “Tha… ank…you…” You managed to choke out. “H… Haz…zel…”

“You’re name is Hazel?” He asked, a smile in his voice.

You nodded emphatically.

You felt him put a hand on top of your head and and sort of rubbed his fingers against your scalp. It felt nice, even though you weren’t used to physical touch. Your mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort.

“You take care, okay?” He said, taking his hand back. “I’ll be back in a few days. I look forward to seeing you again.”

That evening, you were in the room you shared with your mother as she brushed her hair for bed when she mentioned nonchalantly, “I saw you with that centaur man today. What did he say to you?”

“...he… nothing…” You said vaguely.

“Then why did he touch you? And why were you touching him?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I…” You gulped. “I… don’t know…” You said truthfully.

“Oh, really? You don’t know? You don’t know why a man like him would touch you? You know his reputation in this town. He’s trying to take advantage of you because you're simple.”

“He was… just… being nice…” You said softly.

Your mother snorted. “Men aren’t nice without a reason. I thought you’d know that by now.” She threw down her hairbrush onto the night table and lay down in your shared bed. “You’re not going to have anything to do with him from now on, do you understand? It shouldn’t be difficult for you to manage that, should it?”

You didn’t say anything, just sat at the table and stared into the fire.

“It’s for your own good,” She said, facing away from you. “I know I’m strict with you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You have no problem with me getting hurt when you’re the one doing it, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t say it. You knew she was right, though. He was a flirt and a bit of a libertine, and you thought that perhaps he was only being nice to you because he saw you as low hanging fruit. It hurt to think of him that way, but it was the only thing that made sense.

He did return in a few days, an older woman riding on his back. She was lovely, even at her age, and was wearing trousers and a practical shirt, but no bodice or ladies coat. Her brown hair was caught back in a tight braid, a few strands of grey weaved in and out.

You saw them arrive from the window of your room as you were getting ready for the day. He was as handsome as always, and you watched him wistfully. As if he could sense you, he looked up and saw you at the window. He smiled at you and waved. Remembering what your mother said, you were unable to smile back and walked away from the window without acknowledging him. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry at you.

Before you could start work in the laundry, Cathy called you out.

“Birch and his mother are here,” She said, keeping her voice down so that your mother wouldn’t hear. “They want to see you.”

“I cant…” You said in your normal whisper. “Mama will be angry…”

“Don’t worry about your ma right now,” Cathy said dismissively. “You don’t deserve the shit she gives you, you’re just too shy to tell her off. Just go see what they want. Maybe it’s a chance to get out from under her thumb.”

You had to admit, you did wish for that. You loved your mother, and she loved you in her own way, but you knew she resented you and it was just… exhausting, dealing with her reproachfulness and cutting words every day. You were just too scared to leave on your own.

You thought long and hard about it, looking around to see if your mother was anywhere near. When you didn’t see her, you looked up at Cathy, looking just past her behind her ear instead of at her face, and nodded. She took you by the hand and led you out to the dining area. Birch and his mother were sitting at the four-legged table, with his mother having dragged over a chair to sit with him comfortably.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Birch said. “When you didn’t react this morning, I was worried something had happened. Mama, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”

He told his mother about you? Why?

“I see, I see,” The older woman said. “My name is Ryel, I’m Birch’s mother. Your name is Hazel, right?”

You nodded, unable to look up.

“Goodness, you are rather shy, aren’t you, dear?” She said sympathetically. You chewed your lip, unable to respond. “My son tells me you’re illiterate, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“I imagine that makes communicating with other people very difficult,” She said.

You nodded again.

“So, how about this?” She said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you come to the farm with me for the summer? I’ll teach you how to read and write, and in exchange, you help me out around the farm. How does that sound?”

For the first time in your life, you were surprised into looking someone in the face. She was smiling warmly at you

“I’m getting older and I could use an assistant. My children all have their own work and families to look after and I’d feel as if I were taking advantage of them if I expected them to follow me around and help me all day.”

“Mama, you know we’d do it happily,” Birch said.

“I know that,” She said, hushing him. “Even still, I’d prefer to hire someone for the task, and if I can help them at the same time, why shouldn’t I?” She leaned forward. “What do you say, dear?”

This is exactly what you wanted. A job that was away from your mom. This was your chance. You opened your mouth, as if to answer, when you heard a sharp voice behind you.

“Hazel!” Your mother said, irate, and stalked out of the kitchen toward you, grabbing you by the arm. “Stop bothering these people! Get back to the laundry.”

Birch’s back leg kicked slightly in irritation, thumping the wood of the floor, but Ryel kept her composure.

“She’s not bothering us in the least, madam,” She said calmly. “I’ve actually come here to offer her a job.”

Your mother scoffed. “A job? Doing what?”

“As my assistant,” Ryel said. “I’m a jack of all trades type, you might say, and I’m willing to take her on in exchange for room and board, plus an education.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Your mother said, her grip rather strong on your arm. “My daughter is not capable of making her own decisions.”

“How old is your daughter?” Ryel asked.

“She’s nineteen,” Your mother replied. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit slow. Trying to teach her wouldn’t benefit either of you.”

You frowned, upset. That wasn’t true, you weren’t slow. In fact, you thought you learned rather quickly, you’d just hadn’t had the chance to learn very many new things.

“Be that as it may,” Ryel replied, her voice still even. “Your daughter is an adult and has the right to choose what she wants.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said. “Besides, even if I allowed this, I don’t want her anywhere near him.” She jerked her chin toward Birch.

Birch bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what kind of man you are,” She hissed. “How many lovers you’ve had in just this town alone? How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? I know you have ulterior motives for wanting to take her from here, and I won’t stand for it. She’s simpleminded and vulnerable, and I won’t let you dishonor her and return her to me used and broken.”

“Stop talking like she can’t hear every vile thing you say about her!” Birch shouted, slamming his fist into the table, making you jump. “I would never do something so shameful! You don’t know anything about me! ”

“Son, calm down,” Ryel said, putting her hand on his. “My son is a grown man of twenty-eight and has desires, true, but I’ve been to this town quite often and I haven’t found any such string of broken hearts, as you call it. Many sighing and wistful girls who long for his company, sure, but not one of them has come to me with tears in her eyes claiming he lied or misled her. He’s open and forthright about his intentions, and I respect his decisions. You should do the same for your child.”

“Don’t talk to me about my child if you can’t even control your own,” Your mother said venomously. “Hazel, let’s go.”

She tried to lead you away, but you refused to move. There were hurt and anxious tears in your eyes and you couldn’t look at anyone, but you refused to let her pull you away.

“Hazel!” She gripped your arm and yanked you painfully, and you wrenched your arm from her grasp, shaking your head.

“It seems like she’s made her choice,” Ryel said. “The least you can do as her mother is respect her wishes.”

“Be quiet!” Your mother said. “Leave us alone!” She grabbed your hands and started to pull you back to the kitchen. Birch got to his feet.

“Let her go,” He said, his voice a low growl, knocking her hands away from you. He stood between you and your mother. You dared to reach out and place a hand on the fur of his back to steady yourself.

“What’s going on here?” The bartender, Brian, asked. He also owned the tavern and knew about your condition. He didn’t speak to you much, but he also didn’t tease you either. You could handle understanding silence a lot better than persistent expectation to interact. “Are you alright, Hazel?”

You were shaking and crying, so you could only shake your head.

“These people won’t leave us alone,” You mother said. “I’d like them to leave.”

“Now, Rita, these people are good customers and friends of mine. I’m going to need more of a reason than ‘they’re bothering me’ to kick them out.”

“We simply offered young Hazel here a job on the farm,” Ryel said patiently. “I’m afraid her mother is interfering with her decision.”

“Is that true, Hazel?” Brian asked. “Would you like to take up this job?”

Trembling, you nodded.

“Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Brian said. “These are good folks, Hazel, they’ll take care of you.”

“Like hell they will,” You mother retorted. “She can’t make decisions like this. She doesn't understand.”

Brian sighed. “Rita, your girl’s not stupid, and it’s high time you stopped treating her like she is.”

Your mother looked like she’d been slapped in the face. You looked up at Brian in shock. He smiled kindly at you.

“Why don’t you go up and pack your things while your mother and I have a little chat, eh, dear?” He said.

You attempted to smile at him, though you worried it looked a little like you had indigestion, and went to pack. You took a few minutes to sit on the bed and breathe, clutching your chest, feeling a panic attack poking at your brain. You couldn’t believe it. You were really leaving.

There was a knock on your door and Ryel poked her head in.

“Are you alright, dear? That was quite the fuss,” She said.

You dried your face and nodded, getting up to start putting clothes in a bag.

“I sent Birch outside. He was getting rather angry, and I didn’t want him smashing any of Brian’s furniture.”

You looked out the window. Birch was standing in the courtyard with his arms crossed, stamping the ground and stepping constantly, as if he couldn’t stand still. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was working, and his tail was swishing back and forth without stopping.

“He’s worried for you, dear,” She said, following your gaze. “One thing our entire family has in common is that we don’t like seeing people mistreated. You’re mother may have her reasons for acting as she does, and perhaps it is out of some misplaced notion of love, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all that she mistreats you. You can’t help the way you are, and no amount of her cruel words are going to fix that. In fact, I’m more than certain it makes it worse.”

You sighed sadly in agreement. As you stood there, Birch looked up at your window. He smiled, a little sadder than before, and waved up at you. This time, you raised a hand and waved back.

The door opened and your mother walked in, glaring at Ryel.

“I’d like to speak to my daughter alone, if you please,” She said, her voice low and hostile.

Ryel looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” She said, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Your mother just stared at you with her arms crossed, shaking her head slightly. You looked down and away.

“I guess I should just be glad you won’t be around to humiliate me anymore,” She said, and you shrunk in on yourself. “I don’t like this at all, but it seems I have no say in the matter. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

You knew she was hurt and was lashing out. She wasn’t exactly sweet and caring on her best days, but she could really cut a person to the quick when she was upset.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She asked you, and you could hear tears in her voice. “Nothing at all? You can’t muster the courage to apologize to me for that display downstairs? For leaving me without a thought to my feelings? I’ve spent the last seven years protecting you and providing for you after your useless father threw us out, and you do this to me? And you have nothing to say?”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to her and put your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, Mama,” You said softly.

She started to sob and put her arms around your shoulders. It had been years since she’d last hugged you.

“You’d better start sending me letters as soon as you learn how to,” She said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t hear something from you in a few months, I’m going out there to drag you back, you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama,” You whispered, and took a step back. Picking up your bag, you opened the door and walked out. Ryel was waiting and smiled when she saw you.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

Back outside, Birch was waiting. He stopped shifting around anxiously when he saw you and his mother exit the tavern.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Ryel said. “We’re ready to go.”

“Would you like to ride on my back?” Birch asked, turning.

You shook your head fervently, mortified.

“Are you sure?” He said. “It’s a long walk back to the farm, over four hours. I can get us there in half the time.”

“She’s feeling shy,” Ryel said. “For centaurs, letting people ride on their back is a special privilege afforded to few. I’ll ride with you.” She grinned at him. “He always makes an exception for his mother.”

He grinned at her in return. “You just assume I do.” But he took out a quilted riding blanket that was rolled up and tied to the bottom of his pack and handed it to her, and she set it on his back. Climbing the steps to the tavern, she vaulted onto his back. She instructed you to do the same. Blushing furiously, with both Ryel and Birch’s help, you were able to scramble on in front of her.

“Let’s go,” He said, and he took off at a trot out of town.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Centaur #Autistic Character #Reader Insert #Semi-Verbal Reader

272 notes · View notes

gojology · 3 years

Text

Intoxicated. (18+)

The Request:

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I’m so sorry anon, usually I finish the whole fic before adding the author’s note, and I’m now realizing that I read your request wrong. I think you meant to have Gojo and Reader as friends but uh... I kinda wrote this as the opposite? It’s more of a Popular Gojo x Loner Reader. I hope this still fits your tastes because otherwise I followed everything you asked for, you’re welcome to request more and I’ll write them PERFECTLY I swear. Also can ya’ll tell I’m bad at choosing titles LMFAO 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | College Student! Dom! Gojo x Drunk! Sub! (as per usual..) Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3808 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Suggestions of Rape (Nothing Happens Though, Also I’m Not Sure If That’s The Correct Choice of Wording...), Fluff, Oral (Male Receiving), Somewhat Public, Hair Pulling, 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | After attending a party due to some persistent begging from a friend, hopeful for Gojo Satoru, your long-time crush to come, you turn back empty-handed. That’s what you thought, though. Eventually he comes around and helps you in more ways then one.

The thumping of bass was all you could hear. Loud drunken cheering, chatter amidst the scene. Poorly discarded red solo cups littered the floor and the tables, and at the corner of your eye you could see a heap of college students piled up on top of each other, snoring. You impatiently tap your foot against the sticky floor, most likely due to the uncleaned spilt drinks. You weren’t exactly fond of college parties. Most of the time nothing occurred, and besides, you had your eyes set on a certain man, so you weren’t quite looking for a quick night. But you had come regardless, since your friend had begged and eventually convinced you to. Scanning the crowd once more, hopeful, you curse under your breath as you come out of your search unsuccessful once more. Not even a glimpse of Gojo Satoru, someone that always attended crazy parties, and this party was high on the scale of crazy. This had to be the most depressingly boring party you’ve ever attended. But if you weren’t here to shamelessly stalk Satoru, or socialize, you had to do a bit of drinking, or else what would be the point? Walking towards the alcohol was the last thing you wanted to do. Hordes of intoxicated students were blatantly making out with each other, drinks left untouched and probably forgotten, not to mention just the overall anxiety you would get to be so caught up in the life of the party. “Yooo... ‘S that you, (Y/N)?” you heard a familiar drunken voice even through the loud music, and you whip around, glad to have some form of escape from the awkwardness. You were hesitant to approach your friend, you knew they were the friendly type, and that was only exemplified during drinking. “Yup, that’s me!” you smile awkwardly, setting your empty cup down on the table. “Agh. Fuck.” your friend groaned, stumbling onto you, sloppily catching themselves using your shoulders. “Sorry... Long night. Holy shit (Y/N), didn’t think you’d actually fucking come out and party. Nice to see you... Fuck-” brushing off a pair girls dancing wildly from their shoulder, your friend cleared their throat. You try not to make a face, and instead direct your attention to the crowd on the opposite end of the room, hoping this was enough to tell your friend that you weren’t exactly looking for a conversation. “...Fuck... What was I saying..? Oh yeahhhh, glad to see ya out here hermit. I’ll pour your drink~! How’s class going?” Clumsily fumbling with your cup, you had subconsciously picked it back up, your fingers itching to fidget with it and pretend your friend wasn’t there at all. Turning to face your friend again, a grin playing at your lips, hoping you looked friendly. “No that’s fine! I’ll do it myself, I’m way less drunk then you are. Why don’t you go sit down?” You mentally facepalm. Of course they wouldn’t get your body language, they were literally drunk. Your friend grinned boldly, “Hey, you said it, not me~ You can leave anytime though... Guy named Gojo Satoru coming soon... Makes all the parties go wild. Ladies love him. Probably not your style though, eh?” You don’t reply, instead watching your friend nod at you, perhaps as a way of saying goodbye when they couldn’t do it normally. Taking sluggish strides to mix back in with the crowd of people, unintelligibly rambling about something you presumed was about Gojo Satoru. You wave at them as they blended into the blur of faces. It takes a moment to register everything that was just said. Your heart pounding, you turn to face the variety of alcohol instead, finally settling on some cheap beer, since you had no idea what the rest was, yet you weren’t quite thinking about the quality of the alcohol you were drinking. You were looking down at the selection of drinks, but your mind wasn’t thinking about that at all. You had thought your luck really was shit, but that didn’t appear to be the case any longer. Your brain was thinking quicker then your hands could catch up, spilling the canned liquid onto the table instead of your cup, but that wasn’t what you were thinking about right now. Setting the can down without another thought, you take a long sip, enjoying the ice cold beverage, your mouth going numb with every swig. Usually you’d throw up at the slightest thought of the after taste of beer, but that didn’t matter. Right now, all that was in your world was your red solo cup, the cheep booze inside of it, and whenever the hell Gojo Satoru would arrive. The likelihood of him noticing you was probably in the negatives, you were a wall flower, an average college student, but him? He probably had a part-time job as a super model, or perhaps a fitness trainer. Strong toned arms, always a smug smirk on his face, strikingly white hair, and those damned circular shades. Shaking your head, you pour another can of beer into your cup, feeling yourself go numb and ignoring the thoughts going rampant in your head. The only thing to distance yourself from these thoughts were to drink yourself to sleep, seeing as everyone else was doing the same thing, or call an Uber. Unfortunately, that probably had a lower probability of Gojo taking an interest in you. You were, of course, a broke college student living off of pre-packaged noodles and relatively cheap dishes. It would be more likely to crash at your friends place. You weren’t quite the drinker, much less experienced with the booze. You felt your knees wobble, and a strong urge to throw up at the back of your throat. You shouldn’t have overdrank. Leaving your cup on the table, you shrugged your way towards the exit, murmuring (or rather slurring) polite excuse me’s and sorry’s, Stumbling your way towards the door, you were just now realizing that people were even now still coming into the party. You desperately needed fresh air, the atmosphere in the party was too hectic, too crazy, too stuffy. As soon as you stepped an inch away from the interior, you drew in a long much needed sigh, every breath coming out as a cloud of fog. The night was quiet and still, and you finally felt like you could vomit your guts away in peace. Walking over to the nearest trashcan you can find, you vomited as much as you could, feeling lighter as soon as it all left your system. Turning back towards the house, you still found yourself stumbling and struggling to walk normally. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you refused to look this stupid returning back to the house, figuring you could take a few more breathers. Taking another deep breath in, without even beginning to mention your surroundings, confidently taking long strides. You knocked into someone, headfirst into their chest. Cursing under your breath, you squint your eyes, this person was incredibly tall, you noted. Remnants of expensive smelling cologne clouded your sense of smell. “...Sorry.” you mumbled, still struggling to see who this was due to the darkness. “Hey. No problem girly, you seem drunk, you okay?” yet another familiar voice, yet you hadn’t heard it quite as often as your friend. “Huh...? Uh, yeah... I think.” giving him a dopey smile, you couldn’t remember who this guy was for some reason. “Yo Gojo! Who’s this chick?” Immediately swiveling your head towards the direction of the voice, it came to your attention that you had seen the guy on campus hanging out with Gojo quite often. Turning back up to the guy towering over you, beads of sweat formulated on your forehead, you gulp, the confidence you got while drinking evaporated into thin air. A toothy sly grin on his handsome facial features, you don’t even know if your heart rate is dropping to the negatives or skyrocketing. This was the actual real Gojo Satoru. The egotistical bastard. Stifiling an eep, you try to respond, attempting to say you were in-fact not his affirmative, “chick”. “Chill, Geto, just some drunk girl. Hey, you go ahead with the party, I think I’ll help her.” he said, waving at whoever Geto was. “Gojo, again? You’ve done this shit like 4 times, you want pussy that bad... Yo!” he raised his arms up as soon as Gojo shot daggers at him. “Dude, come enjoy yourself when you can, okay? Was just a joke.” Geto mumbled, you heard a few goodbye’s and words of agreement, and then the atmosphere was still once again. “You seem really drunk. I don’t think being alone is good.” his eyebrows knitted together. Placing a firm hand on your forehead. “which fucking sucks honestly. Here, let’s go back inside sweets. You’re heating up.” Seemingly forgetting every language you’ve ever learned, you instead look back at him in awe. He laughed, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Here, I’ll help you walk. If worse comes to worse, I’ll fucking carry you, yeah? Nothing to be worried about, who doesn’t wanna flex that they were carried by Gojo fucking Satoru? They don’t call me the greatest for nothing~!” he sang. “You’re real?” you breathed, immediately covering your mouth following suit. Wishing you had the confidence like this sober. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you, taking long strides that you couldn’t quite catch up with. “Yeah, I’m real, don’t walk into that you’re gonna faceplant into a car.”

“I think I’ve seen you before in one of my classes, humanities maybe?” he added, turning you back into the party, you heard the loud thumping music once again. It was in fact humanities, but you couldn’t quite tell him you always marveled at him every lecture, so instead you flutter your eyelashes. “...Uh yeah... I think I remember you too.” Before he could say anything back, you hear the steadily increase of a deafening combination of party music and loud screams and chatter. “Yo Gojo! Got a new girl? Thought you were dating some chick named Utahime?” “Yo! Nah, just helpin’ this girl, and no I am not dating Utahime-” “Is that fucking Gojo Satoru? Yo! Over here, shots? Geto’s here too!” This guy was popular, obviously. These were also top-notch names within the small college’s community, yet here you were under his arm, and not one person knew your name. Everyone just referred to you as just a girl. This probably wasn’t new to Gojo then, so you weren’t special. You felt your heart drop. Once again, you were in your own world, and you never felt like a burden more then now. “Hey, where are the rooms?” You look up from furiously studying the floor, and you realize he’s talking to your friend, tapping at their shoulder. “Huh? Oh my god... Gojo, I thought you didn’t make it~! Want a drink?” they lifted up their red solo cup to Gojo’s lips, an easygoing smile plastered onto their face. “Nah. Where are the rooms?” Gojo asked with a slightly impatient tone, now rhythmically drumming his fingers against your shoulder with one hand, the other shoving the cup away from his face. “Damn, my guy.” your friend wiped their lips before speaking, their arm slack. “You’re intent... Yeah down the hallway, left, there’s some spare condoms somewhere...” “(Y/N)? I didn’t even realize... You’re gonna fuck my boy Satoru over here?” they slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Wha? No of course not.. Uh... He’s...” everything came out as unintelligible babble, you felt your cheeks go warm. “She’s probably not an experienced drinker, just looking out for her to be honest. No fucking, just want to make sure she’s safe for the time being. I’ll join you later, yeah?” Gojo chirped, reassuringly patting your friend’s shoulder back. “Shit, say less Satoru. See ya~” your friend waved before turning their back on the two of you, striking up a random conversation with the people who just so happened to be nearby. As you both walked down the hallway in quiet, you look up at him, grateful for the not as noisy room. “U-Uh.. Thank you..” you murmured, “I can speak though, you know..” He chuckled, “As fucking if, I just have experience with drunk people, I can usually tell what they’re saying when others can’t. You sounded like a crackhead back there.” fidgeting with the bedroom’s doorknob, he finally unlocked it. “You’re mean! How do I know you’re not gonna... You know!” you retorted, collapsing on the bed without another thought, relishing the plush mattress. “Thanks babe, if it makes you feel any better I can pull any chick within a 500 mile radius. I don’t need to resort to such cowardly and criminal shit.” he yawned, grunting before placing his shades on the nightstand, laying down next to you. “I’ll even leave the door wide open if it makes you feel safe.” Reassured, you relaxed your body, staring at the blank ceiling. Your body felt numb and you couldn’t quite think straight. “How’d you know I was in humanities?” you slurred, still staring at the ceiling. “I see you all the time, you sit near me and have some cute stationary.” putting both of his hands at the back of his head, his eyes turned to look at yours, his neck twisting as he did so. Immediately, the first thought you think of even in your intoxicated state was how beautiful his eyes were. Like rare diamonds mined from the deepest caves, placed delicately into someone’s eyes by some divine being. A strikingly vivid bright blue. It was a little on the lighter shade, but so, so beautiful. “Pretty..” you struggle to restrain yourself, but you can’t help it, instead staring at him, eye-to-eye. “Yeah? Just like you, sweets. I thought we were talking about cute stationary?” you couldn’t quite tell if what he just said was a joke or not, but you really didn’t want to find out. You felt your heart burst. “...Really?” you breathed, ignoring his previous statement, lifting your legs upwards to wrap your arm around them. “You’re pretty. Why else do you think I’d notice you in lectures?” he paused, and even you can tell he seemed slightly nervous, a slight quiver to his lips. “honestly, whenever I’m bored I just kinda look at you. You’re cute, what can I say?” Gojo added. Unable to respond, you instead looked up at him, you felt like a blood vessel was going to pop, or your heart, whichever one was first. Scooching closer to you, he placed a hand on your neck, breathing heavily. “Hey, I’m not lying. You’re genuinely pretty, sugar, you know? Yeah we haven’t talked to each other often, but I’ve always thought you were cute and I’ve heard things about you.” “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” that was all you could pathetically muster. “Is that the joke?” “When a cute chick is on the line, I don’t lie.” he assured you, pursing his lips. Seeing him so up close was nerve-wrecking, so perfect, he looked like was sculpted with marble. A part of you wished you weren’t drunk, so you wouldn’t look as stupid. “I think you’re cute too.” you whispered. For a moment, it went quiet. So quiet that you could hear the loud music and the wild party once again, but you don’t dare interrupt. It takes everything inside of you to not break eye contact, your stomach a butterfly exhibit. “I like you.” he finally said, you couldn’t sense a damn sarcastic tone. “Bet you’re gonna doubt that too.” snickering, he ran his hand through his hair, but you swear you see him bite his lip. Sexual or something he did subconsciously, you weren’t quite sure. Time stopped. This was way too far to be a troll, but what if it still was? You didn’t know, the stupid small thought never went away, you looked at him dumbfounded instead. Snapping out of your daze, you ask, “...But we haven’t talked a whole bunch.” “I know that. I don’t know, I guess I liked the idea of the competition. You don’t throw yourself at me, and sure other girls don’t do that as well-” he trailed off, before finishing his sentence, “but I think there’s a lot of positive traits that I like in you, and you’re just.. Really pretty. I guess I don’t want to throw you away like what I do with other girls?” Before you could speak, he cuts you off again, this time a tad frantic. “But you know- Listen, I know it seems like I fuck around with girls a lot, but I’m looking to change that. I know I don’t seem very genuine now, but I think I’d like to try something with you specifically. You don’t even have to say anything back, just leave if you don’t want to, and if you do I’m sorry for disturbing your night-” Maybe it was how intoxicated you are, or how you suddenly felt a burst of confidence, but you kiss him, and you kiss him hard. His breath hitched while you rolled on top of his chest. You’re desperate to have contact between your skin and his. He kissed you back, shyly at first, soft and delicate, but that didn’t last for long. Heat rose to your cheeks, you were rusty with your kissing, but he wasn’t. The smell of his cologne was tantalizing, he kissed you like he wasn’t ever shy to begin with. One hand under your neck, propping you up towards him, the other groping your breast. Parting your lips, feeling him explore you just briefly before slipping back out as soon as it started. You felt him unhook your bra with relative ease, and you can’t control the flutter within. Still kissing you sloppily, Gojo shuddered and you could tell there was a sound at the back of the throat. Moan, grunt, growl, you couldn’t tell. Slipping his hand away from your breast momentarily, he hastily yanked your top off your body. Pulling away from the kiss not too long afterwards, he licked his lips, panting, you find yourself catching your breath too. “Sit up.” he ordered, and you did as you were told, looking up at him with eyes that practically said, “What’s next?” “Look at you. So cute.” cupping your breasts with his hands, you gasp at how hot they are, sweating just a bit, his thumbs brushed briefly against your nipples, giving them slight twirls before finally kissing both of your mounds. “Let’s be nice and light today, okay pumpkin? Nothing too serious.” you gaze up at him, now standing and unbuckling his designer belt, unbuttoning his jeans which dropped to the floor afterwards, an obvious bulge in his boxers. “...The door’s still open. Close it.” you suggest, your eyes still intent on his bulge, you don’t try to hide licking your lips. “The world needs to know who’s mine tonight. Fuck that.” he smirked devilishly before also tugging his boxers down, exposing his dick. Now, you weren’t quite expecting that he was packing this much, but he was. You easily estimated 7 inches, maybe more, you didn’t know. A pale flush pink at the very tip, veins adorned his length. Fairly girthy, and you loved it. “Off the bed, on your knees.” Scrambling off of the bed, you immediately look upwards and kiss the tip. He hummed, looking down at you with watchful eyes. You didn’t care if someone saw the two of you like this, in fact you’d love it. You instantly put your hands to work, pumping his length, making sure that you were making eye-contact. Giving playful licks along the sides whilst doing so, you note his panting is getting heavier, so you must be doing something right. Your tongue quickly darted out of your mouth to lick your lips, before suckling the tip, just as a tease. He growled, yanking at your hair so that you were looking directly up at him once again. “Don’t tease me, sweetheart. Or you’ll see what happens.” Letting go of your locks, with one last look at his face you engulfed his rock hard cock, slightly drooling. Once in a while, you took a risky peek at Gojo’s face, predatory and lustful eyes staring back directly at you. Grunting, he twitched in your mouth, and you brace yourself. “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so good with your mouth.” he breathed. You groaned in an attempt to communicate, since your mouth was so stuffed full. Precum leaked from his dick, and you bobbed up and down once more. Taking another breath in, tears began to form at the corner of your eyes. You choked a little, but you were doing well for someone who didn’t suck dick very often. Bracing yourself for a flashflood of cum from him, your mouth worked up and down on his length before you heard a loud groan, signaling that he had came, his eyes squeezed shut, the orgasm completely wracked his body. You found yourself with a mouthful of cum, and you struggle to swallow, before doing it successfully. You look up to him, panting, some cum had escaped your mouth, splattering onto the floor. He looked you up and down, before opening his arms out for you, beckoning for you to come forth. “Come here, you looked so pretty doing all that. Such a good girl.” pulling you in closer to his chest, he laid down with a huff, hugging you now. Gojo’s hand rubbed up and down your bare, sweaty back, in a state of euphoria, you don’t do much other then giggle. “I’m so glad I can call you mine now, pumpkin.” he smiles, before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. “Wait... We’re dating now?’ your head shot up, in shock. “Yes. Dummy. Fuck it, let’s just crash here tonight, your friend won’t mind.” he tousled your hair, taking another deep breath in. “Let’s sleep together.” “Again?” “I mean it in a literal sense.” he rolled his eyes. “.....You guys can fuck here.” a familiar voice rang out from the hallway, you hear a murmur of thanks as the voice became closer and closer, but you’re too tired to move. “We never closed the door.” you say hazily, digging your face closer into his chest. He grumbles in response, and you can’t tell what he’s saying. “..Ah nope- Looks like that room is occupied by Gojo and...” your friend’s eyes looked down, before looking back up in terror. “(Y/N)?” They looked back down at the ground, their eyes lighting up as soon as they realized what was on it: cum splatters and clothes. You’re too intoxicated to care, though.

341 notes · View notes

satoruvt · 3 years

Text

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend.

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left.

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day.

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement.

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time.

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job. “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars.

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!”

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower.

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung.

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!”

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down.

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom.

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself.

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen.

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring.

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart.

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add.

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,” Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it.

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel.

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh.

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though.

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #CRIES I'M SO EXCITED #THIS FIC IS MY BABY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!!!!#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagine #svt hoshi x reader #svt hoshi imagine #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine

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starlights-and-submarines · 7 years

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#i messed up the last post so im rewriting it oh my god #im rewriting my oversharing lord help #but uh #i wanted to be a little clearer?#when I was younger i knew a girl named Tatianna and she'd fight men about grades in elementary school #all the time #like she'd be the first to go oh i know this and she doesn't!!#at me and it was like g irl what #and then later on in life i met kids who were basically the me an intellectual meme #except imagine that as a whole person #like they flaunt their smarts at every chance possible and purposely edge you into corners so that they can prove what they know #or at least it felt like that #maybe i was just insecure #but from what i remember of these people i met they'd basically make everything feel like an interrogation #you don't feel educated you feel like you were stupid for not knowing smth in the first place #and as a person struggling with anxiety that mixes so poorly with me it's not funny #like they'd go 'oh lol you think you know this?? well explain all of it to me rn.'#if you mess up out of pressure they laugh at you #and you feel so s tupid #and then they proceed to explain it with gusto #so like #idk #all this thinking is a bad thing maybe but i really wanted to talk about it cause this is a sore spot for me #it bothers me like every single day #whispers from the stars #it sucks to be the person who has to sit through that im just saying #the least those kinds of people can do is properly educate #but instead you wanna stroke your ego?? god that hurts me #why would you do that with your talents

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perfectlymarilynmonroe · 3 years

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Hi! I’m sorry for not being able to phrase this question differently, but i’ve always been confused by how the end/last few years of Marilyn’s life are sometimes described as her spiraling deeper and deeper into depression and substance abuse (some even claim alcoholism) and sometimes it’s said that she was doing almost better than ever by the time of her death.

I realize that she was doing quite poorly in 1960, around Misfits and her divorce, but would you say that her life and overall health got better in -61 or -62?

I just can’t stop thinking about her quote about Montgomery Clift being the only person doing worse than her.

Hi! This question requires a lengthy response and I hope you forgive me.

It definitely depends on the source and the time in her life. As we all do, she absolutely fluctuated over that time. After all, two and a half years is a long time and so much can happen in change in that time.

Personally, I think 1961 was a confusing year for her. It reminds me of a more struggling version of 1955. In 1955, though she still suffered with depression, anxiety, insomnia, and took pills for relief, she had a much clearer vision of herself. She had a list of things she wanted to achieve and flourished in her new life in New York. She was conquering a new and frightening journey, but her feet steady on the ground.

In 1961, she was lost. She flew back and forth between New York and Los Angeles trying to find a place she felt she belonged. Arthur was out of her life and Joe was back in. She struggled with being divorced with no children. She was ill with issues regarding her gall-bladder, was institutionalized, and didn't know what friends to turn to. She had her New York friends, but some of them were mutuals with Arthur, and her friends in Los Angeles were somewhat *new*; she was a guest, rather than a partaking member (if that makes sense). I think her battle with "who am I, where do I want to be, who are my friends, what do I want," in 1961 ultimately helped her strength in 1962.

During her last few months, those around her like her makeup artist, Allan Snyder, her publicist, Pat Newcomb, masseur and chauffeur, Ralph Roberts, colleagues at Twentieth Century Fox (her stand-in, co-stars, director), noticed some sadness, but hope behind her words and actions. Her therapist was very controlling and intrusive - hiring her a housekeeper who reported things back to him - and those like Roberts and Newcomb commented that she knew her therapist was more detrimental than helpful to her mental health. She was looking to the future differently.

She had negotiated plans with Fox that included a one-million dollar contract deal for two films, had a new house she enjoyed decorating, had officially asked to join the Actors Studio, a trip planned with friend Norman Rosten for benefit planned that September, and more.

I think her mental and physical health was on its way to a recovery. Sometimes, however, it can look that way on the outside, but a war is happening inside. Marilyn was an example of that throughout most of her life. She was mixing alcohol with her pills during her last few years, but mostly for sleep purposes. Her insomnia was only getting worse and she was desperate to find some relief. That's a simple truth that can't be twisted and turned, but sadly has. She just wanted sleep. Was she "abusing" pills or an "alcoholic"? I personally don't think so, but since I wasn't there.

A wonderful book entitled "Marilyn: Her Life in Her Own Words" was published by photographer George Barris in 1995 that helps get a sense of her over-all health. They were planning to release an autobiography and all of her words were some of her last. They were in the weeks leading up to her death and that, along with her interview with Life magazine, published August 3rd, 1962, are great sources to get a sense of her state of mind around that time. Of course, she knew a lot of it would be made public and I'm sure withheld some things.

Those who spoke with her during her final weeks and months sensed nothing but hope coming from her. She knew she was a work in progress, but believed in herself she could continue to heal.

I really hope this answered your questions. As I mentioned, when it comes to her final weeks, months, and years, a lengthy response is hard to avoid. Haha.

#ask

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buryyourfavouritestrope · 3 years

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I choose you - MLQC Lucien Xu

Author Note: Oh boy, I have so many fic ideas for Victor and Lucien from MLQC but I'm not super far in the game and I've spoiled a few things for myself but man why does it have such an engrossing plot. Anyway here's a little word vomit of hopefully coherent thoughts.

Beads of sweat covered her forehead as she stood in the embarrassingly vacant courtyard; her companion watched her with a foreign coldness in his gaze. Never had the man before her, her friend, looked at her with anything other than a reflection of the same admiration she held for him. Yet here they both stood in the suffocating heat. They had for the first time become opposites of each other completely, his stance portrayed that of a regimental killer, calm and reserved. Whereas she stood a complete and utter mess on the verge of a breakdown. Tears pricked at her eyes just as the sun pricked at her skin.

To outside observers they looked like lovers going through an argument; one that casted her as the desperate villain clinging to the words the hero, or perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe as difficult to stomach as she found it, he was the villain. The tension between them had become suffocatingly thick, borderline glue like as they waited for the other to say something. Though she looked like she would falter at any moment she refused to break. She wanted to know that every word he had said to her, to distance himself, he meant. The harsh cut on the ends of his syllables turned his words to knives.

It was his reserved nature that had him distancing himself, each time they occupied the same space he ended up mentally sparring with himself. His field of dull greys and omniscient whites disturbed by the all too mesmerising vibrant wreck in front of him had made his job harder by the second. He’d finally found what he’d been searching for, and the flood of colours had erased years of mental barriers.

As quickly as he had spoken, Lucien walked away. It had been his way to spare himself any further despair and though she couldn’t see it, what he had said had hurt him double. He watched as the smile he adored had shifted into a trembling one, as she struggled to regain composure. The way her brows knitted together as he stepped away from her; her hands lingering at her sides.

Lucien was aware – the very second, they’d met – of what he wanted. He knew he could never have it, not what he really wants- needs. He isn’t like the others; his love can’t last forever. He can’t grow old with her; he can’t even see the beauty of the world around him. So, what would one more heartbreak be for dear old Lucien Xu? That’s what he had told himself.

He’d made it as far as his office door before he noticed her following him. Through his peripheral vision he could see a sheepish smile adorning her features. The same sheepish smile that he had once seen attached to her when she turned up unannounced to his office one evening and then again when she nursed him back to health.

“You walk too fast” She jested; her arms swinging slightly as she exaggerated her breathing. Lucien sighed; he took in her overheated face; sweat pooling beneath her eyes and along her hairline. He’d made up his mind after his body had moved aside for her. He opened his office door to her and let her proceed. “Some of us don’t have the height advantage of a small tree” She continued.

Lucien’s mouth twitched; he was struggling to remain cold. Her body collapsed against his desk, fingers drumming against the wood as she attempted, poorly, to capture her breath. Steady hands reached for a bottle water before flinging it to the young girl; her eyes watching as he leant beside her on the desk.

“You followed me,” Lucien mused, even after everything he said. He’d broken their bond or at least he’d attempted it. She should hate him; she should’ve left and ran to one of the others. They’d have treated her better, they would still treat her better. Even the stoic CEO who had in the past done nothing but sling insults towards the girl would comfort her. “I’ll never understand you” He continued.

“Lucien, I don’t believe you meant what you said” Her answer shot a chill through his body. Of course, he didn’t mean it – not truly. He could never honestly tell her she was unimportant, that she clung to him too much or that her consistent conversations had bored him to the point that he hated her.

Lucien meant the opposite. He savoured the way her hands would wrap around his arm whenever she wanted to show saw something in a shop window, or the way her body would slump against his late at night. He never wanted her to stop speaking to him. No combination of words or equations could show how important she was to him.

“You should leave, I have lectures to prepare and you won’t see me for a while but I’ll keep working when I can to help you with the sho-“Lucien began as he lifted himself from his desk. He didn’t look at her; it would only make this more difficult. Once she had left he could bury himself in his other work, he could disappear for a while and compose himself again.

“You didn’t let me finish. You left before I could say anything.” She paused; she drank some water as though it would give her the strength to say what she wanted to. “I chose you”

Silence bit at his ear in between her harsh breathes. For a moment Lucien forgot to breath. His lungs craving oxygen as he felt the burn in his chest. The idea that a ‘but’ followed her sentences sprung to the forefront of Lucien’s mind. No-one would choose him – at least not after they discovered the real him. Not the Professor. Not Ares. No, his true self had mutated a long time ago leaving only an amalgamation of the two personalities. A cold killer and a colourless Professor.

Lucien adjusts his stance; he kept his back to her. It hadn’t been to hide his features or to keep her from noticing the way his face expressed the remorse he felt currently mixed with the joy of hearing those three little words. Lucien’s mind threw him back to ten minutes before he’d walked off.

They’d stood beside each other as she rambled about her day. Her eyes lighting up as she spoke about her lunch with Kiro and her meetings with Victor. She laughed as she pictured the older CEO struggling to eat the junk food, she’d brought for him after her lunch. Lucien had shared a chuckle with her before she’d made a passing comment about the two of them being a couple. Herself and Lucien. Arm in arm as they crossed the courtyard.

That comment had spurred an internal debate within him; the morals he had once abandoned sprung out at him from wherever they had been buried. He’d battled before with his emotions. Late one evening, he’d called her haphazardly. She’d beamed as she spoke with him, her voice lulling the anxiety within his chest. He’d break her heart when she found out, when she eventually realised how ruthless he could be.

“In a thousand lifetimes, I would find you, Lucien Xu” She whispered; he tensed the second he felt her arms wrap around his torso, her head resting against his back. “I’d choose you, so please. I beg you don’t push me away”

“Even if I became a villain. Even if it were safer for you, you’d still choose me” Lucien uttered. She didn’t answer instead she tightened her arms, her head nodding against his back. A pained smile crossed Lucien’s face, as he placed his hands atop hers. His eyes closing, the small gesture had been a punch to the face. Unfamiliar emotions, that he had once thought himself incapable of, had been stoked by her words.

#mlqc lucien #mlqc lucien x reader #mlqc lucien imagine #Bless the writers of these games #Bless any and every creator of that game

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lilixloveswriting · 3 years

Text

Oasis

Summary: Late, wet from the rain, and with all her friends back home in Inaba, the reader's first day at Shujin Academy was far less than ideal. Prepared to eat her lunch alone, she'd soon realize she wouldn't after to after being approached by the school punk. Ryuji Sakamoto x F!Reader (she wears a skirt, but that's really the only gendery thing going on)

Word Count: 1386

TW: swearing, ryuji says fuck, sad reader, angst with a happy ending

A/N: I wrote this at 2 am as a distraction after crying over kpop yet again. This is incredibly self-indulgent, but hopefully someone else can read it for the same reason. Enjoy!

You dropped your bag and sat down beside it, opening up your lunchbox and unwrapping your sandwich, staring at it emptily before breaking down into tears. Today was your first day at Shujin and, well, things weren’t going great. You’d gotten lost on the way; couldn’t seem to find the damn gate for the connecting train. By the time you did, you knew you were definitely going to be late for class. People weren’t nearly as friendly in the city as they were in Inaba, and nobody seemed to want to stop and help you. The same could be said for the actual students at your school, except instead of completely ignoring you, they were quick to pass judgment, snickering as you walked into the classroom sopping wet from the sudden rain, which you had sworn wasn’t in the forecast.

Your homeroom teacher didn’t take nicely to you being late and gave you a stern scolding, muttering something about always being stuck with the delinquents before leaving for his lunch. So here you were: wet, cold, and hungry, sobbing over your quickly sogging sandwich as you sat alone in a patch of poorly grown grass promptly turning into a puddle of mud as your tears mixed with the rain. You thought about maybe calling your mom, but dismissed the idea realizing she’d only tell you to suck it up, and that the first day was always the worst. Encourage you to try and make some friends...yeah, right. Even if the other students did seem friendly, they all seemed like gossip junkies and would probably turn on you to spread a new exciting rumor given the chance. You’d rather be alone than befriend people like that.

Despite this, you weren’t fooling anyone as the thought only made you cry harder. The tears fell faster as you realized the days at Junes and the floodplain were over, they’d fade into distant memories as your friends back home carried on with their lives, soon forgetting all about you. You never understood the hype about the big city. Sure, there were more things to do, but what was the point if there was no one to share it with? It was the very definition of being alone in a crowded room.

“Oh, fuck.”

You stalled your crying with a gasp, snapping your head up and looking around. You listened intently for footsteps or a voice, but couldn’t distinguish anything between your sniffles and rain pattering on the foliage. “Hello?” You hiccuped, more embarrassing sobs leaving your throat as you grimaced at how pitiful you sounded. “Anyone...is anyone there?” You fumbled to your knees, setting your uneaten sandwich down in your bento before leaning out from behind the wall you’d picked to shelter yourself.

“Uh…” The voice came again, and just as you rounded the corner out stepped a sheepish looking boy, gritting his teeth as his hand rubbed at the back of his blond head. You recognized him from your class. His features were kind of hard to forget, plus, he’d been the only one who didn’t give you a dirty or snarky look when you burst through the door. “Yeah, sorry. I...didn’t know anybody was over here.” He slouched, sticking his hands in his pockets as he pursed his lips, avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could blame him, you were a mess. “Umm, are...you okay?”

You snorted. Did you look okay? You didn’t have a good answer for his stupid question, so you ignored it, instead asking one of your own. “Am I in your way?”

“Ah...nahh.” He shook his head kicking at the ground. “It’s cool, I was just gonna do some...stuff.”

You scrunched up one side of your face, eyes drifting from his face to the grass outside of your hiding spot. If you were judging just based on his hair, his posture, and the way he’d phrased that last sentence, you wouldn’t be able to think it was anything but drugs. But that was probably how everyone at this school thought, and you were different from them.

“N-nothin shady or anythin!” He said, raising his voice and taking an assertive step forward.

Yeah, no, never mind. It was definitely drugs. “Okay, well, sorry. I’ll get out of your way.” You wiped your face with your sleeve, kneeling back down to pack up your bag.

“Uh, no! I mean, you can stay. Uh…” He toed the ground some more, a frown on face. “It didn’t look like you were done with your food, so.”

You shook your head and cleared your throat with a sniffle. “I’m not that hungry.”

He somehow managed to slouch more as he watched you zip up your bag. “So, you’re new, huh?” He asked and you faltered, glancing up at him and brushing the raindrops off of your forehead.

“How’d you tell?” You scoffed, your own joke only making you feel more embarrassed.

He shrugged and you laughed a bit, shaking your head. “Pack an umbrella in your bag,” He said. “It’s saved my ass about a million times.”

“Oh,” You blinked up at him and nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Uh-huh.” He said, then bent over, bracing his palm on the ground and he lowered himself onto the wet grass. “So, why are you eatin in the rain? There are covered spots you can eat, ya know?”

“And let everyone witness my breakdown? No thanks.” You laughed beside yourself, hands resting on top of your backpack.

“Heh,” He smiled, “Well sorry, you probably won’t gain any popularity points talkin to me.” He said, placing both of his hands in the grass and leaning back, lifting his head to look at the sky.

“Why not?” You watched him a moment before following his gaze. “You seem nice enough.”

He shook his head. “I’m trouble, haven’t you heard?” He glanced at you. “Thought teach woulda toldja.”

“Hmph,” You snickered, “Well by his standards, I’m pretty sure I’m trouble too.” You told him and felt some of your anxiety melt away when succeeding to make him chuckle. “Um, I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself quietly, still feeling a little shy, but this was the only person who had bothered to even offer up a conversation all day, and you were kind of starving for human interaction.

“Ryuji.” He said, and lifted his hand when he saw you’d outstretched yours, but faltered when it came off if the ground caked with grass and dirt. Ryuji apologized, rubbing away the muck carelessly onto his pants. “Eh, it’s not so bad here. I mean, it’s shit cuz it’s school, but it ain’t awful once you make some friends.”

You gazed at him and sighed, eyes rolling down to the floor. “Yeah…I’ve kinda been struggling with that part.”

The bell rang and Ryuji heaved a sigh, rolling his weight onto his left hand and pushing himself back to his feet. “Welp, if you don’t mind a few rumors, me and my friends are always lookin for more people!” He beamed, offering you a hand, which you gratefully took.

You brushed off your butt, sure your skirt was probably stained, but you didn’t care so much at this point. You needed to get out of these wet clothes anyway, you could probably just change into your gym uniform.

“Here you go.” You looked back up to see Ryuji shoving something at you eagerly, taking it into your hands to realize it was an umbrella.

“Oh, no.” You quickly shook your head, holding it back out for him to take, but of course he refused. “Please, I can’t take this-”

“Then just use it ‘till you get your own.” He said zipping his bag back up and readjusting it on his shoulder. “You’ll get sick if you don’t use one, and then how will you make friends?”

You snorted, breaking into the first true smile you’ve made since moving to Tokyo. “Thank you, Ryuji.”

“Uh-huh!” He nodded with a grin, then turned away and began walking back to the building. “You better hurry up, if you show up late to class with me you’ll be blacklisted.”

You giggled, jogging to catch up to your new friend. To you, being blacklisted with Ryuji definitely didn’t sound like the worst case scenario.

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #ryuji sakamoto #p5 #ryuji x reader #persona 5 fanfiction #skull persona 5 #my writing #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #persona 5 imagines #angst #persona 5 angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst and fluff #no beta we die like the persona 3 protagonist #lilixloveswriting

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years

Text

Seahorse (Spencer Reid x Trans Male!Reader) NSFW

Summary: Spencer and Y/N have always wanted kids. Here’s the time Spencer was brave enough to broach the subject of how they would go about it. Plus a few more times after that.

AN: @imagining-in-the-margins came up with the idea of Spencer’s trans bf having a baby amidst man many many prompts for Spencer x male!reader to indulge my daydreaming and I ran with this prompt.

Thank you to @writing-in-april for being my beta on this one! Couldn’t have done it without you, beebs <3

This is the NSFW version. If you are under the age of 18, please do not read! Here’s a SFW version of the story.

Word Count: 5.7k words

Content Warnings: Trans man is pregnant, coming off testosterone, impregnation kink, pre-op sex, allusions to Prison!Spencer.

Masterlist // Gif Credit // SFW Version

The halls echoed with the unbridled joy of little ones calling out “Nemo” and “Dory” at the sight of the clown and surgeon fishes. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked around the next room in search of his goal. He stopped when Y/N spared a look in his direction, away from the tank that had captured his attention for a solid five minutes.

“JJ sent me a video of a shrimp solving a Rubik’s Cube the other day.” He grinned.

Ah yes. JJ had also sent Spencer a video of little Henry swinging a mini softball bat about just like Spencer had done. For one game and one game only he had insisted, despite Y/N’s own resolve that he looked hot in the kit.

The walk through the tunnel was the slowest slog Spencer felt, but it was the only attraction in the aquarium to properly distract him. Lights above them filtered through the water, bouncing off the painted walls of the tank in a blue glow. Various species in a perfectly balanced ecosystem swam around one another without a care in the world. A particular stingray flapped its body against the glass, and three children nearby laughed at its funny shaped mouth.

“I used to sit on my mum’s shoulders when we walked through these. Touch the ceiling as if I could pet the fishes.” And Y/N’s hands stretched up over him, his eyes following a shark that slinked overhead, “When I got too old, I’d just press my nose against the glass and stare back.”

Nerves returned at the sight of a circular tank in the centre of the room holding something familiar. Seahorses curled their tails around the plants that waved together like a crowd at a concert. Little babies bobbed about the parents, translucent and wriggly.

Spencer coughed and spoke while Y/N took in the creatures, “Did you know that the seahorse is the only animal where the male carries the children?”

Suddenly his throat was dry; the words he’d been rehearsing dragged to a halt. Y/N turned to face him properly, guiding Spencer to the left as a little girl stood on tiptoe to see the seahorses as he continued to struggle.

“Well, that might not be true actually.” Spencer choked a little on his words, his voice’s volume steadily declining into a soft whisper, “I know that some human men can have babies.”

Y/N’s face clouded with doubt for a moment. Then it clicked and his face cleared, “Spencer, tell me what you’re getting at.”

Spencer twisted his hands around one another, “Have you ever thought about us having kids… biologically?” He watched Y/N’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed hard

“You mean like me being pregnant?”

“Yes, have you considered it an option for us?”

The conversations of other aquarium patrons were forgotten as Y/N took his gaze away from Spencer. His eyebrows were low as he considered his words carefully. Y/N always thought about the implications of what he was saying, maybe a little too much. Spencer could be biased though; his impatience did not mix well with his anxieties.

Eventually, Y/N turned back with a brave face and said, “I’d have to think about it some more.”

“Ok.” Spencer nodded, his chin wobbling a little.

There was hope though: he needed to think “some more”. Implying Y/N had thought about this before.

Near the end of their trip, Spencer did find himself in a staring contest with a little seahorse plushie with large eyes and an anatomically inaccurate tongue hanging out. In all honesty, it was kind of ugly.

“Spencer, come on. You know how I get around stuffed animals.”

How empathetic his boyfriend really was, projecting feelings of love onto the inanimate objects then making the excuse that he had to buy it now.

Spencer did have to leave the toy behind though. Out into the sunlight of the parking lot, he winced before he put his sunglasses back on.

“Park?” Y/N offered his hand and smiled. It was an olive branch, something to say that Spencer’s query had not ruined their day out together.

Spencer accepted and squeezed his hand. “Park.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Y/N had a hand on their lower belly, some space between the fingers as if there was an invisible bump there to accommodate. His head had tilted while he thumbed over the air.

As drowsy as Spencer was from work, his mind was focused without a distraction on what he had seen through the ajar bathroom door. He could barely pay attention to the Doctor Who episode Y/N put on. In fact, he doubted anything could take his attention away from the idea of having a child with-

“What do you think about me being pregnant?”

Spencer’s eyes shot wide open, then they were covered slightly by his inquisitive eyebrows in his attempt find an answer. Especially with Y/N looking on him while he waited for him.

“I think you’d be so beautiful carrying our baby. But if you wouldn’t be comfortable, then I wouldn’t make you. We still have surrogacy, fostering, adoption to consider,” was his answer. Never a lie, but the truth was always softened.

Seemingly satisfied, Y/N looked back at the episode. But Spencer couldn’t wait anymore, forgetting about anything else in the world except for this.

“What do you think, Y/N?” His body leant in towards his boyfriend’s.

Squirming in their spot on the couch, Y/N hummed before he answered, “I froze some of my eggs before I started my transition. I also sold some, for a down payment on a house or my wedding.”

Spencer’s heart thrilled at the possibilities. A house together? Matching suits at their wedding? He almost neglected to think about the fact that pregnancy was suddenly a very viable option for their future.

Regardless of Spencer’s many, many thoughts, Y/N continued, “And I thought that perhaps, if I found the right person, I would like to carry their child.” His palm opened up to him and Spencer instantly took it. “I know you’re the right person, but I’m not sure I want a baby now.”

“Of course,” Spencer lifted Y/N’s hand to his lips, “Whenever we’re both ready.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer pushed the dirty bedsheets into the washing machine; it wasn’t that big a deal. If the blood didn’t come out, then they could always buy a new set. Although they should really be saving money for decorating the nursery.

“Spenceerrrr.”

As the machine rumbled into life, Spencer returned to Y/N, curled up on the sofa with a heat pad to his gut. No amount of warnings from their doctor could have prepared Spencer for how emotionally straining it was to see his boyfriend suffering. Y/N was taking this a lot harder than Spencer – and rightfully so, it was his body that was changing.

“Why did I have to have such strong paternal instincts?” He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

Spencer let out a laugh, but it was cut off quick when Y/N whimpered loudly. He knelt down before him and cupped his face. Y/N’s cheeks were warm; his hands clung to Spencer’s wrists like a lifeline.

“What do you need?” Spencer asked softly and Y/N sighed, keening into his cooler palms.

“Can you tell me I’m handsome please?”

“You are the most handsome man in the world, and I adore you every minute of every day.” Spencer kissed Y/N’s pouting lips gently, “Handsome inside and out, I never wanna think about life without you. You just make everything in my life better.”

His fingers moved to brush away a tear that slipped down Y/N’s face and over the ridge of his nose. But he missed and it dripped onto the pillow.

“You’re doing so much for us, for our baby.”

“It’s not even real yet,” Y/N sniffled. His hands finally released Spencer and pressed the heat pad into him.

“It’s gonna be.” Spencer bumped their noses together, “We’re gonna be dads.”

A hoarse laugh met with a hint of a groan in Y/N’s chest, “Yeah. We’re gonna be dads.” That sound and those words were all Spencer needed to feel better. But he wished the same could be said for Y/N. The only thing he could provide was a promise of future relief:

“How about we order in tonight?”

“Ugh, yes.” Y/N burrowed his face into the pillow.

When their bed was made up properly, Spencer and Y/N cuddled together. Unfortunately, Y/N was restless, trying to find a comfortable position while his painkillers kicked in. Spencer kept his complaints to himself, allowing himself to be shifted around in Y/N’s hunt for relief. Honestly it was the least he could do.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“The reproductive process begins when a male and a female seahorse do daily pre-dawn dances, intertwining their tails and swimming together.”

“Well, it’s nearly nine, so definitely past dawn.”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Y/N.”

Y/N adjusted the bed sheets around his middle, “We don’t have tails either and - if I remember correctly - your last sexy swimming encounter ended poorly.”

Spencer flushed at the memory of Lila in the pool; another memory turned the pink to red. Y/N had laughed so hard his gut ached when Spencer told him about how awkward he had been around Lila. This was before the context of the case had been disclosed, promptly removing the space for any more laughter.

“Baby?”

Y/N was touching his face. Spencer’s head emptied itself of all thoughts of Lila. This was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now. Y/N’s laughter maybe, but none of the rest.

Tucking a curl behind his ear, Y/N leant in close, “If I’m ready, and you’re ready, you know what happens.” His eyes wandered down Spencer’s face, “And it’s not swimming together.”

But, just as their lips were about to touch, Y/N jerked away from him. “Wait, I gotta brush my teeth first.”

Spencer moaned with indignation while falling backwards onto the bed as Y/N disappeared from view. A few seconds later, he heard the electric toothbrush buzzing. With a burst of energy, he stripped himself down to his underwear – a petty way to get back at Y/N who had made it very clear that undressing Spencer was one of his favourite parts of their sex life.

When Y/N returned, with the minty freshness he apparently desired more than his own boyfriend, he said “What? You already did this morning?” His eyes looked down at Spencer’s chest and his lips twitched into a pout.

Spencer held back his grin, keeping his triumph at retaliation to himself as he said, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, Spencer.”

And with that, Y/N crawled onto the bed, over Spencer’s body and kissed him silly.

Any remaining thoughts of sleep were dispelled as the men took turns worshipping each other’s bodies. Impatience chased them in their desires, deliciously enticing them to push the pleasure further and faster. While Y/N kissed his neck, Spencer’s thoughts fixated on how perfect his boyfriend felt pressed up next to him. He couldn’t wait anymore, he just had to get inside him.

“Let me put a baby in you, Y/N.”

A whine passed through Y/N’s lips at his words as he adjusted his grasp on Spencer’s body, a hand in his hair to pull him back in.

“Do it.” He whispered into the space between them, “Please.”

As quick as they appeared, the insecurities Spencer and Y/N were holding released. Their moans harmonised when Spencer finally pushed into Y/N. His legs wrapping around his skinny waist, luring him in. Spencer was enraptured by the feeling of his boyfriend’s weight against him. God, he wanted to go slow, appreciate Y/N for all he was worth. But his greed got the better of his intentions, eating up all of Y/N’s encouragements – both the words and the noises snatched from his throat.

When they were both spent, Spencer and Y/N sagged into the mattress, wrapped up in each other and the covers. The burning warmth of their bodies drew up two soporific smiles on their faces.

“You know, a seahorses’ body shape means that they’re inept swimmers, and they can actually die of exhaustion.”

Y/N poked Spencer’s sternum. “Is that your way of makin’ fun of my stamina? Give me a few minutes; I’ll be on you like a rash.”

Grinning at such a prospect, Spence continued, “They also mate for life monogamously.”

He felt two fingers touch his cheek, "Spencer, I love you and your endless fountain of knowledge.” Y/N paused to peck the corner of his lips, “But I’m not actually a seahorse. And, though I do plan to mate with you for life, if you wake me up before the sun is above the horizon for a ‘dance’, I'm gonna suffocate you with my new body pillow.”

“Oh, you got your pillow?”

“It’s en route.” Hence why Y/N was content to use Spencer in lieu of said pillow.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

When Spencer disclosed to Hotch that he would need some time off because he and Y/N were considering having a kid, first thing on a Monday morning, Hotch didn’t let anything on. There was a hint of a hint of a smile though. His eye wandered to the school photo of Jack he kept on his desk, and he was greeted with the memory that Jack almost shared a name with Emily’s cat.

Naturally, Rossi found out next. Technophobe Spencer Reid had left his computer screen on a website for baby blankets, and Rossi had been the one to pass by first. After turning the monitor off, Rossi took Spencer aside in the break room and spoke about how wonderful it was that he was going to be a father. Then he kissed both his cheeks, leaving with misty eyes and a smile that he wouldn’t explain to Penelope passing by. Spencer blinked then finished making his coffee.

The next conference room meeting – the same day and just for an update on the paperwork deadline - Spencer simply decided to drop the information that he and Y/N were planning on having a kid as if it was his thoughts on their next unsub’s motivations were.

Three seconds of silence later and an uproar exploded.

From then on, the week was filled with pokes and ribbing at his upcoming parenthood. A peek into the future.

After making her a cup of coffee, Spencer sat opposite JJ at her desk and asked for advice. Her response: offering Spencer the opportunity to babysit Henry more. Obviously he accepted; more time with his godson was always a good thing. Then she went into how parenting was just a natural thing that he would know when the time came. Not very reassuring on its own, but with his best friend’s support, Spencer felt a smidgen better.

Penelope admitted that she had saved outfit ideas on Pinterest for Spencer – among other members of the BAU. When Spencer dared to enter her lair, she showed him several. Apparently that wasn’t even a dent in her collection, and she had already placed an order on a little bow tie. Spencer left before she tried to organise a shopping trip; neither Spencer nor Y/N were really fans of retail therapy.

Derek was teasing away, “Spencer and Y/N are gonna be baby daddies.” And every single time, Emily would join in. She liked to claim she was the reason Spencer was having a kid, reminding him of when JJ was pregnant. He had been incredibly weirded out by the baby kicking, but Emily had asked if he had considered having “baby geniuses” and he never gave an answer.

To be fair, Spencer never could have seen this coming. That made it all the better.

Apart from when Derek began supplying a realm of baby names, that varied from “oh that’s actually cute” to “oh my god, why would you even consider that a name for a real child?” Spencer was happy to rank them aloud for him.

The cat was only half out of the bag though.

Now Spencer had always been affectionate when he and Y/N were together. But the second it spilled into their public lifestyle, Y/N knew something was afoot. He was quick to pick up on this when he went to collect Spencer up for a chilled date night and Spencer kissed his cheek in clear view of the entire bullpen.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t wait, but I do have my paternity leave arranged!”

The team swarmed to deliver their congratulations. And it was then that they revealed that they all thought that Spencer and Y/N were planning to adopt or look for a surrogate. Their embraces didn’t spoil the unexpected second part of their announcement; Y/N looked like he’d simply put on a few pounds rather than gained a baby bump beneath his button-up. Naturally, there was even more of a hubbub than before when they discovered that Y/N was already pregnant.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Spencer, baby, you gotta calm it with the ocean theme.”

“But…” he pouted, holding up the finished mobile. Brightly painted sea creatures and chunks of coral dangled delicately in a circle. Sure enough, there were orange seahorses hovering about their habitat.

“It’s very sweet and I adore you for it,” Y/N kissed Spencer. “Not everything has to be related to seahorses though.”

“I guess not.” Spencer’s defeated tone did not last long. His face brightened and he whipped a blanket adorned with little seahorses and bubbles at the edges out of the cot. “But - this online store was taking commissions, and you always say support small businesses!”

Thank god Y/N had been the one in charge of painting the walls. An underwater mural would have been a step too far.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, are so…” Y/N’s hands were up in the air between them, searching for an adjective to describe Spencer appropriately. Then he settled those hands on his shoulders and Y/N kissed him.

When they drew away, Spencer spoke, “I’m so what?”

Y/N shrugged, “Just so.” He kissed him again, lingering longer than before and smiling as Spencer’s hands touched the obtrusive roundness of his belly that pressed into Spencer’s stomach. They were so close to meeting their little bubba.

“So are you.”

“Ok, don’t have a go, I bought this before the ban,” Y/N held out a gift, wrapped in sea-green tissue paper and bearing a blue bow.

Folding the blanket neatly over the bars of the cot, Spencer eagerly yet daintily unwrapped the present. As the tissue paper fell to the carpet, his hands trembled. Eyes shining, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the latest scan that was framed by tiny seahorses to thank Y/N.

There was more still, as Y/N explained, “There’s another behind there. I’ve seen the state of the one in your wallet.”

“It got caught at the bottom of the pouch,” Spencer said quietly, unbending the catch on the back of the frame. Sure enough, two of the same photographs spilled into his waiting palm. Truth be told, Spencer had already taped his torn photo together again and it was going to stay in his wallet. This spare would be in the post soon, on its way over to his mother. God, she was so excited to hold a baby again. The photo album would have to do for now.

“Could you maybe recant the ocean ban? Because I saw this and I knew it would really go well with the blanket and the mobile.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head tilted back, “What is it?”

The pretence of annoyance couldn’t be maintained towards Spencer’s face beaming back at him as he held up a wonky looking seahorse plushie. It wasn’t the same one he’d seen before. Some heartfelt child had taken pity on that one and given it a forever home. No, this was a perfect little present for his bubba.

Y/N thought so too as he let a grin settle onto his face.

“Ok, we can keep this one. But no more from now, alright?”

“I suppose. Besides, our baby isn’t our seahorse. You are!”

“You better not buy us a fish tank for my birthday.” A spike of nerves hit Y/N when he couldn’t quite catch Spencer’s eye to confirm his word. “Spencer? Promise me... Spencer!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“How are you feeling, Baby Daddy?” Derek hugged Y/N who was reclined in his bed. His body pillow propped him up for his visitors.

Y/N wrinkled his nose, “For once, I wish I was a real seahorse and I could have just sneezed her out.”

Katia Nikola Reid definitely looked like she’d been sneezed on when she first entered the world, screaming her teaspoon-sized lungs out. Named after a hero of both Y/N and Spencer, one day old, bundled in a blanket, she scowled at Spencer’s dopey face looming over her while Emily held her tight.

A hoard of presents huddled in the corner of Spencer and Y/N’s bedroom. Emily thought it’d be a great idea to bring the baby an Ikea shark that was bigger than the child – and would definitely take up around half of her cot.

“She’s already got him wrapped around her pinky finger.”

“Yes, she does,” Spencer agreed giddily.

Next, Derek took her in his arms, untucking her arms from the blanket swaddle to give her a fist bump. He swayed her about the room while Katia relaxed a little more. The deep humming in his chest soothed the wrinkles on her forehead. Katia stretched as if to touch his face, and her mouth gaped at him.

“Aww, baby genius is ready for a nap.” Derek yawned too, “Who’s gonna micromanage me while I put her down?”

“Me! Me!” Y/N said, his enthusiasm muted by tiredness. Spencer leapt to his side, helping him out of bed, his teammates watching fondly as he did so. Y/N was allowed out the room first, Derek close behind and clicking his tongue at little Katia.

“She’s so sweet,” Emily said, her eyes on the pair’s backs and the dangling loose blanket from under Derek’s left arm. “I’m so happy for you both.” And she hugged Spencer tight; Emily always gave such good hugs. Good thing she was going to be around to give plenty to his daughter.

Then, down the hall, he heard Derek say with sarcastic resignation, “Oh Spencer, I thought Y/N was kidding when he said no more seahorse themed items.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N ended up climbing into the bathtub with Katia. Even as she had grown into her chubby features, looking more and more like him and Spencer with each passing day, she was still so small.

Sitting up with her in his lap to help her out, Y/N lowered her into the warm water. His fingers tenderly rubbed the blackcurrant scented soap on her tummy, copying her expression as her tongue poked out between her gums. Her jerking legs rejected the water that Y/N’s hands cupped to rinse the bubbles off.

“Oh!” Y/N said in surprise as Katia sneezed, “Bless you.”

He heard the front door go, but he let Spencer follow the clues to their bathroom. Sure enough, the Doctor soon entered with his jacket shed, already rolling his sleeves up as he dropped onto the bathmat. A hand curled at Y/N’s chin as he kissed him before it stroked over the damp wisps of hair on Katia’s head.

“Hello. Hi.” His voice was that bit more delicate as he caught Katia’s eye and welcomed her big gappy smile.

Y/N tilted his head towards Spencer. “Good first day back?”

“I missed you both.” Spencer swished the water around by Katia’s side, “Isn’t it incredible how she’s experiencing all of this for the first time?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Spencer giggled away as the surrounding bathwater yellowed and Katia flapped her arms.

“Mind your language.” He said without any weight to his warning, “Our little girl can’t help it.” Then he stood and prepared her towel, a deep-sea blue that brought out her eyes. “Can I feed her tonight?”

“Of course, baby,” Y/N agreed as he lifted Katia out of the tub, where Spencer caught her and bundled her up with skilled speed. As he dried her off, Katia cooed away to herself. She did get a little pissed off when he dressed her up in a clean nappy and a sleepsuit, but Spencer couldn’t take her crumpled expression seriously without the tears.

The rocking chair had to be one of his best investments for his daughter’s room. It soothed Katia from the darkest of tantrums, a familiarity that swayed her. She fit so perfectly into Spencer’s arms and he fit so contentedly into the seat. Her eyelashes fluttered slowly shut as she drank more milk.

Not quite strong enough to sit up on her own, Katia leant fully into Spencer’s hand while he burped her – thankfully not for long. Then it was off into her cot.

Y/N watched him from the doorway as Spencer stroked the apple of Katia’s cheek while she drifted off into slumber. An effortless smile danced on his lips even as he switched the lamp off and welcomed Y/N over to see their sleeping babe.

“Love seeing you with her, Old Daddy Spencer teaching her everything she’ll need to know.” The kiss that followed was certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s nursery, so he took Y/N by the hand, leading him into the hallway. Even then, between the short pecks that pressed against his lips, Y/N continued to talk, “Is this how you felt while I was pregnant?”

Breath hot against his face, Spencer swallowed hard while Y/N said, “Seeing my handsome boyfriend carrying our child? I think I get it now.”

His hand slipped up Spencer’s shirt. It was crystal clear what his intentions were. Spencer was already close to panting when he pulled Y/N flush against him. With more desperation this time, they fumbled around their home until they made it to their bed. Spencer’s hands aligned with the stretch marks on Y/N’s thighs as he grabbed them and pulled him on top.

He huffed as Y/N’s teeth tugged and released his bottom lip, “We have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.” Y/N ripped off his shirt in one smooth movement, “Can you?”

Spencer couldn’t give an answer. Instead he pulled Y/N back against him as they fell onto their sheets.

Their first time in months, it didn’t last very long, but it was exactly what they needed.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The biggest surprise of the evening was that Rossi put down his drink to hold Katia. To be fair though, he had already had a few. Hence why he was singing and dancing around the garden with Katia in his arms. What a sight to behold, it eased the pain of Derek and Hotch’s absence, their own kids to take care of now.

Eventually Rossi relented, allowing Penelope to take Katia, turning to Y/N who had kept a watchful eye on his actions, “Promise me you’ll bring her over when she’s allowed to eat food.”

“I can’t give her your food for her first taste. She’ll be disappointed for the rest of her life,” Y/N joked, Rossi letting out a boisterous laugh that made Katia giggle in turn.

Penelope got to hold Katia next and show her off to Henry who was very intrigued to learn more about his godsister – Spencer told him that was who Katia was and it stuck. Henry became Penelope’s little shadow until they found a seat for him and a cushion for his lap to hold the baby. His joy unbridled at such a responsibility was adorable. He posed for many photos, while Katia for once stayed quiet.

Spencer was tired but the best kind of tired. A night in with friends, watching his boyfriend and his daughter be welcomed as much as he was, it wasn’t a surprise but it was always a delight. And this moment right now, Y/N cradling Katia’s with one hand squeezing her little foot before he planned to take her into Rossi’s office? What a life they had cultivated together. As he sipped his drink, the bliss in his tummy was not doused by it.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Slouching on the sofa, Spencer watched with tired eyes as Katia stumbled in the room, her hands held in Y/N’s while she waddled between his legs. Her round face lit up at the sight of Spencer. Her pace increased beyond her abilities and Katia swung forward a little as she almost fell over.

“Oh dear,” Y/N cooed while Katia got back to her unstable feet. “That’s it, there we go.”

Spencer wished he had the energy to properly appreciate this moment, especially since both his boyfriend and their daughter were grinning like they shared a secret.

Katia dropped down onto her nappy-cushioned bottom then began to crawl over to Spencer’s feet. His hands, although dirty, rough and near ruined, accepted her offer and lifted Katia up into his lap. They stayed for safety around her middle, keeping her sat up straight as she looked on him with those big eyes. Eyes that were fresh and untainted copies of his own.

Y/N sat down beside Spencer, leaning in close to Katia so he caught her attention, “Hey, why don’t you show your Daddy what we’ve been practicing?”

Looking away from both her Dads, Katia drooled and pushed her fist in her mouth. Y/N waved until he and Spencer were back into her line of sight.

“Go on, sugar plum.” He pointed to Spencer, “Who’s that?” And he mouthed the answer to her.

“Dadadadadada.”

It was barely above a whisper. But her little grin, the top of a tooth poking out of the centre of her bottom gums, the way Katia looked at Spencer when she said it? A soft “oh” fell from Spencer’s lips and he clutched her close, her chubby arms barely reaching around his neck. His breath shaking out of him, he kissed the thick thatch of hair that had sprouted in his absence. He could feel Katia whispering “Dadadadada!” again.

“That’s me, Katia, I’m your Dada.” He sniffed back the sting in his eyes at the absolute proof that, in his time away from her, she had remembered him. When he moved away, placing Katia back into his lap, he closed his eyes as Katia’s scrabbling fingers rubbed across the tip of his nose.

Katia made a sudden attempt to stand, throwing her entire bodyweight towards Spencer. Spencer’s breath was snatched from his lungs and the tension remained even after he caught her with ease.

“You ok?” Y/N said and Spencer noticed that his hand was supporting his against Katia.

Spencer nodded weakly, “Hmm, you?”

“Better now.” Y/N let his hand go and began rubbing Spencer’s back in the same circular motions that Spencer rubbed Katia’s.

A tug snagged Spencer’s head to the left and he tutted as Katia grabbed at his cheek, “Ow, Katia, no.”

Instead, Katia took a fistful of the next thing she could find, which was Spencer’s hair, and she cried out an identical (if higher pitched) “Ow!”

“You hurt Spencer, not the other way around, Katia. Stop faking.” Y/N scolded playfully.

But Katia repeated Spencer’s outburst again, “Ow!”

Y/N lifted Katia’s little fist from Spencer’s hair, and it immediately clamped down on Spencer’s finger as an alternative to wave about.

Spencer kissed her hand, still so tiny and forgiving against his. He looked at Y/N, blinking fast as he half-heartedly said, “She’s so like you.”

The lock of hair Katia had yanked on curved around Y/N’s touch as he put it back into the disarray of fluff that stood around Spencer’s head, “That’s funny, because I think she’s so like you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Tilting the pram onto its back wheels, Spencer pushed it up the step and into the aquarium tunnel. Katia lay back in her seat while gumming on her blanket corner. Her eyes were ready to take in the sights.

Y/N knelt before her, suffering a few kicks to his knees from Katia’s excitement. Her pram clips were undone. Little Katia was released into her Daddy’s arms then plonked up onto his shoulders. Her starfish-like hands pressed up against the glass. Her mouth became as wide as her eyes as she pointed at the stingray rippling past. She had seen fish before (Carl and Rosalind at home) but never like this.

“Yeah, that’s a ray, Katia,” Y/N rubbed his fingers over her back, his hands still to keep her steady.

Spencer pointed his finger right next to hers, “They use their electro-sensors, not their eyes, to find their meals which consists of shrimps, clams, and -”

Katia shrieked – interrupting his and she smacked her hands against the glass. No one seemed to mind though. Some patrons in the tunnel even chuckled at her behaviour. Like she needed any more encouragement, especially with Y/N grinning up at her and tickling her sides to elicit more laughter from his daughter.

When Spencer’s hand dropped, Katia shouted again. A little confused, he returned it and Katia took his finger in her hand then began dragging the tip across where the ray was.

“She wants it as a pet, what do you say, baby?”

“I thought you said not to get you any fish for your birthday.”

Eventually Katia was returned to the pram. Her head was thrown back to watch the rest of the tunnel go by. Then she hid her face in her blankie once they were out in the last few exhibits. There was a little tug of war to get her to let it go (she was a lot stronger than Y/N gave her credit for) and see the one other exhibit that both parents were invested in.

Taking her hand again, Spencer squatted beside the pram. “Hey look, the men seahorsies have the babies. They’re just like your Daddy.”

“Your favourite Daddy,” Y/N ruffled Spencer’s hair while Spencer pretended to be outraged. Katia caught onto the dramatic expression Spencer was wearing and copied him with a gasp added for good measure.

“What d’you reckon, any of these were babies when we went to visit last time?”

“Well, Y/N, the lifespan of these seahorses is approximately a year. So they could be.” He knew it was unlikely but, for the sake of the smiles on Y/N’s and Katia’s face, Spencer let it be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #my writing #smut #wc: 5k+#yes katia is named after a character from professor layton #and nikola tesla #r: male #r: trans male #spencer reid x trans male reader

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xoruffitup · 3 years

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Sexuality In Neon Genesis Evangelion: Adolescence & Violence

(I’m literally 20 years late to the party here, but if anyone still cares for NGE metas, this hasn’t left me alone...!)

It takes only a few episodes into NGE to sense there’s some form of unrest beneath its surface. A palpable sense of unease and malcontent shadows the characters, seeping into the bleak cityscapes and following Shinji’s listless drift from one battle to the next - creating the unrelenting sense that this show has no intention to coddle or comfort you. Much will not be explained, or even directly addressed. Most of that unease you’re feeling as a viewer will be left for you yourself to decipher – probably in a manner uncomfortably and bracingly personal. I would call this a mark of artistry, in that the viewing experience becomes something deeply intimate and unique from person to person.

The obvious narrative explanation for all this dark ambiguity is the evocation of Shinji’s troubled psychological state. He mopes in his dark bedroom, rides the train alone with his headphones in and no destination, and accepts the role of Eva pilot only when his refusal would make him feel yet more despised. He is utterly directionless and thus helpless – caught in a paralysis between his pathological need for external affirmation and his crippling fear of being hurt. He craves kindness and care from others, but is both unwilling and unable to forge such positive connections with others because he presupposes doing so will cause pain. Therefore, he makes few self-motivated choices and rebukes all notion of the driven, intentional protagonist.

Shinji’s rejection of the traditional mantle of the hero’s journey, and his repeated regression into unassertive self-hatred also signals an unorthodox approach to storytelling - where the narrative flows around the inhibited, apathetic characters rather than through them. We as the viewers do not become invested in the narrative progression as an extension of Shinji’s own investment. Rather, a central part of the narrative becomes the self-aware exploration of its own impact upon Shinji and the wider cast of characters. Shinji, Rei, Asuka, and to a certain degree Misato and Ritsuko, do not determine the narrative direction through their own choices and thereby set events in motion; they are instead passive, reactionary presences drawn along by the provocations of seemingly inevitable series of events. (Angels attack – characters respond; Gendo or Seele give some unexplained order – characters react; Instrumentality begins – Shinji reacts)

As the curtain is finally drawn back from the human instrumentality project in the show’s final act, we realize Shinji was not simply whiny or poorly-written: His constant struggle between the fear of pain and need for intimacy is in fact the defining tension of the show as a whole. The “Hedgehog’s Dilemma.” This dilemma saturates each character’s personal trauma, fears, and desires, and finally elevates the characters’ internal reckoning in the face of instrumentality to create the show’s climax.

The show’s indirect yet masterful depiction of Shinji’s depression and undefined malaise is, in fact, keenly intentional and central to the story’s purpose. In a show defined by endlessly rich even if agonizing ambiguities and a narrative style that reveals itself only in subtlety, no minor detail is inconsequential. And so, I repeatedly found myself trying to discern the purpose of a recurring element that could be neither accidental nor innocuous. I am referring now to the show’s consistent and blatant preoccupation with the sexualization of its (female) characters and the infusion of sexuality into inter-character relationships.

The sexualizing and/or objectifying gaze is applied far too often to be anything but an intentional layer generating narrative meaning. In a show that elegantly weaves together psychological, religious, ethical, and technological allusions to construct a cutting inspection of the human psyche, this preoccupation is not a mere trope or “fanservice.” The recurrent reference to characters’ sexuality and their depiction as sexual objects cannot be a neutral or peripheral element of narrative meaning. Beyond the impossibility of this element being unintentional or divorced from the show’s narrative purpose, we are also obliged to make ourselves aware of the gendered lens through which this depiction of sexuality is filtered, and the power balance or imbalance this depiction enforces upon the characters involved. Consistent nudity to the point of fetishism and sexual inferences to the point of defining character cease to be superficial and become something pernicious.

Below, I will explore two different frameworks through which to interpret the show’s sexual overtones. The first framework – adolescence and the fear of adulthood – aligns with my initial response to the anime, while the second framework – sexual violence –reflects my more troubled response to the End of Evangelion film.

Framework 1: Shinji’s Adolescent Fears of Adulthood and Intimacy

Lest we forget, Shinji is only the tender age of 14. His internal struggle with self-worth and identity is exacerbated by its intersection with puberty and Shinji’s fraught understanding of his own budding sexuality. Shinji’s characterization of being highly dependent on the guidance and praise of his elders highlights both his adolescence and his own inability to confront his growth to adulthood. His unwillingness to navigate the perils of adulthood (as well as its corresponding sexual relationships) is probably evoked most clearly in his Episode 18 conversation with Kaji. After Kaji opines on men and women’s inability to understand each other – let alone themselves – Shinji merely replies dismissively, “I don’t understand adults at all.”

Given his 14-year-old perception of adulthood as something impenetrably mystical, it follows that his own budding sexuality acts as both a source of anxiety and a central aspect of his journey through adolescence. The often discussed parallels between Shinji’s relationship with Asuka and Misato’s relationship with Kaji further cements sex as something firmly belonging to adulthood; just as Asuka’s eagerness to present herself as sexually mature reflects her desire to appear independent and “grown.”

Coming to terms with one’s sexuality is of course a commonplace metaphor for the development from adolescence to adulthood. However, the characters’ understanding and comfort with their own sexualities also plays a key role in their internal reckonings and decisions which occur within instrumentality.

During his moments of metaphysical introspection, Shinji’s confrontation with his deepest fears repeatedly presents itself in the form of sexual temptation. We see him translate this need for external validation into unconscious sexualization and desire for the women around him. While fused with Unit 1 in Episode 20, Shinji is questioned by imagined specters of Misato, Rei, and Asuka. He reaches his breaking point when, after admitting he only pilots the Eva in hope of earning others’ praise, he cries out for someone to take care of him. After pleading, “someone be kind to me,” all three women appear to him naked, asking repeatedly, “Don’t you want to become one with me? In body and in soul?” In this imagined ordeal of self-examination, Shinji’s deepest, most fundamental need for approval and warmth from others is coded into the prospect of understanding and intimacy associated with sex. At a subconscious level, he perceives the offering of sexual union as the highest form of acceptance. Shinji therefore feels varying degrees of conflicted, guilt-ridden desire for the women around him, in the most primal form of his craving for acceptance.

In this scene, the offering of sexual intercourse is also a direct foreshadowing to the prospect of union with all during instrumentality, and either the acceptance or rejection of that union. In End of Evangelion, Shinji’s crucial choice during instrumentality is again presented in the same terms: Asuka, Rei, and Misato’s voices all asking “Do you want to become one with me, body and soul?” Shinji’s mix of attraction and repellence (for he fears intimacy as intensely as he craves it) when confronting this question indirectly depicts his struggle to decide between a solitary but self-defined existence, and the sacrifice of his autonomous self to total union. Thus, Shinji’s repressed desire for sexual intimacy becomes in and of itself a key facet of both his decision to ultimately reject instrumentality, and his conclusive creation of an independent and capable identity.

In line with my earlier reference to Asuka’s desire to appear sexually mature, the anime consistently uses sexuality as a means of revealing character - often probing at characters’ deepest vulnerabilities. Misato is likely the most direct example. It is through her sexual relationship with Kaji that she confronts her conflicted feelings towards her father and their profound impact on her. During instrumentality, she also admits she enjoys sex as an escape mechanism from pain and a way to prove she’s alive. She seems to perceive sex in the opposite perspective from Shinji – who on some level finds it threatening. This could be attributed firstly to Misato’s maturity in age and correlating comfort with her own sexuality. Secondly, this speaks to the show’s use of sexuality to build character in ways beyond Shinji’s troubled adolescent shame. The show’s focus on its characters’ sexuality can therefore be viewed as a means of prying into the inner conflicts they each seek to hide from the world. Note it is also through the reveal of Ritsuko’s sexual involvement with Gendo that we understand the reasons for her troubled relationship with her mother, her dedication to NERV, and her knowledge of its secrets.

Though sexuality is used as a sometimes literal, sometimes symbolic, but often effective vehicle to portray abstract concepts and internal, non-physical conflicts, this does not fully explain or justify the show’s gratuitous use of the male gaze. Though the depiction of sexuality often serves the purpose of character development, this depiction is exceedingly gendered. Though Shinji is shown naked, his nudity serves comedic effect (when he runs out from the bathroom in Misato’s apartment in Episode 2) or appears highly stylized (embracing Rei’s equally naked form in End of Evangelion). By contrast, Rei and Asuka’s bodies practically serve as set pieces. The pilot suits and contrived “camera” angles incessantly present their bodies as aesthetic objects for consumption.

Furthermore, early appearances by both female characters immediately define them as objects of sexual focus. The first time she appears, Asuka tells off Toji for looking up her skirt; Shinji ends up sprawled on top of Rei when she’s naked while first trying to get to know her in Episode 5. If we apply the interpretive framework of sexuality as a means of navigating adolescence, then it is exclusively Shinji’s journey towards adulthood with which the show shares its perspective and identification. It would therefore follow that Rei and Asuka serve merely as signposts or attractive obstacles along the path of Shinji’s development. Their bodies are exploited as tools through which to challenge and probe at Shinji’s psyche. While Shinji’s sexuality bestows him personhood and agency, Asuka and Rei’s often seem to do the opposite – instead reducing them to only the means towards Shinji’s end. Yet, even the justification that Rei and Asuka’s objectification may serve Shinji’s character development falls short, given that the girls are still depicted in a lewd and hyper-sexualized lens even when there’s nobody but us, the viewers, around to witness.

Using sexuality as a key vehicle to convey the male protagonist’s psychology creates an inherently gendered narrative – one in which a male protagonist acts out his conflict upon female bodies. This uneven and highly exploitative depiction warps what might have been an adolescent journey of self-discovery and growth into something far less constructive and much more unsettling.

Framework 2: Pervasive References to Sexual Violence

As I argued previously, Shinji’s repressed and conflicted sexuality can be viewed as a mirror of his character-defining struggle between the desire for love and the fear of pain. In this case, Shinji’s exploration and acceptance of his own sexuality becomes in and of itself a central element of his character development and, by extension, the show’s narrative resolution as a whole, given that the outcome of instrumentality rests on Shinji’s shoulders alone. It then becomes crucial that Shinji actualize his latent desire for sexual intimacy and ultimately master his own sexuality – as the chief expression of his internal development towards accepting his relationships with others and the co-dependent process of creating his own identity, self-worth, and reality.

In the abstract, this idea seems relatively healthy. However, the “Don’t you want to become one with me?” scenes and essentially all of End of Evangelion left me with a distinctly uncomfortable impression that couldn’t have been more different from that of a guileless adolescent navigating puberty. Seeing the “Don’t you want to become one with me?” question repeated to Shinji in the End of Evangelion context made me circle around one key question: Why is this imagined physical offering by the women in Shinji’s life presented as temptation? Why does the timing of this sequence reappear while Shinji is experiencing instrumentality? Or rather, why is the experience of instrumentality itself presented with the air of sexual temptation or seduction? This all culminates into the depiction of sexual desire for the female body as something needing to be tamed or conquered – given that it is only through Shinji’s repudiation of these offerings that he ultimately also rejects instrumentality. This supposition implies an adversarial relationship between Shinji and the object(s) of his sexual desire. This implicit hostility paints sexuality now as a struggle for control and/or dominance, rather than a source of self-discovery and growth.

I’ll note now that most of the observations and criticisms explored in this section speak almost exclusively to End of Evangelion. In my view, this implied hostility embedded into the exploration of sexuality is much more present in the film, whereas the show largely maintains sexuality as a means of fumbling adolescent growth and complex characterization. To frame what might be seen as an extreme interpretation, I’ll begin my closer reading of End of Evangelion with this Catharine MacKinnon quote:

“Once the veil is lifted, once relations between the sexes are seen as power relations, it becomes impossible to see as simply unintented, well-intentioned, or innocent the actions through which women are told every day what is expected and when they have crossed some line.”

The crucial dynamic supporting this darker interpretive framework – a dynamic much more palpable in End of Evangelion – is power relations. Referring back to my previous point wherein the persistent objectification of Asuka and Rei undermines their personhood to the same degree that it enhances Shinji’s – End of Evangelion takes this imbalance still further. Rei and Asuka’s sexualization not only serves Shinji’s development, but becomes the main stage upon which Shinji’s fight for self-determination plays out. This is to say that Shinji’s actions and key elements of the film’s narrative as a whole are acted out upon women’s bodies as both battleground and symbol. End of Evangelion resorts to a mode of storytelling that is explicitly gendered, portraying its conflict through a starkly male lens. Through the film’s imagery, brutality, and indulgence in the explicit, Shinji’s narrative is acted out through the depiction of women’s bodies as objects either with destructive power or being destroyed themselves; and as threats which much be conquered.

The Shinji we see in End of Evangelion experiences highs and lows far more extreme than his anime counterpart. EoE Shinji is shockingly depraved, powerless, and violent – in that order. His experiences in relation to the navigation of his sexuality take on a tone of violence and aggression. If he cannot act out his sexual impulses – if he cannot subdue the tormenting yet desired female body to the point that satisfies his desires (even if not always sexual in nature) – he resorts to violence to assert his will. During the kitchen scene within instrumentality, it is at the point when Asuka coldly rebuffs his pleading for her help that he first strangles her. Thinking back to the above quote re power relations – is this the “line” beyond accepted behavior where Asuka becomes deserving of male violence?

Violence takes many forms – all of them an embodiment of power relations. Yes, Shinji masturbating over Asuka’s stripped, unconscious form in the first scene is unequivocally an act of violence. No matter how “fucked up” and past sense Shinji may have been in that moment, he is still a man demeaning a woman and taking pleasure from the act – her inability to consent and even her comatose state all fueling male sexual gratification. Aside from the considerable shock value, this scene sets the tone of Shinji’s actions towards women throughout the film as relations of power and dominance. This scene further establishes repressed sexual desire and thwarted sexual frustration as the latent foundation of Shinji’s interactions with Asuka throughout the film; thus creating motivation and tension with the potential to drive him to further forms of violence.

In EoE, Shinji shares some type of sexual experience with all three women to whom he’s closest. First, his repulsive descent into depravity at the film’s very start. In this moment when he’s at his lowest, it is his most base and yet powerful instinct that takes over. He exacts pleasure, comfort, and distraction from Asuka’s body despite its fleetingness and her lack of consent. Second, Misato realizes that physical intimacy is the only thing that will get through to Shinji in his shell-shocked state. With a heated kiss, she delivers on the show’s hints of sexual interest between the two. Demonstrating just how well she understands Shinji, she promises him “We’ll do the rest when you get back,” knowing the promise of this ultimate physical act of approval and care is likely the only thing he will fight for. To put this in blunt terms: Shinji is promised sexual access to a woman whose praise he values, and this prospect of sexual fulfillment is what motivates him to finally enter Unit 1. While he isn’t imposing dominance over Misato here the same way he did to Asuka, this keeps with the film’s overall gendered perspective wherein Shinji’s triumphs or rare moments of purpose are marked by his access to women’s bodies.

Third, Shinji’s interactions with Rei/Rei-Lilith within instrumentality. It first must be noted that Rei is depicted naked for practically the whole movie. Sure, this might be necessary for the initiation of instrumentality, but it also serves to complete her objectification. I can by no means see it as mere coincidence that the advent of instrumentality and potential unleashing of the cataclysmic Third Impact is all represented by a giant, naked female form. What would be the greatest threat from the perspective of the male-gendered narrative? Precisely this – a female body that is overpowering, unconquerable, and unfathomable. By extension, I also don’t believe it’s coincidental that Shinji’s attainment of self-determination in his decision to reject instrumentality happens concurrently to his sexual union with Rei. She explains to him that no, he hasn’t died, “everything has just been joined into one.” This “joining” is depicted utterly literally, without any of the subtlety by which the anime presented sexuality as representative of total union within instrumentality. Thus, the resolution of Shinji’s character arc and the film’s climax as a whole occurs when Shinji finally attains fulfillment of the sexual desire he has harbored since the film’s beginning. The following shot of him and Rei naked with his head in her lap resolves the crisis of instrumentality with an unmistakable post-coital essence.

After these three encounters, we have the much-debated final scene of Shinji reuniting with Asuka after emerging from instrumentality. By this point, Shinji has taken advantage of her comatose body and strangled her, but she still has not shown herself amenable to his sexual desires as Misato and Rei have. She remains beyond his ability to either control or dominate. And so, while Rei’s giant, naked, and broken (read: conquered) body rests in pieces behind them, Shinji asserts his newfound will to attack the woman who has resisted his desire and refused the gratification he sought – both physically and emotionally.

This scene left me possibly even more disturbed than the film’s opening. To me, this ending implies that along with Shinji’s discovery of self-determination comes the male’s unfettered triumph following a struggle defined by sexual violence. In this final scene, we see the resistant woman subject to yet more violence at the hands of the protagonist – until at last, she no longer resists. In my view, this final scene was the occasion of Asuka’s capitulation. She is finally subdued to the point of acceptance and affectionate response even when being subjected to violence. She responds to Shinji’s aggression not with retaliation, but with a loving gesture. Her final words of “how disgusting” reminded me immediately of the hospital scene, and what Shinji had asked of her there: “Wake up, help me, call me an idiot like always.” Now, the man’s desire is at last satiated.

Beyond the narrative reliance on sexuality as a form of power relations, EoE also engages in gratuitous degradation of female bodies. They are either imbued with threatening, destructive power (Rei-Lilith), or experience destruction themselves (Asuka in Unit 2 and Rei-Lilith at the film’s end). Both Rei and Asuka’s bodies are subjected to extreme violence throughout the film, even while still being depicted as sexual objects. While suffering horrific, graphic injuries during her fight in Unit 2, Asuka is depicted writhing in agony in the entry plug with a disturbing sense of the erotic. After her body becomes the apocalyptic vehicle of instrumentality, Rei’s giant naked form is depicted crumbling to earth, stripped not only of her clothes but any sense of the human. Her split-open head rests beside the sea of LCL – a symbol of the male protagonist’s moral and psychological “victory.”

Framework 2: Counter-Arguments

Though I was disturbed by the rampant and dehumanizing sexualization in EoE, there were also plenty elements of the film I admired and remain deeply fascinated by. I don’t wish to seem overly disparaging, so I’ll briefly mention two counter-examples to this more critical framework.

1. Rei denying and rebuking Gendo and asserting her own will, while depicted as naked. It’s hard to overstate the enormity of Rei’s decision here. After existing as a seemingly unfeeling clone created for the purpose of realizing Gendo’s desires, Rei brings his plans to a crashing halt right at the pinnacle moment. The scene metaphorically traveled from 0-100 very quickly. It began with the insinuation of Gendo joining with Rei in a vaguely sexual sense, and his hand sinking into her breast in an unconventional bodily invasion while she showed discomfort. But then she asserts, “I am not your doll.” Her nakedness seems transformed from vulnerability to power. She is no longer the passive instrument of a man’s realization of his desires. Instead, she asserts her personhood and makes the individual decision how to employ the power within her. In so doing, she decides not only her own fate, but practically that of the whole world.

2. Shinji and Kaworu’s dynamic could be seen as refuting a binary reading of gendered power relations. Taking Shinji for bisexual has the potential to revise my interpretation from ‘Shinji subconsciously desires sexual access and control over women’ to ‘Shinji subconsciously desires sex and control’ period, without the emphasis on women as the subjects of his struggle. If this gendered binary is removed, then his growth and self-actualization need not come at the expense of the female characters around him. Extending Shinji’s repressed sexuality to encompass desire for Kaworu also alleviates the connotations of dominance and confrontation embedded within heterosexual sexuality.

Writing all this out was largely my personal means of resolving the million jumbled thoughts in my head after finally diving into this stunning masterpiece of a show. I’ll say again - what makes this show such a timeless work of brilliance is its highly personal resonance in the minds of its viewers. In the end, it isn’t a story about robots, aliens, or even sex at all – it’s a self-reflective act forcing you to wake up and confront your own role in creating the very reality in which you live. What kind of world have you made for yourself? Have you trapped yourself in confinement of your own making, or have you imagined every possible version of your world and liberated all the possibilities hidden in your creation of self? Evangelion can mean something different to every one, and no single interpretation is more correct than any others. So that said – a hearty thank you to anyone who actually read all the way here, and I’m always eager for discussion! :)

#Neon Genesis Evangelion #Evangelion #End of Evangelion #NGE #Evangelion meta #Evangelion analysis

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seren-writes · 3 years

Text

Red Stained Snow

At the age of fourteen, Ajax was enrolled into the Fatui military by his concerned father. They dared to challenge him for initiation, so he swore to show them who he was, and where he stood.

{3400 words}

Shallow breaths fell from his lips, thin fog slightly clouding his vision. For a moment the shades of purple and red seemed to mix with the pure white snow behind them through the puffs of haze seething through his teeth. Fresh adrenaline trickled into his bloodstream as a hand reached up to loosen the soft, red scarf around his neck, a replacement for the one which he had shredded to pieces in the midst of a previous battle. “I don’t need it,” Ajax insisted, letting it slip from his neck to the snow covered ground below his boots. It landed soundlessly compared to the crunch of the white beneath his shifting feet.

Squinting his eyes, splotches of colour formed proper images. Fatui agents to be exact. They surrounded the fourteen year old and for a moment, Ajax seemed to forget what exactly was going on. He could only feel the twitch of his lips as they curved upwards. The dry feeling of anticipation in the back of his throat. The cold bite of the frigid Snezhnayan wind against his now bare neck and chin.

One hand rested in his pocket, firmly gripping his newly obtained vision. He was sure his knuckles had turned white, he could feel its sharp edges digging into the flesh of his palm. Don’t get him wrong, he did not grip it from fear, his excitement simply got the better of himself. He wanted to rock back and forth on his heels like a child that couldn’t wait patiently for Christmas Eve to pass. Even so, he held himself back. His eyes lacked anxiety, his stature lacked weakness and his grip on the vision in his pocket never loosened.

They seemed to chuckle at him. “What could a mere boy do to me?” They must have thought, letting murmurs of pointless gossip fall from their lips. Had they come to put him in his place the moment he stepped foot into their domain? Well, he couldn’t find any other explanation for the way his toes almost curled with suspense under their gaze. As disgusting as the underhanded ways of the Fatui were to the young boy, a part of him felt comfortable there, underneath all of their judgemental eyes. Like a sinner placed at the gates of heaven waiting to be dropped to the depths of hell by the hand of God. But, he was ready to claw his way back up to the top.

They taunted him, threats sounding like nothing but alluring promises of battle to his warped ears. All their eyes were on him, he was the center of attention, he was the sun and they were no more than purposeless planets. Their undivided attentiveness was on him, his trial, his capabilities. How enticing. Something in him felt fed by their looming eyes, something which he knew could never be satiated. A hunger that would only grow as time went on. Yet, he found nothing wrong in it. They wanted to see him, of course they did, who didn’t? And, how eager he was to quench their curiosity.

Yet, even as he relished underneath their judgement, there was a heavy feeling on his back. His fathers gaze. ��It doesn’t matter,” Ajax urged himself to believe. But, what would his father think, watching his third son fight with nothing but a disgusting smile on his face? Would his father go home, murmuring to the boy’s mother about their monster of a child? Would his siblings overhear and grow to despise him for his insatiable thirst for the thrill of battle? He wished to tell his father to go back, to leave him there and that he would be fine. But, the boy had no chance to even consider doing so, as the members of the organization slowly approached him.

A hand which would have usually reached to grasp the nearest weapon-like object met nothing but air, feeling the breeze slip through his palms which had become coated in a thin layer of sweat. Only for a moment, panic flashed through his limbs, causing him to freeze for a second before he once again hardened his demeanor. There was no room for hesitance, and perhaps he would have to get a little crafty this time.

Tugging his other hand free from his coat pocket, he revealed his hydro vision which had been firmly clutched in his hand. Opening his palm, he noticed a small smear of blood against the silver metal which framed the vision itself. He had cut his palm on its sharp edges out of sheer excitement and anticipation, but it wouldn’t only be stained with his own blood for long.

He hadn’t the slightest clue how to properly use his vision. So far, he had created some poorly shaped water sculptures and weapons which shattered like the thin ice resting atop of a lake in the summer of Snezhnaya. He could almost hear the giggles of his siblings, watching him drench himself as the vision failed on him. He held no resentment, in fact it was the opposite. He looked back on that memory rather fondly. But, that wasn’t what was important at the moment. The vision’s capabilities wouldn’t be of much use to him in this battle considering his lack of ability to control it. Oh well, that was fine. The metal surrounding the vision was sharp enough for his liking.

He watched his opponents pause slightly at the sight of the vision clutched tightly in his palm. He watched amused smiles falter only for a moment before they began moving towards him once more. Were they worried? Slightly scared due to the vision in his hand? Sure, those with visions were viewed as exceptional. People acknowledged by the Gods themselves. Ajax couldn’t help but wonder why the Gods even glanced in his direction with their divine eyes. He was already awaiting the hands of Satan to drag him back into hell, not for the Gods to gift him more power to aid in his immoral pursuit. Even so, it was him who they should have feared, not the useless little thing. He would get that point across, he swore it. So, he wasted not another moment and advanced towards his enemies.

He started with a slow walk towards one of them, hearing the snow grind underneath his boots. The once heavy footwear now felt light as air, as did the thick garments covering his body. He felt on cloud nine as they approached him with nothing but malicious attempt. But, they were going too slow for his tastes. So, his feet began to hasten.

They all stood taller than him, even with the distance between them Ajax was able to tell. But, their leverage over him was nothing compared to the size of the beasts he fought in the epitome of limbo. The Abyss.

Soon enough his fast paced walk had burst out into a sprint in the direction of his first target. He didn’t even feel the burn of the frigid Snezhnayan wind entering his lungs at a fast pace. Nor did he feel the cold nip at his bare fingertips. The only thing he now felt was the cloth of his enemies outfit grazing the back of his hand as he threw his first attack. He quickly shifted to dig the bone of his elbow into their gut, hand gripping the vision sweeping up to slash up at their chest. While it didn’t reach skin, it tore through their clothing, leaving their chest now exposed. A look of surprise coated their features, maybe Ajax had gone a little too fast for their liking. But, they had no time to react as the boy momentarily scoffed before reaching his other hand up to throw a heavy punch to their face.

They quickly fell to their knees, blood from their now presumably broken nose staining the perfectly white snow beneath them. Ajax didn’t dawdle and was swift to turn around as survival instincts took over. And, to his pleasant surprise a man had made his way over, hands raised in the air above his head, ready to hit the boy with all his might.

The ginger chose to abuse this small moment, knee kicking up to hit the man straight in his crown of jewels. The boy should have felt bad about abusing such a weak spot, but he didn’t even seem to flinch at the sight of the man doubling over in pain. He was quick to then elbow the man against the side of his head, causing him to cripple away slightly. He once again tried to fire back, straightening out his back, but Ajax was quick to use his vision to swing in the direction of his face. The man stumbled back, a hand placed over his eye as he groaned in pain. Blood trickled down his cheek and Ajax glanced down at his vision to see even more red staining the silver metal. His lips twitched, smile only growing at the sight before him. He hastily turned away from the man, looking for his next target.

And soon enough everything began to blur together. Each person he defeated seemed to send him closer and closer to the edge he had been craving. An edge which he wanted to step over so badly. The edge which he wished to take a leap of faith off of. It called to him, his yearning for it never silencing, even in the midst of the night where he struggled to sleep due to the urge to move his limbs.

A woman on the ground here, a man crumbled into himself on the snow there. None of them mattered, not when all the attention was on Ajax. He could hear them now, gasps of shock at the sight of his blood dipped fists. He wasn’t sure why they were so surprised. Were they not part of the army? Perhaps it was his age that was fueling this disbelief. Well, the reason didn’t matter anyways. What mattered was that they were looking at him and only him. He was the most important person there in their eyes. They were looking at the smile on his lips. They were looking at the gaze in his eyes. Both unfitting for a 14 year old boy.

Another woman stood before him. She hesitated, a strange look on her face as she stared at him. Blood had begun dripping down the sides of his vision and the tips of his fingers. His hands felt numb against the harsh cold. His throat felt dry due to the lack of moisture in the air. But he didn’t even notice. He was having fun, and he never wanted it to stop. It was only a taste of what he had during his time in the Abyss. Even so, the same thrill of near death that he had grown addicted to wasn’t there, but this was the best he could get. They would not try to kill him, perhaps rough him up a little, but never attempt to take his life. How utterly dull. It was a shame he didn’t hold the same reluctance.

She held a weapon in her hand, a small blade. He licked his dry, cracked lips at the sight. She had brought him a gift. But, he was not to underestimate her, even if her stature seemed fragile. She was still a soldier. Yet, so had been the rest who had fallen before her. They had failed to impress him, who had been training them? Still, it was a good outlet for all the pent up frustrations he had accumulated since returning from the Abyss. All his father did was scold him for small fights and squabbles. As irritating as it was, Ajax couldn’t complain. He had been the one who decided not to tell his family of the events which occurred during those 3 days he had gone missing.

She held the blade between graceful fingers, she was clearly skilled with the weapon in her hand. Even so, Ajax never hesitated as his pace towards her never slowed. Soon enough, her blade met the cool metal of his vision. The knife danced dangerously close to the skin of his hand and as they pulled away from each other, he felt the cold of the blade run against the back of his palm. At first he didn’t feel anything, but soon enough a slight burn emanated from his skin.

Glancing down at his hand, he watched as his blood dripped from the fresh cut, mixing into the sea of red at the tips of his fingers. Eye’s moving up to meet the woman’s gaze, he stared back at her with a wide grin. The pain was exhilarating. He could hear the thrum of his heart in his ears, it was deafeningly loud.

She wasted no time, slashing at him once again. His head instinctively moved back, watching the knife almost graze his cheek. His free hand reached out to grab her outstretched wrist, staining her clothing in red. He watched her eyes widen with momentary shock before she responded, kicking him in the stomach. He felt the press of her heel into his gut, and he recoiled, stumbling back a little and dropping his vision in the snow. He couldn’t deny the pain that quickly spread through his body, but he could grit his teeth and bear it.

She once again lunged at him, jabbing forward with the short blade. He stumbled to the side, causing her blade to slice through the side of his jacket, exposing his shirt underneath. She had moved closer to him which had been her mistake as he used his hand to grab her wrist once more and yanked her towards him. She lost her footing, causing her to stutter on the slippery snow. He twisted her wrist a little too far for comfort and the knife in her hand fell to the ground with a small cry of pain.

He overpowered her, his strength pushing her to the ground as she landed in the snow with a hard thud. For a moment he let go of her and she attempted to scramble away from him as he reached for the knife which she had dropped. Alas, she was too slow, and he dragged her back into place by the hood of her jacket. He forced her to look at him, to look into his hungry gaze. Perhaps he had gone deranged at this point, he had jumped off the ledge a long time ago and he had no intentions of going back.

She stared back at him, nothing but fear laced in her expression. Perfect, it was exactly what he wanted. But, that didn’t mean he would stop there. Raising his hand which held the knife, he lunged it towards her. She swiftly brought a hand up to block the blow, causing the blade to sink into the flesh of her palm and out the back of her hand. Another cry of pain fell from her lips as red seeped down her sleeve.

Having not let go of the hilt just yet, Ajax used it to drive the knife further down, letting the blade meet the ground below them as he buried it into the frozen dirt with a forceful twist. She wouldn’t stop screaming, yet Ajax could barely hear her behind the erratic beating of his heart, pounding in his head.

No one dared to approach them, no one dared to oppose him. No one attempted to stop him. “I’m better than all of them,” echoed in his head. He was the best there, and no one could beat him. He had proven his point, but he didn’t want to stop. He was a vile person, one who could not contain their desires once given the chance to indulge. One who would not even halt at the sound of another's pain.

This is what he wanted, this is what he deserved. He deserved their eyes on him. He deserved to be treated above them. He deserved the cries which fell from her lips.

Her free hand reached up to grab at his face, long nails digging into the flesh of his cheek. Blood from the fresh cut dripping down his chin and landing on her porcelain skin, mixing with the newfound tears running down her face.

Hands reaching for her throat, Ajax couldn't stop himself. Knee digging into her ribs, ████ couldn't halt himself. Her nails drawing blood from his cheek, ██████ couldn't withhold himself. A large grin on his lips, eyes wide with a thirst for fear, Childe couldn't help himself.

And suddenly it became too much.

For a moment an image flickered in his mind, one of himself, only a few months younger. Pinned underneath a beast three times his size, clawing at it for freedom just as the woman below him did. Fright in her eyes, the fear of death gripping at her throat.

So, he stopped.

What was he doing?

Who was he?

Who’s smile was he wearing?

Ajax reached for the knife he had driven through her hand, and yanked it out of place. She squirmed and gasped beneath him as he lifted his knee from the place against her ribs. She curled into herself, grasping her hand close to her chest.

There was silence as he stood up, blood from the knife tainting the snow beneath them. No one moved to help the woman on the floor. No one moved to detain the child who had clearly gone too far. It was a deafening silence.

The adrenaline which had once been coursing through him had almost instantly disappeared, and the heavy gaze which he had shrugged off now felt searing on his back. Turning his head, his eyes met his fathers. There was an indecipherable mix of emotions in the man's gaze directed towards his son, one which managed to make the boy sick. He had just watched his son torture a woman who had done nothing to deserve it.

No, it wasn’t Ajax who he had been witnessing. That wasn’t the boy who he had raised. Ajax had dissipated the moment he stepped foot into the military camp. Could the smile on his lips, or the look in his eyes even belong to his son? Or, had Ajax disappeared before this? Had he been left behind in the Abyss alongside any sanity

Forcing his eyes away from his father, Ajax spotted the scarf which he had discarded moments before the battle. Everything felt cold. His fingers were numb, his throat was sore, and his eyes felt dry. Awful, everything felt awful. Reaching down to grasp it, he found that the cloth had frozen at the ends which had touched the snow. Whatever, it didn’t matter, he still wrapped it around his neck nevertheless. Perhaps it was an attempt to console himself, even if he were not shaking to show his fear. Fear of himself. Who had he become? Would it be too much to ask for them to look away from him now?

Next, Ajax moved to pick up his vision which had fallen from his hand mid-fight. It pulsed in his hand, its blue light filling his gaze, reminding him of the ocean. It felt steady, never changing. He liked that. There was something stabilizing about it, something which helped push back the disgusting feeling festering in his gut.

The boy shoved it into his jacket pocket, the jacket which was now ruined. He had deserved that, a shredded jacket was nothing compared to the pain which he had senselessly caused.

What had he been fighting for? In the Abyss, it had been for survival. If he failed to fight properly, if he failed to protect himself, he died. But now, what was his reason? What was his justification to this situation? What was he supposed to tell himself?

As lovely as it would have been to keep sinking further into his storm of thoughts, the sound of loud clapping caught his attention. Who could possibly congratulate him on something so heinous? How could someone clap for the pain of their subordinates? How could they fuel him so shamelessly? Eyes quickly flickering from the ground to the area in front of him, the person in question stepped forward. Ajax felt his eyes widen, surprise causing his body to freeze. The one who stood before him was Pulcinella, the fifth of the Fatui Harbingers. And, they were clapping for him.

#genshin impact #childe genshin impact #tartaglia genshin impact #genshin childe #tartaglia #childe

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