#has it irked me for my entire life? yes

[kimabutch]

Everyone's guilty of this at least occasionally, but I do think that making fun of people for enjoying harmless & fun things is just kinda inherently unpleasant and pathetic, and that when we find ourselves falling into that, we should reevaluate the type of person are in the world

[literaryavenger]

You Were My Sunshine

Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.

Masterlist

“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.

You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.

“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.

“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.

“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.

“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”

Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.

You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.

Your life is an open book.

Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.

You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere. 

It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.

At least that’s how the team sees it. 

They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:

Don’t worry about it.

After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it. 

Everyone except Bucky.

It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.

Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.

That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.

He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane. 

He just needs you. to know.

So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.

He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.

You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.

You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.

Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.

He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.

Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.

He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.

Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.

It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?

But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.

So why do it in secret?

After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.

Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.

He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.

After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.

It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.

So why don’t the Avengers? 

You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.

You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.

He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.

He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.

“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”

You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.

“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.

A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.

Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.

You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.

“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”

Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.

“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.” 

Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.

“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.

“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.

That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.

He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.

Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.

But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.

And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.

“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”

He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.

“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.

It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.

You are my sunshine

Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing. 

My only sunshine

Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.

Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.

You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.

You make me happy, when skies are gray 

You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little. 

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.

Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away

Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.

Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these. 

Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...

Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.

His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.

Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.

“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.

For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.

“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.

“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”

“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”

His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.

“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.

“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”

You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.

But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...

So you let him.

You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.

“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”

Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.

“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering. 

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

Drabble

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Twenty Two - The races

As the races were in the afternoon, you had accepted Violet's invitation to join her at her home. As she had sworn to look after you, you were sure she would be eager to hear of your caller.

She greets you with a smile as you enter the drawing room, calling for tea and ushering you to come sit down with her. She starts the conversation by telling you that Eloise was still being rather difficult and that Anthony had gone to call upon Miss Edwina.

You just hoped Edwina could handle Anthony. Though, from what you heard in Lady Whistledown, it was the sister he would have to worry about.

When Benedict steps into the drawing room, he is surprised to see you. He had not expected to see you, unaware his mother had invited you. Not that he should be surprised. Violet Bridgerton was fond of you. That much he did know.

"Good morning."

You look up and see him pass you with his sketchbook.

"Good morning."

Benedict slumps down in a chair opposite you and opens his book, sketching away. He doesn't look at you much. You choose to ignore his brief greeting and share your news with Violet.

"I had a caller this morning."

Violet sits up with excitement and reaches for your hand. "Who?"

"Lord Baxtor."

You don't notice the way Benedict stops his sketching to secretly listen. Violet looks beyond pleaded.

"I hear he has quite a fortune." Violet hums softly. "I believe he is quite studious, too."

"He will be escorting me at the races this afternoon. I am to meet him there." You smile brightly. Violet can tell you're excited.

"That is wonderful news, dear. Do you need anything?"

"Will you perhaps chaperone? Racing is not quite my mother's interest, and it would bring me great comfort to know someone I trust is near."

"Of course."

Benedict continues his sketching. He's not sure why it irked him so much to know you have a gentleman escorting you to the races. Why shouldn't you have a caller? It's what you wanted all along.

Penelope arrives in a cheerful yellow dress, as usual. It certainly brightens up the room. She offers you a smile before joining Eloise at the table. In Eloise's hands is the latest Whistledown paper.

"Is that a copy of Lady Whistledown?" Pen asks Eloise, pretending not to realise right away.

"It is."

"I thought we were done with her."

"Do not discourage her, Penelope," Violet chimes in. "If she has taken an interest in Lady Whistledown again, perhaps it means she's interested in what she had to say about the season's available gentlemen too."

"I cannot think of a cleverer way to say this, but no." Eloise sighs. "Her latest is not exactly the philosophical treatise on the rights of the fairer sex u was hoping for, but--"

"Come now, I do not think Lady Whistledown has changed her entire style of writing wince her last issue," Penelope says.

"Perhpad not. But perhaps she still can."

"Perhaps she does not want to. Perhaps she is quite content. And if she's even sparked your renewed interest, El, then perhaps whatever she is doing is working."

You smile at Penelope's passion.

"Yes, but she could do so much more," Eloise says. "I know I could convince her of it. If I were to find her this time."

"What you must find, my dear, is happiness," Violet chimes in. "Penelope, assist me here. Eloise could find that with someone, could she not?"

I believe she could. And not Lady Whistledown, but someone more like-- Colin."

"My brother?" Eloise looks at her friend confused.

"No, not Coli-- Colin!" Penelope stands up. You turned around to see Colin Bridgerton entering the room. You stand up, also.

"Glad to see things have not changed," he says.

You get up to greet him. "Hello!"

"Brother!"

"Colin!"

Benedict and Violet do the same as you.

"Could you set aside the latest family squabble and embrace me?" Colin teases. Eloise hugs her brother with a happy chuckle. Violet hugs him next. He then pulls you into a hug, too. You chuckle softly.

"I did not expect you to return so soon, dearest," Violet says to him, taking in the sight of her son.

"Well, I missed you all. What can I say?" He grins. You step back as he hugs his brother. As Benedict steps back, Colin looks at Penelope. She smiles at him.

Hyacinth and Gregory then enter the room and hug their brother, having missed him dearly.

"I must get you to the doctor post haste," Benedict says. "This strange, fizzy growth on your chin is no doubt some kind of disease."

You chuckle softly. Benedict smiles proudly. He likes it when you laugh.

"And you seem to have taken to the sun toom how peculiar," Francesca comments, coming up beside her brother.

"I think he looks distinguished," Penelope comments.

"And where, may I ask, is our intrepid viscount?" Colin asks.

"He is..."

Anthony appears right at that moment. You're surprised to see him.

"...back from courting already," Violet says, also surprised to see him.

"Colin! You are returned. Even better." Anthony greets his brother. "Family, I should like you all to ready yourselves for the races today. We will be attending, united as one."

Violet once again seems surprised, yet happily so.

You chuckle softly. "I best get home and change then. I shall see you all there, I hope." You look around. Anthony nods. Penelope does, too. You smile at her and pat her shoulder gently as you pass her.

You don't even glance at Benedict.

You arrive at the races and find Lord Baxtor waiting for you. He smiles as he offers you his arm, and you both head off to place bets on horses.

It's a beautiful sunny afternoon, and you were very much looking forward to your day out. Your mother trails behind you a ways as you walk with Baxtor.

Once the bets are placed, you walk through the crowds. It was certainly a busy day.

"I am hoping you're my lucky charm today," he says, smiling brightly.

"Oh? I'm honoured," you chuckle.

He looks at you with a grin. "It was certainly be a good sign for the future, no?"

"If we win?"

"Absolutely."

You chuckle again. "It's a lot of pressure relying on the horse."

"I think he shall pull through."

You find his confidence in the animal rather charming. If the horse were to be the deciding factor of this courtship, then you hoped it would pull through. Jonathan Baxtor certainly thought so.

As you stroll, you spot the Sharma sisters. Edwina is attached at the arm with a fine gentleman. Lumley, you believe his name to be. Kate catches your eye and you smile at her, she returns the gesture.

Kate is beautiful. She is wearing a dark blue dress with matching accessories in her hair and blue netted gloves on her hands.

Edwina is in all pink. She looks very pretty, too. Gentle.

"Friends of yours?" Baxtor asks.

"Not quite yet. I met them at Lady Danbury's soiree. I'm keen to know them, however. They seem like good people to know."

"Miss Edwina Sharma looks very pretty today."

"She does.

"Though my eye is still drawn to you," Baxtor smiles. You find yourself looking away with a blush. This man certainly knew what to say.

"Shall we find our seats?"

"A splendid idea."

You chuckle softly as he guides you along toward the track.

You're far too occupied to see Benedict watching from a distance. He was standing with his brothers. His blue eyes follow you until you're out of sight. Anthony nudges him, and Benedict snaps out of it.

"You're staring."

"No, I wasn't."

Anthony gives him a look, and Benedict sighs. He turns his eyes away and spots Mondrich approaching. He decides to greet him quickly to stop his brother from mentioning anything else.

You sit with Baxtor and talk quietly as people gather to find their seats. You watch the horses walk along the fence with their riders.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

"Yes, very."

"Do you ride?" He asks.

"Not very well. We don't have any horses." You admit that rather shyly.

"Fear not. I would be glad to teach you one day," he smiles. "That is, if you are interested."

"Very much."

As the Bridgerton family take their seats, Benedict's attention is drawn to a choice nearby. His eyes find you sitting a row below him off to the right. You're talking closely with Lord Baxtor.

Anthony has left their side to go meddle with the Sharma's, hoping to get close to Miss Edwina, and Colin does not care enough for his brother's brooding to shake him from it.

Benedict watches you from his seat in a slight huff. He should have asked you to come with him, but he hadn't even thought about it until it was too late.

Why should it matter so much who you come with? No. He can't deny it. He misses you. He misses your company. He wants his friend back by his side.

You laugh at something Baxtor says and Benedict has to look away. He can't stand watching any longer.

It isn't much longer until the bell tolls and the horses are off. You and Baxtor watch with excitement and eagerness as the horses run. You both cheer along with the crowd. He is amused by your excitement.

High Flyer crosses the finish line first and you cheer.

Benedict watches the way you grab onto Baxtor's arm in excitement. He immediately has to look away. Luckily, Eloise, who was beside him, is a fine distraction as she cheers in excitement, too.

If only he could feel as thrilled.

"She is pompous and arrogant and quite sure she knows best in every situation."

Benedict was fencing with his brothers when Anthony decided to moan about the eldest Sharma sister.

"She sounds like a terrible nuisance," Colin comments, having just spared with his brother. He gets into a stance to parry again with Anthony.

"Especially since you are the one who knows best in every situation," Benedict says, watching his brothers.

Anthony disarms Colin.

"And the victor of every match today," Colin points out.

"Less talking, more fencing, Brother."

Colin picks up the sword and gives it to Benedict, who gets into position. "Good luck," he sighs.

"Ready?" Benedict asks.

Anthony raises the sword, and they begin.

"Do you know why I win every time?" Anthont asks.

"Because every time you lose, you claim we cheated."

Anthony wins.

"Because I know my duties. What my purposes are and how to obtain them. Which I will do when I make Miss Edwina my viscountess."

Benedict loses again.

Not even his anger at the image of you and Baxtor was enough to fuel his duel with Anthony.

"Miss Edwina and I are well-suited. She is a lovely young lady. She wishes for children. She'll make a perfectly agreeable wife."

"What he means to say is that he has already dismissed every other young lady in town," Benedict states.

"You are one to talk."

"Whatever do you mean?" Benedict asks.

"The one woman in all of London you hold so dear, and yet you are not courting her."

Benedict swings his sword. "She is not mine to court."

"Is that jealousy, I sense?" Anthony teases.

"No."

Benedict swings, but Anthony outsmarts him. "Is she not of interest to you? Or perhaps you are simply not ready."

"Hush, Brother. It is not of your concern."

Benedict loses again.

"You take too much upon yourself, brother." Colin says, watching Anthony. "Perhaps your life might be easier if you persued someone with a less disagreeable sister."

"Why should I be the one to admit defeat?" Anthony asks him, getting rather worked up. "Regardless of which young lady I have chosen to pursue, there would have always been some obstinate father or meddlesome aunt into the picture. I shall certainly not let some sister, especially one younger than me, keep me from getting what it is I want."

"Whom you want, you mean?" Benedict swings again getting Anthony on the arm.

"Is this still a friendly match, or do we need to find armor?" Colin asks.

"That is what you don't understand, Brother. Benedict honours me by holding nothing back. As I now honour him."

They get into position again and then fence once more. Anthony knocks Benedict onto his backside.

"What honour."

Anthony helps Benedict up onto his feet. He gives him a knowing look, but Benedict shakes his head. Anthony simply chuckles.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for the bracing exertion. Now, it is time for me to secure my final victory for the day. Wish me luck."

Anthony walks off. The two brothers watch him go.

They spar between themselves.

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[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[nameless-flame]

RoR gods reactions to you calling Poseidon a 💅Drama Queen💅

RoR and fem!Reader crack below the cut

Seated along the round table, various prominent figures of each pantheon waited, some more patiently than others, for the mortal standing before them to reveal what she had summoned them for.

[Name] cleared her throat, putting an end to the idle chatter that had previously filled the walls of the old-fashioned conference room. "I have called you to this meeting to discuss a matter of utmost importance."

Shiva rolled his neck, allowing his eyes to freely wander between the faces of the gods – all deemed to be high figures in their respective pantheon – some even belonging to the same one. And yet, there was one man missing.

Leaning his chair back, the God of Destruction balanced himself with two hands holding onto the edge of the table, whilst his remaining two rested behind his head. "Where's that sea deity?"

Shooting a glare in Shiva’s direction, [Name] resumed talking. “If you had not so rudely interrupted me you would have known why.”

The blue man merely rolled his eyes. He had long before grown used to her more… unmannerly way of addressing them. Her disrespectful attitude had at first irked him, and many other deities, but eventually whatever ill feelings they initially harboured toward her soon evolved into intrigue, and later friendship. Some even more than that.

Seeing how the god had not argued back, the human continued. "As for why Sea Boy isn’t here with us today, I didn’t invite him.”

Hades’ brows flickered and he paused his chess match with Zeus. “I presume this meeting concerns my brother?”

[Name] gave the God of the Underworld a curt nod. “I’ll just get straight to the point so to not further waste our time. Can we all come to common agreement that Poseidon is the biggest drama queen in history?"

Hades didn’t know what was more worrisome; her odd exclaim, or the fact that no one had so much as reacted to it. Have things like this truly become the norm?

Most eyes darted to Apollo, and then lingered there, before returning to her, obviously questioning her statement. However, [Name] did not yield under their distrustful stares but continued speaking without any less conviction. "Yes, sure. Some might argue that the twink has some dramatic traits as well."

Apollo craned his neck in her direction, no longer staring in the reflection of his hand mirror. "Why are we listening to her, again?"

“Because they’d rather be here than at one more of your lame parties.” Apollo furrowed his brows, but ultimately decided to just massage the tense muscles of his temples, not desiring to start a fruitless dispute with her.

“But we are not here to talk about Apollo, but Poseidon – the biggest drama queen I have ever encountered in my entire life.”

Beelzebub sighed, tapping his foot impatiently against the marble floor. He just wanted to return to his research. “How did you even come to such an irrational conclusion?”

Standing tall, [Name] placed her hands on her hips. “Irrational? Do you guys truly not see it?” Blank stares were shot in her direction, only Heracles and Ares had the decency to shake their heads.

“Well then, allow me to provide you with an example; If a fly were to land on that drama queen’s shoulder, he would not hesitate to drown all their villages, slaughter their children, and then feed their corpses to the nearest animal.”

Loki snickered, obviously finding some amusement in what he deemed to be an exaggerated story. [Name] ignored him and continued. “And then, to truly top it off, after exterminating an entire species he would just act as normal, as if his reaction was more than justifiable.”

“She does have a point,” the serene voice of Aphrodite spoke. “Poseidon’s reactions do tend to be quite… overbearing at times.”

[Name] dragged a hand through her hair in hope that the motion would soothe her racing mind. “And I know this to be true because that fly is a metaphor for us humans. I literally bumped into him just the other day, and this bitch-”

A warning glare from Hades.

“This very fine gentleman acted like I gave him the bubonic plague.” Loki and Shiva broke into a fit of laughter. The Hindu god even toppled off his chair, but that didn’t seem to encourage him from continuously laughing his ass off.

[Name] rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, continue howling all day long you buffoons, but I think I singlehandedly made him wish for a second Ragnarok.” This only made the duo double over, trying to choose between drying their tears or holding their stomachs. It was a good day for Shiva to have four arms.

Hermes, however, coaxed his brows. “Do you mean to tell us that you came in contact with Lord Poseidon without invoking his wrath?”

[Name] cocked her head to the side. “Didn’t I just tell you that he looked like he wanted to pierce me into a shish kebab?”

Hades moved his king one square forward on the chessboard, the slight click when the piece hit the wood gaining her attention. “That is not what he meant, my dear. If our brother is truly angry, he will not hesitate to kill whoever is around him. The fact that you are still alive indicates that he had no desire of ending your life.”

Odin nodded from the seat beside his son, who was staring out of the window, wishing for this conversation to come to an end.

"This!” [Name]’s sudden outburst caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the socially withdrawn God of Thunder. “This is what I mean when I call him dramatic! You have just grown used to his actions. Look, I don't mind his exaggerated reactions, but he needs a bit of variation.”

[Name] began pacing around the room, her back straight and chin held high, while holding a stick in her hand. Where did she even get that?

“Someone breathes the same air as me? Dead.” Everyone’s eyes widened.

She was imitating Poseidon.

“Someone accidentally steps on my foot? Dead. Someone has the audacity to look me straight in the eye? Dead.” She stopped and heaved a heavy sigh, “Like, come on. Try something new for once, please."

Zeus stroked his long beard. "Wait, let me get this straight. You mean to tell us that your problem with Poseidon is not his behaviour, but that it has grown old?"

[Name] slammed her hands against the table, making the glasses along the wine bottles on it shake with the sudden force. “Yes!”

“This meeting is over.” Hades declared, already walking away. It did not take long for the other deities to follow him, Loki and Shiva needing to crawl out from all their excessive laughing.

“Fine, go! But don’t come crying to me when you guys realize I was right!”

“We won’t,” cooed Zeus.

…

“Hades?”

“Yes, Zeus?”

The King of the Gods blinked, not believing his eyes. “Why is Poseidon drowning that entire meadow?”

Before the two deities stood their brother, sending wave after wave into a beautiful landscape of green hills and the most gorgeous of flowers.

Hades sighed, running a hand through his white hair. “To kill the flies.”

Zeus turned his head to his brother, already dreading his next answer. “Why?”

The King of the Underworld gulped, cursing that mortal for how correct she had been. “Because a fly had landed on his shoulder.”

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part thirteen

authors note: this one is super long, ya'll! i don't necessarily like how long it is, but i couldn't cut it in half because there was no good cutoff point. so, i apologize to the readers with short attention spans! also, the very last part is not known to the characters, it's just context for what's happening....

this chapter takes place on February 2nd, 2024. yes, i'm aligning it with the real life dates of smackdown shows lol.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, smut, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 10k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’d forgotten how uncomfortable flights are and how much they irk you.

It's mostly the not being in control that bothers you. You can admit as much. On the jet wasn’t as difficult because you had Joe, and while Alexis is a nice companion, she’s not your man. No one can make you feel as safe and calm as he does.

However, there's some peace in seeing how well Callie is doing on her first flight. Your undercover social butterfly of a child has made friends with the flight crew who have taken her under their wing, allowing her to be a pretend flight attendant for the short flight. 

So her spending time with the flight crew allows you and Alexis time to talk, cause why not distract yourself with a heavy ass conversation while 30,000 feet up in the air? 

Alexis takes a sip of her wine, included with the first class tickets she purchased for the three of you. “Just let me know when you get back to the hotel tonight. I’ll watch Cal Gal for ya’ll.”

Confused, you ask, “why would we need you to watch her?”

She answers so casually, “so y'll can fuck. Duh.”

You sigh…..of course. “Alexis, this trip is not for that. We’re here so Callie can spend time with her daddy.” And that’s the truth. You’re most excited to see Callie’s happiness at being reunited with her dad.

“He’s your daddy too,” she wiggles her brows, and you look away. This heifer is way too much sometimes. “All I’m saying is it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Too long. “I’m not saying I don’t want to. It’s just not a priority, and I’m still not on birth control.” It hasn’t been very high on your to-do list, especially with him being gone as long as he has. But also….there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want to get on it, and it’s not because of any health concerns. 

“Tell him to pull out,” she suggests with a shrug, but your face must give it away. “Oh my god, he doesn’t want to, does he?”

Having this conversation on a plane, or at all, probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s something you’ve been thinking about since the night of your date. Even more as you grew closer to being reunited with him. “When we had sex that night, he asked me if I was on birth control.”

“Like, after?”

“No, like as he was literally blowing my back out.”

“Damn,” she mutters. If you know Alexis like you think you do, the ‘damn’ is also because she’s mentally conjuring that image. Freaky ass. Shaking her head, she then asks, “and you told him no, right?”

“Of course, but you know what he said in response?” Blowing out a deep breath, your head falls back against the headrest. “He said good, Alexis.”

Her mouth drops open, and you move to slap your palm over her lips. “Remember, we are on a plane, and my daughter is somewhere in the vicinity.”

This seems to help. A little. Removing your hand, she harshly whispers, “he’s trying to get you pregnant again!”

“I don’t think it’s that,” you answer honestly. “I think—I think it’s more if it happens, he wouldn’t be opposed.” And you believe that. You know Joe. He’s many things, and assertive is near the top of that list. He would straight up tell you if he wanted to get you pregnant…..you think.

She studies you, always so damn perceptive and knowing. “You feel the same way too, don’t you?”

“I don’t—” You can’t finish your sentence, because she’s not entirely wrong. It makes no logical sense for you to even be having this conversation, let alone thinking about this. Having a baby right now is one of the dumbest things you could do. You’re having a hard enough time as it is just finding gaps for Joe to spend time with the child you already have.

But. 

There’s also this side of you that sees where this is headed. You know that your future is with this man. There’s no outcome you can figure where you two don’t end up together, and Alexis wasn’t wrong before she’d asked/reminded you that you want more kids. You want more kids with him. Want to give Callie a sibling. 

Just….not right now.

You can’t even find it in you to tell this man you love him, but you want him to give you another baby? It doesn’t add up. 

There’s a part of you that wonders if it comes from a place of fear. 

For so long, you dreamed and wished for this to happen, for you to be with Joe, to have a future with him. It kept you up at night the fact that it would never be a possibility, but still, you dreamed. And now that all of it is happening, you wonder if there’s fear it could all go away so you’re trying to make the best of it.

Even though, deep down, you know there’s no reality where Joe could be away from Callie. You? Yes, maybe. Though slim to none. But while he loves you, Callie is his soul. He’d burn the whole world down if that’s what it took to be with her. 

And that means he’ll always, to some extent, be in your life.

“Maybe.” Is the much shorter versioned answer you settle for. “So, for now, no sex until I figure this out.” Even saying it aloud, you’re not sure you entirely believe it. It’s a nice plan, but plans often change.

Especially when they involve Joe.

Alexis groans. “I love you, babes, but sometimes you’re so damn exhausting. There’s literally nothing to figure out. That man would marry you tomorrow if he could. You just gotta let go of the past, enjoy the present, and work towards the future.” She then adds, “then again, you said the same thing last time about no sex, and that man still fucked you six different ways from Sunday, so who knows.”

As much as you want to protest, you can’t. Your resolve when it comes to Joe, in almost all areas, is embarrassingly weak. 

________

Being backstage is such a blast from the past, so reminiscent of so many years back when you and Mariah were just stoked at the possibility of meeting Cena, unaware of how that one night would change the trajectory of your entire life.

There’s a small part of you saddened at how things have changed so much with Mariah, but that’s an issue for another day. Your focus is on the here and now.

Similarly, Callie seems just as intrigued, but for different reasons. She keeps her hand in yours but her eyes scan around, growing hopeful with each turn of the corner that she’ll be met with the one thing she’s looking for. Or, rather, who she’s looking for.

Alexis somehow arranged a private tour backstage, thus “ditching” you as soon as ya’ll arrived to the arena. However, you also know she believes this is a “personal thing" and doesn’t want to “invade.” You tried to tell her that she was more than welcome, but she wasn’t hearing it. You’re so grateful for all of her support. It means so much to you. 

One of the security guards flanking you and Callie tries to make small conversation, and you’re partially grateful but mostly annoyed. Your anxiety is already on the higher end than you’d like it to be, especially when all you wanted was to remain calm and collected for Callie’s sake. But having someone blabber about something you have no interest in doesn’t do much to help that.

Too bad it’s not a distraction, though, because you’re starting to second guess your decision. It’s a bold move not only coming to Joe's “job,” but bringing Callie too. Not that he’d ever complain or be upset at getting to see her, but not making him aware ahead of time is suddenly seeming like not the best idea. No matter what Jon says.

You know you ultimately had to keep him in the dark, because he’d ask questions as to why, not from suspicion but just natural curiosity. And you don’t want to lie to him. You need to talk to him about Callie, but you want to do so in person. That’s not a phone or even Facetime kind of conversation. 

What if he isn’t ready for you to go “public”? To make Callie’s existence “public”? Sure, you have zero expectation of him letting ya’ll leave backstage, thus making it easy to hide out from cameras, but still, this is his workplace. He deserves some privacy. 

So deep in your head and thoughts, you miss when you turn the final, lucky corner, only to realize when Callie gasps loudly, “daddy!”

She rips her hand from yours, and you briefly panic when she starts running away only to see who she’s running to. 

Joe’s standing there among who you’d guess are WWE execs, clearly in the midst of conversation, when his head snaps in your direction. His eyes immediately land on Callie. He’s briefly confused, but a big smile replaces that confusion as he reaches down to catch Callie. She throws her little body against his, and you watch him stand up with her still in his arms, kissing her cheek and hugging her closely.

You walk over to them, offering a small, apologetic smile to the people now watching with slight puzzlement.

“Callie Bear,” he murmurs, mouth pressed to the top of her head. Your anxiety is already lessening. There’s not an ounce of anger or irritation painted in his handsome features, only an immense amount of appreciation and satisfaction at seeing his little girl. 

“Surprise!” She shouts, smiling broadly. “Mommy said we could come see you since you can’t come see us!”

“And I’m glad you did,” he murmurs. “I missed you, baby girl.” She lays her head against his chest, obviously having missed him just as much. His eyes then land on you as you finally reach the duo. Your smile is small, even as he reaches and pulls you against his free side, stealing a quick kiss. “I missed you too, mama.”

His words do something so warm and fuzzy to your insides. “We figured if you couldn’t make it to us, we’d come to you.” Relief is so heavy over you. You’re pretty sure you’ve just given Joe one of the best surprises he could ever receive. You look over at the people still awkwardly standing by and then to him. “I’m sorry, did she interr—”

“No.” He seems almost insulted that you would even ask such a thing. He directs to them, “later.”

Without protest, they disperse, walking away. It’s so interesting seeing how much he’s grown since you first met him. Back then he was young, still trying to prove himself. Now he’s the literal face of the company. It starts and ends with him. 

“I was on a plane!” Callie informs with that award winning smile. “I’ve never been on a plane before!”

“You haven’t?” It’s difficult to tell if he’s feigning surprise for the sake of engaging her on her level or genuinely can’t believe she’s never flown before. “Were you scared?”

She shakes her head. “It was lotsa fun!”

Joe chuckles and kisses her cheek. “That’s my brave girl.”

She giggles as he tickles her stomach. “I saw clouds! Ooh and birdies! And the nice flight lady gave me cookies cause she said I was a good girl!” As Callie starts to ramble and catch Joe up on a second by second play of the plane ride, he gives you a pat on the hip and directs you to walk with him. His arm around your waist, the other holding up Callie, you can’t deny how natural this feels, the three of you.

Joe takes you to his locker room which is as nice as you would expect it to be for the guy in WWE. You take your seat in the single chair, allowing Callie and Joe to take the sofa even though she’s barely next to him for five minutes before climbing into his lap and pulling out her tablet to show him what she’s made in some of her apps.

You pull your phone out and see that you have a few unread texts, the one from Alexis making you laugh aloud.

Alexis: Would you still love me if I fucked Logan Paul?

Shaking your head, you type out a response. 

You: yes. just a little less.

Alexis: It’s just an appetizer. I plan to leave with the number of someone from that damn Bloodline tonight. Tell BDJ to hook me up.

You: would you please stop calling him that? 😭

Alexis: I’ll stop when it stops being true 🤷🏽‍♀️

You: you’re a menace.

Alexis: Stop texting me and focus on your man.

You: he’s in callie world right now, which is exactly where he should be. i keep telling you this trip was for her. 

Alexis: It can be for you too if you stop being stupid and start by telling him, I don’t know, THAT YOU LOVE HIM. 

You: goodbye, alexis 🙄

Alexis: I’m about to fuck this white boy anyway, but you know I’m right!!!

Alexis: I hope he doesn’t have fleas.

It takes everything in you not to scream. This girl is really crazy. Switching threads, you text your mom.

You: we made it here. she’s so happy. 🥺 he is too. i’m glad i took her.

Opening up the camera app, you sneak and snap a photo of the two of them. Reviewing it makes your heart swell. Callie is clearly deep in explanation while Joe holds her, partially following her discussion but mostly just enraptured in having her with him. 

You send the photo to your mom who responds almost immediately. 

Mom: Awww. I’m glad you did too. Enjoy yourself, baby. Take lots of pictures. ♥️

“Oooh!” Callie’s semi-loud exclamation pulls you away from the text thread. “Look what mommy got me!” Callie hops off Joe’s lap and spins around, moving her hair to the side to show off the back of her hoodie.

Naturally, you move your eyes to Joe, watching closely and carefully as he travels through a variety of emotions: shock, happiness, love. He’s clearly moved. A warm smile sets on your face. “I love it, baby.” He finally speaks, the emotion undeniable in his voice. Joe’s gaze sets on you, and you don’t need him to say anything to know what he’s thinking.

Mouthing ‘you’re welcome’, you settle back into the sofa, watching as Callie returns to her spot in his lap to finish catching him up on all the things he’s missed in his long absence.  

You occupy yourself on your phone, catching up on some work emails and parent messages because it doesn’t seem to matter how many different ways you make them aware of an absence, they’re still going to message you like you didn’t let them know you’d be out of office for the next few days.

Sometimes you can’t tell much of a difference between your students and their parents. They’re both equally out of touch.

At some point, Callie moves to the middle of the floor to empty out her backpack that you still don’t know just how she managed to pack as much as she did in. She seemed hellbent on bringing all of these items, mostly artsy things, to share with Joe. And you didn’t want to stop her, so you let it be. 

However, you end up catching Joe’s eye, and he motions you to come over to him. But, being the brat you are, you take your time doing so. And of course, because everything about this man is large, it’s nothing for him to reach his long arms out to tug you in front of him. His hands are on your hips, and you can tell he’s trying to keep the placement appropriate for the sake of Callie. 

“You’re quiet,” he observes, discerning you.

Shugging, you answer honestly, “I want you to have your time with Callie. She’s really missed you.” One thing you’re most definitely not looking forward to is the discussion regarding the real reason for this surprise trip. You already know it’s going to make Joe feel awful, and that’s not the goal. You just don’t want to keep anything else from him as it pertains to Callie. He doesn’t deserve that.

“And what about you?” He asks, suddenly, “Did you miss me?”

Chuckling, you brush your fingers against his soft hair, pulled back in his go-to bun. “I always miss you, Joe.” The delivery is much more gentle than intended, albeit entirely true. Pre-Callie and Post-Callie, maybe even moreso now, Joe’s extended absences affected you in various ways. Being around him right now is making you more aware of just how much, even as your brain jumps to how nice it’ll be to not sleep alone tonight. That was something you always loved about Joe when he came to visit years back, how he would always bring you against his hard body, strong arms securing you. You always slept the best when he was in town. 

Of course, this is way too vulnerable of a conversation to have with your daughter present, so you change subjects. “But, I also wanted to see Cody Rhodes, cause you know I’m team finish the story,” you tease, giggling at his instant scowl. It’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie. Cody is cool, but you’re Team Roman (Joe) all day every day. Still, it’s in your nature to stir up trouble and pick with him. 

“Dick rider,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear but low enough for Callie not to. 

Smirking, you lean down to whisper in his ear. “Naw, baby, that’s for you and you only.” 

Trying to move away is a fruitless effort because he yanks you onto his lap, your thighs over his legs as he murmurs against your earlobe. “Don’t play with me like that.”

“Mommy, I wanna sit there.” Callie’s jealous voice suddenly enters the conversation, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at her pout. She’s so possessive. “He’s my daddy, not yours.”

You gasp quietly when he squeezes your ass, forcing you to climb off him. “You’re very right, Callie Bear.” Moving back to your chair, you taunt, “he’s not my daddy.”

It’s hilarious watching Joe control himself for the sake of Callie, but his expression tells you everything you need to know. If not for her presence, he’d have you bent over, taking every inch of his thick dick as he reminds you just who you belong to.

The image shouldn’t excite you as much as it does.

Sure enough, Callie climbs her little self back onto the sofa and back onto Joe’s lap, but the sound of an almost rhythmic knock at his door draws the attention of all three of you. However, before Joe can respond, the door is swung open, and based upon the lack of consent, you expect to see Alexis. Instead, you’re met with a different set of folks. 

“Come in,” Joe says sarcastically, and you glare, standing up to greet them. 

“Whassup, Y/N? Long time, no see, girl.” Jon’s introduction is so typical and expected, but it still makes you laugh. He’s always been a hoot to be around. 

“Good to see you, Jon.” He hugs you, and you turn to Josh who’s also wearing a friendly grin.

“Lil hurt you ain’t hit me up to help you with the surprise.” He sucks his teeth but still hugs you, as you shake your head.

“I thought you’d be on Raw,” you answer. It’s the truth, even if who exactly helped you make this happen didn’t matter as much as ensuring it did in fact happen.

“That why you been acting weird?” Joe’s voice enters the conversation. “You knew?”

“We both knew,” Joshua answers as you give Jon a look. 

He asks, “what?”

Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms, “I told you not to tell nobody!”

“I didn’t! It’s just Josh.” He shrugs, and you can only shake your head. There’s a reason these two are so popular in the WWE. A lot of their promos could be ripped from real life interactions. 

“Y/N!” Trinity's gorgeous smile is the first thing you notice followed by her surprise introduction, even before her colorful gear that you’ve always been so amazed by as she rushes over to you. She stretches her arm, “it’s so good to see you again!” Smiling, you accept her hug, tight and genuine. In the few interactions you’d had with her, she was also so kind and friendly. It’s nice to see that hasn’t changed.

“It’s good to see you too, Trin.” You mean it. She's just a genuinely chill person.

Looking over to Callie, you see she’s still sitting on Joe’s lap, holding onto his hoodie, obviously trying to read the room full of strangers. Jon must notice this too as he looks her way as well, giving her that warm smile.

“And this….” He starts walking toward her, crouching down in front of the sofa. “---this must be the famous Ms. Callie.”

A small chuckle leaves your mouth watching her suddenly “hide” her face in Joe’s side, as one eye is still peaked open. 

You whisper over to the group, “don’t let her fool you. She’s shy at first, but then she won’t be quiet.” It’s a conversation so similar to Callie’s first meeting with Joe which feels so long ago now. 

Joe’s also clearly a bit amused at her sudden shyness and goes to introduce them. “Callie, these are my cousins, Jon and Josh.” She looks up with a quizzical expression and motions with her hand for him to lean down. He does so, and she whispers something in his ear. His smile grows as he answers, “they are.” Looking still a bit skeptical, she waves her hand again. Take two. He dips his head, and she whispers something else. Again, he answers, “yup.” At this, she gasps and jumps off the sofa, running over to you. 

Callie hugs your legs and “whispers” to you with all of the excitement, “mommy, they’re my cousins too! I have cousins!” 

It takes a lot out of you not to get emotional in this moment. She’s so damn happy at this news, at finding out she has more family. You lean down and push back some of her loose curls. “You surely do, baby.”

Finally pleased with the confirmation, she turns around and beams at the twins and Trinity, “hi! I’m Callie!”

There’s a chorus of laughter as Trinity speaks this time, “it’s very nice to meet you, Callie.”

“You’re pretty,” Callie compliments, and Trin places a hand over her chest, clearly touched by her kindness. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re so sweet,” she awes as Josh joins in, introducing himself as Callie stares at him for a second.

“You’re a twin,” she says it like this is the first time he’s ever heard as such or even realized as such. 

Josh does a good job going along with it, nodding and smiling. “I sure am.”

Callie suddenly turns to you. “Mommy, how come I don’t have a twin?”

“Because Jesus loved mommy enough not to do that to me.” Childbirth is equally horrific as it is beautiful, and while you’re forever grateful for your sweet child, you’ll never forget that pain. Pushing her out was torture. You can’t even begin to imagine having to do it twice, back to back. 

Twins….never.

Josh suddenly chimes before Callie can present a follow-up question. “I have a little girl who’s a couple years older than you, and I can’t wait for ya’ll to meet.”

She gasps loudly. “I have more cousins?”

Jon sucks his teeth and answers, “Girl, you got so many cousins, you might meet em’ all before you turn 18.”

Her jaw drops. “I'll be really old then!”

Shaking your head, you start to counter her when Joe speaks up, calling her name.

“You have another cousin here tonight, baby girl.” There’s a second of confusion, but you realize he must be talking about Solo Sikoa. You hadn’t met him, as he came onto the scene after you and Joe separated. But as you told Joe, he’s free to introduce you to any and all family. You want this for your little girl. It’s obvious just from her reaction to the twins and Trin, she wants it as well. “Do you wanna meet him?”

It’s a no brainer, Callie nodding furiously as she runs to jump back on the sofa, sitting next to Joe.

He laughs at her enthusiasm and then calls out, “come in.” It’s loud enough for whoever is on the other side of the door to do so, and while you expect to see the final member of the bloodline enter the space, you’re thoroughly and shockingly surprised to see that you are very wrong.

Because through the door aren't the footsteps and subsequent entrance of Solo Sikoa.

It’s Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. 

While you’re in a semi state of shock, Callie is in a pure state of unadulterated delirium, and it’s entirely expected given she knows this man as something else. 

Someone else.

“Maui!” 

The entire room erupts in laughter as Callie rushes to stand in front of Dwayne who gets down on one knee to be more eye to eye with her.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Callie.”

Joe also moves closer and bends down, hand on Callie’s back. “Calista, this is my cousin, Dwayne, so that means he’s yo—”

“Maui is my cousin!” 

This little girl is damn near screaming, but it’s so hard to tell her to quiet down when you’re pretty sure this may be the single most happiest moment of her life.

Next to finding out Joe is her dad, of course.

Once your own shock wears off, you pull your phone out to snap a few photos, almost wishing you knew ahead of time The freaking Rock was going to be present tonight. You also would have tried to make yourself look a little more presentable, especially when Joe introduces you to his cousin as well. 

And of course because you’re the one who starts taking pictures, it’s only a matter of time before you’re dragged into a few of your own. It’s an easy pass, as you feel entirely underdressed with your all black one piece, long cardigan, and boots, having dressed comfortably for traveling. Not photo-ops. 

But, it’s when Callie pouts and says so sweetly, all the innocence in the world, “but we’re a family” that it actually hits you for the first time. 

You, Joe, Callie….you don’t just feel like a family. You are one. 

So you push aside your vanity and swallow back the tears to partake in a slate of photos involving everyone to just you, Callie, and Joe to even just a couple of you and Joe. Your favorites are most definitely the ones with the three of you, especially one where Joe sits you down on his left leg and Callie on his right. He squeezes your side, forcing a squeal and laugh that makes Callie laugh as well, creating such an organic, beautiful moment between the three of you.

A family.

—-----------

The night keeps on bringing more and more surprises, the latest one being the fact that instead of hiding out backstage, you, Alexis, and Callie are seated ringside in the VIP section with other family members and close friends of the wrestlers. 

It’s…..definitely not what you expected. You’re not opposed, especially since Callie was thrilled to learn she’d be much closer to Joe out here than she would from the back, but it’s just not what you were expecting.

It’s so…..public.

“How long does it take someone to walk out like da—”

“Alexis!” You scold her, even if you slightly agree. It’s not that you’re not enjoying yourself. You are. You just would much rather see your man, and you know Callie feels the same way. Every so often she’ll lift her head from her tablet, hoping to see Joe only to be disappointed.

You tried to tell her that as soon as she hears his music, he’ll come out, but that was nearly 45 minutes ago. A part of you wishes you could have found somewhere backstage to hide out as Joe and the others eventually had to leave to cut a promo.

So while Alexis' delivery is slightly off, she has somewhat of a valid point.

Rolling her eyes, she looks your way, asking. “Can you text him and tell him to hurry up?” 

Shaking your head, you answer with just as much sass and sarcasm. “Yes, I’ll get right on—”

And that’s when you hear it. 

“Oh shit,” Alexis pulls out her phone, instantly starting to record because this whole trip apparently needs to be memorialized with photo and video. Not that you’re entirely or in any way opposed. This is Callie’s first time at one of her dad’s shows. It’s special and should be documented in one way or another. 

Looking to your side, you see her tablet is on the empty seat next to her, and she’s reaching for you to pick her up so she can see better. 

Quickly obliging, you hike her on your hip and laugh at her excited expression. Her eyes are scanning all over for him, so you direct her to where he should be walking out any minute. 

“I wonder whose music that is,” Alexis teases, and you turn with Callie to face the phone that’s capturing this moment. 

Callie answers proudly. “My daddy’s!”

You and Lex laugh at her excitement that grows exponentially when Joe finally walks out, flanked by his cousins and Paul. 

“There he is!” She points, and you smile, kissing her cheek. This is all so worth it, the pure joy and glee on her face. You follow her line of vision, focusing on the Tribal Chief himself.

Damn. 

Joe is one fine ass man. That’s it. That’s the tweet. But when he’s in his Roman role? That confidence, that swagger……everything sexy about him is amped up times ten. You may have to rethink your stance on no sex for this trip.

It feels almost criminal to be around this man and not ride him until you can’t no more.

The naughty thoughts are temporarily pushed away when you notice Callie is nodding her head to Joe’s entrance music. Laughing, you and Alexis join in. Lex is still recording, and you’re actually happy she is because she gets it on camera when Callie throws up the one to ‘acknowledge' him. Your heart swells. There’s something about that moment that’s so precious to you, to see how connected she feels with him. How closely they’ve bonded. How much she loves him. And even more, how much he loves her.

As they near the ring, you notice how Joe branches off from them, and you assume it’s because of whatever this promo entails. But, you quickly realize it’s because he’s headed toward you. There’s this brief sense of panic on your end, meanwhile Callie gasps in excitement and reaches for him. Joe hugs her and kisses her temple. Touched at the gesture, you look at her only for Joe to take you by equal surprise when he grabs your chin and kisses you as well. 

What…..the…..hell?

You’re not upset, just genuinely surprised that he would be so openly affectionate with you, maybe not Callie as much, but definitely you. So….public. You’re certain that your face is painted in shock the whole time, but it’s when he heads into the ring that you and Alexis share a look, Callie too focused on her daddy to notice anything else.

“Girl, if you don’t tell that man you love him, I’m gonna tell him for you.” She could be joking. She could be serious. You never really know with Alexis. “Because he literally just acknowledged you in front of all these people.”

There’s still a part of you that’s having difficulty processing what just happened. You were worried that Joe would feel some type of way about you and Callie coming to his job, just staying backstage, but this man really has you both ringside and broke character just to show you and Callie affection. 

If there was ever any doubt in your mind regarding his feelings for you, tonight has completely demolished it.

Alexis is right.

You need to tell him. 

And you need to tell him tonight.

________

As much excitement as the day has brought, you knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up to your still very young child. Joe’s segment with The Rock ended up being the closing promo, which worked out great because Callie started to doze off a bit right around that time. And when you’re finally able to reunite with Joe backstage, she’s all but sleeping in your arms. 

In having to buckle and unbuckle her in her car seat for the travel to the hotel, she stirs a bit, but as soon as you arrive and Joe removes her from the car seat, the end of the travels, you know she’s out for the night. 

He carries her into the hotel room and walks her into the main bedroom while you place the bag you have for both her and yourself near the “living room” area. Joe insisted he could handle both the luggage and Callie, but you insisted that he instead focus on your little girl.

You also take a moment to take in that this is an actual hotel room instead of an apartment. There are literally two bedrooms separated by doors and all and two bathrooms, both of which rival the size of Callie’s bedroom. 

It’s definitely not your local motel from back home.

Joe walks back in, no Callie in sight. “She is knocked out.”

“I knew she would tap out eventually. She’s been up all day, refused to nap.” He walks over to you, hands on your hips as he tugs you close. Your hands move to his chest. “She was too excited to see you.”

“Thank you, by the way,” he murmurs. “For bringing her.” 

You chew on your bottom lip. “I almost didn’t. I—I didn’t know if you’d be upset I didn’t ask you first.”

His furrowed brows tell you that couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Why would I be upset?”

You shrug, suddenly unsure of yourself, which is such a foreign feeling. Confident is always a word you’d use to describe yourself, but in this moment, having this discussion, it’s not as applicable. “I guess….I guess I wasn’t too sure if you’d want people knowing about me.” Your voice softens. “About Callie.” 

And it’s true. It’s one thing for Joe to be out in public with Callie back home, but it’s an entirely different thing to be out in public in his world.

Granted, his public display of affection tonight should have squashed that concern. 

Just your implication alone seems to be a dagger to his chest. Joe brings his hands to your face and speaks with such confidence and conviction. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not ashamed of us, and I’m damn sure not ashamed of my daughter. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. Do I want to do an exclusive interview about us? Hell no. But, that’s because my personal life is nobody’s business but my own. I’m not hiding your or our daughter from anyone in my personal life, not my friends, not my family, and not the WWE.” 

For a second, you feel bad for making him have to defend himself so staunchly, have to explain himself. It’s not necessary. 

Not after he so openly acknowledged you and Callie tonight. 

“I believe you,” you respond quietly. You move your hands up and down his chest in an effort to settle him. “I know you’re not ashamed. I’m sorry.” Remembering the video from earlier, you pull your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. Locating it takes a matter of seconds. “I figured you’d like this.” You hit play and angle the phone so he can see, a massive smile growing on his handsome face. It’s like you can feel the tension melt away when he lays eyes on Callie. 

Similar to yourself, he seems especially moved by Callie’s “acknowledgment.” You lay your head against his chest, whispering, “she really does love you, ya know.”

Just like her mama.

Video finished, you bite on your bottom lip, an idea crossing your mind. Such weak resolve indeed. “You know, she sleeps heavy…..very heavy.” His eyes narrow, intrigued by where you’re giving. Smirking to yourself, you head toward the bathroom. “I think I’m gonna go take a bath in that nice big tub that could totally fit two people.”

In what seems like inhuman speed, Joe is in front of you, hand coming down on your ass. Hard. “Joe!”

“Get your ass naked. Now.” ________

His head is in the crook of your neck, lips pressing gentle kisses against the wet skin of your shoulder. You chew on your bottom lip, hands on top of his that rest under the water on your stomach. 

“I always miss you too,” he murmurs against you, a nod to the brief conversation from earlier. Eyes closing, you rest your head back against his shoulder. 

This moment is perfect, and you hate to ruin that, to take away from it. But, you also promised yourself that you would be honest with him, especially when it comes to Callie. 

Turning around in the water, you straddle him, legs on either side of his large body. Before he can take your change in position to mean something else, you bring your hands to his face. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

You’re certain he can tell by your tone that whatever it is is serious. “Tell me.”

Fuck. This is harder than you thought it would be. “I wanted to see you, yes, but Callie….Callie needed to come see you.” You can tell he has questions, so you move straight into it, not wanting to delay the inevitable. “She’s been…she’s been different.” He sits up, fully immersed in the conversation. “Not bad, just….she’s been irritable with me at times. Even her teacher said something. You don’t see it, because she’s fine when she talks to you, even after. But when she can’t talk to you….” You shake your head. “I talked to my mom about it, because I was thinking she’s finally feeling whatever I caused when I ran off that night, but….that’s not it.” 

You made the executive decision to not tell him, however, about her drawing or how she cried into your chest because she missed him so much and couldn't understand why he hadn’t come back to see her. This already must be hard for him to hear. There’s no need to throw salt on the wound. 

You know the full truth would crush him.

“So then I talked to her.” You lower your hands to his broad shoulders, massaging them soothingly, voice softening as you finally tell him, “---and she told me she’s been sad because she misses you.”

You see it. The moment his heart drops. He’s crushed, eyes averting downward. His guilt is almost palpable. 

“Please don’t do that.” Voice gentle, you bring your hands back to his face, urging him to meet your loving gaze. “You have done such an amazing job stepping into the father role, and it shows in how much she loves you. You go above and beyond for her. She just can’t grasp what it is you do because she’s too young to do so, but I talked with my principal, and I’ve got the time to take off, so I’m gonna take it. I’ll bring her to you.”

“Y/N….”

“It’s not an issue. Especially since summer will be here before we know it. I’m off then too, so we can make that work. We will make this work, because she’s our daughter, and that’s what parents do.” Your words are partially penetrating, that much is obvious, so you continue. “I really didn’t want to say anything, because I knew you would feel bad, and you absolutely shouldn’t, but I also don’t want to keep anything from you, especially when it’s about Callie. You’re her father. You have a right to know.”

“It’s why you didn’t tell me you were bringing her, because you knew I’d ask,” he puts two and two together. You’re not surprised. Joe’s always been annoyingly perspicacious and insightful. “Thank you…for telling me.”

Kissing his forehead, you remind him, “Calista loves you, Joe. Whether you’re in town or not. You could be doing a show on fucking Mars, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. She loves you.” You lick your lips, voice unintentionally light and soft. “And so do I.” It’s not a planned admission, not anything scheduled, just an honest, organic confession.

His gaze is on you, no longer as despondent but replaced with something more akin to surprise. 

“I’ve always loved you.” You bring your palm to his cheek, his beard prickling against your skin. “The only reason I told you to leave was because I loved you, because it was too hard to be in love with you and not really be with you. And after all this time, I still love you. I don’t think I ever stopped.” 

It's the truth. In the time he'd been absent from your life, you absolutely could have found someone and moved on. Maybe even settled down, but you couldn't. Because your heart was still with him.

You're pretty certain your heart will always be with him.

“That was my fault,” he acknowledges in a low voice. “I never told you what you meant to me, never took the steps to make you mine. Officially. And I was wrong for that, Y/N. Dead wrong. You always deserved better.”

Gaze softening, you murmur, “I always knew you were married, Joe. You never hid that from me.”

He shakes his head. “But I never—”

“It doesn’t matter—” it’s not entirely true. It does matter to you, you still want and maybe even have some degree of right to know just what the deal was with his marriage, why it took so long for him to divorce his ex-wife. However, at this moment, you don’t care about any of that. This isn’t about that. “I love you, and you love me. That…..that’s what matters.”

He looks like he still has more to say but is being respectful of what you want right now. So he asserts, “you’re with me now.”

“I’m with you now,” you repeat with a soft smile. “I’m with you always.”

Joe sits up, water pushing towards the other side of the tub. “You love me.” It’s more of a statement than a question, like he’s always known as such but was patiently waiting for you to openly admit to such. “I love you too, baby girl.”

Your lips connect for a kiss, passionate, hot, sensual, greedy. His hands are on your back, holding you close, your breast pressed against his chest. 

Your mouth parts when he moves his hand to your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he plants wet kisses down your jawline. “Let me make love to you.” His lips are fire against your wet skin, and you can’t bring yourself to answer with his hands roaming your body under the water, fingers parting your folds.

All you can do is nod eagerly. Joe surprises you when he ensures your legs are locked around him, standing up like you weigh next to nothing. Bodies dripping with water doesn’t make a difference to him as he walks you into the empty bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him, and lays you down on the bed. 

“Baby, we’re all wet,” you point out, not that it changes anything. He’s hot and hard against your thigh, and you feel yourself subconsciously inching down to take him in. “We ca—ahhh.” Your fingers scrape down his chest as he sinks into you. You’ll never get over the feeling of him inside you, the equally painful as it is pleasurable stretch.

“Joe….”

His head is in the crook of your neck. “It’s always been you.” His hands go to your legs, your thighs, spreading them further, deepening his reach. “Always.” 

He pins your hands above your head, by your wrists and you writhe under him. His pace is slow and intentional. This isn’t about either of you getting off, it’s so much more, much more deeper, meaningful. 

“You’ve always been my home.” But, it’s when he says that, so beautiful and vulnerable, that any remaining resolve you had shatters. Tugging on his grip, he loosens his hold and your hands push lightly on his chest. You give enough pressure for him to recognize you’re trying to switch positions. In seconds, he’s on his back with you on top, lips connected with his for a sensual kiss, your hands intertwining again above the pillow as you ride him.

You break the kiss, unable to keep in your moan. He feels so good inside you like this, and you lean back, moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. You know he loves you like this, riding him, breast bouncing as he meets your thrusts. Joe's hand moves up your stomach to your breast giving a deliciously tight squeeze.

“God, I love you,” you whimper, feeling your release building up. It never takes long with Joe. He’s master of your body and all the ways to bring you to a mewling mess.

You’re taken back when he sits up, tugging you closer, his dick hitting a different, even better spot. He kisses you again, more sloppy, just as passionate. And you moan into his mouth as his big hands plant on your hips, controlling your movements.

“Fuck, Joe.”

“Say it again,” he directs, and you’re momentarily confused why he instructs, “tell me you love me, baby.”

“I love you.” It’s probably one of the easiest things you’ve ever done as your fingers lock in his hair, your head back as he licks up the nape of your neck. “I love you so much.”

Your words seem to send him over the edge as well, his mouth latching onto your nipple as he says against your inflamed skin, “let me come in you.”

That feels like a layered request, like he’s asking two questions in one, not that it makes a massive difference.

The answer is the same either way.

This man has your entire heart and soul, and you’ll give him whatever he asks for. Whatever. 

Your finger knots in his scalp as you yank his head back, forcing him to look at you, “only if you come with me.”

His response is to switch positions again, this time laying you on your side as he fucks you from behind. His hand is planted on your belly, fingers spread and splayed as he talks you through it, carrying you into that wonderland of bliss and euphoria. Your hands scrape against the sheets as your orgasm rocks your entire body, and Joe follows shortly after, emptying his entire seed inside of you. 

Bodies wet and spent, his mouth is still on your back as he breathes into your skin, “I love you….”

Chewing on your lip and moving onto your back, your gaze is on him, loving and content. “I love you, too….”

________

You and Joe take separate showers, a mutual agreement as you both know together would just result in another round. Not that either of you are wholly objected, but you also need to be available for your daughter should she wake up for some reason. Not very likely, but just the chance alone is enough to stay on the safe side.

As Callie is conveniently sleeping in the middle of the bed, you and Joe slide in on opposite sides. Interestingly enough, not even a few minutes pass before Callie stirs in her sleep and moves on her side, facing Joe. It’s heartwarming how he gently caresses her forehead, just watching her sleep. 

“I’ve been thinking.” He makes a sound acknowledging your statement, but his eyes are focused on Callie. You know he’s taking in this moment, recognizing that in a matter of hours he’ll have to leave. That he won’t see her again for another almost two weeks. “What if we moved?”

At that, his eyes lift up, so you explain, “My mom is actually the one who brought it up. I didn’t see or understand it then, but I’m starting to get it now. You come to my place, Callie and I can come to see you here, but….we don’t have a place that’s ours.”

If this trip has shown you anything, it’s the importance of togetherness. Callie is most happy when you’re all together. She’s thrilled to be with Joe, but she’s most elated when it’s the three of you. You understand what your mom was trying to say. Callie wants family. She wants the three of you to be a family, and while there’s a lot of things that are untraditional about your dynamic, there are still paths to normalcy.

And one of those paths include having a home that belongs to the three of you, not just you or him, but a space for us.

“You would do that?” It’s hard for you to tell if his voice is so soft because he’s trying to avoid disturbing Callie or he’s deeply moved by your suggestion. Maybe both.

“Of course.” It’s an easy answer, especially when it comes to what’s best for your daughter. “I can teach anywhere. I have my mom and a few cousins, but that’s it. Almost your entire family is in Florida. You saw how easily she connected and bonded with your family. I want her to have that, and she can’t if we stay in my town. I told you before….she wants to be with you, and so do I.” 

You spent so long wanting and dreaming of having that, you’re entirely done with running and overthinking. It’s done nothing but keep you from being with the man you love and want to do life with. It’s time to focus on now and embrace the future.

A future that includes your family. 

“I’ll have my manager find us a realtor.” 

There’s something so exciting and pleasing about this, most likely that it’s the first step of establishing your future with this man. You’re not sure the last time you felt such peace. 

Yawning, you realize that while you feel exhausted, he must be drained. “Goodnight, Joe.” 

Turning on your back, he wishes you a goodnight and anything else after that is lost to the drowsiness that precedes sleep. 

But, it’s a sleep that doesn’t last as long as you’d like.

Having Callie has made you a lighter sleeper in general, so when Joe gets up and out of the bed, needing to get ready to leave, you’re up shortly after him. You don’t get out of the bed, just move so that Callie is right next to you. You know once he’s gone, she’ll be right under you, so might as well get a head start. 

And it happens much sooner than you’d like it to, Joe on the side of the bed, crouched down, as he goes to wake her up. 

It’s something he was entirely against until you told him that in talking to Callie, she made you promise that he'd wake up to tell her bye. She didn’t want him to leave without getting a chance to say goodbye. 

So, he respects that.

“Callie…” You can see he still hates this, hates all of it. You feel it too. It’s not enjoyable having to see these two separated when it’s obvious how close they are. At the end of the day, you get to go home with Callie. He doesn't. “Baby, wake up.”

Helping him out, you give her shoulder a little shake. “Calista, come on, baby, daddy’s gotta go.”

She’s so much like her dad, a heavy sleeper, but finally she stirs, eyes blinking open. And as soon as she sees him, she also knows what time it is. She sits up and rubs at her eyes, moving to hug him. 

“Bye.” Her soft, sleepy voice is both precious and heartbreaking, for a lot of reasons. You try to remind yourself though that she’s bound to be ecstatic when you and Joe break the news to her that you’ll all be moving in together. It’s just a matter of getting through this rough patch.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He kisses her temple and just as you predicted, she tucks herself into your side, readying to go back to sleep. Joe brings his palm to your cheek, “I love you too.”

Smiling warmly, you murmur, “I know....I love you too.” Easiest hello and hardest goodbye has always been such a cliched, overused, corny ass saying to you, but in this moment, you feel it wholeheartedly. “I’ll text you when we get back home.”

He nods, clearly pleased with this. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

That’s the silver lining. There won’t be as much of a stretch of time that passes between the time you get to see him again. And this pleases you as you give him one last smile before laying back down and dreaming of a future that isn’t as far out as you once believed.

It may be just around the corner. 

________

Meanwhile in the Social Media-Verse…..

TRENDING THREADS

#1: R0m@n Re!gns new gf?

Original Poster: Sooooo. I was on Twitter being nosy, and people who attended the Smackdown show tonight are saying that RR stopped during his entrance to hug and kiss some woman and child sitting ringside. Can’t find any photos or video yet but will come back and add any that I find. Anyone got the tea?

Post #1: I thought he got divorced? I could have sworn I saw an article months about that.

Post #2: I saw the tweets too! Someone asked if it was his ex, but the wwe fanboys are saying the woman was too “fat” to be the ex-wife.

Post #3: That’s so interesting, cause I was watching live tonight (from home because broke bitch status) and the camera randomly cut to the commentators which felt like a strange move given Roman’s entrance is so iconic. I wonder if that’s when it happened.

Post #4: Ain’t nobody got no video or nothing? Didn’t happen. That’s not even aligned with his heel portrayal.

Post #5: @Post#4: He broke character clearly…..

Post #6: Omg yes!!! I was there tonight with my friend, and while we weren’t super close, it definitely happened. That wasn’t his ex-wife. Even from a distance, we could see that. And she’s not fat either, just curvy. Super pretty too. Like stunning. And yes, she’s black. 

Post #7: I just saw someone on Twitter who claims to have been sitting near them say the little girl called him ‘daddy’ 😲

Post #8: I thought he didn’t have any kids??? Harpo who dis woman????? 

Post #9: Damn, it must be serious if he acknowledging her while on the clock and playing daddy to her kid. Our man is taken taken, ya’ll. 😪

Post#10: This is wild. I just googled his name plus the word wife and came across like one picture from years back where she attended some charity event with him. I wonder what their marriage was like cause homegirl never went nowhere with this man.

Post #11: A lot of ya’ll must be new because the tea was spilled years ago in a legendary DR thread that he cheats. Apparently the wife did too. Seemed like an open marriage, Will and Jada type shit, just a lot more private and secretive.

Post #12: @Post11: I am new lol What was the DR? I need to know for…..research purposes.

Post #13: @Post12: Lol. Homegirl said he’s packing, the stroke game is immaculate, and that he’s a eater…..had her damn near speaking in tongues, going up yonder. So whoever this woman is….she’s winning in life. 

Post #14: @Post10 That is so true omg. There’s like nothing there. I know he’s very private but damn sis you can’t make at least an annual appearance????

Post #15: That was his whore (mistress) turned girlfriend and the kid is (allegedly) his. She sucked and fucked her way to that “acknowledgement.”

Post #16: @Post15: Whaaaattttt? You sound like you have tea, sis? Care to spill. 👀

Post #17: @Post16: The truth will come out soon enough.

[burst-of-iridescent]

I hate when people say(*writers*) when zuko is an emo bad boy. When zuko acts "emo" and "badboy" as they say it's him reacting to his trauma and abuse as a kid(most of time. Zuko is still badass. But badboy no). Is it an excuse? No. But when zuko is acting that way in canon, his obsession with honor, his yelling, his moodiness, his short temper. That is the product of having his empathy literally beaten/burned out of him by his father(and mocked and emotionally abused by Azula). The reason Zuko is doing this whole thing is because he wants to please his father. Become someone he's not. His struggle of who his father wants to be with who he is. It's because of the abuse of his father and his family. As the series goes on you get more and more flashes of the person Zuko was and the person he can become. By the end of the series it's such a great contrast and Zuko is much more happier because he's with the gaang. His family. He got out of that abusive situation he was in and finally became himself. A dorky, empathetic, caring, skilled swords men, a balanced person. Does he still have moments of anger? Yes. But over all Zuko becomes a fully balanced person.

gasp! but if we don't call zuko a bad boy, however will we make sure people don't get any ideas about shipping him with katara?

jokes aside, you're absolutely right and i roll my eyes so hard when people point to bad things zuko did, or his behaviour pre-redemption as indisputable proof of the kind of person he'd be post-redemption. like you said, a lot of zuko's actions and mannerisms before day of black sun is a direct result of the trauma he suffered, and though that doesn't excuse him - and neither does the show allow it to - discounting it entirely is to erase the abuse zuko endured and how that shaped him.

using the first half of book 3 as evidence of zuko being a supposed bad boy irks me in particular because a) the narrative makes it pretty clear that this is zuko as the worst version of himself, the opposite of everything he actually is and could be, and b) he is stuck in an abusive household at the mercy of his abusers, in an actively life-threatening situation.

zuko knows that he is in a situation where he has no real agency, freedom or control. he knows that aang is alive, that azula has turned him into a scapegoat and that his life will be forfeit if his father finds out the truth. that is an incredibly terrifying and stressful situation to be put in and it's worsened by the fact that he can't even admit it - not just because doing so would mean accepting that he gave up everything that actually mattered in the catacombs to gain nothing in return, but also because no one around him will allow him to do so.

his girlfriend can't understand his experiences or his turmoil and doesn't seem to particularly want to, brushing off his anxieties and encouraging him to stay the course. he is manipulated by his father and gaslighted by his sister, aware deep down that he is entirely under their control and that they have a vested interest in keeping him helpless, yet forced to pretend as though nothing is wrong. he is isolated from the one person who could help - his uncle - physically and emotionally, both because visiting iroh puts zuko in danger, and because zuko's choices have created a rift in their relationship.

all of this compounds the psychological stress zuko is experiencing, forcing him into a constant state of fight-or-flight, and this context is vital to understanding many of the decisions he makes and how he behaves in the first half of book 3.

(this is why i don't agree with the take that hiring combustion man is an ooc moment for zuko because even though i think the idea of combustion man himself is stupid - not to mention disrespectful to the hindu origins it's pulling from - it's a fundamentally desperate move, and zuko at this point is more desperate than he's ever been.)

that's why it's unlikely that zuko post-redemption would behave similarly since many of the factors that contributed to his anger, hostility and moodiness would no longer exist! judging zuko's future behaviour based on a time when he was constantly abused, gaslighted and threatened is just not an accurate or fair means of measurement, especially since we know what he's like at his best. the zuko we see with the gaang still has a bit of a short fuse, sure, but he's also sincere, honest, awkward, shy and far happier than he's ever been. because shocker, people tend not to act the same way in healthy, supportive environments as they do in abusive, traumatic ones. who would've thought?

people who make this argument also usually tend to compare zuko to aang, especially to glorify how aang remains cheerful and peaceful despite his trauma, and... no. just no. first of all, the show barely gives a fuck about developing aang's trauma the way it does zuko's so of course it seems to affect him less, and secondly, there's something to be said about how trauma responses like aang's are a lot more palatable and comfortable for audiences than responses like zuko's, or even katara's in the southern raiders.

anger or moodiness, or wanting to punish the people who hurt you, are not inherently wrong ways to react when you've been wronged and traumatized. praising aang for remaining cheerful and forgiving while calling zuko a bad boy for being angry and moody implies a sense of moral superiority that comes with reacting to trauma in the "right" way, which is both inaccurate and insensitive.

zuko will never be aang, and that's fine. he doesn't have to be. he ends the show reclaiming everything his abusers tried to take from him, having found himself and his destiny, in a place of healing that is all his own. that is an incredibly meaningful and powerful narrative, and the last thing zuko deserves is to have all of his complexity and development stripped just to be reduced to the tired trope of a "bad boy" when he was never one in the first place.

[sinfulpanda16]

Tokyo Rev Boys on Valentines Day

Mikey, Takemitchi, Draken, Mitsuya, Baji x fem reader

Takemitchi 💛

Usually you'd be the one spoiling him with hugs, kisses, and gifts. You both love each other so much but Takemitchi feels like he loves you more than you love him so he decided today he was gonna show you how much he loves you.

So that morning he showed up to your door holding your favorite flowers, some snacks, a huge teddy bear, and lots of candy.

"Hey love. Happy Valentines Day." he says with a gummy smile. His cheeks were red, he's never done anything like this before, so he was a little nervous about your reaction.

For you though was the other way around. No one has ever done this for you, so you were really shocked but nevertheless you loved it.

"Taki, you got this all for me?" you ask. You're blushing quite a bit. This really does mean a lot to you and because no one has ever shown you this amount of love, you worried it might not actually be for you.

Takemitchi grunts, "Yes babe but can we go inside? It's all so heavy." You chuckle and let him in. You take him to your room where he puts all your gifts on your bed and before anything else can happen, you pounce into him attacking him with kisses.

You guys land on the bed and he's laughing from feeling ticklish. A playful moment between the two of you and then he goes to kiss your head, "I love you (Y/n). More than words can express." he says with a soft smile.

You return him a soft smile, "I love you too." and for the rest of the day you guys hung out in your room eating all the snacks and candy.

Mikey 💓

He would buy you a ring. He was never much about showing affection but today is an exception. You make him incredibly happy, it's a feeling he hasn't experienced since he was a young boy and meeting you made him realize that life isn't all trash.

You two come home from a date night at a restaurant. You really liked it but that wasn't Mikeys gift for you. As soon as he closed the front door behind him he picks you bridal style. Surprised you squeal and your lips meet his. He takes you upstairs were he sits you on the bed.

"Baby what's up with you?" you giggle.

He smiles softly "I got you something. It's really important."

You watch him pull out a ring, you admire it. It's beautiful and you can see an engraving in it that reads 'Yours Always'. He begins talking, "My love, this entire time you've been with me you've shown me that there can be light in my world. Before you my life has been full of darkness and negativity and I genuinely thought that there was no such thing as good." he smirks, "At least until I've met you. You're the only one that makes me truly happy and I'm so glad I fell in love with you."

You watch him get on his knee and grab your hand, "So know that I belong to you because if it were anyone else, I would still be living in full violence." He puts the ring on you and then kisses it "I love you sweetheart. Thank you."

A few tears escaped but they were happy tears. Thats all you wanted, to make your boyfriend happy. You wrap your arms around him and pull him onto you on the bed.

Draken ❤️‍🔥

He's been teaching how to ride on a motorcycle and now that you've gotten good he bought your very own bike. He couldn't have been prouder of his baby.

After spending a whole day together and gifting you chocolates and a teddy you say your gonna turn in for bed but he holds your hand to keep you from leaving.

"I have one more gift for you." he says smiling softly.

He takes you outside where you find a (f/c) motorcycle with a red ribbon on it. You gasp and ask him, "Baby is that mine?" and when he tells you yes you jump into his arms, peppering him with kisses everywhere.

You tease him, "You didn't steal it did you?"

"No I didn't steal it. I'm not that kind of guy." he says a bit irked.

You laugh and kiss his cheek, "Alright I believe you for now."

He chuckles, "So, wanna take it for a ride?" he asks with a smirk.

You nod your head eagerly and that's how you spent the last minutes of Valentines Day. Speeding down the empty highway with your lover under the starry sky.

Mitsuya 💜

He's always liked Valentine's day. Even when he was single he liked the love in the air, but now he has you to spoil on this day.

Ofc the first thing you wake up to is breakfast in bed where you'll both eat together. He will occasionally feed you and he will ask you want to do today. If you say you want to walk at the park, go to the beach, get a puppy, or go to the moon he will do it. He doesn't care he's at your service today. Even if you don't want to do anything he will still let you know how much you mean to him. If you don't to do any of the chores he will do them himself.

You decided you want to go to a cat cafe so you both get ready and head to the cat cafe.

He opens the door for you to go inside and tells you to sit at a table while he orders his and your drink for you. When he came back with your drink he got you some heart shaped cookies. You swear he can be so cute sometimes. You chat and laugh with him while playing with the cute cats.

This date has been so cute and fluffy you wanted to never forget it so you two asked a kind barista to take a picture of you guys and since then you both had that picture as your wallpaper.

Baji ❤️‍🩹

He never gave a fuck about this holiday, for the longest time he thought it was stupid. However now he has you and there something he wants to get you.

It was 3 am and he dragged you along with him to commit a back alleyway. "Baji what the hell are we doing here?" you ask clearly displeased with him.

He puts a finger on your lips and tells, "Hush baby we don't want to get caught now." Had this been during the day you would've just left, but this alleyway in the dark looks so dangerous.

He manages to unlock the door to the store he's trying to break and heads inside pulling you close to him. You both go deeper and thats when you realize you broke into a pet store.

A few days back you saw this really cute kitten with Baji and you really wanted to adopt her. However you learned just how expensive she is and had to leave her. Those past few days you've been sulking over her and Baji was getting tired of it so he decided he would help you steal it lol.

With his ski mask he grabs the kitten and hands her to you. "Alright baby lets go." he says heading straight towards the back door to his bike, you following behind him and then speed off.

When you two make it back home you lecture him saying he shouldn't steal and what not but you also love him for going that far for you. You kiss him on his cheek and he smirks, "Yeah yeah I love you too."

[balladofmyramblings]

I’ve seen my fair share of…interesting BOSAS takes (Tigris and Snow’s relationship doesn’t make sense, Sejanus wasn’t important to Coriolanus/Coriolanus’ character, Dean Highbottom was inconsistent, people just called Lucy Gray Lucy instead of LG or something, etc) but never has one irked me as much as people saying the ending was rushed or out of character or didn’t make sense.

The ending is a representation of their whole relationship. Yeah, it’s rushed, because it lasted 3 months and they were prepared to spend their life together after that. No, it was completely in character. Yes, it made total sense, because what else would have convinced Coriolanus to go back, if not the idea that he was safe?

First off, elaborating on the rushed point, be so fr. 1, the book was getting a bit long anyways, and 2, it couldn’t have been long and drawn out. How quick their relationship crumbled and we were shown Coriolanus’ true loyalties shows so much I can’t even begin to explain it, but I’ll try.

It shows how Lucy Gray valued family and trust. She’d already talked about how much trust mattered to her, and she’d been hurt so badly before she needed it. She needs trust, and she doesn’t just need it for herself. She needs to be able to trust him, and she needs him to be able to trust her. When Coriolanus obviously lied about the third person he killed, Lucy Gray realized that neither of those things were there.

It shows how Coriolanus valued himself and the capitol above all else. He was going to, and tried to, kill Lucy Gray. The person who, just 10 minutes ago he was prepared to spend the rest of his life with. He did that because he couldn’t be guaranteed loyalty, and because he realized she definitely didn’t belong to him. Coriolanus’ view of Lucy Gray- that she’s a pet, or something just for him, is entirely effed up and he can’t see that, so he clings to it. He clings to that idea of her being his and when it’s proven false, he can’t let go of it.

Lucy Gray was there when Coriolanus lied to her about the killing, and there was only one person he could have also killed. She was wary of him then, what he was capable of, but she didn’t know for sure where his loyalty truly laid until she saw the look on his face with the guns. She knew then that the Coriolanus standing before her she couldn’t trust, and she knew what that meant, and Coriolanus knew she knew what that meant and he couldn’t deal with the fact she wasn’t completely infatuated with him.

It’s also worthy to mention how easily Coriolanus started to see Lucy Gray differently. He justified his killing of her to himself, as we see in the whole “she’s a victor, maybe Billy taupe was right, etc” page. He thinks that it may have been an act all along, and can’t deal with the fact he fell in love with someone who could turn on him so easily. So he justifies it and makes stuff up and uses all he can to convince himself of the devilish nature of Lucy Gray.

Coriolanus’ deep, unwavering faith in the capitol is shown here so clearly I feel like it’s bleeding into my eyes. He was so ready to leave her (also how he thought she’d be ok with it also proves how he sees her as completely loyal) when he realized he was basically innocent. He is only ever scared of the capitol when it could harm him.

Their whole relationship was a whirlwind, and could never have had a breakup 3 chapters long. It needed to be quick and easy, all ties cut. The fate of Lucy Gray also needed to be a mystery, because nothing else in his life is. The constant worrying of if she’d ever tell, if she’s alive or not, blah blah blah unsettles him just like he deserves it to. We don’t get an answer to if Lucy Gray came back (probably not though), we don’t even get an answer if she’s alive.

In conclusion, the end of BOSAS was very fitting, and though unpredictable and fast, it was right.

[jhuzen]

Hey I just love your study habits story and I was wondering if you’ll ever make a part 2? Because god damnnnnnnn that is my shit

hypothesis testing [m.reader]

paaaart 2! of this trainwreck. i had to take my time on this because my brain cells could not for the life of them remember how people get together normally. so… this is not normal lmao. also ft. our dendro daughter because i love her so much.

𖦹 wholesome moments with nahida contrasting your moment with haitham and kissing :) slight traveler x reader if u squint at that one part.

“I think Alhaitham might be avoiding me.”

Nahida looked up from the dough she was kneading, her bright green eyes looking at you with wonder and curiosity. You stifled a laughter at the young archon (not so much in comparison to your age) — with her cheeks dusted with so much flour and bits of the dough stuck in her hair, it’s not everyday someone sees their archon in such a state.

“How do you mean?” Nahida turned her focus back to the dough, her eyebrows knitting in concentration, but it was clear that she was still all ears.

You looked down on the tofu you were cutting — the traveler had gone and dropped by some ingredients fresh from the stores back in Liyue after you and Nahida made a passing remark of wanting to try a different delicacy. Ever the charming outlander they are, they came back a few days later with a recipe and the ingredients on hand, it was only a shame that they couldn’t stay to help or eat, considering that they were currently busy with commissions as well.

You remembered offering housing them in on a stipend out of your own pocket — to rest even without having to worry about commissions and mora for a few days, but the traveler refused with a red face and ran off somewhere.

Now where were you again? Oh, yes. Alhaitham.

Jumping to conclusions, while tempting as a way to cope through unanswered queries, is not a habit slotted into your head. You were a patient man, looking through the lens of observation, testing a few hypotheses you’ve come up before finally drawing out a theory. Deductive reasoning, if you will. It’s how you worked on your research projects after all, especially despite the fact that inductive reasoning was more encouraged in your discipline sometimes.

And throughout the next few weeks, after your little study session that you conducted in Alhaitham’s home, you started seeing less and less of the man. Which, again, wasn’t that much to fuss over. You yourself placed him in a position of power where he’s not exactly allowed to have a much more leisurely schedule than he did as a scribe for an equal pay. But even then, he wasn’t this busy.

You recalled the few times on his first few days as the Acting Grand Sage — he was busy, but he always had enough time to entertain your whims and review your new research material for approval. He had enough time to spare you an hour or two to indulge his company, even more so when you would bring his preferred cup of coffee from Puspa café.

And now, it seems like every time you were planning to head to the Alhaitham’s new place of work, he’s always unavailable. And on the off chance that you catch his silhouette by the door, the moment you start walking up to him, it’s like he has a sixth sense for your presence and suddenly dissipates into nothingness.

It was… annoying. Bothersome. Troubling. It irked at your very core. It provoked something deep within you that even you have yet to figure out.

Nahida noticed your brooding silence and was kind enough to pull you back into the real world before you make the mistake of cutting your finger instead of the tofu, “Is the situation really so troublesome, [Name]?” Her kind eyes were quick to melt away the coldness that slowly gnawed at you. “Maybe it would help if you voiced it out.” She gave you an encouraging smile and truly you were certain that despite being her caretakers, it’s these moments that reverses the situation at hand.

Something you didn’t entirely mind. You appreciated Nahida’s efforts in exercising the application of the knowledge you’d graciously given her as her tutor.

“I would be remiss if I were to refuse a second opinion. Alright,” you resumed into your cutting, “It’s merely a working hypothesis, however… but it feels as though he has been making a conscious effort not to be around me recently.”

Nahida’s tiny hands cupped a dough and slowly shaped it into something that resembles a ball, “Why do you say that? He could be busy with his new responsibilities.”

“I’m not one to exclude the possibility, of course.” You scoffed a little, leaning back to squint at the recipe propped up by a mere empty sack where the crab roe was. You ought to pay the traveler back, they never said, but apparently, such an ingredient costed them quite the mora. “However, there is a different feel. He has an air of forced ignorance around my presence.”

The Dendro Archon crooned quietly at your words, thoughtful and delicate, as always, “Have you tried to confront him about this before?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

“Ah… then your hypothesis might be just right,” Nahida giggled a little as her confirmation sent a pout to your lips that you seemed to be unaware of doing. “Does it upset you?” Her query was no less than damaging, but the defensive part of your logical brain suddenly flared up. Your muscles stiffened at her question, eyebrows furrowing even deeper with a matching scowl.

“…No.”

“So it does then.”

You had half a mind to tell the Archon that she should stop reading your mind when you can barely even process your own feelings, as ironic as it sounds. But then again, she was great at observing you ever since you and her started being seen as a family unit, closer than ever, and no doubt her jabs at your mannerisms would be on point.

“Could it be that the reason this is bothering you is because… you miss his company?”

A shot in the dark, that’s all Nahida did. But the grip you had on your knife was an indication of her keen observations. And suddenly, your rumination was thrown out of the way as you pieced the puzzles together.

She was right, you missed Alhaitham. So deeply that it actually bothered you; that suddenly it evoked an emotion within you that didn’t register positivity.

“Ah. ”

Nahida’s light giggle echoed in your ear, and you finally resumed into functioning, placing the cut tofu on another bowl and turning to her, “I suppose gratitude is in order, huh?” You asked.

“Not really. It was enough for me to see you look so stunted. I never would have thought that you would be one to get stuck on your own feelings despite deciphering so much of it in your pursuit of knowledge in a human’s emotions.” Nahida laughed with light and airy amusement, “It’s very much like an adventurer that went through the highs and lows of nature, entering every domain, seeking out treasure only to completely miss it in the end.”

You resisted the urge to groan at her words. It was stupid, alright. You were stupid. Alas, it’s nothing you can fault her for. With a fond smile, you reached out to cup her face, wiping away the flour that dusted her cheeks with your thumbs, “Of course. Very much like an expert adventurer making the most amateur mistake.”

“So then, do you know what could have caused his sudden aversion?”

You blinked as your mind suddenly blanked out, “I… never really knew.”

“Wouldn’t it be a good time for the expert adventurer to go on another exploit and find the treasure this time?”

“It sure would… right after we make the food.”

The precious smile on Nahida’s face was quick to lift your mood. Quite frankly, your gratitude is endless towards Alhaitham, the traveler, and the rest for even mustering up the courage to rescue the archon. You of all people least expected that she would be the family that softened you up.

And while you were finally able to lay your feelings to a temporary rest after clawing onto the shreds of sanity (courtesy of Nahida), Alhaitham was not all the better.

What happened the moment Kaveh barged in on your study time was nothing short of embarrassing. Alhaitham barely had enough time to process what happened — well, either that or he had the memory permanently blotted out from his brain. It’s like a defense mechanism, to protect what little of his pride remained that day.

It certainly helped however, especially when Kaveh was around to tease him. The fact that he somehow magically forget what happened on that day was enough to get him by to keep a face so muted of expressions. It was the best that he can do to stay grounded in his sanity.

But even that was slowly chipping away the moment he realized just how present you are in his life. He became minutely aware of your presence more than ever, to the point that he thought that you were actively seeking him out. And well, you are. You searched for him everywhere and all he ever did was take three steps out of your peripherals and hide.

Alhaitham could never view the act of confrontation cumbersome. He treats it like an ordinary conversation, but there was a lingering smidge of satisfaction when the person he’s currently grilling with interrogation squirms under his gaze so uncomfortably. It’s especially indicative that he’s succeeded in picking the right person to corner, knowing that they will break and he will get his information not long after.

But it was different with you. A confrontation with you eluded him. It was something that he wanted to actively avoid. Alhaitham never charges into a battlefield without strategies mapped out in his mind. In every plan he conceives, there is a backup, and in every backup he’s created, births another backup for said backup. It’s ridiculous, but convenient most of the time.

However, you were a foe he’s actively aware not to engage in.

Though Alhaitham has to wonder if you were really a foe… or were you an indispensable ally. So indispensable that he can’t even afford to make a move out of fear of losing you. But his mind had to counter that logic — whatever he’s doing right now, surely it’s a way to lose you as well. By now, you’re bound to be aware of his active avoidance of you, and the thought of you realizing he wasn’t worth your while somehow left a bad aftertaste.

His hand flexed, gripping his writing tool tightly as his lips turned down into a scowl. He hated to entertain such an irksome thought, but now it presented itself as an intrusive thought of his. One that would be sure to keep him up from nights on end.

Isn’t he just lucky that you were a researcher? And if there’s something a researcher is, it’s that they’re persistent to get answers.

And isn’t he even luckier that you were already on your way up to his office, with a determined glare settled in your normally neutral gaze?

Alhaitham was all too distracted by his thoughts of you, that he didn’t even consider looking up from the myriad of migraines that manifested in a form of paperwork, completely missing that it was you who now barged inside his temporary office.

You didn’t even expect Alhaitham’s presence in the office. With all his time spent avoiding you, you already mapped out other potential locations that he could be in. But you checked the office in the off chance that he was inside. And maybe it was a blessing from the wise archon whom you just confided to, but Alhaitham was in his seat, signing away, giving approval after approval of every research sent to him as well as handling certain changes in the law of the city as per Nahida’s request.

The Acting Grand Sage never bothered inquiring the business of his unwanted visitor. All he wanted right now is to go home and rest and maybe think rationally about his feelings that were repressed for far too long. It was going nowhere and he had a dislike for things that lead nowhere and make him unproductive all the more.

One can only imagine the surprise when you slammed your hands on the table, the action echoing within this glorified space. Alhaitham looked up abruptly, only then wishing that he had been more prepared.

You came and he had no battle plan.

“What are you…”

“Why are you avoiding me?” You cut him off with little remorse, leaning further in and Alhaitham had to lean away from you, feeling overwhelmed. You didn’t even bother with the pointless small talk that you would indulge yourself in. You just went straight for his throat with no mercy and Alhaitham had no choice but to face the blade of truth.

He reconfigured and answered you with a question instead to buy time, “What makes you think that I—”

Your patience was running thin and that much could be sensed in the tension that wafted between you and him, “Don’t give me that. You’re elusive, but you’ve always given me the time of your day. And suddenly you retracted that privilege and I want to know why, lest I take you to the borders of Fontaine and have you tried in court.”

Alhaitham was dumbfounded for once. You… of all people, thought that his attention was a privilege? He couldn’t push down the feeling that welled up inside him — it was something good. And the fact that you were unhappy from such a ‘privilege’ to be revoked. Alhaitham had to restrain himself from biting on his lip, settling for a quick jaw clench to relieve the tension you suddenly placed on him with your incredibly direct words.

“Tell me,” you urged and swatted the quill away from his hand, shucking away the research paper that he was currently. And true to your eccentric fashion of doing things, you climbed over the pristine wooden desk just to get to him. You really weren’t risking a chance of him sliding out if you take a moment to go around that humongous desk.

Alhaitham had to keep himself still and maintain a strong will as your shoes hit the ground, finally leaving him no room for escape as you caged him in the seat — hands on either of his thighs, squeezing them so tightly.

“Talk and I’ll replace your position as this nation’s Grand Sage.” You bribed and he had to wonder if you were only dangling the bait in front of him, or were you desperate enough to offer and act on it.

“Why do you… even want to know…?” Since when did Alhaitham feel so breathless?

“I’ve been deprived of something I’m looking for, ‘Haitham. It took me just a word from the wise to realize how much I’ve missed your attention,” were you really planning to murder him right then and there? Your words are so cutthroat and merciless that Alhaitham was almost gasping for air.

Even from the comfort of his chair, he was unable to retreat and reconfigure strategies like he intended. He was melting from your gaze, like a candle burning through its fiery wick that was you. At this point, there was even no denying that you wanted answers. And Alhaitham wished he could give them, but to do so would put him in a path where there is a point of no return; a roadblock he can never come back from; a decisive factor that could dictate whatever kind of friendship he has with you.

And there is nothing worrisome with exercising caution as often times he himself would rather lay back down and let all the pawns do their work for him, only letting him reap the seeds he had sown through the tools that he has. But you… you were no pawn, you were a player in this game and he hated it.

You exhaled sharply through your nose — a telltale sign of your resignation. Oh how foolish Alhaitham was to think that you were letting him off just like that.

“…I’m no mind reader so I can’t possibly guess what’s going on with that head of yours,” you said and Alhaitham agreed. “And it’s clear that there’s no drawing out that answer out of you.” He would’ve nodded if he wasn’t too overwhelmed with you.

And suddenly a dangerous glint appeared in your eyes, “Sometimes I forget I’m capable of assessing people’s emotions.” A wry laugh escaped from your lips and Alhaitham was back to keeping his guard up as best as he could. “I hope you’ve read my papers about the physical manifestations of one’s psychological state, Acting Grand Sage, because I’m about to give you a demonstration.”

Regrets and Alhaitham don’t often cross paths in his life. Every action of his is carefully calculated and is conducted with his best interest in mind. And most of the time, everything turns out in his favor. He’s smart and strong (despite his dubious claims of being a feeble scholar, whatever that meant). But at this very moment, he had no choice but to face a mistake of his — that he and his pride refused to tell you that you occupy his mind at a copious amount, unable to sleep without even seeing you, going even worse when you did.

He didn’t tell you that your presence affects him so. That there’s something with the way your headstrong approach contrasted his roundabout and cunning styles, immediately uprooting the millions of plans he’s made with just one word from you.

All of that was all he could think of to keep him sane from this ordeal. But no, it wasn’t enough to numb his senses.

Not enough to block out the feeling of your fingertips lingering on the skin of his bicep, palpating his muscles with little regard to his apparent psychological being. You said you were only assessing him, but right now, all he ever wanted was to go and bury himself to save some skin.

“Tension on muscles — usually indicative of strong emotions… often unease… or…” your voice was quiet, but Alhaitham figured it only lessened from how all he could ever hear is the blood rushing in his ears. “Are you uncomfortable, ‘Haitham? Or are you excited?”

The jaw clench from the man was all you needed to know, “Hm. The latter.” You concluded and Alhaitham almost shot up from his seat, ready to protest but couldn’t even find the energy to do so. He was far into deep. And at the very least, he can just prepare himself from the tragedy that he created.

Easier said than done.

Especially with the way your hand slowly traveled to his chest, your touch shielded by his thin and tight shirt that hugged his figure. You felt your way around and a wail almost spilled out of his mouth, much to his indignation. You narrowed your eyes at him, as if you were chiding him from holding back on you — or was it just his imagination?

“Accelerated heartbeat, rather strong too.”

Alhaitham may not always be right in deciphering you, but he knows that look of yours. That look that you make when you’ve pieced everything together even with what little clues you have in your arsenal.

Before you can even speak, Alhaitham already averted his gaze, the back of his hand shielding his mouth as the final clue made itself known — the heat in his ears spreading to his cheeks, coloring them in a rather endearing bright shade of red.

“…You’re insufferable,” was heard from the Acting Grand Sage, muffled from his hand.

“Am I? When you’re the one who made me go through the assessment? You’re far more troublesome, Alhaitham.” Your hand left his bicep, opting to remove his hand away from his mouth, and yet your oh so devious hand either forget its place as it never left the plush mounds on his chest. “Are you ready to hear your results?”

With a half-hearted glare sent your way, Alhaitham didn’t even bother to stop you.

Didn’t even move when you leaned so close, breath ghosting over his lips, “Your uncertainty in our interactions, the way you always seem to give me enough time of your day yet avoid me at all cost. The idiotic push and pull that you do. It’s a way to cope, isn’t it? A cope from your attraction.” He had to suck in a sharp breath as the final words left your lips.

“You like me, Alhaitham.”

With one last bout of confidence, Alhaitham scoffed, “Aren’t you confident today?”

You grinned, “Confident enough to reciprocate your attraction too, as it seems.”

That quickly threw him off the loop, his lips quivering as he looked at you in pure, unadulterated surprise — but even he was unable to recuperate from the initial shock as you quickly pressed your lips against him, swallowing whatever possible refutation he could make.

His hands flew to your arms this time, clutching tightly as his mind frantically scrambled to kiss back, only to realize that he barely has any experience in the first place. And it was like you were even painfully aware of this fact as you took on the lead, letting him follow you through the movement of your lips. His breathing ran ragged and perhaps it was his slowly depleting oxygen, but he soldiered on even with his labored breaths, wanting to get a taste more of you.

Far too addicting, that’s what you were. You sent him into overdrive as you licked his lips so sensually, leaving him weak in his knees and on the brink of collapse, but you held him there, hiking him up and letting him lean onto you as you vigorously attacked his lips, biting and nipping so mercilessly, glee injecting itself into your bloodstream like a drug as you felt him squirm under your touch.

An uncharacteristic squeal was emitted from Alhaitham as your stubborn hand on his chest gave a gentle squeeze, almost knocking the little wind left out of his lungs. You finally granted him mercy as you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips with his as the one piece of evidence that you messed him up in such a way.

Your thumb swiped over Alhaitham’s wet lips, finding it strangely endearing to him so pliant, “You’ve never kissed anyone before. That’s strangely adorable.”

He scoffed, “Like you have.”

“Oh? You don’t know what kind of research methods I’ve done behind the scenes, Acting Grand Sage. You’ve no idea how many men and women I’ve kissed for the sake of research.

Alhaitham frowned. If you were provoking him, then you sure did prove yourself to be far more successful than you thought. Something about the thought of you mingling with others left a sense of dread within Alhaitham and he could not stomach it. He took your coat by the hand and yanked you down, “I’m willing to strike those words from the record if you quit these methods.”

“Bribing the researcher now? That’s rich.” You leaned back in, and gave his nose a peck. “Though I don’t particularly mind. I like you anyway.”

He refused to lose to the likes of you and yet here you are already staking your claim over him with a confident smile, he huffed, “Make it worth my while then.”

You closed the gap between your lips with a hum.

“I certainly will.”

“Hey, Alhaitham you jerk! I need to—!”

For the second time, Kaveh’s inappropriate timing had struck, entering the office as the lift arrived at the very top. He bustled in with a fuming look, only to stop dead in his tracks at such a scandalous sight. And this time, it wasn’t even remotely indicative in nature like the last. Here was his stoic roommate, legs spread wide with you in between them, lips barely leaving each other as you both turned to him.

Kaveh can only hope that this is the last time he catches you two alone in a room… lest he finds an even more unflattering scene on the third time.

Because in this case, the third time is most definitely not the charm.

[unamused-boss]

How we met

Billy Harvgrove x Phoebe Levin

Summary: The day Billy Hargrove found Phoebe Levin changed his life forever. The day he met her was one he would never forget, literally. Like how can you forget that.

The minute that Billy stepped out of his camaro into the Hawkin’s High School parking lot he knew that this was gonna be the absolute worst part of his entire life. Girls were already gawking him like a piece of meat given to a pack of wolves. The guys were sizing him up like they thought they had a chance at winning a fight against him. 

“Jeezus, smells like cow shit here.” He muttered as he made his way into the high school. Once his boot made contact with the tile floor of the school he was swarmed with wannabes and thirsty girls.

“Hey man, I'm Tommy. We’re gonna be great friends.” One freckled faced freak said to him.

“Hello~ I’m Tina, it’s so great to meet you.” Some brunette flirted.

“Heey cali boy, how does the countryside feel?” Some rando said.

‘Holy shit, do these guys have anything better to do?’ Billy thought. ‘It's not the worst, I already have them like putty in my hand.’ He smirked, he already had a majority of the school's population on his side. This could not be as awful as he thought it was going to be. If these guys are like this just by his first day then Billy can’t wait for what will happen throughout the next couple of months. 

Which is what happened, Billy soon became the new King of Hawkins High School. He had everyone eating from the palm of his hand. The parties were nothing like the ones in California but they were a good way to distract him while being here. And every girl here wanted in his pants, which he let them but soon left them right after the deed was done. 

The day started off as any other day. Billy was late to his first period, as perusal, taking his seat with a very irked teacher. As he was about to start his normal routine of ignoring everyone around him a glint caught his eye. He turned his head to see a girl decorated in long earrings and glittering necklaces. She had pale skin and hard dark hair. Her eyes looked bored but still tried to pay attention to the lesson at hand. She wore dark clothes, her stomach was out, and the closer Billy looked he realized she didn’t have a bra on. She looked wild. Her hair somehow kept and unkept at the same time. Something about her was drawing him in, like a wave to a surfboard.

“Can you stop starring?” She broke him from his thoughts. No enthusiasm in her tone, she was not happy whatsoever that he was staring at her. Why was she not giggling at him like every other girl?

“I’m Billy.” Billy tried to introduce himself. Pulling his classic charm to win this girl over.

“I know. Now stop talking to me.” She simply put.

“What?”

“I said stop talking to me, you are someone I do not want to speak to.” She was getting frustrated by his presence. That’s bullshit, the only person that was supposed to get annoyed by him was Hairrington.

“I’m trying to flirt with you, you know that right?” He asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Yes it’s very obvious, so why don’t you stop and go back to the other girl next you that you flirted with all last month that has not stopped staring at you since class started.” Now you were over him. If your tone didn’t put it straight in his face that you were not having anything he was giving; he turned around to, in fact, see the said girl staring at him. Then the bell rang just as he was going to talk to you again. But you were out of there without him seeing.

The cafeteria was where Billy saw the mysterious girl next. He just stared at her as she sat by herself. No one was around her, being that her friends had a different lunch schedule then her. His staring didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy or Carol.

“Why are you staring at that weirdo?” Tommy asked him, picking at the food on his tray.

“Who is she?” Billy asked curiously.

“Phoebe Levin is the most peculiar girl you’ll ever meet. Swear to god she is related to The freak sometimes.” Carol scowled. “You seriously don’t want to be around her.”

“Her mom was married to some Russian immigrant dude, probably killed because of his help with the Russian forces.” Tommy laughed.

“Ugh, I don’t know why she is still here.” Carol whined. “Billy there are such better girls in this school than her.” The three continued to stare at the young girl. 

Phoebe knew they were watching her, she knew Billy was asking questions about her. “God give me a break.” She grumbled through the sandwich she was chewing. She heard the sound of fake pompous heels click their way over to where she was sitting. And to no one's surprise there stood Carol Perkins. With a grin on her face and  her caked on makeup.

“Can I help you Carol?” The unenthused girl spoke.

“Hey Phoebe.” Carol smiled, obviously fake. “ I just wanted to check up on you, you seem so lonely.”

“Okay?” Carol just continued to stare at her while she ate.

“You know for someone that has so many cropped tops, you do have a pretty fat stomach.” Carol snied. 

“You know for someone that sucks every other guy's dick except her boyfriend’s, you’d think you’d know how to shut your mouth.” Phoebe retorted. “Are we done here?” Carol just sat there with her mouth agape. Phoebe finished the remainder of her lunch taking her tray to leave. Only for Coral to put her foot out and trip her. Causing Phoebe to go face first into her tray. Phoebe picked herself up, taking the little food she had off her shirt. Walking away unbothered.

“Ugh, You scathing BITCH!” Yell Carol.

Billy watched in amazement. He loved every moment of that conversation, he knew she were different. He didn’t think she'd be this different. He watched as Phoebe made her way out of the lunchroom watching her hips sway as she walked. Carol made her way back to their table huffing and puffing at the interaction she just had. Sitting down like a newly scolded child.

“I told you Billy, you don’t want to be around her.” Carol sneered.

Ever since Billy asked about Phoebe Levin everybody has given every opinion possible about her.

“She is so weird.”

“She’s probably a spy planted for the Russians, maybe that’s why she’s so isolated.”

“I swear she’s done a seance with Munson!”

“Phoebe doesn’t wear a bra, like ever, which is kinda hot?”

“Uhg, she hangs in the library all the time in her dark corner.”

“She always seems like she’s on some psychedelic trip.”

“I saw her walking barefoot through the woods once.”

“Her grandma is a witch.”

“I hear she’s eaten goat’s brain.”

Billy didn’ t give a shit what these people thought. He only knew her name and that he wanted to meet her.

While Billy dealt with his predicament of having to find his belle of the ball in black Phoebe was dealing with her own troubles. Her trouble has names that are Carol Perkins, Hiedi Flanders, Tina Clarks, and Betty Johnson; those four have been giving her hell all week. All for Billy Hargrove having caught his eye on her.

“I swear to everything, I will rip his tongue out.” Phoebe grumbled under her breath.

“Hey it’s alright.” Nancy reassured, “It’s Friday, you won’t see them for two days. But you will be seeing Tom Cruise with me.” She grinned. The both of you being friends was an odd sight to see. A princess and a witch, but you guys have been through thick and thin together. Phoebe was there for her when she found out Barb was found dead. And Nancy was there for Phoebe when her dad died. Only those two know the secrets between each other, that no one else will ever know.

“I guess you’re right.” Phoebe smiled. “I’ll see you after gym… see ya.” Phoebe waved her off. 

Phoebe was making her way to the gym locker room when she thought she heard giggling behind her. She knew what was going to happen, having already accepted her fate of whatever little prank the class bimbos were going to pull on her. Nothing like this will change for her if she stays in this fucking town. Phoebe entered the locker room to her spot by the corner. Putting her stuff away into her cubby then continues with getting ready as normal. Taking off her clothes to put on her gym clothes. Once the shirt was over her head and on her body, this is one of few instances she puts a bra on (ya gotta stay prepared) Phoebe then hears the giggles again. ‘Dammit’ Phoebe braces herself for what is about to come. The expecting rush of cold water comes down upon her; her hair now wet, her mascara smudged and running down her face, the top of her shirt soaked. The giggles turned to full hyena laughter ringing through the locker room. 

“Sorry Carrie didn’t see ya there!” Carol boasted.

“I think she looks better this way.” Tina smirked.

“Yeah, it brings out that washed out skin.” Betty cackled, and I’m the one that gets called a witch. The warning whistle from the coach signaling us to get out of the locker room.

“Come on Carrie, don’t wanna be late.” Carol joked, her and her friends laughed as they walked away. Phoebe did not react. She made no comment. All she did was make her way out of the locker room to the gym for class. Where she saw a familiar mullet head skipping class.

A glare was given to him. Phoebe was tired of the shit she was given. Tired of the attention people have decided to give you for the dumbest reason. To have some meat head think this is the funniest joke on the planet. ‘I will shave his head and make him eat his hair.’ I hate him.

‘Holy shit.’ No one since he has gotten here has given Billy any shit. But the glare that Phoebe gave him. A chill ran up his back. With the unlit cigarette hanging from his lip almost falling out. He has not met a girl like her. Well he has but they usually never speak to him, let alone glare through his skull. 

“Go to hell…”

Phoebe spent her time in gym class wisely. She didn’t tell the coach. Didn’t explain to anyone that asked. She ran her laps. Did every exercise she was told to. She ignored the laughter of the girls that did this to her. Ignored that stares from everyone. However when at her water break Phoebe noticed the janitor’s closet was unlocked, ideas went through her head. If she was going to be treated like this only because some ass is giving her attention. Well they don’t say an eye for an eye for nothin. 

Gym class was let out, since Phoebe was one of the first few into the locker room her plan was already in action. The four bimbo’s made their way to her corner; already dressed in her tank top and long skirt. Accentuating her figure, a figure that many were jealous of or either wanted. The bimbo’s were in their towels going to take their showers.

“Who knew you’d enjoy a cold bath before class.” Laughed Betty.

“Yeah… Now just for you to know…” Heidi said, wickedness pouring from her words as she stepped forward closer to me. She glared at me, “Stay away from Billy, or I will make your life hell.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Phoebe mocked. “I knew I was there when I saw you.” She apparently didn’t like that too much since she turned away from me flipping her hair into my face. Her curly coarse hair from too many perm treatments. But Phoebe didn’t have to worry about that, when across from her she saw the familiar belongings to the girls that were once here. Along with some items that will aid her in her revenge.

Nancy was confused, gym class got out a few minutes ago and she couldn’t find Phoebe anywhere. All she saw was the commotion of the halls. Nancy doesn’t know where she could be. Until…

Billy was getting annoyed not only with not being able to shake off his interaction with Phoebe earlier today but no one would stop bothering him. He can’t stand it, Tommy won’t shut his yap.

“Then I told him to strew off if he knew what was good for him.” Tommy laughed.

“Yep, you got him.” Billy grumbled. He just watched as the people in the halls passed him. Looking for her.

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Are you still looking for her, she’s literally a nobody.”

“Tommy. If I wanted your opinion I’d ask for it.” Billy stated. “ And I don’t-” Billy was cut of by the clicking of running heels.

“TOMMY!” Carol yelled, “TOMMY!” Carol and the other three girls ran up to the two boys. The girls were out of breath but fuming with anger with their arms tightly crossed against their chests. 

“Whoa what is it?” Tommy asked.

“Someone stole from us.” Carol snided.

“Stole what?” Tommy questioned. “You have all your stuff.” He pointed out.

“NO.” Carold came closer to Tommy’s face so no one else would hear. “Someone stole our bras…” Tommy’s eyes widened, he almost laughed at the statement before him.

“What?” Tommy answered. Neither of them noticed the sudden burst of energy in the hallway. People started to make their way to windows and the front of the school. Billy noticed but he waited for the couple to finish. All while being stared at by Hiedi.

“I want you to find them and kick their ass!” Carol screamed. The echo of her words is what stopped their discussion. Carol looked around, along with her little posse, “What are they looking at?”

It was about the same time when Billy and Nancy made their way outside to the front of the school. Pushing their way through a shocked crowd of students, some laughing and some with their jaws on the floor. By the time the two teens made it to the front of the crowd what they saw before them was not what they thought it would be. 

In front of them stood four burning stacks with bras being burnt at the ends.

With what Billy just overheard, he can only guess at who those were. And off to the side stood Phoebe Levin smoking a cigarette lit by the flames. Standing only looking at the crowd before her. It didn’t take long before Carol and the others saw what had happened to their once lacy bralettes. Screaming as they saw the consequences of their actions before them.

“OOHH!” Coral screeched. “YOU BITCH!”

“Exactly!” Phoebe Levin replied. Phoebe then stared at Billy, the same stare she gave him in the halls a while ago. She flicked the last of her cigarette onto the ground, then stomped it out. She only smiled as she passed Carol and them until she was face to face with Billy.

“I don’t know what your game is, but I don’t like it so leave me out of it.” She stated to him.

“I don’t think so, this only made me want more.” He grinned at her.

“PHOEBE LEVIN!” The familiar call of the principle called, she wasn’t getting out of this easily.

“That’s my que…” She said as she left him there.

Billy did not know what else to say. He was glad she walked away because he would have been speechless. Billy knew what he wanted and he wanted her, he wanted to be with her. And he’ll have to work a little harder to get her. He doesn’t mind cause once he has her. He won’t let go.

I hope you like it!

[tinywalkingheater]

I'm on my phone rn and don't have the brain power to arriculate my feelings well rn but to people who say lae'zel is "mean" really puzzle me. like did they play the game? and then half of them turn around and are like "omg astarion is so cute and traumatized." tbh it kind of irks me because lae'zel is such a well written character. yeah she's mean but she's scared. I don't think enough people realize that lae'zel is terrified. she grew up in a society where the weak were killed and where their queen's word was law, no matter what. she wasn't supposed to share the githyanki purification with non-gith, let alone complete strangers. she could be killed for her actions but she still helps you. and when she realizes that vlaakith has been lying and she's now a traitor to her people, she's upset. she's so upset that she doesn't even know what she's feeling. it could be anger, it could be sadness. neither she nor tav can really understand what she's feeling. her life was suddenly flipped into an entirely new perspective and she realizes that she has been lied to since before she could read. and when she figures out that orpheus is still alive, she is willing to do anything to free him and find a new purpose in her life. she doesn't take even a moment to consider what will fulfill herself, she moves on to a new purpose that she can serve.

so yes I like lae'zel and have some strong opinions about her

I might make another post on my computer another time to articulate my thoughts better but yeah

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!” 

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

__

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles. 

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step. 

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving. 

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap. 

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know. 

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn. 

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle. 

So you go with your instinct. 

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are. 

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic. 

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down. 

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice. 

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry. 

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action. 

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder. 

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them. 

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs. 

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover. 

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage. 

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips. 

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.” 

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

[immissingmaxx]

My Mascot //Tendou Satori

Chapter One: Dumb Eagle

Summery: Tendou's life has always been surrounded by volleyballs, nets, and the squeaky shoes of sweaty men. Tendou loves it, always has and always will. But what happens something, or someone, interferes.

•Warnings(?)

Tendou has sensitive/ fragile hands, clumsy reader, antisocial reader, my first fic (thats a warning), UBER short reader

•Word Count: 935

-

"Lets go, Ushijima! Ushijima! Ushijima!"

Usually the cheering of the crowd doesn't get to me. But today it seems everything's pissing me off today. Especially because the coach decided to bench me last minute before the game.

Maybe entirely because I've been benched last minute before the game. All because i forgot my finger tape.

"It's dangerous." "You could hurt yourself."

Since when did they care!? Put me in!

Put me in. Put me in. Put me in! Put me in!!

"Nice kill! Ushijima! Ushijima! Ushijima!"

Its the first break already. Wakatoshi approached me, somehow keeping his stoic facade even being sweaty and out of breath.

"Are you still benched?" Wakatoshi asked me, as everything in this gym has been, it only irked me more.

"Yes! Coach put me in i swear i wont get hurt!" I tried pleading the coach again.

"I know how sensitive your hands are Tendou. You'll definitely get hurt."

"Wait why's he bench again?" Goshiki wiped his face from sweat. Being benched was so last minute no one knew why.

"I forgot my stupid tape thats why! I don't need it, put me in!"

"Wait you forgot your tape? I have some." Goshiki, my sweet Goshiki.

"Really? Where is it? Its in your bag right? Can i borrow it? Ill buy you a bun! Where is it Goshiki?" I pressed Goshiki to for an answer, anything to be put in.

"Uh yeah, i think i left it in the changing room though." I was quick on my feet, if i get it before the end of the break i can play.

"Hurry it up Tendou." The coach yelled after me, but i was already halfway out the gym.

I made it to the locker room in no time, the sweaty stench never got to me, i bet if it was cleaned a thousand times it'd still smell like ass but i dont care. Now to find the tape.

-

Im bolting down the hall, they should seriously put the changing rooms closer to the gym, if im late I won't be put into the ga-

"Ah!" I stumbled back, i bumped into something in my rush, i didn't even see anything.

"Im so sorry, I wasn't looking where i was-" i looked down at the small figure i had knocked down.

An eagle?

Y/n's Pov

Shit.

I took a small nap to regain my energy before i go out and be around other people again. Apparently small naps aren't so small.

If schools not exhausting enough i also have to take an extracurricular if i want to graduate. All the clubs are boring and being around other people have never been my forte. This whole extracurricular thing is stupid i just wanna graduate. But if i need something quick and easy, mascot it is.

Im not sure if i should be thankful i took my costume home or not. I took it back to my dorm so thats i can clean it and make it smell less of other people's socks. But now im running all the way to the gym in a bulky eagle outfit.

The games already started, everyone might me mad at me. All i had to do is show up, jump around excitedly and leave, but i couldn't even do that.

I put my helmet on as i neared the gym. It makes it a bit hard to se but It's just on the right-

"Ah!" I fell back to the ground as i bumped into something.

"Im so sorry, I wasn't looking where i was-"

I guess i bumped into someone as they started rambling an apology, but he suddenly went quiet. The contact knocked my helmet over so i couldn't see a thing.

"No no, it's okay, my helmet makes it hard to see." I pawed at my large helmet, trying to figure out how to fix it. A hand suddenly scooping itself under my arm and lifting me to my feet.

"Your our mascot! Man i forgot we had one." He turned my helmet turned to my face, shifting it to make it comfortable.

I could see him.

Sort of.

A tall, lanky, sort of frayed figure. He was wearing a uniform, i could make out that much, maybe he was on the team.

"Shouldn't you be at the game." He asked me, taking in the sight of my costume.

"Um, shouldn't you?" I questioned back. He froze, suddenly bolting off down the hall.

"Crap the game! I forgot about the game!" He yelled as he ran down the hall. I guess i should follow him.

Tendou's Pov

The game, i totally forgot about the game! Im gonna be late and i won't be put in, no theres only a minute left, i can make it.

Well. I made it.

I jumped onto the court, overcomed with excitement.

"Here.. I.. am!!!" I hoped to my teammates.

"About time. Almost thought we were gonna play without you."

"Yeah, i ran into-"

The crowed suddenly roared with cheers. I turned behind me, it was the mascot girl from earlier. She finally showed up.

She galloped in and jumped around, waving to the crowd. Thats all she's doing, she must not be really into this.

"We have a mascot? I forgot." Goshiki said as we all watched her jump around.

"No one would wear the costume, guess it's too embarrassing."

She continued to gallop and jump down the gym, jumping into a bench and completely falling over it.

"..Yea that is embarrassing." Ohira deadpanned, watching the mascot pick herself up. "That's some dumb eagle."

"Yeah.. dumb."

//

A/n: I skimmed through this a bit, does that count as proofreading?? I hope to continue writing this so lets hope i have the energy to do so🙏

[tenebriskukris]

Oshi No Ko Chapter 157 - My Thoughts/Analysis

Terribly paced chapters really do seem like the bread and butter of this manga for the past few chapters, so the less said about that the better. Let’s get down to business. As always, spoilers for Oshi No Ko 157 below.

The chapter starts off with a pseudo(?) timeskip? Or a series of flashbacks detailing Ruby’s concerts as an idol. One of the larger pitfalls this series has displayed over the various chapters is its inability to both keep a consistent timeline as well as communicate said timeline to the viewer. This would be fine for a series that doesn’t ground itself as heavily as reality as Oshi No Ko, but the massive number of timeskips and large number of events that happen offscreen really make that an annoyance for the reader. 

Another thing that sort of irks me: Showing off these B-Komachi concerts. It’s a shame we never got to see more of them in detail. Kana unfortunately hogged the spotlight during their first public concert, and we never got to see Ruby or Mem’s emotions about performing and being an idol when on stage in more detail. A shame too, since out of the three members Kana is fundamentally the only one of the three who simply is not an idol—she’s an actor. She has the least emotional investment out of the trio about the job and her feelings on it are less about being an idol itself and more about being an idol to get into Aqua’s pants.

And we’re finally back with the twins. Are we going to get any important details on the status of their relationship or the plot or is the manga going to focus on something else? Judging from the first few panels of them interacting it looks like it’s going to be a more casual chapter. 

It’s your first day off in a while. You may want to take a breather with your friends. And the way Ruby and Aqua smile at each other…damn. Makes my heart go all gooey seeing it. How long has it been since we’ve seen Aqua smile? It implicitly conveys to the reader that there’s nowhere else Ruby would rather be than with Aqua at this moment since free time is such a luxury for people in their lines of business.

Aqua drying Ruby’s hair!!! He remembered!!! Interlude 4 seems like such a long time ago. Heavens only know where that takes place on the timeline now that we’ve flashed forward so much since then and without much to ground the reader. 

Is being an idol…fun? This is an interesting question from Aqua. My first impression is that he isn’t really asking Ruby if being an idol is fun—Ruby being an idol is something we’ve seen her actively enjoy and pursue throughout the series. It shouldn’t be a fact that he has to clarify directly with her.

Perhaps what’s hidden underneath his words is: Is being an idol fun after everything that’s happened? Namely, all the stuff that Ruby’s experienced in becoming an idol? I don’t need to turn to read further to already know that it’s a resounding yes. Now that she has Aqua next to her and supporting her—she doesn’t have any hangups. Her own revenge scheme to avenge both Ai and Goro has been fulfilled—even though I have plenty of issues on how it was basically shoved down the readers’ throats offscreen and not enough screentime for it to feel organic—and the person she’s spent her entire new life looking for has been by her side and is now supporting her. There isn’t much more that she could ask for.

Of course, this could also be touching up on something that we saw in Chapter 123: Namely, the fact that Ruby described being an idol as difficult—and not always fun. For all that Ruby enjoys being an idol, it’s still not something that can be considered easy by any means. With enough experience and the right people around her, the process of performing as an idol and all its ups and downs becomes easier, but I don’t think it ever becomes easy. The amount of restrictions that any person with sufficient popularity has in the western world is already suffocating—and it’s even more draconian in Japan where idols are under much more scrutiny than the average Hollywood movie star.

Everything that Ruby did in order to avenge Ai and Goro also slot nicely into this. Ruby going to such great lengths to achieve popularity isn’t something that I see her pursuing unless she was driven by revenge. While playing the industry game is a skill that isn’t widely advertised to anyone that’s looking to get their foot in the door—it certainly isn’t something that can be discounted for anyone within the industry itself. For all the “critiques” that the series has about the idol industry at large, it never quite seems to quite remember that the idol industry is still an industry. Those who can achieve more success than others in similar positions will obviously be able to shine brighter than the rest.

I do wonder though…how much did Ai do behind the scenes to reach the heights of popularity? Ruby was able to achieve success by going beyond what was expected for her as a sheer idol and gaining popularity via playing the industry game—but we never quite get to see how Ai was able to do the same. The obvious answer is that she basically followed in similar paths that Ruby took—since Ichigo was there to advise her—to achieve that level of popularity in a more moderate manner. Just a thought.

It’s also curious to see that Ruby’s mentioning performing at the Dome. Obviously this is setting up what we’ve already seen in the earlier interview flashforwards—a topic that should definitely get a hell of a lot more screentime and quality than the horribly executed Aqua-Hikaru confrontation—but there’s also the fact that we don’t know when exactly B-Komachi’s going to be performing at the Dome. My first instinct is before Kana graduates but at this point who knows. The series and its inability to convey timescales strikes again.

An ordinary day like this is also wonderful as long as you’re here with me. And Aqua smiling again after Ruby says that? Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think we’ve seen the other girls make Aqua smile. I could be completely wrong though, but I don’t want to spend my limited time reading through over 150 chapters in this mid-ass manga just to confirm it. Still, it’s a very cute moment in my book. Aqua definitely could use some more happiness in his life.

A series of snippets of them cooking for Miyako and spending time together. Very cute and domestic. That’s a two page spread of them lying together close to the ending panel, too. And with the same effects as Chapter 143? It’s a cute little touch and reminder that we still haven’t shown Aqua’s reaction to that entire mess. The authors aren’t slick for that detail—I’d much rather have confirmation as to the nature of their relationship rather than leave it hanging in between the margins for readers with less reading comprehension.

The chapter ends with a Miyako appearance commenting on how close the twins are. Nice to finally see her back. I was waiting for the plot hammer to drop during this entire chapter and for something to happen. This chapter almost screams the calm before the storm.

All in all, this was a decent chapter to see after the clusterfuck that were the previous ones—in a vacuum. There’s nothing wrong with a chapter whose only purpose is to take a breather, but placing it just after the key reveals given a few chapters back is just bad form all around. Really, this couldn’t have been done before the massive flashback we got a couple chapters ago? Hell, it would’ve even been slightly better placing this one before said massive flashback and the movie screening since this chapter actually gives dates on its first few pages. Give that sense of time passing, y’know? It’s not like there are a thousand other plot relevant points that need to get touched up on and were shunted offscreen—or were promptly discarded.

That said, it’s so utterly hilarious seeing people try and brush off this interaction as evidence that they’ve transitioned their relationship to be more platonic—especially when they used the same effect that was done in Chapter 143 during the kiss scene, as I’ve mentioned. Kind of the opposite image that the writers want to convey if that was the case, y’know. If it was Akane or Kana who had this entire interaction with Aqua so close to the ending there’d be considerably more noise about shipping and romance and all that jazz.

One final thing I want to consider before I end this off. I wonder if we’ll see another nightmare/dream inside Aqua’s subconscious now that Ruby’s right beside him. I highly doubt it—since the narrative seems to be shrouding Aqua’s inner thoughts and internality ever since the movie arc has started—but it’s a possibility. One that could finally solidify this entire will-they-won’t-they dynamic between the two of them that the series sorely needs at this point for clarity.

[beevean]

I saw the post about Shadow having NPD and your comment on it, and I gotta say, it does somewhat bother me how fans will shove multiple neurodivergencies, personality disorders, mental disorders, etc on characters as if those are just funny quirks and not highly serious afflictions that influence entirely how you can live life and how others treat you. Autism and ADHD are the ones I see most commonly used, but there's certainly more. And it's treated as just a goofy little personality trait, thrown onto characters in the way that you would say they don't like raisins in their apple pie or are fond of the colour red because they wear red clothing at times. It truly feels as if there is zero regard for how such a divergency would actually influence character behaviour, nor how it fits in canon, and any "proof" often is cherrypicked or plain incorrect (e.g. "Sonic can never sit still, ADHD icon!!!" What, Sonic who likes taking naps and reading books in the games, and Sonic X as well? Even in Boom he lazed around endlessly!). I'm all for letting people write ND characters, but it does get irking to see every single character be characterised with Fun Buzzwords™️ like that, no matter how unfitting or stereotyping.

To be fair, NPD is not one of those "silly disorders" like autism/ADHD (they aren't silly either but I hope you know what I mean), which yes are assigned like candy to characters who dare to be quirky or a little naive. I do understand why people with it would want to destigmatize it.

It's the concept of "I am/have X so my fave is just like me fr fr" that makes me raise my eyebrow.

Do you really believe Shadow is a narcissist? Where? What symptoms does he display? Saying stuff like "I am the Ultimate Life Form" is not synonymous with having such an unstable ego that you crave praise like air.

But if your reasoning is not based on canon interpretations at all, but it's just projecting... that's not a headcanon to me. That's just you inserting yourself in the character you like. And, to be very blunt, I am not interested in this game, because I don't know you, and you haven't given me any reason to even consider your proposal seriously.

Saying "Shadow has low empathy but a solid moral code" is very different already. I can compare your statement with canon and agree. I don't know if this means he has a disorder, and I wouldn't assign one to him (I mean, my man is already Traumatized and recovering, I think it's enough), but at least you are making something that resembles an argument and invites engagement.

I'd even take absurd statements like "Sonic has low empathy", something I read once. At least it comes from an interpretation of canon, one I heavily disagree with, but it still has more thought put into it than "he's just like me fr fr"

I probably sound like a bitch, I'm aware. I'm not preventing anyone from doing what they want (although please put more thought into assigning autism to characters because enough of you seem to think that any kind of personality means autism and ND people are just empty shells of assholishness). I just personally am very, very bored of this approach to canon that can be boiled down to "I want my faves to be like me", when for me the fun is reading canon and extrapolating from it.