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michaelsfavgirl · 2 months

Text

fast learner

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: (related to/continuation of innocence) After taking your virginity and focusing solely on your pleasure, Michael hasn't asked for anything in return, leaving you doubting your ability to please him due to your inexperience. Determined to return the favour you ask him to teach you how to give him a blowjob.

Tags: smut, oral (m receiving), dom!michael, sub!reader, first time giving, lack of experience, implied age gap, huge pp, coming untouched, multiple orgasms, fingering, cheesy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: lipgloss dupe (there’s a part where I wanted to write that so bad but thought it’d ruin the moment so I’m telling you here)

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

It's been a few weeks since Michael introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh. Over this period, your hunger for each other has become insatiable. Who knew sex could be this good? Not a day has gone by without his hands on you, making you cum over and over again until tears roll down your cheeks, and he knows you’ve reached your limit.

He’s been oh so gentlemanly and giving. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say he’s been eating you out on an almost daily basis. Especially when your poor cunt is sensitive from all the loving and stretching, he just gently laps at your pussy, his warm tongue making you leak more of your sweet juices into his mouth, all without asking for anything in return.

And that’s exactly what’s been gnawing at you. Compared to how experienced he is in the bedroom, you feel slightly embarrassed. He’s always the one doing all the work, always making sure you cum first, ensuring you don’t lift a finger. As much as you love it, it’s starting to make you feel inadequate.

You want to make him feel good as well, but oddly enough, he hasn’t hinted at you giving him oral in any way. How strange. Aren’t men supposed to be obsessed with it or something? It makes you wonder if he thinks you’re incapable of satisfying him since you’ve never done it before. This sends you into a spiral of overthinking.

While this turmoil brews inside your head, Michael, who’s been lying next to you on your shared bed, notices your furrowed brows. Instantly, he pulls you closer to him, your head on his chest and his hands gently caressing your back. Softly, he presses a kiss to the top of your head and whispers, “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Feeling heat rise in your face, you contemplate how to tell him. As soothing as his hands are, they do little to calm your nervousness. You open and close your mouth multiple times before sighing and saying it bluntly, “You’re always doing all the work in bed and... and it makes me feel like I’m not doing enough to please you too.” You close your eyes and focus on the low sound of the TV instead of the silence coming from him.

Michael’s hand pauses for a moment before he shifts, gently tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. His gaze is soft, filled with understanding. “Oh, baby,” he says, his voice tender. “I love making you feel good. That’s how it’s supposed to be, I wasn’t playing around when I promised to take care of you always.” he smiles and adjusts his body, ready to continue watching the television but you’re not gonna let this go so easily.

“But…” you start, feeling a lump form in your throat, “I want to make you feel good too. I feel like I’m not contributing enough.”

Michael smiles softly. “Sweetheart, you do, seeing your pleasure, feeling your body respond to me—that’s everything. You don’t need to worry about doing anything more.”

“Yeah, but other couples—” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t care what other couples do,” he says, his tone firm but still gentle. “You’re too precious to me. What kind of man would I be if I made you get on your knees for me, hm?”

“But I want to learn how to do it. Teach me,” you say, while looking at him earnestly.

“Another time,” he replies, turning his head back towards the TV.

“What? No, Michael!” You knit your brows together, determined to gain his attention back. You whine and beg, slightly shaking him, trying to get a reaction.

“Please, please, please!” You dramatically clutch his shirt. A minuscule smile crosses his face before he turns up the volume, drowning out your adorable pouts and begs.

“Uh, how dare you? You’re silencing women!” you say, making him laugh genuinely, his lively chuckles ringing through the room. You take advantage, quickly grabbing the remote and turning the television off.

“Please, Michael,” you plead, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He rolls his eyes playfully, looking at you for a few seconds, wanting to see if you’ll falter. But no, you seem very sure about this.

He caves. “Alright, fine, but just know that this won’t be a frequent activity for you.”

Smiling triumphantly, you start to get off the bed. He stops you with a gentle hand. “Stay on the bed. I don’t want your knees to bruise.” You blush and lay on your stomach comfortably, watching as he stands at the edge of the bed right in front of you.

Michael's eyes darken with a mix of desire and tenderness as he looks down at you. “You’re sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod eagerly, your eyes sparkling with determination. “Mhm.”

He shakes his head as he sees you impatiently staring at his crotch. “Alright, baby. I’ll guide you through it.”

Michael stands at the edge of the bed, his presence commanding from this angle. Your eyes are fixed on him, anticipation and hunger mixing in your gaze. He begins to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. When his trousers finally drop to the floor, your breath catches at the sight of his girthy, long cock. He’s even more impressive up close, his thick shaft swaying with his every move, begging for attention.

The sheer size of him makes you salivate, but also brings you back to earth, making you nervous about how you're going to manage to fit him into your mouth. Michael notices the flicker of anxiety in your eyes and gives you a reassuring smile, though his teasing nature shines through as he begins to stroke himself lazily.

His hand moves up and down his shaft with a deliberate slowness, knowing full well how it's driving you crazy. You can already feel the wetness pooling in your panties as you watch him, your body reacting to the sight of him pleasuring himself. He pulls back the foreskin that was covering half of his swollen tip, revealing more of the glistening precum that has gathered there.

Michael steps closer, his cock just inches from your face. He swipes a finger through the precum and looks at you with a playful glint in his eye. "Open your mouth," he instructs, his voice low and commanding.

You obey, your tongue sticking out as you wait, your body trembling with anticipation. He places his finger on your tongue. “Suck,” he says seductively. You do so shyly at first, your tongue swirling around his finger as the taste of him makes you whimper, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

He watches you intently, smirking as he sees how lost in it you are. After a moment, he reluctantly slides his finger out of your wet mouth, which is immediately followed by a whine from you, already missing his taste.

"I've got something better for you to suck on," he teases, his words making your cheeks heat up. You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"First, however, I want you to wrap your hand around it," he says gently. Seeing the slight apprehension in your eyes he gives you a soft smile of approval. You tentatively reach out, your hand wrapping around his thick shaft. You marvel at how warm and heavy it is in your hand, the veins pulsing against your soft palm.

“It’s heavy.” You blurt out of of nervousness and as soon as you do you slap yourself mentally.

He chuckles heartily, “It’s all for you.”

Michael's large hand wraps around yours, guiding you as you stroke his meaty cock. "Just like this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. You feel him swell in your hand, his cock growing fully hard. His guidance helps you feel less nervous, his hand moving yours in a steady rhythm. But then he pulls away, leaving you to stroke him on your own.

You glance up at him, a little panicked, your movements becoming clumsy without his steadying hand. He coos softly, reassuring you, "It's alright sweet girl, you're doing well, go on."

His words bolster your confidence, and you continue to fist his lengthy cock. With each stroke, more precum leaks from his bulbous glistening tip. You so badly want to lick it, but you know you need to be patient. Thus you suppress those needs by rubbing your thighs together, the slight friction making this much more bearable.

"A little faster," he instructs, his voice a gentle command. You nod obediently and pick up your pace. The weight of his heavy cock makes your arm burn, but you push through, mesmerized by the way his foreskin slides over his swollen tip with every motion.

Feeling emboldened by his groans, you give his cock a gentle squeeze. He curses under his breath and smirks, praising you, "Look at you, baby. Didn't even have to tell you to do that."

“So good at this,” he murmurs and throws his head back, “knew you would be.”

You smile shyly, continuing your ministrations. Your hand starts to spasm from the effort, him being the attentive lover that he is, he slows you down, taking your hand off his shaft. Realising what's coming next, you lick your lips in anticipation, your thighs pressing even closer together.

He starts you off slowly, his voice gentle. "Give it a little kiss," he says, his eyes dark with desire. You lean in and softly press your lips against his glossy tip, pulling away you’re left with the remnants of his arousal shining on your lips.

"A few more."

You kiss around his tip, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin. The warmth emanating from him makes your pussy drool. Unable to resist, you give it a hesitant lick. He groans, a deep sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Someone's getting bold," he teases.

You pull away and turn your head to the side bashfully, reaching out, he cups your face gently. "Oh baby, it's alright. Here, open your little mouth."

You part your lips, your heart racing. He holds his cock, guiding his swollen tip to your mouth. Your tongue flicks out, licking the tip of his cock. You sigh at the delicious taste of him, savoring every drop of precum that oozes out. The salty-sweetness leaves you craving more, and you press your tongue against the slit, coaxing more of that deliciousness to the surface. He winces slightly from the sensitivity but lets you continue, his hand resting gently on the back of your head.

Your eyes flutter shut as you lick his tip, lost in the pleasure of tasting him whilst stimulating your clit at the same time. Suddenly, you feel him softly patting his bulbous head against your tongue, drawing you out of your reverie. You open your eyes, clouded by lust, and part your lips wider, tentatively taking him into your mouth. Your lips stretch around him, feeling the warmth and the firmness.

With just the tip in your mouth, you already feel your throat contracting, and breathing becoming much more laborious. He tenderly soothes you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Shh, youre okay. Try to breathe through your nose…relax."

You nod slightly, focusing on his smooth voice. As you follow his words you feel the pressure disappear and breathing become easier. Curiously, you slowly begin to suck on his tip, the wet noises making you feel a little embarrassed. Michael watches you intently, ensuring you're not straining yourself too hard. He lets you explore at your own pace, his desire for your pleasure evident in his eyes.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and innocent. You whimper around his cock at the sight of his head thrown back, silent pants escaping his lips. You bob your head back and forth, his tip already stretching your mouth full. He shudders, the evident inexperience driving him wild. Without thinking, you try to take more of him in, struggling as his girth overwhelms you.

Michael immediately snaps back to attention, pulling you off him firmly. "Just the tip, sweetheart," he scolds, his tone stern. "Don't ever try to take more, don't want you to choke."

You pout, protesting, "But I want to-."

He cuts you off, shaking his head. "No buts. You can barely take the tip. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Rolling your eyes, you take just the tip back into your mouth and continue to suckle. The taste and feel of him make you crave more, but you obey his instruction. Michael watches you closely, trying his hardest not to buck his hips and fuck your sweet mouth. He reminds himself that it's too early for that, and he wants to take care of you.

“Take your time, I wanna savour this.” He looks down at you with lustful eyes. He never thought seeing you pleasuring him would turn him on so much.

Just as you start to feel more confident, your teeth accidentally graze his sensitive skin. Your eyes widen in shock, and you try to pull away to apologize, but he holds the back of your head steady, keeping you in place.

"Do it again," he commands softly, his voice a mix of pain and pleasure.

Uncertainly, you press your teeth against his skin and give him the softest bite you can. As soon as you do, he moans, his cock twitching in your mouth. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting him to be into something like this. If his fat cock wasn't stuffing your mouth, you'd definitely be giggling.

Encouraged by his reaction, you continue sucking, occasionally using your teeth to gently graze his skin. Each time you do, he moans louder, his hips twitching involuntarily. The knowledge that you're driving him crazy fills you with a heady sense of power. You lose yourself in the act, your own arousal building with each moan and groan that escapes his lips.

Michael's hand unconsciously tightens in your hair, guiding your movements as you suckle and nibble on his cock. "Such a fast learner," he praises, his voice thick with desire.

You hum around him appreciatively, the vibrations making him groan. Your lips stretch around his shaft as you suck eagerly, lost in the sensation and taste of him. Internally, you scowl at the reminder that he won't let you do this very often. He's so protective, always concerned about your comfort and safety. But you want to please him, to show him how much you crave this.

Unbeknownst to him, you keep rubbing your thighs together, adding more pressure to your throbbing clit. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, making you more desperate for release.

Michael's pants grow heavier, and he warns, "I'm close." You can see the wheels turning in his head, debating whether or not he should pull out. Before he can make a decision, you grab onto his thigh, your eyes pleading with him not to.

His gaze softens, and he nods, letting you have what you want. "Alright, baby. You can have it."

Determined to make him proud, you wrap your hand around his stiff cock, trying to stroke it in time with your sucking. He chuckles through his breathy moans, saying, "You're so eager to please."

He pulls your hand off, not wanting you to put in more effort than you're already putting in, and starts fisting his cock on his own. Although your jaw begins to ache, you fasten your pace, needily bobbing your head up and down. You watch his gorgeous face, his hair sticking to his forehead, as he tries to keep his eyes open to look at you. As he nears his orgasm, he can't help but gently buck his hips, the pulsing head hitting the back of your throat deliciously.

Your eyes flutter as you let him take control. Your body shakes as your weeping clit begs for release as well. "I'm coming," he manages to say, his voice strained with pleasure.

You feel the hot ropes of his creamy load filling your mouth. You moan around his cock at the taste, eagerly swallowing every drop. He keeps flooding your mouth, the sheer volume shocking you. The sensation drives you over the edge. As you rub your thighs harder together, hitting that sweet little spot you feel your orgasm wash over you in tides. Your hands clutch the sheets for support as you shake slightly, which makes his thick milky cum spill from the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

You do your best to swallow it all while riding out your own high. When he finally pulls out, you look spent—eyes half-lidded, breathing heavily, the bottom half of your face wet with his sticky cum. You look absolutely beautiful.

Michael gazes at you with a mixture of awe and tenderness. "You did so well for your first time," he praises, though his words go in one ear and out the other as you catch your breath. You turn over and lay on your back, staring at the ceiling. He cups your face, gently cleaning off his seed off your mouth. "Hey, sweet girl?" he asks, a hint of worry in his voice. "Was it too much?"

You shake your head but don't say a word, still lost in the lingering pleasure. He notices how tightly shut your thighs are and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. He parts them slowly, watching how they tremble.

He shakes his head, realization dawning on him. "Oh, you naughty girl," he murmurs, slipping his warm hand under your panties and feeling the slickness between your folds. "Didn't expect you to cum from just sucking my cock."

You hide your face bashfully while he slides his fingers through your wetness and feels your clit still pulsing with need under his fingertips. "Let me properly take care of that for you." He slips your panties off, exposing your slick, puffy pussy. His fingers gently part your folds, feeling how slippery and sensitive you are.

Michael's touch is gentle but confident as he explores your cunt. "I’m so proud of you," he whispers, his fingers circling your clit at a teasingly slow pace. You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Please," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "More."

Michael obliges, how can he not when his precious girl did such a good job pleasing him. He slips two of his long finger into your entrance and pumps them in and out of you. His thumb moves to circle your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moan loudly, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. The sensitivity from the last release helping push you over the edge once more.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple, his voice low and husky. "Cum for me again." You feel the tension building in your core. Your breathing becomes ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. With a final thrust of his fingers, you cum hard, your body shaking with the intensity.

Michael watches you with a satisfied smile, his fingers still moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he says softly, his thumb brushing against your clit with less fervour.

You ride out your orgasm, your body finally relaxing as the waves of ecstasy subside. Michael slowly withdraws his fingers from your quivering hole and brings them to his lips, licking them clean. He leans down, kissing you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips just as much as he can taste himself on yours.The mix of your essenes making you moan softly into the kiss.

When he pulls back, he looks into your eyes, his expression tender. You snuggle into his embrace as he lifts you and walks towards the bathroom for a much deserved bubble bath.

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trippinsorrows · 22 days

Text

give me a reason + three

authors note: still blown away by people's interest in this one. i included visuals in this chapter, so look out for links. tweets and messages are intended to be read from left to right.

as always, confusion is to be expected. :)

one + two

words: 8k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language and fluff

To say this is the first time in his life that Joe has felt lonely would be a lie. He felt it a bit the first time he left home for school, but it was greatly eased by the fact that he had BJ, his best friend. They were both in the same boat, so it wasn’t as bad.

He felt it again on and off over the years as he fought to make an NFL career that was never going to work, well, work. And once that brutal realization finally hit, after taking way too much time feeling sorry for himself, he experienced t it again as he started the hustle and grind to make a wrestling career work instead.

And he’s especially felt it over the past two years as his marriage with Ri has deteriorated to a level he thought unreachable.

But this….this is different.

It’s different because he’s not going home to an empty house. He’s on the road, back to work, surrounded by his cousins, a fantastic team, and a plethora of fans. It’s truly the opposite of loneliness.

But that’s exactly what Joe feels.

Because he doesn’t have her. Doesn’t have Ri.

Even if he hasn’t had her for at least two years. Not really, anyway. Not in any meaningful way that actually matters to him.

A knock on the door pulls him from his depressing inner dialogue.

Sitting up, Joe calls out, “come in.”

In walk Jon and Josh, and right away, Joe knows what’s up. He can tell by their facial expressions.

“I’m fine.” Maybe if he jumps ahead of whatever semi intervention they have planned, he can avoid a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having. Physically or mentally.

“Bullshit,” Josh scoffs, closing the door behind them. The twins sit down on different seats opposite the sofa Joe’s big body is sprawled on. “You ain’t been fine for a minute, Uce.”

It’s not entirely wrong, but that doesn’t mean Joe has to necessarily agree. “A lot of shit has happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m not quite sure you fully allowing yourself to feel that shit.”

“Kind of hard not to.”

“You know what we mean, Joe.” Jon cuts in, asking over a sigh. “Why you here right now? You should be with Ella. Helping her heal and remember shit.”

Joe feels the exact same way, but that’s not what her family wanted. Not what she wanted to some extent, because Joe was present when her parents brought up the idea of her returning home to Florida with them. She didn’t seem opposed. Didn’t express any desire to instead stay and go back to her real home with him.

Not that he can blame her. He’s a complete stranger to her. Granted, technically, so is her family. So that not being chosen thing has definitely left a sting.

So, Joe settles on a simple answer, “it’s not what she wanted.”

Josh is quick with the rebuttal. “Man, she don’t even know who she is, let alone what she wants.” Again, not wrong. But also, again, no need to verbalize as such. “Look, Uce, I know….I know things been rocky with you and her the past couple years—”

“Don’t.” This time, Joe doesn’t hesitate to dead the conversation before it can truly transpire. “I’m not doing this shit right now.”

“That’s the problem though, Joe.” Jon jumps back in, pointing out, “I feel like you, and her too, been avoiding talking about whatever it is that happened. And that avoidance has damn near cost you your marriage.”

“I said I’m not doing this, Jon. Drop it.” Joe can think of a million other things that he’d prefer to talk about than that. All kinds of cruel, mideval types of torture would be preferred over venturing down that path. The only person he should be discussing that with is his wife. But, that’s hard to do when she doesn’t even remember it.

Doesn’t remember the thing he’ll never truly be able to process.

He doesn’t even know someone can process and make peace with that.

The twins share a look. They must know they’re defeated. In this round, at least. Cause if it’s one thing he knows about the cousins he considers more as brothers, they can be resilient and tenacious. Especially when it comes to heavy shit like this.

“Alright, man.” Josh shakes his head and slaps his thighs. “We’ll leave you alone.” It’s appreciated and both unwanted. Joe doesn’t want to be alone, per se. But, he doesn’t want his cousins, either.

He wants his wife.

And when they walk out, the door closing behind them figuratively and literally, Joe is back to ruminating thoughts about his wife.

His wife who he’s seen mostly online in the two weeks that have passed since she was discharged from the hospital and left to be with her family.

Joe isn’t ashamed or embarrassed to admit he’s found himself looking at footage of her via her music videos, interviews, performances and home videos. He’s reviewed old news articles that came out about them back in the day, got a good chuckle at a situation a few years back where some irrelevant rapper called himself trying to start shit with Mari that Joe and BJ handled and deaded right away.

He laughed over old text exchanges with his wife who will always be the smartest yet dumbest person he’s ever met when it comes to common sense sometimes.

But, he’s especially enjoyed the home videos. Joe had almost forgotten just how much footage he has of her. Personal videos taken when it was just the two of them.

Some taken by her. Some taken by him.

Memories, they’d always call them.

And they still are.

Just haunted ones.

Joe grabs his phone and navigates to his videos folder. There’s hundreds of them, because every time he upgrades to a new phone, he always makes sure to back up and transfer his texts, photos, and videos. For no reason other than not wanting to lose anything. Not miss out on any of the many hilarious, heartwarming moments with Ri.

Joe picks a random video, a smile easily falling on his face as he immediately remembers and recalls what this one is.

She’s wearing one of his Bloodline shirts, a random ball cap and a pair of his sunglasses over her eyes. There’s also a spatula in her hand as she sits on the floor in their living room in front of their flat screen TV while one of his more popular promos with Brock Lesnar plays in the background.

“You must be confused, farm boy. That title? That’s my title, and you don’t even realize cause I’m gon smash you at WrestleMania. And it’s not even your fault, Brock. You ain’t got a chance.” She’s mouthing along perfectly, facial expressions and body language in almost perfect sync with her makeshift microphone. Joe can hear his laughter in the background as she stands up, getting more into character. “This is my show! This is my ring!” She gestures off to the side. “This cameraman right here? This is my cameraman!” She gestures around the room. “These people, these are all my people, because they acknowledge me!” She then points to him. “These two right here? They work for me! This commentary team is mine because they brag and talk about me the whole time.” She then lifts her arm, pointing to the ceiling. “That sign right there? Is mine! Because I am WrestleMania! I am this show, I run this show, and everybody works for me!” She smirks, head titled. “Including the security in the ring with me.” Joe’s laughter increases as she drops the spatula and throws the hat off along with the sunglasses, also falling out laughing with him.

Ri walks over and climbs onto his lap, asking, “That was good, wasn’t it?” Joe doesn’t hear a response on his end, but he’s certain it was nonverbal acknowledgement.

As the video ends, he finds himself back frowning again.

Close….

They were so close.

Joe switches to a different album, photos this time, his smile returning as he opens a photo she snapped of them laying in bed. He’s clearly asleep, his arm over her body as she smiles happily.

His finger traces over the outline of her smile, a memory popping into his head.

“It’s just so beautiful.”

Joe sighs. Loud.

It’s not often he gets time off, so these next couple days are precious and cherished. And he’d love to kick it off the right way: by getting some much needed sleep.

If only his lovely wife understood this.

Because even though it’s almost 2am, she sits beside him in their bed, emotional for no damn reason at her chosen movie: The Brave Little Toaster.

He blows out a breath. “It’s literally about kitchen supplies.” Joe then asks, confused as hell. “Why the hell you watching this anyway?”

Her answer is rushed and nervous. “Because I watched that creepy ass movie earlier today, and now I need to ease my anxiety.”

Joe closes his eyes, turning on his back, looking at her with all the judgment. “Didn't I tell you not to watch that shit? You know your ass is scary as hell.” As soon as she started giving him a description of the movie, a psychological thriller, he knew she needed to stay far away. Ri has a tendency to overthink films like that, somehow convincing herself that whatever happened in the movie could happen to her.

And that’s exactly what’s happened.

“Well, I didn’t listen to you, okay!” Joe rolls his eyes. Obviously. “So, now I need to watch this soft, cute movie about these brave little utensils.” She starts sniffling. “And it’s just so sad.”

“What they do? Rust?”

“Joe!” She slaps his arm, huffing, “oh my gosh, you have no creative bone in your body.”

“Not at no damn 2 o'clock in the morning, you’re right, I don’t.” He turns back on his side, bringing the blankets up to his neck, snatching back more of the covers from his hogging ass wife. “Now I’m going back to sleep. You enjoy your KitchenAid movie.”

But that’s damn near impossible when she starts crying again minutes later, somehow louder than before.

“He’s just so brave.”

“Oh my god.” Joe closes his eyes, rolling once again onto his back. He pinches the bridge of his nose and reminds himself that this is his best friend and his wife. He can’t grenade this. Can’t and won’t hurt her feelings by telling her to shut the fuck up, even though that’s what he would say if it was literally anyone else. “Your period must be coming because you done gone through all six stages of grief watching this damn kids movie about a fucking toaster.”

Ri gasps beside him, and he can almost feel her dramatic ass, judgmental glare. “I resent you saying that! Just because I’m a woman with feelings does not mean—“ She pauses. “What day is it?”

And before he can answer, she’s kicking the blankets off, climbing over him, and scampering to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Joe is barely even able to turn back on his side when she calls out from the bathroom. “Goddamnit , you man, you! You spoke it over me!”

He sighs. It all makes sense now.

Ri is just an overall emotional, theatrical ass person, but it’s always exacerbated whenever she’s on her cycle. She becomes….difficult.

Super sensitive.

“Shit.”

He hears her curse from the bathroom, but it’s not as loud, not as dramatic. And that’s what catches his attention.

“What?” Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the drawers being opened and almost slammed shut, like she’s in a rush of some sort. Joe kicks the blankets off and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks once, asking, “can I come in?”

She answers by opening up the door only to turn back around, clearly looking for something. “What’s wrong?”

“Damnit!” She snaps, slamming the cabinet shut. “I’m out of tampons.” Ri walks over and gestures to the few she has on the counter. “These are all light.”

Shit.

Right away, he sees her dilemma. There’s no way she can use light tampons for the first night of her period. And the reason he knows this and isn’t weirded out like how some men would be is simple. He grew up the only boy among four sisters, the baby of them all. He’s heard and learned a lot over the years. Some, or maybe a lot of which, he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing. But, some information, like in cases like this, have proved to be a bit helpful.

So, it’s only natural, he offers, “I’ll run to the drugstore right quick.”

Ri turns to him, instantly protesting, “no. It’s late, Joe.” She crosses her arms and shrugs. “I can just, like, stuff a bunch of toilet paper up my vagina for tonight and pray nothing gets stuck.”

He leans against the doorway, easily shooting that down. “Yeah, with your luck, that’s exactly what’ll happen too.” He loves his Ri more than what’s probably healthy, but the girl is accident prone and the queen of freak accidents. “I’d rather get you the damn tampons than spend all night in the ER with you.”

Her not disagreeing with his prediction is telling. She knows he’s right. “Let me at least go with you. I don’t want you out by yourself this late.”

Joe would also not like to be out on the road, hitting up Walgreens for a random ass tampon run, but this is also Ri. And there’s very little he wouldn’t do for her.

If anything.

“I think I’ll be fine, Ri.” He chuckles, walking over to her. She pouts as he kisses her temple. “You’re the one who would get kidnapped or some shit.” He laughs at his comment, a reference to the movie she watched earlier that’s got her up so wide and awake.

She gasps, mouth dropped as she looks up with wide eyes. “See! I told you it could happen!”

Joe walks into their bedroom and throws on some sweats, a hoodie, and slides on some sneakers. He grabs his wallet, keys, and phone as Ri walks out, shuffling over to him and moving up against his chest, hugging him. “You want the chocolate?” She nods. “Milky Ways?”

Again, another nod as she looks up. “And the—”

“Hot fries and Arizona tea. The one mixed with lemonade. I know.”

She pouts. “Thank you.”

He kisses her forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be back.”

He walks toward the door, as she calls out, “I love you.”

Joe chuckles. “I love you too, baby.” He’s halfway down the steps when she screams out from the bedroom.

“Damnit! Now we can’t do the nasty!”

By the end of the memory, a time so much simpler and happier, Joe has his head back, eyes closed, emotions all over the fucking place.

She was his best friend. The person he trusted the most. More than anyone.

And all of a sudden, it was just….gone.

His entire view of her….gone.

Or maybe not.

Because while this nightmare of an accident has taught and shown him a lot, one of the biggest things it’s made him realize is that while his hurt and confusion and betrayal may be strong, his love for her is stronger.

It always has been.

He was just blinded by all of those other miserable, heavy emotions and too stubborn to do anything about it.

And now he’s in this extremely uncomfortable, confusing as fuck dilemma where he has to find someway to manage and deal with these emotions when they should be managed and dealt with with her.

But how can someone forgive someone for something they don’t even remember doing?

———-

Sleeping in a bed that isn’t yours anymore but once was is….weird.

Sleeping in a bed in a bedroom that was once yours is even weirder.

But, staying in a house full of people who feel like and are, for all intents and purposes, complete strangers is the weirdest of them all.

It’s borderline uncomfortable.

Mariella understands the intentions of her parents. Sees how they think and believe her sleeping in her old bedroom could potentially stir some memories. It makes sense. But, it doesn’t work that way.

At least, it’s not working that way for her.

And to her credit, she tries. Tries to observe and almost study the damn near wall full of photos from her childhood, photos of her with people who are both family and friends. She’s not sure if this was just how she last decorated her old room, but something tells her it’s the result of her family's continued effort to jog her memory. It seems….excessive. But from what she’s gathered, that’s also a good word to describe her personality. Extra. Dramatic even.

If only she could….connect with that somehow.

Stepping out of the shower, she takes her time getting ready. Doesn’t rush to get downstairs where she knows she’ll be greeted with a row of smiling, unfamiliar faces. Mariella really does feel bad that she’s having such a difficult time understanding and connecting, because for all intents and purposes, her ‘family’ has been nothing but kind and supportive.

And she knows this has to be difficult for them, but….she can’t force it.

Even if she wanted to.

Because she damn sure does.

It would all be so much easier that way.

Sure enough, the smell of bacon sizzling on the fire and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee isn’t the only thing that’s waiting for her in the kitchen.

Her father is the first one to lay eyes on her, his smile small but oh so genuine. “Morning, Ella.”

Mariella does her best to return the smile. From what she’s seen and heard, she’s always been exceptionally close with her dad. With her whole family, really.

“Morning.”

Her mom turns around at the sound of her voice and entrance, also smiling. It’s bigger and deeper than her dad’s. And she doesn't hesitate to turn the fire on low, clap her hands against her apron and walk over to pull Mariella into a hug.

It’s not missed upon either woman how Mariella initially tenses. And she feels bad for that too. This is her mother for crying out loud.

April pulls back, the sadness and slight level of rejection evident in her pretty brown eyes that Mariella realizes she inherited from her mother. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” Mariella swallows, forcing an even bigger smile. “You are my mother, after all.”

April’s smile is tight, the coverup for a disappointment Mariella can’t truly understand. “How did you sleep?”

Not very good. “Fine.” She walks over to the machine, lifting the mug that she assumes belongs to her dad given the same word is written in big red letters on said mug. She reaches it to him.

“Thank you.”

A small nod of acknowledgment as she grabs a new mug and starts to brew her coffee when April speaks from where she stands again by the fire. “I was thinking of going to the promenade today. Olivia is going too. Would you like to join us, Ella?”

Mariella doesn’t have to be looking at her mother to know that while it’s meant to be a question, it’s more of a statement. And while she isn’t opposed, much preferring to be out of the house vs in the house, home videos and photos stuffed down her throat, a true question would be nice vs being told.

“Sure,” she answers with a shrug, turning around and pulling out her phone, opening to the contact she’s found herself thinking about the past couple days.

Joe.

Their last correspondence was almost a week ago. All limited to texts that seem rather on the dry end considering they’re supposed to be married. She doesn’t really fault him though. In his defense, he seems to be wanting to give her space vs coming on too strong.

Unlike her family.

She sighs loudly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she debates editing, once again, the text she’s had drafted for a couple of days but hasn’t built the courage to send.

Mariella: Can we facetime or something?

It’s such a simple thing that she’s not sure why she’s overthinking. In the little interaction she had with him at the hospital, she could see that despite his size, he’s a man on the quiet side. That calmness was appreciated, and in the midst of being bombarded with information, she’s found herself missing that to some extent.

Missing….missing him to some extent.

Even if it makes no sense to her.

“Morning, family.” Olivia’s voice rings into the air, pulling Mariella back into the present. She’s dressed to the nines, and from that alone, without even needing to be told, Mariella knows her sister is a successful woman. She just looks the part. Liv sets a smile that seems a bit off on her, red lipstick contrasting against her almost unnatural, straight, pearly whites. “Hey, sis. How you feeling?”

Such a big question that seems impossible to truthfully answer to the people who are only trying to help. “Good.” So, she lies. “I guess I’m going out with you all shopping today?”

Olivia rolls her eyes and adjusts the expensive looking designer bag on her shoulder. “Of course, you are. We’ve gotta get you back out there.”

“Olivia…”

Olivia turns to their dad, asking, “what? She has to get back to her life eventually.”

“Leave her be, Liv.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, ignoring April and reiterates, “she needs more than just photos and videos, guys.”

Mariella doesn’t know what she specifically needs but being thrusted into social situations when she still hasn’t memorized her SSN seems to not be it either.

But still, she remains quiet.

“Ella.” Mariella turns to her dad, brows raised. “When’s the last time you spoke to Jo—”

“Oh, Ella, I forgot there was something I wanted to show you.” Olivia interrupts the question Mariella was already thinking about without her dad even needing to ask her.

The thing she’s still thinking about even as Olivia pulls out her phone, inundating some random ass photos from back when she was in high school.

The man she can’t seem to stop thinking about.

———-

As expected, shopping has ended up providing just another form of frustration and level of feeling of being overwhelmed.

It wouldn’t be as bad for Mariella if her mom and sister didn’t feel the need to stop and introduce her to almost everyone who’s familiar, to them, that they come across. She feels a bit like a politician, plastering on smiles that don’t meet her eyes and accepting hugs from strangers. Members from church. Old neighbors. Even an old elementary school teacher.

It’s just weird.

So much so that she eventually has to excuse herself, making up some excuse about a headache as she sits outside on a bench in front of the store where Olivia and April continue to shop.

Mariella is grateful for the solitude and uses that to once again play around with just texting her freaking husband of all people.

She could use some of his quiet right now.

“Mariella?”

One thing that’s improved is her ability to respond to her name, but it’s who says her name that has Mariella more stumped than anything.

He’s standing above her, creating a massive shadow and distraction from her sending out the text she’s not exactly sure she wants to actually send.

He’s wearing a smile that’s objectively friendly, but there’s something about it that feels….off. He’s also objectively attractive, pretty light eyes, tall, sinewy build. Facial features that seem more appropriate for a page out of Vogue vs being on this strip of stores.

“Wow. It really is you.” He scoffs and tucks his sunglasses near the collar of his shirt. “It’s been too long.”

Mariella may not know just who exactly she is, but she does know the difference between being friendly and rude. And she really doesn’t know a nicer way to say her first response other than what comes out. “I’m sorry, I don’t….do we know each other?”

The man frowns a bit. “That’s right. I forgot….” Something tells her he feels uncomfortable outright saying what’s otherwise obvious. Like the fact that she was in a severe accident that knocked the shit out of her.

And her memories.

“My name is Brendan. We….we dated back in college.”

Oh.

Mariella still doesn’t know a lot about herself. Much of anything at all, really. But what she is seeing is that her taste in men is pretty damn good, because this Brendan person is far from ugly. Though it’s hard to not compare. Hard to not think about the contrast between him and Joe, her husband’s voice deep and baritone compared to Brendan’s soprano-like tone. Joe’s massive build to Brendan’s much slender one. Even the height difference. She recalls having to crane her head up to look at Joe. Brendan is a few inches taller than her but nothing significant.

And those comparisons also have her reconsidering, yet again, keeping the text as it is right now, just drafted in her phone. Has her wondering what benefits could be gained from just sending it, seeing what he says.

“Oh.” The word escapes her head but nothing else comes out, Brendan clearing his throat.

“This may be poor wording, but you look absolutely amazing considering….well….”

“That I almost died?” He looks uncomfortable but also amused. “It’s…it’s okay. I guess it’s a compliment.”

“I didn’t realize you were in town.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, asking. “How long are you here for?”

Hopefully not much longer.

And it’s a thought that she instantly feels bad about. This is her family, and it’s not their fault she can’t remember. Because they’re trying their damn hardest to change that. But, that’s also a part of the problem.

It’s…..it’s too much.

She feels almost suffocated at times.

Like now with this Brendan person.

“I don’t know.” An honest, truthful answer followed up with more honesty. “But, I’ll be going back to California eventually.” Back to be with her husband. One person vs several who seems really great at giving her information but not too much. Largely only when she asks vs being told in heaps of overwhelming data. “With my husband.”

She doesn’t know why she adds on that last part or why she fiddles with the beautiful diamond on her left hand. The ring that she placed on her finger without much thought when given her items upon being discharged.

Brendan’s lip twitches, his eyes flashing with something that almost looks like irritation. “Of course.” There’s definitely no denying the irritation in his tone. “Listen, I’d love for us to catch up before you leave. A cup of coffee.” Her eyes widen a bit when he adds on, “maybe even dinner—”

“Hello.”

Another voice. This one a bit more familiar. April stands in the doorway of the store with Olivia. They both wear polar opposite expressions. Olivia is smiling in Brendan’s direction while April’s mouth is in a straight line as she moves to stand beside Mariella.

“Mrs. Holmes. Long time, no see.” The irritation is washed away, swapped out with something amiable but also….inauthentic. Mariella doesn’t know if she’s exactly in a place to be judging people or calling them fake when she doesn’t even know who she is, but there’s something….off about this Brendan character.

She doesn’t know a shit ton about Joe either, other than the basics, but right off the bat, between the two of them, she chose the right one to walk down the aisle with.

Her mom’s smile remains tight. “Maybe not long enough.” This takes Mariella by surprise. She hasn’t seen this side of her mother before. Unfriendly, almost.

Olivia, however, rolls her eyes. “Mother, please. You know Brendan also works for the same firm I’m at.” Ahh. That would explain the smile. “Excuse my mom. It’s been….a lot for all of us.”

Now, Mariella is the one fighting back confusion. She gets that this has to be difficult for her family. For her to not remember who they are, but it’s not just them she can’t remember. She can’t remember quite literally anything. She’s the one who’s been impacted the most out of this.

She just kinda wishes they would get that more. Would respect the level of intrapersonal difficulty on her end.

“Of course.” Brendan frowns, but again, it feels inauthentic. “Well, I won’t keep you, ladies—”

“Good.”

Mariella bites down on her lip, turning away to hide her smile as Olivia looks straight up annoyed at April’s coldness.

“I’ll see you at the office, Brendan.” Olivia says almost apologetically, dragging her eyes back to her mom who seems completely unapologetic for her tone.

Brendan nods, landing his gaze back on Mariella. “Remember my offer, Ella.”

She can’t even find it in her to nod or acknowledge his departing message because there’s not a single part of Mariella that wants to entertain his offer let alone take him up on it. Does he not know she’s married?

It’s once he’s gone that April turns toward Mariella, a genuine smile replacing the fake one. “Sweetie, can you go wait in the car? I need to speak to your sister.”

There’s a part of her that would like to overhear this probably interesting conversation, but the desire to just be away and by herself is more overpowering.

“Sure.” She accepts the key fob and shopping bag from her mom, not hesitating to turn on her heel and head back toward the parking lot.

And as soon as she’s gone, Olivia is on April, voice harsh and sharp. “Mother, what the hell was that?”

“Watch your language with me, child.” April’s correction is swift as she crosses her arms. “When did you plan to mention Brendan now works with you?”

“Didn’t realize I had to keep you up to date on the latest hires at my job.” She rolls her eyes, also crossing her arms. “Plus, really, mama? How was that a priority with everything we’ve had happening?”

“Watch it, Olivia.” Aprils loves all her children equally, but Olivia has always been the one to push her close to her limits. “I don’t like that boy. He’s a snake.”

“Oh my gosh…” Olivia turns away for a second, coming back as she points out, “you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to know him. You know why? Cause I distinctly remember Joe nearly putting him in the hospital for whatever went down between him and your sister.”

Olivia is taken back for a second. Her mom’s memory is as sharp as the best of them. “You mean when he committed aggravated assault and ruined any chances Brendan had for a basketball career?”

April, however, is not backing down, showing just where Olivia inherited her stubborn personality. “You ever wonder why Joe reacted the way he did? How bad it must have been for him to get that upset?”

“Oh, please. Mama, let’s not act like Joe hasn’t always been a hothead. He’s just better at masking it than BJ.” And before April can protest, Olivia provides facts. “How many times did you and daddy get a call or called down to the office cause BJ got into it with someone, huh? And more often than not, who’d he get in trouble with? Joe.” Olivia shakes her head. “The only reason they always got slaps on the wrist was because they were athletes. Joe has been problematic, and I’m tired of ya’ll not seeing it.” She blows out a big breath. “Brendan is not a bad guy—”

“You saw how he was looking at your sister.” April stresses, lowering her voice. “Don’t no man have no business looking at a married woman like that unless he’s got bad intentions.”

“Ella isn’t even with Joe right now, so what’s the big deal?”

April is quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you up to, Olivia?”

Olivia easily slides into deflection. “Mama, you’re always so hyper-vigilant—”

April, however, is wise and knowing. She advises with all the seriousness, “don’t think that because your sister can’t remember nothing that you can just rewrite history.”

“Mama—”

“I’m speaking.” And Olivia quiets down because no matter how old she gets, her mother using that tone will never not be able to set her straight. “Hear me, and hear me good, lil’ girl. Ella is home with us now, yes, but she will be going back to California to be with Joe because he is her husband, and her place is with him.”

———-

Spring, 2023

“You want to what?”

Iris was already having a not so great day. Some inept, thinks he's a hot shot lawyer actually thinking that he can lowball and bully her into convincing a client to accept a deal that’s absolute horse shit.

She had to, of course, show him just why she’s the most sought after manager in entertainment. Ruthlessly.

The thought of his bubble eyes nearly bulging out of his head at her cutthroat response is almost enough for her to actually smile. A rare anomaly that happens every couple of years but is especially not going to happen after what she just heard.

Mariella rolls her eyes, again repeating herself. “I said I’ll do the tour.”

Iris knew she heard her right. It’s just the shock of it all that made her need some level of clarification. “I’m sorry, you do remember that this is a world tour, Ella, right?” And in case she forgot, Iris reminds, “you’d be on tour for nine months.”

“And?” Ella shrugs, continuing to write in her notebook, lyrics of some sort. “It’ll be a great opportunity to connect with my fans.”

“Fuck your fans, Ella.” Iris is quick and borderline nasty with it. “Who gives a fuck about them?” She sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. “I’m thinking about you.”

Iris sees the way that Ella tenses at that last part. “I’m fine, Iris.”

“Bullshit.” She then asks, almost tentatively. “Ella….have you sp—”

“No.” It’s a firm, harsh, borderline cruel shut down. A complete sentence compacted into a single word.

Iris closes her eyes. “I just think—”

“Get me the contract to sign, Iris. That’s all I need you to do.”

If only Iris was a ‘yes’ man. “You think this shit is healthy, Ella? You’re running away.”

“I don’t need your judgment.”

“I would never judge you.” And it’s the truth. Iris may judge quite literally everyone else who walks this earth. But not Ella nor Promise Rose, her best friends since she was a child. And especially….especially not Ella. Not after…..after what happened. “But, I just—you’re not happy, Ella.”

There’s a brief second of hesitation. “I wasn’t happy before it happened, Iris.”

Voice softening, Iris calmly contradicts her, “yes, you were.” Ella closes the notebook, pushing it to the side and pulling her legs up to her chest, looking away. Even without a clear look at her face, Iris knows the emotions are brewing. “I just—I think if you tell him—”

“No!” That’s what makes Ella snap her watery gaze back on her best friend turned manager. “I—I can’t. I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to know.”

Iris closes her eyes. “Ella—”

“Have you told anyone?”

Iris is almost offended that Ella could even fix her mouth to ask such a question. Ella knows how massive loyalty and trust are to her. “Of course, not. I would never. I just….I hate to see you like this.”

For as long as Iris has known Ella, she’s always been an annoying ass ray of sunshine. Always seeing the bright side of things. Glass always half full. But in recent months, especially after that….something in her has snapped, has gone away into deep hiding. And usually, this is when Iris would gladly push Ella in the arms of her husband. He’s always been Ella’s safe person.

Now, Iris can’t even get the two in the same room without an argument breaking out.

They’re both just so….angry with each other.

Or maybe it’s not anger.

Maybe it’s just hurt.

“That’s why I need to get away, Iris.” Ella all but whispers. “I need….I need a new environment. I feel like I’m surrounded by reminders.” She sniffles, quickly wiping at her eyes. “I just….it hurts too much to stick around and have to constantly relive it. I—” Her voice cracks. “Please….please just get me the contract.”

“I will.” Iris doesn’t agree with this, doesn’t like it at all, but she also knows her best friend can be determined as hell. If she doesn’t handle the tour negotiations, Mariella will do it on her own and sign just anything just to get away. To escape. “But, I still think you should talk to J—”

“I hate him!”

No one says anything.

Iris is truly stunned into silence. In the two decades that have transpired since the beginning of her friendship, She has never known Mariella to express such strong sentiments against another human being. It’s almost against her nature.

But to say such a thing towards Joe? Her person?

Iris now realizes just how deeply this hurt and trauma lies.

That maybe….that maybe their relationship truly is irreparable at this point. That lies, deception, betrayal, and everything else under the sun has destroyed something she once thought indestructible.

———-

Present

The last name Joe expected to see pop up on his phone is the exact name that’s flashing along with his contact photo for her which happens to be them a couple years back when they finally went on a long awaited honeymoon to Bora Bora. She’s in front of him, his arms around her, her smile big and wide, eyes closed as he kisses her cheek.

It’s one of his favorite pictures of them, and even after all this time, after everything that’s happened….he hasn’t been able to bring himself to change it.

Even….even when for a brief while, he thought he hated her.

There’s a second of delay as Joe hits the green button, officially accepting her FaceTime call.

His connection is the strongest it’s been all day because she’s almost instantly filling his phone screen.

“Hey….”

She smiles, and Joe takes a minute to take her in. The cuts and bruises on her face have almost entirely healed. She doesn’t look as pale as she was laid up in the hospital bed. Her curly hair is pulled into two space buns. “Hi. Is—is this a bad time?” She’s outside, clearly. In her parents backyard on the swing that holds a million and one memories.

Joe shakes his head. “No.” Even if it was, it wouldn’t make a difference. This is the first time she’s called him since being with her family. He’d make whatever work if need be. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles, but it’s bitter. Almost resentful. “Overwhelmed.”

Joe sits up more, naturally asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

“Thank you for actually asking.” Her voice is soft as she leans back into the swing, answering truthfully, “I know they mean well, and they’re just trying to help, but—”

He finds it almost too easy to finish her statement. Knowing her, her tics and whatnot has always been so easy. “It’s too much.”

“I just….” She blows out a breath. “You seem a lot more chill, and….and you ask me what questions I have instead of just telling me shit that I don’t remember and feel any sort of way about, even though I know I should.”

“It’s….it’s gonna take time.” And that’s truly a guesstimate on Joe’s end, because the official medical recommendation on her amnesia is that it’s unknown when or if she’ll ever fully restore her memories.

And he’s still so damn torn on just how he feels about that.

“I was wondering…” She looks down, pausing. This is such an unfamiliar thing for Joe. He’s not used to her being so quiet. His wife is many things, and quiet is none of them. “I know you’re on the road and stuff, but…is there anyway I can like….join you for a bit?” She quickly adds, “I don’t know if that’s even a thing—”

“It is,” he finds himself answering. Quickly. Probably too quickly. “I travel on a bus for the most part, stay in hotels for the rest, so if you wanted—”

“I do,” she also answers quickly. “I just…I think I need something different. This.” She motions between herself and the camera. “This is a lot easier than having over 30 years of history shoved down my throat.”

Joe feels for her, hates hearing the conflict in her voice, and he doesn’t blame or fault her family. They’re probably doing the best they can. It’s just….not what she needs right now.

“When…..when can I come?”

The almost desperation in her voice catches his attention, creating a sense of excitement in his stomach that’s quickly quenched by the wise reminder that she’s not coming for him. She’s coming to get away. Not that the specific reason makes much of a difference. He just wants to see her.

“When do you want to come?”

She chews down on her bottom lip. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

His eyes widen a bit as he clarifies. “Tomorrow?”

She nods. “I’m—I’m sure I can get a flight out.”

She could, but he has a better option. “You should use the jet.”

Ri is understandably confused. “Jet?”

Joe has to remind himself yet again to approach this a bit from a tabula rasa standpoint. “You have a private jet. Through your record label.” He does too, but that’s not what’s important right now. He’s also partially confused why they didn’t take it when flying home to Florida, but it’s not a major thing. Nothing worth thinking too much about.

She makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “That’s right, we are, like, rich, aren’t we?”

He chuckles. “Now, yes.”

She gives a little smile, asking, “I guess there’s a story there?”

“There’s a lot of stories with us, Ri….” His voice is quiet as he clears his throat, not necessarily wanting to go down that road. “If you’re serious about coming—”

“I am.” She speaks up, shoulders dropping. “I just—I think it’d be nice to spend some time with you. Hear about that part of my life at my own pace.” He nods, understanding where she’s coming from, trying not to put too much into her comment about wanting to directly spend time with him. “Is it just you on the bus?”

“Basically. My cousins sometimes hang out, but they have their own bus, so I gladly kick them out when it starts getting late.”

She smiles, and Joe is close to screenshotting, wanting to add it to his collection when her smile dips into something else, eyes squinting. “J—Jon, right?” Joe sits up more. “And…..Jo—Josh?” He scoffs, in a partial state of disbelief and shock. “They’re….they’re twins, aren’t they?”

He nods, unable to speak. Did….did she really just remember something? On her own?

A frown falls on her face. “I don’t….can’t remember anything other than that and something….I don’t know, something about Uno?”

Joe laughs. The best laugh he’s had in some time, since this whole nightmare began. “Before your schedule got super crazy, you’d come on the road with me, and you and my cousins always played Uno, and it always ended up being a thing because you all suck and can never agree on the rules.”

She giggles, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And what about you? Are you any good?”

He scoffs. “Better than ya’ll.”

Her mouth drops open as she declares. “Okay, then we definitely need to play when I get there. Cause I feel like I might surprise ya’ll. Maybe I could beat you.”

Joe makes a sound. “You can try. You've never been able to beat me. None of ya’ll.”

She crosses her arms and exclaims with all the confidence. “Oh, I’ve gotta knock you down a peg. Are you always this arrogant?” She asks, head tilted.

His correction is calm and assured. “Not arrogant, baby. Confident.”

Her smile deepens, and Joe finds himself enjoying her company more than he has in some time. Even if it’s through a damn phone. “Yeah, well, you’ve got the looks to back it up. Let’s see if you have the talent.”

She has no idea. “Just remember you asked for this.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, and they exchange a prolonged locking of gazes. “I—-that’s the first thing I’ve remembered on my own, and you….you didn’t even have to try to force it.”

She swallows, voice softening. “I’d really like to come see you.”

He wants her to come too. More than she could know. “Text your sister. Everly. Not Olivia. See if she’ll fly out with you. If not, I’ll come. You don’t need to be traveling by yourself.”

Ri frowns. “I don’t—I was medically cleared to travel.”

“Yes, and you did so without incident because your team hadn’t announced you’d been released yet, but now the public knows you’re out. They spot you, and the fucking paparazzi will be all over you. You don’t need that.” Mariella has never enjoyed the constant flashing of lights and cameras in her face anyway.

He doesn’t want her dealing with that on her own. “Okay.” She then asks, “Why not ask Olivia?”

Joe debates how to approach this. “Your sister and I….we’ve never gotten along. If she knows you’re coming to see me, she’ll probably decline to travel with you. Everly is more or less a flower child. She’ll be fine with it.”

It’s the best answer he can come up with in the moment. He happens to think Olivia is a certified bitch who sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, but he would never do anything to create a biased view of how she sees her sister.

Anyone in her family.

Ri chuckles, and he half expects her to ask why her sister doesn’t like her husband, but she instead hits him with something unexpected. “Do you know who Brendan is?”

And just like that, any relaxed state he had is ripped away with a single name. “Brendan?” She nods. “Where did you see him? How?”

She seems taken back by his questions, and he hates bombarding her, but that fucker is one person that always will be able to get Joe to act out of character.

She honestly offers more information than he was expecting. “I—today at the promenade out with my mom and sister. I get the sense my mom doesn’t like him, but Olivia seemed friendly. I guess they work together.”

Fucking Olivia….yeah, Joe’s definitely gonna have to bite the bullet and text her. Because in no way, shape, or form does he want that son of a bitch anywhere around his Ri. And the fact that he may even be a fucking attorney or lawyer blows Joe’s mind.

That creep should be the one in jail.

“He’s not a good person, and he needs to stay the fuck away from you.” Before she can ask anything else, he tells her, “let me know what Everly says. If not, I’ll have a flight out tomorrow morning.” He’s definitely got to get her out of there now. He wants to put and keep as much distance between Mariella and Brendan as possible, and if she remembered just why they broke up, she’d want the same.

Mariella nods. “I—I can call her now.”

“Do that.”

She swallows. “Okay.” Mariella opens her mouth and seems to hesitate for a minute. “Thank you, Joe.”

Her thanking him feels weird, because he’s never looked for that from her. Never really wanted it really. Just wanted her. Her love. Her trust.

Getting into that not so great place, he shakes his head, reminding, “just text me whenever you find out, I’ll keep my notifications on.

This seems to please her. “Okay.” She gives him another smile. Of a parting and appreciative nature. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She ends the call, and despite him deep down knowing he should wait until he’s calmed down a bit to message Olivia, Joe’s fingers seem to move faster than his brain.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 6: Gravity

Set me free, leave me be, I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (for mature content)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), underaged drinking, language, suggestive dialogue, kissing, angst

Word Count: ~5.0k

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Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: You attend a party with Annie, only to run into Reiner unexpectedly. Mistakes are made and once again, Eren is to your rescue, this time more than ever before. Author’s Notes: Thank you for your patience with this! Sorry this took a while to get out. What do we think of this chapter? Juicy? Messy? Let me know! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks so much for supporting this slow burn of a story. I promise, next chapter is (finally) spicy! Enjoy!

You’re already dreading tonight as you walk beside Annie towards an off-campus party house. Your roommate managed to coax you into going out tonight, the first time all semester. You were reluctant at first, unsure if you’re truly in the mood for booze and mingling. Then they told you it’s a party for Armin’s birthday, which piqued your interest. That’s because you’re certain that Eren, Armin’s best bud and your special friend, is going to be there.

He came to your door in tears about two weeks ago after telling his parents about changing his major. Obviously, it didn’t end well. Since then, his father hasn’t reached out to him. His mother said that he, “Needs time to come around.” How cruel can a parent be, to discount their child’s emotions all to live out some legacy they think is worth pursuing? And for what? Money and notoriety?

You held him in your arms that night, only letting go when Annie returned to the room, making all types of snide remarks. Eventually, the two of you retreated into his room, where you ate leftover pasta while Eren recounted exactly what happened. You stayed with him until he fell asleep on his bed, watching him from the desk as his eyelids fluttered into a peaceful slumber, one that was well-needed and deserved after the emotional night he experienced.

The fallout has him freaked out, naturally. He’s put a pause on his plans, even reconsidering the whole thing. While he knows in his heart that it’s the best option for him, he can’t escape the never-ending need to please his father. For now, he’s prioritizing his upcoming exams and projects to get himself through the semester, one day at a time. Baby steps, you tell him. Baby steps.

As the two of you approach the door, the bass of loud music already reverberating through the exterior, Annie turns the handle, entering the house. It’s already packed with other students, a few you recognize, most of whom you don’t. As you make your way through the crowd, Annie stands on her tiptoes to see if she can spot the birthday boy. “He’s in the kitchen,” she announces, leading you into the next room.

Armin stands against the counter beside a girl with black hair, sipping on their drinks. You walk up to them, Armin exclaiming, “Annie! You made it!” He launches forward, wrapping her in a snug embrace. Her cheeks flush from the unexpected affection.

You wave at his friend, introducing yourself. She eyes you curiously, returning your greeting. “I’m Mikasa. I recognize your name. Do you know my brother, Eren Jaeger?”

“Yes, I do. He’s my RA, actually.”

She smirks. “I see. He told me about you.”

“Me?” you ask, caught off guard.

“Yeah. Says you’re a really good friend. He’s been keeping you hidden like some sort of treasure, so it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Before you can respond, Eren’s voice rings out, “Mikasa! What are you doing?!” He’s at the other side of the room, hastily pushing his way through the party goers. When he arrives, he nudges her. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my favorite resident.”

“You’re the one who’s embarrassing yourself! We were only talking..”

He looks at you, laughing. “I hope my sister wasn’t harassing you.”

You smile at him, flustered by him calling you his favorite resident. “She’s not.”

She pokes her elbow into his ribs playfully. “See? I’m being good. Now, if you really want to know, I’ve got almost fifteen years of dirt on him.”

With a brow raised, you reply, “Oh, I’m all ears.”

“There’s no way I’m letting this happen unsupervised,” Eren teases, moving to stand next to you, his arm pressed to yours.

They share stories about their childhood, including how the two of them met Armin on the school playground, saving him from bullies. You enjoy this glimpse into Eren’s life; it makes you feel closer to him. A few times during the conversation, his hand slides over yours for emphasis as he elaborates on a tale. It sets your skin ablaze, alarming and exhilarating all at once. Annie hands you a drink that you don’t bother consuming it, too enthralled by Eren’s overwhelming presence. You almost want to pull him into a private room and keep him all to yourself.

It switches in a flash when you hear the familiar voice and that dreadful nickname. “Coco?” Reiner stands by the fridge, staring at you with a bottle of beer in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

How reckless of you to forget that Reiner and Armin are in the same fraternity. Of course he’s here. They’re brothers. All the elation you felt up until this point sinks into the floor, along with your feet heavy on the tiles, unable to move. You despise how helpless you are around him, body shutting down or reacting in ways beyond your control. He’s got a firm grip on you without physically touching you.

Eren clears his throat, readjusting his posture to stand straight. “It’s a party. So she’s here to party.”

Reiner glares at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m her friend.”

“I thought you were her RA.”

“Sounds like you remember me then,” Eren replies, smirking.

There’s tightness in your chest as you hold your breath, anticipating his next move. Sensing your panic, Eren brushes his hand across yours, squeezing. This doesn’t go unnoticed. Reiner lunges forward, shouting, “Hey, hey! Don’t touch her!” He grabs you by the arm, pulling you towards him and away from Eren.

Mikasa grasps your other side, tugging you back. “Reiner, what the fuck?”

The commotion has gotten the attention of the rest of the room, hushing their own conversations to check out what’s going on. Reiner pleads, “Coco, we have to talk. Let’s go somewhere private.”

Still speechless, you try to keep your feet planted to the floor, unwilling to follow. Your knees give in as he drags you with him. Another hand holds you; it’s Eren, who’s staring at Reiner with an expression you’ve never seen before on his otherwise happy-go-lucky face. “You’re hurting her. Let her go.“

“Stay out of our fucking business,” he growls, fingers digging deep into your flesh.

You do your best to yank yourself from his clutches. “Reiner, that hurts.”

As soon as you say it, he lets go, apologizing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mikasa shoves him, separating you farther. “What is your problem?”

Bertolt appears, towering over everyone, standing behind his friend. “Hey, let’s go get some air or something.”

Reiner ignores him. “Coco, please. I just want to talk,” he begs.

Annie huddles beside you, immediately in fight mode. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Everything is moving in a blur. The only thing clear to you is Eren’s soothing voice in your ear, his lips grazing your skin. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

And you believe it, too. You don’t want to leave his side, but as the tension continues to escalate, the only solution is out. You grab your drink and rush out of the kitchen, maneuvering past prying eyes and nosy whispers. Thankfully, the music is still playing, and by the time you’re up the stairs, locked inside a bathroom, the typical party commotion resumes.

Your phone rings in your pocket; you ignore it, switching it to silent without checking who’s calling. Inspecting your reflection in the mirror, eyes swelling with tears already, you can’t help laughing at yourself, alone in this random bathroom, crying once again over Reiner. It’s ridiculous. You’re so mad at him for ruining your night, for letting him ruin your night. All you could do was stand there, helpless. And when it became too much, you ran away instead of facing it head on. It’s so typical of you to act this way. That’s why he hasn’t left you alone yet. You’re too afraid to deal with it once and for all. Too scared of cutting that string that connects the two of you since you were five years old, the one holding together all your precious memories of a life before all this. At this rate, you’ll never move on, coiled by it until it you’re too tied up to break free.

Sitting on the closed toilet seat, you wipe your tears, noticing the drink you carried in here with you. Without giving it a second thought, you chug it, deciding that tonight, you’re going to resort to alcohol as temporary relief. It’s sickly-sweet sliding down your throat, the liquor hardly noticeable in whatever concoction some frat boy brewed. However, it’s there, and you crave more of it, desperate for an escape.

~~~

Eren doesn’t chase after her. And it’s not because he doesn’t want to; if it were his choice, he’d be right beside her, consoling her, holding her. Before he does, Mikasa grabs him. “Give her space. She needs space.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but doesn’t speak, knowing she’s right. The last thing he needs is to screw up their friendship by making dumb, rash decisions like this. He isn’t supposed to be involved; it’s an issue between her and her ex, something he shouldn’t get in the middle of. It’d be easy to avoid if they were just friends, if Eren didn’t have any stake in this. That’s the problem, though: Eren has fallen for her. And hard.

It’s only now that he realizes Reiner is still being restrained by Armin and Annie, struggling to surpass the two bodies to get to him. “I just want to talk; I’m not going to hit him!”

Eren steps towards them, not intimidated, feeling bold. “You’re hurting her.” The words tumble out of his mouth easily, as if he’s been itching to let it out.

Reiner’s eyes narrow, upset. “Excuse me?”

Eren mentions her name, repeating, “You’re hurting her.”

Annie and Armin glance nervously between the two, maintaining a firm grip on Reiner. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If you really love her, you’d let her go.”

“Eren,” Mikasa warns him, tugging at his sleeve. So much for not getting involved. He’s aware of the line he’s crossing, though he can’t help himself. Not when he’s picturing her, crying in the corner of a room because this asshole won’t leave her alone. Of course he’s going to try and protect her.

Reiner glares at him. “What’s your deal?”

Eren struggles to answer. After all, who is he in all of this? The random RA who lives down the hall? A concerned friend? Above all, he’s someone who cares for her immensely. Isn’t that enough of an excuse to intervene?

When he doesn’t respond, Reiner continues. “You have no idea what our relationship is like. We’ve known each other since we were – “

“Five, yeah, I’ve heard the story,” Eren interrupts. “Maybe it’s time for you to grow up.”

This elicits another aggressive response from Reiner, to which Bertolt joins in on restraining him.

Armin, in a commanding voice, demands, “That’s enough. Calm down, okay?!”

“I’m not gonna to let him talk to me like that!” Reiner argues, reaching is arms out towards Eren, who remains nonchalant. This guy doesn’t scare him, not one bit. Reiner is a selfish coward; greedy for more, afraid to lose what he has. She’s a safety net to fall on. The back burner for when he needs warmth he can’t find anywhere else. It isn’t fair to her, being the last resort. She should be loved always, not only when it’s convenient.

Mikasa sidles up to him, whispering, “We should go before he really explodes.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “I’ll leave. Just…keep an eye on her for me. Make sure she’s okay.”

Annie gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Eren. I’ll tell her to call you,” she says, using her strength to stave off Reiner, who’s red in the face.

He nods. “You don’t have to tell her anything. If she wants me, she’ll find me.”

Reiner threatens, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with Coco, but I’m warning you. Stay away from her.”

“If you really cared about her, you’d stay away from her too.” Eren pivots on his heel to leave. Back turned, exiting the kitchen, he adds, “By the way, she hates that nickname.” He smirks to himself, listening to Reiner curse at him on his way out the door.

~~~

With your cup empty, cheeks warm with a gradual buzz, you finally leave the bathroom to find more liquor. When you reappear in the kitchen, Reiner and Bertolt are gone, thankfully. Annie spots you, relieved. “Are you okay?”

You nod at her, giving her a timid smile. “Yeah. As long as Reiner is gone, I’m okay.”

She sighs, frustrated. “Unfortunately, he’s outside.”

Focused on the obnoxiously large Gatorade tub on the countertop, you shrug with your cup in hand. “Fine. Let’s hope I get drunk enough to pretend he isn’t here.” You dispense the reddish liquid till your cup is filled to the brim, carefully tipping it into your mouth. Annie watches, concerned and impressed, as you continue to gulp it down until it’s empty. “Whoa. Easy there, you don’t want to get too fucked up, right?”

Already tapping more into your cup, head starting to get hazy with a buzz, you respond, “Actually, that’s exactlywhat I want to do right now.” You finish it, Annie monitoring you nervously, not saying anything.

Soon, the two of you join Mikasa and Armin in the living room, which has been converted into a temporary dancefloor. You’re smooshed by bodies and engulfed in heat, the intense bass from the speakers drowning out whatever thoughts remain in your mind. This is exactly what you needed, to be lost in something, having fun without worrying about anything other than yourself. An escape.

As luck would have it, this only lasts for a few minutes. From your peripheral, you catch Reiner making his way to you, Bertolt trailing behind. “Coco!” he shouts over the crowd.

Annie glares at him, shielding you. “Fuck off.”

“I only want to talk. Please.”

It’s only now that you can properly study his complexion. Dark shadows under his eyes, facial hair unkempt as if he hasn’t properly groomed it. There is some pity, seeing the boy you grew up with and loved with all your heart look like a shell of himself. More than anything, though, you’re fed up. Liquid courage surging through you, you decide that tonight, you’re going to end this exhausting game he’s playing once and for all. The long-winded back-and-forth you’ve had to endure this past semester. You won’t allow him to ruin you, destroy the both of you. Not anymore.

“It’s okay,” you tell your friends, stepping around them towards Reiner. “I’ll deal with this.”

Annie utters your name, loose grip on your wrist, a last-ditch effort to stop you. You pass her a confident grin, patting her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

Standing tall, you face him. “You want to talk? Fine, let’s talk.”

You lead the way upstairs, past the bathroom you were previously hiding in and into the nearest unoccupied bedroom, shutting the door. Once you switch the lights on, you’re suddenly extremely aware that you and Reiner are alone, enclosed in this small space for the first time since that day you said goodbye. There’s a sense of déjà vu, filling you with an uneasiness you can’t quite explain. You’re teetering on the edge, a risk of falling at any moment.

“Coco,” he starts.

Before he can continue, you interrupt him. “Reiner, you can’t keep ambushing me like this. It’s not fair to me. I’m trying my best to move on, I can’t do that if you’re always pestering me!”

“I know, I know. But – ”

“I already told you why we can’t be friends, so stop trying.”

“Please listen to –”

“I’m finally getting used to not having you around anymore, so just leave me alone –”

“I want to get back together.”

You stare at him, stunned, slowly processing what he said.

“Coco, I want to be with you. I want it to be us again. I was a fucking idiot for breaking up in the first place.”

Still, you’re speechless, astounded by the words coming out of his mouth. It doesn’t help that the alcohol in your system is taking its effect, head dizzy and balance wobbly.

Reiner reaches for your hand, holding it in his. His thumb brushes across your knuckles, the way it used to all those times in the past. “I’m a fucking mess without you. I can’t sleep, I can’t think. Every day I miss you. I don’t want this anymore. I want you.”

You finally find the will to speak, voice trembling. “You can’t take back what happened.”

“Why not? This semester has been the worst without you. Why can’t we forget about what happened and go back to the way it was?”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

His hands cup your cheeks, forehead pressed to yours. And while your mind is screaming at you to stay strong, to push him away, your body stays still, melting into his touch. “Coco, I love you. I’ll always love you. I realize that now. I’m sorry it took all of this to realize it. I’m sure of it now. Please, baby. I need you.”

Your confidence is dwindling. You came into this room, intending to end it. Now, you find yourself wavering under his words. The words you so badly wanted to hear ever since he broke up with you. It’s your weakness: to be needed, to be wanted. It’d be easy to forget, to go back to the way it used to be. Wouldn’t it?

It will never be the same. You can’t forget what he did, no matter how badly you want to block it out of your memory. That paranoia will always be present. He’s already broken your heart once, what makes you think he don’t do it again? How can you trust someone who so easily crushed you without a fair warning? Who toys with your fragility because of his own selfish desires?

“Reiner, I don’t know,” you whimper, tears filling your eyes, overwhelmed with emotions.

“We’ll figure it out together. You and me. Like old times.” The past. Carefree and in love, in your own little world, just the two of you. Sheltered from the unknown, reliant only on each other. Were you happy in this life? Or did you only convince yourself that you were?

“It’s you and me, Coco. Forever.” He inches forward, lips almost touching. You can smell the harsh aroma of alcohol on his breath, pungent and bitter. When you don’t pull away, he closes the gap, kissing you. His tongue slips inside your mouth, desperate for a taste, and you welcome it, starved for affection after being deprived of it all semester. The once familiar facial hair is foreign on your skin; it’s like he’s a completely different person now, a stranger. And maybe that’s why it makes it easier to kiss him, to imagine him as someone different than the same Reiner you once knew, the one who broke your heart. He’s different this time. He has to be.

What if he’s not?

Suddenly, your body reacts, hands to his chest, shoving him away. “No,” you state, recoiling from him. “No, I can’t do this.”

Grip on your hips, he tugs you in again, scattering kisses along your neck. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, baby.”

You force him off once more, with more aggression, surprising him. “Stop, Reiner. It’s not okay. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. We have to move on. It’s over.”

He grasps you by the shoulders, pleading with you. “I don’t want to move on, Coco. I want us to go back to the way it was, like when we were kids.”

“That’s the problem. We’re not kids anymore! We have to grow up.” Your voice trembles, hands shaking with anguish. You’re saying it as a cruel reminder for the both of you.

“Baby, please,” he begs, surrounding you in a scorching embrace. You can’t breathe, the air too dense in his presence, suffocating you. “I need you. I need you.” He kisses you again, fingers gliding beneath your shirt and along your skin, pulling you to the bed. You succumb to it, the past flashing in your memory like a movie playing in fast forward. Your first kiss, clumsy and awkward because you were only kiddos who had no idea what you were doing. The first time you made love, crossing that line from best friends to lovers, also clumsy and awkward, but it was yours. All the moments when the two of you were in sync with each other, strolling through life glued to the hip. The breakup doesn’t erase the precious memories the two of you share; it’s shown you that maybe this relationship has run its course. Because now, it’s nothing like it used to be. You’d be fooling yourself thinking it can ever go back to the way it was.

Before you go any further, you break apart from him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you stumble to the door, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry, Reiner. We can’t. We can’t do this.” When you open it, the cacophony of party sounds filling you with relief, as if you’ve returned to steady ground, away from whatever orbit he’s attempting to suck you into. You won’t let yourself revolve around him any longer.

You ignore his voice calling for you as you sprint down the stairs, rushing through the crowd, not bothering to check in with Annie in the living room. You can’t face her, not now. Not after you betrayed yourself by kissing your ex. Shame envelopes you as you speed walk your way across campus, heading to your dorm. Halfway on your trek, you send Annie a quick text, explaining that you left the party and that you’re fine, although it’s not entirely truthful. As you swipe your ID at the door, your feet automatically lead you to your safe space.

~~~

Eren lays in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, contemplating. It’s been a while since he left the party, annoyed from his confrontation with Reiner, more so worried about her and how she’s doing. He can’t sleep without knowing whether she’s okay or not.

Phone in hand, he sends Mikasa a quick message, asking for a status update. His sister’s reply has him immediately sitting up, frantic:

Mikasa: She’s talking to Reiner

He hops out of bed, pacing around his room. Talking to him? What could that mean? He attempts to call Mikasa, the suspense eating away at him. When she picks up, he can barely hear her, the background noise of the party too loud. “Mikasa, what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry,” she yells on the other end of the line. “I think she’s trying to end it. She told us she’s dealing with it.”

“I told you to keep an eye on her.”

“I’m not going to stand there in the middle of a private conversation! She’s a big girl, she can handle this.”

He sighs, frustrated. “I know, I just –”

“Eren, you can’t keep protecting her. She’s got to deal with this on her own.”

He doesn’t answer. She’s right; it’s not his battle to fight, no matter how much he wants to.

“Oh shit,” Mikasa curses. He can hear Annie and Armin’s voice murmuring, though he can’t make out what exactly they’re saying.

“Mikasa, what’s going on?!”

“She texted Annie a few minutes. She said she’s fine, but she left. We don’t know where she is.”

He panics, squeezing the phone between his ear and shoulder, slipping into a jacket, scrambling for his keys. “Okay, I’m going to look for her. Stay there in case she comes back.”

“Eren, I’m sure she’s going to the dorms! Don’t freak out!”

“Well, I’m going to look for her anyways! Please, Mikasa. Do this for me – ”

There’s a knock on his door. Eren sets his keys down, heart racing. “I gotta go,” he quickly mutters into the phone, hanging up. He approaches the door, unlocking and turning the handle slowly.

“Eren?”

She stands in front of him, eyes puffy, biting her lip as if to suppress her crying. He pulls her into a hug, surrounding her in his arms. She relaxes into him, nestling her face into his chest, sniffling. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay,” he chants.

In between sobs, she cries, “I’m not. I fucked up, Eren. I really fucked up.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he reassures her.

“We kissed. Reiner and I kissed.”

Dread settles in the pit of his stomach as he listens in silence, anticipating what else she will reveal to him.

“We were touching and we almost, I almost…But we didn’t. I stopped it.” She swallows hard, collecting herself before continuing. “I’m so ashamed of myself. I spent the past three months trying to get over him, and I tossed it all aside for one stupid kiss. I’m weak. I’m weak.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he consoles, rubbing her back. “You’re not weak.”

“I am, though. I’m so fucking desperate to be held, to be touched. Tonight exposed it. I can’t do that again. I just can’t.”

He’s not proud of what he suggests next. Maybe it’s jealousy that makes Eren propose what he’s about to. He justifies it as a friend helping out another friend. It’s a mistake. Not because he’ll hurt her; in the end, it’ll hurt him. He lets his selfish desires overtake the usual logical thinking in his brain. All he can focus on is this, right here, right now. This might be their only chance, his only chance. “How about me?”

“What?”

“Use me. I want to help you.” This is a bad idea, a very bad idea. As soon as he crosses this line, there’s no turning around. He’s all in. It’s the point of no return, and with as much risk as there is in it, there’s no question in his mind that it’s worth it. To have her like this, even for a fleeting moment, is better than not having her at all.

“Eren,” she whispers, peering up at him.

“Rely on me,” he says with a small smile, caressing her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

“Eren,” she repeats, closing her eyes. “I don’t want this to change anything between us. I’m scared I’m going to mess this up again.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m always going to care about you, no matter what. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

They need this, a temporary escape. Him and her, no one else. Cherishing one another, loving each other the way they deserve. It doesn’t matter what the past is or what the future holds. He wants to be lost in this moment with her. She opens her eyes, gazing at him. He bows down, lips close to hers, pausing to wait for her. She kisses him softly, electrifying every nerve in his body.

it’s over too soon; she pulls away, distancing herself. “Eren, I can’t do this to you. I’m all fucked up in the head right now and still a little drunk. You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.” Without another glance, she leaves, her hasty footsteps pattering down the hall, Eren listening until he hears her shut the door to her bedroom.

He traces his mouth with his fingers, her essence lingering on his lips. He stands in place for a few more minutes, waiting and hoping for her return. When it doesn’t come, he goes to bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

~~~

You fucked it all up, with Reiner, with Eren. As always, you ran away, unable to stand up for yourself, to face the truth.

With Reiner, you crumbled, allowing him to enrapture you with empty promises and longing for the past. He almost convinced you that everything can go back to normal, which you know it can’t. And with Eren, you pushed him away, too scared to repeat the same mistakes despite your heart yearning for him more and more each day.

His offer to you sticks in your mind as you lay in bed, focused on the ceiling, intoxication completely worn off after a hot shower and much-needed hydration. Rely on me. Use me. It wasn’t fair to take advantage of him while you were in such a fragile state, drunk and in tears after your confrontation with Reiner. Hours later, with a clearer head, you can’t stop thinking about him. I’m always going to care about you, no matter what. It’s the only promise of the night that you actual believe.

You check your phone for the time: 4:17 AM. Glancing to your side, Annie sleeps peacefully in her bed, having arrived a few hours earlier. You explained to her vaguely what happened, leaving out the details about both kisses, not ready to deal with her blunt reactions. As quietly as you can, you slide into your slippers, sneaking out of the room. Halfway down the hall, you second-guess yourself, almost turning on your heel to go back. However, Eren’s soothing voice replaying in your head entices you. One moment of unadulterated bliss together wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Before you change your mind, you knock quietly on his door, nervous and excited. It doesn’t take long for him to answer. He stands before you, wide awake, a comforting smile upon seeing you. And while this whole night was a blurry, fucked up mess, this is the most certain you’ve been. Even if it is for a short while, a temporary escape from the unkind realities the both of you have to eventually face, it’s clear as day: You want to be with him, and he wants to be with you.

“So,” you say, stepping towards him. “Does your offer still stand?”

His smile widens, reaching his arm past you to shut the door. “Absolutely.”

Taglist:

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @mrs-wolfwood @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

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herbofgraceandpeace · 5 days

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Re: Flavian’s outburst to Christopher about how he (Christopher) has been an unfeeling, stuck-up brat—Flavian’s not exactly right or wrong here. I think Jones is demonstrating that Christopher is so caught up in his (very real) powerlessness to control his situation, he doesn’t realize that he DOES have the power to really and truly hurt others. He’s so caught up in his own misery that he (selfishly) forgets that others might be miserable too.

This is part of growing up! Christopher hasn’t really been taught empathy, and he hasn’t really had it modeled for him either, outside of Tacroy caring for him, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. He’s so focused on how the people at the castle aren’t caring for his conscious wants that he entirely ignores the ways they ARE intentionally and deliberately attempting to care for him (I think at least a little classism privilege is at play in him ignoring the maids—he’s only ever known his parents’ mistreatment of servants, but presumably he should have been paying attention to how the castle folk treat the maids differently)

However, I think the adults at Chrestomanci Castle are guilty of the exact same kind of blindness and self-focus as Christopher. They HAVEN’T been meeting his needs emotionally (which has led to their inability to physically protect him either), and whatever their intentions throughout his stay, they did not try to get to know or understand Christopher as a person at his arrival, and they’re paying for that first impression. He’s a CHILD. a child from an unloving and neglectful home, who’s just been ripped away from his friends and his home at school, a child’s just DIED for the second time, and he’s a child with hopes and dreams and self-will, all of which have just been casually, thoughtlessly stripped from him. The castle folk are so focused on their OWN need of a successor for Gabriel that they treat Christopher as an object to be formed to meet their needs instead of a person with needs of his own. They’re so focused on their search for the Wraith and the hell he’s wreaking on others that they miss the very real hell they’re imposing on Christopher. All of their attempts at care are based solely on their perception of what he SHOULD need and want because! They never! Ask him! What he needs or wants!!!!!

What’s that post about how some people act like “if you don’t give me the respect I think I deserve as an authority figure, I won’t give you the respect you deserve as a person”? I think that’s basically how the otherwise decent and well-meaning adults of Chrestomanci Castle treat little Christopher Chant. Confident in their own virtue, they presume that of course this boy who doesn’t know them will trust them immediately. Confident in their work for the greater good, they are indifferent to the suffering of the individual before them. It’s clear that they care about him and his well-being, but without treating him like a real person at all, and it’s never more obvious than in the scene where Gabriel takes his spare life away. They are taking tangible, drastic steps to protect him because they are very worried on his behalf, but throughout the whole process they have no real knowledge of the horror and terror he is experiencing because they are too busy making choices for him to ask him why he’s making the choices he does (and again, Christopher doesn’t TRUST them. But they never empathize with him enough to realize that.) Another example is how Miss Rosalie and the others keep chasing Throgmorton away from Christopher when he’s laid up. They’re so focused on how uncomfortable Throgmorton makes them feel that they don’t care at all they’re isolating Christopher and depriving him of his only companionship.

But none of their bad conduct exonerates Christopher of Flavian’s charges of being rude and unfeeling towards them, even though Flavian is STILL presuming to know and understand Christopher’s motivations and choices despite being completely in the dark about them. The very personhood Christopher wants the others to acknowledge in him is the reason that Christopher is responsible for his own actions towards the castle folk.

And that’s the tea on human responsibility in The Lives of Christopher Chant. (thanks for coming to my ted talk)

#I love this book so much but it makes me so fired up lol #I love the way that Diana Wynne Jones has her protagonists realize their flaws and their accountability for them regardless of circumstance #It’s what it means to grow up!#To realize that no matter how you’ve been treated you’re a person with the freedom to make choices #The theme of responsibility for the actions of others in her books is one that I haven’t thought deeply about #But I betcha that would be really interesting too #Anyway #the lives of Christopher Chant #chronicles of chrestomanci #diana wynne jones #chrestomanci #Peace reads books #ranting and raving

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marinas-drafts · 1 year

Text

Road Head

A Sarge & lil Mama scene

Summary: Elaine plays the loving spouse, the avid groupie, the shy novice -all in the time it takes to please her husband while pondering exactly what her life has become in the Amphetamine blur of their third nation-wide tour.

Warnings: 18+ rough oral sex (m. receiving) drug mentions, mentions of drinking, angst, role play of a sort (pretending the wife isn’t his wife), some obvious marital dissatisfaction, some disassociation, slight degradation and cum on the face -I swear this isn’t fully miserable but please proceed with caution, this is rather universe a-typical with its smut, not much tender loving care except faintly at the end, if you get my drift

Fully Co-Authored with @elvisabutler in a single, angst-fueled evening

Masterlist

Date: 1974, somewhere on Tour

It was right about now that Elaine realized she’d succeeded in reinventing herself just a little too well.

It was the look of recognition or lack of recognition that led her to that realization. The man above her was Elvis Presley but the woman where she knelt was not Elaine Presley. She wasn’t even Laney or Tink, she was just another girl on her knees looking up between overdone eyelashes and perfectly coiffed hair at the man with hips and lips to kill for. She felt shame then, at that realization, but odder still was the relief that flooded next. Here was no standard of behavior to reach, no image to match up to, no history weighing her down, there was only the heat then and now the musky smell of his stage sweat and the unrelenting grip of his hand on the back of her neck, keeping the rhythm he wanted without a second thought to what might suit her.

How was he to know?

She was a stranger, and strangers haven’t got tastes that men like Elvis Presley would deign to cater to. Moreover even if they did, even if men like Elvis Presley did deign to cater to them, it would be at the expense of doing something for him. It would be at the expense of catering to a whim or a mythical fancy that his drug-addled mind had dreamed up.

No, this was better, Elaine can become the lips he wants stretched across his cock. Elaine can- Elaine can play the virgin who doesn’t know how to take an uncut cock between her perfectly done lipstick. Elaine can play the experienced road girl who hasn’t ever had an uncut cock but oh Elvis, I can do it, I’ll make you feel good. Elaine can be everything but little Elaine Presley who wants to nuzzle at the patch of hair at the base of his cock like she had when they were first married.

Elaine would like to think that the little Mrs. Presley of days gone by wouldn’t recognize this tour hardened woman with spit and precum coating her throat and chest in a glistening film, messy in a deplorable, filthy, back alley sort of way that only the basest of masculine desires could appreciate -but she knows she would. Always so eager to keep his eye on her even back then, anything for Elvis, anything at all. Anything to keep the man who was so obsessed with her that he pushed her against her father’s door and asked her to marry him. Promised to give her everything she ever wanted. Anything to keep the man who she thought she lost forever after she lost Jo, the man she’d thought she’d won back with Marie.

But do ya love me, Elvis? Me?

This is what that little Mrs. Presley had led her to: a life of pleasing and chasing after a man who’s supposed to just be hers. It’s as pathetic as some of the papers would make it seem and yet it’s not. It’s worse because this wasn’t how everything was supposed to go. She should be happy and round with another baby. She should be riding him in the bus and reminding everyone to get out so she can enjoy her husband, with him laughing at how ‘y’all heard Laney’.

Instead her knees are on the floor and her tongue plays with the slit of his cock as her hand plays with his balls lazily inhaling every bit of his sweat soaked musk as she can. Taking comfort in the burning gag of him pushing too deep too fast, perking up at every “fuck yeah” he groans, contenting herself with making that left leg of his shimmy -it’s still him, slight belly paunching above her, and at least it’s still her and her stupidly hopeful heart when he hisses fast and frantic,

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“ tapping her cheek hurriedly because she knows this routine well enough to not be so foolish as to keep him in her mouth for this, her willingness to swallow yet again wasted on a man of such peculiar tastes.

Instead she makes sure her eyes are smiling along with her mouth, not too stiff and not too knowing, just the right sorta cheerful blankness he can tug the last bit of his pleasure to before coating her hair like a teenaged boy.

The first few times there was a twitch to her eye as the warmth of his release started to slide down to her forehead. The sensation making her gag more than his cock ever had but now this has become an old hat, a parlor trick she could show off.

See? This is how you keep a man like Elvis Presley.

You let him come in your hair after you sucked him within an inch of his life and you let him maybe take care of you, talk like one of the boys and mention how your beaver needs attention. Or maybe it’s just how she keeps him, pretending she isn’t his wife who wants more kids and who asks for them only to be brushed off. Pretending she isn’t his wife who hurls an insult or five at him when the champagne courses through her.

Of course, it’s got its comedic side, every tragedy does, and it fuels her grin as she waits patiently on her knees for his eyes to focus and his voice to rasp the inevitable, “c’mon let’s get ya up honey, let’s take care of that widdle pussy”. Because the joke is only a wife of nearly two decades would know which uppers he took based off of the time it took for him to blast off. No backstage girl could make a mental note that it was the New York doctor’s blend if he didn’t last longer than ten, and the Californian’s if they were creeping up nearer to forty. Her jaw aches tonight. Valuable as this information is she wishes idly as his cum stings her eye that she could somehow apply it to his general health. His boners seem to be doing fine, and it comforts her ego, but it’s his heart she frets over more and more each day.

She’s gotten wonderfully good at that -fretting. Elaine does it at all hours of the day and night, can multitask with another endeavor and keep at it like a champ. There’s a couple hundred photos of her on this tour smiling her best wifely smile and all the while her mind is awhirl with worry. She assures Elvis it annoys her even worse that it annoys him, this worrying she does. When she’s tipsier than she would like to admit she sometimes lets out a sneered “someone has to.”

Because even while she’s on her knees she worries for Daisy, worries her daughter is making a life similar to this Amphetamine blur she herself lives in, somewhere on the rock n’ roll Highway but not with a man who’s promised her what Elvis has promised Elaine. Her daughter would probably scoff at Elvis’ promises. Most of their children might by now and she wishes that kept him up at night alongside her.

Maybe that’s why the pills are necessary after all.

It’s only after the uppers start to wear off and her champagne runs her down that she’s curled beside him, hair and face devoid of his release and as clean as the day she was born that he seems to remember who she is. He seems to remember who she is and whispers against her hair. “Ya a‘right, Tink?”

To his credit he asks, he always asks and the answer should be easy, she should say she doesn’t know. She should say the truth that sits on the top of her tongue but she’s his wife and she wants him to be happy. “I’m alright, Naughty.”

Maybe if they say it enough, maybe if she believes it enough she can make it true. Until then the lies will do.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

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@thatbanditqueen

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@ash-omalley

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@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

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@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

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@presleyenterprise

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@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

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@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

@whatstruthgottodowithit

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #sarge and lil mama #70’s Elvis #elvis smut #elvis on tour #elvis fans #Elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis history #elvis one shot

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beauty-and-passion · 8 days

Text

CCCC Vol.1 - Cacophony: the beginning (2/5)

And finally, after a long time, welcome back to the Cacophony act.

Mucka Blucka gave us a good summary of the current situation and an interesting foreshadowing of what will happen along the way. All we know (for now) is:

Heart is the leader when the story starts

There was an initial attempt at compromise among the three sides

Mind doesn’t accept Heart as leader and tries to appoint himself as the new leader instead

Something happens, a fixed event on the time loop that changes the status quo (the Juno incident)

The consequences of this event will lead to Heart’s apathy and Mind taking full control

Oh and let’s not forget that these things should still happen, but have already happened too, because we’re stuck in a loop.

So, in order to better understand the whole thing, it’s time for us to “enter” the loop, by its starting point - or, well, the “peaceful period” prior to the big incident. And this “beginning phase” is developed through the next three songs.

<- Previous post - First post

_______________________________

Never Meant to Know: introduction from Chonny

Never Meant to Know is a song about the mysteries of life. Many things are unexplained, and many questions will never have an answer. This evokes a sense of uncertainty, of insignificance in comparison to such huge enigmas, but also a sense of communion, since we are part of these enigmas and live alongside them.

And now, I can hear your questions:

Why is this an introduction from Chonny?

In the Q&A, Chonny said that he made this album because he wanted to explore the mysteries of duality and mental dissonance. In his words:

“The idea that the same brain can produce completely separate and juxtaposed conclusions from a single input is strange, and something I’ve noticed fairly frequently throughout my currently short life. CCCC is a manifestation of those dissonances from an extremely personal and biased perspective, in song form.”

Our brains and the complex mechanisms behind our reasoning are a mystery still mostly unknown. And Chonny knows that, considering it’s one of his interests. Hence, with this song it’s a bit as if he’s trying to make us understand that too: we are facing something mysterious and we will do it through Chonny’s lenses - specifically, through the characters he made, to talk about the themes he wanted to explore.

Does that mean this is an introduction from Chonny as an author?

It’s very possible and I kinda like the idea. But it can also be an introduction from Chonny as a character.

Why? Well, everything will be clearer in the Concord act, but if this is a loop, that means all we will see already happened - so it’s not just events, but memories too. And a Chonny who already saw and experienced all of them has a higher awareness of himself and his mental processes.

So this introduction can easily come from a Chonny who, right after the Concord act, starts the new loop, while still retaining the awareness he developed by already experiencing it.

Okay, but why is the introduction here and not in the Calamity act?

As we saw in the previous post, the Calamity act served to close the previous time loop and connect to the new one.

Think of it as raising the curtain on a show or turning the screen on: the story hasn’t started yet, but the preparations are made. You get a little glimpse of what has to come (Mucka Blucka) and now, the story can finally start after a little “prologue/disclaimer” (Never Meant to Know).

And who can make the introduction of the story, if not the character who is closer to Chonny’s reasoning?

_______________________________

Spring and a Storm: introduction from the Soul

Of course it was Soul who introduced us to the story: he was the last and first voice in the previous loop (Dream), it makes sense he opens the story too. After all, he’s the one closer to Chonny.

Soul’s introduction has some elements already hinted at in Mucka Blucka: a romance, the concept of writing songs for himself, but also writing a specific song and feeling good about it (we’ll get references about it in Haiku and Hidden in the Sand).

He also hints at conversations with a mysterious “she”: weather, religious beliefs, life mysteries. But instead of simple, plain answers, there are dark undertones and twisted, complicated thoughts. All hints that Chonny’s mind is a lot darker and complicated than it seems.

And we’re about to see it.

_______________________________

Night: the starting point

This song is just one huge metaphor so follow me.

Under Soul’s suggestion, Heart leaves a light on “underneath the moon”.

Since the moon and the night are both associated with Heart, they can easily serve as metaphors to identify Heart’s leadership.

On the other hand, the sun and the light are associated with Mind. So by leaving a light on underneath the moon, Heart is implying that, while he’s being in charge, he’s still leaving a door open/he’s giving Mind a chance to come closer.

Please notice: the idea of leaving the light on (aka giving Mind a chance to come closer) wasn’t Heart’s. It was Soul who suggested it. Why, you may ask? Because Soul has one goal and one goal only: to unify. And they can’t do it, if they do not stand together.

As soon as Heart leaves this chance on, Mind comes closer. And despite what we might think, he doesn’t immediately start bickering with Heart. On the contrary: they sing the chorus together and confirm their intention to cooperate and become one again.

I want to see your eyes Looking back and out through mine

There is still harmony, at least for now. The three characters are working together (“Tonight, all the black, and the grey and the white”).

But the more the song progresses, the more a sense of confusion and incomprehension starts to grow.

Why? Well, Chonny said to us from the start: it’s because of the contrasting nature of Heart and Mind. It’s because they are opposites that can “produce completely separate and juxtaposed conclusions from a single input” (Q&A).

But what are those conclusions? And when were they drawn?

The conclusions are drawn here:

Something is here Only thought

And in order to understand what are the conclusions, we need to see the entire song from Heart’s and Mind’s different perspectives.

From Heart’s perspective:

He’s the current leader, he “controls” Soul (read: Soul is siding with him). Soul tells him that hey, let’s welcome the other side. This way, we’ll become one again.

Heart follows his advice and welcomes Mind. They all reconfirm they want to become one, they try to work together into being one again.

But Heart’s and Mind’s nature are too contrasting. And the more time they spend together, the more Heart starts to worry about Mind. It’s a feeling, so it’s confusing and cannot be logically explained, but Heart fears Mind’s growing influence.

So, a thought takes shape in his mind: he must intervene before it’s too late. He must do something to stop Mind.

From Mind’s perspective:

Heart is the current leader, he’s controlling the Soul (read: Soul is siding with him). Mind approaches them and they welcome him. They all share the same goal: to become one again. They reconfirm it, they try to work together.

But Heart’s and Mind’s nature are too contrasting. And the more time they spend together, the more Mind notices Heart’s inability to be a leader. He’s not doing his job well. He’s too confused, because feelings are not as clear as logical thinking.

So, a thought takes shape in his mind: he can be a better leader than Heart. He can control the Soul too. He can do his job better than him.

What do you want? Everything else will fade away

Mind doesn’t reply to Heart’s question, but he doesn’t need to. They already reached their own conclusions.

Heart now is sure: Mind is dangerous, he must do something.

Mind now is sure: he can be a better leader, he will become that leader.

And with that, the line “everything else will fade away” seals the conclusion of the “peaceful period” and the beginning of the story. No more understanding, no more common goal to pursue now: Heart and Mind are drifting away, following their own goals.

And the gap between them will soon become wider.

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

📌TAGLIST: @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake-and-crofters @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire @riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing @thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @nevenastark @coldbookworm @boopypastaissalty @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

#chonnys charming chaos compendium #cccc #chonny jash #chonny soul #chonny mind #chonny heart #cj whole #cj soul #cj heart #cj mind #analysis

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ryuichirou · 2 months

Note

I really love the lengthy analysis you wrote about Vil and Jamil in the past! Do you have anything similar to say about Riddle, if you haven't already? Or maybe about Riddle and Trey, if you're more comfortable with talking about relationships between characters.

Dear Anon, I am very happy you liked my analysis of these two! It’s been a while, I even forgot that I wrote it, so it’s insanely nice to hear that someone still reads these posts and enjoys them. As you might have already noticed (it seems to be my mission to keep repeating it to make sure no one ever forgets about it), I am not as speedy with my replies as I used to be, so this reply is long overdue. But I always have stuff to say about these boys, and Riddle very interesting and very dear to me as the boy who introduced us to how broken these boys are and how interestingly TWST plays with the theme of trauma.

We don’t post about him very often, but I like Riddle a lot. I think out of all of the housewardens he has the biggest vibe of a broken kid hidden behind his strong facade. I guess this is my way of saying that Riddle is the most childish out of all of them lol It shows not only in his tantrums (Ace compared him to a baby for a reason), but also in how obviously excited he gets when he sees anything that is fun; it’s like his inner kid reacts before Riddle composes himself and acts like he isn’t interested. We’ve seen a bunch of moments like this, I think. In a way, all of the overblot boys didn’t get to live through their childhood in a “normal” way, but Riddle expresses it in a very obvious way.

But it’s not only about cakes and games: Riddle is very immature emotionally too, and it’s hard to blame him for that, because let’s be honest: this is the first time Riddle deals with people. Isolation is a difficult thing to come back from, and if you shove a heavily sheltered boy into an high school/college and put him in a position of housewarden, of course he’s going to act like a little dictator: this is the only way to assert authority he’s ever seen. And since Riddle himself is a good kid (i.e. a kid who is terribly afraid of making his mother angry) and doesn’t misbehave, he is completely unequipped of dealing with a whole dorm of teenagers who aren’t very good or excited to live by the Queen’s Rules. Even those who don’t want to cause trouble can’t remember all of them, they’re basically written in a way that are meant to sabotage you, but Riddle would never acknowledge that: if he learned them, others must too, otherwise they just didn’t try enough. But they just won’t listen, and Riddle gets frustrated instantly: it’s them who are unreasonable, not him!

Of course it is a metaphor and an exaggeration, but I think Riddle portrays a very real thing that a lot of us have either seen or experienced. His standards for himself aren’t just high, they’re absolutely unreasonable, but this is his entire reality and he can’t even see that this isn’t how things are for the rest of the world. He’s like a little goldfish (lol) who lived in a tiny aquarium for its entire life and then got transferred into an ocean without any kind of adaptation or even a quarantine. Riddle is already a second year, but I think the shock of everything around him still hasn’t gone away completely, partially because Riddle spends a lot of time stubbornly ignoring the feeling that he is the one in the wrong. If he is wrong, than mother is also wrong, and that can’t be – this is the only thing he is sure of.

You know, there are some people who really enjoy having a system of rules in their head, or rather principles, and it gives them a very valuable and helpful structure (even if that system of rules/principles isn’t perfect and backfires sometimes). Vil is that kind of person, Sebek is that kind of person... Riddle isn’t. I genuinely think Riddle is the type of person who would enjoy living without a set of rules, but with basic logic to help him navigate the world; does that make sense? Anyways, unfortunately, Riddle can’t live without a manual: he never learned how to. We see it both in his book and in book 6, when he shocks Azul over and over again by just how rigid he is.

Speaking of which, I love that Riddle didn’t have a 180 degree turn after his book. Of course, it’s partially because we have to keep the status quo intact a little bit, and he wouldn’t be the personification of the Queen if he didn’t have his rules; but I also think this is very true to life. Just like the boys said at the end of the book 1, you don’t have to change everything at ones, taking baby steps is okay.

But taking baby steps also means that you will keep bumping into issues and conflicts, which is crucial for growth, but also could make Azul fucking Ashengrotto say that he will beat the shit out of you if you won’t shut up lol

Their entire dynamic in book 6 was very good. Both Azul and Riddle are horribly stubborn, obsessive freaks, but for entirely different reasons and in very different ways. And both of them have their guard up, but interestingly? I think Riddle is better at trusting people and being genuine about his feelings or thoughts about them than Azul. Maybe he’s made a better progress than Azul in that sense, maybe he’s always been better, but this is what I mean: Riddle doesn’t mind genuinely complimenting Azul for his achievements, and a lot of time he didn’t even mean to offend Azul with his remarks. To Azul, however, every compliment is given with a reason and every snarky comment is given to metaphorically push someone down the stairs. Both of them have a lot to learn though lol but it’s fun to see them working through this misunderstanding and actually working together.

You asked about Trey; and honestly, even though we kind of liked him from the beginning, we didn’t think much about him (mostly because we met the rest of the characters whom we were very excited about). But the more I think about Trey, the more I get amused by how much of a dark horse he is. I feel like Trey’s forced neutrality and desire to stay “hidden” from any kind of event or conflict or attention at all is interesting: it’s subtle, but it’s definitely there. He has this inoffensive image of a good and caring older brother type, and it’s true that he is caring and supportive, but it’s also isn’t entirely out of his desire to do good things. I’m not saying that he is an asshole, but he isn’t like Silver or Kalim, if that makes sense, he doesn’t have this hero-like desire for everyone to be happy or to protect the weak no matter what and to help out everyone: whether Trey wants to admit it or not, he has his priorities. And I feel like Trey doesn’t even want to necessarily be “the good guy”, he really just wants to be “the normal guy”, and sometimes “the normal guy people could rely on”.

What I wanted to say by that is that Riddle is Trey’s main priority no matter what. I’m stating the obvious, but this is why he didn’t protect Ace and Deuce (who were in Heartslabyul for less than a week) from him, this is why he kept asking everyone to just be patient with Riddle and to tolerate the way he treats everyone. Because it was more important for him to protect Riddle and to avoid him feeling like he does the wrong thing.

And while it’s partially due to Trey’s personality and his relationship with Riddle, I feel like Trey is also kind of traumatised by what happened back then. Not to the degree that Riddle is traumatised of course, but it’s probably tough for someone who’s always been a good kid to get yelled at by someone else’s mother for hours for doing something that you believe wasn’t even bad. I think Trey feels extremely guilty because he knows that whatever he felt, Riddle had it even worse. So it’s not surprising that he is terrified of hurting Riddle even more: every time he looks at the way he acts, he knows that it’s a result of him being abused. I’m stating the obvious here lol but I like that Trey is stuck in this “sorry, but I will keep hurting all of you because not hurting him is more important”.

We watched Ghost Marriage Event recently (haven’t seen the vignettes and voice lines yet) and I think it’s very interesting that it was kind of tied to the Trey/Riddle situation, which Ace even directly addressed. We even got Trey (and Cater too, to be fair) going yikes because he felt called out by what Ace was saying to Chubby about the way he treated Eliza. Even if you love someone, you can’t just let that person get away with hurting others. Even if you think it will keep them happy, it will never help them in a way you think it will. Riddle gets hurt by staying a tyrant that everyone despises, and Trey knows that he does, but doing that important step of stopping him and having a talk with him is too scary to even consider. This is why he needed that wakeup call from Ace of all people.

I guess that makes Ace more emotionally mature than Trey and Riddle both in a way lol

Anyways, I love their relationship a lot, and even though I’ve mostly been talking about the very basis of their relationship, I think there is a lot to explore with these two.

#replies #about characters #treyrid #treyriddle

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gorgonwrites · 1 year

Text

bound to you (part 1)

diluc x fem!reader

authors note: hi! im gorgon and this is my first fic :) i am definitely NOT a writer, but i had an idea and i decided i wanted to do it myself >:)) this is turning into a slow burn type of thing i am so sorry haha. i usually like getting right into the thick of things but i just kept writing sos

wc: 1,864

cw: uuuuuh none for now, no smut in this one! mutual pining, diluc is dumb and is trying to ignore his feelings for reader, fem!reader, arranged marriage trope, diluc learning to be a good husband blah blah

It’s been six months since you came to the Dawn Winery. You’ve come to love Mondstadt and you adore the staff who share your home. The only person who was still warming up to you is your cold shouldered husband. Master Diluc wasn’t known to be an affectionate man, and he kept himself busy with business or stayed late at Angels Share. Even though you’d been married for months, you could count on one hand how many times you’d actually spent a moment alone with him. He avoided you, and quite frankly, you avoided him. You knew you’d never get a chance at marrying for love since you were the eldest daughter of a well known Lord in Fontaine. Your marriage was purely political, but you lived an easy life here. The stillness that you experienced most days was a relief compared to the constant partying and being paraded around at events like you were an item to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. You were, however, incredibly lonely. Adelinde tried to remind you that Master Diluc was a very kindhearted person, he just needed time to adjust.

“It hasn’t been that long since you arrived and married the Master, Lady y/n. Just give him time, he shows his affections in… his own way. You’ll see.” You sighed. Another six months of avoiding each other may drive you mad. You were an independent woman, and not being allowed to lift a finger in your own home was driving you past boredom towards insanity.

“Do you think I’ll be able to help with the grape harvests soon? Master Diluc will be away on business for at least another month and I’m happy to provide another pair of hands.” You phrased it as a question, but as the Lady of the house Adelinde wasn’t in a position to refuse. She giggled as if you had asked her something rather mischievous.

“I know we could use the help. Besides, you could put that vision of yours to good use and keep everyone cool, I’m sure.” You didn’t get many chances to use your cryo vision anymore, and you jumped excitedly at the thought. Your husband can hardly stand the cold, and you’ve tried to limit how much you use it out of respect for him. He may avoid you, but he hasn’t been unkind. You try to afford him the same treatment, even if it was difficult at times. You were directly going against his wishes by offering to help with any harvesting work out in the hot summer sun, but what your husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“I’ve got more frozen lemonade, boys!” You yelled out to the men working tirelessly in the vineyard. Adelinde held an umbrella out for you to shield you from the afternoon heat, but you were feeling perfectly cool after using your vision to make a huge batch of frozen drinks for your employees.

“Thank you, Lady y/n!” Each man said one after another, quickly snatching their drinks from the tray you brought out. You all had been working for hours at this point, your nose and cheeks were tinged pink from the sun.

“Alright, after this we’ll get back to it. I’ve got a bit of energy left!” you said cheerily.

“You most certainly will not.” a familiar gruff voice asserted behind you. Your eyes widened before you slowly turned to come face to face with your husband, speechless. He was home more than two weeks early. You stood before him in a thin undershirt and underskirt to combat the heat, sweaty, sticky, and sunburned. Embarrassed, you whispered softly,

“Welcome back, Master Diluc.” You averted your eyes from his gaze, suddenly feeling exposed in your current state.

“Adelinde, please see y/n to her chambers and have her rest. I’ll help with the remainder of today's harvest.” he spoke as though you weren’t even there, and you were close to snapping. You can’t though, not for everyone to hear. Adelinde began to shuffle you back to the winery, and you chanced a glance back to look at your husband. He had already shrugged his coat off and began unbuttoning his shirt. He looked up to see you staring, and you swore you saw a small smile appear on his face. Surely not, you thought to yourself. And you let Adelinde take you inside to bathe and relax after a long afternoon in the hot sun.

After your bath you sat alone in your room, wondering whether or not you wanted to find your husband. The harvests of the day had long since ended, and the skies were stained pink and orange as the sun set. You had a perfect view of the vineyard from your window, so you sat to watch the sky as you got lost in thought. You began to mindlessly braid your frizzy curls, and became so engrossed in the thought of your shirtless husband that you didn’t hear a quiet knock at your door.

“Y/n?” You jolted at the sudden intrusion, only to see the subject of your wandering thoughts in your doorway. You looked away quickly, wanting to hide the flush creeping up to your cheeks. You felt hopelessly exposed again, only donning your summer nightdress. Your husband was a handsome man, you knew that. But you didn’t know him. After six months of marriage you knew nothing about the man in front of you, but you were finally ready to find out.

“I did knock,” he smiled sheepishly, “I wanted to… see to you being well rested before I retired for the evening.” You furrowed your brow in confusion. This was the first time Diluc had visited your chambers, and he wanted to make sure that you were resting? You quickly changed your mind about getting to know him, and you could feel agitation creeping into your skin.

“I am very well rested, thank you Master Diluc.” you replied flatly. His expression fell slightly, and you scrambled to find something else to say.

“I told you not to call me that. I’m your husband, calling me Diluc will suffice.” You scoffed at him in response.

“Some husband, who has hardly spoken to his lonely wife in six months. Hardly even seen her as well! Leaving her to entertain herself day in and day out. I think if I become any more restless I may die from the madness!” You clapped a hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips. Wide eyed, you glanced at the man in your doorway once again. He’s nothing but a stranger, you reminded yourself. Even so, you didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

“I apologize,” you immediately whisper, “I didn’t mean for that to sound so unpleasant.” He smiled gently in response. Even if you pushed the limits of what you could do, even with your fiery quips and sarcastic comments, he only ever showed you a softness that no one else witnessed. Maybe you were the one giving him the cold shoulder and hadn’t realized it. You crossed your arms in response to your own thoughts.

“Don’t apologize for saying things I need to hear. I know I’ve been exceptionally busy since you came to Mondstadt. After the harvests are done, I’ll have a bit more freedom to do as I like with my time. I’ll see to it that I spend some of that time with you. Sleep well.” He quickly turned on his heel and was out of your room, leaving you speechless. You couldn’t help but notice your heart pounding, and you clutched your chest in hopes of calming it quickly. The sky was almost dark now, and you watched as crystalflies floated through the vineyard. Your heart had slowed its pounding, and you sat in your window again to go over what your husband just said to you.

Diluc quickly made his way across the winery to his own chambers and let out a sigh when he closed his door behind him. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest after the short interaction with you, and he couldn’t deny the bulge growing in his trousers after seeing you in your thin nightdress.

“Damn it.” he breathed. No matter the distance he kept between the two of you, the yearning he felt became clearer and clearer. He wanted you, and badly at that. Kindness flowed out of you like water, your fiery personality was intoxicating, and you were undeniably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He resisted growing close to you because he worried about putting you in danger. Anyone close to him could be used as collateral against him, and if anything happened to you his relationship with the Lords in Fontaine would crumble. Is he worried about that, though? Or is he more worried about any harm coming to you? He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing at himself.

Spending time with you would change nothing. He was sure he could easily entertain you once or twice a week when the Winery’s busy season came to an end. He took a breath and slowly began to undress for the evening. He huffs at the chilly night air flowing in from his open window, kissing his tanned and freckled shoulders. Diluc didn’t like the cold. It reminded him of what his life became after losing his father, and preferred to keep his body and home warm despite how hot it became throughout the summer months in Mondstadt. He thought of your cryo vision, and wondered if your body stayed cool in the same way that his body stayed hot due to his own pyro vision. Do you even like the heat? What was your favorite season? Would you ever tolerate being touched by him? His mind was racing again. Stripped bare aside from his shorts, he flopped onto his bed and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Gods, she’ll lead to my ruin if I’m not careful. He stretched his arms over his head, seeing stars from the pressure of his palms. He smiled. Maybe any ruin you lead him to could be worth it.

AHHH okay that's it for now sorry there wasn’t much ~flavor~ but i had to set the scene okay. like i said im no writer so feedback is always welcome! im so soft for this man i can hardly stand it LMAO

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc fluff #diluc smut #diluc headcanons #diluc genshin x reader #diluc genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin imagines

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littleroaes · 1 year

Text

Boys In Cat’s Clothing, l.jy

pt.2

Y/n yearns for a place outside her secluded routines. So when college comes around, she gets the opportunity to go to Seoul. She becomes a stranger in this vast city and behind the job, she meets a creature without capability of her own language. Without realizing it, Y/n stands in the living room, saving magic from impending on itself.(or; Y/n finds a cute cat and takes him home, suddenly there’s a handsome man on her couch)

PAIRING ⏵ ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) lee juyeon x fem!reader

GENRES ⏵ FLUFF, light angst, a sprinkle of fantasy(cat shapeshifter!juyeon), strangers to lovers au, pining, (light)suggestive

WARNINGS ⏵ swearing(one time), clumsy scene where Juyeon accidentally cuts himself, one argument between Y/n and another character, slightly suggestive(one mature scene)

WORD COUNT ⏵ 11.9 k

AUTHOR’S NOTE FINALLY!!! I just proofread it one time, so i probably missed something. This is also my first fic on tumblr so hopefully the layout and all turned out fine. I’ve been a kpop fanfic writer for a couple of years, but this is the start of my tbz writer journey. Please, enjoy a wholesome, fun, easy read!

AT SOME POINT Y/N UNDERSTOOD HER LIFE WAS QUITE SECLUDED.

That her routine of going five minutes to school with eighteen kids and staying up until the moon covered for the sun. Because she knew everyone in town wasn't the usual. Of course she felt lucky to have that life. There’s a sort of feeling in daily life that sets you free when you don’t need to be afraid to go out. And even if she would’ve been afraid to go out, either her mother or father go with her. Heck, even her grandparents live just down some streets.

But beyond her tightly knitted space of freedom, she wonders what exists outside. Every summer when she goes down to swim, she meets the same lifeguard that saw her take her first steps into the water. And apparently y/n isn’t the only one he has followed through their childhood. He was born at the nearest hospital and has then lived his entire life here. The lifeguard is a sweet guy, but last summer y/n confessed to her friend; “What if I also end up living here forever?” She knitted her eyebrows and turned so her chin met the warm stone. “What do you mean, you don’t like this place?” Y/n turned to her and the setting sun covered their humid skin. “No, I don’t mean that, I just…”

Their conversation didn’t go much further than that. She understood y/n was feeling rather blue so she took her to her house for home cooked food. Y/n didn’t bring it up again, she hasn’t asked but clearly she could spend her entire life and more in this place. So she faced the sea for herself, and dreamt of a place far away, and now she’s here. Despite her very worried parents and not outstanding academic experience, she got into a university in Seoul and with her parents help bought a tight studio apartment. Her room was far from empty when she left for the train, so it’s definitely not the last time she has her feet on this land. Even now, she thinks about their melancholic expressions as they wave her off. Realization that their little girl is about to take on the world on her own.

The first step out of the train was rather overwhelming. Seoul was overcrowded and she could feel the skins of people brushing up against her own as she struggled her way out of the train station. But even when experiencing suffocation at every corner, she somehow falls in love with it. Her new life opens up in all directions and even though her apartment is smaller than her room back home, she has never felt a freedom like it.

She got herself a part time job at a restaurant to spend her time on the weekends. As much as she would have loved to tour Seoul with a girl friend by her side, she doesn’t expect much social interactions on her part. That’s a problem she faced before deciding to go to Seoul and still haunts her when she comes home from the restaurant. When balancing five plates and talking with at least one person every second, your thoughts kind of goes silent. But between her four walls in her bed and the only sound coming from the open window in the heating season, the loneliness eats her up from the inside.

It’s Saturday night and the place is about to close. Y/n cleans the last table and her colleague comes up to her.

“Finally done, I might fall asleep before I get home.” He says and stretches. Y/n continues sweeping the table while nodding.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Hey, Y/n!” A voice comes from the kitchen and she looks back. “Can you take this out for me?” She holds a big plastic bag in her right hand and Y/n goes to her and takes it.

“Thanks!”

“No worries.”

There’s no light as she steps out of the backroom and opens the door to the outside. A slight breeze hits her when the moonlight shines over the depressing garbage area. As if the moon watches her every move, Y/n stops at the staircase and lets the door close shut behind her. As weird as it was, she has this strange feeling in her stomach. A yearning for her past life. The place she died to escape from seems so much easier than her current one out on the staircase. Back home, she knew everyone and everyone knew her, it has always been that way. But in the overcrowded city, she stands skin to skin with strangers and a simple greeting will not take you far.

A rattle from the garbage container snaps her out of thought and she looks down to her right. The plastic texture moves around and Y/n tilts herself closer. The last thing she needs is some sort of parasite-sickness, so she grabs the plastic tighter to get ready to crush whatever creature jumps out. With a last loud struggle something actually does come out between the black plastic. A yellow cat. Y/n instantly notices the collar on its neck and lets the bag fall to the ground. While inspecting it, she notices hairless spots under the necklace and the extremely thin silhouette coming up from the bin. Without much thought, Y/n reaches out her hand to it. She jumps back as the cat the same second shows its teeth and jumps off the container and hides behind the fence further away. Sorry, Y/n thinks for herself and finally throws the bag. Before walking in again, she looks behind her shoulder. The frail figure of the soft creature caused her to stay a bit longer. The shining plate on his neck indicates that he has a home, but the hairless spots and irritated skin says otherwise. Y/n bites her lip before turning back to the door and closing it.

Her colleagues are done with the closing.

“Do you lock, Y/n?” He asks her at the door. Y/n nods while pursuing her lips and he gives her a thumbs up. When the bell goes off with the door, Y/n takes two deep plates and fills one of them with water. Rummaging through the cupboards, she finds a depressing pack of white bread. She stares with big eyes at the plastic packaging. Will she somehow kill the cat if he eats this? She thinks for herself. With her left hand she scratches her scalp and then takes the bread. With a light grip she separates the slice in small pieces and walks back out to the garbage area.

On her next shift, the plate out on the concrete was certainly empty, but she couldn’t be sure if it actually was the yellow haired cat or the seagull family on the rooftop. Either way, Y/n couldn’t help but feel sympathy for it. So she has built a new routine to hide away a small portion of the customers leftovers. So on a green paper plate before night comes and Y/n gets the task of throwing the garbage, she puts the plate about a meter away from the container.

Her new routine seems to bring comfort in her young adult life. She finds herself looking out the kitchen opening to see if the cat comes along. But Y/n always end up needing to close the restaurant before the cat visits the plate. Two weeks pass from their meeting, but life seems to move on without any new cross in paths. For each shift, her excitement over him vanishes, the only thing left is the fact that the plate is empty every time she comes back.

On a Friday, some hours after lunch, Y/n throws on her waitress outfit and stands quietly in the kitchen to listen to the group meeting. Her colleagues spew words that barely form meaning to her and she notices how they laugh and she quietly does the same. Her nail on her long finger is cracked and ready to fall off from how much she bends and flips it. Eventually the meeting is over and they get ready for opening.

Y/n quickly runs out to the garbage area. She opens the door and bends down to pick up the plate. As she looks up to stand again, two eyes meet hers some meter away. Beside the fence slightly covered by the ventilation box sits a small yellow cat. Y/n freezes as it may get scared and run away, but to her surprise it's still there. With big brown eyes the cat watches her standing up slowly. They never break the contact as she takes a step back. What does the creature before her think right now? Somehow she reads those eyes as curious and innocent. To be completely honest, Y/n doesn’t want to go running back between tables at the moment(she never does), but duty calls and she eventually closes the door behind her.

About once every hour she looks out the kitchen opening to see if it’s still there. During the first hours, the cat actually sat in the same place looking at the door where she had left. But as evening came around, the cat seemed to have lost interest and walked its way. She’s definitely disappointed and a bit surprised over how happy she was during those few hours. Fishing up the best leftovers and eagerly watches seconds move closer to the end of her shift.

The summer night has set and Y/n walks out to leave the trash and plate. When her right hand hovers above ground, she hears a clean, light chime. And once again, the yellow silhouette stands before her. It must have jumped over the fence. The creature stands closer this time and watches her and the plate intensely. The pupils are even bigger at night time and the yellow fur seems to reflect the moonlight. With it so close, she can actually read the silver plate on his collar.

Juyeon, just Juyeon.

“Hi, Juyeon.” She quietly whispers and the ears move up with her voice. Her expression radiates fondness as her eyes soften and lips curve into a crescent. “I guess you're a ‘him’.”

As it’s still one and a half meter between them two, Y/n place it down in front of her before pushing it to him. She wonders if he’ll feel comfortable eating when she’s watching or if it’s better to leave him alone. But without standing up, Juyeon starts eating off the leftovers. Her arms hug her legs in the kneeling position and her head tilts on her knees. Somehow, this scene before her feels incredibly comforting. It’s with the realization that this is her first interaction without pressure of fitting in since she left home. It feels stupid, but the loneliness she's been piling up like bricks, falls just in this instant. Maybe it’s full of sadness or she’s about to have her period soon, but a single tear breaks free from her eyes. The fond smile is now gone and tears roll down in silence as she watches Juyeon eating comfortably.

The world looks rather blurry now, but she catches how Juyeon looks up from his plate. His small head tilts to its side. A cat can’t understand feelings like a human does, but something tells her by the way his eyes stare into her figure and how he slowly walks forward to brush his body against her legs, that he feels her sadness. Even though she understands he can’t gripe why there’s tears running, she appreciates the fact that he does notice.

“I’m okay…” She sniffles quietly.

The single fact that a heart is beating so closely to hers, though not human, makes her feel just a bit less miserable. Y/n sniffles quietly and wipes away the tears with her wrists. With clear vision, the distance has shortened and they’re now body against body. Having him so close, she notices the red bruises between his light furr. Y/n frowns a bit as he takes another sway around her legs. It could be her imagining things, but feels as if there’s more bruises than the first time she saw him. To be fair, he’s very small, very skinny, and very fragile. It probably doesn’t take much to accidentally make ugly marks.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asks and looks deeply into the eyes of her new found friend. Not expecting an answer, she does get a ‘meow’ back. Which, she can’t help but smile at. One hand that comforted her legs is now placed on Juyeons head. The second her skin touches his forehead he nuzzles back in and lets out something that sounds like satisfaction.

“It’s okay…” She whispers, “We’ll be okay.”

Y/n expected Juyeon to move on with time. That sooner or later the color of his fur would be a vague picture she would keep for herself. On nights at 23:45, she would look between her ceiling and windows, wondering where he was, or if he even was real. But the world never fails to show her the most unexpected sides of life.

Every time she opens the door to the garbage area, he would sit there, looking up at her with big eyes. While looking into them, she wonders how much time he has spent there waiting. All those moments of picking up and putting down the same plate, she stays a second or two. Quietly wonders if she means to him what he means to her.

Clearly you’re a different kind than me, but I do find myself feeling comfort around you. In this city, I’m quite lonely. When my past life seems so far, you’re the only one that brings even a smallest bit of joy.

Does he feel that way too? She thinks. Or is the creature with tall ears even capable of emotions like hers? When sitting on the small elevated steps to the door, she quietly watches juyeon eat. At those moments, she truly hopes their relationship is based on something stronger than food.

But on a Saturday evening under the moonlight, her yellow haired friend seems to have vanished from earth. For every shift since that first day, juyeon has been waiting for her beside the fence. Sneaking out upon hearing her specific way of walking. But right now, she stands alone with the green plate. Y/n in silence looks behind every box and bin, trapping air in corners, but there’s nothing alive beside herself on this porch.

She stands still and tries to deny the saddened fact. The green plate now stands on the same spot it usually does. Y/n doesn’t turn her back just yet, instead she takes a seat on the elevated concrete and holds her hands in her lap. The scene is motionless, but for some reason she keeps looking. As she sits there, she wonders where he has gone. Breaking such a consistent pattern could be a warning sign, but at the same time, he could’ve just been bored. After all, the food was the golden lining between them, though she felt as if it was more than just food that connected them in this city.

When she takes power to walk off and close for the day, she hears a cry from the other side of the fence. It’s pitched like a child, but the last part makes it certain what made it. Thereafter, continuous struggles and rapid sounds of air getting cut follows. A voice from a person loudly complaining and screaming at someone. Y/n stands in the same position as when she was about to walk away. She looks between the gap of where the fence ends and sky starts, wishing for it to tell what goes on behind. The cold summer breeze seems to go right through her and takes her breath away with it. The countless scenarios that go through her head and they all end up with Juyeon blood stained and broken. Y/n makes no hesitation and runs to the door to get out of the restaurant.

On the sidewalk outside her job, she runs around the complex to find an opening. Doing about two turns around the cluster, she stands before the driveway up to one of the buildings. Y/n watches a woman with an empty bottle, swinging and kicking against Juyeon. Her door is open and she has nothing more than socks on. Her voice is filled with rage and cracks that only a broken heart can do. It’s impossible to make out sentences as she spits and trips by each word. Juyeon is tightly cramped between the wall, and for every step she takes closer to him. His figure seems to be getting smaller. Not moving any closer, she shouts.

“Please, stop!”

The lady hesitates from kicking again and looks over to Y/ns side. The woman starts with unstable steps, comes closer to Y/n and she backs away.

“What do you think you’re doing, lady!”

Y/n brings her hands closer to her chest and stares into the woman's eyes, “Please, don’t hurt him.” She repeats.

“It’s my fucking cat, mind your own business!”

“No.”

The bottle in the woman's right hand could come crashing down on her at any moment. And Y/n stares into her red filled eyes but nothing beside misery looks back at her. The person in front of her is not a person, just a shell of who she once was.

Y/n clutches her fists and pushes her body forward, “I said, don’t hurt him!”

Their faces are centimeters apart. She basically tastes the lingering alcohol from her. After a few moments of silence the woman lets out a frustrated sound and throws the bottle right onto the concrete. A loud shatter echoes on the driveway and green flakes splatter against the corners. A few hit her bare legs. But right after, the woman goes her way, ignoring the cat and shuts the door. The area around basically shakes with it and she hears a twist of the lock on the other side.

Y/n still looks at the same spot, left in the same position. Warm liquid paints streaks from her upper calf to her heel and her rigid breath can’t seem to slow down. But a smooth feeling across her lower legs takes her out of it. Y/n looks down to see Juyeon lovingly pushing his face against her bruised legs.

Y/n breathes out and bends down slowly, “I’m sorry.” She strokes his fur and pulls him tightly to her. Now she falls onto the concrete and sits with a glass splitter around her, but he’s safely placed between her arms. As her hand feels spots without fur on his body, she realizes where they came from.

“You’re safe now, Juyeon. No one can hurt you.”

The evening ended long before she sat up from the concrete floor outside the woman's door. Decisions have never come easily to her, so she waited for a sign. But Earth continued spinning and she looked down in her lap. Her arms caged him tightly to her body, but for a moment she let them loose. He was free to go. The streetlights showed him the path away from this place, but he sat relaxed between her legs.

Getting under fire for theft was the last thing she needed. But Y/n left the driveway with Juyeon in her arms, hugging him to her chest. And now, she quietly walks up the stairs to her apartment, whispering to god not to let Juyeon utter a sound. And for her fortune, she closes the door and the four walls surround them both. When usually coming home from work, the room looked rather gray with dark spots on her furniture. The single chair in the corner told her that no one else was expected. But tonight, this space seems warmer and the moonlight illuminates the hidden corners and soft fabrics.

Y/n looks down towards Juyeon. She sees his head observing the dimensions of her room. Does he like it, Y/n thinks for herself as she lets him down onto the carpet. He taps on the carpet a few times before taking a few steps on it and goes to her plant under the window. He sits down to pull the leaf down with his paw, just for it to jump back up. After he lost interest in that he jumped up on her bed, staring and sniffing at her stuffed animals. The fake seal beams towards Juyeon and he confusingly pats its face. Y/n still stands at the entrance and watches with a small curve on her lips his curiosity. It’s something very healing about watching him like this.

Y/n got ready for bed as Juyeon went on an exploration around the room. She felt a bit bad having him in a closed off area, but for the time being, Juyeon seems to find a lot of new things. As she walks out of the bathroom, she finds him curled up in the two person sofa. His yellow fur blends together with the beige fabric of the furniture and the light from her lamp paints him lovingly. Watching him like this, she realizes it’s a lot of things to fix if he will live here. She sighs and walks over to him. Despite being very attached to Juyeon, her current life will not handle another living being in her house. So she’ll eventually find a new home for him.

Y/n turns back around, walking away from the sofa and to her drawer. Juyeon seems to notice the sudden change in behavior and looks up. Y/n digs deep in between her clothes and lets out her breath with the stop of movements. She comes back to the sofa and Juyeon curiously watches the thin fabric in her hands. Y/n takes off his orange collar and lays it on the coffee table.

“You’re mine now, right?” She whispers and ties a yellow ribbon in the spot the collar sat. By adjusting it, the bow sits now at his front. Y/n looks down at him with fond eyes and laughs quietly.

“Why are you so pretty?” She pats his head before taking out a hair tie with a matching ribbon attached to it. She puts her hair up in a half up-do before turning her head slightly for Juyeon to see.

“Now, we’re matching. Cute, right?”

It’s hard to say if he understands her implications, but either way he does meow. Even sits up and brushes his head against her stomach. Again, for her own sake, she imagines him being very excited over their matching accessories. With light hands she cups his face and reaches down to his forehead. With a simple kiss she says goodbye for the night and walks to her bed.

While the sun covers the walls and showers her plant, Y/n rubs her eyes before sitting up. Outside the glass, the Seoul horizon folds out in full view. There’s small circles of water on the surface and she feels an urge to go out and smell the city after rain. It’s Saturday, no one tells you what to do on Saturdays so she finds it is an amazing opportunity to go and buy some stuff for Juyeon. As per automatic, she turns to the sofa where she left him last night. Her smile drops nearly instantly and she pulls her covers closer. Where it should be a fluffy, yellow figure stuffed between her pillows. It instead lays a full person with their back facing her.

Y/n sits there for some time, just staring at the stranger thinking they’ll disappear. Time moves and they haven’t faded from view. Are they dead, she thinks worryingly. Y/n finally takes off the covers and cautiously takes a step closer to the stranger. On her way she takes the lamp from the coffee table and takes out her phone, ready to just press one button for an emergency to come running.

Being just a few centimeters away, she pulls her face closer to the silhouette. Finally revealing their identity, she meets a calm face with their eyes closed. It’s a guy that she would guess grew up with the same TV shows as her and an appearance that looks too good to be a thief. She has a hard time imagining the man on her couch breaking up her window and taking a place on her couch. Is he crashing Juyeon while sleeping? Y/n thinks and tries to catch a piece of fur under his body.

A single detail pulls her out of it though. The guy has a yellow, silk ribbon tied loosely around his neck. The bow is perfectly placed under his chin and he looks very peaceful and innocent. With no trace of Juyeon anywhere, Y/n feels her mind wandering to places only in tv shows and she needs to look away from the couch.

She stares at him again. Y/n puts the lamp back on the table and clicks her way out from the 911 number. The stranger doesn’t seem like an intruder, but she’s still suspicious of waking him up. It doesn’t take much more than though, since he opens his eyes slowly. Y/n backs away and reaches out for the lamp again as the stranger lifts his arms up and yawns slightly. Y/n points the lamp right at him and he simply looks at her. His big brown eyes clearly remind her of Juyeon and the way he sits so timidly and looks up at her, like he’s asking what he should do.

“Who are you?” Y/n asks confused. The man tilts his head and stays like that for a few seconds. He inspects every movement of her face as if waiting for her to change. He then finally smiles.

“You’ve already forgotten me?”

Y/n squints at him. While he sits with crossed legs on her couch, she looks down at his ribbon. She closes her eyes tightly, feeling the urge to physically swift her arms around the room. Her eyelids stay closed as her mind once again spirals in what the hell happened this night. Somehow this is worse than waking up from a drunk night, wondering what scene you caused.

“Are you more comfortable with me in my cat form?” Y/n opens her eyes and lets the lamp fall beside her hip. His smile is now gone, but head is still tilted. He pouts a bit and twiddles with his fingers while looking down at them.

“You seemed more comfortable…”

Y/n now stands straight up and scratches the back of her neck. Her eyes move between the floor and the man in front of her. The apartment feels rather claustrophobic at the moment. There’s too much thought for this space and she looks out the window in hope for some of them to go. Y/n sighs and slowly walks over to the sofa. He feels the weight of the sofa shift a bit and he peeks up between his fringe. As their eyes meet once again, Y/n looks away and pokes at the lamp in her lap.

“So…” She nods with pursed lips, “...you’re Juyeon.” It comes out rather strained and hard. He simply nods while still peeking up and Y/n gives one back. Juyeon still pouts. There’s a bothering point that itches on his recent happiness. It makes him want to run away and hide under the table.

“I’m sorry, I can switch back to my cat form. I didn’t know it would happen.” He says quietly and Y/n side eyes him and at this point, he’s not looking at her anymore. Juyeon fiddles with the ribbon and she jumps a bit closer.

“Don’t say sorry, you can stay…” Y/n awkwardly uses her arms to point on his human figure, “...like that. It’s just-” She sighs and scratches her neck again. Juyeon looks up again.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

Juyeon inspects his own skin. He spreads his hands in front of him and leans back, “I didn’t know I could do it either…” He puts his right hand just a centimeter away from his face. Y/n inspect quietly as he continues putting every feature of his body up close. The way he keeps his eyes from closing just to watch each piece of his skin. When he actually blinks, it nearly looks like he’s afraid he’d missed something, as if his body would pull something unexpected when he wasn’t watching.

“...I never thought I could change again.”

Y/n tilts her head, “You could change before?”

Juyeon nods.

Having a fantastical creature on her sofa would rather intimidate her. Thinking of herself from an outsider perspective, why isn’t she driving Juyeon out of her apartment? Who knows what other mystical tricks he is capable of. But instead she tries to lean her mind somehow closer to his. What does this creature think? What more has he experienced? Is there a glitch in evolution? Worse, did his ancestors fuck cats? At this point her mind starts spirling, so much that Y/n hasn’t noticed herself physically coming closer to him.

Juyeon tenses up and leans towards the armrest. He feels quite naked, a bit vulnerable by her very obvious intrigue by him. Juyeons cheeks are stained pink and he scratches his leg and looks around the apartment.

As he moves in his seat, Y/n realizes their closeness and she immediately backs off and sits up. While standing she tries to remember her usual routines. In the mess she has woken up to, maybe she can find some comfort in her normal life.

“I’ll make u-us?” She hesitates, “..some food?” Sounds like a question, but she wants nothing less than an answer from whaterver’s behind her. So Y/n starts walking to the small kitchen area. While reaching for the yogurt she feels a sudden warmth behind her. Y/n peeks behind her shoulder and Juyeon inspects the inside of her fridge. She makes up such a detailed and intricate plan for breakfast it might get a place in an art museum, and she still feels his very presence move intact to hers.

At first it feels like Juyeon just follows her because there’s nothing better to do, but when she starts cutting up the vegetables, he leans in closer. At this point he has his head on her shoulder and Y/n nearly focuses more on keeping her shoulders still than actually cutting correctly.

By the left side of her view, a single finger moves closer to the tomato and silver knife. Y/n stops cutting and holds the knife away from his finger. The tomato leaks seeds and transparent juice, the knife is decorated with a spectrum of color after the cutting. A slight excitement and sudden spark within Juyeon takes him to poke the stuff on the counter. Y/n somehow takes an interest in his natural curiosity and lets him explore the cutting board, but soon he takes his finger on the knife blade.

“No!” Her hands form a grip on his wrists and bring it to herself, but on closer inspection and the whimper from Juyeon, there’s already forming a thin red streak.

“Juyeon.” Y/n sighs slightly and takes him to the bathroom. Still holding his arm, Juyeon drags his feet in her direction. The variation of boxes and bottles over the sink, he tries to remember them all before she shuts it. In her hand, she has a bandaid, but the man before her won't make it easy for her to put it on. As Y/n peels away the plastic Juyeon quietly pokes the sticky side of the bandaid with his finger and picks it up.

“I-give it back Juyeon, you need it.” Y/n reaches for it and Juyeon obediently listens to her by shaking his finger to get it off.

Y/n catches it before it lands on the carpet. She reaches out for his hand again and wraps it neatly around his finger. Juyeon’s quiet, but she realizes you don’t have to spend that long of a time with him to predict what he’ll do next.

“Don’t touch it.” As his eyes meet her stern ones, Juyeon slowly lets his hand fall back to his sides.

Y/n looks over his arms for more bruises and catches a glimpse of the razor beside the shower head, will he hurt himself with that too? As her thoughts race, she looks up and sees Juyeon looking down at her with pure eyes. He has a surprisingly warm effect on her like this. A cat or a man, Y/n has this comfort gently knitted against her heart and by that, she is about to reach her hand out to brush his hair to its sides. Though, her hand only gets about two centimeters up from her hip before she sneaks under him to get out of the bathroom.

The rest of the morning kind of goes like that. Like in his cat form, he never leaves her side. For every short turn in the kitchen, Juyeon is closely after. Y/n tries to get him away from the small fireworks of oil, but Juyeon insists on having the first row. Though it doesn’t last long, when the oil splatter and lands on his hand he quickly hides behind Y/n and peaks out from her shoulder.

Though he’s very much a 6ft tall man, college age, she finds him endearing. His presence in her home makes her rigid and square, but for each minute that passes, Y/n realizes he’s still very much a cat. In reality, he doesn’t pay much attention to her, it seems. While eating they sit at the coffee table while Y/n takes up her fork and knife to separate her egg into pieces, Juyeon looks back and forth between her and his plate. He grips the plate gently and shakes it to catch the yellow circle wiggle. Y/n smiles as he does it again and this time it breaks and paints the rest of his plate.

She plans on taking him out for a stroll around Seoul. Though he doesn’t need cat food or a box, he’ll probably need some clothes. Juyeon continues standing against her back as she picks out today's outfit and Y/n turns around so they stand face to face. She scratches her neck and coughs. Juyeon continues standing like a tree and as if waiting for an order.

“I…could you maybe go away?” Y/n asks gently. Pointing with her clothes to the kitchen area. Juyeon doesn’t move just pouts. But obedient as he is, he walks slowly over. Though, Y/n bites her lip, feeling like a bad person as his figure walks away.

“Or Juyeon…you can be here but just turn around…okay?”With that Juyeon smiles brightly and nods his head. His fringe follows those movements.

Even when Y/n says she’s done Juyeon stands with his back against her. She awkwardly watches him like this before saying he can turn around. Those eyes he has given her the entire morning, it’s a look of fondness as if she’s the one who brought him to life. Until his smile fades. His dough eye glistens as he tilts his head and a dissatisfied pout forms. Y/n tries to understand his change in expression as he walks closer and takes her hand.

“Why did you take it off?” He says softly.

He brings Y/n's hand up and her yellow ribbon divides the space between them.

“I usually have my hair down when being outside.” Though, it isn’t a lie, she has caught onto the fact that juyeon doesn’t see the world like she does. The thought of going side by side with a cute guy and matching items has her heart turning.

“But I like it.” He fiddles with his own ribbon against his neck.

She bites her lip before taking the fabric up to her hair again, “Okay, I’ll have it on.”

The leaves fade from green to shades of brown before plummet down onto the earth. Some months have passed since that day, that day he turned into a human. Y/n seems to have settled her mind on waking up to someone else and cooking two eggs every morning instead of one. Despite now being a human like the rest of the eight billion population, his life is very much like a home cat. While going to college, Juyeon spends those same hours in her apartment. In the beginning it was fairly easy to entertain him while she was gone. His mind is similar to someone who just got dropped off by earth, therefore she gives him small tasks like doing dishes, cleaning windows and after some good amount of time washing their clothes.

But her way of making him spend his time is a bit one-dimensional, she thinks. He is after all as much of a living being as herself. From time to time when studying she looks behind her back to see him diligently wiping the floor. The world must look incredibly dull after still doing that after three months.

And it is. Juyeon doesn’t say it out loud, but he insists on participating in everything she does. Even when she studies, she feels his presence from behind and he leans over to look at her screen. “Do you need help?” he asks. Y/n simply answers, “I would be thankful, but I think it’s a bit hard to help.”

But his incredibly dull routine isn’t the only obstacle facing them at the moment. Despite now taking on a human form, he's clearly not one. His physique tells others that they’re the same, but people quickly turn an eye when he gets focused on birds outside or runs behind her when someone talks a bit loud. And last, in his cat form he was clingy. Nuzzled his head between her hands every time she came out with food. But now, he’s never closer to her than standing behind her back. Y/n can’t help but think it’s her fault for his change in behavior. That night when he transformed, she was incredibly bothered by this. Juyeon has seemed to pick it up too. But when reading wikipedia articles on Thursday nights, she learns that cats can be understimulated. Some owners who work regular 9 to 5 have trouble not giving them enough company.

Y/n looks up from her computer screen to the small kitchen area. When shopping, she kind of let Juyeon look around for himself. Despite his very height, she noticed he gravitated towards oversized clothing. Sweaters that drape over his arms and let him curl inside them. So from her angle, he looks incredibly pocket sized in his new sweater.

“Juyeon?”

When the first sound of her gentle voice reaches his ears, Juyeon turns. It’s a certain melody that comes out when she’s speaking and he’s enamored by it. The yellow ribbon follows the sudden turn of his head and she can basically see his imaginary ears poke up.

“Do you want to sit with me?” She makes room to the left on the couch.

Her initiative makes him waddle over to her. He sits incredibly vertical, bending his head down to see what she’ll say.

“Do you like living with me?” Honestly she doesn’t know what to tell him. What do you even talk with a cat about, she remembers thinking about their first days. Their usual topics are what Y/n has been up to. She feels just a bit egoistic for surrounding their conversations about her, but Juyeon seems genuinely intrigued by her life and silly anecdotes. When her days have been boring, she tries to teach him an idea or activity that isn’t familiar to him. Though it’s incredibly simple, it feels very comforting to come home to someone and talk about your day.

Juyeon nods without hesitation, “I really like it.”

"Why? What do you like about it?” Y/n falls back into the couch and angels her head to see his face.

“Well…” Juyeon starts, “You take good care of me” he says while staring up at the lamp. “You make good food. I like it when we do it together. Then it’s also nice when you introduce me to new things and take me outside.” Juyeon's smile is gentle and sincere, a warm spot forms at the surface of her skin and spreads out like a blanket over her heart.

“What’s your favorite thing we’ve done?” She asks curiously.

His lips form into a pout and his head tilts up just a centimeter, “When we went to the big house with many things and people, it was fun.” His answer takes her aback. Y/n made the assumption back then that their shopping trip to the mall was kind of a stressful moment. Juyeon kept clinging onto her jacket and couldn’t hold his head in one direction for more than two seconds.

“The TV is nice too.” To be fair, their adventures aren’t longer than going to the grocery store, but Juyeons appreciation for mundane things is affecting her a lot.

“What do you like to watch?”

“Those where the woman and the man follow each other and in the end they’re happy.”

“You like romcoms?” Y/n smiles brightly with a small chuckle. Juyeon smiles too, “Yes.”

He doesn’t quite know what exactly a romcom is, but the way her face lights up makes him want to tell her that he absolutely adores romcoms.

“I’m glad you like living here.” She finally says and looks up, “But you don’t feel, I don’t know…” Y/n keeps waving her hands and articulating nothing in hope that the one in front of her would finish her sentence. But Juyeon stares as usual with his doe eyes as she lags.

“...alone?” Badly articulated.

“Less?” He tilts his head.

“Like, not enough attention?” She waits for him to answer, but the left side eye closes a bit and his lip purses inwards. “I pet you a lot as a cat, but I haven’t done that since then. I don’t want you to feel bad.”

Juyeon, in contrast to the last weeks, doesn't answer her. Instead he tries to find a comfortable position and focuses his eyes on the table and pillows.

She sighs quietly, “Just tell me if something’s wrong, okay.”

Truth is, Juyeon is desperate for affectionate touch. Going from children out on the street finding interest in his soft fur and chasing him for a few seconds or even just Y/n letting him drown in the heat of her palms. To now, Y/n being the person who moves closest to him, but even then is just sitting side by side. On good days while watching the TV, their shoulders may touch and Y/n doesn’t move away.

On nights on the couch he thinks back on how she would brush his hair between her fingers or pet his head. Many times Juyeon has thought about transforming back to his cat form, just so he could get some sort of touch. But life in this form is so much more exciting. He’s become closer to the world and feels almost vivid when walking down the boulevard. At the end of the day, he also sees himself closer to Y/n. She’s a bit different than from the first time they met behind the restaurant and it worried him back then. Now though, he doesn’t completely understand it, but he isn’t just a pet to her, which excites him.

At dawn, Y/n has gone to bed and stares up at her ceiling. She focuses on the passing voices outside, sirens and cars. She’s not looking but the whole city waves in union over the sun down. Though Juyeon didn’t turn out to be the companion she thought he was, evenings like this have become less lonesome. At nights in the beginning of the summer, it would feel as if she was in another season than the rest of the city. Her room would strangle her in cold winter, but at the same time leave so much room for nothing. Juyeon’s simple presence in her life makes it melt.

A sudden noise takes her out of thought and she looks to the side. Y/n makes out his tall figure through the dark room. He brings his hand up to the eye and rubs it slowly while speaking softly, as if the room would crumble if he went up a decibel higher.

“Can I sleep with you?”

Good thing she looks like a vague figure of her full self, she thinks. Cause when he tied an end to his sentence, Y/n worried if she opened her mouth to utter a word, nothing but butterflies would come out.

“Of course!” She moves so the wall is in her face and shoves the blanket away from the now empty spot.

“Thank you, Y/n.” He whispers and the bed shifts as his warm presence fills up the small space.

The morning sun comes in through the window and reflects on the four walls. When the first leaf of the new day falls, her eyes open. In this silence every move from the blanket and her pillow seem deafening and Y/n pushes herself up. After looking out the sun draped city she turns her gaze down towards Juyeon. By instinct she forces herself closer to the wall, as if the fact that they’re this close can interrupt his dream.

In the distance, she feels safe to observe his body while he himself is in another existence. The constant rise and fall of his chest creates a new sense of time in this space. The shirt it exists thousands of copies of, becomes his own signature. Despite the true colors of reality, his expression is as if the world is truly peaceful.

He looks really beautiful like this, she thinks. She sees herself hiding behind a pair of bushes in a closeted forest and in complete silence, watching a deer. The deer with no-knowledge of being watched and reacts to the world without expectations on itself, the most beautiful. Y/n reaches out her hand towards his sleep drunken state. With pure adoration she gently takes her palm and smooth out his hair. The curve of his head and silkness of of it. She has his existence gently put against her hand, it feels enchanting.

And when a minute passes, a sudden change in his expression takes her out of it. His self returns from dreams, when his eyes slowly open. Without thinking, Y/n jerks her hand back and hopes that his morning state will confuse this moment for him. But just as her hand comes back to her body, Juyeon wraps his own around hers.

“Please, don’t stop.” He whispers and puts her hand back onto the spot on his head. The two of them, locked by the bed like this sent her questioning herself in third person. Juyeons eyes weigh a ton and he fights to get a clear image of her like this. She has fallen into her own thoughts and he quietly sighs before using his own hand to move hers on top of his head.

As if she’s sitting against the shoreline, and each thought is a wave. But somehow she doesn’t move away. Y/n can’t make out if those eyes are glistening because of tiredness or pure longing. But either way, she keeps her hand for him to take. He guides it off his head and those last strands tickle the side. Until it reaches his face and Juyeon gently pulls it so he’ll feel her warmth and smell the scent of their shared handwash.

“Please, touch me Y/n”

She lets out a strangled laugh with a stressed smile. Frustration swells inside him when she looks as if he’s joking.

“It doesn’t have to be much, like how you touched me back then.”

Y/n wants to think he’s the weird one in this situation, but she realizes his far more angel-like than she is. While saying words that anyone would pull a bad dirty joke too. Juyeon lays down with pure eyes and a sincere grip around her hand.

“Ok.” Y/n purses her lips in before slowly brushing his fringe out the way and continues up beside his ear. He looks very idyllic like this, she thinks. Somehow this scene makes her want to say he’s beautiful and pluck a single flower to put behind his ear.

They stay like that as the sun climbs a bit higher over the horizon. At some point, Juyeon’s eyes close fully and y/n move over his figure to get off the bed. She makes some extra food and leaves it with a lid on. Even when standing with one hand on the door handle and the other holding her bag, she longs for the spot next to his sleeping figure. Despite finding the situation weird, it felt so special having him like that.

Ever since that morning, like autumn converting to winter, something changed in their dynamic. Of course he kept following her around as usual, but when watching TV that evening Juyeon sat extremely close. They watched 500 Days of Summer and after an hour passed by, Juyeon let his head fall to her shoulder. His hair tickled her neck, but she didn’t want to move away.

Now, the ending credits climb up the screen. Y/n’s eyelids feel ten times heavier than two hours ago, he moves his head down to her lap. The vague light from the screen lights up them both in a blue-ish shade. Juyeons lips form a smile so contagious that it reflects in her two. This moment, she looks just like a picture. He could easily replace her with one of the actresses in the movies they watch together, he thought. By burning this moment into his head with the others, he can replay them when she’s gone.

Quietly Juyeon plays with the strands of her hair that have fallen onto his face. Like a true kitten, she keeps him entertained like that in her lap. Soon enough though, sleep takes the best of her and Y/n drifts away from the couch in the apartment, with her head hanging over Juyeon. But honestly, Juyeon didn’t quite notice it until her head moved to the side and he saw that her eyes were closed.

With that he sits up from her lap to stand up beside her. He watches her like that for some time before gently bringing his hand under her leg and back. The second she comes up to his chest, a feeling so strong to turn frozen ground to blooming flowers swells within him. At the same time, he’s walking as if he will drop her at any moment. Similar to how he holds a plate with food, he stares at it and takes a step not bigger than five centimeters. But when he finally makes it to her bed, Juyeon lays her down gently and tucks her beneath their shared blanket.

Juyeon tucks a single strand from her face and feels himself getting tired when seeing her soft breathing. Finally Juyeon lays beside her and moves his pillow a step closer to hers. He falls asleep with his face shifted closer and his right hand gently intertwined with hers under all the fabrics.

At this point, Y/n’s not fully awake. But when skin touches her own, signals break out through her body, like falling water, something keeps moving up and down her waist, pushing her shirt up in the process. After a few seconds of speaking incorrect sentences, a single spot gets damped on her neck. Y/n's head gets slightly pushed up when someone tries to fit their head between that spot.

Without much thought, y/n takes her hands up to whatever’s on her neck. She hears juyeon whisper quietly and realizes her hands are now on his shoulders and his head is placed over her chest and her chin gently embraces his head.

“Juyeon?” His name is strangled to her cords, as if he’s the only one who can help her.

Y/n swears she hears him breaking under her before the hands on her waist tightens and her body comes pressing up against his own. And soon after he switches position. Instead of resting their sides against the pillow, juyeon lifts her up so she lays over him.

“Say my name again?” He pleas softly and kisses her. At the same time, the weight of her back gets heavier when juyeon puts his arm around her to play with the yellow ribbon tightly concealing her hair.

“Juyeon?”

“Huh?”

With one hand pushing against the pillow she forces herself up as if someone stands over her, forcing her up. Long strands cover her view as she pats the blanket, feeling the fabric to know if it’s the real world. She realizes juyeon sits up too. Hands rubbing the sleepiness away. Y/n continues searching her surroundings when juyeon faces her with wide eyes and stutters over his own sentence.

“I-what-did I do something?”

She awkwardly sits at her own corner of the bed and tilts her head. She didn’t quite realize the way she said his name must have been pretty dramatic as Juyeons extremely distressed.

“I-no.” She scratches her head before standing up, “I just had a nightmare.”

“Was I the nightmare?” He asks as she continues up to the kitchen area. Y/n looks back at him. He looks at her with big eyes and a small pout. Y/n starts throwing her hands around.

“No, you were just in the dream too.” He still looks sad. Dammit, she thinks.

“I needed to build an Ikea furniture, you were the only one I could get help from, terrifying.”

Night comes early in this present. But today Y/n doesn’t really mind since it's the weekend. Juyeon too enjoys free days, not because his schedule changes, but because he'll get to spend more time with Y/n. He also notices how she stretches her arms with a bright smile and takes time to stare out the window. On other days she kind of looks like the city view just punched her. Juyeon feels the spot next to him shift and as he turns Y/n stares down at him brightly. Somehow he feels jealous over the smile over her lips, what does Saturday morning have that Juyeon doesn’t?

“Good morning, Juyeon.” She yawns, “Slept well.”

He nods with big eyes. Without much thought to it, Y/n brings one hand down to his hair and gently brushes it aside.

“Something you want to do?” She brings her legs to a criss cross position. While looking at him, his eyes don't show much deep thought. Every time she asks him a question, she prepares herself to wait for a solid two or three minutes. Each and every small decision seems to make a lot of impact for him so she lets him take time. But today he just continues staring up and moving his head closer to her hand.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

A small laugh leaves her lips and her back arches so her head faces the ceiling. Her hand has fallen from his fringe and is now over his chest. Juyeons much larger fingers gently fiddle with hers. They spend a lot of time at home. Sometimes she does feel like Rapunzel's mother trapping her daughter in that tower, but instead it’s a hybrid cat in a studio apartment. She feels the urge to make a memorable life for him and just watch him adore this world she herself takes for granted.

Y/n opens her mouth, “I want to go to the aquarium.”

Juyeon tilts his head and strains his eyes, just like he always does when he doesn’t fully get the idea.

“You know the aquarium?” He shakes his head.

“You know, fish and water in big tanks and it’s all pretty.” Y/n moves her hand to visually illustrate the aquarium but Juyeon squints his eyes.

“You’ll love it.”

At this stage she has accepted the fact that Juyeon looks a lot like her five year old son(but clearly much bigger) when outside the safety of her apartment. When they needed to cramp together with strangers in the small cart, she felt his hand tighten around her own. If she was the bigger person, Y/n would have taken him to her chest and protected him from the uncertainty, but rather Juyeon pushed his chest up against her face. Y/n tried her best to get his attention and tell him that he’s crushing her nose, but it was to no use.

But with one nose left and the rest of their body parts intact the two of them stand at the register. Y/n while talking with the lady behind the desk turns over every now and then. Juyeon bends his head in every possible angle to catch each detail of the lobby. Y/n pays quickly before either Juyeon runs away or more likely, gets kidnapped.

“Here.” She hands him a small sticker, not bigger than two centimeters. It's formed as a simple fish.

“You put it on like this.” Y/n peels off the plastic on the back and brings it closer to his shirt. But she stops midway and looks up at him. He gives her those curious eyes and she brings the sticker up to his cheek. On the left side of his face, a centimeter or two under his eye sits the small blue fish. When she touches him like this, he jerks away so that his fringe gets over his eyes. Y/n simply smiles and attaches hers to the fabric of her shirt.

“Let’s go!” Y/n says and takes his hand in hers. She walks with quick steps to the entrance and soon enough, the blue light from the meter high tanks illuminates their features in the darkness. Despite being day time, it feels like the clock may have shifted. At first Juyeon endearingly smiles when watching from behind, her figure running towards those gates. But when this world absorbs them, he was just as amazed as her.

Standing in the middle of the room, confined between windows to another world, it’s like the world stops for a moment. Groups of people chatter and Y/n, for a short second, turn to a girl pointing at an orange fish. She smiles when (she assumes) her dad eagerly nods. A bit to the left a couple stands side by side. The light from the tank contrasts their dark silhouettes. When standing like that, Y/n blinks a couple of times and feels her arms glue to her sides. She carefully looks at Juyeon after seeing the couple. He’s still mesmerized. She realizes for the other people in here, they may just look like another couple. Y/n gets butterflies by just the thought alone.

She takes a few steps away from Juyeon and looks behind. He looks at her with those wide eyes that seem more complex in this room, soon he tilts his head too. Y/n smiles and takes his hand again and runs over to the largest window of them all. The glass reaches stunning heights before bending out in a rectangular screen. It’s width meters on end. There’s a stair of five or seven steps before standing in touch with the massive wall. Y/n releases his hand upon coming closer and touches the glass. Juyeon simply looks at her dark contrasting figure to the blue luminance. He sees how her figure eagerly walks up and down the width of the tank. Bending down to take a closer look at the sandfish before reaching onto her tiptoes to reach the sharks.

Juyeon stands incredibly still. His limbs awkwardly pushing against each other. His posture is basically screaming for someone to show him what to do. But at the same time, there’s a genuine smile on his lips. That scene in front of him, he wants it to last forever. Y/n in the middle of that blue screen, his own movie star. Let him watch her forever. Suddenly her face turns to him and she reaches out her hand and signals for him to come up. Juyeon walks up and takes a spot beside her. They stand so close, he thinks. His hand touches the glass as if it could touch the other side. Just a second after he puts his hand there, a mantaray comes right up to that spot. The glass and his hand lose contact when he flinches back.

“Oh.” Y/n puts an arm behind him so he doesn’t fall off the stairs. Her smile shines in even stronger brilliance than the tank and he continues looking perplexed by the creature up on the glass wall. Soon, more fish come up to them.

“He looks a bit like you.” Y/n points at a fish with a face you would’ve thought ran up against a wall. Juyeon pouts before pointing higher up.

“Oh Y/n! What are you doing there?” She hits his elbow while laughing.

After pointing at every ugly fish they could find in that tank, Y/n puts her right ear against the glass. She describes to him how the sound becomes tight knitted and if you concentrate enough, it might feel like you’re actually in that water filled side. Juyeon inspects how Y/n leans against the wall and does the same.

When they lay like this, they make eye contact. Their faces are just a few centimeters apart. Y/n still smiles from before and arch her head slightly back to keep looking at his face. The right side is illuminated by the tank light. The strands of his hair scrunches up a bit by the glass, a couple fall before his eyes so that a single reflection makes it back to her between them. And that blue little sticker moves up when his eyes turn to crescents. It’s packed in the aquarium, but with each second that world closes off from behind and only them and the compact sound of water is in existence.

When looking at him like this, she thinks he’s truly beautiful. Each feature is carefully wrapped in that blue light. It makes her heart do that again, that thing where she feels like taking his hand and looking into his eyes. Telling him each complimentary word the english vocabulary has to offer while gently tugging those black strands back behind his ear.

“I want to hold your hand.” As the world is only for them now, his voice is barely over a whisper.

Y/n’s smile seems to always be on display when he’s like this. She simply nods and Juyeon gently touches her hand. While standing like this, Y/n realizes their connected silhouettes are visible to each passing visitor. It is just a bit embarrassing.

“Is something wrong?” He watches her as if he’s trying to understand her and Y/n drags him closer. She shakes her head and looks down onto the matt black floor.

“No, let’s go.”

The day has flown by and at sunset both of them stand at the edge to Banpo bridge as neither of them felt like going back to the apartment. Beneath them sits a few couples and probably a parent and their child. Since it’s winter, it’s not many. The lights have just turned on, guiding the way to the other side of the city. It’s quite steep on this side so Y/n looks over to the stair a bit further away.

“Do we go down?” Juyeon asks and Y/n nods thinking he will just follow her as usual. But in no more than a second, Juyeon takes a leap of faith down the grass and sprints down.

“Wait, Juyeon!” Y/n panics a bit. Throwing her hands around before catching herself, before nearly jumping down with him. At the time she regains her balance, Juyeon stands at the end of the steep. He tilts his head and she can picture his big eyes.

“Aren’t you coming down too?”

“I am-I just.”

Y/n flees to the stairs and together they then walk to the grass beside the bridge. She sits down and Juyeon follows. Small talking from the people behind serves as background noise for the cityscape. A breeze comes right at them and Y/n hugs her knees to her chest. Juyeon sees her hugging herself tightly and he brings his long legs up to his own chest. Before getting to hug them, his knees hit his chin and he brings them down instead.

Usually when Y/n spends time with someone and it gets quiet, she gets this intense guilt over not being able to entertain them with a conversation. But right now, sitting on Juyeon’s left side with nothing but general city noise feels strangely natural, like it’s all her life prepared her for. Y/n looks to her right and sees Juyeon’s side profile. His fringe follows the wind when it hits him and a single point in his eyes shines from the constant city lights. She just smiles.

During this passing season, she’s been thinking all less about her hometown. That empty feeling between two walls seems to have patched up. She recalls how it was a dread to walk that route home. How she stared at the apartment complex hoping she would remember a task left to do. When she stood there in her room, it was nothing but Y/n and her thoughts. When alone without distractions, worries would come and shake her from sleep and keep her up at night. When out on the rooftop, she would stare at the moon and its millions of stars, knowing they stared back at her with nothing but empty spaces beside her.

But at the same time, she wonders what Juyeon feels. Courage isn’t on her side and because of that she hasn’t truly asked him where he plans to go. If this place and this moment is just a () in his life. Y/n wants to see him free but a selfish side of her wants to keep him here beside her, like this, forever.

“Y/n.” Juyeon says suddenly.

Her name brings her back. The top of her body is turned to him and her eyes waits for him to continue talking as he keeps looking out the horizon.

“What?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

“I did?” Y/n's eyebrows knit together as she tries to read his calm demeanor. Understand what that mind of his thinks about when looking into the endless sea of lights. He suddenly turns to her, with that innocent smile.

“Yes.”

Silence fills the space between them.

“That day I met you behind the restaurant, I thought you would hit me when you took out your hand.” He confesses. Y/n feels her heart wrenching at the thought of Juyeon looking at her in that light, but confusingly enough, he still smiles.

“But you didn’t.” He gets quiet again before turning back to look at a couple walking hand in hand down the river.

“You’re a really good person, Y/n. When you talked back to my owner and took me home, I felt really good.” He smiles when talking, but it slowly fades. Y/n watches him, waiting if he wants to continue.

Truth is, he’s in deep thought. He stares at the city as if it will be able to answer his question. That day, when Y/n took him home. A sensation he couldn’t pinpoint blossomed in him. It was like magic, something completely out of his own reality. And in some ways it may have been magic, he did turn to his human form after all.

He bites his lip and fiddles with his fingers to somehow form a sentence of his emotions. How do you describe the feeling of someone who brought life back to your existence?

Y/n scoots closer to him so they now can feel each other's warmth. He sheepishly looks at her as she makes him feel brilliance. A wind blows past them right when she breathes in. Juyeon scratches his neck and shoves his face in between his hands.

“I don’t know what I feel.” He whines.

“Is it a good feeling?” She asks.

He nods and peeks up from his hands to meet her gentle expression.

“It’s just when I’m with you. There’s no one or nothing that makes me feel like that but you.”

The sun is at the edge of the horizon, in just a minute or two there will be no trace of it in the sky. And on a morning in a far far future, between April and June, she will fade from this world too. Despite her life, no sign of her existence will be left beside the people who remember her and her handwriting in blue ink. But even those people will fade and the blue ink will dissolve with time. It’s a sad thought, that everything will be gone, but maybe that gives us the freedom to be whatever we want.

“Then, stay with me.” She says and takes his hand.

#leejuyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz #tbz #tbz fanfic #juyeon fanfic #juyeon imagines #tbz imagines #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #the boyz scenarios #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #tbz x reader #tbz x y/n #juyeon fluff #juyeon suggestive

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dccomicsimagines · 2 years

Text

The Kid and the Bum - Batfamily Imagine - Part 1.5

Part One Part Two Part Three

Requested by Anon - if you're still writing for Jason and Child!reader could you do Child!reader's first Christmas with Jason and the rest of the batfamily

Requested by Anon - Can you do a part four of Jason and the Kid?

Author’s Note - I made this a one and a half so it fits with the timeline.

***

Jason couldn’t believe that he allowed Dick, Kori, Steph, and Cass to drag him and you into what he could only call red and green hell.

You squeezed his hand, staring at the Santa Claus sitting in the big red chair at the front of the line. Tons of kids around you whined and cried. The Gotham mall was at a dull roar. Jason watched your nose wrinkle. He understood. It was alien to him too.

“Aren’t you excited to see Santa, (Y/N)?” Steph said, kneeling down to your eye level.

“He’s not real.” You frowned at her. Jason tensed when he saw you shift awkwardly. “It’s just an old man in a costume who just wants an excuse to talk to kids.”

Steph’s eyes widened. “Oh boy.” She turned to smile sweetly at the parent behind Jason who was glaring as her kid started to ask questions about what you said.

“Jay, step in and tell (Y/N) Santa is real,” Dick whispered in his ear as Kori rocked Mari. Mari was in a red and green dress for her picture with Santa. Jason wondered if he should have dressed you up. Then again, he wasn’t sure if he cared.

“Why? She has a right to think what she wants,” Jason hissed back. Of course, none of them got it. Jason knew what you were thinking. How could you believe in Santa Claus when you lived on the streets? When you had so many Christmases with nothing from the so-called St. Nick? The Santa Claus who is supposed to travel around the world, giving gifts to all the good children. Jason was sure you were like him and were left with nothing on Christmas morning, wondering if you were bad or just forgotten.

A pang hit Jason’s heart. He pushed his thoughts away. “Kid, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can go look at toys or something?”

You looked up at him. Jason swore he saw faint hope in your eyes. “It’s okay.”

Cass tapped Jason’s shoulder. “She’s next.”

Jason looked up to see Kori and Dick stepping forward for Mari’s turn. “Why did I let you drag us here?” He sighed, frowning at the child screaming in the line behind them. You were watching the kid, squeezing Jason’s hand as tight as you could.

“(Y/N) hasn’t ever done this before. Stephanie said we have to at least give her a chance to experience things,” Cass said softly. “I’m experiencing this for the first time as well.”

Jason hummed. Most of the family probably hadn’t done this before. Maybe they should have brought moody teenage Damian? At least it would have been entertaining to witness potential murder.

You tugged on Jason’s hand. He looked down at you. “It’s our turn.”

“We don’t have to see him, kid.” Jason stepped forward when you tugged him along.

“It’s fine. Like Cass said, it’s the experience.” You dropped Jason’s hand and walked up the steps yourself. Jason almost followed you, but one of the workers guided him to wait by the exit. Kori ran off to change Mari. Dick stepped back in to stand by Jason, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Jason had to resist the urge to push his hand off.

“Hello, little one. Would you like to sit on my lap?” Santa asked after you stopped a few steps away from him.

You bit your lip. Jason started toward you, but Dick stopped him. “She’ll let you know if she needs you,” Dick whispered softly.

“Shut up,” Jason hissed, rolling his shoulder to remove Dick’s hand.

You suddenly were picked up by one of the workers and plopped on Santa’s lap. A gasp escaped you, sitting stiffly on his lap. Jason took a step toward you, however, Santa seemed to hold you respectfully.

“Now what would you like for Christmas?” Santa asked, smiling at you brightly. You gave him a shy smile in return.

“Well.” You glanced over at Jason. “I got a home this year, so I don’t need anything.”

Jason’s heart melted into a pile of goo. He had to blink back tears, not daring to let them fall when Dick was next to him.

“How wonderful.” Santa laughed, letting out the ho ho ho. You giggled too. Jason thanked whatever higher being that you weren’t as cynical as he was. That you could still find magic in this cruel world.

“But I would like other kids to find homes too. Forever homes, not fosters.” You relaxed, tilting your head. “Everyone should have a home and a family.”

Jason turned away, quickly wiping away a tear. Dick patted his back. “Don’t you dare say anything,” Jason said, glaring.

“It’s okay to have emotions, Jay,” Dick chuckled softly.

“I’ll shoot you if you don’t shut your mouth.” Jason took a deep breath and looked back at you. You were taking your photo, smiling somewhat sheepishly before hopping off Santa’s lap and running to Jason. Jason scooped you up, spinning you around. “See it wasn’t so bad.”

“He seems like a nice man, even if the workers are pushy.” You hugged Jason’s neck, happily settling on his hip. “I see why people like it, but it’s kinda pointless.”

“Why do you say that, cutie pie?” Dick asked as you all waited for Steph and Cass to finish.

You frowned. “Well, Santa’s not real, so just telling him isn’t going to do anything. Parents get their kids what they ask Santa for.” You shrugged, hugging Jason tighter.

Jason found himself blinking back tears again. He bit his lip. Dick shared a look with Jason. “Well, you never know, (Y/N). Sometimes, just saying a wish is enough to make it happen,” Dick said, reaching over to ruffle your hair before walking off to collect the photos.

“Let’s go get some ice cream, huh?” Jason forced a grin on his face. You giggled in delight. Jason started toward the food court, dreading the fact he was probably going to have ask for a lot of help to try to make your Christmas wish happen. However, it would be worth it to see the joy on your face Christmas Day.

***

Jason pursed his lips as he rode the elevator up to top floor of the Wayne Enterprises building. He had to pick you up in a few hours. Hopefully, he could make it through this with only partial humiliation. Shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets, he gripped hand warmers that had long gone cold. You had put them in his pockets this morning as a surprise.

You found out about how cold his hands were in the winter and aimed to try to keep him as warm as possible. Jason smiled at the thought. He loved you so much. For some reason, you loved him too.

The elevator doors opened to the grand waiting room. The secretary was typing loudly on her computer. She looked up at the sound of the doors and smiled. “Hello Mr. Todd. Mr. Wayne is waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” Jason hunched his shoulders and marched inside. Bruce was sitting at his desk with his back turned toward the door, looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was lightly snowing outside. Jason knew you would be bursting at the first snowfall.

Bruce turned at the sound of the door, smiling when he saw Jason. Jason flinched at the sight.

A frown hinted at Bruce’s lips, but it disappeared as he gestured for Jason to take a seat. “What brings you here? You don’t normally stop by my office.”

Jason hummed, collapsing into the chair. “Well, this is more of a Bruce Wayne issue rather than...” Jason swallowed hard, gripping the hand warmers in his pockets tightly. Bruce sat back in his chair. His gaze softened as he took in Jason’s nerves. Jason cleared his throat. “(Y/N) wants to help kids find forever families for Christmas. She thinks it won’t happen because she knows Santa isn’t real, even if she did tell him at the mall.”

“Dick didn’t say that when he gave me the pictures,” Bruce said, reaching forward to turn one the frames on his desk. Inside was all of the Santa photos. Jason’s heart warmed at the fact you were among the others, part of the family. “I don’t know if we can do it in this short period of time, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Even a step to making forever homes happen would be a lot to (Y/N). That’s all she wants. To give other unwanted kids a home like she has with me...us.” Jason rubbed a hand over his face. The rebel in him hated coming to Bruce, but it was worth it for you. It was worth seeing how your face lit up when you knew your wish was going to come true.

“I’ll talk to the foundation and see what we can come up with,” Bruce said, getting to his feet with a smile.

Jason bit his lip. Could he really trust Bruce? The sacrifices he made for you sometimes blew his mind. “Yeah, sure. Just text me.” Jason got to his feet rather quickly. “Well, I got to pick (Y/N) up from school.”

Bruce stepped forward and hugged Jason suddenly. Jason stiffened in his arms before relaxing. He knew they made their peace, but this would take some getting used to.

***

The next month passed in a blur for Jason. You convinced Jason to make cookies and to watch Christmas movies. He even ended up buying a tree. Your eyes were so big the first time you both turned on the lights. He caught you sitting in front of it, staring at it in wonder. It was worth every penny.

The family was around too. Jason had a scare when he showed up to pick you up from school only to find out he apparently called to give permission to let Steph and Cass take you three hours early.

After several heated phone messages and two calls to Tim, he found out they had taken the bat plane to Metropolis to do Christmas shopping. You, of course, were thrilled and were buzzing when they returned you hours later. Jason didn’t have it in his heart to scold, but he did send a slightly threatening text to the family as a warning of any future excursions.

When Christmas Eve was two days away, Jason found himself shopping with Dick. You were with Tim and Kon, watching Christmas movies at Tim’s place. They swore upon their lives that they wouldn’t take you out of the city without at least asking first.

“Jay, what does (Y/N) like?” Dick asked, picking up a Barbie doll set to study it. The two of them were in the toy section of one of the big department stores. Their shopping cart filled with gifts for the rest of the family.

Jason bit his lip. “I already got something for (Y/N).” He bought you a bike and currently had it hidden in his closet at the apartment.

Dick blinked. “Well, what about her gift from Santa?”

“She doesn’t believe in Santa, so why should we pretend?” Jason snapped, taking the Barbie set from Dick and putting it back on the shelf. “She has that one already. If you want to get her one, she’ll want this one.” He handed Dick a different set. Dick smirked. “Shut up, besides Bruce has (Y/N) Santa gift covered.”

Dick hummed. “Right. Has he told you about that yet?” Dick put the Barbie set in the cart.

Jason pursed his lips, shoving his hands in his pockets. The hand warmers were in there again. How were you doing this? He knew you would never tell him. “We’re supposed to be at the Martha Wayne Gardens at eight o’clock Christmas Eve morning.”

“That’s it?” Dick’s eyes widened in surprise as they moved toward the tech section of the store. Jason frowned, picking up one of those mini brands surprise balls as he passed the display. He knew you loved to open those.

“What? Don’t tell me Bruce is trying to surprise me too?” Jason nudged Dick’s arm. Dick kept walking, pushing the cart. “Dickhead, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me right now...”

“It’s nothing bad.” Dick shrugged his shoulders. “I guess Bruce wants you to experience it with (Y/N). Be surprised with her.” Dick stopped to look at the drawing tablets. “Maybe he wishes he would have done that for you too after you first came to live with him?”

Jason shook his head, ignoring the lump in his throat. Was Bruce doing this because he knew how much it would mean to two street kids who found forever homes? Jason couldn’t ignore the anxiety eating at his stomach.

“You sure it’s going to be something (Y/N) will love? One hundred percent?” Jason tightened his fist around the hand warmer.

Dick studied Jason for a moment before grinning like an idiot. “One hundred percent.” He clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You’re a good dad, Jason.”

Jason flinched. A rare blush burned onto his cheeks. “I’m not a dad,” he mumbled quickly, but his heart glowed. Dick rolled his eyes and focused back on the drawing tablets. Jason had to blink several times to make sure he didn’t embarrass himself by tearing up in front of Dick.

***

On Christmas Eve morning, Jason found himself driving through Gotham streets with a light snow falling from the sky. You were in the backseat, bundled up against the cold.

“Are we going to the manor?” you asked, leaning forward to stick your head between the front seats.

“Kid, buckle up,” Jason said, glancing in the rearview mirror to see you were free from your seat. “No, we’re not going to the manor yet. We’re going to the gardens first.”

“Gardens? In the snow?” You sat back in your seat and buckled in. Jason sighed in slight relief.

Jason hummed. “Well, they have indoor gardens, kid.” He smirked at your ‘oh’ response.

As he got closer to the gardens, he started to notice heavier traffic and more people walking around. You perked up at the sight, looking out the window curiously. Jason smiled. He found a parking space close by.

You hopped out of the car first, gasping. Jason joined you, following your gaze to the gardens’ entrance. His jaw dropped at the beautiful decorations. However, his heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on the giant banner above the doors.

“First Annual Forever Homes Fundraiser!” You took Jason’s hand and squeezed. Jason looked down at you, seeing the confusion on your face. “What does that mean?”

“Guess we’ll have to go in and find out, huh?” Jason led you toward the doors. Families were heading inside the gardens too.

Jason felt you tense from the crowds and scooped you up in his arms. The crowd was making him nervous too, but he forced himself to relax. Bruce would have top notch security at this place.

"Bum, I don't know about this. Can we just go to the manor instead?" You asked, hiding your face into his neck.

"Let's just go in. If you don't like it, then we'll go," Jason said, holding you tight as he got in line to check in at the welcome desk. You let out a little whine, keeping your face in his neck.

Jason blinked in surprise when he got up to the welcome desk to find Bruce’s secretary. She smiled brightly at him. “Aww, Mr. Todd. We were wondering where you were.” She tapped a button and Tim appeared out of one of the doors behind the desk.

“Hey, you made it.” Tim grinned, gesturing for Jason to come around the desk. Jason hummed. You lifted your head out of his neck to look at Tim curiously.

“What’s going on?” You asked Tim as Jason followed Tim through the door and up some stairs.

“You’ll see.” Tim sent you a wink over his shoulder. Jason smiled when you jerked in surprise.

The stairs opened up to a balcony overlooking the gardens. The gardens were crowded with people, booths, and Christmas lights. A Christmas themed fair. You gasped at the sight, eyes wide with wonder and awe. Jason felt a smile pull at his lips. It looked like a dream.

Bruce and Alfred were sitting at a small table, sipping on cups of coffee and looking out at the fair. Tim went over to join them. Bruce looked up and smiled at the sight of you and Jason. Jason’s heart skipped a beat. Bruce being happy to see him still threw him, but your squeal of excitement stopped any of those doubts from brewing inside him.

You hopped out of Jason’s arms and ran to the railing to look out at the fair. “What’s this about?” You looked at Bruce and Alfred, then Tim. “Why are we here?” You looked to Jason. Jason just smirked and nodded toward Bruce.

You ran to Bruce, hopping up on his lap. “Well, I heard through the grape vine that you wanted to give other children forever homes.” Bruce’s grin widened as your eyes did. “So, I founded an organization called The Todd Forever Homes Foundation.”

Jason’s jaw dropped slightly, blushing. Tim chuckled, going over to nudge Jason’s arm. “I told him it would make you blush.”

“Shut up,” Jason hissed. He watched you. Your eyes sparkled in pure joy. You hugged Bruce’s neck tightly.

Bruce chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “Now, it’s just a start. We’re fundraising and spreading awareness today with the Christmas fair.”

Alfred poured a cup of coffee and gave it to Jason. “It’s already is a big success. The money made today will help several families with adoption fees and offer scholarships to help families that may need financial support,” Alfred said.

Jason sipped at the coffee. He wanted to laugh. This was too surreal. Bruce really found a way to make your gift happen. “I can’t believe he did this.” Jason shook his head, looking out at the fair to hide the tears in his eyes. “I thought he’d just have a plan. I didn’t think he’d set up a whole organization already.”

“Well, I don’t know if you are aware, Master Jason.” Alfred patted Jason’s shoulder. “But for you, and now for Miss (Y/N), Master Bruce will do anything. For all of you.” Alfred nodded to Tim before going back to sit at the table.

A lump formed in Jason’s throat. He swallowed it as you ran back to him and hugged his leg tightly. “Can you believe it, bum?! Kids are going to get forever homes!”

Jason beamed and scooped you up into his arms. Tim took Jason’s coffee before Jason spilled it. “I know.” His eyes widened when you kissed his cheek. “What’s that for?”

“For making this happen. Bruce said you asked him to.” You looked into Jason’s eyes. His heart raced. The hope on your face. It was a long way from the little street kid that stared at him with such distrust.

“It was actually Santa, not me.” Jason cleared his throat. He looked back out at the fair.

“Sure, sure, bum.” You patted the top of his head. “Thank you.” You hugged him so tight around his neck that you cut off his air. However, Jason found he didn’t mind.

***

“Bum, you’re next,” you shouted, picking up a present from under the Manor’s giant Christmas tree and setting it in Jason’s lap. It was Christmas Day morning and the entire family was in the den, opening presents. Jason raised an eyebrow at the sight. Cass and Steph giggled from across the room. A tiny bit of worry crept up Jason’s spine.

“Wow, thanks kid.” He read the tag. “It’s from you, huh?” You nodded, grinning as you stood in front of him. The rest of the family’s attention turned to Jason.

You rocked on your feet, hands behind your back. “Hurry up.” You looked over your shoulder at Cass and Steph. Steph winked back at you. Now Jason was very worried.

He carefully undid the wrapping paper. “A box. What I always wanted.” He smirked when you smacked his arm.

“Open it, you bum.” You glared.

Jason chuckled, opening the box to find the fanciest pair of leather gloves he had ever seen. “Oh wow.” The leather was so soft. He put them on, sighing at how warm they were and how smooth the leather was. No stiffness at all. “Thank you, kid. It’s just what I need.”

“So now you can be warm even if I’m not around to put hand warmers in your pockets,” you said, sitting on his lap to hug him tightly. A camera flashed, blinding Jason. He blinked several times before seeing Alfred with a secretive smile. “Merry Christmas, bum.” You smiled up at him.

“Merry Christmas, kid.” Jason tickled you, making you laugh. He saw more flashes of a camera, but he didn’t care. This was the best Christmas he had ever had, and the start of many more to come.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #kid and the bum #batman #batman imagines #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #christmas

403 notes · View notes

molinaskies · 1 year

Note

Saw your thoughts on Lanolin and figured I should pipe in with why she tends to act that way, especially with the more recent issues she's starred in.

Lanolin, unlike all the rest of the cast, is a novice. She only seemed to have joined the Restoration during the Metal Virus, and the Eggperial City mission was her first time as leader. She even states herself that she's bossy and inexperienced in Issue 58.

The sheep's still got a lot to learn about leadership, so I think we can probably expect some more slip-ups on her part.

Hey, thanks for the ask! Sorry for the delay, but I had to catch up on the comics before I could answer this fairly.

I hear you completely, and you are correct. She IS new, and is a bit deserving of some lenience in that regard. However, I think that’s my central problem with her: she’s very new, and yet she speaks like the most experienced person in the room.

The way she critiqued Silver and chided him despite having ZERO experience with psychokinesis was incredibly irritating.

I understand she’s the “leader” of the Diamond Cutters, but she speaks with an authority that she truly hasn’t earned. If she’s so new, why is she the one taking so much charge and training people with the experience she doesn’t have? Seriously, out of all of the Diamond Cutters (core and “in training”), Lanolin has the least experience.

Also, I respect that Lanolin’s attitude and neuroticism is played for laughs, but it truly just reads as malicious to me—especially towards Tangle. It’s made clear in writing and through visual gags repetitively that not only does Lanolin has an objective problem with Tangle as a person, but she doesn’t seem to respect Tangle enough to communicate with her effectively.

It goes so far as to feel like Lanolin would prefer to outright replace Tangle if she had the choice in issue 62.

And it’s not even like it’s a silly joke for Tangle. She’s shown multiple times to actively dislike this bullying.

Again, she’s new. I get that. But if there’s a whole scene in issue 58 dedicated to the fact that she’s new and bossy and knows she should be better, why is no effort being made? It’s not cute to acknowledge your flaws only to amplify them later on.

I don’t know.

I don’t find this kind of character endearing. Lanolin comes off as an insecure girl who lacks empathy, which feels silly and mean to say about a fictional sheep, but she doesn’t even seem to be on some sort of character arc. This is just… who she is. And I find that incredibly disappointing.

(she actually might be on a character arc, and I really hope she is)

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pjo-gaysofgreeks · 10 months

Text

I wrote this silly little thing for a graded final and I figured I’d share…

Allied Authordom: Rowling vs. Riordan

By Serena Martinez

Allyship does not demand perfection, but rather desire to grow. We are all unlearning internalized -phobias and -isms which have been normalized in society. The key to true allyship is recognizing you have the capacity to cause harm, do the work to be better, and consciously avoid hurting someone that way again.

Given the upcoming television adaptations of both J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan’s popular series, I am going to use them as a case study example. The hoards of Millennials and Gen Zers that grew up with either or both series are now young adults with the ability to think critically and set their own moral principles. I am not sure I know someone in my age range who hasn’t at least watched a Harry Potter movie and most of my friends are eagerly following the new release of the Percy Jackson Series (December 20th!!!). As much as I wish people would turn towards new POC authors who are trailblazing their own paths of authordom, I know many are still tied to the nostalgia of the past.

When first published, neither series included diversity up to today’s standards. Both trios were completely composed of white cisgender people: a male protagonist, a male best friend and sidekick, and a female friend and potential love interest. Although Riordan intentionally made Percy neurodivergent to depict the experiences of his real life son and Rowling crafted the entire series to support species equality, the core representation remained the same. That doesn’t even include Rowling’s problematic stereotyping of the werewolves and goblins who were based on people with HIV/AIDS and Jewish communities respectively. Riordan and Rowling’s subsequent elaboration (or lack thereof) on their respective universes showcases the difference between them as authors and allies.

Rowling has essentially never budged from her original position on representation in her series. To her, making Hermione Black in the theatrical adaptation of the series and retroactively admitting Dumbledore is gay was enough to show she is a proper liberal ally. Many would deem this too little too late, especially given the stereotypes used to describe people of color in the series like Kingsley Shacklebolt and Cho Chang. Rowling showcases prime examples of tokenization without ever addressing such simplistic character depth over two decades after the series’ publication.

Then, of course, there is the significant harm caused by Rowling’s unapologetic transphobia. She has only doubled down since her first transphobic tweet in 2020 by publishing a book about a cisgender man dressing as a woman to murder people (emboldening the false and harmful narrative of the trans predator), donating to anti-trans companies and legislatures, and claiming that continued support of the Harry Potter Universe is proof that people are in support of her transphobia views.

I think Rowling could have come out of this unscathed had she admitted her books were a product of her time and apologized for her wrongdoing to the trans community. Instead, she has only chosen to dig her heels into hatred. Suffice it to say Rowling is the bad example of allyship amongst these two authors.

Riordan, on the other hand, heard readers’ criticism of his predominantly white and straight series and returned with a sequel including complex characters not defined by their racial, gendered, and sexual diversity. Riordan’s central characters in subsequent series were Latini, Creole, Chinese, Native American, Muslim, bisexual, and genderfluid. His newest book that follows a gay couple from the original Percy Jackson universe is co-authored with a queer writer because Riordan did not want to attempt to portray an experience so distinct from his own. When Leah Jeffries who plays Annabeth Chase in the new TV series experienced racism from fans online, Riordan published a statement calling out the behavior. Since interviews have started he has continued to ensure she is supported. Rick Riordan is certainly imperfect but has continued to use his privileged platform to uplift voices rather than misrepresent or silence them.

While Rowling uses Twitter to corral an army of transphobes that dox anyone who looks gender non conforming in their profile picture, Riordan uses his platforms to vocally confront hatred. The same year Rowling mocked gender inclusive language for people who menstruate, Riordan was staunchly calling out transphobes criticizing genderfluidity in his series.

It is not enough to just magically make characters different identities because doing so erases the complexity of each experience and makes representation a farce.

Onto the question everyone has been waiting for: what does this mean for the T.V. series?

This is not just about allyship. This is about how Rowling continues to harm trans communities during a time where they are already experiencing heightened levels of violence.

Do NOT watch the HBO Harry Potter series or anything where Rowling gets streams and thus money! Illegally stream it. Watch the old movies on DVDs you already own. But every view pads her wallet and her ego, emboldening her to fund and support transphobia globally.

Reread the Percy Jackson series in preparation for the much awaited television show. Delve into Harry Potter fanfiction which doesn’t line the pockets of the Author Who Shall Not Be Named. Try new series from queer authors of color who deserve to be platformed far more than Rowling ever did.

#fuck jkr #percy jackson #percy pjo #allyship #trans ally #rick riordan #jk rowling #article #opinion

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bloodinwine · 8 months

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With Me Chapter 1: Effy's Gift

Story Summary: A collection of events/drabbles that are canon and take place before 'Until You' (part 1 of 'Something Else Entirely')

Author's Note: This collection of events/drabbles are canon and take place before Until You.

You can certainly read these as standalones, but I don't think they are as effective unless you are also reading 'Until You', which if you are, you can jump into 'With Me' at anytime but I will note that I only began 'With Me' after chapter 8 of 'Until You'. Hope this makes sense!

Chapter Summary: Astarion drinks human blood for the first time.

Word Count: 2,705 words

With Me: on A03

Until You: A03

Master List: (for all other chapters)

Astarion feels hunger in his veins, it aches in his bones. All he knows is that he wants to eat, drink, eat, drink. The boar he depleted yesterday was a generous helping and it should have been enough but it didn’t do anything , he was empty. He’d just returned to camp from an unsuccessful night of hunting—with nothing—not even a rabbit and all the excursion did was make him more tired, more weak.

He almost concedes, decides he will try to trance— anything to not feel his craving when he pauses to survey the campsite. Everyone is out of sight, fast asleep in their tents…all except their supposed leader, Effy. It’s how he usually finds her, curled up by the campfire wide out in the open, she’s not even in her bedroll.

Maybe it’s the fatigue he feels. Maybe it’s the weariness.

But he doesn’t realize he’s been standing there watching her sleep for a little too long until she shifts, rolling away from the heat to lay on her back. Her arms are splayed out and her face is turned from the flames, he can see the shape of her face. Astarion wonders how she’s slept this close to it all this time and hasn’t caught fire yet.

There’s something about the way she’s sprawled out in the open, exposed to all the world that draws him to her. She’s the same way awake, always the first person to throw herself into danger and devising plans inspired by dead myths and superstition.

Pure rubbish, sheer idiocy, utter recklessness.

She could get them all killed and still, she’s the best chance Astarion has in breaking his own chains. Every quality she carries he’s come to find so very irritating - he just doesn’t understand it and wants to study it up close.

To really see.

Astarion crosses the campgrounds until he’s above her only to be surprised by what he finds.

There’s an expression on her face that he’s never seen before. She’s resting, but she looks… exhausted, fragile.

She’s in a gown so revealing all Astarion can really notice is her dark hair and light skin flushed pink from the fire—she hates layers, complains that her adventuring clothes feel suffocating to her.

She has beautiful skin. And there’s so much of it to see—her dress is hiked past her thighs to the point he can see her underwear and it’s so transparent he can see the color of her nipples and the flushed swell of her breasts. She is quite the sight, yet somehow he finds nothing erotic about it, she just looks vulnerable. Anyone, anything could kill her right now—she is a death wish personified and she could be his.

Astarion nearly bites his own lip when he thinks of plunging his teeth into all that flesh. His hunger only deepens as he watches the rise and fall of her chest, which brings his gaze up to her bare neck where a lovely vein fills his vision and ignites in him a different kind of hunger that he had never experienced, and he knew better than anyone what it meant to starve.

If he didn’t do something about this soon he was going to lose his godsdamn mind.

I need this to survive. I need this.

He is on his knees, but he doesn’t remember dropping to them. His thirst is a pale wasteland, cold and harsh and it feels all the more terrible when he’s so near this woman with blood that smells like a sunshower, fresh petals and the salt of tears cried—all the ingredients for living.

He feels like he’s gone mad, unable to think about anything but the desire to drown in it.

Astarion’s mouth waters, he sees red. He lowers himself above her neck and he opens his mouth, fully succumbing to his desire to taste and know her but when he looks down he sees gray waters, ocean blue.

Her eyes are open.

“…Shit.” He tries to extricate himself from her as quickly as he can, he almost steps back but stops when he realizes that she doesn’t seem startled in the least.

She’s still lying on her back, looking up at him. He almost wonders if she’s sleeping with her eyes open when her mouth moves and she smiles at him.

“Come to steal a kiss? Can’t blame you.” Her voice is soft, sleepy. “You could just…” Her face transforms to what he knows, if it was fragility he saw before then it was gone.

“Suck my cock,” she gasps, eyes blown wide, she shoots up onto her elbows. “You’re a vampire.”

Astarion takes a step back from her. He could not have her shouting and waking the others. “No, no - it’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

But she doesn’t shout, she remains calm, almost too calm. “Red eyes? Fangs? You were about to bite me with them.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed - well, blood.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” The way she says it unnerves him, like she can’t be bothered. She runs a hand through her hair which catches in a tangle of knots, she gives up on them, freeing her fingers with a look of annoyance. Then she sits up to pat the ground in front of her as if everything is fine , as if they are friends .

“Sit with me.”

Astarion hesitates.

Because either she is the most objectively stupid person alive, or she is plotting to ram a stake in his heart.

He takes his chances and sits down tentatively before her, but the woman just stares at him, she doesn’t say anything.

What in the Hells is she thinking?

Her silence spurs him to explanation, before she can decide she wants him dead after all. “I feed on animals, whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. Too weak.” Astarion grits his teeth, hating how desperate he sounds.

“That’s how I feel every morning without my coffee, but you don’t see me taking things from people without asking.”

“I—” Astarion starts.

I’m not some monster, he almost says. But she’s not looking at him like a monster. She’s looking at him the same way she did all day, the exact same way.

Still, he has to be sure that she trusts him.

“If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please. ”

He brushes against her mind, it’s the second time he’s done so but it feels different, maybe it’s because he’s inviting her in, maybe it’s because she’s hiding less of herself, perhaps it’s because she trusts him more. Still, she rushes into him like an exploding spark, like she’s breaking pieces of herself, and that makes it damns difficult to think straight.

Astarion tries to focus and shares with her the number of times he could have easily bitten anyone else, but instead, had yielded to living off animals and anything else he could get his hands on. Of course, he doesn’t show her that it was from lack of choice. He almost cuts his thoughts off from her, scared to reveal too much, when he catches sight of an image that doesn’t belong to him.

He sees an elderly woman with large, round orbs of silver-blue for eyes, they look just like Effy’s, except they peer from a face that has seen too much–a map of wrinkles and scars.

Surprisingly, it is Effy that breaks the connection. She tilts her head at him. “I’d be your first human.”

Astarion balls his hands into fists, he hadn’t quite thought of it that way. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs. No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

What delicious treats your lies give to me. Bring her. Now.

Astarion tries not to flinch from the revolting thought, from hearing his voice. No matter how far, he could still hear it, still couldn’t get away.

Effy is silent, the look she gives covers him like the sky…and there is no hiding from the sky.

She’s going to say no. Who in their right mind would say yes?

“I only trust one person in the world.” Her voice is grave. “And she would say that a vampire that drinks from his first human is bound to protect them. If I give you my blood, you will have no choice but to fight for me.”

“Yes, your blood will surely make me more equipped for the task.” Astarion responds automatically, the words spill out before he can process what she is really saying.

Protect her? Is she joking?

He doesn’t need to look at her long to know she’s not, not even a little bit and somehow it makes the whole thing so damn funny to Astarion.

He can’t believe his luck.

Centuries he’d spent seducing and manipulating others, and still, no one has stopped him.

He’s still here. He’s still doing the same thing. It’s still too easy.

Effy nods. She agrees. Of course she does.

“Is—is that a yes?” He stammers, because he still can’t believe it.

“Only if you want to.”

Only if I— She’s stark mad.

“It’s important that you’re sure, that you find me worthy,” she continues, mistaking his silence for uncertainty. “Our binding will weave a thread between Shar and Selune, bringing their eternal conflict one step closer to the end–”

How ridiculous.

“ –for I will give you life, and you will give me death and then together - we will become something else entirely.” Then she breaks out of her solemn demeanor and grins at him. “And that sounds rather nice, doesn’t it?”

She lays back down on her back and waves him over, like she wants to tell him a secret.

Astarion catches himself digging his nails into the ground. It dawns on him that he’s going to drink her blood–human blood–for the first time.

His body feels taut as a cord when he brings himself to his knees and plants his hands on either side of her head but when she turns to bare her neck, it takes every ounce of his willpower not to let go and bury himself in her.

He pulls strands of her hair away, its silk in his hands, and the scent of it drags him into a summer evening—a garden of wild roses and blackcurrant. His fingers slip under her head to cradle it and the gesture feels so intimate it's almost sickening, he tries to focus on her smell because maybe then he could stay in that place that is uniquely her and away from the looming revulsion that hangs around him like a shadow.

“Just be gentle with me.” She whispers into his neck. He’s not sure why, but Astarion feels a strange twinge in his chest from the way she says it.

Be gentle.

It was the least he could do, but the second his fangs sink into the softness of her flesh, he is slammed by a devastating force that spurs in him something that is even greater, stronger and deadly.

Be gentle.

He is surprised he can hang onto that thought, that he can register the way she shudders and gasps beneath him. He feels her hand run up his arm as if to cling for life—

Be gentle.

—then her hand falls over his in surrender and she lets out a sigh that is unmistakably pleasing and it makes him want to be anything but gentle.

He has no one to compare her blood to, but he is sure animals will never satisfy again. She tastes divine, oh yes, she certainly does, but it’s not simply the way she tastes, it’s the way it moves through every piece of him.

How every vein becomes knitted in his veins. How her blood mixes with his blood– and how her heart beats for his heart.

He is the one feasting on her, but he is the one that is claimed.

Everything, every part of her becomes laced into all that he is, and he becomes, just like she’d promised—something else entirely.

For a moment—that he would spend eternity wishing for—he is alive.

He feels her squeeze his wrist hard, but looking back on it later, he’s not sure if it was her way of telling him to stop.

Desperate to not lose the feeling of her too quickly, he closes his eyes to savor it all when he pulls away from her. He doesn’t want to forget this.

“That - that was amazing.” The words feel like air in his dead lungs. He feels at his mouth, to savor any of her remaining essence—it’s too precious to waste.

“My mind is finally clear. I feel strong I feel…” He pauses. “Happy.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he looks down at Effy who appears to be in a half-daze.

“You’re really beautiful, do you know? It’s almost unfair,” she says.

Did I almost kill her?

“What—how much blood did you lose?”

Effy raises a finger up to the sky behind him. “Seriously, I’m not kidding. You’re literally prettier than the moon. I could fucking cry looking at you.”

Astarion lets out a sharp laugh. He reaches back down to wipe at the remaining blood from the wound on her neck with his fingers, he sucks them clean and his lashes flutter. She might be demented, but she tastes so godsdamn amazing .

He clears his throat, remembering himself and pulls a piece of cloth he meant to use to patch his shirt with. He puts it in Effy’s hand, prompting her to hold it up to her neck to staunch the bite, his bite—it sinks in that they would scar, that they would be there for the rest of her life.

“…I might have gotten carried away…but I was just swept up in the moment.”

“Good,” she sighs.

“Good?”

“It’s nice to be swept away, doesn’t it? Happy is good too, you know? I’m glad you are.” She pulls the cloth from her neck and holds it up to her face, to survey the blood there. “I feel numb.”

She clutches the fabric tightly to her chest and Astarion notices the red blisters on her fingers—he’s not sure how he hasn’t before, they look painful.

“I’m…uh, I’m sorry .” The word feels weird in his mouth and according to the smile on Effy’s face, unnecessary to say.

“Whatever for? It feels nice to not feel. I’ll probably actually get some real sleep around here for once.”

“Nice to not…Hells below.” Astarion snorts. “You won’t pass out will you? We sort of need you afterall to lead us into more danger.”

“I’m fine. I always am,” she says. Her eyes begin to close, like she might really drift off to sleep. “…you’ll protect me now, will you?”

Astarion wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Won’t be long before we find out. So many people need killing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.”

That wasn’t true. For the first time, he feels like he doesn’t need anything at all. He just wants to go back in his tent to savor this memory.

He turns to leave, until he hears her say, “Goodnight Astarion.”

His first human. The first time he drank what he wanted. And he felt, well, he was grateful.

“This is a gift you know. I won’t forget it.” He’s not sure if she heard him. When he looks over his shoulder he sees that she’s fast asleep again, but this time she looks… peaceful .

Still, he feels a strange impulse to walk back and pull a blanket over her.

He shakes the thought away and returns to his tent but when he tries to slip into a trance all he can think of is her. Not his plans to manipulate or seduce her for his own preservation.

Just her.

200 years. 73050 days. Thousands of people—and she reminds me of no one.

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Special Thank You: THANK YOU ALL FOR READING ❤️❤️❤️

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Until You Tag List: @hopeful-n-sad

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion love #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #a03 fanfic #eventual smut #angst and fluff

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