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ruershrimo · 9 months ago

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 1: nostalgia

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chapter synopsis:

'“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise. The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.'--- ' It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I'm thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)'

word count: ~5k; tws: none for now

2-4-2015

Dear Fushiguro Tsumiki,

How are you today? I’m so sorry that we haven’t talked in so long.

Forgive me for asking so many questions in this letter— I know too little about writing them; my mother is the one who asked me to write this saying that it would help me keep in touch with my friends or write better (either of the two, I can’t quite remember).

Between an urban area or a rural area, which would you prefer? I’ve had to go all around the place because of my mother and I’m still all the way in Tanegashima now. If you were to go from Tokyo to where I am, you’d have to either go for a drive lasting more than 20 hours or book a three hour flight.

I’ve only stayed in the city once— that was when we were still in the same school, and we could all fit in my aunt’s apartment since my father was outstationed for the whole year. But I digress. Personally I prefer the city. It all feels so modern, and so much less empty than how it’s like here on this little island. I mean, we have the space centre, so I can always visit that, but after the third or fourth time you’d probably get a little bored of it too.

I wish I could go to Tokyo again one day, though. I’d definitely take the time to visit you, too. I read on a pamphlet once of how pretty everything gets in Tokyo during winter time, especially during Christmas. We don’t really celebrate Christmas here but the pamphlet reminded me of that one December when we spent it at my aunt’s, we ate lots of KFC and had a little party while my aunt sang songs and drank enough alcohol to prove she had a liver of steel a million times over.

It’s nice to reminisce on these things, and it’s nice to reminisce on when we were still there too. I know I never told you this enough, but I was so happy when you walked up to me on the playground that day and asked if you wanted to be friends. I really, really liked your hair and wanted to ask you the same. I was just too shy to do it, and thought that if I would I’d end up messing things up and mortifying myself. I miss that and you and I miss 2010 and I miss Tokyo, and walking back from school with you and Megumi (you were like my cool older sister), and I really, really miss doing each other’s hair. It was the most joyful I’d ever been in my then 8 years of life and every day was a new fragment of happiness to keep in my heart like a picture in a locket.

Now I really want to go there again, and maybe go to the Shinjuku-Gyoen, or see the lights at night. I wish I could stay for a whole year and see how the trees can change from being highlighted cherry blossom pinks, to lush greens with summer dew on them, to golden ginkgo leaves. I’d keep them with me, too. I hope you can take me there one day and we can see everything together again. My apologies if I’m asking too much of you.

Also, how is Megumi? I miss him too. Is he the way he was, still? Is everything okay between you and him, still? Unlike elementary school, the boys in junior high are all taller than the girls, so since we’re the same age do you think he’d be taller than me too? Is he taller than you, or are you still one of the tallest girls in junior high like how you were in elementary school?

It’s very late and I still have so much I want to talk about with you, but I’m really sleepy now. My eyes are barely open and my face is about to fall on the paper, I think. Just know that I’m thinking of the two of you all the time. XX

Love, [Name]

(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)

28-2-2011

The train to the airport is arriving in a minute, and you’re sure your mother won’t let you just wait for the next one, so you’re stuck clutching your little luggage bag as you look at Tsumiki and Megumi, that inseparable pair, and their snowy-haired “benefactor” (whatever that means. You think he’s more like their father sometimes, though).

Even if you knew it was inevitable and that this day would eventually come, especially with your leaving Tokyo being pulled even earlier than you thought it would, a part of you pretended that you’d still get to stay with them for a little while longer. In Tokyo you’d solidified your place and built your roots— you had friends, were doing alright in school and had even begun to be less anxious about everything. Now you’d be uprooted again, you thought as your fists trembled, Now you’d be back to square one.

2011 had started as a busy year— your father had begun preparations to move somewhere else where you and your mother could follow him and the three of you would be together again. It was busy for Tsumiki, too, who had more school matters to tend to due to her being one of the best, most well-rounded students in her year (you didn’t know much of the details).

��it had also begun with you seeing a dog when you were alone with Megumi once. It had these unique markings on its head, with alabaster fur and jaundice-hued eyes. And Megumi then had a panicked look in his eye, asked how and why you could see them as well as whether you’d seen them before, which you suppose caused him to be busier after that, too. Tsumiki and Megumi’s benefactor visited you and your mother the night after, asking to speak with your mother and your mother alone. He paused before you, almost shocked, you supposed, but you couldn’t see through his pitch black sunglasses (he was one weird guy, seriously— pitch black sunglasses? Really?). To which she frowned, as the man uttered that you could be a “window”, but that you could still be able to use “cursed energy”, or something. You’d heard of neither of those, and weren’t able to eavesdrop or discern anything else they’d said.

Then nobody else mentioned the dog anymore.

If you questioned any of them, you’d only be told that the dog was a stray, and that those markings must have been a particularly special birthmark. Yet you knew it was all a lie, but after multiple tries you gave up on wondering.

When you’d first learned you’d be moving yet again, you cried and screamed for your mother to let you stay, and for what felt like hours. After relaying this to Tsumiki, she just put her hand on yours before hugging you— always wise, always kind, always smiling, you can’t say this enough about her. Megumi patted your back before she pulled him in as well, and for once he didn’t shove her hand away. You couldn’t even bother to be confused at that— you just continued to weep as Tsumiki comforted you, whispering, “I can’t promise I’ll always be able to talk to you, but I’ll try my best to keep in touch when I can. And even if we don’t, we’ll always be friends, okay? So we’ll meet again someday, don’t forget that, okay, [Name]?”

A day after that Megumi told you to stay safe. Nearly ordered you to swear you’d stay safe and protected, always. He said that the world was dangerous since it was full of dangerous creatures and people who could kill you at any moment, but as long as you were on an island like the one you were moving to, you’d be fine. You furrowed your brow at that as he held your hand and felt him squeeze it— subconsciously, most likely.

“Well,” Tsumiki starts, a tinge of sadness in her tone, her eyes slightly swollen. Megumi’s expression is unreadable but his fists are balling the fabric of his shirt and his leg is shaking. It makes you want to sob and cling to both of them and you know if you did they wouldn’t ever let go, “I guess this is goodbye, [Name]…”

Before you realise it, tears start pooling in your eyes and soon they’re trickling down your face uncontrollably, just like the day when you’d first met her. “We’ll still be friends, right?” You won’t leave me, right?

“Mhm!” Tsumiki smiles— she was always smiling, always, even when she was about to cry along with you. Her lip was trembling and for a second you swore you could detect that in the ever-stoic Megumi, too. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. We’ll be friends forever, so we’ll surely see each other soon enough,” Tsumiki assures you, close to sniffling, “We made a promise to always be friends, right? So you’ll see the two of us again in just a few years’ time no matter what.”

“Okay,” you sniff, “I’ll see the two of you when we’re all grown up, and… and I’ll be taller, too! I promise I’ll visit Tokyo next time!”

“...that’s good,” Megumi says, his leg still shaking discreetly, joining you and Tsumiki’s conversations in a way he’d rarely done.

Tsumiki nods, “Yeah. That sounds really, really good, [Name]. Wait—! Let me give you something. You can call it a gift!”

She takes it off, and her hair unfurls like flowers from bouquets after they’re untied, placing the red-ribbon hair tie securely in your palm.

“Your hair tie?” you ask, “No, it’s okay—!”

“Please, just… just keep it, okay? It’s a gift from Megumi and I to you, [Name]!”

Then you’re in her embrace again as you clutch the hair tie, while after a little hesitation Megumi joins in and you swear you can see their benefactor smiling— not just the smile he had when you first saw him, this one in particular seemed proud, fatherly, the same way your father did when you told him about how you were able to read through a whole book with beginners’ kanji in it.

“You’re my best friends forever,” you whisper to them. It’s the truth and it’s a promise.

The train halts with that chuffing sound all trains produce, and your mother holds the luggage as well as your other hand as you wave to them goodbye.

15-3-2011

The phone continues to vibrate in your hands as you anxiously tap your foot on the ground. You’re sure it’s going to end up sore. Frantically, you press it almost forcefully to your ear when it stops ringing. “Tsumiki, Megumi!”

“[Name]!”

“Are you alright? I saw the footage of the earthquake on the news, are you safe? Were you and Megumi evacuated, are you all safe? Please tell me whether you’re safe—!”

“Megumi, it’s [Name]!— Don’t worry, we’re safe now.”

Relieved, you sigh, “That’s good, that’s good,” you say, “It must’ve been really scary…”

“Mhm— everything started shaking as if we were on some boat in the middle of the sea and the waves started getting wilder, and it was like the ground was rumbling.”

You shiver. “That sounds so scary…— I’m glad you’re safe, though. I don’t know why stuff like that has to happen so quickly sometimes, and so suddenly, too. And it takes so many people along with it. I thought I could’ve lost the two of you.”

“Well, we made a promise,” she tells you, “So don’t worry. —Oh! Megumi wants to talk to you. Here, Megumi.”

“Are you alright?” he inquires, “Have you seen anything scary in the countryside?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t seen anything. Why?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to know.” Now that sounds like a bold-faced lie.

“Uh-huh, okay.”

-20-5-2011-

“Hello? Is this Tsumiki? I need to ask if she’s alright—”

“Oh, little [Name]?” a man says over the phone— the benefactor, you remember, “So sorry, she’s pretty busy right now… call next time, okay?”

-21-5-2011-

“Hello? This is the Fushiguro house contact, right?”

“Sorry, Tsumiki’s busy at the moment. Me too, actually.”

“Megumi!” you smile, bringing the phone closer to your cheek in excitement, “How is everything?”

“Good, to say the least,” he replies, “We’re just a bit busy. Sorry, but I’ve to hang up soon.”

“Oh, oh-okay! Bye bye, Megumi!”

“Bye.”

-13-7-2011-

“Hi, [Name] speaking. I called twice last month and a few days ago. Are you still busy?”

“A little— well, Tsumiki is,” the voice on the other side says. You know it’s not Tsumiki, not yet at least. “She’s really sorry, [Name].”

“No, no, it’s okay! I don’t want to bother any of you either, so thank you for telling me!”

“Well, if you want I can try to get Tsumiki right now,” the voice offers.

“Really? Thank you so much!”

The pause that ensues after is followed by the fifteen happiest minutes of your life since February this year.

“[Name]? Is that you?”

“Yeah! Hi, Tsumiki!”

She gasps slightly in the way that children do when in awe or when someone finds out they’ll be eating their favourites for lunch. “Hello!”

“How are you?” you ask.

“I’m good! Really busy, though, so I’m really sorry if I can’t call you as often… but everything’s been alright. You?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head even if she can’t see it, “I’m good, too!”

-18-8-2011-

You don’t know when you started heading to the phone and keying in the number, doing everything but ringing it. You’re busy, too— you’ve less time now to ring them up, and the last time you did, Tsumiki still apologised but sounded a little distant, just that one bit too busy to be able to tend to you. One step farther away from you. And Megumi was seldom ever the one by the phone. Still, you could understand why. You supposed they always had something going on that you never understood or never asked about. That would explain the incident with the unusually marked dog. No, they weren’t sketchy, but there was definitely something they must have known about the world that you didn’t.

Now you don’t know if you can even muster the courage to talk to you or write to you. The distance between you has widened exponentially and you hesitate just a bit more every time you hold the phone and press its buttons.

Then the phone rings, and after you hesitate once more, you put it down.

9-2-2016

If there’s one thing you remember from about half of your life ago, it’s that your first crush was probably Fushiguro Megumi.

You’re honestly surprised it wasn’t actually his sister. That over Tsumiki and her abundant compassion and beautiful soul, you’d feel your heart leaping and overflowing with warmth because of him instead. Constantly angry, never for once not irascible, always serious and aloof. You’re sure that if you’d met him now instead of back then you’d find him some asshole who you just wouldn’t be able to understand— why’d he always have to seem so angry?

Yet it was a struggle, trying to understand him. It really was. Maybe you didn’t really have to understand anyone, much less Megumi. He never ceased being so serious and easily angered but you could tell from his eyes that he must have not intended to hurt anyone; half of the time you understood him: like when you could see that glint in your eyes that replaced what would have been a ghost of a smile on his lips, the other half of the time you didn’t: like whenever he shoved Tsumiki’s hand off his shoulder, and Tsumiki just continued to smile. Now, that really confused you. You’d thought about that for days before coming to the conclusion that you’d probably never find an answer.

Conversely, Tsumiki was kind and patient. If you’d met her now you’d have fallen in love with her immediately and she probably wouldn’t even notice in that terribly goodhearted, unknowingly innocent way of hers.

In retrospect it should have been more obvious: he scowled at you and if it were anyone else who did so to you back then you would have merely cried and closed in on yourself, yet you never did when it came to him. You just continued to stick to him like those kind of glue residuals left behind after you take a sticker off a table or a price tag from the back cover of a book. You were probably annoying like that. And to some degree you suppose he’d given you his own form of special treatment by letting you do so anyway.

If you’d known what you were feeling back then you probably wouldn’t have admitted anything, anyway. Probably you would’ve kept it all within you, quiet and unnoticed, trying to drown yourself into life’s backdrop like an insect engulfed in resin.

But you’re older now, more mature and slightly more outspoken; you’re going to try to be confident and meet someone, this one person alone who you can only meet now without his sister there just because you used to have a crush on him and—

You don’t think you’d be able to admit anything either. Yet to yourself he’s the first. He always will be, and you’re not sure whether that sounds pathetic, miserable or disgustingly, hopelessly delusional, considering you don’t even want to pursue anything yourself.

It’s going to be Valentine's Day soon and you’re quite sure that most of your school friends are making Valentine’s chocolates for their boyfriends or their crushes. In all truthfulness, you might as well not feel blue about it— you’re 14, that’s still pretty young, you don’t have to rush things like relationships or confessions through and you’ve been told to focus on your studies instead— but the thought that you’re going to be alone is still kind of depressing.

10-4-2015

Dear [Name],

Don’t apologise— it’s partially my fault. I ended up being really busy that year due to something we had to deal with.

But anyway, it’s been so long! I miss you every day as well!

Megumi and I’ve been great, and I hope you’ve been too. It’s been a long four years since we last talked (it’s already 2015, how time flies!), but you still sound the same. It’s like you’ve got better handwriting now, though!

Aside from the fact that I’ve been swarmed with stuff to do (I joined the student council, yay!), junior high has been okay, to say the least— and hey, I’m still pretty tall, you know? Plus, a lot of the teachers say I’m surprisingly tall for my age, heheh. Things are going the same as always. I’ve got accustomed to the loads of homework we have now too. But it’s like Megumi’s been having a problem lately— he’s getting into fights, beating people up, things like that. I wouldn’t call him a delinquent, though: moreso someone who beats the delinquents up instead. I know what he wants to do and why he does it, but I don’t want him to fight other people and get himself or others hurt.

I’ve tried to tell him this before, to be honest. I’ve tried it many times but each time I must sound more annoying to him than the last— I don’t want to force him to do anything, though, and I understand that part of why he does this is because of his own ideals. I just want him to not raise his hand against others. So I have to resort to this.

Sorry for spilling it all on paper like this… I just wanted someone to talk about this to, and I thought you would listen to me, I suppose. Sometimes it’s hard— sometimes I really do feel like his parent instead of his sister and it makes me feel so lonely, really.

Oh dear, what do I do to make him hear me, seriously…

Anyway, I totally get what you mean— I’ve stayed in Tokyo all my life, but I’m sure that if I was uprooted and had to live somewhere else I’d have lots of trouble. Tokyo to me is my home, and my whole life is here. Moving somewhere else would probably shatter it completely, I think.

And please visit when you can! Maybe if your mother allows it, we can come to us instead, one day! And it’s not like we can’t visit you either. Our door’s always open. Once this school year ends, perhaps we could stay with you for a night or two! (If you would have us, of course).

Besides that, I don’t really have much to say. I did have a good day today, though. I went out with some of my friends from school after our classes ended and we ate some donuts. They were so tasty!!! Honestly, whenever you have the time, I really recommend going there with some of your friends after school!!

Regardless, I think this is all I have to say in this letter. I promise I’ll try my utmost best to always set aside time to write to you!!! Get some good rest whenever you can, okay? Miss you always!

Sincerely,

Tsumiki

(P.S.: Do you have an email or a phone number of your own yet? If so, please shoot me an email or give me a call! I can reply more there since I have those now and can use those instead of always relying on our house contact. You can keep the hair tie, too, by the way! It can be like a memoir (*^▽^*). And it’s for you, after all!)

13-3-2015

You remember seeing a little dog one time back in your hometown when you were around six or seven years old.

It was a tiny little thing, with the fluffiest black fur you’d ever stroked, and though every second it was barking louder than your mother could ever handle, it was adorable and seldom threatened to bite anyone. And it liked you— it never barked at you and let you shower it with pets despite how much it had frightened you initially.

He was irritable but calm, someone who frowned and scolded but never raised his hand against anyone— not even that “benefactor” of his who you’d never heard him talk about without mentioning how much he’d like to punch him someday. You genuinely don’t think he’s ever done so, either. He doesn’t seem like the type: from what you remember, if he were to think he’d hurt someone he knew or evidently cared about— as much as he’d like to deny this, however— he would blame everything on himself, you think. He’d feel the guilt rake through his body and lacerate his skin, piercing through his ribs. Yet he’d keep living, and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it; he’d be so quietly miserable.

That’s what he was like: quietly miserable. There’s a certain sorrow in the way he does things; you could tell this from the start despite how young and inept at articulating yourself you were at that age. But you’d always known and sensed that there was a sadness running through him, coursing through his veins, one that you could feel like heat from the warm blood beneath one’s skin.

Today you wonder if he’s the same, if he still seems like the saddest person you’ve ever met, if he still seems like he would have been the saddest and most doleful had he not always tried to act as if otherwise, living defiantly against it. If he hadn’t always been able to keep living while suffering quietly like a child with nothing but muffled sobs in the desolate corner of an empty classroom.

But at eight you thought maybe you could liken Megumi to a puppy. Or something like that. He certainly reminded you of that all-bark-no-bite puppy from the past. You wondered how it was now, whether it was still being fed and taken care of.

Tsumiki was vastly different, though— the kindest girl you ever knew, with neat, soft hair and the type of handwriting all the girls in her class wanted to have. She was always smiling, always kind— you thought she was immensely wise for a girl around your age; you always wanted to be as amazing of a person as she was: always hardworking, always clever, always kind and forgiving, no matter what.

…you don’t even know why you’re thinking about some kids you met once who you’ll probably never see again. Just two kids who you never kept in touch with. Or at least never tried to. You had their contact— you tried talking to Tsumiki a few times, but for some reason she could only ever reply once or twice (she apologised profusely for not being available any time she picked up as well), and as time passed the way the distance between the two of you grew, by the summer of 2011 you’d begun holding a telephone close to your ear without keying any number in it, as if clinging onto it would provide you with any sort of closure.

You miss them, though: smiley Tsumiki and frowny Megumi.

Leaning back into the mattress, you trace your fingers over the hair tie on your wrist, fingers rubbing against each thread of fabric in its red ribbon.

Could you even talk to them or face them anymore after ceasing contact with them for years, though? Heck, you don’t even know whether they’re alive or not. Would they be angry at you? Disappointed? Feeling as if they’d been wronged or left behind?

Still, you miss them. You really do.

Your mother’s calls bring you downstairs, and you eat until your stomach is full before washing your plate. The only other step in your routine now is to head up and retreat to your room again.

“Come down, [Name], could you?” your mother says, interrupting your trip back up, “I just want to talk to you for a second.”

Now, that… that was a bit strange. Your mother rarely ever asked you to talk to her. You spent enough time with each other as is, doing almost everything else besides being in school or at work in the same house, even if it never meant asking about each others’ day. It just was never part of the conversations you had with each other. You’d ask where she wanted you to throw things or how you could cook something, but she’d never go out of her own way to learn about your own day since you were about nine or ten, and it wasn’t like you ever did either. Perhaps she was trying to make the effort to?

“What is it?”

“You like writing, honey?”

“I mean, I guess so?” you reply hesitantly, “As long as it’s not for school or my grades don’t rely that heavily on a task, writing can be pretty fun.”

“Good, good,” she remarks, nodding her head, “Actually, I recently found something you may be interested in online. You still have your friend and her brother’s house contact, right?” she questioned. Instantly you know which friend she’s referring to and say yes— how could you not, after all? “Ever heard of pen pals, darling?”

Which brings you to where you are now: your mother leaning by the door frame of your room as you’re hunched over the table writing the letter. Surprisingly, she really seemed to care about this, even preparing the prettiest paper you’d ever seen, with pastel pink patterns printed on the paper’s edges, and though you struggled with what to say it first the words have begun spilling out of you despite how late it’s started to get.

You wonder whether she’ll reply. She probably will, though, but a fragile part of yourself surmises that she may not, and although you’d like to talk to her again you fear that because of the time that’s passed things may just not be the same anymore. You wonder if the years have made the three of you infinitely different than your eight and nine year old selves.

But that was growth, right? So you had to grow and learn how to talk to her, learn how to face her without thinking that she’d be angered or frustrated, or anything like that. And even if she did, even if it would hurt you, you’d be able to live. The world would keep spinning and all that would be lost were two friends who you lived without for about four years, ceteris paribus. Who could claim that the seventy or so years after those four would be any different?

That’s why you took the pen and paper and started to write, telling yourself you’d face it and finish the letter no matter what. Even if it was short. Even if it wouldn’t be enough to express four years’ worth of unspoken words, from funny things that had happened in school, or what you thought of whatever was on the news, or how your parents had gotten you a new phone.

As your eyelids gradually grow heavier, you watch how you fill two whole pages in the handwriting you have— you wish it could have been at least a tad bit more similar to Tsumiki’s, who never needed any boxes or lines to write completely straight and uniform for each character as if copying excerpts from finely printed books to the letter.

Soon, you’re reaching the end of the letter, determined to keep the handwriting legible even if you feel like plopping your head on the table and falling asleep— to some degree you still need it to look presentable, after all.

“(P.S.: I still have your hair tie. Do you know if I’ll ever be able to give it back?)”

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you’d like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#it's finally up :)#yayy #take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi angst #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #fushiguro tsumiki #fushiguro megumi #megumi #ruer writes

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

the softest kind of love

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: this is what we call fluff no plot. eren kissing reader every five seconds, me in my easter eggs era. eren and y/n enjoy your last days of your love struck bubble before I ruin your life.

an: you guys had me feeling like the devil incarnate after last chapter. anyways, I put that evilness away for 5k ish words before I unleash my true form again. enjoy <3

song of the chapter: invisible string!!!

previous part linked here

The second Historia walks into the room, Eren pops out of his seat, nearly running to the door to poke his head out. The hallway is empty - except for the crew members setting up the new costumes and fittings for filming next week.

No sign of you.

“You know, you could at least pretend you’re excited to see me.” Historia says, pinching Eren’s arm.

Eren gives Historia a swift hug and a kiss to the cheek before pulling back, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“You okay? How was the reception to the entire thing?”

“Good. More people are coming out. Backing me up.”

“I’m glad, Hisu. It’s nothing short of what you deserve.”

“Tell Y/N thank you, I couldn’t do it without her. Your girl has been bigger than life these days.”

He smiles, squeezing her shoulders once.

“You know. If you told me where she was, I could do it right now. Shouldn’t she be coming for the table read anyway?”

“She isn’t feeling well. She stayed out in the cold to talk to all of the fans that were lined up and then she was stuck in the airport for so long that she didn’t sleep. Levi and Hange gave her the day off to rest.”

Eren immediately runs over to his seat, directly across from Levi and Hange and gives his best smile.

“No, Eren. You can’t have the day off to hang out with Y/N.”

“I’m not going to hang out with her, Levi. Just let me take care of her, she spent two days in the airport after performing and interacting with people all weekend with Historia.”

“Eren. She’ll be fine. She just has to sleep it off.” responds Hange, the two of them scribbling through each other’s scripts.

“I’m not even in these scenes. And you owe me, Levi.” Eren says, narrowing his eyes.

Levi narrows his eyes, flitting his line of vision to the name card next to his seat, and then back to Eren. How was Levi supposed to know that Eren was all but estranged from his half brother?

“If I do this one thing for you, you can’t hold it over my head again.” Levi says, glaring at Eren.

“Thank you!”

Eren leans over the table to give them both a hug before running straight out of the room to the townhouse. Levi brings his hand up to his cheek as he grumbles under his breath.

“Is it just me or is he more touchy lately?”

“Poor, Y/N. He’s probably strangling her to death up there.” Hange responds, laughing.

After speed running through making a bowl of ramen, Eren all but runs up to your room, to find you nestled in your sheets, with a pink nose. You have your lines propped up against your sheets, your face embedded in the pages of your script.

Eren sets down the bowl and snatches your script before he leans down and presses the sweetest kiss known to man to your lips. He can feel you smiling against him, your cold hands coming up to cup his face.

“Eren. I’m kind of sick you shouldn’t-”

He rolls his eyes as he presses his lips to your palms, leaving two soft kisses on where you’re still cupping his face, before he climbs into the sheets with you.

“Tease. I’ve been waiting for a month now.”

“I’m going to get you sick. And then you’ll have to take a day off like I am.”

“I’m already taking the day off today. For you. So just try really hard to not get me sick okay?”

Eren reaches over to your nightstand, where the bowl of ramen is still steaming, and hands it to you. You give him a grateful smile - and Eren’s heart skips a beat - before cupping your hands around the bowl, the steam making your glasses fog up.

“How was it? The entire thing?” Eren whispers, his breath tickling your forehead.

“Good, Eren. They-they really believed Hisu.”

Historia had decided that she wasn’t going to be quiet about what happened with her agent. In fact, she was going to be loud about it.

And she asked for your help, because she wanted to use music to do so. Eren was immediately disapproving, not because he didn’t want Historia to do it, but because he didn’t want you to help her. It’s not that he didn’t believe in you, that he didn’t think the work was important. But what you guys were doing was the equivalent of putting a target on your back and there’s only so much he can protect you from.

You told him you had to do it, that you had to help her and he dropped all his protests and helped you both. The three of you wrote The Man in six hours and then you and Historia immediately went and performed it in New York.

Eren brings his hand up to cup your cheek, his fingers soft against your skin.

“You-you know it doesn’t usually go this way right? I-I don’t want you to-”

“Get my hopes up. I know, Eren. That’s why I’m glad it did work out for her of all people. She-she deserves her spot at the table and roles because she’s a good actress and she-

“I’m not trying to bring you down, Y/N. I-I just want you to be careful. Did you see what happened with Sukuna and Hyla? She’s basically dragging his good name through the mud. I was worried that if it didn’t go over well, they’d start coming for you. And they can be ruthless. And mean. And throw bricks through your bedroom windows and-”

You bring your hand up to Eren’s cheek, his eyes fluttering closed as he sinks into your touch.

“Is it weird having Zeke here, Eren? Does it remind you of-”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Seeing him pisses me off. I like being here because it feels like home. We do other roles and movies but this is always where we come back to. It feels weird to have him intruding in on something like that, you know?”

“This is still our place, Eren. Him being here doesn’t change that.” you whisper.

You rest your head against Eren’s chest, his heart rapidly beating under your ear, as he brings his hands up to your hair. He’s messily braiding through the ends the way you taught him, his hands swiping through your tangled locks.

“We should come up with secret codes. We-we still haven’t told them all we’re dating and I-I’m not embarrassed but we should when it’s-”

“When it’s right, Eren. Maybe when we’re done filming this season, because knowing us I feel like people will catch on the second we start doing press.”

Eren nods, squeezing your shoulder once.

“That one. It means I’m here and I’ve got you.”

You take your elbow and jab it straight into his side, making Eren squirm.

“Ouch, Y/N.”

“That one means that we need a second. To talk to each other, without anyone else around.”

Eren shifts over to your side, reaching forward to secure the loose strands of your hair around your ear.

“And that one. It means I want to kiss you right now but I can’t.”

“God, Eren. We won’t even last a week without them finding out.”

You and Eren amble down six hours later to find all of them milling around in the kitchen and Armin standing there, camera in hand. His polaroids are well littered and taped to almost every wall now, barely an empty patch on the wallpaper.

You make your way over as Eren stops to talk to Armin, Jean and Miksasa giving you quick arm hugs and kisses on the cheek as you run your hand on the wall. You and Eren are smack dab in the middle - the pictures from season one and two at the forefront. Eren comes up at your side, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Already?” you whisper.

“Can’t help it.” Eren whispers, giving you a smile.

Armin comes up behind you, slinging his arm around your shoulder and standing in between you two as you rest your head against his.

“Hey ‘Min. I just got to the end of the script, you’ve got some really big scenes this season. I thought we were going to have to put you on the death wall there for a second.”

“I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to be the victim of Levi’s insane standards this season instead of Eren.” Armin grumbles.

“Thank god. He’s ruthless.” Eren says, as he gives the both of you a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

“I heard that, brat.” Levi says, walking into the kitchen with Hange and Erwin in tow.

Armin gives Levi a sheepish smile as he walks away, finishing his season pictures. Levi beelines to your side, placing his hand flat against your forehead to check your temperature. You swat his hand off as you give him a smile, the two of you leaning against the wall to watch everyone.

Bertholdt and Sasha are fighting over a very lazily played game of Scrabble while Eren and Hange play a very intense game of ninja around Reiner and Mikasa’s cookie frosting.

“So are you guys dating?” Levi asks.

“Are you going to give me some unsolicited dad advice if I say yes?”

“Obviously. That’s part of my job description.”

You look over at him and give him a sheepish nod, confirming his suspicions. You don’t miss the way his face breaks out into a smile, which has your cheeks burning with the mushiest, sweet feeling you’ve ever felt.

Levi may not actually be your dad, but his approval means the world to you all the same.

“Good.” he says, looking over at the two of them - aggressively arguing over who won their game of Ninja.

“That’s it? Good?”

“I’ll save my unsolicited dad advice for Eren. Give him that whole ‘hurt my girl and I’ll kill you spiel’” he says.

“Spoken like a true father, Levi.”

Levi squeezes your shoulder once before tucking you into his arm, his embrace warm. He clears his throat as he talks and you swear his eyes are watering.

“Hange and I are doing a vow renewal at the end of this season. We haven’t told anyone yet because we’re just going to do a small thing in the backyard on the last day. But if you and Eren could write a song for us to do the first dance to, I’d really love it if you-”

“Shut the fuck up. You want us to write a song?”

“Language. It’s a surprise for Hange, they’re really into that whole music, serenading thing.”

“Really, Levi? You’d let us do something that important?”

“Eren is Hange’s favorite. You’re mine. And I’ll kill you if you tell anyone I admitted that out loud.”

You can feel the tears welling in your own eyes as you look over at Eren and Hange laughing near the sink and Levi smiling at you, every little part of your heart touched by the sentiment.

“Permission to say something cheesy?”

“No, Y/N.”

“I love you, Levi.”

He rolls his eyes, a deep sigh leaving his chest, before he responds.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, kid.”

Eren and Levi switch places, Armin pushing the two of you closer together to take the last season start polaroid.

“Okay, guys. What’s the pose this year?”

You and Eren give each other a look, before pulling up your sleeves at the same time. Armin gives you two a shocked smile as you stand to the side, pointing at each other's matching tattoos for the picture.

The second Connie catches sight of it, he immediately runs over with his camera, the bright light flashing in your face.

“This is part like ONE HUNDRED of the L/N-Jaegers. I-they have matching fucking tattoos oh my fucking god.”

You shuffle through the mess of letters Levi gave you - the ones he wrote Hange when they worked on La La Land together - to piece together the lyrics for your song. You and Eren agreed that it should definitely be a soft piano ballad, which is more their speed for this backyard vow renewal they’re having.

The letters are enough to bring tears to your eyes alone - the line between Levi faking letters for their method acting to really falling in love with Hange crystal clear. Because he went from writing her fake prose, soft flowery poetry to sharing memories with them, about himself.

Which is saying a lot, because Levi’s like a book glued shut.

Pictures of him from when he was younger, in Centennial Park with his parents. Him working a stupid job at a yogurt shop in between roles in Los Angeles. Him trying Hange’s favorite restaurant and sending her a very scathing review back.

That’s what love is, isn’t it? Sharing every little part of yourself and every feeling you’ve had - ecstatic, overwhelmed, happy, sad, bored, and soft.

You start scribbling the broken fragments of lyrics swimming in your mind into the notebook, your hand not moving fast enough for the places your head is running.

“Time, mystical time, cutting me open than healing me fine? You’ve got a weird mind, kid.”

You look up to find Zeke peering over your shoulder, before settling into the seat at the table right across from you. You immediately drop your pencil right into the book, instinctively looking to the left.

Right. Eren already left for set.

“Ah. They’re song lyrics.”

“That’s right. You’re the singer.”

There’s a tone in his voice, one you can’t place that sends a wave of discomfort down your spine.

You’re trying your best. To give Zeke a clean slate, to not let what Eren said taint the view you had of him because you should form your own opinions. But god does he give you the shivers, his entire aura ice cold - the complete opposite of the warm, fireplace Eren reminds you of.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Zeke. I’m Eren’s brother.”

“He mentioned. Welcome to the cast, I hope you’re liking it so far.”

He gives you a smile as he readjusts in the seat, sinking down into the chair.

“So what did he tell you? You’re looking at me like I’m the figment of your worst nightmares.”

“He didn’t say anything to me. You-you just caught me off guard because I was in the zone and stuff.”

“I haven’t talked to my brother in a while. But I still know him. What did he tell you?”

You swallow hard as you start gathering Levi’s letters, tucking them back neatly into their corresponding envelopes.

“Just that you guys don’t talk. Aren’t very close. It just came up once, he-he’s met my brothers before and just said you guys aren’t like that.”

“And you hate me for it?”

“No. No, I don’t hate you.”

“But he does?”

“Eren doesn’t hate you, Zeke. You just hurt his feelings, that’s all.” you respond, whispering the secrets he told you in confidence into the air.

Zeke sits back in his chair, his legs spread across the length of the seat as he gives you a smile.

You can already feel your heart sinking, irritated at yourself for even giving Zeke a sliver of information Eren wouldn’t have wanted you to mention.

“You love Eren, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t. I was just saying that because-”

“Would you believe me if I told you I had to stop talking to him? For his sake?”

“No. Who does that? He’s your brother. I can’t even imagine going a day without talking to my little brother, he’s literally my entire world.”

“Would you do it if it meant protecting him?”

He gives you a look as you ponder the question, the dilemma he just presented you with. Would you stop talking to Falco if it meant protecting him?

“Of course, I would. I love my brother. I-I’d do anything for him.”

“And I would too.” Zeke responds, giving you one last smile before walking out of the kitchen. He passes Eren on the way in, the two of them giving each other an ice cold look before Eren takes the seat next to yours. Eren pesters you about the conversation and you tell him all except for the last part.

You’re not sure if that’s something Eren should know. It would probably just piss him off more.

You watch as the makeup team takes Eren up to the top of the set, the crystal caves they made for the scene glittering in the light. You run your hand against the painted material, each sparkly crevice nearly blinding your eyes.

“They really went overboard with this one.” you murmur, walking with Mikasa.

“They got a bigger budget after last award season. I think they spent it all on this entire scene.”

You both snicker as you run to the sidelines, joining Sasha on the sides. You all sit in your respective seats as Eren, Historia, and Rod take their spots. Levi gives Eren a thumbs up from the directors chair and Eren quickly slips his shirt off, readjusting his hands into the arm restraints.

“Eren! Share the workout routine! I’ll lick those abs.” screams Connie, earning a fair amount of laughs from the cast and the crew.

You can see Eren turning red at the comment, the crew adjusting the last of the microphones and the props onto the set as Levi starts rolling the cameras. Connie leans over, whispering in your ear.

“How does it feel to see someone else living your dream?” he says, a laugh falling out of his mouth.

“What the hell are you talking about, Con’?”

“Historia and Eren are about to be the new couple of the show. I can see the edits already.” he says, poking your sides.

You swat him off, giving him the finger as you focus back on the scene as Eren and Historia start acting in the scene. Your reaction only goads Connie and Reiner on more, the two of them just trying to piss you off now.

“Look at how they look at each other, Y/N. You wish that was you, huh?”

“Shut up, Reiner. We’re literally the main couple of the show. You’d be stupid if you shipped Historia and Eren after the Thank You scene.”

“Feeling territorial over your man, Y/N?” Bertholdt says, the group of them laughing.

“Bertholdt. I thought you were above stupid shit like this.”

“You make it too easy. You’re-you’re looking a little green.” Bertholdt responds, pressing his hands to your face.

“And you’re looking gray. Like a half dead loser who gets eaten by Armin of all people at the end of the season.”

They all laugh at your response as you feel your cheeks burn with irritation, the thought of the entire thing pissing you off. You look up at Eren and Historia, the two of them sitting on the ledge as Eren gets caked in the red makeup for the scene before they start filming again. They’re both smiling, looking down at you guys.

When you make eye contact with Eren, he gives you a wave which you halfheartedly return. Which only fills Connie and Reiner with more delight, because now they’re mimicking you, all of them laughing with tears in their eyes.

“Imagine losing a two season lead to Historia.” Connie says, poking you in the sides.

“Imagine being one of the only characters without a romantic interest. At least my character can get some.” you respond.

“You think they’re method acting? Looks pretty real to me, don’t you think, Y/N?” Reiner says.

You stomp off to the other side of the set, to the snack table, where you’re angrily chewing down one of the pastries when Hange walks over. You can still hear them joking over there, tears flowing out of Connie’s eyes.

“You frown any harder and you’re going to get wrinkles, kiddo.” Hange says, poking the soft of your cheek.

“Sorry.” you respond, your tone harsh.

They give you a laugh as the crew starts pulling Eren and Historia down from the ledge. Historia and Eren are wiping the makeup off each other’s faces as they laugh, chasing each other off the main set as they join the rest of them on the sidelines.

You turn to the side, angrily biting into another pastry on the snack table as you hear them giggling behind you.

“Where’s Y/N?” you hear Eren ask, as he slips his jacket back on.

“She’s moaning and groaning by the snack table.” Jean says, smacking Connie on the back.

“You guys are being mean. You’re obviously hurting her feelings by insinuating there’s something between Eren and Historia.” Mikasa says, shaking her head disapprovingly at them.

“What?” Eren responds.

“We were just joking with her and she got all mad for no reason. You and Historia just looked really romantic up there for a second and we were teasing her about it, saying you’re going to forget all about her.” Connie explains.

You can feel your cheeks burning, the entire situation mortifying as you feel your face turn red. Because them saying it is one thing but telling Eren is another. The crew starts working on getting your harnesses attached for the next scene as Eren walks over, politely asking them if he can have a second with you.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Eren.” you grumble, crossing your hands across your chest.

He gives you a smile as he snakes his left hand around your waist and uses his right hand to cup your face and kiss you straight on the face. He’s pulling you closer with his hand, your cheeks burning at the sounds of them all cheering and screaming a few feet away from you. He lets go after a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours.

“What happened to telling them at the end of the season?” you whisper, a smile making its way across your lips.

“They were pissing you off. Had to set the record straight.” he responds, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks before pulling back.

Sasha and Mikasa run over, crushing the two of you in a hug as they all excitedly squish you in their embrace, hundreds of questions falling out of their mouths.

How long have you been dating? Are you in love? Have you done it?

“Connie. You’re disgusting, you know that?” Armin says, snapping a picture of everyone crushing you in a hug.

“Guilty as charged.” Connie says, smirking.

“Connie. Bother her again and I’ll make it a point to do it in your bed.” Eren says, cupping your face in his hands as everyone laughs.

Eren joins you at the piano, two steaming cups of tea in his hand. He sets them both at the head of the piano before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey.”

“Hi. I-I think it might be done.”

“We’re sticking with invisible string?”

“Seems right, don’t you think?”

Eren leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek again before settling his hands on the keys as he starts playing the tune, your voice filling the empty air of the set.

Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no time Were there clues I didn’t see?

You give Eren a nod to join you on the melody as you play the notes on your side of the piano, your cheeks hurting from smiling.

And isn’t it just so pretty to think All along there was some invisible string Tying you to me?

Eren stops playing the keys as he leans his head against your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before talking.

“Maybe we shouldn’t sing right now. Your voice is sounding tired, love.”

“We just did so many takes of that scene yesterday with Armin and Erwin. And then we all spent a good twenty minutes crying after we realized it was Erwin’s last scene, so I’m all spent out.”

Eren plays a loose melody on the piano as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Where’d you come up with invisible string?”

“It’s one of those old folktales, Eren. About soulmates.”

He gives you a confused look as he keeps playing, the piano singing in the air.

“Basically, when you’re born, there’s a little string tied around your pinkie and one around your soulmates. And no matter how far you are, you’ll eventually find the other end of your string and your other person because you’re tied together.”

“Do you ever think about stuff like that? About soulmates and other lives and stuff?”

“Sometimes, it can be fun. Like what we’re doing in another life, how we ended up together.”

“You think we’re together in other lives, Y/N?”

“You don’t, Eren?”

You give him a fake angry look which has him back pedaling really fast, the words spilling out of his mouth.

“I-no. Of course, we’re together. We’re meant to be together, every universe and every time-”

“I’m teasing, Eren. You don't have to think that just because I do.” you respond, smacking your fist against the piano and sending a shred of discordant notes in the air.

“Ouch, princess. You’re no musician.”

“Oh?”

He laughs, taking your closed fist off of the keys and lifting your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“We have hundreds of love stories out there, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“All the classics, of course.”

“Like? I need concrete examples, Eren.”

“There’s one where we fake-date and fall in love. And then there’s one where you somehow end up being my roommate and-”

“Roommates? That’s so fucking corny, Eren.”

“Roommates. Like you somehow end up having to live with me against your will and then obviously start liking me because I’m so charming.”

“Ew, Eren. You would hate being my roommate. I’d probably piss you off by singing in the shower every morning.”

“See that’s the thing. I’d hate it at first but then it becomes super endearing to me. It’s part of the romance, falling in love with the little things.”

“Okay, Cupid. I didn’t realize you were an expert here.”

“Let’s go home, yeah? We need to wake up early for the vow renewal tomorrow.”

Eren starts packing your notebook into the bag and handing you your cup of tea as you slide around on the bench. He walks down the length of his set before realizing you’re not next to him and trails back, bending down to sit in between your legs.

“Hey. What’s up?”

You put your hand against his cheek as you look at his green eyes, round and full, staring into yours. It’s on the tip of your tongue. You love him. And you miss him when he’s not even gone.

“Nothing, Eren. I just thought about how after this week, we won’t be coming back here for another three years. When am I gonna see you?”

Eren jumps off the ground and takes his seat on the bench again, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before murmuring against your hair, his voice soft.

“I’ll come where you are. You can come where I am. We-we’ll see each other, okay?”

“Okay, Eren. You’re right. I-I’m just being silly.”

He leans forward to drag you up on your feet and the two of you stroll your way back to the townhouse together in the dark. And the confession still burns on the tip of your tongue.

You and Eren stay seated on the piano bench, well after you guys finish singing your song for Hange and Levi, to watch everyone from your perfect vantage point on the front of the dance floor.

Levi and Hange are still swaying in the middle, the two of them laughing into each other’s faces as Hange steps on Levi’s feet for the sixth time. Sasha and Reiner are doing some very serious tango dancing, and destroying anyone who makes it into their pathway, and Jean and Mikasa brushing noses as they softly smile into each other’s faces.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am right now, Eren.” you say, looking over at his green eyes.

He’s all dressed up, in a nice black suit and his hair nicely styled against his forehead. He’s wearing a pink tie, intended to match the pale pink long dress you borrowed from Mikasa.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. There’s so much love in the room.”

“Connie getting seconds for the tenth time is love?”

You laugh as you lean your head on his shoulder, laughing into the fabric.

“No. But look. He has an extra plate that he’s piling onto for Sasha. Her feet have been hurting all night and instead of making her get up with him, he’s doing it for her. That’s love, Eren.”

“You always notice things I don’t, sweet girl. Tell me more.”

You smile as you place your chin up on his shoulder, pointing out each little thing in the room.

“Mikasa and Jean have been in the back corner all night. And when we were singing, Jean pressed the softest kiss to Mikasa’s cheek and her face turned all pink, even after all this time.”

Eren places his hand around the small of your back, rubbing small circles into your back as you go on.

“Armin is the most competitive Monopoly player known to man. Marco’s been sliding all his extra money to Reiner so he can stay in the game.”

“Erwin took a picture of Levi and Hange during their first dance from the back side, because he knows Levi wants the view of the picture to be Hange and not him.”

“And Levi and Hange, they’ve been swinging in the middle of the dance floor since we stopped singing and the orchestra started playing. Which was like forty-five minutes ago. They-they’ve been talking this entire time, never running out of things to say to each other, with the biggest smiles on their faces.”

Eren looks over at you, the soft, sweet look in your eyes as you look at everyone in the room and it makes his heart melt.

“Levi and Hange are really in love, aren’t they?” Eren asks, drawing his eyes that give away too much from you.

“The softest kind of love. I-I’ve never seen two people so in sync before. I feel like every time I look at Levi when he’s with Hange, he looks like he’s never been more at peace.”

And Eren can see it - the way Levi’s shoulders are relaxed, the smile on his usually blank face, and the wrinkles near his eyes.

And when he looks over, all he can see is it on your face too. The marks of love. Full, pink cheeks - which he’s sure is from the makeup Mikasa helped you with. The softest, most excited smile on your face as you scan the room, only pointing out more and more of the tiny little signs of love he’d never even see on his own.

“I love you.”

You look over at Eren, his green eyes gentle and heartfelt as he takes your hand and squeezes three times.

“Eren, you-”

“I love you. The three squeezes - that’s what they’ve always meant.” he whispers, his hand warm in yours as me mimics the motion you’ve done a hundred times.

You can feel the tears stinging in your eyes as you bring your hand up to his cheek, memorizing the way he looks, bathed in the golden lights strung from the ceiling to the end of the backyard.

“There’s love in the room. And it’s right here between you and me.” you whisper, before Eren closes the space between you and leaves the warmest, softest kiss against your lip - so deep you can feel it tingling all over your skin.

The softest kind of love.

next part linked here

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gothcsz · 2 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Interlude.

GIFs by uuuhshiny

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Flashback to the first erotic phone call between our favorite couple.

WORD COUNT: ~5k

RATING: 18+ Minors DNI.

TAGS: more phone sex to satiate our horniness, dirty talk is a given, masturbation (f&m), porn with feelings, lots of terms of endearment, javi thinks she's really pretty and perfect, fluff at the end because these two are in love and it sickens me (in the best way possible), you don't really need to read the main fic to enjoy this, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

A/N: okay, listen, i couldn't help myself from writing this because it was living in my head rent free since i mentioned it in a previous chapter. this takes place between chapters 15 and 16 here on tumblr (17 and 18 on ao3 bc they don't match up, sadly) so, um, yeah 🙃 idk when the next real part of this will be out... but just know blood, sweat, and TEARS are being poured into it. lol anywho, my thoroughfare baddies, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🖤 and alliigator tears by beyoncé definitely fits them like a glove. as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Javier leans back against the sticky leather of his couch, the phone pressed against his ear, his voice low and teasing. “So, is this the part where I’m supposed to ask what you’re wearing?”

Her soft giggle floats through the receiver, and he can almost see her biting her lip, playful yet coy. She shifts on her bed, the soft rustling of her sheets barely audible. “You can if you want,” she flirts, “but m’afraid you might be a little disappointed by my answer.”

He chuckles, “I doubt that. You could be wearing a potato sack, and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful girl to ever walk this godforsaken planet.” He’s anything if sincere and it makes her cheeks flush.

She toys with the cord of the phone, fingers tracing the spiral absentmindedly as she tries (and fails) to suppress the smile spreading across her face. “Y’know, Marilyn Monroe did that once,” she informs, leaning back into her pillows. “Just to prove a point.”

“Yeah?” he questions, taking a sip from his beer, “And what point was she trying to make?”

“That she looked good in anythin’.”

“Seems like you two have that in common, then.”

Her laugh is magnitzing, drawing him in. “That’s like, one of the best compliments you can give to a girl.”

“Being compared to Marilyn Monroe? Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I’ll tell you right now— you run laps around her.”

Her blush deepens, staring up at the ceiling in a futile attempt to calm the butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach.

“Oh, stop it.” He always makes her feel like she’s crushing for the very first time.

The soft hum of the phone line hangs between them, a balm against the ache of being apart. Talking over the phone just isn’t enough anymore. Not after tasting each other, not after knowing what it feels like to reach euphoria together.

It’s become almost unbearable to stay away, more difficult than ever before.

He can almost feel the heat of her skin, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. He imagines her sprawled out on her bed, hair fanned out like a halo, lips parted just so.

“Just saying how it is.”

Her hand tightens around the receiver, heart pounding in her chest. She isn’t exactly sure how to navigate this type of call. She can sense it escalating it into more… naughty territory just by the way tension is building over the line.

It’s something she’s always been curious about, eager to explore, but she’s never had a boyfriend or lover who made her feel bold enough to try it.

And now she has one of the two who is more than willing to indulge.

“What about you?” she whispers in a sultry tone— an attempt to sound confident and not embarrassed. “What are you wearing?”

“Not much,” he admits, the shift in her voice enticing him, which in turn has blood pooling at her cheeks. “Sweatpants, a college t-shirt,” he pauses for a moment, “Thinking about you.”

She bites her lip, the image of him lounging comfortably in his space looking handsome as hell without trying, so close yet so far, sending a thrill through her. “I’m flattered… what exactly are you thinkin’ about?”

“How one of these days I’m going to be selfish enough to keep you in my bed all night. Treat you the way you deserve.” His cock stirs at his own imagination, memories of their date clouding his mind like a beautiful and welcomed storm. “I’m always thinking about you, sweet girl… every inch of you.”

She blinks rapidly. “Javi,” she breathes, “can’t say things like that. Makes it real hard to wanna stay in my own bed tonight.”

“That’s the point,” he replies lowly, using a seductive tone that sends shivers dancing down her spine. “If I didn’t give a fuck about your dad, I’d sneak over and climb your window to show you just how much I want you.”

“I mean… you could…” Her eyes flit over to the open window of her bedroom, imagining his broad frame climbing through and taking her right here on her bed. Her thighs rub together.

“I don’t have a death wish.”

“Honey, dontcha think we’re past that by now?”

He smirks, taking another sip of his beer. “Not entirely in the clear.”

Right. And at the rate they’re going— he’ll never be.

Another bout of silence before he asks, “So… what are you wearing? Told you what I was sporting, it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

Her voice is soft, almost shy, as she answers, “Just a camisole and some sleep shorts.”

He paints a vivid picture of her in those simple clothes, clinging to her curves. It gets him hot all over. “You wearing any underwear?”

There’s a pause, her hesitation makes his pulse quicken. Then, her angelic whisper replies “... No.”

A grunt escapes his lips. “I just know you’re looking real cute right now laying in bed.”

Her lips curl into a small, mischievous smile, “Who said I was layin’ in bed? Could be on the couch… or in the kitchen…”

Javi chuckles knowingly. “You wouldn’t be speaking so freely if that were the case.”

She hums, the sound vibrating through the line, “Hmmm, I guess you’re right.”

Her fingers play with the delicate bow at the front of her camisole, a teasing thought crossing her mind. “There’s a bow tied to the front of my top,” she murmurs seductively, “If I undo it, my tits will spill out.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest. “What a fucking sight that’d be. They’re gorgeous.”

She chews on her lower lip, lightly tugging at the tied string, the tension in her body building. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” words drip with intent. “Love feelin’ them in my hands. Wanna bite and lick all over them, mark them up. Know I’d be able to make you come just by playing with ‘em.”

Her thighs twitch instinctively, a wave of arousal washing over her. She can almost feel his hot breath against her skin, the way his teeth would graze the hardened nub of her nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive area before suckling it into his mouth. The image sends a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, her breath growing ragged.

His smirk is damn near audible as he hears her reaction over the line. “What’s wrong, baby? Wasn’t expecting that?”

She swallows hard, “You and that fucking mouth of yours, Javi.”

Another dark chuckle, words coming out in a low purr. “That’s not even the filthiest thing I could have said.”

Curiosity and arousal bubble within her. “What is, then?”

His voice drops even lower, “I’d latch right onto those pretty tits, querida. Fuck you with my fingers ‘til your pussy is crying for my cock.”

Her hand tightens around the phone, eyes fluttering closed as she lets the scenario he’s planted in her mind take over. The thought of his fingers inside her, stretching her, teasing her, making her lose control, is almost too much to bear.

“Wouldn’t take much— I promise you,” she tells him.

A satisfied laugh rings through the receiver. “Gotta build your tolerance up. It’d be too easy to just give you what you want every time.”

The faint thudding of her neglected clit is slowly but surely driving her crazy. She needs to touch herself, or hell, sneak out her damn self and drive to his place just to have him fuck her. “S’not very nice to torture me, cowboy.”

“I’m not torturing you, my spoiled girl,” he tilts his head, fingers drumming along the tattered fabric of the armrest, “It’s gonna make it that much better when I finally give you what you need. Gotta warm you up first. Tease you.”

She blows out a breath, heart skipping a beat as he calls her his spoiled girl. “You do enough of that by not doin’ a goddamn thing. So fuckin’ annoying.”

“I can say the same to you. Damn near half hard any time you’re around.”

She giggles and he smiles, “Does that mean you tug one out when I leave ya?”

“Sometimes… most of the time…”

“And now?” She asks a little boldly.

“With the direction this call is goin’ in, I was hoping we could indulge in that together.”

Her breathing picks up again and attuned as ever, he notices. “You ever done this before, palomita?”

She hesitates, her thumb tracing the curve of the phone. “No,” she admits, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Not like this.”

There is a beat of silence, and then his soft, reassuring voice breaks her nervousness. “That’s okay, hermosa. I’ll talk you through it. Just listen to me, and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of you.”

I’ll take care of you. His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping her in a sense of assurance. Her body tingles with curiosity, nerves, and growing desire. “Okay,” she whispers, her voice small but eager.

He hums, finishing off his beer and placing the empty bottle aside. “Now, I want you to do something for me. Pull the string on your top. Let your tits spill out, princesa.”

Her fingers tremble slightly as she tugs at the string, letting it fall open, pulling the fabric beneath her breasts. The cool air kisses her bare skin, making her shiver.

“Okay, they’re out.”

“So compliant. Me encanta.” He praises tenderly. “Fuck me, I wish I could see you right now. Bet you’re lookin’ good enough to eat.”

A soft whimper spills from her lips, the praise stirring something deep inside her. “Javi,” she breathes, body already aching for more and nothing has happened yet.

“Shhh, just keep listening, baby. Now, slide your shorts down. I want you laying there, all soft and naked, just for me.”

She follows his instructions again, mind swimming with ardor as she kicks off her shorts. She lays back against the pillows, her body exposed for whatever he’s about to throw at her. “Okay, they’re off.” She informs, coyly.

“There we go. Don’t be shy.” He hears it plain as day in her voice. He’s so used to her sharp tongue, her playful teasing when she’s strutting around town like she owns the place. But here, on the phone, she’s different— modest… compliant. He fucking loves that he can elicit this facet of her personality.

His large hand palms at his erection over the fabric of his sweatpants. “Doing so good. You ready to hear what I’d do to you if I was there?”

Her breath is ragged as she nods, realizing he can’t see her. “Yes,” she whispers.

“I’d kiss you slow at first,” he begins, “down that pretty neck of yours, taking my time, tasting your skin. Always so sweet. Like strawberries and honey all over.” He grunts, squeezing his dick, practically tasting what he’s just described on the tip of his tongue.

Her eyes flutter closed again, her body responding to his every word. Picturing him hovering above her, his lips grazing her neck… she can’t help but let her hand come down to grope her own breast, kneading the full, warm flesh with her free hand. “Oh…” an airy gasp tumbles from her.

“You touchin’ yourself, palomita.”

“Mhm.”

“And when did I give you permission to do that?”

Her eyes snap open, “I-I—”

“It’s okay, I’ll let it slide this time,” he licks across his teeth and she shudders.

This time. Will there be more times? God, please let there be more times.

“What are you touchin’ on?”

“My tits.”

He groans, squeezing his cock, “Fuckin’ perfect. Could spend hours between them. I’d suck those pretty nipples into my mouth, just the way you like.”

Her body arches as if his mouth were already on her. She moans his name and he revels in it, “It feels so good… just hearing you.”

“I know it does,” he says, a cocky smile in his voice. “ I love hearing all your sweet noises. Making me so proud, cariño. Reward yourself by rubbing your clit.”

His words make her bolder, her inhibitions slipping away as lust takes over. “I wish you were here so bad,” she whines, manicured fingers moving down her toned body until they’re between her legs and she spreads her thighs, exposing herself.

When she reaches her clit, her eyes widen at how wet she is— almost not believing how worked up he’s able to get her. Her tone grows needier as she begins to rub wide, slow circles against her sensitive pearl. “I wanna feel you inside me, Javi. Want you to make love to me.”

His breath shudders, the tenderness in her voice slicing through the heated tension. Make love. The words hit him in a way he’s never felt before. He can’t remember the last time someone asked for that— hell, he doesn’t think he’s ever done it. Not with Lorraine, not with Helena, not with anyone. He’s always been about the rough, fast release, the urgency of a quick fuck.

Slowing down, savoring each moment? It never seemed like his thing.

Too intimate.

But now, with Paloma’s soft moans in his ear as she touches herself under his guidance, it’s different. She’s saying his name like it’s sacred, begging him not just to fuck her, but to make love to her. And for the first time, the idea makes him want to lose control in the gentlest way possible.

What a sight she must be sprawled out with her hand between her thighs. “Fuck, I’d love nothing more. You’d feel so damn good wrapped around my dick. I’d go slow. Let you feel every inch of me stretching out your tight cunt, chiquita.”

She mewls, clenching around nothing and slowly picking up the pace with her fingers, smearing her sticky arousal around her pussy, spreading her folds and massaging her labia. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do, honey. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

Her words hit him like a shot of adrenaline, stroking his ego. It drives him wild. “Don’t tell me that,” he growls, his voice strained. “Not when I can’t do anything about it.”

His head falls back against the couch, his teeth gritting as he forces himself to slow down, schooling his hand movements so he doesn’t come so soon. That’s how much power she has over him— how much she gets under his skin in the best way possible.

And it’s killing him that she’s not here, that he can’t reach out and feel her, make good on all the promises in his head and on his tongue.

“You’re everything, Paloma. I’d make you feel like the only woman in the world because that’s what you are to me.”

Her chest tightens, lust and emotion wracking against her ribcage. “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” she admits shakily, words laden with sincerity. And I’ve only fucked him twice!

He lets out a low groan, finally pulling his cock out from the restricting fabric and he pumps slowly, tightening his fist around the heated skin as precome squirts out from his slit. “Damn, palomita. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me. You’re so perfect. Everything about you is perfect.”

Her confidence soars at his words, body humming. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You don’t have to do a thing but be yourself,” He says this so sincerely, it’s almost painful. “You’re already everything I need, nena. Just you, laying there, listening to me… that’s all I want. Still touchin’ on that pretty pussy?” Just asking her has his shaft twitching in his calloused palm.

The intimacy of his words makes her feel cherished and adored in a way she had never felt before, yet the crudeness of his question makes her feel sexy and desired.

“Y-Yeah.”

“She wet?”

“You know she is.”

“Suck and spit on your fingers then, fuck—” he cuts himself off with a groan, adjusting the phone to rest between his shoulder and ear to bring his hand down to cradle his balls while he picks up the pace at which he’s fucking his fist, “put two inside. Slowly. I want to hear you spit on them.”

She can only assume that he’s also touching himself, and envy curls in her belly— jealous of his hand for being able to have him in a way that she hasn’t yet.

Her skin prickles as she obeys, her digits messy as they slide up to her mouth. She licks them deliberately, exaggerating the motion so he can hear the wet suction of her lips around her fingers before she spits and some of it dribbles down her hand. The sound is shameless, and it earns her a sharp curse in Spanish from him.

“Dios mío...” His voice is ragged, barely holding on to control. “I want you to spit on my cock like that when I fuck your throat, corazón.”

“Oh my god,” her back bends as she sinks two of her fingers inside her cunt, and while it feels good— it’s nothing compared to how his had felt. So thick and full and calloused. “Javi,” feeling more comfortable, she continues, “I know you’ve got your cock in your hand,” another grunt from him and a ghost of a smirk haunts her plump lips, “Wanna hear you spit in your hand and wrap it around him. Can you do that for me?” She asks, oh so sweetly, almost echoing his words to a T.

He almost comes then and there, that lilt in her tone and the presumable pout on her lips making him feel like he’s dreaming.

He can envision her looking up at him through those thick lashes of hers, mouth parted while his heavy cock hovers over her face. “‘Course baby. Anything for you.”

He brings his palm to his mouth, spitting into it obscenely, and the sound earns a quiet, satisfied sigh from her. The added wetness makes it easier for him to stroke himself, his grip tightening as he imagines her lips around him. “Add another finger,” he demands, “Know you can take it. Just how you take this dick, babygirl.”

Her ring finger joins her pointer and middle, a slight burn comes with the stretch, the pad of her thumb grazing her clit and it makes her hips buck upwards, breasts swaying with the movement and she almost lets the receiver slip from her grasp. “Oh honey, this feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“The things I’d do to be there with you. Wouldn’t even touch you. Just stand there watching as those pretty fingers get swallowed by that tight pussy.” She gasps, curling her fingers and just barely brushing up against that soft spot that makes stars dance in her eyes. The spot he so easily finds and pleasures as if it’s nothing. Like a fucking expert.

“Turn over. On your stomach,” he instructs, twisting his wrist and shuddering at how good the motion feels on his dick. “Put that fine ass in the air.”

She’s dizzy, his instruction almost muddled from the pleasure she feels by fingering herself. She pulls her digits out, core aching from the sudden emptiness.

She lets the phone slip from her grasp, shuffling onto her stomach, her knees trembling as they dig into the mattress while her ass lifts into the air. The texture of her comforter brushing against her sensitive nipples makes her keen and he hears the faint whine over the crackle of the landline and that makes him dizzy.

She’s never gotten herself off like this before, and her nerves dissolve into excitement as she calls out for him again, phone tucked against her ear, one cheek pressed against the mattress, fingers eagerly awaiting further instruction.

“Put those fingers back inside, baby. I want you to pretend it’s me. Feel how tight you are, how badly your pussy needs me to fill her.”

She writhes under his command, cheeks flushed with arousal, as her hand moves between her legs once more. She slides three fingers inside again, her wet heat wrapping around them, hips instinctively rocking to meet her own touch. “Oh God, Javi,” she moans, quivering as she imagines it’s him, his cock stretching her, buried deep inside her completely.

“That’s it,” he growls, his own hand moving faster, jerking himself with the same intensity he imagines she’s giving herself. “Now bounce on them, pretend it’s my dick.”

She swivels her hips, keeping her wrist locked tight to keep her fingers upright as she begins to ride them in this position. It feels so good, better than anything she could have ever fucking imagined. “Oh jesus fuckin’ christ— Javier I’m not gonna last long, oh fuck—” her words taper off into a loud moan.

He chuckles, dark and husky. “Quiet down before your daddy hears you,” he warns, the thrill of being caught only adding to the fire between them.

She bites her lip hard, body trembling as she tries to keep the pleasure at bay, stifling the sounds that threaten to escape. The phone digs into her ear, his voice the only thing keeping her grounded in the storm of her own lust. “I can’t… it feels too good,” she whispers, breath ragged as her hips buck uncontrollably against her hand.

“I know, princesa,” he purrs, soothing yet commanding. “But you’ve gotta be quiet for me. You don’t want anyone knowing how dirty you’re bein’ right now, do you?”

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see, teeth sinking into her lip to keep her moans at bay. The phone slips slightly from her, resting inches away from her face, his voice still filling her ear as if he were right there with her.

“Wanna ride you so bad,” she’s so drunk off dick she’s getting through a phone call and lewd instructions, “Might not come close to any of your previous whores but I promise I’d make it worth your while.”

The second she says it, a flicker of insecurity tightens her chest. She doesn’t know where the jealousy comes from, but it’s there, bubbling up from the small pit of doubt she carries inside. Being with a man like Javier— someone who’s been engaged, lived a life so far removed from her small-town world, who knows his way around a woman’s body like second nature— it makes her feel out of her depth.

He’s been with women who’s entire job was to know exactly how to please a man. He’s so confident, so sure of himself, and here she is, fumbling through dirty talk over the phone, trying to measure up to whatever came before her.

How could a small-town girl like her ever compare? She bites her lip, feeling the weight of that doubt creep in, even in the middle of something so intimate.

But she says it anyway, wanting him to know. Wanting him to understand that despite her uncertainty, she’d give him everything.

“Not come close?” He scoffs, “fuckin’ crazy, palomita. You’re already lightyears better than any of ‘em.” He leans over, letting a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock before his fist returns to the quicker strokes he craves. Each movement is fueled by the mental image of her submitting to his every command. “I’d bend you over and pound into you so hard, you wouldn’t be able to think straight. I’d watch that sweet ass bounce back against me, see the way it moves with every thrust.”

His reassurance cuts through the lingering haze of her insecurities. The doubt fades away, replaced by a surge of raw desire. She moans, body rocking against the bed, imagining him behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he takes what he wants.

“Oh yes!” she gasps, her free hand finding her clit, fingers circling it in sync with the thrust of her other hand buried inside her. She’s desperate, moving faster, harder, matching the intensity of his voice in her ear. “I’d take you any way you want. Any way, just to feel you inside me again.”

He curses under his breath, large hand moving with a newfound urgency as he tries to prolong his own orgasm, wanting to hold on just long enough to hear her come undone first. “You’d let me fuck you from behind, wouldn’t you? Let me spank that pretty ass ‘til it’s red, leave my handprints all over your soft skin.”

“God, yes,” she cries, her body trembling with every thrust of her fingers. She feels the pressure building, the tight coil in her belly about to snap. “I’d take it all, Javi. I’d let you fuck me so hard. Scream ‘til my throat is raw, ‘til the only thing I know is your name.”

“You’d be so loud,” he grunts. “I’d have to cover your mouth to keep those pretty screams quiet, wouldn’t I? You’d be cryin’ for me, beggin’ me to stop, but you wouldn’t want me to. You’d love every second of it.”

Her body jerks at his words, digits moving faster as her climax approaches. “S’hard to keep quiet when I’m bein’ fucked by a cock so good. Need you to fill me up,” she gasps, her voice breaking as the pleasure overwhelms her. “Oh shit, I’m gonna come.”

He curses, his own body teetering on the edge as he imagines himself pumping her full of his cum, pulling his cock out and watching his spend drip down onto her pretty pussy. Fuck. “Go on, get yourself off,” he urges, his tone both commanding and tender. “Let me hear you fall apart. You’re doin’ so good for me. I wanna hear you come, palomita.”

With a final thrust of her fingers, her body shatters, her orgasm ripping through her as she mewls his name, her entire being convulsing, shuddering from head to toe. “Javier… oh my God,” she moans, barely contained, as she buries her face in the pillow to muffle the sound.

He lets out a low, primal growl as he follows her over the edge, his body tensing with his own release. “Fuck, Paloma,” he pants, milky spurts dripping over his knuckles, voice filled with both relief and satisfaction.

Hearing her name fall from his lips like that damn near takes her out.

“You’re perfect, baby. So fuckin’ perfect.” He babbles, trying to even out his breathing.

She lies there, her body utterly spent, her breath coming in stuttering gasps, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through her like soft waves.

“Jeez, that was…” She tries to find the words, but they seem to hang just beyond her reach. Heaven. She feels like she’s floating somewhere between realms, tethered only by the soft, steady tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” he breathes, understanding and satisfied. “You don’t even have to say it, nena. I know.” He pauses for a second, and she can almost hear the smile tugging at his lips. “Fuck, give me a second. I gotta clean up this mess I made.”

She giggles, a playful note in her voice as she bites down on her lower lip. She slowly pulls her fingers from her sensitive pussy, savoring the last of the sensation. She brings them to her lips, licking at them. “Take your time. I just cleaned my mess up.” The purposeful loud, wet pop of her lips around her fingers makes him groan in appreciation.

“Evil woman,” he mutters, leaving the phone by the couch as he rushes to clean up in the bathroom. The sounds of running water and his quick movements fill the background before he returns.

She turns to lie onto her back, stretching her limbs like a lounging cat while fixing her top.

“You there?”

“Mhm,” she hums, content and satisfied.

“You did so good, princesa,” he praises very pridefully. “Especially for your first time doing this. You were amazing.” His words are sincere, the tenderness unmistakable.

She feels a flutter in her chest, her heart skipping at the praise. Hearing how pleased he was makes her glow with pride. “Really?” she asks a bit bashfully.

“Really,” he confirms, the smile in his voice clear. “I knew you’d be amazing, but damn, you blew me away.”

She’s over the moon, her cheeks flushing with excitement. “I can’t wait to do it again,” she admits, her eagerness bubbling to the surface now that the initial nervousness has faded.

“We won’t have to just do this over the phone for much longer. We’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we want together. No rushing, no holding back, no sneaking around.” There’s a warmth that coats his words, that speaks to more than just the physical side of their relationship. While the thought of tangling up with her in the comfort of his sheets sounds like fucking paradise, it’s not what he’s most eager for.

What he’s looking forward to, more than anything, is being able to walk hand-in-hand with her in the open, to take her out in public, proudly. To share with the world how happy she makes him, how proud he is to have such a remarkable woman by his side. Never one for public displays of affection before— he’s always been too guarded, too private— but with her, everything’s different. She’s shifting his perspective on so much, and though it unsettles him sometimes, he’s found he doesn’t mind the change. Not with her.

“Anything you want. Whether it’s in bed or out. You being content is all I care about.”

Her heart stirs, fluttering with emotion at the way he always puts her needs first, making sure she’s more than content. It’s that selflessness of his, the way he cares for her, that has her falling even harder. He always brushes it off, insisting he’s the opposite, but she sees through that. He’s good to her— so much more than he gives himself credit for.

“You make me feel so special,” she murmurs softly as she stares up at the ceiling, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. “It’s like you always know exactly what I need.”

“That’s because you are special, Paloma,” the sincerity of his words making her chest ache in the best way. “You deserve that and more. I just wanna make sure you’re always happy.”

She swallows hard, feeling the weight of what he’s saying. There’s no doubt in her mind anymore. She’s in love with him— completely. How could she not be? He’s everything she never knew she needed: protective, caring, and so damn thoughtful, even when he’s not trying to be. It’s like second nature to him.

He lets out a soft, almost bashful laugh, a sound so rare it makes her stomach tighten. “You just don’t know how lucky I am to have you.” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that catches even him by surprise. “I adore you so much.”

The openness in his confession after everything that’s just transpired between them, hits her like a wave. She’s used to the way he keeps his emotions guarded, but this side of Javier— the unguarded, raw version— is something new, something precious. Maybe it’s the clarity that comes after the release, or maybe it’s been simmering inside him for a while now, but he feels compelled to express it, to let her know how deeply she’s embedded herself in his life.

And it’s uncharacteristic for him, this kind of vulnerability. He’s always been the strong, silent type, the one who doesn’t talk about his feelings unless absolutely necessary. But her, in her gentle, unassuming way, has a way of bringing it out of him, coaxing him to show sides of himself he’s kept hidden for years. Just like he can draw out her vulnerability in sex, she shines a light on his softer edges, the parts of him that long to be known, to be seen.

“Now get some rest,” he continues, his words a tender caress. “I’ll see you soon.”

She blinks rapidly, her vision blurring as her eyes well up with unshed tears. There’s an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love swelling in her chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment. He’s not the kind of man to throw words around carelessly— when he says something like this, it holds weight, it means something.

A part of her, the cautious part that’s been guarding her heart, once would have hesitated, would have put up a wall to protect herself from getting hurt again. But there are no warning bells going off this time. No second-guessing that they’ve both crossed a threshold where they’re truly seeing each other for who they are— flaws and all. And it’s enough.

“And I adore you, Javi.” They’re not saying the word love just yet, but it’s there, nestled between the lines of their words. For now, this is enough. It works for them

“Goodnight, cowboy,” she adds with a soft smile, the familiar endearment laced with warmth and affection.

“Goodnight, palomita. Sweet dreams.”

They linger for a moment, neither one wanting to hang up just yet, their shallow breathing filling the line.

“Thank you… for everything,” she murmurs without really thinking, not just thanking him for tonight, but for proving to her that she was more than just another woman being used to exorcise his demons.

He lets out a soft snort, “If anyone should be thanking someone, it’s me to you, cariño,” he says, his voice gentle yet firm. “For giving me a second chance. I know I don’t deserve redemption, but I’d move heaven and earth for you. You know that, right?”

Her heart skips a beat, overwhelmed by his convinction. She knows, without a doubt, that he’s telling the truth. He’s already done enough to show his sincerity, and she feels that trust settling in her bones now.

There’s no hesitation. Just a quiet, steadfast belief that this— whatever they’re building— is real, and it’s good.

“I know, Javi. I know.”

And with that, they finally hang up, leaving both of them with a sense of newfound sense of peace. Hearts feels lighter, fuller, and as she lies back against the pillows, she can’t help but smile, knowing that with him, she’s found that something she’s always yearned for.

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yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 10 months ago

Text

St Jude

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Context: Y/N’s Bachelorette Party and an open bar don’t mix very well for one Jacob Thomas Kiszka.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come.

Previous Track: The Way I Loved You

Chapter soundtrack: St Jude – Florence + the Machine

Another conversation with no destination, Another battle never won, Each side is a loser, So who cares who fired the gun? And I'm learning so I'm leaving, And even though I'm grieving, I'm trying to find a meaning. Let loss reveal it. St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes. St Jude, we were lost before she started.

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

Alright, let’s get into this.

_______

The Florida sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the expansive beach. Gentle waves whispered tales of excitement as the beachside bar awaited the arrival of the bachelorette and her entourage.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation when Sam, Danny, and Jake walked through the door, greeted by a lively crowd of friends and colleagues of YN’s.

As they took in the venue, Sam couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, would you look at that? The three of us are early for once!”

Danny grinned in agreement, “Must be some kind of cosmic event."

Jake, however, remained unusually quiet, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for something elusive.

The trio made their way to the bar area, where the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations offered a lively background. Sam raised an eyebrow at Jake, sensing something brewing within his brother. "You alright, man? You're quieter than a library on a Sunday."

"Yeah, just tired,” Jake took a sip of his drink, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the turmoil within. “Probably just need more of this," he quipped, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Truth was, he had been having a hard time getting proper sleep. Eating too, but he’d blamed it on the stress of their upcoming album.

Guests mingled, sharing anecdotes and laughter as the sun set over the horizon. Yet, Jake remained on the periphery, a shadow among the revelry. His gaze occasionally flicked towards the entrance, a subconscious yearning for something unseen.

In a sudden burst of energy, YN and her bridesmaids, including Josh in his bright pink bridesman attire, finally made their grand entrance. The room erupted in cheers and applause and the air filled with an infectious effervescence.

YN, radiant in her sparkly dress, moved with a grace as she made her way through the crowd, greeting friends and well-wishers. Jake was surprised to feel his chest tightening with an indescribable unease.

As YN approached the trio, her infectious energy lit up the space around her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, behold the miracle,” Sam playfully teased, “she has arrived, and only an hour late!”

"Very funny, Samuel,” YN chuckled, giving a light shove to his shoulder.

Danny smirked, raising his glass. "Taking punctuality lessons from Josh, YN?"

Amidst the banter, her eyes met Jake's. "Hi," she beamed at him, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m so glad you could come.”

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Jake replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the night progressed, the sky darkened, and the party came alive with the sounds of music and champagne bottles popping open. The bachelorette, seemingly everywhere at once, danced from one group to another. Her laughter mingled with the rhythm of the music, a joyful symphony that echoed through the night.

Meanwhile, Jake found solace at the open bar, the cool glass in his hand offering a temporary escape from the overwhelming ambiance.

Each drink served as a futile attempt to drown out whatever was going on with him as he watched her from a distance. The alcohol in his empty stomach brought a temporary numbness, but the reprieve was only fleeting.

The atmosphere in the venue grew electric as the bridesmaids gathered to present YN with a playful gift—a sparkling tiara adorned with rhinestones spelling out ‘Mrs. Styles’. The crowd erupted in cheers as they crowned her, and YN, with a laugh, embraced the moment, wearing the gift with an air of mock regality.

Jake, however, felt an odd pang in his chest at the sight. He could’ve sworn the glittering tiara had been taunting him.

The night wore on and the tension within the guitarist continued to escalate amidst the pulsating beats and laughter. The bar, as per usual, turned out to be both his refuge and prison.

His gaze regularly flickered to her figure, unable to escape the magnetic pull she exerted, however much he tried to convince himself otherwise. And she looked so fucking happy.

The event carried on, and it seemed everything and anything only added fuel to the growing fire. A well-intentioned bridesmaid, unaware of the complexities that lingered beneath the surface, approached Jake to toast to the newlyweds.

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth at the girl’s words, and he thought he might just get sick all over the poor girl. It’s probably just the whiskey, right?

He somehow managed to retain composure, turning back to the drink he was nursing while the confused girl walked back to the dance floor.

It’s only a while later that a familiar voice interrupted his wandering thoughts.

“One Negroni, sugar.” Patty. “And don’t skimp on the Gin.” YN’s manager materialized to his side as she addressed the bartender. After a moment she turned to the guitarist. Leaning against the counter, she broke the silence.

“It’s nice for you to have come, Jacob.”

He clenched his jaw at her words. Yes, that was him, Jacob nice-guy Kiszka. He absolutely had not considered setting himself on fire for the past three hours.

The two of them once had a lovely friendship, if you could call it that. They never had that much in common, but they’d always shared one priority. YN’s well-being. Everything, of course, had turned sour when the rocky days of his and YN’s relationship creeped in, forcing Patty to step in more than once.

Memories of years past came back to Jake. Hushed conversations between the manager and him. Arguments behind closed doors. It’s for the best, Jacob. She won’t admit it, but she’ll eventually break if you two keep on going that way. It’s a necessary evil.

Patty had almost always been right, of course. Still, the bitter memories left his very flesh feeling raw.

“I can’t imagine it was easy,” she continued with a knowing look. Jake stared at his glass in silence. “But trust me, this, it’s good. It’s right.” she stated, “I suppose some things are just- meant to be.”Jake knew exactly what she’d meant to say. And some other are not.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Patty truly knew YN. Not the performer, not America’s sweetheart, not the tabloid-pleasing, award-winning, photo-posing girl. The true YN.

To be fair, she probably did. After all, Patty had been by YN’s side much longer than he had. She’d protected her in ways that went far beyond her role as manager. She’d cared the way a mother does. She’d wanted the fairytale for YN and, of course, with that came the prince charming, on his white fucking horse, with his stupid fucking English accent.

The chaos that clung to Jake’s very skin had most definitely clashed with that picture. Of course, the early days were fine. More than fine, in fact. Before Patty had witnessed them at their worst, she’d seen them at their best. But when the time came, when the chips were truly down, she had, of course, put YN’s interest first.

“If that make you feel better,” Patty carried on, “I’ll still look after her in London.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat and he thought he might have misheard. He finally looked up to meet her gaze. Patty nodded, as sad understanding in her eyes, “They’ve been looking through houses, for after the honeymoon.”

Jake’s grip tightened around the glass in his hand. He might have burst out laughing had it not been so ridiculously tragic. He hadn’t even considered that an option. Why couldn’t Harry just move permanently to the US, huh? If he really was so giving and good? Why couldn’t he make that sacrifice? Asshole. And why on earth would YN ever accept to settle down with that guy to the other side of the world? Since when was she the kind to just follow someone around?

“You must be happy,” Jake eventually mumbled, taking another sip.

He couldn’t help but act as though it was all Patty’s doing. As though she had somehow planned the whole thing, the way a Bond villain does. As though she had wanted to make sure YN remained out of reach forevermore.

Maybe it was simply easier to believe that, than to accept the fact that YN, his YN, had wanted to follow her husband so far away. 4000 fucking miles away to be precise. That she had chosen all this.

“I am,” Patty replied with a gentle nod, “so long as she is, too.”

Some voices beckoned Patty back to the dance floor and with a gentle squeeze of his arm, she finally retreated. “Go easy on the whiskey, Jacob,” she uttered as she walked away.

Jake let his mind wander. A London townhouse. With a backyard and a fucking cat. An extra room on the second floor, just in case, with walls waiting to be painted in shades of pink or blue. Fucking baked beans for breakfast. And tea. Yeah, Harry probably drank tea. Harry probably wasn’t one to drown himself in booze and send the car flying off the road, glass shattering all over her skin.

YN would go to bed without worrying about where he was. Harry would be in bed before her, probably reading some posh poetry collection; reciting some Keats verses as she slid next to him.

Jake had never been one for words. It had been the delicate strumming of his guitar that filled the air when YN slid next to him in bed. Of course, that was before the stupid fighting, the tears, and the nights away. She must’ve had gotten used to sliding into an empty cold bed, with only the sound of city construction nursing her to sleep.

Now he was the one going to bed alone. Or he might as well have been. The coconut-smelling girls coming in and out of his apartment didn’t exactly constitute company worth mentioning.

A bitter ache ran through him, and he ordered another drink.

It was around two in the morning when toasts started echoing through the venue.

One of YN’s bridesmaids, took the stage. As she stepped forward with the microphone, the room fell into a hushed silence, the soft murmur of the ocean outside the only background noise.

She spoke eloquently, weaving tales of love and destiny, her words painted with the vibrant hues of celebration. "And here's to the happiest I've ever seen YN," she declared, raising her glass. "It's like fate itself intervened to bring her and Harry together. It's a love story for the ages, one that was truly meant to be."

Jake, further lost in the depths of intoxication, sat at the bar with clenched fists, the whiskey in his glass nearly forgotten. Each word intensified the throbbing ache within him. His gaze fixed on YN, who smiled with genuine joy, seemingly oblivious to his anguish.

As the applause erupted, drowning the room in a symphony of congratulations, Jake felt a surge frustration. No longer tethered by reason, he downed the remaining contents of his glass in one swift motion. The sharp burn of the alcohol igniting the dormant embers of his emotions.

With an intensity that surprised even himself, Jake pushed away from the bar, his movements unsteady as he navigated through the sea of well-wishers.

Without a second thought, driven solely by a raw, unfiltered impulse, Jake ascended the small stage. The bridesmaid, caught off guard, relinquished the space, her eyes widening in surprise as Jake snatched the microphone from her hand.

The atmosphere hung heavy with a mix of tension and anticipation as Jake took center stage with a stumbling step. His jaw clenched, and a fire burned in his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone," Jake began, his squinting gaze momentarily lost in the sea of faces before him. His words slurred slightly, a testament to the alcohol coursing through his veins.

"As some of you may know, I am the ex-boyfriend and now dear, dear friend of the bride-to-be,” he paused for a second, the words making him nauseous. “Anyway, where was I?" he chuckled, the sound tinged with a bitter undertone. "Right. Y/N. What can be said about her? I mean, she truly is something, isn't she?" A nervous ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, uneasy with the unpredictability of the guitarist's unfiltered words.

Sam and Danny exchanged concerned glances, realizing that this impromptu speech had the potential to become quite a spectacle. "She's full of- surprises, a real freak, if you know what I m—" someone from the crowd attempted to interject, but Daniel swiftly got on stage, a diplomatic smile plastered on his face. He gently grasped Jake's shoulder, a silent plea for restraint.

"Come on, man," Daniel murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Let's go get some fresh air, huh?"

Jake brushed off the boy’s attempt with a dismissive wave, his focus resuming on the microphone. "No, no, no, it's okay," he insisted, his words carrying a touch of defiance. "I'm just- joking around. That's what you do at a bachelorette party, isn’t it? Recount the future bride's past adventures,” he giggled bitterly, looking to the crowd, “and boy, you would not believe—"

"Jake, let's go," Sam intervened, his presence adding a sense of urgency to the situation. The crowd's gaze shifted from Jake to Sam, to Danny, and a hushed murmur swept through the venue. Jake, however, seemed caught in a trance, his eyes seeking YN’s figure in the crowd.

Sam and Danny attempted to guide him off the stage. "Hey! Let go of me," he protested, swaying unsteadily in a mix of intoxication and defiance. "Come on, I'm just joking around!” he resisted, his hand still holding tightly onto the microphone, “Sammy, come on, you, of all people would know what I'm talking about. I mean, you did catch us fucking a couple times, didn't you?" A collective gasp swept through the crowd in audible shock.

The atmosphere shifted from celebratory to uncomfortable in the blink of an eye. Jake's words hung in the air, leaving those in attendance in a state of stunned silence.

Before Jake could utter another word, Josh leaped onto the stage. Swift and decisive, he forcefully grabbed the microphone. The screeching feedback filled the room, momentarily drowning out any further words from Jake. The abrupt halt cut through the tension and the venue filled with an uncertain hush.

Sam and Danny, each with a firm grip on Jake, guided him away from the unfolding chaos, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration. "Alright, time for bed," Sam asserted, his tone firm as they led Jake out the door.

Back on the stage, an uncomfortable silence lingered. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Josh, perhaps for the first time ever, found himself dumbfounded with a microphone in his hand and spotlight shining on him.

His gaze met YN’s. Clearly shocked, she stood completely still. Patty at her side, was offering a comforting presence by rubbing her shoulders. He searched for words to fill the void left by his brother's reckless outburst.

"Alrighty then,” Josh quipped, attempting to inject a dose of humor into the tense atmosphere, “seems like my brother has, in true Kiszka fashion, overindulged in the open bar." A few chuckles broke through the awkward silence, and he offered a sheepish grin, acknowledging the awkwardness that lingered. "You know how it is with rockstars, always a bit- unpredictable." The crowd responded with a mixture of laughter and relieved smiles, grateful for the comedic relief.

As Josh said a few more words, the music gradually resumed, filling the venue with lively beats once again. The party mood, momentarily disrupted by Jake's impulsive antics, slowly rekindled.

____

A few yards away from the vibrant venue, Sam and Danny grappled with Jake, who continued to argue drunkenly, his resistance growing more erratic with each step. The trio moved further away, the rhythmic waves providing a somber soundtrack to the guitarist's inebriated protests.

Eventually, Jake crumpled to the ground. His suit, now adorned with wet sand, presented a testament to his unwillingness to cooperate.

Danny sighed, glancing at Sam who, frustrated, chose to distance himself from the situation for a moment. Few things could truly irritate the youngest Kiszka, and the disruption of a good party just happened to be one of them.

Left alone with Jake, Danny stood silently by his sitting figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Sam returned after a brief respite, holding a glass filled with seawater. "That ought to sober him up," he declared, tossing the contents of the glass in Jake's face.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake sputtered, lurching to his feet abruptly. His venomous gaze settled on his younger brother, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Jake, fueled by alcohol-induced bravado, was in a fighting mood.

Sam, unyielding, met Jake's gaze with a stern expression. "Just calm down, Jacob,” he urged, his tone firm but laced with brotherly concern, “You're making a fool of yourself.”

The stars overhead witnessed the unfolding drama, casting a gentle glow on the sand as the two youngest grappled with the complexities their bandmate’s emotions.

Jake stood defiantly, wet sand clinging to his clothes.

"Come on, man” Daniel's voice cut through the night, firm but gentle, “you have to know you were way out of line." He always served as the voice of reason, an anchor attempting to steady a ship tossed in turbulent waters.

In that moment, however, Jake couldn't help but despise the drummer's calm demeanor. He only wished for a spark, an ignition to match the wildfire within him, and his bandmate's rationality only seemed to fuel his own frustration.

"And what the fuck would you know about that, huh?" Jake spat with anger. His words edged with bitterness as he got up in Daniel’s face, "Always playing the calm, collected one, like you're above it all. Just back the fuck off." The night echoed with the strained conversation, the waves crashing against the shore.

Jake, fueled by a concoction of alcohol and resentment, wanted a release, a confrontation to validate the storm within him.

Daniel sighed, a weary acknowledgment of the futility of the situation. "We're just trying to help. You don’t want to do this."

Jake scoffed. Feeling the weight of his own frustration, he muttered in defeat, "Whatever.” The sand crunched beneath his shoes as he turned away, a solitary figure against the backdrop of a restless sea, “Just go back inside."

"Oh,” Sam sneered, “if you think we're about to leave you unsupervised after this shitshow, you are dead wr—"

"You should get back inside," someone interrupted from behind them. Jake's face dropped, recognizing the voice instantly. Sam and Danny turned around to see YN standing a few feet away with her arms crossed. An unreadable expression was etched on her face.

Sam and Danny exchanged glances. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog that refused to dissipate.

Sam sent YN a inquiring look. Are you sure? They respected YN's judgment, yet the worry lingered like a silent undercurrent beneath the surface. They were all too aware of Jake’s unpredictability when he drank too much.

She nodded wordlessly, her gaze shifting to Jake’s back. Her eyes, once filled with laughter and joy, now held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. Sam and Danny eventually walked past her, offering apologetic smiles. They headed back into the bar, leaving Jake and YN alone on the moonlit beach.

The distant murmur of the party and the sound of waves crashing against the shore served as a backdrop to their silent standoff. The night held its breath, caught between the residue of a disrupted celebration and the muted tension.

With his back still turned, Jake closed his eyes.

The stillness was finally broken by YN, unable to bear the quiet any longer. "Aren't you gonna say anything?” Her tone was sharp, a mixture of bitterness and anger lacing each word, “you seemed to have a lot to say back there."

Jake flinched, the gravity of his actions washing over him like the freezing tide. Slowly, he turned around to face her. There she stood, arms crossed against the night chill, her hair gently swaying in the wind. Goosebumps adorned the delicate skin of her arms as she seemed to shiver against the breeze. The moonlight cast a melancholic glow on her features, framing a face etched with disappointment. Caught off guard by her candor, Jake struggled to find the right words.

"I—" he began, but before he could complete the thought, she sprung towards him.

"I cannot believe you would do this to me," she spat, her words cutting through the night air like shards of glass. A forceful push against Jake’s chest caused him to stumble backward, "you, fucking asshole!" The sting of her words hung in the air as she continued to unleash her frustration.

Jake, attempted to downplay the situation with a dismissive sigh. "Come on, no one will remember a thing in the morning," he remarked, reaching out to grab her wrists to stop the damage.

YN struggled against his grip, her eyes ablaze with a mix of anger and hurt. Feeling the weight of her gaze, Jake's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the hurt reflected in her eyes. "Come on, it's a just party, for Christ's—"

"That's not the issue here!" she asserted, pulling away from him. "Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? How could you pull that crap?" Her voice wavered slightly, and he could feel the weight of her hurt settling in his chest. "Why even bother coming?" she shook her head in disbelief, "If you were just going to—"

"Well, it's not exactly like we'll have that many opportunities to see each other,” he spat, the bitterness in his words slicing through the night air like venom, “once you officially become Mrs. Styles."

"Yes, I am getting married!" she yelled in frustration. "I know that! And I tried doing what I could to make it easy on you, but—" she paused, her words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain, "Honestly? I don't even know why I should anymore. We broke up ages ago—"

"Yeah, and whose fault was that?" he interjected, his tone accusing and filled with a bitterness that had long festered in the shadows of their past. The charged atmosphere between them crackled, the pain of their shared memories surfacing like ghosts in the moonlit night.

YN's reaction cut through Jake, the hurt evident in her downturned gaze. In that moment, regret gnawed at him, his impulsive words now a bitter aftertaste. He knew well that their breakup had been entirely his doing, fueled by demons of his own making. But the anger, amplified by the drink, had led him down a senseless path.

“Believe it or not," she stated, "things were as difficult for me as they may have been for you.” Her voice was a mix of hurt and frustration, "I honestly thought we'd outgrown all of that. But- you—saying that shit about me, in front of my friends, my colleagues, m-my future stepfamily? What is wrong with you? That’s just—” she shook her head, “do you really despise me that much?" he flinched at her words, guilt settling heavy on his conscience.

"Of course, not—" he started.

"Do you hate me so much that you can't stand, let it only be, the thought of me finally being at peace?" Her words pierced through him, each syllable carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the stillness of the night.

"No, that's not it—" he tried to explain, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between them.

"Well then, what the fuck is it, huh?" she demanded, frustration evident in her voice. "A few months ago, everything was fine, we were fin-"

"You wouldn't get it!" he snapped.

"Well, I sure as hell won't get it if you refuse to talk to me," she retorted in exasperation. Almost six years down the line and they were still stuck, facing the same issues they did on day one.

Despite his strong front, Jake remained silent, the weight of his emotions stifling any coherent response. "Jake—” she continued, calmly, “you—this past couple of years, us- managing to be- to get along, it’s been so good, I’d missed it so much," she confessed, stepping closer until her chest touched his. Her eyes sought his, "I’d missed you so much, but this? This angry, bitter jackass? I don't want him in my life,” she scowled. Her words cut through him like shards of glass, each syllable a painful reminder of the person he had become in that moment. “And yes, I know, it probably sucks having an ex get married first but- Jesus Christ, Jacob, grow the fuck up. We're friends, aren't we?"

He clenched his jaw, his throat tightening as he struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions. Stepping away, he attempted to shield the tears that threatened to escape.

“Aren’t we?” she repeated, her voice breaking. A fragile silence lingered in the night.

"Just—" he finally muttered, his voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored the bitterness within him, “just go back to your fucking party,"

The sadness on her face slowly morphed back into anger. She gulped, her resolve finding new strength.

"Gladly," she spat, turning on her heels to walk back to the bar.

He clenched his jaw, hands on his hips, frustration and self-loathing churning within him as he watched her retreating figure. In a futile attempt to reclaim some semblance of control, he shouted out, "Fuck you!"

She didn’t bother turning around, but without missing a beat, she shouted back. "Well, fuck you too!"

____

Jake sat on the sand alone. The weight of the night’s events settled heavily on his shoulders as the alcohol-induced fog slowly dissipated. The crashing waves seemed to echo the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" a voice erupted, and Jake didn't bother looking up, recognizing the tone of his twin brother. Josh sat down next to him, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. "An asshole, too."

"Yeah, right," Jake scoffed, bitterness coloring his words. "I'm the asshol—"

"She doesn't know," Josh cut him off, gently. The words hung in the air: a heavy truth finally spoken aloud. Josh, with his intuitive understanding, had always read his twin better than anyone.

"Please," Jake eventually muttered, his voice low and strained. "Of course, she does."

"How could she?" Josh retorted; frustration evident in his expression. Jake had watched as YN got in the stable, healthy relationship he had failed to give her. And he had sat patiently as she stepped towards the life of a married woman. Yet, through it all, he had remained silent, failing to express the one thing she’d needed to hear.

"Yeah, well," Jake mumbled, eventually, clearing his throat as he stared off into the distance, "It's not like I can do anything about it now."

Josh remained silent. His brother had a point. The opportunity to come clean had passed, and the consequences of his silence weighed heavily.

"Come on," Josh said finally, getting up on his feet and brushing the sand off his suit. "I'll drive you back to the hotel."

"You're a bridesman,” Jake said, “isn't it your job to be here?"

"My job” Josh stated, “was to make sure everything went smoothly for Y/N, which I miserably failed to do tonight, thanks to you, brother. Now, come on," he held his hand out, a silent invitation, "I'll drive back here once you're in bed."

Jake chewed on his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the sand beneath him. He finally asked hesitantly, "Shouldn't I go and apologize first?"

Josh chuckled sadly, a knowing expression on his face. It was always impossible to stay mad at his twin for long. "It's probably better to give her some space right now."

____

"Alright," Josh called out, his eyes on his phone as he texted Sam, informing him he was on his way back. The ride to the hotel had been quiet and Jake had collapsed on the hotel bed the second they arrived. "I put aspirin and water on the table, your phone is charging and—" he stopped abruptly as he heard a muffled sound, his eyes lifting from the screen.

"I—" Jake muttered shakily, the word barely escaping his closed throat, as Josh approached his bedside. "I just- I don't know what to do," he managed to get the words out of his closed throat.

Josh didn't need more to understand what that meant, his heart breaking at his brother’s unusual display of vulnerability. He knew the pain that must’ve been tearing him apart. The admission hung in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the emotional turmoil that swirled within him.

Jake had had his fair share of flings after their breakup, and he had expected YN doing the same. After all, she was nothing short of incredible, and admirers were bound to line up at her door. But marriage? That was a different realm entirely. Marriage meant forever. Marriage was the final nail in the coffin of what they once shared.

Josh sat silently at the side of the bed as Jake, exhausted both physically and emotionally, slowly succumbed to sleep.

“Me neither, Jakey,” Josh eventually whispered, pulling a blanket over his twin, “me neither.”

Next Track: All You Had To Do Was Stay

Series Masterlist

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter

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drivebypainter · 4 months ago

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I have written 3 chapters for a SVSSS fanfic each at about 5k words. The entire fic might be close to 20 chapters (each one probably around 5k words) and I have the whole outline and lots of rough drafts finished for future chapters. I also plan and drawing something for each chapter (Which I haven’t started yet but I have like internal sketches in my brain).

Should I finish writing the entire fanfic before posting chapters? Or should i just start posting chapters on a schedule and write the rest of the chapters on that schedule?

Pros to finishing it all and then posting it is that I can go back retcon things easily if I decide I don’t like it and I get a longer time to think things through and my beta reader can take their time.

Pros the posting it all on a schedule and writing as I go along means I can get feedback on what people think about it and get that sweet sweet validation ✨

I like the idea of making it all at once and then posting it, but I’m afraid of losing motivation and then not finishing it due to not knowing if people like it or not. I think posting it on a schedule would be fun, but i have ADHD and would probably break the schedule and then just give up on making the rest due to anxiety over the schedule 😭

#drivebypainter talks #sv fic in the future #let me know if yall wanna see the first chapter #i could post it here on tmblr as like a sneak peak

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remedyturtles · 1 year ago

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death wish facts/stats

entirely complied for my own amusement lol

first of all, this is how long i was actually working on death wish, saved in 5k increments:

now i didn't track my stats for the whole time but here's an example of how much that translates to daily writing. this is some of july:

here's the final count from my word doc. i do my final edit in the ao3 browser so i guess some got cut:

here's the stats of my planning doc:

whatever you're imagining my planning doc to look like, it's probably not that. it's kinda a huge mess, actually. i've shuffled things around constantly bc i boot the 'used' plot points into a giant pile and they get all messed up. it's a shame i didn't save more versions of this honestly bc it probably would've been fascinating. behold the inside of my brain:

to go even further back, mid-may i was left alone at work for like two hours to do a course and ended up scribbling the FIRST ideas i had for death wish on a piece of paper. whited out are unused/irrelevant things:

wild to me to realize which of those lines were literally from my absolute first thoughts of this fic LMAO

at one point i had to track how many days it had been in-story since the invasion bc i lost count. by the end of the fic i believe it had been 25 days, with 10 days at the beginning of leo being not-present. so 155k for 15 days hahahahahaha

i made a death wish playlist at one point and listened to it non-stop while writing. here it is:

it's all so incredibly loud and rosyln were on repeat for the iconic chapter 29 and it makes me so emotional

however then for chapter 30 for some reason my brain only wanted the kim possible theme song on repeat. you know how it is.

when i first decided on most plot points and began writing i said to someone it would probably be like 100-150k. i was right, though i'm surprised to be on the top end for sure. i would not expect this again, it was definitely a perfect storm. i normally do like ~40-80k.

i knew exactly how the fic would end before i wrote a single word. as much as i love and there is a place for wish fulfillment (eg future!donnie gets to come back, sensei gets his own body) my thing was that i knew people reading it would relate to the story. and i want to have... hopeful realism? like, if you have experienced grief and you related to sensei, i don't want to say 'haha your loved ones are actually alive!!!' ... i want to say, bad things happen, you will find other reasons to live. and for anyone who related to sensei and leo's situation (eg DID) i felt like magically giving sensei a body wouldn't be fair, bc that won't happen. instead they can work together and get through. if that makes sense LMAO

i have three side fics planned atm. two of them will be probably 2-5k each, the third will be like... idk. 15k? i haven't started yet i promise i'm still taking a rest hahahaha

thanks for reading hah

#fic stuff #death wish

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peachieflame · 2 years ago

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Do you have any ither zukka fic recs? I’ve been trying to discover some new good ones:)

Yess I love giving recs! A little warning tho, all the fics Im gonna mention are more than 5k+ words long cause I don't like short one-shots and a lot of them are multi-chaptered with over 40k+ words. Also I'll update this as I read and discover more faves!

Expand to see the list cause its long....

Lighthouse Beam: Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

🍑: I really like college/highschool AUs and even more zukka fics where Sokka is actually described to be smart. Sokka is one of the smartest characters in the whole show Idk why he's been branded as a dumb, dense character by the fandom. Anyways, loved that this fic had Zuko being the one to fall first as-well.

In the Soft Light: As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him. Or Moon Spirit Sokka AU.

🍑: Enjoy this authors' writing style, really engages me in the story. Also ahhhh fanfic based on my moon spirit Sokka... im very grateful 😭. I didn't include this one in an ask about moon spirit sokka au cause I hadnt known about it at the time but now I reread it whenever I can.

7 Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have): How Zuko and Sokka collided through ill advised means—or approximately seven (7) acts—is beyond them. In just a year, they will trudge through the unorthodox conquests of youth (see #2: The Late Acquisition of 2 gallons of Arizona Peach Iced Tea) or capitalist schemes (#5: Bought A $4,550 Jacuzzi). But how they manage to Allow Aang to Become Vegan (#1), Host The Mr. Teen Universe Contest (#7) and, um, Set The Classroom on Fire—Again (#6) to eventually fall for each other, is still a mystery to them.

🍑: Although this one hasn't been updated in almost a year, the 2 chapters that are posted is some of the most fun I've had reading a fanfic! I admire the coding put into it so that it has a creative, unique structured. Also cute little things like the scrap paper or the scrollable email box (which blew my mind when I first saw it, I didn't even know it was possible to code something like that) just engaged me more in the writing.

Kiss Me To Just Shut Me Up: Zuko proffers the card, and Sokka takes it, their fingers brushing. Sokka tries to cover up the way he shivers at the contact by turning the card over and squinting at the text written on the front. Zuko Sozin. Tattoo Artist. The Jasmine Dragon. A single dragon curls around the characters in red ink. — There's a new tattoo and piercing shop on Ember Island Beach.

🍑: Oh beau... you're so multitalented. This was the fanfic I was recommending to everyone that bought a zukka print from me at cons like I had no shame I just wanted everyone to read Beau's amazing work. And you all should read it if you havent yet.

Five Times Zuko Wanted to Die (and One Time He Didn't): “Sorry about that,” the voice says, and suddenly the curtain has been pushed aside, and Zuko is speechless. “What can I help you with?” He stares. “Um— ” The boy has to be around his age, he’s sure of it. He’s got the most perfect tan face Zuko has ever seen, with blue eyes so brilliant it’s hard to form words. Or the college-age AU in which Sokka fixes watches, Zuko struggles through engineering, and everyone's nervous about the cute boy from the jewelry shop.

🍑: Modern settings fics that aren't like cafe/barista AUs are kind of hard to find (or at least ones that I like cause im picky) so I was surprised to see this one! Again it's an enjoyable fic where Zuko is smitten first and Sokka is not written as dumb. I also remember wanting to draw fan art (one of the scenes) so maybe I'll go dig that sketch up and finish it.

At the Top of the World: Zuko is sent in disgrace to Alaska's Northern coast to ensure nothing stands in the way of Sozin Oil Company’s new offshore drilling project. He is willing to do whatever it takes to make his father see he’s worthy, even if it means fighting against the one person he's met who actually seems to give a damn about him.

🍑: I'll never shut up about this fic, its beautifully written, well paced and realistic characterizations. As an Indigenous person this fanfic tackled Indigenous struggles better than any other fanfics I've read so far and it shows the author did their research. ATLA fandom tends to sweep aside Katara and Sokka's indigenous identity a lot. It's even more frustrating when most fics acknowledge colonialism and racism and yet brush aside Indigenous discussions or theory because they're either scared of touching the topic or don't care. Even fics that do mention their Indigenity is brushed aside with surface level discussions you can tell the author is just parroting from whatever twitter thread they skimmed. Im definitely not saying that fanfic should be an educator for social political issues or that it should be written in a way that it could replace theory for whoever stumbles upon it. Im just baffled that so many authors will mention colonialism only to explore it's effects on Zuko and not the actual Indigenous characters.......... that's all.

#answered ask #anonymous #anon ask #not art #I hope other people like my taste #im very picky with fanfics like I don't enjoy short fanfics #what I miss about fan fiction dot net culture is that multi chapter fics that are over 100k+ words were the norm #and interesting modern aus were the norm too... like im talking about cowboy ranch farmer au and astronaut nasa employee aus #real modern setting fanfics I've read btw and really really enjoyed #no more flower shop/bakery/barista aus please theyre so boring

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magicalara · 2 years ago

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The Story of Grelle the Reaper: A review by yours truly prt 2

So if you saw part 1 with the prelude hii did you get some water? Are you taking care of yourself? That was 1k words about something that itself was not even 200 and chapter 1 is like 5k words so...yeah. If you haven't seen part 1 to my review, you can find it here.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about nor what The Story of Grelle the Reaper is, then do I have a treat for you. The amazing @eemoo1o-animoo has been writing this origin story for everyone's favorite red reaper (which you can find here). My previous post was about the prelude and this one will be about Chapter 1: She Sells Seashells on the Seashore.

I will add on that I was messaging back and forth with Ell and so some of these things were what she had also brought up and made me think about so there's that too.

Add on from the Em who just finished this: this is a mess, I'm so sorry for anyone who reads this lmao

Okay so overall review, the use of word choice, the whole name thing (I’ll explain further), the dialogue, THE WEATHER, it’s all amazing. This chapter as a whole is a great first chapter to look into Grell’s general life and how he’s been living this whole time. Looking at it as someone trying to see it as a standalone as to be able to show it to a wider audience, it’s great. All the elements that make up an exposition are there. We get to know Grell as a main character as well as his father and mother as part of our main side characters. The dynamic between Grell and his parents individually is well explained and so thought out. All of my thoughts here are gonna be separated differently from the prelude so I’ll explain it now:

If you saw the last analysis, you’d know that it’s a compilation of paragraphs and pointed out quotes and that worked because of how the prelude is written like in terms of length and structure. This one is way too long to fit it all in like that so I’m gonna separate my thoughts into three sections which are named father, mother, and George as the chapter is separated into those three parts naturally already (not named that, though, that’s just what I’ve dubbed them as lol). Each section will be essentially like how I did the other one before with callouts to specific quotes but it will probably be more mixed in and in a paragraph format. Idk as of writing this if I’ll do bullet points, but we’ll find out together. Okay, on to section 1 of chapter 1!

Section 1: Father

So to kick off, I’m gonna first mention the whole name thing that I said I’d explain as well as the pronouns. Grelle, the Grelle that we know, didn’t always know that she was, well, a she. “She” was born a “he” and so chapter 1 gives us that “he”. Here we aren’t with Grelle, we’re with Grell. As such, the name not having the “e” at the end and the pronouns being he/him are very important to note. Moreover, I actually like this choice of not starting with a Grell/e that already knows who they are gender-wise. I know that first instinct would have many want to do just that, but for a formative piece like this, it wouldn’t fit. We aren’t here to see Grelle be the badass we know she is, we’re here for the angst /j.

Anyways, the use of the different versions of Grell is great and I think it’s really important to point out. I know some people may see it and be like “oh but isn’t that disrespectful” and while I am not the best representation of the trans community as a person who doesn’t even really know their own gender, I’d think it’d be disrespectful not to show Grelle as Grell. They can and do co-exist, to some degree. The erasure of one is just as bad as the erasure of the other.

Okay so I’m gonna go in order of just how the fic is written so as to not jump around too much. So the first thing I wanna point out is Grell’s body language in how he’s sitting. He’s described to be “in a much more tense and humble position, hands rubbing together like star cross’d lovers.” There is some wording here that I’m gonna pick at, first being “more…humble position”. First, there’s a power difference here. Grell isn’t in a more humble position just because he’s nervous (though that is a part of it). There’s also the fact that that’s his father and they have been in this position many times before. While I’ve never been fired from a job (knock on wood, thank god, please don’t fire me boss), I can’t imagine the part where I’d have to tell people would be very nice. Seeing how Friedrich sighed before he sat, he probably had to go get Grell too or, at the very least, was close enough to not have to be told like his mother does as mentioned in the future. That less humble position on his father’s side, though, shows who’s in charge which just further displays the power difference. We learn that this isn’t Grell’s first time losing a job later, but I’m sure that this stance has stayed the same since the first time. The nerves are just even higher now because this is just another time where Grell messed up.

The next wording I wanna point out (mainly just because I really like it) is how his hands are described as “rubbing together like star cross’d lovers”. The way that “star cross’d lovers” was spelt immediately jumped out at me and my fellow Em doesn’t do things by accident, not on desktop and not in this story. So, naturally, I looked it up. It comes from Romeo and Juliet, apparently (making a disclaimer here, I don’t like Shakespeare. I don’t like any of his works. I never have, and most likely never will. So yes, I have to look these things up. The Macbeth thing was a fluke because I had to study that god forsaken play two years in a row. Some things I know, but most I don’t so I will instead be going to our friend Google for help. Rant over, back to analyzing). I don’t think it means much story-wise, but it is a little snippet that alludes to how a lot of people think that Grelle is a Shakespeare nut, something which Ell’s notes also agree with. It’s a cute reference, I like it. When I first read it I was like “ha I see what you did there”.

Okay we’re moving on where I start the count of how many times Friedrich calls Grell “my boy” so I can comment on it later. We’re at one.

Grell’s out of work “again” (it is at this moment that this Em regrets using italics for all the quotes bc I’m hand typing them) which signifies what I already said about this not being the first time Grell’s been fired. The difference here, Grell defends himself. We aren’t told of how the other conversations may have gone, but it doesn’t take a genius to look at the words “Grell swallowed hard” and know that this is probably his first time trying to defend himself. This Grell is supposed to be a reflection of Butler Grell™ after all and Butler Grell™ was not the most confident of people let’s say. To keep with that, he also stutters while trying to say it. When I hear it in my head I also imagine that his voice is wobbly too. They don’t have the best relationship, hell they don’t even have a good one. But I’m supposed to be going in order so we’ll come back to this.

The next paragraphs are about the job that dear Grell just lost. There’s weather here, but it’s more just atmosphere things rather than emotional things (though I can argue about how it was this atmosphere that adds onto the lifeless bleak that is how Grell will get to, but I digress). Anyways so they’re (Grell and his former boss Sally Bones) working with fish and I totally understand why Grell’s feeling sick because I would be too. Don’t get me wrong, I like fish when I’m eating it, not when I’m looking at it while freshly dead. As I was reading, I literally felt myself getting nauseous along with Grell so if that was the mission, mission accomplished.

First for this part, the name Sally Bones. It sounds so generic and like something that I’ve heard a million times so I looked it up, as one does, and will now share what I found, as I do. The first thing that would come up no matter how I typed it was a character from a book series called Varjak Paw. Sally, in that context, leads, and I quote from the fan wiki, “the largest group of rogue cats in the city.” Sally Bones…cats….Sally Bones here….fish…hmmm. I don’t know if that was on purpose but if so, I like it and if not, I still like it. Sally Bones is also apparently a totem with blonde hair that people like to write in porta potties but that’s wildly off what’s happening here so there’s just a new piece of information for you.

Continuing on, the fish stuff. While Grell gets fired after seeing the harvest for fish eggs, probably salmon from what I gathered in research but it could be another kind, it’s not said what happens after. I watched a video and, again, I completely understand Grell’s being sick because just bleh. Not for me. I don’t know at the moment if this fish stuff will become important, but I’m keeping it in the back of my mind because pigs did get connected so I’m keeping fish around too.

Okay back to Grell and his father. (For those following along with the fic on another tab, we’re at “I do not care whose fault it was, Grell,”)

And actually, that’s a line I wanna bring up. This is the first of twice that Friedrich says a direct statement of holding back anger. The other time which comes later is a much bigger stretch to say, but can still be said to be out of anger, just in a much more manipulative sense. Friedrich has dealt with all of the times that Grell’s gotten fired and is said to have had to have paid for it too. He’s frustrated, I get it, I can understand where he’s coming from. One thing with Friedrich, though, is he’s a smart man. He knows his way around words and non-verbal language (which in this case relies on tone and body language). As soon as Grell tries to defend himself, Friedrich cuts him off and Grell goes right back to being small again. He remembers his place next to his father and just becomes smaller and smaller as time goes on. It’s even said specifically that Grell bows his head in an accustomed shame. He’s used to this, especially when with his father. This shame comes back in the George section, but we aren’t there yet, so I’ll leave it for then.

Add a count to the Friedrich calls Grell his son counter. And in the sentence he forgets his own son’s age *insert sarcastic woo here*. There’s not much to say, it’s just showing another way that Friedrich is showing his lack of interest with his son (his only son, as we come to learn).

We also get our first look into the development of Grelle and her want for children. Grell doesn’t know it yet, but the insinuation is there and I’m pointing it out. I know your future, Grell, you can’t hide from me.

Okay so this next part is speculation and very iffy and mainly just that Ell told me there was something here and that it starts here with Grell listing out all of the jobs that he had previously. I was told to look at the scene where Grelle is talking about Beast’s death in the anime for Book of Circus. So I did. If we’re talking about speech patterns, then that’s something that I’ll have to keep in the back of my head to see throughout the whole thing. If we’re talking story-wise and what Grelle’s saying rather than how, I’m completely lost lol. My thought process went like this if we’re talking story-wise: scullery maid (that’s what Beast’s mom was), scullery maids are the lowest of the low servants and are assistants who do laborious tasks often working for the kitchen maids and are also the youngest usually, all of Grell’s jobs have something to do with kitchens (milk, eggs, bread, pig) so maybe that’s it. Grelle also calls Beast an “ugly old sow” but I don’t think that connects to anything really other than hey look more mentions of pigs. Essentially, the two things that this could lead to (from what I’ve gathered) are just speaking patterns when it comes to listing, or scullery maid in the kitchens.

We’re not done with this paragraph, though, nope not at all. Two things, then we can move on. First, donkey’s don’t have cud. For those who don’t know, cud chewing happens when an animal's stomach sends food back to the mouth to be chewed a second time. I know that donkey’s don’t chew cud because my mother is Jewish and there are dietary restrictions and stuff and donkeys aren’t allowed to be eaten because they don’t chew cud and don’t have split hooves. So take that baker, you don’t know what you’re talking about. That, or I’m taking this too literally. Oh well…Second! The pigs are back. So Grell “really, truly hated pigs.” but also, as I pointed out in the prelude, there is pig blood on him (or I guess by then, her). Whether this will be a change in heart or profession at some point, or maybe just a murder spree, is something we’ll have to find out as we get closer to the scene from the prelude.

Okay moving on (I’m gonna try and go a bit quicker now bc we’re edging 2.5k words and haven’t moved past section two sjsjsj)! Friedrich starts heavy here with his digs of “wtf is wrong with you” type stuff, especially when he says that “it’s as if you [Grell] intend on not working at all!” Throughout the whole conversation, Friedrich talks down to Grell as if he’s a child rather than a 27 year old which I can understand to an extent but ultimately isn’t the right way to go about everything. There’s a quick interjection about Grell feeling sick again about the image of cutting into an animal to “rearrange his insides” which to me is funny considering we all know how murdery Grelle becomes. It’s with the next paragraph and the next bit of dialogue that really kicks off what I like to call manipulation (also add one to the “my boy” count).

“Not many fathers would be as pliant with you after so many years of this… this… insolence.” That line is so hard hitting because, well, it’s true. A lot of fathers would have thrown him out already; this pattern of not being able to keep jobs just would not stand. Most of all, Grell knows it. He’s nervous because of it, as his dialogue and own body language goes on to say.

Friedrich continues on with his little scolding speech and I won’t pick at every line he says but just know he goes back and forth between the blatant digs while also having that like fake niceness in between. What I will point out for those who saw it and decided not to look it up, what he’s saying in German to Grell is “Damn boy. You will be the death of your family, I know that.” This has a double meaning to it as he means, literally, the death of the family in terms of lineage as Grell is an only child with still no heir of his own and, figuratively, the death of the family if he can’t get his shit together.

We continue on with Friedrich trying to just be like “yeah, we’ll find you something, it’ll be great.” but Grell, having gone through this cycle many times already, doesn’t display the body language that he obviously wants from his child. Grell purposefully makes himself small. Granted, Grell isn’t a very confident person regardless and would probably have issues with generally any and everything he came to do. Word choice I wanna point out here is that Grell is trying to make himself “small and remorseful”. The “remorseful” part specifically makes me think that part of this is Grell playing it up so that this conversation can finally be over and done with. I think that Friedrich picks up on this too which is why he goes in deep and says that he’ll kick Grell out of the house. They say that eyes are the window to the soul, but that “gentle” look in Friedrich’s eyes, I don’t buy it. Does he probably have good intentions inside, yeah, of course he does, that’s his son, his only child. But uh all those scenarios where Grell’s imagining his father throwing him out? Horrendous behavior right there. That tells me a bit differently.

AND THEN HE KEEPS GOING!! Friedrich pulls the “I’m only doing what’s best for you.” card!! And then he goes on and continues to repeat the “not everyone would be like this yk” bullshit and as someone who’s heard the whole “you should be grateful” speech many times, it’s not a tactic of motivation. It’s a tactic of manipulation. Friedrich is manipulative and this is a hill I will die on.

But the conversation moves on and Friedrich dismisses Grell to the kitchen to deliver the news to his mother. The way that Friedrich tells him is absolutely criminal in my opinion, but whatever, I’ve gone off enough about how my initial reactions to this man aren’t positive.

So before I move on to section 2 (omg we’re almost there, it’s real), there are two things I wanna go over. First, the name Friedrich. The rough meaning of it is “peaceful ruler” and the name was first given to a bishop. The last part “ric” can also mean power. He has power over Grell as his father. You see what I’m doing here. Just wanted to say. Also I was told by Ell that Friedrich is a first generation immigrant and that his original last name was Schadenklippe. So I googled the name. I got nothing lol. The page was blank. So I googled it separately. “Schaden” means damage in German and “Klippe” means cliff, so that was a start. Schaden is a verb for doing harm or causing damage. So he causes damage to Grell there, boom, analysis over thank you for coming. No, but, I’m just saying because I had this info given to me so I might as well overthink it.

The other thing is what separates the sections as they naturally are from each other. If you’re on desktop, you might not be able to see it, I know I couldn’t until I was on mobile. But it’s a record. A cinematic record, if you will. If you don’t understand the implications of that then I’ll give you a minute…got it? No? I’m telling you anyway: we’re watching Grelle’s records. This is a confirmed fact Ell confirmed it so it’s real. There was also a possible joke made that this is like Eric who’s watching it which would mean that Eric would have been the one to have reaper Grelle which is like to me the best thing ever. But it could’ve been a joke. Ell is cruel like that with me as I am simply just a lowly puppet on the strings which her big brain is holding up /j (the big brain part, though, that’s true y’all they’ve got some serious brain power).

But this FINALLY leaves us at the end of section 1. Onto section 2 which will be hopefully shorter for your sakes and mine.

Section 2: Mother

Okay I’m gonna try to not make this as long as section 1 was let’s see how well we fare.

First thing’s first, Ell revealed to me Grell’s mother’s name and is allowing me to use it here. Her name is *drum roll* Hilary. So the name Hilary means cheerful or happy and the Greek origins of the name come from the word for gracious. In other words, Hilary is not sad and will be giving us wholesome moments :D until they’re not wholesome anymore, of course, because we all know where this fic is ending up eventually and with all the scenes that Ell has alluded to me about…yeah that’s all I’m gonna say.

So uh remember how I mentioned the weather? Yeah well there wasn’t really any weather in the last section but there is now! It is sunny and nice(ish) out and sunshine means happy times are afoot. Which kinda makes sense considering how Hilary’s name means happiness, after all. The sun is usually used to show positivity and life in literature. Keep this weather in mind as it is here, it really helps set the atmosphere.

Next thing to point out (this is where I’m back to going in order for those following with the fic I’m right after Hilary asking Grell if he thinks the sun will stay out) Grell is a momma’s boy. Rather than tell her the truth which would probably make her sad, he holds out hope that the sun will stay out. This is the first instance of momma’s boy Grell, we see more as it goes on.

So now we’re at the inevitable confrontation. Hilary suggests a celebration for Grell’s job which she doesn’t know he lost yet. The way that she talks about things is just so much different from how Friedrich does, specifically when talking to Grell. I know that the contexts are different; he’s essentially scolding for losing another job while she’s blissfully unaware, but even just the way that Grell mentions how Hilary might react if Friedrich did kick him out shows that she’s most definitely the less harsh of the two parents. Hilary exudes warmth, that’s what I’m trying to say, basically.

I wanna mention an analogy that I forgot to mention here because I think it’s a beautiful way of putting her ignorance and hope: “...suddenly the kitchen felt warm as she smiled at the thought, wrapping the notion in a handkerchief and putting it in her lunchbox of faith.” This is technically about Hilary hoping the sun stays out, but I think it has a deeper meaning in the end. Hilary likes to keep hope out for things, she’s positive about situations, even little ones like the sun staying out. This extends to how she most likely views Grell and his whole, to put it lightly, inability to do much. She wraps the notion of hope in a handkerchief and puts it in her lunchbox of faith. She loves her son, and there’s nothing that’d change that and if something does change that I will start to cry (/hj).

So Grell’s trying to tell his mother, whom he loves so much, that he lost yet another job. And he just can’t do it. He can’t look at the woman he loves most in this world at that moment and tell her that he disappointed the family again. Looking at the comparison of their hands, a mother who loves her son and a son who loves his mother, Grell just can’t bring it to him to tell her. I like the comparison of their hands. 10 PM Em who had a day full of going to a party and so. many. errands. who I know for a fact won’t go back and edit this can’t tell you why, but know that I do.

A lot of this section is just kinda setting up Grell and his momma, particularly Hilary. Her ability to find the positives and be blissfully ignorant, whether from her own will to ignore the bad or just true ignorance to reality, is a contrast from the realist and literal person that is her husband. Grell might have gotten his smarts from his father, but you can tell that a lot of his personality most likely comes from his mother rather. Sure he might not have the childlike wonder or the ignorance, but he has the compassion and empathy, even if we’ve only seen it with his mother up to this point.

There are mentions of birds as well (for those following along we’re at the paragraph which starts “Oh, aren’t they lovely?”), specifically blue and coal tits. Spiritually, the blue tit represents happiness. It can also be an omen of love on the way as it represents love and trust as well. It can even represent the arrival of a bright future. This can be symbolic to how Grell’s future may play out. While we fans of Kuro already know what’s going to eventually happen, and we know it is much less than happiness, I think that there will be pieces of happiness before the fall. In order to fall from a great height, one has to get to that height in the first place, after all. Alternatively, we could ignore the happiness and omens of love and take it solely for the bright future which could be symbolic of her future as a reaper. It’s another fall from a great height, buuuttt, Grelle as a reaper seems to be really good at her job. Sure, William might chastise her for being lazy, but he does the same to Ronald and we know that he’s also a pretty competent reaper. Grelle gets what she needs to do and is a strong reaper, able to go against who is probably the strongest reaper we know of in the series, the Undertaker. Grell has a bright future ahead once he figures out who he really is as Grelle and in the profession of a grim reaper, both which are symbolized by the blue tit. Similarly, robins, which are also mentioned, can represent a myriad of things such as the arrival of new beginnings, redemption, and happiness. Once again, this can be symbolizing an ascension before the fall or Grelle in the future. I’m leaning more towards future Grelle because of the whole new beginnings part, but that’s up to the reader. There are other tits mentioned but I couldn’t find anything about them so we’re leaving it with the blue tit and robin.

With all the beautiful birds, there’s also one that’s mentioned to be disfigured and ugly. Despite that, Hilary still wants to help it out. I want to say that this bird is supposed to represent Grell, in a way. Compared to all the other men his age, he’s disfigured. He doesn’t have a stable job (let alone a job in the first place), a family of his own, not even a wife or girlfriend at the very least. Compared to the rest of society, he’s disfigured. Despite that, his mother still wants the best and wants to help him. All of this feels like foreshadowing to me, but I could be reading into things just way too much. We’ll see as more comes out.

Part 2 and 3 of Grell being a momma’s boy, he cuts the bread for her and later on goes to make a list of groceries for her rather than having her write it herself so he can go get some things that are needed. Hilary has a form of arthritis and so this is just another way that he can help look after her. He’s a good son and I love them so much, they’re so cute. It is a little worrying that it’s mentioned that it shouldn’t be as bad as it is given the time of year, but I’m going to brush over it for now and just keep it in mind for later.

There’s mention of a baker, Hargroves, but I doubt that he’s going to be too important so I won’t do much with him. (His name means “from the hare’s grove”) All that the paragraph really reveals is just more about Hilary’s personality and kindness as she would refuse free food, even from a friend/referenced past lover.

The last thing I wanna point out is the last phrase “sweet in gesture, bitter in procedure.” which is in reference to a kiss that Hilary gives Grell before he leaves to go get the stuff. Like I said before with the hands, 10 PM Em can’t say what and if I figure it out while I sleep I'll come back and edit this and if this is still here, know that I forgot. Okay? Okay. From what I can say right now in my state, Grell loves his mom and so the gesture is sweet, however all the underlying things that he never said or made known makes the whole thing bitter. I’m probably wrong, but that’s what I got.

Section 3: George

Last section woooo! Can you tell I’m losing my mind?

First thing’s first, the weather. It’s back to being grey and gloomy out. This grey and gloomy is probably going to be a recurring thing, not just because that’s the weather in Cornwall but also because it’s symbolism for Grell’s overall being. It’s like how in the prelude it was storming while Grelle was killing herself and how it’s much warmer and sunshiny with Hilary. Grell is just overall grey right now, and the weather reflects that.

The chapter opens with more Grell and Hilary bonding moments from the past and it’s cute, they’re cute, we know this. He’s helping her with her handwriting and we’ve seen Grelle’s handwriting in one of the chapters (I can’t remember which) but it looked really nice so it makes sense that he’d want to help. Hilary also apparently knew a lot of what was going on, which is like cool to me.

Quality control is here now everyone I went to sleep and now it’s the next day and I can properly think. For those wondering, no I’m not going back and editing the previous portions. I think it’s funny to see me descending into madness because I’m weak and can’t stay up past like 11 PM on a good day and function. I’m more functioning now, let’s continue.

So we’re gonna talk hair now because that’s where I left off. I tried looking up the significance of long hair on men in cultures, but I don’t think that that’s where anything is going to connect. Rather, the long hair is significant to Grell/e themselves. When Grell, there isn’t really a reason for him to have his hair long. In the late 18th century, it was commonplace (mainly in the 1780s) for men to lightly powder their hair, but by the 1790s, it was really only something that the older men did. Considering that it’s outright stated that Grell doesn’t like (or at least isn’t fond of) his hair, he doesn’t have a reason to have it long. Honestly, I just thought that Butler Grelle (who this Grell is based off of) had their (?? idk what pronouns to use for Butler Grelle I’m just gonna use they/them) hair long because it would’ve been easier for Grelle herself, but I digress. It doesn’t seem like Grell’s ever had his hair really short, so the fact that he does can either be a surface level keeping his mother (who does seem to like it) happy or a deeper subconscious where it kinda feels right but he can’t figure out why and he doesn’t like it but can’t part with it. Then again, we do know that Grelle has her hair short in the OVA and so the long hair could eventually be cut down to that length to show her moving on from her past, as the cutting of hair usually symbolizes the end of a chapter in life. That one’s probably the most probable.

So now we get into the meat of this section where George and unnamed other man friend of George come across Grell while he’s out. Grell is not ready for this interaction, obviously, and I won’t lie, I was kinda scared reading this part. At first I thought they were gonna be like mean and not friendly at all, which isn’t completely the case. They’re just people who know Friedrich.

George and unnamed man kind of take the whole time to just talk about Grell as if he isn’t right there in front of them. They talk about the struggle to get a job, what he looks like, the fact that he’s pretty quiet (not even saying a word the whole conversation), and even talking about Hilary right there in front of him.

The main reason that Grell doesn’t speak is because of a) the discomfort he’s feeling and b) the overwhelming anxiety coursing through him. He’s become very aware of the fact that his father talks about him and goes through a mess of thoughts as he overthinks it all. In fact, he overthinks everything that’s said to him, a testament to his horrible confidence in himself. Anyways so I’m gonna pick apart what they say about Grell now so bullet point time!

“Your father tells us you’re struggling to get a job.”

Friedrich talks about Grell during his work. We never get clarity on exactly who George and Co. are to him, but it’s people who at the very least have known him for long enough to have known of Grell since he was somewhat younger and have interacted with Friedrich in the near past. Either way, Friedrich talks about Grell during work or just while out and so yeah.

The whole looks like his mother or father thing

When being described as looking similar to his mother, Grell’s happy and gets a genuine blush. At this moment here, before realizing that “he” might not be “him” after all, Grell’s just happy to be compared to his mother in a positive light. He’s described as feeling “lighter” and that it feels like the sun has come out (more weather symbolism where sunshine = happiness = Hilary). Then George says that he’s more like his father and Grell just deflates. There was a post that Ell had reblogged about this scenario too that I connected to this and that one gets to a more subconscious level. Basically, it’d be that Grell liked being compared to his mother over his father because it means that he’s seen in a more feminine way which, as a mtf trans person, would be ideal.

There’s the misunderstanding with Grell shaking his head at his own thoughts and George and Co. thinking he means otherwise, but there isn’t really anything there besides him (Grell) almost speaking but getting interrupted in the end

George and Co. talking about Hilary also doesn’t have much to say except that Grell got somewhat visibly upset

“broad-buckled and like a cryptid he remained.”

This is another way to show Grell not being confident. A lot of times, people will feel huge and like a monster when they don’t fit in (and use it as a reason why they wouldn’t fit in). I’m explaining it poorly, but the best most recent place I can remember it being used is in Taylor Swifts’ MV for Antihero (I think, don’t quote me on that, it’s one of the recent ones) where she’s much bigger sitting in a dining room. The lyrics reflect it as well when she sings “Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby/And I’m a monster on the hill”. The feeling is similar to that

“Friedrich said that was his namesake, aye.”

The name Grell means “rough angry.” I have no idea what they’re talking about. But okay.

There’s more to this, but I feel like we need more info on Friedrich in order to make the connection (or at least, I need more info) so it’s another thing going to the back of the mind.

“Have you taken a liking to the family profession, yet, lad?”

Irony. Grell doesn’t like the “visceral mutilation” of his father’s profession. Grelle does. She even finds a wife out of it (Redcliff supremacy idc). It is nice that Friedrich at the very least never pushed Grell into going into the medical business, only using it as a last resort or empty threat, but I still don’t like him very much right now.

Okay we’re at the end now so back to paragraphs. We’re just at where they say that it’s a shame that Grell doesn’t follow in Friedrich’s footsteps as he is a great man. Grell can’t imagine having a similar life as his father as a husband and father himself; it makes him sick to do so, enough to rush away. He states how he’d never feel a true connection with his imaginary kids and it sickens him. Grell does not want to be the man nor person his father is or ever would be. Grell doesn’t want the family (kinda), he doesn’t want the wife he pretends to love, he doesn’t want the strained relationship with his kids. He doesn’t like it, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The only thing wrong here is the expectation that that’s what he needs to succeed. As a person who doesn’t want nor has ever wanted kids of my own, I can relate to the kids part. Constantly I get told that I’ll change my mind when I’m older and I have a partner of my own who does want kids, but I know that that will never happen. Kids aren’t needed to be successful, and neither is a proper family. Unfortunately, the stereotypical family man of the late 1700s is what’s expected of Grell and so he can’t really promote his thinking of otherwise, especially when he’s the one carrying the family reputation in a sense.

~~~

If my over 6k word analysis is to say anything, let it be this, this story is filled with so many things that I love and can’t wait to see where it goes. I’m gonna start a taglist for this, so if you wanna be added, tell me and I’ll add you. And let me know what you all think of my ideas as well or share any ideas you may have!! Comments and asks are open so please, I love talking about this and as the appointed co-number one fan and analyzer, talk to me about it and I will love you forever. Okay that’s all I’m gonna go take a fat nap now haha. Until next chapter!

Taglist: @hobbit-in-kuroshitsuji @superjelly11

#the story of grelle the reaper #tsogtr #em's analysis #em's recs #em's obsessions #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji grelle #kuroshitsuji grell #black butler #black butler grelle #black butler grell #grelle sutcliff #grell sutcliff #analysis #fic analysis

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ruershrimo · 8 months ago

Text

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 4: placeholder

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different.'

---

Yeah, no matter what happens, no matter what changes— you'll live, probably.

word count: ~5k; tws: brief mentions of menstruation maybe?

12-2-2017

Out of everything you wouldn’t have expected this.

It could have been her telling you about how Valentine’s Day is coming up, complaining about how that one teacher’s been giving her class quizzes every lesson, or gossipping about frivolous things like the drama happening among the girls in her grade.

But you don’t expect the phone call to go like this.

“Hello?” you ask into the phone, “Tsumiki?”

“Hello,” the voice over the phone says. This one is older, more masculine, and you know whose it is.

It’s Gojo Satoru’s.

“Ah, Mr… Mr Gojo? Is Tsumiki home?”

There’s a long pause after that, the silence like paint filling in the gaps of a puzzle when the pieces are lost.

“…not now,” he says, his tone low and heavy, “Sorry, kid. You should…. you can call on another day, okay?”

“I… okay. Thank you. Could you help me tell her that her friend [Name] wants to call her? She hasn’t been talking to me anywhere since, um… the start of the year, I think?”

“Yeah,” he goes, voice aching to the point it makes your heart twinge, “I’ll let her know. Thanks.”

Then he hangs up. It sounded as if he was holding the phone with all the weight in the world, and had his voice drenched in all the pain in it.

And you don’t know why.

-16-2-2017-

It happens once more, and you’re convinced that every time you see them after a while Tsumiki and Megumi slip away completely from your grasp. Tsumiki hasn’t called in months— again, hasn’t responded to nor read any of your text messages and doesn’t even wish you a good morning when you start the week anymore. She always used to do that. You’re sure they would have a reason— you’re definitely sure— but why would they have to go missing on you right after you left?

And you didn’t even want to speak to Megumi at first. Though the two of you had shared your contacts during your trip in Tokyo and agreed to catch up every so often, you struggled to face him. Perhaps it was childish pride— your wish to have been right and to have him apologise to you, apologise to his sister, too; your wish for him to call you up admitting he was wrong.

You suppose you wouldn’t mind if he never did, though— you just didn’t want to apologise to him. You didn’t want to lose or give in, not when your life has revolved so much around these two, not when this is the only time you can control things. Your relationship with them is a journey on a swaying boat, and each time they move it you feel you’re about to fall into the water and drown from them turning it over. This is the only way you can do it to them, do it to him in particular, because you’d let only Tsumiki prove you wrong. You’d let both of them do anything to you— at this point you have because no matter how much they promise to call you back, to listen to your voicemails, to meet you again, you’re the one arranging plans to move to Tokyo; you’re the one calling them for what feels like over and over and sitting with your phone pressed to your ear for an eternity only to hear nothing. You moved all over the country, so why did it feel like you were the only one stuck in place as they moved forward from you?

At this point it’s even hindering you from making any new friends. You choose so much to linger on these two, on two people you met at the age of eight and only knew for a year before you decided to devote yourself to them, that you miss the chance to speak to anyone else your age who could be a lifelong companion no matter where you moved.

Yet at the same time you can’t handle not saying sorry— if there’s one thing that’s festered in you for years it’s the guilt that’s accumulated from being who you are. Guilt from being a burden, guilt for not having been a better daughter or an easier child to raise, guilt for not apologising after scolding someone over something that never really mattered. What you fought over: in the end, it didn’t matter, right?

Still, you’d rather be immature than lose control the first time you’ve had it; you’d rather be immature than apologise for something you refuse to say is your fault even if your greater conscience tells you to apologise either way.

Your thoughts are scribbles on paper, and you can’t decide, really; you can’t make a stand on what you really want: an apology, to apologise, to be proven right, to be able to talk again, to completely refrain from talking to him at all for the rest of your life—

This really shouldn’t be that big of a deal. So maybe it’s because Valentine’s Day has just passed and you’re lonely and he’s the only one you’ve ever had feelings for, or because this is the compromise you can come up with the part of yourself that wants control and the part of yourself that thinks the world is better off with you being less of a weight on someone’s back.

Anyway, you phone Megumi up.

Slowly, you key his number in— you swore not to forget it when he gave it to you last year, when for a few days you had rebuilt your friendship with him through awkward conversations and beating around the bush, only for it to crumble and come crashing down.

You press the phone to your ear. Its screen feels cold as the side of it grazes the skin on your chin. It vibrates and rings, its hum like a bee’s buzz, as you wait for the reply.

“This is Fushiguro speaking. If you’re hearing this, I can’t be on the phone right now, so just leave a voicemail message—”

You’ve never felt more hurt after feeling his voice reach your ears.

-20-2-2017-

You try again. The beep seems to mock you as you put your phone down and collapse against the mattress.

All of it, the frustration, the melancholic nights spent dialling numbers over and over again, the emptiness that greets you after like an old friend who knows you all too well—

— it has all happened before. It’s happening again and all you can do is watch as it does, forbidding yourself from interfering with what you’ve claimed is now a relapse of the distancing that you had no control over two years ago.

10-3-2017

“We may be moving back to Sendai for a while, since we’ve got to settle some things with our old house there,” your father states— you know that you’re guaranteed to be spending your last year of junior high there, though, since it’s less than a month until the next school year— “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure.” You don’t have the number of any of your classmates at school, and you don’t really care to ask anymore. “Want me to help with anything?”

4-5-2017

Anticipation for the summer vacation breaks into your school calendar. The summer of 2017 is the first one you’ve had while having a friend close to you besides Megumi and Tsumiki, with Yuuji and you heading off for arcade games every Tuesday, laughing about goodness knows what in between classes and sending each other videos of old vines on Youtube before Vine died at the start of the year. It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different.

With a skip in your step, you head to class. Yuuji’s in there, and hey— it’s a Thursday, so today you’re especially excited.

That’s what’s been happening to you recently: excitement. Colour. Before meeting him it felt as if things were bleak, dull, grey like piles of dust. Yet you suppose becoming his friend has brought that colour back to you, because now you look forward to days instead of dreading them, all for the sake of him. How romantic.

“So? Which girl in our class do you like, Itadori?”

“I don’t like any of them.”

“Yeah, but if you had to pick one!”

The other boys don’t even mention you. It does make sense. At this point you may just seem to be someone desperate for his attention: of all the people in your class, you talk only to him, mostly because you’d struggle talking to any other girls, even more so any other boys. They were all intimidating at times: the baseball pitcher who dragged Itadori near his table every now and then, the pretty girls always willing to lend you bobby pins and hair ties with the best makeup you’ve seen and rolled-up skirts you feel you could never replicate and look good in, the smart student council leaders sitting at the front of the classroom completing their homework during lunch periods. Even if what would meet you while talking to them was not ridicule, it would be, at the very least, an uncomfortable silence frozen in the air from your awkwardness.

And hearing all this kills you because you know it would never be you. You wonder why it does— liking him was fun. It was supposed to be something you dallied in for your own sake, because doing what a girl your age should do instead of rotting in your room comforted you.

Yet your feelings were fickle, you supposed, because what was a source of joy slowly became a slightly painful twinge in your chest that you ignored each time you waited for him to tell you anything that could have indicated any feelings towards you. It was over from the start: you knew you’d never be the type of person he’d like; your handwriting wasn’t pretty, you were an inelegant klutz, weren’t gentle or caring or anything like that, just awkward. Tsumiki could, though, you think. Tsumiki had a natural grace, and a soothing charm that followed her like the scent of eucalyptus from her shampoo and conditioner. If it were Tsumiki, anyone could fall for her— any boy or any girl, anyone. But it’s you, and you find yourself wallowing in self-pity as you hear him say it before noticing one of the girls— Ozawa Yuko, you think— standing in front of you.

You don’t know her well enough to say anything about her. Still, you know that she’s a good few inches shorter than Yuuji is, and that whenever you walk past her you can vaguely pick up the scent of camellia shampoo.

That’s the type that people— boys, at least— like. Graceful girls with elegance emanating from them, radiant and warm and friendly, even if they may be shy. You know how some other students have spoken about Ozawa, mocking her for things she couldn’t control. And it was stupid as hell: you guys were teenagers, there’d be no need for her to want to lose weight now— she still had so much time to grow and losing weight would stunt it, plus she would be adorable either way, too.

In the few months you’ve known him you know Yuuji isn’t like that. There are boys your age, with their boisterous laughs and common cruelty, and then there’s Yuuji. He’s never said a wrong word about anyone; he likes Jennifer Lawrence and tall girls with big asses but he’s like others in the sense that he loves people who are kind, sweet— someone like Ozawa.

So when you see Ozawa waiting by the door, about to listen in with a light blush on her face, you know you don’t even need to hear his answer.

[Name]

Yuuji

Sorry

Is it ok if we don’t go today

I think I’ve to stay home and study

[Yuuji]

aw ok its all good

good luck studying man

[Name]

Thanks

You should have fun with the other boys

And walk home with them

Sounds kinda gay ngl but eh

[Yuuji]

nah not the same when i’m not walking bakc with u

It hurts a bit as you walk home on your own, but you don’t cry.

Now it’s time to be useful.

The next day, you talk to Itadori as usual. Nothing changes.

But then during lunchtime you head to where Ozawa sits— today she’s in the classroom for a change, and she’s all alone, and you should’ve tried your best to prevent that so that others wouldn’t be like you. If Itadori was the one to be sitting by your desk, you’ll be like that for her whenever you see her.

“Um, Ozawa,” you mumble, tapping her shoulder.

She looks up. “Ah… hm?”

“...good luck!” you say, holding your thumb up as support, “I’ll cheer you on…! If you ever want to talk to him, I’ll help you, okay?”

You run away before things get too awkward, but a connection established is a connection regardless, and you’ve won for today.

1-12-2017

Your parents seem on-edge these days, your mother stressed and tired as she always is, your father worried about nothing you seem to know.

One night your mother places her chopsticks on the rim of her plate. The way she does it is in defeat— silently, firmly so as to show that she wasn’t quite done, that she could still hold them with all her strength in defiance. You only see her that way after your parents fight: that frown, the passively violent, deafeningly soundless aura from her actions. Because it was always your father who “won”. You didn’t have a place to judge— your parents were a sterling team together; even if they fought things would be resolved and you’d have no say in the matter. It was only theirs and if they treated their arguments like fights they brought war weapons to, they would agree that you had neither the life experience to stop them nor the wisdom to solve their problems. You couldn’t handle it either: their fighting and how it froze the air solid, the way it could erupt into them shouting at the tip of their throats so long as they were in their bedroom, because they knew you wouldn’t hear. And so beyond words your father always won their arguments, each of them treating the other like an enemy on the battlefield.

Your mother turns to you.

“Your father has to go to Tokyo on the 24th,” she states, “They need him back for something.”

“Jujutsu sorcerer stuff?”

“I won’t take long,” your father smiles, as if he had not hurt your mother’s feelings to get her to give up, “And I’m not going to be involved in the actual fighting like last time.”

“Then why do you have to go?”

“It’s something really important.”

You frown.

He sighs. “There’s going to be an attack on the 24th,” he says, “Something planned by a man named Geto Suguru, a curse user with an extremely powerful cursed technique. I’ll just help with healing anyone’s injuries,” he explains, “…you know, I actually wanted to bring you there and see how things work in real time, since it seems you’ve been interested in your cursed technique lately, but someone didn’t want you to do it.”

“Don’t bring me into this again,” your mother spits at him.

“I already told you it wouldn’t involve any of us getting hurt,” he retorts, “If I bring her there I won’t even let her use her cursed technique, I just want her to see how Dr Ieiri and I do it—”

“Ah!” you go, “Dr Ieiri Shoko, right? Megu— ah, I heard about her last time, from… someone.”

“From Megumi?” your mother says, “Darling, don’t think about those two anymore, it’s better if you don’t get involved with that or that world at all—”

“Anyway,” your father interjects, “Do you want to try it, sweetheart? And if it all goes well with most of Tokyo still being intact and us having some extra time left, I can see if Dr Ieiri is able to teach you about reverse cursed technique—”

“I told you, she’s not going anywhere near all of this—”

“You and I both want the same thing. It’s not like I want her to be a jujutsu sorcerer, I’m just looking out for my daughter’s interests in healing and recovering things—”

“Wait!” you interrupt them, “I— let me think about it, actually. Could you let me think about it, please? And I promise I won’t do anything near the battlefield, I swear. I mean— I just thought, um, that since they’re going to do some, like—- actual stuff, I guess?— that I wanted to see how it works. I still don’t want to fight. I just want to see if I could help, you know, and it would be good if I could see how Daddy and Dr Ieiri do it so that I can learn from it and stuff and in the future I can make myself useful to other people and all so please don’t fight—”

“You’re rambling,” your mother states, her hands on her lap. Ultimate defeat. Absolute resignation from it all.

You almost want to cry at the sight of it.

“Of course,” your father replies, “Give it some good thought, okay, darling?”

8-2-2018

Time moves like tennis balls against rackets. Yuuji will always be a great friend, you’ve decided, even if he doesn’t like you back. Besides, now, things are back to being fun: you’re going to crush on more people and have fun and see if one day someone confesses to you, and maybe by next Wednesday— the fourteenth— your sweet sixteenth Valentine’s Day will be the first one not spent alone.

Sighing, you close your book again after a long day. There’s pencil lead stuck to the side of your pinky finger as you stack everything together and straighten it against the table so that everything in your bag gets inside all neat and even.

“Man, [Name], you always keep everything so neat,” Yuuji comments, “I just stuff everything in my bag. Surprised I haven’t lost all my stuff yet.”

“That’s why all your stuff comes out crumpled,” you say, “Your notebooks come out like they came out a rat’s nest— no offence.”

“None taken,” he replies, bending down dramatically, “Seriously, [Name], you’re a really good student! Smart, too.”

“You sure?” you ask, standing up with the straps of your bag slung against your shoulders, the two of you exiting the classroom, “I fell asleep during class and only woke up when she gave us those questions. I’m gonna have to check the textbook to finish it up tonight…”

“Still smart to me, honestly,” he states, “I’m a pretty dumb guy.”

You hit him playfully on the shoulder, and he jerks forward for a second before coming back up again. “Nah, be confident! You’re, like, good at sports and English and stuff. I can’t do any sports to save my life.”

“Well it’s not like I can do maths for shit, honestly.” He slumps down.

Then— “Ah, wait, Yuji, sorry— I’ve to go to the bathroom for a second to check something—!”

“Huh? Check what? Wait, uh— want me to hold your bag for you?”

“Sure—” your pads are in there— “Wait, nonononono— I’ll be fine, don’t worry, just something quick, hold on. You go without me first, ‘kay? I’ll meet you at the famima we always go to.”

It turns out to not be a false alarm, and the thing comes early by a few days. You’re lucky you at least have some of your emergency supplies with you so that you can still have a fun day with Yuuji as long as you don’t drink too much green tea or coffee. A little should be fine, though, right?

Still, you could always cell-manipulate your way out of unexpected situations like these. You just choose not to— it’s not worth the trouble of headaches or nosebleeds. Who’d want to willingly bleed from the top and the bottom at once, really?

You check your appearance in the mirror afterward, and everything looks okay— your hair is normal despite school air’s penchant for ruining it, your uniform looks alright even though your skirt pocket may look a little weird later once you put your phone in it, and your face is the same as earlier today, so… well. You don’t know what that says about whether your face looks good or not right now, but you guess this is alright.

[Yuuji]

you okay?what happened

who spends ten hole minutes pissing

[Name]

*whole***

Sighs incredibly loudly

Itadori Yuuji.

What the fuck did you think I was doing

It was my period

Came early :(

[Yuuji]

OHHH SHIT

SORRY…

thought u had a stomach ache or smth

everything okay?

i can like buy more pads or smth for you

[Name]

Mhm yeah I’m okay

It’s okay I’ve got enough at home anyway

If ur buying drinks could you not get me any kind of tea

Or coffee

Like nothing with caffeine in it

[Yuuji]

yes queen o7

i can go back and bring it up to u yknow

[Name]

Nah

I’m fine

[Yuuji]

ok i bought u a sandwich nd a seasonal drink thing

no coffee or tea

[Name]

aw thx man

coming soon, otw rn

Though it’s a bit far away, the sight that greets you as you finally arrive shocks you immediately. He’s got a little blood on his face— that’s already way too much then you can handle being on his face. It couldn’t be from anything like acne or a popped pimple; the guy’s got clear skin for days and though there’s nothing but a tiny scratch by the side of his cheek you’re running over to him.

But this is what’s worse: high school students, about three of them, lying on the floor, passed out like animal carcasses. There’s another one standing, with straight light-coloured hair and enough fear on his face to seem as if he’d just witnessed a war.

And Yuuji’s expression, which is clear as day even with the distance between you: eyes uncharacteristically cold, face distorted away from his usual boyish grin, aura radiating off of him, lacerating through his usual self like a wolf’s claws through raw, cold meat in the tundra.

“…what about you?” Yuuji says to the guy with light hair.

You run.

“Yuuji!”

“Huh?” He notices you. “[Name]?”

“Yuuji— what happened to you?”

“No, just—” He’s back to normal. “Saw some of them picking on someone, so I started beating them up.”

“What— seriously? You could’ve, like, called the police or something, you idiot!”

“But it wasn’t in school, so I didn’t know what to do… plus, we’re in different schools and all…”

“W-well if you call the police, their punishment would have been worse, right?” you sigh, “Alright, what happened to the one getting picked on? Are they okay?”

“He ran away,” he shakes his head.

Poor guy.

“…and this one, the one standing up here?’ you ask, “Is he okay? He looks pretty traumatised.”

“I’m right here, you know!” the standing guy answers. So besides standing in silence, he can talk after all.

“Oh, this one?” Yuuji points, again not acknowledging him. He was just standing there, stunned like a deer in headlights, instead of lying on the ground. “Just seemed like peer pressure or something. He didn’t hurt the guy.”

“Ah… what’s your name, guy?”

“…Rin Amai,”

“You okay?”

“…yeah, just, I guess, surprised? I mean, by the pink-haired guy’s strength and all. You guys are middle schoolers, right? That means he’s crazy strong.”

“His name is Itadori,” you sigh, “Yeah. He’s a strong guy like that. He stands up for good things.”

Yuuji chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Aw, thanks, man!”

“Well, now that they’re knocked out, I can kind of say I didn’t like them that much to begin with…” Rin remarks.

“Ah, I get that. Nobody likes people like them. When you can, stand up for others next time, okay?” you advise him, “Got any injuries?”

“No, just a scratch here and there. I’ll be fine. Thanks, you two.”

“No worries.”

“Still wanna go to the arcade?” Yuuji asks.

The two of you say your goodbyes to Rin, who offers to wait with the knocked-out students after that— you’ll probably only ever see him once or twice after this. Yuuji offers to take your bag but you deny him, and the two of you stroll to the arcade.

This has happened before, really, and there’s some kind of anticipatory grief sticking to you as you ruminate over what he’d done. It’s like you’re waiting for things to worsen: either you tell him that he shouldn’t have beat students up even if it was for the sake of others, or you don’t and make decisions conflicting with your own moral code. The last time you’d seen someone get back from a fight, your relationship with them ended up severed, whether due to your commitment to your own ideals or not.

You debate on asking him not to do the same next time, not to get hurt and not to hurt people who pick on others, and—

—the arcade is closed.

“Aaaahhh! Seriously? Sorry, [Name]. Forgot they said they’d be closed today. Last week one of the employees told me they’d have to settle some issues or something.”

Of course he’d befriend the employees. It still surprises you that every now and then he’s so kind it hurts.

“No, it’s fine,” you reassure him, “You know, I don’t really feel up to it today either. Still kinda shaken.”

“Don’t worry about that, honestly! I’m fine, and they’re fine too.”

“Will they be, though? Have you gotten any injuries?”

“Don’t think so. I’ll be okay anyway, though, ‘cause I’ve got a high pain tolerance— ow!”

“‘High pain tolerance,’ huh?” you sigh, “Is it a strain? Are you okay?”

He winces, “I don’t know if it’s a strain or a sprain,” he answers, “But it’s on my ankle, and it hurts a lot.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, but— it hurts…”

You rest his arm on top of your back, taking hold of his shoulder, guiding him on the way back to his home.

His grandfather— a man with grey hair yet enough energy to wake up at 6am before exercising and going on walks every morning— nods after you explain the situation to him, and lets you stay with Yuuji for now due to your worrying.

The first thing to do with a sprain or a strain is to rest the injured area.

“It’s strange that you got it on your ankle of all places,” you say, outstretching his leg for him, “Were you walking funny or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you’ve been overusing it, then,” you theorise, “Okay. No running and all for a few days, okay? Or just, until it feels better.”

“Huh? But I’m in the track and field club…”

“Spend some time with the occult club or something,” you tell him, “You can just tell the student council president or the track and field club president that it hurts, so you’ve got to go to the occult club to still be able to support your other interests and stuff as you recuperate.”

“Nah, they’d call bullshit.”

“Pft. You don’t know if you don’t try,” you joke. “Wait a second, let me go get some ice.”

He lies down, his arms resting by his stomach. “You know, [Name]…” he starts, his voice louder for you to hear.

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re my friend.”

If you were a dog, you’d be wagging your tail and kicking your feet up into the air, so happy that your smile is uncontrollable— and the last time it had been that way was more than a few years ago.

His voice stays as loud but you hear it better, clearer, as you move up the stairs with the ice pack. “I mean, I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think.”

You sit down beside him, probably a little too plaintive in your actions than you intended. “…yeah. Guess people could tell…”

“But, hey. I met you and we get to do all sorts of cool and dumbass shit together. So I’m happy I met you and that we became friends, you know? I’m happy you’re even here. So now we’re both a little less lonely, and the world has two new people who are a little less than lonely.”

It’s warm despite it being winter— you hope his hoodie and his student jacket are enough to keep him from freezing. Every time you enter his house, you wonder how he must have lived as a child. You imagine a smaller-sized Yuuji, with wild pink hair and a tired grandfather, living in this house with its wooden tiles and untorn paper calendars from the year 2000, in his endearingly tardy room and boyish clothing choices. The thought of it melts your heart, almost.

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re in my life, too, Yuuji,” you beam, “I’m happy you said hi to me that day, because I probably wouldn’t have made any friends. Like, I thought every time we moved somewhere we’d move again to somewhere else, so I kind of gave up. I didn’t want to get attached. Because there would always be something happening after, like us moving and eventually I thought every day was a chore, because I had this kind of… how do I say it— this kind of ‘I’ll escape one day’ mentality, like I didn’t move forward to each day anymore. But being friends with you brought that back to me, kinda.”

“Really?” he says as you wrap the ice pack in a towel and press it to his ankle, turning his head to meet yours, “Makes me pretty glad. Thanks, man.”

“I’m glad too.”

“You’re a great nurse,” he grins at you, before leaning his head back against his bed.

It feels good. The praise feels good.

Now you really don’t know what to do with him. Or what to do with how you feel about him.

For a moment you consider this: pressing your hand to his ankle, healing it immediately, placing your hands on his ankle and healing it with your cursed technique. But even so you’d have to explain the whole of jujutsu society to him, and that was meant to be a well-kept secret anyway. Yuuji wouldn’t be the type to do well as a jujutsu sorcerer— he’d save everyone, care for everyone, not because judging who would be right or wrong to save was often convoluted or unsolvable, but because he was a good person. If he failed to help people in dire need, whether it was his fault or not, he would be so guilty he wouldn’t live. You supposed a part of you was like that, too: driven by fear of potential guilt, yet you were driven even more by a need to be useful. If at the end of the day you could help, even if you couldn’t offer someone salvation, you’d accept it— that certain things were out of your control. There would be no point in lingering over not being able to change things you couldn’t change, and your experience in Tokyo last month was part of that. It was what changed almost everything. And you swore you’d never let Yuuji go through anything that would change him, that would take that pure love for the world from him. His name is fitting: his humanity is unwavering, a soldier fighting a losing battle, Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the hill and living through his suffering, the indomitable human spirit against the cruel indifference of the world and the universe.

You’ll tell him one day, you decide.

For now, though, you’ll have to make yourself useful another way: by using the knowledge you have to be at his aid. That’s how you’ll like it anyway.

“Thanks, Yuuji,” you whisper.

Yuuji dozes off. You sit next to him as if he’s a patient at a hospital, watching his breath rise and fall. A part of you wants the moment to stretch out into perpetuity, his steady snoring lulling even you to sleep. It’s creepy as hell. And knowing that you could have all of this: seeing him like this, going to the arcade every Thursday, minding each others’ health; all of it without it leading to him liking you the same way you do him—

—it still hurts. But it’s getting easier to handle it. You’ll deny that it still hurts for as long as you can, staving it off until it really does go away. So you’ll keep silent, no one beside you knowing of your feelings, trying your best to be utilised and useful. You’ll take it to the grave, you’re sure. You’ll continue to be by the sidelines, a helper for convenience and someone to serve, someone to be used.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #wooh that's a wrap for today! for the ao3 readers chapter 6 has been posted on ao3 by the way!#megumi x reader

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sharkneto · 2 years ago

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Any tips on writing longer chapters but making each scene count and not be pointless filler?

The thing with chapters is they are as long as they need to be.

I never go into them with the thought "oh this will be 5k words". I know my chapter will probably be around 5-7k, but that's just because I know myself now and that's usually how many words it takes for me to get through a scene/moment. But not always! Sometimes it's done in 3k. Sometimes it takes 15k (which I usually then break into a Part 1 and Part 2, but they're initially written together as one long chapter before I split it). Coming in with a word count estimate is also almost always pointless - you are never going to be right on how many words you're going to need so it's a waste of time to try and hold yourself to one (excepting a drabble or if you're writing for an event with a specific word count).

If you're finding yourself just writing things to try and make your chapter longer, take a step back and look at what you've got and why you're trying to add more. If it's just for the sake because you want a higher word count, stop. Word count doesn't matter, more words isn't always better. Short chapters are fine. They're fun and punchy.

If you're adding more words because it feels like something is missing, look at the structure of what you've got going on. A story follows the structure that's a rise to climax and then fall to resolution. Chapters are a bit the same way with space for cliffhangers (end on climax, no resolution until the next chapter(s)). The point of splitting material into chapters is to give scenes breathing room and readers rest stops along the way through a long story. They're also great for pacing readers, building or releasing tension, depending on how you're splitting them. With that, each chapter should have a reason for existing on its own. I like to have one main or two related things happening, supported in the beginning with an "intro" to bridge the previous chapter to get into the action and a "conclusion" to bridge it to the next (assuming you didn't end the previous on a cliffhanger and aren't jumping right into action and aren't ending this one on a cliffhanger). Chapters shouldn't stand alone from the rest of the book, they can and should lean on things set up in previous chapters, but having the same rough structure is how I think about them and helps me figure out where a problem is if I have one.

So, you're writing words to fill something - where to look for the something? Are you missing context and need some exposition to better set something up? Are you missing dialogue to bridge an idea? Are you missing a beat that's a throwaway here but is foreshadowing a future chapter? Are you missing transitions so the main action feels abrupt?

The same thing goes for the other direction, trimming back when you have too much. Do you have too much exposition so it's dragging? Do you have extra dialogue that you like but doesn't serve any purpose? Are you cramming too many details in when a couple would cover the same point you're trying to get across? Are you repeating yourself?

Sometimes you just have to cut bits, even if you love them, because they just don't work for your pacing and are detracting from the main point of the chapter/story (remind me to post the deleted scene from the last JT chapter - I adored it but it fucked the pacing as I was streamlining the chapter). Keep the deleted bit in a folder somewhere - you'll always have it to go back and enjoy and more often than not it will be reslot itself back in with new context later in the story or in a different fic.

A lot of these are also just general pacing/writing advice, for overall stories and not just chapters, but see my earlier point about thinking of chapters a little bit like stories themselves (but not stand-alone!)

TLDR: Chapters are as long as they need to be. If you've told the scene you want to tell in that one and have set up the next chapter, don't worry about it if it feels short. If you haven't, figure out exactly what bit you're missing and fill it in, rather than padding for the sake of padding.

#i feel like i started rambling in here #and i'm going to be honest my genuine top advice is ''chapters are as long as they need to be''#if it is getting long and feels like it's /too/ long give it a careful read for if you've got padding that can be cut #sometimes you will sometimes you won't #if you need everything but it's getting obnoxiously long just slice that bad boy up #there. problem solved. two normal sized chapters #idk how helpful any of this is i feel like it got away from me a bit but! here you are #writing #sharkneto speaks #long post

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vodkaskys · 2 years ago

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FANFIC REC: M-preg

As The Clouds Go By (Harry and Louis deal with the loss of their child.) (2K)

Aftermath (Harry deals with the aftermath of Zayn's departure from the band. Even though this chapter is full of angst, it leads back to chapter one, "Three Little Words," because if you're a Zarry you always have hopes for healing between these two.) (1K)

WHITES & PINKS (louis tomlinson is a french painter who runs into harry styles in america. art, love, and babies ensue.) (4K)

Darling, Just Hold My Hand (Louis and Harry decide to spend a week at a skii resort with their families during the Christmas holidays.On Christmas night, Harry goes into labor but the family gets snowed in which forces him to give birth in the cabin in the middle of nowhere.Luckily, his husband is a surgeon who can help.) (10K)

Zaccheus (he locals always told Louis to never go by the water.He’s fairly sure that’s something they told everyone; an old wives tale about sea monsters, probably originally meant to keep small children safe from falling in when they couldn’t swim.But Louis’ tired. Tired of going from village to village to collect taxes. Tired of the glares, the mean words. Of getting thrown out of just about every establishment. He’s not the one who keeps raising the taxes, after all. He’s just the one who couldn’t find another job. Not enough skills to join a guild, a sibling too many to get part of the family farm. His options had been slim.So he’s tired, and he’s hungry, and maybe he’s a little petulant. A little willing to ignore the dire warnings of the locals, it’s probably just because they hate him anyway.) (2K)

So This is Love (Harry and Louis get the ultimate Christmas gift.) (3K)

Satellite (Harry cares for his sick baby.) (3K)

ROCKETMAN (louis tomlinson is an astronaut with a husband and daughter at home) (5K)

You're In Love (When a family of four becomes five.9 (4K)

Us Against the World (After finding out news about their daughter, Harry and Louis are willing to do anything to help her.) (7K)

Welcome To the Family (Zayn just wants his baby, and the universe grants him that wish, but it takes longer than he would've liked it to. It's all worth it though, when he remembers that he gets to be a dad, and gets to watch the love of his life be a dad.) (3K)

Daylight (Harry and Louis welcome twins.) (7K)

Watermelon! ("Veggies and dip, strawberries, grapes, apples," he mumbled, pointing at everything as he said it. "What am I missing?"Arms wrapped around his waist and Louis rested his head on Harry's shoulder from behind. He kissed Harry's cheek and rubbed his hands over Harry's growing pregnant belly gently."Why are you making your disgruntled kitten face?""Something's missing from the spread and I can't figure out what it is.") (600)

The Last Great American Dynasty (President Louis Tomlinson is a little too tough and stern for his own good. His new bodyguard, Harry, comes in the form of a proper American jewel to soften him. They fall in love.) (26K)

Summer Lovin' (Prompt: Harry's and Louis' families have had summer beach houses next to each other their whole lives but their actual houses are too far away for them to see each other that often, so they always look forward to the summer when they can see each other. One summer Louis finds out that his parents can no longer afford the beach house and they are going to sell it, which means he'll hardly see Harry anymore, if ever again. They both get their sisters in on a plan and spend the summer trying to earn enough money to save Louis' beach house. When they realize that it would be impossible for them to raise the amount of money it would take to save the house, they have to get creative.) (15K)

Little Sunshine Love (Harry and Louis welcome their first grandchild.) (5K)

A Life Turned Upside Down ( Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were madly in love from the moment they met. Their contracts would not, however, allow them to publicly announce their love. Forced to take part in stunts, they persevered. Until one stunt became too much, and Harry left.) (29K)

Love Rush (Harry and Louis get thrown into parenting much sooner than they expected.) (3K)

I love you ( Louis a trans man finds himself unexpectedly pregnant at the start of the otra tour luckily he has Harry his band mate boyfriend and best friend who loves him and their baby) (11K)

Hijack My Heart ( A self indulgent story featuring Harry as the "cool dad", Louis as his guardian angel, and Niall as the best wingman you could ask for.) (18K)

Momrry (Harry Styles yearns for a baby but perhaps they're going about this the wrong way....) (2K)

late nights and good intentions ( a Victorian era au where Louis pines for his overprotective older brother’s very charming best friend) (71K)

‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON (in which high school sweethearts harry and louis find each other again, years later, and decide to take an impromptu road trip during a horrible snowstorm.) (6K)

Forever Love (Harry and Louis have twins.) (4K)

New Life (Trial) - Larry Stylinson AU ( Single dad Harry with a bad past, meets One Direction member Louis Tomlinson and might get a chance at a new life for himself and his daughter.) (3K)

Cherished (When Harry’s very pregnant and uncomfortable, Louis finds a way to make him feel loved and cherished.) (1K)

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY (harry becomes a surrogate for liam and zayn. louis has a hard time adjusting.) (8K)

Enchanted (Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.) (25K)

#larry fanfiction #larry fanfic rec #fanfic rec #fanfiction rec list #fanfiction #mpreg

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herrscherofmagic · 6 months ago

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I did a couple of warm-up sketches earlier (without actually diving into any other drawings afterwards lmao) of Rin & Sara, and since they're not really that special cause its' just redraws of official art, I'm gonna just reblog them with this other rin sketch >.>

I'm also planning to soon release a ~5k word pilot fic (so a single one-shot that's meant to be a sort of "chapter 0" of a longer series, to gauge peoples' interest and get feedback on characterization) and it features Rin as the protagonist and Sara as a... deuteragonist? So that's why I've got a sketch of these two otherwise unrelated characters.

Not entirely sure how Sara will fit into the story long-term, since it's going to involve a pretty lengthy period of time + travel in the story, so I can't guarantee that she'll always be around. But at least in the start, and in some crucial story moments, she will be a major character. giving Sara the attention she deserves, the attention Mihoyo refuses to give to her x-x

It's a pretty weird setting so I'm not entirely sure how well my thoughts will be conveyed in a single vague fic, but I'm hoping that I can at least nail down the characters' personalities so people will stick around long enough to experience the vast amount of worldbuilding I hope to achieve ^.^

and when I say vast I mean VAST. Like, I could probably fit in at least four different full-length series, with at least a dozen or more chapters of 2k-4k+ word length each, and these series would have little to no overlap in geography or timeline despite all being in the same overarching world and much of it taking place within a similar timeframe.

This AU I have in mind covers pretty large swaths of the Hoyoverse cast and intends to weave together a lot of themes and worldbuilding concepts from the various Hoyoverse games into a cohesive setting. There's a lot of moving parts which is why I've been so slow to get working on it, but I've been simmering these ideas on low heat for literally years now and I'm hoping this is the start of a long journey to get it all written down! Plus art etc.

i fully intend to single-handedly revive the Yae Rin/Higokumaru fanbase

#genshin impact #genshin art #genshin sara #kujou sara #honkai impact 3rd #honkai 3rd #hi3rd #honkai fanart #honkai impact #Higokumaru #Yae Rin #Honkai Rin

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borahae-777 · 2 years ago

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The Truth Untold -- Chapter 9: Even If I Try To Hide It Or Conceal It, It Can’t Be Erased

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook, Yoongi x Jimin

Word Count: Fic in progress, 120k so far. 3k-5k per chapter

Chapter Summary:

Jungkook is sitting on the floor, back leaning up against the foot of his bed. He’s been sitting here for hours staring at the wall, silent tears rolling down his face. Last night may very well have been the worst night of his life. He knows it was a big swing, but he couldn’t sit and pine away once he realized what was happening inside of him. He still feels Taehyung’s lips on his like a brand that’s permanently burned into his skin. At least he’ll always have that, Tae can’t take that from him.

“Me? What could I possibly have to confess?

“Looks like you have some soul searching of your own to do before you get up on your fucking high horse,” Yoongi scoffs. “I really want to be alone for now Kookie, please leave me alone.”

Warnings: Eventual Smut, BDSM, 18+, MxM

Jimin is walking behind Yoongi as the elder opens the door to the dorm. They didn’t say a single word to each other the entire ride back from the Big Hit building, both completely lost in their thoughts. Jimin had been elated, on top of the world, in disbelief. Then it all came crashing down around them with Namjoon’s phone call. He wonders if the leader wants to talk to them separately or together and whether he’s including Taehyung and Jungkook. He can’t even bring himself to feel excited for and proud of his soulmate, his mind is running a million miles per hour. What if Namjoon forbids both relationships? Would he do that?

By now, he and Yoongi have gotten to the door of Namjoon and Taehyung’s room and they stop before knocking. Yoongi looks at him, gives him a small smile, and holds out his hand. Jimin can’t help but grin ear to ear as he reaches out and intertwines their fingers. Maybe this is going to be okay after all, maybe they can approach this as a unit. Yoongi knocks on the door and when Namjoon answers Jimin can’t help but be taken aback. The leader looks like he’s barely holding back a cauldron of simmering anger. Jimin stiffens and audibly gulps, Yoongi’s hand giving his one squeeze of solidarity.

“Come in. The other two are already here,” Namjoon mumbles, gritting his teeth.

He’s talking to all four of us together. This can’t be good.

Jimin and Yoongi walk into the room and see five chairs from the kitchen table set up in the room. Four on one side of the room, broken into pairs and one across from them. Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting in one set of chairs, not looking at or touching each other. Something about this feels like walking into a courtroom to face a judge, who knows what sentence Namjoon is going to hand out. Yoongi and Jimin cross the room and sit down, Taehyung showing just the hint of a smile as he sees the two holding hands.

“Okay. Now that we’re all here we can get started,” Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose as he sighs. “Right after I hung up the phone with Yoongi-hyung, I got a call from Bang PD-nim. He wants me in his office first thing tomorrow morning. He said something about cameras and a tape. I asked him what he was talking about, but he didn't believe that I genuinely knew nothing. Now, I have a feeling that this has something to do with one of you four. Is there anything anyone wants to tell me?”

Jimin is confused, what does this have to do with him and Yoongi? He looks over and sees Taehyung and Jungkook with horror painted across their faces and it clicks. The dressing room. There must have been a camera. He watches Tae’s face completely shutter closed at the same time as he feels Yoongi pull their hands apart. He looks over at the elder who is white as a sheet and leaning away from Jimin.

Oh no. This was such a huge fear for both of them. I can’t imagine how they’re both feeling…and poor Jungkook who probably still doesn’t know who he is or what he’s feeling.

Jimin is torn between concern for Taehyung and Jungkook and the gut-wrenching feeling that this is pushing Yoongi away from him all over again.

********

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Taehyung is sitting on his hands and slowly rocking back and forth in his chair. Having Namjoon walk in on them earlier had already scared him. He felt so guilty about pushing Jungkook away the moment he heard the door open, but he just wasn’t ready to come out to the rest of the group yet. After Namjoon had rushed out of the room without saying a word, Taehyung had sat back on top of Jungkook’s bed and put his head in his hands.

Jungkook had tried to sit next to him and console him, but Taehyung couldn’t relax into the younger man’s arms or say a single word. He simply looked at Jungkook’s worried face, stood up off the bed, and left the room. He didn’t want to go back to his own room incase Namjoon was there, so he locked himself in the bathroom and sat on the floor sobbing. He didn’t even get the time to revel in the fact that Jungkook had kissed him for the right reasons after all. It wasn’t long after that that he got a text from Namjoon telling him that he needed to be at a meeting in their room in a half hour. He let himself wallow for as long as he could before he went to the sink to wash his face and head to the meeting.

When he’d walked into the room, he saw Jungkook sitting in front of Namjoon with three empty chairs. He had no idea who else could’ve been summoned there, but since the chairs were paired off he assumed he should go and sit next to Jungkook. He started to apologize to Namjoon, but the leader held up a hand to silence him and told them to wait until everyone arrived. When he saw Yoongi and Jimin walk in holding hands, he felt a glimmer of joy for his soulmate before he realized that them being here likely meant they were similarly in trouble.

“…Jungkook, how did it not occur to you that there was probably a camera in that dressing room?” Taehyung mumbles so softly that he doesn’t know if anyone can even hear him.

“Hyung, I…I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry,” Jungkook’s voice sounds so ashamed and Taehyung looks up. His face is crestfallen and he can’t seem to look up from his lap.

“One of you needs to tell me exactly what happened. Right now,” Namjoon’s voice shows that he’s losing patience with them both.

Jungkook is the one who ends up explaining everything, starting with thinking Taehyung was dating someone and ending with Namjoon catching them this afternoon. Taehyung listens to the explanation without chiming in, unable to meet their leader’s eyes. He’s so embarrassed, so ashamed. He feels weak and selfish. Now the company is aware of what happened and he has no idea what to expect.

“Okay, listen up guys. PD-nim said that he’s the only one who has seen this footage. I can’t imagine he’s going to do anything but keep it to himself. However, all four of you need to cool off. That was an incredible risk you took, Jungkook. If any staff had seen this tape then they could have sold it to Dispatch or blackmailed us with it. We could have lost everything we worked for,” Namjoon scolded.

Taehyung hears a whimper from next to him and sees Jungkook’s hands trembling. He knows the maknae’s eyes are filling with tears and he has the strongest urge to console him, but knows he can’t. He needs to quash anything he feels for Jungkook…and fast. This is Korea. He was an idiot to believe he could have this, he had the right idea as a teenager. Love isn’t meant for him.

“Hyung, what does this have to do with us?” Jimin asks softly.

“Jimin-ah. Yoongi-Hyung. This applies to you too because while you may not have been taped, it’s still a risk that someone may see you two together. All four of you need to take some space right now while I find out what the company is going to do. Once I get back tomorrow, we need to loop in Hobi and Jin. We’ll have a family meeting. Everyone go to bed for right now.”

Taehyung hears a chair scraping and looks up. Yoongi is rushing out of the room without looking back and Jimin’s eyes are filling with tears. Jungkook is looking back and forth between his three hyungs, but Taehyung can’t bring himself to look him in the eye.

********

Yoongi gets back to his bedroom and Jin is thankfully already asleep. As he gets ready for bed, his mind races. How could he be so careless? He knew what he was feeling was wrong and dangerous. He should have pushed it all way down deep and let it go. Instead he buckled at the sight of Jimin in front of him. He still remembers the way the younger man’s lips felt and his body shudders.

No. That’s enough of that. This can never happen again. Time to be proactive.

Yoongi pulls out his phone and texts his usual hookup, apologizing for his panic attack and asking to set a date for the weekend. He figures they can have a do-over and maybe paparazzi will even find them, that would ensure that the world only sees him as being with women.

He feels a twinge of guilt in his stomach thinking about using her like that. It deepens as he thinks about what Jimin might think when he finds out. He tries to shake it off, this is for the best for everyone. As he drifts off to sleep, he hears Jimin’s tinkling laugh echo through his head.

********

This is the first time Jungkook wishes he didn’t have a room to himself. He’s curled on his side in his bed, tears rolling down his face. He stares at his desk chair, remembering the kiss he shared with Taehyung just a few hours ago.

He looks up at Taehyung in front of him when the elder asks if they can try another kiss. The look on Tae’s face makes his stomach do a somersault. He could get used to seeing that look. He tips his face up and feels a shaky hand land on his cheek. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. Warm breath hits his face as he feels Taehyung’s nose brush against his. “Kookie…”

Jungkook is still amazed at the way Tae’s mouth feels. He lets out a little whimper as their lips move against each other and he opens his mouth to the warmth and wetness. When he feels Taehyung’s tongue brush against his he stands up, pushing into the kiss with a surge of passion. He reaches out to run a hand against the soft skin of Tae’s cheek and feels amazed that this is really happening to him. Taehyung isn’t dating someone. He likes men. He likes JUNGKOOK. When feels the hand on his face run down his chest and land on his hip, a breath catches in his throat.

Suddenly, Taehyung pushes him away and Jungkook is confused at the sudden change in the air. He opens his eyes and sees Namjoon standing in the doorway.

A sob breaks from his chest and he buries his face in the pillow. The last few weeks have been a rollercoaster and he never saw it ending up here. He misses when his biggest fear was Taehyung not wanting him back. Being allowed a glimpse into what it was like to kiss and hold Tae just to lose it this way isn’t fair. Tae didn’t look at him once after Namjoon told them what had happened. He knows he’ll pull away again and has a feeling Yoongi is going to do the same to Jimin.

Jungkook decides that tomorrow he’ll seek Jimin out and see how he’s feeling. He thinks they’ll understand each other perfectly. The tape may be a scary thing, but losing Taehyung and Yoongi will be far worse.

********

The next morning Namjoon walks into the BigHit building with a pit in his stomach. His mind is torn completely in half. He knows that he did the right thing last night in putting space between the couples, but it felt awful. Watching everyone’s faces nearly broke him. Taehyung looked like he was going to vomit. Jungkook looked heartbroken. Jimin’s face had anxiety written all over it and Yoongi went to that dark and cold place inside his head. He’s not the bad guy in this, but it sure as hell feels like he is.

This is what’s best for the group as a whole. We can’t jeopardize everything we’ve worked for. The company has us over a barrel.

He gets to the conference room where he was told to meet the company head and knocks before he walks in. He sees the man sitting at the table alone, a tape sitting in front of him.

“Hello, sir.”

“Namjoon. Please take a seat,” the older man says with a sigh. He looks like he didn’t get a wink of sleep last night and that guilty feeling in Namjoon’s stomach is back. This is the man who has given him everything, who has believed in him since he was fourteen years old. He’s a member of their family too and Namjoon hasn’t really stopped to think how this might be impacting him as well. “I assume that you know what’s on this tape?”

“I do. I genuinely had no idea last night but after sitting down with the boys, they filled me in,” Namjoon tries to be as vague as possible so that he isn’t technically keeping anything a secret while still keeping Yoongi and Jimin out of this conversation.

“Do you realize that if anyone else but me had seen this then everything would be over? There’s an endless number of things that could have happened as a result of this tape. I don’t know how this came to be, but your lack of knowledge about it leads me to think it’s brand new. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened in the idol world, it’s not unheard of. However, everyone needs to remember what country we live in. You need to nip this in the bud. You’re their leader, it’s your job to protect everyone. I want the two of them kept separate in front of the cameras. No teaming up on Run episodes, no new joint choreography, no sitting next to each other in interviews. This can’t be allowed to grow. It’s new enough that pushing them apart now shouldn’t be as difficult for them as it would be if they’d managed to sneak this under our noses.”

“Isn’t that a bit extreme? They’ve been best friends since day one, the fans like seeing them together. They’re the most popular ship in the group. What about fanservice and the skinship they’re used to seeing?” Namjoon worries about how the maknaes will feel about such severe measures.

“The fans will be okay. You can do no wrong with them by now. The most important thing is to avoid putting everyone at risk. I don’t like being the villain in their story, but it’s for their own good. You’re dismissed.”

Namjoon wearily stands up and shakes the boss’s hand. He trudges out of the office and down the hall, pulling out his phone to send a group text about the family meeting.

I hope I’m doing the right thing.

********

Hobi is sitting alone in the living room waiting for everyone else to arrive. He wonders what the family meeting could be about, him and Jin were the only two to answer the group text. That’s highly unusual and it makes him very nervous. He hears footsteps coming down the hallway and sits up straight, looking at the doorway. Yoongi.

“Hey, hyung. Do you know what this is all about?”

The elder merely grunts and sits next to him in silence. He knows better than to push Yoongi to say anything if he doesn’t want to, but he’s worried. They sit there in silence for what feels like hours before slowly everyone else files in. There are plenty of seats on the couches but Jungkook and Jimin choose to sit on the floor, both sets of eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Taehyung has bags under his eyes and Namjoon looks completely drained. Jin seems just as lost and confused as Hobi and the air is thick with tension.

“Hi everyone. We all have something very important to talk about. I went to the BigHit building this morning and was told that we need to make a few changes in our configuration. We need to loop Hobi and Jin in on the situation, but it’s not my place to do so. Who wants to tell them what’s been going on?” Namjoon starts, emotion coloring his voice.

Jimin and Jungkook look at each other and then look back down at their hands, staying silent. Yoongi and Taehyung both look at them and then each other, nodding once their eyes meet.

“I’ll start,” Yoongi sighs, “as you both know, I had a panic attack a few weeks ago. Well, I took Namjoon’s advice and decided to do something about it. Jimin and I kissed last night.”

Hobi can’t decide if he’s thrilled or shocked to hear about this development and wonders why he was kept in the dark in the first place when this is a huge moment impacting his two best friends. He’s about to open his mouth to ask questions when Taehyung speaks up.

“Jungkook and I also kissed. At Home Party. Unfortunately, a camera caught us. That’s why Bang PD-nim called Namjoon into the office.”

Hobi feels like he’s had his head dunked underwater and Jin doesn’t look to be faring any better. Yes, the maknaes have always been close and affectionate, but he never saw this coming. What is going on with everyone? What are the chances these two moments would coincide? He hears a sound and looks away from Taehyung. Jungkook has put his face in his hands and is quietly crying, Jimin’s hand rubbing circles on his back. Taehyung’s face looks like he’s in physical pain.

“Wow. Okay. Um. That’s a lot to process, but for now…what did the boss say Joonie?” Jin speaks up, which is more than Hobi can manage.

“He only knows about Jungkook and Taehyung. There’s no reason for him to know what happened with Yoongi and Jimin. I sat down with all four last night and told them to keep their distance for now. As hard as it’s going to be, that’s what I was told to make sure happens. Bang wants Taehyung and Jungkook kept separately from now on. No extra interaction in front of the cameras, no new choreography together, and nothing that might put us at risk. I’m sorry everyone, but any of this getting out isn’t just dangerous for the group but for the individuals involved even more so.”

The room falls so silent that you could hear a pin drop. The atmosphere is heavy and there’s a lot for everyone to process. Yoongi stands up abruptly and hurries out the front door, letting it slam behind him. Hobi stands up to follow him but Namjoon’s voice stops him.

“Let him go. You know he just needs time alone right now. We’re a family everyone, we’re going to be okay.”

Hobi isn’t so sure.

1 note · View note

writerwrites · 2 years ago

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It’s Meant to Feel That Way | Part IV

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Two strangers in a grocery store are brought together by a little boy determined to make them a family.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Fluff, Defending Jacob non-canon ending, brief mention of grief/child loss, brief mention of absentee parent, gentle vanilla sex, slight praise kink and overstimulation kink if you squint.

A/N: *THIS IS NOW A MINI-SERIES* As I write each chapter and slowly slip back into the world of fic writing, each part is based on feedback from the reblogs, so let me know what you think. Be gentle please. Also, don’t translate or post my work on other sites. | Playlist | Dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif credit

Series Masterlist . Complete Masterlist

“Daddy!” You watched Andy Barber’s perfect bearded face break into a massive toothy smile for the chubby cheeked face on your phone screen. “When are you coming to ge’ me? I miss you!” AJ practically screamed every word into the phone or maybe it just sounded loud because his face kept scooting closer to the screen like he was trying to give you both kisses between words.

“Soon, Bubba.” He’d offered up while you said, “Go play with Abuelito y Abuelita, okay?”

“Tita is cooking nom-penadas!”

Empanadas, you mouthed. You could practically hear Andy’s stomach growl as he licked his lips. “We’ll be there for dinner.”

With a squealed yay the FaceTime call was promptly disconnected and you sighed, “So much for picking up something to eat as a thank you for them watching him. That woman loves cooking.”

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” You playfully smacked his arm and kept giving him your turn by turn directions, but when you looked over at him you were immediately concerned to find his brow furrowed, “What is it?”

Shaking his head and clearing his throat, “Mind if we take a little detour? It’s not anything bad, promise.”

“Not at all. My mom’s empanadas take at least two hours to make anyways.” You reached over and squeezed his thigh and he reached down and took it, bringing it to his smiling lips.

Without giving him any more directions, Andy had made it to your parents’ neighborhood, passing their street near the front of the neighborhood to the newer additions a few streets back. Then he pulled into a beautiful home with navy shutters and a matching door that reminded you of his suit. He watched you leaning against the window as you looked up at the house, then drew your gaze across the long covered porch. “Looks like something out of a magazine doesn’t it?”

“But in a good way, really.” You thought aloud before looking out over the yard not finding a for sale sign before you realized what you were doing, but he saw you do it and smiled even wider. “Sorry, I love this neighborhood. My parents live a few streets up. These weren’t being built when I was looking for a place and AJ and I probably couldn’t afford it.”

“Yeah? How many streets away?” Andy’s eyebrows knit together in sincere curiosity and surprise as he turned the car off. You listed them off by name, following him out of the car and pointing in the fastest direction to get there from this house. Watching him slip a key into the front door your mouth fell open, “It’s my place, though I really haven’t done anything with it since I bought it.”

Stepping into Andy’s house your mouth immediately fell open, “It’s like a T.A.R.D.I.S… um, bigger on the inside.” Andy chuckled and kicked off his shoes, so you did the same, before you let him lead you around. Everything was open and you could see the potential in a house like this. There was a notable lack of personalization, even boxes in the corner of the living room. “Did you just move here?”

He followed your gaze to the boxes and came closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin atop your head. “No, Sweetheart, I’ve been here quite some time.” When Andy hesitated to explain, you nuzzled more closely into him, hoping it would be a comfort and the soft hum that escaped him made you hopeful it was. “I just couldn’t bring myself to pull out the pictures of Jacob.”

You couldn’t be sure how long you stood there with your hands covering Andy’s, your thumbs brushing over his to reassure him that there was no timetable for grief. The empty mantle over the fireplace staring back, an echo of what this place could be. When he gave the top of your head a kiss you whispered, “Ready to give me the full tour?”

Andy unraveled his arms from your middle, but still took your hand, leading you first to the places you could see. Across from the living room and foyer was an empty area that could be a library, playroom, or open spaced office. You could see the dining room empty behind it and it all looped back around to the kitchen and living room you’d just been in. He led you around slowly, letting you oh and ah at all the little details of the house and for the first time the place felt warm to him. “I want you to see the back before we go upstairs.”

With a nod, the lawyer pushed open massive sliding doors that made the back patio connect to the kitchen as if it were one big space. The warm breeze caused the hem of your dress to rustle up while you stepped out on the hardly furnished space. The entire backyard was massive. “There’s so much potential back here. It’s even already fenced in. How do you not have a dog?”

“Until recently, believe it or not, I was working too much to think about it. I wouldn’t mind a dog though or using the grill again.” He nodded to the large piece of equipment under a tarp. It went unsaid, but you could feel the wheels turning in Andy’s head, the relief at having a reason to think about the future. You hadn’t realized you’d been so focused on the day-to-day until Andy came into your life.

“Well then I’m looking forward to a night of dinner with some Barber barbecue.” With another kiss to the top of your head, Andy led you back inside and you noticed two doors by the stairs. “Where do these go, your lair where you recharge every night?” With a poke to his side, you let go, helping him close the sliding doors to the backyard. “Y’know because you’re too amazing to be human, I assume you have to charge every night.”

Andy watched your hopeful smile and found himself smiling too before he burst into an unpracticed laugh. That sound melted your heart and pulled the laughter out of you too. Instinctively, you turned into him, squeezing him into a hug. “I’ve been sad and cynical for so long that I wasn’t sure I knew how to accept kindness in my life anymore.”

“You can feel more than one emotion at once, contradictory things, and still be kind hearted. Andy, you deserve love. I’ve only ever given you what you’ve given me.” He held you for a moment longer, tilting his head down to kiss you softly. “So, is it your charging station?”

Shaking his head he pointed to one door, “That’s a half bath, the other goes to the basement which is mostly just unused space. There’s a plethora of boxes down there, but there’s two rooms and a bathroom. One’s my home office.”

“Ah! So, a lair.” You chuckled and he tugged you up the beautiful staircase, your eyes on the bare wall in desperate need of pictures before you looked at all the doors. “Sheesh, how big is this place?”

Pointing at the doors one by one, Andy explained, “Bedroom, bedroom, bathroom, linen closet, and these double doors go to the master.”

Letting go of his hand, you walked backward toward the master and Andy watched you with dark eyes. You pushed the doors open behind you and then spun around giggling only to gasp both in surprise at the beauty of the space and at how quickly Andy had snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist once more. This seemed to be the only part of the house he’d actually done something with.

“All this blue, you fit in perfectly, don’t you think?” Andy’s lips brushed the shell of your ear and you wiggled in his arms. The buzz of the lawyer’s touch in the bathroom, his agreement that you both deserved better, even the way he’d edged you into a frustrated sleep last night- all of it now sat at the forefront of your mind. His hands brushed down your hips to the hem of your dress, slipping under to squeeze your thighs. “You like this?”

A moan passed your lips as his large hands continued to move higher, turning toward the warmth of your inner thighs. “Andy,” you whimpered his name, reaching back and combing your fingers through his hair. “Do you mean when you… t-touch me?”

“No, Sweetheart. I know you like it when I touch you.” Andy’s voice was deep, vibrating against your back as his fingers brushed across your panties, applying the lightest touch to your clit over the fabric. You were immediately aware of how wound up he’d kept you for almost twenty four hours.

“Do you mean the bedroom? It’s gorgeous.” Each word came out breathy, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumbs slipped under the lace at your hips, back until he had handfuls of your ass. The only reason your whimpers didn’t fill the spacious bedroom was because of how loud he groaned.

“No, Sweetheart. Not just the bedroom but the house.” With a slow tug your carefully chosen panties were falling to his floor, his lips to your neck, but nodding and a sigh of approval didn’t satisfy him. At least, that’s how you took it when his hands left your skin all too soon. “I know how special your place is. It’’s a home with memories and love. I felt it the moment you invited me in.” Andy carefully brushed your hair over your shoulder, placing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “You’re a great mother and AJ’s so lucky to have your unconditional love and support.” Unzipping your dress, Andy’s knuckles moved down your spine, his lips kissing their wake, stopping at the clasp of your bra and taking that off too. “I want to give you both the world, spoil you, spend time with you, be a part of that happiness.”

After all your clothes had fallen to his floor, Andy wrapped his arms back around you, thumbs brushing your curves as he walked you toward the bed but stopped half-way. Putting together a coherent sentence felt impossible, but you managed a breathy, “Andy, what are you say?”

“We’re definitely going to be late for dinner.” Looking over your shoulder at him, you both laughed in amused agreement.

“AJ might miss us, be a little mad if we’re late, but I promise he’ll forgive us if we show up with ice cream.”

“Sweetheart, I want to be late to every dinner for the rest of our lives. So I guess we better stock up on ice cream for Bubba.” Andy cupped your jaw and brushed his thumb across your chin, turning your face toward a full length mirror you hadn’t noticed. For a moment your eyes stayed on him, still in his navy suit and you could picture him in his morning routine getting ready only for a sleepy AJ to run through the double doors to latch onto his leg. You were distracted by how easy it was to see this house transformed into a home, to see the three of you here. As if he could hear your thoughts and whispered in your ear to get you out of your head, “Look at you, Sweetheart. I want to worship every inch of you; body, mind, and soul.” Andy emphasized each word with a kiss to a new place they’d never touched, like he was determined to bless each inch of you. “I can’t do that in one hour or one day, not in one month or one year.”

With a shiver you coaxed him on as you watched his broad hands and soft lips mapping your form through the reflection in the mirror. “It’s only been a day since we agreed to figure out the rest. Does this mean you have a plan? Going to use your fancy lawyer skills to convince me I should go along with whatever you’re hinting at?”

Andy laughed, burying his face in the curve of your neck. His beard tickled your skin and you started to laugh too. Seconds later you were gasping because his grip around you tightened and he scooped you up and closed the distance to the bed. Gently placing you on the pillowy sheets, he stared down at you with a ravenous gaze through his long lashes but the soft turn up in his pouted lips held something more than lustful desire, it was the same way he looked at you the night before in your own bed. The night he chose you and AJ. Propping yourself up on your elbows you watched him undress, waiting for your answer. “I think I’ve been figuring out what I wanted every day since I lost Jacob. It wasn’t until AJ found me and you let me into your life that it stopped being a dream. You asked me to stay, Sweetheart, but I’m asking for more.”

Biting your lip, your eyes raked down his body, muscles and a dark trail of hair from his belly button south to his… Your eyes snapped up to his, “More?”

“Come live here. The three of us could have more space, you can make this place a home we can grow into… and you already said it’s closer to your parents.” Andy could feel his heart racing as he’d asked and his fingers combed through his beard and hair as he waited for the pain of rejection. Still a nervousness never seemed to really settle into his bones when he was around you. Then, there you were laying on the bed watching him one moment and reaching out for him in the next. Bending down for a moment to grab a condom out of his discarded pants he climbed onto the bed with you. Hovering over your body as you opened your legs wider and he settled between them. “Need to hear you say it, Sweetheart. I really do.”

“I want it all, Mr. Barber. I want it all with you.” As your hands gently stroked his cheek, down his neck and back up through his soft brown locks, Andy slipped on the condom. “I can see it too, y’know. Making this place a happy home for you and AJ. The walks to my parents for dinner.” He was hard and you were soaking wet. While you whispered confessions of your hopes for this new relationship, he started to stroke the tip of his cock through your folds, pausing only to tease your center with a gentle push to your opening or the tap of his swollen head to your needy clit. “Andy, please.” With a tug, you pulled his mouth to yours. “I want to give you everything you dreamed of.”

Andy’s eyes stung and he hadn’t realized he was on the verge of tears until he pushed slowly into you and closed his eyes only to feel your hand on his cheek, brushing the moisture away. For a moment, when his bright blue eyes opened and met yours, he expected to see pity or concern. Instead, he watched you bite into your bottom lip as you tangled your legs around his, lifting your hips off the bed to meet his languid thrusts. Savoring the little whimpers you trapped behind those soft pink lips, a perfect call and response to his own moans in the early cadence of your coupling.

Your eyes never left his face, your hand still on his cheek, gently stroking his bearded jaw before moving to the back of his neck when you pulled his mouth to yours. He could have been drunk on the moans that poured from them. His muscles were tight as he focused on being gentle with you and savoring this precious moment. You were just as desperate, practically begging for him to move faster and push deeper because this moment had been at the forefront of your mind since he edged you to sleep the night before. Instead, you basked in the way this man was once again surprising you with his tender care. There was simply no part of you that could fathom walking away from this man.

When your lips parted, swollen and millimeters apart, Andy whispered against them, a simple confession that sent the room spinning. “Sweetheart, I am so in love with you. I didn’t fall in love with you quickly or slowly… I don’t think I fell at all. I think I smacked right into it.” You could feel his smile against your mouth, the puffs of laughter tangled with breathlessness mingled with the words and kisses.

Running your hands down his chest and then wrapping your arms around him, you craned your neck to kiss his collarbone and jaw until you made it back to his lips. You knew exactly what he meant, “Like the world was spinning and we hadn’t noticed it had been normal being just a little off axis until we met and it was set right.” The tip of your tongue darted across your bottom lip and Andy’s tongue met it, sending a shiver down your body. He came alive against you, fingers laced together and pinned to the bed. Legs tangled and feet pressed to the mattress for purchase. Hips met skin to skin, warm and desperate to make the swollen bundle of nerves between them build into an unrelenting release. “I love you, too, Andy.” Those words called out, over and over, as you took every inch of him, your muscles tight and moments from snapping.

Desperate for more, dinner long forgotten, Andy let go of your hands to grip your hips and control the pace, slowing down your needy rutting. Placing a gentle kiss to his chin, you pushed on his shoulders and the warm muscles of his chest. Andy rolled to his back, bringing you with him, never slipping out of your tight heat. The action sent goosebumps across your skin as you whimpered and nearly came. His blue eyes raked over your form, a vision above him, and his hands wandered so desperate to touch every inch of you. “You’re so beautiful, Sweetheart.”

Heat from the sudden compliment painted its way from your cheeks to your neck and then your chest. He watched your nipples pebble and selfishly brought his mouth to them. You rocked your hips, squeezing around his thick shaft as you stayed fully seated. Andy sucked hard, releasing you from his mouth with a pop before moving to the other. The bedroom echoed with your pleas as his broad hands firmly grabbed your ass and coaxed you on. Unintentionally scratching your nails down his stomach you gave into the pleasure of being completely full of this man. Andy stilled inside you as your body quaked around him, admiring the way you clung to his arms while your head fell back and you screamed his name. He let out a strained groan as he felt you soak him, dripping down his cock and onto the bed, his blue eyes never closing as he memorized every detail of you in pure bliss.

As your body tingled, alert and sensitive from the best orgasm of your life, Andy scooted back toward the headboard to sit a bit more upright. His lips pressed to the crook of your neck as you gasped and whimpered with every little movement of him inside you that caused a little aftershock of your tired muscles milking him. With one arm wrapped lovingly around you, thumb brushing back and forth across your shoulder blade; the other reached between you, two fingers pressed to your clit. It felt like too much and not enough. Dizzy, your lips parted in near protest before he gave you praise, “You did so good. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of seeing how happy I make you.”

Maybe it was the rasp of conviction in his voice or the way he was holding you, but you could feel that praise wash over you like warm honey. Despite how tired you thought you were, your body immediately reacted, straining as it begged for more. Resting your tired head on his shoulder, Andy stroked your clit as he rocked your body to meet his deep thrusts, quickening his pace as you gasped. The headboard rocked against the wall, his arm holding you more tightly as his thighs spread to give him more control, sinking you impossibly lower down his length. With his fingers moving faster you had no control over your body, tingling and tight as he hit that spot over and over. “Andy, I’m-”

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t hold back.” His lips pressed to your hair and you felt him swell and throb, his hand going still as he pinned you down on his length and choked out your name. It was that pulse of him finding his release that made you collapse again with your second. Affectionately pulling you with him as he leaned against the headboard, Andy peppered your hair, forehead, jaw, and shoulder in breathy kisses while you both came down. You could feel your juices on his fingers as they left your sensitive bud and he rubbed your leg and hip, leaving a sticky trail. His other hand gently massaged its way up and down your back. Though you’d cuddled the night before, this was a thousand times more comforting and you nuzzled into him. “No sleeping, my love. We’ve got ice cream to get.”

You sighed, beaming at the soft way this put together lawyer with his big heart and corded muscles could make you melt with little pet names. Eventually, you managed to come back to reality, pulse finding that giddy rhythm that it normally stayed at around Andy. “We probably shouldn’t walk into a grocery store looking like this.” With a hum of agreement and a few more minutes of his soothing strokes to your back and thigh, he carried you to the large master bathroom. “No more funny business.” His laugh echoed through the marbled space, but he made no promises that he knew he couldn’t keep.

Had it not been for the promised ice cream, the pair of you would have walked over to your parents’ house. It was a perfect summer day and the sun was just beginning to set when you pushed open the screen door, the front already open. “Ma, dondé estas?” You doubted she could hear you. Music was on, meaning she was in the kitchen. The television buzzed under that, meaning that your father was probably passed out on his recliner. The squeal of delight and incoming scampering feet meant that AJ wasn’t sitting at the dinner table just yet. Those outstretched arms and confused ramblings of excitement, however, veered straight into Andy’s arms. “Oh, not even a hello kiss?”

Andy laughed as you watched your son’s small hands clap onto either side of his beard, before the little guy bonked his forehead on his nose to give him a hello peck to his chin- the closest thing he could reach. “Hey Bubba! We missed you so much. Did you have some nom-penadas yet?”

Your mother rushed over moments later and Andy immediately beamed at how you’d done the same so many times, chasing after AJ in an apron. “Perfect! I was just about to put down plates.”

“Great, I would love to help.” The woman waved him off, but he insisted. “It’s what I do every night. Right, Bubba? We help your Mah every dinner?”

“You may win me over easily, Avocado, but Tito? I don’t know.” Reaching over she squeezed Andy’s hand before tickling AJ’s sides. Normally this would get him to fall back in laughter and, with a little more tickling, turn around to ask to be held by his tickler. Instead, he clung to Andy, laughing and screaming so loud that despite his big smile you could see the grimace that his ears were ringing. When she conceded, your mother lovingly sighed and waved everyone further into the house. “I see how happy you make these two. It’s hard to not love you already.”

“Avocado?” He chuckled, “Andy’s fine.”

With a palm covering your face, you explained that abogado was ‘lawyer’ in Spanish and that AJ had asked what an avocado was. Your father had taken to calling him ‘the lawyer’ or ‘the avocado’ in AJ’s case. Andy took it in stride, an amused smile on his face as he and his toddler shadow moved around the table talking about what the little one had been up to with his grandparents. Your mother watched the two of them with a smile cracking every time AJ called him Daddy. It was a relief to walk into this with everything on the table. You never hid how you met him from your parents and you regularly brought him up, just like AJ did.

After slipping the ice cream into the freezer, you left the three behind to pester your dad. Sure enough, he was asleep and you woke him up by slowly combing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. When he squinted through one eye to see who it was, you reached over and passed him his glasses. “You be nice. This one’s different.”

“Ay, when am I ever not nice?” He pretended to take a bite out of the finger you were pointing at him before getting out of his chair.

AJ was back on Andy’s hip, the pair of them leaning against the archway between the living room and dining room smiling. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir.”

“Tito’s just fine, Avocado.” Your head fell back and you shook your head in exasperation when they shook hands, your father covering Andy’s with a second, patting it reassuringly. “Has this one made you empanadas yet?”

“She hasn’t.” His blue gaze fell on you with a look that could only be read as a question of whether or not you’d been holding out your best dishes. “But I have loved every meal she’s made. I’ll make it up to her though. I’m pretty good on a grill and I like making breakfast.”

Your father looked between the two of you, that knowing smile still on his lips as everyone took a seat. “Breakfast happens to be this guy’s favorite meal of the day.”

AJ sat across from Andy, between your parents, and started the meal by copying your mother who always held out her hands and made everyone say one thing they were happy about. Everyone clasped hands and your eyes moved down to Andy’s large fingers laced through yours where his thumb was absently brushing yours while he listened intently to your mother explaining the tradition and how AJ always started. Knowing AJ, you expected him to list off all the breakfast foods he loved, but he surprised you. “Ice cream with Daddy!”

The table erupted with laughter at how observant the little guy had been despite his shrieking and climbing when you and Andy had walked in the door. Your father went next, “I’m glad to meet the person making these two so happy.”

Your mother followed, her eyes a little glassy, “For the lessons that came in waiting because you learned what the right fruit would be.”

Andy squeezed your hand, chuckling at the reference to avocados. Momentarily choked up, you nodded to let him go first. “I’m glad that AJ decided I was worthy of being part of a family that was already complete without me, but somehow we just fit.” Letting go of your hand, Andy reached over and stroked your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You squeezed his thigh and looked up at him. “I’m thankful to know a once in a lifetime love like this is worth figuring out the details.”

Though you couldn’t be sure how long you and Andy stared at each other nor how teary eyed your parents had become as they held AJ’s small hands while the three of them watched you, it was that little guy who finally had enough. “Tito, I’m ready for my nom-penadas.”

The room echoed with laughter once more and everyone looked to your father who held up his glass, “To new beginnings.”

You and your mother raised yours, then Andy followed suit, but AJ held up his empanada that was already missing a toddler-sized bite. “Salud!” The biggest new beginning would be the move and a tiny part of you worried they might not be so quick to have congratulated this budding romance if they knew you were taking that step. But as the night progressed and that topic was ever so gently brought up in a way that Andy seemed so good at, they were relieved to know you and AJ were going to be closer- even if your house wasn’t that far. All the more surprising was that they offered to help by planning days to come over and pack and insisting on taking AJ over the weekend so that you could move without him running around.

When AJ was fast asleep in Andy’s arms after the three of you said goodnight to your parents it was obvious that even your father had been won over. Game nights and favorite drinks and snacks had been mentioned, as had plans for regular dinners together. He kissed your temple and slipped toward the car so you could have a word with them alone while he buckled AJ into the carseat in your car. Wasting no time your mother threw her arms around you and gave you the tightest hug. Your father was a little less emotional, squeezing your arms as he smiled before he pulled you in. Sometimes, words weren’t needed and that was okay, you knew that after all these years they hated that you’d only had AJ. In their protectiveness even they couldn’t picture what someone else fitting into their routine looked like. Now that they met Andy, they were relieved to know that expectations and worries couldn’t compare to the man their grandson had chosen to love and quickly understood why their daughter fell in love with him too.

A/N: I realized as I was editing that those of you that are new here might not have been aware that all of my readers are Latina because I am and I write fic I want to read BUT I hope that didn’t ruin this story for you all. What would you like in Part V? The move? The Barber-cue? A time jump to a proposal? More hoe hours?

Thank you for being so patient! I was worried I wasn’t doing this chapter justice and then got very stressed about it- on top of my return to my Monday-Friday job. Your support has meant the world to me.

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