#an* even remotely blank character

[yinyuedijun]

hotd fandom is so crazy in comparison to anime fandom guys like most of the xreader fics are written in 3rd person pov, all the reader protagonists have heavily developed personalities/backgrounds, 90% of them are white. it is scary out here

[skitskatdacat63]

I keep thinking abt this one post on r/letterboxd where op was like "why are so many reviews for movies w two male friends always 'they should kiss' 'they're husbands' 'they're gay' etc. There should be real reviews and men should be allowed to be friends."

I keep forgetting that people genuinely use letterboxd for actual film review/critique, I just use it as a way to keep track of what movies I've watched and to see silly comments(if I want to read more constructive reviews, I'll go to the reddit post for the movie.) And also dying bcs I have written at least 5 reviews that are something along the lines of "they should've kissed!"

[fallenneziah]

Last day and I told myself if I didn't get something in I would die. So, here it is. @glitterypirateduck

Military Aviation Pilot Ghost x his unofficial official partner. Cw: Wearing his dog tags, dog tags tugging, Ghost in sweatpants, kitchen sex, make-up sex (of sorts), Ghost with a head injury, messy proposal talks, a little spat. Look, I saw a cool jet gif and my life changed.

A mile high in hopes.

Simon stood outside the runway, watching people walk around along the tarmac and wave signals to the watch towers around. It was getting late, the evening glow had set in and the wrap up for the day crew was soon.

He stood by the wall with his gear and flicked his cigarette ashes down into the ground and smearing them with his boot.

The phone rang several times before he picked up, pressing it to his ear with a little smirk when he heard your voice. "Well well,"

"You in the air yet?"

"I'm answerin' m'phone love. No, I'm not up yet." He looked back at the ground, furrowing his brow and digging the toe of his boot back into the cigarette smudge, lifting the last of the thing to his lips.

"You'll make it home earlier tonight, won't you?" You were currently curled up on the couch, waiting on some dumb re-runs that you weren't terribly interested in. Food cooked away in the slow cooker on the counter, the aroma filling your small apartment with warmth.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be home." He looked up as one of the crew workers came over to him and motioned his finger in a circle.

"Gotta go love, they're putting me up."

"Simon, a little longer."

"Love, I'll be home in an hour or two, just wait up for me, all right?"

You shifted in the blanket and slumped your head back against the couch. You sighed a little and finally relented. "Ok, but I'm not saving you dinner if you aren't home by the time I get to it."

Simon exhaled the last drag of his cigarette and smirked. "Deal." He stamped out the last of the smoke and ended the call. Shouting ensued across the grounds as Simon got his helmet and his mask.

The crew around him did laps of his jet and unhooked the wheels. Simon climbed in and set the windshield down over him. "Here we go, pretty girl." He rubbed the interior over, admiring the blinking lights and the gauges coming to life with light.

He looked down across the crew as the jet was rolled out of the hangar and positioned on the runway. He flicked the necessary switches and looked down at the others around him. Control tower coming in through his head gear.

"Takin' the missus to the mile high club, Riley?"

Simon chuckled, a twinkle sparking in his eye. "Already have."

He started up the engine with the all clear and eased the throttle. The wheels rolled and he strapped on his breathing mask. Before long he was catching speed and pulling the jet up into the air.

"There we go." He smiled, keeping his gaze focused on the sky in front of him until he had the jet leveled out. The air against his wings shredded in splitting white streaks as he set off.

Once he was relaxed he looked around and out at the vast world below. He chuckled deeply and eased on the speed just a tad more.

You sat there, sipping your water as you watched the only thing that was on this late, those dumb soap operas. At the least it was somewhat entertaining.

The street was filled with the golden light of Christmas as the two main characters found themselves outside of a large Christmas tree. "It's beautiful!" She exclaimed, joy written on her face and the breathless wonder of her first Christmas.

You watched intently as the man looked at her with love, before kneeling down and opening a small box. Your silence continues as you rubbed his bare ring finger with concentration.

"Julia.. my dear, sweet love," He gently took her hand. "Will you marry me??"

Her eyes widened, and in a panic she-

The commercial break blasted through the room and your stupor was broken to quickly grab the remote and turn it down.

"Fuck." You grumbled and rubbed your forehead. You pushed the blanket aside and headed to the kitchen to check the slow cooker. You sighed softly and stared through the steamy lid, and then the timer over the dial. Your gaze lingered into your hands, flexing your fingers slightly and examining your nails, then your knuckles.

Your hands came to your chest and you rubbed the finger quietly. You wished he would propose already, it had been years, and you couldn't understand the hold up.

You reached back and fiddled with the chain on your neck, pulling out his dog tags. He had served before, part of him had wanted to start out in the Marines but after a flight crash left him with head trauma, that wasn't as acceptable anymore.

The clock ticked by slowly while you waited. The commercial break finished and the woman in the soap opera embraced her boyfriend-now-fiance, giggling and smiling brightly.

By the time Simon got home it was late. Once again. You were half asleep on the couch in front of your half eaten plate of rice and chicken.

Simon slowly opened the door and closed it behind him. He took off his bike helmet and set it down on the shelf. Unzipping his boots and sliding out of them.

Your eyelids fluttered down briefly. You lifted your head and looked over to the door as Simon came in. "Simon..?"

He tilted his head as he stepped into the darkness of the living room. "Hey sweetheart." He leaned down and kissed your cheek before walking down the hallway. You sat up and checked your phone, seeing how late it was.

You frowned and pushed aside your food. You leaned against the door frame in the bedroom and watched him undress. He slid off his jacket and tugged his sweat soaked shirt off his body.

He flexed and grabbed out his sweatpants from the closet.

"You're home late." You said.

Simon shifted and looked back at you through the mirror. "I know love, I'm sorry. I tried to call."

You slid your phone from your pocket, checking the call history. "You're lying, Simon."

You walked into the room as Simon pulled off his belt, flicking the loop with one hand and flicking it, tugging the belt out from around his waist.

"M'not lying."

You felt yourself start to deflate. Mentally you were done with him. "When are you going to get your head out of the clouds?"

Simon sighed as he slipped into his sweatpants and scratched his stomach. "I'm on the ground, aren't I?"

"That isn't what I meant."

Simon passed you and headed to the kitchen. "Simon, would you look at me!"

"What." He paused and looked at you. "I'm looking at you. What do you want?"

"I want you to stop lying to me."

"I'm not lying, I just forgot ok??"

"You always fucking forget! You forget to come home, you forget to talk to me, you won't even marry me so maybe we can set some things straight!"

Simon was quiet for a moment. He sighed and leaned against the sink, staring at the wall.

"Y'know it's going to be the same answer every time.." He muttered.

"I know, but I don't like that answer. I want to be able to help you, I want to get you medication and take care of you until we're old, but you won't fucking marry me!"

"Maybe because I'm not ready-"

"Then when will you be!?"

"I don't know!" He snapped.

Silence befell both of you. You stepped back and rubbed your hands as Simon went for a glass of water and his medication.

After he took the pills he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, ok? I'm just... I feel better when I'm up there."

You looked back up at him, your hands still nervously fidgeting. "So, you don't feel good, with me?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm not saying that at all. I love... You, I love hanging out with you. But I'm not in a good spot." He whispered a little.

"Then let me help you."

He swallowed thickly. "I can't..."

You shuffled over to him slowly. Simon watched you, his hand tightened on the edge of the sink. He leaned in closer, his other arm touching your hip. "M'gonna marry you.."

"You promise?"

He nodded, leaning down so his forehead touched yours. "I promise.. I'm gonna marry you." He rubbed his thumb against your hip.

You relaxed slightly and tilted your head up to capture his lips. Simon inhaled sharply and leaned toward you. Your hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him toward you.

"Make it up to me for coming home late."

He kissed you back and groaned softly into your mouth. He inhaled and slipped his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming slowly to the hem of your shirt.

"I can do that..." He muttered through kisses. He back you up until you hit the counter. Your hands roamed across his neck, squeezing his pecs and groaning into the kisses.

Your tongues sloppily pressed together and tangled. He breathed in your scent and lifted your shirt up and tugged it up over your shoulders, breaking a trail of saliva to get it off.

You panted and kissed him again, your bodies colliding together and his hands moved back to unlatch your bra.

You groaned excitedly and leaned back to look into his eyes. "You know I love you?" He nodded breathlessly and ran his hand through your hair, tugging your head back gently and began to kiss your neck.

"Mmn, I love you too."

He grunted and tugged at your bottoms, yanking them down and leaving you in just your underwear.

"You're gorgeous.." He growled and leaned down, his tongue flicking out and licking over your collar bone.

You gasped and gripped his arms. You arched your back and ground into him, your hands roaming and grabbing at the muscles on his body.

He moaned softly and lifted you up onto the counter, spreading your legs apart and slipping his hands to the band of your underwear, slowly peeling them aside. You looked down, his forehead pressing against yours and his thumb pressed against your clit. You breathed out through your mouth and tangled your fingers in his hair. He hummed deeply and rubbing his thumb in firm circles over your clit while listening to your little gasps.

"Fuck…" He kissed your collar again and with his free hand he brought one of your breasts to his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the bud of your nipple and gave it a little tug. Fire sparked in your chest, the air in your lungs seemingly snatched from you before you could think.

Your hands squeezed his hair, and your hips jerked against his hand. He moaned and kissed the valley between your breasts. "Mm, good girl.." He murmured, and pulled his hand away to push down his sweatpants. His cock sprang free and he wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you closer to the edge, and the tip of his cock brushed against your labia.

You panted softly and reached down, grasping the base of his cock and pushing him into your heat. "Oh- fuck." He groaned and his brows furrowed. "Wastin' no time…" He breathed out heavily and slid into your warm cunt. The thick warm walls contracted around his cock, welcoming him deeper. He stretched you out, his hand returning to your clit to continue pressure on it.

You gasped and rocked your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. He panted and pressed his forehead against yours, starting a fast pace. His balls smacked against your ass, his tip bumped into your spongey core and your eyes rolled back into your head.

You cried out, the pleasure washing over you and gripping him closer. You never wanted to let him go. His smell washed over you and took you under like a massive wave you couldn't bring yourself to fight. It was like slowly drowning, losing everything so long as he had his arms around you.

"God.. oh god-" You moaned, his lips meeting yours for another kiss. "Simon.." You breathed, and he grunted, his hips thrust faster, his free hand reached up and wrapped around your throat. Your head tilted back and you gasped for air as his thumb and forefinger pressed into the columns under your jaw, making it harder to get oxygen. Your cunt started to drip soaking wet with each thrust. His cock sliding deep pelvis against pelvis, and the pull out. It barely gave your walls a moment before he was sliding back in at a forceful speed.

He watched the fluttering expression on your face and it made his stomach twist in the best way possible. His gaze zoned on your soft lips before gazing down at your cunt taking him so well.

"Simon-!" You choked. His hand shifted down your neck and wrapped the chain of his old dog tags around his knuckles to tug you closer.

"Mine." He groaned, and his thrusts got harder. The sound of wet squelches and skin against skin echoing in the apartment. Your legs tightened around his waist and you gasped as he hit your g-spot over and over. Your walls contracted around him and you let out a cry. Your back arched and you clenched up tightly, a rush of warmth flowing down from your belly.

"Fuck, fuck-!" You gasped and dug your nails into his back. Simon grimaced and tugged you closer. He pulled you off the counter and held you tightly in his arms, locking his arms around you.

You moaned loudly as you came. Feeling his body against you and his ragged breath against your face made your heart pound. He loved you. You shuddered and came hard on his cock, whining when he tugged you closer.

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering sweet nothings against your ear. Your eyelids fluttered closed, and he kissed you roughly. Your tongue met his halfway. You panted against his lips, and his tongue licked yours, sucking on it.

His own orgasm was building, his balls tightening and his tip dripping precum. He held onto you, slowly shifting you along his cock until his grip relaxed, focused on kissing you. You desperately kissed him, inhaling his smell and chasing the butterflies that filled your stomach every time he gave your body attention. A feeling only his touch could reward you with.

Simon groaned against your mouth and slid his cock out of your cunt. You attempted to move away but Simon gently grabbed you again to keep you close. He caressed your hip and stroked his cock, cumming cross your abdomen.

You panted, looking up at him and then his hand working the last of his orgasm out. "Mm…" You leaned into his body, nuzzling his shoulder.

"Love you."

He panted softly and brushed some of your hair away to kiss your shoulder. "Love you too, sweetheart.."

He smiled tiredly, and looked around. "Let's go to bed."

He helped you and kissed the side of your face, walking to the bathroom to wash up. Using a warm wash cloth against your skin, and then following you to the bedroom. You both laid down and you curled up close to his chest. His arms wrapped around you and nuzzled the top of your head with a gentle kiss.

"I know I forget a lot now… But I promise that your needs and wants will not be."

That made tears start in your eyes. You curled up closer and squeezed him tightly. He smiled a little and rubbed your back. When he was ready, he would marry you. He didn't want to keep you waiting, he just needed some time, and the money. And he would make you Mrs. Riley.

[peachsayshi]

Hello can I request a part 5 for the inexperienced reader where they finally do the deed? Thank you and I really love all your writings. You’re amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (part 4) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 7,712

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: hi, nonnie! I haven't posted the official part 4 for playboy geto x reader, so here is an update! part 5 is the final part of this mini series and I am still figuring out the scenario for the big moment. I had this idea in my head and really wanted to write out. I hope you enjoy the update!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; hurt/comfort; the first fight; making up; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; fingering; practice makes perfect *wink wink*

There’s a downpour outside - a peaceful shower trapping you in a cocoon of stillness. Grey clouds collide, orchestrating a rumble of thunder to disperse across the horizon. You squeeze the glass of tea in your hand and breathe out a heavy sigh as you continue observing the waves crashing onto the shore in the distance.

Standing in pensive thought, you find yourself contemplating why the sky isn’t a saturated blue, and why you are not wiping away grains of sand between your toes while tasting the salt in the air and getting kissed by the sun in the red bikini that you are wearing.

This is your first weekend away with Suguru and it was supposed to be perfect…magical even, but…

You haven’t exchanged more than a few of sentences with him in two whole days.

The truth forms as a discomforting lump in your throat. At this point you’re convinced that the turbulent events of this week is what conjured up such a dreadful storm to hijack your mini vacation, and you’ve been a bundle of nerves ever since because you’ve never had a fight with him before.

Not a real one, anyway.

Whenever a situation got remotely tense, your boyfriend would be the first person to jump in to talk things out. Suguru hated having petty arguments and always relied on strong communication to put out any fires before they set everything ablaze. You know it’s entirely unfair to put that expectation on him but, the truth is, you’ve grown used to him mediating, and depended on him to squash potential disagreements without question.

What you weren’t expecting was for things to escalate between you two because it’s never happened before, and now you aren’t sure how to proceed.

What if he leaves me?

The nauseating thought of a potential break up twists your gut, but you brush off your anxiety as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip of soothing chamomile.

Couples fight, you think, it’s normal to fight.

Your fingers pinch the ceramic so hard, you feel it might crack from the pressure. You’ve tried to reach out since then, but Suguru remained unresponsive to your little gestures of peace.

Why is he still ignoring me?

You lean your head against the window and exhale, eyes fixated on the storm’s dramatic performance. A bolt of lighting crackles across the sky, channeling you back to the night on Suguru’s sofa just two weeks prior.

His fingers were trailing the outline of your thigh, keeping your body tucked perfectly into his frame. You were twirling a strand of his onyx hair between your fingers, listening to him proposition the idea of the weekend trip away.

“Yuki is one of my oldest friends. She lives in a beach house, so that’s where we will all stay…” he casually stated. “We visit her a couple of times a year, and I know she would love to meet you.”

You said yes without hesitation.

At the time, there was no need for you to question who Yuki was or how Suguru knew her. There was no need for you to pry deeper into the memories of his past because you were just living in the bubble of present happiness.

“We used to spend every summer at her beach house while I was in university,” Suguru informed you a few days later, slipping in that tidbit of information right after describing all the places he was excited to take you to. “I love that her beach house is so far away from the city. Plus, they have the best soba in the village. You’ll love it, I just know you will…”

This deep infatuation you shared for Suguru had your heart swelling up more often around him. Your valves were arrows to a compass that always spun directly towards him, your shining North Star. Your eyes were glazed over in a rosy shine of deep romance, making it hard for you to blink away the hue of its affection, but you should have taken a breath to catch yourself.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have reacted so harshly later on.

The ”problem”, as Suguru dubs it, happened two days before the trip.

Shoko invited you to join her and Utahime on a shopping date to pick up some new swim suits for the occasion. However, you weren’t expecting to see Mei Mei upon arrival. Your friendship with Shoko made it easier for you to blend in with the rest of Suguru’s group, but Mei always kept you at an arm’s length. For the most part, you approached any interactions with her with caution. You made sure you were nice and didn’t try to pursue anything beyond cordial conversations. Despite your attempts at playing cool, Mei continued making snide remarks about you being “Suguru’s Girl” and enjoyed addressing you condescendingly.

Truthfully, she treated you as if you were simply a stranger with one foot out the door and not the person who was in a committed relationship with her friend.

Your eyes, powdered with pink infatuation, had you feeling indifferent about her sharp tongue on this particular outing, and it made you loosely speak up about how excited you were to go on this trip with your boyfriend.

Your walls were completely down when Mei went in with a new attack while you were all having dinner together.

“It’s adorable how excited you are. Besides, I think it’s about time that you met Kiki…” she giggled, earning a glare from both Shoko and Utahime.

“Kiki?” you replied like a naive child, all wide eyed with an innocent pinch between your brow.

“Suguru didn’t tell you?” Mei coos as she proceeds to take a sip of her milkshake. “That’s his special nickname for Yuki. The two of them used to spend their summers together getting high and fucking. She was his first, you know…”

Your cheeks were stinging with embarrassment. You glanced over to both Shoko and Utahime, praying that one of them would denounce Mei’s confession.

Instead, Shoko shook her head with disapproval and simply added, “we all know that it wasn’t serious…”

“Wasn’t serious?” Mei interjected, her cruel eyes fixed on you. “Suguru was in love with her…”

“He wasn’t in love with her,” Shoko sternly answered. “They were friends. Don’t make up stories in your head”

Mei swirled her straw around her vanilla milkshake. “We are his friends too but that didn’t stop him from hooking up with us either. The only difference is that Yuki is the one who broke his heart afterwards. Suguru didn’t speak to her for an entire year...”

“How about you don’t stir up problems for no reason, Mei.” Utahime bit back, and Mei responded by rolling her eyes with mild disinterest.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Everyone at this table, except Shoko, hooked up with Suguru at one point,” she let out a pretty laugh, one laced with wicked intent. “Maybe this is something we can all bond over at the beach house. Compare notes and what not…”

“How about we dial back the bitchy attitude and put the subject to rest” Shoko interjected, and Mei merely huffed before sipping her milkshake with nonchalance.

Hot, heavy jealousy coiled around your skin, and you used every ounce of restraint not to pick up Mei’s drink and toss it right in her face. By the time your brain was able to connect the dots to formulate even a single sentence, the conversation swiftly moved onto another subject.

You reached for your soda, slurping the icy beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off.

This isn’t the first time that Suguru’s friends have made teasing comments about his past, but Mei took it too far.

The worst part about that god-awful interaction is that it was working out in her favor.

Why didn’t Suguru tell you?

The question sat in your head up until you returned home. You were in a bitter state, choosing to curb Suguru’s calls and ignore Shoko’s messages.

She still called you the next morning with a heartfelt apology.

“We’ve all known Mei for years so we put up with her attitude,” Shoko explained, “But you owe her no allegiance and what she did was uncalled for. I’m really sorry about that…”

“It’s fine, Shoko…” you insisted, but your tone was hard and defensive because it wasn’t fine and you barely got any sleep thinking about what she said.

“I had a long conversation with her last night, and she’ll be backing off from now on,” Shoko consoled.

“Great,” you answered through gritted teeth, trying your best not to hurl the phone at the wall.

“Look,” Shoko added on with a sigh, “I know Suguru doesn’t have the best track record and I know we all give him shit for it, but we also all know that we’ve been too hard on him. He really, really cares about you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You wished those words were enough to sway you back but they felt just as empty as the space in your chest.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You couldn't stop wondering why.

The day before you left for the getaway, you were giving Suguru the coldest shoulder. He had come over to help you pack your things, but instead was left puzzled by your behavior.

You leaned away from his kisses, always tilting so he aimed for your cheek. You shrugged off his touch, pretending to busy yourself with searching through your closet and picking your outfits. You could feel his piercing stare from over your shoulder, those dark eyes dissecting the softest parts of you to get to the root of the problem. You tried to focus on the music from gently playing through the speakers, but as you walked over to your bag to pack another dress, Suguru quickly reached for your hips to drag you onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked seriously, his voice the tip of a sharp blade pressing into your heart.

You shook your head, caressing the fabric between your fingers. “Nothing, I have a headache,” you repeated firmly, sticking to the same excuse that you had given him earlier.

“Sweetheart,” he replied tenderly, your body stiffening when he brushed his lips over your shoulder to leave a contemplative kiss. “What’s actually wrong?”

You froze, your anger scalding your insides as it bubbled to the surface. You squeeze the dress between your hands, creasing the smooth surface. Suguru rests his chin on your shoulder, patiently waiting for you to at least acknowledge him.

“Is it true that you were involved with “your friend” Yuki?”

You hid your hurt with sarcasm, her name rolling off your tongue with a hint of disgust.

Suguru lifted his head from your chin, his fingers pinching against the fat of your hip while his other hand moved to reach for your jaw. He angled your face towards him, a pained expression masking over his breathtaking features.

“Who told you?”

“Mei,” you answered sharply, “apparently Shoko and Utahime know all about it too…”

“Look,” Suguru sighed, “it’s…it’s not what you think…”

“Did you to spend your summers getting high and fucking?” you interrupted harshly, mimicking the cruelty in Mei’s voice as you posed your question.

Suguru closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it true that she was your first?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly this time.

“Yes, but…”

You rolled your tear soaked eyes as you stood up on your feet, tossing the dress into your bag as you folded your arms across your chest to give Suguru your back.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The fact that Mei had all the ammunition in the world to hurt your feelings, or that she knew that your doting boyfriend would keep this from you.

Suguru stood up, carefully approaching you from behind as he extended his hand out to find your waist once more.

“Mei’s a gossip,” he contended, “I told you that when we first met…”

You spun on your heel to meet his anxious stare, drilling your fury right into him.

“That’s not the point,” you argued. “The point is that you lied to me! The point is that you spent weeks going on and on about “your friend” without even warning me that you were both intimately involved…”

“We put that shit behind us years ago. I didn’t want to bring it up, and I didn’t think I had to. Mei shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Didn’t think you had to?” you repeated with confusion.

“There was no reason to,” he replied with annoyance, his fingers digging into your waist. “Because you and I are supposed to trust each other, and considering how things have been going between us, I thought we did.”

Your heart raced at the fact that Suguru was still keeping his mouth tight lipped over what happened with Yuki, which did little to help your own dramatized theories on their relationship.

If he was being secretive about something as serious as this, then who knows what other tales he might have been spinning with that honeyed mouth of his.

The knot that’s wrung itself around your mind finally snapped.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have an inventory of people I slept with to keep track of…”

Suguru winced, the involuntary grimace an unusual sign of hurt. Your apology shot to the tip of your tongue, and you were ready to jump right into his arms and plead for forgiveness. This brutish commentary was so unlike you, but you didn’t know how to keep a handle on your own insecurities this time around.

“Keep track, huh?” he answered softly, the faintest hint of distress coming through and making you nip at your bottom lip out of guilt. “Must be hard having a boyfriend who is so used up…”

“No...you're not. That's not what I mean, I’m…I’m just saying that it’s different,” you retracted, easing your delivery to try and explain yourself. “You just don’t have to worry-”

“Is there a reason for you to worry?” he rebuked, quirking his brow in genuine surprise.

You scoffed, “You told me about everyone else you’ve been involved with but with her you are suddenly keeping quiet-”

“Please, tell me you’re fucking joking right now-“

“You can’t-” you interjected, clearing the catch in your throat as your voice warbled uncomfortably. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this, Suguru. I have to be able to trust you and that’s only going to work if you are honest with me. Keeping something like this from me doesn’t help…”

Suguru dropped his hand away from your waist, and folded them over his chest tightly. There was a twitch in his jaw, and the disappointment in his eyes spoke volumes. You both stood there in silence, studying the other in deep concentration.

“I thought you did trust me. You were practically naked in bed with me when you said it. So what is it then? Do you trust me or not?”

Your face grew increasingly hot recalling his birthday, the way you were soft, vulnerable and pliable sprawled out against his chest...

“I do…” you replied with very little confidence. “Sort of…”

You swallowed your regret to stare down at your feet shamefully, and allowing your pride to fight the battle for you. If you can waver his insecurity even a little then maybe you might find some equal footing with the discomfort.

“I can’t change my past. I can’t erase the people I’ve been involved with. Yes, we both had different opinions about how we viewed relationships, but we aren’t going last long as a couple if I’m the only one that has faith that this is going to work,” Suguru informed calmly, using his fingers to gesture between you both.

Hearing those words from your lover’s lips felt like surprise blow. You parted your mouth to exhale quietly, clenching your hands tightly by your side as you naively waited for him to attempt to turn things around.

“I’ve given you everything. I’m not going to force you to trust me,” Suguru adds on, his tone morphing into a cold, cruel note. “And if you fucking can’t, then I’m done.”

Your head shot up in surprise, the front of your brows upturning sorrowfully but Suguru had already turned on his heel to walk out of the room, slamming your bedroom door right behind him.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

The car ride to the beach house was terrible.

Neither you or Suguru said a single word to one another. He kept his focus on the road, while you kept replaying the words “I’m done” on repeat in your head.

It was disappointing to start off on such a sour note because Yuki’s beach house was the perfect getaway spot as Suguru described. The location was rural, and the building was quaint and cozy. The size is big enough to fit your entire group, but not to the point where it was gaudy. Suguru mentioned that the property belonged to Yuki’s mom, which she eventually inherited after she passed away.

Meeting Yuki took your breath away. From the moment you laid eyes on her you understood how a young Suguru would be infatuated. She was striking - tall, with long, golden hair that cascaded all the way down to her butt. Every part of her was perfect, from her toned tummy revealed by her short black cropped top, to her legs that seemed to go on forever which were covered in only a pair of loose denim shorts. She had a naturally cheeky grin, like there was something up her sleeve that no one could quite point out, and sharp brown eyes that were simply inviting.

She pulled Suguru in for a warm hug, and ruffled his hair like a sister would.

“Sug! Your hair’s getting long! I like it!” she chirped with a big smile, while Suguru held an effortlessly casual stance to play off that the two of you haven’t been ignoring each other this whole time. Yuki instantly turned to face you, “And you must be the girl that stole his heart! I’m so glad to meet you! This guy never shuts up about you…”

You felt small against her, and it wasn’t just due to her height. You could feel yourself shrinking into your own shame hearing her talk about your lover. Whatever doubts that sparked due to Mei’s burning statements were quickly turned to ash.

Yuki gave you a house tour and explained that Shoko was sharing a room with Mei and Utahime, while Satoru and Nanami bunked in another.

“If you’re comfortable you can stay in Suguru’s room. He kind of has his own bedroom from how often he’s stayed with me. If not, I’ve got a pull out sofa in my room,” Yuki informed, while you were trying your hardest to undo the tight knot in your belly.

Getting to know Yuki over the course of the two days only fed into your regret. You couldn’t help but watch her interactions with Suguru, only to conclude it was no different than how he behaved with Satoru and Shoko.

Even when he addressed her as “Kiki”, it came out with a level of comfort that felt a familial familiarity. If it wasn’t for Mei and her devious manipulation games, you would never have even have assumed that the pair were intimately involved with each other.

As your stubbornness started chipping away, you decided to at least try and make amends with your boyfriend.

On the first night, after getting ready for bed, you broke the long hours of silence by asking him where he was going after watching him get ready to leave the room that you both were supposed to be sharing.

“I’m staying with Satoru,” he curtly responded, and slammed the door behind him before you could get another word in.

Yesterday was painful to say the least. You attempted to sit down with him and Satoru for breakfast, but Suguru excused himself only a couple of minutes later. By mid-morning you texted to ask if he would like to join you and Shoko to walk around the village. You even brought up his favorite soba shop, but found yourself left on read.

His behavior was harsh and quite obvious. By lunchtime Shoko pulled you aside to ask if everything was okay.

“We’re fine,” you answered breathlessly, your worry sending tingles to the tips of your fingers and toes. “We got into a bit of an argument in the car, but we’ll talk things over”

Dinner last night was supposed to be a fun get together at one of the local omakase joints, but it turned into you and Suguru sitting on opposite sides of the table barely acknowledging each other.

You were trying to steal his glance, but he wouldn’t stop avoiding yours. Afterwards while all of you were standing outside, you found the courage to reach for Suguru’s hand to grab his attention.

“Hey,” you whispered low enough for only him to hear to avoid making it obvious to the others. Your heart fluttered when you noticed that Suguru didn’t let go of your hand, but instead pressed the pads of his fingers lightly against your palm to return the gesture.

Almost like he was saying hello.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” you asked, eyes hopeful and desperate. “It’s nice outside tonight, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t gauge what he was thinking, but you paid close attention to his reactions. Like the way his eyes dipped to your fingers slightly interlaced with his own, and how his digits were merely tracing yours in the most featherlight touch.

Did he miss you too?

“I’m going out with Yuki tonight,” he announced, his tone sharp and daring.

Your heart winced.

You weren’t used to this side of Suguru at all.

You let go of his hand, and nodded your head to feign acceptance but your throat was tight and tears were glazing over your woeful irises.

“Oh, okay!” you answered with as much confidence as you could muster up. “I guess…I guess I’ll see what Shoko is up to. And-”

Your voice cracked when Suguru let go of your hand. The emptiness a cold touch against your palm.

“I-I hope you guys have fun catching up tonight-“

Suguru nodded his head, taking your breath away for only a second when he leans forward to leave a chaste kiss on your brow. Not giving you a chance to finish your statement.

The gesture shatters you, because you know that it wasn’t genuine.

He was simply putting on a show, keeping up appearances so that the others don't suspect that something is wrong.

You cry yourself to sleep all alone in bed, all the while holding onto the hope that he might just show up to remind you that everything is okay.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You’re still staring out the window, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. Lost in the peaceful moment, you barely hear Suguru enter the bedroom, which is why you jump in shock when you suddenly notice a large hand press firmly against the glass by your side.

“It’s pouring, huh?”

His voice, smooth like velvet and soft like storm clouds sent a tremor of desire in your belly. You steadied the cup in your hand, sensing your body trapped between the window and your boyfriend who was now standing prominently right behind you.

“Yeah,” you whisper quietly, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.

You watch him tap his index finger against the glass, your gaze falling to the bracelet on his wrist. It was the other gift that you gave him on his birthday, and he hasn’t taken it off since. The rain patters outside, the white noise your safety barrier against the awkward tension, but you can feel it brewing behind your spine as you steady your breathing.

“Where did you stay last night?” you ask with a mousy voice, hoping that your tone wasn’t coming across as accusatory but simply concerned for wanting to check in on Suguru’s whereabouts.

“Yuki’s room, we were up late talking…” he responds gently, a hint of amusement in his voice but not one that was cruel. “She told me I could sleep on her pull out only after admitting that I’m acting like a little bitch…”

Your mouth naturally ticked into a smile at his playful tone, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip with relief from the casual delivery.

He huffs out a small laugh, "in case you're wondering, I just so happen to agree with her."

“It’s not just you,” you acknowledge, finding the courage to slowly spin on your heel so you can face him. “I started all of this…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been trying to fix it and I’ve been difficult about it…”

Your body crumples when your eyes met his, the power of his gaze forcing you to press your back against the window to stop yourself from buckling at the knees. His yearning matches yours, and the tension in your shoulders relaxes slightly when you note that he might have actually have been missing you too.

The ease in his expression is a white flag of surrender.

You place your tea cup on the table by your side. “I shouldn’t have let Mei get to me,” you admit, “I was caught off guard, and I took my anger out on you…”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” Suguru adds on, shaking his head in disbelief over his own decision. “I should have been upfront with you about Yuki from the star, I just-” He drops his hand away from the window to find yours, and takes both of them between his fingers. His thumb smooths over your knuckles, his grip firm and protective.

“I just didn’t want to give another reason not to trust me”

Your brows furrow with confusion, and Suguru sighs.

“My family were in a bind financially. Even though I got a full scholarship to univerisity, there still wasn’t enough money to put both Mimi and Nana through school. I've known Yuki since I was sixteen. She told me to spend the summers with her and hooked me up with well paying jobs ,” he explains solemnly, almost like he is ashamed by the situation entirely. “So, that’s what I did. Her mom never stayed during the summer break. And yeah, shit happened between us. We’d get high, fuck around, drink, party…but it was just…a release.  It didn’t mean anything else. I swear…”

“Mei said that you loved her,” you fill in, piecing together parts of your own personal indignation. “I think that’s what really got me. Especially when you didn’t tell me yourself. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the secrecy…”

Suguru scoffs, “Mei says that only because I went back summer after summer. I didn’t let anyone else know the real reason why. They had no fucking clue what was going on with me and my last summer with Yuki is when we decided to stop but I-I fucked it up…”

You could see the strain on Suguru’s face, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly to let him know that he could share whatever he needed to say.

“There was this girl that Yuki liked. I mean, really liked. She wouldn’t shut up about her. She was the reason why we stopped sleeping together. One night while we all went out, I got…carried away. I drank too much, I smoked too much, I wasn’t fucking thinking. I don’t even really remember what happened, but when I woke up the next morning…the girl was in my bed. When Yuki found us, she was…heartbroken. She didn’t speak to me for a year, and…I was devastated because her friendship means everything to me. She was the only person who knew how bad things were, and I returned the favor by…well, being myself, I guess…”

“Suguru, don’t say that…” you blurt out, your hands letting go of his as you eagerly clasp his jaw with equal protection. “I see you with your friends. You’re so loyal, and would give them everything if they asked. For somebody whose always so put together, what you did…is so out of character…”

He winced, his eyes narrowing with humiliation but it only taps into your empathy.

You bring his face closer, press your forehead to his own and notice him flutter his eyes close.

“You rarely talk about how hard it was with your family,” you mumble so close to his lips, keeping the conversation as private as possible even though it’s only the two of you in the room together. “I can’t even imagine the kind of pressure you must have been feeling. If you and Yuki are as close as you say are you, I’m sure she came around because she must have seen it too…”

His hands find your your bare waist. “She was the only one who could see it. Satoru, Shoko…it went over their heads…”

The quiet loops in right then, a rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. The hurt in Suguru's voice was loud and clear. The fact that he's always been there, but is so easily forgotten in the long run.

“I need to know,” Suguru confesses, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I need to know what else it’s going to take to get you to trust me because the odds are stacked up against me, sweetheart. And if I can’t make it happen, then I don’t have a single fucking shot at making us happen…”

The sting of regret burns your cheeks once more, and you extend your arms out to circle around your boyfriend’s neck. You want to kick yourself for making him doubt himself, especially after he working so incredibly hard to earn your favor.

“I swore I would never throw your past in your face. I’m so sorry that I did. You’re not the same guy that the people in your life paint you out to be, and I shouldn’t have let them try to convince me otherwise,”

You seal your apology with a small kiss to the corner of his lip, goosebumps pebbling your skin from Suguru’s thumbs tracing tiny streaks up and down your belly. “For whatever reason we don’t seem to make sense to anyone around us…”

When Suguru finds your eyes, you lose yourself into a dark abyss, sinking back into the depths of his soul.

“Is that how you feel too?” he questions seriously, “that we don’t make sense?”

You shake your head instantly to disregard the claim.

“Being with you is the only thing that I seem to understand, and I think that’s why I’m so scared to let you in,” you admit, the past forty eight hours of desperation formulating the next statement on the tip of your tongue. “I’m falling in love with you, Suguru. And-And I can’t seem to stop it from happening…”

Your breathless at the proclamation, your heart hammering so hard in your chest like it’s ready to burst out and bury itself into Suguru’s instead.

You watch your lover pull back slightly, his brows raise with astonishment.

“In love…” he breathes, like he can't believe the words himself, “with me?”

You nod your head, your hands roaming back to the front of his chest where you can feel his own stammering heart against your palm.

"Yeah, with you."

Suguru withers into your touch, his hand cradling your jaw as he dips in to press his mouth over yours. He parts his tongue to deepen the kiss, the weight of his body pushing yours into the surface, where behind you lightning bolts across the sky and grey clouds envelop you both in a shadowy cocoon.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You freely unravel, your joy sparking from the tips of your toe as to the top of your head knowing that your lover has chosen not to abandon you, knowing that you both are desperately seeking forgiveness.

You swear to yourself that it’ll never get this far again.

Suguru baptizes you with his kiss; it was a long reminder of your submission, of fully surrendering your feelings towards him. In between he moves your body, away from the glass and across the room, until you're pinned underneath him on the bed. He uses one hand to undo the wrap skirt around your waist, leaving you clad in your bikini to bathe under the light of his love instead.

His index finger loops around the string of your bikini top. He pulls away from the wet kiss, the tip of his nose lightly brushing your own, with the heat pooling in those dark irises enough to singe your skin.

“I’m not done with you,” he confirms, going back to the statement that ate away at you like a parasite. “Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

A lock of his hair brushes his brow, and you move it aside to kiss the space.

“Even if you were, I’m not willing to let you go that easily,” you counter because you need him to hear it. You need him to understand that you see what he’s put into this relationship and that you are more than willing to return the effort.

He smiles, and it’s devastatingly perfect it makes you want to scream at the heavens for allowing someone to be this beautiful.

“Still think I’m worth the trouble?”

Your fingers trace down the bridge of his nose, your heart gooey and soft in more ways than you can understand.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you, Sugu.”

His head tilts with curiosity, eyes drooping in contemplation. He doesn’t say it but you can hear him asking “are you sure?”, but his doubt is enough for you to seal the truth with a kiss, and when Suguru returns it, you’re once again dissolving in his affection.

Your limbs tangle into one another, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel every hard muscle. The bed sheet rumples, is lifted away from the corners as it gathers messily. Suguru’s hand glides up your torso, over the swell of your breasts, and he hooks his fingers around your throat to tilt your neck to the side and allowing him the access to kiss the column.

You thoughtfully sigh, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him sucking on your delicate flesh. He leaves a trail in his wake, and you shiver when his hot breath fans your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions in a hush tone, his voice dipping down an octave and sprinkled with desire.

You nod your head.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your body seizes, every single cell on fire. There’s a catch in your throat, and your thighs clench together nervously at the suggestion.

You tilt your head back to face him, your noses and lips bumping in the process. “I-I can do it for you-”

He interrupts you by shaking his head, his mouth carefully kissing your cupid’s bow. “You’ve gone down on me three times already…”

You can feel yourself soaking through your bottoms. A mixture of pleasure and shame heating your cheeks.

“But...what if-what if you don’t like it? I read somewhere that not all guys do...”

Suguru scoffs, baring his teeth as he gives you a full grin. He prods the tips of his nose onto yours, wiggling it teasingly from side to side.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he confesses before adding, “I promise you, I’ll like it”

Your heart is beating so fast you can’t think, but your body speaks another language as your thighs naturally spread a little wider to invite him in.

“Okay, yeah-” you consent, “yeah, you can…”

He smirks, his hands tracing to the strings of your bottoms. You lift your hips, watching him shimmy the fabric down your legs. He stuffs the material in his back pocket, his palms spreading your inner thighs apart.

You sit yourself up on your forearms to study your boyfriend with intrigue.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty…” he sighs, his attention focused on the triangle between your legs, and your belly flutters at the direct compliment.

He doesn’t move for a second, his hands adding the slightest bit of pressure on the meat of your thighs. He licks his lips and breathes out once more, taking just a second to compose himself.

“It’ll only feel good, no pain,” he informs, “but if it’s too much for you, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Your hips relax further into the mattress, his assurance easing some of your apprehension. Your boyfriend knows how sensitive you are at this point, but you nod your in head in acknowledgement while gratefully appreciating that he regards you with such consideration.

He kisses up the apex of your thigh, carefully avoiding your sex to find a path to you hips. His tongue is sof and warm, tasting every part of your skin as it travels across your lower belly and further down your pubis. You gasp at the sensation of his breath so close to your cunt, your calf twitching when he finally places a gentle kiss on your lips.

And another kiss.

And another kiss.

And a fourth until your toes curl and he finally flattens his tongue along the slit.

“Oh,” you coo, the sensation so delicate and delicious. Suguru drags his love between your folds, up and down, and side to decide, his mouth circling around each lip as he sucks on them in between returning to glide his tongue around.

Your legs clasp around his neck, your heels resting comfortably on his back. The sound of Suguru sucking and licking up your pussy reverberates along with the storm outside. He reaches one arm to find your hand, and you intertwine your fingers to hold him tightly. His other hand slithers up your torso, and slips underneath your bikini top. He pushes the fabric above your breast, his thumb and index finger finding your tender nipple which he massages steadily as his uses his mouth to pleasure you.

The sensation builds, filters throughout your body in waves that roll over and over again. You squeak when he sucks on your clit, your heels pressing into his back but the weight of his body holds you in place to keep you from wandering away.

Your brows furrow, little tremors shaking your collar bones and your belly. “Suguru,” you whine sweetly, a moan following after when he pinches your nipple and nibbles on your clit. He lets go of your hand, his touch traveling down to your legs. He spreads your pussy, giving himself more access to bury his soft tongue deeper, further, to taste more of your nectar as it dribbles down his chest like he’s biting into fruit.

He groans into your cunt.

He grazes his tongue over your weeping hole, and your body thrashes with anguish and rapture. Your eyes spark in white, glittering like the lightning as it bursts and recedes into the ceiling above you. The band in your core is a tight spring that finally unfurls quickly and quite suddenly, your orgasm unfolding throughout your stuttering body.

“Oh, god…” you cry out, your back arching as Suguru keeps his mouth over your cunt, his hand holding you down by your lower body.

You gasp, panting heavily trying to cope with the aftermath. You think that Suguru might stop, but instead you feel him paint kisses all over your sex, rolling your nipple between his finger and moving to suck on your throbbing clit.

“Sugu?” you call out, your spine shuddering.

“Hmm?” he answers, his tongue massaging across the bud.

“You’re still…” you whimper, “you’re still going?”

He releases you with a pop, blowing air over the swollen bud before smiling into another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I can keep going”

Suguru only manages to keep his word by delivering another orgasm with his mouth buried against your cunt. You had tears in your eyes when you came, panting out “no more” with desperation because you couldn’t handle the detachment you were feeling in your own skin.

It feels so fucking good, but all too much at the same time.

Suguru doesn’t push. He won’t test his boundaries right now. Not when you’re just a vulnerable kitten in his eyes. No, the stamina will require time and patience, and for you to get used to him in the bedroom as well.

His disappointments sits between his brows when he pulls away, his hand smoothing over the curve of your pelvis as he kisses your hip and lower belly. He crawls over you like a panther, his shoulder blades rising with each calculative moment. You can smell yourself against his lips, savor your own arousal when he dips in for a kiss.

“Taste like heaven, baby girl,” he mumbles, his balmy words running over your skin like hot oil. “I could eat you out all night…”

He traces the column of your neck with his lips, and grins into your skin. You’re too shy to say anything, and he knows it. He presses his mouth against your neck, pecking over the marks that he’s imprinted.

Your hands fumble to reach for his jeans, your body desperate to do something for him too but Suguru grabs your wrists and pins them to your side before standing upright and undoing his jeans himself.

“Relax,” he insists.

Your eyes fall to his large hands undoing the button, and then unzipping the front of his pants. His grey boxers have a noticeable wet spot, and your pupils dilate when he pulls his dick out for you to see.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He pumps his cock a few times, sighing heavily as his thumb runs over the slit. To your surprise he shifts his position, and adjusts himself until he’s perfectly aligned with you.

He taps the fat, mushroom head over your clit. “You just open up for me, don’t you?” he whispers deviously, “Let’s practice…”

He slides his dick back and forth over your slit, supports his movements by holding both your knees as he grinds his length against your cunt.

“See how far I’ll stretch you out?” he mumbles, eyes hazy with hunger. “See how deep I’ll go?”

He slides his hands up and down your thighs, rocking back and forth and using you for friction. Soft grunts and moans escape him, and in between he halts for only a second when your quivering hand finds his length. His hips stutter when you start to lightly jack him off, your thumb teasing over the head.

Your eyes fall close, imagine the burn of him spreading you apart, of him making love to your body as you mold into his frame. To feel him in all his glory, for your bodies to become.

The image is raw, vulnerable, and so, so perfect.

There is nobody else you would rather give yourself too.

Suguru is the one.

“I can’t wait,” you beg dreamily, “Need you inside me, I can’t wait-”

His grip on you tightens out of surprise upon hearing your words, and he suddenly thrusts harshly as he curses out a broken “fuck”. Ribbons of white spurt out of him, painting your belly and tainting parts of your chest.

The both of you freeze as you look down, caught off guard by what just happened.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

Suguru cleaned you up using a wet towel to wipe his cum off your belly and chest. You discarded your bikini top afterwards while he removed his jeans, with the two of you then choosing to snuggle up against one another under the sheet.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Suguru confesses, finally breaking the silence. There was a slight blush tinting his cheek bones, and you giggle as you cradle his face in your palm and trace the shade of red.

“You’re usually so in control,” you playfully remark, and Suguru simply rolls his eyes.

“Not with you, I’m not,” he admits, his arm clenching around your waist as he closes the gap of space to tuck you into his chest.

You breathe in his scent, nuzzling your nose into the fabric of his tee.

"I'm glad we're okay now."

"I am too"

You curl your fingers around his shirt. “On your birthday, and just now…we could’ve…just gone all the way. You could’ve just-”

“Not here,” Suguru states seriously, the intensity in his voice prompting you to tilt your chin up and meet his stare. He plays with your ear, traces the shell thoughtfully before gently tugging on your lobe.

The butterflies flutter once again, your irises tinting in pink. You lean forward to kiss the sharp angle of his jaw.

“What was it like for you? Your first time?”

Suguru sighs, and purses his lips as he contemplates the memory. “Yuki was good to me, and it was nice,” he admits, but you’re entranced with the way he holds your gaze. “I sure as hell wasn’t as nervous as I am now…”

“Is that why you keep holding back?” you question innocently, apropping yourself on your elbow to rest your head on your hand. The bed sheet falling and exposing your chest.

Suguru’s eyes fall, his touch tracing the slope to outline the curve of your breast. “Do you want your first time to happen after a petty argument?”

You pout your lips with amusement. “Does it matter?”

“You’re not the only one who might be in love, sweetheart,” he responds, his words greeting the shining sun peeking through the clouds. “Of course it matters.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

tags: @sellenite @kiwibao @allofffmypeaches @sugurussbby @kunigamisbaby @pandoraium @brownskinnedgirll

my works are available on tumblr and ao3 - any fics reposted on other platforms or other Tumblr blogs have been plagiarized. do not share my works on social media (tiktok etc.) © peachsayshi 

[66kenobi66]

Vivziepop Can't Write WLW Characters

Let's start with her biggest example of a WLW ship:

Charlie and "V*ggie"

Charlie and "V*ggie" (who I will be calling Valkyrie) are Viv's main example to run to when people accuse her of only representing plain, boring, white twinks. But I have several issues with this. To start, they hardly act like a couple, and when they do, it's hardly the bare minimum. The most they do that can be considered "romantic" is talk sweet with each other and kiss on screen like 2 times.

Charlie is just a blank slate who only has the traits of "nice and naive" going for her. Meanwhile, Valkyrie is just a man-hating, aggressive, lesbiphobic stereotype with a disgusting and insensitive name. Her entire character is just "Charlie's girlfriend/babysitter" who gets forgiven in basically 10 seconds by Charlie despite hiding that she lied (supposedly for years) about the fact that she used to mindlessly aid in the genocide of Charlie's people for God knows how long.

And that's not even getting into the issue with her just being a walking "spicy" Latina stereotype.

Millie/Cherri Bomb

Did you know that either of these characters are WLW? No. Of course you didn't. And how could you?

Millie is hardly a character in her own right, just being boiled down to "Moxie's wife", and Cherri just being boiled down to "Angel's friend/Sir Pentious's love interest". Neither of them are even remotely implied to have ANY attraction to female/fem-presenting characters. And while I know that being in a opposite-sex relationship doesn't invalidate anyone's identity, you also kind of have to show that these characters do in fact also show SOME attraction to women/fem people. Which Vivziepop is frankly unprepared/uninterested in doing.

Mayberry and Martha (???)

What do I even say about this???

It's not even a proper case of representation??? It's played off like a "haha s3x!" joke, except this time it's EXTRA funny because "haha lesbians"? What the hell, Vivzie.

[noveauskull]

So erm 👉👈 wuwa guys with a darling who has a womb tattoo 🥺

WUWA Men When They See Your Womb Tattoo [SFW]

characters: scar, jiyan, geshu lin, calcharo, mortefi, aalto, yuanwu x reader

summary: you decided to get a womb tattoo and surprise your boyfriend with it

SCAR:

Scar silently watched as you lifted up your shirt and pulled down your pants, revealing your abdomen that had an inked womb tattoo on your skin. You watched as his bicolored eyes went from interested at your little strip tease to shock.

"Wow" Scar whispered, his fingers instinctively grazing over the tattoo, the gentle gesture made you giggle a bit from how ticklish you felt.

"You like it?" You asked with an excited smile, grinning at how Scar's eyes forced itself from looking at your tattoo to your eyes.

"Babe it's..." He trailed off, eyes once again looking back down to your tattoo, you let out a laugh before shoving his face into your abdomen, making him having to kiss your abdomen.

"There, now can I get an answer? You keep staring at it like you wanna kiss it" You teased, hearing Scar chuckle at you in response.

"It's beautiful babe, I like it"

-----

JIYAN:

Jiyan stared onto your abdomen in shock, he didn't know how to react at all. He didn't know if he should tell you that he liked it, or ask you if it hurted, or just compliment you right on the spot.

Noticing him struggling to find the words, you played with the strand of hair that was on his forehead, gaining his attention from the tattoo to you.

"What's the matter? Don't like it?" You asked, knowing that he did like it, but you just wanted to get a reaction from him, which you successfully do so.

"N-No, I like it, I really do" He stuttered, eyes breaking away from your abdomen and eyes, you let out a small giggle at his reaction.

"Thanks, honey"

-----

GESHU LIN:

"What..."

Geshu Lin stared at your abdomen, slightly startled to see that it wasn't blank anymore, but when he realized what was inked on the skin of your abdomen, his eyes widened in interest.

"When did you get this?" He asked, eyes trailing to every streak of your tattoo, tracing them in silence.

"About almost a month, I needed it to heal before I show you" You casually said, flinching when you felt Geshu Lin's thumb brush over your abdomen.

"Mmm..." It didn't seem like he was listening anymore, his eyes were so fixated on your tattoo to even answer you. His reaction made you smile to yourself.

I guess he likes it...♡

-----

CALCHARO:

"Calcharooo~ Look!"

You flashed Calcharo by lifting your shirt, your sudden reaction made him flinch before looking back at your stomach again in surprise, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What is that?" He asked you, to which you giggled at him for not knowing what it was.

"It's a womb tattoo, silly" You teased, wiggling your waist to show off how proud you were to show him.

"Is that so... It suits you" He stated, noticing how happy you were with the tattoo.

As long as you were happy, Calcharo had no issues with what you do to your body, matter of fact, he was happy with you.

-----

AALTO:

"Woooahhh"

Aalto stared at you tattoo in awe. Making eye contact with you as a way to ask for permission before touching your abdomen the moment you nodded your head.

"This is so cool, and hot" He blushed while grinning, fingertips grazing over your abdomen, tickling you.

"I know right? I've been planning to get a womb tattoo for a while" You said, flinching when he planted a kiss on your abdomen.

"Mm~ Good choice" He said in a low voice, making you blush as you gave him an embarrassed smile.

You made a good choice indeed.

-----

YUANWU:

"So, what do you think?" You asked Yuanwu who was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"Oh" Yuanwu's mouth fell open, the wrinkles on his eyes moving along with his eyelids and they widened. You watched him drop the remote control onto the floor.

"...Wow" You watched him bring his hands towards your waist, pulling you closer to him so that he could look at your tattoo in a closer distance.

"...Doesn't it hurt?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry, yet his ears seemed to be a bit red, most likely from a slight bit of arousal.

"Yeah but, the pain was so worth it" You grinned excitingly, waiting for Yuanwu to tell you if he liked your tattoo or not.

To which, of course he did.

"Looks beautiful" He smiled warmly, making you giggle at his compliment.

-----

MORTEFI:

Mortefi stared at your abdomen with his mouth hung open, nearly dropping his cup of tea onto the floor. Not only was your sudden action surprising, but he got surprised twice just by seeing a tattoo on your body.

"I-I...I thought you said you didn't want a tattoo?" Was his first question, eyes never leaving your womb tattoo.

"Yeaaahhh but I changed my mind" You grinned, watching his eyes trace every stroke on your abdomen.

"You like it?" You asked, smile dropping a bit since you suddenly felt worried he may not like it, but he proved you wrong.

"It's really gorgeous, you look amazing with it" He muttered in daze, it seemed that your tattoo has put this man in a trance.

Seeing his reaction made you laugh, you decided to walk closer to him so that he can feel it as well.

-----

A/N: this was such a unique request, ty for your patience and ty for the request 😚👐👐

[barefoothighlander]

You're an amazing writer I hope you know that! What about something SFW with ghost discovering his GN s/o as a mask kink that doesn't stop at the balaclava. He just discovers that they have this weird obsession for fictional slasher guys (ghostface, Jason....) and literally any masked characters. Because I know damn well everyone reading this will relate lol! I hope you have a good day or night!

spreading the mask kink agenda🫡

warnings: gn pronouns, mostly fluff

It always intrigued him how focused you were when the two of you had movie nights, always opting for some sort of slasher film, he swore you had seen the scream movies at least 20 times during the span of your relationship.

You always watched with such intent, your eyes never leaving the screen even when some gorey scene would flash on, he was used to the violence, experiencing it first hand but he’d never seen anyone be so calm about it.

Truthfully it concerned him at first, how unfazed you were by the violence considering you would squirm when he spoke about work, he spent most of the movie watching your reactions, your face never contorted in fear or disgust, always wide-eyed in interest.

Fridays were always movie nights when he was home, a designated few hours where it was just the two of you, enjoying each other's company.

“How about a comedy?” He asks his hand on the remote flicking through the categories on the tv.

“How about Friday the 13th?”

“You’ve seen it already”

“It’s a good movie”

“You know what happens though”

“Yea but I like to rewatch, try and catch things I didn’t notice before”

“You always pick slasher films”

“Do I?”

“Yes” He looks at you with a blank expression, “C’mon let’s pick something new”

“Halloween?”

“Seriously?”

“I haven’t seen the new one”

“You’re obsessed, I swear you have a thing for guys in masks” He jokes

You freeze in your position, eyes glued to him as his words pass through your head.

“What no comeback?”

You purse your lips, shaking your head lightly as you move closer to him, sitting on the couch, the two of you settle on an old comedy movie, something to do with golfing, you aren’t paying attention, his words repeating in your head.

guys in masks

“You alright love?”

His voice breaks your trance, pulling your attention to him, his hand tracing soft patterns on your legs that sit on his lap.

“Yeah, why?”

“You haven’t said a word the whole movie, not even a pity laugh”

“Oh, just thinking I guess”

He turns his body to you, tilting his head in question, “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing, just something stupid”

“C’mon, you have to tell me now”

“It’s just, what you said, I have a thing for guys in masks” You mutter

His hand stops moving, resting on your leg as his eyes watch your face for any sign of insincerity, he watches you avoid his stare, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater.

“You’re being serious.”

You bite your lower lip, nodding lightly as you drop your head back, your hands covering your face at the awkward interaction, he shifts in his spot, sitting on his legs as he places his hands over yours, pulling them from your face to see you.

Your cheeks are hot as you open your eyes to see him,

“Is that why you ask me to keep mine on when we?”

“Yeah, m’sorry, it’s dumb”

“No, no it’s just, odd maybe”

“You think I’m weird” You huff a breath

“Love I’m the one that wears a skull on my face to work, if anyone’s strange it’s me” He smiles, his response relaxing your shoulders. “So what is it about the mask?”

“I dunno, the mystery maybe”

“S’that all?”

“It’s intriguing, I can’t see what faces you’re making, just your eyes”

“My eyes?”

“They’re very expressive”

He turns his face from you for a moment, thinking your words over in his head, “Expressive?”

“Yes” You let out a small chuckle, “It gives nothing away, it’s like there’s a whole different person behind the mask”

“Someone other than me?”

“Kinda, It’s always you but it just feels different when you have the mask on, trust me I don’t want anyone but you but with the Ghost rather than Simon it’s just, different”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Different good”

“So that’s why you like all the horror films”

“I guess, I’m just drawn to them, the mystery behind the killer”

“But not the killing itself?”

“Sometimes”

He quirks his head at your response, heat suddenly rising back to your cheeks.

“So the mask just, does it for you?”

“It does”

His hands resume tracing patterns over your legs, “This is… Useful information”

You cover your mouth to muffle your laugh as he grins at you, “So masks”

“Masks.” You nod

“Alright c’mon” He stands from the couch, his hand extending to you.

“Where?” You stand, taking his hand as he walks the two of you out of the room.

“To get the mask” He answers like the question was absurd, tugging you towards the bedroom.

[stargirlygirl]

Upgrade pt. 1

Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Epilogue

Summary: Izuku gets severely injured during a rescue mission. As a result, most of his left arm is amputated. You, being a mechanical and biomedical engineer (and his loyal girlfriend), decide to build him a cybernetic arm to replace the arm he's lost.

Word count: 4k

🚨Disclaimer & Warnings: This is a work of fiction. It is not incriminating downtown Tokyo or any districts in downtown Tokyo. Izuku has most of his left arm amputated and it is emotional.

A/n: I've never had a limb amputated and I don't know anyone who has, so I've used several resources to help me write Izuku's experience for this story which I'll include at the end of this post. I've tried to capture the experience of what it's like to lose a limb, but I'm not perfect and neither is this work. If I've offended you, please message me. This is part 1 of 3 and will also have an epilogue, so technically, 4.

Final notes: Dr Kita and the reporter are characters that I made up for this story. I feel like Dr Kita is giving Sir Nighteye. A little anyways. What do you think?

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You were stirring tofu curry in your kitchen. It’s delicious scent curling up your nostrils, tendrils seeking your body and your home. The television was playing in the back. Sliced spring onions freshly chopped on the wooden chopping board next to the stove. You were humming softly to yourself your favourite song.

Today was the day that your pookie bear, Izuku, was coming back from his month long mission. It had been a gruelling four weeks of rushed phone calls. Quick “How’s your day been? and even quicker “I love you’s”. You missed his nerdy talk about all the latest heroes new moves and how much he still admires All Might, his cuddles and warm hands on your tummy when it was that time of the month. You missed how he would always try to pick you up from work, clad in a face mask and Dynamight’s new merch. You missed making dinner together. You missed waking up together whenever you two slept together (cause separate beds in relationships is superior convince me otherwise).

He had been on an undercover mission to bring an underground quirk breeding organisation to justice. The fact that those still existed sent shivers down your spine. One time, you had asked him over call what it was like, being so close to all of that. To which he dodged with, “It’s what heroes are expected to deal with, so don’t worry about it honey.” You probably shouldn’t have asked as all mission information is classified until the news gets their grimy hands on it. But, it still had taken you back that he didn’t want to talk about it.

But, you know that when he gets home, he’ll be tired but he’ll want to talk. And you’ll sit there, looking up to him, reminded of how strong he is and of how hard he works to protect you, to protect all of Japan. Speaking of which, he should be home by now.

Plucking you from your daze is the reporter’s voice shouting into her mic, “Breaking News!” You turn around, seeing her standing in front of Central Hospital on the small television screen. “Japan’s Number One Pro Hero ‘Deku’ severely injured during quirk breeding rescue mission.” Your mind goes blank. You rush over to the TV, grabbing the remote, turning the volume up, and plonking down on the tan sofa.

You watch as footage comes on screen, showing Deku, outside of what looks to be an on-fire night club, surrounded by several villains in coordinated suits. Dynamight’s explosions can be heard in the back muffling the screams of girls chained and barely clothed who are being taken out of the building, covered in soot and coughing, by Shoto and Ingenium.

You watch intently as the villains lung at your hero. He dodges, expertly, using the intricacies of One For All to knock them unconscious. As gentlemanly as ever, even when he fights.

But it’s not enough. You continue watching, enraptured by the fight, as the reporter continues, “Pro Hero ‘Deku’, along with other heroes like Japan’s Number Two ‘Dynamight’, Number Three ‘Shoto’, and ‘Ingenuim’ have been on an undercover mission investigating quirk breeding auctions in downtown Tokyo’s underground night clubs for the past month. Tonight, things went awry as Dynamight engages, fed up with the secrecy of the mission, dragging the pro heroes into an intense fight with the villains orchestrating this conspiracy.”

“Of course it’s fucking Dynamight,” you mumble under your breath.

Deku’s now taking five villains at once when the left side of the building collapses due to the flames. It had been the entrance, where Shoto and Ingenium had been hauling out what you assume to be the victims of this scheme. Shoto hands the young girl in his arms to one the firefighters at scene before turning around and yelling to Deku, “There’s still one more left in the building.”

Your hands have begun to shake. The suspense is wracking your nervous system. “Deku attempts to dash back into the building when the villains he was just fighting jump onto him.—” They drag him to the ground, delivering some serious blows to his torso. The left side of the building further crumbles in on itself. “Approaching Deku is another villain known to authorities as ‘Bon Appétit’. Quirk is knife.” Bon Appétit’s arms are comprised of different knives and swords, jutting out, sharp and glinting evilly. You cringe and yelp as the villain thrusts the blades into Deku’s left arm.

“Reeling from this blow, Deku uses One For All at what sources suspect to be full capacity, to fend off the villains and rescue the victim inside. Emerging—” The video pauses on a shot of him, girl on his back, left arm bloodied and dangling limply. From what you can see from the awful lighting, shaky cameraman, and torn shreds of Deku’s suit, his flesh is torn and skin (beneath the blood) has gone purple. No! “Deku’s left arm appears to be severely injured.”

The broadcast cuts back to the reporter outside of Central Hospital. There are a flurry of reporters and police surrounding the entrance to the hospital. She stands with her back to them and continues, “Pro Hero Deku was taken to Central Hospital to be treated shortly after 7pm. Our cameras caught—” A video of an ambulance pulling up to the entrance plays on screen. Once it’s stopped, Deku is ushered out, flanked by paramedics. Dynamight steps out after him, shouting a string of censored curses and insults after broccoli boy in front, “footage of Pro Hero ‘Deku’ being escorted by ambulance here with Dynamight and Shoto following suit. Love and support is being poured out by fans to Deku and his family tonight for his swift recovery. Hirota Miu, TBS Television.”

You sit there, hunched over, elbows on knees, shell-shocked. You don’t know how much time passes after the broadcast before you hear your phone ringing. You grab it from the low coffee table in front of you, clicking the green phone icon and bringing it to your ear reflexively.

“Miss [L/n], this is Dr Kita from Central Hospital. Deku gave us your details as his emergency contact.” You blink… and blink again. What? “Deku’s been seriously injured in his recent fight. He’s being prepared for emergency surgery on his left arm right now. You’re welcome to come in and visit once he’s out. The procedure should take 60 to 90 minutes. Just come to the front desk and give your information to the receptionists, and they’ll direct you.”

You stare out the window, looking at all the lights sparkling from above and below your apartment. How could everything seem so peaceful right now when your partner, your hero, was going in for emergency surgery? “Yes I’ll, um, I’ll be right there. Um…”

“Is there anything else, Miss [L/n]?” You stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to think of what to say. “No, sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“See you soon then, Miss [L/n].”

You move routinely, going to your bedroom to put on a bra before lacing up some sneakers, throwing on one of Izuku’s hoodies over your t-shirt and mini shorts, and grabbing your bag. You leave your apartment hastily and practically run to the station, taking it to the one closest to Central Hospital.

There are no words to describe how you feel. Your heart is pounding hard in your chest, and not from the exercise. Your skin is crawling with anxiety. Your shirt clings to the sweat dripping down your back, and every so often you wipe your sweat-laced palms on your shorts. Your thoughts consist of “Is he okay?”, “Why is he going into emergency surgery?”, “That idiot, I told him never to use One For All at 100% because it could lead to some serious damage! He knows that. Why would he risk it?! The blow from that villain was bad enough, why did he have to…?”, and the like. One thought triggers the next, an endless cycle until Central Hospital is towering above your small figure.

You keep it calm and steady as you walk into the lobby. The receptionist greets you and tell her your name and why you’re here. She nods knowingly, not bothering to confirm details and telling you to take the elevator to level 3. You follow her directions, down the hall and to the left. You’re met with dull blue double doors. The sign above reading ‘Recovery Room’. You push it open, involuntarily inviting numerous stares from doctors, nurses, and recovering patients who are conscious.

A tall, lanky man comes over to you, dressed in slacks and white lab coat. He has a clip board in hand. “I’m Dr Kita. You must be Miss [L/n]. We spoke on the phone.” You nod, trying to gulp down your nerves.

“Mr Midoriya’s surgery will be finished in about—” Dr Kita looks down at his silver watch, “an hour. You’re free to walk around, get some snacks or something. Visiting hours end at 8pm, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He smiles gently at you. You nod and thank him before looking away from him, thinking about how you were going to kill time. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing that your boyfriend was undergoing surgery at the moment. What else could you possibly think about but that?

“Actually, Dr Kita, I’d like to just wait here.” You look back up at him. He has jet black hair tied neatly into a low bun. His rectangle glasses slip ever-so-slightly down his nose, behind which sleek brown eyes stare at you with a look of understanding. “You can’t wait in the recovery room but, you can wait outside. We’ll call you in once Mr Midoriya’s is out of surgery.”

Your response is a whisper, “Oh… okay.” You look down to your feet, shoulders slumping. Quickly, you pick yourself back up, raising your head back up and asking, “So, I’ll just wait in the corridor?” Dr Kita nods, “That’s fine.”

You turn to leave before realising that you hadn’t even been told what surgery Izuku was undergoing. You turn back around, noticing that Dr Kita hadn’t moved an inch. “What’s his surgery for?”

Long, slender fingers push the glasses back up his hooked nose. He sighs, “Unfortunately, Mr Midoriya’s left arm has suffered trauma beyond repair. The decision was made to amputate part of his arm.” Your mouth falls open. Amputate. His. Left. Arm? “And who made that decision?” Dr Kita shifts under your piercing gaze. You make a mental note to apologise later for staring daggers into him. “The trauma surgeon did. He’s in there right now performing the procedure on Mr Midoriya. I understand that this may come as a shock, but he explained to me that it was necessary and urgent to amputate Mr Midoriya’s left arm as the tissues in his forearm and hand were damaged severely. Mr Midoriya was losing too much blood and some bones in the forearm had been shattered. There is too much damage and danger to simply reset the bones and stitch him up. The surgeon’s doing what he can to salvage what’s left of Mr Midoriya’s arm.”

Are you actually hearing this right now? Is this real? Are you actually in the hospital right now, hearing a doctor tell you that Izu-chan’s arm is to be amputated? Did you turn off the curry before leaving? Fuck. “Do you mean that the whole arm won’t be amputated?”

“It’s possible that the whole left arm won’t be amputated. The main damage was done at the forearm and elbow.” Dr Kita’s tone was fairly dead-pan. But you’re not thinking about how many patients he must of seen in similar or worse situations, or the worst situations. All you’re thinking about is your boyfriend who might be losing most of his arm right now.

You gulp, “I see… Thank you for clarifying. I’ll, um, I’ll go wait outside now.” Dr Kita nods in acknowledgement before you spin on your heel and take your leave.

For the next hour, you pace back and forth, up and down the hallways of level 3. You check your phone every five minutes, making sure that you have enough time for another lap of the level. After one painstaking, anxiety-inducing, palm-sweaty hour, you’re standing outside of the recovery room, waiting to be called in.

You’ve been thinking it over… just how will it be, Izuku without his left arm. He’ll be devastated. He confided in you soon after you two first started dating that one of his biggest fears was pushing his body beyond its’ limits. He wanted to protect people, to be an incredible hero, and he would do anything to achieve that. He was afraid that one day, he would go too far and he wouldn’t be able to come back from that. And then, he wouldn’t be able to protect people anymore. How would he react, knowing that part of that fear had become reality? What would this mean for his hero career? For your relationship?

Even as this new reality dawned on you, not once did you even consider leaving him. How could you? He was the man that you were so deeply in love with. You two were discussing marriage just before he left for that mission. Oh, why did he have to go on that mission?!

He means so much to you. He’s been there for you at some of your hardest times, like when you first moved to Japan to pursue a career at the front of biomedical engineering. Or when the public had found out about you two and had bullied you relentlessly for your quirk due to it’s similarities to All For One’s. It was all the tabloids could talk about for the entire week, before Izuku had released a statement under his agency, clarifying the differences between your quirks and re-affirming his love and trust in you. He had been the reason that your life in Japan had become so much more inclusive, joyful, and prosperous. Hell, he had even taught you Japanese at the beginning of your relationship, and continues to help you whenever there’s an expression or word that you don’t understand.

That All Might otaku has been there for you through everything. If that had been you. If you had lost your arm. He wouldn’t even consider the possibility of breaking up with you. How could you?

“Miss [L/n].” You’re brought out of your thoughts, seeing one of the nurses peaking out from behind the recovery room doors. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “He’s out.”

You rush over to her, entering when she pushes the door open for you and thanking her. And then, you spot ruffled deep green curls crowding a peaceful looking face. He’s still asleep. You let out a breath.

You follow the nurse over to the side of his bed, where you notice some other doctors in slacks. Dr Kita comes over almost immediately after you do. You’re by Izuku’s side, watching him. Speechless. About half of his left upper arm remains, wrapped beneath bandages with a stocking and drainage tubes attached. You can feel the tears starting come on. You tilt your head back, blinking rapidly. Not now! Not yet.

You look back down. The medical staff are talking in medical gibberish, so you focus on your pookie. It’s not that you can’t understand medical jargon. Being a biomedical engineer, you often work with such terminology. You’d just rather not right now. Not when Izu looks like an angel that’s fallen from the heavens as he sleeps. He’s got little cuts on his face that have been cleaned and had betadine dabbed onto them. His other arm has a cannula in it. It too is scarred and has other minor cuts that have also been cleaned up.

You sit on the side of his bed, waiting patiently for him to wake up. After a few minutes, his eyelids begin to flutter and soon, he opens his beautiful green eyes. You draw in a breath, taking in the dazed look on his face as he looks around and starts to move his head from side to side.

“Mr Midoriya,” Dr Kita says. His voice is calm and steady. It stops you from leaning over to cup Izu’s cheeks. For now anyways. “Mr Midoriya, can you hear me?” Izuku groans in response, he begins lifting his right hand to touch his face when the nurse beside him gently grabs it mid-air and brings it back down the bed. “Try to not to move too much, Mr Midoriya.”

“Ugh,” he groans, his voice hoarse, “what happened?” Dr Kita holds up two of his fingers in front of Izuku’s face. “Mr Midoriya, how many fingers am I holding up?” Izu grumbles, “Two.”

“Good. How are you feeling? Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” Izuku shuts his eyes, his brows creased. “Mhmm, both.” You can’t stop yourself this time, “Izu-chan.” His eyes open immediately and he looks down at you from the slightly raised bedhead. He squints, murmuring with uncertainty at first, “[Y/n]?” You bite the side of your lip, shifting closer to him, “Yea.”

“You’re here, babe.” His voice is still raspy.

You hum in agreement, “Of course, I’m here. You okay?”

He chuckles softly, “Mhmm I—”

Fuck. He goes to move his left hand, presumably up to his face again. He usually rubs the back of neck when gets nervous. But no hand moves. Because there’s no hand to move. You watch, lump in your throat, as he winces, letting out a groan of pain. Your eyes move with his, to the empty space that was the rest of his left arm. He looks back up at you, before turning his gaze to the doctors and nurses watching him cautiously.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand. Am I?” He tries to move his left hand again but lets out another groan. “I-No, this can’t. I—”

“Mr Midoriya,” Dr Kita cuts him off. “Yes, we had to amputate most of your left arm. You had experienced trauma beyond repair to your left forearm and elbow from a combination of severe wounds and the use of One For All at what we suspect to be full capacity. The surgeon decided that this was for the best.”

It’s like you can hear his heart shattering into a million pieces. It shatters alongside your own. The look of pain, of sheer, tortuous, anguish across his face hearing those words, you can’t hold back your tears any longer. You sniffle quietly as they roll down your cheeks. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice heavy with sadness. You mentally berate yourself for crying, drawing the attention to yourself when it’s not your moment. But, you can’t help it. All you want to do is give your boyfriend cuddles and tell him everything is going to be okay. That you’re going to make it through this together. But all you can do is sit there and start quietly sobbing.

“Honey.” You look up through your tears and fingers trying to wipe them away. He looks like he’s about to start crying too.

Izuku shifts his gaze from you to the doctors. “Can you give us a moment?”

“Mr Midoriya, we need to some che—”

“I’m happy to do whatever checks you want. Please, just give us some space first?”

The doctors look amongst each other, communicating in an unspoken code before taking their leave. You let out a shaky breath, looking at your boyfriend lying beside you. “Hey.” His voice cracks. You both laugh. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands. His right hand grasps your lower back softly. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle. “For what? It’s not your fault.” He looks at you with a gentle gaze, just as gentle as his touch. “I know but I-” you choke on your sobs. “Hey, it’s alright.” His hand pressures you to move forward so you can lay on his chest. But you don’t. You look up into those glassy green eyes. “I can’t.” One of your hand goes to his chest. “You’re in pain,” you shake your head. His brows knit together at this, “I-It doesn’t hurt there.” You pause before you nod knowingly.

You too can’t help but want to be close to him like this. You lay your head on his chest with care, hands close to yourself. His right hand strokes the top of your head, scarred fingers threading through your silky [h/c] locks. You tilt your head back, looking up at him. “You don’t have to pretend it’s okay. sniffle I know it’s not okay.” You plant a shaky small kiss on his jaw. His hand cups your shoulder. “Yea,” his voice trembles. “I…” You can feel his chest vibrate with the emotions rising to the surface. You hear him sniffle, and soon, you two just lay there, crying together. One of the nurses brings over a tissue box which you two drain, wiping tears away and blowing noses. No words can articulate the kind of moment you two share.

It’s only when you two have calmed down that you lift yourself up from his chest. You cup his cheek in your right palm and murmur, “You hungry? D’you want some water?” He shakes his head, sniffling up those last tears. You dab his under eyes with the ruined tissue in your other hand. “I was m-making—” You stop to inhale and exhale a deep breath before continuing, “tofu curry when they called me.” ‘Your favourite’ you leave unspoken.

“Can you sniffle bring me some?” He pouts. You nod your head ‘yes’, chuckling softly as you look down, “I will but, I don’t think they’ll let me back in if I leave now. Visiting hours are over.” Izuku nods, gulping down those straggler tears. “I think I might have left it on, so I’ll bring some tomorrow, okay?” He nods again, bringing his right hand to your cheek, thumb gently caressing the delicate skin below your eyes.

“Mr Midoriya, Miss [L/n]. Do you mind if we continue with the general check-up?” You both look at each other before looking back at Dr Kita. “Of course,” you reply, moving away from Izuku and standing up, next to his bed. “Do I have to go now or?” Dr Kita looks up from his clipboard, “We’ve given you special clearance for tonight. In future, you’ll have to abide by visiting hours.” He’s moved from the foot of the bed to the left side, a distance away from you. “Visiting hours are from 10am to 8pm. I would advise leaving soon if you’re catching the train back to your apartment. I’m sure you know that it’s not very safe walking around alone at night.” You hum in response.

You look back at Izuku who shakes his head in agreement. He sniffles, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” You nod, moving closer and leaning over him, placing a small kiss on his lips. Your first in a month. It’s brief but sweet. Just enough to keep you going until tomorrow.

“Stay strong for me, okay?” Izuku smiles back at you. You pull back and turn towards Dr Kita, “Thank you for all of your help, doctor. I’ll be back here tomorrow. Should I just ask at reception?”

“Mhmm. See you tomorrow, Miss [L/n].” You walk past Dr Kita, turning around once your approaching the doors, locking eyes with your Izu before leaving the recovery room.

The trip home is filled with replays of all that had just happened. When you got back, you found that luckily, you had in fact turned the curry off. You turn it back on, following the recipe in your mind to finish it off. Dinner, packing leftovers, dishes, all go by mindlessly. You’re still stuck in a daze by the time you sit in your plush chair in the corner of your room, pulling at your journal. It’s time to talk about it.

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These are the links that I used to write this story:

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/10iiud/amputees_of_reddit_what_was_it_like_to_lose_a/

https://www.quora.com/What-is-it-like-to-lose-a-limb-in-an-accident-and-how-did-you-handle-the-emergency

https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/psychology/cyborg#:~:text=Initially%2C%20a%20cyborg%20was%20described,to%20compensate%20for%20some%20disabilities

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyborg_(DC_Comics)#:~:text=transform%20the%20city.-,Powers%20and%20abilities,speed%2C%20stamina%2C%20and%20flight

https://www.fairviewrehab.com/nursing-care/care-after-amputation/

https://www.cancercouncil.com.au/cancer-information/cancer-treatment/surgery/recovery/hospital-recovery-room/

https://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/definition-amputation

https://my-hero-academia-fanon.fandom.com/wiki/Cybernetic_Arms

https://newsinhealth.nih.gov/2018/08/bionic-movements#:~:text=The%20bionic%20hand%20sends%20signals,hand%20is%20closing%20or%20opening

[lovelyiida]

THE RACE TO WEDDIBG BELLS

CHAPTER 4: LOVE LANGUAGE ; AWKWARD…

“get to know the damn girl.”

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years went by, bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo want's to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

❥: CHAPTERS

implied fem reader, aged-up!, Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, sexual themes, suggestive wording, and content

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 3.2K

You couldn't move; you couldn't speak; you couldn't think.

Your mouth was agape, trying hard to wrap your mind around the words your boss had spoken to you. Your hands frozen to your sides as you stared into his amber eyes.

Blinking, you began to register the words you just heard, "Did you just say... marry me?" Your eyes squinted in disbelief as you looked at the man ahead of you, rolling his eyes. He raised his arms in the air and patted them back down with force, giving you a deadpan look.

"Oh my god, you're serious," you let out a breath, frantically beginning to pack your things away. Your breath was shaky as you kept tripping over your own feet.

"Damn it," the hero groaned.

Placing his hand over his face, he let out a sigh. "You can just say no," he said dryly, a wave of embarrassment washes over his as he notices your fearful expression as you shot up to look at him. Your eyes were filled with uncertainty and confusion.

"Listen, I just need some time to think about this... t-this is a lot," you stammered, trying to gather your thoughts.

He nodded understandingly, "S'fine, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that," he replied, his voice softer now.

As you continued to gather your things and hurriedly left the room, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The offer to marry your boss, a pro-hero you admired and respected, was unexpected and overwhelming.

Over the next few days, you struggled to make sense of your feelings. On one hand, you were flattered and amazed that he would even consider you for such a significant decision. On the other hand, the thought of marrying someone you worked for and admired professionally was daunting.

You found yourself questioning your own feelings, wondering if you were just caught up in the moment or if there was something deeper. As you weighed the pros and cons, you couldn't help but analyze your interactions with him, trying to decipher any hidden meaning or intentions.

Sitting alone in your dining room, you couldn't help but think things over. Aimlessly watching the news, mind blank watching headline after headline, bottom lip poking out ever so subtlety. Knees buried to your chest as you hug your legs, you slowly look over at the empty wine glass. With a sigh you grab the bottle and pour yourself another glass.

You were a small-town girl who had come to the big city to chase her dreams. On the other hand, there was a highly trained pro-hero, cold and strong yet hardworking and reasonable. It felt surreal that he had proposed to you, considering how different your worlds seemed to be.

You had no ties to villains, at least not that you were aware of, and you certainly had no ulterior motives to harm or destroy him. You were as regular and ordinary as they come. So, the question lingered in your mind:

Why you?

"Breaking news on our daily superstar segment! Pro-hero Dynamight seen a countless of times with multiple women. Appearing to being on a date..."

Eyes widening you slowly place your glass down on the table and listen intensely to anchorwoman on the screen. "seems like the hero is on a loving spree! Now tell me ladies, do you think you have a shot?-"

With a press of a button, the screen goes black. Slamming the remote back on the table, you grab your wine bottle and glass and stomp towards your room.

"Going out with other women, and you just proposed to me? Yeah, what a fuckin' bachelor you are," you muttered, each word laced with a dose of venom as frustration welled up within you. You slammed the remote back onto the table, trying to block out the images on the screen.

Walking towards your room, clutching the wine bottle and glass, you felt a mix of anger, confusion, and hurt. The proposal had blindsided you, and now you were faced with this news about him dating other women.

Crashing onto your bed, you took another swig from the glass, trying to drown out the conflicting thoughts in your head. But as you swallowed down the whole glass, a moment of clarity hit you.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" you mumbled to yourself. Seriously, what was wrong with you? You didn't understand why you had made such an outburst. After all, you barely knew the guy, let alone had any deep feelings for him.

Feeling overwhelmed, you put the empty glass down and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was the shock of the proposal, or perhaps the clash of two very different worlds colliding. Regardless, you realized that you needed some time to sort out your emotions and thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, you decided that you would approach the situation with a clear mind. You would have an honest conversation with him, and perhaps, in doing so, you would better understand your own feelings and motivations.

Continuing to pour another glass, you place the bottle on the floor and swirl the red liquid around. Eyelids heavy as you roll your eyes, "whatever" you slur out. Before your lips could touch the glass, your phone lights up with a buzz.

Looking over, you crawl over to your nightstand and grab your phone. Looking at the screen your heart begins to beat fast, it's your boss.

Mr. Dynamight:

Be ready by 6

Eyes widening, you turn your phone off and place it screen-down, not even bothering to respond to any messages. Placing your glass on the floor, you bury yourself under the covers, hoping to sleep away your problems.

As morning arrives and the sun begins to rise, your alarm breaks through the peace of your one-bedroom apartment. Turning under the covers, you let out a groan and shuffle out of your bed.

As you get ready for your day, you can't stop thinking about the situation at hand. Why ddi he exactly choose you out of all the other girls dying to even get a simple look in the eye?

You consider yourself pretty attractive from your own standpoint, having had multiple relationships and even experiencing the occasional catcall. But none of that seemed relevant in this complex situation.

Maybe you should get in touch with one of his emergency contacts or call his doctor. Dynamight obviously isn't in his right mind, usually after a certain amount time for the average pro-hero they start to show signs pf mental instability...maybe he's an early bloomer?

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you pause for a moment. Your briefcase in hand, and your clothes neatly pressed, you frown and head out the door.

As you walk to the nearest bus stop, you glance at your phone with a frown. "Too early in the morning," you complain as the clock reads 5:45 AM. You had no idea why you had to be at work so early, and you're still fighting a minor hangover.

BEEP BEEP

Suddenly, the blaring sound of a car horn rings through your ears, startling you. Frantically looking around, you try to locate the source of the sound. Clutching your briefcase and bags tightly for a sense of protection, you see an unexpected face.

"Morning, L/n!" a voice yells out.

Startled, you look ahead and see your co-boss, Mr. Riot. "What the hell are you doing at the bus stop? Didn't you get the text?" he says with a hint of humor.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slowly walk up towards the passenger side of the car. "Morning to you too, Mr. Riot," you say softly. Pausing for a moment, you crouch down to look deeper into the car to find its driver.

Your heart skips a beat as you look into a set of amber eyes. "Morning, Dynamight," you say, quickly rising back up without waiting for a response.

"I saw the text, be ready at the office by 6, correct? Did you need me there earlier or--"

"Get in the car," Dynamight's voice cuts through the air, his deep rasp still evident from his morning voice. Without any questions asked, you grab the door and enter the car.

As you rode into the city, the atmosphere in the car is tense, and you're not sure what to expect from this impromptu ride with your boss and co-boss.

"How'd you sleep?" Red Riot breaks through the tension effortlessly, his eyes looking over you as you give him a warm smile. "Um, pretty okay, I guess… hangover," you say with an awkward chuckle. This earns a laugh out of the high-spirited hero.

"You? Hungover? That's new! What the hell happened to you--"

"Well, don't do it again, because from now on you'll be getting these rides often," Dynamight cuts through the air once more. "Oh no, trust me, I'll be fine. I don't need a ride!" You respond. "If I come back tomorrow and see you at that bus stop, I'm firing you," Dynamight threatens with ease.

Before you can even try to protest, the car comes to a sudden halt. Grabbing onto the back of the passenger-side seat, you gasp. Blinking your eyes, you look around and see that you're at the back of the private parking structure.

Without another word, Dynamight rolls down his window and hands his keys over to an assistant. Stepping out of the car, he looks down at the female worker, "Are you new?" he asks. The woman nods, and Dynamight nods back, "If I catch you taking anything, or if I see a small dent or scratch, you're fired."

Walking away, you look over at the assistant as you step out of the car. Apologizing with a bow, you quickly walk behind your boss. Arriving at the elevator, another assistant is there, looking at you expectantly.

"Give them your stuff," Dynamight says, looking at you, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words. "I'm fine. I can carry these on my own," you say. Looking at your boss, you notice his signature "pissed off" frown. Before he can open his mouth, his trusted colleague lets out a loud sigh.

"Just give him your damn bags," Red Riot says defeatedly. Before you can hand them over, the assistant snatched them from your hands. With a gasp, you're then pushed into the elevator.

Day in, day out, the same thing, over and over again.

You were picked up by your boss, dropped off by your boss, your every move monitored through his own lens. And you grew sick and tired of it.

Today, the two of you walk into his office. In the corner of your eye, you see the same assistant place your things down on the small coffee table. Giving the assistant a bow, you begin to take your belongings out and organize them as planned.

As time goes by, the sound of you typing on your keyboard fills the room and adds to the white noise. Occasionally, you share a glance with the pro-hero. Typing out a few more important documents, you place your laptop on the table and head for the printing room.

As you walk to the printer, you notice a lot of looks from the staff around you. The sea of eyes pierces from your back and straight into your heart. You were used to a couple of stares here and there, after all, you had one of the more confidential roles in the office.

As you turn into the printing room, you find a line of workers at the printer; it must be backed up today.

"Have you seen the secretary?" a female worker says, and your eyes perk up at the mention of you. "No… why?" another female worker responds.

"I took the bus today, and I saw her riding with Dynamight and Red Riot. How do you think that happened, hm?" she says. "And you wonder why she's been here for this long," the other woman laughs.

"I mean, I thought I was the only one who noticed. How can you walk around in heels and a shorter skirt than the rest of us without breaking dress code? She's obviously sleeping with them."

As the women kept on talking, a pit of anger grows deep within your chest. Fist growing tight into a ball, you open your mouth to speak, but a loud clearing of the throat is heard.

As all three of you turn around, your eyes widen to see your boss.

"Dynamight!" the two women say, their voices ringing out through the room, causing everyone's head to turn. All slouched backs and crouched arms snap back into place.

"So this is how you talk about my secretary behind my back?" he says, his voice scarily calm. "W-we didn't mean to talk about her like that, we were just assuming--"

"Assuming what?" His voice raises, causing the whole room to shake. The other woman blinks and raises her finger, pointing at you. "That you two were…"

"We're what? Fuckin'?" The vulgarity of his words cuts through the air like a knife. The woman nods, and Dynamight rolls his eyes before walking ahead of you, shielding you from their bodies.

"Sure, we are, and if you want to know so god damn badly, I'm making her scream my name every single night so she can come to this office all pretty and rested!" he raises his voice even higher than before.

Oh my god.

People are gonna think you're sleeping with him!

"Turn in your badges and get the hell out of my office!" He screams, his hands popping off loud bangs. You flinch at the loud bangs, never witnessing his quirk before, you yell from shock.

The two women scurry out of the room, their eyes filled with tears as they realize they just lost their job due to petty office gossip. "And if I catch any of you in the press, consider yourself homeless!" Dynamight turns back and yells.

Facing you, he gives you a look. It's unreadable.

"Needed you," he says softly, and you nod understandingly, trying your hardest to blink away tears. "What for?" you ask, trying to keep your tone as professional as possible.

"Wanted some coffee… not anymore, though," he says, grabbing your arm. He looks back at his workers with a frown. "And if I catch any of you fuckin' extras talking about her behind our backs, consider yourself jobless as well!" Walking away, he drags you along with him.

As you walk in the hallway, you shield your face from everyone around you. "Dynamight, I need to get those papers and your coffee--"

"Fuck the papers, fuck the coffee."

Walking into the office, he closes the door with a slam. Letting go of your arms, you stand in the middle of the room, head hanging low and face out of sight.

A long wave of silence overcomes the both of you, a rare frown of sympathy shown on Dynamight's face. Letting out a sigh, he steps closer to you.

"Listen… I'm sorry for all that back there, I just couldn't take them talking to you like that--"

"Can I leave early… please?" your voice trembles as tears fall from your face and stain the ground. The hero draws his lips into a line, "Yeah… I can take you. Just give me a minute--"

"Alone," you cut him off.

Another long moment of silence echoes through the room once more. "Y-yeah, go ahead," he stutters. Quickly going over to grab your things you dash out of his office and towards the elevator.

You were embarrassed and was absolutely humiliated, you were taken for something that you weren't. And now everyone thinks you're just some toy the two hero's like to play around with.

This day couldn't get any worse...

"Dude, what the hell just happened?" The muscular redhead dashes into the pro-hero's office, looking at his friend and lifetime partner, absolutely disheveled. "A lot of shit just happened, alright?" the blonde says, defeated.

"Well yeah, I could hear it all the way from the other side of the building to my office, man... you said the 'e' word," he says, his voice tinged with fear.

"E, as in 'EXTRA.'"

"I know!" he yells, frustrated at his actions. "You haven't said that since high school, the UA days! I thought you said you were working on that through therapy?" The redhead says, unable to read the room.

"Listen, if you could shut the hell up and sit down, we need to talk," the blonde says. Kirishima's eyes furrow, a little wave of anxiety flowing over him. Taking a seat on his desk, he looks into his friend's eyes.

Bakugo scoffs, "I... I messed up with L/n," he says.

"Well yeah, kinda. I would run out of the office crying too if my affair went public—"

"We're. Not. Fucking," Bakugo says, fist tapping on the table with every word spoken. "When I said those things, I was just trying to take up for her, and it backfired, and now I feel like shit." Bakugo says, placing his hands into his face.

"Well, I think you did all that you could have done... I mean, it can't get any worse than that," Kirishima begins to pat his friend's head, trying his hardest to offer support.

"I asked her to marry me," Bakugo mumbles in his palms, Kirishima's eyes widen, and he jumps off the desk. "You what?" he says.

"I'm not gonna repeat it."

"Why the hell would you do that? You've only known her for like 2 months!" Kirishima complains. "I'm aware!" Bakugo argues back. Kirishima looks dumbfounded, hands on his hips, doing his signature dad pose.

"At least get to know the damn girl first."

"I know!" Bakugo screams, exploding in anger, causing the redhead to flinch. Bakugo sighs and places his head down on the table. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me... I just don't have the time to do all of those things you did."

"You mean building a bond and getting to know the person?" Kirishima adds. "Yes, exactly," he says back, a long awkward pause entering the room once more.

"Did she say yes?" Kirishima asks. Bakugo sits back up and lets out a sigh. "Well, she didn't say no," he says with a tinge full of hope. Kirishima nods, pacing around the room, thinking.

Soon, Kirishima comes to a halt. "How about you just take the girl out on a few dates? Then get her final response by popping the big question again?" Kirishima says.

"Even though it's not the conventional way of dating, it could help. You need to build a genuine connection, not rush into something like marriage without knowing each other well," Kirishima advises.

Bakugo looks up, a mix of frustration and gratitude in his eyes. "You're right. I should take her out and get to know her first," Bakugo says with determination.

His friend smiles and pats him on the back. "That's the spirit! Just take it one step at a time and see where it leads you. And remember, I'm here to support you no matter what," Kirishima says, giving Bakugo a reassuring smile.

"I'm the number one person to come to if you need help with the ladies~" Kirishima says flirtatiously, Bakugo rolls his eyes. "Yeah I bet you also the number one person to come to at planned parenthood as well" Bakugo snorts.

"That wasn't funny" Kirishima quips.

"To you."

well, shit...

how do I apologize for not keeping my promise guys? comment down below 😍

P.S. almost at 1K AHKSJNCALJFBNAIUIUWALANJCS

EDIT: please I just fixed the repeated glitch, this was very embarrassing…

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥: @r-ans, @xo-evangeline, @superkittywonderland, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @bollzinurmouth, @gold24fish, @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows, @itgetzweird08, @yoyosocks165, @zyxys1, @pebblepoop, @lovra974, @suchagoodgirixoxo, @bakugospartner, @gaby-11, @smokers-sweetheart, @akqsa-xxi, @jolynegf, @goldenglow149, @aliruuiz, @zukowantshishonourback, @ilovedenk-i, @echosfadve, @atsushiki, @smolbeanzzz, @urdecentartist09, @lem-hhn, @stevenknightmarc, @katsu-shi @ryumiii, @idontevenknowlolls, @lyn07, @kennshifts @ackerman-suck-3-r @alicen23 @xasilex @elegantvoids, @lowkeyremi, @plutounderbridges, @k0z3me, @thecurlyhairedgoddess, @sunyrose, @winterv-black, @chuugarettes, @kiarathace, @thisbicc, @thekookiecorner, @hyu-hl, @rubymha, @katsukisxslut

[bluesylveon2]

A Peculiar Shroud

Summary: While on his trip to NRC, Rollo runs into Idia's little brother

Note: this is a drabble I wrote after I read Rollo's card vignette! It would be cool to see the two meet in canon

Word Count: 959

Warnings: not beta read, possible OOC characters, and possible ok plot

Night Raven College. It is one of the top arcane schools within Twisted Wonderland. Students from there are known for their intellect, athleticism, and magical capabilities. 

It made Rollo sick. 

The Noble Bell student dreaded stepping past the Mirror Chamber. Despite its quiet and calm nature, Rollo wished the chamber was in his academy instead. Why was he chosen to represent the school? He already had enough of the students, particularly Azul, Idia, and Malleus. 

Even thinking of that blasted fae made Rollo want to hurl. 

Rollo's eyes scanned the different mirrors leading to the dorms. One in particular, between the ones labeled 'Heartslabyul' and 'Octavinelle,' was a dorm with an anonymous glow and a symbol with a set of familiar horns. 

"How repulsive," Rollo said in disgust as he eyed the monstrous-looking entrance. At least his school held themselves to a certain standard, unlike that monster. 

A bright light came out of the Ignihyde mirror. Rollo shielded his eyes as a small boy came out of it. 

"Oh, hello! You must be Rollo Flamme. From Noble Bell, correct?" Rollo could only stare at the boy's (?) big yellow eyes and flaming blue hair. In fact, it looked very familiar to someone he (reluctantly) knew.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Ortho Shroud!" Ortho held his hand, and his eyes crinkled from his gleeful smile.

Rollo just stared at the robot(? He still questioned what exactly was Ortho.) "Yes, I recognize your last name."

"Oh! You must mean Big Brother! He told me about his trip to Fleur City and even got me a cool gift."

Rollo's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "You're related to Idia? But you're a robot."

Ortho chuckled like he had heard that many times before. "Technically, I am a technomantic humanoid. Long story short, my brother made me long ago with a mix of technology and magic. I also can make my own choices without him interfering."

"We're p. similar, actually.

It's not remotely hard for me to imagine all the hatred and anguish you feel.

You bang your head against the wall, and when that doesn't bring him back, you start thinking that maybe you'll tear everything down…"

Why was Rollo remembering those words now? Those words from that villain who worked with Malleus Draconia to defeat HIM?! 

I think there's only one guy here you ACTUALLY hate—yourself.

Your brother suffered right in front of you, and you couldn't save him. You hate yourself for being weak and worthless.

Rollo's brows furrowed, and he felt a headache coming. "I see it now. You're a replacement for Idia's late brother." 

Ortho frowned. If looks could kill, Rollo would be dust right now. Small bursts of magic appeared in Ortho's hands. "I may be made with the image of my late brother in mind, but I am Ortho Shroud." 

Rollo raised a brow. "Hmm. It's pitiful that Idia resorted to doing that. Tell me, does your presence not cause him eternal suffering?"

Ortho felt his hardware beat erratically. He could not explain the phenomena at the moment. Maybe it was something Idia might know of? "I have two brothers, and my parents have three sons. Idia loves me as his brother, not as a replacement. I have a heart, and I am my own person."

Rollo watched as Ortho's eyes sparkled from how he talked about his brother. A small smile cracked Rollo's blank face. Watching the younger Shroud reminded him of his own brother, the one he lost from the curse of magic. He wished he still had his brother by his side, even after the incident at Noble Bell. 

If only…

"Rollo?" 

It was almost like Rollo heard his brother's voice. He wanted to feel that tiny spark of happiness again. 

"I apologize," Rollo said, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. He let out a small cough. "My words were out of turn."

Ortho stared at Rollo. "You do?" He asked, and then his eyes started glowing. 

"What are you-"

"I accept your apology! Your body scan shows no changes in your body temperature or heartbeat. Therefore, I believe your words are genuine." Ortho suddenly grabbed Rollo's hands and dragged him towards a mirror with a three-headed dog. "Big Brother is in his room playing games. We can visit him before I start your tour."

"Video games? You need a proper education"…." Rollo continued muttering to himself during the whole trek to Ignihyde.

Bonus:

Knock knock

"Idia, can I come in?"

"Yeah," Idia lazily said as he kept his eyes glued on his monitor, unaware of another person entering the room. 

"What a mess. This is not a suitable environment for Ortho's education to nurture."

Idia paused his game. An irritated look crossed his face. "Listen bub. Don't judge my room for-" his eyes landed on a familiar mop of white hair under the goofy-looking purple hat. "EEP! A NORMIE! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!!"

[crash-and-cure]

Every Minute, Every Hour (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: You were out. You were out goddamnit. How was he here?

A/N: Soooo.... It’s been awhile. Writer’s block is an absolute son of a bitch. So this is based on an idea I had and requested to @venus-haze a couple months ago and which I almost completely forgot about until I got this request and I decided two birds and all that. I also acknowledge that there was another similar request made a while back, to the person who requested it don’t worry, I do have plans for it. 

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and delusional behavior. Dubious Consent in regards to coersion being involved. Loss of virginity. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), female mastubation, slight dumbification, and implied anal play. Brief depictions of choking. Touch-starvation. Mentions of Pregnancy. Referenced cheating on Elvis' part. Self-loathing. Stockholm Syndrome(?) Probably more that I am blanking on. Period-typical homophobia and closeted characters depicted. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 19.8K

Masterlist

----------

You look like an angel (look like an angel)

Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)

Talk like an angel

But I got wise

You’re the devi-

It takes you longer than you would have liked to reach the radio and turn it off. And it’s only as you reach it do you realize how odd it looks from the outside when you see a customer looking at you funny. 

“Not much of a fan,” you say with an admittedly pathetic smile on your face. 

“I can see that,” he replies with an awkward smile, before going back to browsing the books. 

You bashfully turn the radio back on and quickly try to turn the knob to anything even remotely comprehensible, but it’s just your luck that this is the only station you get decent reception on in the store. With no other choice but to simply grin and bear it you put the volume on low and return to reading your book. 

You do keep an eye on your final customer of the evening, and hope he hurries up so you can finally close up for the day. Susan had been complaining about a migraine since lunch and Gina was caring for her upstairs and so it was on you to close up the shop on your own today. 

You feel embarrassed to have been seen that way but that all falls away when you hear the shop bell ring, only to be immediately followed by tiny rapid footsteps and an excited little “mama!” and you grab onto the counter before your little two and a half foot terror can knock out from behind you. Which ends up being the right call as you feel her head butt your knees and locking her arms around them nearly knocking you down.  

“Mama! Mama!” she squealed, practically vibrating, she was so excited to see you. 

“Rosie! Rosie!” you say, equally as happy to see her though you do a far better job at reining it in. She takes your hands in hers as you crouch down to look at her, and take stock. Her hair is askew with the ribbons you had tied in place this morning holding on for dear life in her beautiful curls, her face is smudgy with what you’re hoping is chocolate, and one of her socks is just gone, but both shoes are in place so you can only imagine how your little hellion managed that. Overall this is the best condition Rosie has returned to you in, after a long day with Jenny.

“Mama, Aunty Jenny took me to the Candy store!” she says, showing off the candy bracelets on her tiny wrists. 

“Really,” you say, shooting a look at your friend for giving her so much sugar before bed. The woman in question has the courtesy to at least look a little guilty about it, before giving a small laugh. 

“Mm-hmm. And we saw Danny at the playground and we-we saw Uncle Lee’s friends, and then we listened to a lotta music, and we saw a movie about a wizard and there was no one else in the whole room, and then-then…” she rapidly rambles on but you pepper her face in kisses before she can pass out from the lack of oxygen. She giggles uncontrollably and tries to squirm out of your grip, but you gotta get in one good raspberry on her cheek before you let her go.

“Alright, why don’t you go upstairs and help Aunty Gina finish up dinner,” you tell her with a smile on your face. Her “help” in the kitchen is typically watching and holding spoons and spatulas on a step stool, but she’s at an age where she believes the whole dish would fall apart without her important contribution to it, so she goes rushing to the stairs. 

But she quickly comes running back while taking the uneaten bracelet off of her wrist. “Danny said to give this to you for your birthday,” she declares. Ever since meeting Jenny’s nephew she’s seemed to hang on to every word of his, and though you’ve never met the boy he seems to be a good kid, always polite and saying hello through your daughter, but has, as you've heard, an extreme affinity towards spinning a few too many fantastical stories. But your daughter is far too young to see him as anything but a friend so you doubt you have anything to worry about as of right now. 

She’s always so eager to tell you about everything, and you’re just as eager to listen. Your folks never wanted to hear anything from you, and you pray that your attentiveness will pay off one day when she is never afraid to come to you with your troubles. Maybe if you had that with your mother you wouldn’t be where you were.

“Well tell him I said thank you,” you say, as you pull it on your wrist, placing a small kiss on her forehead before she books it back to the stairs behind the counter. As you stand back up, to your surprise you find the customer now at the counter with a good stack of books. 

“Sorry to bother Miss…ummm…” the customer says nervously. 

“Love,” you clarify for him. “Y/N Love.”

He gives a shy smile at that, “Well Miss Love, I’m ‘bout ready to check out so…” he says gesturing to his tower of books. 

“Of course,” you answer and you begin to ring him up. He’s got quite a few so at least he makes the extra time staying down here somewhat worth it. 

“Whatcha readin’ there,” he asks you, pointing to the open book you’ve left to your side. You show him your copy of We have always lived in the castle. “I-is it any good?”

“I would say so,” you answer. Though that ending did hit a little too close to home, you think to yourself. 

“So umm, d-do you like to read?” he asks hesitantly as he quietly adds a copy of the book to his pile. 

“I’d be in the wrong business if I didn’t,” you joke, and he laughs a little too hard. “How ‘bout you?” you ask, wanting to not have an awkward silence, as you’re not even halfway through the stack. 

“Yeah, I-I love reading though I don’t got a lotta time for it these days,” he says with a guilty smile on his face. 

“Why’s that?” you ask, since it seems to be the only way this conversation could go. 

“I-I just started my residency at Charity Hospital,” he says bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Sam by the way,” apparently realizing that he hadn’t made the proper introductions. 

“Y/N,” you say, giving him a small nod and a smile. “And congratulations on your residency,” you're almost done with the final few books, but you may or may not be taking your time to finish them up, wanting to prolong the conversation you’re having for a bit. 

“Thank you, and I- well, umm… I couldn’t help but overhear your daughter, but umm… Happy Birthday,” he says ducking his head, a bit embarrassed at his own admission. 

“Oh, thank you,” you say, your face heating up slightly that he had heard. 

“Your Husband’s a lucky man,” he says, though he does steal a quick glance at you, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction.

So this is what it’s about, you think to yourself. “I’m actually not…” you trail off, and hope that he gets the message. 

“Oh, I’m glad to hear that,” he stated before his eyes widened as he realized what he just said. “I-I mean not glad like I’m happy that you-you’re not married, bu-but glad li-like I’m relieved that I hav-haven’t been trying to build up the courage to talk to a cute girl for the past few weeks only to find out she’s married already.” he blathers on and you can’t help but laugh. 

Your heart does flutter a bit at his confession. Everything about this feels like it should be perfect. Unfortunately for the both of you, you finally get a good look at his icy blue eyes that are a little too familiar for comfort, and it feels like your throat closes up. 

You can feel your stomach churning (and not just from the baby that fills it) and cold regret for not buying an extra pair of socks as you sit at the Greyhound terminal in Nashville, your feet starting practically turning into ice blocks. That cold November morning you had made a show of telling everybody you were gonna make a quick trip down to the shops for some eggs, now you’re almost a full state away praying that the bus gets here soon, jumping every time a set of headlights passes by and you're just barely keeping dry underneath the metal canopy. 

But for as cold as you are physically, your chest starts to heat up at the prospect that you’re so close to freedom from an even colder gaze. When the bus does get there you hardly sleep a wink afraid to let your guard down even now. You know how well he could sabotage your plans if he was so inclined, from small things like spoiling the surprise party you had planned for him to the major of ruining your chances to get into another school. 

You know he’s half a world away yet that still does little knowing what the most loyal of his are willing to do for him. It’s not until you finally make it to the train station in Atlanta that’ll take you down to New Orleans that you finally give in to your heavy eyelids, willing to trust strangers with your safety, aware they can’t hurt you any worse than those you know have done. 

You shake your head as you’re brought back to the present, and you hear him say something, “I’m sorry what?” you covertly wiggle your toes as you try to ground yourself and get sensation back in them as though you were just getting them out of the cold.

“I was just sayin’ there’s this club down on Bourbon that I been meanin’ to check out since movin’ down here, and I was hopin’ a local such as yourself could show me ‘round these parts,” he says, a nervous but hopeful smile on his lips. 

For a moment you can almost imagine saying yes to him, how he would take you out on the town, how he would kiss you, how he would throw your daughter up in the air. How maybe you could be happy with him.

But like a looming black cloud, in spite of the lowered volume, you hear what the new station is now playing, clear as a bell.

Oh please come to my arms and say you'll love me forever

For with the dawn, you'll be gone 

It’s almost as though He’s following you, serving as a constant reminder of what you did, and that you’re never allowed to imagine being with another man. You wordlessly turn off the radio before you’re forced to listen anymore. “Uhh, I-I’m sorry, I-I really don’t go out much,” you say, trying to shut this down as gently as you could. 

“Oh-uhh, that’s fine I umm,” he says, pivoting hard. “I’m more of a movie guy myself, I hear he’s got a new one out, and we can go and watch anything but that,” he gives a small laugh pointing to the radio, but quickly drops it upon seeing your grim expression. 

Without knowing it Sam just shut the coffin on any potential happenings between the two of you. “I’m sorry, it’s late and I gotta close up for the night,” you say softly, and he’s smart enough to take the hint. 

“O-of course,” he says looking down at the books he has in his hands. “But can you promise you’ll think about it?” he asks as he reaches the door to look back at you. 

Even before you open your mouth, you already know that your next words are going to make you lose a customer forever. “There’s nothing to think about,” you say, trying to feign apathy. Harsh as your words may be, you know this is far kinder to him in the long run as opposed to getting more involved with you. 

You watch him leave the store with a sagging shoulders and a long face, before you feel a hand meet violently with the back of your head, and you swivel around to see Jenny with an exasperated look on her face. “So a handsome, single, doctor who loves to read, and doesn’t mind that you already got a kid, asks you out and you say…” she trails off, seeming to only get more offended with every dreamy quality he had. 

“Don’tchu get like that Jenny,” you defend yourself, as you stomp to the door in order to flip the sign to closed and lock up for the night. “I’ve got a daughter to worry about and I don’t have time for a boyfriend right now.”

“Well newsflash Y/N,” she argues, “Rosie needs a daddy.”

You feel your hackles rising at that statement. “No she doesn’t,” you state firmly, not wanting to raise your voice, because you know better than anyone how easy it is to be overheard.

She deflates a little at your obvious fury at this line of questioning, before letting out a long tired sigh. “It’s just that… when we were at the park today… she asked me why she didn’t have one. And she… she just kept pressing,” she says obviously ashamed that she hurt you, but wanting to get across her reasoning. “What am I supposed to say to that? Especially when you won’t tell nobody what happened. I only got her to drop it when I took her to the candy shop.”

You feel guilty for snapping at your friend. Jenny Hodge had been an absolute godsend since you met her almost a year ago, when she and her new husband, Lee, had moved down from Alabama. Her arrival had coincided when Rosie started becoming aggressively mobile and insisted that running was the only way to get around anymore. And because she felt she needed practice with being a Mama before she had one of her own, she insisted on being your one and only babysitter, in exchange for free books every so often. 

The story around the block is that you are were the young widow who “tragically” lost her husband in an accident before he ever had the chance to meet your beautiful daughter, and with no one in the world left to turn to, you ended up on your “spinster” aunt and her “good friend” Susan’s doorstep. And Jenny, since hearing your story, has by far been your most fervent supporter outside of this house, with her support primarily coming in two flavors: 1) helping you with your daughter so she isn’t so cooped up in the store while you work and 2) trying to set you up with any moderately successful man.

“Y/N,” she says softly. “I get that it’s hard to get back out there, but you need to think about the bigger picture, because it’s only a matter of time before she starts asking you.”

You know she’s right, and that’s the worst part about it. Your little Rosie Love is a stubborn one, not to mention smart, always has been. Didn’t want to walk because she wanted to run. Hated her diaper so much she learned how to unpin it when she was barely a year old. Wanted to try to feed herself when she first took to solid food, and would snatch the spoon out of your hand when she could. She’s broken out of every play pen she’s ever been in. Hell, she was almost two weeks overdue, and the doctors were forced to induce you, she didn’t want to come out until she was good and ready.

She, like someone else you knew, is capable of throwing a wrench into any plan you make. For as endearing as it can be, it is all the more frustrating knowing exactly where she gets it from. 

With a long defeated sigh, you concede to her point and thank her for both her input and for being a good friend this past year. And maybe someday you’ll be ready to find another husband.

She has a wide cheshire-cat like grin as you say that, “And I’mma ‘bout to be a better one,” she practically sings. “Lee’s friend is in town, and I think you two would hit it off.” 

“And I think we wouldn’t,” you state, putting books back where they belong. 

“C’mon Y/N, I thought we were past this,” she whines.

“I did say someday, not today,” you emphasize.

“Y/N, your birthday’s comin’ up soon, and it ain’t like you’re gettin’ any younger. Besides Lee and I are already trying for a baby, so I ain’t gonna be so available much longer neither,” she says in a soft voice holding your hands in hers. “And you need to find someone you can rely on too, it’s not like you wanna end up like your Aunt Gina”

You say nothing not wanting to say anything incriminating about the relationship between your Aunts, as for all that you trust Jenny, you don’t trust her enough with somebody else’s secrets. 

“Just promise me you'll think about it at least,” she pleads, hands clasped over your own. 

What is it about people that, not trusting you when you answer the first time, and thinking given enough time you’ll come around? 

Yet you're no better as you let out a long tired sigh, before ultimately agreeing, if only to get her off your back. Or so you tell yourself. 

She tells you a bit about the man she has in mind for you, or more accurately she keeps insisting how perfect the two of you would be together.  In her mind it’ll be love at first sight, how he’ll love and accept Rosie as his own immediately, how she guarantees that you’ll be married within a year and be trying to give Rosie a little brother or sister. You have to bodily shove her out the door by that point lest she get into any more specifics in her attempt to sway you. 

Jenny’s a little older than you, but she is very much a romantic at heart, you suppose, though that’s the benefit of things going right in your life. 

But your story went wrong. 

“Why you in such a hurry to get out girl?” your accomplice would ask as he handed you the money (He had made it a point of order that you were never to handle any) the day before your escape. 

“There’s someone else,” you say simply, because it’s true and if they were to ever betray your trust this would be worse on them than on you. 

You got away with quite a bit back in the day like getting out of trouble for making out in a dark empty classroom by claiming to have been caught by surprise by your monthlies and now you couldn’t bear the thought of being seen like this. Or when you got hired by the library for the summer after you approached the front desk and claimed to be the new hire ready for her first day of training and nobody really bothered to check in with anybody else. Even that one time when you confidently strolled backstage at a music hall He had wanted to perform all to sneak them in through the back door and convinced just enough people that his band was meant to perform that night.

Your ability to make up stories on the fly and map things out in your head had led you to believe that you would make for a pretty good mystery writer. You had even tried to go to school to be one, though you told everyone it was to be a teacher, a far more respectable and womanly job.

Well not everyone.

He certainly knew. 

Knew about your talent for planning and story-telling, and was practically always in awe to see it in action. But this recognition came at the expense that he was aware of your tricks and he always knew how to throw you off just enough to make any plans you made go belly up. Whether it was something relatively small like figuring out you were planning a surprise party to the major… like when you tried to end things the first time around.

He called you almost every night when he was on tour, and you had done your best to relay all that was going on back in Memphis. And in spite of his insistence that he wants to hear about it, you suspect that he wasn’t being truthful. He especially seemed disgruntled when you made any mention of doing anything with anyone else. Your friends, his friends, even your own family weren’t safe from his ire.  

When He was here you would do everything together, yet now that you tell him about all that you’d been doing, there is a slight but noticeable edge when he speaks to you over the phone. Everytime you mention how you went to the movie theater or you went to the record store or the bookshop, it was almost always met with a solemn “we used to do that together.” 

You would have gone with him, had your parents let you, and He knows that so you don’t understand why he’s so sore about the fact that you’re not simply sitting on your hands back home waiting for him to return. 

So in an effort to spare his feelings you asked him about the things he was doing, you even go out of your way to say how happy you were when he was telling you about all of the fun things he had done on the road. You’re happy to hear it all and you thought 

You miss him just as fiercely but you don’t want it to stop you from living. 

But when you got your acceptance letter, you saw the writing on the wall. You both were going in different directions: you were going to be studying, were barely going to be home and his star just kept growing and growing each day taking him further out and making him harder to reach. You know you wanted this and you begin to suspect you may want it more than you want to stay with him, if staying with him meant being alone all the same. 

This was only confirmed in the weeks leading up to Prom when you couldn’t get a straight answer out of him of whether or not He would be able to make it. It was on you to practically plan everything down to what he would wear, while his whole contribution was to show up- maybe?

Whether He did show up or not that night, you thought the result would be the same with you officially breaking things off between you two. But you still held out hope that at least if he did come you would have one last good memory. 

And to your relief He does make it, but he’s a little off the whole night. Not in the sense that his mind is elsewhere, more like he’s trying to commit everything about the night into memory, and looking at you with sad eyes when he thinks you’re not looking. 

It all comes to a head when you’re parked outside of your house, and you’re sitting in a loaded silence with him at the wheel. He’s gripping onto that thing for dear life and you’re wondering if maybe you should save it, but you think you know yourself well enough to know that if you don’t say it now, you won't say it ever. 

So as he’s opening his mouth to say something, you cut him off with his name. 

“...I-I got accepted to Southwestern,” you blurted out to him and He looked so confused at your admission, but you push through. “I start in the fall, so I’m not gonna be home much anymore, and with y-you being on the road so much, I think it best that we-”

“Marry me,” he blurts out, panic etched across his face.

Your jaw is left practically on the floor as that was the last thing you ever expected out of his mouth. 

You would later find out that he went to Prom with the same intention as you did but it was in that moment that he realized you weren’t going to wait for him to come back did he want to lock you down. But you didn’t see that in the moment. 

What you saw at the time was the declaration that he was just as committed as you were, and so overwhelmed by the love you still felt for him at the time, you had no choice but to give an emphatic yes to him. 

“We’re gonna figure this out baby,” He promises with a kiss. 

That was the first time you tried to leave him.

“-Danny’s a real good singer Aunty. He told me he lives in Neverland and one day he would take me and-and he told me this is the only place in the whole word that they sell peanut butter cups,” you would hear as you made your way up the stairs connecting to the apartment above the store. You look into the small kitchen where you see your little girl sitting on the counter talking her aunt’s ear off idly dangling her little feet while holding a spatula you're not entirely sure is necessary. Gina looks over to you and gives you a playfully exasperated look, and you simply shrug your shoulders before moving into the small kitchen to pepper your little one's face in kisses. 

“Alright sticky missy,” you announce, blowing a raspberry on her cheek and swiping the utensil out of her hand as she trills in delight. “You go wash up for dinner now, ya’ hear, and go wake up Aunty, I think she’ll feel alot better seeing you.”

“Ok Mama,” she says. She is utterly fearless as she slides herself to get off of the counter, and lands on her feet below. You can’t help the swell of pride that bubbles up in your chest seeing it, how brave your little girl is. You hope that you can take it as a sign that you’re doing ok at this motherhood thing. 

Gina likes to say that you were just as bold at that age with the confidence of someone so sure they can take on the world, and in quieter moments she’ll lament how you lost that in you. You would be offended if you didn’t already know when exactly you lost it. 

She had always been your favorite Aunt until you were about twelve and and your father would coldly tell you she died and was in hell now. Rather than a funeral, the family got together to destroy her things and swear to never speak of her again. 

That didn’t stop her from visiting you one last time and telling you she was moving down to New Orleans with her friend Susan. She would take you to your favorite bookstore one last time in Memphis and promised that if you ever needed a place to stay, to not even hesitate to come, because she knew better than anyone what your family would do to girls who stepped out of line. 

For years the only evidence that she was even alive was the annual birthday and Christmas gift you would get from her all under the guise of Nancy Drew books stamped with the name of a bookstore all the way in New Orleans. You cherished them and it’s one of the few things you took after your parents kicked you out. 

You only wished you had taken the offer when your father had kicked you out and you were forced to rely on someone else. 

“So I hear you broke another heart,” Gina idly says as she starts scooping some rice onto a plate.

You let out a long sigh, “When did Jenny find the time to tell you?” You’re more amazed than annoyed considering she didn’t leave your sight once down stairs. 

“Jenny?” she says, raising a brow. “No Sue told me earlier how Lou from King’s Cafe ‘s been askin’ after you.”

Lou who always had extra beignets to give away when you took Rosie for a walk in the mornings. He recently asked if you had ever been on the Algiers ferry, and how beautiful it looked at night.

…You’ve been taking a different route to the playground since then. 

“Is my love life just everybody’s business,” you ask frustrated that you weren’t even given a five minute break from this. 

“In this house: yes,” she states, a grin on her face. 

“Gina if this is about me movin’ out, you can talk to me, I’m a big girl,” you insist, trying to deflect and not have to think about it anymore. 

“Sweetheart,” she says solemnly, placing a hand on your cheek. I may not be your mama, but I do think that you need to think about what’s best for Rosie,” she insists as she puts place mats down on the table. 

Gina’s a little closer to the situation than Jenny, as she had asked no questions as to why you all of a sudden needed a place to stay far from your parents with nary a husband or boyfriend in sight to take responsibility for the baby growing within you. She had also been the one to help spread the tragic young widow narrative, and for as much of a gossip she can be, you know she’s a steel trap for secrets that matter. 

“What does me getting, or not getting, a boyfriend have to do with Rosie?”

“A boyfriend? Nothing,” she dismisses. “A husband on the other hand…”she says with a smile.

“Don’tchu come talkin’ to me ‘bout gettin’ a husband,” you say, handing her another plate of food. 

She laughs at that, “It’s not just about you gettin’ a husband, it’s about Rosie gettin’ a father,” she insists amused at your mulishness. 

“Not you too,” you mourn what you thought was going to be a quiet evening. 

“I’m just sayin’ that every child deserves two parents,” putting the lid back on the pot. 

“She’s got three mama’s,” you counter.

“No,” she says waving the wooden spoon in front of your face. “She’s got one mama and two grandmas that spoil her rotten behind your back.” You open your mouth to protest, until she quickly follows up with, “Oh speak of the devil herself,” as you see your little troublemaker dragging Susan by the hand to the table, whom you had to bully into taking a rest to somewhat alleviate the migraine she had been having for most of the day.

Your daughter can talk for hours if left unchecked and you're eager to hear all of it as she bounces from subject to subject at the dinner table. You had always felt somewhat guilty intruding on their space, but Gina insists nothing of the sort and Susan jokes that the two of them are getting the full kid/grandkid experience through you and Rosie, since the traditional way ain’t for them.

Between bites she regaled the three of you with all that she did today which included seeing a dog, the playground being shiny, spinning around so fast on the merry-go-round she almost went into space, made friends with some of the ducks, saw another dog, Danny gave her his popcorn, got a lot of candy from the candy shop, and gave some jelly beans to the last dog she saw today, but only the green ones she doesn’t like, and then feeling bad about it and giving it some of the red ones to even it out.

She doesn’t mention anything to you about asking Jenny about why she doesn't have a daddy, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the first break you’ve had all day. Some may say you indulge her too much, but all three grown women at this table know exactly how it feels to have their thoughts and feelings ignored, and you all had come to the mutual understanding that Rosie would never have to feel this way in this house.

“Mama, I forgot to tell you,” Rosie states after she shoveled the last of her food into her mouth. “Barbie got a new job today!” she delights as she thrusts the doll in your face. 

“Really?” you say trying to match even a quarter of her excitement. “Is she mmm… a firefighter?”

“No!” she squeals, delighted in the game you play with her. 

Making a big show of putting a finger to your temple and closing one eye, apparently deep in thought, you ask, “Is she a… detective?” 

“No that was yesterday!” she’s practically buzzing to tell you, but holds it in to keep this game going.

“Oh!” you say, pretending to have a lightbulb moment. “She’s a wizard!” You know your daughter well enough, so you’re reasonably confident in your guess knowing that Jenny took her to see that Disney movie today. 

“No,” she laughs, “She’s an actress, but she also sings in all her movies.”

“O-oh,” you say, genuinely caught off guard by that. “Why’s that?” It’s certainly not an unusual thing for a little girl to declare, but for your daughter it most definitely was. When she declared what Barbie was going to be it was always influenced by something she saw that day. Sometimes she was a baker, sometimes a ballerina, even one memorable time a bus driver, but this is a first. Even when she has seen movies with actors in it she didn’t quite understand the concept that those aren’t their real jobs on screen, and she would pick that, which is why you guessed wizard.

“Because Danny does that,” she declares, as she starts to make Barbie dance on the dinner table.

And then it made sense, your daughter’s friend, Danny, who according to Jenny, has a penchant for making up stories. To your daughter the boy’s been a cowboy, a soldier, he’s as strong as superman, can play any instrument, and now apparently is a famous actor. 

You give an amused huff, “I see Danny’s at it again,” you state, as you take her plate. It’s a literal miracle that Jenny’s impromptu trip to the candy store didn’t spoil her appetite, and but you don’t know how much of an appetite she’ll have for dessert so you decide to just split a slice of King cake with her. 

“At what mama?” she asks as Gina wipes some of her food off her face. 

“He’s telling stories again,” you say as you bring Gina and Susan their dessert plates. 

“No he’s not,” she states, furrowing her brow, and you can’t help but quirk a smile at how stressed she looks as you sit down. “I saw it myself.” 

“I’m sure you did, but Honey, it's just… sometimes boys have a habit of telling… tall tales,” you suppose that’s the nice way of putting it. It’s a fine line you walk with her, wanting to have her believe in herself most of all, but also wanting her to not believe everything she’s told, especially by boys. You’re the textbook example of what happens to supposedly smart girls who get in too deep with charming boys.

“But it’s true mama,” she insists, raising her voice a bit. 

“Sweetheart, I think he means, he wants to be that when he grows up,” you try to gently justify, as you subtly try to nudge the fork closer to her. 

“No mama, I saw it,” she asserts, getting progressively more upset defending her friend. “He is a famous actor and he was singing and dancing at the theater.”

“And I’m sure he’s gonna be a big star one day when he’s all grown up,” you try to assuage how worked up she’s getting. “But I don’t think he’s one right now.” 

“No mama!” she yells at the top of her lungs, angry tears streaming down her face. “You’re a liar!” You feel your stomach drop to the floor and she herself looks shocked at what she just said. She proceeds to cry even harder before turning tail and running straight into the room you share with her and slamming the door as hard as she could. 

When you were far enough away, and somewhat comfortable in your new environment in Your Aunties home, the first thing you did was read nearly every book about motherhood you could find. You were determined to do this right as you had made the unilateral decision for your baby to only have one parent. So you decided as a means of making up for it you would be all the parent she would need. 

Doubt creeps into the back of your throat that you made the wrong decision and that you in fact were not enough on your own and that she never would have done that if He were around. 

“You want me to go talk to her?” Gina would ask after hearing your door slam shut. 

As bad as you want to say yes from the exhausting day you’ve had so far, you’re not about to foist your duties as a mother off onto her right now. She understands but you don’t miss the pointed look she gives to Sue, as she walks away to clean up dinner, and you bury your hand in your face hoping if you wish hard enough this day will finally come to a close. 

“I remember the first time I yelled at my mama,” Sue off-handedly says after a few minutes. “Always too scared that that wretched woman would beat me black and blue if I was ever less than perfect,” she takes a sip of her tea. “And she did just that when I got fed up with all her teasing about me getting a boyfriend.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“What I’m gettin’ at is… I was never comfortable enough with my own mother to be angry with her.”

“Am I bad at this?” 

“You’re still new at this Hon,” she reassures you. “There's a big difference.”

Despite the fact that Gina was the one related to you by blood, Sue’s the only one in the world who even has an inkling as to what exactly you left behind. And that is only because she was a front row spectator to it.

You had managed to get permission to leave the hotel room for a few hours while He was on set that day. He had brought you down from Memphis, not wanting you so far out of reach and yet you were still pretty much kept confined. You had long since exhausted the books you had brought for the trip, and you were practically itching to get out. 

Books were your only escape from this place. Where you could vicariously solve a mystery or meet royalty or stop a war or any other number of exciting things in your head. But inevitably you close the book and the story ends and your back in this fucking hotel room. 

You realize by getting more books you're just masking a symptom rather than actually treating the illness. You couldn’t take it anymore and had begged Him to at least let you go to a bookstore to keep you occupied, because by that point you were willing to pay the price for it. 

Sue had been the only one in the store the day but you hadn’t really taken notice of her, your eyes had been darting around everywhere trying to find Gina. Sonny was in there as well, as you were only able to bargain your way to being in here and picking out the books, but not enough to be able to enter the store alone. Sonny had been the one to pull the short straw and had been put on Y/N duty today. Usually that consisted of sitting in the hotel and making sure you didn’t go anywhere while also completely ignoring you.

Everybody knows the story of the last guy that paid a little too much attention to you. You still couldn’t look at raw ground beef without crying.

Outside of the occasional gathering you don’t really interact with anybody out of the immediate vicinity of home. It’s funny how He can put you in a room filled to the brim with his people yet make you feel so alone at the same time. It would be amazing if it didn’t make you feel so awful at the same time. 

It’s a terrible thing He does, but it’s made all the worse that so many people can see what he’s doing keeping you prisoner and isolated and yet no one will ever dare breach it 

If anything they actually help him as they all report to him practically what you did that day, do their best to talk you out of leaving the room, and even when you do insist on going off on your own, the men are quick to remind you that He won’t like it one bit. They won’t physically stop you, (they know the worst thing they can do is put their hands on you) but you know that’s where their “help” begins and ends. 

At one point you even tried to play ball and asked for His permission last time you were in LA and you had wanted to go to the Griffith Observatory. You had asked in advance, agreed to only being there for two hours, and even gave in to being essentially chaperoned from a distance. Initially He had agreed to the terms and You thought you had done good and maybe you were finally coming to somewhat of a middle ground with him. 

But in the days leading up to the trip He would ask for favors in return. They all just happened to be things you had refused to do for him up until that point. When you refused He would at first seemingly accept your answer, and then He would idly remind you of your upcoming trip before asking you again. You weren’t stupid enough to miss the connection and so you did what you thought you had to do for just the slightest taste of freedom.

Who are you kidding?

You practically begged and did tricks for Him like a dog for just the slightest bit of slack on your leash. 

You could barely move the morning of the trip both physically and emotionally drained from what he had you do the night before, but you still persevered if only to make all that you went through worth it.

It wasn’t worth it. 

Everything you saw that day was completely soured by what you had to do to get there. Every step felt like agony, and you had to make a conscious effort to not walk funny. And before you knew it the two hours were up and Red was telling you it was time to leave. 

You don’t know what’s worse, the punishments or the favors. 

You had to go the favor route today as otherwise he would have simply sent for someone to get you whatever books they could find, rather than letting you pick. You already know you’re going to get it when he finds out you went to a different bookstore than initially planned. You thought you could at the very least make it worth it by seeing one familiar face, but even fate denied you that as Gina was nowhere to be seen. 

It was cold enough to justify wearing something to cover up most of the bruises, but that didn’t mean they were all hidden. You wouldn’t know it at the time but your skittishness coupled with the bruises struck a chord with Susan before you fully checked out of the store.

“I’m sorry if this sounds like an odd question but ummm…” you say, glancing around, making sure that Sonny was too far to hear. “Does Gina work here?”

Sue immediately tenses up, and you curse your caginess, as you reassure her that you’re Gina’s niece, Y/N. She seems to relax hearing that so at least she knows that you try to maintain a good relationship, sporadic your letters may be. 

“What happened there honey?” she asks, gesturing to your wrist that has a ring of bruises on it, which you quickly move to hide. You internally curse yourself for your sloppiness. He doesn’t mean to hurt you but he tends to lose himself and be a little rougher especially when he’s worried about something else. 

He’s been a little rougher for a few months now.

“Oh-ummm,” you steal a glance at Sonny, who was making his way to the counter. “Yes I am ready to check out.” Gesturing to the three towers of books you’ve managed to accumulate.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sue nor does she miss Sonny's statement of remembering the rules as to what you’re allowed to get, if her disapproving look is anything to go by. He’s fine with you reading but doesn’t like you reading books that will put “ideas” in your head. 

You don’t exactly know what that means as the standards seem to change depending on His mood and it’s always a gamble as to what he will or won’t allow you to have. You fear the day He grows the same hatred for fictional men that he has for any man within your vicinity. 

You're genuinely sad when it comes time to pay, (Well Sonny pays, He doesn’t like the idea of you handling money), and then Susan does something you could never have anticipated in a million years as Sonny grabs one stack and goes to put it in the car. 

You wished it had been anybody but Sonny that day. His last girlfriend, whom he swore he was gonna make Mrs. Sonny West, had made the mistake of trying to befriend you outside of gatherings. She stopped by the house frequently just to visit and even invited you out to the salon. 

And it was your mistake to believe you could have a friend that he would finally approve of. Friend or family, He eventually found something to disapprove of for everybody close to you previously. You thought that because she was already nominally part of the group, it would be fine to go.  

He made it clear by the time you got home that it wasn’t. 

You never saw her again after that and Sonny’s resented you ever since. You can hardly blame him, it’s easier to point the finger at you for not anticipating the unspoken rules, as opposed to the man who signs his checks and makes the rules. 

You know that even the slightest toe out of line will be reported back to Him in the worst light. So you had to be on your best behavior. 

“Y’know I highly recommend this book,” Sue says, sliding the book she had been reading at the counter to you. 

Wide Sargasso Sea, the cover reads.

“Oh thank you but I already paid,” you say, almost afraid of this conversation. “And besides I already have enough books.”

“Sweetheart you can never have too many,” she insists and without looking opens it up to the first page where you see a little handwritten note. She closes it up before you can see what it says and slyly slots it in the middle of a stack. 

Later on when you feel sufficiently safe enough to look at it you nearly burst into tears.

In case you need help

feel free to call

(xxx-xxxx)

Such a small thing really, but it’s the most human connection you’ve had with anyone else but Him in a long time. 

You spend the next hour or two committing that string of numbers to memory before you proceed to rip out that page, shred it, and flush the remnants down the toilet. 

Even when you were burning the number into your brain, you never thought you would have ever had the guts to use it. Back when you thought you could accept what looked to be your fate. 

It would be unfair to say it was all bad, after all there was a reason you did fall for Him in the first place. When you would read mysteries and He would listen to you criticize the culprits' plans and schemes and he would look in awe at how you would’ve gotten away with it. Or how fun it was to sneak out with him, your family none the wiser. Even when things got bad and it felt like He was the only one that would talk to you for days, you cherished it because it truly felt like he was your life line. 

When things were good they were great, it was just when they were bad did you start to recognize them. 

Things were bad a lot towards the end. 

Gladys had been one of the few willing to go to bat for you, and perhaps the only one who He would listen to. She was the only one who could set him straight when he got huffy at the thought of you having some basic independence of being able to go outside and not needing to be watched like a child all the time. 

She was the one you went to with your suspicions and early symptoms, when you were too afraid to go to the doctor that reported right back to Him. 

She had also been the only one who knew your fears about having this baby. In your mind there were a total of two possibilities for the life the baby would live. One that they would live a life like yours, isolated within the walls of the house under their fathers obsessive gaze, never to experience the outside world. Or two He would hate the baby on principle and see it as just competition for your time and attention like he did with everybody else.

She did her best to try to quell your fears, trying to assert He would never do either of those things, especially, the last one. 

But you saw it in her eyes how she knows how sour He would get when he would come home to find you playing with his younger cousins. How He gets when someone new so much as looks your way a beat too long, or has the gall to get your attention.

How you’re barely allowed to talk to other girls your own age and that’s only saved for special occasions when his friends bring their girlfriends and He’s otherwise occupied. And even then He has a penchant for just removing you from them just to have you sit with him, and you’re out in the awkward position of being the odd one out in his group.

How when you did gather up the nerve to bring up the topic of babies to him one night his answer was “I ain’t ready to share ya’ darlin’, I don’t think I’ll eva be.”

But your most hard-hitting evidence was what happened to your dog, Hardy. He had been an old stray you saw skulking around the property, and whom you took in when He was touring. Hardy didn’t have much of an interest in running around or playing fetch, just sitting by your side and eating treats. 

Everything was good until He returned. You knew it was gonna be trouble the moment He walked through the door and saw you scratching the dog’s belly. Inspite of the fact that Hardy was usually tolerant of strangers, something about Him immediately put the usually placid dog on edge. You immediately got to work on trying to find some sort of compromise in regards to him, and offered everything from making Hardy a permanently outside dog to even being willing to have him be boarded with a family member while He was home. 

You had asked Gladys where Hardy was the very next morning when you couldn’t find him anywhere, only to be told that He had taken him out for a walk. You didn’t have the heart to be told a lie when He returned alone.

He started taking you with him at that point, and you hardly knew a moment's peace after that.

Your attention is not your own to freely give away, let alone your affection, He expects it all to go to him. He did lord knows what to a dog that had had the misfortune of occupying some of your time when he was there, you hardly wanted to chance the life of a baby that would need all of it. 

However in spite of all of that, you thought with her by your side you would be able to weather his reaction, whatever it may be. Even if your worst fear came to be and He didn’t really want anything to do with the baby, you could at least have someone to love the baby just as fiercely even when you were otherwise occupied by Him. It wasn’t necessarily fair, but you could somewhat see the function of it, and in spite of the weariness he’s instilled in you by that point, you were still reasonably confident in your ability to plan for the long term.

And then Gladys died.

And you were left to navigate the hardest thing you could face alone. 

“Ain’t nobody ever talks about how hard this can be. Or how easy it is to mess up,” Sue continues as she polishes off her plate. “But maybe…” she prods. “If you had a partner to help ease the load, you wouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”

You groan at this point wanting to truly be done with this day already. “Not this again,” you bemoan. 

“Honey,” she says with a firm but comforting grip on your shoulder. “I know a thing or two about leaving bad things behind, but I do think sometimes you need to let someone else in to help you recover,” she says. And almost like they rehearsed it, Gina comes in with a mug of tea, and a kiss to Susan’s forehead as she demands she go back to bed to rest up.

You want to argue back that you did a good enough job of recovering by yourself, but that’s hardly fair to say considering how you were about as helpless as Rosie herself that first year and a half you were here. You had thought that you would’ve been out of here maybe a couple months after giving birth, and been in a completely new place with no ties whatsoever. But the reality is that there’s no possible way you or Rosie would have survived without the help they were so willing to give. 

And that’s all they’re trying to do now. 

You take a minute to fully gather yourself, as you realize you being upset won’t help Rosie in the slightest. You also pick up the slice of cake, as you don’t want her to think she’s being punished for being upset with you. 

You find her hiding underneath the blankets of the bed you share with her and you can only hear sniffling at this point. You try to approach this delicately, as this is new territory for the both of you, so you place the cake on the nightstand, crawl underneath the sheets with her, and allow for her to come to you. Luckily you don’t have to wait for long.

“Mama!” she cries as she buries her face in your bosom, her tears already soaking through the cotton material. “Mama, I didn’t mean it! Please don’t be mad! I’m sorry Mama! Please don’t leave.”

“Sweetheart it’s okay,” you reassure her, running your nails up and down her back, as it always did the trick of settling her down when she was a baby. “Mama’s not goin’ anywhere without you. I’m always gonna be with you.” You hardly put her down her first year of life, going against all the books and holding her at just about every possible moment, so you can hardly fathom where she got this idea in her head that you would leave if you got upset with her. But remembering what Jenny had told you earlier, you have the sneaking suspicion it is related to her noticing the lack of a father in her life. 

“I’m sorry mama! I’m sorry…” she repeats over and over again, and for each time you make sure to reassure her that nothing she could ever do would make you leave. 

Finally when she’s tired herself out and her eyes are red and raw do you finally speak. “Rosie, it’s okay to be mad, but it’s not okay to be mean, because you’re mad,” you say softly to her running your nails on her back, something that has always soothed her. 

She rubs her eyes and wipes her runny nose before looking up at you again, and gives a groggy “I understand Mama.” 

“Good,” you say, kissing her forehead. “Now can you help me finish this cake.” 

You see her eyes widen before she eagerly grabs the fork and dives right in. With your help, it’s not long before it’s almost entirely gone and when she takes that final bite of the cake she goes wide-eyed sticking her fingers in her mouth to pick out the errant piece. “What’s this Mama?” she says holding the little porcelain baby up. 

“Oh you found it Rosie,” you say excitedly, “This means you’re going to have good luck.”

“... Like a wish?”

“Sort of,” you answer.

She gives an excited shriek before she clasps the little figurine in her hands and whispers something almost inaudible to it, with the only recognizable words being “Danny” and “Neverland.” You’re slightly disappointed that your lesson hadn’t quite landed today, but you choose to leave it for now, as you don’t see the harm in wishing to go to a non-existent magical place. 

Once teeth are brushed and pajamas are put on, Rosie settles into bed, but not before making sure you’re not about to break your long-held tradition of storytime. She’s the type of kid who when she likes one story she demands to hear it over and over again. 

And lately she’s latched onto Rapunzel. 

The whole concept does unsettle you greatly, for how close it is to your story. But whatever qualms you have with the story you’re not gonna deny your daughter, because your problems are your own cross to bear, not hers. 

As you read it you get to the part where the witch mother casts her out of the tower and she wanders the forests with her children. You wonder if Rapunzel ever found joy in those years away from the mother who isolated her, away from the prince who could have taken advantage of her. She survived not only on her own, but kept others alive as well. WHat did she do? Did she forage and hunt for her babies, did she find a village where she could work to support her family? 

Sometimes you wonder if she did truly live happily after the end of the story, or if she traded one cage for another as you did before. 

Your daughter is long asleep by the time you reach the happily ever after part of the story. She’s still in the habit of sucking her thumb at night, so you gently remove it, and put one of her favorite stuffies in her arms. And that marks the end of your daily duties, so in theory you should be able to finally fall asleep and be done with this day. 

In theory.

In actuality you creep out of the bed you share with your daughter into the single bathroom of the apartment. Usually her steady breathing tends to be enough to get you to fall asleep, it’s been that way ever since she was a baby, but you’re left feeling agitated having had to think of Him more than usual today. 

Not just because of the song on the radio, but Rosie’s outburst reminded you far too much of her father. It feels like the worst injustice that she mimics someone who isn’t even here.

Now that ain’t my fault now is it darlin’? A familiar voice whispers in your mind. You feel a shudder run down your spine at the thought of him, not to mention the way you shamefully feel yourself pool within your underwear. You slide down the bathroom door, out of sight of the mirror, as though that will prevent you from facing what you’re about to do. You even close your eyes for good measure as your hand reaches your folds and your fingers caress the slick outer lips of your pussy. 

You had tried to ignore this part of yourself for so long. You justified it during your pregnancy, as your body had been making you want to do other stupid things like sleep right in the middle of the store or eat paint chips. Even after giving birth and your inner feelings remaining unchanged, you justified it by thinking you were just particularly lonely, and for all that he kept you isolated, you were never alone when you were with him. Or that he was the only man you ever knew that way so he’s all you had to go off of in order to satisfy these urges.

For as much as your mind curses Him for ever coming into your life, even after all these years, your body has yet to catch up. 

You’re far from unique in your desire for him, but it’s especially shameful for you as you know what he’s truly like. It’s like scratching a mosquito bite, you may know that it’ll just make the itching worse, but dear god did it feel good in the moment. 

But even that is far from an accurate description as you plunge your on fingers into your sopping channel in a poor imitation of what you remember. 

You bite your lip in an effort to keep noises at bay but it just makes you concentrate on the wet squelching sounds echoing through the bathroom as you plunge your fingers into yourself. The sharp sting of pain forcing your mind back to where you experience the most of it. 

“You’re so sweet darlin’,” he purrs, his jaw glistening from your juices having just made a feast of you for the past hour or so. He had made it a game to see how close he could bring you without actually letting you cum, something he tends to do when someone looks your way for a little too long, as though he means to re-establish his claim over you. That only he can give you pleasure like this but take it away on a whim if he chooses. 

“No more…” you beg, new tears forming and following the trail previously set, your lips undoubtedly bruised from how much you have been chewing on them throughout. “Please,” your thighs aching from the death grip he has them in, undoubtedly leaving bruises for you to feel in the morning. 

“Alright,” he says seemingly conceding. But before you can breathe a sigh of relief, he continues, “we’ll switch it up for tonight.”

He flips you over to your front, spreads your legs wide open again, and dives right back in. 

You can’t help the way you’re left trembling from the memory, but what does shake you somewhat is the when you realize that it’s not simply the ghost of the memory that is making you feel that bruising pressure on your inner thigh, but in fact your own hand keeping it there. 

Still the masochist within you that yearns for the ghost of a man you once thought you knew takes a hold and refuses to let go now that you’re so close to release. So you give in and continue your frantic movements biting down hard on your lip to prevent any errant cries from leaving, and grip onto your thigh for dear life, even now trying to deny yourself that you want him here with you.

As you’re coming down from your high, you fight back your tears of shame. Trying to remind yourself why you left in the first place. How for all the moments he made you feel amazing, they weren’t worth the amount of grief he caused you on a near day-to-day basis.

Grief he’s still causing you more like it. 

You don’t think you could have written a better love story in the beginning. You met him when your eyes locked on each other from across your favorite bookstore back in Memphis. He had oh so shyly approached you and asked what you were reading, a bit starry eyed as he listened. Back then and arguably still the concept of a man listening to you was such a novel and unique thing to experience. 

It progressed from there, hand-holding in the school hallway, shared milkshakes at the local diner, and Sunday dinners with his family. Of course there were the less than wholesome aspects of your relationship of stray hands when no one was looking and heated kisses after a particularly rousing performance.

Truly the hallmarks of the greatest love story the world had ever seen. 

If only you knew how wrong a love story can go, because your story went very wrong. 

You vividly remember your first time with him.

Undoubtedly the cruelest thing he ever did to you.

You were never supposed to find out about the other girls, well that’s not true. The newspapers sure knew about them but he had convinced you that it was all nonsense and that he would never do that to you. All of his friends knew, hell even some of their girlfriends knew, but ideally you were never supposed to find out. 

But the only chink in the armor was that there was in fact someone who had wanted you out as soon as he stepped in. Fact of the matter is that he was practically giddy as he told you what your fiance had been doing on the road up until that point. You were heartbroken and humiliated as to what he did and even more so when you learned he had been gearing up to break up with you the night he proposed, but only stopped when he realized that you wouldn’t be waiting for him, once his career settled.

He had been calling your house non-stop and sending his friends over all with the mission to coax you into talking to him. Worse still he even got your own friends in on it and now you can’t have a single conversation with any of them that doesn’t turn into them telling you how sorry he feels for hurting you and how he desperately wants you back. 

The only people, aside from his manager, that were happy at this development were your parents. They had liked him up until he started to really take off in his career, and they wanted none of the controversy, especially when it came to your squeaky clean, good girl image they had for you. 

They’ve been walking around with the smuggest “I told you so” looks ever since you announced that you were done with him. If only they knew their good girl had been sneaking in her boyfriend for the past three years and had a whole routine for doing so.

But the downside to this is that He was just as aware of the routine as you were. And despite it having been awhile he evidently remembered enough as he stood outside your window, right after all the lights in your house had gone out. 

“Get outta here,” you hiss at him, opening the window just a crack. “You’re gonna wake up my parents.”

“Baby I gotta talk to you,” he pleads, his face utterly heartbroken. Guilt eats at you, knowing how there were days you wished you could go back to not knowing at all. But then you get angry at not only him but yourself for these thoughts. 

If only all of your love for him had died the moment you found out, you would’ve had the strength to shut the window on him that night, and your life probably would’ve taken a very different course. 

But no, you’re hurt and you felt that you had to have the final word. “Talk to one a your other girls,” you say as you move to close your window but he beats you to it and ends up opening it wider, allowing for him to fully step into your space. 

“Get out,” you say severely. “Get out, or I’ll scream.” 

“Darlin’, please listen,” he begs.

“Don’tchu ‘baby’ ‘darlin’ me,” you whisper-yell. 

“I swear things’ll be different this time round,” he pleads, clasping his hands in yours. 

“I’m done with your nonsense, I want you outta my house and outta my life.” tears are already streaming down your face and you make no motion to wipe them away. If he’s gonna hurt you like this he deserves to know. 

He looks at you. Truly looks at you and sees that you’re dead serious about this, that for you there is no coming back from this. 

“Okay,” he says solemnly, looking down at you more defeated than you’ve ever seen him, unfelled tears doting his eyes, and his bottom lip trembling. 

That takes you by surprise, but you try not to show it. “Good,” you say, trying to stamp down the urge to be mad that he’s not fighting harder. There is a hurricane of emotions going through your entire being, hating him and loving him at the same time, but you recognize that you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of being able to sort through said emotions while he’s here. 

“But…”

“But?” you say, confused as to what more there is to say. 

“Let me have you,” he begs breathlessly, stepping closer to you, boxing you into the wall behind you. “Just for tonight,” he clarifies as though that’s gonna make it better.

That offends you but you can’t afford to raise your voice so you hiss at him that it’s not as though you didn’t offer when he was here. “I ain’t ever gonna forgive myself for bein’ so stupid and steppin’ out on you, I-I thought I had more time, tha-that we’d got the rest of our lives together,” he says his voice painfully small, and his eyes pleading with you to agree. 

Your heart swells hearing his words, pleading with your brain to forgive him seeing how much pain the thought of never being with you again is causing the both of you. Another, unmentionable part is also hounding your brain to accept his offer if only for the fact that you had wanted this yourself for so long.

“If-If I do that…” you say in a low voice, your face burning as to what the both of you want but aren’t saying aloud. “Then you’ll leave and never come back?” though even as you say that you’re not exactly sure how you feel over that prospect.

“Just one night sweetheart,” he begs, giving you a quick desperate kiss to your lips. “One night to know what a life with you could’ve been like, and I’ll be outta yer hair forever,” he says with a quick peck to your lips. 

He makes it almost sound romantic, not like he’s quite literally backing you into a corner, and coaxing you into something you’re not sure you want just so that you would finally know peace from him. But that's far from your mind as that little bit of contact does something to you and it’s like opening the floodgates for all the feelings for him you’ve been trying to bury. 

It feels like you're transported to almost a year ago when, he would sneak his way back into your room after having said his goodbyes to your family and parking his car around the corner out of view. How you both move your blankets and pillows onto the floor to avoid the creaky springs of your mattress, how you both keep your voices low, and muffle most sounds with the pillows, how he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt before slowly undressing you, your body being treated like a present to unwrap. 

Like this it’s easy to forget what he did, easy to forget the pain he’s caused when he’s treating you so sweetly. Kissing every inch of skin, nipping at your sensitive skin every so often, before laving at the bruising area with his tongue. You bite down on your lip hard, willing yourself to keep a cap on the filthy moans and declarations of love alike. 

You had done things with him before but it had never felt quite like this. He had always been insistent that you wait until the wedding night for that, wanting to savor you and all you had to offer before the time came. Which made it feel all the worse when you did find out about those other girls. Your friends had tried to justify it by saying that he was just getting in some “practice” for you, but that hardly made it feel any better. 

But the way he touches you, so sure of his newfound skills, it’s almost easy to forgive him. He treats you almost deceptively sweet, and for as hard as you try to keep yourself quiet, you admittedly don’t do a great job at it. But you manage to keep a good enough lid on yourself. But as it goes on it feels like he himself forgets that he had to do the same, as moans and groans alike continue to escape from his mouth. 

That should’ve been your first clue that he was up to something, but by then as he continues to bury himself deeper and deeper into you, you can’t focus on much else. Had you been thinking straight you would remember he arguably has better control of himself than you do, as he often would tease you over it. 

But in the moment that’s not what you’re thinking about. All you had on your brain was him, and how good and right he felt.

If you could go back in time you think you would’ve strangled your younger, far more naive self, as now in retrospect it became clear what he was planning on doing. He had no qualms to exposing what you had done already with him if it meant merely getting a chance to talk to you, why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to go full scorched earth if given the chance. 

He continues his steady rhythm, and when he whispers in your ear, “It’s only ever gonna be you, darlin’,” you find yourself letting out a silent scream. Your eyes screwed shut, so lost in the pleasure of it all, you would only get the tail-end of the disdainful look he would give upon failing to get you to crack. 

Still you vividly remember how conflicted you did feel in the moment, how for all that it felt good, it also made your stomach turn, for all the hurt he’s caused you yet how deceptively sweet he could be to you. It just gave you a serious case of whiplash. 

But you were so focused on keeping as quiet as possible not even being able to fathom the heap of trouble you would be in should your parents ever find out. You could hardly fathom the agent of your destruction laid within you, but it wasn’t until it was too late did it truly click. 

That devious look he had in his eyes, the one that spoke nothing but trouble. The very same look that seemingly first trapped you all those years ago when you caught it staring at you from across the bookstore. He picked up his rhythm, not allowing for you to fully recover, from the last time, as he pistons into you seeking out release for himself.

You were so dizzy in that moment you didn’t register how he raised his hand onto your night table, before quickly slamming it three times into the wall. 

The very wall you shared with your parents. 

Even in the moment you didn’t fully recognize what he had just done, everything sort of blurring together. Before you can even hope to get your bearings, he’s spinning the both of you around so that you now were on top of him, his fingers digging bruises into your hips, as he thrusts back up into you, no longer trying to feign tenderness, as he seems to rip another climax from you as he lets an unrestrained groan fall from his lips, while your inner walls tighten around him. 

Even in your haze, you realize that this is bad, and you manage to gather yourself enough to slap your hand over his mouth, but that does little to muffle the singer. Especially as it seems as though he's hellbent to be heard. “What did you just do?” you ask unbelieving, frozen in fear even as you hear the muffled shouts of your father through the wall. You feel underneath your palm as his mouth curls into a grin, as he shudders and you feel his hot seed burn you from within. And that’s when you hear the powerful footfalls of your father burst out of his room before he slams open your bedroom door. 

You can only imagine the image you make at that moment, naked sitting astride the nearly fully clothed boy you had sworn up and down for weeks you were done for good with. “What in the hell is going on in here!” your father shouts at the top of his lungs.

Everything after that happens in a blur of your fathers harsh shouts and the sharp sting that comes from your mothers hand across your face as she calls you a whore. By the time it’s all said and done you’re on your knees at the front door begging them to let you back into the house. 

“Take her with you,” your daddy practically spat at him as he tossed you to your knees outside of what was once your home. “I didn’t raise no whores, and you seem to now be in the business a collectin’ them.” 

You can almost hear the sound of a rattlesnake as his arm coils around your shoulder, laying his jacket over your weeping form like a gentleman. “Don’tchu worry baby,” he whispers in your ear. 

He’s almost angelic in his appearance, playing the savior role well, having escaped your home relatively unscathed and in remarkably high-spirits for the situation. But you don’t have much of a choice in the moment, remembering Gina’s words of how easily this family will toss aside wayward women, but it never truly sunk in that you were liable to become one. 

He would tell everybody that your daddy had thrown you out after asserting that you still wanted to be with Him in spite of all of that he’s done, and your folks practically disowned you for it. You let him say what he wants because you don’t see a point in telling the truth and if you’re being honest, part of you wants to believe it. It was a far more romantic story than what had actually happened. 

As you’re coming down from your second and somehow less satisfying orgasm, does the guilt start to creep in. Even after all these years you still yearn for his touch. 

But that is so much easier to admit than the alternative of missing Him.

It eats at you that you still think of Him like this after all that he did to you, and worse still it’s almost like you want him to come back.

Your heart practically leaps out your chest when you hear a soft knock at the door and for one horrifying second you think you’ve somehow summoned him to you. 

“Mama…” you hear a small voice whimper behind the locked door, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Mama, I threw up.”

You don’t know if it’s a consolidation of three different people telling you the same thing in one day, the culmination of your late night loneliness for the past four or so years, or the noxious fumes of the truly unholy combination of stomach acid, red beans, and Jelly Beans that you had to clean up in your sleep deprived state, but you come to the conclusion that you can no longer do this by yourself. 

Being a mother tended to be enough of a deterrent to most men in the city, which didn’t bother you one bit, but it did make you feel all the worse when you did meet the few who were still willing even after learning about Rosie. 

Sam or Lou may very well have been as nice and understanding as they seemed to be, but because of Him, you now look suspiciously at every man trying to get close. 

Perhaps the women in your life were onto something and it is about time for you to move on with your life. Because if you resolve yourself to being for all intents and purposes a shut-in who never knew another man’s touch other than His, then you ran for nothing. 

So it’s with a semi-defeated sigh that you tell Jenny the next morning to send over Lee’s friend to the shop while you’re working to “see how it goes.” 

You do admittedly put a little more effort into your appearance than you would on an average day and you perk up every time a man who looked close to your age walked in. But if any of them were sent by Jenny they didn’t mention it. 

You only ever had one boyfriend when you were a teen, so it feels more than a bit intimidating to go into this, but you can’t deny yourself a life anymore. 

Afterall if you don’t then you may as well have stayed in Memphis. 

The day goes by and of the few men that do enter the shop, of the few that seem interested in you, none of them knew who Jenny was.  

It’s well past closing and feeling both tired and rejected, however the bane of your existence you call Jenny has yet to return, so you instead just flip the sign without properly locking up and hope they’ll be back soon. This isn’t necessarily unusual but you’re just eager for this day to end and hope that a nice cuddle with your daughter will be enough to lift your spirits. 

But for now there are books that need to be out back.

Soon you finally hear the shop bell ring, but instead of the comforting tiny footsteps or the recognizable clack of Jenny’s heels, you instead hear an unfamiliar pattern of heavy footsteps over the low volume of the radio. You look between the shelves from where you’re stocking books in the back and while you can’t make out specific details you see what is undoubtedly the shape of a man standing at the counter. 

“I’m sorry Sir,” you announce still from behind the shelf. “We’re closed for the evening, but please feel free to return tomorrow.” 

“Oh I ain’t going anywhere sweetheart,” a voice drawls.

A voice you would recognize anywhere.

You think you begin to understand at that moment why some animals will chew off their own arms to escape a trap. After all, what is a limb or two in the face of inevitable doom? And even when they do eventually die, they will at least go with their head held high knowing that they did all that they could, because better dead than captured.

But you stand there frozen, barely capable of breathing at a steady rate. You feel like every drop of blood has been drained from your body. Like someone reached into your lungs and snatched the air right out of them. Like your bones have lost all integrity and you’re only kept standing by the mere fact you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. 

He is here. 

Elvis is here.

Not only that but the footsteps getting louder tell you he is getting closer. 

Fuck.

Your mind is going a million miles an hour to try to get out of this, but all of them fall flat when you remember your daughter is not here and if you were to run that would just leave her in his clutches. So rather than act on any plan, you walk out from behind the bookshelf, because there is no point fighting the inevitable. 

You’re hoping your look isn’t so much deer in the headlights and more awestruck and in disbelief that he found you. Which is true to some extent as you thought you had been so careful all these years, so all you can muster out when you see him for the first time is a pathetic little “h-how?”

Your hackles raise slightly as you see him reach behind him, and to your surprise he pulls out an old battered copy of Nancy Drew. You’re so confused for a second until you recognize it as yours. 

One of the many that Gina would send you periodically when you lived with your parents.

One of the many that had the name of this very store stamped to the inner cover. 

One of the many you took with you when you were kicked out.

One of the many left behind at Graceland. 

Fuck.

You want to kick yourself both for being so careless in your haste to leave, but you have no time for that as he says, “I ain’t as smart as you baby, but I figured out your breadcrumbs eventually.”

He thinks you wanted him to find you. 

Didn’tchu though?

“E-Elvis…” you whisper, the single name somehow feeling wrong as it comes out of your mouth. You’ve avoided even thinking about it all these years, as though if you try hard enough you’ll be able to purge him from your mind and thus from your life. As though simply uttering it will somehow summon him. 

That theory isn’t disproven as he, as usual, wastes no time in getting straight to what he came here for, his long legs carrying himself to you as he moves to engulf you within his arms. You stave off the immediate instinct of putting your hands up and allow this to happen, remembering what used to happen when you would deny him. 

He even goes so far as to spin you around, and you lose your footing and have to rely on him in order to not face plant onto the floor. But this works all the better to create the image of the long-lost lovers joyfully reuniting after so long. 

But as he gazes into your eyes, it isn’t fully complete until he leans down to capture your lips. You would like to say you had to force yourself not to flinch away, but even you would know you’re not that good of a liar.

It’s a kiss for the ages truly, both all-consuming and yet leaving you longing for more. The pitfall of having denied getting close to anyone these past few years now show themselves full-force as you on instinct lean full-force into his touch, and welcome his kiss, even fully knowing how precarious your situation is.  

All these years you never could’ve imagined how much you could miss touch- how much you could miss his touch. The kiss itself isn’t even broken until he roughly moves you against the bookshelf and forces his thigh between yours and your left gasping for air as you feel him for the first time. 

And you can’t help the little whine that leaves your lips before you gather yourself once more to look him in the eyes. 

“Did’ya miss me sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips. 

“I…” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “I’ve thought about you every night.” 

This is not a lie.

His fond expression doesn’t crack an inch as you say that, but before you can sigh an internal breath of relief, you feel a tight grip on your wrist as well as on your jaw.

“Then where’ve you been all these years,” he says, low and dangerous. 

It’s certainly not an unfair question to ask. But you’ve been prepared to answer this question since the moment you stepped foot outside of Graceland for a quick errand.

You don’t know what he knows yet, and that’s terrifying.   

“I…I…” you say in a quiet voice, all your years of preparation failing you when you needed it the most. 

In the back of your mind, though you are loath to admit it, you think you always knew this day was coming, that he would find you, and the only thing you could do was to try to lessen the blowback you would experience. It’s why yours and your daughter’s last name is Love. It’s why you never tried to get involved with another man. It’s why you even made that goddamn deal in the first place. 

“I’m going to disappear,” you say, casually taking a sip of your tea, not truly a fan of the taste, but lately it’s been one of the few things your sensitive stomach could handle. “And you’re gonna help me do that.” You couldn’t just ask anyone for help on this, you were surrounded only by sychophants who would do practically anything for Elvis, so you had to look elsewhere to the person whose only side he was on, was his own. 

“And why would I help you?” The Colonel said, idly stirring his coffee, but obviously trying to mask the spark of interest in his eyes. For as much of a slimeball as he can be, you would be a fool to not acknowledge that he’s a decent enough businessman at the end of the day to recognize  a good deal when he sees one. 

“Because you want me gone as much as I wanna be gone,” you state. He hated that Elvis kept you around, even more so when Elvis made it clear he had no intention of staying a bachelor once he finished service. 

Truly under any other circumstance he would be the last person in this house you would confide in, but though your desires were very different they did often run parallel. Something you realized when he talked Elvis out of eloping right before he got shipped out and into a long engagement. Truly the greatest boon you’ve been given since you’ve gotten here, the lack of recognizability or association with the rockstar will serve your purposes all the better.

“Can’t argue with that logic girl,” he says, taking a bite out of the muffins you had baked this morning as a peace offering to him. “Why do you even need my help?” he questions.

“Because I need someone to make sure that he doesn’t ever find me,” you declare, you had practiced this in your head so many times, too afraid to ever voice it aloud or write it down should any of it get back to him. Even an Ocean away you still feel his breath on the back of your neck, with the only safe place being inside your head. 

You had excused yourself from following him to Germany by feigning sickness with the promise that you would join him as soon as you felt better. Which wasn’t hard to do considering your symptoms before he left, left you practically bedridden.

Ever since you figured out your… condition (it felt too scary to even think in your head, let alone voice out loud), your mind had been running rampant with all of the possibilities of how he would react. None of which you're willing to risk coming to fruition. 

“And if I said No?” he asks, but from the look in his eyes he’s all but ready to pack your bags himself. Part of you feels guilty to leave the boy you once loved with such a man, but you have bigger things to worry about now. 

“You’re absolutely free to say no, Parker,” you assure, but he’s savvy enough to know that’s not the end of it. You don’t know whether it’s you mimicking the late Gladys Presley, or something that comes natural with becoming a mother, however you do know you need to assert yourself now of all times, not just for your sake but your baby’s. “Regardless of your help or not, I’m gonna to leave. Now whether I’m gone for twenty minutes or twenty years, will all depend on you, but know that this will also determine how long you’ll be able to keep your position as Manager.” 

He seems to bristle at your words, “And how do you figure dat Lil’ Miss?” he says with a dangerous look in his eyes as you seem to threaten the only thing he happens to care about. But once you do explain it he looks at you with no small amount of respect in his eyes as he mulls over your plan. “Quite devious,” he comments, literally tipping his hat at you. “I think I’m beginnin’ to get what he sees in you.” 

You're far from proud of your plan, and the slimeball’s admiration of it doesn’t help either, but you know for a fact it will work, and Parker is gonna make damn sure that he doesn’t ever find you. 

You made that plan practically bulletproof, but you never factored into account that you would choke in the moment that it truly matters. “Elvis I…” you trail off, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, clutching your hands on his shirt to keep yourself somewhat steady, trembling from the effort it takes to maintain that makeshift barrier. You’re either about to give the performance of a lifetime or… or…

No 

You can’t think like that otherwise…

This has to work. 

Your brain is going a million miles a minute, trying to remind yourself that you have to make this work if you have any hope of getting out of this without him ever having a chance of finding her.

But in real time you watch as this notion turns to ash in your mouth. 

You feel as your blood freezes in your veins when you hear the door slam open only to be followed by the familiar little dashing footsteps. Your heart drops into your stomach as you hear your daughter stop dead in her tracks and you want to throw up at the thought of him laying eyes on her. This is truly what all your nightmares have been building up to, but even they paled in comparison to the reality of what would actually happen. 

“Danny!!!” she squeals at the top of her lungs, before sprinting right into the arms of the man you were so desperately running from. You’re too shocked to do anything about it at the moment, and only watch in horror as something beyond your worst nightmare plays out before your very eyes. 

Even when your instincts kick in to keep her away from him, he casually moves your hands out of the way as he easily scoops her up and over his head, practically playing keep away as you try to take her back. “Is today the day!?!?” she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck as best she could, giving him a kiss on the cheek, none the wiser at the danger the two of you were in.

“It sure is baby girl,” he says with a mile wide grin on his face. “Why don’tcha go pack everything you’re gonna need in Neverland?” You don’t miss the way his eyes slide your way, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction. 

She squeals in delight, as she jumps out of his arms and makes her way to the stairs, completely oblivious to your state. 

Everything your daughter ever said about “Danny” suddenly makes a whole lot more sense, and you can’t help but want to kick yourself for not paying attention. You thought she was safe with Jenny, you want to throw up at the thought that you unintentionally sent her into the lion's den without her.

She doesn’t even have the decency to face you in that moment, seeing her right outside the window, in Lee’s arms -or Charlie as you would later learn- pointedly not looking in. 

You don’t have the luxury of being mad as you feel his attention focus back on you in that moment. 

“Now…,” he says as he brings your face closer to his, tenderly grabbing your chin, wiping away a tear. “You wanna try again, sweetheart,” he grins maliciously, knowing you’ll have no choice but to be “honest.” 

And that’s it you have only one card left to play and you pray whatever forces that have written the story of your life will be merciful and let this plan work as you hoped it would all those years ago.

You fall to your knees and begin to sob uncontrollably into your palms. It’s actually easier than you had initially hoped, it in fact takes more effort not to cry when you think about him. It’s a miracle you’ve been able to stay this intelligible up to this point.

“Elvis,” you cry, trying to sound as pathetic and heartbroken as you possibly could. “Elvis I-I-I’m so sorry,” you stutter trying to really sell it. “He-he told me that you kn-knew and you didn’t want me anymore,” you hiccup for good measure. “Ho-how you couldn’t have a baby weighing you down, and that-that if I ever came back, he would make sure I would lose her for good.”

You start to hyperventilate, but it’s far from intentional, as you know your very life is at stake in this moment. If he doesn’t believe you… you can’t think like that. 

You know him well enough to know that he won’t believe your words specifically, but he does believe in the world he’s created in his head. That regardless of what you feel, what you say, or even what you do, you love him and want to be with him- always. It’s just others preventing that from happening. It was the women who tempted him on the road, and then it was your family speaking poison in your ear, and then it was the men he couldn’t trust to not look your way. It was never you personally, regardless of how he would sometimes lash out at you, you wanted to be there because he wanted you to be there. 

In the back of your mind when you had just barely begun to formulate leaving, you knew it would be foolish to believe there wasn’t a chance, no matter how slim, that he would find you. And you knew that it wouldn’t go without punishment should he ever find you should it ever occur. So you had to formulate a plan not just to leave, but how best to set yourself up if he ever returned. 

(There have been some nights that you lay awake believing that you prepared so well not because you were paranoid, but because it was an inevitability.)

You hear his clothes shift as he kneels down before you, and he takes your chin into his hand though much gentler this time. 

“Who’s ‘he’” he demands, voice as cold as a tomb. 

He’s buying it, you think, though you have no time to celebrate. You let out a truly pathetic little blubber through your tears, purposefully unintelligible trying to sell the emotions. 

“Who?” he asks, softer this time around, but no less urgent.

“The co-” you cut yourself off taking a deep steady breath. “The Colonel,” you whisper as though you fear speaking his name aloud will bring him to this very spot.

Parker’s far from innocent but you feel a slight twinge of guilt that his downfall would be for something he didn’t do as opposed to all the things he had done. But you can’t think like that anymore, it was gonna be either him or you. 

Someone would need to suffer because of what you did, and you would be damned before it was you or your daughter. 

And so Parker is now the villain who cruelly kept you and your daughter away from him, and not that you wanted so desperately to get away from him that you practically disappeared off the face of the Earth. But it seems like a fair trade. Parker loses his job, you lose your life. Maybe not in the literal sense, but in all the ways that matter you’ll be gone. 

You don’t relax at all when you feel him gently cup your face in his hands to softly wipe your tears away. You look upon the devastatingly handsome man, as he looks as if he means to take you in his arms to never let you go.“Don’tchu worry baby,” he says, wiping your tears away. “You don’t gotta worry bout that rat bastard no more.” You let out a small cry, hoping it sounds more out of relief than out of devastation to his words. “So now you and Rosie can come home,” he states with a delusional smile on his face. 

Despite the fact that you knew this would realistically end one of two ways, you can’t help but balk at the words. You try your best to smile at his words, but even you realize how hollow that gesture is, in spite of the part you know you’re meant to play in the moment, between the two of you, only one of you is an actor.

He’s having none of it as you feel the previously gentle hand cupping your face wrap around your throat. “Now. You. And. Rosie. Can. Come. Home.” he grits out, his grip around your neck tightening with each word emphasized. 

He knows what your answer is, no doubt he’s just trying to rub salt in the wound knowing that it’s not a choice he’s giving you. This is all the proof you need that he doesn’t fully believe you, but is willing to play along. Leaving may have been forgivable, staying away for so long is another matter entirely. 

He’s just punishing you for not being as enthusiastic as you should be at the prospect of coming “home,” as you should be.

You’re not playing pretend well enough.

“Mama!” Rosie squeals excitedly and when he lets go, you turn to see her making her way back downstairs, her favorite blanket now a makeshift rucksack of what you assume to be all toys dragging behind her. “Mama it worked!” she said, as she ran full tilt toward you, holding something in her palm. “Danny’s gonna take us to Neverland today.”

You see the little porcelain baby from the king cake and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else. But you know better than to believe in wishes.

“Can we go now?” she says, her little hand grasping one of Elvis’ fingers and shaking furiously. “Now please,” she begs, before he scoops her up into his arms and propping her on his hip. He holds her close and you're forced to face what you have been ignoring all these years. The shape of the nose, the way her lips curl in such a specific way, there is only one place she could have gotten all of that from. It feels like just your luck that your child would be practically a carbon copy of the man you so desperately tried to get away from. Really it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out. 

“Now hold ya’ horses yittle,” chucking her under the chin in a far too familiar manner, as she giggles in his arms. “Yer mama’s gotta get ready herself.”

“I… do…” you say, playing along, trying to keep a cap on your distress for your daughter's sake. “I-I gotta pack a few more things baby,” you say, giving her a kiss on her forehead, hoping she misses the tears in your eyes. “I’ll b-be right back.” you manage to stutter out.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” his voice so saccharine sweet it makes our teeth ache. “We’ll be right here.” 

As you turn around you feel a hard smack on your ass, and you fully stop, burning in humiliation that he would treat you like that, especially in front of your daughter. 

The humiliation only further ramps up as you walk up the stairs, and you can feel the slick already gathering between your thighs. Less out of titillation you believe and more out of a defense mechanism, knowing what will more than likely happen the second he's able to get you alone.

Or is it?

It doesn’t feel real as you step into the upstairs apartment, you see Gina at the stove and Sue filling out a crossword puzzle, her glasses threatening to fall off her nose, none of which suggests they have any idea of what’s going on downstairs. You’re almost angry about that, like it would’ve been easier to walk away from them if they had also been in on it as well. 

“Where’s Rosie so eager to rush off to?” Sue asks idly, not looking up from the paper.

“Oh ummm…” you say, trying to think on your feet for a decent enough lie. “ Sh-she’s going to a sleepover with-with Jenny.” 

You’re usually a better liar than this, but him being so close again has you all out of sorts tonight. Not to mention your mind is running rampant with all the worst case scenarios possible at the moment with the most egregious being that he’s gonna take her and run, forcing you to chase him down the same way he’s undoubtedly done for you these past few years. You’re practically feeling every second tick by, fearing the longer you take the greater the chances will be that they’re both gone. 

Is that how he felt when he was away from you? A small voice in your head asks. It’s an awful roiling feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if the person you loved most wasn’t where you left them. Would he be so cruel to do that to you?

“Did that fella Jenny setchu up with ever show up?” Gina asks, wiping her hands on her apron. 

“Ye-yeah and… and I’m gonna get dinner with him,” you swallow, the lie tasting like bile in your mouth. As you turn to your room, already mentally mapping where the important documents were in your bedroom, preparing to pack a few outfits for Rosie, and whatever other odds and ends you would need. 

Your answer catches Gina off guard, and Sue immediately looks up from the paper sharing a look with your other Aunt. “Ain’t that a little fast, Hon?” 

“Maybe…” you say, hesitating as you try to hold back your tears. 

“Ya don’t gotta go if you ain’t ready for it,” Sue says behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, that you flinch away from. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong If it’s still a little too early for you.” 

That’s the worst part about it. You know they would fight tooth and nail for both you and Rosie if you just asked. But you know the type of mess Elvis can and will bring into this house should you decide to fight him on this. After all they’ve done for you, keeping them out of the type of spectacle he brings is the least you can do.

“I have to go,” you say sternly. 

One look at your squared back shoulders and your far away look they know there’s no stopping this. You hold back your tears as you accept their hug and accept their well wishes. You say your goodbyes promising to be back soon, unsure if you will ever see them again, and you put on your biggest fakest smile as you let go of them, wanting to at least leave them with one happy memory.

Relief floods your entire being seeing her at the bottom of the steps, only for the dread to return seeing him there with her. Especially when you hear the story he’s telling her. You don’t miss the glance he steals your way before focusing on your daughter once again. “I thought to myself, ‘thas the girl whose gonna be mine.’”

“Like-like love at first sight,” Rosie asks, and you can practically hear the stars in her eyes.

“Exactly yittle,” he drawls out. “Took her awhile to figure it out though but she learned eventually. Now we’re all gonna go home.” His eyes slide right off her and cut directly to you. Her eyes follow him and she quickly scurries off of him to reach you. 

“You ready Mama?” she asks you as she takes you by the hand leading you to the door where you see a car parked right out front.  It may as well have been a hearse in your mind. 

You pick her up and you look down the darkened streets and you briefly flirt with the idea of just sprinting and never looking back. But the hand on your elbow guiding you to the car puts a halt to those thoughts. 

You still don’t know how much of your story he does actually believe, so you sit yourself down in the car without so much as a fuss and resolve yourself to your fate. Though that doesn’t stop you from seating yourself in the middle and placing Rosie by the window, as you still aren’t totally out of the mindset of keeping her as far away from him as possible. Neither of them seem to mind as she eagerly presses tiny hands up to the glass in awe of the nightlife of New Orleans, while he slithers an arm over your shoulder bringing you closer to him. 

As you contemplate what your life will look like from now on, you pass by so many places you’ve become familiar with these last four years, but what nearly breaks you are the unfamiliar places. Record stores, movie theaters, restaurants, and so many other places you avoided all due to an irrational belief that he would somehow be there. You did your best to limit your time in the outside world to only when you absolutely had to be out. 

Maybe that’s why you were so willing to trust Jenny and her altruistic generosity to watch over your daughter and take her places you were too anxious to venture to. 

You caged yourself into your new seemingly better life, but you didn't live at all. You were hiding. Always so afraid that he would somehow find you, you neglected to live. You put yourself in a different cage and convinced yourself you were free. 

“Mama? Mama, why are you crying?” your sweet little girl asks. 

But you’re gonna do what you’ve always done for your daughter. What you’ve always done when it comes to Elvis. You’re going to play pretend. 

“Mama’s just so happy we’re going baby,” you say with a solemn kiss to her forehead as his grip further tightens on your shoulder. 

“I know what’ll cheer you up!” she declares and completely unaware of the salt she’s about to pour on your wounds, she pulls something out of her little rucksack. “Danny, do you know the story of ‘Punzel?”

“Can’t say that I do darlin’” he says, eyeing you over her head. She sets the Grimm fairy tale book down on her lap and opens it to the worn pages she’s seemed to memorize by heart. She proceeds to read to the both of you, in the sense that she recites the story she’s heard maybe half-a-million times before word-for-word, going off pictures more than the actual words on the page to know where she’s at in the story. You try your best to focus on the book for your daughter's sake, but it’s nearly impossible to do when you feel Elvis' familiar bruising grip on your inner thigh. 

You shoot him a look and grab a hold of his wandering hand, trying to signal for him to stop and pay attention to Rosie. He gives a mirthful smile to you as he feels the slick there and seemingly tightens his grip in retribution, as though he wants to get a head start on re-establishing his claim over you. You in response bite your cheek and bear it, until at one point it nearly becomes too much and one lone tear rolls down your cheek and onto the page of the prince wandering blindly through the forest.  

Your daughter is far too sweet for her own good, as she notices this and gives you a gentle pat on your cheek, trying to comfort you the same you’ve done for her before. 

“Don’t worry Mama,” she reassures you, mirroring what you’ve done for her when a story gets her a little too worked up. “They always live happy ever after.”

You give a shuddering sigh as Elvis finally let’s go of your thigh. You clutch onto that little porcelain figure in your pocket and hope she’s right.

You make it to Memphis in record time, Rosie having long since tired herself out, is wrapped securely in your arms, but you’ll find no suh peace with his arm coiled around your shoulder as he sadistically whispers how Rosie’ll have a blast meeting the rest of his family while the two of you get “reacquainted,” of course he used more colorful language but you don’t want to have to think about that for right now. 

When the familiar gates come into view 

“Ahh, my baby missed home that bad,” he whispers, giving a deceptively sweet kiss to your tear-stricken cheek. “Why don’tcha hand the ‘lil one over to me and you just head up to bed and get ready for me?”

Despite the questioning lilt in his tone you know for a fact he’s not asking. And so going against all of your instincts screaming in your head, you let go of your daughter and watch as he takes a hold of her. To your relief she’s at the very least on the same floor as you, but you can only hope that she, at the very least, will sleep through the rest of the night, because you doubt he’ll let you out even a minute sooner than he has to. 

The bedroom has changed in many ways since you’ve been gone, though the most striking thing  was how your side of the bed looks as though it were converted into a little shrine for you. Small baubles and trinkets you left behind on the stand, you even find an old nightgown of yours on your side of the bed, the last thing he ever saw you in. It doesn’t fit you like it used to, having and breastfeeding a baby will do that to you, but you put it on all the same knowing he will want to see you in it. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing your breasts straining against the silk material and the bruises peeking out beneath the scandalously short hemline, it really does settle in that this was all inevitable. This is the very same image you saw the night before he left for Germany.

The same image that confirmed your decision to leave in the first place. 

This moment, feels like the dread you always felt when getting to the last few pages of a book. As things were wrapping up and you would have to face the harsh reality of your situation...

You’re back in the fucking hotel room.

You won’t even have the luxury of daydreaming of your escape, because there is no world where you leave without Rosie, and he knows that. He knows she’s the reason you ran, and knows that without her you’re never gonna run again. That’s why he went to the lengths he did to endear himself to her first before you ever had an inkling as to what was going on. 

Your thoughts turn to Jenny, and how you entrusted what you loved the most to her, only to have her spit in your face by turning around practically handing her over to him on a platter. Either she knew that he was her father and didn’t bother to question why you were so desperate to get away that you faked a whole other life, or she didn’t and handed over your daughter to a stranger. You don’t know which is worse. 

You also can’t forget how she was perhaps the most vehement about you dating again, which you can’t even begin to understand if she was working for him the whole time. But you can’t put it above him that he wouldn’t have Jenny push the issue if only to further twist the knife if you ever did take up her offer. As though to remind you that you never had a chance of moving on. 

Because it always goes back to him.

You want to hide from it all and you give into the urge, and crawl under the silky sheets of the bed, for all the good it will do to protect you. 

Monsters don’t hide under your bed. They crawl into it. Those are your last conscious thoughts as you feel the bed shift 

“Welcome home Satnin,” he whispers before you feel the sheets being ripped away from you.

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[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (14)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Drug and mild gore references ahead. I’m back from sailing around the Norwegian islands, which made me realise how much I missed outdoor activities, especially in the summer! As I’ll be engaging in more of that and playing in two VtM campaigns, I have less time for writing overall. So, I won't be able to update this fic regularly, though I intend to finish the story. For everyone who has been following me this far, thanks a million for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy my writings, however spontaneous they may be ❤️

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps @g0thesqe ✨

AO3 Link

Chapter 14: Renegade

It was the first time you’d jolted violently awake, no sweat, your body frigid and gray. Your eyes snapped to the digital clock by the bedside, its angry red numericals burning white spots into your retina. The sun had already set, but it was still early. Leon hadn’t moved a muscle.

Quick steps along the stairs, your feet were light and hurried, as you peered around the apartment to check if everything was in order. It was. 

You fiddled with the remote, opening the shutters so that you could view the night sky. Was it intact too? Shades of lavender spread across the horizon, merging with rich indigos in the encroaching darkness. You could already spot a multitude of faint stars emerging in the background. A pale crescent moon hung overhead. 

Nothing seemed out of place, but you couldn't shake the uneasiness that had plagued you since rising from your slumber. No, wait, that wasn’t right. You remembered dreaming, but you couldn’t recall what about. It wasn’t normal for corpses to dream, was it? You were sure it wasn’t the Abyss or the Beast speaking to you, so were there other causes that Leon hadn’t known and informed you about?

Instead of pursuing it any further, you grabbed a blood bag from the fridge and emptied its contents into your mouth, not even bothering to use a glass. You would’ve hunted tonight, but Rebecca had required both of you to be present in advance to prepare the ritual chamber before the prisoner would be brought in.

You heard him lumbering down the stairwell, lethargic and sluggish, like he’d willed himself to wake up before his usual time because of you. Leaning his weight against your back, he snaked his arms around your waist, mumbling incoherently into the crook of your neck, “Nervous about the appointment?”

Placing one hand over his grasp and the other around his head, you massaged his scalp languidly as he hummed with satisfaction. “Just a bad dream,” you sighed, downplaying the pervasive, ominous feeling that had lingered.

He twitched, an obvious sign of his concern about what you had revealed. “Hmm, that doesn’t usually happen; not that I’ve heard of anyway.” His voice was nonchalant, but you could detect an uneven stammer at its edges.

Turning you around to face him, he tilted your chin towards him, his eyes veiled with worry. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I would, but my mind’s coming up blank,” you admitted in frustration. “It just feels like something’s gonna go wrong.”

He drew you in, clinging to you staunchly as he whispered against your chilled skin, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“I know,” you whispered back, your crisp breath tickling his collarbone. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know,” he echoed.

You allowed yourself to melt fully into him, savoring a moment of peace where time seemed to be suspended. Both of you understood they were rare and hard to come by in these nights, especially with your journey ahead. 

When you breathed again, he hoisted you up effortlessly, carrying you in his arms as he returned to where you came from. He excused it as “snoozing for a bit longer” in bed, though you did anything but. 

And all too soon, it was time to go, but his scent and mark on you still remained.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh, I’ll handle that,” Rebecca said, taking the unusual apparatus out of your hands as she set them aside. “No offense, but they’re kinda delicate.”

She handed you a bunch of trinkets and a musty cloth with occult sigils imprinted on it. “Maybe you could lay these out instead? Just follow the shape in this diagram.”

You studied details on the page she was pointing at a leather bound manuscript, attempting to replicate the same design on the floor. Leon was busy speaking with Jill, placating her as she grumbled about not being allowed to be present at the scene when the ritual took place. 

Rebecca had insisted on you being her guide and for Leon to keep watch outside, so there would be no interference. After all, it was the two of you who were personally assigned by the Prince to take on this task, and not the Sheriff. The fewer people around in the ritual chamber, the better chance Rebecca had of completing it successfully.

“I actually learnt this ritual from a Tremere Thinblood, well, I guess they’re all just Thinbloods to the Prince,” she revealed, smiling wistfully as she mixed the contents within an apparatus. “I just tweaked it a bit so that you could focus on specific memories, piecing them together, rather than relying on the whims and fancies of what the Kindred deemed as important.”

“You’re not called an expert for nothing,” you pointed out, smiling back at her while you worked. “What happened to the Thinblood anyway?”

You weren’t optimistic, after all, the Thinbloods or Duskborn were those whose blood were too diluted from Caine to be considered as part of ‘normal’ Kindred society. They were the weakest, but also the most lifelike of all vampires. Jealousy and fear made them direct targets of everyone else, particularly the Camarilla.

She heaved an audible sigh, pausing her intricate preparations for a moment. “Destroyed by the Scourge, along with his sire.” 

Though she could not voice her opinion on the matter, you could tell that she did not agree with the outcome the Prince had dictated. From what Leon had told you, the Scourge reported directly to Wesker and was somewhat regarded as his personal executioner. It was also a backup option in case Jill ever strayed from her loyalty. In this case, weeding out the Thinbloods was one of their duties, and that made your disdain for the Prince grow.

“It’s a shame, since he was so talented,” she added quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You threw her a sympathetic glance, mouthing an apology which she acknowledged gratefully. Then, she walked over to check on how you were getting on before asking, “You ever been on a drug trip before?”

“What?” you choked, slightly taken aback by the sudden change in subject. “Um, sure, yeah…?”

“Great, well, this is something like that,” she continued as if it were part of everyday conversation. “I’ll be incapacitated, so you’ll need to make sure that I’m where I’m supposed to be while in Memoriam. As you’re my only link to the tangible world, I’ll need your reassurances every now and then through voice and touch. That’ll prevent me from slipping away.”

You nodded. It sounded easy enough.

“And, uh, you’ll have to watch the timer,” she instructed, handing over an analogue alarm clock to you. “It is absolutely crucial that I’m back and awake by the 15-minute mark, otherwise weird shit starts to happen.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged indifferently. “Mental trauma at the very least.”

You guffawed in disbelief, realizing this was no joking matter. “And at the very worst?”

“Permanent torpor.”

“Jesus!” you blurted out. “Rebecca, are you—”

“I’ll be fine.” She squeezed your shoulder, seemingly still in good spirits. “Just remember to start reviving me a few minutes in advance.”

“Everything alright back there?” Leon called out, eyeing your discussion curiously. Jill had disappeared.

“Yeah, we’re good to go,” Rebecca commented with a thumbs up sign.

Eventually, Jill returned with the prisoner in tow, scarred and dragged around by the chains. He was no longer thrashing about like what you had witnessed in the video recording, but mute, as his will had been broken. You could see it in his listless eyes; he was a slave who had accepted whatever fate befell him. It sickened you to the core that Jill had tortured him to the extent that Final Death was considered the most peaceful option. However, if what Rebecca had promised was correct, you knew you had made the right decision.

“Hunnigan and I will be watching from the monitors,” Jill commented gruffly as she bolted the prisoner in place to a reinforced anchor on the floor, positioned just in the middle of the markings you had made with the materials provided to you earlier. “So you better not try anything funny, usurper.”

It was a pointed remark aimed at Rebecca, but the Tremere took it in her stride, offering nothing but a polite wave as Jill exited the room.

“Ladies,” Leon nodded to the both of you courteously. “I’ll be on the other end of this door. Stay safe, please.” The last word was drawn out, almost pleading, as the blue of his irises flickered, holding your gaze.

“We will,” you asserted, as he tore his eyes away from you, reluctantly closing the door behind him with a secure click.

You followed Rebecca, making sure you stayed by her side every step of the way. Lighting a row of candles on the altar table, she held out the apparatus containing the liquid she had prepared, chanting in a language that sounded ancient and otherworldly — none that you could recognize. The liquid thickened and congealed, sizzling as she clutched the apparatus close to her heart, using her fingers to stir the contents as the black concoction clung to her skin like tar. Steam rose from it, and though it appeared to be scalding hot, she was not affected. She did not burn nor yelp in pain. Her eyes glazed over white, glowing like a jackal’s at night.

The captive mourned aloud as she drew symbols on his face, as if he were crying for the loss of his unlife and knew that his Final Death was near. You felt terrible for him then, but you suppressed the urge to stop the ritual, knowing that whatever awaited him at Jill's hands instead would be far worse.

Finally, Rebecca took a lit candle, dousing its fire into the liquid which sparked a brilliant white flame, so dazzling that it hurt to look at it. There was a deafening whoosh and smash as she flung the apparatus to the ground in front of the captive, and he lit up like a bonfire, just like the one you had seen the night you died. However, there were no smoke or screams. Like an illusory magic trick, the Kindred had vanished into thin air, leaving only pale gray ashes in his wake.

She looked at you knowingly before sinking to her knees as you accompanied her. Feeding the ashes hungrily into her mouth, she devoured them whole as though it were her last meal. Powered dust swirled around the room, glittering under the dim sources of light. The more she stuffed into her mouth, the more she coughed and gagged, but she didn’t let up. The ashes decorated her chin like parched chalk and the rot of death, flaking and peeling off as others took their place. 

Soon, she slackened, her movements stuttering like a malfunctioning machine as her body turned rigid. Her eyes rolled towards the back of her head as she slumped into your outstretched arms. Gently, you laid her down within the marked out area where the Kindred had been confined earlier.

“I’m here,” you murmured, holding her hand as you kept an eye on the clock.

There was no response. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought she was a mummified carcass, a relic waiting to be found and entombed in some museum halfway across the world. You reassured yourself that this was just the beginning, and you didn’t need to worry yet.

Time seemed to pass by excruciatingly slowly, like the fluid from an IV drip gradually entering the body through a network of catheters and needles, the effects of which you could never feel until it was too late. Every so often, you stroked Rebecca’s hand, verbally reminding her she had a place to return to. However, you were met with blank silence, and it seemed as though you had gone crazy and were talking to yourself.

By now, the ten-minute mark had been reached and there was still no sign of her coming back. At the moment, there was enough buffer time for you to revive her, and you prayed that this wouldn’t end up any worse. 

Tapping her cheek lightly, you called out, “Rebecca? Can you hear me? There’s only five minutes left, you need to start waking up.”

At first, you merely coaxed her, but as each minute passed, your taps and voice grew more urgent. However, she remained out cold. Why was she taking so long? What was holding her back?

Three minutes remaining. Not good.

You broke out into short, rapid little breaths. “Come on, Rebecca?” You were shaking her lifeless body now. “If you can’t find the rest of them, just leave it!”

Two minutes. Shit!

Your heart raced in fear and your nerves fired up as you doubled down on your efforts to bring her back into the real world. Nothing was going to stop you from doing so.

Meanwhile, Leon had been waiting patiently outside the chamber. So far, things were mind numbingly boring and quiet, which was good. Why Rebecca had requested him to physically stand watch at the location baffled him. There wasn’t anything the cameras wouldn’t be able to catch, and not to mention, the security systems in Elysium were top-notch. However, she seemed to trust Kindred instincts more.

Then, he heard some noises coming from inside the room. Focusing his senses, he heard your frantic voice yelling at Rebecca, trying to rouse her from her comatose state. Before he could head in to help you, the light beams flickered, as if the power had been cut for a split second. 

He glanced up, noticing that someone had killed the cameras. They weren’t blinking red anymore. His muscles tensed, instinctively shifting into a combat stance as he readied himself for the incoming intruder. 

Just as he predicted, a blurred figure from the corner of his eye whizzed past. Sharpening his reflexes, he timed his move, reaching out to grab the culprit by their arm. All at once, he came face-to-face with the last person he wanted to be stuck in a corridor with.

“Ada? What the hell?” he snarled, finally piecing together the last parts of the puzzle. “I should’ve known…”

“You never should’ve underestimated your sire,” she tutted coyly, running her other hand up his chest provocatively.

He recoiled from her touch in disgust, throwing the hand he had seized back at her. “The Prince will have your head for this!” he hissed.

“Resorting to threats now, are we?” she laughed derisively. “Well, don’t worry, I can always counter with my own.”

Grazing a stiletto fingernail along the pulse point of his neck, she leaned in and whispered suggestively, “If you and your childe want to live to see another night, you better listen to what I have to say.” 

She cocked her head, peering behind Leon at the door as she narrowed her eyes. “And from the sounds of it, she doesn’t have much time…”

“We should go in,” she decided, stepping forward, only for him to block her path.

“Ada, I don’t know what fucking mind game you’re playing, but I swear to god, if you so much as lay a finger on her, I will—”

She sighed in vexation, interrupting him as she patted his chest condescendingly. “Relax, big boy.”

Taking his hand, she pressed it against the touchpad, and the door slid open. Instantly, they were greeted by the sore sight of you desperately trying to revive Rebecca. There was only one minute left before she would be in trouble.

“For fuck’s sake—”

And that’s when you looked up, your eyes darting between the two Kindred in a mixture of complete shock and confusion.

“Ada?” you exclaimed. “Leon? The fuck—”

“Ada!” A voice next to you screeched, choking and sputtering as if she was recovering from nearly drowning underwater. “You… Heisenberg… the Baker boy… you’re planning a coup. But why?”

30 seconds. You shut off the timer. That was close, way too close.

Despite the chaos and her accusations, you’d never been more relieved to see Rebecca back to life. You pulled her in hastily for a quick hug, before turning to the rest for a much-warranted explanation.

“We only have a few minutes until Jill storms in. Hunnigan is stalling her, so I’ll make this quick.” Ada sauntered towards you with cat-like grace, while Leon trailed behind watching her suspiciously. “The Prince is getting too big for his own shoes. Even I know that the benefits of working with the Anarchs, as long as they’re kept at an arm’s length, outweigh the cons. Unfortunately for Wesker, greed will be his downfall.”

Squatting down beside you and Rebecca, she stated, “You see, I just happened to stumble upon his plans to exterminate every single one of the Anarchs here in Raccoon City, so that he can rule uncontested.”

Nodding in Leon’s direction, she addressed him, “All the time you spent with them, along with his sending you as his emissary, allowed him to gather valuable information about your friends from you.”

He shook his head in abhorrence, huffing, “You’re saying, he used me as a spy?”

Instead of responding directly, she mentioned, “Of course, to keep up appearances, he couldn’t actually have you defecting to them. Though with the increase in SI presence recently, he sensed an opportunity to redirect the threat towards Heisenberg and his crew.”

Idly inspecting the apparatus that Rebecca had dropped when she fell unconscious, she chucked it aside when she found nothing of interest. “Foolish and reckless,” she criticized. “So we’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“And you expect us to trust you?” Leon spat, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glanced between the door and Ada.

“No,” she replied simply. “But you still have a boon to pay, and your missing vessel.” She flashed you a malevolent smile as Leon drew closer, situating himself between you and his sire defensively. 

Before Rebecca could speak her mind, Ada cut in, “Your Primogen is ready to finish what Glenn started if you decide to take matters into your own hands.” That caused her to shut her mouth and sink back in defeat.

So, there were others in the Camarilla who were in on this as well, you figured. In spite of the odds, you pushed back, detesting the woman’s methods from the start. “Let me guess, you have something to threaten me with too?” you jeered.

Leaning in, she sniffed your neck deliberately and simpered, “Mmm, I can smell him on you. How wonderful it must be to still enjoy such humanly pleasures…”

“Ada…” Leon warned, but she waved him off dismissively.

“With you, my dear, I wouldn’t need to lift a finger,” she gloated confidently. “No one’s going to believe a fledgling, especially without proof. And even if they do, would you really choose to endanger your beloved sire for lying?”

She was relentless, refusing to wait for your answer as she questioned rhetorically, “Or are you particularly fond of Wesker? Seeing as you know what he’s capable of.”

It was true that you held nothing but disdain for the man, given how he had treated you from day one, setting you up to fail with his ‘tests’ and what he had done to Leon with Sherry. Maybe it was time for him to go, you found yourself agreeing with Ada, in somewhat abject horror. But were there really any better candidates to take his place?

“Think about it,” she said, getting up as she ambled towards the side of the room. Fishing out a device from her pocket, she aimed at a metal grill in the ceiling and fired a shot. A grapple hook attached itself to the grill and she yanked it down.

“What’s in it for you?” you asked.

She gave you one final smirk as she turned towards Leon, winking at him. “I’ll be in touch very soon.”

With that, she clung onto the grill, blinking up into the crawl space above as she secured it back into its original position.

At that very moment, Jill burst into the room with her Doberman in tow, growling ferociously at the three of you. Her hand had morphed into a monstrous claw, sharp enough to dice anyone into pieces and ready to tear the place apart. “Someone had better tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Rebecca was the first to respond, “I had some difficulties in Memoriam. Leon had to assist his childe in getting me back safely.”

“The cameras were cut,” Jill fumed, not backing down as she scanned your reactions for answers. “Hunnigan seemed to have a rough time bringing them back online.”

“We were kinda busy down here,” Leon claimed, already well-versed in the art of omission and partial information when it came to any form of interrogation.

“You better watch your step, smartass,” she cautioned, still not fully buying Leon’s half-truth. Her eyes gleamed dangerously. “I’m going to investigate this matter myself, and if I trace anything back to you… Carlos here is gonna have a field day ripping your goddamn balls out every night for the rest of your unlife.”

At this, her Doberman let out a series of sharp, piercing barks as it wagged its tail enthusiastically. You bristled at her threat as something within you snapped. Without thinking, you sprang up, shielding Leon with your body, almost hissing in defiance. However, Leon reined you in, his face plastered with alarm as he grasped your arm, knocking some sense into you.

“Oh, so the little diva wants to play, huh?” Jill grinned viciously, her claw twitching with anticipation.

“She meant no offense,” Leon said calmly, attempting to relieve the tension between the two of you. “Besides, you wanted the report from Rebecca?”

A diversion. He had always been a clever one.

Leon exchanged cursory looks with the Tremere, who got the hint and cleared her throat before piping up, “I know who’s behind it. They’re all Sabbat members.”

“Bella, Cassandra and Daniela,” she rattled off the top of her head.

Whatever tall tale Rebecca had come up with seemed to work as Jill relaxed her stance, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Lady Dimitrescu’s childer?”

“Yes,” Rebecca affirmed. “Beneviento’s involved too.”

“That Ugly-Ass Psycho Doll?” Jill remarked, shifting uneasily. “Hm, explains the Dementation, I suppose.”

She straightened up, her feral eyes sweeping across the room one more time before issuing a set of commands. “Right, clean this mess up, and then you and I are gonna have a talk with Hunnigan to see if the info checks out,” she directed to Rebecca.

“As for pretty boy and his harlot here, the Prince wants to see you, stat.”

Your temper flared at the insult, but you bit your tongue in an effort to suppress it. With that, Jill turned to leave. Once she was a safe distance away, you whispered to Rebecca, “Did you just lie about all those Kindred? How did you come up with that?”

Her blue-eyed gaze met yours. “Because it wasn’t exactly a lie,” she explained carefully. “They appeared in his memories too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

It turned out that your meeting with the Prince this time was more of a private affair, so instead of the greenhouse, you found him lounging on an opulent and richly-textured couch in the presentation room. He sat there regally, sipping on an artisanally crafted chalice with feigned indifference, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence when you and Leon walked in. 

The Scourge stood diagonally across from him, monitoring your actions intently. He was keeping watch while Jill was busy with the previous technical hiccup and questioning Rebecca. You didn’t have a clue as to why the Prince had requested this meeting, but nothing he wanted could be good news.

The man in question bided his time, draining the chalice to the last drop at a leisurely pace, making you and your sire stand around and wait like idiots in utter silence. Finally, he spoke up, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Ah, not maimed yet, I see. Congratulations are in order.”

It took you a moment before you realized he was talking about you.

Before you could react, Leon had stepped forward, crossing his hand over his heart as he bowed in veneration. “My honorable Prince, how may we—”

However, Wesker saw through his bullshit. His patience waned at Leon’s obvious attempts at sweet-talking his way out of the situation. Brandishing the empty chalice in your direction accusingly, he remarked, “Your fledgling seems to be making quite a name for herself.”

Your mouth ran dry. What Leon had warned you about during your big fight with him came rushing back. 

“I don’t want to be ordered by the Prince to destroy you.”

“If you step out of line, he will ask me to.”

You had been too careless in your dalliances with the Anarchs, and naturally, word had gotten around, as well as back into the viper’s nest.

Leon hung his head low in submission, averting his gaze. “Prince, I can assure you, I have put a stop to the issue at hand.”

Ignoring him, Wesker smirked, “Like sire, like childe.”

“Do you have any idea what I do to traitors of the Camarilla?” he asked as the Scourge shifted slightly, his dual curved blades glinting under the fluorescent lights.

A mere glance from Wesker at the Scourge caused him to back down. “Go on, why don’t you take a guess?” he beckoned you.

Although an immobilizing fear rippled through your body, you still managed to cough out, “Final Death?”

At this, Wesker bellowed with laughter. “Oh, no, no… that would be far too merciful for the likes of such filth.” 

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate and resourceful for me to have my scientists conduct their work on them?” he suggested, tapping on his chin thoughtfully. “Or perhaps I should string them up in a cellar somewhere with their limbs chopped off, and have them bleed out into my waiting cup, hmm?”

You noticed the way he had emphasized ‘them’ sounded more like he meant ‘you’.

Placing his chalice on the side table, he leaned forward with his hands in a steepled position and grinned deviously. “I mean, all these marvelous reviews have left me wanting to have a taste…”

You gulped at his insinuation, your hands trembling as you tried to conceal them from his sight. Then, you felt Leon nudging you protectively behind him.

The amber of Wesker’s eyes glowered through his shades. “And why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything, Leon?”

“My trusted Sheriff has her suspicions that you’ve not been fully cooperative on the case,” he alleged, looking to your sire for an answer.

“The information turned out to be more difficult to acquire than expected,” Leon explained guardedly. “But I have provided Jill with everything I know, and so has Rebecca.”

Truth be told, you were in two minds when Ada had approached you with her request. However, the way this meeting had unfolded caused the hatred you harbored for Wesker to grow exponentially — so much so that you said nothing when Leon was lying through his teeth. You had taken your stance.

There was a long, agonizing pause as Wesker considered his words. “Very well, you’ve made your bed, Leon. Just be aware, we will find out whatever it is you’re hiding…” he trailed off before stating in a deliberate tone, “You of all Kindred should know how much I love personally gutting traitors.”

Angling his head towards you, he warned, “One more misstep and we’ll see about that drink I am dying to have…”

You nodded feebly, preparing to take your leave with Leon who was ushering you out hurriedly.

It was only when you had reached the door of the room that Wesker tutted, “I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Like a sly predator toying with its prey, he had lulled you into a false sense of security, only to yank it away at the last minute. Whirling around, you caught a glimpse of the diabolical uptick in his lips as a side door slid open. 

A slender blonde woman with a layered, cropped haircut walked in apathetically, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere that permeated the space. She was dressed in a fitted beige blouse, olive khaki pants, and lace-up utility boots. An arctic blue scarf adorned her neck even though the temperatures within Elysium were well-regulated.

You heard Leon's breath hitch as he suddenly gripped your hand with a vice-like hold. The woman smiled placidly at the two of you, and it was then that you could see the blank stare in her glassy blue eyes. Was she—?

Wesker flung his arms open dramatically, as if unveiling a prized possession. “Ah, Sherry! How nice of you to join us.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Since there are quite a few award shows going on, what are your thoughts on a fic about Ewan and reader at the awards together and they are being so flirty (trying and failing so hard to hide it) in the background that even the cast are teasing them. Meanwhile it’s all going viral? As always, this just an idea, no pressure to write it or anything! Hope you have a lovely day :)

Secret Hand Holding

Ewan Mitchell x Reader

Summary: "YALL AINT SLICK, IVE GOT 20 LOW RES SS OF YAZ HOLDIN HANDS AND IMMA BOUTTA THROW HANDS"

Word Count: >600

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, use of y/n cos 🤧 tis unavoidable, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: I need a breather cos i got this commission and i'm panicking over it. i did change some stuff about the req nonnie, so i hope ya still like it <3 also the gettyimages watermark HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @antisociablewallflower @lxdyred

Now Playing: ewan and [y/n] moments that are TOO SUS to be a ✨nothing✨

à la ai generated voice: Hello, Every [...] one i have been thinking about iwan- - - why did he say it like that- IWAN -- YOUWAN- And [...] y/n,,, ever since they did the house of the dragon press thing [...] and [...] i have not been able to get this

[SHAKY EFFECT] [LOUD BG MUSIC] [PHOTOGRAPH OF YOU AND EWAN]

à la ai generated voice: out of my head [...] So [...] here are a few moments during that event where i think it's just [MAX VOLUME] TOO SUS [NORMAL VOLUME] for them to not be [...] [...] idk horn dogging behind the- [CUT NOISE + WHITE SOUND]

You were posing for some pictures. Ewan just came in, chewing gum. Your name was begin called by the photographers and, quite frankly, you were serving like rent was due. You were giving. That in and of itself deserved its own edit (which it does-- it has its own edits).

Your expression was mostly stoic and your hands were relaxed upon the front of your thighs.

Then came Ewan, ready to pose for the carpet, and as he did so, the paparazzi called out his name, making you turn from your side, and immediately break character.

Your otherwise blank face morphs into a wide grin and you gather yourself, walking over to Ewan, though he was at a side where you had just finished posing. The moment you are remotely close, Ewan turns, and his own poker face twists into a pursed smile. He reaches out for you and gives you a hug.

You kiss his cheek and a lipstick mark stays on his skin for a good unknowing 6 seconds.

[loud bg] THAT SIX SECONDS IS WELL-DOCUMENTED.

From the moment you two pose next to each other, the different fan cams and multiple angles wherein the kiss mark and your smiles are visible, to the moment you turn and gasp, reaching out to wipe Ewan's cheek, it's all very much well-documented.

Ewan glances at you as you rub his cheek with your thumb. You're holding back a laugh as you mutter something that makes him thin his lips and mutter something back.

à la ai generated voice: GIRL WE KNOW 😃😃😃😩😩😩😒😒😒🤮🤮🤮 WE KNOW double yew double yew double yew double yew double yew,,, sigh [...] [...] now onto the part that went [...] [DEAFENINGLY LOUD] VIRAL

You were mid posing for the carpet right.

Ewan turns to you. He mumbles something that makes you turn over to your right and break into a laugh. You wave at someone (no one knows who to this day), and with a toothy grin, turn back to Ewan. The arms you had by each other's back slowly glide down against each other as you pull away and tell him something that makes him smirk and nod.

And then, your hands are by each other's wrists, dangling beside each other. Next thing that happens, you're holding hands and you're pulling him away.

Ewan follows you with no fuss. [EDIT IN SCREAMING SOUNDS] As you lead him off, you stop and await him to your side. Once he's close enough, you turn to him from over your shoulder and say something.

In reaction to whatever you said, Ewan smirks and shrugs. He points to the distance and, for some reason, you laugh really hard at that.

[REALLY LOUD GROANING, GROWLING, RABID NOISES]

à la ai generated voice: What the,,, [...] [...] [monotonous but loud] FUCKINGSHITFUCKINGFUCKFUCKINGFATHERFUCKINGFUCKERSHITCUNTRATGREMLINAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [...] [...] did you just unleash upon this cursed land question mark (?)

[in1-nutshell]

Hii! I absolutely loved your requests and how the characters act and wished they were longer, but! I wanna request of the continuation of Buddy being Bee’s twin who was brainwashed to be a con!

BUT I WANT BUDDY AND BEE TO REUNITE WITH BUDDY COMING BACK TO THE BOTS SIDE PLEASE

The twins are going to be reunited! Or are they...

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Bumblebee's Twin who was brainwashed and reunited

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Starcsream was the one who left Pandora’s box open.

He was having one of those days again.

Being pinned down by Megatron, having the Autobot’s kick in new dents into his wings, and worst of all being laughed at by his underlings!

Starscream limping in the halls.

Buddy walking by.

“Hey, do you need help getting to the med bay?”--Buddy

Starscream swiping Buddy’s servo.

“Get away from me Autobot scum!”--Starscream

Starscream walking away.

This peaked Buddy’s curiosity.

Starscream was many things, but when he gets mad, he always lets some hidden truth out.

So why did he call them an Autobot?

For the last months on Earth Buddy had been facing off to the yellow mech in every encounter they had.

Nearly having the chance to offline him on multiple occasions, but they always hesitated at the last second.

They first thought that their trigger digit was seizing up and had Knockout look at it.

Buddy sitting on the med bay as Knockout examines their servo.

“Hmm… interesting.”--Knockout

“What?”--Buddy

“Nothing seems to be wrong with it.”--Knockout

“That’s… strange.”--Buddy

“Well, my work here is done.”--Knockout

“Do you recommend I do anything in case it happens again?”--Buddy

“…Try using your other servo.”--Knockout

This interaction only further deepened the curiosity.

They knew better than to ask anyone on board.

So, they would have to do some snooping on their own.

But they had to be careful about it.

Buddy chose the rare time Soundwave was out of the ship to gain access to the mainframe.

They could easily delete their footprint from everyone, but Soundwave always terrified them to an extent.

Better safe than sorry.

It took a matter of finding some hidden files under their name to finally piece together the story.

A rather horrifying realization.

Buddy was an Autobot.

They were related to the yellow mech.

They were his twin.

Buddy’s tanks never sunk so low as it did when they read the statement repeatedly.

They had nearly offlined their own twin and they didn’t even know it.

They saw pictures of them as an Autobot. The frame was different, but at the same time, it felt familiar.

It turned out that Starscream himself had managed to kidnap Buddy during a confrontation with Megatron. He brought them for interrogation, after they didn’t budge Megatron and Shockwave decided to make use of them, through shadow play and memory alteration Buddy was a blank slated and had been replaced with altered memories with an altered frame.

Buddy felt sick as they downloaded the information to the data slug.

Making sure that they left everything how it was they quickly left to their habsuite.

They knew they needed to make a decision with this new information.

They knew which one they were going to make.

It took a week of preparations, but they did it.

Now was to act.

“All right. I’ve destroyed the tracker and the remote groundbrigde should be online in a couple more nanoclick… This is actually going according—”--Buddy

CRASH!

BANG!

“…I had to jinx it didn’t I?”—Buddy

BANG! BANG!

“No matter… Just need to input the coordinates… and pull the—”--Buddy

Achoo!

“Bless you. Now –"--Buddy

Buddy stops and looks to where the sound was.

They look down to see a teeny human with glasses looking at them.

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Raf

“…I hope you don’t take this the wrong way.”--Buddy

“Why—”--Raf

Buddy tossing him into their subspace and jumping into the groundbrigde.

Buddy came out the other way, skidding on the rocky ground as the groundbridge closed behind them.

They were finally free.

Now time to deal with the next steps…

Buddy opening their subspace and grabbing the human.

“Sorry about that.”--Buddy

“Who?! What!—”--Raf

“I know what this looks like, but this is not a kidnapping.”--Buddy

“I kinda does…”--Raf

“Yeah, it does but it was either that or have one of those Cons step on you. And quite frankly, your species has grown on me a bit.”--Buddy

“…Thanks?”--Raf

“Yeah, anyways the names Buddy kid. What’s your name?”--Buddy

“Raf. What a minute. Bumblebee said he had a twin named Buddy…”--Raf

“Well, there’s something about that… you can read Cybertronian can you?”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Raf

“Look at the screen.”--Buddy

Buddy did not expect the surprise hug that the teeny human gave them.

He began ramble all sorts of stories Bee had told him about them in hopes of recalling memory.

“As much as I appreciate you trying to help, I still don’t remember much.”--Buddy

“Sorry…”--Raf

“It’s all right, kid. Its not your fault. But I am hoping to find your Autobot friends to help me with this. I know my chances are slim to none—”--Buddy

“I’m sure they can help! Or at least look at it.”--Raf

Buddy smiling at Raf carefully patting his head.

Click!

“Servos where I can see them Con!”--Arcee

Buddy turns around slowly with Raf in their servos.

Arcee and Bumblebee have their blasters out.

“Beep bep boop! (Put him down now!)”--Bumblebee

“Bee wait! Its Buddy!”--Raf

“What kind of lies has that Con been telling you!”--Arcee

“No! Really, Buddy show them the data slug!”--Raf

Buddy handing the data slug and Raf to Bumblebee.

“… He only said the data slug, what’s your plan Con?”--Arcee

“I don’t have any plans. And quite frankly you’re my only hope right now.”--Buddy

“Beep? (Hope?)”--Bumblebee

“I… I recently found out that a good portion of my memories had been altered. My frame altered. And… Listen I’ll come with you cuffed and unarmed, I just need to know if what on that data slug is correct with your data base or not.”--Buddy

“Beep bop boop? (What’s on the data slug?)”--Bumblebee

“… I don’t want to give anyone false hope… just cuff me. If there isn’t anything useful, I’ll tell you everything I know about the Nemesis.”--Buddy

“… cuff’em Bee.”—Arcee

Raf wasn’t too happy seeing Buddy cuffed, but he supposed it was for safety reasons.

No one was happy seeing the Con that had gone after Bumblebee at the base in some cuffs.

While Arcee explained the whole situation, Bumblebee strapped them onto the med bay slab.

The two exchanged some looks before looking away.

“You’re telling us that there is a possibility that you could be Bumblebee’s twin?”--Ratchet

“Yes.”--Buddy

“Hmmm. Highly unlikely. I knew Buddy, they would never—”--Ratchet

“Listen, can you just verify the dates! Sorry if that sounds insensitive, but I really just want to know if someone has been messing with my processor!”--Buddy

“The data is almost done. But if I may ask, what made you want to look at this now?”—Optimus

“…Some things haven’t been adding up lately, and when Screamer said I was an Autobot… I just got curious. Either way I’m not going back to the Cons. I’m not going to risk my tailpipe for some leader who keeps putting unfamiliar substances into his chassis, and… yeah.”--Buddy

“Beep bop (you hesitated.)”--Bumblebee

“…Maybe…”--Buddy

“Beeepbep bop (Is there another reason?)”--Bumblebee

“…So, what if I don’t agree with the annihilation of an entire species that has nothing to do with the war.”--Buddy

Scan complete.

“Finally! Let’s see what it says!”--Bulkhead

“Yip, yip, Bulkhead stand away from the console.”--Ratchet

“Right, sorry.”--Bulkhead

“And the scan says—By the Allspark…”--Ratchet

“Beep (What?)”--Bumblebee

“Yeah, what’s going on? I can’t exactly see with you guys’ backsides in my line of vision.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Ratchet

“Yes?”--Buddy

“… Your presumptions are correct. Bumblebee, that is your twin.”--Ratchet

Both Bots freeze before fainting.

“At least one of them is on the med slab?”--Miko

“Miko not now.”--Raf

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

I love your animatronic toy OC guys so much, they have so much personality to them and their colours are really good (especially umbra)

Thank you! The funny thing about Umbra's design was that while I was developing it about two years ago and had some colors in mind, I described in text what I already came up with to an image generator for fun (shitty unconvincing old kind, vs now where it looks like shit but in a somewhat more convincing way) and it produced something so silly that I made her design better than what I would've settled with out of spite.

More details of my process and anti-AI ranting below the cut, so the examples given won't show up on search results. Google Images is getting polluted too much with slop to begin with.

Let's begin.

In 2022 I was drafting up Umbra's design with mostly concrete details. At this time image generators were newer and much less convincing, and I was a bit less aware of just how unethical they were, so I fed one a text description of what I had drafted for her design out of curiosity. Something along the lines of, "doll of an anthropomorphic owl librarian in glasses, blazer/suit jacket, skirt, corset, high heels, sitting on a bookshelf" and probably a few more terms. Really specific, lengthy prompt.

I try to be open-minded and give new things a shot, but the results were Not Great. Ideally, I'd want to not share the AI pictures at all on-principle, but I feel like it's useful, transparent, and necessary to show them. Both as a means of not hiding anything, but also just to appreciate where the design is at in spite of it.

Outside of this particular collage of Weird Owls, no other pictures on this blog are AI-generated. AI Image Generation is harmful, and I am against its usage.

But hey, two of the generated pictures look close, right? The top left is the closest, and bottom right is second.

That's because they started out worse, and I had to actually erase chunks of them and have the generator fill in the blanks to get anything remotely close to what I wanted. Misshapen limbs, unrecognizable anatomy, fever-dream clothing details, etc. They didn't even have a corset or proper legs until I slapped the generator in the face enough times to make it produce them. I was just using it to photobash, which was such an annoying process, I just went "this is dumb" and stopped. They're literally posed like that because I kept erasing and regnerating their limbs until they looked vaguely in-character. It literally only looks passable thanks to STRANGLING it with human input.

Before I used the image generator, I already drafted her to be night-themed with yellow eyes and something like purple, dark blue, or sky-blue as her main color; the generator making one owl yellow-eyed and purple was a happy coincidence, and the only thing the generative AI "came up with" that I didn't already have in mind or included in the prompt was the light blue shirt, which I did adapt into her cyan shirt and stockings/socks as well. That was a good call. You get One Point, Mr. AI.

...Which still meant that at its absolute best, it was a largely redundant step in the creative process if its contribution was worse than what a randomized palette generator or character creator could come up with.

That's already putting the ethics of it aside, like carbon emissions, data pollution, using artists' and photographers' work without credit or permission, the incentive to plagiarize, flooding sites like deviantart with slop, Willy Wonka Shit, etc etc etc. When people say "you can use AI as a tool though", this ordeal was enough to convince me that it's more trouble than its worth, even in its most ethical usage. I feel gross for having even tried. I wish I knew what sources went into the creation of those Weird Owls. It'd be better for research if the right people could be credited.

Nothing else on this blog is AI-generated or ever will be. The art below is purely my own (2022 vs a few weeks ago)):

Actually drawing Umbra and solidifying her design was far more rewarding than having an image generator vaguely approximate my own ideas. I wanted her to look really special, so I used a black cape and pants, gold highlights and buttons, and blue undertones to make something more distinct. Also, neck floof. Very important. I wanted the head in particular to look distinct and original, going with bold black streaks to really help her look distinguished.

I also have certain inevitable Hydroisms for Fancy characters like her; most apparent in these designs for Chasey and Kaita from even longer ago, which were more of an influence than anything else. (Old art of mine from like 2021, Kaita ref looks wonky but Chasey still holds up nicely):

Most of Umbra's other design elements were already commonly used with established ocs like Kaita, like her shape language, corset, skirt, heels, etc. It was my previous work with Chasey that inspired the use of gold buttons and highlights.

Umbra is also now a bluer shade of purple partly to distance the current design from that ordeal. All things considered, I'll probably make her more indigo next time. I already wanted her to have a wide color range from the get-go (Featured below is, again, purely my art from 2022:)

I may use a different colored shirt and stockings in the future. I like to think she has many different shirts and clothes based on the different stages of the night sky, from dusk to dawn, and the painting I made in the top right there was an exploration of her range in different lighting.

All in all, it's frustrating. I'm proud of her design, but explaining all of this is annoying, because it's technically all relevant to showing how her colors were picked and how the design was made. I still technically have AI to """Thank""", in the way you thank a bad experience for encouraging you to make things better out of spite.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I have no idea why people think Jon will stop being a POV post-resurrection, or why they think it’s even remotely a good narrative choice. Jon is at the center of the “human heart in conflict with itself” theme that keeps cropping up in these books. A lot of the action in Jon’s story isn’t so much what happens around him but how he internalizes things in his head. He’s always been a very internal character much like Ned and Sansa. So if we lose Jon’s POV, what does it matter that he’s been lied to his whole life and Ned isn’t his real father? What does it matter who his mother was? Who cares about his changing acceptance of magic now that he’ll need to rely on it to survive? Who cares how he views Dany, the only thing to connect him to his father’s family? There’s no point revealing Jon’s parentage or delving into these topics because losing Jon’s POV means losing the thoughts of the ONE person they affect. That is not how you write a narrative guys. And no for the 10000th time, Beric and Cat are NOT good comparisons for Jon. One Beric wasn’t even a POV so I’m not sure why people bring him up in the first place. And two, Catelyn’s arc ended with Robb’s at the Red Wedding. Stoneheart exists but we’re going to see more how her presence affects how other characters move forward: Brienne, Jaime, Arya, etc. Plus Catelyn wasn’t even a central protagonist like Jon is so I don’t understand why she even gets brought up. Beric and LH are there at the baseline to establish that resurrection can be done. Point blank. They’re not a one size fits all such that Jon HAS to be just like them. I’m pretty tired of hammering in this one point over and over again. There’s really no narrative or thematic justification to look at Jon solely through other’s eyes other than “wouldn’t it be cool if?” Istg a lot of people make predictions based on what’s cool (which is debatable) and not what actually makes sense for a character and the themes in their arc. It’s quite frustrating.