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junrenjun · 6 months ago

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love and lacrosse jackets

pe teacher!vernon x chemistry teacher!reader (fem)

genre: fluff

wc: 3k

warnings: reader is referred to as ms. (and other fem pronouns), reader wears vernon's clothes

a/n: this is not an understand series update and i apologize for that. however, here's a vernon teacher au with a little side of lacrosse and dad!seungcheol

You were suddenly thrown out of your thoughts by one of your students sighing and turning from her worksheet. “Ms. y/n, can I ask a question?”

You knew this student, Maya, was likely trying to get out of doing her assignment. She was too smart for her own good. “Depends. Is it about the worksheet?”

She paused for a second, turning her head slightly away in order to avoid your gaze. “...no.”

You continued. “Do you need to go to the bathroom or the nurse?”

Maya sighed and mumbled, “no.”

You turned back to your computer while giving your final response. “Then I think you know the answer. I would be happy to talk to you once you’ve balanced all those equations.”

You should’ve known she wasn’t giving up that easily. If anything, she probably gave up halfway through the worksheet because she knew the answers and was just looking for something to entertain herself. “Mr. Chwe lets us ask him questions all the time.”

You snorted. “Mr. Chwe is a PE teacher Maya. You don’t have worksheets to do in his classes. Unfortunately, you do in chemistry. So please finish this or at least study for your quiz next week.”

Maya was apparently taken aback by this. She was quick to defend herself, saying, “how do you know we don’t do worksheets in PE?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Maybe you should've been a college professor instead of a high school teacher. “I’m the girls lacrosse coach and he’s the boys coach. We spend a lot of time together and I’ve never once seen him make a worksheet.”

An evil grin spread across Maya’s face. You internally groaned at this. That expression means she’s up to absolutely no good. She turned and tapped on her partner’s arm. Great, now she’s distracting other students too. “Henry, wouldn’t Ms. y/n and Mr. Chwe make a cute couple?” He grinned and started going off on a tangent about how funny it would be if the two lacrosse coaches were dating.

This conversation really took a turn for the worse, didn’t it? There’s nothing you could do but groan, out loud this time, and put your head in your hands. Your neighboring teacher, Mr. Seokmin, really has impeccable timing though. He stuck his head through your door and grabbed your attention a few moments later. “Hey Ms. y/n, do you have a student that can run an errand for me real quick?”

Now was your chance. “Maya, since you seem to have no interest in balancing any more equations, why don’t you go help Mr. Seokmin?”

Before she could protest, the physics teacher grinned brightly at her before exclaiming, “perfect! Come on Maya, I need someone to help me carry these projects to the library.” Once she was finally out of the room, you breathed a sigh of relief.

It didn’t last long though because your other students suddenly started giggling and murmuring amongst each other. Henry, who was still turned toward you, decided he needed to continue Maya’s antics in her absence. “You did say you and Mr. Chwe were close.” More giggles were heard.

You’re not sure what you did to deserve this treatment from your 3rd hour honors class of all people, but clearly it was something. “Alright if you all don’t go back to your work I’m not offering any extra credit on this next quiz.” The rest of the hour passed in silence.

“What’s with the long face?” Vernon thought the joking would cheer his best player up, but it just made Henry frown even more.

After a few moments of silence, he finally answered, “I had a quiz in chemistry today. Don’t think I did too well on it.”

Vernon was quick to ask him which teacher he had. “Your favorite, Ms. y/n,” Henry responded.

The PE teacher rolled his eyes at the comment but still clapped his hand on the player’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid. She offers extra credit. But she also told me you and Maya were pestering her the other day instead of doing your work, so maybe you should put a little more effort into understanding the material next time.”

Henry grumbled, knowing nothing good would come of an argument. “Yeah, whatever you say Coach.” Then, he dropped his bag on the ground and ran out onto the field to start warming up.

Vernon felt someone approach him from behind. “See dude, even the kids can pick up on you and y/n’s chemistry. Haha, get it? Chemistry? Y/n teaches chemistry.” The head coach could barely restrain himself from flicking Mingyu in the forehead. He was a great assistant coach, but an incredibly annoying friend.

“Why can’t I just be friends with a coworker and fellow lacrosse coach?” Vernon complained. Mingyu simply watched on as his friend continued. “Just because we’re both single doesn’t mean we should get together. I mean she’s really cool and works really well with the kids. And she’s an insane lacrosse player, an even better coach too. I think she could get the girls to state this year. I just think…” He’s cut off by Mingyu smacking his arm.

For once, he’s grateful for the assistant coach’s intrusion, because he turns around to find you jogging up to him. Weird, he thought to himself, since you and the girls have a game today. You skid to a stop next to the two, and make eye contact with him. “You don’t happen to have an extra SVHS shirt do you? I think I forgot my coaching shirt at home today and I really don’t want Seungcheol getting on my ass for it.”

Vernon’s world comes crashing down at that moment. Maybe he does have a teensy little crush on you. Because the thought of you wearing his clothes has him swooning. Mingyu, ever so helpful, snaps him out of the moment by clearing his throat to yell at the boys for messing around. Vernon blinks at you for a second before stammering out, “uh yeah I think so,” and reaching into his bag. He pulls out a gray quarter zip with the words “SVHS” and “Coach Chwe” embroidered on the chest. He debates hiding it from your sight and shoving it back in his bag to save you both the embarrassment, but he knows how strict Seungcheol is as an athletic director.

He eventually tosses it to you, stuttering out something about good luck while watching you throw it over your head. Once it’s on you say, “I have the same one, so hopefully no one sees the difference. Thanks Chwe.” He can’t even process your words because his brain is simply malfunctioning seeing you in his clothes, especially ones that say his name. He’s no better than his high schoolers. Before he knows it, you’re turning on your heel and jogging back to the main field.

Someone comes up behind him, filling Mingyu’s absence, since the assistant coach ran off to lead practice drills in the middle of Vernon’s little crisis. He hears the lacrosse captain snickering and then telling him, “damn Coach, you’ve got it bad. You’re redder than a tomato.”

Vernon simply cannot handle it any further. “Oscar, for heaven’s sake, please shut your mouth and go back to practice.” Oscar throws his hands up in mock defense, before grabbing the ball that rolled over to Vernon’s feet and running back onto the field.

You really need to give Vernon his coach’s jacket back. It didn’t help that you weren’t a morning person, and seemed to accidentally leave it at home whenever you left for work each day. It also maybe didn’t help that it smelled just like the boy’s lacrosse coach, who, admittedly, smelled pretty damn good. But, you couldn’t hoard Vernon’s things forever. You were lucky enough that you had gone a week without him mentioning the jacket at all, which you chalked up to him knowing you were busy.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow you would take the jacket back to school and give it to him. You even laid it out with your own jacket, which you were going to wear the next since you had a game anyways. That, however, was a mistake. Because in the morning, groggy from lack of sleep, you accidentally threw on Vernon’s jacket and shoved your own into your work bag.

How no one told you until 3rd period, you’re not quite sure. Mainly because Seokmin had specifically complimented your outfit when you visited him before your first class. You thought maybe it was because you were wearing a new pair of pants. Clearly it was not and the physics teacher was using it as a means to tease you (and Vernon by proxy). If only you had known.

Maya stepped into your classroom extra peppy that day, which was already a recipe for disaster. The fact that she was the one to catch that you were wearing Mr. Chwe’s zip-up certainly did not help. A gasped ��oh my god” stopped you in the middle of your lecture. You pointedly looked at the girl before asking, “Maya, is everything alright?”

The poor girl could barely contain her excitement, practically shaking in her seat. “You’re dating Mr. Chwe! I knew it!”

You were caught so off-guard that it took you a while to respond. “Maya, where did you even get that idea from? And you’re being disruptive, I’m trying to teach about equilibrium.”

She stood from her seat and pointed at you, before excitedly exclaiming, “your jacket. You’re wearing Mr. Chwe’s jacket!” You looked down and, sure enough, Vernon’s name was plastered across the chest. To put it plainly, you were mortified. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself even more when you don’t respond for a solid minute.

Finally, when you’re done wallowing in pity in front of a bunch of 16 year olds, you make your way to your desk and pull out a hall pass. You hand it to Maya swiftly before telling her, “if you’re too invested in this to learn chemistry, go bother Mr. Chwe about it. It’s his planning period.” She gapes up at you before scrambling out of the room.

You turn back to the rest of the class, making sure to pointedly look at Henry. “No other questions about my love life?”

A deadly silence spreads across the room. Henry sinks back in his chair but you watch a hand creep up from the back of the classroom. You sigh and call on the girl. She’s clearly surprised you even allowed her to speak, because the question is whispered to the point you can barely hear it. “Why do you have Mr. Chwe’s jacket?”

The inquiry is enough to throw you off the deep end. “Ok, I’m not teaching the rest of class. I don’t care what you guys do as it’s either A) not disruptive or B) asking me about my personal life.”

Seungcheol is surprised when there is a knock on the athletic office door in the middle of 3rd period. Students should be in class and if it were a staff member, they would have just let themselves in. He tells whoever it is to come in and is slightly less surprised to see Maya standing in front of him. She doesn’t let him speak first, quickly letting out, “do you know where Mr. Chwe is?”

He raises an eyebrow at the girl. “You got a hall pass kid?” he fires back. Maya waves the piece of paper around in his face. He rolls his eyes.

She puts her hands on her hips and looks pointedly at him. “Seriously though. Do you know where Mr. Chwe is? It’s supposed to be his planning period or something.”

Seungcheol is still confused why she needs to see Vernon in the middle of 3rd hour and how she managed a hall pass for it. “Why?”

Maya plops down on the chair in front of his desk with a sigh, clearly this conversation was not happening without a little bit of a fight. “Ms. y/n sent me to ask him a question.”

The athletic director can’t help but let out a snort at the girl’s comment. Maya is suddenly interested in his reaction. “Why is that so funny? Do you think they’re dating too?”

Seungcheol is surprised yet again. “Do you think they’re dating?”

Now Maya snorts. “Obviously. Ms. y/n is wearing his lacrosse jacket today.” She laughs when the man’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. He rustles around his desk, grabbing a notepad and writing another hall pass for the girl.

After scribbling for a second, he passes the note to the girl and tells her, “Mr. Chwe is in his office, room 218.”

The girl grabs the note from his hands and gleefully gets up to skip out the door. She stops midway through and calls out over her shoulder, “thanks Dad!”

“I’m not dating Ms. y/n, Maya. You know that.” Vernon sighs exasperatedly. “Why are you even asking me this?”

He knows he’s in for trouble when she smirks. “She’s wearing your coaching jacket today. Care to explain that?”

Vernon knows he should’ve asked for it back sooner rather than later. But he was secretly hoping that he would be able to see it on you one more time. And the longer you have it, the more likely it’s going to come back smelling like you (not that Vernon cares anyways right?). He doesn’t miss a beat though, explaining to Maya that he lent you his jacket for a game and that you probably mixed it up with your own. She’s not impressed, but she knows it’s an explanation that’s most likely true. This doesn’t stop her from interrogating Vernon further. “Do you want to date Ms. y/n?”

His silence is incriminating. He can tell by Maya’s mile wide grin. Trying to put an end to it, the lacrosse coach stands up from his desk, telling her that he’ll walk her back to whatever class she left from.

One tiny important detail he forgot is that you teach 3rd hour honors chemistry. A class that one of his players, Henry, shares with Maya. And he’s currently standing outside your door, watching as you type away on your computer. Sure enough, “Mr. Chwe” is embroidered across the chest. Vernon thinks he might combust on the spot. His student clearly picks up on this, muttering something about how she’s “seen middle schoolers with more balls.”

He waits outside your door as Maya enters the room. There’s only a few minutes left of the period, so he figured it would be better for both of you to talk away from prying eyes. As the bell rings, he patiently watches the students trickle out your door. When he’s sure that everyone is gone, he steps into the doorway. What he does not expect is for you to walk straight into his chest, stumbling back with the cutest “oomph” he’s ever heard.

Vernon is stunned but you look completely mortified. Probably because you just ran into the man whose jacket you’re wearing basically without his consent. His assumption is correct because you start mumbling out apologies. “I’m so sorry I thought this was my jacket when I grabbed it this morning. I didn’t mean to wear it today, I made such a mess of this. I shouldn’t have even asked for it in the first place. I was just about to change, give me a second I…”

The lacrosse coach cuts you off in the middle of your little rant. “Do you want to go out with me after your game on Friday?”

You blink at him, not even processing the words he just said. When you finally do, your cheeks flush and you glance down at your watch. “Do you think you can ask me that in like 4 hours, Chwe?”

Vernon has no idea what you mean by that. He gawks a little bit. Do you need time to think about it? Are you not interested? Do you already have a boyfriend? Shit, he should’ve thought this through.

You break him out of his little trance with a small chuckle. “We’re on the clock Vernon. And you have a class in three minutes.”

He glances at his watch. His freshman PE class is probably waiting for him. He mumbles something about meeting him on the main field before practice. Then he’s out the door. You’re left there, stunned, still in his jacket. You don’t bother to take it off the rest of the day.

A few hours later, Mingyu and Seokmin are watching you both converse from afar. Vernon’s cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. You’re fidgeting nervously but also smiling. It seems to be going well. Seokmin turns to the assistant coach before saying, “took them long enough.”

They hear someone approaching and turn to see Seungcheol. “You both owe me $20.”

Both the teachers roll their eyes at him but reach for their wallets. Maya pops up from their other side, walking up to her father. “I should be getting at least half of that. I did all the work.”

Seungcheol grunts, pondering her proposition. He turns to her. “What about this? You can either get $20 now or $200 if y/n is Mrs. Chwe before you graduate college?”

Maya’s eyes brighten and that sinister smile spreads across her cheeks once again. “Deal.” (She’s $200 richer at her college graduation).

#vernon x reader #vernon chwe x reader #svt #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen x reader #vernon chwe #hansol x reader #hansol chwe x reader #vernon chwe imagine #lu writes #choi seungcheol #lee seokmin #kim mingyu #teacher au #lacrosse au #svt teacher au

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cherry-pop-elf · 5 days ago

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Kiss it Better Pt:2

Curly x Reader

AN: Holy shit I did NOT expect all the love and support from the original like god damn! People begging for a part 2 and everything (I’ll make sure to tag those who asked for one at the bottom) Like oh my god thank you guys so much! This means the WORLD to me! As a disabled person trying to make his medical issues more accurate it means so much that yall love it and how I write in general! Thank you!

SUM: You and Anya were busy dealing with changing Curly’s wrappings together. Sharing stories, and just trying to stay positive. That’s when you just had to ask. What’s going on between her and Jimmy?

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, Anya sharing her trauma so pls take care of yourself, medical gore, medical situations, light violence,

“Thank you again for handling Curly’s medication. I’m sorry I just-“ Anya would try to explain again how sorry she was that she was struggling to do her job. A job you could never blame her for. She’s been through a traumatic event of the ship crashing, and already had to try and save a near corpse. She deserves to breathe.

“Anya it’s fine, really. I’m his romantic partner as well. It be weird if I didn’t pick up some responsibility and tried to take care of him. You also deserve time to rest. You’ve done so much for him, and saved his life. Give yourself more credit. It’s not a sin to ask for help.” You would try and comfort her, as you would grab the fresh bandages for Curly.

He needed a lot of them, and they had to be changed out relatively often. He’s basically just exposed meat after all. The risk of infection was high, which you were wondering how he didn’t even catch any yet, so he needed alot of attention and care.

If only Pony Express had packed more, because the med bay was running out of them fast. Very very fast. Might be only able to maybe re wrap him a few more times now. Had you terrified because as much as you wanted to take care of him you had to leave some bandages for the rest of the crew. In case of another emergency.

You wish you could be doing more.

“We’re going to undress you. Is that alright?” Anya would ask Curly, who in return would give two blinks to indicate that he consented to being stripped. Was gonna have to be done but it was still so kind of Anya to still ask before hand.

The two of you would soon get to work on changing out his bandages. A very slow, careful, tedious job. One that normally took over a hour to do properly. So it’s time to kill some of that empty space.

“Ya know, this isn’t the first time over had to wrap up a certain someone because they got hurt. I remember a time when we were at a Ski resort with his family. Someone wanted to try a path that was meant for experts and before you know it someone’s returning to the lodge with his leg bone sticking out of his pants.”

Anya gave a little ‘oh my’ as you just laughed at the memory. Curly just adored sports. Especially the winter variety. You felt so blessed that he had a job that paid so well. Well enough that the two of you, and his own family sometimes, could go and enjoy vacations like that.

You wonder if the two of you will ever see the snow again.

“That sounds rather nice, minus the whole breaking his leg. To share a cabin together with someone. Cuddle for warmth together by the fire place. Sounds really nice.” She would speak dreamily. As if she knew it was simply that. A dream. Something that will never happen again. No matter how hard she tried.

Like something was wrong with her.

“I bet you’ll get that moment. When we escape here you’ll have a flooding of men and women coming your way. The brilliant woman who managed to fight death and win. Again and again. The most brilliant woman to ever live.” You would praise her, as you were very mindful of Curly’s catheter. As if that needed to be messed with.

“Yeah…..Maybe……” Anya didn’t really seem to actually respond. Was like she was just saying words for the sake of words. Had you wondering.

Even before the crash she had just started acting off one day. From being a cheerful woman who was gentle and full of smiles, to being so quiet and scared by the littlest of sounds. Like she expected someone to jump from around the corner and attack her. Any feeling of safety and comfort vanished.

You were worried.

“Say, Anya-“ You began to speak, while disposing the bandages safely into the bio hazard bag. “-Is everything ok? I mean duh we’re not doing to hot with being, ya know, crashed and all. But besides that. You just seem…..different.”

Anya seemed to not hear you. She simply worked on checking over Curly’s body. Hunting down any infections, looking for possible bed sores, monitoring his healing, and getting ready to do the ever so gentlest of sponge baths.

Anya did always get in the zone whenever someone was hurt. You figured she didn’t catch what you said because of it.

So repeated yourself, as you stood next to her. Impossible to miss what you were asking, as you would help Curly sit up and just move his joints to better reach with the sponge.

The only sounds in that room were Curly’s whines of discomfort. Whines to indicate truly how much pain he was in when even the pain killers can numb it.

“Anya….I know you can hear me. Is everything alright? Not to be rude but I’m kinda asking you a question.” You would be gentle, but she still couldn’t help but looked distressed.

“Anya what’s-“ You would reach a hand out, to comfort her, but the second it was raised towards her she would immediately flinch. Her startled reaction ended up even making her drop Curly’s leg on the table.

Oh that’s gotta hurt.

For a fleeting moment you put Anya on the back burner, and just focused your attention on comforting Curly. How he gave a weak sob from the intense pain.

“Shhhh I know Curly Fry. I know. It’s gonna be ok. It was an accident. You know she didn’t mean it. Shhh.” You would kiss his forehead, as Curly had a muscle spasm through his body from the intense shock to his system. So exhausted and in so much pain.

“It’s gonna be ok. I promise. I love you so much. Just think about our future. How we will get off this ship, and have that family. Have our own baby-“

The moment you said baby, that’s when Anya finally cracked.

Her hands were now covering her face, as she just broke down into sobs. Sobs that sounded so hoarse. Like she’s done it so many times that her body was just abused from it. Left you so worried and confused.

What the hell is going on here?

“Anya, what’s wrong? What did I say?” You would gently guide her to a chair, and worked on stroking her hair. Giving her as much comfort as you would to Curly. The same gentle love as he would get. Love she deserved.

It took a while for her to catch her breathe, and you didn’t rush it because it really seemed she needed it, but her own trembling body was finally able to quite down.

“I need to tell you something. I need to tell you something about Jimmy-“

You were quick to kneel down infront of her, and was ready to take in every last word she was going to say. Maybe what secrets she held could finally explain why the hell you all were crashed here. Why Jimmy crashed you all.

“Jimmy ra-“

That’s when the door opened.

As if that bastard had a sixth sense for whenever people were talking about him. That same annoyed expression, same sneer, same empty eyes.

All three of you kinda froze in time now. Looking at him, as he looked back at you all. Scanning you. As if judging to figure out what was being said before entering.

“Hey….Captain….” You swallowed, as you would return to standing. Anya herself remained in her chair, with her head down. Didn’t seem she trusted herself in showing any expressions right now.

“What were you guys talking about?” He asked, as he seemed slightly on edge. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well or had too much caffeine. Just this tension of paranoia was in the air. Like he was worried about something.

“Just about the bandages. We’re starting to run low, and Anya is just getting worried about having enough.” Wasn’t a complete lie. The best lies were the ones with truth sprinkled in.

“Of course he’s wasting our supplies.” He scoffed, before walking over to the table. You were trying to give Curly some respect with grabbing something to cover him up with, but it was like Jimmy wouldn’t let you. The stare he gave you, when you grabbed the clean hospital gown, made you just freeze in place.

It was just so full of hate.

It was just so full of disgust.

It was just cruelty in dark eyes.

It was just focused on you. As if Anya didn’t even exist right now. Like she meant nothing to him. Nothing but the wind in the air. Something you don’t even bother in registering every day. Like how you breathe in air in your lungs.

You don’t notice until it’s gone.

“Has he been given his medication?” He would ask you, as his hands would be firm on the bed side. Just seeming to assert his dominance with standing over the man. Like some got over the little people.

“Yes Jimmy. He’s been medicated. We are actually in the middle of washing him. It would be nice if there was some privacy-“ You tried to gently hint at, only for it yo fall on deaf ears.

"The crash really did do a number on you. You don’t even have a dick anymore. Just holes huh-?” Jimmy would scoff, as that was your final straw. You would give Jimmy a hard hip bump, and quickly covered Curly up. To give him dignity and respect.

“Hey-! Watch it! Don’t think because you are Curly’s little eye candy doesn’t mean you can go pushing people around-“ Jimmy would bark at you.

You didn’t feel fear.

Jimmy was messing with YOUR man now. Curly deserved dignity and respect. He doesn’t deserve to be called a ‘set of holes’ no way in hell. No one deserved that and ESPECIALLY not Curly.

“Will you just shut up?! What the hell are you even doing here?! Aren’t you the Captain now? Captains are suppose to be doing whatever it takes to help the crew. All you’ve been doing is walking around and insulting everyone! It’s like you don’t want us to be saved. Be a Captain and take some responsibility already-!”

The anger that he had for you was terrifying. You swore it was like a switch. He suddenly seemed taller, bigger, angrier, more intense. You felt like you were shrinking more and more. Like you would melt into a puddle under that heated stare.

But you refused to.

For Curly.

“Listen here you-“

SLAP

You smacked him across the face. Was like the world went mute. No one was so much as breathing. Just the stares of shock from Anya and Curly.

“Get. Back. To. WORK.”

You ordered, and he listened.

He would hold his red cheek, and walked away like a dog with its tail between its legs. As if he was all talk and no bite. That he couldn’t bring himself to be more than an angry voice.

Someone needed to keep him in his place.

“Can this damn ship get any more hectic?” You sighed with your fingers to the bridge of your nose. Just trying to think clearly.

That’s when Anya found her voice.

“I’m pregnant.”

You opened your eyes wide, and was frozen in place.

Did you hear that right? No no. No way. Why would she be pregnant? How would she get pregnant? Who would get her…

“Oh my god.”

You slowly turned around to Anya with the puzzle pieces falling into place. You finally realized what had happened.

Jimmy never was a responsible man.

@meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562

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bairdthereader · 6 months ago

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Nick gets a lot of (well-deserved) credit for being an amazing boyfriend to Charlie, and we know by now that he's a great friend, too. But what's almost more interesting to me is the underlying core personality trait that enables him to be both of those things--his emotional intuition and intelligence.

You see this in the comics mostly through Nick's facial expressions (no one can look worried like Nick Nelson can), but the show takes it a bit further. He's incredibly in tune with Charlie almost from the get-go. Nick watches him for small emotional cues and recognizes what they could mean, most notably before the confrontation with Ben after rugby practice. He reads between the lines of Charlie's deflections and falsely cheerful texts and pushes (with trademark Nick Nelson sensitivity) for the truth. He notices when Charlie is beset with intrusive thoughts, even if he doesn't know (at least early on) what they're about, and proceeds to interrupt those thoughts. He can read Charlie so well not only because he pays attention, real attention, but because he already has the emotional intuition required to interpret Charlie's inner complexities.

There are many moments throughout the show where we see Nick display this keen insight with everyone in his life, not just Charlie. When Elle, who he barely knows at this point, is upset about being set up with Tao, he immediately seeks to alleviate her distress by offering a true explanation of why she and Tao were invited in the first place--to be part of a triple date. He wants Elle to know that it was important to him (and Charlie, Tara, and Darcy) that she and Tao be there not just to try to set them up, but because they wanted to include them in an important step for both couples (Nick and Charlie just beginning to share their relationship, and Tara and Darcy trying to find acceptance after coming out as a couple). Nick knows that Elle values truth and honesty, and he gives her that so she can feel comfortable with her friends again.

Nick is also incredibly understanding of Tao, who, it has to be said, barely even understands himself for much of the show. There are a lot of scenes where Nick is trying to connect with Tao but maybe oversteps just a tad because he sees more of Tao than Tao is ready to have seen. The moment outside Charlie's house when Tao tells Nick about Elle's art college ambitions, Nick cuts through to the heart of the matter--Tao's concern about missing Elle if she's far away. Nick is the first person in the friend group to connect the dots about what Elle's college acceptance might mean for Tao, and immediately tries to help Tao process those feelings. He's met with anger, but only because he managed to hit a lightning bolt of a nerve in Tao's emotional storm.

And of course there's Imogen, who Nick has known for a long time but begins to understand and appreciate on a deeper level as their relationship moves from superficial connection to true friendship. He sees how sensitive she is, how lonely in some ways, and is always looking out for her, keeping a concerned eye on her. He gives her the space she requests, but also comfort when she lets her walls down enough to ask for it. His innate understanding of what people need--especially when what they need is just someone to be there--is impeccable.

It almost goes without saying, but Nick's emotional wavelength with his mom is similarly strong and nuanced. When Nick comes out to Sarah, he makes sure she understands how important it is to him that she knows--not only that she knows that he's bi, or that Charlie is his boyfriend, but that she knows him. That their relationship is so important to him that he can overcome his fears to share this most vital part of himself. Nick's value of Sarah extends to caring for her when she's dealing with the stress of having his dad and David around. Of course, Nick is still a teenager and there are a lot of scenes that show Sarah's deft handling of Nick's emotions, but it's a two-way street. Nick takes care of her in his own way too.

Nick starts his relationship with Tara and Darcy leaning on them for advice and guidance, but by the end of the show they're leaning on him. Nick sees their struggles, especially Tara's, possibly more clearly than anyone else does because he recognizes some similarities between their situation and his with Charlie. When they're in trouble, he knows Tara needs care and honest advice, even if it's not the most comforting advice. He knows that what they both need is strength and security and tries, in his careful way, to give them those things.

Nick Nelson, always looking out for everyone he loves, keeping them safe as much as he can, hugging them when he can't.

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1d1195 · 3 months ago

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Most VI

Read Most here | ~4.3k words

From me: I think you guys don't give me enough credit for NOT putting cliffhangers in some of these (jk, I'm the worst lol) This part is a little shorter than the most recent parts --I was going to combine it with the last part, but decided to keep it self-contained because it seemed better that way. One more part to go! :)

Warnings: Lauren, angst, and a house fire. Please suspend your belief.

Summary: Harry finally figures out why she left. He just hopes it's not too late.

Harry was buzzing. His shift went by so fast knowing she was at the end of it.

Harry stopped to get her coffee. It was two in the afternoon when he finally left work, went home to shower, then make his way back toward her place. There were a lot of things that changed, but he hoped some hadn’t. Such that she would be getting up from her nap and would want a coffee.

“Hey, Lo,” Harry said as he entered the shop with a wave. Lauren was waiting on others in front of him, so he stood in line analyzing the menu wondering if she liked something different now. He couldn’t stop smiling, he could feel his cheeks nearly bursting. “What do y’think the chances are that she likes the same drink?” Harry asked as he approached the register.

It took a minute for Harry to notice that Lauren didn’t answer. He looked down from the menu and was totally confused by the expression on Lauren’s face. “You really love her? After she broke your heart?”

He stared at her. Unsure of where the question came from. Especially from her. Harry still didn’t know Lauren extensively, but it was an odd question to ask anyone and even odder for her to broach it.

But Harry would answer it any day. “Of course I do, Lauren. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “You deserve so much more than her,” Lauren’s eyes filled with tears and her voice cracked.

Harry’s brain worked slowly. Those words were familiar. Too familiar. The way she said them. The emphasis. His breathing felt erratic, and he realized too late that he was in flight-or-fight mode. The way his body started to shake. None of the puzzle pieces were fitting together but at the same time they were. All of them. Like he knew what happened the day she left as if they were said to him himself. “What... Lo... what did y’say?” It sounded like something she had said to him no less than eighteen hours ago. Her reasoning for that day.

Lauren covered her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut. Then, when she spoke, her words were caught on a choked sob. “She wasn’t supposed to come back! You weren’t supposed to wait for her!”

Harry took a step back. The coffee shop was too small suddenly and he was way too close to her. “Lauren,” his voice was low. His heart was aching; like it already knew what happened but unable to fully believe it. “What did y’do?” He whispered. But now, in the few seconds he had to reminisce where it went wrong. Harry thought back on it, he thought about the way Lauren’s grip had felt around his neck when he helped carry her to bed.

All that time...

It’s not fair.

Harry shook his head of the memory trying to focus on how he felt now. “Lauren,” he repeated. “What did y’say t’her?”

“I just thought that if she was gone you would see there was more than her for you.”

He backed up again, like she had slapped him. He bumped into the display behind him knocking a few bags of coffee grinds to the floor. “How could you?” He shook his head, it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. There wasn’t enough air. All that time just gone because of someone’s rotten jealousy. “You’re supposed to be her friend!”

“I–I… I don’t know… I just thought–”

“Did y’even message her all that time? Did y’even try?” He shouted. There was only a half dozen people in the coffee shop, but they all stared at Harry’s outburst.

“Oh... oh, my goodness,” someone whispered. Someone who very clearly knew what happened between her and Harry three years ago and how Lauren, if she was anyone’s friend, would have done anything to help them. But she didn’t. She let Harry suffer and watched him order countless coffees and asked if she had heard anything from her.

“Harry—”

“How could you?!” He shouted. It was pure silence this time. Lauren covered her mouth again and sobbed. “Three years, Lauren! Three years I have been half alive without her. How could y’do that t’her? How?”

“I-I—”

“Eleven hundred days, Lauren! Eleven. Hundred. One thousand, one hundred, twenty-seven days. Six birthdays, three Christmases, three anniversaries, that we’ll never get back because of you.”

Harry might have felt bad had Lauren tried to get him to leave all those years ago instead of her. Because if Harry had left, he would have been the stupidest person alive and he would have deserved to feel broken and terrible for three years. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know why Lauren said it. She didn’t know how Lauren’s hand had felt on the back of his neck. Lauren preyed upon the sweet girl’s insecurities and extorted the kindness she possessed.

Lauren betrayed her friend. She broke both their hearts because she was jealous. So, Harry didn’t feel bad. Not even a little.

He shook his head, his anger and frustration reaching a boiling point and he needed to get out of there and punch a tree before he did something stupid. Without another word, without another thought of Lauren and what she did, he started for the exit quickly.

However, when his hand touched the door there was one last thing he needed to say. Hopefully, it was going to be the last thing he ever said to her. “Don’t ever speak t’her again, Lauren. She’s too kind t‘say it and I don’t want her t’know. So, I’ll say it on her behalf: Don’t. Ever. Speak to her. Again.”

Harry sped much too fast in his car the entire way to her apartment building. His mind was racing. Trying to figure out what happened in the three years and how it could have gotten so far away from him… away from her.

Why didn’t he press more that night? Why didn’t he go visit her after a year—no, a week? An hour. Why didn’t he try?

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t even realize there were sirens in the distant background. He didn’t realize people were pointing in the direction he was headed. For the first time since he decided he wanted to help his community and he was going to be a firefighter, Harry didn’t see the smoke.

When he parked off to the side because he knew the trucks would be coming, he searched for the car he saw in the middle of traffic just a couple short weeks ago. He prayed it wouldn’t be there. But it was. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He saw a new storage pod outside, but it was locked shut—she wasn’t outside. He dialed her phone number. Praying he was unblocked. He hadn’t texted or called her in the time she had been back. He had deleted her contact info but and her messages fell to the bottom of the list with disuse—it was far easier to type her number than scroll looking for it. The idea he was going to scare her away again far outweighed his desire to have communication with her—seeing her in person was more than sufficient. It was, in a way, slow and old-fashioned, he had bargained to see her by accident.

But now that seemed like the stupidest idea he had ever had.

It had been ages since he dialed her number, but the ten digits were imprinted on his mind like the melody of his favorite song or a tattoo on his arm. He tapped his screen as quickly as he could. Paced in front of the burning door, watching the flames float up curtains and walls swiftly.

He listened to it ring. Which was a miracle.

But there was no answer.

His stomach churned.

He dialed again.

No answer.

Harry started to sweat. He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone is out,” someone shouted.

But Harry didn’t believe that. Pressed his thumb on her number again.

No answer.

Harry stared at the building. It was supposed to be a saving grace, this building. She was home. But right then, he hated it. With intense passion. Hated it more than anything.

“C’mon,” he murmured to himself.

There was a pause in the ringing. “Mmm… Hi Harry,” she whispered sleepily. For the briefest second Harry forgot the reason for his call. “Is your shift over? Are you coming to me or do you want me to come to your place?” She murmured. God, Harry loved her so much. Even in a dangerous situation, he was so happy to hear his name on her lips. Right when she woke up. It was only seconds between her answer and his sentence but after she had been gone all of time felt slower, he had to fill it with more. He thought of all the mornings he lost with her. All the weekends he would have spent in her dorm waking up on a mattress that was too small for two people, but it wouldn’t have mattered because he could never be close enough to her. He didn’t get to hear her say Hi Harry in a sleepy voice and relish it.

He couldn’t do that now.

“Baby, please tell me you’re not home,” he begged, but he was already pulling his jacket from his car. He would have put his whole suit on if he had it with him, but obviously he didn’t. The jacket wasn’t station-issued but it was flame resistant and it would have to do. It seemed so counterintuitive to cover up more when he was already sweating with anxiety and from the hot summer sun. Next came gloves that he had from helping Gemma cut down trees in her yard. Again, not fire station approved, but they would have to work.

His eyes stayed glued to the building watching her balcony. This was a nightmare. Worse than any one that Harry ever had of her. He would take another three years apart over this.

“I just... woke up from a nap,” she yawned, stretched. God, he would have paid thousands of dollars just to see it. One brain cell was happy her nap time hadn’t changed.

But this wasn’t the time to worry about her nap. “At... Eleanor’s?” He hoped, squeezing his eyes shut.

She coughed, unaware. “No,” she coughed again. “I’m at my apartment, why?”

He opened his eyes and saw the smoke and fire crawling up to the third floor. The slew of people around him crying and watching as the building went up in flames. Memories lost and trinkets gone. He closed his eyes tight. “Kitten,” he whispered. “I need you t’listen very carefully t’me. Y’need t’stay calm. Can y’do that?”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He heard her shuffle.

“Baby, m’here. I promise. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you,” he assured her.

“What are you talking about? What’s—it’s,” she coughed again. “Ugh,” she sighed. “It’s super hot in here and the AC isn’t working—I think I have to have the super look at—”

“Kitten,” he rubbed his forehead, terrified of her reaction. “M’outside your building. It’s on fire and you need to get out.”

There was a pause. “No...” she shook her head. Coughed. “No, the smoke detectors didn’t go off.”

It was his worst fear. Her sleeping like the dead terrified him. He always worried something horrible like this would happen. Thank God he called her. But if the detectors didn’t even go off... she didn’t have a chance.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Baby, y’need t’go,” he could see the fourth floor, right below hers—the windows began seeping with thick smoke. She gasped and shuffled back.

“Oh... oh no,” she whispered. “Harry, the hallway...” her voice cracked. “Harry, what do I do?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and held the phone tighter in his hand. He wished he could teleport up there. He heard water running. Probably a towel or blanket she was soaking while she still could. Good girl. “Baby, y’need t’come to the balcony.”

It was the reason an astronaut wasn’t feasible after all their training that one week. It was why she would never have a kiss on a Ferris Wheel or why she would never reach the top of a mountain hike. Anything higher than two stories was too tall and too scary.

Now more than ever.

She shook her head, Harry couldn’t see her, but he knew it. “I can’t do that... I... I...”

“I know, baby, I know it’s high. But you have to,” he wanted to scream but he had to be calm for her.

She couldn’t even bring herself to the window to look down. Harry was so scared as he thought of how much smoke she was inhaling whether there was a wet blanket around her head or not. “I can’t,” she croaked. “It’s too high.”

“Kitten, I know,” he agreed. “I know,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “But I need you to get out,” he clutched the phone tighter. “Like right now.”

The sound of firetruck doors slammed from behind him. “Styles! What are you doing here?”

“Someone’s in there,” he shouted back.

“We’ve been told everyone’s been accounted for!”

He turned and glared toward the voice that said it. “Where’s the fucking ladder truck!?”

But Harry already knew that the building was taller than any of the ones in town. Even if it was here, it would only reach the third floor.

“They’re coming from the town over… Who’s still in there—”

She coughed. It was muffled by her shirt, the wet towel she surely had over her head. “I can’t, Harry. I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m too scared and it’s,” she was broken up by a cough again.

“S’not an option, baby,” he shook his head. She wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t allowing her to give up. He was stepping closer to the house prepared to run up the stairs from the first floor, through the flames, and five flights of stairs. Where the fuck was the ladder truck?!

“Styles, it’s unstable. You’re not to enter—that’s an order. It’s not safe!” The voice of the fire chief shouted from behind him.

He was going to get fired—but a chance of reaching her? It was well worth it. He would take third degree burns over every inch of his body in trade for her safety. It didn't matter what he needed to do. “Baby, you still with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m really scared, Harry.”

He winced, feeling so much agony over her fear. His brain wasn’t moving fast enough. “Where’s the goddamn truck!?” He shouted behind him, his voice quieting on the phone. The rest of the squad was hooking up hoses to fire hydrants and looking for a point of entry to determine the safety of the building. Talking with the manager of the building.

Then his voice softened, even though he was desperate and broken. “I know, baby. I know. S’okay. M’gonna get you out,” he promised.

“Harry,” she sniffled. It felt worse than third degree burns. It felt worse than not knowing if she ate breakfast or got a good night’s sleep. Nothing felt as bad as her sniffling; sad and scared. Harry wanted to hold her and assure her it would be okay; but he was too far away.

“M’here, baby. M’here,” he promised.

“Harry—”

“Kitten, I just need t’think for one second and I’ll get y’out—”

“Harry, baby—”

“—I promise. I would never—”

“Harry, I really, really love you,” she croaked. Silencing any thought Harry had. “I always have. I didn’t stop loving you. Not even for a second. I think I love you more if that’s even possible.”

It felt like the last three years never existed. She was never gone. The hole in his heart was filled. His lungs didn’t feel short of breath, and his muscles stopped aching. She loved him. He thought of Gemma saying she would never do something that would hurt both of them.

But Harry was sick of her goodbyes. He didn’t like that they came without warning. They never said goodbye or goodnight. It was always implied she would see him tomorrow.

Harry dropped his phone without responding. He didn’t think; didn’t think logically at all. His training was gone. He relied on his instinct and the strength training he had thrown himself into at the gym.

He marched up to the first first-floor patio railing and stood on it as the rest of his coworkers shouted. He had seen moments of incredible strength and determination from every day people choosing to be heroes. Harry would never tout himself as such, but he was going to be heroic for her.

The distinct voice of his chief started to shout after him as well, but it was too late. He had to be quick for a hundred reasons, but if they stopped him, something bad would happen to her. Then he would die--that he was sure of. The railing was a good jumping point. Heat poured from the building. People shouted at him. Shouted into the walkies to get the ladder truck there ASAP. He was so fired. But it didn’t matter.

He jumped up from the railing and grabbed for the balusters the second floor balcony. He yanked himself up in a chin-up that his friends and coworkers would be proud of if they had a moment to admire it. Once on the second balcony, he remained perched for a moment. Gathering his nerve, and resetting his muscles before he launched up to the next floor in the same way as the second. Then he did it for the fourth and fifth balconies as well. He didn’t think about how high up he was. How a free fall would definitely break his spine or very much something worse. He wasn’t the one afraid of heights after all.

She was more important. Always. He was not going to let her say I love you on the phone to him after three years of nothing, make him whole again, and then just leave permanently.

Once on her balcony, his muscles screamed. He pulled on the slider but it was locked. He pressed his face to the glass and searched for her but couldn’t see her through the smoke.

“Goddammit!” He shouted, slamming his fist on the slider. But she probably couldn’t hear it over the sound of the room separating her, the sirens, and probably the sound of her own coughing. Harry pressed his gloved hands to his face and pressed his hands to his pockets searching for anything that could be useful.

Then his saving grace was a planter in the corner of the balcony. Time seemed to be moving so slowly, he could have cried. He yanked the stand surely straining a muscle in his back but that didn't matter either. The plant tumbled to her patio floor and in the same motion, he smashed the heavy holder it into the slider. He turned his head away to avoid the glass and the heat bloomed from inside.

“Kitten, if y’can hear me. I need you t'come t’my voice,” he shouted. The floor creaked under the weight of his foot. It made his training kick in, he couldn’t keep going. It was useless if he fell through the floor and couldn’t keep her safe.

It killed a piece of him, but he stayed where he was. Through the smoke, he searched for her. “Kitten, please,” he begged.

Holding onto the frame of the door he stepped into the room, shirt over his mouth, his foot feeling for a support beam that hadn’t been broken by the flames or something.

“Goddammit,” he croaked. “Where are you?” His eyes burned from the smoke and heat but he tried anyway because he had to find her.

“I’m here,” she called weakly.

He closed his eyes, his heart aching as he breathed out inside his shirt. “Good. Good, baby. Come here,” his eyes were watering from the smoke or heat. He thought. Or maybe it was just pure relief flooding his vision. In actuality, they were just tears. “Baby, you have t’come here now.” He ordered.

The floor creaked and he didn’t know where she was and it killed him. He couldn’t see through the smoke.

He prayed none of her possessions were lost. Her phone probably had pictures on it that she loved, or words jotted into her notes app that never made it to a notebook. Who bought her notebooks and pens now? Was there anyone that knew her like he did? He was going to get her a notebook and pen right after he got her out of here. There was the distinct sound of the ladder setting up behind him.

“Harry,” she croaked. “I didn’t—”

“Kitten, just come here,” he begged. “I don’t care. Just…”

“I thought you…” God he needed to see her. Needed to hold her. Her voice sounded like she didn’t know he was coming for her—like he would ever let her die in a fire and let I love you be the last thing she ever said to him.

“Carefully, baby,” he reminded her, wishing more than anything he could run across the room and grab her as fast as he could. Praying that she knew he would never let anything happen to her.

“Harry, it’s cracking,” she whimpered.

“Kitten,” his heart was racing worse than any other time in his life. “You have to,” he was telling her, but it sounded like he was begging. “Please,” he wasn’t against begging—not if it would get her out. “If I come t’you, I’ll fall through, I don’t think you’ll want that,” he didn’t want to sound self-important he, just wanted her out. He was so stressed by this predicament, he worried he was going to have a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-three right in front of her. He took another cautious step toward where he thought her voice came from. The wood groaned under the pressure. “Kitten, please,” he pleaded.

Her cough was closer. The creaking was nearer.

Then through the plume of smoke, he saw her--just barely. The collar of her T-shirt over her mouth, a wet towel around her head. The muscles of his back released ever so slightly. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “Nice and slow,” he crouched to the same level as she crawled below the smoke. He brushed the floor in front of him with his gloves. “Just a little more, baby,” he whispered. “M’here,” he promised. “There’s a lot of glass—please be careful,” he begged. But he would pluck out every piece himself if it meant she was alive for him to do it.

Once she was within grabbing range--near enough to the balcony that he wouldn't need to step on the crumbling floor, he yanked her to him. Pulling her to stand and clutching her to him as if their lives were dependent on it. For a moment, he held her, kissed the side of her face as she coughed and he felt along her ribs as if she wasn't real and holding her was all in his head.

It was no longer than three seconds, but it could have been hours or days that he held her. The sound of everything falling apart below them didn’t matter. The creaking, the wood breaking, the integrity of the building melting. All of it didn’t matter. “C’mon,” he ushered her further out on the balcony. The ladder was greeting him. Finally.

He sighed with relief. “Kitten,” his voice was soft, a bit hoarse with anxiety and smoke coating his esophagus. “Close your eyes and don’t open ‘em until I say so, yeah?”

“Please don’t fall,” she mumbled and tucked her face against his jacket. He knew it was a protective layer, but he wished with everything in him it was softer for her delicate face.

“Never, baby,” he promised, dragging a gloved hand across her cheek wishing it was also his hand and not the rough material.

“I was talking to myself,” the smallest of smiles graced her pretty lips.

Harry buried his nose in her hair. The skin between his eyebrows pinched together. Without full control of his emotions, he released a quiet chuckle and his eyes continued to water from the smoke (they was definitely just tears). His laugh was barely loud enough for her to hear. “I won’t let that happen, kitten,” he promised anyway. He hauled himself over the railing and onto the ladder. He held his hand out. “C’mere, kitten. M’here.” She tentatively stepped forward. “Hold your hand out,” he whispered. As she did, he grabbed it immediately. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “I’m going to lift you now, okay?”

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice full of worry. “It’s–”

“Baby, s’not an option,” he repeated.

“But—”

He yanked her closer, watching the smoke billow out of her slider door. The flames crept closer and the only thing that kept him from losing his grip on reality was that she was holding his hand and not victim to the flames behind them. Without hearing her protest, he lifted her. As if she weighed nothing but a bag of groceries. He cradled her as he had been taught in the academy and practiced regularly with his coworkers. But he thought of the wedding he always had dreamed about. How he would be cheesy, and he wanted nothing more than to carry her over the threshold of wherever they resided.

It wasn’t soft or pretty that way, but holding her then...

Well, it was better than any threshold he could have dreamed of.

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dyaz-stories · 7 months ago

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don't get cut on my edges || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Gojo is easily bored, you're the latest enigma that's caught his interest. He sets off in trying to figure you out. Lucky for him, you're coming on the week-end trip Shoko's planned for the week-end.

“Was I off script?”

You look up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

word count: 5.4k

genre: college!AU, fluff, slice of life

cw: unresolved sexual and romantic tension, reader has anxiety and is socially awkward, she/her is used for the reader, a little suggestive, overall very sweet and fluffy

a/n: this was fun to write! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy my writing here :)

soundtrack

Gojo knows that people talk, knows that they talk shit, knows that there isn’t a soul on campus that doesn’t have an opinion on him. He can tell that eyes follow him around when he walks into a room, that his presence is enough to shift the atmosphere at a gathering, that some people roll their eyes at him while others try their best to catch his attention. It’s a lot to take in, for just one person.

Fortunately, he’s proved to be incredibly gifted in the art of not giving a fuck.

Then again, he’s incredibly gifted in most areas of life. Truth be told, he thinks people aren’t giving him enough credit for that. Sure, they tend to know that he’s a physics major, but that’s just tangential to what they know about the rest of him. He’s not just kinda good at physics, not some dude that goes to college mostly for the parties and then get a meaningless job at daddy’s company, no, he’s the fucking best, and he works fucking hard to be able to claim that title.

But that doesn’t really fit in with the rest of him, and at the end of the day, who cares? He certainly doesn’t.

With all that, it’s not statistically unlikely for him to catch people talking about him.

Well, he’d have to conduct a detailed study to calculate the exact odds, but with how much alcohol is in his blood at this very moment, it makes sense to him that it would happen.

Still, for people to be talking about him at a party he is at, in front of an open window, you’d think they would have some sense of shame. Not that he has any room to talk, because shame is not part of his vocabulary, but like. Come on.

“Gojo really can’t take not being in the spotlight for more than ten seconds, huh?”

That voice, he’s quick to identify, even if he can’t see her face from where’s he’s standing under the porch, belongs to Mei Mei. Aw. Bummer. They’d spent quite a lot of time around each other, have friends in common, slept— Wait, have they slept together? He can’t say for sure anymore. It seems to have slipped from his mind. Oops. Maybe that’s why he’s getting that treatment. Maybe he deserves it.

There’s a scoff, and really, the acoustic of this place are impressive. It feels like he’s straight in the room with those people.

“What else do you expect from someone who’s always had everything served to him on a silver platter?”

And that would be Noritoshi Kamo. Man. That was one of the few kids in the families his parents insisted on frequenting. They used to be sat next to each other at the kiddie table while the adults talked about the important stuff. They never had much in common — not then, not now. And, after all, maybe Noritoshi has a point, after all. His mother wasn’t a mistress, wasn’t turned into an outcast, and he’s never had to pretend he didn’t hear the loud whispers that tarnished her name. Yeah. Sounds like these two aren’t saying anything new after all. Not that he’s gonna change, y’know, but he already knows who he is, and he is all that.

“That seems like a very mean thing to say about a friend,” a quiet voice comments.

The world freezes.

A silhouette appears to go along with the voice, then a blurry face, then the picture becomes clearer. A figure sitting next to Shoko, giving him sweet, polite smiles when he approaches. Not chatty, kinda shy, pretty cute. Would get quiet when he was near, though, so he hadn’t paid a ton of attention. He’s used to giving it to people who asked for it, who wanted it.

You’d never asked.

But you’re… not wrong. He’s not sure why he hadn’t picked up on it himself. It is a mean thing to say.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mei Mei protests, “I love Gojo, but you know I’m right about this.”

“Yeah, and I’ve known him my whole life,” Kamo adds. “It’s just a fact, we’re not talking shit.”

There’s a silence. Gojo’s invested now.

“I don’t know him that well,” you say. “Like I said. It’s just a mean thing to say about someone you hang out with every day.”

“Come on, don’t act like—”

“I think I’m going to go, actually,” you say. “This feels super shitty.”

“What the fuck was that?” Mei Mei laughs, just a second later — presumably after you’ve left the room.

“She wants to fuck him, I guess,” Kamo says.

Well, you’re making one hell of a headway then, because he’d do you so hard after that.

When he walks back in, you’re chatting with Shoko. You give him your usual, close-lipped smile, don’t quite make eye-contact. If you’re trying to get in his pants, you have a very original way of getting it done.

“Who was your friend again?” he asks Shoko, later that night. She answers without looking up from her phone.

“She doesn’t talk much when there are new people around,” she warns him. “Leave her alone.”

“When have I ever bothered anyone—”

She reaches to smack the back of his head, misses and gets the nape of his neck — that’s the downside about being so tall, there’s just a lot of him to hit.

“Don’t make her uncomfortable. That’s all I’m asking.”

He wasn’t planning on that. He’s just— curious. Intrigued.

It’s unlikely to last, though. He’s been known to get bored easily.

You’re already in the car when he gets in. Well, okay, when he gets shoved inside by Todo, despite his protests that his legs are too long for the backseat. You’ve squeezed yourself in the middle seat, with Shoko on one side, and him on the other now. There’s a bag of snacks in your lap, yet you still try to shift yourself to give him a little more room. It doesn’t help at all, but in your defense, the only thing that could help would be to buy a new car.

“Is everyone ready?” Suguru asks as he adjusts the rearview mirror.

“Sure,” Shoko says.

“Let’s go!” Todo shouts.

“No,” Gojo whines.

“Yeah,” you say, completely drowned out under the rest.

“Good,” Suguru hums as he starts the engine.

Gojo pouts, but he doesn’t insist. Well, he doesn’t make any more of a scene than he already has. Truth be told, he could have taken Todo — dude might be all brute force, but Gojo has brains and brawns, thank you very much.

But he’s curious, still, and he hasn’t been given enough information to quite satiate his curiosity. Everything he’s gathered about you says that you mind your business and keep to your corner.

So why did you say that to Mei Mei and Kamo? It makes no sense, but Gojo’s never met an equation he couldn’t solve.

That’s an overstatement. Obviously there are equations he can’t solve. Yet. He’s sure he’d figure it out eventually. Like he’ll figure you out. See? That metaphor does make sense.

Suguru’s music is playing in the car. The sun is still low in the sky, the day is quickly getting warmer, and the phone says that they’ll be at the beach in two hours.

Satoru closes his eyes. Fun fact about him? He can fall asleep anywhere he wants to.

He wakes up with his face smooshed against the window, a hand tapping his shoulder carefully.

“We’re here,” you say, giving him a smile and then shuffling to leave the car from the other side.

Todo’s already running towards the beach, while Suguru and Shoko are getting the bags out of the trunk. Somehow, Shoko manages to sling a bag over his shoulder, but he takes off before she can stuff the cool box containing all the drinks in his arms.

He then lies to Todo to get him back to the car, so that he can carry the damn thing. Shoko better thank him later for that.

He catches up with you, and he sees your eyes widen a little when he approaches, as you visibly search for something to say. He can’t resist the temptation to shoot you a grin. There’s a light breeze in the air, but he won’t be fooled that easily — with his skin, he’s going to need an insane amount of sunscreen, if he wants to survive the day. Which makes him think, actually—

“Wanna help me apply sunscreen?” he asks.

“Huh?” you say.

He leans towards you, looks into your eyes from over his sunglasses. You appear to be fully frozen in place, only swallowing once as he gets closer. His grin gets wider as he takes in all of you, and he’s once more fascinated by the idea that you had been able to say something to Mei Mei and Kamo but you can barely face him.

His gaze drops to your parted lips.

Then the bottle of sunscreen smashes against his cheek with impressive precision.

“Todo can help you put that on!” Shoko offers as Suguru starts setting up a parasol. “Right, Todo?”

“Of course I will, my brother,” Todo say as he appears, but by then, Satoru has already started running for his life.

“Just kick him in the balls if he pulls something like that again,” Shoko says.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you reply, shaking your head in mild horror. “I just— I don’t— know— how to react sometimes. But he doesn’t bother me.”

That statement has her raising an eyebrow at you, filled with doubt, but she doesn’t insist.

“Play nice,” she does warn Satoru once more, later on. “Don’t push it too much.”

“Aw, Shoko, are you saying you wouldn’t approve of me?”

“Do whatever you want to,” she replies, rolling her eyes, “but give her more space. She’s not used to you being… you.”

Satoru rests his chin on his knee. He’s taking refuge under the parasol for now, and you’re already in the waves with Todo and Suguru. You seem comfortable with Todo, laughing at something he said, less so with Suguru. It all looks like a lot of work, all to satiate his curiosity. He’s all about committing to the bit but— he doesn’t know about that one.

This, too, all this thinking and questioning, is a lot of work, though, so he ends up shrugging it off.

“Are we getting in or what?”

“Absolutely not. No— Gojo— Don’t you fucking dare— Gojo!”

Shoko’s full-on shrieking by the time he throws her in the water. You burst out laughing. She comes out screaming for revenge, and Gojo starts scampering around to try and avoid her.

The sun is high in the sky, there’s a light breeze.

The time is good.

“Satoru!” Suguru calls when the watch on his wrist starts beeping, “it’s been two hours!”

It takes a second for the information to reach his brain, but the second he understands it, Gojo’s sprinting back towards the parasol at full speed. You look up, surprised, from the towel on which you’re lying with a book. Shoko doesn’t even bother with lifting an eyelid to see what’s going on.

“You okay?” you ask.

Ah, so she does speak.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, ruffling through a bag. “Just need to reapply some sunscreen. I’m not trying to look like a lobster.”

“Oh,” you say, “so, did you want me to help you with that?”

His fingers finally close around the bottle, and he stills to look at you. Shit. He’s curious again. Shoko’s words are swirling around in his mind, though, and he has no interest in forcing your hand.

“You didn’t look like you wanted to do that,” he says with uncharacteristic caution.

You roll your lips together, glance away from him, and your hand curls into a fist in the sand.

“No, it’s just— Um, I’m sorry about earlier. You— caught me off guard, I guess. I couldn’t figure out what to answer.”

“I usually just go with whatever appears through my head first,” he shrugs as he comes to crouch in front of you — you in the sun, him in the shade.

You laugh softly, but you avert your eyes, focusing on the sand as you trace patterns in it.

“Yeah, I think that’s the preferred method, but it— doesn’t— really work for me. So I have— I have a script, kind of, for interactions.”

“And I was off script?”

You glance back up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

For a moment, he just looks into your eyes, and you look back without any of that earlier nervousness. Then you shrink back into yourself, and the smile that so rarely leaves your lips reappears, like a shield that comes back up.

“Sorry. I know— I know how silly this sounds. I also wish I didn’t feel the need to do that, I just, um—”

“All good,” he replies with a shrug. “Sure. Help me with that.”

He throws you the bottle and you miss it, and he can feel you eyerolling at his back without needing to turn around, but when he shoots you a grin from over his shoulder, he can see how your breath catches in your throat.

Softly, your hand goes over his back, your touch gentle and cautious. It feels quite nice, actually, especially when your nails brush over his skin.

“It’s not too cold?” you ask.

“All good,” he repeats.

Shit. He’s invested again.

“Okay, we have the tickets, we have the water bottles, we have the hats, we have flat shoes, we have Gojo, we have the car keys—”

“I’m sorry, why was I just in the middle of a list of belongings?”

“We have cellphones and portable batteries… I think we’re good,” Shoko concludes, fully ignoring him.

“You don’t think we’re just a touch overprepared?” Suguru asks.

“You can never overprepare, my brother,” Todo says, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “If you want to triumph in the face of adversity, you need to know everything about the enemy.”

Suguru opens his mouth, closes it again. He knows how to pick his battles.

Gojo doesn’t.

“We’re going to a festival, not trying to breech the Pentagon,” he deadpans, and then, from the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you’re laughing. He delights in how you lower your head and try to keep it discreet.

“You never know what—”

“If I have to hear a second more of this nonsense, I swear to God I’ll kill someone here,” Shoko announces cheerfully. “Let’s move.”

Finally, after a good fifteen minutes by the door of the Airbnb you’ve all spent the night in, you start moving.

The good news is that you don’t have to get in the car, in the smothering heat, to get on the overcrowded streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. The bad news is that you have to walk there, in the smothering heat, near the streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. Suguru’s in charge of the map, which everyone seems happy with. Gojo had offered to do it, too, and there’s not a shred of doubt that he’d be able to read it competently, but Shoko had insisted the risk of him taking everyone to the wrong place ‘just because it would be funny’ was too high.

She’d been right but like, that was still rude.

The march in the heat and the waiting in line, while painful and unpleasant, as Gojo makes sure everyone around him is well aware of, go pretty smooth. Everything is planned and accounted for. There’s a game plan once they make it into the festival, too, because of course there is, but that’s when things start going south. First, Todo tries to go rogue when he spots someone wearing Takada merch. She’s not performing here, but he’s heard rumors that there would be a stand for her, and he lurches towards the woman. He’d get lost in the crowd immediately if not for Gojo’s lightning fast reflexes.

Unfortunately, soon enough it’s Gojo’s turn to get distracted. What can he say, there’s the smell of sugar in the air, and he needs to know where it’s coming from. Suguru’s the one to get him back on track, as they all head towards the main stage. Because that’s what Shoko’s grand plan leads to: sweet, sweet, close-up spots to watch the Sorcerers, headliners for the festival and also unarguably greatest band of all times, with minimum wait before their show.

There are a couple other close calls, but the group manages to get close enough to the stage. There are people here already, but they’re here for other artists mostly, and they’ll no doubt move quite a bit before the start of the real show. From where they are, even you and Shoko will be able to— Wait a minute.

“Huh,” Gojo say. “Hey, Shoko, do you happen to see (y/n) around?”

“If you can’t see her from up there, why would you think I— Fuck.”

“A fallen soldier,” Todo sighs somberly. “Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for—"

“We should go get her,” Shoko interrupts him. She’s biting her lower lip, staring at her phone. She looks quite worried, Gojo notices as he stares at her.

“Why isn’t it enough to just text her?” Gojo asks. It’s not ideal, and it won’t be easy to find the group in the middle of this sea of people, but it’s not impossible.

“I just— I don’t know if she’ll want to deal with all that” she gestures at the crowd “alone. I’m afraid she’ll say she doesn’t mind and then she won’t have a good time.”

Gojo tilts his head. It wouldn’t cross his mind to say something he doesn’t mean. It’s an incredibly weird thought, actually. But Shoko’s better than him at, well, people, and she might have a point. He also doesn’t want you to have a bad time, after all. With one last glance at the stage, he nods at her.

“I’ll go get her.”

“Are you sure?” Suguru asks. “I can go, if you want me to. It’s your band.”

As if it isn’t his, too. But Gojo shrugs. His attention span is fleeting, and he’s got his sights on something else right now.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll make it back.”

“Thanks,” Shoko says sincerely.

He waves vaguely at her before making his way back through the crowd, earning his fair share of nasty glances. He still doesn’t care.

A few minutes later, he receives a text from Shoko with a screengrab where you say you’re getting something to eat. Sure enough, he has no trouble finding you waiting in line. You’re typing on your phone, not paying attention to your surroundings, and he’s grinning already. He lets himself half fall on you, arm wrapping around your body as he drops his chin onto your shoulder. You jump, glancing back bewildered, but you don’t stay tense long once you see it’s him.

Which makes him feel things, actually, but he’ll unpack that later.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, brow furrowing. “I thought you guys would be in front of the stage by now.”

“I came to rescue the princess, obviously,” he says, and you laugh. You laugh a lot when he talks, instead of rolling your eyes like people usually do.

Maybe you’re a bit too good of an audience.

“I don’t need rescuing, Gojo,” you answer, and it’s interesting how calm your voice is. “It’s packed too tight for me in here. I told Shoko but…” You shrug. “It’s not always easy to understand how it is. For me.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t get it at all.”

Your shoulder’s pretty comfortable, though. And you haven’t tried to get him off of you yet.

“Do you want to order something, too?” you ask, pointing at the food stand. They sell waffles, and just the smell has his mouth watering. “Strawberries and whipped cream, right?”

Gojo pauses.

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it. A few times, actually.”

He’s sure he has, but—

“You were listening to that?”

You blink at him. He realizes how close your face is, with his head on your shoulder.

“Of course I was. You were talking.”

“Shoko didn’t tell you? It’s like, rule number one of being around me, don’t listen to the stuff I say. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there.”

You tilt your head, looking kind of confused.

“I still want to hear what you’re saying.”

Something inside him feels warm all of a sudden. Very warm.

“Yeah,” he says, but his throat is tight. “Strawberries and whipped cream.”

When you step forward to they can take your order, he begrudgingly gets off your shoulder, which allows him to swipe his card before you can get to it.

“I had that,” you protest while he bites into the insane amount of whipped cream in his waffle — he asked for more until the guy behind the counter looked like he was going to murder him.

“I had it first,” he says, and then he sticks his tongue out at you. He anticipates your laugh this time, finds himself waiting on it. When it comes, it sounds just like he wanted it to.

For a while, the two of you sit on a fence. You hand him a water bottle, say that he needs to stay hydrated. With no one else around, you don’t seem to have such a hard time speaking. You’re so quiet when everyone’s there and, well, him and Todo take up a lot of space, when it comes to conversation. Neither Suguru nor Shoko struggle with making their voices heard either, and in the middle of all that, you tend to stay silent. Apparently, that doesn’t stop you from listening.

“Shouldn’t you be going back?” you ask, after a while.

Gojo tilts his head as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s find some place where you can enjoy the show.”

“You don’t have to—”

A grin, and then he’s jumping from the fence to come stand in front of you. Even like that, he doesn’t have to look up to meet your eyes.

“And how d’you plan on stopping me?”

Your eyes go wide. He can almost hear your heart racing, and he thinks he’s starting to get a little too high on that feeling. It’s just so easy, so fun, so delicious.

“Okay,” you squeak, averting your eyes and jumping down after him, clearly trying to hide your reaction. “Okay, I’m coming.”

When you start walking by his side, grabbing your hand is just too easy not to do it.

“Wouldn’t want you to run away again,” is what he says as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

You still refuse to look at him, but there is no actual discomfort in your reaction, just what he thinks is uncertainty about how you’re supposed to behave now.

“Have I gone off script again?” he practically purrs.

You glance up, a flash of amusement on your face. Lots of fondness, too, and this time he’s the one who gets caught up in it.

“You haven’t been on script once today.”

“Good,” he says, managing to pass off the emotion that just choked him for a second there as impatience. “Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“I’m always on my toes,” you mumble behind him, but you can’t explain to him what anxiety feels like, so you just let him drag you away. His fingers are long, his hand engulfs yours easily. You like the feeling of it more than you should.

Your eyes are on Gojo’s broad back as he pulls you through the crowd, which parts effortlessly for him. You’re enjoying this.

You don’t think it’s going to last.

Gojo doesn’t think about that though, just like he rarely thinks about tomorrows. What he’s thinking about, as he keeps far, far away from the stage, is how to find a place with enough air around for the two of you. It’s easy for him to get a good look at the stage, and he earns his fair share of pissed off glares — “Seriously, it should be illegal to come to an open-air stage when you’re that tall” — but it takes more work to get the perfect space for you. Finally, his eagle eyes figure out some place that’s just perfect, and he beelines for it with you in tow.

“There,” he says, pulling you in front of him and putting his head on top of yours, just to check that the line of sight is good enough.

Ha. He nailed it.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s surprise in your tone.

“Is this a good spot for you?” he checks, but really, he just wants to hear you praise him?

“It is, but— I thought you said you didn’t get it? My—” You gesture vaguely. “—struggle. With all that stuff.”

Oh right. You actually listen to what he says. He needs to keep that in mind for the future.

“Does it matter?” he asks with a shrug.

You stare. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, and then the crowd starts absolutely howling and you spin around to see the Sorcerersget on the stage. Whatever moment there was there, is forgotten right away. He sees you fish in your bag for your phone, then raise it over your head and tiptoe around, trying to get a good photo.

It’s cute, it’s adorable even, but it’s not very efficient.

“Do you want some help here?” he asks, leaning close to your ear so you can hear him over all the noise.

Your body shivers into him, and he files that away for later.

“Um, yeah,” you shout over the noise. “Here, could you—”

But he pays no attention to the way you offer him your cellphone, and instead he’s bending down, and ignoring your surprised protest as he pushes his head between your legs.

He bench presses a hell of a lot more than he looks like he does, for the record.

With a grunt, he manages to get you up on his shoulders, and some people behind him complain loudly, but whatever, they can wait for you to get the perfect picture. You struggle to stabilize yourself for a dangerous second, and then you stop moving around for a second. Your thighs are supple and warm under his hands and around his head.

One more thing to remember.

“I’m good, I’m good, get me down,” you say quickly, just as he’s storing the thought away.

You seem relieved when your feet get back on the ground, and Satoru lets his hands linger on your waist.

“Was it a nice pic?” he asks. He knows he’s all red in the face, but he’s grinning so wide it almost hurts, actually.

“Perfect,” you squeak. “Thank you. Again.”

Aw. He’s going to get used to that word real quick.

A familiar guitar riff comes from the stage, and you turn away from him once more, but his hands are still on your waist. He uses that to pull you against him and this time, you don’t hesitate to let yourself lean back against him as the two of you move in rhythm with the music.

The concert is a blur after that. There’s a lot of singing, a lot of screaming, basically no time to catch a breath, because the Sorcerers are fucking beasts that don’t let up, not even for a second. At some point, you tell him something, but he can’t really hear, so you crane your neck back and he lowers his head. Your lips brush against his neck, an accident really, but it sends such a jolt of electricity through him, he thinks he’ll go into full overdrive.

The only thing that stops him from chasing after your lips immediately after that is Shoko’s voice, going around in his mind. ‘Don’t push it.’ What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You move away, and he still has no clue what you were saying. If after that, his hands hold your hips a little tighter, if he pulls you a little closer, he can’t be blamed. If, during one of the more sulfurous song of the show, as you’re swaying against him, humming along to the song, his lips find your neck, he doesn’t want to hear about it.

When he presses a kiss right by your jaw, you turn to look at him. You’re pretty. He’s always thought you were pretty.

Fuck Shoko, he thinks, and he’s ready to put his mouth on yours, to slide his tongue between your parted lips that have looked so inviting this entire week-end, when the riff of the band’s most popular song starts playing, and he loses you attention once more.

Cock-blocked by his favorite band. Fuck his life.

When the song ends, there’s movement in the crowd as the band gets off the stage and people start chanting for an encore. In Shoko’s fool proof, perfect plan, this is when you’re supposed to start leaving. Gojo doesn’t want to — how is he supposed to do anything about how much he wants his mouth on you once you’re back with the other — but this time you grab his hand and pull him away from the stage and he has even less of a clue of what he’s supposed to do about that.

You get to the meeting point before Shoko, Todo and Suguru, which makes sense, considering you were much further from the stage than them. It’s a specific pole that Shoko had pointed to as you were first getting in, and the urge to push you against it and to taste your lips is strong. Gojo isn’t typically one to ignore that kind of feeling. He just goes for it, doesn’t let his brain get in the way too much. He’s not sure what it is with you and your doe eyes and your sweet smile that makes him act different.

Whatever it is, it makes him ask “Did you have a good time?” instead of kissing you senseless behind the pole while watching to make sure Shoko doesn’t catch him in the act.

“It was amazing,” you say. “I don’t think— I don’t think I’d have gotten that close without you.”

“Did I force your hand?” he asks, frowning.

“No, no, that was great, actually.” And there it comes, his favorite words, and then he’ll kiss you. “Thank—”

“There you guys are!”

You have got to be kidding him. The Gods of timing are so set against him, he must have done something to piss them off badly in another life.

“Okay, we should start heading towards the exit,” Shoko announces.

“Nah, we ‘re staying until the end,” Gojo says, burying his hands, balled into fists, in his pockets. He’s being needlessly belligerent, but whatever, she deserves it, whether she knows it or not.

“Don’t be a dick,” she glares.

He smiles at her. And he doesn’t budge.

“We’ll run,” you say, stepping in. “I’m sure we can still beat the crowd if we run.”

She narrows her eyes at you, then at Gojo.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

So many delicious thoughts coming to him, and he can’t do anything about it. Damn it all.

Of course, it ends with the five of you sprinting on the lawn and all the way back to the house. Of course, he doesn’t catch five seconds with you after that. Of course, your face is on his mind the whole night.

Of course, because it’s just his luck, isn’t it, in the morning, Shoko tells him you had to catch a flight early in the morning.

“I told you, don’t you remember? She’s going back to her family for the summer.”

Of course, he doesn’t.

Ah, whatever. It bothers him for a minute, but then the day continues unfolding, and the sun’s warm, it’s the peak of summer, and he only really knew you for a couple of days. He’ll see how he feels about it when college starts up again in the fall. He’s not known for sticking with things, anyway. He’ll probably forget; you probably won’t capture him again like you did; it was probably a fluke.

That, or these will become famous last words.

sequel

thank you so much for reading! i had a ton of fun writing gojo's pov and i hope you enjoyed it too, even if i'm still finding his voice :) please reblog or comment if you've enjoyed this, i'd love to hear from you! getting readers' feedback on my writing is what keeps me motivated to write so if you'd like to read more from me, that's the way to do it!

tagging the people who expressed interest in this: @elidebrey @xstom @chosospookiebear @xmysticredx

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #my writing #gojo imagine #jjk imagine #jjk x y/n

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cynthiav06 · 5 months ago

Note

I feel like Percy and Annabeth’s goals for the future don’t line up. Percy never struck me as the type to want to go to uni, and if he did he would 100% hate marine bio. In Chalice he’s complaining about having tons of chemistry homework, when studying marine science at uni means you have to do LOTS of chem. He says that he needs to study so he can go to college and be with Annabeth, but it’s never about what he personally will get out of it, just him not wanting to be separated from her. Doesn’t seem like a healthy dynamic in the long run.

Terribly sorry for the late response. Hopefully, this meets your expectations.

You are preaching to the choir at this point. Everyone and their mother, at least everyone who is not blind, is aware of how one-sided the goals of their relationship are.

If you observe not only is this the case with their goals but is a recurring pattern with all of Percy's opinions where either he doesn't voice them or Annabeth is dismissive of his opinions.

Almost all the problems with their relationship arise with how Percy doesn't voice his opinions and goes along with whatever Annabeth asks. And Annaebeth also assumes that only her own opinions count, and since Percy is a bit less knowledgeable than her, he has no opinions.

Despite Percy being a far better strategist than Annabeth and arguably smarter Annabeth almost never gives him the proper credit he deserves.

She is always either openly or subtly degrading his intelligence on literally no basis.

Annabeth is also extremely overbearing about studies towards Percy and openly condescending. When time comes for them to actually go to college, Percy easily gets a better grade than Annabeth, and she insinuates how seaweed brain is a substitute to some degree of the word dumb.

And if people still doubt that Percy has different ideas about his future, they only need to read Chalice of the gods. He is clearly fed up by the studies and the college schedule and isn't very intent on going to college, especially since Estelle is due soon, and he wants to first and foremost remain with Sally, Paul and Estelle his family.

Percy has time and again highlighted that if it were up to him, he would choose to do whatever he pleases at his leisure, which has very little to do with studies. Even in the case of marine biology, I second the opinion that he wouldn't enjoy it. Partially because Percy hates the objectification of aquatic creatures. He can't stand aquariums, and he is most definitely not going to enjoy the study and dissection of marine creatures.

Also, Percy, being ready to drop everything to move to New Rome, is completely out of character and literally illogical on Rick's part.

Annabeth has also repeatedly made known that she wishes to be involved at the centre of all things godly I.e more quests and wishes to pursue her interests more so than anything which is directly the inverse of Percy wanting a complete vacation and zero stress.

All in all, not only are Percy and Annabeth's goals opposite and incompatible, we can repeatedly see only Percy trying to make some compromise while Annabeth's hubris blinds her.

It's clear that they will never see eye to eye on many important things that make a relationship, and blind percabeth stans need to accept it.

#percy jackson #smart percy jackson #school smart percy jackson #anti annabeth chase #anti percabeth #percy and annabeth literally have nothing in common #chalice of the gods #percy would never want to settle in new rome

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danganfixationronpa · 28 days ago

Text

As a more in-depth continuation of my last post involving Akane Owari... (TW: mentions of sexual assault & body objectification.)

What most of the fandom sees Akane as: That air-headed girl with the big boobs who is obsessed with food and fighting. Pretty much just another Aoi Asahina.

Who Akane *really* is: A strong woman inside and out and who loves food because she realizes how important eating is after years of being homeless with countless younger siblings to take take care of, but she doesn't prioritize food *so* much to the point where she would kill any of her fellow classmates to escape the funhouse.

While not academically smart, she is highly intuitive and actually a lot more aware than people give her credit for.

While short tempered, she cares greatly about her classmates and doesn't tolerate things like murder (yes, she was a remnant of despair, but Kodaka didn't exactly write Class 77b's despair-ridden selves well at all due to putting brainwashing into the equation.) Even somebody she is constantly antagonistic towards like Nagito, she only becomes so antagonistic and violent towards him because he is putting other's lives in danger and "seemingly" showing no remorse for their fallen classmates. Even after she goes into a blind fit of range and nearly strangles him to death, when Chiaki snaps her out of it, she genuinely feels remorse and begs forgiveness.

Was willing to work hard (which is something she dislikes doing), so she could get her and her younger siblings out of the streets.

Is a survivor of sexual assault and objectification from many men in her life, but she sadly doesn't seem to understand the gravity of those situations since she casually talks about her own body in a objectifying way sometimes. But just because she doesn't realize just how serious those situations truly were in hindsight, she is a still a victim of those horrible actions.

Lastly, on a surface level, she and Hina most definitely have similarities. However, they are *far* from the same character. (I'm not going to get into the reasons why cuz this post already went on long enough 😅)

Overall, yes, some of these details are only known when playing through her FTEs, but even putting her backstory aside, all of my other points still stand.

This girl deserves more love and recognition, dammit!

EDIT: Holy, it's only been a couple of hours and this post is already getting so many likes and reblogs! Thanks, everyone! Glad to see others agree.

#danganronpa #akane owari #tw sex assault #tw objectification #sdr2

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tragicvampireromanceisland · 2 months ago

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thinking so long and hard about joyness once more…like yesss they are very cute and sweet and all but i think them getting together even after their History is sooo interesting. like, does joy first start hanging out around sadness and talking with her more often out of guilt? is it performative? when does it stop being performative?? and at what point does joy realize it’s stopped being performative? how does joy feel when every single interaction she has with sadness after the events of the first movie are just like…constant reminders of how she screwed up with her prior? liking someone who makes her feel that bad when she normally never lingers on what she's done wrong just seems so counterintuitive (fun fact: joy has literally never genuinely apologized for anything she's done, across both movies. she's acknowledged and fixed her mistakes before, sure, but she has never expressed guilt so straightforwardly like that. is she simply incapable of it? or has she just...never given importance to feeling guilty before so long as she can just Fix her mistake? just something very interesting i've noticed...)!!

like, joy’s canonically admitted that she’s literally tried to kick sadness out of headquarters before. that’s truly how little joy thought of her before she got to know her better…she totally would have been fine with just. never seeing her again. imagine disliking your coworker THAT much since the very first day you met her and now you have feelings for her…?! not a possibility joy ever would have considered, and i think joy would struggle a Lot with coming to terms with that initially. she is the Queen of cognitive dissonance. of being Delusional. it’s HARD to shake off old habits just like that!! joy is someone who very much doesn’t fully acknowledge how she feels until it gets so intense it bubbles up to the surface and breaks through her usual demeanor (we’ve seen that both with how she’s gotten sad and angry before…who’s to say romance would not be the same. i think she’d just keep denying it until she just. has an Ah Shit moment with sadness one day. probably over something completely mundane).

and it certainly doesn’t help that sadness is, well. Sadness! she clearly admires joy from the very beginning even when joy treated her so poorly (knowing her she probably thought she deserved it…sigh). she’d literally just assume absolutely nothing would come out of her feelings. and you know she probably might even romanticize and Enjoy it in a weird way…i mean think about it. she canonically likes sad romance novels…this is her own "tragic romance" (apparently. SUPPOSEDLY) so i think she’d kind of insistently cling to that. define their entire relationship as unrequited and reallyyy lean into it and warp anything that happens otherwise to fit her little Doomed Yuri vision. she's observant as hell for pretty much everything, normally, but she just has goddamn Horse Blinders on for just this one thing specifically.

she’s just completely unaware of how fundamentally she’s changed joy and shattered her entire worldview (meanwhile joy is just busy having a whole crisis about exactly that). and NOW she has to deal with actually being treated like she matters, both by joy and the other emotions?? helloooo? she’s definitely got a lot to process by this point because Her entire way of living has changed too now in an entirely different direction.

AND then you add to that how it's pretty clear that sadness knows joy pretty well, but joy still has a Lot to learn about sadness because she never gave her a chance before...very much a recipe for guilt and confusion and miscommunication and other such weird occurrences to arise.

BASICALLY tldr theyre both kind of idiots and i think their dynamic is a little more complicated than people give it credit for. joyness is a veryyy. She fell first (sadness) she fell harder (joy) type of dynamic. To Me.

#nebposting #IS ANY OF THIS COHERENT. PROBABLY NOT BUT THAT'S FINE.#adding this to the long list of thigns i wanna draw out eventually. chanting to myself IM NORMAL IM NORMAL IM NORMAL #SORRY TJEYRE JUST. SO INTERESTING....opposites attract trope sure but opposites also. KINDA fundamentally clash!!#ugh been obsessed with them for 9 years atp i feel crazy #.............#okay yknow what sure joyness tag could always use more posts LOL #joyness #joy x sadness #joy #sadness #<- those last two are for personal organizational purposes lol #side note i feel like i'm just. explaining my thought process for both of my fics so far pretty much HDJKHF.#i definitely had a lot of these thoughts floating around trying to write for them....

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lost-inthe-v0id · 7 months ago

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Young Snape x Reader prompt/idea? Idk

I can’t really write so this is a scenario I made up that I just word vomited

I’ve always had a crush on snapes young actor since I was like 8 so this is js something I made up when I would daydream

Student!Reader is a ravenclaw pure blood with no strong opinions on wizards/witches with no magic parents and a lot of ravenclaw and slytherin friends

Student!Reader and Student!Snape meet on the train and click right away but don’t hang out at school as much because Lily told Snape she didn’t like reader. They’re still acquaintances until that changes due to Lily getting closer to James and Severus getting a class with Reader. Little by little they slowly start getting closer together.

Reader would like to spend more time with him but he feels a responsibility to stay with Lily all the time since she was the only one who cared to stick around with him. Reader doesn’t like the way Lily treats him and the fact she’s all buddy buddy with his bullies

Finally it’s all solidified when Severus and Lily have an argument their 4th or 5th and he calls her a mudblood. Lily starts to ignore Severus not only everytime he goes to apologize but anytime he comes near her at all. She starts to stand by and just watch James and his gang bully Snape and sometimes laughs.

Reader finds Severus crying and comforts him. Gives him a pep talk about how wonderful he is and how people make mistakes and no one deserves to be treated like he is. Finally after that they start hanging out everyday. Severus becomes good friends with Readers friends but they still usually only hang out with each other.

Reader tells people in Ravenclaw and slytherine how Lily treated Severus and people stopped talking to her, gossiping about her even. Since Reader is a pure blood that’s part of an affluent family she grew up around other affluent family kids. Overall reader was not only friends with higher influence kids but also very respected among them due to her kind and understanding nature. So a lot of these people started to look down on Lily.

Finally it all comes together when Snape and Reader are near a tree talking one day when he starts telling Reader how much he doesn’t deserve her and kind of confessing and rambling when Reader kisses him. After that they start dating, the don’t try to hide it either. They hold hands ALL the time, sometimes you find the pair snogging, other times you find Reader laying her head on his shoulder.

Lily doesn’t like this, she liked the fact Severus liked her and the attention she would get from him on top of that people she use to talk to won’t even look at her now. She tries to talk to him saying she’s ready to hear him out but by then Severus couldn’t really give a shit.

Idrk about the rest

I know not a lot of people like Snape like that so I’m just posting this for myself not really expecting anyone to see this lol

If someone does end up making a full fledged fic plz credit me :<

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lovelessrage · 9 months ago

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Loveless: A Loveless Review

[Plain Text: Loveless: A Loveless Review]

Trigger Warnings For: Discussion of sex, sex negativity, platonormativity, arophobic tropes, and anti-loveless rhetoric

Disclaimer/Disclosure: I couldn’t finish this book. This will factor heavily into the review, as it has to do with how some scenes, details, and the writing quality were just very hard to sit with and continue. I got about 50% through, so I didn’t just skim pages and get back to you on it.

You might guess I don’t think of this book highly if I had to put it down and stop reading. This would be correct. However, I have more in depth thoughts than that. If you like this book and don’t want to read negative things about it, that's fine, but I implore you to read it anyway. A lot of the problems in this book are present in a lot of creations I see and can be a valuable teaching lesson; loveless people aren’t out to ruin your fun because biases got questioned.

Alright. Enough disclaimers. Review under the cut.

The Bingo Card: Surprisingly, Not A Strikeout

People who have been following me for a while may remember I mentioned I went into reading this book with a bingo card in hand: Loveless and Tired Bingo, a sheet made by yours truly. I did not get Bingo with this book! I did, however, fill 17 spaces out of 25; it just didn’t happen to line up, not because the book passed with flying colors. We’ll return to the Bingo Card at the end of this post to see what it looked like. But, letting you know, that’s a rate of 68% of all squares ticked on Loveless and Tired Bingo. Not looking so hot.

Let’s start with the meat of the post so nobody has to read it all if they just wanted my representation opinions. Other things like writing will be shuffled down for your convenience.

Edit: Past Scowl is a liar and a fraud and did not have maims glasses on, and misread the bingo card! I did get Bingo. Oops. Point still stands because the data is the same, I just gave this book a sliver more credit than it deserved for not getting one.

Platonormativity, Envy, and The Loneliness Whirlpool

If this book had a full course meal, normativity would ironically be a key ingredient in every plate on the menu. Loveless has a platonormativity problem that confronts you from page 1, more realistically before that; the blurb!

[Text ID: From the marvelous author of Heartstopper comes an exceptional YA novel about discovering that it's okay if you don't have sexual or romantic feelings for anyone... since there are plenty of other ways to find love and connection. /End ID]

I promise not all my complaints will be raving about one sentence, but this kinda encapsulates the entirety of my problem with Loveless: Georgia Warr is not supported in her own novel. Loveless is a deeply insecure book that many can relate to, but, really… does it alleviate that insecurity, or just cover it up? There’s an unspoken “but” to every part of Loveless’ philosophy about aspec people [especially aroaces], where they must have platonic love to make them whole, to “fix” and “redeem” their lacking attractions. This has always bothered me, and it’s not an uncommon opinion in the community, unfortunately.

Aroaces aren’t allowed to simply “be” – they must be more. They must be so platonically invested you forget they’re aroace, because they have all this other type of love to give the world. It’s reflective of a view on a community sourced from hurt and exclusion, of someone trying to rebuild their worth on a new forefront. It doesn’t make it less of what it is, though: it’s a “yes they’re valid, but” statement that serves as the backbone for far too many aspec-focused media.

Georgia is a deeply unsure character, and there’s nothing wrong with her being this way; she’s a fictional character made to represent a journey of acceptance, not a real person with the ability to inflict harm on other real people. She does reflect the author’s biases in many ways and many points on the same token, though, acting as a mouthpiece. This often comes in Georgia’s insistence her friendships are simply stronger than other relationship types, as well as her reflexive tendencies to judge the friendless.

One of my many, many hurdles in this book had to do with Rooney [someone save her and half the cast from this novel, please], when the group realizes she’s only a socialite, not really a long-term relationship holder, and the entire room devolves into silent judgment. Georgia does not defend her newfound friend, simply noting she thought differently of her. What about Rooney not having many friends changes her outgoing personality? It doesn’t. It’s simply the fact that Rooney being friendless makes her weird, as with many things Rooney is unfairly demonized for in this novel.

The emphasis on friends doesn’t end here, and persists through the entire novel, practically. It is the main focus, when it isn’t talking about Georgia’s disinterests, and her friend circle is very important to her. All of this is fine. What isn’t fine is the expectation and casual enforcement of friendship being all you have, so you must seize it; this book, even though I wouldn’t recommend it, is often given as The Book on being aroace, but I wouldn’t agree [you’re free to tell me I can’t have an opinion on that if I’m not aroace, but at least read on before deciding anything, alright, official hear me out warning]. One, not all aroaces are alloplatonic, and two, this:

Why Is This Book Written Like A Workplace Safety Seminar

It’s a very… cookie-cutter way to be aroace, and cookie cutter aroaces exist in real life! The rep should exist, no doubt, and shouldn’t be taken away from anyone. It’s not my problem per se that the book is semi-stereotypical. What my problem is has to do with something I see a lot.

The book falls into many of the pitfalls of what I’m dubbing “the pamphlet effect”: when a novel, show, etc. continuously needs to halt the plot to remind the audience this character is different, and explains this to you in a way that resembles an educational pamphlet at a pride event. Georgia Warr feels like an example given to explain a concept more than a person, and I feel bad for her because of how little this book engages with her actual character when it shines through. I understand the book is primarily centered on her journey through the spectrum, but very little is given to make Georgia’s experience unique outside of one scene off the top of my head. Her interests, hobbies, and unique feelings only seem to play a role when it comes time to be an author mouthpiece on slutshaming for fun and sport; only one scene, the forced kiss with Jason when rehearsing the play, really blends her life experiences with her aroace experiences.

Georgia feels designed to be an everywoman, and it was very disappointing to say the least. Very little of the book actually feels like I’m with her, or learning about her unique take on being aroace as a theatre fan or young adult figuring things out; it just feels like Georgia [and the reader] are being dragged through the Cliff’s Notes version of what it is to discover being aroace, rather than a look at how a character like this might feel differently than others on a fuller, whole scale. She’s a hole that can fit most shapes into it, which makes her broadly relatable, but not as fun or engaging to read about if you don’t fit precisely in the demographic Georgia is for; even if you do, is there much to engage with beyond “I’m like that too!”?

This isn’t just a Georgia problem, either, as many, many characters in this book are walking stereotypes or very flat. But, we’ll get into that later [if you want to get into it now, skip to Writing Problems, Oh My!].

The Fingering In The Room: Loveless’ Weird Ideas About Sex

Alright, if you’re sex repulsed and braved the storm to get some insight, this next paragraph is just complete confusion about this book’s sex scenes and talking about some of the details within. If you want to skip that, skip the next paragraph.

Why is everybody fingering each other? Fingering is fine and it feels good, but it is basically the only sexual act this book knows outside of making out with tongue. Someone having sex in Loveless? They better have clipped their nails because at least two are going in. It feels like a point of research that was skipped because it was unimportant, which. Pretty much, yes. But when you’re someone who pays very close attention to sex scenes because you’re of the opinion they can have artistic value, as well as conveying the author’s views on sexuality, I come away with “is fingering what Oseman thinks young adults do?”. Anyways. Something I noticed.

[Okay sex repulsed people, you’re good. No in depth descriptions beyond this point, just the word “sex”.]

I should’ve titled this section “In Defense of Rooney Bach” because oh this poor girl. Oh you are just there to be gawked at.

First off, let’s begin in a good place: this book always has to clarify it isn’t slutshaming its characters, followed by slutshaming its characters. Rooney is, for the uninitiated, very sexually active. Georgia’s envy often leads to a judgemental, close minded view of Rooney that often pins her sex life as “too much” – something many sexually active women get villainized for. It strikes me immediately how Rooney is constantly picked on for her sexuality as a woman in ways no male characters who aren’t asexual either are treated. None of the men she flirts with or spends time with are reprimanded or “held to account” by the book; Rooney alone is breaking the rules. Rooney’s descriptions are often bookended with a disclaimer that she isn’t being called a slut, she’s just like one, which… This is slutshaming. You can’t just say you aren’t doing it to not be doing it.

Rooney is also a victim of a very arophobic trope, and one that is also misogynistic: the Broken Woman. Why is Rooney sexually active? A rough breakup that broke her heart and makes her fear intimacy on account of potentially being wrong again. Sure, sex feels good, but explicit focus is made on the fact she is only not engaging with romance because she tried and it didn’t work. For a few chapters, admittedly I was hoping for a book where an aroace and aroallo can get past some differences and expand each other's worldviews; what I got was Georgia thinking pretty poorly of Rooney through unaddressed envy and sex negativity, and Rooney being made to only like hookups because she’s messed up. Because of course a woman could only enjoy that if she had a negative experience that forced her on the path!

Also, another scene I didn’t like was Georgia and Pip watching Rooney have sex while she is completely unaware of their presence? Jason leaves as soon as he notices, but the two of them watch before Pip makes a comment on how disgusting it is and Georgia agrees. I’m shocked at how little this is brought up as being violating or creepy.

If it was a better book, I would have expected it to result in some kind of furthered conversation about boundaries; it could've been a place for Georgia to start establishing what she likes and dislikes, starting with Rooney preferably keeping her out of her sex life when she’s able. Instead, this event gets brought up solely for jokes, and for a motivation for Pip to start hating Rooney, despite her insistence it wasn't because of the hookup and she isn’t slutshaming. Always a great sign when that needs to be clarified. This is a PSA for everyone: you should not need to clarify you aren’t trying to slutshame. If you feel the need to do so, you are probably being sex negative.

This book isn’t very fond of sexually active people, nor is it kind to characters that are. I can understand why being asexual and sex repulsed is representation people would want, but I also think there’s many, many ways to write it without making it an exercise in shame.

Ironically Kinda Arophobic In Some Parts

This is a short section of a thing I noticed, hated, and had as a contributing factor for my ending early: this book loves aphobic tropes. There’s already the trope against aroallos of not needing romance because of being broken into only liking sex, but also the problem with Pip and Rooney.

I’m a lesbian, for clarification, and I’m saying from experience that I hate the archetype of the angry, jealous lesbian. It’s everywhere. It’s in this book. Pip, upon even the idea of being rejected, starts berating and demeaning the girl who turned her down, even if she was only turned down in her head. The book passes it off as a lighthearted, funny story that Pip got so mad at an ex-crush she was suspended for throwing an apple at their head. Why do I bring this up?

Is it not ringing any bells that this is arophobic? That a character so hostile to romantic rejection is treated as a joke? Many, many aros, and queer people in general, have experienced violence for turning down someone. It’s a serious issue for aros and a real fear in rejecting someone. I found it incredibly hard to read and sit through as everybody passes off Pip’s tendencies to do this to the women that reject her as a silly, funny Pip moment and not a major issue for the aspec community. I don’t care if it’s enemies to lovers, because it doesn’t really feel good to read at all. The only tension is built off the back of something I’ve experienced in real life and many others have as well.

Lovelessness: The Insecurity Unaddressed

This book, despite its title, is obviously about a loving character. Many people might not see this as a problem: first off, loveless doesn’t always mean the same thing, and second, many aroaces express feeling loveless when coming to terms with their identity. Here’s my rebuttal.

One: Georgia fits no definitions of the label. She subscribes to none of the beliefs. She loves her friends actively and sees their relationship as more than romance or sex, as something greater to her.

Second, this is because anti-loveless rhetoric is everywhere and all over this book. Not once is it suggested Georgia could live as loveless, or truly be without love. In the end, she is surrounded by it, simply learning to accept friendship instead. The way her insecurity isn’t met with “you’re complete as you are”, and instead with “you can still be complete if you simply fill the void with friends”, is anti-loveless. Nobody is allowed to be whole on their own without a subplot where their doubts are reinforced or they’re explicitly made to be broken inside.

This is shockingly common, and always sad every time I see it. Many aspects fear being loveless, as if it is a curse or blight they must cleanse. This book is one example out of many, but it doesn’t make it less hurtful when a book that runs against everything your community stands for [self-acceptance and the optionality of love] bears your name regardless. It is a book for people who are afraid of loneliness, and it answers their insecurities with “you’re right. You do need other people. You just need to find a way to still find and have a life partner!”. This is damaging to loveless people, especially those questioning an aplatonic identity.

Again, it’s not unique to Loveless. But, it’s reflective of a broader issue of aplatonics who may be seeking community constantly being presented with “you ARE broken, but friendship can fix you!”, a “solution” many can’t use, and often leads to even more self-hatred.

That’s about it from the aspec side of things. If you got this far, congrats! The rest is opinions on the writing, and the bingo card finale. You can drop off here if that’s all you came for.

Writing Problems, Oh My!

This is veering into heavy personal opinion, so, I will remind you: I don’t usually like YA, but YA can be a very good genre! I do not think this book is a good representation of what good YA looks like.

The writing quality is one of the hardest things to get past, because of a major problem I observed: Oseman is better at comics. This isn’t so much a vilification as a recommendation that it would’ve been much better suited for a different type of media. This kind of “media dysphoria” is present in many of the ways the book operates: many scenes would flow perfectly well in a visual piece. Georgia’s inner monologue has a tendency to jump suddenly into scenes and interrupt the action in a way that would be perfectly natural as a narration bubble put over a drawing of the scene around her. There are entire pages of just… text messages that would be much better suited to a visual medium where you could make these dialogue bits look much more interesting through different shots, or drawing what the background would look like on a screen [The Girl from the Sea does this well, for example].

There’s also the fact I cannot place in my mind if I'm too old for this novel. A lot of the jokes boil down to “hah! Sex!” in a way that instantly alienates me from the writing. The jokes can be pretty juvenile and repetitive, and serve to be the equivalent of a comedian saying “eh? Get it? That was a joke.” six times.

This isn’t to mention the fact many of these characters are complete cardboard. Sorry. Jason does not need to exist. When he appears in a scene, he is ignored or completely leaves it on his own. He really only serves to drive Georgia’s character forward, rather than have one of his own. I found myself forgetting he was present in a scene at all until he spoke again and reminded me of his existence. The book would practically be unchanged if Georgia temporarily dated Pip and Jason was never a factor, plus or minus the Shakespeare Soc plot.

Many interesting characters suffer from severe Pamphlet Effect syndrome. Most of the girls do. In a better novel, they would be more in depth, but Loveless doesn’t really afford them this luxury. I need to take the girls very far away from this novel, okay. I need someone to write a version of Loveless where they have personalities. There’s crumbs there. Please, someone make a loaf of bread out of it. They deserve it.

Another thing, but minor: the breakneck pacing at some points followed by slow slogs of not a lot happening contributes to the reading issues. You may thing something would be dwelled on, just for it to go flying away into the sunset as 3 more things happen and then one problem lasts for 2 chapters. I found it very hard to catch up with Loveless, while other parts I felt like I was constantly waiting for it to catch up with me instead.

The Final Frontier: The Bingo Card Returns

And without further ado, the Loveless and Tired Bingo Card for Loveless by Alice Oseman! Completed with help from other readers braver than I.

[Image ID: A bingo card made from a basic template. It has no title, and all the text is black on a white background. Some squares are marked with a blue X, while others are marked with a red scribble. The marked squares are: “Not prioritizing friendship treated as freak behaviour”, “Jab at loveless sex thrown in”, “Something about not being like THOSE people”, “Universal type of love is laid on thick”, “The answer to all your problems is finding some pals”, “Found family ending”, “Platonic-romantic binary”, “Love still treated as universal [free]”, “Friendship is more wholesome or pure”, “Amatonormativity BAD [platonormativity is my bestie]”, “Platonic love being more powerful or sumn”, “You still love your friends though, right?”, “Friendship saves the day”, “Still thinks you need dedicated people to survive”, “Being alone treated as worst thing in the world”, and “Friendships are more stable than partnerships anyways”. The unmarked, blank squares are: “Something about "players" and pickup artists where no commitment is villainized”, “Character fears being loveless and is kinda aplphobic about it”, “Aspec double standards [one is normal, one is weird]”, “You still love your FAMILY, right???”, “QPRs mentioned by no nuance given to their diversity”, “Friendship forced upon a character against their will”, “Comment about some people being inhuman gets brushed past”, and “Simply prioritise your family instead!!” /End ID]

Would I recommend this book? Uh. No! Well. Yes, but not as a good book for aspecs. I’d recommend it solely to read it yourself and form your own opinions. But, no, I would not recommend it to any aspecs I know, especially not loveless ones, aplatonic ones, aroallos, or if they're an aroace looking for support.

Ah, Loveless, how you vexx me. Never again. See you in the next, much shorter post.

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starcrossedxwriter · 10 months ago

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Wicked Fantasies Part 8 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: This gif has nothing to do with anything other than I thought it was hot as fuck... and baby boy gets a little... rough and ruthless this chapter (in a good way LOL) Enjoy!

***

Michael’s hand lazily grazed the length of Raven’s spine as they laid in bed, limbs tangled and sheets disheveled from their wild night together. It was their first night back since their trip and jet lag spurred Michael to finally introduced ropes into their play and fuck, Raven had been in heaven. Of course, now her body was sore and aching from hanging from his set up and the only plans she had the next day were to sleep. But it was worth every ache and pain she felt and she would gladly sign up for it over and over and over again.

“You ever think about marriage… kids?” Michael asked, knowing the question was random but it had been on his mind since before it was appropriate to envision that life with her. And with whatever Tasha had planned barreling down on him, something in him yearned to know that she saw a future with him, that she wanted a future with him.

“Yea. I mean I didn’t think it would happen for me. I think about marriage a lot. Kids are… tough,” she muttered, her nails grazing against his skin, so lightly it made him feel almost ticklish.

“You’re afraid of not being there for them?”

Raven shifted uncomfortably on his chest. She rested her head against his heart, the soft thumps of his heartbeat soothing to the anxiety coursing through her. She had thought about all of these things with Michael but it was still impossible to believe she truly deserved them, that he truly wanted them with her. And she hated how easily he saw through her, saw her deepest fears and insecurities as if she had just spelled them out for him.

“Yea, I guess… I wouldn't wish my life on any kid and there’s a lot of all this we have no control over. How much time… when yours is up. It’s always been hard to think about the future though… plan for it. I’ve just always felt like I was being chased and assumed that one day it would catch up to me? This is the first time in my life I don’t feel that… since I met you. So now I suppose I should think about the future.” She paused. “I think I’d like it… not sure how good I’d be at it. Being a mother. Your mom is the closest example I have of a good one. But the chance to build my own family? One with all the things I never had, all the things a child deserves? Yea, it would be nice.”

“What do you think about building that family… with me?”

Raven perked up, shocked to hear those words come out of his mouth. She did not know why but she had not considered the conversation taking this turn for some reason. The idea of him wanting to marry her was about as foolish as wishing diamonds to cascade from the sky like rain. It just was not realistic.

“In my wildest fantasies. But…” her voice trailed off.

“What?”

“I love you… adore you. But I guess there’s still a piece of me that doesn’t believe this is real. That believes you’ll wake up one day and remember that I was the girl you paid to have sex with you. You know… can’t turn a whore into a housewife. And you wouldn’t be wrong, I’m not exactly wifey material. And hell, I’m probably the last person you should want raising your kids. Not a role model, nothing to aspire to. My life is a mess.”

Michael knew a few months would not undo years of self deprecation but it felt like a physical wound to hear her count herself out like this. How could she not see how perfect she was? How amazing she was?

“You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that, baby. And should give yourself more credit. You are one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, you’re a survivor, hardworking, gentle, nurturing. That’s everything I want in a wife… and a mother for my children. You’re so much more than whatever your dad or idiot sister convinced you were. You’re everythin’.”

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, turning away her head to face the opposite wall. She could not let herself believe that. They had not been together long and Raven was still waiting for the honeymoon phase to end and the other shoe to drop. She knew he would walk up one day and realize he could not build anything real with her. He would hurt her and disappoint her just like every other person in her life. She desperately desired to be wrong but she also refused to let herself have too much hope. Because of all the things and people she survived in her life, Michael was the one thing she knew had the power to actually destroy her.

He pulled her deeper into his chest and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Aint ever told you shit I didn’t mean, baby girl. And I get why you don’t believe it or trust it. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. I’m here for the long haul, we’re gonna build that life together, I promise.”

Her response felt lodged in her throat, too painful to release into the space. She tried to get them out but saying them out loud would make them too real. So she just pressed her lips into his chest before turning over and closing her eyes. She knew she did not need to say anything for Michael to know how she felt. He always knew.

As he watched her attempt to sleep, Michael thought about his meeting the next day with Alex. He had spent his entire trip and tonight so wrapped up in his girl that he almost forgot Tasha was threatening to destroy their bubble. He had to figure out what to do because he saw that future with Raven as clear as day and no one and nothing would stand in his way.

***

“I can’t believe you,” Alex muttered to herself as she paced around her office. “You know… one day, I would just love it if you summoned me or came down here with good news. You saved a fuckin’ family of puppies from a would-be murderer, helped an old lady cross the road, saved someone from a burning building… solved fuckin’ world hunger and told someone. But nooooooooo. It’s never that. It’s always some problem because you literally can’t keep your fuckin’ dick to yourself. Have you ever heard of masturbation?? O-Or a fuckin’ fleshlight??”

Michael groaned as she ranted about his recklessness and foolishness.

“So you gon’ keep yellin’ at me or tell me how to fix this?”

Alex scoffed. “Fixing the fact that you got involved with, not one, but TWO prostitutes, proceeded to fall in love with one of them like this is some nigga’s version of Pretty Woman, causing the other prostitute to get so jealous, she is extorting you for money is so far above my pay grade, it isn’t even funny.”

“The amount I pay you?? Ain’t shit above your pay grade,” Michael muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t know why you’re mad at me! I’m the victim here. Blackmail is a crime!”

Alex could not keep the shrill laughter that bubbled to her lips from spilling over. “Oh fuck off. ‘I’m the victim,’” she mimicked with a vicious glare. “You're not the victim. You’re the fuckin’ unserious superstar idiot I’ve saddled my entire career to. But you sure as fuck aren’t the victim. The only victim here will be Raven. And me when I die prematurely from dealing with your bullshit. But mainly Raven when this girl tells the entire world she made her living getting paid for sex. They’ll rip her to shreds. You wouldn’t understand it because you’re a man and your privilege insulates you. You’ll be a punchline on late night tv for a few weeks and move on but she won’t come back from this. The world won’t let her come back from it.”

“Didn’t come for a feminism 101 lecture, Alex. I know this fucks her over more than me. How do we fix it??”

Alex threw her hands up in the air. “Fuck if I know? This is why I don’t like PR relationships, Michael. It always falls apart eventually, secrets don’t last in our world. To be honest, if it’s gonna come out anyway, I'd just admit the truth about how you met before Tasha could. You could own the narrative that way at least. But Raven isn’t going to agree to that, no woman in her shoes would.”

“So aside from giving her more money, how can I stop this?”

“Wait more money? You already gave her some?”

Michael shrugged. “Yea like $10k. Why?”

Alex shook her head. “Well she’s not gonna stop at $10k. Honestly, that’s light work for how much I would’ve demanded. Now we’re dealin’ with a fucking stupid extortionist too.” She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Eventually, it won’t be money she wants, Mike. She wants you and if you don’t want her, then I don’t know how to fix this.” she paused. “What did Raven say about all this?”

Michael grimaced. “I… haven’t told her.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. “Annndd that’s why you schlepped your stupid ass all the way down here instead of having me come to you. You can’t keep this from her. It’s her name and reputation that’ll get dragged to hell and back if Tamara or whatever this fuckin girl’s name is, decides to skip her happy criminal ass to Page 6. You have to tell her, Michael, and let her know that you’re still in contact with this woman. I can sell water to fish in the goddamn ocean, I can spin anything out there. But I won’t be able to mend your relationship if she gets upset that you lied. Tell her and get ahead of this.”

“I need a plan first. Raven is the strongest person I know, don’t get me wrong. But she’s been through too much shit for me to dump a problem I created on her doorstep. No one… no one in her life protects her. Protects her feelings and body and…” he ran his hand over his face. “I tried countless times since we got back but she’s finally happy, Alex. Finally has some peace. Is it that wrong for me to just pay Tasha and keep it movin’? Raven never even needs to know.”

“It’s not wrong… the instinct isn’t wrong but it’s not right either when that peace is fiction. It’s not real, Michael. She deserves to know something that affects her life as much, frankly more than yours. Your reputation will recover, it always does. I’m not sure hers will. And maybe she would… make a different choice about your relationship if she knew that.”

“You want her to leave me?”

Alex raised her hands in surrender at his sharp tone. “No. I don’t want her to leave you. I actually really like her, certainly more than the other idiot instagram girls you paraded around here as your girlfriends. She did what I thought nothing could… she turned you into a serious person. But… maybe you two do need a break until this Tasha person is willing to let you go. She might decide that protecting her name, her peace… her ability to move through life without a modern scarlet A on her chest is more important than whatever feelings, however strong, she has for you. And you… your directorial debut is out in March. We’re about to start a press run in a month. Award season starts next Sunday, for which you are a highly anticipated nominee. Any scandal detracts from the biggest moment of your career. Look, I’m not telling you to do anything. But I am saying, it’s the only path I see that doesn’t destroy you both. And if you love her as much as you say you do, you’d take the short term hit to save her. Or at least present it as an option.”

Michael heard everything she said and in his heart, he knew she was right. But what she was asking? His heart and soul would not allow him to do it.

“I can’t lose her, Alex. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I won’t lose her. I know Tash… she’s all bark, no bite. I give her some attention and throw some cash her way and this’ll all blow over.”

Alex sized him up for a few moments before shrugging. “Well I hope for Raven’s sake, and mine, you know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doin’, Alex. I promise.” Michael knocked his knuckles against her desk before standing up to leave.

“Are you really that good at sex?” she mused, glancing at him up and down as if she was trying to imagine it for herself. “I just can’t imagine anyone, especially a man, is good enough in bed to warrant all this.”

“I know it ain’t your cup of tea,” he offered with a wink. “But what can I say? I’m blessed with hella talents.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Alright, well get your hella talented ass outta my office.” However, before he left, she called out. “Oh! The Golden Globes… need to know if you’re taking Raven so they can finalize the sitting chart.”

Michael rolled his eyes. His least favorite part about his job: award season. An unbearable time of year made worse by the fact that he was nominated at every single one save the Tonys this year. He did not have the energy or desire to sit for hours on end, starving and be forced to smile and wave and pretend to be happy if he lost. But he knew the unbearable practice would be made a bit more bearable if Raven was by his side while he did it.

“Shit. All this shit goin’ on since New Years, forgot to ask her. Tell them she’s goin’. I just gotta get them to pull her a dress and shit. Thanks for the reminder.”

And with that, he started to walk out. As he reached his car, he pulled out his phone and texted Tasha to meet him at the St. Regis tomorrow night at 10. He was going to end this as soon as possible.

***

Michael paced the length of his hotel room, wearing a hole in the carpet as he went.

“This is a bad idea,” he mumbled to himself a couple of times. But this was the least of about 100 bad ideas in his mind and it was the only bad idea that protected his girlfriend’s peace. He knew Alex was right and it was wrong but he was determined to keep Raven as far from this situation as possible.

However, even he had to admit to himself that his reasoning was not just to protect her peace. He also did not want to admit that he had still had conversations with Tasha before they were official, that he had made promises to her and then broke them. Raven was one of the few people on this planet who saw him as a good person and he refused to ruin that image. Protecting Raven and, selfishly, how she looked at him was all that mattered to him. What people said about him in the media and on Twitter did not.

A soft knock on his door jolted him out of his thoughts and his limbs to move. He felt uncomfortable even meeting Tasha here but she had demanded their first meeting be in person. So here he was.

When he opened the door, Tasha leaned against the door frame with a triumphant smirk painted on her face. A year ago, he would have pulled her inside and tore her clothes off with lightning speed. But today? He had never been less attracted to someone in his life, less enthused to see someone.

“Hey baby.”

Her arms snaked around his broad shoulders as she leaned in for a kiss. A kiss that Michael artfully and skillfully dodged. He twisted out of her embrace and pulled her into his hotel room, sparing a quick glance down the long hotel hallway to ensure no prying eyes lurked before slamming the door shut.

“You don’t seem happy to see me, baby.”

Michael could hear the teasing in her voice, could tell she enjoyed whatever power trip she currently had over him.

“Why would I be happy to see someone blackmailin’ and threatenin’ me?” he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear him.

“Forcing you to follow through with the promises you made to me is hardly blackmail.” She sat down on the edge of the expansive bed and leaned back slightly on her hands.

Michael had hoped to keep this “meeting” as brief as possible. He did not want to be in a room with her for any longer than he needed to. He walked over to the bed and grabbed two envelopes he had sat on the bedside table. He tossed the thicker one, filled with cash, at her before walking across the room and leaning on the desk to watch her.

“Another $10k at your request. Now, tell me a number.”

“A number for what?” she asked innocently.

“A number big enough to get you to sign this,” he tossed another envelope at her. “Standard NDA and an agreement not to contact me or Raven again.”

Tasha let out a low humorless chuckle. “All this… for that basic nobody. You never did a fraction of this shit for me…” she mused as she unfolded the papers and read them silently.

Michael scoffed. “I did everything we agreed to. Flew you out, bought you more shit than I could count. The only thing Raven got that you didn’t was my heart and I’m not apologizin’ for that. What we had was business, Tash. And our business needs to end now. So what’s the number?”

Tasha stared at him for a few minutes before discarding them on the bed. “Fine. I’ll deal. $50k and one more night. The two of us. And I’ll sign them. That’s the price.”

“Not happenin’, name a number.”

Tasha merely shrugged. “Nope. You want me out of your life? That’s the price. Both things.”

“Why? Let’s cut the bullshit, Tash. You don’t love me, you don’t want me. You want my money. So name a higher number.”

“You’re absolutely right. I don’t love you… I’m not Raven, an idiot who falls for the first client I get. I love your money and the comfort it provides. But one thing I don’t like is disrespect. You dropped me out in the cold with no warning like two years of fucking you meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. So yea, maybe months ago, it would’ve just been about the money. But now, it’s about so much more than that.”

“So what? You blackmail me into fuckin’ you one more time and it proves what?”

Tasha laughed. “Doesn’t prove anything except that you ain’t shit, which I already knew. I don’t need proof of anything. See you and Raven were built on a lie and honestly, watching the two of you fall the fuck apart will bring me far more joy than a couple extra bucks. Fuck me and the guilt will eat that good boy you bury deep inside alive. Eventually, you’ll crack and Raven’ll find out. Or I dunno, maybe I’ll tell her. Either way, I could smell the insecurities on that girl from a mile away. She’ll never forgive you and your relationship falls apart. Don’t fuck me and I tell the world you did anyway and that she was a prostitute. And then your relationship definitely falls apart when her life gets ruined. Either way, I get cash, you end up alone and Raven learns what so many girls before also learned the hard way: don’t fuck with what’s mine. I was thinking of calling TMZ the week of the Oscars? That’ll sure spice up the biggest week of your career. Or maybe right before the Creed III premiere… any preference?” At his silence, she merely shrugged. “Well, just let me know. Feel free to keep booking this room for us until you decide. I always liked this view.”

As Michael watched her, he quickly realized how he wholly underestimated her in every possible way. This was not a woman who was willing to let him go. Ever. And both of his “choices” were specifically designed to hurt Raven. There was no scenario where she came out of it unscathed. And it was really all his fault. Had he simply cut Tasha off at the onset or been smarter about how he handled her, they would not be in this mess.

Michael stood and walked toward the door.

“I’ll call you to book our time next week. Maybe you’ll change your mind. Or maybe I’ll change my mind and call TMZ before then,” she called after him as Michael slammed the door behind them.

As he stood in the barren hotel hallway, he resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall before his security whisked him away to the service elevator to take him outside to his car. He was thankful Alex had been willing to book the hotel under her name and credit card. He would not have considered it originally but after that conversation, he would not have put it past Tasha to add the hotel receipt to her arsenal of blackmail.

He slammed the door of his jeep with such force even Allen jumped slightly at the sound.

“My bad,” he mumbled as he slouched back into his seat. He could not remember the last time something had frustrated him to this degree. He was fucked. They were fucked. Tasha had him by the balls and he knew there was no move that would get him out of this mess without throwing Raven under the bus.

He refused to cheat on Raven. Not just because he knew it would just give Tasha another thing to hold over him but because that was simply not him. He played the role of the bad boy, terrible guy but the one line he had never crossed with a girlfriend in his life was to cheat on her. He knew that pain intimately and he vowed to never inflict it on someone else. He had never even been tempted to cheat. And Raven would certainly not be the woman he broke that vow on.

And because he knew he would never sleep with Tasha or any woman who was not Raven again, there was no end to this in sight. He would just have to sit and wait for her to lob a grenade and blow up his girlfriend’s life. And that made him feel like more of a failure than any flopped movie or failed deal ever had. He was supposed to be the one person in her life that protected her and he had failed her, just like everyone else.

“Bad night, Mr. Jordan?” Allen called from the front seat.

“Somethin’ like that.” He sighed. “Fucked up and not sure it’s fixable.”

Allen glanced back in the rearview mirror and nodded. “Is it not fixable or do you just not like the consequences of fixing it?”

Michael bowed his head. He adored Allen but lately, he hated him and his meddling, correct but unsolicited advice. However, he would never say that to him.

“Mixture of both. Really just no way to fix it that doesn’t hurt someone I love.”

“Raven?”

“That transparent, huh?”

Allen smiled to himself. “You always were, sir. If all the answers hurt her, then you have to decide which path causes the least harm to her. And then you just hope she forgives you when it’s over. That’s all you can do. Or you find another path that doesn’t.”

Michael’s head thudded against his seat’s headrest. He knew Allen was right, just as Alex had been. There was no fixing this situation, no silver bullet that would solve all of their problems and save Raven’s reputation in the process. All roads led to the same destination: the world finding out he and Raven lied. But there was one path that bypassed Tasha, put more of the media focus on him and his terrible decisions, and allowed him to control the when, where, and how of it all. And it did not hurt that this particular path would also allow him to hold Tasha accountable for all her shit in the process.

“Thanks, Allen.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and found Alex’s number. It was late but she was, thankfully, just as much of a night owl as he was.

“Finish your date with your favorite extortionist?” Alex joked as she picked up the phone. He could hear her munching on something as she spoke, likely popcorn.

“You always got jokes. Listen… I think you were right earlier. Let’s control the narrative.”

He could hear her shifting around as if she were sitting up at his words. “Ok, I’m intrigued. Raven? You gonna ask her what she thinks?”

He shook his head. “Nah. If we do it right, she never needs to know.”

***

It was after midnight by the time Michael arrived back home. However, he and Alex had worked out a foolproof plan during the drive. A plan they felt would allow Michael to take the biggest hit while Raven’s name would be a mere footnote by any reporter who doesn’t want to be accused of misogyny. It did all hinge on Tasha dragging out her games for longer than a week. But Michael had a feeling she would. She clearly enjoyed watching him squirm. They’d get past the Golden Globes and then he would seek help from someone whose only motivation in this world was money, someone who - for the right price - would do exactly what he asked.

He said a quick goodnight to Allen before running up the stairs to his master bedroom. He was surprised to find Raven curled up on his side of the bed, her face buried in his pillow. Her preferred sleeping position was literally on top of him and he knew, when he wasn’t home, this was the best she could get.

He laughed lightly at her kindle which was half hanging out of her hand, the young woman clearly having fallen asleep reading. She had not even put her scarf on the giant pineapple of curls on her head or taken off her reading glasses, which told him she had tried her hardest to stay awake till he got home. He watched her, like a creep admittedly, for several minutes before he moved.

He had never felt love like this a day in his life. He had always accepted that he would never find it, never find someone who could and would love him unconditionally. But she did, she loved him even though he was not sure he deserved it. And everytime she looked at him, touched him, curled into his side to sleep, he felt the depths of it in his very being. Their love was pure and he refused to let anyone taint it.

He moved as quietly as possible to the bed and took the kindle out of her hand and slid her glasses off. Thankfully, she slept like a rock. However, she only stirred as he tried to gently tie her scarf around her edges to protect her hair. She stretched and let out a deep but insanely cute yawn as she blinked a few times.

“H-Hey babe. S-sorry, I tried to wait for you.”

Michael leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t mean to wake you. Just knew you’d be pissed if you woke up with no scarf on.”

She chuckled. “You’re right about that. H-How was your dinner meeting?”

“Fine,” he waved his hand dismissively. He hated that he had lied to her but it was the only excuse he could think of that did not bring more questions. Raven was generally inquisitive but she tended to understand the often secret nature of some roles and Hollywood meetings so she did not often pry for information he did not offer up. “Might have a role for me but shit is still in flux. We’ll probably need to meet again to iron out some details.”

She nodded as she forced herself into a seated position. “I’ll never understand you Hollywood types. Who wants to have a dinner meeting at 10 pm?”

“Logistics are easier for later dinners. It’s a whole thing.” He rolled his shoulders a bit, the tension of the day making his entire body ache.

“You ok? You seem so tense, baby.”

He studied her for a moment, taking in the genuine care on her face. So few people looked at him like that, like a human with needs and feelings. They just saw him as a product to sell or an ATM to get their needs met. But not Raven, never Raven. Even when he was quite literally paying her to be there. She saw him for him. And in that moment, he realized how close he was to losing that, how at risk this precious peace they both had found was. And that terrified him. Losing her terrified him. And he knew that whatever path he chose, that was the risk. And that filled him with such an overwhelming sense of dread.

He rarely felt overwhelmed by his own feelings. But right then, he felt like he could not even think straight enough to answer that simple question. And he knew that simple question was his out, his chance to tell her the truth about what tension he was feeling and why.

So instead of speaking, he used his impeccable strength to pull her into his lap. Her fingers played in the coarse hair of his beard as he stared at her, concern filling her eyes as she took in the solemn and stressed look in his.

“Hey… baby… what’s wrong?”

“N-Nothin’. Nothin’,” he lied, his courage deflating like a popped balloon. As soon as the words left his mouth, his lips crashed into hers, stealing her breath right out of her mouth. He could not talk, could not have a conversation. He just needed to feel her, all of her.

He could not bring himself to do it, to ask her for her permission to do what he knew had to be done. All roads led to the same destination and this was the only one he could see that left them with the least amount of bruises. He did not have the heart to tell her that the only path forward for them was to destroy her reputation now or have Tasha do it later. He did not have the heart to tell her he failed her, that he could not protect her from this.

Raven could feel everything in that kiss, his own stress and tension and pain. She wondered if more had gone on tonight at his meeting than he was willing to let on. Typically, Michael was the emotional rock, holding her up and giving her space to fall apart. But tonight, she was reminded that sometimes the strong ones need that too.

She broke off their kiss to catch her breath before whispering, “Take what you need.”

Michael rested his forehead against hers. “You sure?”

“Consider me your stress ball,” she joked with a half smile. “Do your worst. I trust you.”

Trust you don’t deserve, a cold voice inside hurled at him.

Michael said nothing as he flipped Raven over onto her stomach. There was no love or sweetness in the way he handled her as he arranged her lethargic limbs in the position he desired, ass high and face pressed into his comforter. He did not give her any warning as he sheathed himself inside her with one thrust, Raven squealing at the sudden and rough intrusion.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her. She did not understand how his size and girth still managed to leave her breathless.

“You always this wet for me, baby?”

“Y-Yes,” she whimpered as he gave her a brief moment to adjust to him.

“Yes what?” he demanded with a sharp and painful slap against her plump ass. “Yes daddy,” she amended quickly. She could already tell she would be bruised and sore by the time he was done with her. But she could not hope to care. Whatever he needed, she would gladly give.

They rarely did quickies, Michael enjoyed the warm up far too much to skip it. But tonight, he needed the adrenaline of rough, uninhibited fucking. He needed to hear her screams, the slaps of his hips against her ass. Needed to feel the soft skin of her hips beneath his hand as he rammed into her. He needed to let go of the stress of the last 48 hours with the woman he loved, let go of the feelings of objective failure he felt. He needed to get lost in her.

Raven was in pure bliss as Michael fucked her at a pace and intensity she had rarely seen from him. She could not even keep up with him to match his thrusts into her. All she could do was lay there and scream out as he took her.

“Shit, shit. J-just like that,” she moaned as his hands dug into her skin. Her fingers curled around the softness of his comforter as she used it to muffle the screams of her orgasm.

“Fuck, this pussy feels so good gripping my dick, baby. That’s right, cum for daddy.”

Her body instinctively shied away from the overwhelming feelings of pleasure and pain he provided, causing his grip to only grow tighter so she could not escape him, as if she would disappear right before his eyes if he loosened his grip on her at all.

“The fuck you runnin’ for?? You said do my worst right? So take this dick!” His voice was commanding as he spanked her, the sound reverberating around his bedroom.

“I-It’s too m-much,” she moaned out as she felt another orgasm start to build.

“You can take it. I know you can. Be a good girl for me.”

Hearing the words “good girl” on his lips were almost enough to make her orgasm right then on the spot.

Her upper body collapsed as another orgasm hit her like a train of endless ecstasy. Only Michael’s brute strength held her up as he chased his own release. Her body felt like putty in his hands, completely pliant and under his control.

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?” he demanded.

Raven felt as if he was fucking her into another dimension, was she even on Earth anymore? She could barely form thoughts let alone words to answer his questions. And as the silence stretched on and only her moans and squeals punctuated the sound of his thrusts, Michael knew she needed an incentive to remember the rules.

He wrapped his fist in her hair, which had unceremoniously fallen out of her scarf and pulled her up so her back was flush against his body. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed lightly, loving how Raven’s eyes rolled back into her head and a long moan escaped her. He noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks and almost wondered if he was pushing her too far.

“Need me to stop?” he asked quietly, not slowing down his pace or movement as he asked.

Despite how overwhelmed and exhausted she felt, Raven could not comprehend the idea of him stopping. She had offered him this and she wanted it too. “D-don’t stop… p-please don’t stop.”

“Ok then. When daddy asks you somethin’, you fuckin’ answer!”

He let her body fall forward before he started spanking her with every ounce of strength he had. The pain radiated through her entire body but it was a delicious hurt, one she wished she could have all the time. Michael’s spankings were one of her favorite parts of their sex life. But now she knew that he was holding back some of his strength on her account. And she did not want that ever again. If this was him totally uninhibited and unrestrained, she would be his stress ball every day of the week.

She shook her head as tears slowly trekked down her face. “I-I c-can’t…”

Whether that was to convey that she could not speak or couldn’t come again, Michael did not know nor did not care. Until he heard a safeword cross her lips, he would drain them both of everything they collectively had.

“Yea, you can. Cause daddy demands it.”

His fingers found their way to her clit and roughly circled it, Raven’s entire body tensing as she reached her peak for the third time. He thanked the good lord he had had the forethought to soundproof his bedroom when he built this house years ago. That way he nor his parents had to be scarred for life. But even he wondered if her screams of pleasure would test the limits of that particular design feature.

However, they were the perfect symphony that pushed him right over the edge. He increased his pace, as if that were possible, hammering into her before he pressed her hips tightly against his form as he came inside her with a loud moan of his own. He collapsed next to her prone form for a moment as he tried to catch his breath.

He ran his hand through her hair, the young woman letting out a soft, appreciative whimper that acknowledged his touch and gentleness but let him know she was utterly spent.

He pushed himself out of bed and started a bath, adding some epsom salt to the water in hopes that would soothe whatever aches he caused. He returned to his bed and rubbed her back to get her attention.

“Bath,” he whispered, before he scooped her up into his arms as if she were a small child. He carried her into the bathroom and quickly redid her hair and scarf before settling her into the tub.

A moan slipped past her lips as the hot water surrounded her limbs. Michael positioned himself behind her, his arm pressed into her breasts to keep her flush to his chest.

“Was I too rough?”

Her heart warmed at the question. She would not have offered her body to him if she had not wanted rough but she appreciated that he still cared enough about her to check in, during and after.

“No, I love it when you get lost in it. But you’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yea… think the stress of the awards and the press tour next month are just getting to me. I’m good, babe.” A cop out but it was all he could offer.

Though it was difficult to get her limbs to move properly, she shifted so she could turn around and look at him. She chewed on her lip for a moment before saying, “You’d tell me if… something was wrong, right? Like you’re always there for me and my problems, listening and fixing. A-and well… I know I can’t like fix whatever it is or anything or probably even understand it. But I hope you know you can trust me with stuff. I just d-don’t want you to think you can’t… if you ever need to o-or - ”

Michael leaned forward and captured her lips, silencing the sweet ramblings his girl was known for.

“Yea I know, baby.”

He felt her entire body sort of deflate with relief before she settled back against his chest.

“Good. I’m glad.”

They sat in silence as Michael’s hands slowly and methodically massaged her body, starting at her shoulders and working their way down at a deliciously slow but tantalizing pace. He took his time, kneading each of her muscles until the ache she felt subsided. His hands were massaging her thighs, which was doing more to work her up than calm her down, when Michael

“Be my date on Sunday.” He kissed her on the neck.

“Sunday? What’s on Sunday?” she asked, not even opening her eyes as she enjoyed the work of the Lord Almighty he was doing on her thighs.

“The Globes.”

Raven immediately pushed off of his chest in shock. An award show? Those glittery and glamorous programs she had watched as a kid?

What’s my fucking life right now?? She asked herself as it hit her, for the first time, that things like this would be a regular occurrence now that she and Michael were serious. This was the big leagues and she was going to be standing right beside him.

“The Globes… as in THE Golden Globes?? You’re kidding right?”

He laughed at the look of utter shock on her face. “Yes, those Globes. And nah, why would I joke about that shit? I want the sexiest woman in the world on my arm when I win.”

Michael did not want to be ruled by fear of when Tasha would lob her grenade at them, if she even had the chance. They deserved to just have a fun and extravagant night out together. This would be the biggest night of his career and if their names were going to be thrown into a scandal either way, he could at least enjoy a night out with Raven before it does.

Raven shook her head, though her heart and childish brain screamed at her for doing so. Why was she pushing back? Every fiber of her being just wanted her to yell “YES, YES, YES!”

“B-But what about your parents?? Maybe you should take one of them o-or your siblings? I mean I’d love to go. Like seriously THE Golden Globes with like every entertainer I adore and love? But this is such a big moment in your career. Don’t you want to spend it with… I dunno, the people who’ve been there for the ride? I just got here,” she chuckled. “Don’t ask me out of some obligation. If there’s someone else you’d prefer, I won’t be offended. I didn’t expect an invite to all these anyway, you know? Figured you take family or your friends or someone more important to you… What if you look back and regret not taking one of them? You should -”

“Babe!” he cut her off, his palm cradling her cheek to keep her gaze on him.. “You said all that in one breath. Breathe for me, baby girl.” Raven appreciated that he could always see when she was spiraling and stop it. She forced air into her lungs before nodding for him to speak. “My family’s been to hella award shows, they’ve seen as many of them as a single person could ever want to. But even if they hadn’t, you’re the most important person to me right now. So I want to look out if I win and see you there. You are the most important person in my life.”

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t, promise.”

“Then yes. I’d love to.” She turned fully and straddled his hips, kissing him deeply. Her hips instinctively grinded against him, a smile gracing her features as she felt his cock start to grow hard beneath him. She did not care that he fucked her into near oblivion a mere 10 minutes ago. Just him offering to take her to the biggest award show of his career to date filled her with such joy and happiness. And now, she had no interest in going to sleep. Now? She just needed more. More of him and his love, attention, and care.

“Not too sore, baby girl?” he asked as he pulled one of her nipples in between his lips and sucked gently before biting the swell of her breast, Raven’s head falling back with a small cry.

“Never… I need you,” she whispered in his ear as she sucked on the soft skin of his neck. “Please.”

“Get up here and ride daddy’s dick.”

Raven did not need to be told twice as she positioned herself over him and slid down.

“Enjoy it cause then it’s my turn again.” He winked at her with the most wicked glint in his eyes that let Raven know she would not sleep for hours.

***

“So how does it feel? Mr. Golden Globe winner??” Raven asked for the 100th time as she and Michael walked back into the condo. The condo was really only used now when they were at events super late. And staying out until 3 am meant neither of them were all too interested in making the trek back to his home.

Michael chuckled, “The same way it felt 10 minutes ago, Rae.”

She gave herself a playful facepalm. “I’m sorry, I’m being annoying. I’m just so excited for you! I mean tonight was amazing and magical and you were amazing and everyone was literally singing your praises. And I’m just…” she turned and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “I’m really proud of you. No one deserves this moment more.”

“Thank you. It was even better with you by my side.”

Raven let out a childlike squeal as Michael picked her up in his arms, her after party dress bunched up in his hands. However, before she could tell him to be careful of the fabric, he merely smirked. “It’ll be on the floor in a minute. Don’t worry bout that shit.”

She merely rolled her eyes as he playfully tossed her onto his bed and launched himself on top of her. She let out a loud oof as his weight pushed her deeper into the bed and laughed.

She moaned as he kissed her before she had to stop him for a brief moment. As much as she loved being glammed up by his team, she could not deny that the full glam and fake lashes they put on her were not as comfortable almost 10 hours later.

“Let me hang up the dress and wash my face before you ravish me? These lashes are killing me and it’s gonna take me a few minutes to peel these spanx off.”

He seemed wholly uninterested in letting her do any of those things until the phone in his pants started to ring. He knew only one person who dared to call him this late. The disgruntled huff he pushed out made her cackle but he rolled off of her, allowing her to get up.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But only cause Alex would only call this late if it was important.”

As he answered the phone, she disappeared into the guest room where all of her clothes were stored. She made quick work of stripping down to her panties and ensuring her dress was stowed properly in its garment bag. It had been a delicate yet gorgeous gown and she had not trusted Michael not to accidentally destroy it in his quest to get it off her. She knew he could afford to pay for it but she did not even want to know how much a Valentino dress would set him back.

She joyfully ripped the fake lashes on her eyes off before washing her face several times to get off all the makeup she had on. She looked stunning, as she always did when his glam team got a hold of her. But she also would rather do this tedious task now than in a few hours when Michael was done with her.

She thought about slipping into some lingerie as she pulled off her nipple covers. But she figured it would take more time than necessary to put any of it on and Michael would likely just rip it off her within seconds. So she made her way back to his room nearly naked with just her thong on.

However, when she returned, Michael’s mood was far more subdued than when she left. She raised an eyebrow as she straddled his hips, his hands barely touching her hips, a departure from his usual grip on her.

“Everything ok?”

“That was Alex. We… got a problem.”

“Ok?”

He rubbed her lower back as he spoke as if that would calm her for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “She got a call from TMZ that they have a source… that told them about us. How we met and… that we lied to everyone about it. And they are gonna run it sometime tomorrow.”

Raven scratched her forehead, the joy she felt moments ago dissipating almost immediately.

This can’t be happening…

“W-what?? B-But… N-No, no. She’s… I-is she sure?”

“Baby, calm down. It’s gonna be ok. Apparently, the angle he took was favorable to you? It doesn’t shame you or anything. It’s just honest about the circumstances of how we met.”

Raven felt as if her whole world had just come falling down around her as she leapt off his lap. “It’s favorable to me?? That’s a super small comfort w-when you just told me that the entire world is about to find out I was a prostitute, Michael! C-Cause no one’s gonna care that you were date number like 3 in a series of failed dates o-or that you were the first guy to even pay me for sex. They’re just gonna care that I did it. This reporter doesn’t need to shame me when the whole fucking world will.” She paced up and down beside his bed as she tried to will her panic to subside. “I-Is there anyway to stop it?? W-why is this even happening?? I mean it’s been months. Who would even care enough to c-come out and say something now??”

Michael stood and grabbed her by the arm, he pulled her into his embrace but he knew it would do little to soothe her. “It could’ve been anyone? Employee at the hotel, someone who works for Helen. Alex is trying to find out who and more about the story so we can figure out what to do. And this person probably realized that now, with award season and Creed, would be the most profitable time to release shit about me. I’m sorry, Rae. I should’ve seen this comin’. It’s my fault.”

The clear guilt in his voice cut through the haze of panic she felt and caused her to stop thinking about herself for a moment.

Fuck, how selfish are you? A story like this could potentially ruin his career and all she could think about was how it affected her. Michael could lose work and deals and prestige because of a story like this. What did she have to lose? A family that already hated her and she had cut off? A reputation that, at least in the industry she was once in, was already tarnished?

“No, d-don’t apologize. I'm sorry. I’m over here freaking out and you’re the one with an actual career to lose. I just… I guess when it didn’t come out initially, I assumed it wouldn’t? A-and I just… freaked out. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make it all about me.”

“It’s cool. And ok to be upset. I’m used to shit like this… you aren’t. Good thing is, shit like this stays in the news for a few days and then it passes. Alex and I’ll work on a plan tomorrow once it’s out and fix this shit. I promise.”

All Raven could make herself do was nod as she let her forehead fall onto his bare chest, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting her. Even with Michael, there was always something. There was no true peace in her life, or least, none that lasted long enough for her to enjoy it.

An uncomfortable tightness grew in her chest as she realized what was barreling toward them both. And for the first time in a long time, Michael’s arms did not bring her the comfort she needed. In fact, they only added to her stress. She wanted to be with him but she also knew that her presence would be a distraction. He had to figure out the best response for his career without feeling the need to cater to her emotions and she wanted to break down and cry and scream without being worried he would feel guilty.

Which meant she could not be there with him when this story broke. She needed space and alone time to process this.

“Do you think Allen could take me home?” she whispered. “I n-need to be alone.”

“Rae, stay. We should talk about this.”

She could see the panic bloom in his eyes and it made her adjust her statement. “I’m not m-mad at you, baby. You don’t have control over who talks to the media and when. I know you would stop it if you could. I just… knowing it’s coming out is a lot to process and I need to do that alone in my own space. And you need to be focused on your career, not me and my feelings. I’ll check in with you tomorrow but I d-don’t want to talk tonight. I just want to be alone.”

Michael pressed his lips to her forehead before walking over to his dresser and pulling out a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt that she had stored there. He helped her get dressed before calling Allen to come back to take her home. He knew she was not upset with him but he could not help but feel disheartened at how she retreated into herself. He could see all the emotions she felt painted on her face and that made him want to demand she stay so he could help her through it.

But he knew that was not fair. If she said she needed space, he had to respect that. The reason she was feeling this way was his fault anyway.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be ok? I can come with you?” He tried one last time when Allen texted that he was downstairs.

“Positive. Just need a couple hours to myself to get my head around everything. I’ll come to the house tomorrow evening after it's out and we can talk. Just give me a few hours, please.”

He nodded, silently acquiescing to her wishes, despite every piece of him wanting to protest.

Raven offered him a peck on the lips before heading down in the elevator, desperate to scream or yell or throw something across the room. She supposed she always knew there was a chance it could come out. After all, there were a handful of people that knew the truth. But she had just lulled herself into believing it wouldn’t, that their peace would be safe.

Her head felt like it was spinning when she finally laid down an hour later in her own bed. She had only taken the time to switch into one of Michael’s sweatshirts that she had commandeered from his house so she could curl up in his scent. She wrapped herself tightly in her blanket and let out a shuddering and shaky breath.

He’s gonna leave you. A voice finally said the fear that gripped her since he told her the news. She had not wanted to admit it but she knew it was coming. He was going to leave her.

How could he possibly stay? Why would he want to stay? His entire team would demand he cut ties with her. There was no other option. She knew it and he likely knew it too. His safest bet was likely to paint her as a woman who manipulated him or a gold digger after his money. She spent enough time on social media to know what the media and everyday people would say about her. They’d call her a slut and a whore, never mind that she was only doing what she had to do to survive. That would not matter to them. And then the dogpilling would begin. Some internet detective would find out she was also a stripper and this would give her sister the perfect chance to shame her like she always wanted to.

‘There are always other options than selling yourself’ they’d say. They’d question his manhood for even wanting to be with her in the first place. And it would not matter that prostitution was the oldest profession in civilization or that Michael was her first real customer. Her doing it with him would be enough for them to brand her with every terrible name women avoid being labeled.

She hastily wiped away the few tears that fell as she stared at her ceiling. These would be her last few moments of peace in her life and she realized that tonight was likely her last night with Michael. She felt her heart break at the idea. However, she would walk away, she realized. If that was what it took to save him and his career and this moment in his life, she would walk away from him. It would cut her deeper than any wound but she would do it for him if he asked.

And now, every second felt like a countdown to that moment. When she would arrive at his house tomorrow afternoon and be greeted with the cold slap of rejection. She would just have to prepare herself.

She reached into her nightstand and pulled out a bottle of old sleeping pills she used to use when she first lost her writing contract. She had struggled so much that her doctor prescribed them. It had been almost a year since she needed them but tonight was an exception. She just wanted to fall into the deep, dreamless sleep they provided so she would not have to sit awake and think about how everything in this world was designed to destroy her. She popped one in her mouth and snuggled up with her pillow while her tears fell, the protective blanket of sleep covering her within minutes.

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r

***

A/N: Welp... Michael's keeping secrets, Tasha is smarter (kinda, maybe?) than Michael thought and poor Raven's completely in the dark. Drop a comment and let me know who you think this "source" is and how you think these two are going to react to the article! And so exciting - chapter 9 is like 1/3 done lol so it'll be out in the next two weeks. Would be sooner but I'm on vacation next week. Thanks for reading, commenting, liking... all the things! :)

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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dirtyvulture · 9 months ago

Text

Dear Diary

*Set in the Darkest Knight AU*

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4459

Summary: Natasha embraces her new life as an X-Men.

AN: I'm back with a little one shot. :) Enjoy!

December 6, 2023

Dear Diary,

Is that an appropriate way to start one of these? I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before. But Marie gave me this cute little notebook and said writing stuff down helps clear her mind, so I don’t think there’s any harm in giving it a shot. They would never let us have something like this in the Red Room. Too much evidence lying around for someone to stumble upon. Should I put a lock on this? Y/N wouldn’t snoop around to read this, would she? Well, I guess if she is–leave my diary alone, you big dummy!

The professor said the Red Room soldiers and Widows are coming tomorrow. This is all my fault. I’ve put these good people and innocent children in danger. Earlier, we went to help the kids pack their bags and board the buses. I’m not sure if Y/N has any kids of her own (or ever did at all), but I can tell she really cares about them. Although she was not happy with some of the excessive luggage some of them were bringing. No one would tell me where they’re sending the kids, but I overheard Ororo mention something about a private resort they had to buy out.

I still don’t quite understand why these people are willing to sacrifice so much for me. I’m basically a stranger to them. I have nothing to give them in return if they ask. Maybe they’ll finally throw me out when they realize how worthless I am. That’s what I really deserve. Not these warm clothes, the home-cooked meals, and this roof over my head. And I definitely don’t deserve the kindness and care Y/N has shown me. I really like her, but I’m afraid she’ll leave me when she realizes how boring and inexperienced I am.

Oh, I think she’s coming out of the shower now. I’ll continue this later.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 15, 2023

Dear Diary,

It’s weird how life goes back to normal so fast here. The Red Room soldiers and Widows were here not even a week ago, tearing down doors and blasting out windows, and everything is already repaired and the students are back at it like nothing happened.

A lot of them are excited to go back to their homes and families for the holiday. But a lot of them will also be staying at the mansion, because their families won’t accept them or they just don’t have any home to go back to. The professor asked Y/N to help plan some holiday games so the kids staying don’t get too bored or lonely. She’s acting like it’s the dumbest assignment he’s ever given her, but I’ve seen her spending all her free time ordering presents and decorations (with the professor’s credit card, of course), so I know she takes it very seriously and the kids are going to love whatever she comes up with.

I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas here. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to celebrate it with people I love. I feel so welcomed here and no one looks at me like I’m any different, when I come from a past where there’s red all over my ledger. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone even lets me be around these kids alone, but some of them have powers that even make Y/N nervous, and I think they know they can trust me.

It’ll take some more time before I can be fully comfortable here, but it’s really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 25, 2023

Natasha wakes up alone. She looks around the bedroom, in case you might be on the floor doing push-ups or in the bathroom showering, but the room is completely empty. Her heartbeat picks up as she jumps out of bed, afraid that you’ve left her, when she notices a note on the desk.

Downstairs making breakfast. Come join when you’re up - Y/N

She relaxes immediately, touched how you made sure to let her know in advance where you would be. She quickly washes up and puts on a robe, then hurries downstairs to a chaotic mess of torn gift wrapping, screaming children, and flashing new toys. She steps into the kitchen, where you are wearing a flowered apron and are threatening Marie with a spatula.

“Stop, those aren’t ready–Marie!” You swat at her hands as she swipes for a pancake.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Nat!” Marie says, moving your attention away from her as your girlfriend appears.

“Merry Christmas, Marie.” Natasha gives the girl a hug, not missing the folded pancake in her hand.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” you say next, waiting for her to come over. “I made a special plate for you. It’s over here so the kids don’t get into it.” You point to a foil-covered plate off to the side of the stove. Natasha goes to investigate, peeling back the foil to find the plate fully-loaded with two different types of pancakes, one next to a little container of jam and honey, and the other still steaming and garnished with flecks of green onion. There’s even a bowl of grainy buckwheat porridge. Her heart soars at the sight of her favorite native breakfast. With a delighted squeal, she throws herself into your arms.

“Thankyou thankyou thankyou,” she choruses, squeezing you tightly as you rub her back.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

At this point, you shoo everyone out of the kitchen to finish the preparations. Natasha joins Marie in the dining hall, helping set up the plates and silverware. She watches with great curiosity as Kitty tries getting Peter to step under the mistletoe she hung above the doorway, and then is distracted when Jean and Scott come down for breakfast.

“Y/N cooks Christmas breakfast for us every year,” Jean explains to Natasha. “The kids always look forward to it.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott yells into the kitchen. “Keep the walnuts away from my food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Natasha hears you dismissively respond.

“Scott’s allergic,” Jean whispers to her. “Now there’s no proof how, but he ended up with a plateful of them last year and I almost had to take him to the hospital. Needless to say, it was an eventful Christmas.”

Natasha giggles to herself, already having a feeling she knows exactly how those walnuts got on Scott’s plate.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, the empty one next to Natasha reserved for you. You finally emerge from the kitchen, no longer in the flowered apron but one of your classic checkerboard flannels. You’re carrying an impressive tower of pancakes in one hand and a pan filled half and half with bacon and sausage in the other. The students break out in appreciation and applause as Bobby scoots aside some dishes to make room for the last trays.

“Don’t take more than you can finish,” you remind the kids, going around the table to sit next to Natasha and presenting her with her special plate. “And uh, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and all that other stuff.” You raise your apple cider in a toast and everyone follows your lead.

“Thanks for breakfast, Y/N,” Ororo says, clinking her glass to yours. The students erupt with more thanks before they start reaching for the food, passing around the mountainous plate of pancakes, scooping whole fried eggs onto each other’s plates.

“Thanks again, babe,” Natasha says, putting her hand on your thigh as she leans over to kiss you on the cheek.

“You should try it first before thanking me,” you tease, still not used to all the praise. You were just trying to be a good partner, and it was somewhat of a Christmas tradition for you to cook breakfast for all the students who stayed at the mansion over break. You didn’t mind it at all, in fact you really did enjoy spending time in the kitchen and it made you feel good to take care of others.

Natasha leaves her hand on your knee as she eats, and eventually you put your hand on top of hers comfortingly. Neither of you engage much in conversation as you eat and listen, happy with the company. Once all of the food has been finished, Ororo rounds up the students to help clean everything before they can continue opening presents.

Kitty gets you a Johnny Cash vinyl record. Marie and Bobby got you a variety pack of exotic flavors of jerky, including alligator, ostrich, and buffalo. Storm gives you and Natasha tickets to a weekend getaway at a Canadian resort. Jean and Scott also throw in a joint gift of a new set of winter bedsheets. You are very thankful for the presents and pile them neatly by your feet, when Natasha pulls out a box and puts it on your lap. Inside is a familiar-looking flannel shirt.

“It’s a brand new one,” Natasha says. “To replace all the ones I steal from your closet,” Natasha says.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your arm around her to pull her closer so you can kiss her cheek. “This one is from me.” You hand her a very small box.

Natasha opens it delicately and gasps when she sees what you’ve given her. It’s a wooden ring, carved a little roughly around the edges with little turquoise-colored gems pressed into the outside.

“Did you make this?” Natasha asks, running her finger over the gems.

“Uh, yeah.” You’re suddenly nervous that she doesn’t like it. Woodworking was not your finest hobby, despite your decades to fine-tune the skill, but you preferred to build vast structures and furniture. Tiny little pieces of jewelry were extremely difficult to handle, but hopefully it was worth the numerous cuts and splinters you gave yourself.

Natasha slips it on her right ring finger–a perfect fit. Maybe you needed to give yourself more credit for your handiwork.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding her hand up to admire the ring. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Natasha snuggles closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder while you sit back and watch everyone else finish opening their gifts.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day is busy but productive. Natasha has never felt happier watching the students competitively decorate gingerbread houses, then go outside and play in the snow. You don’t join in anymore, preferring to watch from the side. You’re already wearing the flannel Natasha got for you and Natasha gazes at you adoringly from afar. Despite the differences the two of you had from time to time, she hasn’t loved another person the way she loves you. But sometimes she worries that you don’t feel the same way.

You still don’t talk very much, hardly opening up about your past the way Natasha has spilled about hers. Although you seem mostly content at the mansion, Natasha can tell you’re still adjusting to being around so many people. The life of solitude in the cabin in the woods had clearly been more your style, and she feels guilty for dragging you away from that. But as much as she would love to spend all day with you cozied up in a cabin you built with your own hands, it wasn’t a realistic option. Not with all the threats and dangers that could come her way.

Which is why it was so important to Natasha that the Red Room be dealt with, as soon as possible.

She didn’t like how dismissive you got every time she brought it up, but she understood why. You had found your domestic bliss and didn’t want to let it go anytime soon. She wasn’t going to blame you. But she wished you would actually listen to her instead of shutting her down all the time. She would figure out how to broach the topic with you eventually, but today was not that day.

After a quiet dinner, which is basically just warmed up leftovers from breakfast, Natasha finds you sitting by yourself on the couch in front of a dying fire. Most of the students had retired to their rooms, exhausted by the day’s festivities. Natasha sits next to you, leaning her shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.” You offer her your hand and she clasps onto it, threading her fingers with yours. You smile when you see the wooden ring on her finger. It looks perfect on her. “Did you have fun today?” you ask.

“It was the best Christmas I ever had,” she replies. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

Natasha is tired, but there’s still one more thing she wants to do with you. She rests her hand on your thigh, subtly at first, then she slowly starts to stroke your leg, her fingers barely perceptible through your jeans. You ignore her and her movements become bolder, creeping towards the inside of your thigh now and squeezing it lightly.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally ask. Natasha has always been a little more shy when it comes to asking for intimacy with you. But you were patient with her and never pressured her, and that encouraged her to have the confidence to ask if you were in the mood–even if she didn’t always do it with words.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she says, leaning forward until her lips almost touch yours. “I still have one more present to give you.”

“Oh, do you now?” you ask, trying to kiss her but she pulls away.

“You have to come upstairs,” she repeats, offering you her hand as she stands up.

“All right, all right.” Your knees creak as you push off the couch, taking Natasha’s hand and following her upstairs. You can hear her heartbeat pounding with excitement or maybe that’s…yours? You hope everyone else has gone to sleep by now, otherwise they wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, you let Natasha lead you to the bed and you sit down on the edge with her climbing onto your lap.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hands locking around the back of your neck.

“Of course,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. Your arms circle her waist to hold her securely in place. Her breath fans over your face and her heartbeat pumps at an almost alarmingly quick rate.

“I want you,” she says, rocking her hips against your thighs. “I want you to take me.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, before she presses her lips roughly to yours, her fingers digging into your neck. Her arousal spikes and so does yours. You open your mouth when she licks your lips to deepen the kiss. She tastes like vanilla and cookies and you instinctively pull her closer to you, wanting to devour her until the morning.

Natasha grabs the collar of your flannel, pulling apart the top buttons and running her hands down your chest and abs. Your skin burns where she touches you and you nip lightly on her bottom lip when she rests her hands on the buckle of your belt.

“I want to taste you,” you pant, hoping your request doesn’t come across as too greedy. Natasha has to fight down her thrill of excitement at your suggestion, wondering how you knew exactly what she wanted. She doesn’t even take the time to agree with you, instead hurriedly stripping off her clothes to show you how eager she is. You take off the flannel, setting it aside with reverence, then removing your undershirt and jeans. Natasha tackles you back on the bed, your thigh fitting between her legs and you feel the heat from her center rubbing against you.

“You’re so wet for me,” you say, holding her hips again and guiding her up until she’s hovering over your chest. “My good girl.”

“Your good girl,” Natasha reiterates, grabbing onto the headboard for support before she positions herself over your face. The scent of her arousal is almost overwhelming to you, and you waste no time bringing your arms over her thighs to pull her down. Natasha whines when your mouth makes contact with her slick center, your tongue slipping into her and coating with her juices.

Natasha moans, grinding down so you can enter her deeper. Your arms tighten to prevent her from moving too much; you want to do things at your own pace. Her taste is so intoxicating and addictive, you could lie here forever eating her out. Natasha grips the headboard tighter, struggling to rock against your face for more friction, but you won’t let her. She whines in desperation, the noises music to your ears. Your tongue dips into her again before tracing up to her clit, flicking against it and Natasha grinds down harder on your chin, gasping and moaning.

“Y/N,” she begs. “Y/N, please.”

You stop, pulling away from her far enough to say, “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

“I know, baby. I got you.” As much as you love teasing her, this is not the time. You knew Natasha could sometimes be insecure about your relationship with her. But you had no regrets in choosing to be with her and loved her so much. You would never miss an opportunity to show her, either.

You loosen your arms around her so she has some freedom to move and Natasha quickly adjusts herself until she’s comfortable. When she settles back down on your face again, you find her clit and wrap your lips around it, rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan. Natasha rolls her hips to help you find a good rhythm. You feel her thighs tremble and more of her slick spills onto your tongue.

“Oh, god. Oh fuck, Y/N,” she whimpers, the headboard flexing dangerously from how hard she’s holding onto it.

Your stomach practically burns from how aroused you are with Natasha riding your face, and you’re hoping she’ll help you relieve some of the tension once you make her finish. You’ve held out as long as you could, and you can tell Natasha is ready to fall over the edge. Your tongue rests on her clit again, swiping upwards in a straight line, then dragging down at a diagonal angle, then going back up.

Your tongue moves in an inverted V next, drawing an imaginary bar between them.

You lick down her clit once more, then swipe perpendicular.

Natasha is panting and shaking, completely unaware that you’re trying to spell her name on her with your tongue. One of her hands has left the headboard and is holding tightly onto your hair in an attempt to guide you, but your own plan is already in action.

She doesn’t make it the next A, her back arching and thighs clamping around your head as she finally cums. You don’t let a drop of it go to waste, lapping at her sensitive folds until she’s whimpering and trying to pull your head away. Natasha lifts herself off your face with a contented sigh, turning herself away from the headboard now, but you’re not quite done with her yet.

You pull her back down on your face and she falls forward with her hands on your chest.

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” you grumble playfully.

“Y/N,” Natasha giggles.

“Can I have one more, darling?” you ask, and she responds by sitting back on your face. But now Natasha is the one with other ideas, as she eyes the veins on your flexing abdomen that disappear behind the band of your underwear. You feel her hands run across your stomach and your breath hitches when she tugs down your underwear.

“Nat, what are you–oh, shit.” Now it’s your turn to gasp and moan when Natasha leans over and places her mouth on your dripping center. You completely lose focus of what you were doing, instinctively spreading your legs open further to give her better access. “Fuck baby, oh fuck,” you whine, your head dropping back on the pillow.

“Did I say you could stop?” Natasha teases, turning your own words back against you. It takes a monumental effort, but you calm yourself enough to put your mouth to work again. Natasha almost soaks herself when she realizes how turned on you’ve gotten just from eating her out. Now she has only one mission in mind: make you cum before she does a second time. But you’re refusing to make it easy for her, and Natasha is already dangerously close despite having finished mere minutes ago. She knows she has to hurry, but judging from the tremble in your thighs, you’re closer than you’re letting on.

Natasha’s tongue circles your clit and she can feel you panting against her, your own efforts faltering in their rhythm. She pushes back against your face to remind you of what you promised her. Your fingers dig into the curve of her ass and you feel her breasts rubbing against your abs. Her mouth is so hot and wet and perfect on you, making you lose your breath every time her tongue touches you.

“Fuck, Nat,” you whimper, feeling like you’re losing control of yourself. You’re not even sure if what you’re doing to her anymore is working because all you can think about is the throbbing in your lower stomach that begs to be released. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue lashes at your clit and she struggles and fails to push down on your thighs to keep you grounded. “Nat, I can’t,” you warn, a little embarrassed at how fast you’re ready to release.

“It’s okay,” you hear Natasha say, “Cum for me, baby.”

White floods your vision and all the muscles in your body tighten as you spill into her mouth, a moan catching in your throat. Your head spins in a rush of endorphins and you’re practically convulsing underneath Natasha when you finally come down from your high. She purrs in delight at her success, gently squeezing at your thighs. And as much as you want to flip her around and press her head against your chest, you still do owe her.

Natasha’s second orgasm is a little more subdued but just as pleasurable. She bites the inside of your thigh to quiet the noise of her moan and you almost cum again. But once she finds the strength to move, Natasha crawls back up to you, nuzzling the side of your head and kissing you. Normally, you could go several rounds without even stopping for a break, but you’re unusually exhausted today. Maybe it was from waking up at four o’clock to work on breakfast for everyone or making sure that the Christmas activities throughout the day ran smoothly.

Natasha rests her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and you rub her shoulder, tilting your head down to breathe in the faded scent of her shampoo.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***********************************************************************

January 2, 2024

Dear Diary,

Professor Xavier called me personally to his office today. I was really nervous that I was in trouble for something. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mind-reading thing. I try to keep my thoughts in check when he’s around, but I think that makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But other than that, he’s only ever been polite and respectful to me, and I can tell Y/N really looks up to him as a mentor and father figure.

He told me he has a lead on where the Red Room could be and asked if I still want to pursue them. Of course I do, but I know Y/N isn’t happy about it. I thought she would understand more. I know she’s got her own past that she hasn’t told me the entirety of yet (not that she’s required to), but she’s told a few stories so I know her situation is similar enough to mine. I wish she was more supportive instead of trying to talk me out of it, but I know she’s worried too. She doesn’t want me rushing back into danger and I totally get that. But I just…I can’t stay here and be cared for and protected and loved when there are so many of my sisters still being held against their will and forced into doing horrible things.

Luckily, the professor seems more understanding of things. But I don’t want him or anyone else here risking their lives for me. If I have to go alone, I will. I don’t know if I can do it alone, though. I’m sure Y/N will insist on tagging along no matter what. I just hope she doesn’t get too grumpy about the whole thing.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

January 4, 2024

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t told Y/N what the professor told me 2 days ago (assuming she hasn’t already gone through my diary and read about it here). I tried to mention it after dinner, but I could tell as soon as I let the “R” word slip she was not paying attention to the conversation anymore. I don’t want my frustration to build up, so I’ll probably have to be straightforward about it, which isn’t easy.

I know the professor can hear all of my thoughts, so I wonder if he’s going to get tired of them and just talk to Y/N himself. But probably not. This is my problem to handle. I’ll find the courage somehow to deal with it.

I just hope it doesn’t cause Y/N to look down on me for this. I’m already nervous that I’m constantly annoying her, and if she gets fed up enough and kicks me out I will literally have nowhere to go and at that point, I’d welcome back the Red Room with open arms. That probably seems a little dramatic, but I really don’t want to risk losing the best person that ever came into my life. I have Y/N to thank for everything I have here, and I think most people in my position would call me crazy for trying to make any changes to my situation.

But I’m not like most people. And I have to do what I think is right, even if others try to stop me.

I’ll bring it up to Y/N later again. Maybe if I catch her in a good mood she’ll be more receptive to the idea. Wishing luck to my future self.

Love,

Nat

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

Multipart sequel in the works!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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skufdaddyswansea · 2 months ago

Note

Sorry for the kind of spam, but I’m also wondering about your thoughts on Anya? Despite her, Swansea, Jimmy and Curly being the older “OG” crew and Daisuke being the newbie, there’s more of a divide between her and the rest of the crew. It’s Daisuke and Swansea, Curly and Jimmy, and then Anya. She doesn’t really seem to be anyone’s first choice.

I have a lot of thoughts on Anya! They're all kind of scattered because I haven't put the time in to sort them out in my head yet, but I find her super interesting. Probably the most tragic member of the crew but maybe that's stating the obvious.

(Okay I blabbed for like 8+ paragraphs again so I'm putting a cut here to spare people. Sorry for talking your ear off, but also thanks for the questions!!)

You are right, Swansea and Daisuke grew much closer to each other than either seemed to be with Anya. It makes sense given the internship situation and how their own respective issues played into each other, but it does suck that Anya ended up being so isolated. Especially considering how much longer Anya must have known Swansea.

I wish we could have seen more of it, but we do get some little hints that she at least got along with Swansea and Daisuke. Like at the party, she and Swansea are the only two people standing together, and she teases him about actually enjoying the shitty cake. I thought that was really cute. It's interesting to see that they have kind of a positive relationship even though Swansea also says some pretty shitty stuff to/about her. I wonder if, like Daisuke, she can tell that it's just kind of how he speaks and he doesn't really mean anything by it. Especially because she trusts him enough to tell him about Jimmy. Although that could have been out of desperation at that point too. Curious to hear what other people think about their relationship!

With Daisuke, it seems like it's pretty difficult not to be cool with him. As for how close they actually were, there's the Ludo game where Curly talks about Anya getting super mad at him for being so lucky. For a person like Anya I feel like being able to show that means she was pretty comfortable with him. (It's also the correct response to playing Ludo. Fuck that game.)

As for some other off-the-cuff thoughts:

This is kind of a chicken or the egg situation, but she struggles a lot with her self confidence, and the way the crew treats her just reinforces it. Like, she's trying to do her job, but when the crew won't co-operate she literally can't, but even though she can't control that she just accepts that it's her own fault, because that's what everyone else says.

Jimmy always gives her shit about having to give Curly his medication, but when she tells him she can do it herself he just shuts her down. Even when she doesn't ask him to do it. So she internalizes that and convinces herself that she really can't. But she kept the guy alive in that condition, with limited supplies, for like, 3 or 4 months. She can't really be as incompetent as everyone is telling her she is. I know there's some suspension of belief involved as well but I still think she deserves that credit where it's due.

On a similar note, I think the other reason she has trouble giving Curly the medicine, and hearing him struggle in pain, is because she feels guilty. Like, I think she blames herself for the crash.

Remember that first time you give Curly the medicine? When you talk to Anya again she asks why he did it. Then later we find out that right before the crash, she was talking to him about Jimmy and the pregnancy again. She thinks she sent him over the edge. Not to mention she was supposed to be making sure they were both mentally fit to fly. Obviously it's not her fault that Jimmy assaulted her, and it's not her fault that they refused to be honest about their problems with her.

You could say that if Jimmy's problem is that he can't take responsibility, Anya's problem is that she takes on too much of it, even when it's not hers to carry. And sometimes against her own will.

One more half-baked thought: I don't like to diagnose characters when it's not a clear/important part of the narrative, but I do think Anya takes part in some potentially compulsive behaviour.

When she has her conversation with Curly about the crew quarters not having locks, Curly mentions safety. We then see the word flash on the screen in the way key words or phrases often do.

At some point later, Daisuke mentions that ever since the crash Anya has been religiously reading the safety manual. I thiiiink there was at least one more time where it pops up, but I might have to go through the game to refresh my memory. I thought that was an interesting but fairly easy to miss little Anya trait.

All this to say Anya deserved a nice beach vacation and a stiff drink. (One without any mouthwash OR isopropyl alcohol, even!)

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing spoilers #analysis & discussion #anya mouthwashing #cw rape mention #qna #long post

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thefallennightmare · 11 months ago

Text

Just Pretend-nineteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I realized today that Sarah and I have been working on this story for almost TWO MONTHS. Holy shit. Talk about a slow burn! I don't think it's ever taken me this long to write an active story. Also, there are a few sentences in Greek and Italian in this chapter. You can find the translations at the end of the chapter.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic

NOAH

My knee bounced in a tangent along with the clock on the wall behind Dr. Poulos as she tilted her head towards me, waiting for my answer.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I blinked slowly.

She gave me a small smile, tapping her pen on her notebook; something I’ve realized she did when she was ready to ask me a hard-hitting question.

“How have the panic attacks been?” Dr. Poulos wondered.

“Uh,” I rubbed my jaw. “It’s been better, I suppose. I still feel them starting every once in a while but my friends have been great at helping me through them.”

“That’s great,” she smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it was a problem for you from our first session.”

“Yeah, I’ve come to realize there were a few aspects of my life that hindered me more than helped me.”

Dr. Poulos’ brows raised. “Like what?”

“Up until recently, I would drink; a lot. And smoke weed every so often. People say it’s the lesser of the drugs but it affected me in such a way that I didn’t like the man I saw in the mirror. Same with the alcohol. So, I’ve decided to become sober.”

That spread a wider smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, Noah. It’s not an easy thing to overcome but to see how determined you are makes me very happy.”

I ran my hands over my thighs while standing up straighter on the couch; her positive praise made my heart beat a bit faster.

“I just want to be the healthiest I can be. Your body is a temple, ya know? It’s only been a few weeks but I can already tell a difference in the way I sing.”

“That’s exceptional, Noah. I’m happy to hear that. It’ll help the course of your life. But I must ask, do you feel it’ll leave a part of you open and willing to accept the love you think you deserve?”

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you mentioned previously, it sounds like Y/N has had some complicated relations with a man who was in a state of addiction. Do you feel that maybe, a part of your being sober can help you leave that part finally open? Allow you to see that you can be loved.”

When I remained silent, letting her words rest in my mind, Dr. Poulos shut her notebook and set it on the table between us; next to one of those sand zen garden things.

“What you're doing with Bailey and hiding your true feelings for Y/N doesn't seem to be helping, right?”

I shook my head with a long sigh. “I never meant for things to go this far.”

Dr. Poulos leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, stippling her fingers.

“Has Y/N ever given you a reason to doubt the things you say to her?”

“No. Never,” I answered without missing a beat.

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her how you feel?” She brushed a strand of brown-graying hair from her eyes.

With Dr. Poulos’ words replaying in my mind, I sat down on the steps of her office while clicking on Bailey’s contact name on my phone. As it rang, I tapped my fingers on my knee to drum a random beat.

“Hey, it’s Bailey. Leave me a message!’

Cursing to myself, I wished that she had answered because I didn’t want to do this with her voicemail but I had no other option. This needed to be done.

“Bailey, it’s me- Noah,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this over text or on your voicemail. But I thought it best you hear me say this. I wanted to discuss it with you the other day but shit came up.”

My eyes watched as a few people walked past on the sidewalk in front of me.

“Look, I never wanted to hurt you, you’re a nice girl but this-us-isn’t working for me. I’m-I’m sorry if this hurts you. Truly. I’m not good at words all the time but I will say that I wish you the best and I hope you have a nice life.”

After hanging up, I could physically feel the weight lift off my shoulders and heart. Breathing was easier and lighter, so with this newfound feeling, I quickly dialed Y/N’s number.

“Mochi!”

I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi, angel. Are you busy?” I asked while rising from the steps to walk a few steps to my car that was parked in the street.

“I’m walking into an appointment right now. Can I call you later?”

Ignoring the way my heart dropped, I started my car and sat there for a moment.

“Of course. I’ll be in the studio but I’ll always answer for you.” My hand ran over the steering wheel.

“So sweet,” Y/N chuckled and my stomach fluttered. “There’s a reason why I gave you that nickname.”

We quickly said our goodbyes and my mind was filled with the heavy conversation I needed to have with Y/N. I didn’t even realize the familiar figure bounding up the steps of the same office I left mere minutes ago, her yellow sundress flowing in the wind.

READER

My eyes were trained on the small sand zen garden on Dr. Poulos’ table as she tapped her pen against the notebook in her lap. The clock ticked annoyingly loudly behind her, almost mocking me as I continued to leave her question unanswered.

“Y/N,” Dr. Poulos’s voice was firm, breaking me from my trance. “You mentioned your mother contacted you the other day?”

I played with the hem of my yellow sundress. “Uh, yeah. She doesn't do it often but when she does, she really lets her feelings known.”

“And what are those feelings?”

“The same bullshit. My mom doesn’t agree with the lifestyle I’ve chosen. She thinks it's a waste of time,” I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s who she is. Being Greek, I was raised to have large but realistic dreams. My father on the other hand wanted and still wants me to follow my heart, he wants me to go after what I want, what I need. There’s a line between both of them.”

“You know,” Dr. Poulos tucked a strand of her brown-graying hair behind her ear. “There’s a study that says insecure attachment styles can develop as a result of poor parenting. Research indicates that attachment in childhood affects the development of familial, social, and romantic relationships later in life. Do you feel this has deeply affected or influenced your relationships?

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve had a pattern of falling for men who aren't good for you yet believing they are real love when you know subconsciously you deserve better.”

“Maybe,” the word trailed off my lips, uncertainty weighing heavy on my heart.

Dr. Poulos hummed, crossing one leg over the other. “It sounds that way, doesn’t it? Are you running from Noah because you’re afraid you’ll disappoint him? Afraid he’ll do what your mother often does? You’ve seen the way your parent's marriage was like growing up, that has to be a hindering factor, doesn't it?

My jaw ticked. “My mother was unfair to my father. I’d never do that or treat anyone that way.”

“I know you won’t, Y/N. You know it yourself, deep down in your heart,” she patted a hand over her own heart. “Because from what you told me about Noah, I don’t believe that he would act the way your mother has. You won’t disappoint him. And he doesn’t want to do that to you either.”

I shook my head widely. “He’s with someone else so it doesn't even matter.”

A small smile lifted at the corner of her lips. “Quite the contrary, Y/N. You said it earlier you wanted to tell him the truth. He isn’t your mother and again, from what you’ve told me it sounds like you both may want the same things. You’re just not trusting yourself. You’re relying on your trauma and issues with your mother to get in the way.”

“Wow, nice observation,” I snorted. “How am I supposed to fix that?”

Dr. Poulos ignored my snarky attitude. “If your mother has been unreliable, then you may need to lean on other people who are for support. Socializing with friends and learning to be vulnerable with others can help increase emotional connection.”

“Malcolm and Chase are reliable,” I stated.

“It sounds like it, from what you’ve told me,” she nodded. “There’s also Noah. His support can take some time to develop but having stable relationships with others can be part of healing. And most of all, self-care.”

I left therapy with a hopeful heart and bright smile. Dr. Poulos always knew what I needed to hear as much as I tried to fight it. Peaking down at my phone, my pulse quickened when I noticed a missed text from Noah.

Mochi 🍡: New episode of Attack on Titan dropped. I can pick up lunch. Your place or mine?

Giggling, I typed out my response, not letting anything ruin this euphoric high I felt.

NOAH

I stood outside Y/N’s front door, shaking out the nerves, and knocked on it. I had a bag of take-out food in my hand, something she requested from her favorite burrito place.

“Hi,” she smiled while letting me in. “Did you remember the Dr. Pepper?”

I chuckled while holding up the cup. “Light ice.”

As we set out the food on the table in their dining room, I motioned towards the various easels and splattered pain on the carpet. “Studio?”

“Yeah,” Y/N gave a sheepish smile. The lighting in here is better than my bedroom; although not by much.”

I took in the various paintings of abstract lines and colors, some of random landscapes, and one of Salem.

“These are really good, angel.”

“I’m glad I decided to do this. Painting has been a great way to escape from reality, even for a little bit,” she took a bite of her burrito. “Oh, extra guac? How’d you know?”

I shrugged. “I just do.”

We ate in silence for the next few long moments and as much as I tried to quiet the loud voices in my mind that screamed at me to tell Y/N the truth right now, it was extremely difficult.

My eyes took in the glimmer of her bracelet as she reached for the chips and I couldn't stop the smile that spread wide to my lips. Y/N was still wearing the jewelry I bought her and it made me feel proud.

“Where’s Chase and Malcolm?” I asked, noticing the quiet.

Y/N took a large drink of her soda, reveling in the taste. “Hiking. They left earlier this morning and typically don’t come back till later. So I have the place to myself.”

Just as I was about to speak, a persistent knock sounded on the front door, and she turned towards it with a confused stare.

“Expecting anyone?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Probably someone selling Girl Scout cookies.”

“If they have Thin Mints, I’ll take four boxes,” I called after Y/N.

Her laugh echoed throughout the room but soon seized when she opened the door. I noticed the way her body went rigid and I slowly rose in time to see a tall but petite brunette all but push her way inside.

“Hi, koukla. I would have texted or called but it seems like you have an issue with checking your phone,” the lady peered around the space, a sour look on her lips.

“Mo-mom? What are you doing here?”

Shit.

I knew there was a history with Y/N’s mom but never knew how deep it ran.

“I was in town and thought to surprise you. Since you never talk to me anymore,” her mom tsked.

Finally, her eyes landed on me, standing in the threshold of the living room and dining room; gaze hardening.

“Who’s this?” She asked Y/N.

Internally I snorted at how she asked Y/N rather than asking me.

“I’m Noah,” I introduced myself while brushing away the strands from my face.

Her mom hummed before nodding towards the back end of the house. “Give me and my daughter some privacy.”

“Mom!” Y/N seethed.

Noticing how the tension shifted, I gave Y/N a soft smile. “It’s alright. I’ll go say hi to Salem.”

With my back to them, I walked down the hall and heard her mom mutter something in Greek.

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”

“Eísai apísteftos,” Y/N responded in a stern voice.

Sitting in the Y/N’s bedroom with Salem perched on my lap, I left the door wide open so I could listen in on the conversation. It may have been wrong to eavesdrop but something deep inside of me told me to be on edge, just in case.

“You should have called, Mom,” Y/N said.

“You never return my calls.”

“Gee, I wonder why. You exactly haven’t been that peachy the last few times we’ve talked.” I could hear the slight edge in Y/N’s voice.

“I thought I’d told you I don’t appreciate the way you speak to me.”

“It’s a two-way street, Mom. You get what you give.”

Salem purred loudly in my lap and I continued to scratch him in the spot I knew he loved; between his ears.

“I’ve always hated when your father used that line,” her mother sighed.

Someone was pacing, their footsteps echoing loudly down the hall, and I peered down at Salem.

“Your mom seems pretty upset right now,” I frowned at the feline.

His bright green eyes stared back at me, simply demanding one thing silently; more pets to which I obliged.

“Have you been to the doctor lately?”

“Since when do you care, Mom? You never ask how I’m doing.”

Salem jumped off of me when I slowly rose to my feet, deciding that I needed to be closer to Y/N, just in case.

“I know how bad Endometriosis affects you, Y/N. I’m simply wondering.”

I could almost hear Y/N roll her eyes as I neared the end of the hallway, out of sight but could still see just enough. Y/N stood with her hands on her hips while her mom sat comfortably on the couch.

“I’m fine.” Y/N kept her answers short.

Her mother pursed her lips. “And how’s the career?”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at the way she said career.

Y/N snorted. “Please, like you give a shit.”

“Watch your language!”

“You’ve never supported me with my music. Hell, with any of my dreams. So don’t start acting like you give a shit now.

Her mom rose to her feet, narrowing her gaze. “That’s not true. I only want what’s best for you, Y/N. You don’t want to end up like your father and be stuck.”

“He wasn’t stuck,” Y/N scoffed while clenching her fists.

Her mother clicked her tongue while brushing away Y/N’s hair from her face. “Yes, sweetie, he was. And I’m telling you, no man will want to deal with someone that’s always on the road. What man is going to wait around or understand this lifestyle? What future are you gonna have?”

My jaw clenched at hearing those words because I knew it wasn’t true. There was a man who wanted Y/N; me. I would wait for years if I had to. Whenever she was ready, I’d be here.

But hearing how her mom talked to her made me realize that there was a reason why Y/N never spoke of her and why she was so apprehensive of any future relationship.

“We’re not talking about this,” Y/N stepped away from her mom to stand on the other end of the couch, giving more space between them.

“Once again, you’re avoiding a tough subject. I didn’t raise you this way,” her mother chastised.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Raised me? Are you fucking kidding me? You barely were home, too busy focusing on your career leaving Dad home to raise me!”

I smirked at hearing Y/N mock her mother in how she said career moments before.

“Your father was always your favorite. But it was me you stayed with after the divorce!” Her mother's voice was raised.

Fearing this would end in such a bad way, I pulled my phone to send a text to Chase.

Me: Y/N’s mom is here and I’m afraid shit is about to hit the fan. What should I do?

His response came almost immediately.

Chase: Fuck. Whatever you do, Noah. Don’t leave. Stay until we get there. Every time her mom either contacts her or shows up, Y/N goes into a dark place. Malcolm and I are leaving right now and should be back in an hour.

I swallowed thickly as my stomach dropped. If the guys were worried about Y/N’s mom being here, it could only mean one thing.

Disaster.

“I stayed with you because you made me feel guilty!” Y/N choked on a sob. “For years I wondered why I didn’t feel a connection with you so I thought staying with you would bring us closer. But instead, you dropped the you’re adopted bomb on me; on my birthday!”

Her mother had the audacity to shrug.

“You probably would have found out eventually. I simply sped up the process.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Because I tell the truth? You think people are going to stay with you with the lifestyle you’ve chosen?”

“Oh, gods, we’re back on this again?” Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I have a lot of people that support me.”

“Who? Your friend?” Her mom pointed a firm finger towards the hallway where I was still hiding around the corner. “Do you think he is going to wait around?”

For years if I have to.

“No. No one will, Y/N. You’re like your father with these pipe dreams.”

“Pipe dreams? I didn’t realize wanting a family was a pipe dream,” Y/N spat.

Her mother gave her a somber smile, clicking her teeth. “Kouklamou, I thought we talked about this. You can’t have a family, not the traditional way anyway. You need to realize that no man is going to want to go through all that trouble to have a child. It’s not worth it.”

Y/N and I both flinched at the same time, those words almost verbatim with what Trey used to say to her. There I stood, my fists clenched by my sides, I rolled my shoulders back, glaring towards the petite brunette with dark eyes.

I was feeling triggered while I observed this entire thing; it felt intrusive at first but now feels like I’m behind fifty feet of glass.

It made sense now, why this loving bond between Y/N and I was inaccessible. In this mode, I had to take great care not to damage these bonds of love, this relationship, this friendship, and this woman in front of me, who very early on became everything to my heart and soul. For in time, the glass disappeared and my love returned stronger.

I understood.

From my corner, I could see how the kitchen table had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound is contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times; I understood.

I refused to stand there and let it sour, not to her. Never to her.

Sobs played like a sad tune and I noticed Y/N was crying, hastily whipping away the tears.

“I can’t believe I continue to let you in my life, knowing how you’ll treat me. Girls are supposed to look up to their mothers as idols, to learn from them how to be mothers. But you’ve shown me how not to treat my kids in the future.”

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. The chances of you becoming a mother are not in the cards for you. Neither is this musical career. You need to face reality.”

Fuck this.

As I stepped into view of them, Y/N pointed to the front door. “I don’t need you to come in here and tell me how to run my life, I’m done with this.”

“Y/n-.”

“You heard her,” I spoke while standing next to Y/N, immediately wrapping my arm around her shoulder to pull her into my chest.

My heart broke at how quickly she grasped onto my shirt, not wanting me to let her go.

“Excuse me? This is a private matter between my daughter and me. This doesn't concern you,” her mom’s eyes sliced into me.

“It does. Because it’s Y/N.”

Her mom’s gaze bounced between the two of us, almost waiting for Y/N to object to my words, but instead, she stood firm, sniffing away her tears.

“You need to leave.”

With one final glare, Y/N’s mom snatched her purse off the couch while muttering something Greek under her breath before she slammed the door behind her; all the negative energy leaving in waves.

“Y/N,” I tried to make her look at me but she kept her head cast down.

“I can’t, Noah,” she cried.

I lifted her chin with a firm finger and sucked in a breath as broken, bloodshot eyes stared back at me.

“Don’t ever hide from me, angel. You know that.”

Y/N kept her gaze firm on my face. “She does this every time. I don’t know why I continue to let her. I’m just a girl who wants her mother's love, is that so wrong?”

“Angel,” I murmured while pulling her into my embrace, brushing a kiss across her forehead.

NOAH

My fingers drummed against the marble counter in front of me while Davis set out various ingredients. We were currently streaming the two of us cooking BLTs, something for the fans to enjoy and watch. I was reading some of the comments, smiling at a few then cringing at some others.

Davis handed me a block of cheese. “Cut this up for me, would ya?”

With it in one hand, I playfully spit on my hand before giving it a nice smack.

“Hm, imagining that someone's ass?” He smirked under his breath.

I gave him a light shove. “Fuck off.”

We spent the next long while goofing off and having fun for the stream. It was nice to let my mind focus on something else besides Y/N and her mom. I spent the rest of the night at her place, holding her in my arms as she cried herself to sleep. The familiar scent of her lingered on me as I tucked her softly in her bed. Before I walked out of her house, I ran into Chase and Malcolm, whose parting words stuck with me all day.

“She needs you more than she’ll admit. It may not seem like it but she does.”

Y/N texted me this morning to thank me for being there for her and say that if she went M.I.A for a while today, it’s only because Hollow Souls were in the studio recording. I didn't ask how she was feeling after the surprise visit from her mom. Y/N would tell me, if she wanted to, when she was ready.

“Alright, let’s read some comments,” Davis suggested as we finished up the cook-off; me winning.

He held Max in his hands, every so often giving him kisses. As I read a few comments out loud and responded, the dog practically begged me for attention when a familiar username appeared on the screen.

Y/NHollowSouls: Noah Sebastian, I swear to Hades himself. You kiss Max right now or I’ll come over there and kick your ass.

I laughed while shaking my head. “Alright, Max. Come here! Let me give you some love.”

I scratched the dog's ear while leaving a soft kiss on his nose then looked back to the computer screen to see Y/N leave another comment.

Y/NHollowSouls: Good, that’s better. Now I need to taste this famous BLT that won.

“Then get your ass over here. Bring some coconut water because Noah drank the last one,” Davis said once he read the comment.

My heart began to beat widely in my chest at the thought of seeing Y/N again.

Y/NHollowSouls: fuck yes. Noah, have that sandwich ready for me.

We ended the stream shortly after that but my eyes lingered on the black screen for a long moment. Davis immediately picked up on my quiet mood and knocked on the countertop.

“Noah?”

My name was white noise, still staring at zoning out in front of me.

“Earth to Noah! Come in Herc! Come in Herc!”

“What?” My eyes snapped over to Davis, finally breaking out of my trance.

“What I thought.” He smirks before getting serious. “Are you alright?”

I gave a weak smile towards Davis. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He motioned towards the laptop. “I know you’re not actually fine right now but-.”

I ran a hand over my face, doing my best to keep my breathing calm and even. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It just fucking hurts.”

Davis shifted on his feet, hesitation clear on his face. “Why? No disrespect to Y/N at all, you know I love her-we all do. But why did you choose to stay in touch? After all the hurt you’ve gone through.”

My vision was direct with his. “Because I’d rather have her from afar to make sure she’s alright than to not have her in my life at all. Besides, she’s going through a lot of shit, something no one should go through alone. I won’t let her.”

A grin spread across his face and he nodded. “I knew it. I just wanted to hear you admit it. But you need to end this shit with Bailey.”

“I already did.”

“Fuck,” Davis’ eyes widened. “Finally. How did she take it?”

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s the thing, she didn’t answer. I left her a voicemail.”

“A voicemail? Damn, do you think she got the message?” Davis wondered while be began cleaning up the mess.

I, instead, began making another sandwich for Y/N, knowing she’d be here soon. “I fucking hope so. If not, then she’s probably testing me to see if I’d change my mind.”

“But you won't, right?”

I snorted. “Fat chance.”

Davis turned towards me, drying his hands on a towel. “So you broke up with Bailey. What’s the next step with Y/N?”

“I need to talk to her first. There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I said while pulling out a cold can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

“Hey, that’s the last one,” he exclaimed.

I merely shrugged while setting a place at the kitchen table for Y/N. “It’s for Y/N.”

Davis, as much as he tried to be upset, chuckled. “In all seriousness, Noah, you know we’re here to support you. We have your back.”

I smiled at one of my best friends. “I know.”

Just then a knock sounded on the front door and before Davis could answer it, I quickly closed the short distance and opened it with a smile; only for it to drop seeing Y/N standing on the other side with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” I questioned while allowing her to step inside and led her to Davis’ kitchen.

“Chase’s birthday is on Friday and the venue I booked for it just canceled on me. Something about a pipe bursting and the room is flooded,” she exasperated while falling into the chair at the table.

“What are you going to do?” I questioned while sitting across from her.

Davis joined us at the table, taking the coconut water from Y/N with a small smile.

“Thankfully since they have to cancel, I get my deposit back but Malcolm is freaking out,” she waved her phone around. “We have two days to figure out somewhere new for this surprise party.”

“You can have it at my place,” I suggested.

Y/N took a long drink of her soda. “Are you sure? Don’t you think you should talk with the rest of the guys first?”

I snatched a chip off her plate and shrugged. “They won’t mind.”

“Sei un tesoro, mochi,” she patted my cheek.

Davis choked on his drink and my eyes snapped over to him. “I don’t want to hear it!”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Y/N smirked before taking the first bite of her sandwich and groaned. “Oh shit, this is good. No wonder you won, Noah.”

With a prideful smirk, I motioned to the rest of her plate. “Finish up. I’ll call the guys and have them meet here and we can plan Chase’s party.”

At one point, Davis left to take Max for a walk, leaving Y/N and I alone. We sat silently and enjoyed the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seemed only the old could sit next to one another, not say anything, and still feel content. The young, brash, and impatient, must always break the silence. It’s a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.

“Oh, I never noticed the great view Davis has,” Y/N mused while pushing away her empty plate.

Realizing it was almost time for the sun to set, I quickly cleaned up for her and motioned towards the back door.

“Let’s go sit outside for a bit, yeah?” I suggested.

READER

Noah and I sat comfortably on the patio bench, a blanket draped over both of our legs as we stared out at the vast greens of Davis’ backyard. The sky was painted in bright oranges with hints of pink and purple. Silently, I thought to myself that I should have brought my art supplies, noting this would be a beautiful experience to paint.

The silence between Noah and I was comforting, something you don’t find all that often. People always needed to talk rather than just listen to the world around them. The way the birds chirped, the faint noises of evening traffic, or the sound of the wind as it blew a chilly breeze.

“Angel?”

I hummed while looking over towards Noah.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there-I don’t know-anything you really want besides music right now?”

“I want a studio, with giant canvas’, paint; just an art studio galore! I’ve gotten into the hobby and love it,” I answered with a bright smile. “I was even thinking of using some of my art for the album artwork. Just playing with ideas.”

Noah’s smile matched mine as he let his hair loose from the hair tie, letting it fall to his shoulders in waves. “I love that you found something else you’re so passionate about, angel.”

“I love painting. I really do,” I leaned farther back against the couch and rested my head against it.

“So paint. You should do whatever your heart desires, Y/N.”

“Thank you, mochi” I nudged him.

Noah rested his head against the couch, inches away from mine as another thought came to mind.

“You know,” I started with a long sigh. “When I was a kid, I would have given anything to be exactly like everybody else”

“You wanted to be petty and dishonest?“ He joked.

“Not everyone is like that,” I defended with a shake of my head.

“Yes they are,” Noah retorted back. “But not you. You’re not like that.”

This had me sitting up straighter, Noah following me. “How do you know what I’m like?”

“I see you,” He shifted closer to me, hand brushing across my knee over the blanket. “I’ve seen you for a long time. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met”.

My heart beat widely in my chest, the noise deafening in my ears and I cleared my throat.

“I think you are too. If I’m being honest, I think I’ve always sorta known that,” I admitted.

“You know,” Noah’s hand rested on my knee. “With me bouncing between homes and couches growing up, I always thought I’d be alone. I’d never expected to have such an amazing group of friends.”

“Sometimes maybe it’s better to be alone,” I shrugged while looking past his shoulder to an older couple watching in the neighborhood.

“Why do you say that?”

I still kept my gaze off Noah, voice dropping low. “Nobody can hurt you.”

“Y/N,” Noah sighed and lifted my chin so I could meet his intense gaze. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

Those eyes. I’ve dreamed of those eyes almost every night since our first meeting so long ago. I won’t say I’m in love, not out loud, but I am. I came to terms with that a while ago.

“I know, mochi,” I finally whispered.

Noah’s thumb traced over my jawline. “I understand why it’s hard for you, Y/N. But know that when I’m with you, I don’t feel alone.”

That magnetic pull that always seemed to connect us with that invisible string made me lean closer to him needing his warmth to envelop me.

“I’ve never had this instant connection with anyone. I know you understand it too,” he continued.

With my continued silence, Noah sat up straighter but kept his grip on my chin. “Are you freaked out? Because not hearing you say anything kind of-.”

“Noah- no,” I rested my hands on his chest. “I feel it too.”

His hand grasped the back of my neck now, tilting my head up towards him, as we began to lead in closer, and when his warm breath fanned over my lips, I let my eyes flutter shut.

“Hey guys-oh shit.”

Quickly pushing away from Noah, I peered over my shoulder to see Malcolm leaning against the back door.

“We’re all inside ready to talk about the party. Whenever you two decide to grace us,” Malcolm winked before slipping back inside.

Clearing my throat, I let the realization sink in what Noah and I were about to do. He’s with Bailey and I was ready to kiss him. I’m not this kind of person but yet here I was again being caught between him and my conscious. Bailey, as intrusive as she was, didn’t deserve this.

Noah tried to bring me back to him but I quickly stood up, giving us more space.

“We can’t do this. Not again,” my hair shook widely around my shoulders. “It’s not fair to Bailey.”

“I ended it.”

I blinked. “Wha-Oh? You did?”

As ecstatic as I was hearing this, I did my best to hide it. I didn’t want Noah to know inside I was jumping for fucking joy; like a kid on Christmas that received the toy they’d been wanting.

Noah stood from the couch now, standing in front of me. “I think Bailey saw me as Noah on the big screen, not me the person and after everything at that dinner I just knew it was time.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stammered, not knowing what else to say.

His brows furrowed. “Why? It wasn’t serious. There wasn’t that connection; like the one we have.”

As my lips parted, it was Jesse now who interrupted us, taking a bite of the apple in his hand. “Are you guys coming or what?”

Noah cursed while running a hand through his hair and I shakily pointed over his shoulder.

“We should head inside. Talk about this party.”

Not wanting to spend another second out here, afraid to finally give in to the thoughts that were screaming at me, I gently brushed past him to return inside.

GREEK TRANSLATIONS:

Koukla-doll

Kouklamou- my doll

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”- Why does he have long hair?

"Eísai apísteftos"-you're unbelievable

ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS:

Sei un tesoro-you're a sweetheart.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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