#and what she had achieved already made me feel both amazed and bad about myself

[sparkles-oflight]

Sometimes I'm like "lol, the joker out boys did something funny/relatable/cringe/etc that I'm not used seeing celebs doing but I'm glad they do because me too!" and then I remember they are quite literally JUST GUYS IN THEIR 20S DOING THINGS OF GUYS IN THEIR 20S

[callahanisms]

jealousy jealousy

a request: "hey! I wanted to make a request for a Tashi Duncan fanfic <3 a headcanon, about Tashi and reader being friends and playing tennis together, but reader is chubby and insecure a about her body, she feels a little jealous of Tashi and the other girls that play tennis and feels guilty about it. Tashi is secretly in love with her, at first reader can't really accept because she can't believe someone would be in love with her. Can you do female reader?"

this is going to be one of those rare occasions where i will be more specific about a reader's appearance and gender. something i also think is important is that i tend to imagine my reader as not white. so this does bleed into these head canons. if that's too serious for you, you're better off not following me.

pairing: tashi duncan x chubby! fem! reader

for vibes: "jealousy jealousy" by olivia rodrigo

context: stanford 2007

word count: 1.8k words

Love cannot exist without Envy.

When you love someone, to some extent you envy that person. There's something they have that you envy. That is what you grew up believing and that is the worldview of love that you were left with. On top of your mother telling you that girls like you do not receive the flowers, guitars, and romantic rescues that all the rom-com heroines you watched had.

Your favorite romantic comedies were My Big Fat Greek Wedding, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Love Actually–the third being more of a guilty pleasure. The only movie that came close to representing a girl like you, with your body type, was My Big Fat Greek Wedding. That was the right kind of rom-com, the one where the woman didn't need to change herself. She just developed confidence and scored the guy of her dreams.

Unfortunately, real life was not as kind as the movies.

"You can't quit tennis!"

"What makes you say that?" You play with your food, poking the fettuccine alfredo with chicken recipe you cooked up for the both of you. You were craving something creamy this time of night. And Tashi was too.

"You just can't. You're amazing. Why would you quit? With talent like yours, it seems like such a waste to just quit." Tashi had already finished her plate.

"It was fun while it lasted. But I don't see myself doing it."

"Bullshit (Y/N)." You could never look at her when you lied.

Tashi recalls the first time she saw you play. It was the day after her own match. And you were pure fire. Your strokes were quick, most of your serves unreturnable. She felt bad for your opponent because you never gave her a chance. Instead, you decimated her. In short, you were a phenomenon. Someone like herself.

You two played the next day. Tashi won, but she never felt such a thrill, such a surge of adrenaline. You were the only opponent she's played so far to have her respect and friendship. You were great. And she wished the world could see what she saw.

Your passion for tennis rivaled Tashi's. It was your purpose in life. It was the perfect sport for you to destress yourself to, hitting balls and rallying yourself against the walls in the public park. You wanted to achieve that envious Grand Slam career title. You wanted to continue in tennis. You didn't want to quit.

"Is it those assholes again?"

You look up at Tashi. You both dealt with your share of racism. But you had an extra pile of shit thrown on top of you. People say all the time that chubby people can't play tennis. And it didn't help that among the players of your generation, you were the only one with a body size bigger than a 14. Being both non-white and chubby only made the vitriol worse and the interpersonal competition harsher.

"Come on. You can't listen to them." Tashi sets down the pasta bowl. You painted it for her that one time you guys decided to try pottery painting. She takes a sip of water from the mug you gifted her. And the cherry on top was that she was wearing one of your shirts. You left it at her house when you slept over.

"That's easy for you to say." You set your plate down.

A frown forms on her face. You don't like it when Tashi frowns. "(Y/N)..."

"It's all they talk about." Your eyes rake over her figure. Thin arms. A limber, slender body. Athletic with the right muscle balance so she didn't seem like too much of an athlete. She was model material, Tashi Duncan. And that's why all the offers came rolling in for her. All the brand deals, all the money. And you were instead left with scraps, still wrapping duct tape around the handle of your dad's Wilson racket. Relying on the graciousness of Tashi Duncan when you were in a tough spot. She bought you new shoes in time for the U.S. Open this year because your old ones had holes and were worn down. You hated relying on her. You hated that she always insisted you didn't need to pay her back. Your company was enough.

Your love was enough.

"What's the point in playing tennis if no one is going to talk about me playing tennis!" You raise your voice out of frustration. You were so angry that you could throw the plate at the wall and break it. "All everyone wants to talk about is how fat I am and that fat girls don't belong in tennis! It's not going anywhere! No one but you sees my potential. And my family and I have been losing money! It's too costly. Stanford didn't even take me for tennis." You were accepted for your brains. Not for your true passion. It wasn't worth investing in tennis when you were getting nothing in return. Nothing but racist, fatphobic vitriol that continued to wear you down every day.

"And that's why you should continue to play. You need to prove them wrong!" Tashi keeps her voice steady. "You prove them wrong, then they can't say shit."

You wanted to believe her. But you knew the truth. You weren't Tashi Duncan. You could never be Tashi Duncan. Only girls like Tashi Duncan and Irina Petrovska got the brand deals, got the fame, got the money.

Only girls like them got to continue their passion and turn it into a career.

"Proving them wrong won't do them anything. At this point I'm just...a circus pig." Your voice drops, but Tashi can hear what you said.

"You're not a circus pig."

"That's easy for you to say! You're...You're fucking perfect! You're the face of tennis! You're who people think of when someone brings up the term tennis player. Not me! You. I'm not meant to be on the court."

"Don't say that. Don't. Say. That." Desperation bleeds into Tashi's voice as she looks at you. "Do you remember what we agreed on during that after party? After our match?"

Your lack of a response tells her that you do. "We're going up there. Together. Next year. Doubles. Me and you. We're going to take over the world." Her fingers tap against the table. "You can't quit! You promised you would play with me! You promised you would. And we always keep our promises."

"Well maybe I'm fed up. Maybe I'm just done with it all." You sip your water. "Proving them wrong only seems to enhance the insults I get! It only makes things worse for me! And it only hurts you!"

"Why would it hurt me?" Tashi is in disbelief.

"Because I'm someone you shouldn't associate with. I shouldn't be playing with you! I don't deserve to! I'm a terrible friend!" Your voice cracks. "I am so jealous of you Tashi. All the time. There's always this sick twisting in my stomach. And you deserve everything that you've gotten but I can't help but feel that some of it should go to me! But it doesn't because I'm the fat one! And no one wants to see a fat girl in an Adidas ad. And it's not fair to you because you didn't do anything! And I don't deserve to be friends with you or even play against your because I'm a terrible person!"

She doesn't respond. She's too busy looking at you, watching the way your face contorts with emotion, the way your tears fall from your eyes. It was like you were unloading everything.

Tashi hated seeing you cry.

"You can't quit tennis."

You look at her with shock. Is that all she could say after everything you dumped on her?

You expected her to fume, to lash out. Or maybe to tell you to go kill yourself. She's done her fair share of that to people. And yet, all she can tell you is that you can't quit tennis.

"You still somehow managed to make this about tennis."

Tashi leans forward, her hand taking yours. She enjoys the feeling of your soft skin. You always took great care of your skin, moisturizing constantly. If she needed some cream to moisturize her dried out hands, she could always ask you. You had so much in your purse. She could smell that lavender cream you used. Some said it was the scent only old people picked. But she found herself craving that lavender smell late at night in her bed.

"I understand...everything...you're saying. Remember that time we were talking? About how we both envy white girls and their opportunities and their easy life and their ability to get away with everything on the court." She remembers the thinly veiled racist remarks fired at the both of you when you were playing against white opponents. The rage she felt but couldn't exercise because letting her emotions run free would only make her the angry Black woman and they would instead penalize her.

"Tashi-"

"I don't hold it against you. That's...the way the game is right now." The both of you were playing a white man's sport. Unfortunately, this was the reality.

"It's...stupid. And ridiculous. You shouldn't even be friends with me!"

"(Y/N), I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Tashi Duncan...loves you? Even after everything you confessed? You wanted to say so many things, wanted to tell her that she was wrong to love you. She couldn't love you and shouldn't love you.

"Why?" is all you managed to muster out.

Her eyes soften. "I..." There were so many reasons why. Your laugh. Your determination. The way you ran your fingers through her hair when she laid her head on your lap. How soft you were. Your hugs. Your lips. Those unreturnable serves of yours. The way your skirts would hike up those thick thighs of yours. That serving tick of yours where you would tap the ball against the edge of your racket three times.

Her heart sinks when you pull your hand out of hers and stand up from your seat. You needed to take a walk. You needed to think for a minute.

"(Y/N)..." Tashi stands up to follow after you. She grabs your wrist and you turn around to look at her.

"Tashi...I don't...I don't deserve you-"

She leans forward, pressing her lips against yours harshly. You're shocked by the sudden feeling, taking a step backwards into the wall. Tashi cups your face with both of her hands, keeping you there. She pulls away, watching your face to see if you would react in any way. "(Y/N)..."

You close the gap between you two once more and place your hands on her waist, slowly guiding her to the bed as she gets lost in the smell of lavender.

[kyberphilosopher]

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing. 

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish. 

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views. 

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn��t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that. 

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in. 

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss. 

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid. 

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you. 

There it is. 

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm. 

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence. 

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here. 

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had. 

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection. 

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him. 

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you. 

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming. 

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite. 

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing. 

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.” 

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway. 

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames. 

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute. 

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using. 

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him. 

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this. 

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light. 

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often. 

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.” 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier. 

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way. 

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge. 

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket. 

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back. 

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin. 

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still. 

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds. 

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist. 

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments. 

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him. 

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder. 

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat. 

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren. 

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips. 

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise. 

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have. 

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be. 

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips. 

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time. 

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story. 

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.  

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick. 

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure. 

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him. 

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric. 

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense. 

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him. 

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum. 

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...” 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly. 

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over. 

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you. 

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience. 

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back. 

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years. 

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth. 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this. 

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs. 

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably. 

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly. 

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him. 

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally. 

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes. 

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him. 

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

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Part 7

You did not, in fact, spend the night in the lovely room Zemo had made up for you. No, you had spent it with him. You woke up with his arm around you. He greeted you with a smile as you turned over to look at him. Then he kisses your forehead before pulling you into his chest.

Last night was amazing. Eventually you stopped making out outside his locker room and he got changed. You went out on your date, as he promised he would do. He took you to a reply nice bar. You both stayed there for hours, drinking and chatting.

You had to get a cab back to his house, neither of you fit to drive. It was good fun though.

You smiled softly. He was so warm.

"Good morning," he whispers, kissing the top of your head. His voice is all deep and thick from sleep. It makes his accent all the more pronounced... and sexy.

"Good morning."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. Right now, in this very moment, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

"My handsome pro racer," you mutter, fingers caressing his jaw softly. He leans into your touch ever so slightly, the softest smile tugging at his lips.

"Your handsome pro racer?" He asks, still whispering.

"I think we're at that stage, no?"

He chuckles again, pulling you in to kiss you properly. You fit against him perfectly. Everything in this moment perfect, serene, and as it should be.

"Do I get breakfast?" You asks, cheeky grin on your face.

"Yes. I'll cook for you."

You kiss him once more before he slides out of bed and puts some clothes on. You laugh as he dresses. You had quite the night last night.

You stay in bed a little longer before you get up. You feel so at home here. Eventually you just miss him and get up. You grab some clothes, go into the bathroom, and get ready.

Zemo cooks up a delicious breakfast for you both. He serves it with some tea. He smiles as you enter the room, looking just as amazing as always.

"Breakfast is served."

You sit down with a smile and tuck in. It just feels so domestic and homey having breakfast with Helmut. As you sat there eating what he had made for you, a thought comes to mind.

Is this the start of something incredible?

You had hope that was the case. You didn't think you could go back to your lifestyle after being a part of his. This was where you wanted to be, you were sure of it.

"I'm going to hand in my notice soon," you say, glancing up at him.

The smile on his face was one of the most wonderful sights you has ever seen.

"I'll have things organised for you when you're ready to take over as my manager."

You grin.

"I have a lot to learn, but I won't let you down. We're a team now."

"Yes, we are."

After breakfast, you help clean up, you jump in the shower, and then you grab your phone. You give your boss a ring and alert him of what you wanted to do. When he asked why you were leaving, you told him about the offer you had received, trying to sound as casual about it as possible.

He freaked out when he heard you were going into the racing industry. After all, he was a fan of Zemo.

Everything felt like it was working out and coming together.

You hung up and turned to Zemo who had been waiting for you. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back, grinning.

"Well?" Though he didn't really have to ask.

"It's a done deal. He wants me to do one more shift, so he can give me a proper farewell, but then I'm all yours!"

He kisses you.

He had never felt this happy before. He held you to him, burying his nose into the crook of your neck. It was here as he hugged you that he felt like he could do anything. He just needed to win these next two races.

Your phone rang.

You sighed as you pulled away from Zemo, giving him a sad smile as you went to pick it up. Zemo leaves so you can have some privacy, already missing you.

"Hello?"

"Y/N?"

It was 'your friend.'

"What can I do for you?" You ask, keeping your guard up. After her little tantrum, you didn't exactly trust her any more.

"We need to talk."

"Do we?" You keep your voice curt and clipped.

"Yes. There is something you need to know. I could tell you over the phone, but I think it's best we talk in person. You may not believe me if we don't, and I have evidence."

"What are you going on about?"

"Your boyfriend isn't being honest with you."

"My boyfriend? What about yours?" You ask, sharply. "What was all that shit you pulled at the race?"

"What? Jealous because he loves me?"

"No. What have I got to be jealous of?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you. Meet me at The Alpine bar tonight. Come alone."

She hangs up.

You stare at your phone, glaring at it.

No longer hearing your voice, Zemo returns. He sees you looking at your phone.

"Something the matter?"

You look up at him quickly.

"Uh, a certain someone wants to meet with me."

Zemo comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You lean back into his chest and sigh.

"What does she want?"

"I don't know. She wants to meet me at The Alpine bar."

"That's in town. I'll drop you off if you would like."

"Alright. She wants to meet tonight."

He turns you around so he can look at you. Softly, he caresses your cheek with the back of his long fingers. You lean into his touch the same way he did to you this morning.

"Something is troubling you."

"She troubles me."

He kisses your forehead lightly. A great sense of pride and achievement washes over him. He can do this whenever he wants. You have given him the permission he needed. His lips longer there.

"Whatever it is, we can deal with it."

You nod subtly.

He steps back and look at you, smiling handsomely at you.

"I have an idea."

"Hm?"

"I want to show you something. Grab some shoes and your jacket, we are going out," he says, leaving your side in favour of finding his coat.

You do as he said and wait for him by the door.

Zemo returns to your side wearing a long dark coat, fur embedded at the collar. So extra, yet so him.

He grabs your hand as you leave the house.

Zemo keeps a hold of your hand as he leads you away from the house. You walk together toward a huge garage sitting up ahead from his house. You hadn't noticed it yesterday as you were blown away by the house itself.

You had a pretty good idea on what was in there. You smile at him as you approach the building.

Zemo has you stop stop at the large double doors. You grin excitedly at him as he unlocks the doors. He winks at you before pulling the door open.

The lights turn on as he flicks a switch off to the side and before you is a beautiful sight. Dozens and dozens of cars. All kinds of makes and models. Lots of different colours. Many of them were in perfect condition. There were a few really old ones that had early seen better days, but still looked amazing. They were all lined up in rows.

"Wow."

Zemo watches as you approach the first set of cars in front of you. You look at them in awe. Glancing behind you, he nods at you. You walk along the line.

"They're all yours?"

"Every single one. Passed down through generations of my family," he says, looking at them with nostalgia.

"Helmut, this is so cool!" You touch one carefully. This feels like such a special and important moment. This is a peek at another part of his life. Looking around, you spot a few familiar cars, ones he has picked you up in before.

"That reminds me, you'll need to get your car from the bar."

"Ah yes, we took a cab home, didn't we? I'll sort that out tonight while you meet with... you know."

You nod and walk along some more.

You took secret glanced at the man following you around his collection. You trusted him. You did! Yet, there was something settling in the back of your mind. A nagging feeling that whatever it was she was going to tell you, was bad.

She spoke about him as if he had some dark secret to hide. You worried that this wasn't some little misdeed just because she was upset with you.

You couldn't ask him, could you?

Maybe it was best to see what she had to say before bringing anything up.

Zemo came to stand beside you, arm snaking around you. You were standing in front of the first car he had picked you up in, the convertible.

"It was in this car fate decided to bring us together," he says, trying to make it sound as cheesy as he could.

"How sappy." You roll you eyes.

He kisses your cheek.

"It's true, no?"

You turn your head to smile and kiss him properly.

"Yeah, it's true."

Negative thoughts melt into nothing when he has you like this. He's safe and warm. He's home. Your home. He could be.

"Shall we drive?"

You nod.

"Pick a car. Your choice," he whispers.

You smile as you turn around and look at the collection. One if the back catches your eye. It's purple. His colour.

"That one."

He says nothing as he walks over to the back, opens a cabinet on the back wall, plucks a key from within, and then beckons you over.

"Let's go."

You're grinning as you climb in the car. You'll worry about the meet up later. For now, you wanted to feel free again with Zemo.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: July

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: June

-----

July 2020

Chris was stressed.

It was understandable as he'd just launched his new endeavour - A Starting Point - but it was worrying me how anxious and overwhelmed he seemed to be. The feedback so far had been good, but he was still concerned about how it was going to be received and whether or not people would actually find it useful. He had several long, full days of interviews scheduled to promote it and explain what they hoped to achieve and, after the first week, he was exhausted which made him moody and withdrawn.

It didn't help that Grayson had quickly adjusted to having our undivided attention and was growing increasingly frustrated with his dad's busy schedule. The Friday after the launch, Chris promised him that he'd be done by bedtime so he could tuck him in, but technical difficulties got in the way and he was once again stuck in front of his laptop until well into the evening.

And that was where I found him, at almost nine o'clock, when I went to see if he'd be finished anytime soon. I'd poked my head around the door and saw him sat at his desk with his head in his hands and the sight made my heart ache.  Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"Hey," I greeted him softly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he assured me, but the sigh that followed told me otherwise. "Just tired. It's been a busy week."

"It has. We've missed you."

My words weren't meant to add guilt to his stress, but I realized my mistake when he winced.

"Sorry," he mumbled, placing a kiss on my arm where it rested across his chest. "I did try to finish early today - I suggested we push the last interview until tomorrow when we hit the connection issues, but they weren't having it. Was Grayson mad that I missed bedtime again?"

"Not mad," I shrugged. "Just a bit disappointed."

Chris' head fell forward and his shoulders stiffened.

"That's worse."

"No, it's not," I insisted, squeezing him tightly. "He was just a little sad, but he got over it. I promised him that you'd do something fun with him when you weren't so busy and he accepted that."

"I was actually thinking of taking him to the museum to see the dinosaur exhibit," Chris admitted. "They just reopened, but he'd have to wear a mask."

"He'd love that," I smiled, knowing how much both of them loved their father and son days. We'd made an effort to give him more one on one time, but it was limiting when we hadn't been able to leave the house much until recently. "And I think he'd be okay with a mask. We can order one and get him to wear it at home for a bit to get used to it."

"Good idea," Chris nodded. "I can do that tomorrow"

"Or I can," I suggested, kissing the side of his head. "You're busy enough at the moment. And you're stressed, I can feel the tension in your shoulders."

Chris sighed again and I felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"I know. This project just means a lot to me. I want it to do well."

"And it is," I reminded him as an idea hit me. "C'mon, I know what you need to help you relax."

"Oh, yeah?" Chris smirked and I rolled my eyes as his mind had clearly gone straight to something dirty. "What would that be?"

"Probably not whatever you're thinking of," I informed him. "But there's some pizza left in the kitchen. Go have a slice of that and then meet me in the bedroom."

"Alright, I like the sound of this."

His smirk had grown and I swatted the back of his head as I slid my arms off of his shoulders.

"Don't be such a perv!"

He laughed and stood up from his chair as I shook my head and he pulled me in for a quick kiss before we headed downstairs and went our separate ways.

-

If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was run the perfect bath for relaxation. It had been my tradition every evening after I'd dropped Gray off at Chris' house - I would pour myself a glass of wine and take a bath, enjoying the opportunity for a long soak without the risk of Grayson interrupting. The bathtub in Chris' en suite made that indulgence even better due to it's size and depth and I'd taken advantage of it several times during our stay with Chris. Which meant that I had quite the assortment of bath salts and bubble bath to create the perfect bath for Chris.

The tub had just finished filling up when he walked in and I heard him chuckle at the sight.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed."

"Oh, shush," I teased, turning around to face him once I'd turned off the taps. "This will be much more effective than whatever you were imagining."

Chris scoffed at that claim, a smirk firmly on his face.

"I disagree."

"I'm sure you do, but that's too bad. Now, strip."

"Ooh, I like it when you're bossy."

His comment earned another roll of my eyes as I crossed my arms and waited for him to do as I'd instructed.

As he did, I couldn't help, but stare. He seemed to be toning up even more during our quarantine and the sight of his perfectly sculpted body took my breath away every time I had the luxury of seeing it. He caught my gaze and colour flooded my cheeks as I knew that he'd seen me gawking at him, but despite the smug look on his face, he made no comment as he climbed into the tub.

Once he was settled with his head resting back on the edge of the tub, I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and picked my phone up from where it was sitting on the counter. I unlocked the screen with the intention of replying to my mother who had messaged me while I was getting the bath ready, but a giggle slipped from my lips when I saw what was already open on my phone from earlier that day. Chris raised a questioning eyebrow and I debated whether or not to tell him about it. It had the potential to send his stress levels sky rocketing again, but if he thought I was hiding something from him, it would probably irritate him and ruin his mood anyway so I came clean.

"Hannah sent me a link to an Instagram account today that posts lots of gossip stuff," I informed him. "Most of it seems to be just random submissions, but they've been right a few times, I guess, so people seem to believe whatever they say now."

"And why did she send you a link to it?"

"Because apparently you're engaged."

I was smiling as I broke the news to him because obviously I knew it wasn't true, but Chris let out a groan of annoyance.

"Engaged to who?! To you?"

"No, to a mysterious blonde. Apparently, the person who sent in the message has a friend who spotted you picking up some takeout with this woman. Her ring was clearly on display and you were openly affectionate with her while you waited for your food."

"That's just a straight up lie," Chris huffed. "I don't know why people waste their time making this shit up and I really don't know why you bother reading it."

"It's not like I seek it out, but Hannah finds it entertaining to see what people are saying about us," I shrugged. "You have to admit that it's kinda funny. It sends everyone into such a frenzy."

Chris shot me a look.

"Funny isn't the word I'd use."

"C'mon, it's a little amusing!" I smiled, scrolling down to the comments. "Like, look, they're discussing whether or not I fit the description in case I just dyed my hair blonde. But then someone else says they saw me in L.A. two weeks ago, around the time you were with the blonde woman, so it couldn't possibly be me. They're like little detectives."

Chris rolled his eyes, but there was a reluctant smile on his face.

"Detectives aren't allowed to just make things up," he pointed out. "Unless you took a secret trip a few weeks ago that I didn't know about."

"No, I didn't," I laughed. "You have some very creative fans."

"I don't think it's my fans who write that stuff. It's probably other people trying to antagonize them."

"Well, it works like a charm. They go nuts trying to decide if it's true. I just wish they wouldn't get so mean about it sometimes," I admitted. "Like, some of them were saying how glad they were that you'd moved on from me finally because of how cruel it is that I ruined your life by trapping you with a baby."

The scowl on Chris' face instantly returned with that additional information and I scolded myself for saying it.

"I should have let Downey sue them all like he wanted to when it first leaked that you were pregnant," Chris huffed. "Then maybe by now these gossip pages would know better than to post shit about us."

"It would have just made things worse," I insisted as a smirk slid onto my face. "Besides, it doesn't really bother me. I'm the one sitting next to you while you lounge completely naked in a bubble bath while they spiral into a jealous pit of despair."

That comment earned me a laugh before he sat up a bit higher in the tub.

"Why are you sitting over there anyway?" He asked. "Get in here with me."

I smiled at his demand, but shook my head.

"This isn't supposed to be a sexy bath. You're supposed to be relaxing."

"And what better way to relax than to share a bath with the woman I love?"

A statement like that was hard to resist, especially as he grinned up at me from the tub with that amazing smile of his. I relented with surprisingly little resistance and rose from where I was sitting.

"I suppose that's fair..."

Putting my phone back on the counter, I turned so my back was to Chris. I could feel his eyes burning into me as he stared and I bit back a smirk. I quickly undid the button on the shorts I was wearing and slid them down my legs, bending at the waist as I stepped out of them. A noise of approval came from behind me as I stood up again and I shot him what I hoped was a sexy look over my shoulder before I pulled my shirt over my head. After slipping out of my bra and quickly pulling off my panties, I left them with my shorts and turned around with one hand over my chest to keep it covered until I was settled in the tub under all the bubbles.

"Wow," Chris grinned. "You're so fuckin' hot."

I giggled at his compliment, feeling a wave of self-confidence from my little strip tease.

For the past few weeks I'd been spending more time in Chris' home gym and I was feeling the positive side effects - more than just in my slowly developing muscle tone. We'd had a fight one night not long after our first pool day when I made some self-deprecating comments that rubbed Chris the wrong way. He scolded me rather harshly for always talking badly about my body and, while at first his exasperated reaction made me shut down, it eventually led to a very open conversation.

I explained that I wasn't just fishing for compliments all the time. I had some serious insecurities and - as analyzed by Hannah who was a very well trained psychologist - I tended to put myself down first before someone else could do it. I informed him that it wasn't just the body changes that come from pregnancy that bothered me, but the fact that I hadn't had much time to go to the gym since Gray was born - when he was with me, I was busy with him and when he was with Chris, I was busy with work.

He understood where I was coming from and reminded me that his home gym was available for my use any time I wanted, but insisted that I make sure I was doing it for the right reasons. He didn't want me killing myself to change how I looked when I didn't really need to, but I assured him that my motivations weren't all vanity related. Sure, I wanted to look good, but I missed feeling strong and healthy.

After our conversation, I’d started taking some time every day to get some exercise and the difference it was making to my confidence even after a few short weeks was huge. So, hearing Chris' praise now made me feel wonderful because I was actually starting to believe it.

"Thanks," I smiled in response to his compliment as I got settled in the bath tub. We were facing each other, my legs draped over his thighs so my feet were resting by his hips and my bum was between his shins. He grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together as he watched me with what could only be described as an adoring look. "It's amazing what a few weeks at the gym can do."

"Helps that you were pretty hot to start with too," he teased. "But I'm glad you're feeling more confident."

"Me too." I leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. "So, are you feeling more relaxed?"

"I am," Chris nodded before letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry I've been so stressed out lately. I just want this whole thing to go well."

"And it is," I repeated my earlier assurance. "So far you've had a great reaction."

"For now," he frowned. "I just want people to actually use it and get involved."

"They will," I assured him, leaning in for another kiss. "Have I told you how proud I am of you? You're doing such a great thing, using your influence to try and make a difference. It's very inspiring."

"Well, I think you're too kind," he told me, trying to be humble despite the proud grin on his face. "Really, it's the least I can do."

"Nope, the least you could do is nothing," I pointed out. "But you're trying to help people and I'm so proud of you for that. I'm grateful that Grayson has a dad like you to look up to."

It appeared - for a brief moment - that Chris' eyes grew a little bit glassy, but he blinked a few times and they were clear once again.

"Thanks, Winnie." He paused to clear his throat. "That really means a lot and I'm sorry I've been so busy this week. I have one more podcast interview to do tomorrow morning and then I have a few days off."

"I'm glad you'll get a break, but you don't need to be sorry," I assured him. "Even though it has been kinda weird. It's crazy that a few months ago, we only ever saw each other in passing, but now I miss you when you're busy for even a few hours."

It was true. I had missed him the last few days and it did seem ridiculous when we used to go weeks without seeing each other and even then it was just briefly at a pick up or drop off. I'd been spoiled the last few months, having so much of his time. Now, seeing him every day wasn't even enough if I didn't have much of his undivided attention.

A brief flash of dread tore through me as I shared that thought with Chris because I knew this would all come to an end some day. We couldn't stay locked away in his house forever, eventually we would both have to go back to work and I knew it would make things harder. Some people found that the intense quality time was testing their relationship, but I was worried that we'd start to crumble as soon as we weren't together almost twenty-four hours a day. Once the world of Hollywood got it's claws back in Chris, I couldn't help but wonder where that would leave me.

But as always when those thoughts filled my mind, I did my best to push them away. It was likely still months before anything would change so there was no point in stressing about it now and Chris chuckled, bringing me back to the moment.

"Awe, you’ve missed me?"

His words were accompanied by a cocky smirk and I smiled despite my rolling eyes.

"Shut up."

"It's sweet. I never thought you'd be a clingy kinda girlfriend."

I wrinkled my nose in displeasure at that thought and shook my head.

"I'm not clingy!"

"Kinda sounds like you are," he pointed out. "Can't even get through a work day without pining for me."

"I wasn't pining!" I huffed, but he continued insisting that it seemed like I was. "Well, I was just about to suggest we get out of this bath, but now I think maybe you don't deserve what I was thinking of doing next."

"Get out? You just got in," Chris pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "What else have you got planned?"

Now it was my turn to smirk as I rested my hands on the side of the tub before pushing up until I was standing in front of him.

"A little extra relaxation," I told him, deliberately keeping it vague. "But I guess now, you'll never know."

I stepped out of the tub and grabbed my towel. With one last glance back at Chris who was still sitting in the bath, looking a mix of surprised and intrigued, I wrapped the towel around myself and left the bathroom - making sure to sway my hips a little more than usual on my way out.

I heard the water slosh as Chris leapt up to follow me and he appeared in the bedroom - towel around his waist and water dripping to the floor - moments later.

"Chris!" I laughed. "You're getting the floor all wet!"

"So are you," he pointed out. "But I don't care."

I hardly had time to take in his words before he strode swiftly across the room and pulled me against his chest. His hands gripped my hips so tightly that it undid my towel and he moved just briefly enough for it to fall to the floor. Once that was out of the way, he captured my lips in a kiss so fierce it made my breath catch in my chest.

I indulged for a moment, enjoying the feel of his hands roaming by body as his lips worked against mine, but then I remembered who this evening was supposed to be about. I pulled back slightly, just enough to trail my lips across his jaw and locked them onto a spot just below his ear as my hands moved to the towel around his waist. I could feel a slight bulge pressing against me - he wasn't hard yet, but it was clear that the anticipation was having an effect on him - and I untucked the towel and let it fall down with mine to give me easier access.

I heard Chris take in a shaky breath and felt him tighten his grip on me as I took him in my hand. Smiling against his skin and enjoying his little reactions, I stroked him until he was thick and full from my touch.

"Get on the bed."

Chris' tone was demanding and there was definitely a part of me that wanted to follow his instructions, but I resisted and moved my face away from where it was buried in his neck, shaking my head.

"No, this is all about you," I reminded him. "You need to relax."

He voiced a few protests as I kissed my way down his chest, but he fell silent as I dropped to my knees in front of him. His hands were clenched in fists by his side while I continued to gently stroke him, placing soft kisses on the top of his thigh, but when my kisses moved closer until my lips landed on his cock, his hands shot to grip in my hair. He wasn't forcing anything or trying to control my movements, but the sense of control that action gave him was something I knew he enjoyed and I smiled before getting down to business.

I licked him slowly from base to tip, making him shudder as I took him into my mouth. His hips twitched, pushing farther in and I did my best to accommodate him. Letting him slide slowly over my tongue, I stretched my jaw to get my mouth around his thick shaft. He always felt big - he was big - but this action made it even more apparent and I took as much of him as I could before sliding back up his cock.

Pausing for a moment to suck at the tip, I used my hand to stroke him as I lifted my eyes to look up at his face. His hand gripped my hair tighter as he threw his head back briefly, then returned his gaze to me and met my eyes. I smiled around his cock before letting my lips move farther down, taking him back in my mouth. Not feeling completely confident in my ability to deep throat someone of his size, I used my hand to cover the base and began to bob my head with renewed enthusiasm, spurred on by all the sighs and groans that were falling from his lips.

I could feel myself growing wet. His reactions, the position we were in, the slight tug of my hair - it was all overwhelming me and increasing the temptation to let him fall from my mouth, push him onto the bed and ride him until we both couldn't take it anymore, but I tried to stay focused as I worked his cock.

After a few minutes, I could tell he was getting close as his grip on my head began leading me more and more, a sign his self control was waning. That only spurred me on, but as his breathing shifted until he was practically panting and I could feel his thigh muscles tensing where my hand was resting, I heard a sound that would kill any mood.

"Mama!"

Grayson's voice floated down the stairs. It was distant and quiet, but enough to make my blood run cold as I instantly pulled my mouth off Chris.

"Fuck," Chris groaned, a pained look on his face as I shot up from where I was kneeling. "Fuck, that kid has bad timing."

Gray called for me again, sounding slightly closer than he had before and I threw on one of Chris' shirts that was crumpled up on the bed. Luckily, it fit me like a dress and covered everything that needed to be covered.

"I'm so sorry, babe," I flashed him an apologetic look. "I'll take care of him and you can take care of that."

I gestured to his still very hard and throbbing cock and the poor man looked like he wanted to cry as I hurried out of the room.

Turns out, Grayson was just thirsty so after a quick drink of water, I tucked him back into bed. By the time I returned to our bedroom, Chris was fast asleep as he lay sprawled out, still naked on top of the duvet. It looked as if he had just collapsed onto the bed and even though he was asleep, his face still showed his exhaustion. I felt a flash of sympathy as I pulled the blanket off the back of the chair in the corner of the room and covered him up with it, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before climbing in to my side of the bed.

-

August

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Two

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.2k

After a moment of gathering your thoughts, you open your eyes to see other students begin to filter into the large auditorium. The little wooden desks that flip out from below the seats force people to squeeze past each other and give awkward sorries. Coming from calc, you thankfully don’t have to do the awkward shuffle as you came straight from a nearby building. While watching the students trickle in, you notice that many hold coffee in their hands and you suddenly are incredibly jealous… that guy from your last class wasn’t wrong in his assumption of your night owl status.

You sigh, and pull out your laptop to pull up the syllabus for the class. You were slightly nervous for this class, as it was completely out of your comfort zone. You hadn’t yet settled on a major, so you were knocking out some general classes while you were a freshman. And now, you were sitting in an Intro to Composition class to fulfill your creative work requirement. You really didn’t have experience with music in any formal sense, but you always loved to listen to music as you did basically anything. You found that music helped make the more unpleasurable bits of life more bearable. And the good bits, well, they always seem to have a good beat behind them too.

While you begin to look at some of the upcoming projects and their due dates, you feel the seat below you shift as someone occupies the seat next to you. When you glance up, you first see that since you pulled your laptop out, the lecture hall had quickly filled up. Your eyes dart over to your new seat buddy, and you can’t help but feel your eyes widen a bit. It was a boy with a slight build, but definitely a powerful aura. From your view, the sharpness of his jawline coupled with his soft looking cheeks was enough to inspire Michelangelo himself, you thought. While he was bent over slightly pulling out his desk, you shifted your eyes to look at his. He had soft eyes, and you could just barely tell he added a bit of a peach shadow and mascara to his look. Framing his face was inky black hair that was gelled to perfectly hang just to the edges of his dark brows.

Not wanting to get caught staring, you drag your eyes away from him and back to your laptop. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and willed it to recede --- you’ve had enough of embarrassing yourself today, you thought. Why oh why God, did you send freaking male models to your university, and not only that, but make them attend the same classes as you!

You quickly snap out of your thoughts as you hear a voice come from close to your right side. Eyes going from your laptop to the speaker, you realize it’s the boy next to you that spoke.

“Hey, just so you know I think your bag is caught on the chair, and looks like it’ll spill…”

His voice is more light and melodic than you anticipated from his angular features, but you don’t really fully process the thought before you realize that yes, your bag is precariously hanging from the edge of the chair between you, and it looks like your notebook and pens are about to end up scattered across the lecture hall. You gasp and grab your bag before it dumps, and lift the strap to untangle it.

“Oh my God, thank you so much, I’m sorry!” Your words rush out of your mouth as you zip the bag to prevent further disaster. How embarrassing, you groan to yourself internally.

He lets out a tinkling giggle, “No worries, happens to the best of us.” Said with a smile, he makes you feel better about the awkward situation almost immediately.

You smile back at him, “I suppose that’s true”. His grin widens a bit at your reply, and you notice his eyes squinch up to the point where they seem to disappear a bit, which you have to admit is incredibly endearing.

“My name’s Jimin!”

“Y/n. Nice to meet you!” Your smile gets larger at his introduction, it’s nice to be making a friend in a class that you already feel out of your depth in, and not to mention one that is as kind and not at all bad to look at.

“You too! So, what year are you? I’m a second year.” His smile never left his face.

“Oh, I’m only a first year actually!” You hated having to tell people you were a new student, honestly, but you kept your smile hoping he wouldn’t tease you too hard for it.

“Aw, you’re just a baby! Don’t worry, sunbae will take care of you!” His smile definitely had a cheshire quality to it now.

“Is that a promise sunbaenim?” You smirked back at him. While your words were formal, you were quick to pick up his flirty nature and turn it around on him. You saw his eyebrow lift in amusement at the subtle double entendre, and just as he was about to respond, a much louder voice cut him off from the front of the hall.

“Good morning everyone. Welcome to Intro to Composition. I am your professor, Doctor Choi. To my side here is this class’s learning assistant, Yoongi.” At this he swings his arm around to gesture to a boy giving a flat smile and nodding his head in greeting, his hands in his front pockets in a kind of forced relaxed stance.

“He is a fourth year student and is here to answer any questions you may have about the class material, as this is a rather large class.” The professor continues on, but you only give it partial attention, half because of already reading the syllabus, and half because you were getting a good look at the LA he introduced.

Yoongi was standing towards the wall of the auditorium, seemingly not wanting to be the center of attention. He wouldn’t have pulled your attention so much if it wasn’t for his gorgeous feline-like features that gave him an elegance, despite his slightly awkward demeanor. The glasses perched on his nose and the dark bangs swooped gently over his forehead gave beautiful contrast to his pale skin and pink lips. The silver hoops in his ears that reflected the overhead fluorescents gave him more of an edgy vibe, and it seemed to suit him well.

As it seems, Jimin thought so too. You turned to glance at your new friend to see him eyeing the LA you yourself was just examining. You watched him pull in one of his plush lips to pull it lightly with his top teeth. The quick action made you lift your brow in amusement. The introverted LA appeared to have a fan club in you and Jimin. After a quick glance around the room, you saw most of everyone beginning to type notes or watch your professor with way more attention than you or Jimin were giving him.

At this, you quickly refocused on the lecturer. Lord knows you need to pay attention to do well in this class with the zero experience you had with the material.

----

75 minutes later, the distinct sound of students shuffling as they put away their things and exit the room rings out. You and Jimin follow suit.

“What do you think of the first project that he introduced today? I’m a little nervous to be honest.” You look up from your bent over position to see Jimin’s eyebrows slightly furrowed as he expresses his concern.

“Yeah, me too. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with this stuff so it’ll definitely be a learning process.” Slipping into a conversation about the class was completely natural to you two. It seemed you two clicked as friends right off the bat.

“Tell me about it. I’m a freaking dance major, not a music major!” He let out a grown and tipped his head back as you both walked together out of the lecture hall.

“My advisor recommended this course to me because she said that some dance majors find it useful to learn about music construction, because it can help them be better at moving to the music. And because I tend to focus on contemporary, it makes sense. I’m just worried about not doing well in the class itself.” As he spoke, his face slipped into a cute pout.

His pout made you giggle, which you tried holding back behind your hand but he heard you before you were able to.

“What is so funny? Is my life struggle really that comedic to you hoobae?” He couldn’t hide the smile on his face, knowing how dramatic he was being. The slight giggle in his tone gave him away too.

“Of course not, I would never belittle your struggles, sunbae. You must have it so hard. Dancing requires an immense amount of brainpower, I don’t know how you are able to walk around with how big your brain is!” You widen your eyes for dramatic flair as you fight your lips from quirking up.

He stops dead in his tracts, and turns to you with his eyes nearly bulging out of his head at your sarcastic reply.

“Ya! Kids these days show no respect for their elders!” He bumps his hip into yours after catching up to you, “I’ll have you know I was class president for nine years in school! And valedictorian! And this is how I get treated!”

You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat and turn to him. “Were you really, sunbae? That’s amazing!” His easy-going attitude definitely didn’t leave you with the impression that he was that dedicated to his studies.

Now slightly sheepish, he shrugs. “Yeah, it’s true. I was a model student back then.”

Looking forward, he gives a bit of a bitter smile to himself. “You are wondering why I became a dance major, I imagine.”

Sensing the slight sensitivity to the topic, you shake your head as you answer, “Well, who am I to judge who does what major when I can’t even decide on one for myself?” You give him a shy smile.

By this point, you were both strolling down the brick path connecting the buildings of campus together, the bite of winter still remaining in the wind that blows your hair off your face on the otherwise sunny day.

He turns to look at you, with a slightly more evaluative gaze. You only hold eye contact for a second before moving your eyes forward again, trying to avoid blushing under his attention.

“You have time. Don’t force yourself into a path that others make for you.” His face was contemplative, and it seemed like he might have been speaking from personal experience.

“That’s good advice sunbae. Maybe your brain really is super big.” Your attempt to make him smile again works, and he lightly pushes your shoulder.

“Brat!” You can’t help but to let out a loud giggle, to which he lets out his own.

Seeing the street you needed to turn on for your next task of the day, you go to say goodbye to Jimin. “Well, this brat has to go buy groceries, so she’ll see you later.” You go to turn away, but before you can, he grabs your hand.

“You’re just going to leave your new friend without giving him a way to contact you? What if he has some pressing composition questions, huh? What is he to do then?” The teasing tone makes you smile.

“Well, if I remember correctly the LA you were checking out earlier is at your disposal sunbae.” He sputters for a couple seconds, pink coming to his cheeks making your smile widen, taking pleasure in catching him off guard.

“Okay, but you can’t tell me he isn’t yummy y/n!”

At this, you let out a cackle and bend over from the force of your laugh. You didn’t expect his answer, but you did have to agree with him. That LA, Yoongi his name is you think, definitely is yummy. He is gorgeous in an understated way.

After you finish laughing, you relent. “Okay, I’ll give you that. I’ll spare you the embarrassment of asking the yummy LA your dumb questions. Hand me your phone”.

He pulls his phone out of his canvas tote, holding his laptop and what looks like a textbook. You quickly type in your contact information, and hand it back to him.

“I appreciate your pity on my poor soul, y/n.”

“It’s more pity on Yoongi’s soul, actually.” You have to raise your voice as you are already walking away as you reply, your head turned over your shoulder. Your smile is met with a shake of his head and a tongue sticking out in your direction.

You laugh as you continue on towards the grocery store, happy that you were able to make such a good friend on just the first day of classes. Who knows what the rest of the semester has in store for you, if this is just day one, you think to yourself. Only time will tell.

[honeybeezx]

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 2

Author’s Note: Hey all! Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! This one will have a lot more of our favorite prince and paramour and the reader is such a badass. I’m really having the most fun writing this you guys have no idea😄

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of sex

Enjoy, love you all and as always, feedback is welcome!

——————

The brothel smelled of incense and sex. The men who had paid for the services apparently had no reservations about silencing their pleasure, nor the women. You were mildly annoyed by it all. You didn’t care or consider it lowly to work or attend a brothel, but it just seemed so...fake. People pretending that what they were feeling was love or passion when really it was just men finding release, both from sex and from their normal lives, and women getting their coin.

Not that you really knew what actual love was like, but you did know it wasn’t this.

One of the girls brought you to a room near the back. The ornate doors swung open to reveal who you could only assume was the prince and his princess. You weren’t really sure what you expected, but you found yourself shocked. He looked princely, certainly, but you weren’t expecting him to be so...striking. Bronzed skin against golden cloth...he looked like a work of art. And his princess was equally captivating. Her dark locks cascading against her dress seemed to compliment her lover’s own clothes. They both seemed to have a strong demeanor, even while they were allowing themselves to be vulnerable, wrapped in each other’s arms. Both of their heads turned to look at you, brown eyes meeting yours. You wondered how their gaze could even fall upon you when you were presenting them with the finest women the capital could offer.

The women you now know as Ros introduced you by both birth name and the one bestowed upon you through the tales spread throughout Westeros. The prince smirked and narrowed his eyes at you. The woman in his arms might as well have been undressing you with her eyes.

“The Silver Hawk.” He smiled, taking you in. He left his paramour’s side to stand before you. Your guard wasn’t easily lowered by attractive people, but even you had to admit they were both intimidatingly beautiful. The prince’s exposed chest and the heat of the princess’s eyes had your heart beating faster than you cared to let on. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My brother told me the stories about you and your silver arrows. Is it true that they were enchanted by the gods so that you can never miss?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I trained hard to achieve the level of skill I possess, I assure you.” The stories people told about you these days were becoming more absurd by the day. And you were slightly offended. To just be handed a gift with no hard work, no sense of accomplishment was no gift at all.

“Will we get the chance to see you prove that?” Ellaria asked hopefully as she joined her prince’s side.

“Perhaps.” If the Lannisters or any other of the terrible people in this city continued to annoy you, you didn’t doubt it, but you were not going to put on a show...Even if the Dornish woman did make your heart beat faster in your chest.

“I���ll be looking forward to it.” She smiled with a wink.

You cleared your throat and focused. You were here for a reason after all, and that wasn’t to entertain the guests with your skill. “The hand of the king, Tyrion Lannister apologizes for his absence this evening, but he wanted to offer these ladies as a welcoming gift and hopes you’ll excuse him.”

“A gift indeed.” His eyes raked over you, the woman behind him smirking. “A shame that Tyrion hides such an exquisite woman behind the ugly walls of the Lannister dwelling. You should be out in the sun, letting more people admire your beauty. Too bad...In Dorne, it would be a crime to hide such a rare gem.” It almost seemed like the prince couldn’t hide his desire, even if he wanted to (which he most certainly didn’t). His eyes traveled everywhere, from the tips of your boots to the smallest hair on your head.

You’ve never experienced whiplash before, but you imagined it felt a bit like this. To say you were surprised was an understatement. Not many people could catch you off guard, but not many people were so bold, especially towards you. You could do little to disguise your shock and you took a moment to find your voice. “Prince Oberyn, I am not an option here if that is what you are implying.” You retorted, rather defensively.

“That is not what I am implying, but it is interesting that the thought occurred to you.” He flashed a devilish smile and you wanted nothing more than to punch it off his handsome face.

“That is not what I-“

The prince placed a finger to his lips and you wanted to scream with anger at how easy it was for him to silence you with one simple action. He grinned before backing away, returning to the Dornish woman. “Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”

“It’s a pleasure.” She greeted, her voice dripping with a sultriness that would have made someone with less composure than you blush.

“The pleasure is all mine.” You replied, trying to recover from their boldness. You tried to remain calm, you made a promise to Tyrion that you would make the guests feel welcome. Why he trusted you with this particular task was beyond you.

“Hmm, I doubt it.” Ellaria grinned her eyes still raking over you.

A room full of half-naked women and they settle on me.

Both of them, flirting with the same woman right before their own partners. It intrigued you that they both shared the same lover. Neither of them seemed to care much about the gender of whom they chose to sleep with, only their beauty. They possessed a different type of freedom, one you were unfamiliar with. Your freedom was found when you were hunting, climbing trees, the rare times you found yourself near an ocean. For them, it was shameless passion and love, taking pleasure anywhere they could get it unapologetically. Life was theirs to enjoy, nothing could take that from them.

Which is why you found the fact that they were singling in on your armor-clad body so shocking. You couldn’t comprehend how anything you were wearing could draw their attention in a lustful sort of way.

“You should reconsider, by the way. We are very generous lovers. What a privilege it would be to say we made love to the stunning Silver Hawk of the North.” Oberyn raised a brow at you as he took a berry between his teeth, tongue swiping against the tips of his teeth, making a show of himself before actually eating it.

You cursed your skin for becoming so hot.

“Let me make myself clear Prince Oberyn.” You began, finding some strength to your voice again as you remembered your place, your. “I am not a whore. These women here, they are your options. What you decide to do with them is your business, but I am a guard to the king’s hand and I demand to be treated as such. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the palace.” You turned on your heel to leave, impossible without the prince having the last word.

“One more thing.” His voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned just enough to face him.

“When was the last time you experienced pleasure?”

All you could see was red.

“The first time I shot an arrow through an arrogant man’s chest.” Before you could stop your words they were already hung in the air. You were prepared for the prince to draw the dagger you noticed hanging at his hip, but he made no such move, his hands still around his paramour.

And he smiled.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Silver Hawk.”

“If I see the Red Viper again it will be too soon.”

You stormed out of the brothel, drawing looks from all those around you, but you didn’t care. They both got to you, in more ways than one. How did they break you down so easily? Not even the queen regent possessed such power.

And you prayed to the gods old and new that neither of them would tell Tyrion. You knew it was a false hope, but the last thing you needed was Tyrion scolding you and even worse, letting people know they could both get to you. Your whole life you let your rage burn quietly in your chest, letting it fuel you rather than consume you. But their smirks, their roaming eyes, their words made you feel something you hadn’t in a very long time.

And you threatened him, the Red Viper of Dorne. It wasn’t as if his reputation and stories escaped your ears. He was skilled with every weapon you could think of. To top it off, if he didn’t wish to kill you with a weapon, he was an expert in poisons as well. It was a relief that he wasn’t staying in the palace now, you’d have to find somewhere else to eat and drink every night just to avoid death.

King’s Landing was becoming its special sort of war zone. This was the game of Kings and Queens, Prince and Princesses, none of which you were. It was as if you had been dealt a hand that everyone knew you were going to lose. The Lannisters and the Martells, amazed you how two completely different families could be toying with you, a pawn in this royal game.

Oberyn and Ellaria were just the most skilled players.

As if you needed more people in King’s Landing to worry about.

—————————

“I like her.” Ellaria laughed, still in the arms of her lover. The couple had chosen their girls for the night but sent them waiting for a moment as they discussed you. “You were right, she’s stunning lover. And she has a bite, not many people would challenge you, a prince and a fearsome warrior. I fear we may have scared her off though.” Her smile faltered a bit at the idea of losing their next lover. She wanted you, and there was only so much time before they would be separated by their return to Dorne.

“She is a wild one. Not many women like her. I’m not sure I know many soldiers with her reputation and skill, whether they be man or woman.” He noted as he tucked a strand of his paramour’s hair behind her ear. “I did not expect her to be so offended by us. I don’t think she is as familiar with the pleasures of the bed as we are. We may have to...coax her.” He suggested, scanning Ellaria’s dark eyes, as if he were attempting to read her thoughts.

“She is a strong woman, in every sense of the word. That it itself is something rare, and she knows that. I suspect she thinks we are mocking her, somehow undermining her.” Ellaria noted, recalling your behavior. “She thinks we want to pay for her services, thinks she’s just another girl for us. You may have chosen the wrong moment to be so bold, my love.” Ellaria tried putting herself in your shoes, but it was difficult. Many people knew the legends of the silver hawk, the assassin who never misses, but fewer knew the origin of your tale, how a young woman came to possess the skill of men twice her age, maybe even better than that. But she imagined if she worked as hard as you said you did, only for a man, a prince, to single you out among brothel girls, as if you were one yourself, she could understand your anger.

“Think about it my love,” she began, “you did not exactly explain to her what we were proposing. You cannot blame her for assuming we saw her as another one of Little Finger’s girls.” Ellaria chided as she traced featherlight touches against her lover’s exposed chest.

“A gentler approach may do us good. You are anything but withholding when it comes to who you desire, and at least now she knows. But you may want to start winning her favor with some sort of peace offering.” She ran her hands through Oberyn’s dark curls as he looked at her like a man in the desert looked at water. The Sand woman knew her lover like she knew her own heart, and she knew she was not the only woman who had turned him on this evening. “Go to King’s Landing tomorrow and find her. Don’t apologize for wanting her, never that, but offer our friendship. That may be a good place to start?” She asked, wanting to know what her lover thought.

Oberyn gave a hum of approval before taking his lover’s hand and kissing her palm. “You are the wisest of women.” His hand moved her own so that her palm was now resting on his cheek, his soft, brown eyes still raking over his paramour. “I will go tomorrow to offer our friendship and make peace. I have a feeling that even if we remain friends with her, she will be a powerful and useful ally. She could be just the person we’re looking for to get me information on my sister’s murder.”

The prince’s face turned somber. Ellaria closed her eyes and placed a kiss to his exposed chest. “Do not forget that she works for a Lannister, lover. She may not be so willing.”

But Oberyn shook his head. “No. When I went to the palace the Hawk had her sights on Cersei the entire time. I thought she was going to pierce her with an arrow right in the throne room. She makes an exception for Tyrion, but otherwise, I suspect she has a distaste for Lannisters as much as we do. She may be at least willing to listen to my proposal.”

Ellaria sighed and ran her hand down the prince’s toned arms. “Perhaps, but I don’t want her slipping through our fingers. I want justice for your beloved sister, but I want her too. She is a strong woman, capable of defending herself, but she should not be put in harm's way.”

Oberyn nodded, but he could not shake the deep-rooted desire for vengeance. Every time he saw a Lannister all he could think of was his enchanting sister and her sweet children, and the unfair fate they were given. “I will simply speak to her and offer friendship tomorrow. Her spying was just a thought.” He added, keeping his calm. “We have to earn her trust first and foremost, a task that I’m sure will prove difficult all on its own.”

“Neither of us have been known to back down from a challenge.” She laughed before kissing his collarbone.

“We will just have to convince her of our desires.”

———————

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@ilikechocolatemilkh

[artificialqueens]

The Crying Reflex (Rosénali) - SnowBun

A/N: Did I use this to procrastinate from working and finishing I’m Not Into Sometimes? Absolutely. But never fear, I will finish that fic (at some point.) Posted about writing this a few weeks ago and I actually got around to it, what a shock! Idea taken from Rosé posting that Denali’s IG story made her cry.

Thank you to Hollie for always being the most amazing beta. Don’t know what I’d do without you. This is for dawningofdrag and pinkgrapefruit for making me feel like this was worth putting out into the world.

Summary: Denali always makes Rosé cry.

–

Rosé isn’t sure how they become friends. She doesn’t believe in destiny or cosmic jokes. She doesn’t think that there’s a higher being out there that writes a script to the whole universe in the stars.

Being friends with her feels more like a reflex. A meeting of the eyes across the room to stimulate, react with a friendship that feels so real she can almost hold it in the palm of her hand.

Look at me the way you do and that’s it, I’m yours.

“Can we talk?”

There are 11 other drag queens and a small but very present television crew in the room, but there is nothing else in her line of sight but Denali. All she can see is the way she dabs at her eyes and the way that they’re flitting from light bulb to light bulb in an effort to look anywhere that isn’t Rosé.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” She throws out her arms with a little laugh, like she’s about to explain that this all just some ridiculously mean joke that’s unfolding before them. “But I couldn’t even look at you. There’s just something about you.”

“You don’t have to look at me. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re going to have a lot of time to look at me.”

Every word that tumbles out of her mouth is a reaction to a tear that Denali blots away with a balled-up tissue paper in her fist. She encourages, even jokes, until she sees her crack a smile that reminds her of the way the sun breaks through hotel room curtains.

She doesn’t realize she’s holding her hand before her thumb is already stroking skin.

“I need you to do it not just for you, but I need you to do it for me; because I really need you here with me.”

Rosé is many things. She is a queen with unending wit and talent. She is that person who won’t stop toeing the line between hot mess and professional, purely for fun. She is the girl that everyone in the werkroom is eyeing with cautious curiosity.

“I know I can make it to the top.”

One thing she has never been is a crier.

“I know you can too.”

Well, at least she didn’t think she was.

Glass beads form in the corners of her eyes, so unlike the bright plastic ones that Lagoona had bought bags of weeks ago. No, these are Denali’s beads. Crystals of chandeliers draping from ceilings, as clear as the fact that she’s barely holding together.

She’s about to say something, even lets the air pass through her teeth so the words can come out; but then she feels her bottom lip quiver and she buries the reflex with things she prays she can admit to later.

“You know what to do.”

–

Denali shuts her eyes. Well, the non-prosthetic ones at least. Against the stark black of her dress, the orange hue of the setting sun washes her skin a beautiful shade of orange. Her radiance only serves to remind Rosé that she hates the way she looks right now.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

They lean against the wall, holding hands as they bathe in the last vestiges of daylight. She hums the disco number that’s been on repeat for the past two days if only to make Denali laugh, all low and breathy. It’s these small quiet moments that make the stamp of ‘you’re safe’ more sweet than bitter.

“You were amazing out there, angel.”

“So were you.” Denali turns her head to look at her and she can’t help herself from laughing when all eight black eyes stare back at her. “Still wasn’t enough for the judges, though.”

“Oh no, baby,” Rosé tuts. “I don’t need the judges to tell me shit. I’ll let my delusion tell me how great I am.”

They look out at the lot, watch crew members bustle about as they keep their distance. It’s simple really, how one person is point A and the other is point B. So easy to model with mathematical functions that distance is proportional to safety.

Even easier to prove that distance is proportional to the loneliness that threatens to swallow her whole when she’s trapped in her hotel room.

The thought of having to return to it in a few hours feels like a punch to the gut, the type that’s so strong that tears form in her eyes. To have thoughts, hopes, fears that she can only voice to a void sends her spiralling down.

She presses the back of her head into the concrete wall so she doesn’t cry. She still has to return to the runway after all. She blinks away her tears like the exhaustion and loneliness will disappear with them.

“Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever want something so bad it hurts?”

She knows Denali is talking about the competition. She knows that she’s talking about hearing, “condrag-ulations,” instead of, “you’re safe,” the next time they step out onto the stage. She knows that she’s talking about the things that they’ve both come here to achieve.

But then she notices that she’s been drawing on the back of Denali’s hand with the pad of her thumb this whole time. She feels the weight of loneliness lift ever so slightly off her shoulders and she knows without giving it any serious thought that she has all she wants right here. At least for now.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“Another cocktail.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I love you too.”

She colors those words shades of orange and black, permanent marker and invisible ink just for her.

–

“You’re going to win.”

It’s hard to be sure of things when the world is falling to shit. Being sure of things is reserved for statements like, “the earth isn’t flat,” or, “my dress is definitely a warm yellow and not orange.”

But Denali sounds so sure of it. She sounds like she’s turning theories into laws, like anything else is a deviation from the reality she’s living.

Rosé is holding a cocktail in one hand and Denali’s in the other, and the only thing she can really be sure of is that she isn’t willing to let go of either right now.

“I swear to God, if you’re jinxing this for me–”

“I’m not!”

Thank you.

It’s the first thing she writes on the skin of her hand in a code only they will ever understand. There are ancient languages lost to time, but she knows that when they leave this competition, those words etched into flesh will be a relic only she can read.

“I’m going to sue you for $5000 if I don’t hear RuPaul say, ‘condrag-ulations, Rosé’ by the end of tonight.”

“Shut up.” She giggles. “I promise that you’re going to win this. There is literally no way you won’t.”

Rosé doesn’t have to think too hard to know that Denali is right. In fact, her reflex is to believe her; but if she pauses, lets the lull of laughter set in for too long, then she hears that little voice in the back of her brain, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t good enough.

You’re right.

Of course, she can’t admit it out loud, but she knows whispers of fingertips will be enough for her to understand.

“In case I do win, I’m going to have to ask you to promise me shit like that every week.”

“Mmm, no way.” She pops the plastic straw of her drink out of her mouth, leaving a ring of black staining bright pink. “I have to leave some of those promises for myself. You know, share the love.”

The room is buzzing with nervous energy from the idea of either Kandy, Tina or Symone having to lip sync, but on the couch alone with her, it feels like a bubble. All she can hear is laughter and promises bouncing off fragile walls.

“I’m proud of you, Rosie.”

Her drink is halfway to her mouth when she says it. It takes a moment for her brain to process, but her body reacts right away. The tears in her eyes don’t come from the pain of having just laughed too hard or from the exhaustion that keeps threatening to knock her out.

No, they come from the way Denali looks at her, like her color blindness takes off the green on her face so she can see all the dreams she hides underneath.

I love you.

“Thank you, angel.” She gives her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

–

It doesn’t register that the hand he’s holding isn’t Denali’s.

Most of the queens have fallen asleep, the emotions from the long day leaving them all drained of energy. There are snores and whispers filling up the empty seats of the van, but he doesn’t notice. All he knows is that something is wrong, something he can’t quite place.

The way he writes it’s okay is more than just a habit that he’s acquired over the past few weeks. It’s become a reflex, no different to breathing. The words he writes need no introduction or conclusion. It’s something he knew how to do before he learned he was doing it.

When he turns his head, he’s almost surprised to find that it’s actually Olivia, hiding half his face in the sleeve of a baggy sweatshirt so no one can hear him sniffling. One look at him and everything comes rushing back.

Denali is gone and no one can understand the words now.

He isn’t angry at him, couldn’t be even if he tried. He sees the bloodshot eyes when they pass under a streetlamp and he knows the way it feels. He knows how it feels because all he can think about is how Denali used to sit there, buzzing with the idea of making his dream come true.

“Sorry, Liv.”

Rosé isn’t sorry that he can’t let go of his hand or that he’s caught him crying. If he’s honest, he isn’t really sure what he’s sorry for. It just seems like the right words to say to tell him he’s not suffering alone.

Is this what it feels like to lose half of something that’s still whole? Things won’t fall apart now that he’s gone. He’ll still push to get to that finish line until his lungs give out and breathing turns into a sting in his chest.

But how he wishes he could get there holding his hand.

“Me too.”

Olivia lets out a shaky breath before leaning against him. Rosé is thankful that he can’t see his face. All the easier to hide the tears that threaten to pour out of him.

–

The hotel door shuts behind him, the sound reverberating all throughout his mind, soul and body until all that’s left in his brain is a single thought:

I did it.

His reflex is to belt, “The winner is Rosé!” to his hotel room. Then he looks around, sees the grand emptiness of it all, and lets the pain in his chest shock his body, a billion volts to the parts of him that even he can’t see.

The void pokes, prods, stimulates, and his body’s first response is to turn and look for Denali. He knows that the doors are locked, that telling him he’s in the top four is nothing short of impossible when he’s probably already hundreds of miles away.

What would it be like if he’d been there?

What would it be like to see him wipe off the makeup, revealing nothing but the look of purest joy and pride underneath? What would it be like to hold his hand until the end so he can learn how the words we did it feel on his skin?

What would it be like if the vision of him that still lives in his mind actually paid its three weeks long overdue rent?

What happens when he comes home? What happens when he has to tell him that he’s achieved something that they both deserved to have?

Questions, questions, and more questions. They occupy his brain and it spins the way he does across the stage. There’s a hurricane in the room, tearing everything apart, and he can’t find his way into its eye.

For the first and last time during the entire competition, he lets himself cry. It is free, messy, ugly with its heaving sobs that wrack through his whole body. It’s the type of crying that would be a meme tomorrow if it had gotten caught on the set of Drag Race.

He isn’t sure why he cries, not when his dreams are literally coming true. He’s always known that things will never be as he sees it in his head, but he never imagined that the pleasure would come with a pain he can’t even understand.

It takes a moment for the hurricane to pass. It leaves him drained of emotions he didn’t know he had, but he’s alive and it’s all he really cares about. He lifts up the covers of his bed and crawls in, hoping that he’ll forget the complex cocktail of emotions that he’s just unearthed when he wakes up the next day.

Before he falls asleep, he rehearses his script in his head.

Hey, D. You were right, I did it.

–

It’s in the last few seconds before falling asleep and in the pauses while finishing his makeup that he spends thinking of what he’ll say to him when he gets home. When he finally gets a chance, none of what he plans ever gets said.

The first thing he does when he gets home from Drag Race is to collapse onto his bed. He fills his senses with the smell of his sheets. It’s a familiar embrace that pulls him into the deepest, most comfortable sleep he’s had in months.

When he wakes up, the room is so dark that he can’t tell he’s even opened his eyes. He drinks in the idea that he can leave it behind, that there is light beyond these walls and he can touch it with his bare hands again.

Instead, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He forgets what he’s meant to do in the first place, but his fingers are already searching for the message that Denali sent as soon as he got home to Chicago. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the words are jumping out of the screen at him, breaking him until he smiles.

Denali: hi rosie! Idk when you’ll be back but since you’ll probably make it to the finale, that might be a while. Ilysm and i’m already so proud of you. Call me when you get back, miss you!

Denali: PS it’s all your fault that i keep singing pretty witty fashion clown, i hate you

The picture of Denali sitting on his couch, typing out something so incredibly sweet then following it up with his own brand of ridiculous, is so vivid in his mind that he can’t stop himself from laughing. Otherwise, he might start screaming about how the feeling of the bones caging his poor heart are breaking.

“Hello?”

“Rosie!”

Nightmares start where dreams end, and this one had started the moment she’d walked off the stage, leaving her hopes at Rosé’s feet, clad in chunky Tina Burner heels. He wakes up when he hears him say his name, even if it isn’t the real thing.

“Oh my god, you just got back. Does this mean I was right?”

“Why do you sound like you were doubting me, baby?”

If he’s honest, he’d been scared of this moment. It was an unspoken contract: we’ll be there together. It felt like breaking his end of the promise, even if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I knew it!” He paints the dark of the room with the joy in his voice and Rosé watches all the colors she’s ever worn on runways tint the bare walls. “I swear Rosie, I knew from the day I met you that you’d make it there.”

I thought the same about you.

He bites back the words, swallows them like a bitter pill.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, D.”

“God, I miss you so much.”

The pill gets stuck in his throat, making his eyes water. He knows he’s been missed and he knows he’s missed him too, but to hear the words burst into a flash of light that fills up the darkened corners of his room makes him remember that everything they have is more than just an intersection of a dream and a nightmare.

What they had in quiet conversations on van rides and tipsy chats in the werkroom was real, and he had come home to it, even if it’s just a phone call that will never be enough.

“I miss you too.”

–

It doesn’t hit him how lonely he’s felt for months until he isn’t alone anymore.

After his third glass of wine, he settles on the edge of Symone’s bed. He watches his sisters talk about nothing and everything all at once. He tries to cut in every once in a while with a song or a joke or his usual mixture of both, but he’s perfectly content just to see all of them together again.

Days, weeks, months have passed and not all of them are spent alone, but loneliness still mars every interaction he has. In the middle of a world that’s going forward and nowhere all at once, he can’t help but feel like he’s in the middle of the ocean with water filling his lungs.

Then he hears them all laugh and he rises to the surface with a breath of fresh air and the sun shining down on his face.

“Rosita!”

Denali whines and immediately plops down beside him, laying his head in his lap. Rosé knows that he’s drunk or at least close to it, but he’s almost certain that he’d do this to him completely sober too.

It’s been four hours since they’ve reunited after months apart, but how they are hasn’t changed. The safety that he’d thought had just been there to shield him from the impending doom in a bright pink box is still there.

He won’t admit it to anyone, least of all to himself, but as he runs his fingers through his hair, he knows that he’s missed this the most.

“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Are you a fucking cat?”

“I’m a pussy, sweetie.”

He looks around the room again and it sinks in how lucky he is to have this. In a universe that he believes is constantly on the brink of implosion, he’s found people like them to hold on to. They didn’t know it at the time, but all the sacrifices they’ve made have led them to this.

Most of all, he’s found the living embodiment of growth and joy, and he has strands of his hair slipping between his fingers. He blames the fact that he almost cries on how Denali won’t stop making feminine moaning noises, causing everyone in the room to break into laughter.

Soon, he will have to go home to empty spaces. He will return to the loneliness, but the dullness of its knife will have faded. When it comes to him in the night, making the world stop again, he will greet it with this memory of contentment.

–

There are millions of things that she’s willing to do to make it stop. He could turn the universe upside down, inside out for him. He could yell at the top of her lungs for highways and mountains to move for him. He could fly a damn plane to Chicago for him.

Nothing is too much to stop being a helpless soul, watching him cry over Facetime calls.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings will never be stupid, angel.”

Denali tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out quite right. It is too full of tears and fears, too loaded with emotions that Rosé begs to understand. It is the saddest sound she’s ever heard and shards of glass appear where her heart used to be.

“Everyone loves me now.” He says as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, because your lipsync was that fucking good, diva.”

“And what happens when I disappoint them?”

Rosé takes a deep breath, lets it settle where shattered glass lies. After a long night alone, he’d once seen a video where they turn the pieces into the most beautiful new figures. He wonders if he’ll know he’s turning his heart into something new for him.

“Listen to me, Denali. You are not and will never be a disappointment to anyone.”

“What happens when I’m eliminated? What happens when people figure out that I’m not as good as they thought I was?”

They’ve only talked about it once before, while drunk in his room after a long day of promo. If the others noticed that Denali was talking to him in whispers and holding his hand too tight, they didn’t mention it.

Does he know that he cuts her fingers when he tries to pick up the pieces for him? Does he know that he believes that nothing in the world could ever be so wrong? Does he know that he loves him too much to ever think of him the way he thinks of himself?

Months ago, he’d questioned how he could ever be so sure of anything. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yes, you will.” He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady for him. “One bad day won’t change how much people love you. You’re a fabulous performer and an even more fabulous friend. Don’t ever doubt it for one minute, bitch.”

“But–”

“No buts here, baby. The only acceptable one is the fat ass you’re sitting on.”

It’s only when Denali laughs that he realizes he’s been crying too. How could he not when nothing in the world could be as clear? To love him is a reflex and to stop is in the realm of impossibility.

“I’m sorry I ruined your makeup, Rosie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s easy to brush off, especially when it comes to him. “Maybe the people that booked Cameos are into the smudged mascara look.”

People never told him he could love someone’s laugh so much before.

–

Denali makes him realize what it means to daydream. One minute, he’s out of his own body, watching them dance in a whirlwind of giggling grace together. He spins across the dance studio and when he opens his eyes, they’re suddenly drunk off of bad cocktails in his living room, trying to do the choreography to Phenomenon.

“Wait, no!”  He almost falls over when he throws his arms over his head. “We really have to put our whole body into the wiggle. Like this.” It takes a single demonstration for Denali to crash onto the couch, burying his face into a cushion to hide his scream from Rosé’s neighbors.

“I’m just trying to be accurate here.” He says when he plops down beside him. “Utica said wiggle to the top, so I’m wiggling to the fucking top, baby.”

“You can’t make a top out of a bottom, Rosie.”

“Well, I made it to the top four, didn’t I?”

They’re both laughing so hard it hurts. It’s the type of laughing that makes their eyes tear up and their vision blur. It’s the type of laughing that makes them struggle for breath until they can’t tell if it’s them or the room that’s spinning.

The cocktail of alcohol and absurdity settles at the bottom of his stomach and he lets the laughter die. He reaches out for his hand, writes down words from memory to flesh.

Thank you.

You’re right.

I love you.

He wonders how many new words he’ll learn during his stay in New York.

Denali writes something back and it’s all Rosé could have ever hoped for. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but having the words burned on the back of his hand is still the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

It happens so quickly that he doesn’t know where it starts and ends. All he knows for sure is that Denali kissed him, a peck on his lips that feels like the quick burst of a bubble.

When he wakes from this dream tomorrow, he’s not sure he’ll even remember what it felt like. All he’ll think of is the way Denali presses into his side, like none of it ever happened.

“Maybe you really are a cat.”

“Just go to sleep.”

Rosé doesn’t find trouble shutting his eyes. He doesn’t need to see him to know he won’t leave.

–

Maybe it’s the power of TV magic or maybe it’s the wall of makeup that Tina had plastered onto his face that makes it look like he isn’t holding back a gallon of tears. Instead, he looks as happy as he always does, bouncing across the runway like seeing Denali leave didn’t break his heart right in two.

The thought of having to act happy feels ridiculous now that they’re both sobbing silently over the phone. Neither of them have said anything since Ru told him to sashay away and as Untucked starts to play, they remember that they have to breathe again.

“Are you okay?”

Denali is almost uncomfortably quiet. The streaks of foundation missing from his face tell Rosé all he really needs to know but he asks anyway, if only to make sure that he doesn’t get trapped in his own head. Beautiful minds make the ugliest nightmares, after all.

“Why do you always dance like that during lipsyncs?”

He stares at him in open-mouthed shock. After the emotional ringer that they’ve both just been pulled through, all he can focus on is the fact that only his knees move when he’s dancing in the background?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Denali?”

“This episode is way too tragic.” He’s brushing it off so easily that the concern Rosé feels grows with each passing second. “My elimination, your makeup, your weird dad dancing. We have to address those things one at a time.”

“And can that first thing be your elimination?”

Denali quits rambling when he says it. They listen to the synced buzz of their TVs, watch as Rosé writes it’ll be okay on her hand. He wonders if the words are still there, wonders if he can still feel them when he needs them the most.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet.”

To love him is to accept it.

Tonight won’t be the night for them to talk about it. It probably won’t even be tomorrow; but when he’s ready, Rosé will keep his end of the promise. There will be other times to love him in the ways he knows how.

“Why won’t people just leave my dad dancing alone?”

“Oh, Rosie,” he giggles and Rosé thinks it might be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “I think it’s adorable.”

–

Denali: have you seen the response online omg

Rosé: I told u so

Denali: what

Rosé: told u they’d love u as much as i do

[jungcity]

bane of the devil. | i

genre: vampire!jaehyun [ mature | angst | smut ]

pairings: jaehyun x female reader

note: bane of the devil deals with themes of physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.

“father, i dreamt about a boy

his hands, bloodied

eyes like the shot of dawn

with the rebellion in his mouth

he tried to conquer

the moon

with the venom of his prayers

he tried to

search for a god

pray tell me father,

how do i love him

with no flesh, all blood

heaven help us,

how could he love me

if i am the sun?”

— jungcity, bane of the devil // i

Raindrops danced in the air as they fall from the clouds with the squalling winds intensifying the impact of it against the glass window panes. The murmurs and complaints filled the whole room, your classmates begging your professor to turn off the air conditioner. Your mechanical pencil lay forgotten above your table as you stare at the horizon from your seat beside the window. Oh, how you longed for your bed in this cozy weather.

Seven a.m. to seven p.m. class should be classified as a mortal sin— you could not, in the life of you, understand that type of abomination. It is cruel beyond reckoning. Especially when you sit on a room of thirty people, doing nothing as the heavy drops of rain and the cool atmosphere it provides slowly lulls you to slumber.

The only thing that prevented you from doing so was the loud slap of your professor’s hands on table, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. “Alright! Stop chattering!” He yelled as he raised a piece of paper in the air.

You slumped back in your seat. Here we go again. Every time your professors raise their hands while holding papers, you could not help but release a groan.

“Here is the plan for your next plate,” he started. “Photocopy it, take a picture of it, it’s up to you.” He then handed the papers to the student in front. You stared as your classmate’s face crumpled into a grimace while he skimmed the document. That— without a doubt— would also be your face once you get a hold of the plan.

“Just like the last time, bind your A3 papers with two fasteners. There must be a separate sheet for the front page. And please,” the professor exhaled, “Please don’t forget your names! How would I give you a failing grade if I don’t know who you are.” The groans rose up again from the students, your own commixing with the chaos of curses and prayers and the laugh of your professor.

“Hey, hey! Haechan!” You grabbed your friend’s shirt as he scurried off to your classmate in the front row. “Take a picture and send it to the group chat.”

He snatched his shirt away from your grasp while glaring at you, “I know! I know! Wait here.” Then he pulled out his phone, waving it onto your face before dashing to your classmate who has the plan.

You fished for your own phone inside your bag when a boy sat in front of you. He rested his arm on your table and propped his chin on his palm. “Damn, I’m surely gonna die before this semester ends.” Mark groaned, his eyes looking at your table.

You chuckled from your seat, “Three major plates to go, buddy.”

“I’m gonna sell my soul to Satan so I don’t have to do any of this bullcrap.” Haechan threw his phone on to the table. Luckily, you caught it before it slid down and shattered on the hard floors. He let out an infuriated sigh before grabbing one of the chairs and sitting on it beside your table.

“It’s that bad?” Mark grimaced as he pressed the power button of Haechan’s phone. The light of the screen illuminated his soft features in an instant, “Wow. Your phone’s brightness could blind a person,” Mark stated while blinking rapidly.

Haechan said nothing as he leaned his head on your table. You peek at the phone yourself, Mark slowing down his scrolling as you leaned closer.

“Five-storey residential? What?!” You exclaimed. Tons of plates are slowly piling up to you bedroom. Your drafting table could not even hold them anymore, they are littered all over the mattress and the whole place. As your eyes scrutinized the image of the plan, Mark let out a curse as he read the requirements of the residential building.

“Oh, no. The measurements are given,” Mark exchanged glances with you. “I won’t do this shit.” Then the phone toppled over the table again after Mark threw it. Haechan snatched his phone back with a special glare meant only for Mark before laying his head back on the table.

The rain continued to ravage the roof and the ground as the three of you rested your heads on your desk. Chatters and the shuffling of drafting materials once again dominated the whole room, with a few of your classmates cursing at the back as they play their online games.

“I had at least thirty-minutes of sleep today,” you declared. Your eyes feels heavy and your body seemed to be softening and turning into jelly by the sleep deprivation.

“Wow. I didn’t even have a blink of sleep myself.” Haechan mumbled, face still covered by his arms.

After your heavy nap, the three of you woke up with red-rimmed eyes. If you could continue sleeping in your room until tomorrow, you would. But of course, that is not possible.

Your classmates started to pack their things as the professor came back and dismissed the whole class. It has always been like that; your prof giving yet another plan and then dismissing the whole class two or three hours earlier than the scheduled time. You would have not attended today’s class if not for the other plates that needed to be submitted.

Despite the sullenness of your house because of your brother’s absence, you still wanted to go home and nap. It does not matter if you have mountains of plates to do, what truly matters is you, going home to the tranquility and safety of your house before midnight. It was a habit you’ve grown accustomed to since the untimely death of your parents.

Your path goes different ways from Mark and Haechan. That’s why you sat alone in the bus as they stand in the waiting shed while waiting for theirs. Both of them waved at you, mouthing the words ‘take care’. You answered them with a slight wave of your hand before putting on your earbuds.

The rain has calmed down already, leaving the stores drenched, the highway splotched with circles of rainwater. Yet the lightning still dominated the skies, white lights flashing like roots reflected in your irises as you stare at the bleakness of the heavens through the bus’ windows. The speed of the vehicle made everything blurry; from the blustery wind slapping against the trees to the lights from different stores. They filled your sight as the music continued to blast in your ear.

Your phone vibrated against your hand, stopping the music. You glanced at the screen and saw your brother’s caller ID. Johnny. Automatically, your brow shot up to your forehead. He has been away for two weeks now, doing God only knows what on the other side of the ocean. Of course, your big brother calls every night to check up on you. But tonight, he called earlier than usual.

You attempted to slide the green button when your cell phone flew away from your grasp, your head hitting the seat in front of you, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Loud protestations echoed from the students and elders alike, their own faces bedraggled as they recover themselves from the impact of the bus drawing to a halt.

“What happened?” An elderly woman asked, her hand on the middle of her chest while breathing heavily.

“There’s a person who crossed the road.” The conductor explained, but his words sounded unsure.

The woman’s eyes widened, “Is the person alright?” She stood up from her seat, one hand grabbing the railings in front of her.

“That’s what we’re confused about, Ma’am. The person is nowhere on the asphalt. He ran with a dashing speed… it’s impossible.” You didn’t know if it was amazement or fear that was laced with the conductor’s voice, but his statement caught your attention nonetheless.

The nagging curiosity inside your chest spreads like wild fire. If ever your intuition is right, you have to find that person or whatever that is. A speed like that could only be achieved by one creature. Your brother might call you a freak or a delusional little girl again, but it might be the only way to get answers. Answers that he did not bother to find when your parents died.

The truth is, years ago, your parents had their inopportune death. But the authorities has not yet to find the murderer. How could they? When there was no DNA in the crime scene but your parents’. How could they? If the murderer was not even a person to begin with.

Deep in your heart, you know. You know the world is enfolded with mysteries that a human mind would not be able to perceive. Cloak-and-dagger as it is, you understood that reality the moment you saw the two dots that were obviously from a penetration of fangs embedded in your parents’ necks.

‘Vampire! Vampire!’ was your unending scream at the morgue. Since you were only a little girl back then, no one paid attention to you. Not the policemen, not even your brother.

It did not surprise you when everyone called it a hopeless case. In their eyes, it was. But in yours, it’s not. Ever since your parents were murdered, you have been drinking the myths and lore of vampires. Day and night you devoured books, watched vampire sightings, studied their strengths as well as their weaknesses. It simply was a thirst you could not quench.

It was like that until you started college. You could not simply search for a free time to indulge yourself about those undead, blood-sucking creatures any longer. But every articles, every information, were still plastered to a blackboard inside your bedroom. A reminder of what you have been sleuthing for all your life.

Yellow lights illuminated the pool of waters on the asphalt road. You tiptoed as to prevent your shoes from getting soaked. Plastics, styrofoams, as well as vegetables skins from the uncollected drenched trash bins littered all over the street.

At long last, the shadow of your apartment appeared. Darkness invaded the vicinity, a quiet reminder that there isn’t any person present inside. You pulled out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, ten missed calls from Johnny were displayed in the notifications. Frustrated from what happened inside the bus, you continued to ignore his calls earlier, despite your phone vibrating continuously.

Your phone’s flashlight casted a white light upon the dimness. Keys in your left hand, and your phone in your right, you struggled to jam the keys into the hole. When the gates finally opened, you sent Johnny a text that says you’re already home.

“At long fucking last.”

Your phone went flying to the grass yet again as you saw a figure looming in the shadows. A silent curse slid past your lips as you hurriedly picked it up, dead and wet grass sticking onto the screen. Once again, you pressed the flashlight button to see through the darkness.

And there, in the corner near the door, a man with a bloodied face stares at you with a cigar in between his lips. Spontaneously, your heart thudded frantically in your chest. You wanted to shout, but the scream bubbled out in your mouth and then nothing came out.

“Who are you?” You managed to ask.

The man didn’t answer. He pulled something out of his pockets. You took a step back. Only when he struggled to light his cigarette you realized it was only a lighter. His hands continued to shake, and you have no idea why haven’t you screamed for help yet. They say curiosity killed the cat. Right now, you do not doubt the saying as your curiosity ascended your fear.

“Care to light this for me, kitten?” He stretched out his hand to offer you the lighter. His endearment catching you like a deer in the headlights.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? All bloodied?”

The man sighed and started to light his cigar again. “The name’s Jaehyun. I’m friends with your brother, Johnny.” He offered you the lighter once more, “Now, will you light this up for me? As you can see, I’m shaking and bleeding.”

After his last word, you glanced up and down his body, the light of your phone following your action. And then you saw as blood poured out from a wound on his side. You hadn’t noticed it earlier because of his black shirt.

“What— I don’t— are you alright?” What stupid, stupid question. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. Is this why your brother were so eager to call you? Because apparently, his friend stands bloodied in front of your doorstep.

“I feel like shit but I’m alright.” Smoke puffed out of his lips as he succeeded in lighting his cigarette after numerous attempts. “Won’t you open the door?” He nudged his head to the direction of the door. You blinked and felt the keys in your palms again.

“Tell me what’s happening first.”

It’s cruel, but if he manages to stay alive while blood gushes out of his stomach, you believed he could concisely explain to you what’s going on.

“Women are so fucking difficult,” he mumbled. “I will tell you everything once we’re inside and you’re stitching up my goddamned wound.”

“What?!” It was a scream more than a word. “Listen, I don’t know how to stitch up—”

He cut you off, “Well that’s a pity.” Then he threw away the bud of the cigarette to the ground. “Listen, I’m going to pass out anytime soon,” then he licked his lips, “Better open this door so we could get to business.”

“Promise me you won’t do anything to me.” It’s childish and you feel pathetic, but you said it anyways. Perhaps this man in front of you has a bottle of conscience in his system despite his unkempt look.

Jaehyun only looked at you, face impassive. “You’re not my type.”

You choked on your own saliva. “You’re unbelievable.” You ignored his smirk as you sauntered up to the door. Both of you were enveloped in a silence, the only noise coming from the keys jamming into the keyhole.

Another darkness greeted you as you opened the door, you searched for the switch with your sweaty hand. The metal tang the keys left on your palm wafted your nose, making you feel gross and dirty.

You wrenched the keys out of the hole as the light finally infiltrated the living room. Your brow shot up when Jaehyun made no move to enter the house.

“Invite me first,” he stated.

If you could raise your brow higher, you would. His question was unexpected for someone itching to enter your house mere minutes earlier.

“Come… in?” You reluctantly offered.

There was mischief and bad news in his eyes as he stepped inside the house. “So the authorities would say that you invited me willingly.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” You demanded, gripping the doorknob tightly.

He only winked at you. But you are not having any of it. It was a bad idea inviting this stranger inside.

“Get out.” You ordered. Jaehyun attempted to say something but you repeated the words with enough ferocity. “Get out!”

He held up his hand, his right pulling out something from his pockets again. A paper.

“Here.”

You stared at the paper for a good two minutes before you snatched it away from his hand.

This is to certify that the apartment owned by Johnny and Y/N Y/L/N has been sold and therefore owned by Mr. Jung Jaehyun.

No. No, no, no. The paper must be a trick. It’s probably a forged paper made by this man in front of you to take his advantage and trick you.

“This is forged.” You balled the paper and threw it his way. Jaehyun picked it up with bloodied fingers. His shirt was now saturated with his blood. But you could not bring yourself to care now that he poses a threat to your safety.

“Forged? Do you not recognize the lawyer who signed this paper?” He started to flatten out the paper again. “The best in town. You could go to his office right now to inquire about this. But I won’t waste money if I were you.”

For the second time that night, you snatched away the paper from him. It was completely crumpled, but the texts printed out were still glaring at you. You skimmed the printed letters with your head spinning, eyes only stopping when you see three signatures below. One for your brother, one for Jaehyun, one for the attorney. It was signed by a pen, that much you’re sure of. Being an architecture student familiarized you to different type of pens. You’re certain they had used a ballpoint pen to sign the contract.

Still, you went dumbfounded as you let the realization hit you. Your brother, Johnny, just sold your apartment for this blood soaked guy in front of you.

“Since when?” You asked through gritted teeth, not looking up from the papers.

Jaehyun let out a frustrated sigh, his hand clamping his wound. “Since last week.”

“Will you…” You sighed, it was so difficult to get the words come out, “… will you let me stay the night? I promise I’ll go first thing in the morning.” Your hand which is holding the paper shook. Mixed feelings of anger, shame, and confusion swirled in your head.

Jaehyun waved his hand before sitting on the sofa, his bloodied hands imprinting the arms of it red. You bit back the anger as you realized that you have no rights to be angry.

“You could stay the night, of course.” He reclined his head, “But stitch me up first before you go packing.”

How had he managed to stay alive with the loss of too much blood, you have no idea. But you shook your head and declined him again, “I don’t know how. You might get an infection.”

“Needle… I need a needle,” He breathed and shut his eyes, you panicked as you thought he passed out already. But then he opened his one eye and fixed it to you, “I’ll do it myself.”

“Why don’t we just go to the hospital?”

It was embarrassing that you only thought of the idea now. But Jaehyun only snorted, “Trust me, that’s the last resort you’d think of if you truly knew me.”

There is no point talking to him. His mouth pours metaphors you could not be bothered to comprehend. So you trudged the distance to the small drawer laying just below the television and grabbed the sewing kit inside.

You laid it on the table. Jaehyun groaned before grabbing the needle and the thread. He does not look pained. He looks more tired. And only when you were sitting beside him you noticed how pale he appeared to be. His lips looked wan, his face pallid.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hos—”

“No,” was his monosyllabic reply. You didn’t press any further.

Jaehyun started to insert the thread through the needle, but like his dreaded attempts to lit his cigarette earlier, his aim to get the thread through the little hole went in complete vain. “Fuck,” he muttered as the pin dropped on the floors.

“Let me.” You finally offered before picking up the needle and seizing the thread from his grasp. With your one eye shut close, you dampened the needle with your tongue before thrusting it through the hole. In a blink, you succeeded.

“Here—” You were cut off once again when Jaehyun’s body fell back on the sofa. His eyes closed. The nervous and shock kicked in your stomach as you leaned closer to him but felt nothing in his chest. He doesn’t look like he is breathing, too.

“Oh my God, don’t fucking die.” You repeated the words as you grabbed your phone and dialed nine-one-one. Sweats started to form in your forehead, your own heart beating in a panic-stricken rhythm.

The ringing stopped, and the voice of the person from the other side greeted you calmly.

“I— there’s— I—” Your words are incoherent from the panic that is vibrating from your head to your toes. The person tried to calm you down but to no avail. You inhaled and exhaled, mind blank. “I—” Then a hand grabbed your wrist. You jumped in your seat, only to see Jaehyun, wide-eyed looking at you.

“I told you, no doctors.”

“But— how— what?” How is he alive?

“I am fine. Just really need to stitch this up so I could recover easily.” Then his eyes started to lose their life again.

“Don’t! Don’t sleep! Stay awake!” You screamed at him. Jaehyun began to lose consciousness again. The forgotten thread and needle was back on your hands in an instant. Loud sets of profanities reverberated from your mouth as you lifted his shirt. You exhaled as you saw the long laceration starting from beside his navel to his waist.

“I can’t do this alone, I just can’t.” You swallowed, praying that his innards won’t slide out of his stomach. Where did he get this wound?

“You have no other choice, have you?” He whispered, voice straining. “Just close it and stitch it. I won’t scream,” he expressed.

“That’s not my problem! What if.. what if I’ll make it worse?”

“You won’t.” Jaehyun looked at you with hooded eyes.

This is not what you’ve expected to come home to. The schedule was to go home, eat, shower, and start your plates. Stitching up a long god-forsaken wound wasn’t on your to-do list.

You closed your eyes, trying to inhale and exhale. When you felt like your mind was clear of worries, you finally opened your eyes and started to hold Jaehyun’s skin. The tang of blood filled the whole room, your fingers sliding as it touched his bloodied skin. You let out a breath before clamping the open wound with your fingers, your other hand working its way to pierce the needle into his skin.

Goosebumps ran down your spine as you felt the needle pierced his flesh. White thread came out red as you pulled it to fasten his skin back together. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand as you pushed on with your work. With each pierce and puncture, your tension and the shaking of your hands lessened.

“Are you okay?” You asked Jaehyun when you were finally in the middle of the wound. He did not utter a word ever since you started; not a protest nor a painful scream.

“Yes… it does not hurt.” His voice came out as a whisper that you doubted his answer.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“If I am in your position right now, I would’ve screamed like hell. Imagine, we didn’t use any anesthesia, but you still managed to look comfortable and calm,” you mumbled, trying to keep Jaehyun awake.

“Do you wanna know why?”

“Why?” A small chuckle resonated from your throat then. Jaehyun popped an eye open, and you waited for some dramatic lines like ‘I’m used to the pain’ to escape his lips, but his answer drew you to a sudden halt instead.

“Because I am a vampire.”

previous | next

[ljandersen]

More 100 Days of Writing!  Yay!  I love that I get a hundred days of seeing everyone's writing process on my dash.  I’m not strictly following the questions in order or posting every day, but it’s fun to still play along.  Thanks, @the-wip-project !

--------------‐-----------------

Question from Day 2 (I know it’s not day two, but I’m erratically cheating, remember?)  For your current WIP:  Do you have many WIPs?  What motivates you to write this specific story?  What makes this story special for you?  Is there a special twist/trope/setting you wanted to explore?  What got you started on this particular story?

My current WIP is “Sideways,” a 5-part fShenko post-war long fic.  I’m posting it like a box set, essentially all the parts (books) in one big post on AO3.  I have the first draft written for all five parts and am currently posting part 3.

What motivated me to write this story was a string of “what if” questions that haunted me after finishing my 300k fShenko post-war long fic, “Burning Barriers.”  My mind kept spinning on questions about human-asari relationships.  What would it be like to be with someone who would live a thousand years?  You’re just a blip on their radar, while they’re you’re whole life.  

What would it be like to have a child who’s another species?  Asari have unique abilities like mindmelding, strong biotics, long lifespan, monogendered, not to mention unique culture.  Would the child feel less “yours” for being so . . . well, alien (pun intended)?  How would it feel knowing your partner and child would live on long after you?  

That’s when I started thinking, what if the asari parent died?  Whoa.  Then my mind was blown by the complexity.  Your child would be another species, bound to live a thousand years, and the parent meant to take care of them is gone.  Since your partner was going to live hundreds of more years, the human partner probably never even considered the possibility of losing them.  Now the human parent is all this alien child has.  It had so many implications, my mind kept going.

I wanted to explore these ideas in a story, but I didn’t want to write an AU of my own fanfiction.  I didn’t want to write a story that wasn’t fShenko.  FemShep and Kaidan are my favorite characters, and it’s their relationship I find compelling.  

That’s when I thought, what would Shepard think of this alternate storyline?  It’s interesting enough to think of her outside perspective, but what if it was further removed than even that.  What if she saw it like I did having this other canon story ending in mind?  What if the Shepard who finished my story in “Burning Barriers” and who ended up with Kaidan went to this other AU reality?  

I could follow an idea from “Burning Barriers” that wasn’t realized but intrigued me.  Kaidan’s asari wife is dead.  He has an asari child now.  How much better if he and Shepard are even enemies?  Maybe Shepard has been a bad person in this timeline.  After all, Mass Effect is all about the Paragon and Renegade timelines. Add in this story being told from the POV of the Shepard who’s been happily married to him in the “real” timeline, then the complexity and nuances expanded.  How would she reconcile his identity to her, being both the person she knows and loves the best, but also the person she knows the least and who is also an adversary?  

Then, I thought . . . What is Bad Shepard took my canon Shepard’s place?  I ended “Burning Barriers” with Shepard being human Councilor.  She lives on the Pacific with Kaidan and their daughter.  That was already there in my post-10 year epilogue.  What if this switch went both ways?  It’s always a fascinating trope taking someone who’s a maverick loner and dropping them into a family situation.  Do they become a better person?  

False identities always interest me, and both stories lines would play so well to that interest.  How would this imposter function?  Both Shepards would be taken as the their altero ego, at least, initially if not longer.

So I started writing “Sideways.”  I needed to tell the backstories to fill in the ten years of lost time for both timelines.  But how to do it?  Just through present-day revelations?  A bit boring.  Flashbacks are often considered unnecessary and needlessly complicate a story.  

What if the flashbacks had more meaning beyond just revealing the past though?  What if they provided a ticking clock.  I needed a ticking clock, after all, and this was the perfect way to hit two birds with one stone.  The present day revelations about the past could provide tantalizing clues and hint toward scenes that aren’t revealed yet.  There would be gradual progression of stories from the past connecting to the present storyline.  Perfect.

I actually wrote several chapters of “Sideways” and then discarded it.  I didn’t want to pour myself into more fanfiction.  It was time to move on.  Do something original.  Who would read a long fShenko fic that jumped off my 300k story?  “Burning Barriers” wasn’t read.  I think a year after posting, it had 25 kudos, under a thousand hits, and was pretty stagnant with the hit count even moving.  I had a few wonderful people who made the process worthwhile through their generous comments and friendship. It would go on to get a lot of great feedback that would change my feelings about it, but at the time, the story’s reception was disappointing.  It seemed unwise to take an already abysmal turnout for 300k words and cut the readership even further for a new story +100k story.  So I tossed my first few chapters of “Sideways” aside.

I came across the chapters again a while later.  I still had these ideas in my head for it that I was trying to squelch while I focused on ideas for an original sci fi series.  When I was flipping through a notebook, I came across the story I had abandoned, and I started to read it.  By the end, I was left thinking, “But then what happened?  This is actually pretty good.”  At that point, I decided I had to write it.  I had too much passion in the project, and I had to see it through. 

I decided for it to be successful (or at least, not catastrophically unsuccessful), it had to stand on its own.  Hardly anyone had read the preceding 300 k story, which I had made the mistake of posting all at once.  I needed this to be its own story.  It had to be less words than “Burning Barriers,” which at 300 k was already too much of an investment.  

Then I started writing my new story . . . 800 k words later (or so I estimate), I obviously didn’t meet my goal.  But I loved writing every word, and I love how the story progresses and develops.  It had a good pace, and I’m proud of it.  It lent itself naturally to being divided into a series, since it had mini-arcs with mini-villains and achievements being reached.  By editing each part separately, I was able to start posting, which after two years of writing the story was beginning to feel like would never happen.

Now, here I am posting part 3.  I have amazing people who support me and have made the experience rewarding by sharing their enthusiasm and thoughts in comments and tags.  “Sideways” surpassed “Burning Barriers” initially low turn out and has managed to stand on its own as I hoped.  For a story that took so long to make it to this point, it’s been fulfilling to have so many fandom friends who cheer me on.  I appreciate everyone who supports “Sideway” and just me in general as part of the fandom community.  

And that’s how my supersized story came into being.    

[horansqueen]

It Feels Like Christmas - Part 4

It feels like Christmas Just like Christmas It feels like Christmas with you...

MASTERLIST 🎄

Click Here if you want to be on the update list

NIALL

I couldn't take my mind off of Mimi. The whole time I was on the plane, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I had remained in my seat, eyes closed, playing the evening we spent together over and over in my head, trying to find what I could have done or said that would have made her want to see me again. Did I insist too much? Was I too intrusive? Did I ask too much questions? Or did I talk too much about myself?

I knew that for her, I was probably just a guy who paid her a drink at a hotel bar, someone she spent time with so she wouldn't be alone. Perhaps I didn't even matter to her. But damn, she mattered to me. I was never the type to believe in love at first sight. Not because I was not a romantic soul, I actually liked to think I was, but believing in love at first sight seemed shallow and pale in comparison with real deep love, the kind of love that requires a connection, the building of something... a love where you know the person better than they know themselves. It takes time and effort to reach that level with someone and I prefered to think that real love was based on sharing moments, feelings and secrets together, discovering someone's flaws and habits, realizing that someone completes you. Not because you're incomplete when you're alone, but just because being with them is easy and natural. I want someone who will make my life brighter just by being in it.

I didn't know much about Mimi, but everything I knew, I felt like I didn't deserve to know. I didn't know if she regretted telling me so many of her secrets in the same night. I had the feeling she was not the type to open up easily, and that realization made me think that maybe, just maybe, I was a bit special.

When I hugged her, I felt like it was not the last time. Or maybe it was just that I didn't want it to be. She had made it clear that she didn't want to keep in touch with me, though, and I was not going to try and look for her, that would be wrong, I knew it.

I knew I should forget completely about her and move on. It would be the normal and right thing to do. I guessed that everyone in their life ended up meeting someone special they never see again. Someone who was supposed to teach them something, or bring some comfort to them for some reason. Maybe Mimi was that person, or maybe I was that person for her. Or both. Either way, it was over, but I was not ready to let it go. Not yet.

I tried to find the right key for the elevator and when I finally got to my apartment, I heard the sound of dishes and frowned, letting my bags fall in the lobby.

"Ma?"

"Pet!"

I smiled as I watched her walk up to me and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight against me. I couldn't spend the whole holidays thinking about a girl I barely knew, no matter how obsessed I seemed to be, and I decided to push the thought of her away.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, I should have been here last night."

"No, don't worry." she shook her head, bringing one of her hands on my cheeks. "I'm glad you're back safe and sound."

She tapped my cheek vert softly and I smiled more. "It smells good, did you make food?"

"Mmhm, are you hungry?"

I didn't know if I was more tired or hungry but we ended up sitting at the table, eating together and quickly washed the dishes after. I didn't see my mother really often, only a few times a year, and enjoying my time with her was high on my priority list.

I opened a bottle of red wine and when she proposed we actually decorated my tree, I couldn't pretend it was not an amazing idea. We were almost done when she finally spoke. I had noticed her glancing at me a lot in the last half hour but I didn't want to mention it.

"What's wrong?"

"Mm?" I asked, turning around and raising my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"You're... pensive. Something is upsetting you."

I chuckled and shook my head, a bit baffled at how well she could read me. It always surprised me even if I should be used to it by now. I moved away to turn on the soft white lights of the tree and sighed again, grabbing my glass as my eyes roamed on our achieved work.

"It's nothing bad or dangerous," I started with a shrug, staring at the lights of the tree. "You don't have to worry."

"Ah. A girl." she stated, nodding slowly.

This time, I couldn't help but turn my head her way and let out a low chuckle. Was I that transparent? Or was it just because my mother knew me so well it was almost impossible for me to hide her anything?

"I mean, just a girl I met at the airport." I shrugged, trying to make it seem like it was no big deal. "I felt like we connected but maybe it was all in my head."

"Are you going to see her again?"

I took a few steps back and sat on my couch with a sigh, leaning against it. My mom walked up to me and sat next to me as I took a sip of my drink, my gaze lost in the soft lights.

"Probably not, but I hope so."

---

The hopes I had inside of me to see Mimi again didn't falter despite my efforts to get her out of my mind, and two days later, it just happened. I saw her. I walked in a restaurant for take out and there she was, sitting at the table the closest to the door. I noticed her hair first and my heart jumped in my chest. With a swift head movement, she pushed her hair behind her shoulder and her face appeared to me.

At first, I thought I was hallucinating and it slightly bothered me. I didn't want to obsess over her to the point of seeing her everywhere. It was ridiculous to be infatuated like that with someone I barely knew and at the same time, what I had felt when we met wouldn't leave me. It stuck to my skin, my heart, my soul and my mind in a way I didn't understand. I still had the feeling my life would be changed forever from meeting her, but it seemed less likely knowing there were barley any chance for us to meet again.

It was different when I finally realized that it was really her, standing only a few meters away from me, and that I could just take a few steps in her direction to smell her again. I held my breath, staring at her for a few minutes, gathering some courage and not really knowing what I could tell her, when suddenly, a guy sat in front of her. He sent her a large smile and she put her back straight and crossed her hands on the table.

My lips parted, feeling suddenly a bit lost on what my next move should be. All I knew was that I couldn't let go of that chance, I had to take it. It was crazy to even think we found each other again, I was not going to ruin this.

The thought that she may already have a boyfriend crossed my mind but I blinked a few times and swallowed hard. I didn't know much about Mimi, but her cynical ways to see life made me think she was not the type to hold on to a romantic relationship for too long. Plus, he didn't seem like his type, or at least, I hoped he was not.

"When your mom told me you were in town, I couldn't believe it!" the guy said, letting out a short chuckle. "You haven't been here for Christmas in.. years!"

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, your mom always told mine how much she missed you, but that she understood you were busy and everything."

Mimi nodded slowly and I suddenly felt horrible for listening to their conversation. "Look, Josh, I don't know what my mom told you, and I know she loves getting into my love life but, I'm not, you know..."

I couldn't see her face but I noticed how the guy's face literally dropped and I felt bad for him. I couldn't pretend it didn't please me, though.

"Oh, I mean you're here, so I thought..."

"Josh, we dated when we were eighteen, I mean." she chuckled softly. "I don't even live here and I don't want to. I don't believe in relationships, you know how I am. I don't... I've never fallen in love before, and I don't think it's ever going to happen."

"Okay but maybe we could just try? Go on a date, spend time together." he proposed. "We don't have to officially date or anything."

"No, I'd rather n-"

"Come on, Mimi,” he cut her. “Take some time to think about it, will you?"

I don't know what brought me to do this but I quickly walked to them and breathed in, spreading a smile on my face.

"Mimi, wow, never thought I'd see you here!"

She turned her head to look at me but I felt like it was all going in slow motion. Her frowning eyes met mine and I could swear her facial expression softened. Her lips parted slightly in surprise and if I allowed myself to believe it, I could even think she was happy and relieved to see me.

"Hey, Niall." she let out in a gentle tone, making my heart skip a beat. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"

I laughed a bit and shrugged. "I was wondering the same thing."

We remained motionless but after a while, she got up and put her hand on my shoulder, moving closer to kiss my cheeks. It felt formal, especially when I thought about us falling asleep together, cuddling, after she spilled her biggest secrets to me, but I took it anyway and sent her a bigger smile when she moved slightly back. She glanced at Josh and when I looked at him, he seemed confused and a bit upset by the situation. I didn't really care about him, though. I just wanted to save Mimi from this horrible 'date', for lack of a better word.

"Oh, last time, you forgot your wallet." I lied, making her frown. "It's in my car."

It took her a few seconds to understand and she finally opened her eyes wide and nodded. "Oh, yea yea, thank you so much!"

She turned around to grab her coat and put it on before sending a fake smile to Josh and licking her lips. "So uhm hey, I have to go, I'll see you around?"

Josh got up quickly, putting his hands on the table to be closer to her. "You're already leaving?"

"Yes, sorry."

"Alright, so, I'll see you at that Christmas party?"

"Sure. Can't wait."

I heard the sarcasm in her voice but I was not sure Josh had actually noticed. I let her lead the way and we walked outside as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. We walked for a few minutes before she turned her head to me and sent me a smile. Her eyes seemed to light up when they met mine and the connection I had felt so clearly in the taxi was back.

"Thank you." she let out sincerely with a hint of relief. "I didn't know how to get out of this. I love my mom, but she absolutely wants me to find a man, which is ridiculous. I don't need a man to be happy."

I sent her a smile and nodded. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could save you, Mimi Armstrong." I replied, making her laugh. "Perhaps you want to go for a walk with me? Hot chocolate?"

She stopped walking and I did the same, turning to face her. Her head tilted slightly on the right as her hands were deep in the pockets of her coat. She looked pretty and the smile she sent me made my own lips curl. I didn't want to beg her or insist too much, the way that guy had only some minutes ago. I wanted her to agree because she wanted to, not because she felt like she owed me.

"Okay."

[kittyprincessofcats]

She-Ra S5 E07 - Perils of Peekablue

There might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post!

I’ll start by saying upfront that I pretty much consider this to be the weakest episode of season 5 (or at least one of the weaker ones), even though it does move the plot along significantly. The main reason is that, as I said before, I don’t care about the group on Etheria as much as the group in space (with the exception of Scorpia and possibly Spinnetossa), so an episode like this - even though I get why it’s important - just won’t interest me as much as what the gang in space is up to.

That said, it’s not a *bad* episode or anything. Let’s get into it:

- The entire beginning scene where Adora tries to transform into She-Ra and the others keep interrupting her is absolute gold and I love everything about it. Especially Catra, OMG! The way she shows up and actually asks “Are we messing with Adora?” - She’s not even pretending to be helpful and I love that she’s bonding with Glimmer and Bow over “messing with Adora”. And how she then just flings herself onto Adora’s lap and brushes Adora’s face with her tail while cheekily saying “Yeah Adora, concentrate!” - brilliant, absolutely brilliant 🤣. And I also love how Adora doesn’t even try to push her off and actually holds her. These two are too cute.

- I also wonder if the “You can’t let distractions keep you from transforming” line was intentional foreshadowing for Shadow Weaver telling Adora that Catra’s a distraction.

- I like Catra’s new outfit! Well, it’s pretty much just her old outfit with a few adjustments. But still, nice! And she looks really cute with short hair.

- I feel like this beginning scene is pretty much here for two reasons: It sets up that Entrapta is trying to reach the rebellion on Etheria, which will be relevant at the very end of the episode, AND it shows Catra’s new outfit, so we can have a new opening now.

- Changes in the opening: Time for some really exciting mid-season opening changes! Catra’s missing from the villains’ card for the first time ever. Instead, Horde Prime’s hands are now closing around a glowing orb (I assume that’s meant to be the heart of Etheria). At the part where Catra and She-Ra fight, Catra now has short hair, She-Ra is in her new form, and instead of a snarl the fight ends with a soft smile between them (I’m not crying, you’re crying. Best opening glow-up ever! 😭). In the final heroes’ shot, Adora back to being She-Ra instead of Adora, but this time in her new form. And Catra is *finally* in the heroes’ shot as well. GOOD STUFF. (In general, I just LOVE that they actually kept updating the opening in the middle of the season. That is SO cool. But the change that really gets me is how they updated Catra and Adora’s fight, because that’s been the same since the beginning of the show and now it’s SO SWEET.)

- Okay, so my biggest problem with this episode is that the plan to find Prince Peekablue seems... kinda dumb? So they’re planning to sneak into an underwater soiree undercover and abandon everyone else at the camp to find a “hermit” no one has seen in ages because he might know where Adora and the others are? As a plan it just seems far-fetched. I get that they want to warn Adora and company that Prime is chipping people (they don’t know that Adora’s group already knows that), but how would finding Peekablue even help them achieve that? He could tell them where Adora and the others are, but... that’s it. It’s not like he can also magically communicate with Adora or anyone else. And didn’t Swift Wind tell the others last episode that Adora’s coming home and that he can feel her coming closer? So shouldn’t they already know that the group in space are on their way home? (Granted, Swift Wind told that to Micah, Frosta, Spinnerella and Netossa - but I’m assuming the rebels communicate with each other and Micah would have also told Mermista and the others?) I mean, idk how much time supposedly passed between these two episodes, so maybe it’s been a while since Elberon? Also, when did they even figure out that Horde Prime is chipping people? Last episode, Micah still said they had to “figure out what that was”. And if they know about the chips now, it might have been a good idea to check the necks of everyone at camp right away - though to be fair, they maybe didn’t realize how the chips work yet. And yeah, I am nitpicking here (and obviously the rebels have to mess up so things can go south this episode, so I guess they have to make some bad decisions.)

- That said, I love all of their outfits! And I like that Scorpia’s alias “Lynda D’Ream” is a reference to the 80s cartoon.

- Netossa’s lucky that she wears an outfit with such a high collar - makes it hard to put a chip on her neck. (Also, idk if I’ve said this before, but I love Spinnerella and Netossa’s character designs and outfits. They’re both fashion queens.)

- Just the fact that it really is Spinnetossa’s anniversary and Netossa thinks that’s why Spinnerella is acting strange - I mean, what are the odds?

- “They are my people! Which means that most of them have sworn revenge against me at some point.” Okay, that is pretty funny. And getting to meet all of Sea-Hawk’s exes was pretty funny, too. (Yeah, officially they’re not his exes but just people whose ships he set on fire... but come on, the subtext isn’t really subtle here.) And I love the whole running gag of him and Mermista fighting all of them behind the bar counter with Mermista doing most of the work and getting more and more annoyed with it - but when they’re finally done, it turns out there’s also someone there that *she* doesn’t want to see, because she set their ship on fire. Comedy gold.

- Scorpia is me at a party :( I also find it super hard to socialize and get into conversations with strangers. Very relatable there.

- I also love how the sweet flowergirl Perfuma has absolutely no problem blending in with a bunch of criminals.

- “You’re amazing. You have the biggest heart and you could do whatever you put your mind to.” Aww. I’m glad someone told Scorpia that!

- “You should do things not because you’re good at them, but because they make you happy.” That actually is some really good life advice. People should keep that mind in general.

- (I love how Sea-Hawk and Mermista are carrying Admiral Scurvy away in the background while Scorpia and Perfuma are having their heartfelt talk 🤣.)

- “Repeat after me: I can do this. I can do this.” “Perfuma can do this.” 🤦 I feel bad for laughing, but... gosh, Scorpia has some serious self-esteem issues.

- Okay, time for an unpopular opinion: I’m... not that into Scorfuma. There’s nothing wrong with it and I’m not against it or anything, but it just doesn’t particularly grab my interest. That excited feeling you get when you ship something just... isn’t there for me with them, sorry.

(I kinda felt like I had to explain/justify myself, so I started to write a small essay on my ships here that doesn’t really have anything to do with the episode. Feel free to just skip this part.)

I consider myself a multishipper and while my #1 OTP is definitely without a doubt Catradora, I also really have a soft spot for Scorptra (to the point where I’d say it’s probably my #2 after Catradora). And, to make it short, Scorptra vs. Scorfuma is one of those “fanon vs. canon” things for me, where what you want to see happen in canon isn’t necessarily what you find exciting or interesting to explore in fanworks. Obviously Scorptra was never going to be canon because Catradora is a thing, and I’m perfectly okay with that. And in canon, Scorpia getting out of a toxic friendship, moving on from her unrequited feelings, and finding love with someone else (who treats her right) is the right message to send, so I’m glad that’s where the show went. But when it comes to enjoying a ship in fanon (which is what I consider “shipping” to be), then I don’t pick my ships based on how healthy they are in canon, but on how much their dynamic fascinates me and just on whether that certain spark that makes me like a ship is there or not. And in that sense, Scorpia’s dynamic with Catra, which was explored over the course of 4 seasons, is just infinitely more fascinating and spark-inducing to me that her relationship with Perfuma.

And even beyond Scorptra - if I had to ship Scorpia with someone other than Catra, my first pick would be Entrapta. (Yes, I do ship Entrapdak, but like I said - multishipper here. Also, Entrapta has two hands!) And my first pick for who to ship Perfuma with would be Mermista because I like their bickering and I have a thing for opposites attracting.

Anyway, I’ve been rambling about ships for too long now. The bottom line is: I’m fine with Scorfuma being canon and it makes sense that they fit together since they’re very similar people. I don’t dislike it, I’m just not as hyped about it as many people seem to be. On with the episode now, please!

- “I guess I don’t know what a hermit is after all.” Yeah, Peekablue was giving off Double Trouble vibes from the beginning, tbh.

- I love how Netossa is competitive even at planning anniversary surprises.

- Perfuma loudly supporting Scorpia when she ends up on stage is a super nice moment, though. And Scorpia’s performance? Amazing!

- I wonder if Double Trouble made up that whole “She-Ra in space” vision because they were pretending to be Peekablue and just got it right by accident, or if they actually knew that much from their time pretending to be a clone. I wonder how much time they spent as a clone and what exactly they saw.

- Scorpia realizing it’s Double Trouble and then tricking and unmasking them was an amazing moment. So much for Scorpia not being smart!

- I was so excited to see Double Trouble again! Tough it makes me a bit said that they refered to Catra as their “cash kitten”. While they never made a secret out of being in it for the money, I kind of like the idea that they did care for Catra after all. (Do I just ship everyone with Catra? The answer is yes.)

DT: “I know where your friends are. And I’ll tell you - for a price, of course.”

Perfuma: *grows flower arm canon*

DT: “... Fine.”

😂😂😂 Love that.

- “It makes for a very dull audience when everyone’s mind-controlled.” Okay, but that really is a good reason for Double Trouble to help the heroes out without really changing their motivation. They’re still a Chaotic Neutral who doesn’t particularly care about morals - but it would make for a very dull audience if everyone was mind-controlled.

- “Prime is angry. She-Ra showed up and stole his little kitten away.” Like I said before, I LOVE that that’s the reason why Prime’s so pissed in the first place.

- The confrontation between Netossa and Spinnerella is so heartbreaking, but when she said “show me your neck” it again made me wonder why they didn’t check everyone’s neck at camp before.

- “What a shame we can’t be together... in Horde Prime’s light!” Ooohhh, it’s so creepy and angsty, I love it!

- And Mermista’s chipped as well because obviously things have to go south here.

- The parallel confrontations at camp and at the soiree are really cool scenes. I especially like the Spinnerella vs. Netossa fight. And Micah’s chipped as well, because things have to go wrong and Glimmer mentioned being “a day away from meeting her dad” - so obviously that has to be ruined now, too.

- “A little help? I need to lift my hand to the heavens.” Gosh, I love DT.

- Scorpia’s sacrifice made me tear up 😭. (When I first watched it, I was scared she was actually going to die and not just get chipped - I’d never have forgiven the show for that.)

- Can we talk about how strong Netossa actually is? She fought off both Spinnerella and Micah by herself, made a big enough net to cover all the chipped people, and got herself and Frosta out of there safely - I don’t want to hear anything about her powers not being strong again.

- “Happy anniversary.” Noooo, now I’m crying again... 😭😭😭 It’s so sad, but so romantic... (I really love that this season gave Spinnerella and Netossa more screentime. And I’m always here for some angst!)

- And finally, Perfuma is able to contact the group in space and warn them about the blockade. I really like that scene. I like that Perfuma specifically says “You need to stay away”, since we know what happened last time someone told Adora that. And the whole grim mood of Perfuma apologizing and saying the rebellion is compromised, the shaky pictures, the connection cutting off, and then the shot of the ship all alone in space and the silence - amazing. Basically, this episode was “things go very wrong on Etheria, and now the group in space has a serious problem”.

This was a good episode, overall. Like I said, the main reason I consider it weaker is because I care more about the group in space, and they were only here for one scene in the beginning and one in the end. But this was still pretty solid. It had some funny and sweet moments, and then some really cool and dramatic scenes in the end. And of course, it was a very important episode for the plot because things are now really not looking good on Etheria. My favourite moment was Catra sitting on Adora’s lap in the opening scene, though.

[Previous episode]   [Next episode]

[beeexx]

A meet the family moment that goes both very good and of course bad. Part 1/2

You can read it on my ao3 here too as well and read some of my thoughts at the bottom of that page.  Part 2 will be out shortly, but until then, here is part 1, happy fluffy and funny, next part is less so. 

Enjoy -------- TK is planning to spend most of his day doing nothing other than lay on Carlos’ couch, or at least until he comes back from his shift and they can do something together. This morning, like the responsible and horny person that he is, he even made sure to put the alarm on for 30 minutes earlier than they normally would so they could engage in a hot makeout session before Carlos had to leave for work. Those 30 minutes were definitely taken advantage of so to say, so much so that Carlos barely had the time to eat breakfast before he had to leave, 

and not before he almost puts his head through the wall by trying to put on his pants while he was brushing his teeth at the same time.

The memory makes TK smile though as he lies down on the couch, freshly showered and with a coffee in hand, content and at ease, when the doorbell rings interrupting his wandering thoughts.

“Awww.” He says, frowning at the interruption but gets up wondering who’s ringing the bell at this hour of the morning.

The answer becomes obvious when he opens the door and comes face to face with three women who are all waiting impatiently, all of them with the same brown eyes as Carlos and dark skin.

Oh shit.

“Erm, h-hey.” He stutters out, awkwardly. 

“Hello, is Carlos in?” One of the women says, the second oldest one, with a stylish outfit and long curly hair, making TK glaringly stand out in comparison to her with his oversized jumper that is Carlos and an old pair of sweatpants. 

“Eh no he changed his shifts around so he could take tomorrow off.” to spend it with me TK leaves out. 

“Of course my idiot brother would forget to tell us he did that.” The youngest one mutters.

Because yes, there is no mystery to whom these 4 women are that TK has stumbled upon this Friday morning on Carlos’ doorstep. His three sisters and mother are clearly waiting for him to say something and TK honestly feels like he’s about to freeze up on them on the doorstep, or close the door in their faces and run away. It could be either of the two, he hasn’t made up his mind yet which it is. 

“You want to come inside?” He asks though because it’s somewhat important that he makes a good impression on these people, even though he’s wearing more clothes that belong to Carlos than to him and his hair is wet and clinging to his face, and he’s in no way prepared for this. He’s immensely relieved he took a shower though. Smelling like sex and Carlos’ deodorant in front of his mother, who frankly looks terrifying, would have been disastrous. He steps aside and lets them in as they all mutter in agreement. 

TK feels his stomach drop as he takes in the state of the apartment which is in less than ideal condition. Yesterday’s dishes are still in the sink, and TK wants to die because that is definitely a pair of Carlos’ underwear lying on the floor just outside his bedroom.

Ugh.

“So, you must be the New Yorker?” The middle sister says. She’s wearing workout clothes, looking very different to the oldest sister but still manages to look immaculately put together and very pretty. The gene game is strong within the Reyes family and it’s a little unfair TK thinks. 

“Eh yes TK. Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand in politeness and they all shake it. Elena is the oldest sister, then it’s Andrea, Carlos and the youngest one whose name he at least knows is Beatrice. They all look at him with mischief in their eyes, reminding him so much of Carlos it’s a little disconcerting and it makes TK want to die a little bit. When it’s time to shake Gabriela’s hand she looks him over and TK feels like she sees right through him, straight to the core, like there is nothing he can hide from her. He gulps nervously.

“You are a skinny young man.” She points out and TK stutters.

Beatrice rolls her eyes and he runs a hand through his wet hair nervously, not liking how studied he feels by her.

“Yeah, I was in an accident recently, so I’m getting back into it.” After the coma and his time off work he has gotten a little skinny yes but he’s trying really hard to put the weight back on that he lost even though it’s proving to be a little bit more difficult than what he originally thought it would be. But he’s definitely getting there, or that’s what his doctor is saying at least. It doesn’t help though that he has a ridiculously fit boyfriend either who he has trouble working out with because he keeps getting distracted by him and how hot he looks when he’s sweaty, it’s not unusual that when they are working out together, is interrupted for other things instead, which in TK’s defence, still revolves around losing calories. Gabriela’s eyebrow shoots upwards and TK wonders if Carlos’ family knows any of the details of what happened to him.

“I got shot.”

“What?” Elena asks and Beatrice lets out an “Oooooo” sound and looks at him with morbid fascination.

“An accident at work and then during the solar storm I engaged in some activities not appropriate for someone recovering from a gunshot wound.”

He realises too late how that sounds and if Andrea and Elena’s laughter and Carlos’ mother frown is anything to go by he’s completely messed that up. He blushes.

“No, no, I mean I saved a woman from drowning from inside a bus and had to lift up some rubble to get to her. Not something the hospital was too happy about.” TK winces again because now it sounds like he’s bragging instead. Ugh.

“Oh damn.” Beatrice says.

“You’re a fireman, did I get that right?” Elena asks and TK nods.

“Yeah, on leave now though but yes.”

“Are you doing any exercises for your injury?” Andrea asks and it takes TK’s brain a moment to catch up before he remembers that Andrea is a physiotherapist.

“Yeah some I got from the hospital.”

“Well the clinic I work at is pretty good if I may say so myself, so you want me to hook you up, I got you. I’ll make sure you see someone that’s not me.”

“Oh, thanks.” He says as she smirks confidentiality at his obvious nerves. 

“Is there any food in here?” Beatrice interrupts and walks into the kitchen, her mother following close behind inspecting each of the surfaces in what TK thinks is 20/20 vision. Bea opens the fridge and wrinkles her nose in distatate as TK rubs at his neck awkwardly. Elena joins them and they all seem to dissect Carlos’ kitchen inch by inch, judging him by the lack of food and messiness which cannot be blamed on anyone other than TK. He feels a strange need to defend Carlos and tell them it’s his fault which makes no sense at all as that would make his family possibly dislike him more than they already might. 

“Salted caramel popcorn? Since when does Carlos eat these?” Elena asks and holds the bag up. Beatrice grabs it aggressively out of her hand and pops one in her mouth.

“Those are mine.” TK says, his embarrassment growing with each second.

“They’re not as bad as you’d think.” Beatrice says and pops another one into her mouth.

“Ah, that explains it.” Elena says and gives TK a cheeky smile before she reproachfully rips the bag back from Beatrice and puts it back into the cupboard. 

“TK, are you hungry? From the state of this kitchen my son seems to be feeding you badly.” Gabriela says, her eyes sparkling and TK stutters again, so completely overwhelmed by all these women he doesn’t know how to handle being under the sudden attention. If there’s one thing TK lacks in his life it’s interactions with strong women, as the only reference he really has is his mother and she had left and not stuck around for too long so he’s not sure it counts. Not that he tends to be insecure around people in general, but this is Carlos’ family and they are going so steady at the moment that he needs to be liked. 

“He’s a much better cook than I am so he feeds me pretty well ma’am.” Beatrice laughs out loud and Elena and Andrea seem to struggle with holding back laughter too. Gabriela chuckles, but it’s not in a mean way at least. 

“Something my son took with him when he moved out.” She gives Elena and Andrea pointed looks.

“Hey, I cook just fine.”

“I’m a firm believer that all the men I date should cook for me. I’m not conforming to any gender roles mami.” Andrea finishes, much louder than Elena. Beatrice, now laying on the couch rolls her eyes harder than ever before. TK hasn’t met the Reyes family before, but he’s heard enough about them to be able to puzzle some pieces together. Elena is the high achieving one with good grades and borders on being a perfectionist, Elena is the gentle and kind one and Beatrice is the youngest one, sarcastic and moody a lot of the times but strangely enough the one Carlos seems to be getting along the best with. He adores her and according to him Bea’s sarcastic side is kept to a minimum around him which annoys the hell out of the older sisters as they have never quite been able to connect quite the same with her. If TK is going to be honest, it doesn’t surprise him that someone like Carlos has managed to melt Bea’s hard exterior, he’s impossible not to like, he has a way with people which makes him both a good cop, an excellent boyfriend and all around amazing person to have in your life.

“Just talk and talk and talk from you two. TK, I will cook for you and then when my forgetful son comes home I will make sure he has enough leftovers to feed you for a while.”

“Oh, thank you ma’am, that’s very kind of you.”

This time Gabriela rolls her eyes.

“Please, Mrs. Reyes or Gabriela works just fine.”

“You’re a polite one, aaww.” Andrea cooes and TK blushes. He really isn’t used to being surrounded by so many women all at once it’s completely throwing him off his game. 

“More stylish too than the last one, please get my brother into something that’s a bit better than those clothes he insists on wearing.” Elena adds, but it’s a joke TK can tell. At the same time it doesn’t surprise him that it comes from her either, she seems, out of all the siblings to be the most put together, her clothes extremely fashionable and complimentary of her figure. Andrea is in what seems to be her working clothes, and TK knows she and Carlos tend to work out together and Beatrice is in high waisted mom jeans and a cute crop top, definitely giving off student vibes in that outfit. It’s interesting in a way that all siblings in outer appearance seem to be very different from each other, something that is new to TK, who grew up alone. 

But he just smiles and doesn’t comment on the fact that he prefers Carlos without his clothes on anyway and it doesn’t matter what he wears because he would look good literally wearing a plastic bag.

“I’m just going to get changed.” He announces and before he can wait for their replies he hurries into Carlos’ room, making sure to grab the boxers off the floor and not to slam the door shut too loudly, because that would be too embarrassing. He leans against the door and revels in the silence and privacy of the room. He really isn’t ready for this. Meeting Carlos' family seemed to be something he’d do along the lines of dating for 3 months rather than a little over 3 weeks into their relationship. He is not prepared for this. In desperation he texts Carlos. 

-SOS 

The reply comes almost immediately.

-What’s happened?????

-Your mother and sisters are here. Help!!!!

-Oh shit, TK I’m sorry I forgot to tell them I moved my shifts around and we were supposed to meet up and cook together.

-Yeah no shit, I am dying here.

-I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s not that bad.

-Your mother scares me…..

Carlos sends laughing emojis his way before he types out another message.

-That’s latina women for you. Also I am the only son of a big family, ‘her baby needs to date someone worthy of him’ end quote.

-That’s not helping at all!!

-Well, just be yourself, it will charm them in no time, I’ll be home for lunch. Just entertain them with firemen stories and I’m sure you’ll be fine.

-’Just be yourself’ is the worst advice in the history of advice.

-Worked wonders on me, see you soon.

And that’s the key the conversation is over and it has not calmed TK down as much as he had hoped. It will likely be two more hours before Carlos is home and TK really has no choice other than to put his game face back on and go meet his fate with his head held high. 

He starts by getting dressed, in yesterday’s clothes unfortunately, but thanks the heavens he wore jeans at least and not sweatpants when he got here. He borrows some of Carlos’ deodorant and fixes his hair with some stuff he’s left on another weekend long stay. He looks better than he did earlier and that’s literally all he can do. He walks back out and braces himself for what’s to come. 

“Not that you didn’t look nice before but I can totally see why Carlos is into you.” Elena says teasingly and TK blushes. Even Beatrice looks at him with something that looks a little bit more like respect than before.

“Was it that bad before?” 

“No, no, no.” Elena and Andra reassures him and Gabriela looks reproachfully at her daughters who at least look a little sheepish from their mother’s intimidating eyes.

“Don’t mind them TK honey, would you come help me in the kitchen?” 

“Yeah sure of course, what can I do?” 

“You can shop the onions, smallish bits please.” She hands him a cutting board and a knife and he gets to work, this at least being something he can do without failing too hard.

“You three, get to work!”

TK hides his smile, Gabriela sounding eerily similar to when Carlos puts on his demanding police officer voice. Maybe he picked it up from his mother? Not that Carlos has anything on this woman though, she walks into a room, small as she is and demands respect and attention. TK envies that a little bit. 

“So do you have any siblings TK?” Gabriela asks as the kitchen fills with the sound of chopping, laughter, frying and honestly an all together wholesome feeling that only cooking can do, bringing people together, something TK is not too familiar with. As great as his dad is, cooking together at home was not an activity they used to do. 

“No, I’m an only child.”

“Ah.” She says and raises an eyebrow. “Parents still together?”

“No, they’ve been divorced for a long time now.”

“And what do they do?”

It’s feeling more and more like an interrogation to TK, except that Gabriela has soft features and seems to be driven by curiosity rather than to undo him and pull all his secrets out of him to use against him. It doesn’t mean that TK in this moment does have the urge to lie or escape from this room and he has to remind himself that not everyone in this world is out to hurt him, no matter how much it feels like it sometimes. Carlos has been nothing but kind and supportive even before they got official, there’s nothing saying that his mother is not exactly the same, kind and caring and sweet.

“My mother is a lawyer and lives in California at the moment so I see her every now and then and my dad is a firefighter too. Owen Strand the Captain over at the 126.”

“Oh, yeah I heard he ripped the whole place up.” Beatrice adds.

“It’s really nice though. I went to see Michelle a few months back and he’s really pulled it together.” Andrea adds, sounding deeply impressed and TK nods. 

“Yeah, natural light and nice showers do wonders for morale.”

“Is that your dad’s words?” Elena asks and TK nods.

“Yeah.”

“And you TK, have you always wanted to be a firefighter then?”

For some reason TK doesn’t think bringing up the doubts he’s had about the life he’s chosen is the best thing to do at this moment, so he settles for the reply he always goes with, which these days is pretty much the truth anyway.

“Yeah, always.” Gabriela smiles at that, kindly, and TK finds that even if she scares the living daylight out of him, she seems to be a pretty wonderful woman too. 

The Reyes seem to lay off him a little bit, focusing instead on talking to each other. TK finds that the sounds filling up the kitchen settles something inside of him. His life has never been like this, where people stop to spend time with one another, and enjoy the company of each other when they are at home. Not that he thinks his parents did a bad job, but being an only child in a busy family often made him feel lonely, and he didn’t grow up with a lot of home cooked meals that were made with love, so this, this is nice. 

When Carlos finally comes home for lunch TK isn’t dying as much as he was before, and he’s thankful for that.

“Ah, there is my forgetful son.” His mother chides him immediately when he steps inside.

“Sorry mami.” He says and kisses both of her cheeks, before he ruffles Beatrice’s hair who glares murderously at him and hugs his two older sisters. Lastly he walks up to TK and for a moment he seems to hesitate about what to do and it makes TK roll his eyes because while they tend to be pretty light on public affection outside of the house, his family is already aware that they are dating. TK raises up on his toes and places a kiss on Carlos’ cheek, Carlos’s hands coming to gently grab at his waist and making sure to give his sisters the finger while they ooo and aaaaww in the background. Carlos steps away and steals a piece of chicken that is cooking and his mother swats his hand away with a spatula chiding him in spanish.

“Is everything done or?”

“If you’re asking if you managed to miss all the chopping and cooking then yeah you did you sneaky bastard.” Elena says, sitting on the kitchen island by the cooling dulce de leche that she keeps stealing off when her mother isn’t looking in her direction. TK had a taste of it too earlier and it’s absolutely delicious so he doesn’t blame her. 

“Nope, that was not what I was asking.” Carlos says and pushes her off the now clean counter, she glares at him but doesn’t even try to push back at him, their size difference not to her advtange which Carlos knows. He sticks his tongue out cheekily and she mutters under her breath that she’ll get him back. TK hides is laugh, can’t help but be affected by the sibling rivalry they’re displaying. He likes seeing Carlos like this, teasing and funny and a little mean with his sisters, it’s so very unlike him on most days and it’s nice to see another side to him. 

“TK, will you help me set the table?” Gabriela asks.

“Yeah absolutely.”

“Carlos we need a bigger table, do you have the extensions still?” 

“Yep, come on.”

“As if you couldn’t carry them yourself?” Andrea rolls her eyes but starts walking to the back of the condo, Carlos following behind but not before he kisses his mother’s cheeks affectionately again. She says something to him in spanish that TK only catches the end of but he’s pretty sure it’s about him and judging by the look Carlos sends him it’s not bad.

When Carlos and Andrea come back TK and Gabriela have finished setting the table and even Bea has gotten off her phone to come peek interestingly at everything that is laid out before them. TK hasn’t seen this much delicious food in a long time and he already loves Carlos’ cooking, if he learnt from this woman it’s going to absolutely blow his mind. They sit down, Carlos beside him, with their mother at the end of the table and the rest of the sisters on the other side and TK lets the sound wash over him, enjoying how comfortable the family is around each other. He manages to escape the attention, but only for a while.

“Soooo, how did you meet then? Carlos has been vague about the details.” Elena of course asks after a while. TK shoots Carlos a look and he indicates for TK to talk.

“On the job actually, on my first call, a car accident.” Elena leans forward, clearly very interested and in the corner of his eye he can see Carlos shoot her a reproachful look.

“How romantic.” She comments and Carlos throws his napkin at her, Gabriela only needing to glare at them both for them to stop.

“Did he ask you out by the car accident?” Andrea wonders and it makes both TK and Carlos chuckle.

“Please, I have some manners and style, you should know this by now.”

“Do you though?”

“I do actually.”

“Okay, continue the story, shush Andrea.”

“Erm, well there isn't much of a story.” TK really doesn’t feel like getting into the whole drama caused by him because everything has been going so well, so if he was about to tell them how he had run out of a dinner with Carlos, gotten into a bar fight and then kind of been a dick for a couple of weeks by avoiding Carlos and then getting into the whole accident he would lose whatever standing he had with the Reyes family immediately.

“We hit some bumps in the beginning but it worked out in the end.” Carlos covers for him cryptically and if he hasn’t told his family about the mess TK essentially is, he must care a hell of a lot about him. TK feels his face heat and his heart beat faster and having a little bit of a breakdown or just the urge to drag Carlos away from his family and into the bedroom to kiss him stupid, then no one has to know. He swallows down a bit of tomato and tries not to think about it too closely, even though Carlos’ thigh keeps brushing up against his when he moves. He is going to ignore it and get through it.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve worked it out.” Gabriela adds smoothly and Carlos gives his mother a grateful look and then the conversation moves along to other things and TK ends up having a lovely but very intense day, one he will remember fondly for a long time.

………..

When the door closes TK sags in relief against the counter, allowing Carlos’ side to take half of the weight.

“That was intense.” He mutters, making Carlos chuckle as he puts his arms around him.

“That’s the Reyes for you.”

“I feel like I could sleep for a week.” TK tucks himself closer against Carlos’ side, nosing at his neck looking for affection. Carlos rolls his eyes fondly, but takes pity on his cute but bratty boyfriend and unexpectedly sweeps TK off his feet. TK lets out an indignant little shriek that he will definitely deny he ever made later on as Carlos puts him over his shoulder before he makes his way over to the bedroom. He puts TK down gently on the bed before he lies down too, mostly on top of TK and sighs in content. TK chuckles before he runs a hand through Carlos’ hair, sending a shiver down his spine. He noses at TK’s neck, and rests his head there, feeling his pulse point flutter underneath his lips. 

They lie in silence for a while, enjoying it after the hectic morning and day. 

“You want me to move?” Carlos asks. TK just shakes his head. Carlos knows TK likes to be pinned to the bed, sometimes definitely, sexually yes, but oftentimes it’s more about the sense of grounding it makes him feel when Carlos will cover him completely. Carlos could understand that and was often happy to comply with the request, even though in the beginning he was definitely worried about crushing TK. 

“Your family is something else.” TK says snapping Carlos out of his wandering thoughts. He chuckles in agreement. 

“They are.”

“I like it though, the noise, the laughter and banter, it was always so quiet being an only child, as well as it was lonely.”

Carlos hums and kisses TK softly on the neck.

“Yeah, our house was anything but for most of the time I grew up. The only time it was ever quiet was when something really bad happened.”

“Like?”

“When my abuela died it was horrible for a while.”

“Yeah that must have been rough.”

“It was… another time it was quiet was when Elena got arrested.”

“She got arrested? For what?”

“She smacked some old white lady up in a bar for being a racist.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah, well it also got quiet when I came out.”

TK winces, Carlos feels it go through his whole body.

“Did they take it badly?”

“Not badly, but I’m the only boy in a family of three sisters, so it wasn’t great at first. But all my sisters rallied behind me and my parents both came around eventually. They just needed some time to sit with it all. But it’s fine now.”

TK strokes a hand down his back in silent support that Carlos appreciates. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry you had to go through it, even if it turned out alright.” TK whispers, and Carlos smiles sadly against his neck. He knows that in a perfect world he wouldn’t have had to worry about coming out to his parents, or to his co workers or to his friends. But this isn’t a perfect world so...

“Thanks.” He whispers back. TK hums and continues stroking his fingers through Carlos’ hair and down his back, the motion making Carlos melt against him. 

“Who knew cooking could be this nice.” TK says after a while and Carlos chuckles but can’t be bothered to lift his head, he’s way too comfortable.

“Should we make it a thing then? Instead of me cooking for you all the time we should start cooking together instead?” 

“Well, maybe not all the time, I would distract you way too much in the kitchen for you to get anything done.” He teases and Carlos agrees, kisses his throat gently a fews times before he lies down again. 

“True.”

“But maybe I will help from time to time.”

“I’d like that.” Carlos whispers.

“It was never like this for me growing up, loud and happy and people joining together to ask about the other person’s day. Or cooking for that matter. It’s nice, I’m happy you had it.”

Carlos knows some of TK’s past, not all of it but some of it, and he rarely pushes, just often lets TK come to his own conclusions about stuff. Well sometimes he pushes just a little but when it comes to talking about TK’s life before Texas he knows it’s a bad idea to approach it that way. And he knows TK has been making an effort too about being a little bit more forthcoming and he appreciates it endlessly. So it’s nice to hear him talk like this and Carlos waits it out, let’s TK get it off his chest.

“Thanks, it was nice, you can come to every family dinner from now and then maybe you’ll tire of it.”

“I don’t think I could tire of it, tire of you.” He whispers and Carlos lifts his head up, smiles goofily and brighly and TK rolls his eyes but makes a little indication he tends to do when he wants a kiss. It’s Carlos’ turn to roll his eyes but he leans forward and gently places one on top of TK’s nose, making him scrunch it up looking ridiculously cute. He chuckles but kisses him on the mouth next and TK hums happily into it.

………

Carlos must have fallen asleep, because when he blinks his eyes open he’s surprised to find it’s almost evening. His body is sleep warm and languid with TK still wrapped up around him. He yawns and lifts his head, coming face to face with TK who has a pillow crease on his cheek but green eyes alert and awake. 

“I wasn’t the only one who was tired then?” He teases and Carlos can’t be bothered to snark back and instead lays his head back down on TK’s shoulder before pressing his lips to his neck. TK sighs in contentment and Carlos repeats it, but a little more meaningfully, letting his lips linger before biting gently. TK squirms underneath him and Carlos chuckles against his skin before he moves further up. TK exhales shakily before he shifts, putting Carlos’ lower body a little closer to his crotch. Carlos helps out and puts himself in between TK’ legs, who eagerly grinds upwards, already half hard, making Carlos bite down on TK’s neck to prevent his own very loud moan from escaping from the friction. They had a go this morning before Carlos had to rush to work for his shift, it was fun but rushed and even so Carlos is pleasantly surprised that his body keeps having such a powerful and potent reaction to TK’s grinding against his dick. But with his appetite seemingly not diminishing anytime soon he isn’t exactly going to complain either, because they have been having a lot of sex recently, amazingly good sex, so if he is going to be able to get off 3-4 times a day then he definitely isn’t going to complain.

TK’s hand pulls at his hair as Carlos makes his way up towards his face, lips never living skin and watches goosebumps erupt all over TK’s body. TK, breathing unevenly by now, pulls at Carlos’ shirt impatiently and Carlos chuckles before he lets up and unceremoniously throws it off. TK sits up a little, gently places his hands around Carlos’ waist and places a trail of feather light kisses just above the waistline of Carlos’ jeans. Carlos bites at his lip, can think of a lot of other places he’d like for that mouth to be on before he pulls TK’s t-shirt off him and throws it in the direction of what he thinks is his own shirt and then gently pushes him down again. TK goes willingly, Carlos is well aware that if he wouldn’t have wanted that he would have let Carlos know, and so he puts his full weight down on top of him and kisses him hungrily.

Carlos and TK have during the weeks they have been together had a lot of talks about boundaries and consent, what is okay and what is not okay. It was different when they weren’t exactly official, but ever since then Carlos has had that nagging feeling in his head that it’s important he understands and gets to know exactly what TK likes and doesn’t. TK had scoffed at first and said everything was fine which Carlos had not believed for a second and he had spent a lot of time trying to show to an ever hesitant TK that he wasn’t going to walk out and leave TK just because he expressed a line of thought that didn’t always align with what Carlos thought or felt, and that included everything from bed related things to basically living together, which they basically already were, as the last time TK spent a night away from Carlos’ bed was over a week ago. Yes he was keeping count. There was a toothbrush that was TK’s in his bathroom, he had a packet of those sweet popcorn in his cupboard that he thought were disgusting and TK loved and a package of oat milk in his fridge for TK’s coffees, there was a pair of running trainers in his hallway and hair stuff on his counter that belonged to TK, so by all accounts, TK was living here more than he was living with his dad. They had somehow managed to take things both very slow and very fast at the same time but TK seemed happier than he had in a long time, Carlos had been told that in secret by Owen at the station one evening and Carlos had felt his heart flutter in utter joy to hear it.

TK grabs the back of his head, angles it so that the kiss deepens even more and Carlos thinks he would be a happy man just doing this forever. He moans when TK’s tongue traces his and TK snickers delightfully. He moves his mouth down to TK’s throat, leaves sloppy open mouthed kisses on exposed skin, feels TK grab the sheet and squirming underneath him and he doesn’t let up until he reaches his ear, sucks on his earlobe before he leans in close.

“Baby.” he whispers and TK groans. “What do you want?” When TK doesn’t answer he starts sucking on his earlobe again like a tease. “Baby, use your words.” He teases.

“Yeah, y-yeah. It’s very hard doing that when you’re doing what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He teases and starts to suck a hickey on his neck instead, just below where his shirt will hide it and TK moans, grabs at his hair again and pushes one of his legs up and around Carlos’ waist.

“Words baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, please fuck me.” TK finally says, sounding strained and breathing hard already. Carlos feels a thrill of excitement go through him and he kisses the small bruise on TK’s neck before he gently kisses TK on the mouth, smiling brightly at him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” TK rolls his eyes without heat and Carlos moves a little so he can reach the lube he keeps in one of the drawers. 

………

It’s hours later and they are both lounging around on the bed, still not having left the bedroom after the sex they had ages ago. TK’s in a pair of borrowed boxers, draped halfway across the bed on his front, giving Carlos a nice view of his ass, as he distractedly tries to read while TK looks to be playing candy crush. Carlos just rolls his eyes fondly and goes back to his page when TK’s stomach rumbles loudly in the comfortable silence. Carlos lifts an eyebrow looking at TK over the page while TK has a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Earlier activities make you hungry?”

“If I had an app that counted calories I’m sure it would say we burnt a lot from what we did.”

Carlos chuckles.

“True.” He agrees. “Well there are a lot of leftovers from earlier still in the fridge if that suits you?” He’s already getting up, not bothering to put on any other clothes than the boxers he’s wearing. He feels TK’s eyes trail his behind as he leaves the room for the kitchen his mother had thankfully forced them all to clean up afterwards. It’s feeling like a blessing at the moment. He heats some of the leftovers on two plates but before he makes it back TK comes and joins him, plastering himself against his back, placing a kiss on Carlos’ shoulder blade.

“Hi.” He laughs and TK hums.

“Did you get bored?”

“I was missing you too much.” TK admits and Carlos feels a thrill of joy rush through him, unable to help it. He turns around and puts his arms around TK and pulls him close, rests his head against his forehead and stays there for a moment, the world feeling completely still just then, narrowed down just to him and TK.

“I missed you too.” He whispers even though it’s cheesy but the brilliant smile he is rewarded by tells him TK feels it’s anything but. 

Carlos thinks about telling him right then and there. He’s so close to opening his mouth and blurting it out, but regrets it at the last minute and places a gentle and sweet kiss on TK’s mouth instead. 

Carlos knows he’s an idiot, knows it’s way too fucking soon to tell TK that he loves him, but he fucking does, he feels it in his whole body. But he really doesn’t think that TK is ready to hear it and while that doesn’t diminish what Carlos feels for him, it’s not the right time to tell him.

But he hopes that it’s soon, because while it might be foolish and rushed and stupid of him to feel that way about this beautful mess of human being, Carlos has always been one to fall fast and hard, it’s just who he is.

[tuiyla]

So I finally watched The Owl House

I wish I’d do this with every show I watch but it seems like only a lucky few get the She-Ra style rant of love treatment. Well, I finally watched The Owl House after my dash having been flooded for the past couple of weeks and I have some thoughts. Slight spoilers below.

First off, I love the whole vibe. I had a faint idea that this show would be about magic but I didn’t know much before watching - except for one thing, we’ll get back to that. The way it builds its world and deals with magic, though, is so refreshing. And I just have to mention here that I laughed out loud at all the Harry Potter jabs, they were hilarious. I expect we’ll learn much more about magic and its users as the show goes on but as far as the first season goes the introduction was really solid. It strikes the right balance between leaving things to the imagination but being more than “wave wand and magic happens”. It’s colourful, it’s creative, and I even like the ovens and school tracks, despite knowing that the story is about not conforming to those. It makes the Boiling Isles unique and make me want to learn more about the world even beyond the characters and the main plot.

TOH also presents a world that’s much more macabre than I was expecting from the Disney Channel, not that that’s a bad thing. I found myself thinking of Adventure Time at certain points and pondering, at scary moments, how kids would react. I think kids love this, though, and besides, nothing can be more scarring than Courage the Cowardly Dog was. It’s not that terrifying, of course, just daring enough to stand out. Overall the show has what I would classify as more of a Cartoon Network vibe than a Disney Channel one, but I admittedly haven’t really been following many Disney shows. In any case, I dig it. I dig the weird creatures and the beautiful backgrounds and I appreciate how alive the Boiling Isles feel. It doesn’t take long for TOH to immerse you in its world so I’m for one am hooked.

I make a big deal of loving the world itself because rarely does it happen that world-building stands out to me so soon in a series. I do love carefully constructed fantasy worlds but for the most part I’m more interested in the characters themselves. Here, I’d say it’s close to being a 50-50, which is something that even Avatar can’t say with its elemental masterclass in world-building (which is mostly because the character depth there is unrivaled but still). So yeah, kudos to The Owl House for achieving this. From Luz’s glyph magic to the covens and the titans, I’m excited to explore this world more.

Now, the characters. The real meat of any story. Starting with Luz, I have seen some criticism that she’s a generic hero so far, the “I’m a weirdo”, heart of gold, upbeat variety. I don’t think this makes her bland, though I do admit that being told over and over again that she’s weird makes me less engaged, even she’s also shown to be weird. I like the message of her arc and that the chosen one trope was deconstructed almost right away. I like that she’s relentlessly enthusiastic and kind to people and I like that she doesn’t have to get more bitter in order to get development. Instead, she learns from her mistakes but keeps being herself and brings her unique spirit to the Boiling Isles. We need protagonists like Luz, not just because she’s latina and bisexual but because her learning process doesn’t involve cynicism. Sure, there is a lot she needs to learn but her heart is presented as an asset and a sort of source of magic. I’m excited to see where her story goes, for sure.

I’m gonna write briefly about the other characters before I get to my favourite one. Eda is super cool and I quickly got over the fact that she’s not Beatrice Horseman, lol. She embodies such a youthful energy but the show also allows her to be a middle-aged woman comfortable in her own body - well, owl curse notwithstanding. Also, her relationship with Lilith is one of my favourite parts of the whole show. Eda subverts so many of the mentor’s traditional tropes and I’m here for it. I kinda thought she was the villain based on her design and when I didn’t know anything about the show but hey, happy she’s not.

I don’t think I’d even seen a picture of King before starting to watch the series and at first I thought I’d get tired of him real quick. He’s the type of character who can get really annoying instead of endearing really fast if he’s not given any depth or charm, both by way of writing and voice acting. Luckily, I ended up liking King and his antics. His design is indeed adorable and Alex Hirsch is a genius. The only time I felt like he went too far was, perhaps surprisingly, in the book writing episode, “Sense and Insensitivity”, but even there going too far was the point. So yeah, King’s also great, there’s much potential in his backstory and general character.

Alright so really quickly, other characters: Willow and Gus are generic best friend characters and though they already have other things going on, I expect more development as the series progresses. I like that Willow is actually super powerful, just not in the way people expected her to and Gus is clearly also talented despite being younger. I’d be happy to see more of the other kids, get more familiar with Hexside. Edric and Emira are fun characters but they were really shitty in their first episode so I was kind of surprised they weren’t more of a nuisance to Amity later on. I’m all for supportive siblings so I wouldn’t mind a good relationship between the three but I feel like it’s more complicated than that with the Blights.

Finally, I also have to mention that Hooty is... well, quite something, isn’t he. Much like with King, I thought he’d be much more annoying but somehow the show is self-aware enough that it makes Hooty tolerable. I’m almost always torn between feeling sorry for him and being thoroughly weirded out, and I think that’s the intention? It’s fitting that he’s the titular character as he embodies the tone of The Owl House well in my eyes. He’s there for the comedy but there’s just enough there to hint at something more. Very bizarre, strong CN vibes, here for it.

Now that I’ve written a paragraph more about Hooty than I expected to, let’s talk about Amity. Listen, no other character stood a chance to be my favourite as soon as I learned Mae Whitman voiced Amity. That woman gave me Katara so now I have a quasi Pavlovian response to her voice. I’d also say that I knew more about Amity going into the show than I did about any other aspect of TOH. I heard somewhere that she started out as an antagonist, I knew her parents were abusive, and the reason the show blew up on my dash and my general online bubble is the Grom episode. Lucikly I only saw stills of Lumity beneath the crescent moon but the pure Sapphic energy of that was enough to gay migrate me to this show. I’d like to note it here though that The Owl House is a good show in and of itself, the queer rep is just a nice extra. I’m gonna spend the next couple hundred words going on about Amity and her crush on Luz but I don’t value only that. The Gay Migration is great and rep is great but I’m also grateful to have a solid show behind it. That being said.

I’m a total dyke for Amity Blight. I was very biased before even being introduced to her character but I genuinely find her to be fascinating and she has great potential. She’s developing quite quickly, like much of The Owl House, but an arc not being stretched out for several seasons before getting a rushed conclusion is refreshing. The progress hits all the beats and the only note I have is that I want more. She starts out as a generic bully but the opportunity to be more is there from the beginning. We find out early on that she used to be friends with Willow, we see that she works hard and values honest work. When she becomes Luz’s rival, it doesn’t last long before Amity shows that she’s open to new perspectives. That’s not to defend or even justify her earlier and nastier moments, Amity was rude to both Luz and Willow. But through all that, she becomes a complex character who does bad things but isn’t a bad person and grows when she gets the space to. I think that’s neat.

Luz’s decision to befriend her might be cartoon logic but as someone who subscribes to the “kill them with kindness” ideology, I can totally relate. Amity’s softer side doesn’t take long to show and “Lost in Language” is such a great episode to show how complex people can be. Again, I was already biased when it came to Amity but she’s consistently shown to be capable of self-reflection and growth when others give her the chance. I think her past and potential future friendship with Willow is a great way to explore many different topics and I’m trusting the show to do it justice. I also can’t wait to meet the rest of the Blights, if only to get me some angst and further develop Amity. I half expected Grom to take the form of her parents. Too dark for Disney? Well, we don’t know Amity’s dynamic with her parents, exactly, but there’s so much subtext and potential. I love what we’ve already seen from her but I’d also say that she has one of the greatest potentials in the show.

Another way in which this potential manifests is Lumity, of course. Again, they’re developing quite quickly but that doesn’t mean it’s rushed. I’d love to explore Amity’s crush more and what Luz means to her. The Grom episode surpassed all expectations, still and gifs don’t do the stunning dance sequence justice. The animation is so smooth, the colours are amazing, the music is on point and the Sapphic vibes complete the picture. Poetic cinema, truly. Molly Ostertag and Noelle Stevenson are really out there giving wlw animation fans everything we ever wanted, huh. It also warms my heart that the crush is made very clear, not just by Luz’s name being on the note but by the delightful gay disaster that is Amity in “Wing It Like Witches”. I never thought I’d ever see such a relatable useless lesbian in animation so kudos to Dana Terrace and the whole crew. Wow, how far we’ve come.

So yeah, Amity is a funky little lesbian and I’m a 100% here for her gay disaster moments, but I also love where Lumity is going thematically. They’re great as foils and I’m hoping that they won’t get together at the very end. Look, I love me some Bubbline, Korrasami and Catradora, but it’s time a wlw relationship had the chance to exist onscreen and not only in the last episode. The Owl House has a great chance to do that. I know the creators don’t want romance to be the main focus and I respect that, I think the world they created deserves to showcased and explored to its full potential. Lumity could be a great subplot though, as representation on the one hand and as a thematically interesting dynamic on the other. Plus, Luz and Amity are just cute and sometimes, it’s as simple as that. Oh, and also the whole Little Miss Perfect thing? One of the best fandom discoveries I’ve made in a long while. Not only is the song truly perfect for Amity, I love that Joriah Kwamé went on to write Ordinary as well. This right here is why fandom is beautiful.

I think that’s about it for season 1 initial thoughts. The moral can be a bit on the nose at times, especially in the early episodes but the show is ultimately for kids and I appreciate its message. Interesting world and magic system, good characters, great potential for later seasons, just a well put together show that I’m really glad I started watching. I’m kind of sorry I didn’t keep up with season 1 as it was coming out but I would not have been able to wait between episodes. The pacing is good overall, deffo moves fast but I wouldn’t call it rushed, and the “filler” episodes still add something to the story. I’m not sure if I would still feel like the show moves at a fast pace if I hadn’t binged it but in any case it isn’t rushed, the necessary beats are all there and have time to sit. I’m going to watch as it comes out from now on so hopefully season 2 will arrive early next year.

Oh, and: I’m very new to the fandom, barely just found out about Little Miss Perfect, so any and all tidbits, fun facts, and fic recommendations are welcome. Also if you just want to chat my inbox is always open!