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barcapix · 1 month ago

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heyyy hope all is amazing!! genuinely you have no idea how excited I am that you wanted to write a pedri fic cause i lowk have read literally everything out there abt him already :(((

but I was thinking, what about a pedri x oc (or reader if you don't do ocs, I just like 3rd person writing the best lmao) where they're like childhood besties and their parents want them to get together but the parents dont know that they actually dated and broke up, and now they're reuniting at some family event thing in Tenerife- maybe a new years 25 party? brownie points out if she's an Olympic figure skater or sm, and it's been like years since they've seen each other, and they've both accomplished so much without each other cause I love athlete x athlete and like to make myself sad :)). also this was so specific for no reason you can totally change whatever you want! <3

✮ Master Of None - Pedri González

pedri gonzález x childhood bsf/ex!athlete!fem!reader

sy: when distance pulls you apart, but you manage to reunite, the universe is ready to pull you apart again.

a/n: this was a lovely req so ty! i hope the reader pov did this justice cause i stf my brain has a malfunction when i try to do 3rd person. i hope you enjoy tho <333

a/n2: so i would really appreciate feedback on this! i really wanna improve writing longer fics like this (6.4k) so please if you could just lmk what you thought of this.. did it make sense? what could i do to improve and are there areas im missing etc, i would be so so so grateful.🤗

warnings: hmm no. kinda like fluff/comfort maybe a lil angst?

IN TENERIFE… sitting out on the patio, with fruity refreshers in hand and sunglasses alike, were yours and pedri’s parents discussing a revolutionary reunion.

“i can’t believe she’s finally coming home.”

“y pedri,” rosy adds, settling her drink down. “ya era hora de que ambos se volvieran a ver, han pasado años.” (it’s about time they both see eachother again, it’s been years)

she looks around for approval, then receives it with hums of agreement.

“crees que siguen siendo amigas,” your mother mentions. “te gustaría mantenerte en contacto de alguna manera?” (do you think they’re still friends. like, keep in contact one way?)

rosy shakes her head. “hacía tiempo que no oía a pedri mencionarla. es como si la última vez que estuvieron los dos en tenerife, hace seis veranos, algo hubiera cambiado.” (i haven’t heard pedri mention her for awhile. it’s like the last time they were both in tenerife, six summers ago, something changed)

“i second that,” your father utters. “y/n, when we do hear from her, there’s no mention of pedri either,” he glances across to your mother and she nods. “did they fight?”

they were all oblivious to the full picture.

how you dated, then how it all fell apart. six summers ago. it was a late-night altercation, that had you leaving with an aching heart, and similarly left him staring at his ceiling—wondering if this was the right choice.

if breaking up was the right choice?

after a then-call from, the junior skating NSF you were to fly into america to fulfill your dream of being an professional figure skater. meanwhile, pedri received a major debuting football offer in laliga, prompting his permanent move into las palmas.

ultimately, you both agreed that ending the relationship then was for the best—to avoid the heartache that long distance can bring. you recognised that letting go early would spare you both from the constant stress and uncertainty that often come with being apart.

there wasn’t any bad air left between you, but more like air: what could of been?

howbeit, the last they knew of, you were exchanging shared laughs and shoulder bumps in the hidden corner of the party, that night.

“nosotros no sabemos,” fernando, pedri’s father, replies. (we dont know)

“i always thought they’d end up together,” your mother points out. “even as kids, i figured they were already a perfect match.”

“they still could,” rosy imparts, surprising even herself. “maybe they just need.. a little push.”

“¿de qué estás hablando?” (whatcha talking about?)

then, at the blink of an eye, fer, pedri’s brother, being the nosey creature he is, strolls in on by with nilo trotting happily by his side.

“por el amor de dios!” (for heavens sake!)

“do you have to creep on us like that?” his mother exclaims, poorly settling her hand above her heart. “i could of had a heart attack!”

“i highly doubt that mamà,” fer chuckles, perching atop the coffee table. “pero vamos ¿de qué se trata el chisme?” (but c’mon, what’s the gossip about?)

pedri’s father groans, broken in thought. “well, we’re figuring how to bring pedri and y/n together.”

“y/n,” fer pulls his cap down, muttering under his breath. “i haven’t heard that name in a while.”

as expected, the silence returns.

the only thing breaking the placidity, is nilo’s satisfied growls as fer scratches behind his ears, and the soft chatter of bluebirds above.

“why don’t you just throw a new year’s party?” fer suggests after a beat. he’s almost bewildered that four grown, allegedly more educated, adults couldn’t think of such a simple idea.

“fer that’s—” your father starts, hands raised.

the simplicity: a party, a family gathering, that would naturally bring you two together, given you were both coming back to tenerife for the holidays.

“ay dios mío!” rosa confides, standing up. “fer you finally put your brain to use for once!”

with the plan finally set in motion, would seeing eachother again, make or break you?

OVER IN MADRID… after a gruelling day of packing, confirming flights and responding to a barrage of texts from your manager—instructing that you can’t drink, nor arrive late to the next practice in milan—you plop down onto the hotel’s bed, the plush mattress welcoming you in. the sheets are soft and ironed, carrying a familiar texture that only reminded you of home.

packing shouldn’t cause this much fatigue.

speaking of home, that’s exactly what you were packing for. later tonight, you’d be flying over to tenerife to celebrate new years after a futile, 30sec conversation with your mother, issuing it was a party to be attending to.

technically, you weren’t packing for the party, per se, much more for milan—your fifth fixture of the upcoming figure-skating qualifiers.

you loved your job though.

x3 gold medalist, current world figure skating champion and holding the youngest record in achieving the champion status, in sporting history.

even now, five hours after a minor warm-up session, you could still feel the tight leather engraved around your ankles and the backache that came with it.

you sigh, staring ahead at the ceiling.

there was one thing you weren’t aware of though, how the gonzález family would also be attending. until—a no caller id awakens your phone to life.

your head shoots up, grabbing the phone as if it were an emergency.

“hola? the man on the line, begins. “¿es esto y/n?” (is this y/n?)

you don’t catch on at first. “who is this? is this some sort of prank?” abruptly, your tone rises with frustration.

“normally, it would be. but not t’day.”

thats when the cogs in your brain churn. “fer!?”

“that is my name,” he almost sounds proud. “so you don’t forget as easily as people say, huh?”

“what? whatev—why are you calling me? again?”

“again? you mean like four months later,” he half scolds, half laughs. “i wanted to check in on you. are you coming back to tenerife for the holidays?”

“sí.. why does it matter to you?”

the line disconnects for a moment; it crackles back to his voice. you thought, briefly, you could hear a faint conversation audible in the background—one sounding oddly familiar—but with the lethargy coursing through your muscles, you brush it off.

“..figuring you’re back in town—wait, how long has it been since, y’know.”

“six years.”

“wow, six years,” fer exhales deeply, and you can only picture him pinching at the insides of his eyes. “it’s really been that long?—right anyway, i assume you’re going to the house party too?”

your lips part with an ‘o’ shape, and you cut short with words. “huh—how do you know?”

there’s a definitive pause. “…is that nilo i hear?” followed by, what you could infer, is a fake distorted cough. “sorry y/n, gotta run. see you l—”

the call suspends. your phone falls from your ear, piling on your lap. you sit there, blinking, staring at the black screen of your phone like it might come alive again.

was that really him?

and how did he know you were coming?

more importantly, this was following a pattern. a pattern that had him showing up to the same places he’d asked you about. a few months ago, he’d called you up inquiring if you were going to orlando—because he was.

was there a plan, or motive behind this?

you press your lips together, trying to replay the call in your mind, but it’s already blurring around the edges, like fog slipping through your fingers.

the lump in your throat is difficult to digest, but just as you swallow it, there’s a knock at the door, making you flinch.

“are you ready to leave?”

its simon. thank god, its only simon.

for a second, you fully believed it was fernando, coming back to haunt the ghost of your room, and that call was just a facade for his tricks.

simon—your assistant but grown to know him as your bestfriend. the blonde stands in a navy suit, and squared glasses, that he reckons gives him a ‘siren’ look.

you let out a long-waited breath, one you weren’t aware you were holding aback. “yes. yeah—i think.”

“you think? i didn’t know that was an option,” he steps toward you, sensing an unease. he knew you better than your own parents by this point. “what’s going on?”

the palms of your hands dig into your eyes. “i mean, nothing,” it only takes a brow raise from him to unravel the lie. “fine. it’s kind of something. but not really.”

you rise up—the abrupt tension moving with you as you pace the room, your words tumbling out faster than your brain can organise them. “like it’s something strange but not so strange that makes you go, ‘woah!”

simon watches you, struggling to stay composed, arms crossed now.

he squints, as if trying to decipher your scattered energy. “seriously. you sound like you’ve lost it. what’s happened?”

releasing a huff, you pause idly, finally ready to relent. “does the name fernando—fer, ring a bell?”

simon nods slowly, pushing his glasses up.

you figure as he’s taken your suitcase into his grasp, he’s suggesting to leave; you fling your unnessecarily, cramped backpack over your shoulder.

“well, he called me just before you came in, and—i swear on my mothers life, he’s stalking me.”

your bestfriends composure crumbles. “sorry?”

“yes!” he opens the door, holding it open until you step outside. “look i know it sounds insane, but im so serious.”

“why would you think that? from a.. call?”

the sound of the suitcases’ wheels squeak against the polished tiles. you clear your throat. “first of all, i know that. second, he’s always calling me, randomly, to find out my whereabouts or, where i’m going.”

he doesn’t even get time to reply. “like, in august, he asked me if i was still in orlando—which thank god i wasn’t, but turns out he was,” you take a much-needed gasp for air. “and now, he’s asking if im going to this house party.”

“oddly specific don’t you think?”

the elevator welcomes you with a empty space, swiftly padding inside.

“yeah—” accidentally, you cut him off. “what if he’s trying to kidnap me?” your face draws blood, palling your skin.

“i highly doubt that y/n,” simon excuses himself by laughing, pressing the keypad to F1. “maybe it has some relation with his brother.. pedro, was it?”

“why would pedri have anything to do with this?”

just as hastily, you’re strutting down the carved steps that introduce the hotel from the public street—realising you may just be going on a tangent.

the blonde opens the cab door after stuffing your belongings into the trunk. “in august, barça traveled to the usa for preseason.”

he just had to state that matter-of-factly.

you scoff, half mused. “i forgot you were a nerd.”

orderly, you both crash into the backseats, cramped and shoulder-to-shoulder. “and, doesn’t he go to tenerife for his holidays too?”

that stills silence from you.

simon raises one brow, his breath molten on your neck. “well?”

“i.. suppose you might be onto something.”

the engine rumbles, enlightening the car to life. he instructs you to strap your seatbelt on, but now, you’re too occupied staring out of the window.

the thought of pedri being involved. being there—petrifies, but also sickens you. whatever fractures of a relationship that you once built with him, diffused into specks of dust the night you left.

what would you say? what would he say?

more importantly, how drunk would you need to get if you saw him, sipping a fruit juice, when everyone else was consuming alcohol, amid a dancing crowd?

“d’you really think he’s going to be there?”

you don’t even notice how you were twirling the conditioned curls of your hair between your fingers. what you always found comfort in when you grew nervous.

simon doesn’t say anything. that scares you.

“simon?”

your head whips to him, watching him tap his fingertips on the leather. “simon, look at me.”

his once-gelled hair, falls out of its coordinated place, dangling into view of his glasses. hesitantly, he meets your eyes.

does he know something you don’t?

“he might not,” he says at last, shrugging. “fer could just be having fantasies and really want to kidnap you.”

“he seems like the type of guy.”

you aren’t even thinking about fer anymore. it’s pedri who’s preoccupying your mind now.

“simon.. you’re scaring me here.”

his hand holds yours, featherlight. “you have nothing to worry about. you attend the party, have some fun, and i’ll be there to pick you up at 12 for milan.”

simon squeezes your hand, once gently, eyes flicking to the back window of the cab as it slows at a red light.

his reflection in the glass is unreadable—stoic, maybe a smidge too stiff as his jaw flexes the ripples of muscles in his cheek.

you study him, quietly.

“simon,” you press again, a little rise of urgency on your tongue. “do you know something?”

your bestfriend doesn’t look at you, apart from meeting your eyes in the reflection of the window; he just exhales a short breath through his nose and says, “i think you’re catastrophising again.”

you resist the urge to slam your head against the door.of course you’re overthinking—again. you always do. probably blowing something small into the end of the world.

“yeah.. yeah, you’re right,” a sheepish, dry chuckle slips out of your mouth. “i do that, don’t i?”

“like its your second job,” he replies, grinning and fully looking at you now.

you lean your head against the rest, letting the vibration of the road soothe your nerves bubbling beneath your skin.

simon shakes your shoulder softly. “if fer does try to kidnap you though, i have pepper spray in my pocket.”

BACK IN TENERIFE… the nights’ air is humid and sickly sweet, just how you remember it. there’s old salsa music spilling from the speaking’s on the terrace, whilst people begin to flood through your family home.

after much back and fourth, some bickering, and a whole load of insisting, you eventually end up carrying the weight of the pepper spray.

not just that, but he’d also instructed you to keep his contact viable on your phone screen, “just in case the spray doesn’t work, and i need to rescue you.”

so now, you’re clutching your phone tightly, aimlessly walking through the house—being stopped often from both strangers and old relatives.

“¿eres tú, chica?”

your stomach dips slightly.

its rosy, mrs. gonzález, reaches for you first, arms already broad, like you were a niece rather than some girl who used to loiter around their son. she smells like the same overpowering jasmine perfume she’s worn for as long as you can remember—something about it makes your chest tighten.

her husband, also fernando, isn’t far behind, tugging both of you into a tight embrace with a warm, chesty laugh that could shake the walls.

“ay, mírala! it is you!” rosy exclaims, holding your face with both hands. “¡mira lo grande que estás! de verdad han pasado seis años?” (look how big you’ve grown! has it really been six years?)

“se siente más largo,” fernando adds, stepping back to get a better look at you. “estábamos hablando con tus padres y mencionaron todo sobre tu campeonato de patinaje.” (it feels like longer. we were talking to your parents and they mentioned all about your skating championship)

his grin is wide enough to reach his ears, and incredibly infectious. “felicidades, niña. what a year you’ve had.”

you manage a timid grin, nodding slightly. “gracias.. ha sido un poco loco, sí.” (thank you.. it’s been a little crazy, yeah)

rosy beams, eyes crinkling. “we watched the highlights online, and, you looked beautiful. the way you move on the ice.. dios mío. we always said you were destined for something big.”

you glance down at your shoes, overwhelmed by their warmth.

“we’re so glad to see you back,” she continues, gripping your hands. “tenerife hasn’t been the same without all you kids running around. it’s good to have you home, even if just for a bit.”

your heart lurches at that word: home. it tastes a little foreign, but oddly comforting too.

“even having pedri home, it’s nice to see you both finally catch a break after all these months!”

you gulp. pedri. you resist to ask them where he is, because is that too desperate? too eager for a first conversation?

“yeah, pedri,” the sweat glands on your skin begin to form. “how is he—is he okay?”

rosy and fernando exchange a brief glance, just shy of noticeable. but you catch it.

“es bueno,” rosy answers with a small smile, smoothing down her blouse like she needs something to do with her hands.

“está ocupado, por supuesto. siempre corriendo como si su mente estuviera tres pasos por delante de él.” (busy, of course. always running around like his mind’s three steps ahead of him)

“he asks about you sometimes,” fernando adds, more nimbly. “in his own way.”

you look away, unsure what to do with that sentence. it lingers in the air for a second too long. a second longer, that only makes your desire in catching him, keener.

“anyway, we won’t keep you,” rosy says, her voice brightening. “go enjoy yourself, mija. we’re all so proud of you.”

they peck friendly kisses onto your cheeks once more, before disappearing into the flow of bodies.

tonight was going to be a long night. without a doubt, you’d probably drive insane before it even clocked 12. surely, your manager wouldn’t find out if you’ve had one drink?

you probably need it more than you want it.

so for the next few hours, after that lingering comment sticking firm into your brain—you’re back to having pedri in the back of your mind.

doing the usual: looking around each corner, each room—for him.

but after time passed, seeing every face but his, confirming that he wasn’t lurking in shadows and analysing everybody from the deep corners of each room, and getting carried away from being stopped every two seconds by old friends—he wasn’t stirring in your head as much.

safe to say, you forgot about him. for a bit.

“¿es esa la nina de mis ojos?”

fortuitously, your hand reaches for the pepper spray—then you take a somewhat sigh of relief.

“what’s that?—you were going to pepper spray me!?” fer screeches, his jaw falling wide open. “i thought we were friends!”

the pepper spray is still high up into his face. “being friends with a stalker isn’t exactly my go-to.”

fer sneers. “i’m not a stalker. i don’t remember you being that interesting,” he takes a weak sip from his straw. “unless you’ve changed.”

“there it is,” the dry sarcasm that had you smile deceivingly. he nods appreciatively, as if that were god’s greatest compliment he could of received. “it’s good to see you again fer.”

hesitantly, you lower the spray from his face, and fer reacts as if it were a gun lowering from his head.

there’s an attempt for a hug, but it does go as smoothly as planned, as he’s slightly tipsy and instead, goes to hug your arm.

“anyway,” fer asks, looking around the crowded room then down at his empty cup. “i forgot where you put the drinks—i feel like im owed one after being called a stalker.”

you point towards the makeshift through the hallway. “down there, to the left.”

fer grins, that lazy upside down smile he always stupidly showcases. he leans out his foot, until glancing back. “you’re coming too right? people get terrifying when they drink.”

“are you saying you’re scared of a few drunken teenagers?”

“maybe,” he meekly admits, wobbling.

you sigh, but follow him anyway through the throngs of dancing cousins and kids running around underfoot. upon meeting the bar, he hands you a drink and slurps down his fresh glass.

“so,” he leans tediously against the wooden countertop. “met any familiar faces yet?”

“oh yeah. way too many,” you, at last, take a miniature swig. “i’m beginning to think everyone has the same face around here.”

fer laughs. “anyone you’re expecting?”

“no i don’t think so,” grimacing at the aftertaste of the fruity vodka on your tongue. “i don’t have any interest in meeting more people tonight, anyway.”

“don’t limit your horizons. you could always accidentally bump into someone.”

you frown at the suspiciousness of his abrupt tone. “what?”

“actually, uh—nothing,” he says quickly, fixing his posture. “could you hold this for a sec?” he shoves it into your hands regardless.

then, he starts backing away.

“fernando!”

“just. stay there, for like twenty seconds,” he’s emerging into the crowd. “i forgot something. i’ll be back!”

you start to protest, but before you can blink twice—he’s gone within the consuming crowd; the music drowns out your voice nonetheless.

“he always does this,” you curse under your breath. “why do i even still trust that guy?”

you grip around your two cups tighter, about to step away yourself, until you pivot and crash into someone.

a solid someone.

almost spilling both drinks, you surprisingly catch your balance as familiar hands rise to steady you.

“lo siento—!”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

his hand is still gripping firm into your wrist, but his eyes are just as wide as if he was expecting this either.

you become motionless, your blood running cold. the guy you’ve waited six years to see again. the splintered relationship that had so many innermost questions in the air.

“pedri?”

it is pedri. it has to be.

unless you were incredibly disty and his brother had tampered with your drink, you were certainly positive. his eyes always stood out to you—that could captivate the sunlight in the early sunrise, and the moonlight at late sunrise.

“s—sì,” his words also fall short. “you’re here? like here, here?”

you nod, still feeling numb to the bone. “it is my house, so yeah—i think.” you have to look around at the rest of the people around to know that you are still in reality. “is that really you?”

“its me,” he smiles, prying his hand away from your wrist that leaves a reddened mark. “sorry—i didn’t mean to hold you that tight.”

pedri makes an effort to back up both into a more secluded area, with a circle couch and the only available light pouring in from the settling moonlight via the standing window.

you can still feel the heat in your cheeks, sweaty palms and quiet ringing in your ears.

and nobody warned you he’d be here?

excluding forgotten assumptions from simon—who more often than not is actually wrong, so. and fer—when you get your hands on that guy, he’s prey meat. okay.. maybe not meat, but creeping this on you half-unexpected, definitely blew the oxygen from your lungs. i mean, you haven’t see pedri in years. you didn’t leave on the best of terms, but perhaps not on the worst either.

it was more awkward, than hushed anger or sadness.

the light strikes the side of his face, highlighting the softness in his features, the way he used to look at you when he still called you his.

“i figured it would be best to talk where it’s not so loud,” he perches on the end of a footstool as you take the couch. “where do i even begin? how have you been? i haven’t seen you in—”

“six years.”

“six years,” he blows a sigh from his lips, re-evaluating the same reaction his brother had.

pedri turns to face you, he smiles. there’s a beat where he looks into your eyes a little too long.

then, he snaps out of it. “but um—on another note.. i heard you’re now a figure skating champion too. what’s it uh—what’s it like?”

your hands are partially shaking around the plastic cup. “it’s erm.. it’s good, yeah. hopefully two time champion this year.”

pedri seems relaxed. how is he always this composed? naturally, it’s unfair.

“do you enjoy it? i remember you saying how much of a dream it was to play in the olympics.”

“i do,” you admit. “but the 6am training routines? it makes me regret going to bed so late.”

pedri shakes his head, laughing. “i know. you know i’ve never been an early morning fan either. i hate training sometimes if it means waking up at 5am.”

you both shared hatred for getting up at the rise of dawn, but equally loved staying up until midnight and watching the moon rise.

you complimented eachother, and so alike.

“about you, i’ve noticed your playing with a new jersey,” your eyebrows raise in interest. “what’s the new club like?”

“barça? it’s great,” he rakes through his hair that’s fallen over his temple. “dream club and by far the best club ive played for.”

you nod, appreciatively. “i did prefer the yellow and blue colours though.”

“i knew you always liked yellow on me,” he tries to conceal his smile by a sip of his juice. “i’ll never forget the compliments you used to shower me with everytime i came home wearing it.”

you shrug. “i can never successfully lie.”

“no ma’am, you can’t,” he laughs again, sounding like it came deep from his chest. “you ended up stealing all of those jerseys anyway.”

“not without a good wash, though.”

you both burst into a fit of laughter, easy—carefree. everything feels so easy with him, like nothing ever happened to you.

“well, does your girlfriend have to deal with the same sweaty odor too?” you say, tailing through laughter.

he shyly chuckles. “i don’t have a girlfriend.”

your eyes narrow at him, only now you recognise the faint stubble on his chin. “oh you’re joking! have you seen the way women throw themselves at you?”

“no im being serious,” he nervously pulls at his tee, kissing his teeth. “i found it hard to move on.. y’know.. after you.”

that stills the alcohol from your cup, but your eyes stay lingering on him. blush creeps up into his skin, and he has to break eye contact.

pedri merely sighs, looking down at the measly orange squash sloshing around his paper cup.

he fully regrets saying that aloud.

“d’you wanna move to the dance floor?” he suggests, already standing up and wiping his palms on his jeans.

you’re still stunned by his abrupt change in words, blinking slowly to follow his movement. regardless, you agree.

in the main room of your family house, it’s much, much rowdier. the vibrant strobe lights and multi-coloured tiles on the floor are the only things emitting light.

pedri discards both your cups into a nearby trashcan, noticing your halcyon posture. “you alright?”

“yeah, just—there’s loads of people,” he suddenly remembers your hesitation amongst larger crowds, the way it makes you shrink a smidge.

“i won’t let you out of my sight,” he assures, hovering his hand on your back like he wants to, but not sure whether to cross that barrier yet. “i promise. i’ll be right beside you.”

somehow, his comforting words seemed to take instant effect, and before you even knew it, you were both caught up in the middle of the scene, dancing away.

you were screaming your heart out to every lyric, body rhyming to singular beats. whereas, pedri was more watching out for you—side-eyeing any men that thought posed ‘danger’.

eventually, you pull him into your arms after noticing he’s standing too incredibly still for a dance party.

“don’t look so stiff, pedri!” you shrill over the ringing in your ears. “relax a little. enjoy yourself!”

he must not get the memo. you’re forced to read his lips, because he’s way too quiet when he says, “i don’t know what to do.”

“follow my lead, okay?”

“where do i put my hands?”

without a doubt, he freaks out. his eyes are nervously scanning around at your body, then around the room, as if begging for help.

“wherever,” so of course, they land on your hips. barrier = crossed. it takes you by surprise, but also it feels like comforting. like his hands had a place around your hips, holding you.

so to return the favour, arms slinging around his shoulders and your faces draw much closer than anticipated. pedri’s adam apple bobs as he nervously swallows, whilst you flicker your eyes between his eyes and lips.

just like old times.

the music pounds around you like a world you’re not quite part of—and for the first time all night, he’s not watching the room.

he’s only watching you.

you don’t know how many hours passed. they whirl by in kaeldescopes of dizzying colours and upbeat rhythms, bodies inetwebwines and never an inch apart form one another.

you feel the dancing taking its toll, as you pause for breath by leaning on pedri’s shoulder. “i wish this moment could last forever.”

pedri doesn’t say anything right away; just lets out a slow exhale, like he’s savouring the nostalgia in time. his hands stay firm on your hips, grounding you.

you fit perfectly, like always.

your cheek rests against his shoulder, the bass of the music thudding through both of your chests. you’re not really dancing anymore—just swaying, breathing, being. idly, his fingertips trace the fabric of your dress, and it feels like a memory rising to the surface.

for a second, it’s easy to forget you ever let go of each other.

the spaniard tilts his head slightly, letting it rest lightly against yours; you can feel the tension bleeding out of his frame, little by little, like your presence is something he’d forgotten how much he missed.

neither of you speak. you don’t need to.

its the kind of silence that says more than words ever could. to say i miss you, and miss being apart of your world.

a silence also made tender with history, with the kind of closeness that only people who once knew each other by heart can fall back into.

“we can make it last.”

“i wish we could.” you at last sigh, lifting your head to face him.

he brushes your hair from your face, pausing to curve around your jaw. “why wouldn’t it?”

the music screams louder, causing you to raise your voice in a shout. “because i’m leaving for milan tomorrow!”

pedri’s pulse quickens. all of a sudden, he feels nauseous like someone’s tugging at his insides, overwhelmed and far too hot; he pinches at the collar of his tee, trying to breathe.

did he hear you correctly. “milan?”

you nod, grinning and erupt into a cheer when the song ends. a new one begins, and this one makes your head recoil back up.

its an american rave typa song, one he wouldn’t understand the hype about.

“why milan? you just got here!”

“i don’t really get holidays for as long as you do pedri!” you holler vividly, tapping onto your wrist. “i have a busy schedule!”

before the beat drops again, you’re being dragged out onto the patio; pedri doesn’t even recognise how he is the one doing so. he’s normally the one being dragged.

soon enough, you both stumble into a dim clearing, wildly comparabile to the gloominess of the garden.

the words just slip from his tongue. “why tommorow? when are you leaving? will you come back?”

only if it’s been a few hours, it feels like it’s been weeks, and already, the thought of you not being around feels like someone pressed fast-forward on a day he never wanted to end.

“hey, calm down,” you murmur, steadying him by his shoulders. “it won’t be for too long pedri, i have qualifiers.”

you glance at your phone, about to check your calander for when it’s possible for a return, until simon’s messages pops up onto your screen.

sent two hours ago. “are you okay? tell me you’re okay.”

sent one n’ half ago. “has fer gotten ahold of you? son of a bitch.”

sent one hour ago. “you’d tell me though, wouldn’t you? you would. okay. i’ll be there at 12.. with a knife.”

shit. you forgot about simon. and it’s 11:57.

this whole evening, you’d been so trained and mesmerised in reuniting with your ex, you completely forgot about simon, who you could imagine pacing around the streets with his hands deep in his hair.

pedri’s eyes lighten up. “is something wrong? do you have to stay?”

“no—i—uh, simon’s picking me up soon,” you stutter out at last, exhaling deeply.

“simon?” his possessive nature kicks into overdrive, his brows finding a way to arch together. “who’s simon?”

“my trainer.” you say, like it’s obvious.

pedri’s jaw tightens at the mention of another guy. not like he thought he should have any authority over you after years of distance, but hearing about another man makes his blood boil a little.

“so you pay for a guy to, protect you? i can do that for free.”

a laugh escapes from you. it’s an unfamiliar feeling that you don’t experience often—real laughter. yet, somehow, pedri managed to do that twice this evening. “c’mon let’s be realistic here pedro.”

“i am being realistic,” he scoffs, faux offended. “i can fight—i’d fight.”

you tilt your head, almost teasingly. “you? throwing punches in public for me?”

“i’ve done it before,” he says, more seriously than before. “i’d throw punches anywhere for you.”

a smile graces your lips, as his eyes land there, more than a glance should allow, and you feel your breath hitch. through muscle memory, his forehead dips towards yours, your noses on the verge of brushing.

you can feel the heat of him, the hesitation, also the want.

his hands brace either side of your cheeks, then travels to cradle the back of your head; your lips part.

your eyes close, lips inches apart until—

“simon’s here, y/n!” your father rounds the corner and stops short, taking in the space between you.

you both jolt back instinctively: pedri steps back, his hands falling to his sides. your heart is hammering in your chest when you turn to see your dad stopping at the doorway, eyebrows lifted at the clear tension in the room.

“sorry. did i interrupt something?”

as if your reddened cheeks weren’t a huge giveaway, you smile like nothing were even remotely close in happening. “no you didn’t. i was just saying goodbye to him papá.”

he nods, stretching his jaw to try and remove the smirk daunting his lips. “well, simon’s here to take you to the airport. do you want him to come in?”

pedri answers for you. “i’ll walk her to the door.”

your father leaves with a smile—a knowing smile. at the mention of simon’s name, pedri’s mood is back to being foul again. his jaw stays locked and tense, lips shut, and eyes fixated on the path he only had to lead you to.

you glance sideways as you begin walking. “are you sure? you’d miss the party, you don’t have to walk me th—”

“i’m positive.”

pedri is a man of his word, you’ll give him credit for that. the walk was mildly awkward—as you expected it to be, because how do you fill the silence when your bodies were pressed up against eachother, lips inches apart and it gets interrupted by the call of, from pedri’s view, the guy he now hates the most?

at the front of the house, the doors open as simon is standing besides it, his arms loosely carrying the purse you brought here—your mom must of gave it to him.

pedri is swift notice, his expression irately switches sour.

“pedri, is it?” the blonde offers out his fist; there’s a evident smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, flickering between both of you.

you suddenly wonder how long simon’s actually been waiting—and if he ever intended to wait at all. a gnawing suspicion settles in your chest: did he know pedri would be here?

and if he did.. why didn’t he say anything?

“i’m simo—”

as if trying to chase him away, pedri kicks the door shut with the side of his foot, completely cutting of your bestfriends’ line of sight.

you almost gasp, reaching for the silver handle. “pedri! you can’t do that to him!”

but his hand finds yours, gently sweeping it away—soft, even now. despite the palpable anger coursing through his veins, the jealousy sharp in his ribs, he still handles you like glass.

“i just wanted to say goodbye to you,” he mumbles servilely, a lot softer. “without him staring.”

mockingly, you scoff. “how do you know if he’ll stare?”

“he looks like he would.”

you send a impish smack to his chest, rolling your eyes. if there’s one thing you surely do recall, and okay, sure, you do miss—is his natural tendency to mock other men, who dared to interact with you.

pedri’s boyish grin drops, replacing with a dejected frown. out of all the time he had tonight, it’s only now which he possesses the confidence to take your hand in his.

the brunette draws in a shaky breath, his voice faltering slightly. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

your smile is blue. you knew coming back here, if only for a dozen hours, it meant departing soon enough. least of all, you didn’t expect to see any of his family again, let alone himself.

but now seeing him, makes hurt so much more

“i can’t pedri,” you murmur, shaking your head in solemn. “i would, but we both know i can’t.”

his head drops to the floor, biting at the inside of his cheek. yeah, he does know, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready.

“but i don’t want this to be a goodbye. i don’t wanna wait another six years.”

a dull, inveterate ache fills your chest.

“its not a goodbye, it never will be,” you agilely toy through his windswept hair as he leans into your touch, like he’s starved of it. “it’s just a see you later.”

his arms mould into your body, for a final time. maybe for a while, neither of you know—and tightly, like if he holds on long enough, maybe time will stop.

maybe you won’t have to leave.

his head nestles into the crevice of your neck, as he exhales, breathing the scent of you in. your head buries into his shoulder, hands curling lightly into his shirt.

but eventually, slowly, you have to break away. and it feels like your hearts’ breaking along the way.

you give him an innocent, lingering kiss to his cheek, one last soft smile that merely reaches your eyes and slip out the door—clicking shut.

pedri is left stood alone, the echo of your absence louder than the music bleeding through the thin walls. more significantly, the echo of your absence is back to being as loud as it were when you left the first time.

he glances at the grandfather clock in the hallway, ticking rather sluggishly above his head. the spaniard watches by, already counting down the minutes, the seconds, before fate brings you back together again.

the words loop in his mind like a heartbeat.

its just a see you later.

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb @madamsoulette @mariejuli

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redfoxwritesstuff · 7 months ago

Text

Why Is Misdemeanor Of the Heart's Reader...

White Coded?

Yep, I said it. Come, take a seat and get cozy in the Fox Den while Mamma Kit answers some questions.

CW: Discussions of race and racism in a historical context and me being a wordy ass bitch

I've seen some discourse around Human!Alastor readers and writers and have gotten some of these questions myself over the last few months.

Firstly- I am white. I'm so fucking white that I use SPF 100 sunscreen. I grew up in Alaska. The history I learned growing up wasn't African American history; it was Alaska Native history. I didn’t learn about how we fucked over African American people in America’s early history. Instead, I learned how we fucked over the villages of the land I was raised on.

Why does this matter? The current accepted fanon for Alastor's human life is that he was a Black or mixed-race radio host who died in 1933 and reached his mid to late 30s or 40s. We know he had a successful career and was also a serial killer. He favored jazz, and rye is his drink of choice. He exists somewhere on the ace spectrum.

Time for a little math. Let's go with the middle ground—he was 40 in 1933. That means he would have been born around 1893. Let’s assume his mother was 25 when he was born. She would have been born in 1868. Using the same age for her mother, Alastor's grandmother would have been born in 1843. Remember this—it’ll matter in a minute.

For MisD and all of my human Alastor writing, as well as the works of many other human Alastor writers, we approach Alastor's life through a historical lens. I, like many others, enjoy exploring a time period rich with change—dynamic and vibrant with energy, money, and hope.

What does this mean? This means Alastor would have faced significant amounts of racism. Being Black, mixed-race, or how well he could pass as white would all drastically impact his life. It affected what opportunities he had, the education he received, and how laws were applied to him.

Ready for a history lesson? The Emancipation Proclamation was issued by President Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863. It declared all enslaved people in rebellious areas of the United States to be free. Alastor's grandmother—based on the ages we used earlier—would have been a 20-year-old woman at that time.

Alastor would have been raised by a first-generation free woman. He likely wouldn’t have had access to public education, instead being taught in group homeschool-like sessions by those who had learned to read and write.

If he was mixed-race, he would have faced significant discrimination from all of society.

The Civil Rights Movement in the USA didn’t begin until the mid-1950s—a full twenty years after his death.

The reality is that we don’t know a lot about the Black experience during the early to mid-1900s. Much of this history wasn’t recorded by (white) historians. Instead, it was passed down through stories from parents to children, and so on. Only now are we starting to uncover and listen to the histories, stories, and experiences of Black Americans during this time period.

Remember how I mentioned at the start that I’m white as fuck? I don’t have grandparents I can go to and ask about the Black experience when they were children. First—my grandparents are all dead, and second—they were somehow whiter than I am. Their perspective wouldn’t help me because it isn’t my family’s story to tell.

What I can do is look at what we do know, listen to the voices of Black Americans who are finally being allowed to share their stories, and reflect that in my version of human Alastor. I can spend the time to research and learn. For instance, Alastor would have been ahead of his time—the first Black radio host was in 1929, a man named Jack L. Cooper from Chicago. He hosted the first Black-produced weekly variety show and showcased Black entertainers.

I can listen to stories of how mixed-race men were afforded the privilege of their lighter skin as long as they were useful to their white employers, only to be scapegoated the second anything went wrong. I do my best to reflect these stories in Human!Alastor's experiences and behaviors.

Why A White Coded Reader? I cannot even begin to hope to understand the Black American experience as it is now, let alone how it was in 1922, when MisD is set, or in the late 1910s, when my other Human Al fics take place. What I can understand on a deeper level is the white woman's experience, the experience of poverty, the experiences of abused women, and what it’s like to view the Black experience from the outside looking in.

And so that is what I try to highlight with my Human!Alastor fics. Yes, when I’m writing a Human!Alastor fic that deals with racial, class, and social politics as one of the themes to be explored (such as MisD), the reader is coded as white. It is through a white reader that I can have conversations with Alastor about why he feels he has to be perfect, why he straightens his hair, and so on. I cannot do proper justice to these feelings on a deeper level from a Black perspective because I can’t even begin to hope to understand it.

I cannot truly understand what Alastor’s Blackness would mean to him or how he would feel about being mixed. However, I can learn and understand how it impacted his life from the outside looking in. This is what I strive to do—to shed light on what Alastor’s accomplishments would have meant and how much his mistakes would have cost him.

I would love to see more Black writers in the fanfic space, especially within the Human!Alastor space. I would also love to see fewer readers written as blank slates. The Black experience in America and other white-dominated cultures is still not spotlighted often enough, both in present-day and historical settings.

These are stories that need to be told—perspectives that need to be explored, seen, and heard. However, they are not my stories to tell. Personally, until I am far better educated on the matter, I feel it would take away from these stories and be disrespectful to the lives of the very real people who lived them if I were to write from a perspective I cannot hope to understand.

I will continue to strive to write readers as racially neutral as often as the plot allows. However, I also ask that readers respect that, when the plot deals with racial, social, and class divides in a historical setting, if the reader is coming from a place of privilege, their skin tone is often the reason for such privilege.

Of course, I encourage readers to suspend disbelief and insert themselves into the fic regardless of their personal skin tone. I write from a historical setting, but as readers, you can imagine a set of historical laws or circumstances that allow for the same dynamics without requiring a white reader.

Can I do better? Absolutely—we all can. We’re always growing, improving, and learning. I was blessed to be raised in one of the most diverse places in the country (over 45 languages were spoken fluently at my high school). However, since leaving, I’ve struggled with the realities of having that bubble burst—not that Alaska was without racism.

I always welcome respectful discussions about the themes in MisD and all of my fics, as well as the reasons things may be portrayed the way they are. I prefer to write dark content, and with that comes the opportunity to educate and shine a light on topics many people avoid discussing. I simply ask for respect in return for the respect I give.

Much love, Kit

#misd asks #MisD lore #Human Alastor fanfic #human!alastor x you #human alastor x you #human!alastor x reader #human!alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you

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the-dreams-i-dream-blog · 3 months ago

Text

The summary:

2025 the boys of BTS were in the biggest band of the world, they have sold out shows and finished their mandatory military service. The world was theirs until an accident that happened in the year 2027 with their bandmate Jeon Jungkook. They all decided to break up after this accident, nobody speaking about it until now…. These are their interviews

Pairing: yandere jungkook x reader

Yes the bts boys are the one telling the story

Chapter 1: Testing

The BTS boys walk into their individual interviews

Kim Namjoon (RM)-

Testing one, two

( He speaks into his mic to test that it is working)

Kim Seokjin (Jin)-

So I just sit here… okay thank you

Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin are ready they are just straightening up their outfits.

Min Yoongi (Suga)-

Okay I guess we can begin.

Year 2025 ( News reports from around the world)

(Korea broadcasting system)-

BTS are finally back from their mandatory military service here in South Korea.

(Good morning America)-

The BTS boys are planning on going on a world tour for their brand new album.

(Jimmy Fallon on the tonight show)-

Everyone wants to either be them or wants to sleep with them, I’m I right army?!!!

Year 2026 ( News reports)

(The Korea times)-

One of the members of the boy band BTS has just announced he has a girlfriend, big hit has released a statement and the couple will hold a press conference.

(The Korea herald)-

BTS member Jeon Jungkook has an American girlfriend

(Dispatch)-

It seems that Jungkook of BTS and his girlfriend have a smoking and drinking problem.

Year 2027( News reports)

(BBC)-

BTS’S Jungkook is engaged to American girlfriend y/n.

(Dispatch)-

Jungkook of BTS is reportedly a bad influence on fiancé y/n says former manager.

July 2027

The New York Times breaking news update

We just learned that BTS’s Jeon Jungkook has just been arrested… for reportedly killing his 27 year old fiancé y/n. . .

(The screen goes black)

Kim Namjoon -

I never thought I would be speaking about this, but I just want everyone to know the truth. Jungkook is my brother and I will always love him, but I should’ve known that his tendencies would get out of hand

Interviewer : tell us about 2025 the year all of you guys finished your military service.

Kim Seokjin-

I was so happy to finally have my brothers back. I already had so much planned.

Park Jimin-

Finally! (he laughs)

But no, really it was nice being on the outside. I never truly felt alone in the military since I was with Jungkook.

( he pauses and looks down)

Min yoongi-

We were ready to make new music. Everyone felt refreshed and they had experiences,They all wanted to talk about .

Jung Hoseok-

It was nice, seeing them all change mentally and physically especially Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook… they looked huge .

(He laughs)

Kim Taehyung-

I felt like a different person in the military… someone who was free but at the same time I missed my brothers and was ready to get back to BTS.

Kim Namjoon-

When we all finally met up again to discuss our future, we were all on the same page. It felt like old times just enjoying each other and making music.

Interviewer: how was Jungkook at that time?

Park Jimin-

You know you can always be around someone and think you understand everything about them. Jungkook was always in the news about something.

Kim Taehyung-

If it wasn’t the image he painted for himself it was the news outlets finding small, stupid things to talk about the smoking, the partying,the girls, he was a grown ass man, but all that talking made him mad.

Min Yoongi-

He came out of the military more, determined to make people realize

IM.A.GROWN.ASS.MAN.

Kim Namjoon-

A different girl every week, smoking in front of the cameras in a way I was proud that he was saying fuck it, but he was also determined to make music for our army. He was just living his life and was ready to get back on stage.

Jung Hoseok-

Oh, how much army loved how bulky he gotten. He was on top of the world making the ladies scream. It’s a double meaning.

(He laughs)

Kim Seokjin-

I was happy that he was happy and when our world tour started after the album, I knew it was gonna be great. I knew HE was gonna be great.

(The screen goes black)

BTS started their world tour three months after the release of their album, which came out two months before.

During this time they saw the changes of Jungkook.

This is the first chapter guys I will release every Thursday!!

Tags: @kokoandkookie

��

#bts x reader #jungkook smut #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jungkook x reader #jungkook yandere smut #bts yandere smut

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lani-heart · 1 year ago

Text

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> riki nishimura x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> n/a word count -> 2.4k

abstract -> he's perfect how he is... but can maybe change for her.

y/n’s perspective

“Niki, we always do this” I whined as he locked himself in the bathroom. I needed to get him ready for tonight’s party. If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t… but with my family pushing me into choosing a major in business, they're making me befriend other kids who are from wealthy families.

“Please… I don’t want to go alone” I begged but he didn’t respond. It was running late and the driver was gonna be here soon… so I might have to go alone today.

I gave up trying to convince him and I went to do the final touches. Grabbing a jacket, fixing my makeup, and grabbing everything I needed.

When I left my room, I couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re gonna go with me?” I asked and he nodded. “I can’t let you go on your own” he muttered and I chuckled. “Besides, look at how forgetful you are,” he said as he pulled my hair roller off my bangs. “Oh,” I said genuinely forgetting as he laughed at me.

“Do you–” “Yes, I have my tail ring on. I’m ready, now let's go before your dad starts calling”

Riki Nishimura was a stray hybrid I met when I was a kid. We were on a vacation trip to Japan when I saw him. I offered him some food I had on me and he took it from me to eat it like he was starved.

My parents were already wanting to get me a hybrid so I begged them to keep him. In which they reluctantly agreed. However, when we found out he wasn’t a normal black cat hybrid they agreed.

He was a panther hybrid and has been with me for years. We grew up together… However, my parents never liked how rowdy he was. Even now they tell me to get another hybrid, one that could join me in dinners, parties, and one who is overall more well-behaved.

I wasn’t gonna let them replace him. He was my best friend, my number one confidant. Besides… who needs a fancy and well-behaved hybrid? Niki was way more fun!

niki’s perspective

It was the same old party they threw with the same kids as their rich human parents and new collectibles. They liked to collect new hybrids where they’d show them off and then throw them away… but not y/n.

Without her, I probably would still be mistaken for an overgrown cat hybrid on the street. It doesn’t mean I liked being gawked at and set a price on what they’d trade her for me. Of course, she’d never let them... I’ve seen how annoyed and angry she gets and it made me happy she cared so much.

I cared for her too… She was clumsy and an idiot so she needed someone to take care of her. So I'm here… at a stupid party filled with spoiled rich kids.

Not to say she isn't spoiled… she is. However, I never questioned that she loved me. She always makes that clear with everything she does for me.

“Oh! You’re y/n right?” I heard and I saw a girl behind us with what smelled like a bird hybrid. “Mmhm… have we met before?” she asked why I didn’t think so… I would’ve recognized her and her hybrid. “My name–”

I didn’t care what she had to say… I just didn’t like how her hybrid kept on staring at me with those eyes of his. What was his problem?

I was cut off from my thoughts when suddenly the topic of discussion became me…

“He’s really pretty and exotic too! I just haven’t heard good things about him, you know?” she said and I had to refrain from growling at her. Who was she to talk right in front of my face about me? And to y/n?

“Jay here is well-behaved! He’s from America you know–” Is that supposed to make him impressive? Congrats bird you’re a pet! “–it's just a shame you know. I wanted a bunny or maybe a cat hybrid” she pouted and I could see his disappointed expression.

“Oh, Niki is really sweet but he’s solitary–” “You should invest in a social hybrid you know?” she cut her off to say. Rude… why would she need another hybrid when she has me?

“I like the way he is, he’s been with me since we were kids so there's no way I could ever replace him like that,” she said and I felt proud.

“I heard about how much you care for him. I guess rumors were true” she said and I knew she was amongst those who talked about why she couldn’t get a nicer and social hybrid who smiles and dotes on her. I do dote on her… and I’m only nice to her. Everyone else was pushing it.

“What is he if I can ask?” she said and y/n only sighed while looking up at me. “He’s a puma hybrid from Japan,” she answered. “Woah! I heard puma hybrids were rare! I thought he was just a cat… makes sense then for how tall he is.” she said as she got closer to me.

“Oh please don’t do that. You’ll make him uncomfortable.” y/n said as I went behind her.

“You should take him to the training you know. It's for the hybrids who need manners… they are opening classes in your university for hybrids'' she said… she stalked y/n to know what university she was in? She needs a life.

“Oh… I know of them. I think he is just fine the way he is” y/n said and she bowed. “If you’ll excuse us,” she said and we walked away from the pair. “She was a bitch” y/n muttered and I laughed.

“Calm down, you have an act to uphold,” I said and she sighed. “y/n?” I said and she looked at me with her eyes filled with determination to answer to give me anything I asked for. “Why didn’t you tell me your uni is having hybrid classes?” I asked and she sighed.

“They're mainly about etiquette. She said how to take care of your owner… how to behave in a social setting, etc” and I nodded.

“I want to go,” I said and her eyes widened. “But you're perfect–” “No, I’m not… I caused you a lot of trouble. I heard your dad get mad again this morning. He didn’t want me here because of last time” I said and she shook her head.

“Yah! Don’t do that!” she scolded and I smiled softly.

“Please? You said you would give me anything I asked for. I want to be a better hybrid for you”

“I can’t believe I'm agreeing to this,” she said and I smiled. “Thank you for letting me do this,” I said and she sighed. “I hate that the class requires collars though. I would’ve rather you had the tail ring instead” she complained and I chuckled.

“You’ll do great in your midterm, okay? Don’t worry about me” I said as I kissed her cheek. “After we’ll go for some Japanese food,” she said and I grinned. “Takoyaki!” I yelled and she chuckled. “I’ve been craving some curry udon,” she said and I nodded.

“I’ll do my best for you,” I said and she smiled. “You already are. Don’t change, okay?” she asked and I nodded. I just wanted to improve for her…

When I entered I was immediately overwhelmed with the many scents of hybrids. I ignored the stares of the familiar scents and went down into the big lecture room.

I sat down in the middle of the third to first row, not expecting others to approach me. “Ah! I’m not late!” I heard as I saw a Golden

A Retriever hybrid suddenly entered… he didn’t have a collar nor the scent of a domesticated hybrid. He grinned at me and I suddenly regretted staring… “I’m Jake, and you are?” he said as he approached me and sat next to me.

I heard the laughs around us, probably of me socializing with another hybrid. “Riki,” I said and he nodded. “I think your collar is cool!” he said and I chuckled. “Of course it is, I chose it,” I said and he looked confused.

“Your owner must be kind,” he said with a wagging tail and I chuckled. “Hey, isn’t that miss l/n’s hybrid?” I suddenly heard a bunch of whispers and I sighed and slouched down to my chair.

“Oh? Do they know you?” he asked and I scoffed. “Don’t get it mixed up, they know OF me, they don’t know me” I said and he nods

“They seem to know your owner,” he said and I scoffed. “They don’t know her…” I muttered. “Is she nice?” he asked and I laughed.

“She’s perfect”

y/n's perspective

“I thought you were going home after?” I heard and I saw Wonyoung with Seonghwa. I nod, “I do, I just need to pick up Niki, he’s taking etiquette classes,” I said and they both froze. “Your dad is making him take classes?” Wonyoung said and I chuckled.

“No, he wanted them for whatever reason. I tried to convince him otherwise but he insisted” I said and they both looked at each other. “Oh shut up the both of you,” I said and they chuckled as they caught up with me.

“He’s so spoiled if you just fold like that,” Seonghwa added and I scoffed. “You do spoil that cat a lot” Wonyoung teased and I rolled my eyes. “Have you told Hongjoong–” “He would kill me in my sleep if I ever brought it up” Seonghwa cut me off and I chuckled… that's true.

We finally made it to the building where the hybrid classes are taking place but I didn’t see Niki… I saw the hybrids out already so where was he?

“How long is it gonna take for him to come to you?” Wonyoung asked and I didn’t know. I looked at my phone, and the class should’ve already ended by now. “Why’d you even allow it?” Soenghwa asked and I sighed.

“Cause he wouldn’t let go of it. He begged and begged… I couldn’t keep denying it” I said and they sighed. “She’s whipped for him, that's the answer,” Wonyoung said and Seonghwa nodded.

“Oh? y/n!!” I heard as I saw the girl from the party again with her hybrid. What was her name again?

“You’re Wonyoung and Seonghwa, right? I’m e/n” she said. “I’m glad to see you’re having Niki taking this class,” she said and I sighed. “His name is Riki,” I said and she looked confused. “Oh? But you call him Niki?” she asked.

“That's a nickname that she only calls him, he will glare or even scoff if he hears you call him that,” Seonghwa said and it was true… I've called him that since I was a kid and yet he never let anyone else call him that. “This class should teach him otherwise,” she said and I had to refrain from scoffing.

“Oh, you should look into a secondary hybrid,” she said and I glared.

“I wouldn’t get another one,” I clarified. “Riki would get too jealous,” “Or he’d kick the other hybrid out himself,” Wonyoung and Seonghwa added.

“But if you were to get one he’d have to comply with her. She’s the owner,” she said and I shook my head. “Well, I was thinking of something cute… maybe a fox? Ooh or a pretty cat!” she said while looking at herself in a pocket mirror fixing her lipstick while her hybrid looked at her with a sad expression.

“I wanna go home” I suddenly heard. Niki?

“Why do you have scratches on your face? Are you okay?” I asked and he avoided eye contact when I grabbed his jaw to look at his wounds. He nodded, “I wanna go home” he repeated and I sighed.

“Ok, just let me take this off,” I said as I took off his collar and took out his tail ring. “Riki!! You forgot… Oh. Please don’t be mad at him! He was only defending me!!” I saw a dog hybrid yell while he held Niki’s backpack. Seonghwa grabbed it, holding it for me.

“Please, it's all my fault. Don’t abandon him because of me!” he pleaded and even bowed. I looked at Niki who looked away. “Why would I abandon you? Niki, what happened?” I asked and the other hybrid soon stood up but looked down to my hands. His collar? I sighed and turned Niki around when I clipped his tail ring. “Thank you for caring about him but he’s not in trouble. You should find your owner, they must be worried about you–” “He’s a stray” I was interrupted by e/n.

A stray? “Did you see? It's why they make the hybrids wear collars because they need to know by the end of the class who is a stray and who is owned. It's a mixture of people like us who pay and hybrids of low status who need major help like him. He’s probably also a runt” she said suddenly in disgust as she stepped back.

“Thank you for looking after Niki,” I said and he nodded with a small smile. I grabbed the backpack from Seonghwa as I looked at him and I saw his worried eyes. “Come on, I'm hungry,” I said as I dragged him away from the lecture hall and everyone else while I heard Wonnie and Seonghwa complain about me abandoning them…

“I still want that udon curry,” I pondered and he sighed. He grabbed his backpack and clipped his collar there as he walked silently. “Did you fight for him?” I asked and he nodded silently.

I smiled. “That’s very kind of you,” I said and from the corner of my eye, he looked at me confused. “What were they doing to him?” I asked and he sighed. “Called him a runt… a stray… useless. It was all when the teacher left for a break and I don’t know why I did but I fought for him” he said and I smiled.

“That was very brave of you. I’m proud of you Niki!” I said with a grin and he smiled softly. “The teacher gave me a warning cause he said if he told you that you’d return me,” he said and I chuckled. “We’ve been together for years! I could never do that” I said and he nodded.

“Still want takoyaki?” I asked and he chuckled. “Always!” he yelled as he ran ahead of me.

“HEY!! NO FAIR!! YOU HAVE LONGER LEGS!!”

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 year ago

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 17

Revelations In Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Thor accompanies you and Loki back to Tønsberg and a warm welcome from the Asgardian court. A far cry from the golden luxury of the The Golden Palace of the gods, but certainly more homey. The villagers get to know you better and secrets are revealed.

Warnings: 18+ for language & sexual content. Dirty talk, prince/princess kink? (is that a thing?), p in v to make up for the parental issues I'm exorcising in this fic. Rated D for Daddy issues and C for cosy.

A/N: what do you mean it's summer? No I obviously didn't slip on my timeline for posting by like 6 months I don't know what you're talking about.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics , @reveriesources and me.

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Your second journey by Bifrost was no more bearable than the first, leaving your head swimming and your stomach roiling as you came to a stop.

Thor laughed heartily and slapped Loki on the back, exchanging jovial words about your trist at the Golden Palace, no doubt. The god seemed to have no filter and no qualms about discussing your private life, even in the open square of Tønsberg.

With a gentle hand on your back, Loki led you forwards, your eyes still on the cobblestones while you attempted to get your bearings without being sick.

“Welcome back!” Brunnhilde’s voice carried across the harbour and you finally took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. In your haste to get away from the Avengers you had forgotten what had happened the last time you walked along the sea front of Tønsberg and suddenly it all came swimming back. The queasy feeling in your stomach intensified. “I worried we’d never see you hear again,” she strode across the sea soaked front, her arms wide and welcoming, “but we are happy to welcome you back.”

Thor opened his arms in return, beaming and ready to embrace the King of Asgard, but she bypassed him entirely and wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you away from Loki and lifting your toes off the ground with the ferocity of her embrace.

“It’s good to see you as well, Brunnhilde.” The panic that had begun to rise ebbed away, and then there was another pressure at your back and Thor enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you into Brunnhilde.

“Loki’s little trouble maker, back in Tønsberg, I am so happy.” He thrilled, resting his cheek on top of your head and rubbing your arms. “I always wanted a sister-” he paused, “well, a sister that didn’t want to destroy everything -” You both went still as you remembered the prophecy left by Frigga. Thor floundered for words. “Anyway, we shall feast and drink and celebrate your return, I am sure. You are most welcome.”

“That’s quite enough,” Loki coughed, finding your hand again and guiding you, now slightly ruffled, back to his side. You stood on your tip toes and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, nuzzling him with your nose.

“Don’t be jealous,” you teased, and his arm around you tightened.

“Jealous? I am not jealous, I am concerned. I left you here once and -”

Jealous

You allowed the thought to float to him and watched as his eyes darkened.

I am not jealous of that oaf, merely protective. Surely that is allowed after two kidnapping attempts.

Brunnhilde’s eyes drifted from Loki to your face, watching as it dropped and your shoulders tensed, “-let’s not concern ourselves with the past. Let’s look to the future, come inside we just finished a council meeting so the hall is empty.” She turned and led the way towards the long hall, pulling her suit jacket tight around her middle against the biting wind whipping from the sea. While it’d been cold in America, here it was icy, but before you could shiver you felt the ring of Loki’s magic and a navy blue peacoat engulfed you, the inside already warm. You looked over at Loki, surprised that he wouldn’t put you in his own colours, and he merely smiled, looking out on the sea and pretending he hadn’t noticed your new attire, but you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle of emerald green in each shining button.

You looked out too, seeing the waves on the horizon cresting and falling, the gulls circling the frothing water and steadied yourself to take in Tønsberg with fresh eyes.

At your first visit, you’d visited Brunnhilde’s cottage, tucked away two streets back from the harbour, inconspicuous and modest. Now she was leading you towards the long, low building that stood in the centre of the main thoroughfare opposite the harbour. Above the door there was a symbol, tall lines forming a pyramid in a strangely familiar way.

Asgard’s Palace

Loki looked up too, taking your hand, this is the new symbol of Asgard and our rebuilt court. Welcome, Princess.

Princess. You hadn’t considered your role here either, that you weren’t just a visitor, but a royal visitor, at the pleasure of the Royal court, small as it was, modest as the Long Hall appeared. And your heart swelled with pride and belonging. Loki squeezed your hand again, the same pride reflected in his eyes.

You looked around again, viewing the village with fresh eyes.

Behind the village itself, building work had started on further homes and the dock, which on your previous visit only held a few fishing boats, was full of tourist vessels bobbing next to wooden row boats.

Thor opened the door of the long building, waving his arm for you to enter.

“Welcome to the Asgardian Court, Princess Estrid.” Thor bowed as you passed and you heard the unmistakable sound of Loki smacking him playfully on the back of the head as he followed.

Inside the hall was reassuringly simple and looked very much like the village halls you had seen once or twice during your time in London. The noticeboard was full of flyers for music lessons, hobby groups and items for sale, a few images of a village fete and a sign up list for organising events had a few scrawled names, but no contact details. You sighed in relief, half expecting to be thrown back into the excess of the Golden Palace alongside its rules and regulations. But life in the Long Hall seemed much more relaxed and familiar.

A few people were moving chairs around, stacking them at the edges of the room, calling to each other as they worked. The smell of brewing tea and freshly baked biscuits wafted from the open hatch to the kitchen where a group of older Asgardians carefully placed doilies on trays and arranged mugs.

The only out of place item was a blue and gold velvet curtain that decorated a dais at one end of the room. Even in the winter light the floor to ceiling windows let in enough light to make the gold brocade shine.

“Sorry, it’s - King stuff, you know?” Brunnhilde shrugged, almost embarrassed by the pdecadence of the set u[, and waved to another Asgardian in the kitchen, holding her hand up and mouthing drinking, a chorus of ‘just a minute’ responded and before you knew it there was a table set in the middle of the hall, drinks and food covering the surface.

“By Loki’s face I’m assuming this is more than a social call,” Brunnhilde asked, pouring a large cup of tea into a pint sized mug with Authentic Asgardian Mead printed on the side.

“Wise as ever,” Loki smiled, “we have come to ask you more questions about Estrid.” Under the table he took your hand, twining your fingers together. “We met another god, claiming to know her, he attempted to kidnap her and - we heard a prophecy.”

Brunnhilde lent into her chair, rocking it on its legs while Loki described your encounter during the Avenger’s mission and raising an eyebrow at his admission that a prophecy was involved.

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy, I thought she’d keep you out of trouble, not get you into more of it.” She grinned and Thor laughed, shaking his brother’s shoulder.

“She surely is Trouble,” Thor smiled indulgently, ruffling the top of your head.

“But Loki says he couldn’t see him, he was tall, he had this spear -” suddenly it all bubbled to the surface and you had to get it out, everything you’d seen, what had happened. Between sips of the tea that appeared in front of you, you told Brunnhilde everything.

“Lugh,” Brunnhilde said, thoughtfully, “it was a five pointed spear, correct?”

You both nodded and Brunnhilde rocked her chair again, “definitely Lugh, and he knew your mother? And that you should go with him?” She raised an eyebrow again before looking away thoughtfully.

“He said it over and over, he wanted me to go with him, and said it wasn’t safe for me.” The legs of her chair hit the floor with a thump.

“And now tell me about the prophecy.”

Loki took the marble from his pocket and placed the halves together again, releasing the voice of his mother into the room. The Asgardians fell silent, those still tidying from the council meeting stopped and bowed their heads at the memory of their fallen Queen.

“I saw a vision of a flock in chaos, a singular lamb frolicked in its midst, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.”

“Frigga,” Brunnhilde whispered, “she had many visions but, I can’t understand why you think this pertains to you?” She turned to you, studying your face. “We have no idea why Frigga sent this to Lugh, if you are the lamb mentioned or the girl. I do not see why he should be involved or concerned with you at all.”

“They were friends, were they not?” One of the villagers said from the kitchen, leaning through the hatch, “Lugh and Brigid, they were firm friends, often talking at the events. Frigga knew Lugh by associate as well. Perhaps that’s why?”

“Yes, yes,” another agreed. “He was always chatting to the women folk, a kind, gentle man, never married himself mind.” Another dropped off a plate of kanelbulle, the deep scent of cinnamon wafting down the table.

“Perhaps it’s time the girl heard all,” the time roughened voice came from behind you this time but there were many nods and noises of agreement throughout the room.

Brunnhilde looked uncomfortable, but settled in her chair nonetheless. “Your mother was married to a man called Bres, a god of sorts who joined with your mother’s pantheon, he even became King, for a time. He was a Midgardian god as Odin was, residing in a place called the Otherworld. He was deeply unpopular, I didn’t want to upset you, when you visited before, you and Loki looked so happy I - I’m sorry. I should have told you, he was not a well liked God, but I wanted to spare you. Your mother though,” a ripple of happy sighs and murmers fluttered around the room and you were instantly self conscious. “She was very well liked, she visited Asgard many times.”

“So… why did she marry this Bres? Is he my father?”

“They didn’t love each other did they?” Tears welled in your eyes, for all your fears that you’d be sold into a loveless, political marriage, it had never occured to you that this fate had already befallen your mother.

“No, I’m sorry, I believe that your mother, Brigid, loved another. Though I’m not sure who. But Bres is not your father, your mother was already pregnant, you see, when the marriage was arranged and you were born just before the ceremony. Your mother was a free spirit, she liked to travel and make friends, she brought back floral and fauna, stories and trinkets, art, crafts and, after a longer journey. You.”

The four of you sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what Brunnhilde had said. Bres really should have been your father and, officially, he was. But your mother didn’t love him and they weren’t married when you were born - your head swam with new information.

“I remember.” A voice coughed behind you, stuttering through the passages of time, the stooped Asgardian shuffled around the table. Thor stood and offered her his seat, sliding the chair back into place and standing regally behind it.

“Please,” you reached your free hand across the table towards the woman, considering Loki was easily two thousand years old, the woman must have been ancient, her face creased with memories, her skin paper thin. “I remember you,” and the memory lit up her eyes, “Estrid, Brigidsdotter, you brought so much joy to the palace, small one. And your mother loved you very much, so much that she brought you many times to spare you from Bres.” At his name the woman looked angry, her lips pursing.

“She did?” Your eyes welled with tears, you had wondered why you were left on Asgard so much, how you’d come to know the Princes so well if your mother had loved you.

“My dear small one, you are young, you will learn, sometimes loss is its own kind of affection, she took that burden for you, to protect you.” She paused to cough and you offered her a cup of tea from the pot. “Thank you, always so kind - He was not kind though, he came to you once and there was such shouting as you have never heard, the palace rocked with the sound of it - and in the morning,” she coughed again, “you were gone, small one, the boys, they had forgotten it all.” She reached a hand up and Thor took it between his palms as gently as if he held a small bird.

“We forgot?” He asked.

“You all forgot, she made you, the Queen, it was for the best for you to forget, so that it would not hurt you to be separated. Especially you, Prince of Mischief.” He eyes twinkled as she smiled at Loki. “I assumed it was to hide you from Bres again, but then Odin sent out a party to search for you.” She hummed, eyes closing a second longer than necessary when she blinked.

“He wanted her back? Safe?” Loki asked.

“He wanted to imprison you I suppose.” She coughed and brought a handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan. “You,who had brought so much joy and so much trouble to his doorstep, he was afraid of you.” She laughed but it turned into another wet, painful, cough.

Loki shook his head, “how can that be, the Allfather, afraid of a girl -” he turned to you quickly, “no offence meant, my Darling,” he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers.

“No, of course, he is, was, the Allfather, how could he have feared me.” Confusion crossed your face and the old lady patted your hand.

“Small one, full of power, so much power you could not comprehend. The prophecy, it was about you and he feared you would bring Ragnarok if you stayed, you would burn the city with your magic and dance in the flames.” She shrugged, her cardigan sliding on her thin shoulders, and then took a draught of her tea, smacking her lips and reaching for a biscuit when she was done.

“But Ragnarok happened already, that’s why we’re here,” Loki scrunched his brow, “and it was Hela, it was nothing to do with Estrid.”

“Well maybe it was wrong, what do I know.” She patted Thor’s hand. “But I do know,” her eyes twinkled and if you didn’t know better, you’d say it was the same spark of mischief that Loki possessed, “I do know that Lugh,” she said his name like a sigh, one hand over her heart, “he was a kind man to all, and he loved your mother, so very much, that he would protect you, even now. He didn’t know how, of course, but he visited you once and Bres - well - as I say, it shook the palace.”

Tears were threatening again, you couldn’t help it, it was all too much, should you have gone with him? Trusted him? Had he kidnapped you or was it another? Your mind raced.

“I’m sorry, small one, I grow very weary, I am not as spritely as I once was.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You reached across the table to hug her, your senses filling with an instant calm, a forgotten memory of the Asgardian nursery, the school rooms billowing with chalk dust and the grey teacher who watched over your work. “Thank you.”

“Oh small one, it is my pleasure to see you so well again.” She smiled back, but tears didn’t come, instead her eyes looked milky and unfocussed, “I - Princess Estrid, what in the Nine Realms are you wearing - and Prince Loki, do unhand the young girl - I was - I was - look at the board -” she made a half turn, stumbling into Thor’s arms, “I must -”

Thor tucked her tiny arm in his and kept her upright, “I shall escort her home, I know the way.” He nodded at you all, “I trust we shall discuss this later?”

“Yes, of course brother, later.” Loki touched his elbow as he passed while you stared at the noticeboard again, silent tears spilling down your cheeks.

When you’d helped to tidy away the table and the other Asgardian ladies had fussed over you awhile, Loki decided it was time to retire and discuss all that had been revealed to you. He had watched you working, leaning against Brunnhilde’s throne, while they spoke in hushed voices about the prophecy.

Outside of the tall windows the night had drawn in quickly, the sun already below the horizon despite the fact it was only mid-afternoon. In the lamplight you could see thick flakes of snow passing in and out of the light.

“My darling,” Loki cooed, arms curling around your waist and his chin on your shoulder, “you work with my people is much appreciated, but I believe we should leave now, we have much to discuss.”

You nodded in agreement and said goodbye to your new Asgardian friends. They were friendly, happy people, relaxing into their new life as much as they could with the weight of their loss still hanging heavy over them. You remembered snippets of life in Asgard, but the sheltered palace and walled grounds were a world away from the casual court of this new land, and you had to admit you enjoyed it.

At the door of the long hall Loki waved his hand, alongside your coat, a matching hat and gloves appeared. His own fell around his knees, accentuating the long lines of his body, and he lifted the collar against the chill breeze shifting the airy snow across the doorstep.

Naturally, you fell into step next to each other, your arms linked and shoulders bumping together. You passed the turning for Brunnhilde’s road and suddenly your heart hammered, you had made it this far last time. You had walked from Brunnhilde’s home to the harbour’s edge, you’d watched the boats, far fewer boats then, bobbing in the waves, and now you were watching them creak against the crisp wind, snow icing their edges.

“You have nothing to fear, Asynja,” Loki assured, putting his arm around your waist instead. You had to walk slower, but you did feel safer this close to his body.

“I know -” you took a deep breath, watching it mist in the air as you exhaled, “I was alone before.”

“Though I’m truly sorry, beyond any words, that I was not here to escort you before, that isn’t what I meant.” He stopped you then and your heart beat wildly. The cottages were lit up in the darkness and you longed to be safe inside. “You have nothing to fear, anything out here stalking you now -” you hitched a breath, “- not that there is,” he cupped your cheeks, tipping your chin up. “There is nothing out here that your power cannot match, nothing that you cannot beat, you have no reason to fear, they should be afraid of you.” His eyes were ablaze, firm and proud.

“I don’t know about that, Loki, I-”

“Darling, you are Princess Estrid, daughter of Brigid, this is a magnificent lineage all of its own. I’ve seen what you can do, what your raw magic can create, you have nothing to fear.”

“Okay,” you weren’t entirely convinced, but Loki’s surety made you feel as if you could take on the world anyway, just as long as he was by your side.

“It seems I need to prove it to you further,” he stepped away from you, taking the coat he’d conjured with him and a chill ran up your spine, the flare of magic was as natural as the shiver itself, a heavy cloak and fur collar fell about you, fluffing up behind your neck to protect you from any further cold.

Loki smiled, the predatory smile he employed when he had been proved right, “without thought, my darling, you look truly regal, as you deserve to be.” He approached you again, holding his hand out and, as it touched yours, he allowed himself to exchange his modern peacoat for a matching robe.

“Do you believe me now, Princess?” He teased the question against your lips, pulling back when you leaned into him.

“Yes, I believe you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Good,” Loki’s cold lips met yours, as all consuming as his belief in you, you tipped your head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together, noses brushing and the snow falling like glitter around you.

You stumbled over the threshold of Loki’s Tønsberg home intending to take in the details of his cottage, to learn more about him, to talk over the new information revealed at the long hall. But his lips on your neck, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor where it billowed into glittering magic at your feet, the overwhelming scent of him as he slammed the door behind you both and pressed you into the wall. You were incapable of thinking of anything else, of this god before you, a Prince, and you felt every inch the Princess he believed you could be. That sensation alone filled you with a burning desire.

“Loki,” you moaned and he groaned against your lips.

“Say my name,” he growled, “say it again.”

“Only if -” you panted, pulling away to drag your sweater over your head, “only if you call me Princess again.”

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile feral as he loomed over you, one hand braced against the wall, his body hovering over yours, barely touching, the other traced your ear, down your cheek, to your lips. “You like when I call you Princess?” he purred, dragging your bottom lip with his thumb and you latched onto it, drawing the digit into your mouth and nodding. “Then who am I to deny you, Princess.”

“Ugh, Loki,” you sagged against the wall, reaching for his lapels and drawing him back into your kisses.

“That’s a good girl,” he swept you up in his kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. Candles flickered as you passed, illuminating the room in a golden glow.

Loki’s bed was huge, taking up a large portion of the room with its posts and swathes of emerald velvet. He’d placed you on an equally luxurious blanket, but you could feel the cold slick of silk behind you.

He prowled towards you, crowding you backwards into the pillows and crushing your lips together again. Your hands sought the hard planes of his chest, ripping the buttons from his shirt and revealing the dips of his muscles to your hungry eyes.

“I need you so badly, fuck -” you dug your hands into his hair, needing something, anything, to ground you.

“Darling,” his chest rumbled with each breath, his kisses deep and languid.

You weren’t sure whose magic removed the rest of your clothes, but you knew when you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh that this was exactly where you needed to be, where you had always belonged. You canted your hips against him, trying to gain any friction to quell the aching between your legs.

“My Princess,” he looked down at you, his eyes full of emotion and lust, blurred together into an intoxicating cocktail, you shivered again, your own slick mixing with the precum leaking onto your leg. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me?” He asked, nosing at the sensitive spot on your neck, licking over the pulse.

“Do you want me to be good?” You teased back, wrapping your legs around his hips.

It took him a moment to answer while he took in your prone form, spread below him in the candlelight, sparking with magic, before he met your eyes again, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

“No, I don’t,” he grinned. “I want you to be bad, I want you to be naughty, my Goddess, my Asynja, I want you to be wicked and cruel and ruthless. I want you to take exactly what you want from me."

You clawed at his back, leaving red tracks on his porcelain skin while he snarled with lust, sheathing himself inside of you.

He was animalistic, growling as he set a punishing pace, his forehead pressed to yours.

You gripped his hips, using them to pull yourself closer, rolling your body to meet his with every thrust.

“Loki - ugh - My Prince!” You cried out, your stomach tightened, clenching around his hard length.

That feral smile returned and he slowed his movements, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until you were seated in his lap, his cock, so deep, you could swear you could see the outline of him. His hands found your waist again, urging you to begin moving.

“My Prince,” you panted, squeezing your eyes closed at the sheer bliss of being so close to him, so connected you could feel his heartbeat inside of you.

“My Princess,” Loki sat up to kiss you, his muscles flexing, sweat dipping into each rivulet, “I want you to take your pleasure, my darling, let me be your throne, tell your court your wicked desires.”

With a moan you kissed the smile from his face, devouring him, his words like a match to tinder in your veins. And you moved. So slowly it was almost painful, teasing the length of him from your body, feeling the drag of each deliciously, thick inch against your fluttering walls, before lowering yourself again, hands on his chest, head tipped back in sheer ecstasy.

“That’s it, use my body for your pleasure, sit upon your throne.” He cried as he came hard inside you to the feel of your pulsing walls and tightening fingers.

As he rolled you over again you were sure you could get used to being a Princess.

<<Chapter 16

Chapter 18 >>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #loki fic #loki god of mischief #loki laufesyon x reader #loki of asgard #loki of jotunheim

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brunolover808 · 5 months ago

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Homelander x reader || 60's Husband ||

Context: Homelander has "saved" you from a world ending disaster. He takes you to a bunker that looks like a vintage home that would be used in American propaganda. He dresses you up to look the part, he heads to "work" to bring back supplies till the surface is safe.

It has been a few months according to the paper calendar on the table. Time was a mere illusion from the clicking clock on the wall. The batteries were from the last time Homelander left to work. It was not clear if that was the correct time on the wall. All you knew was he set it.

Homelander practically chose everything new brought to the home. Apparently the clothes he found for you were ones left in a thrift store. They looked straight out of the movies about the golden age of America. 60's fashion to be exact, nothing revealing, modest for a doll. You weren't sure exactly what happened when you had woken up in this home. All you knew was what Homelander told you. The surface was not safe, something to do with nuclear leaks and criminals running rampant. His work every day was to maintain the little electricity and water for the house. Then to go scavenging to bring back items for you.

Every day you walked the house, cleaned, write, and cook. There wasn't much else unless Homelander found something to entertain you. Though there was another form of entertainment when he did arrive. At first you had taken the quiet time to process the fact you couldn't leave, then over time you started to seek his company. It was only natural since he was the only person you would come into contact with.

Slowly you adapted to becoming the picture perfect wife for him. You hadn't realized that you had developed feelings for him. Now when he returns home, you greet him with a smile, ask about his day at work, and stare into his dazzling blue eyes. It became routine, but still felt special in a silly way. Then you would head to bed where he would spend the night on the couch. It was his form of being gentlemanly.

Though for the past few days you have been hinting to him to join you in bed. Simple hesitation at the bedroom door, pulling your skirt up just enough to show mid thigh, even telling him it has been getting cold. Sadly each attempt only led to a wave of his hand and that thin smile he gave whenever he gently scolded you. But tonight was going to be different. You were going to get that man to sleep in the same bed with you. Finally have more than a gentle touch to your arm or a quick side hug as he leaves.

The clock ticks away every second that you wait for Homelander to come home. It was agony today since you talked yourself through the whole process. Dinner, talking about his day, then finally coming out with it. Finally admitting that you long for his warmth in bed. To feel his skin brushing against yours as you dream of when you can leave this cage.

Knock knock

The all familiar knock on the front door. You sprung up and hurry to the hallway that had a light hanging over the front door. Your heart racing as you waited with her hands in front clasp together. Your eyes fixed on the door knob as it turns and the door parts from the frame. There quickly cutting through the door, like always, was Homelander. His normal wear for work anymore was an overcoat, his old supe suit, and a fedora. It was supposed to be a way to blend in he first told you. Now you see it as more of him coming back from a long day of work.

"Welcome home." You greeted him with your best smile.

"I'm home honey." Homelander chuckles as he had started to call you pet names when he was in a great mood.

"I have dinner ready, then I would like to talk with you about something."

You were nervous to even touch him except for helping take his coat. Even grazing his shoulders with your finger tips made you want to wrap your arms around him.

"We can discuss it over dinner, as I tell you what I found today." He sounded proud of himself as he waves for you to lead the way.

You take him to the kitchen and make sure he is seated as you ask him about his day. Homelander tells her that he was able to maintain the water pressure to the house, take a look around, and even found somewhere that had old books. He left them for now since he would need to take a box with him tomorrow to bring them back. All this was being told as your dish up some potatoes and canned meat. Not the most appetizing meal, but that is what he brought you a few days ago. As Homelander finished up his story he asked you about your day.

"The same as yesterday, you know I don't have much left to do here." You were saying it in a manner to act as though he was joking with you. Taking this opportunity you part your lips to speak. "I want to sleep together."

A direct statement had caught Homelander off guard. His eyes fluttered as though he didn't believe what you just said. His lips thinned as he tilted forward with his head slightly turned. This was all done to gesture to say that again.

"What?"

"I want to sleep together. I want to have you in bed with me instead of the couch."

"Honey, you know I am being a gentleman. I can not sleep with you unless you are my wife."

Homelander's logic was not the soundest. Though you wanted to fight this immediately so he can't leave you like he did before.

"Then marry me."

He looked baffled as though he couldn't seem to get why you would ask directly. He didn't seemed scared or even worried. He was just surprised by this. Homelander has not experienced such aggression for a request. It was practically unheard of.

"Alright, just know you asked for this." He said briefly before finishing his dinner.

You had succeeded in him agreeing to sleep in the same bed as you. Little did you know the true reason for him sleeping on the couch. The endless nights of plotting and imagining you finally being his. Though you would find out tonight as he seemed almost eager to show you.

Dinner had finished and while you cleaned up, Homelander went to the living room to wait for you on the couch. He was intent on showing you why he didn't sleep next to you or at least a preview. It did not take long for you to finish. He called you in to join him which you were happy to oblige. The moment you sat down his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into him.

This was a first, goosebumps crawled along your skin as her heart jumped with excitement. Homelander could hear your pulse and feel the way you reacted to him. Your body acting like the definition of starved. His other hand gently pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. He lifted your head so your eyes met with his blue eyes. There was a pause before he leaned in to steal your lips in a kiss. His lips locked to yours as his tongue pressed through his lips and into your mouth. His strength parting your lips for him as he explored with his tongue. The wet, stiff, and slimy muscle coiling around your tongue before sliding against the roof of your mouth.

A faint whimper left you as her hands rested on his chest. It was a bit difficult to breathe, but he thankfully pulled away for heavy breaths to be exchanged. His eyes piercing into yours as he wanted to devour you on the couch. His intentions clear, but your intentions flustered and gripped at the brief moment of pause.

"Now... Do you still wish for us to sleep together? "

#Spotify #homelander #the boys #short story #stockhom syndrome #touch starved #fluff

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befuddledcinnamonroll · 6 months ago

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Spare Me Your Mercy - final thoughts

I was out of town last week, so didn't have a chance to watch the SMYM finale until today. But wow, what an experience this show was. I have a few minor criticisms, but overall, I found this to be such a nuanced and heartfelt watch.

You can tell how deeply those making this series cared about the topic of euthanasia, and creating a venue for discussion. The emphasis on people's autonomy and right to dignity, the callout of class disparity and how it impacts the end of one's life, the inequity in health care and how people with few resources are disproportionately burdened with caring for dying family while still trying to survive day to day. How the trauma and pain of it all grows exponentially, continually leading to further tragedy.

I know there are criticisms of the Kan and Thiu relationship, but honestly, it worked for me. To me, it felt like what was needed for the story. Thiu is clearly a deeply internal character. He may not necessarily hide but he is not remotely forthcoming about his inner world, whether it be his sexuality or his affections or his worries about Kan. Kan is much more open and extroverted, but at the same time, he was willing to lie to Thiu for their entire lives due to his convictions. These are not men who are going to be doing grand romantic gestures for each other; it's a quiet, and honestly, quite realistic form of love. At the same time, it was supposed to feel slightly off, because there was a giant wall between the two of them. There were too many secrets, and too much pain, and none of it was being dealt with in the open. They couldn't be genuinely honest and intimate with each other. Until the very end, when Kan shows he is willing to give up everything in an act of love for Thiu, and Thiu is finally able to say what he feels. It may feel dark, but the wall is down, and I think they will weather what comes next.

What I particularly appreciate about this series is the emphasis on how harmful it is when you cannot talk about a difficult subject. It is likely that many of us fall into slightly different places on the spectrum of what is moral and ethical when it comes to euthanasia, but the vital thing is being able to communicate about it. Thiu's mother wasn't able to tell her son that she was ready to die, so he became mired in his regrets and his grief, rather than understanding it was her choice. Rin wasn't able to talk to her father, to know that he was self-determining his end (and thinking of her), so she was left to wonder and feel rejected. Somsak wasn't willing to listen to his lover's wishes, due to his entrenched beliefs, so missed being there for his final moments. Boss couldn't come to Kan directly, and ended up on a misguided and fatal path. And none of them had an avenue to process their pain. It all needed to be talked about, to be brought into the light of day without fear or shame. We all need to be able to talk about it.

It's really interesting to watch this show as someone who grew up in America when the furor around Kevorkian happened (for the non-Americans, a doctor who went to prison for euthanizing a terminally ill man), and experienced what it's like when euthanasia breaks in as a topic of news cycles and everyday conversation. I am also someone who lives in a state where assisted dying is legal. My parents are elderly, and we have talked about their end of life wishes. Living in a state where they could make their own decisions was paramount to them. It's incredibly challenging, and it hurts to even think about, but it is so very necessary to communicate with those we love.

My heart goes out to everyone who has had to personally grapple with this topic, and had to deal with a lack of legal options for a peaceful end of life. May we come ever closer to a world where we all get full autonomy, and can be open with those we love about what we need, both now, and at the end.

#spare me your mercy #definitely in my feels about this one

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marengogo · 10 months ago

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NAKED - 6: I’d Rather Be …

Listening to the playlist bts sexy songs

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

Why hello my Lovergurls, Loverbois and Loverenbies! It’s been a minute since I made a Naked post, hasn’t it? Well, need something fun to do tonight, so given a particular development that came to light because of the AYS behind the scenes, I decided that it would be fun to point out a couple of things, while we look at a couple of chronologically very interesting fact at least to me, they are quite interesting I even have a tin-hat moment for y’all! … So ⚠️SPOILER ALERT⚠️if you don’t want any AYS VOD Behind The Scenes spoilers, this is not the post for you. Ayte? Cool, lesgo! 😘💋

The date is July 13, 2023. JM, and his perfectly shaven legs, get into a flight to NYC. Nobody knows why. Most of his solos assume he must be going for a personal schedule that has nothing to do with JK. Most Jkkrs assume that he is going to support JK. Boat Blue Bird AMI feel a certain way about airport info which they can’t be completely blamed for tbh, so they completely ignore the whole thing.

At this very moment in time, all we know for sure are the following 3 things: 1. JK’s solo first single, Seven, will be released July 14, 2023. 2. JK will debut said single with a live performance on Good Morning America on that same July 14. 3. July 14 also just so happens to be Silver Day. So it is that the evening of the 13th of July pulls up and pictures of what seem to be JM and JK going about the streets of NYC start surfacing. Some believe them, some don’t and we are all left at that.

July 14, 2023, the following day, finally arrives. JK does amazing, despite the rain, and even though he let’s it slip that JM is somewhere in NYC because of a very curious TV-host, he manages to still keep JM’s presence very vague. Yet, the thing that will have the majority that was paying attention except for celebrating Capulets of course rather confused, and some even aghast, is the fact that JM was nowhere to be found at JK’s performance. This will eventually be a topic of discussion for months to come, given how JM had been physically present for every other member’s debut, release, live, or fanmeet.

Eventually, on the July 15th a video of who seem to be JM and JK on a yacht surfaces on the world wide web thanks to said yacht’s dickhead owner, as well as tells of various other people who begin to spot the two around Connecticut. As always, most AMI ignore, Jkkrs decide to die on that hill, and Capulets fight to deny everything. Regardless, eventually JM goes back to Seoul in the same way he had left, alone, and the reason for his visit to NYC, because at this point nobody believes he was in Connecticut, or even with JK at all remains a mystery.

Little did we know that: On July 13th, not only were JM & JK truly spotted skipping around NYC, after they’d gone eating at a Korean restaurant named Antoya, with their staff and crew,

but JM had indeed gone specifically for the sole objective of being with JK and filming a single travel vlog for AMI before they left for the military.

Could he not have just shown up for JK’s debut at GMA, just like he’d done with all the other members? Yes, I’m sure he could have, but apparently JM would rather have spent the night before leisurely with JK, perhaps getting him tired enough to have him at least sleep a little, so that he’d be ready for his performance the following day, rather than staying awake from nerves and/or excitement, to then eventually relaxedly go and film their carefree and “therapeutic” content.

Eventually, we’d also have confirmed the fact that JM & JK went back to Antoya, this time alone, most likely right before JM returned to Seoul.

The date is September 23, 2023. Jungkook is once again in NYC where, and within the walls of a very familiar hotel room, he starts a WEVERSE live, right after he’s done performing at the Global Citizen Festival in Central Park:

That very day Jimin has the world in hysterics as his posts his first #ThisIsJimin reel on IG many “cried”: it was emotional. This very night JK would also get on a flight to get back to Seoul. JK lands September 24, 2023 and nothing would be heard neither of him, or JM, on this day.

#ThisIsJimin 1

September 25, 2023 quickly comes by and from this day, for a couple of more days, JM start’s to be particularly active on IG, making us believe that “Okay, interactive JM is back!” … 🤡 by first posting a video of Tae.

Tae Surprise Performance

September 28 he posts a picture of what looks like a shark eventually JK will tell us it was a whale 🙃… okay saying that JK drew it. September 29, JK’s second single, 3D, is released, and JM also posts something about it on his IG. October 1, the second #ThisIsJimin is posted on IG and, on the same day, JK also has a StationHead Listening Party with AMI. This would be the last we’d hear from JM until the day before his birthday (October 12, 2023).

Little did we know that: On September 25th, JK, JM and Tae would be boarding on a plane all the way to Jeju, to film the Autumn episode of Are You Sure?!. I guess being around Tae might have been what made JM want to post that video on that same day, but really, who knows, right? That same night, after Tae goes to bed, JK and JM spend some time together in the living room watching a performance video for SNTY and chit-chatting; the below being one of the chats:

From this convo, we gather that JK didn’t sleep, at least on the flight from NYC to Seoul, reason why he was tired, and it would appear that he’s told JM beforehand because he is searching for consensus, which JM readily gives. So at this point we are all like “He’s told JM before they travelled”.

And then this AYS behind the scenes change this whole scenario completely:

Given as to how they literally were to have met to film content together, couldn’t they just have met the following day? Yes, I’m sure they could have, but apparently JM & JK would rather have spent the previous night together, rather as JK landed in Soul as they enjoyed some makguksu made by JK at JK’s place.

Tin-Hat Moment: Remember how I’ve mentioned time and time again that I just go on the Blue Bird to silently get info? There was a rumor back in August 2023 that JK and JM were spotted in Jeju. No pictures were going around on the platform but it was all that jkkr twitter was talking about for that day as the rumor died within a day or two. It took me forever to find this tweets again but here are some:

I remember this rumor so well since, because of it, I thought that AYS Jeju was being filmed in August, which is close enough to Chuseouk. However, if these episodes were filmed at the end of September; how was there a rumor that they had been spotted in Jeju mid August? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 …

… I guess we’ll never know.

The date is November 23, 2023. JK & JM stroll up together into Incheon and because of that nobody, be it jkkrs, be it Capulates, be it Blue Bird AMI can ignore their presence and the word of everyone’s mouth is: Why?

Reporters at the sight all have received info saying that they are working together on some kind of project. And as they make their way through Incheon greeting people, looking like the next royal couple, they eventually land in Tokyo, and after JM posts the below pictures on November 25th, chaos ensues.

“They are not staying in the same hotel?!” “JM has spent his whole day without JK, shopping and having fun” “JK is no where near JM” “Yeah, we’ve felt it for a while, they are just business associates kinda bandmates” “So it is just work after all” “... maybe they just happened to have business in Tokyo on the same day and went together”.

Eventually on that same November 25, JM & JK are seen leaving for Sapporo, and on November 28, they both go back to Seoul. This time around, the general consensus is that they are filming because they are seen in the airport in Sapporo with GoPros, but nobody knows what they are filming exactly. Hence, they go fairly unnoticed in Sapporo, except for a youtuber who randomly spots them, on her way back to Seoul, and who thought she’d seen JK and his blond girlfriend … 😏 .

youtube

Little did we know that: On November 23rd, JK was hella busy when they went to Tokyo, as we know, amongst the many things he did, he also filmed the Hate You video JM’s favourite song from Golden may I add:

youtube

So much so that there were sightings of JK being spot in particular restaurants and JM in others, which to be honest, given how busy JK was, I don’t have a problem believing. So then, Couldn’t have JM just meet JK directly in Sapporo? Afterall JM did fly to NYC to meet up with JK alone? Yes, I’m sure he could have, but apparently JK would rather have had JM around even if they couldn’t do much together because, from his very own words:

… Who knows what they did together in Tokyo. This, like many other things surrounding JK & JM might just remain a mystery we’ll never know 🙄.

Now let me tell you, because of what had been initially presented to us, throughout JM & JK’s “chapter 2” and thanks to what is slowly being revealed, it is safe to say that we were NEVER going to get that WEVERSE live, not for fault of JK I’d say, I think my Twinflame tried his best

Also he can lie his ass off when needed kudos to him no cap!👏🏾 This live happened after they met in NYC, on the 30th of July. I mean this the same man that pulled up on WEVERSE for a whopping 1 minute and 53 second with a 17’s member.

Basically if they wanted to have done a live together; they would have.

Ever since I’ve found out that basically JM spent every single night before filming AYS with JK, for, even though he didn’t really have to, nights during which honest to everything, they could have just done a 10sec live particularly in Tokyo, since we publicly so them go together, I’ve had Rihanna’s James Joint stuck in my head:

🎶I’d rather be breaking things cause we can’t see… how you live and love like fuck rules, don’t care why just know I love you🎵

This song made me think about them, not because I think they are in this edgy-as-hell relationship, but because it finally dawned of me that there were a lot of things that both JM & JK rather would have done than coming on a live with us 🤡🥹🙃, which to be honest, no matter how much I am the first person who loves to see them together and would have boxed JK’s trainer for a live … I must admit … I respect their decisions, and if they really are in a relationship, I find this rather healthy NGL. Aaaand that’s all from me y’all, as always, stay sassy, but keep it hella classy 💋.

Always respectfully yours,

Marengo.

#JKK NAK #Are You Sure?! VOD #Youtube

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fieldbears · 1 year ago

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People are mad about RDJ casting for the incorrect reasons

Everyone strap in for a one-way ticket to Opiniontown, USA:

Seeing that RDJ's been cast as a variant Doctor Doom is so disappointing for reasons I've seen almost nobody discuss.

No, it's not "unimaginative". Alternate universes and other 'what-if's exist, in large part, to provide insight into the main universe - what if something had gone slightly differently? How much would change? (For a very successful example of this, DC's Elseworlds gave us Red Son, where Superman landed and was raised in the Soviet Union instead of middle America. I recommend giving it a read.)

And talking specifically about tumblr, where fanfiction is rampant, we are very familiar with AUs and how they can be a vehicle for character analysis. Put those blorbos in a different situation. Shake the jar. Examine. Take notes.

So, Tony as Doctor Doom. It's not that's it's "unimaginative", it's that it's going to be squandered.

Tony Stark is a rich, charismatic inventor who is too self-assured. He starts off extremely nationalistic and unafraid of violence. He is constantly teetering on the edge of Too Much.

Guys you will never guess what Dr. Doom is like!

Doctor Doom is also a brilliant, self-assured inventor! He also has a savior complex! He also tries to solve his problems with hordes of violent robots! If Tony was never kidnapped and thrown in a cave with a human embodiment of a conscience, guess who he might have grown up to resemble!

Dr. Doom is basically a Tony who never had a Pepper. Who never met, or lost, Yinsen. Like every Marvel character, there's lots of variations to his backstory, but he's essentially alone and sure of himself and ready to burn the world down for his beliefs and sleep like a baby every night after he does it. Seeing a world where Tony put on a different metal mask and started fighting for a world where he was in charge would be fucking interesting.

I would like to see the character analysis of Tony Stark, who was initially made more or less as a test of fan's loyalty, and see him be really held under the lens of "how much does this guy have the capacity to suck, and how much did he already suck". I would like to see the other characters have to struggle with having to fight an evil version of their dead friend. I would like to see a Marvel movie that really actually looks back at Ultron and then at the Doom Bots and goes "oh, yeah, same fucking hat".

I would like to see a Tony Stark who became Doctor Doom learn that there is a world where he became Iron Man. Would he be jealous of the man with a found family, or hate him for the naivite of their cause?

The problem is, I don't trust Marvel to do ANYTHING INTERESTING with this. Winter Soldier was 10 years ago and we're about to have a Captain America movie with a fucking Israeli superhero played straight. The scripts are bad, the pacing is bad, the final choices are bad. Whoever pitches the solid ideas like this AU idea loses control of the ball like 4 yards down the line, and it never concludes with any of the interesting ideas that must have gone in initially. They are going to burn 50% of the movie on pithy one-liners and Doom Bot fight scenes that reek of CGI crunch stress.

I am sad about RDJ being cast because it's a great idea that will be completely squandered. This could be so interesting and so fucked up. Everyone loves dunking on Tony, but nobody's interested the juxtaposition of his character with a notorious supervillain that's basically him with a green cape slapped on. Fucking come on. Be mad about this for the right reasons. They won't do it justice.

#marvel #doomsday #ready for the passive-aggressive anons in my inbox #let's go

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wetheepiphany · 2 months ago

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Tying Knots in Fragile String

(a post-Stardust Crusaders short story)

======= To read this on Ao3 instead, click HERE =======

“He can’t replace your husband, Holy.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Joseph knew he’d said too much. The desperately hopeful smile on his daughter’s face loosened with shock, then curled into the bitter frown that Joseph had grown all too familiar with.

“Papa…how dare you!”

And like a fool, he doubled down - like he always did when put on the defensive.

“Look, you can’t keep him cooped up in this teahouse forever—he’s a grown man now! He needs the freedom to grow, to try new things–”

“You weren’t saying that when I wanted to move to Japan!”

“W-well—that was different!”

“How is that different?!” Holy exclaimed, voice shrill with irritation.

“You were running away from home and from your family! Jotaro is–”

“Going back home? Is that what you think this is? That America is the one and only home a Joestar could ever have? Papa—Japan is our home: mine and Jotaro’s! No matter what you do, you can’t change that!”

“Ask Jotaro–”

“And you aren’t his family: I am! He barely knows who you are!”

“Because you never let us visit!”

“Because you never accepted Sadao!”

“And where is that bastard now, huh?!”

Holy sternly set her jaw, her eyes bright with fury. It was the argument of 1982 all over again.

Not even five years of silent treatment had stopped Joseph from making the same old mistakes.

“Jotaro is going to a university in Japan, papa. That is final.”

It was then that the room’s shoji slid open, revealing the subject of their conversation. As the young man walked inside, he wore the same expression as his mother; but where there was fire in Holy’s eyes, there was a troubled smolder in his. His gaze stayed downcast, following the lines on the floor paneling.

Joseph squirmed with guilt, recognizing that he had worsened the current situation for Jotaro. His grandson ignored him, instead approaching Holy.

Jotaro mumbled something as he got close, but his voice was too quiet to understand.

“Oh! Jotaro~!” Holy chirped, immediately switching into a cheerful demeanor. Even so, the flames in her eyes were still burning. “Dinner’s ready in the kitchen, I just need to finish talking to your grandfather first—”

“The old man is right,” Jotaro interrupted, emphasizing as though repeating himself.

Holy blinked. “What?”

“I’m going to America for college.”

Joseph’s confusion kept him silent. His goal had been to get Holy open to the possibility of Jotaro attending an American college, nothing more. As far as he was aware, Jotaro hadn’t actually decided where he wanted to study yet.

“Now, Jotaro,” Holy replied, still smiling cheerily, “I know you love your jiisan, but don’t let him force you to make decisions you don’t want!”

“He didn’t. I mailed out college applications months ago.”

Ah.

Holy leaned towards her son, staring up at him with a crestfallen look of betrayal. “…Why didn’t you tell me?” she softly asked.

Jotaro glanced away, dipping his hat over his face. He uttered a faint “yare yare” under his breath.

“…It’s okay,” Holy sighed. “We...we could…I’m sure there’s still time to take them back! Or, or we could tell them—!”

“I’m going.” Jotaro raised his head, his eyes having found their usual sternness. “I already got accepted to a university in Florida. I’m going there.”

This was all news to Joseph. Jotaro hadn’t told him anything about applying to colleges or getting accepted. It wasn’t necessary, though. He knew Jotaro was more than capable of making good decisions on his own.

“J-Jotaro,” Holy stammered, “you can’t just decide something like this without thinking it through first!”

“I have thought it through.”

“But dear…even a month isn’t enough time for such a big decision!”

“It’s been longer than that–”

“You’ve also never talked about this with anyone!”

There was a pause, and though they never made eye contact, Joseph sensed Jotaro’s attention direct towards him in the silence. The two had started discussing Jotaro’s college prospects during their trip to Egypt.

Knowing his grandson’s hopes was the only reason Joseph was willing to attempt this conversation.

“…I have,” said Jotaro.

“W-well— we haven’t talked about it!”

“I heard what you told the old man.” Jotaro folded his arms, his eyes narrowed accusingly. “…You made that decision without talking to me."

A knot was twisting in Joseph’s stomach. This situation was looking…all too familiar. However, he kept his silence, not wanting to cause more problems for Jotaro than he already had.

It was time for Holy to be the flustered parent.

“Jotaro…I am your mother. I’m only trying to do what’s best for you!”

“…”

“You…don’t know what America is like, sweetheart. It’s so much different than Japan.”

“I know.”

“People are ruder there, dear. They’re rude and they don’t treat you well if you look or sound a certain way.” A sharp glance was cast at Joseph.

Jotaro scoffed. “…It wouldn’t be worse than here.”

Holy furrowed her brows. “…What is that supposed to mean?”

Jotaro rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Mom, I want to go to America. I don’t care what you or gramps think. This is for my education, not yours.”

Holy’s jaw dropped. “So...so you don’t care about leaving your poor mother all alone? You’re just going to—to be selfish?!”

Jotaro’s eyes went wide with hurt—with rage. After all he had suffered through for Holy's sake...Joseph didn't blame him.

Noticing her son’s expression, Holy’s own anger faltered into regret, but it was too late to take back what was said.

“...I knew it,” Jotaro muttered. He stormed back towards the shoji doors.

“Jotaro, wait!”

Holy threw her arms around the young man, tightly hugging herself against him. Jotaro froze in place, eyes darting in alarm towards Joseph, before his expression was overtaken by something Joseph could only describe as “detachment.”

It was as if something had finally snapped in Jotaro, severing the emotional link he had to his mother. Without moving a muscle, Jotaro had changed from uncomfortable to apathetic, staring blankly at the woman wrapped around him as though she were a total stranger.

“I’m sorry, Jotaro!” Holy blubbered. “I-I didn’t mean that—I-I know you care about me! I know you’re not selfish—I’m just—I’m just gonna miss you if you move so far away! I just want to be able to visit you, a-and…!”

“Good grief,” Jotaro grumbled. “Just catch a plane to America if you want to visit so badly.”

Holy buried her tearful face into his back, weakly shaking her head in response.

“…Sweetie,” she whispered through sniffles, “y-you know I don’t ask you for much… You can go to any university you want, and choose any major you want, but can you please stay in Japan for college? Please? …Would you do this one thing for me?”

Star Platinum appeared, gently but firmly loosening Holy’s grip as Jotaro pulled away from the embrace. Even still, Holy kept smiling up at her son through glistening eyes; still hopeful beyond hope that he would agree with her.

"I saved your life once, lady. ...I no longer owe you anything."

================

Joseph’s Japan visit had been cut short—not that he expected it to continue after his conversation with Holy went sour.

There was no last family dinner. There was barely even a goodbye.

It was painful.

Even with Jotaro seated next to him in the car, driving away felt wrong to Joseph; watching Holy’s mansion disappear in the rearview mirrors, knowing his little girl was being left all alone in such a big, empty place…

It didn’t have to be this way. If she—if he—hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe it wouldn’t have been. …But they had both been stubborn for a very long time now. Old habits weren’t so easily changed. With that in mind…perhaps this outcome was inevitable.

Jotaro’s eyes were distant. He was leaning against the passenger window, staring up at the moon. The young man had packed his suitcases immediately after ending the conversation, refusing to let Joseph leave without him. Joseph didn’t object.

It wasn’t until they were nearly at the airport that the silence was finally broken.

“I handled things terribly,” Joseph sighed. “I was trying to help her understand, but…”

“...At least you tried.”

…

“...You’re sure you got everything packed?”

“Everything that matters. …And if I didn’t, it doesn’t matter now.”

…

“...Your grandma’s gonna be miffed when she finds out what happened.”

“I don’t care. ...I’ll find a place to stay if she doesn’t want me around.”

“No, no—your grandma would never turn you away. …If anything it’s me she’s gonna kick out, ha ha!”

“Then she’ll have to kick me out too.”

“...It’s alright, Jotaro. ...I-I was only kidding, heh. I think the worst thing she’d do is make me sleep on the couch—ugh—my back aches just thinking about it!”

“...”

…

“...You…? ...How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. …Can't believe I’m finally leaving this god-forsaken place.”

“Heh, geez—and I thought I hated Japan!”

“...You know what I meant.”

“...”

…

“...Jotaro…you know your mom—”

“I don’t want to hear it, gramps.”

“... …Alright.”

...

"...Jiji?"

"...Yes, Jotaro?"

"...Thank you...for giving me the chance to get out of here."

"Don't thank me. I didn't end up doing anything you should be thankful for," Joseph thought to himself, but he kept his mouth shut. Now, more than ever, he had to be strong for his grandson.

"...Of course, Jotaro."

#fanfic #jjba #jjba fanfic #headcanon #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #holy kujo #joseph joestar #angst #family drama #dysfunctional family #the “Joestar Curse” is Generational Dysfunction #yeah i'm calling her holy now instead of holly #other works

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