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lett-them-eatt-cake · 2 months ago

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Why I think Elvis may have been autistic

First of all, the reason why I am making this post is because @iloveelvis2 has asked for more insight into why I believe Elvis may have been autistic.

Disclaimer: I just want to start out by saying that I am not a doctor or a psychiatrist or any kind of professional. Nor am I definitively saying that Elvis was autistic. We cannot diagnose someone who is not here and who cannot speak for themselves. This post is purely based off of my own personal opinions, lived experiences, and things that I have read about Elvis' life and personality. I am autistic and I also grew up with an autistic sister and father, thus I am using my own lived experiences as a reference point. Remember that autism is a wide-ranging spectrum and can present itself differently in different people, with different symptoms. There is no one lived experience of autism.

This might be a complete mess, but now I am going to list some of the traits that Elvis displayed that leads me to believe he possibly could have been autistic. So here we go.

Stuttering: It is very common for autistic people to have some sort of speech impediment or stutter. We do know that Elvis suffered from having a stutter, especially when he was younger, but it was something he carried with him throughout his life. Elvis himself said in an interview in 1956 that he stuttered when he got excited and had a hard time saying words that started with the letters "w" and "i."

Maintaining a sense of safety, familiarity, and security: Autistic people usually don't like change. We tend to like familiarity and have repetitive behaviors. We don't like outside forces disrupting or coming into our little bubbles. Elvis was the same way. It is well known that Elvis was extremely shy growing up and had trouble making friends. When he got older and as he became famous, he made sure to surround himself with his own group of loyal friends, and quite literally created his own little world and bubble with the famous "Memphis Mafia." These guys gave Elvis a sense of security, safety, and familiarity amid the chaos of his fame. While they were very much needed to help Elvis and provide him with protection for obvious reasons, they also became his entire world. So much so that I have heard countless actors and actresses who worked on Elvis' movies say that it was hard to get to Elvis because his guys were always around him. It was clearly very hard for E to let new people into his life at times, just as it was hard for him to let go of some of the people in his circle who were using him. Autistic people tend to be manipulated easily and taken advantage of by others who see them as an easy target and in spite of it we still keep these people around because we don't like confrontation and don't want to mess with the bubbles we have created. And I think that is exactly what Elvis did in some ways with the Memphis Mafia and the Colonel. Even if he was being taken advantage of, he not only wanted to remain loyal to them, but I think he felt he also would have been lost without them and the transition would have been highly difficult for him.

Repetitive behaviors: This sort of falls hand in hand with number 2. Autistic people usually do not like change and will often develop repetitive behaviors as a way of comforting themselves. One way I can see Elvis having repetitive behaviors is in his eating habits. I have heard countless friends of Elvis talk about how he was not adventurous with his taste (which is common in a lot of autistic people) and that he mainly stuck to the same southern foods he always ate. Yes, this is in part because of how he was raised but he also appeared to have eating cycles. I believe it was Sonny West who talked about a certain food combination Elvis ate repeatedly while he was touring in 1956, and during the last couple years of his life, he claimed that Elvis started "eating like 56' again." Showing that Elvis clearly went through repetitive food cycles. Not only to mention those peanut butter and banana sandwiches he loved to eat that seemed to provide him with so much comfort. Elvis was also known to rewatch movies over and over again. So much so that he would memorize the script and could repeat the dialogue over. It was claimed that he watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail around 35 times and knew every line! He also repeatedly listened to the speeches of MLK Jr. and could recite them back.

Regulating emotions: Most autistic people have problems regulating their emotions and Elvis was clearly the same way. He was highly impulsive and all over the place. His friends and family have talked about how his emotions would swing up and down and if he was upset or mad, they would make sure to stay away from him. Elvis was also known to get upset and fire people, only to rehire them after he cooled back down again.

Sensory issues: A lot of autistic people have sensory issues (including myself, it is an absolute hell). Elvis clearly showed signs of having sensory issues. For example, we know that he hated the smell of fish so bad that he banned fish from Graceland. He also had to have his room and hotel rooms at a certain temperature, usually very cold. There are several instances of him leaving and changing hotels because his room was not as cold as he wanted it to be. He also had a sensitivity to light. But that one is probably due more to his glaucoma in his eyes. But he also had problems with certain textures in food and had to have his meals prepared a specific way in order for him to eat it. For example, he only wanted to eat bacon and eggs if they were practically burned to a crisp. He also ate other specific combinations of food that many people would normally find repulsive.

Sleeping: Like many autistic people, throughout his life, Elvis had problems sleeping. He used to take sleeping pills in order to sleep, and his sleep patterns were not normal, as he was very nocturnal. now this in part was due to his lifestyle, but a lot of autistic people are naturally very nocturnal.

Stimming: Autistic people usually need to stim or fidget to help calm their nerves. Elvis was the same way. He was always moving and fidgeting, and he even said that he took up smoking because it was something he could do with his hands because he couldn't keep still.

Anxiety and digestion: A lot of autistic people have really bad anxiety and thus many autistic people suffer with massive digestion issues. While there are a lot of various medical reasons that could be at play, it is well known that Elvis had problems with his digestion throughout his entire life.

Special interests: Autistic people are well known for having special interests. Things we are interested in that we tend to become obsessive over. We love to immerse ourselves in these special interests and Elvis was no different. Elvis had many different special interests. He loved reading, religion/the Bible, spirituality, karate, football, Captain Marvel Jr., and he even immersed himself in those worlds. He incorporated his love of karate into his performances, had some of his jumpsuits designed after his favorite comic superhero, Captain Marvel Jr., even used Captain Marvel Jr.'s lightning symbol as the symbol for his TCB logo. His friends also said that he always watched football on TV wearing a football helmet because he wanted an immersive experience.

Attention to detail and hyper focus: A lot of autistic people are known for their attention to detail and hyperfocus. Their ability to tune into something, especially if it's something they love. I think we can apply this to Elvis and his music. Yes, Elvis was passionate about music, but he also had an uncanny ability to be able to listen to music and know precisely just how to arrange it. I have heard several members of his friends and band mates talk about how, despite the fact that Elvis never learned how to read music, he had an ear for arranging the music and was so hyper focused that he could come up with amazing music arrangements on the spot. He was also known for learning entire songs after hearing them only once.

Final thoughts:

Wow that was way longer than I intended it to be! I hope it's not too much of a rambling mess. Anyway, those are just some of the reasons why I believe Elvis could have been autistic. There are more reasons I could list but this post would turn into a book, and I would need to do more research for that. I just want to close by restating that all of this is just my own personal opinion and that we cannot and should not diagnose people we don't personally know, especially famous people who are no longer alive. Whether or not Elvis was on the spectrum, we will never know for sure. But I hope this post gets you thinking about the ways we view autism in our society today and how our expectations of what autism looks and acts like has changed as time has gone on. The possibility of Elvis Presley, the "king of rock n roll" being autistic does a wonderful job of challenging societies definition of what it means to be autistic. There has been such a stigma around autism, but the thought that Elvis himself could have possibly been a member of our community brings me a sense of comfort.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis movie #autism #autism awareness #autism community #neurodivergent #i think i blacked out writing this #i hope non autistic people can understand what i'm trying to get at #im not the best at explaining things

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cnnmairoll · 9 months ago

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Step by step.

Step 2. One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well. — kenma x reader

"Hey," Kenma's voice is quiet, but it startles you in the silence of your room. "When was the last time you ate?"

You can't bring yourself to look at him, your gaze fixed on the cluttered desk in front of you. The textbooks and notes scattered around seem almost mocking, a testament to the classes you've been skipping. "I… I don't remember," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenma sighs softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of your computer. "You can't keep doing this to yourself," he says, his tone gentle but firm. He moves to sit beside you on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

You feel the hunger gnawing at your stomach, but the thought of eating feels like an insurmountable task. "I'm just… not hungry," you lie, knowing full well that it's not the truth.

Kenma's golden eyes study you carefully, his expression unreadable. He reaches out and gently takes your hand in his, his touch warm and grounding. "I know it's hard," he says softly, "but you need to eat something. Even if it's just a little bit."

His words hang in the air, and you can feel the concern in his gaze. Kenma isn't one to show his emotions easily, but you know he cares deeply. It's one of the reasons why you've always felt safe around him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. "Okay," you whisper, your voice cracking. "I'll try."

Kenma gives a small nod of approval and stands up, heading towards the small kitchenette in your dorm room. You watch as he rummages through the cabinets, his movements purposeful yet unhurried. Despite his own small appetite and tendency to avoid healthy food, he's determined to help you.

After a few minutes, he returns with a bowl of instant noodles and a bottle of water. It's not much, but it's something. He sets them down on the desk in front of you and gently places a pair of chopsticks in your hand. "Just a few bites," he encourages softly.

You hesitate, the sight and smell of the noodles making your stomach churn with both hunger and anxiety. But Kenma's steady presence beside you gives you the strength to lift the chopsticks and take a small bite. The warmth of the broth and the familiar taste is comforting, and you manage a few more bites before setting the chopsticks down.

Kenma watches you with a quiet patience, his own expression softening slightly as he sees you eating. "Good," he says, a hint of relief in his voice. "That's a start."

You take a sip of water, feeling a bit more grounded than before. "Thank you, Kenma," you murmur, your voice trembling with gratitude and exhaustion.

He offers a small smile, his hand still holding yours. "We'll get through this together," he says gently. "One step at a time."

You manage a weak smile and glance at him. "You know," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice, "you're kind of a hypocrite. You forget to eat sometimes too."

Kenma's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and then he chuckles softly, a rare sound that makes your heart feel a little lighter. "I guess you're right," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "But that just means we're in this together, right?"

You nod, the small bit of humor lifting your spirits. "Right," you agree. "Together."

a.n I had a nice bowl of udon today. my mom sent me money to bought a nice salad yesterday.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #hq x reader #kenma kozume x reader #kozume kenma x reader #kenma x reader #hq kenma #haikyuu kenma #kozume kenma #kenma #kozume x reader

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rookinthecrownest · 6 months ago

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Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part IV (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Word Count: ~ 5.2k

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Spite is determined to get her out. But the truth of the prison is slowly unravelling itself.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Madeleina Mercar can’t sleep.

And this is quite unusual, because for the last few nights – really, ever since she can remember being at home, she has simply woken up to the next day. Every night was a dreamless slumber, shuffling her between moonlight to sunlight with little fanfare. Not so much as a violent twitch of her body while her mind convinces it she’s falling off a ledge.

Since Spite’s visit earlier, something hasn’t felt right. There’s not one thing she can really point a finger at. It was more of an ill-defined uneasiness that started bleeding into her interactions with her parents.

Later in the afternoon, she went to help her mother with the shop as she always did. It was only today that she realized that there were never any customers. Eurydice baked the bread and croissants and tartes every morning and arranged them neatly onto silver display trays. Each day, they went un-eaten, and Madeleina had no idea what happened to the excess, because she certainly never saw her mother carting in boxes of those leftover pastries into their home.

When she asked her mother about it as she was sweeping the floors (that never seemed to have any dust on them), Eurydice had simply returned a blank stare and asked her what she would like for dinner.

Madeleina had blinked, confused at the sudden shift in subject.

“Um …” she began, and really thought hard about it. Her face scrunched in concentration.

What had she eaten lately?

She remembered … well, she only remembered her favourite meal. Dolmades and vegetables with Tzatziki on the side. The same thing, every night.

“I want spiced lamb stew” she answered a few moments later. Madeleina didn’t even remember what her mother’s lamb stew tasted like but certainly wanted the opportunity to.

Her mother had nodded, airy and light, as if she hadn’t even heard, then went back to fussing over the displays that would certainly go unnappreciated.

Madeleina doesn’t question it until she’s sitting at the dinner table, and she doesn’t smell spiced lamb stew – she smells Dolmades. Sure enough, the stuffed grape leaves appear in front of her, with a side of grilled carrots and eggplants, and Tzatziki dip. As they had the night before. It was as if the conversation in the bakery earlier hadn’t happened at all. Since her mother didn’t acknowledge it, Madeleina didn’t either. She wordlessly ate her Dolma and ignored the sensation of the food turning to ash in her mouth.

Later that night, her father told her a story, before he went off to work for the evening. The same story, every night. Always The Sleeping Princess. And after Spite had tried to retell it in his own disjointed way, evoking all those strange memories as he did, she couldn’t help but notice how stilted her father’s delivery was tonight.

Almost as if he was reading from a script he couldn’t deviate from. A character in one of his own stories.

Had it always seemed that way and she just hadn’t noticed? Or was he becoming … different?

She desperately wanted to say something but her lips wouldn’t make the words. Just like at dinner. Would it even matter if she did, or would he brush her off like her mother had?

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, Madeleina listened and nodded at the appropriate times while he spoke, as the figures of the Princess, the King, the Demon, and the Hero danced behind her eyes, brought to life by her over-active imagination.

Madeleina’s eyes fly open as a memory starts to take shape in the back of her mind.

A memory of stories brought to life by magic. Her magic. In front of an ornate hearth, in the company of a man who’s face she still cannot see. A man whose name is as familiar as breathing, and yet entirely foreign as well. The phantom smell of coffee and chocolate and cinnamon lingers in the air, even now. She hasn’t been able to stop smelling it since Spite left. Wherever they are, it’s warm. Safe. Comforting. A private little haven for the two of them, forged first in blood and comradery, then molded into something tender and sweet with time and trust.

Lucanis.

Home.

Madeleina shakes her head.

No, this was her home.

A sleepy little village tucked safely between a forest of great Sycamores and the Hundred Pillars. A bakery that she tends with her mother, while her father plays at the tavern down the street every night.

A bakery without any customers, she reminds herself.

Madeleina tries to blink the thought away, but Spite’s words keep nagging in the back of her mind like a small dog yipping and snapping at her heels.

The young mage takes a slow, deliberate, inhale and closes her eyes, trying to focus harder on that memory.

She needs to figure this out. If there’s nothing to be worried about and she can go back to her regular, day-to-day, mundane life.

A day that repeats like turning wheel, a snake eating its tail.

Madeleina pushes the thought to the back of her mind, and with some reluctant effort, she’s back in that elusive memory.

Madeleina sees the stone hearth again. She can feel the hard, wooden chair beneath her. The warmth of the fire spreading like a wave across her body. As before, she tastes something sweet and familiar on her tongue - cinnamon and dough. He’s sitting across from her, partially shrouded in the dark. His voice is muffled, as if he were speaking under water.

Madeleina shuts her eyes tightly tries to focus harder. Spite’s words come streaming into her consciousness, guiding her down the turbulent river of her thoughts.

You show him. Wonders in front. Of his eyes. Stories brought to life. With magic. He measures nights. By your tales. Days. Waiting for the next

When she remembers Spite’s words, something strange happens.

She opens her eyes to find her chest glowing, as if someone set her heart alight with blue flame. It flickers weakly in the dark, almost like a beacon. There’s the sensation of being tugged towards some unknowable, far-off direction she couldn’t pinpoint. It’s stronger now than it was before. She’s almost afraid she’ll fly out of her own window, trying to find whoever is pulling at her heartstrings. Acting on instinct alone, Madeleina places a hand over her chest, inhales deeply once more, and concentrates on the strange sensation in her chest.

The scene bleeds into her mind’s eye again, a bit sharper now than it was before the sudden interruption.

The fire feels warmer, a balm to her sore joints and muscles. The desserts on the table smell fresher, sweeter than they did before. The leather of her father’s journal in her left hand feels rough, and weathered with time that shouldn’t yet have come to pass.

Her free hand flourishes across her vision, and right in front of her eyes the castle from The Sleeping Princess blinks into existence in sharp, striking detail.

Stories brought to life with magic. Just as Spite had said.

“It’s incredible, Rook” The man across from her breathes.

His voice is low, soft and gentle. Each word a velvet-soft petal falling upon waiting ears. The sound practically wraps around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s morning. She could live in that feeling.

Madeleina blinks in the memory.

His face his clearer now, coming into clear focus. Rimmed in the contrasting warm orange glow of the fire and eerie blue light of her magic, Madeleina drinks his features in like a madwoman dying of thirst, and he an oasis in the sand.

His eyes draw her in first. They’re big, and the most beautiful shade of earthen-rich brown she’s ever seen. She could fall into them for an eternity and be content to drown in their warmth. His black hair is styled into a mullet and feathered at the sides – almost like the wispy wings of a bird. His beard frames a strong, square jaw. His features are accentuated by soft lips, and an aquiline nose.

Breathtakingly, devastatingly, handsome. Words are inadequate, and so her body settles for a releasing a soft breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She continues moving through the motions of the story, bringing every figure and every scene to life with a wave of her hands, like she was the director of a theatre production.

“Well, go on” He motions to her eventually, with an expectant look flickering in those perfect brown eyes. At some point, the illusion she had been maintaining disappeared into the ether. She was too busy studying him like an art piece from one of the old master’s to have noticed. Lucanis is resting on his forearms now, practically at the edge of his seat.

Lucanis. Waits for what happens next.

He waits for you.

Only you.

Madeleina grins widely, pleased by his reaction. “Impatient, are we?”

He smirks, and she’s undone at the sight. “Spite wants to know how it ends”

She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms over her chest, “Oh? And you’re not the least bit curious?”

Lucanis’ lips quirk into a little smile, and her heart melts into her stomach. “I might be” he adds, as he takes a sip of his coffee.

That same melted heart is somehow solid enough to able to thrum erratically in her chest, flitting about like a crazed hummingbird trapped in a cage. A faint smile works its way onto her lips but she’s afraid the quickened rise and fall of her chest will give her away. So, she does the only thing she can think of and takes a sip of her own coffee. She’s not really thirsty, but the cup is large enough to hide the blush spreading across her face. The coffee is a bit lukewarm by now, clearly forgotten over the course of the story the two were enraptured in.

Satisfied that blush is gone and the pounding in her chest has settled, she sets the coffee aside and wrings out her hands.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story”

A lie, a terrible lie. But a needed one.

As her free hand flourishes the figures into being once more, the memory cuts off abruptly. She opens her eyes and grips the fabric of her shirt through the thick blanket.

The warmth of the fire dissipates slowly, receding like a tide and although she’s under the covers, Madeleina feels cold. There’s no smell of coffee or cinnamon anymore. Lucanis is gone, and in the wake of his memory, a horrible realization settles in.

A piece of her heart is living outside of her body, somewhere far beyond her reach.

And she has no idea how to get to him.

“Lucanis”

She whispers his name like a prayer in the dead of night and hopes that wherever he is, he’s listening for her.

~*~

Lucanis Dellamorte has been sleeping more than usual these last few weeks, which was quite paradoxical because he wants to spend every waking moment making sure Rook’s rescue plan goes perfectly. He’s convinced he’s driven even the patient, kind-hearted Professor mad with his meticulous planning.

Unfortunately, it’s easier for Spite to traverse the raw Fade and keep an eye on Madeleina while he’s asleep. So, Lucanis acquiesces and lets himself drift into a dreamless slumber as Spite monitors the situation.

Once they told the group of the danger and time was running out, everyone was firing on all cylinders. It was a cacophony of organized chaos in the Lighthouse until the Veilguard was geared up and ready to head to Arlathan Forest through the Vir’Evas.

The entire trip through the Tevinter countryside to rescue Rook has him so on edge he’s lucky to get a few uninterrupted hours, much to Spite’s annoyance. He puts on a calm demeanour for the group, but each day that passes, given what he knows is happening inside that prison, Lucanis grows more agitated. Spite can feel it too. The demon’s … fear, for lack of a better world, is palpable under his skin, rolling across his body like a passing thunderstorm.

If the other members of the Veilguard have noticed, they have the good graces not to say anything.

The group is speeding along verdant hills in a large Dalish Aravel with Strife, Irelin, a few Veil Jumper mages, a sizeable quantity of Lyrium, and a few Resonance Amplifiers.

Bellara and Irelin are holed away in their own little corner, still furiously studying the Resonance Amplifiers and coming up with all sorts of far-fetched theories on how to … reverse their something, so they’ll weaken the veil instead of strengthening it. He may have spent a good portion of his career hunting mages, and he did know his way around a sordid variety of dangerous magic, but the finer points of magical theory are lost on him. Their chattering, as a result, filters in through one ear and out the other. Unfortunately, the amount of magic they’re using to try and get them to work is making the backs of his eyeballs itch something furious and is a lot harder to ignore than talking. He tries to blink the sensation away to no avail, so he settles for getting up and moving closer to Davrin and Assan’s corner of the Aravel.

The Griffon squawks excitedly at his approach. Lucanis gives him a quick smile and ruffles his head. Davrin is still working away at his wood carving. A wooden chess piece, Lucanis has noticed.

A little Rook.

The sight of has his heart squeezing in his chest.

He and the Grey Warden have settled into an easy friendship, one brokered by Rook, of course. She had that effect on people – was able to make them see past petty differences. Madeleina eased tension just by existing. Like a little sun, catching everything in her orbit and bathing it in her light.

Although he still thinks Davrin all too pretentious and self-righteous, he does have one endearing quality that Lucanis has come to appreciate. He can tell when is the time for words, and when is the time for silence. And Davrin is more than content to let Lucanis sit beside him in companionable silence as he continues carving his wooden figurines.

Assan stands on his hind legs next to him and watches the Tevene countryside roll past them.

He wiggles his hind legs and looks into the air, then to Davrin expectantly. His right ear flops as the Griffon tilts his head, pleading.

Davrin smiles and gives him a quick nod towards the air above them, “Just don’t go too far, boy. Stay where I can see you”

The Griffon needs no more encouragement, and a moment later, he’s leapt into the air and flying circles overhead, squawking delightfully.

Lucanis watches the young Griffon joyfully, freely flying through the air. With Spite’s wings, he could be up there too. But the absence of Rook is like a stone in his chest, keeping him and Spite grounded.

“Incredible, isn’t he?” Davrin remarks offhandedly, while he carves out dainty triangular designs on the side of the Rook tower.

Lucanis didn’t realize he was still staring up at Assan, basking in the sun, and gliding on an air current just to the west of the Aravel.

He makes a noncommittal hum of agreement.

“A little young to have seen so much, though” The assassin remarks, after another few moments of silence, recalling the fight with the Gloom Howler in the Cauldron. Remembered Assan's squeals of terror as the Gloom Howler had him in its claws, about to be blighted with Arch Demon blood.

Davrin’s lips quirk, “Not unlike a certain illustrious leader of ours”

Lucanis hadn’t given much thought to Rook’s age. It was just another thing in a growing list about her he thought he’d have time to ask about. Her age, her birthday, bothering Neve about what kind of jewelry she likes (or if she even likes jewelry), her favourite flowers, more of her favourite food and drink than he’d already gleaned from their time together. He wanted to know it all. To know her in her entirety.

But he didn’t ask those questions. Not her age or her birthday or her favourite flowers or her taste in jewelry. She was definitely younger than him by a good margin, but the gap between them could span as large as a decade, for all he knew. Madeleina certainly had the recklessness of youth. That he’d seen in spades, because she was constantly hovering at the edge of death’s door and he was constantly pulling her back by the scruff of her neck. But she also possessed a wisdom well beyond her years, and he never once factored her age in as a detriment to her ability to lead the team, although she might disagree.

“I expect in these times, that’s become more and more common. Growing up faster than one’s years.” Davrin murmurs, nicking some decorative dots on the tower’s side with the tip of his blade. “I don’t envy the decisions Rook’s been forced to make. I’ve a good five or six years on her and I don’t know that I would’ve fared any better even with that experience on my side”

Lucanis didn’t quite know what to say, so he let Davrin continue talking.

“All this to say,” The Warden shoulders him gently, “Try not to worry so much about Rook. If there’s anything I can say with confidence, it’s that she’s not going to let anything keep her down. Including some weird, nightmare-inducing Fade prison that’s trying to siphon her memories and – “Davrin stops abruptly when he sees the frown spreading on Lucanis’ face, “… I’ll just be quiet now. You get the picture. She’s tough, don’t worry”

He looks down at his wood carving and continues working at it, glancing up at the sky every once in a while, to make sure he can still see Assan.

Lucanis sighs and closes his eyes. He tries to focus on things he can hear and smell to keep his thoughts from winding him up like a children’s toy. The rustling of the leaves on the wind, the smell of pine and oak, the sound of Halla hoofbeats beating against the ground and low grunts of effort as they pull the aravel through the woods.

Try as he might to distract himself with this world, his mind continues to cycle back to Madeleina in the Fade. The very idea that the Fade prison could cause her to forget about him, forget about all their time together, as absurdly terrifying. It makes his skin crawl, and Spite rattle angrily in the back of his mind.

He’s mid-way through thinking about how he’s going to wring Solas’ neck the next time he sees him (and he isn’t entirely certain the thought only came from him), when Lucanis feels a pinch in his chest. Like someone was plucking a thread attached to his heart. He closes his eyes and reaches for Spite through their shared connection, much easier now with the newfound alliance.

Spite. What’s happening?

The demon bristles behind his eyelids.

Calling. To us. Through the Fade.

Is she in danger? He asks quickly. Lucanis can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he waits for the Demon’s response.

Don’t. Know. Spite replies after a thoughtful moment. Go. To sleep. I will. See.

Lucanis blinks as a hand waves in front of his face.

“Lucanis?” Davrin snaps his fingers for good measure, “Hey, Lucanis. You alright?”

He shakes his head and waves off Davrin’s concern, “I’m fine – it’s just… Spite and I sense something off with Rook.”

Davrin frowns, his brown eyes alight with concern. He sets his blade and wood carving down, before leaning closer to Lucanis, “What’s going on with her?”

“I don't now. Spite needs me to go to sleep so he can investigate”

He ignores the knot of anxiety forming in his stomach and tries to settle into his spot on the wooden floor of the aravel. It’s not the most comfortable place to fall asleep, but with about a year of sleep deprivation to catch up on, the bumpy ride on dirt paths hardly poses an insurmountable obstacle.

He turns to Davrin, “Watch my back?”

Davrin grins, “Do you even have to ask?”

The Warden claps him gently on the shoulder before quietly returning to his whittling, “Just make sure our friend’s alright. I promise not to let trouble disturb your beauty sleep”. Davrin huffs, “Maker knows you need it”

Lucanis rolls his eyes. As much as he wants to quip back, the feeling that Rook is in danger in the Fade has him desperate to let sleep take him as soon as possible and reigns in the impulse. The assassin draws his legs in to his body and rests his head in his arms, before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

Assan squawking overhead as he flies in circles, the wind whipping the trees and the sound of soft hooves beating on gravel soon fade away into a dreamless slumber.

Wait for me, Madeleina.

~*~

Spite Dellamorte hates the Fade Prison with an intense, all-consuming passion, even though he is Spite and not Passion. He doesn’t completely understand how that works. There’s still a lot of things about existing in the material world that are confusing to him. Sometimes, he doesn’t know how much of him is him, and how much of him is Lucanis. The edges between the two have blurred significantly since they made a new alliance. So much so, that his human host seems to have put new emotions in front of him to grapple with that weren’t there before. More things that aren’t him, on top of the memories from Rook’s journal that also are not him.

Regardless, Spite was determined to answer her plea for help.

The young Demon flies circles around her home inside the Fade prison. The journal’s essence flickers in and out, just a little weaker than before. Then, an emotion he’s felt from Lucanis bleeds into him, one they both know all too well from their time in the real Ossuary – fear. Fear that it won’t be strong enough to get him out. That he could be trapped in here, with her, unable to open the door that frees her.

He has to be the one that opens the door.

Spite ignores the thought as much as he can, and lands softly on her windowsill. He peers into her bedroom, expecting her to be doing something mundane, like she was before. Instead, he finds Rook sitting on the corner of her bed, with her head buried in her arms and knees pressed close to her chest. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. He can hear soft, muffled sobs escaping from the narrow space between her face and her arms.

Spite is Spite, he is not comfort or compassion. But Lucanis’ nature has once again, made him feel things he’s not supposed to be feeling. He doesn’t want to see Rook crying. He hates the sight of it, actually.

Spite taps on the glass several times, harder than he normally would, to make sure she hears him above the sound of her soft sobs.

Rook looks up at him, her green eyes bathed in a sea of red. Her face is puffy and tear streaked. She looks awful. Rook shouldn’t look awful. He doesn’t like that she looks awful.

Smells like. Salt and Lavender. Not right.

He taps the window again.

Rook wipes the tears from her face with her arm and slowly walks to the window sill, before unhooking the latch.

Spite ruffles his feathers and flits to perch on the back of her chair, as he did before. Madeleina closes the window and sits back down on her bed slowly, sniffling the entire time.

“Rook” He croaks, tilting his head. “Why. Are you crying.?”

Rook inhales sharply and closes her eyes before exhaling. “S-Spite …” she whimpers his name, and he hates how that sounds.

She draws her knees in close again and frowns deeply. “W-why do I keep seeing Minrathous burning? P-people being h-hung in the s-street” she takes a shaky breath between words. "E-every time... I look ... in the m-mirror - I s-see it ..."

Rook has a distant look in her eyes, like she’s staring through him at not at him.

“A v-voice in my head … it’s … it says … it’s my fault” She cries softly, and wipes her nose with her sleeve again, “He s-says I l-let them take the city … t-the dragon…”

Rook grips her head and shuts her eyes tight, and then takes a ragged breath. “It won’t stop! It won’t stop…” She raises her head and looks at him with pleading eyes, “Spite, how do I make it stop?” Her face crumples as more tears threaten to spill from her eyes, “S-Spite … help me… it w-won’t stop … my head…”

Spite tilts his head and thinks.

She’s starting to remember things, but not the right things. He’s rightly quite confused. Solas’ prison so far has been showing her what she wants to see - her parents, her childhood home - familiar things that would presumably function to keep her from wanting to leave. Why would it be showing her a blighted Minrathous? What purpose would that serve?

He remembers the day they found her in the music room, days after she’d returned from visiting Neve in Minrathous.

Smells like … cheese and salt. He had thought, as Lucanis brought her a cup of cioccolata calda to share.

They sat beside her, and she quickly wiped her hands of the remnants of the cheese wedge she’d been eating and moved over. He remembers Lucanis’ fretting over her mental state very well. Locked in their pantry, he thought of little else.

Knowing Treviso was safe brought him little relief every time he watched her go into the infirmary to talk with Varric’s ghost because she couldn’t cope with his death. When she stopped coming to dinner, he started drinking more coffee and staying awake even longer worrying over her. Pacing back and forth, paralyzed with inaction, with uncertainty on how to help her.

It turns out he was severely overthinking the problem.

All he had to do was tell her a story.

Maybe Spite had to do the same, like the first time he came. She was only remembering the bad that came from that decision. It figures the Dread Wolf’s prison wouldn’t want her to remember the good she did during that time.

“This place. Doesn’t want you. To know what. You saved.” Spite begins, “Minrathous fell. But Treviso. Lived to see. Another day. Because of you.”

Rook releases the name on a soft breath, “T-Treviso?” Her brows furrow in confusion, “I … I’ve n-never left Tevinter…”

Spite preens and plucks at a loose feather as she speaks.

“Saved Lucanis’. Home.” He squawks, “He trusted you. Above all others. And you saved him. There when he. Needed you most. And he will. Never forget.”

Rook’s eyes flash with recognition at the name, “Lucanis – tell me about Lucanis. P-please, Spite. I think… I think I remembered him last night – his face, his voice … but it’s gone again”

If Spite looked like Lucanis, he was sure his face would split in a satisfied grin.

He was going to break apart the Dread Wolf’s prison, memory by memory. He would open the door for her and pull her out.

“He came. To you. In the music room. After the Dragon. Took Minrathous”

She closes her eyes, as if trying to picture the scene herself. He can see her eyes flicker back and forth behind closed eyelids.

“He wants. To help you. Like you. Helped him. With Treviso. With Caterina’s funeral.” Spite says, “He helps. Only way he knows how. With a story.”

Rook’s fingers grip the edge of her bed tightly, and her lips press into a hard line, deep in concentration.

“I smell something warm… chocolate?” Her nose wrinkles. “Warm chocolate… like before…”

“Cioccolata. Calda.” Spite corrects her gently, although his own pronunciation of the word is a bit clumsy, “He knows. You love it. He makes it. When he knows. You’re in need.”

Her lips part in a sigh, as if she’s taking a sip in her jumbled memories.

“T-tell me more… please …” Rook whispers, biting her lower lip, “I want to remember him”

“He tells you. The story of how. He became the Demon of Vyrantium. The Wigmaker. And his. House of Horrors. Of blood magic and demons. And freeing slaves.” Spite recites the memory as he had seen it through Lucanis’ eyes. “A story. For a story. He always. Wants to help.”

A small smile creeps at the edges of her lips, “I remember him… I remember him telling me about a terrible pickup line Illario used on a guard”, Spite tilts his head as she giggles, “I couldn’t believe it actually worked, you know”

Rook wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye, before opening them both. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners as she erupted in a warm smile. Like they did when she would tell them stories.

She swings her legs off the edge of the bed and comes to stand in front of the little Demon.

“He’s important to me… isn’t he? You both are” She whispers quietly. Rook touches her chest, and a faint blue glow erupts from where her heart should be. His chest is alight with its twin flame.

Spite merely nods and flutters his tailfeathers in response.

“He waits. For you. Only you.”

“You said that before” Rook nods and looks around her room, “You also said this place isn’t my home”

Spite nods wordlessly.

“Then what is it exactly? Why… why am I here?”

“A prison. Made by the Dread Wolf. To keep you in. Away from. His plans.” Spite nearly hisses the words out, rage bubbling in his chest. He puffs up into an angry little ball as a result. “A prison. To make you forget. Forget us. Lucanis.”

Rook grips her chest through her shirt and frowns. “The memories they … they come and then… then the day repeats and I forget ... I think…” She releases a shaky breath, “I think I’m living the same day again. And again. And again.”

If Spite could scowl, he would be scowling harder than he ever had in his entire existence.

“Spite” Rook leans in closer, so close he can feel her breath on his feathers. Her eyes are wide with panic now, “Spite… help me… I don’t – I don’t want to forget but each day I think I’m losing more of myself- “

She turns abruptly when the door opens, and Spite is startled enough to let out a surprised squawk. He flies out the window quickly before he can be spotted, leaving Rook to deal with the intruder. Spite hovers outside her window for just a moment, and sees a tall woman pull her into a tight embrace.

The woman, who resembles an older Rook with straighter hair and brown eyes, seems to be looking straight at him. The eyes are soulless and empty. Yet somehow, there is a warning lurking beneath that hollow gaze. She grips Rook tightly, as if to signal to him she will not the girl go.

The sight of it chills Spite to his core.

The Demon calls on whatever essence of the journal is left and propels himself out of the Fade with dizzying speed.

Each day I think I’m losing more of myself -.

He would not let that happen.

If she loses herself to this prison, he will find every scattered piece in the Fade and put her back together himself.

The Dread Wolf will not win.

Demons do not fear Gods.

-----------------------------------

Wooooo okay, well that took a lot longer than I thought. Once again big thank you to @teawithshakespeare (honestly my honourary co-author at this point for how much time I spend rambling in their DM's about this story), and @juneiper-art and @thewardenisonthecase as well for letting me bounce ideas for this chapter off them. I appreciate u guys.

Also, the Fade prison is doing weird things now! It's changing and reacting! Freaky stuff. But then again, the Fade's a freaky place.

I'll give bonus points to whoever can guess which movie I'm sort of loosely basing this off of haha.

I think this part of the fic is coming to an end in maybe another chapter or two.... I really just wanna write the Rookanis reunion :')

Anyway,

As always, thanks for reading! Appreciate all the love and support for this fic <3 MUAH!! See you next time!

-Rookie

#lucanis dellamorte #spite dellamorte #rook #lucanis x rook #lucanis x mercar #rookanis #fanfic #rook mercar #oc: madeleina mercar #dragon age veilguard #datv #dragon age #rookie writes #fic: bedtime stories for a demon

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mokulule · 2 years ago

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The Number You have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 8

Part 1 | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence So I promised this like months ago, and then got overwhelmed by having to manage the taglist resulting in me not updating this fic despite actually having written the next part. So that said this is the last time I'm tagging people, please subscribe to the masterlist - I'm gonna link it both here at the top and at the bottom. Anyways enjoy the next part:

Jason could handle this. He had handled this for years. The Pits were a known enemy. It shouldn’t effect him to this degree. But he could handle this. He could go about his day without putting heads in duffel bags, that had got to count as a win. The fact that he was avoiding his family, was just a precaution. Jason had everything under control.

Not like when he’d fled the Cave after assaulting Bruce in his stupid sweater.

That had not been his proudest moment. But the thing that really got to him was how he didn’t remember doing it. He didn’t even remember going to the Cave. When he tried to think it was all a green haze. The last moment of real clarity was opening Ghost’s bag and seeing nothing but dry protein bars. Knowing in his gut this was all he ate and that he stood with his food, and no way to give it back to him.

When he had fled the Cave, he’d gone home shaking like a leaf, and sunk to the floor trying to get his head back on straight. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his back against the door, just trying to breathe and search his memory. Eventually, though he didn’t know after how long, he found his phone and looked up the news. It had been a great relief to find that Red Hood had not been sighted, so he likely hadn’t been out on a murder spree he couldn’t remember.

But now it was days later. There had been no more green hazes. Things were under control.

Maybe he hit a bit harder, and a bit longer, when he went out. But it was the normal amount? Wasn’t it? Definitely not much more than normal, if it was more. That he was sure of… like 80% sure of. Jason rubbed the front of his helmet in lieu of his brow - It didn’t really help. What had Bruce even said that set him off? He barely remembered, something that felt demeaning, but the words escaped him no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Normally he wouldn’t question himself that like, of course Bruce would have said something demeaning, he always did. He didn’t trust Jason, never would again. There would always be suspicion and doubt. But now…

Jason’s hand clenched into fists. Now having been without the Pits’ influence, having seen Bruce trying to reach out to him, as awkward and resigned as it had been, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

Maybe this was all Bruce’s plan? Another of his famous gambits - this one to fold Jason back under his control, with the pretense of love and family. Because surely he had been right all along and Jason needed to be watched, couldn’t be trusted on his own.

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, only barely stopped himself from throwing it. He gasped and breathed in deep, like a man drowning. He was the one in control, he reminded himself firmly. Not the pits. Not Bruce.

There was sound in his comms and he hastily pulled the helmet back on. Ghost had been sighted. He had to go. If he could just talk with Ghost, figure out what this was.

Ghost ran away. Immediately, as if he could sense Jason.

It was okay, Jason could handle this.

Oo o oO

Barbara tapped the space bar absently without actually pressing it. Keeping half an eye on her leftmost monitor which showed the program she used for the surveillance in Gotham, no persons of interest were pinging tonight so far, no alarms had tripped for about an hour. She had time to ponder the conundrum that was their reoccurring thief.

If the thief was building something the other night was proof the loss of the spectral calibrator, hadn’t put a stop to the progress. The thief never ran in the same direction so they still didn’t even have that to go by to narrow down where he stayed, when he wasn’t giving them the run around.

The odd reaction to Jason hadn’t made a reappearance. In fact the moment Jason joined them the thief disappeared immediately: density shifting into the ground. Jason was not happy about it to say the least.After the backpack full of barely edible off-brand protein bars had been delivered to the cave by Jason, Barbara would agree with Jason that whatever situation the thief was in, it was worrying if this was all that he ate. She still held by her assessment that the photographic evidence was of too low quality early in their run-ins because of the strange electromagnetic interference he gave off to actually judge if he’d lost weight - but he did look very gaunt now.

She leaned back in her chair. A cup of coffee was warm between her hands, she breathed in the familiar scent as she considered the known facts.

Name assumed to be Danny Fenton, potentially legally Daniel Fenton, though they’d been unable to find a match to his physical appearance and rough age in their databases. He hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, it was a very real possibility he was a foreigner, but they’d checked and he wasn’t wanted by any foreign intelligence services.

The phone was baffling.

It was a brick, and it looked like something from the early 00s, from around the time when handheld phones really started to be something everyone had.

Tim had asked for Barbara’s help after he hadn’t been able to recover the erased text messages for some days. Tim had filled her in on his discovery that while all the numbers coded into the phone led to a “the number you have called cannot be reached” message when called from the phone - some of the numbers were actually active when looked up; the Jazz one led to a pizza place and the Dad number led to an elderly woman with Chinese heritage who had no relation to anyone named Danny or Fenton. The rest of the numbers weren’t currently in use.

It was odd however that despite those two numbers being in use, they still got the cannot be reached message. Tim had suggested the program which made the phone able to piggyback on the mobile network without a sim was faulty, but it had been easy enough for Barbara to disprove by calling a local number which connected with no problem. Tim was brilliant but sometimes he got too caught up in his complicated theories that he forgot the simple things.

Her recovery program for the text messages had just finished running (this was her third attempt). She took a sip of coffee, leaned forward and promptly nearly spat it out when she saw the result. It went down the wrong pipe when she tried to recover and she coughed and sputtered. Carefully she put her cup on her desk before she spilled it.

Finally her airways were clear and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Somehow this was Dick’s fault.

She had recovered the messages. They were there - time stamps and all. The last message received was over a decade ago in 2009 and wasn’t that ominous? But that was a side note to be pondered later, because the contents of the messages, oh this was malicious.

Somehow, before deletion every single message had been changed to “Ghost”.

Not just a single ghost, no, entire messages teasing at their original length, but just changed into ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. A whole litany of ghosts.

And it was definitely Dick’s fault.

So that was it, hopefully I will be able to get back in the swing of things now. Commentary and tags are a great motivator and I read them all. As stated this is last time I tag people, so in the future you can subscribe to the masterlist or on Ao3 where the edited and hopefully better version eventually goes up.

Tag list of doom part 1:

#Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed Connections #dead on main #these next three parts are going to be following a theme #as Jason gets steadily more unhinged #sorry dear #it's necessary #dp x dc

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bunny-jpeg · 1 year ago

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"the bounties & death au" (a modern gods au)

a/n: 'sunlight' by hozier is burned into my brain

god of death!simon has been locked away for centuries, not able to return to the surface of the earth after being casted away into the shadows of the underworld. but once he finds himself free, in the countryside of england.

the world feels and looks different than what he remembered. it even smelled different. but the familiar grey sky of england loomed in a familiar way. the only thing in the distance was a small stone cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. his legs felt weak, but he managed to make it to the cottage. it had been so long since he walked, after being chained on his knees. to walk again felt like being a newborn deer.

who was he to see on the other side of the door, was none other than you. you looked scared and quickly closed the door. you squeaked, "no one's home! please leave."

simon was a bit confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he knocked once more. he said in his low voice, "i know yer in there. please, let me in."

"are you going to kill me?" "no." "are you sure?" "i need help, i have no interest in killing ya." he lit up when he saw you open the door and look up at him.

you took him in but told him that he had to sit at the chair in the kitchen and not move. you knew it was a risk but, there was something familiar about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. (you'd later recall when you felt close to death after the death of your previous boyfriend).

but simon is kind, you find it comforting to speak to him. he was calm and didn't move from the chair. when he moved as he ate, his movements were slow as to not scare you. simon thought of you like a rabbit. small and delicate, easily nervous.

the first act of kindness he had received in a long time was you sharing a meal with him. the gods didn't need to eat, but the warmth of the stew you made had him feeling warm.

you were an author who had stayed out in the country for some time in order to get a break from the weight of being in the city. you remarked that london was beautiful, and while simon had no way of imagining a city that big, he knew it was nowhere as beautiful as you.

he wouldn't make a move until your last night in the cottage before you headed back to the city. you said you'd drive him wherever he needed to be, but he said he had no home.

you asked him why and he said, "the place i came from. i cannot go back to." and while he hunched his shoulders, you reached up to him and allowed him to stay with you. you had grown to feel affection towards the man, even if you had many more questions about him than answers.

but that night, you shared wine together. you were all over him, your smaller body up against him. when he held onto your ass so you wouldn't fall over, you moaned. you giggled and told him you hadn't been held like that in a long time.

and for the first time in eternity, as simon thrusted into you, he would worship you rather than people worshiping him. as he held your hands onto the bed while you made love, he wondered if it was possible to build a shrine to you. to allow others to worship you the way he wished to do to you.

"you make me feel alive." you whispered in his ear.

an exhale left simon's lips, he then kissed you deeply once more. as you moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, all simon could think about was that he understood why humans were so desperate to get into the heavens. because if it felt anywhere close to how he felt next to you, he would scramble to get through the gates.

his little human, his little fruitful bounty <3

#the bounties & death au #bunny speaks #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #god!simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #gods au

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hn-undercover-9503 · 11 days ago

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I love every one of the Strawhats so very dearly with all of my heart and I wanna talk about it so here's a list of every Strawhat and the exact moment their characters won me over (thinly veiled excuse to rant more about One Piece)

Luffy: Chapter 1; Luffy has captivated me from the very start, I thought he was a delightfully silly protagonist and so sweet and fun, and then as the series has gone on my love and adoration for him only continued to grow.

Zoro: Zoro was a lot more of a slow-burner for me, as the "stoic, serious and cool" archetype never really did anything for me. But I think the moment I began liking him is on Syrup Village when he tells the Vegetable kids that they ate Usopp (I laughed soooo hard at this), because at that point I realized, "oh he's actually just as deranged as Luffy is just in a different font style" and then the Mihawk fight won me over, specifically the ending of that fight when he pledges himself to Luffy.

Nami: I liked her pretty much immediately, but it was getting her backstory in Arlong Park that made me sob uncontrollably that immediately cemented her as one of my favorites. And then "help me" happened and by then I was GONE, I love her so so so very much

Usopp: I was pretty much neutral to him up until his Arlong Park fight, when it occurred to me that his fights were probably going to be very different from everybody else's, which immediately endeared me to him. I always like characters that are weaker than the rest and therefore forced to win fights using their brains over brawn. After that I liked him a lot and loved watching him flail and joke around, his and Luffy's friendship especially was always so sweet to me. But Water 7 is what really cemented my love and respect for him, as I suspect it did for most people lmao

Sanji: I'm gonna be completely honest, Sanji was probably my least favorite Strawhat up until Enies Lobby. After that, he was solidly middle of the road. And after his grossness on Momoiro and Fishman Island he sailed right down to bottom tier, but then Zou and Whole Cake Island happened and I changed tunes SO hard, it went from "oh wow this guy's kinda gross actually" to "oh my god he's one of the single best written and nuanced characters in this entire series actually and I love him on a level I cannot remember the last time I experienced"

Vivi (because she IS a strawhat I will FIGHT): She was a slow burn for me as well, even though I did always like her on account of what she was doing for her country, which immediately set her apart from the generic "princess" type of character she could have become; but I think the moment that really made me appreciate her is on Alabasta, when they're crossing the desert and Luffy just stops and she screams at him and their fight and then the way she alters course to focus on Crocodile instead; that moment just really cemented her dedication to her people and her country for me. And then the clocktower! When she's desperately SCREAMING herself ragged, BEGGING the people to stop fighting because it was all a setup and there's no reason for them to be KILLING each other? GOD. FUCK. I LOVE HER SO MUCH.

Chopper: I loved him pretty much immediately, I thought he was funny and cute and wacky and as soon as I saw him I was like "PLEASE tell me that weird little creature is our doctor i NEED it", but it wasn't until Enies Lobby that he completely won me over. Watching him be so desperate to help the crew that he would literally destroy himself (Monster Chopper) in the process made me cry, and from then on he stopped being the Mascot character to me (he's still kind of a mascot character but it's okay because he's a really really good one)

Robin: okay so I liked her from the very first SECOND we met her on Whiskey Peak, and she only continued to win over my heart with every single new page; but she really won me over on Skypiea--her part of Skypiea is sooooo vastly underrated to me! I adored her sections just quietly exploring and unveiling the mystery of the golden city, and then her reaction when the big angel guy (don't remember his name, don't care to) started destroying the artifacts all around her? Holy shit. Immediate marriage proposal. By the time Water 7/Enies Lobby rolled around I was already deeply in love with this woman and then somehow I fell even MORE in love with her.

Franky: I was still kind of iffy about Franky up until Thriller Bark, which I still think is such a great way to have him slowly integrated into the group on the background. I also did greatly enjoy his "joining the crew" moment, and his moment on the sea train with Robin also deeply endeared me to him. That was probably the moment he stopped being an antagonist to me, and then it was a combination of his actions on Enies Lobby, the chase through the city, and then him on Thriller Bark that got me. I love Franky

Brook: I thought he was a really cool character instantly on meeting him, and then his BACKSTORY. I MEAN. GODDAMN. HOW COULD I NOT LOVE HIM AFTER ALL OF THAT. I still don't care for the pervert jokes and all that but then Brook just continued to have so many really great background moments, just being such a great support and background comic relief? It was probably his moment reading the 3D2Y message that had him completely winning me over, though. He definitely had the most impactful of those moments to me (I loved all of them, but Brook's hit me especially hard)

Jinbe: I LOVED JINBE FROM HIS VERY FIRST LINE OF DIALOGUE IN THE SERIES. WHEN HE WAS INTRODUCED TALKING TO ACE IN THAT CELL I WAS INSTANTLY LIKE "OH MY GOD HE'S SO PERFECT I NEED HIM TO STAY PLEASE ODA PLEASE PLEASE." And then MARINEFORD? And then FISHMAN ISLAND? And then WHOLE CAKE ISLAND? AND THEN WANO? I loved him right from his very first page and only continued to love him more and more and more everytime he showed up again. But the moment I decided I needed him to join us was probably after Marineford, when he helps Luffy find his way through his grief after losing Ace. That moment in particular is so very special and close to my heart, and I knew immediately that he had to keep being a part of this story because I didn't know what we'd do without that big blue rock to help us through.

#one piece #straw hat crew #straw hat pirates #strawhat pirates #strawhats #straw hat luffy #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #usopp #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #franky #soul king brook #first son of the sea jinbe #nefertari vivi

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yutahoes · 1 month ago

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Small World

Part Four

characters: single dad! soccer coach! widower! Yuta x female! single mom! fashion designer! divorcee! Y/N with son! Jung Sungchan, son! Shotaro Osaki, daughter! Sachiko Osaki (OC), daughter! Sakura Nakamoto (OC) word count: 7.1k words genre: chaptered, fluff, drama summary: Who says one cannot fall in love once again? warnings: single parents au, mutual pining, aged up and aged down characters, teen angst, secret dating, talks about death, misogynistic comments, gambling(?), language

taglist: @nuoyipeach @tenjyucat @justsomekpopstuff @amazinggraxia @ne0sgotmyback @monshirev @baeyrah

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

“Yuta, can I at least pay for mine and Sungchan’s meal?” Y/N asked, holding her wallet, standing next to Yuta in front of the restaurant's counter. She didn’t know what happened, but somehow, their families ended up having dinner all together. Maybe it was Sungchan’s idea since he forced her to go outside for dinner.

The older male shook his head, laughing to himself, as he took his card and receipt. Y/N squinted her eyes at him in annoyance, but he smiled, “You can buy me dinner later.” The girl had to purse her lips at that. “How does Tuesday night sound?”

“Tuesday night?”

Yuta nodded, “The kids don’t have extracurriculars.” Oh. “Are you free Tuesday night?” Is this like a date? That was so smooth of him to invite her like this. “There’s a new cheap ramen shop just outside town.”

Y/N smiled. He might have thought about this too well. “Okay,” she claimed while nodding. “Ramen on Tuesday.”

He raised his hand and she did the usual high-five. Instead of threading their fingers together, Yuta squeezed her hand gently. “It’s a date then.”

And for the first time, she’s excited to go on a dinner with a guy. A date? When was the last time she’s been on one? She even tried to remember if Jaehyun even took her out on a date.

She had a lot of clothes but she didn’t know what to wear that night. Should she be more feminine? A dress? But isn’t that too much? Maybe a pair of simple jeans and a shirt. But that is too casual. She cannot ask Sungchan for his opinion, he cannot know about this yet. Certainly not Jungwoo or she will never hear the end of it.

It’s just a ramen date. She shouldn’t think so much about it.

Y/N only wore casual clothes, a light purple button-down blouse and white pants. She also tied her hair in a ponytail and wore her white sneakers instead of heels. It was even surprising for her to see Shotaro seated on the couch, playing video games with her son. The younger one immediately greeted her. “Are you going out?” Sungchan asked. “A date?”

That is weird. How can she say that she’s going on a date with the other guy’s dad? “I’m meeting a client.” And she took her briefcase, just in case. Y/N placed some cash on the table, “Order some food.”

“Do you want to eat ramen?” Shotaro claimed which made Y/N gulp. Does he know? Sungchan shook his head, “We ate ramen yesterday. How about chicken?” The other nodded.

Y/N could feel her heart beating faster so she excused herself to leave first. That was so nerve-wracking. Should she tell the boys that she’s going out on a date with Yuta? Isn’t that too soon?

Maybe she’ll just see what can happen.

The restaurant was a little crowded as she parked her car in front. Yuta was already standing by the entrance wearing casual clothes: a dark jacket, a white tee underneath, and faded jeans. She was glad that she didn’t dress too much for this so-called date. “Hi,” he greeted, “Let’s go inside.”

Yuta shared that a friend from Japan owns the restaurant so he could easily vouch that the meal she’s going to have is authentic ramen. “Great!” she exclaimed as they sat in a booth. “I’ll get my money’s worth.” Yuta chuckled, “You’ll let me pay tonight, right?”

“Only the ramen.” She rolled her eyes at that.

The Japanese man was sharing everything he knew about ramen and even the side dishes they ordered. It was a nice dinner filled with stories of Yuta and the children’s childhood. It was a nice experience for Y/N as she got to know the family, even his wife, better. “I forgot to tell you Shotaro was at our house when I left.”

Yuta nodded, “He did say he’s meeting Sungchan.”

“I was so nervous about what to tell them.” She whispered, mixing the teriyaki sauce using her chopsticks in nervousness. “Should we tell them?”

“It’s a little early to let the kids in. If this goes well, we’ll tell them together. Is that okay with you?” Y/N nodded. “I think Sakura is the only one who will be delighted with this set-up. The teenagers, not so much.”

“I think so too.”

Maybe Yuta was right. It’s better to just see where it goes.

The night was still young so when the man offered to walk in the park, Y/N eagerly agreed. It’s calming to be out here, without thinking about her son’s safety or her work. Her mind was blank yet she was overthinking a lot of things at the same time. What if Yuta doesn’t want a second date? What if he thinks she’s not that attractive? What if this doesn’t work out?

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Was she overthinking all of this? “Are you cold?” Before she could respond, Yuta was removing his dark jacket that he was left with the white tee he had. Y/N had to stop herself from ogling too badly at the shirt tightly hugging his torso and arm muscle. “Wear this.”

The girl thanked him, placing his jacket on her shoulders. His perfume smells so good, very manly. Y/N had to remove her ponytail, putting her scrunchie in the pocket of Yuta’s jacket. All of a sudden, she felt warm. Maybe it was the jacket or maybe just the fact that they were walking towards the rails of overlooking city lights with this comfortable silence between them. Are dates usually like this nowadays?

“I’m sorry,” Yuta muttered under his breath, startling her. “You might have expected too much on this date. It’s been so long, I really don’t know what to do.”

The girl had to lightly giggle at that. How adorable. “I was just thinking about it earlier and realized I’ve never been on a date before.”

“Even with Jung Jaehyun?”

She shook her head, “We go out but it’s always with Jungwoo.” Then she sighed, leaning on the rails. “The only time we were alone, Sungchan happened.” Yuta had to chuckle at that. “Do you always go on dates with your wife?”

There was a faint smile on his lips while nodding, “Especially in spring. She loved drawing the cherry blossoms.” Then he smiled widely. “Sakura.” A whisper in his voice.

“That’s where her name came from?”

“Her favorite flowers,” Yuta claimed while sighing. “It was her who wanted to name the baby Sakura. She was really excited to meet her.” His demeanor changed which made Y/N hold on to his jacket. “I used to hate her when she was born but the twins both adore that little one.” The girl had to stare at him in surprise. He hated Sakura?

“When the doctors gave me a choice, I chose my wife over Sakura.” Y/N gasped. Just the mere thought of him choosing from the two is already heartbreaking. “But my wife didn’t even listen to me and chose Sakura instead.” There was a bitter smile on Yuta’s lips. “The twins became mad at me for ignoring Sakura,” He shook his head, one side of his lip turning up in a sarcastic smile. “I guess that's why the twins never talked to me again.”

“Yuta, you cannot blame yourself for that. You call it teen angst, remember?” The guy had to smile at that thought. “If it helps, I never told my dad anything growing up, but I greatly appreciate him.” Y/N flashed an assuring smile. “It’s hard to be both a mom and a dad at the same time. I bet your kids think the same way, they just don’t know how to express it.”

The guy had a faint smile on his lips showing his hand, palm up, which made the girl smile. She placed her hand on top of his, squeezing gently. “Thank you, Y/N.”

-----

Shotaro was usually the first child to wake up every morning but since he went home from Sungchan’s late at night, Yuta wasn’t surprised that Sachiko was the first one to come out of the kitchen. This is better though, he needed to talk to her after what he found out from Y/N last night. “Do you want me to wake up Sho and Kura?” she asked, watching her father stir the fried rice in the pan.

“It’s fine,” Yuta quickly answered, “It’s still early.” He then hummed as if thinking of what to say next. Why is this suddenly so awkward? “Do you want me to make you some orange juice?” Sachiko looked startled at the question. She’s used to making orange juice on her own. Why is her dad suddenly volunteering to make it for her? “Sachi, since Sho isn’t here, I want to tell you something.” The girl nodded, sitting on the chair to brace herself for the inevitable. What is her dad going to say now? Should she hold onto something for comfort? “I am raising your allowance but can we not tell anyone about it?”

Sachiko’s eyes widened in surprise. This isn’t a bad thing, right? “Why?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been buying you simple shirts and jeans as clothes,” he claimed with a chuckle, pouring the orange juice he made into a glass. “From now on, you have the freedom to choose your clothes. If you want to completely change your wardrobe, just tell me so we can budget some money for it.”

The younger was just staring at the man in surprise. What is this all about? What brought this sudden conversation? She had been fine with the clothes she had although they were a little boyish; they were still comfortable. Even Y/N had suggested that she just upscale the clothes so it’s still fit for her aesthetics. Then it clicked, “Were you with Auntie Y/N last night?”

It was Yuta’s turn to be surprised. Did he say something weird? The teenage girl smiled, “She told you to tell me those things?” Well, it was her idea in the first place. To talk to Sachiko. “Are you two dating?”

The older sighed. When did Sachiko become so clever? “Can we also not tell anyone about it?”

“Call!” The girl had a wide grin on her face, “But can you add some extra to that allowance, Dad? I wanted to buy some make-up.”

Yuta laughed, lightly pinching his daughter’s nose. “You got it, pumpkin.”

Sachiko smiled to herself. She missed that nickname.

-----

Sungchan was finishing his cereal when his mom went to the dining area wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans. Instead of her usual high heels, she’s wearing rubber shoes that made him wonder. Is she not going to work today? “Channie, I cannot pick you up today.” She claimed which made him nod, watching her every move. “Just eat out for dinner.” She placed bills on the table.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“To your grandfather,” she answered casually. Sungchan had to glance at the calendar on the fridge. It’s not his death anniversary, not even his birthday.

“Mom, are you alright?” The woman had to look at him in confusion, “You visit Grandpa whenever you have something huge going on.” But the girl only stared in more confusion. What? “When you divorced Dad, when you opened the boutique, and when you bought the car.”

Oh. That was all coincidental but it’s so weird that Sungchan could make that connection. Was her son always this observant? “I’m fine, honey. I just miss my dad, that’s all.” But the younger just stared at her in worry. “It’s nothing, Channie.” She reassured him with a smile, tapping his shoulder.

As the car slowly went out of sight, Sungchan breathed a heavy sigh. Should he call his uncle and tell him about his mom acting weird? Or maybe, he should just listen to her and shrug it off.

After class, Shotaro left early so he hung out with another friend from his class, Song Eunseok. Since the other is heading to his part-time job, maybe Sungchan can just pick up Sakura from school and treat her to some snacks. Also, maybe this could help him ease the decision his mom is about to make.

“Eunseok, you have a sister right?” The other guy nodded, wiping the glasses on the counter. The coffee shop isn’t as crowded as Sungchan thought. Or maybe because it’s not yet time for dismissal in the nearby elementary school. “What’s it like to have a sister?”

“My sister is older and she’s already married,” Eunseok explained. “Aren’t you an only child?”

Sungchan nodded, leaning his chin on the table. “I might get a sister soon.”

“Your mom is pregnant?”

He had to bump his forehead on the table before shaking his head, “She’s thinking of adopting.” The other guy had a confused look. “I saw her web history and she’s been checking on orphanages to search for a young girl.” He even looked embarrassed as he explained that. He knew it was wrong but when he borrowed her laptop, he just saw one tab about adopting opened.

“What did your dad say about this?”

His dad? Sungchan raised his head at the realization. Does he know? Surely, his mom wouldn’t act on this on her own. How would she take care of a child if she’s all alone? “I don’t know if he knows.” Maybe that was it, Sungchan thought. Maybe he just needs to let his dad know about it.

“But lately, you’re being an older brother already,” Eunseok commented which made Sungchan stare at him in wonder. What does he mean by that? “Sakura,” he noted. “You’re dating Sachiko that’s why you’re always picking her up from school, right?”

“What?” Sungchan almost stood up in shock. “We’re not dating.” Eunseok visibly breathed in relief while nodding to himself. The taller guy stared at him, squinting his eyes. “Do you like Sachiko?” The guy didn’t answer but there was a faint blush on his cheeks which made Sungchan smile. He does like her. “Yah Song Eunseok, Sachiko is a nice girl. Even if you are our friend, you know Shotaro and I can hurt you right?”

The other guy chuckled nervously, “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to hurt her.” Eunseok smiled in a teasing manner, then continued, “Look at you being an older brother.”

Maybe having a younger sister isn’t such a bad idea after all.

------

Y/N had just finished a meeting with a client in a high-end hotel. Luckily, she had a spare heeled shoe in her car and the briefcase she brought last night was still in the backseat. Maybe Sungchan knows that she went on a date last night that’s why he’s acting so weird.

To be fair, she just missed her dad. After Yuta shared his worries about being a single dad with daughters, she realized how truly hard it was for her father. Sachiko mirrored the relationship she had with her dad in her teenage years. She used to never tell him anything and would always be pissed off at his presence. Y/N could still remember how his dad was so mad and even shouted at her when she told him that she was pregnant. A huge regret she felt even if years had passed.

If only she was a better daughter, then maybe Sungchan had a chance to meet his maternal grandfather.

Her client was a nice lady so even if she felt underdressed for the poshness of the hotel restaurant, she closed the deal immediately. It was great that she had a new project since she just finished Okasan’s dress. Maybe she could just message Yuta to pick up the dress tomorrow if he’s not busy.

Y/N smiled to herself. Is this her way to see Yuta again? But then, why not?

As soon as she placed her phone in her handbag, the elevator doors opened to the lobby of the hotel. From where she was standing, she noticed a familiar face entering the door of the hotel and passing the lobby as if he had been there a couple of times already. Y/N cannot be mistaken; the way he walks, his height, and the boyish style with faded jeans and a dark hoodie. What is Shotaro doing in this hotel?

The lights were so bright, bass music blasting through the speakers, and bodies dancing against each other. Y/N never thought that there would be a club in the basement of this hotel. Obviously, the crowd here is filled with young people with their choice, rather a lack of, clothes. If she felt underdressed in the restaurant upstairs, she felt too dressed even if she was just in a t-shirt and jeans. She’s honestly so glad she didn’t have a teenage daughter or she might just shave all her hair if she caught her here. But what is Shotaro doing in this kind of place? Has Sungchan been here? Or worse, has Sachiko been here?

“Yo, mama!” a guy called, motioning for her which she found rude. He looks like he’s in his late twenties. Too old to be hanging out with the young crowd. “What’s a hot stuff doing here?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at that. But if she needed to find Shotaro, she should ask someone. “Do you know someone named Osaki Shotaro?”

“Never thought a kid like him would snatch a sugar mama this hot,” Y/N wanted to strangle him to death. But is this a hub for sugar babies? And is Shotaro one? No, he can’t be. “If you’re so desperate to look for him, he has a dance set later.” A dance set? He then shook his head while staring at her. “Maybe that kid is packing.” What a creep!

Y/N had no choice but to walk away from the guy, squeezing herself between gyrating bodies to get a spot by the bar. Should she stay and wait for Shotaro to come out? But what if she discovers something sinister about her son’s bestfriend? As an adult, maybe she can just shield the teenager by taking him out of this place.

It was a stupid plan in her head. If she caught sight of Shotaro, she’ll come over and drag him out of this place. The crowd started making a huge space in the middle as bills were slowly shown everywhere, handed to an older guy. What the hell is this place? The DJ started playing an upbeat song, turning up the volume as the lights shone on the guy standing in the middle of the empty space.

The hoodie and faded jeans. The height. As the music started and the guy in the middle started moving, Y/N was sure that she could not execute her plan. Shotaro was in the center, dancing.

Shotaro looks so different from the usual smiling boy he is. Seriousness was written on his face yet he looks like he’s enjoying what he’s doing. It’s truly charming. A different side to this boy that Y/N witnessed at the moment. She had never been a fan of dancers but with the crowd’s reaction and the way the teenager moved along the music, she knew Shotaro was a great dancer. Y/N had been hearing that compliment from Sungchan repeatedly but this was the first time she saw it for real. Shotaro is indeed an amazing dancer. How is their family so talented? Did he get it from his mom like his sisters’ talents? Or from his dad?

The crowd was cheering so loud, chanting ‘Taro’ as he started interacting with the crowd in his usual cheery aura. How can the guy dancing earlier be the same as this little fluffball running around while giving high-fives? When their eyes met, his eyes widened. Maybe her plan could still happen.

Y/N wasn’t even waiting that long when Shotaro tapped her shoulder. “What are you doing here, auntie?” He asked then glanced around, “Are you with Sungchan?” But the girl shook her head. He looked so worried that he kept glancing around. “Do you want to leave? We can grab coffee outside.”

But before both of them could stand up, the guy from earlier slung his hand on Shotaro’s shoulder pulling him close to him. “Tell me, kid, how did you manage to get a sugar mommy this hot?” Y/N had to glare at the older man.

“Don’t be weird, sunbae,” Shotaro claimed with a smile on his face. “She’s my mom.” He immediately stood up and then gestured for the startled woman to follow him outside the club. “Auntie, do you want some coffee?” Y/N had to blink twice as she regained her senses. “I’m sorry I called you mom, Sungchan would hate me if he found out someone assumed we’re in a relationship.” The girl had to nod at that, smiling. He’s such a nice friend.

Y/N knew that the price of one coffee in this hotel coffee shop was off the roof but somehow Shotaro had treated her to a cup of cappuccino. He’s probably earning a lot from that club. But how? By dancing? The younger explained that it was his dance teacher who told him about these underground dance battles. When the older woman asked about the legality of this work, Shotaro just shrugged. “I only dance and they pay me.” But still, isn’t this bad? Shotaro is only eighteen. Although he’s considered legal and an adult, being exposed in that environment, especially in gambling, is detrimental. “I just want to save up to buy Dad a car and then I’ll stop.”

“A car?” Y/N asked in surprise. “For your dad?”

Shotaro nodded then drank his chocolate milkshake, “I think Dad at least needs a car to go on dates.” Y/N had to prevent herself from smiling at that. That was an adorable thought. But she remembered how Yuta had the same dilemma last night. He kept on apologizing that he could not at least drive her back to her place.

“Then what are you going to tell your dad if he asks where the money came from?”

Again, the younger shrugged. “A part-time work?” That’s very considerate of him.

Y/N had always seen Shotaro as this very cheerful boy. Sometimes she would wonder if he was really the same age as her son, surely Shotaro is way younger than Sungchan. But talking to him, made her realize how mature this guy is. Maybe he’s truly way older than Sungchan. And can she forget how amazing he moved earlier? “Sho, you were so great earlier.” The younger grinned, eyes shaped like half-moons. Now, he looked so young. “Your dad must be so proud watching you dance.”

Shotaro had to sip his milkshake before shaking his head, “He had never watched me dance.” What? But the workshop before. “Dad would probably like it more if I played sports rather than dancing.” Then in a quiet voice, he continued, “Like Sungchan.”

The girl looked at the younger in worry. It was part of the conversation she had with Yuta earlier. How worried he is that Shotaro won’t talk to him because he’s closer to his mom even at a young age. Y/N realized that it wasn’t the case. Maybe Yuta was in the wrong here. “My dad would probably really love it if Sungchan became his stepson. They’re like an unstoppable duo.” There was a lot of pain in those words. Was Shotaro feeling inferior to her son? But wait, Shotaro said stepson. Does he know?

Yet he was right. Sungchan and Yuta’s interests are so identical that she sometimes thinks her son would probably grow up like the older. But, when you look at it closely, Shotaro and his dad don’t have anything in common. “I’m sorry,” the younger whispered, looking worried. “I often say things I don’t really mean. I don’t want you to overthink about it.” But it’s too late. And he probably knows that. “You and Dad are dating, right?” He knows? Did Yuta tell him? Or did she say something? “I saw your scrunchie inside his jacket pocket.”

Oh, she had forgotten about that scrunchie. The girl sighed heavily, rubbing the rim of her cup in nervousness. This feels like coming clean in front of your dad. “We’re still just getting to know each other.” she whispered then continued, “We still haven’t told you yet because we’re still unsure how things would work out and where this is heading.”

Shotaro had to lean on his chair, nodding to himself. “My dad actually likes you.” Y/N had to glance at him but the younger was just staring at the glass of half-filled milkshake in front of him. “I’ve never seen him interact with any other woman the same as you, Auntie. Usually, my dad would just shrug any woman but he seemed so smitten about you.” Y/N wanted to stop him. What is he saying all of a sudden? “And I understand not telling us yet. My sisters will get excited and probably expect a lot, I don’t want them to get hurt.”

Y/N smiled at that. “You’re very mature about this, Shotaro.” She complimented. Somehow, Yuta’s worries that Shotaro might be the only one who would dislike this set-up between them came to her. Maybe he underestimated his only son. “I hope Sungchan understands this relationship the same way as you.” The younger one just smiled in response. “Thank you, Shotaro.”

“You’re welcome,” Shotaro started then in a soft voice, continued, “Mom.”

-----

Yuta was fixing his hair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He shouldn’t put too much effort into this but he doesn’t want to act careless about this as well. “Are you going out?” One of his co-teachers asked, smiling teasingly. “A date?”

He sighed, “I’m picking up my daughter from school.”

“This early?” The co-teacher asked, staring at his watch. “Are you dating an elementary school teacher?”

The guy glared at him, fixing his hair one last time. “I’m picking up my daughter.” he emphasized before facing the guy, “How do I look?”

“She’ll like you, no worries.” And Yuta gave him a death glare.

The soccer coach came out of the faculty room, surprised that he almost bumped into his ace player carrying a bunch of papers. “Coach,” Sungchan greeted. “Are you leaving early?” He nodded before the co-teacher teasing him earlier ushered the student to come in while saying, “He’s going on a date. Don’t bother your coach.”

The student looked startled at that statement. “I’m not!” Yuta shouted, waving goodbye while claiming that he’d be late. But the younger stared at his coach, watching his back disappear to the hallway. He did look like he spent hours making himself more presentable so he understood where the whole dating idea came from. He shook his head, do the twins know about their dad dating? The older man’s mood will surely improve in the coming days.

Even before he could enter the mall, Yuta kept on checking his reflection. Why is he so nervous? Get the dress then ask her if she had lunch yet, Yuta repeated in his mind. It’s simple, Yuta. Jungwoo was in front of the shop when he came in and he greeted him warmly. “Y/N told me you’re coming.” The other guy noted before gesturing to the couches. “I’ll go get her.” He even told one of the sales ladies in the shop to give Yuta something to drink on which he shook his head.

He breathed heavily, rubbing his palms on his jeans. Get the dress then ask her if she had lunch yet, Yuta repeated once again. The male first exited the door of her workshop followed by Y/N who was carrying a huge box and two paper bags. Yuta immediately stood up, taking the box from her and placing it on top of the table. “Hi,” she greeted with a smile and he mirrored the same expression as her. This was the first time they saw each other after last Tuesday’s night dinner so why is it suddenly so awkward? “You’re early.”

Ask her for lunch. “I have to pick up Sakura from school.” And he mentally kicked himself at that answer.

The girl nodded, “This is Okasan’s dress.” she noted, tapping the box. “And these are something for Sachiko and Sakura.” She handed the paper bags to him. “I have some extra fabrics so I thought I’ll make them dresses as well.”

“This is too much,” he noted but the girl just shook her head while smiling brightly. No doubt, she loves what she’s doing. “I’ll pay for Okasan’s dress.”

“Yuta, I told you it’s taken care of.”

This is your cue to ask her for lunch. But before Yuta could say another word, someone entered the boutique which startled the girl he was talking to. “Jaehyun?” There was an obvious surprise in her face and voice. The model was walking to where Jungwoo was, placing the plastic bags on the counter. “Give me a sec,” she claimed and he nodded as he watched Y/N stand up in front of the other guy.

Jaehyun handed the bouquet of yellow and white flowers to her. Yuta pursed his lips, they looked so perfect together. “I saw these in the flower shop downstairs,” the guy said with a smile. “Reminds me of you.”

“What are you doing here all of a sudden?”

“Your son called me.” Y/N had to squint her eyes at him. That’s it? “Do I have to ask him or you, dandelion?” The girl scrunched her eyebrows at that. What’s with the sudden nickname?

“Oh, the flashbacks.” Jungwoo teased.

Jaehyun leaned on the counter, explaining that he bought Chinese take-out for lunch before stopping when his eyes met Yuta’s. The other looked startled and then stood up in panic. “I’m sorry, I might have ruined your plan, Y/N,” Jaehyun claimed then gestured to the guy picking up the box and paper bags.

Yuta was shaking his head, “I just picked these up.” he claimed. “I have to pick up Sakura from school.”

“Carrying that?” Y/N asked, walking to where he was.

He muttered that he had to go home first and drop everything off. “The payment,” Yuta started, taking his wallet from his small crossbody bag but Y/N was shaking her head. “Y/N, let me pay.”

“You can just treat me to dinner,” she claimed, startling him. His gaze subtly went to Jaehyun and Jungwoo who were trying to hide their smiles. “Saturday?” He’s free on a Saturday. But he can’t believe that she’s the one asking this from him. “Dinner on Saturday,” she repeated.

“It’s a date, then.” He raised his hand for the usual high-five as she grinned, “A date.”

When Yuta went out and Y/N turned to the two guys, they were just grinning widely. The girl just rolled her eyes before Jaehyun muttered, “Little dandelion is in love once again. How cute.” But she just stuck her tongue out, taking one plastic bag from the counter. Jaehyun’s teasing laugh echoed through the whole boutique.

-----

He should have brought her flowers. That was the thought ringing in Yuta’s mind as he stood at the entrance of the elementary school. Of course, girls like flowers. He told her about his ex-wife’s favorite flowers but he never asked her what she likes. How stupid of him. What were those yellow and white flowers Jaehyun gave her? Dandelions? He called her that. Maybe a nickname when they used to date? But why?

Is Jaehyun planning to come back into her life? But isn’t that what Sungchan wants?

Sakura kept on sharing things about what happened in school and Yuta tried his very best to listen to everything she said. But his mind was still trailing on what happened earlier and what might happen later. At least he can still hold on to that Saturday dinner. Maybe he’ll just see what will truly happen.

When Yuta entered their living room, he was surprised to see Shotaro and Sungchan doing assignments on the small table while seated on the floor. Sakura greeted the two, even hugging Sungchan which made the teenager ruffle the young girl's hair. If his parents do get back together, he’ll probably get a younger sister. “Sungchan, does your mom know you’re here?” Yuta asked as he headed to the kitchen. Since there are three kids, he needed to make them at least some snacks.

“Yes, coach,” Sungchan answered and he hummed in response. “She said she’ll pick me up after her work.” Work? Yuta very much knows that work isn’t what’s keeping her busy. But why is this bothering him so much? They’re ex-lovers who have a son together, it’s nothing, right?

It was a typical day. Yuta made sandwiches for the kids and even helped a little with the older boys’ homework. Sakura was also minding her own business, coloring in her book. Sachiko informed him that she was going out with her friends which earned a debate between the two boys. The older was once again amazed at how Sungchan could be so protective. Surely, it was from his upbringing.

A knock on the door can be heard and it was Yuta who stood up to open it. Must be his mother-in-law, Sachiko, or even Y/N. He made sure to even fix his wrinkled shirt before opening the door but was disappointed that the model Jung Jaehyun was standing on their front porch. “Hi,” he greeted. “I’m here to pick up Sungchan.”

Yuta nodded before opening the door fully. “Sungchan, your dad is here!” he shouted inside the house then turned back to the person with a shining aura by the door. “Do you want to come in?”

Jaehyun shook his head, placing both his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “Sungchan’s mom is in the car. She said she didn't want to come out since she wasn’t wearing any make-up.” He teased making Yuta look at the black Toyota parked in front of their home. “So you and Y/N, huh?” he casually asked then continued, “Since when?”

The guy had to casually step out of the house. “We just went out for dinner. The kids don't know yet,” he explained and Jaehyun nodded. “Look, if you’re not alright with me going out with her, it’s fine. I can still keep my distance…”

“No, no,” Jaehyun exclaimed, frantically waving his hands to emphasize a point. “Please keep on dating her. She looks so happy talking about you and your kids.” He faintly chuckled, “If Sungchan is your problem, I’ll talk to him.” What? Wait, hold up. This is confusing him. Jaehyun is alright with all of these? Then why is he here?

Footsteps approaching can be heard so Yuta just nodded, visibly heaving a sigh of relief. “What are you talking about so seriously?” Sungchan asked, slinging his bag on his shoulder while opening the door widely.

Jaehyun shook his head, “Just asking your coach how you are in soccer.” He smiled at Yuta, “Let’s go, your mom is waiting.” Yet, before Sungchan could walk away, the older man held his backpack, turning Sungchan to face Yuta. “Aren’t you going to say anything to your coach?”

The younger rubbed the back of his head before bowing down. “Thank you for letting me stay, coach.” Yuta nodded and Sungchan grinned widely. Looking at them side by side, he realized how Y/N resembled the younger more. Jaehyun said his greeting before watching the father-son leave their area and enter the car.

What a perfect family.

-----

Sungchan was confused. How could these two people seated in front of the car made him? It was new seeing both his parents in the same place, especially this small of a distance. His mom looked confused as she followed the instructions on the map app from his dad’s phone. Where are they heading?

The younger could feel the sweat forming on his palms. Are they going to announce that they’re adopting a new kid? Why is he so nervous and scared of it? “Mom,” he started, which made the girl hum. “When you were Sachiko's age, did you hang out with girls in your class?”

It was Jaehyun who laughed. “How can she? She was already taking care of you.” Oh, yeah she does. The girl had to glare at the man beside her. “Why do you ask? You’re the same age as Sachiko, right?” His dad asked before grinning widely, “Don’t tell me you like Sachiko.”

“No, that’s crazy Dad!”

“Then a friend of hers?”

Sungchan shook his head, “A girl from her new friend group asked me once if I could come to her place since her parents are away.”

The only girl looked visibly shaken, “Did you go?”

“Of course not, Mom.” he claimed then sighed, “I’m just worried Sachiko is hanging out with girls like her.” Jaehyun and Y/N both looked at each other. “So if you want me to have a younger sister, please not a girl in her teens or even a baby. I don’t want to take care of a toddler. Sakura’s age is maybe good.” He rambled on with a nervous laugh as the car stopped on the side of the highway. “Maybe we can just adopt Sakura, that would be better.”

“Do you want a younger sister, Channie?” Y/N asked, turning her body to face Sungchan. Even Jaehyun turned to face him. “Is that why you wanted me to get back with your dad?”

The younger pursed his lips, “You seemed to like the idea of wanting to have a daughter, Mom.” Jaehyun leaned on his seat, sighing heavily. “Isn’t it your ultimate dream, to have a daughter?”

Y/N had to shake her head before starting the car once again. Sungchan could notice how tight she was holding on to the steering wheel. Maybe what he said was wrong. He can’t believe he’s upsetting his mom again. But before he could say something, his dad raced him to it. “Let’s talk while eating, hmm?”

The restaurant was too fancy and driving far was really worth it. What’s even more mind-blowing for Sungchan was the fact that his father reserved an exclusive VIP room. Even the prices of the food stunned the younger guy but the older, who was seated next to him, just urged him to get whatever he wanted. This is too posh for just a simple family dinner. Maybe they are really adopting a kid.

“So are you thinking of adopting a younger girl?” The younger asked quietly. Why is he so bothered about this idea? Both his parents seemed okay with the idea.

Y/N easily explained that it was a fleeting moment. She was just charmed by both Sachiko and Sakura that she thought of adopting a daughter. She kept on apologizing to the younger one who was scolded by his dad for making his mom feel bad and checking her web history. “But you were right, Channie. I’m too old to be a mom again.” She then grinned, “Maybe I could be a grandmother.”

“Don’t be weird, mom.”

Jaehyun laughed in his low voice, “So now that both your issues are resolved, I have something important to tell the both of you.” Both mother and son looked at each other and then at the man speaking. “I’m planning on proposing to my girlfriend this month.”

Both Sungchan and Y/N looked shocked. Jung Jaehyun, the guy who doesn’t want to settle down? The ultimate bachelor in town? “What did grandma say?”

“I haven’t told her yet.” He claimed then shook his head. “You know she hates everyone.” Y/N even pursed her lips at that. She did. “I told the two of you first because I want to get your blessing.” He muttered then turned to the younger one. “Is that alright with you, Sungchan?”

He nodded, “Whatever makes you happy Dad.”

Jaehyun grinned, “Good!” He then clapped. “Then let your mom go on a date.” What? Y/N almost choked on the drink she sipped. What is Jung Jaehyun doing? Sungchan lightly glanced at his mom and then nodded, surprising Y/N. “Even if she’ll date your coach?” The girl glared at the older male but he just shrugged, unbothered, which annoyed her much more.

The girl was just so nervous. What if Sungchan says no? And why does Jaehyun open this up today of all days? He just announced that he has plans on getting married and now, he’s asking his son's permission for her to date. Isn’t that already hurtful for her son? “Channie, you really don’t have to answer that,” she claimed, shaking her head while smiling reassuringly at him.

“If you like each other, I don’t have any say on that right?” He claimed that startled the older. He’s fine with it? “On a brighter note, we don’t have to adopt Sakura if you two end up together.” He laughed then shook his head. “But Mom, please talk to Sachiko and forbid her from seeing those girls. If I become her brother, I might just shave all her hair for hanging out with those kind of girls.” Jaehyun gave a low laugh, even noting that his son was a scary brother. “But the coach is dating someone though.”

Both Jaehyun and Y/N stared at him in confusion. What? “He went out very early earlier and even kept on checking himself in the mirror. I haven’t seen him spray that much cologne even if we’re sweaty from the training.” The girl just laughed. She didn't know his son was such a blabbermouth.

Jaehyun shook his head, pointing at the only girl seated on the table. “He went to your mom’s boutique earlier.”

“Oh,” Sungchan whispered, nodding. “Then congratulations Mom and Dad,” he muttered, raising his glass of orange juice. “For finding love again. I hope both of you find happiness this time.”

Both Y/N and Jaehyun clinked their glasses at the younger one. The woman smiled to herself, Sungchan is growing up and maturing so well.

-----

Part Five

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nct yuta #nct yuta nakamoto #dad yuta #yuta x y/n #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff #yuta chaptered #nakamoto yuta chaptered #yuta nakamoto chaptered

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onyourhyuck · 2 years ago

Text

The Tattoo Artist. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Since when did i get this tattoo?”

— Summary: Where one late night visit to your shop with a drunk man asking you to do his tattoo turns to an one night stand at your shop.

— Genre: Smut. Dom!mark. One night stand type of trope. Y/n!tattoo artist. Mark loves tattoos. Mention of alcohol use. Sex in a tattoo store. Mark hitting it from behind. Overstimulation. Unprotected sex. Squirting. Ass play. Mark really loves Y/n’s ass. lip ring MARK LEE. Plot twist at the end / Cliff Hanger.

— Notes:

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The night out was Mark’s typical routine. He leaves his apartment block and gets picked up by his two friends who accompany him to go out drinking and partying like every other night. Yuta and Johnny. These two boys are like glued on to Mark’s hips. However tonight it seems like they found themselves ladies and happen to be swooned.

Typical Yuta and Johnny, Mark thought.

They said it’s ‘boy’s night’ yet they always find themselves ladies to get distracted by and Mark was left either third wheeling or led to be alone drinking his single sorrows away.

Honestly Mark prefers it that way, being single. Less hassle to be dealing with relationships and the breakup that comes with it too. Mark can’t be dealing with a girl who complains about his lifestyle choices either. He’s too caught up in the present moment and he’s never thinking about the future. The man is doing what most men in their adulthood years do — drink, party, maybe get high or something along the way.

Then wake up the next day absolutely hungover to the point your memory couldn’t even remember what you ate yesterday. And then try to recount the times you drank last night because you’re grieving how bad the headache is. The cycle continues the following night on the same day. Your friends ask you to go out and Mark accepts because he cannot say no to free drinks.

It’s a struggle. It’s a blessing but a struggle. The idea feels good and then when the happy hours pass Mark feels completely utterly shit.

Mark tells himself ‘I quit drinking. It’s the last time I’m drinking this much’ and then? Contradicted his own statement. He gets drunk, drinks past the limits maybe even more than he drank last time.

Another thing Mark has a hard time saying no to?

Tattoos.

The one thing that Mark cannot say no to other than free alcohol would be tattoos. He already has four on his body and Mark finds them so fascinating. It’s like a way to express himself.

Guilty pleasure would be the best way to describe his relationship with the needing urging to cover all of his body in tattoos. However he knows he cannot do that. At least not unless he has the money to get every part of his body covered in ink.

The man dips the glass of cola and the whiskey he managed to mix together, and then Mark found himself watching his two friends flirt away and dance with the two ladies they found to be attracted to. He can’t believe he’s the one who got asked out by then and now he’s left alone to his own company. These two surely never understand what the bro code is. Mark found himself growing slightly eager so he spiced the drinks concentration up and decided to go for the heavier beverages now.

That night if you asked Mark how much he drank he couldn’t answer you clearly, because he drank a lot more. Mark managed to woo some people himself in the crowd whenever he dances and joins the huddle however the drunk he got the more indescribable feeling of the high notes Mark was feeling began to rub off on him. The man himself wasn’t anymore as sober as he wanted to be this night but, he was still able to walk a little and manage to speak.

You can say he build up the tolerance due to his alcoholic tendencies. Mark isn’t proud of it but he’s definitely grateful otherwise Mark would have passed out by now.

Passed out somewhere on the road, or maybe a bench at a park and slept there all through the night until the morning which is even scarier to Mark. Thankfully though he has a high tolerance and so his awareness was better than most.

The nightclub itself was getting too overwhelming for Mark and he managed to slip out and sent a text to Johnny and Yuta in their following group chat that he’s going to go home.

Or at least Mark said he was, that was until he got tired of waiting and then his eyes pitch on a white paper hung up on those wooden lamp street lights. The cab wasn’t going to get here anytime soon considering the night hours are always filled with other party wild animals that are booking them. Mark’s eyes were now glued tight on that paper with the large letters to him ‘Neo’s tattoo’s!’

He squints his eyes to get a better glance, the alcohol was really getting to his poor eye sight. He’s already half blind as a bat but with the alcohol doing it’s job, it’s safe to say Mark’s sight is equal to his own grandfather now.

But that paper got him intrigued and it spoke one word and one word only to convince Mark: He needs to get a new tattoo.

It might not be the time for that but who’s going to stop him? No one. Not even his friends could do that even if they were here in the moment with him Mark would not be able to budge away from his decision to change his mind. Mark was suddenly overlapping with curiosity and excitement, he wonders what tattoos do you make? And he wonders if your shop is nearby. When he looks back at that poster he checks the address and he realised the street; it’s in the same city he was in. Mark thought it’s destiny. What are the coincidences that the same shop he wants to find and get to is on the same area as the nightclub he was in right now?

Mark doesn’t believe in coincidences so that alone makes him a believer of fate, and fate alone. When the feet take steps forward now walking down the streets that are half empty filled with wind breeze and dusts of leaves panning over the roads, cars passing by especially taxis dropping off other people ready to go on the night out; it takes a long minute of Mark looking from each street to street determined in finding this tattoo shop.

It says the opening hours are until 3am. Mark has at least an hour to spare. He cannot be wasting any longer so Mark was quick on his feet running from direction to another space until,

The same building has appeared in front of him. The same exact place on the sheet of paper he found. Mark takes a quick glance from the paper to the real life building with the signs of neon green ‘NEO’S TATTOOS.’ And he found himself growing warm and excited. Mark drunk out of his mind now though and it seems like this made him even more delusional to think getting a tattoo whilst drunk was a brilliant idea.

“So this is the place?” Mark quips under the breath before reaching the palm on the doorknob opening the door. When entering a small ‘ring ring’ was heard by the bell clinking. It alerts a figure to walk in to greet him.

When the figure approached he looks slightly mesmerised by the young woman ahead of him. You look beautiful, which was a high compliment considering he doesn’t say it to anyone often.

Your eyebrows raise up at the man that looks like trouble and definitely smells like trouble; from one glance you can tell this man was absolutely steaming from head to toe, he was definitely drunk, it was very obvious in his eyes and how he lets them wander around your tattoo store. He saw the chairs, the tattoo sketches and designs hung up on the wall, as well as your equipment in the far back. It looks like you were about to close down but now that he’s arrived you look like you could use an extra customer for tonight. Because he’s not leaving until he gets a tattoo from you.

At this point it’s an addiction, a worse addiction than his love for alcohol. He’s obsessed with them.

You now spoke with a working smile. “What can i do for you? I was just about to close but i guess I can do a small tattoo if you’d want a quick one.” It could definitely help with the extra money so you’re thinking why not.

He comes forward as he sits down nodding. “Great, what do you usually draw? Can I see a sketch book if you have one?”

Your eyes turn to the back as you grab over a thick book full of your sketches and you hand it to him hoping he finds something he takes a liking to. You don’t have much time anyways so he’s going to have to be quick and snappy. Mark flips through pages checking the sketches meanwhile you’re here checking him out from head to toe, it’s not like you wanted to, but you can’t help but notice he has like four other tattoos already.

Mark wore a loose polo-sweatshirt over a white tee. The black hair loosely curled and messy it looks like the wind made it slightly more naturally lifted, it makes him look ten times more boyish in your opinion. The two ears were all pierced with earrings that dangle around it caught your eye the moment he stepped inside your store too, they shine and blind anyone that stares. Adding on the piercings he has, Mark happens to have a lip ring piercing on top of his lips. The right side was pierced and it made him even more attractive and unreal to you. What was happening to you? And who was this drunk guy wanting a tattoo from you?

It looks like he had quite a bit to drink too. It’s not a first time since you had a customer who came asking for a tattoo but it’s definitely a first time when that customer is drunk out of his brain.

But you can’t change that. You can’t even stop your customers if they want something because it’s up to them and their will alone.

Mark lifts his head up trailing as he was watching your sketch book with observant eyes, Mark has a sharp eye attention to detail and your work was truly remarkable. It captures certain emotions.

He looks at you now almost In admiration. “Your work is amazing. I must say I’m impressed with every one.” He then lifts the sketch book up and pints to the two wings that come along from two branch leaves. “But this one looks good. I want this one.” Mark said now as he treads his index finger on it pointing at the sketch picture.

Anyone could tell his words meant a lot to you because you gave him a humble smile but then you grab the sketch book looking at the tattoo. You wonder where he wants it tattooed now.

“Okay I can do this. Where do you want it tattooed?” Your question was heard when Mark laid down at the chair and gets himself comfortable while you grab your equipment. The ink pen was lifted and you push yourself on a red stool chair spinning yourself round to where Mark was laying on the salon chair.

He looks comfortable now on the salon chair and Mark looks over at you now that you got everything and your own tattoo table was prepared with the remaining ink and colours if he wanted any to the tattoo. It’s all up to him.

“I was thinking my neck?” Mark retorts back and you find yourself watching now the Adam’s apple and neck area of his. Your hands that are wearing gloves reach out to rub and feel it as you hum thinking.

You thought maybe it wasn’t a good idea but the tattoo would really compliment him if he had it there. You can’t help but think; Mark has a really good sense of position and where it can look the best. It’s something not many people who you tattooed for have. Mark has a strong sense of attention to detail you feel and you’re right.

“You have a keen eye. Okay I can do it but you’re going to have to be very still.” You warn now sternly and Mark can’t help but look away as you start to stick the sketch on his neck so you can copy the same picture on his skin with the following ink later on. The way you feel his neck tense up while you do this. It’s not even that you’re just too close up and Mark’s drunk mind was doing a lot more than just being patient to get the tattoo done.

Usually Mark was quiet. He doesn’t really speak or make any small conversations with other tattoo artists.

But he has the urge to start one now. Might be the alcohol making him want to speak or something. Or maybe he’s curious about you.

The store was rather quiet and because of the late hours it makes sense why it was so empty and isolated. It was just the two of you in a half dimly lit store with the tattoo artist so close to his neck sketching it with the running tattoo pen that’s now buzzing against his neck sending tiny electric vibrations through his body. It was a rather stingy pain but the pain was what made this all a running fun cycle for Mark, because it was something that he feels and Mark’s addicted to it.

In a way it was because of the process too. Mark just loves to see people be able to draw such a thing on human skin.

The quiet place grew even more dark but the dimly lit fairy lights made this store a little more appealing and refreshing. It felt like you’re so focused you couldn’t see Mark’s eyes on the side watching you. With the corner of his eye Mark saw your concentration mode on. The way your eyes were never blinking or batting an eye away. Your nose long and still, your eyebrows arched forward as you’re bend down over to the neck area tattooing with the ink gun sketching it out. It leaves you in your own thoughts and the man in front of you wonders what you’re thinking of? Silence is a fine tailor and it suits you perfectly because you’re a tailor threading every bit of ink on his beautiful soft neck.

It didn’t help because Mark wasn’t the only one that’s been stunned because he was checking you out. Not sure if it was because of how drunk he was but maybe also considering the closeness between you two.

His eyes were looking down at your cleavage. You wore this white tank top on which leaves certain parts of you exposed. And your beautiful hair tucked into a messy-ish bun. Your appearance was slightly rough but very artistic because you had tattoos yourself around your arm and fingers. They were small tattoos but Mark loved them on you.

He’s always loved tattoos on other people too. He wonders if there’s any meanings for you behind them?

“I notice you have tattoos, what’s the meaning behind them?” Mark now acquired to know because he wishes to get to know you some more and might as well right?

It’s just the two of you alone in your tattoo shop. And Mark was feeling like a chatter box. This might just be because he’s drunk or perhaps he’s curious about you and the silence was killing him.

Your eyebrows rose up as you heard the silence break between the two and you were not expecting him to go suddenly all asking questions on you. He looks like the silent type. Mark usually never really speaks during getting tattoos or anything like that but with you? Mark feels like he has to ask otherwise his curiosity will be killing him all night and he won’t be able to sleep afterwards.

You bring your face back up away from his neck. Your eyes meet his and you watch him waiting for your answer. Honestly you found your meaning to the tattoos not be as interesting to share so you always found it unnecessary to bring out their meaning. Afterall to you it’s just ink on your body and there wasn’t a whole deep thinking process behind it like Mark is thinking of.

In a way the meaning behind your tattoos it’s kinda silly.

“The one on my fingers is a tiny heart matching with my friend who has the other half of the heart.” When you reveal it Mark’s eyes light up. That was cute, you’re matching with a friend.

Mark found himself liking the idea honestly. He always wanted to match a tattoo with someone from his friends but no one wanted a tattoo and he’s the only guy who actually has a tattoos. Mark asked Yuta once but Yuta said he might do it. Though that’s been a year now and it looks like the idea left his friend’s mind.

Mark chuckles. “I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to match tattoos with someone.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow. “How come you don’t match with anyone?”

Your eyes make eye contact as you ask. Mark trials softly in a slight sarcastic way. “Well I think it’s quite obvious but because none of my friends really like tattoos.”

‘Oh so he can be sarcastic too?’ You find his words to be amusing because they’re all out of a bantering gesture and so you don’t pay much mind to the words and just take it all in. You nod at him chuckling back now as your head leans forward to now tattoo the rest of it.

Your fingers brush along the tattoo bow and you feel like this was all coming along now definitely. The tattoo was done nearly but all you have to do is tidy the edges up and do more polishing, which won’t take a while. The tattoo is pretty simple and clean. And Mark looks amazing with it so far. Your eyes can’t help but shake the feeling that he gets more attractive.

Mark’s voice comes out now again, he asked another question. “So why did you become a tattoo artist?” And you suck in a little breath. He really likes to ask deep questions doesn’t he?

You completely dodge the question by countering it.

“Are you always this talkative with your other tattoo artists?” You point out as you’re trying to concentrate on finishing this up, you really don’t have much time until you gotta close down the shop and everything.

Mark was himself not knowing why he’s so talkative with you because usually he was the quiet type during the tattoo appointments and what not. In a way he doesn’t speak unless the other person was carrying the conversation.

Mark smirks a little. “Only with you actually.”

You scoff not believing that considering how many times he wants to speak to you. You finish the last moments of the tattoo and look back at the handsome man who sits up on the salon chair checking the mirror.

“You like it?” You ask when he’s watching the tattoo in the mirror as you’re trying to read his facial expression for a way to know if he likes the tattoo or if he doesn’t perhaps. You pray that he does because you cannot go back to fix it either.

Mark turns to you now as the mirror in his hand was dropping back down and the upside face he had on turns to a smile.

“Answer my question first and I’ll answer yours if i like it or not.” He now said and you find yourself becoming cornered.

Was he really that into the idea of getting to know you? Not as a tattoo artist only but as a person as well? You’re left here wondering why he’s so curious about you.

Mark’s eyes were deeply staring into you which never leave your face the moment he walked into the store anyways and he found himself completely mesmerised. You look boyish and rough out but he likes how it suits you and your alternative style almost.

He whispers in a taunting gaze on his face. “So what will it be darling?” Mark waits for your reply and you let out a little frown stepping forward closing your gap only a little. There was still a bit of space between the both of you from where he sat and where you stood in front of Mark.

“It’s fine you don’t have to tell me how you feel, i can just read your expression and know you like it very much. I don’t leave my customers unsatisfied anyways.” You now point out smartly but in a very arrogant speaking way and Mark smirks hearing your words. You never leave a customer unsatisfied?

“Well I’m a very unsatisfied customer right now.” He tells you with emphasis on the specific wordings now as he stares into your beautiful eyes.

Well he’s now going to push his luck with you that’s for sure. The flirty expression you’re giving him as him thinking you’re definitely now flirting and giving Mark an opening block to take.

“Oh? Why don’t you show me with what.” Your lips pucker into a little amused grin. “Perhaps I can help you out…”

And he did take the opportunity. He seized the opportunity when you said those words out of your loving mouth as his hands around your waist slither round like a fashionable belt.

Oh how good it felt to be pulled closer by the waist to the drunken stranger you just met and you’re now closing the space when you feel how hot his intoxicated breath feels on top of your nose and cheekbones. You find yourself imagining just how good it must be to kiss Mark and the boy read your mind because the next minute he leans down to capture a kiss together.

You found yourself groaning the minute he kissed you with his belting tongue.

The kiss was a mixture between two beverages; to Mark you’re like wine. You’re strong and you knew what you want from the get-go. And he’s like whiskey unpredictable and intense. Mark defeats your groans with his own as he kissed you with more tugging force than before as his palms on the sides of your face go reach to deepen the kiss making it much more steamy and aggressive.

Groans of your voice muffled as if they were buried by sand underneath it. Your lips gracefully touch between Mark’s sharp teeth grazing at the bottom lip he pulls on it which made you moan as your eyes squint forward.

Saliva connects the both of you which drove Mark over the edge and so did the boner between his pants very much so, he had that for over an hour with you. You’re just too attractive and the closeness earlier had him itching to get his hands on you.

Mark doesn’t usually sleep around with people but when he does it’s always a good time, it has to be someone he finds a connection with and you happen to be one of those very few people.

It wasn’t just because of your attractiveness but also because of how well your conversations bounce back. Mark knew you were a little stubborn because when he lifts you up to switch the position between you both your voice comes out as a groan and it seems like you were playing hard to get knowing your hands were teasing the hem of his boxers under the lower clothing.

“Take them off, darling.” Mark said demanding to you smirking as he feels your fingers play between the boxers now. You look up sheepishly.

You’re enjoying how needy this drunk man was, you can’t even remember if he said his name to you but you enjoy seeing his reactions to your difficult self and your teasing tactics. “What if i refuse?”

You saw how his expression falters into a scared one when you said that you’ll refuse to take off his clothing and he leans closer to kiss your neck, practically whining now.

“Please… Y/n… be good to me.”

‘Oh god he’s whining… that’s hot.’ You can’t help but fall for the idea even more, maybe it doesn’t hurt to continue a little bit more. You tell yourself this but you knew it’s risky. But you’re so tempted to take that risk and continue this. Even if you’re the sober one you’re so swayed by this man in front of you.

The moment you heard his pleading words, only directed to you, it makes your body act on its own and so your lips reconnect with Mark’s and your hands find themselves slipping off his shirt and then the oversized black cargos he wore. The boxers playfully rubbed by your fingertips around made Mark so peevish because you heard the querulous words that are nothing but needy whines to your ears telling you to take them off. Your eyes met his words coming out his mouth as you let your mouths connect into another hungry kiss while slipping your hand into his boxers to feel how harden his wood was and you’re left gasping when Mark grabs your hips and starts to work his way around your own clothing now. You feel your cheeks expand as the kiss goes on and on. Mark was an amazing kisser, you have to admit. He knows exactly how to get you going.

At once your nudity became a blessing to Mark as he feels himself growing even more greedy. Having you look so good and untouched by him was temptation in disguise. You feel your breasts fondled with roughly by a tight and firm squeeze from his hands. The lips around your neck marvel at your glowing skin. The simply stunning eyes of yours close and open at each pleasuring angle when he kissed you even lower than before.

“Please don’t keep me waiting.” You sigh into the air as your head flung back. You don’t want to wait as much as you wanted to anymore.

Your body was just growing to want him.

Mark stood with his furtive body when you said this and the playful eyebrows raise up at you enjoying how vocal you’re becoming. Now look where the table’s turned? You’re the one begging him now. He enjoys it much more than he thought he would so he runs along his hand by your silhouette until they met your hips and he slowly moves them around.

Twisting you around he saw you gandering your face in the behind direction where he stood now towering you leaving no space and your ass rubbing on his erected boner. Mark rubs them between your ass cheeks as his wispy groan reaches your ears. You bite your bottom lip. “Shit… please fuck me already.”

You’re lacking the patience. This man needs to be inside you or else you’re going to have a breakdown.

Mark smirks leaning closer with his nipping voice that cuts you open like scissors across light paper. “I think we should introduce ourselves before you say that don’t you think?”

He was right but now picking a time to introduce yourselves? He knew what he was doing he’s just making you wait a little longer.

Your face diminished and broke down in to a hefty storm. Mark purposely rubs his cock’s tip between your entrance to tease you while waiting for you to start. “Fine…My name is Y/n… what’s yours?” Your voice came off much short because he made your own sound of your voice to differ when the tip rubs the top of your ass.

“Mark… Mark Lee.” He whispers now and he’s satisfied. He gotta know who he is going to fuck after all and he wants you to know what name you’re going to scream all night.

Your leering eyes went down when a prod between your walls now sips on a long thick shaft deeply inside you. Your voice cuts off by a palm on top of your mouth and you’re muffling your sudden jolting voice because of how intensely he has you stretching. You’ve never been this surprised by how thick he was. Mark was making you wistfully begging to have more.

“Oh fuck… please Mark… just fuck my brains out.” You’re not able to calm the storm before anything else you’re just begging the guy you met in your tattoo storm a hour ago to fuck the shit out of you.

It’s so unlike your character, but Mark had you twisted.

He paced forward rutting the hips against your round beautifully shaped ass he couldn’t get enough of, heck, he was so obsessed with it especially when you’re forced into a behind position over the salon chair to get your back blown out by him. It was a sight that made his night more memorable even if he was slightly intoxicated he found himself becoming drunk off you now.

And the paces was so eager and quick your insides feel like you’re being roughly pushed through a moving platform in and out. It feels so good when his length kisses each of your sweet sensitive spots inside and then finds places you never knew someone could reach so deep inside you. It made you even closer because Mark had a hand under your stomach area holding you even closer than before, it’s like this man wants you to be a part of him at this point. He’s a wild animal, and he’s definitely treating you like one because he’s doing exactly as you told him to do: to fuck your brains out.

Colliding with the movements between your two asscheeks Mark follows his eyes down and slams his hands on your beautiful skin giving you spanks with each incoming shift his thrusts make. You feel yourself seeping out your moans and the tattoo store was echoing all your body parts slapping together. You feel him being so deeply inside you that your lower stomach with his hand on felt the imprinting cock in your guts and that your arms were folded forward in a weak lowering form over the salon chair. He keeps fucking you so hard you’re struggling to stand still. He made your legs so weak you found yourself only moaning out to the top of your lungs and Mark had you exactly how he wanted, a mess.

His eyes burned with lust watching over your expression seeing how your eyebrows were fluttering and your eyes were watering with how good and intense he was fucking you from behind, you’re bend over for a customer you just met for the first time and you feel so sheepishly embarrassed but at the same time; why was it such a turn on?

“Is this what you wanted on a Friday night?” Mark whispers dangerously on top of your earlobe as you find a shudder across your spine, Mark’s hands brush alongside your silhouette arching for him, bending for him and only him.

You feel your lips pucker out and the condescending tone Mark spoke with to you makes your stomach flutter. “You’re such a whore Y/n… I bet you’d fuck any of your customers if they got their hands on you.” He threads like a champ he was, because he had you wrapped around his finger.

“N-no… that’s not true.” You said embarrassed because it was definitely easy to tease you in this position and situation.

Mark laughs a little darkly behind and you feel the thrusts increase even more, he was literally ramming inside you and your voice cuts off with a jolting sound. Your body pressed so deeply on the salon chair you feel the metallic parts of the arms stand coldly pressing against your body full of heat.

“I don’t believe that.” He croaks out leaning down to press a kiss against your spine while the lower body of his was jabbing the pleasuring thrusts and the hand down at your stomach holding you moves even lower to touch on your clit.

The nub down below becomes easily swollen with how his fast two middle fingers press and flick it as he’s thrusting you. Your voice became even more loud now because the overstimulated hand on your clit was pleasuring you there but so was his hard cock deeply buried to kiss the top of your womb.

“Pretty whores listen to me, will you be good and do the same?” He now asked you while his hands was abusing your down regional and you grab the salon chair feeling so weak to the pleasure your mind went poof and became blank.

Your hips stutter and so did your legs that resemble jello and it makes Mark smirk. The sight of you pressed in her own store while getting her back blown out by a customer she met, it definitely was something he’s never going to let go off.

“Y-yeah… hhgh I can’t last like this Mark…” You nod your head frantically but the way you’re literally holding on to your last strand because the orgasm was reaching you so quickly.

You’re not going to last much, Mark knows it.

The hand speeds up the movements however, he wants you to finish and see you come undone to the too overlapping pleasures between your hole and your clit getting abused out by him. You firmly shut your eyes.

“Cum darling, you’ve been good so far.” Mark sternly said while he awaits you to reach your end. The world stops for you in that moment.

When he gave you the permission to come undone on his hand and cock at the same time, you found yourself ascending and your head hung low as your body pushed out your liquid down on the ground dripping. You’re soaking if anything. Mark had a proud wide grin on his face now and goes behind to kiss your droopy mouth panting. The lip ring touched your mouth as the kiss was sloppy from behind.

You moan when Mark pulls away from the kiss and his hand leaves your clit alone. Your own orgasm pushed him very close to his own high. He just needs to have a few more thrusts and Mark feels himself becoming done too.

It’s the way your body was making him feel so good too. It’s no doubt your bodies are compatible.

“Hmm… you’re a squirter? That’s so hot.” He jeers at you with both devastated degradation and flirtation behind that tone.

You roll your eyes back in the aftermath of the pleasure. This was probably your first time ever having this much of an orgasm. You don’t remember ever squirting before.

“Fuck…” You whisper under your breath when Mark pulls your hips forward and makes your body stand up straight again because you’re now becoming too weak to even make yourself stand up in this behind position, your orgasm had your legs turning into weak muscles.

Mark whispers now warningly. “Now let me cum yeah? Be good and let me pump you up full of my load.”

You feel your eyes igniting like big red flames at the idea. When Mark starts to thrust again your body starts to break down even more down to the pleasure.

It was all too much but you can tell from how deep he’s reaching you this man won’t be able to last very long. Your walls squeezing him around the shape we’re making it so hard.

Mark was pumping himself until he can feel his cock literally tremble to continue anymore. And you feel the salon chair shake with each rough patching movement against your body rocking it forwards.

The store lets the body slapping between your sweating bodies to continue as you’re in your own world together. Mark had you pulling up against him as he lets your breasts flow with the rough movements of rocking you forward until he has his own orgasm itching at the door.

You feel your heart pace up when you heard Mark groan softly against your back. “Fuck fuck fuck…” and you just knew he was so close now, because his voice felt like a mixture of a whine and a groan.

The silky velvet walls of yours had him begging to pump you full of his cum and have you dripping out only of him. To have you ooze only him out and that’s exactly what he wants.

He wants you full and stuffed of him.

“So… so close, Y/n… fuck…” Mark’s whiny whispers were caught off at the end a little as he takes a deep breath in and within the same moment he kept up the thrusts.

Even if it was so difficult to continue to stimulate himself until he’s reaching his end, Mark finds himself addicted to the way your womb welcomes him. It feels so good, so much he couldn’t shake the feeling of it away.

Mark jerks forward and then suddenly a cry out was heard with Mark burying his head between your nape and shoulder area, he squeezed himself around your walls so deep you feel the load practically injected inside you. You let out a soft groan at the feeling that you’re being held so tight as Mark slips himself inside you even more to fuck a little bit of his own cum in you to ensure it won’t all fall out.

You feel like your body was melting when Mark huffs out a few burning words from his lips. You find yourself stuck with this man all night…

You wonder if he’s going to remember anything in the morning. Or if he won’t?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next morning Mark woke up in his bed completely wrecked and exhausted. Unaware of what’s happened last night it’s like deja vu to him.

Whenever he drinks alcohol he cannot remember a single freaking thing and Mark was in the cycle where he’s telling himself off for drinking way too much.

“I should really stop with the alcohol…” Mark equips with disappointment in his voice, he really should stop.

Walking across the room he was shirtless wearing only grey sweatpants and he slowly moves out of his room to see his roommate Donghyuck already up in the kitchen.

They lived together for nearly a year now. Donghyuck was a year younger than Mark but they’re pretty close now.

Although sometimes they fight, they both really feel like they’re close like brothers. Mark with his tired expression and groggy eyes opens the fridge and yawns into his hand.

“You’re up?” Donghyuck smirks as he saw how hungover his friend was, god he always looks like a mess when he goes out with Johnny and Yuta.

Mark hums grabbing the bottle of milk and pours himself a glass. “God you look like shit.” Donghyuck said now with a little laugh.

The boy wanted to roll his eyes and say how nice of you but instead Mark just drank the glass of milk to neutralise hopefully his stomach otherwise he will be having a hard day ahead.

Hungovers are so bad. He just wished he didn’t drink so much last night but he’s always like this. Mark has no self control at all.

What’s worse?

Mark can’t even remember what happened at all last night. He’s just a blank canvas now. Everytime he drinks Mark couldn’t remember anything even if he tried to remember and make himself forced to see what happened last night he just can’t.

So not only was he left feeling utterly crap. Mark was also having a hard time what happened.

“I’m never drinking again.” Mark said with a sigh out once he finally finished drinking the glass of milk. He puts it down in the sink and Donghyuck knows Mark won’t keep to those words.

He wants to tell Mark he needs to stop lying to himself but he doesn’t say anything because his eyes caught on Mark’s neck something.

Donghyuck comes a closer to Mark now with squinting eyes. He recognised something different about him. “Hey Mark did you get a new tattoo last night?”

“What? No…” Mark said with a soft rejection because he certainly doesn’t remember getting one. He slowly moves to his room opening the closet to look in a mirror and when he saw that Donghyuck was actually right…

His eyes widen and he runs his hands over the tattoo that stings a little at the same time, he wonders when did he get this tattoo?

The tattoo was beautiful and it was delicately done. It was two wings crossing together and Mark wonders if he got this done when he was absolutely hammered because if that’s the case, Mark feels so dumb. He can’t even remember the night or anything like that.

Mark whispers in disbelief. “Since when did i get this tattoo?”

He’s a little determined to know who did this work, but he cannot remember anything, the next thing he knew he saw his phone buzz open with messages from late night.

One that came from the contact name: The Tattoo Artist.

The Tattoo Artist: Hey Mark had fun last night. I hope you like your tattoo and you can come by round the shop sometime! :) -Y/n

One thing he knows for sure, he had your number and he now knows your name which rings a bell to him. It’s like his body remembers you but his brain cannot. It’s like he knows you guys did something more than just a tattoo because the text messages says it all.

Mark is definitely meeting you again, to get a new tattoo, or to end up drunk at your store again.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out. <3

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velarisdusk · 2 months ago

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Forehead-to-floor type begginnnngggg for stalker! Rhys cas AND az oh my goddddd how am I supposed to go about daily life after being shown that, I’m actually near a catatonic state just thinking about it. ORNATE MIRROR HELLOOOOOOO AND THE DREAM INFILTRATION I KNOW THAT NASTY FREAK-WEIRDO’S GONNA START GIVING HER DAYDREAMS TO PONDER ON YES SO YUMMY SO GOOD.

I like stalker rhys I guess……

omgggg stop ittttt..... nooooo..... come on babe, im not gonna share- alright you're twisting my arm fine i guess i have to share more now

uhhh be warned: stalking (duh), non-con, captivity, psychological torment & manipulation, physical abuse, knives, i think thats it idk

this is why i need to not talk about WIPs i wanna keep private, bc i know im gonna end up talking about all of it bc i just cannot keep my horny thoughts to myself when y'all are so willing and eager to hear them ;)

i imagined three separate au's for each of them, bc i think all three of them stalking you at the same time would end up very violent and bloody because i really do not see them being perfectly okay with sharing you. but who knows ;) anyway here's the gist of it:

☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Rhysand: you stop calling them dreams. dreams don't leave you sore. they don't force your hands down your panties for hours on end until you're begging for an orgasm you didn't even want to begin with—only to be denied because you took too long to say please, High Lord.

dreams don't leave glowing runes on your inner thighs, your breasts, your throat. they burn when you disobey. they burn when you think about any male but him. they scorch when you touch yourself without his permission, and your fingers just won't work; your own pleasure is useless unless it's wrapped around the thought of him.

and now you don't even need to be asleep. a flash of violet eyes when you're zoning out in the shower and then suddenly you're on your knees again, eyes glazed, fingers between your legs, saying thank you with spit dripping off your chin. you're forgetting which thoughts are yours and which ones he put there. you don't remember the last time you came without whispering his name. you don't remember what it's like to be alone in your head. he's making you need him. and worst of all? it's working.

☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Azriel: now, you don't see azriel. not really. you see pieces. a note on your windowsill. a lamp on when you get home, when you're sure you turned all the lights off before going to work this morning. a picture tucked into your purse—your body, curled in sleep, your shirt pushed up just enough to expose your soft belly. your mouth parted. exposed.

this goes on for months, and when he finally comes for you, he tries to do things the "right" way. he breaks in one night, silent as breath, and tries to confess. says he's been watching you. that he loves you. that you're meant to be his. but when your mouth opens to scream—

shadows. he vanishes and reappears behind you, a hand clamped over your mouth, a blade cold against your neck, a smile so soft it makes you sick. he tells you you're coming with him.

it isn't terrible. your little cell is warm. clean. there's a blanket you recognize. it's your blanket, from home. but the days bleed together. he wants you to love him, to really, truly love him. but you won't. not when he punishes you for crying, not when he says cruel things with a smile, not when he makes you say thank you after every cut and bruise. he knows it'll take a long time to break you, but he waits. he brushes your hair while you sit in his lap, legs bruised and bound, and tells you how proud he is that you actually ate your food today instead of hurling it at the wall.

☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Cassian: you thought he was flirting. just a big, charming brute who liked seeing you blush. but you didn't realize he was studying you. tracking your movements. watching how your mouth moved when you lied and said you didn't have time to talk. until one night he's in the alley behind your building, hand clamped over your mouth, body all heat and muscle as he hisses a threat about breaking your fucking arm if you so much as think about calling for help. he tells you you're his now, and that you're going to learn. and you do.

you learn not to talk back unless you want to taste blood. and not to look at the door unless you want a black eye. he stays with you for weeks, doesn't let you leave your apartment, controls every inch of your day. and when he finally "trusts" you enough to leave you alone, you try to run out to the street to tell someone, anyone.

but you fail. it was a test. and you failed. he drags you back, snarling the whole way that he trusted you, and how could you do this to him, and after everything he's done for you, this is how you thank him?

you cry and beg to explain yourself but he doesn't want to hear it. not when he's slamming the door shut and yanking you to the floor. "why are you making me do this?" a slap. a shove. you hit the ground hard. "i don't want to hurt you," a sickening crack when his fist connects with your ribs. "i'm trying to love you," another blow. harder. you see stars. "but you never fucking learn." crack.

he beats you until the lights go out, and when you wake up, you're not home anymore. you're in his bed, bound in silk and leather. and he's holding you, telling you it's okay, he forgives you. he bathes you, picks your clothes, your food, your schedule. you kneel by the bed every morning and thank him. if you don't, you suffer. he holds you like a lover, fucks you like a husband, and beats you like a thing he owns when you misbehave. he says you're his pretty little wife, his good girl.

#stalker!rhysand #stalker!azriel #stalker!cassian #part of me feels like i took it too far #like...... ao3 standards? def not #this is tame for those mfs #but idk how freaky my audience here is #most of my smut here is like very vanilla so idk idk #pls tell me yall fw this #so embarrassing if not #i will delete my blog #asks <3

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juniperhillpatient · 3 months ago

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hey mutual i was just looking through your jackietravis tag and i just want to say i CANNOT WAIT to hear your thoughts on the finale.

Oh my gosh HI, my beloved mutual!

Well, I think THIS post (not mine) does a great job of summarizing the wildness of Jackie/Travis in the finale lol :)

But seriously, let's talk about the fact that Travis is still thinking about Jackie, still imagining himself as her! THIS is one of my favorite Jackie/Travis moments. Jackie doesn't ultimately seduce Travis with her usual sweet, flirty fun ways that she tries initially at the Doomcoming dance. Instead, she gets him to kiss her by reminding him that they are doomed. The "we're just shells with nothing inside" speech is what gets him to break & kiss Jackie even though he just admitted to being in love with Natalie.

Jackie & Travis don't even necessarily have real romantic feelings for each other. They're just the arms they fall into when they're both hurt & at their lowest - Jackie after the betrayal from Shauna, Travis after what he perceives as a betrayal from Nat. They're each other's comfort, their last recourse when they're both desperate & sad & aware of how doomed they probably are.

Part of what I love about these 2 & their dynamic is that they ARE the definition of "doomed by the narrative all by yourself darling?" They are both so doomed & so tragic & there was never a happy ending for either of them in the books. Not Travis, whose death is the mystery that kicks off Natalie's story in the adult timeline. Not Jackie, who's loss defines Shauna in the adult timeline, forever haunted by her ghost. They're both such dead wives <3

THIS is a really good meta about how Jackie & Travis are both treated as the group's "property" & I think it's interesting that in this season where Travis's mind & body have been so repeatedly violated & used, he thinks of Jackie, who was iced out (literally) & left to die for the crime of speaking up for herself & not acting as "property." (It's honestly more complicated than that, but you know what I mean).

Travis has been treated like Lottie's property for a lot of the season. We know that he manipulated Lottie into thinking Akilah was the new prophet of the wilderness, not him, & that he regretted it when he saw Akilah suffering in similar ways that he did under Lottie's thumb. But let's talk about his time as Lottie's prophet: Pushed to do drugs & make himself see things by the very person who initiated it when the group sexually assaulted him & almost murdered him when he was drugged unknowingly all the way back in Doomcoming!

I know that Travis said the thing about how "his favorite thoughts are Jackie's" & made the comment about Jackie & Shauna's slumber party make-outs partially to piss Shauna off. BUT it's clearly something that was in his head. Whether you want to go with the supernatural explanation or not that's INTERESTING.

Travis also mentions having some of Javi's thoughts, which is heartbreaking. I don't know if I think it's actually something supernatural (I've always sort of leaned toward...no? probably not?) but EITHER WAY. Travis has been hallucinating the thoughts of his dead brother, & the thoughts of his dead situationship who he related to in some fucked-up ways & that's WILD.

Does he think that Jackie & Javi's thoughts come to him because he ate them? He doesn't mention Laura Lee or Crystal & SURELY given that he spent this season interacting almost exclusively with Lottie (& Akilah, but he spent a LOT of time with Lottie) Laura Lee's thoughts would've come up.

Does Travis feel connected to Jackie when he hears her thoughts? Does he remember how they shared that messed-up comfort in each other's arms when they were both at their lowest? Does he look to her ghost for comfort because she was also assaulted by Lottie that night - though not nearly as violently, she was just locked in a closet but she was still humiliated for the blood on her clothes right after losing her virginity & treated like nothing by the rest of the girls. They both lost their personhood, in a way that night. I feel like maybe Travis doesn't see it that way but he might still connect with Jackie because of that, if that makes sense.

Anyway, I'm TOTALLY rambling. I love my doomed by the narrative failed situationship girlies <3

#jackie x travis #jackietravis #travis martinez #jackie taylor #doomcoming #full circle #yellowjackets season 1 #yellowjackets season 3 #yellowjackets meta #well ish #asks #answered #mutuals #HIIII i hope my rambling is sufficient for now i'm still processing sooo much of that finale omg #yellowjackets spoilers

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bratulaura · 1 month ago

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From the Roots

Jufura- pt.1

Ryomen Sukuna x Rosela(OC)

Warnings: Language, violence, soft ex hubby Sukuna(technically), dominant wife energy🙌🏾

♥️🌹🥀🖤

Ryomen Sukuna has never been the kind of king to rule with a queen. A modern day sorcerer would scoff at the thought of such an ancient, ruthless curse being soft for a woman.

But a modern day sorcerer would also know that the king of curses is unpredictable.

His presence was felt across Japan the day that dumbass kid decided to take a chunk out of one of his fingers. As a matter of fact, he ate it whole.

Yuji Itadori, the lost cause. A weirdo child.

Sukuna didn’t enjoy being in the mind of a confused teenager. But his body was in all right shape. It could have been better.

The kid didn’t have any techniques. Was he even a sorcerer? If not, how would he have know about the fingers?

Sukuna’s nose scrunched. He glanced around. It turns out, the kid was on the top of a school roof for some reason. The curse he just killed was forgotten in three seconds tops.

He took in a deep inhale. He paused.

That smell. So familiar yet buried deep in his memories, almost never to be recovered.

It had hardly been a full minute and she was already there.

“Rosela.” He drawled. His voice was low, gravelly— almost nostalgic in a way.

Crushed black rose petals, burnt amber resin, aged red wine. He could scent every note like she never left. And that scent that always lingered— patchouli and oud. The undertone of decay, but that was always his fault. Always, though, she had a distinctly sweet smell that he could taste.

Despite that, he frowned. Displeased and grumpy. Centuries trapped, sealed in his damn fingers, and he’s released just to be face to face with his ex wife, at her full strength while he’s stuck inside the body of a stupid underdeveloped highschooler.

If he believed in karma, this would be it.

He senses her before he sees her, and sees her before he feels her.

All these years and she hasn’t changed a bit. That same deep red hair cascaded down her back in curls that reached her waist— and her waist. He stared. Exposed lines and cursed carvings, a thorn chain hooked around her waist like it doesn’t cause her pain. Those rose gold eyes gleam, almost shining light across the whole city. Maybe that’s because he’s staring so damn hard.

Once she catches him in her sights, she’s suddenly up close. He can feel her. She’s never plummeted in power, not even a percent.

Before he can even go to speak, his body’s being launched halfway across the city, then caught in her hands like he weighs nothing.

“Who do you think—“

“—I am?” She finished for him. “Your ex wife. Rosela.”

Her expression remains unmoving, but he can hear the scorn in her voice.

“Remember me? You should. And I should kill you right now.”

“You underestimate me? The king of curses?” He sounds enraged and incredulous in one breath. Rosela pauses.

“You’re right.” She concludes after a moment of consideration. “I want you.”

He raises a brow.

“As in you. At your full power.” She puts emphasis on the word, and he can hear the snippet of annoyance in her tone.

“Maybe add more next time.” He scowls. “You punnet-grade harlot. You dare lay hands on me?”

“Punnet?”

“Had we not divorced due to your ceaseless blabbering, your womb would be good for nothing but bearing the fruit of my seed.”

She’s speechless, jaw hanging open in shock with quickly turns to anger.

“I would watch how you speak to me when you’re not even at a quarter of your strength. The only reason you haven’t attacked is because you know you cannot beat me like this.” She spits it at him, and he almost flinched.

Almost.

Rosela, the second strongest curse in the world. Well… currently first since he’s stuck. As previously stated a million times before.

Why would he marry anyone else?

“You’re lucky, girl.” He grits out. “Enjoy your freedoms while they last. When I regain my true form, I’ll rip your heart out of your chest and feed it to you while it’s still beating.”

“And then what? Cry in Uraume’s arms like the giant gargastic baby that you are? I pray to me that you never return to your true form, Ryomen Sukuna. Not because I’m intimidated, but because you’ll go right back to kissing Jack Frost’s ass like the dog you are.” Rosela snapped back, then slammed him into the nearest building.

“You’ve gotten soft.” Sukuna comments. “By now, you’d have killed me.”

“I’ve always been more composed than you.”

“You’ve always been more merciless, though.”

Rosela’s eyes traced him up and down.

Sukuna followed the rose gold gaze. He liked that color.

“You’re a cataclysmic failure of a curse.” She murmured. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

Sukuna scoffs.

“Sorry for me?” He echoes.

The air goes still.

Back on the roof, a flash of white.

Sukuna tensed. Rosela glanced back, composed.

“Oh, look.” She purred. “A sorcerer. Your favorite little fire trucks, baby boy. Go play!”

She snatched him up by the collar and tossed him back toward the school building with little to no difficulty.

Sukuna landed with a tumbling thud, nearly breaking through the roof of the school.

“There you are!” Gojo cheered. “All right. Let’s wrap this up, I don’t have all night.”

“You had all night to get here…”

“Oh, cheer up, Megumi. The third years won’t laugh at you that hard!”

Sukuna scowled. He may not be able to fight his ex right now, but a mere sorcerer? He was almost offended.

Rosela retreated to the sealed tree and she rested against it.

Until Sukuna regained his full form, she wouldn’t waste her time with worthless talk.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk oc #jjk oc x canon #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #jujutsu ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #oc #rosela #jufura #bratulaura

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faithandfairies · 4 months ago

Text

A Study of Louis Vs. His Family and How This Ties Into His Relationship with Lestat

You know, I've been thinking about something that I haven't seen a lot of people really talk about when it comes to Louis and Lestat and their relationship issues.

A lot of Louis and Lestat's relationship issues stem from Lestat's lack of understanding of Louis' background, Lestat's temper and manipulations and Louis' self-hate over being gay and a vampire and him taking that out on Lestat.

But there's so much more to it than that so I tried to fill in some of the blanks for myself as I understand them. The things hinted at but not really spelled out, mainly as it pertains to Louis' family.

Because the other thing that becomes a huge point of argument between Louis and Lestat is Louis' role within his initial family and society that he did not end up fulfilling by choosing Lestat.

I always compare Louis' circumstances to Anthony's circumstances in Bridgerton, all of the responsibility and none of the money and actual privilege to back it up.

You see, as the eldest son of his seemingly wealthy family Louis was supposed to marry a woman of certain class and upbringing and move her into his father's estate and then run the estate from there and raise a few heirs. He was supposed to marry off both of his siblings well or at least find them their place in the world and make sure that everyone lived a comfortable life. And the thing is, Louis had the brains and business acumen to do this. He even had the love for his family and the sense of responsibility, initially.

Instead he pretty much eloped with Lestat and moved to his "estate" and then initially tried to run his own estate from a distance. And I cannot stress enough how much this did not work and how much it's clear his initial family ended up resenting him for it and he then ended up resenting Lestat even more because of it.

It's like if Louis as Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount Bridgerton, ran off and eloped with Lestat as the Duke of Hastings and then moved into the Duke's estate. And then rarely ever saw his family again and tried to run his estate from his new home. And then failed. And left it in the incapable hands of one of his sister's business savvy-lacking husbands (which Anthony's sisters don't have) but in Louis' case would be Levi.

For anyone who's seen Bridgerton, do you remember how much resentment Anthony and his mother held for each other for quite a while? The mother for Anthony because Anthony was also not adhering to society's expectations? And Anthony for his mother for the pressure that was put on him from an early age to properly run his father's estate and meet his family's expectations to marry a woman of nobility? Luckily for him he met Kate, who also had experience running an estate and family and whom he actually loved and who helped him manage things and literally allowed him to breathe again.

The thing is Louis had the brains and business savvy to run his family's estate. And Lestat I think could also manage a business and was definitely Louis' sounding board and support and the person Louis was madly in love with. He just also happened to be a man. And a vampire that then made Louis a vampire.

So not only could Louis not marry him and move him into his estate, he also couldn't stay at his own estate and run it properly because he was a vampire who slept through the day and could only work at night and ate people.

And Louis initially didn't realize that that last part meant he could never really go home again. It's also why no matter what anyone says I maintain that in the show both Louis and Lestat had a hand in at least the timing of Paul's death. I don't think that was their intention. But it is how it played out.

You see, again, Louis was supposed to run his household, not leave it. Paul was most likely never going to leave that house because of his mental afflictions. Louis mentions that Paul was his favorite person. I'm inclined to believe that for Paul the feeling was mutual.

There's just something about the timing of Paul's suicide and the conversation that he and Louis have right before Paul kills himself that makes it glaringly obvious that it all goes hand in hand.

In that conversation Paul tries to get Louis to marry a woman. Which again would lead to Louis moving said woman onto the estate. And staying himself. But Louis essentially says no. Louis at least at that moment has no intention of ever marrying a woman.

He's just had Lestat show him a glimpse of what he actually wants to have. Lestat who even a century later is still his great love, something that is already starting to be true at that point. Something Paul has to know. And while Louis essentially promises Paul at that moment that he'll never see Lestat again and maybe even believes it, I'm so so certain Paul knows otherwise.

I'm so certain Lestat actually showed Paul what he had planned for Louis when he was mindfucking him, that he told Paul what he was and that he loved Louis and chose Louis as his companion. Paul knew Louis returned Lestat's feelings because he knew his brother and up to that point he had been Louis' actual confidant and Louis would have talked to Paul about Lestat, even if it was just in a "fond of his friend" capacity. But the family dinner with Lestat told us that more than anyone Paul saw through that and knew without a shadow of a doubt who Lestat actually was to Louis even before Lestat mindfucked him. And then Lestat mindfucked him also showing him that he was something other which went against Paul's religion.

Paul walks off that roof at that specific moment because Grace is about to leave (for her honeymoon) and so is Louis, whether Louis realizes it or not. I think Paul kills himself at that specific moment in a desperate attempt to keep the family together. Or at the very least not to be there once they inevitably grow apart. Except it drives everyone apart even more quickly.

Louis only went to the priests after Paul died to confide in them, because his first and third confidant, Paul and Lily, were dead and his second, Lestat, was part of the problem he was trying to solve. Personally I think Lestat kills Lily because she's in love with Louis and even as a sex worker who lacks the right class and upbringing to satisfy in a marriage and will never truly have Louis' love and lacks the right physique to satisfy him in bed because he's gay, she still possesses something, actually three things, Lestat will never be able to offer Louis. Her (female) sex, her innate understanding of Louis' race and background and the ability to conceive potential biological children were Louis to want them. She is a woman and a black woman from New Orleans in the way Lestat is a white man from France and if given the choice Louis' family would still accept her into their family above Lestat based on that. To them Lestat's money would be his only redeeming quality. Aside from that they would see him as the man who "turned" their model son gay and made him run off and abandon his responsibilities to his family. To them he's the man who took Louis away from them.

Lestat doesn't let it deter him, asks Louis to marry him the vampire way and makes Louis a bunch of promises he can't keep and Louis says yes to being turned. Except Louis doesn't realize it means he can't go home, until he's already a vampire. But he has responsibilities. He wants Lestat and the life with him Lestat is offering him but it's not his intention to abandon his family. Who will take care of them if he's not there?

I think Louis believes that over time he'll get a handle on the vampirism and he'll be able to return to his family as the man of the house even while Lestat is his companion. Until then he gets to explore this relationship with Lestat which he enjoys even while he's ashamed of his love of and desire for it, he feeds but tries to hold on to his humanity as he does what he has to to survive. And he runs his family's estate from a distance. He sends them money and sees them once every few weeks and then eventually every few months. Him not living at home also means he's not immediately aware of financial and other problems within his family and he's a lot less there to solve them. Resentment starts to breed within his family for Louis not assuming his role as man of the house properly. Grace is the only one who still holds a candle for her beloved brother.

He also doesn't want to take handouts from Lestat to support his family so he continues to work as a pimp because it's still the only job he can get that allows his family their lavish lifestyle. Lestat helps in the only way Louis allows him to help, by buying him the Azalea, which Louis still pays him back for.

Louis still assumes over time feeding will get easier and he will be able to be around his family again without wanting to rip their throats out. But that doesn't happen. Over time being around his family only gets harder, not easier. Spending most of his time with a vampire he loves who loves him and thinks he can do no wrong and humans he's killing whose opinion he doesn't care about, instead of with humans he has to be human with, makes him unaware of the ways in which he's becoming less and less like the human he used to be and more like the apex predator he now is. Lestat loves it. Louis' family? Not so much.

Louis doesn't really notice how removed he's become from his own humanity until as he keeps going back to his family, they start to notice, first his mother, then his beloved Grace, until they don't want him around any longer. The way he moves is unnatural, the way he forgets to blink, the way he gets distracted by their heartbeats and their scent that smells less and less like family and more like dinner which makes him just stare as if he's about to pounce. All of which I'm sure he takes out on Lestat.

And then Louis almost eats Grace's baby. I think this is the huge turning point in everything. For Louis. And therefore for his relationship with Lestat.

This is also when Louis loses Grace's trust which majorly factors into this turning point because she's the only human family member he hadn't lost until this point, the only human family member that still allowed him passage into his family home.

And all of the promises Lestat made Louis that he can't keep come back to bite him in the ass. Louis thought saying yes to Lestat would mean he'd have more not less. That it would be "free to be you and me" all day every day. And while Lestat did intend that and somewhat delivered on it, the man was delusional and willfully ignorant and frankly manipulative and couldn't deliver on it to the extent Louis thought he would.

Because Lestat and Louis still can't be together openly. Louis is keeping up appearances. Over time he tells Lestat he's going to see his family but no longer invites him along. He's still with Lestat and his family knows this but he's not showing Lestat off the way he did at first. In the meantime Lestat I'm sure is really not hiding the fact that he and Louis are an item from anyone. Which I'm sure Louis does not like and reprimands him for. I wouldn't be surprised if Lestat's of the mind that if anyone becomes a problem they'll just eat them. Except if they're some type of official. Everyone at the Azalea certainly knows who they are to each other.

On top of this Louis still can't buy property wherever he wants. Even with access to all of Lestat's money, he still can't buy himself the status and privileges of a mediocre white man, which means he also still can't have any job that pays well that isn't pimping.

Louis also can't properly run his father's estate or see his family because he has to sleep during the day and works nights and he's not getting used to vampirism or being around his family of humans. He's missed important milestones of his family and where initially they thought he was just in his honeymoon phase with Lestat, now they're starting to think he's stopped caring about them altogether and he's into something much worse than pimping that has made him something other than what he used to be.

And Louis blames Lestat. He starts to hate what he's become and he starts to resent Lestat for being the one that turned him into this. He's started to kill less by this time, starving himself, in the hopes of regaining some of his humanity by doing this so he can be around his family more easily. Be more of the Louis they knew. But he doesn't know how to be that anymore and starving himself only makes him more of a danger to his family than anything else which is how he almost eats his nephew. And then he rips his childhood home's door off its hinges in his desperation to hold on to his family and all bets are off.

Lestat continues business as usual. He's started to warn Louis away from his family to protect Louis and to protect Louis' family. Lestat hunts to try to make up for the fact that Louis is feeding less so that he and Louis can feed together. So that Louis actually feeds regularly since he's ceased killing but Louis is starting to see Lestat and their life more and more the way his family does. As monstrous and wrong. He starts to refuse feeding human altogether and thinks if he feeds on animals that will get him back the humanity he's lost. Will get him back the family he's losing.

All of this eventually culminates into

Lestat: "This is not a life!"

Louis: "That's cause you took my life!"

It is arguably the biggest argument we see them having that honestly addresses the biggest issues they are having with each other that they can see. Even while it's an argument that starts out being about inviting other sexual partners into the relationship that's not what it ends as.

Lestat is addressing that Louis is relying on animals, feeding on animals, for his survival and telling him it's not sustainable. That he can't live like that. That they can't live like that as a couple because Louis feeding on animals is affecting their life together and their relationship as well. Louis is telling Lestat he took the life Louis should have and could have lived and that affected what their life and relationship with each other would be first. They're blaming each other for why their relationship is going south and they're both making excellent points.

Louis is starting to realize that every aspect of the human life he used to have is slipping through his fingers in favor of his life with Lestat that is not even completely the life Lestat promised him and nothing he does, no matter how hard he tries he can't get any of it back. His family, his means to support his family himself and run a business which he enjoys doing even if it's an unsavory business, it's all slipping through his fingers as Lestat simply waits Louis out, waits for Louis to accept his new normal. All while he tries to manipulate Louis into accepting this new normal more rapidly. Something which Lestat sees as inevitable. Lestat sees their love, Louis choosing him and this life as inevitable. Because the alternative is Louis going insane and/or dying. And oh, boy, does Louis make him regret it.

Lestat is trying to be understanding but also wants Louis to hurry up and get over the loss of his life, his brother, his family and his love of running a business. It's been seven years give or take. Lestat knows that Louis feeding on animals is not sustainable. Not to keep him alive. And not to keep their relationship running smoothly.

But the resentment Louis harbors over this, Lestat's role in Louis losing his actual life and with it his family, Lestat's manipulations and him not being able to deliver on the life he promised Louis or that Louis thought he would get, in its entirety, as well as the concessions Louis has had to make in the form of becoming a serial killer, losing his humanity and his access to daylight hours in the process in order to have this life with Lestat, all of it is weighing on him and slowly but surely snuffing out any positive feelings Louis has towards Lestat.

Until Claudia.

#I had a lot of thoughts #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #claudia #louis #lestat #interview with the vampire #this is a long post #I was just processing #loustat #iwtv #iwtv meta

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