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on-my-vigilante-sht · 5 months

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The Final Quest

Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Requested by: @reader-bookling123: hiii I had a request for Luke where it kinda takes place in the past but he was dating reader and they were deeply in love but on their quest somehow reader sadly dies and Luke is just heartbroken and angry and he’s mad that everyone just moved on from her and maybe some cute reuniting moment

Summary: How a quest with the love of Luke's life turned him away from the gods

Warnings: Angst, major spoilers for series, graphic description of death, suicide (technically), anger, resentment, pain, fluffy ending, Dionysus and Apollo slander

Word count: 5.5K

Masterlist

Later A/N So I'm just now rereading Titan's Curse for the first time in like four years so I forgot that the Garden of Hesperides is west in the books. However, when I was researching the myth it was said to be some place north so I chose Canada. So that's why it doesn't reflect the book.

“Happy birthday, Luke,” my girlfriend smiled. Our lips were so close our noses were already touching. But just as I could feel the fleeting touch of her lips on mine, there was a flash of light, making her jump away from me in surprise. Looking over to the source of the light, I found my father standing three feet from us on the dock.

Neither of us had time to react before Hermes was speaking. “Hi Luke! Happy birthday. I have a gift for you.”

“Uh… th-thank you,” I tried to sound grateful but I was a little caught off guard and annoyed he ruined the moment.

“Oh, sorry!” he laughed, noticing my girlfriend who was still half in my lap. “How are you Y/N?”

“I- I’m well, Lord Hermes. How are you?” she asked nervously, awkwardly scooting away from me, moving her legs so their weight no longer rested on mine.

“Oh, no need with the Lord stuff. I may not be the god of prophecy but I am the god of gambling and I’m betting you two will get married. We’ll be family!”

“Father,” I tried to interrupt him as the embarrassment coursed through my veins, bringing heat up to my face. I didn’t even want to see Y/N’s reaction I was so nervous and embarrassed.

“Oh, right. Sorry kid. I forgot how much you teenagers hate sharing your feelings. But uh I��ve heard your prayers and offerings Luke and I have a quest for you.” My eyes widened. Finally. All my training would pay off. I could prove myself and go down in history as a hero. “I need you to get me the golden apples in Hesperides’ garden. Hera is getting a little too insufferable these days y’know?”

Y/N and I sent each other looks, our mouths open in hesitation. Our next words had to be careful. If we agreed to the wrong thing we’d be insulting Hera and I was sure she’d strike us down right here. She didn’t like demigods, to her we were an offense to marriage. Especially the ones that were a product of offense to her own marriage. “Thank you for the quest,” I carefully dodged his last comment.

“Of course, kid. Here, you’ll need this.” He snapped his fingers and in another blaze of heavenly light, a duffle bag appeared in his hands. “Well, good luck. I’ll see you back here when you bring me my apples,” he smiled, handing me the bag. “Uh, avert your eyes,” he warned. Waiting for us to cover our eyes, he disappeared in a golden spray of light.

When the world dimmed again I turned to Y/N. “Oh my god!” she yelled excitedly. She stood up, throwing her arms around me, almost knocking us both into the water. I laughed, hugging her tightly in return. “Luke, you’re gonna be a hero!” she gushed, pulling away so she could look at me.

“We’re gonna be heroes,” I assured her, placing a hand on her face. “Come with me,” I requested. My heart was thumping quickly in my chest out of excitement and nervousness. “We can be the Greek Bonnie and Clyde. Hundreds of years from now demigods will read our myths and say, ‘We can be like Y/N and Luke.’”

She looked at me, confused. “Luke, they were criminals and died tragically,” she laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay wrong analogy but you get the idea. Please, I can’t do this without you.” As much as I wanted my glory, I knew the Daughter of Apollo wanted it too. And I’d be damned if I couldn’t give it to her.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yes!” I cheered, hugging her so tightly I ended up lifting her off the wooden docks. She laughed as I began to spin, even almost spinning us into the cold water.

After talking to Chiron and getting my prophecy, Y/N and I were off in a car that Mr. D had somehow acquired. The only reason we were allowed to take it was because I was 17 and had a little driving experience from when I would take my mom’s car when she was too out of it to even get groceries. I shook off the thoughts as Y/N once again went through our supplies and plan. She seemed nervous even though I assured her numerous times we’d be fine.

“Drachma, cash, ambrosia, passports, drivers license, an enchanted map, and a bow and arrow,” she repeated the contents of the duffle bag. “The Garden of Hesperides is in northern Canada,” she mused, looking at the map. “Heracles defeated Ladon with a bow and arrow by piercing each head through the eye.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I assured, reaching across the center console to place a reassuring hand on her thigh. I left it there, rubbing calming circles on the skin of her leg with my thumb. “Heracles did it before…” I said, the words slowly dying as they came out. Heracles already did it. I tried to shake off the thought that I was just redoing a quest. They were so uncommon nowadays it was an honor to be chosen for one. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to chase the doubt away. Besides, Heracles technically failed his quest, he didn’t bring them to Eurystheus. I would succeed in bringing them to the person who had requested them.

“What was the prophecy again?” she asked, still looking at the map.

I swallowed nervously. The prophecy was not optimistic for us. I couldn’t possibly imagine what we’d find out about each other on this trip that would cause us to lose our love for one another. “You shall go north to fruits, rare / Liar to liar, a father’s heir, / Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,” I repeated.

“‘You shall go north to fruits, rare,’” she repeated. “Obviously that means we’re going north to find the golden apples. “‘Liar to Liar, a father’s heir.’ Hermes is the god of lies. And I guess stealing makes you deceitful. Ergo, a liar… ‘Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,’” she repeated. I could hear the dread infiltrating her voice.

“Hey,” I interrupted her thinking with a squeeze to her thigh, “that could mean anything. Prophecies are just a guide. A starting point. It was so short and vague that we don’t even know if it’s talking about us. We’ll be fine,” I promised again.

“Yeah, of course,” came her voice. I glanced away from the road, finding a weak smile on her face.

“What kind of music does Dionysus have?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She opened the glove compartment, several things falling out of it.

She began to go through them. “Um, a concerning amount of Weird Al Yankovic.” I laughed as she continued to look through. She then gasped. “Oh my gods.” She held up something next to me that I took. I nearly slammed on the brakes as I glanced down at it.

I couldn’t stare at the CD in my hand too long so we wouldn’t crash but every time I glanced down at it I found a new horrifyingly wonderful detail on the album cover. It was Mr. D with the weirdest haircut I had ever seen. He was lying down on a cheetah print rug, his shirt was a zebra print and had the first several buttons undone so the viewer could see all of his glorious chest hair. That wasn’t even the most outrageous part. Mr. D was lying down next to a tiger with a gold chain around its neck. Hanging from the chain was presumably Mr. D’s stage name, “Dionomite” written in gold cursive and studded with diamonds. “We have to listen to this!”

“Already ahead of you,” she said, punching buttons on the dash. She took the CD from me and put it in. Once it was ready, our ears were immediately assaulted with the sound of various horn instruments being poorly played. “Did he play all the instruments himself?”

“Probably,” I answered as Mr. D’s voice came on. “Oh…” was all I could say as the squeaky singing made my eardrums bleed.

It was funny for a couple songs but then it just got annoying so we switched over to a single Beatles album.

We reached the Canadian border in only a couple hours. Thanks to the Mist we could drive as fast as we wanted without fear of mortal cops.

As we pulled up to the gate, the guard switched. Must have been a shift change. I thought nothing of it as I rolled down the window. “Passports?” the guard tiredly asked. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses despite the fact that he was under shade. I became wary but handed him the documents anyway. “Any plants, animals, dairy products, or drugs in the car?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“What’s the nature of your quest, demigods?” The customs officer removed his sunglasses, revealing a single eye. He then grew about three feet, revealing a cyclops.

“Hit the gas!” Y/N yelled beside me. I did, taking off. Now we had both a cyclops and the Canadian border police after us as I crashed through the plastic gate that went up and down. I swerved around guards and other cars, getting up on sidewalks and surely ruining the paint job.

But up ahead I could see them closing a heavy looking gate. Gods on our side or not we weren’t getting through that gate. So I swerved into the trees. “Hold on!” they were sparse enough that the car could fit in between the trees. Glancing in the mirror, I could no longer see border guards. But there was a 9 foot tall cyclops following us in the distance. Which would be fine, he’d never catch up to the car but the woods were getting thicker and now I didn’t know which way was the road.

Nature made its decision for me as I heard Y/N’s scream. “Luke look out!” But it was too late. A violent force stopped us and the car was suddenly still. There was so much force I was half afraid the cyclops had a friend but I just found a tree in the middle of the hood where the engine used to be. “Run!” I told my girlfriend, frantically unbuckling my seatbelt.

I ran to the other side, finding her struggling with the seatbelt. She threw the duffle bag at me before pulling out her knife and cutting the seatbelt away. When she hopped out, I took her hand. We ran further into the trees, the cyclops’ thunderous footsteps right behind us.

“Luke, we can’t run forever,” she breathed. She was right. We’d run out of energy before that thing did.

I thought for a moment, thinking of how we’d kill this thing. “At that big tree,” I pointed to a huge pine tree right in our path, “split up. Then we’ll circle back around and hit him from the side.” She nodded in understanding. We ran full speed at the tree until we each turned on the balls of our feet, dashing out of the cyclops’ path. The plan worked better than expected because he ran face first into the solid pine tree.

He crumpled to the ground, giving me time to retrieve my sword from the duffle bag. By the time I looked up, Y/N was already dancing around the beast, cutting him up with her knife. I jumped in, giving him the same treatment. We worked as a flawless team, striking and giving the other space as needed. Until finally, she cut the thing’s heels, forcing him to the ground. I took the opportunity to stab him in the eye, leaving behind only a pile of shimmery ichor.

When he was gone, I immediately pulled Y/N in my arms. Even at the relative safety of camp, I always needed her in my arms to calm down after battle. To assure myself that she was still there and I was still alive. The sound of her breath in my ear helped ground me. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, you?” Her face was still buried in my shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry I crashed the car.” She chuckled, pulling away from me.

“You’re forgiven. C’mon, let’s go see what supplies we can save and start walking.”

While the car was unsalvageable, all of our stuff was fine. So we grabbed out backpacks full of winter clothes and started following the map. It wasn’t that bad now but it’d be cold by the time night fell so I forced Y/N to put on sweatpants over her shorts.

I was kind of hoping the map would take us to civilization where we could rest for the night but it just seemed to bring us deeper into the forest and we had no flashlight. As it got darker and colder I got more nervous. “We have to find some sort of shelter for tonight.”

“I know it’s dark but it’s not that-” A pack of wolves howling cut her off. “Okay, yeah,” she agreed. She began looking around. “Any chance you could climb one of these trees? I don’t really want to be on the ground.”

I shook my head. “Even if I could get up high enough I don’t think any of the branches would support us.”

She huffed. “Shelter it is, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the wolves,” I teased. She had just killed a literal cyclops but she was afraid of some dogs.

“Hey, I don’t mess with wolves,” she said sternly. “After I saw that one movie about the kids stuck on the ski lift. You wouldn’t catch me in the woods at night yet here we are.”

“What about Capture the Flag?” I asked as we started collecting stuff to make a shelter.

“Well that’s different. There’s like 30 of us out there.”

“Do you want me to start sticking with you during the games? You know, if a wolf wanders in?” I teased.

“I’ll make my own shelter for tonight, thank you very much,” she said matter o’ factly.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” I apologized, tugging her back to me as she tried to storm off to get supplies. “Besides, we need each other’s body heat to keep us warm,” I whispered teasingly.

“Not a chance out here,” she scolded me.

“Worth a try,” I shrugged. “Everyone knows you can better preserve body heat if you’re not wearing clothes.” She just gave me an exasperated look before walking off again. “I’m joking!” I yelled after her.

By the time we had the shelter built up only about an hour had passed. We used pine needles to try to protect out bodies from the cold ground. And we used our winter coats as a blanket since we zipped them together. We laid down in the shelter, still shivering despite our best efforts. I held her close as she curled up against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. “Get some sleep,” I told her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over.” I agreed with absolutely no intentions of waking her up. Judging by how fast her breathing evened out despite her constant shivers, she needed the sleep more than me. In the morning she’d yell at me for not waking her but it was worth it.

We had only been walking for a few minutes when we came across sled dogs. Ten siberian huskies all laying around patiently, harnessed to a sled. “Maybe these were the wolv-”

“Shut up,” she warned, giving me a light smack against the shoulder. I laughed as she hesitantly approached the dogs. “Hey guys, you waiting for someone?” She slowly reached her hand out to one of the dogs who calmly sniffed it before licking it eagerly. She gave him some scratches behind the ear in return. “Awe you’re such a good boy.” The dogs were now all up, wagging their tails and whining for pets.

I went up to the sled, finding a satchel tied to it. Opening it I found dog treats and a note. “All good huntresses need a pack of wolves.” Underneath it was a crescent moon. I clenched my jaw, recognizing the sender of the gift. Her aunt, Artemis. Last year, during the winter solstice, Artemis and her hunters had visited briefly. One of the hunters, Zoe, befriended Y/N. And even after she had told them she had a boyfriend, they still tried to recruit her. It never sat right with me, the way Artemis seemed so okay with breaking up a relationship.

“It’s for you,” I told Y/N, handing her the note. I handed her the note and she took it. She just sighed before stuffing it back into the satchel. “I don’t know why she’s so determined to recruit you.”

“I don’t know either,” she said, already tying our stuff to the sled. “But she’s gonna be disappointed because I’m kind of really into this one guy. I don’t know if you know him but he’s the son of Hermes. He’s gonna be a great Greek hero.” Her praise was enough for me to let go of my anger. Stooping down, I pressed a kiss to her lips.

The pack of sled dogs was perfect for the Canadian wilderness except for one problem. There was no snow. Still, they managed to pull us so smoothly it was like snow.

Soon enough, we pulled up to a garden. If it weren’t for the fact that they were literally in the middle of nowhere, this garden would be unassuming. It had a white picket fence and looked to be about an acre. Thousands of different types of plants grew, enchanting us with its smell. Off in the distance, in the middle of the garden, I could faintly see the golden fruits, the sun glinting off of them.

“The nymphs never gave Heracles a problem,” Y/N shrugged. I nodded, cautiously opening the gate, sword in hand. She held the bow up, an arrow already knocked. A quiver of them were slung over her back.

We crept in quietly, watching for signs of danger. She would watch our surroundings and made sure no nymphs attacked us while I kept an eye on the multi-headed dragon, making sure he didn’t stir.

Once we were about 20 feet away, he still wasn’t stirring. Y/N kneeled down behind some greenery, lining up her arrow. She took aim and fired. The arrow bounced harmlessly off one of the many scale covered head. The beast didn’t so much as stir. She looked back at me, as if seeking assurance. I nodded, telling her to try again. But rather than just take aim again, she crept a little closer. I almost told her to get back but I was afraid the dragon would wake up at my yelling. I held my breath, heart pounding as she tried again. This time she sunk it right through the eyelid but before either of us could react, another head moved. It snapped at her, jaws clenching around her waist. My blood turned to ice as I heard her pained scream. It was so horrifying to hear my body seemed to turn to lead.

I needed to save her. I forced my body into a run. I slashed at the neck that was currently holding my girlfriend in the air. Ladon dropped her, not without a claw slashing at me in turn. I managed to dodge it, scrambling over to Y/N. I wasn’t even comprehending whether or not she was conscious or if she was alive. I was too busy trying to tug her away. Golden fucking apples be damned.

I reached her, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to tug her to safety. But before I could make much progress, the beast’s claw was in my face again. But I noticed it too late this time, too focused on my girlfriend’s very pale face. The claw hit me in the face, sweeping me to the side. I couldn’t feel the pain but I could see the blood seeping into my vision. I tried to wipe it away but it just kept coming. With my non-blinded eye I could see Ladon going back to his prior position as if we were nothing. Like he wasted no energy maiming us. Nonetheless, it allowed me to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her awake.

“Y/N, we need to go!” I said frantically, worried he’d come back for round two if we didn’t get out soon. “Can you walk?” I looked down at her body and knew the answer. Her shirt was covering the extent of her wounds but teeth marks, each a few inches across, tore through her shirt and there was blood. So much blood.

“With help,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Okay, good,” I nodded. Her assurance eased me slightly. I slung her arm across my shoulder before pulling her up. She screamed as I raised her off the ground but nevertheless gritted her teeth and bore it.

“No!” she cried as I tried to wrap my arm around her to support her weight. I realized that in doing so I’d be pressing into her wounds. She sobbed in pain the entire time we slowly stumbled out of the garden. It pained me to hear her cries but I had to get her out of here. If I could just get her to the sled I could give her some ambrosia and she’d be fine.

When I finally got her outside the gate, I laid her down. I’d get her onto our transportation once she wasn’t in such a critical condition. “Hold on, I’ll get you some ambrosia,” I told her, moving toward the sled. But the weakest tug held me back.

I looked down at her, finding blood, sweat, and tears covering her face. “No,” she cried. Tears were pouring down her face as sobs wracked her body. “Ambrosia won’t help.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I held her face. Oh, her beautiful face. My heart clenched seeing it twisted in agony. “You’re gonna be fine. I promised you. I’m not a liar…” Tears were falling down my face now. She’s not fine. I realized that I’d become an unknowing liar.

Her hand reached up to my face, her thumb swiping over my blood covered cheek. “You’re not a liar. We were doomed from the start.” She took a labored breath and deep inside, I knew it was the end for her.

“Come on, no. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” I cried. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap. As if physically holding on to her would keep her from slipping through my fingers like the wind. “Just hold on until I can get you to a hospital.”

“We don’t have time.” A small smile tugged at her face and I knew she was smiling through the pain for my sake. “I love you, Luke. Promise me you’ll move on?”

“What? No. You know I won’t. You’re the love of my life,” I insisted.

“Please, at least try?” she asked. “I don’t want you following me too soon,” she tried to joke. But her laugh turned into pained sobs as the movement hurt her body.

I cried harder seeing her in so much pain. Her breathing was getting shallower and more labored. “Fine, I’ll try,” I swore. Lie. “I love you. So much.”

“I’ll see you in Elysium,” she said through a peaceful smile. It would be a welcome sight if it weren’t for the blood bubbling up out of her mouth. I turned her to the side slightly so she wouldn’t choke on it but it wasn’t enough. The blood was coming faster and her body was shutting down. “I love you,” she whispered before her eyes fluttered shut.

“No, wake up!” I cried, shaking her slightly. “Wake up!” Her breaths were getting shorter and I was getting more desperate. “Do something!” I yelled up at the sky. Her father. My father. Anyone! But no one came. Her wounds didn’t stitch themselves together and her eyes didn’t open. I held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder long after she stopped breathing. Even the dogs started howling at the gods when her heart stopped beating.

~~~

“That’s why I hate the gods,” I murmured to Percy, watching the scorpion slowly creep up his leg. “They finally granted me a quest. It was all I ever wanted. But it was a joke. All my father wanted to do was piss off Hera and he was okay with using me and my girlfriend as collateral damage. And her father, Apollo,” the name came out of his mouth like venom, “the god of prophecy and healing let his daughter die. He knew she was going to die, even before the quest. And when he had the opportunity to save her, he ignored her.”

“I’m sorry she died but-”

“No!” I cut Percy off. “It would be one thing if she just died but she died over a fucking prank war. She died an agonizing death. Her aunt, Artemis, intervened in our quest but she still let her niece die a slow, painful death. They didn’t even help me bring her back to camp so she could be buried properly. I had to bury her in the woods like I had killed her and was covering up a crime.” I swiped away a tear as I noticed it slip down my face. I still couldn’t decide what was worse. Feeling her die in my arms or leaving her out there in the woods to rot. “And to make matters worse, no one seemed to care that she died. When I finally got back to camp a month later, they just pitied me. I begged Chiron to let me and some others go get her so we could give her a proper funeral but he refused. And when I tried to get others to join me to convince him, no one would go. After a couple days no one seemed to care that Y/N L/N was dead. A week later, another Apollo camper was claimed and they just gave her bunk away to him. Like she meant nothing.”

“But why Kronos? I’ve never heard of a demigod turning away from the gods. Even when horrible things happened.”

I sighed in contentment, remembering the projection he showed me. “Because he can bring her back. We’ll be immortal and without pain forever. He showed her to me. He said she’s happy in Elysium but she misses me,” I smiled softly. “But she misses camp too,” I laughed bitterly. “Annabeth, Grover, she probably would’ve missed you had you two met. But she never got the opportunity. But now, with Kronos, I’ll get to give her everything she wants.” I looked over at the kid. He seemed so deep in thought I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Goodbye Percy,” I said as I stood.

“I’ll tell everyone at camp about you!” he called after me.

“If you make it. Pit scorpion venom will kill you in 60 seconds. Even if you do make it, I’ll still be long gone.”

~~~

I sunk the blade into my Achilles heel, destroying Kronos’ life source inside me. I laughed as I could feel him leaving me. And continued to laugh as I fell to the ground and felt my own life draining out of me. Looking up, I found Annabeth above me, her curls hanging in my face. “I’m gonna see Y/N,” was all I said.

Tears welled in her eyes as I felt her comforting hand stroke my hair. “Yeah you are. I know how much you missed her.”

“I’ll see you there too,” I promised her, just like Y/N promised me.

I stood in front of the Judges of the Underworld. I knew I messed up in my life but my sacrifice had to amount to something. And I had to get to Elysium. “Luke Castellan,” Minos read my name. “You are charged with… starting a war against the gods?” he read in disbelief. “Why were you not immediately sentenced to the Fields of Punishment?” If I still had a heart it’d be in my feet right now. I couldn’t go to the Fields of Punishment. “You should have cut your losses and taken the express line to the Fields of Asphodel.”

“Keep reading,” Rhadamanthus said, not even looking up from the papers.

Minos rolled his eyes but kept going. “Oh, you sacrificed yourself, killing Kronos and saving Olympus and all of humanity. Hmm. Well, you did still start a war with the gods.”

Aeacus leaned over. “Minos, this really is more of a formality than anything. All the gods have already given him a pass.”

Minos huffed. “Fine,” he picked up a gold gavel, “Elysium!” he declared.

Before I could even thank him I was transported into what looked like the Apollo cabin. It was strange, I knew this was supposed to be the Apollo cabin but it didn’t have all the bunks. It looked like a normal house but something about it felt so familiar. I looked around, realizing I was standing in the living room. This must be Y/N’s house, it even smelled like her. Decorating the walls were pictures of her and her friends and siblings. But on the mantle and side tables were pictures of us. I picked one up, noticing the fingerprint markings all over it. She must pick it up a lot.

Looking around, I found glass French doors in the kitchen that led outside. The view was breathtaking. Mountains rose up on either side of the bluest lake I had ever seen. I went outside, intending to enjoy the view. As I stepped outside I could smell fresh air and feel a perfect breeze. “Hey stranger,” a voice came from beside me. I turned, immediately letting out a choked sob as I saw her sitting there. She stood, coming to me and I immediately snatched her into my arms. She shushed me, stroking my back as I sobbed in her shoulder. “You came way earlier than I wanted but I’m glad to see you.”

I pulled away so I could see her face. The blood, sweat, and tears were gone. It was just her beautiful, perfect face. “You’re actually here,” I said, reaching a hand up to her face. I was terrified she’d disappear again just like she did when Kronos showed her to me in my dreams.

“I’m here. And so are you,” she smiled. “We’ll be immortal and without pain forever,” she swore.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Luke.”

Decades later we were opening our door to see Percy and Annabeth standing there. “Y/N!” Annabeth cried, jumping into my wife’s arms.

“Hey Annabeth!” she laughed, clutching the woman in a hug.

I looked over to Percy, finding him with smile lines and salt and pepper hair. “Hey cuz,” I smiled, extending my hand. Percy shook it and pulled me into a hug which I returned. I patted him on the back as I pulled away. “You know you can look any age you want here? You don’t have to be an old man.”

“I’m not an old man,” he insisted. “I was 80. Just anything older than 16 year old me looks old to you.”

I shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. I turned to Annabeth, giving her a hug too.

Y/N took Percy’s hand. “Percy, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Everyone from camp whose already here has said great things.”

He smiled at her. “I’ve heard the same about you,” he returned, glancing at me. “Well we brought blue cake for dessert.”

Masterlist

A/N Omg this is quite possibly the angstiest thing I've ever written. But it also has one of my favorite endings. Thanks for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lightning theif #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #annabeth chase

738 notes · View notes

atalienart · 3 months

Note

What are your tips on improving writing?

I don't think I'm at the level to give such tips. I myself try to read a lot of different books and learn from the authors that way. I watch youtube writing channels that talk about story structure, character development, or give advice how to improve prose and what to avoid. It's good to have someone who can look at your writing and give some feedback too. Also, I write. After some time, when I go back to my writing, I can see the mistakes better.

I can share some things that I've learnt from others and I think are good advice, for example:

use strong verbs (the person may walk but may also stroll, march or tiptoe);

there are more interesting verbs than to be;

weave description into action (The building was big. She walked towards it. ➜ She lifted her head as the stone walls grew before her. or He took the book in his hand nervously. He was tall, had brown hair and was wearing glasses. ➜ He reached for the high shelf without an effort. Book in hand, he pushed glasses up his nose to read the title - "Magic spells to improve writing." "This is it," he murmured, nervously running fingers through his brown hair.) (or some shit like that);

write sentences of different length so they don't sound monotonous;

If you want to write quick scenes. Short sentences. Actually. Make them slower. Why? Because periods. Are. Long. Pauses. xD

leave the most important words for the end of the sentence (He was thinking about the woman, while drinking his tea. ➜ He was drinking his tea, thinking about the woman.)

avoid filter words like hear, feel, see, etc. (She heard the noise that startled her. ➜ The noise startled her. or She was startled by the noise. or She jumped at the noise.)

be careful with time shifts (She noticed him behind the trees and smiled. Her beautiful monster. She runs to him and takes his hand and all of a sudden everything is all right. "Where is your hat?" she asks, but he just stares at her. He's always been a monster of few words, soft and quiet, but the lack of answer still surprised her. - is this present or past tense? confusion)

every scene should have a purpose - advance the plot, develop the character, add some conflict; ideally it will do all these things;

white room syndrom is bad - avoid;

use as many characters as you need; if one character can do the work of two, you need only one, scrap the other;

every character should want something!

give a character a desire, fear and misbelief;

Here are some of them. I hope they're useful. (They were useful for me even if I write in Polish :)) Of course some of these are optional but I think they make my writing better. I read somewhere that you should write only necessary words, so I'm trying to go by this rule. This is rather hard btw xD

#nat tries to write #writing tips #Sorry if grammar is wrong in those sentences - I write in Polish

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la-petite-lapin · 5 months

Text

Double the Love | Part One

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 1.2k Series warnings (may update between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, angst, death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings

How it all started

I wake up to the first knock.

The apartment is warm, despite the fact that it's the second month into winter, and quiet. Peaceful, even. Winnie is probably already at work. The café doesn't need me for at least another hour.

I turn my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. 8 a.m. I can't think of a single reason why someone would be knocking here so early, so I roll over and try to go back to sleep, thinking that I might've just imagined it. Last night was a long one. I couldn't fall asleep, so I stayed awake watching endless reruns of Friends until - at 3 a.m. - I finally knocked out.

It's times like these, when the insomnia kicks in and I feel completely alone, when I can't wait for Alex to be home.

Alex, my heroic older brother. The SAS soldier always on some mission or other to save the world. He's on another top secret op at the moment, but last time we spoke he said that it looked like they'd be home at the end of the month. The new unit he's been assigned to have been keeping him occupied. He couldn't tell me much on the call, but it sounds like they've welcomed him into the fold with open arms, just like all the other units he's worked with in the past. That and he's still worried about me - something that he's been in a perpetual state of since the dawn of time.

Hopefully he'll be home soon though.

Just as my eyes start to close, there's another knock at the door. This one's more persistent.

Definitely not in my imagination.

I throw the covers to the side, adjusting the hem of the heavy knitted sweater I fell asleep in to make sure that it's people-appropriate, and stepping into my slippers as I make a beeline for the door. I drag my feet out of my bedroom and down the hallway towards the front door.

When I open it, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

There's a tall man with light brown hair and a beanie standing out in the hallway. His dark eyes are tired but kind, a thick scruffy beard covering his jawline as he stands there, hands behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart. He takes one look at my slight frame, half-hidden behind the door and closes his eyes, shaking his head with a quiet, "Bloody fucking hell."

I tilt my head to one side, confused. I'm just about to ask him if I know him when he says, "Are you Talia Keller? Alex's sister?"

Just like that, my heart starts thundering inside my ribcage. I reach out to put a hand on the doorframe, knowing that it's all I can do to stop my knees from buckling.

The stranger on my doorstep meets my eyes once again and I can see it.

"Please...no-"

He shakes his head, those kind eyes refusing to shy away from my tear-filled gaze. "It is with deep regret and my upmost sympathy that I am here to inform you of the death of your brother, Operations Officer Alex Keller. He died on active duty, contributing to a rescue mission that, because of his sacrifice, saved a lot of lives." I choke on a sob. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

My vision blurs and the sound that leaves my mouth is horrible. It's a sob, so loud and violent that I almost can't believe I made it. "No," I whimper.

"May I come inside?" the stranger asks, nodding past me at the empty apartment. His hands aren't behind his back now. They're in front of him, palms open like he's placating a wounded animal.

My own sobbing eclipses any other noise in the hallway as I take a few shaky steps back, giving him access to the doorway. He walks inside slowly, like he's giving me time to take the unspoken invitation back. I don't.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep myself from falling apart. But my brother is dead. My sweet, perfect brother who I'll never see again.

"I- oh god, I'm going to be sick," I manage to choke out, stumbling back until I hit the side of my armchair.

The stranger swoops in then, gently easing me down onto the sofa. I shouldn't let him - shouldn't have let this man into my home. He could be anyone. But he spoke about Alex with the reverence of someone who knew him personally. He must of to be here now, telling me this awful, fucked up news.

I tip forward, my head finding my hands as I cradle myself, my whole body shaking with the effort of not crumbling to the ground.

Alex was all I had left. We were orphans: each other's only living relatives. Now I'm alone.

"Is there anyone I could call for you?" the man asks, his gravelly voice even softer than it was to begin with. I hate his sympathy with a passion, but I don't have the energy to call him on it. "You shouldn't be alone at a time like this. Alex told me that the two of you were very close."

The words bring a fresh wave of pain ripping straight through my heart.

His question reminds me of Winnie. She's already made enough sacrifices for me; I can't pull her away from her work. I don't know what to do. There's no one else I can call. It was Alex and Winnie. Winnie and Alex. No one else.

"Alex was... he was all I had." The words both sound and feel pathetic as they leave my mouth. I lift my head and see that he's watching me, dark eyes far from judgemental. "I can't- I don't know what..."

"Look," he says softly, one large paw of a hand coming to rest on my upper arm, his warmth radiating through the thick cable-knit. "Take a deep breath for me. He wouldn't want this for you."

We sit there for a while as I calm myself down, getting through the worst of hyperventilating. Slowly, the tears come to a weak ebb. A numbness fills me; a disbelief that he's truly gone.

"I know that this is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but we had him cremated. It was written in his file that that's what he wanted. We'll send the ashes and his dog tags to you as per his request." He shifts in the armchair. I can't help but notice just how haunted he looks as he meets my gaze. "My name is Captain Price, but you can call me John. I was your brother's unit commander. You might not want to talk to me right now - might blame me even - and I understand that, but I'll leave my personal phone number here with you. If you ever need anything, anything at all, please call me."

I nod softly, rubbing my knuckles along the undersides of my eyes. "Thank you, John."

He nods once then stands up, the muscles of his thighs straining against the sandy-khaki material of his cargos. Instead of heading straight for the door, he walks across to the desk, opening Winnie's smiley face notepad and writing a number down on the first blank page. His number.

I don't look up when he leaves. The door closes with a soft click and then - just like Alex - he's gone.

a/n: hey guys! hope y'all liked part one. don't worry - you'll meet the guys very soon... sorry if this part was a little bit boring, just want to set the scene before all the good stuff happens 🙃 - see ya soon, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #romance #angst #poly #female reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #throuple #double the love

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beanzfandoms · 9 months

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Ruby Red

Diluc Ragnivindr x Female! Reader

Description: (Y/n) ends up breaking something as the new maid of the Dawn Winery and meets Master Diluc for the first time.

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

It wasn't necessarily hard work, but it was tedious. (Y/n) couldn't help but to dig at the puffy sleeves that framed her shoulders as the fabric seemed to irritate her skin. She wasn't trying to be disrespectful, and (Y/n) would visibly cringe every time Adelinde's gaze casted over her.

She was grateful, don't get her wrong. Without the mercy Adelinde gave her with no experience, (Y/n) would probably still be in the city of Mondstat looking for work. She just didn't feel like herself in the rounded dress that was given for this particular job. Why do you have to dress this way just to clean a rich man's house?

"(Y/n), dear. Did you hear me?" Adelinde's voice calls out. The other maids giggle quietly to themselves as it was clear (Y/n) was lost in her thoughts.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" (Y/n) asks after clearing her throat awkwardly.

"Would you be alright with cleaning the upstairs while these two works down here? I will be sure to give you a schedule and check on you now and again."

It was clear that the other two were adamant to be together as they clung to each other's arms like schoolgirls. It honestly made (Y/n) sick to see their giddy expressions. "I suppose not."

"Wonderful. I will see you in your designated spots momentarily."

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Irritation seeps from (Y/n)'s pores as she dusts away at the mantle above her. The money was worth it, but doing double the work with something she wasn't used to make her muscles ache. Apparently, one of the girls who was training alongside (Y/n) got sick. Why the other had to leave with her made no sense, but at least Adelinde offered to finish up with her. Not that (Y/n) would leave the older woman to do this work herself; she had nowhere else to go anyway.

The sun barely lit the wooden floors of the Dawn Winery, and the servants began to light candles before their leave for the night. (Y/n)'s limbs ache from a long day's use, tiredness clawing at her eyes. (Y/n) found it harder to stand on the tips of her toes as she reached over her head to swipe the feather down brush behind the vases that stood on the shelving.

Unfortunately, (Y/n) hit one of the glasses with the edge of her knuckles and it slipped off with a loud shatter. She could barely process what happened before fiery red filled her vision.

"Step back, you'll step in it." A monotone voice commands, "What are you even doing here so late? All servants are required to go home before sundown."

(Y/n) observes the man dressed in black for a moment before kneeling down beside him. "I can clean up after myself, thank you."

She can feel his gaze on her as his hands still over the broken pieces. "Excuse me?"

The man sounded more confused if anything, but the tone caused (Y/n) to grovel regardless. "I, um... all I mean is that it was my clumsiness that caused this, so I should be the one that cleans it. Hopefully, I won't get into too much trouble." The last part was more to herself, but it caused the man to chuckle. Ruby eyes greet her as she looks at him in surprise. "What's so funny?"

"The vase had nothing of value, do not worry."

"How do you know?"

"Master Diluc," Adelinde says from behind, "I see you've met the new maid in training."

(Y/n)'s whole body feels as though spikes of ice went through her skin as the man beside her stands.

"I hope your day has been well," Adelinde says with a bow.

"It was fine, thank you. If you wouldn't mind, Adelinde, could you catch one of the workers from outside to throw out this glass. I request that this woman be sent home for the night."

"Yes, Master Diluc," Adelinde responds before turning towards the girl. "You may go home now, dear. Come back bright and early tomorrow morning."

It felt like time stood as (Y/n) lifted herself from the ground. She made sure to keep her head low as she passed by the two, embarrassment warming her cheeks.

"Goodnight, miss Adelinde," (Y/n) manages out before quickly shutting the door.

Adelinde lets out a sigh as she takes the broom off the wall to collect the smaller pieces of broken glass into a pile. Diluc remains fixated on the front door, eyes narrowing intensely.

"Adelinde... who was that girl?" He mutters.

"That was (Y/n). I found her looking for work in the city. I thought we could use the extra help," the woman answers.

"Hm... (Y/n) who?"

"She only gave me her first, sir. I didn't ask any further questions, I'm afraid."

"Interesting..." Diluc responds shortly before turning to the stairs, "I bid you goodnight, Adelinde."

#fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x female reader #diluc x reader #diluc x female reader #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin oneshots #female!reader

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

Text

but then… Gigi

Chapter 2 - An Elvis Presley fanfiction

Thanks: to the little rascals who schemed and kept me pumped the entire time I was whacking my way to fruition on this project: Bri and Elise. And to Birdy and Ally and Christi and all the rest of you darlings who are so dear to me and whose shared love for this man has brought such joy to my life. I hope you enjoy, your feedback means the world to me and there’s nothing I enjoy more than getting to incorporate some of y’all’s schemings and theories into the story itself. So don’t hold back! Xoxo

Caveats are the sign of a insecure author yet here I go…: in this chapter there are highly unflattering references and portrayals of Pricilla Presley and Ginger Alden respectively -they are not necessarily my opinions of them, they are my dramatization of Elvis’ headspace during the summer of ‘77 when many report he was breaking up with his “fiancée” and there was already a substitute picked out to come with him on the impending tour. Y’all can debate those rumors all ya want and I honestly don’t know what to think of them myself, what I do know is that man told his father he was terribly lonely days before he died. And I want to remedy that, so the narrative is unreliable here and it’s in his head. Love at first sight, love that obsesses, love that has a childlike quality to it as presented in this fic is often selfish and even cruel towards the feelings of others. If you’re not fond of Elvis as a flawed, moody bastard of a man on occasion, this fic may not be for you. Cheers.

Warnings: 18+ no actual sex happens but my goodness -it’s sure wanted and thought on so much that sometimes it felt like a fifteen year old boy was hijacking my keyboard -Big daddy was that you?! Apologies for the, uh, crass body descriptions?! Salami will never be the same again…also, use of the word “fat” in the narrative as being thought of oneself, good ole fashioned chauvinism and mild infidelity on Elvis’ part

Chapter 2

“Do ya think it’s too, I dunno, too, too on the nose?”

“E.P., ya have people over here all the time, man.” Charlie murmurs gently from where he sits on the floor, not bothering to look up from the spread out sheet music he’s rustling through. “Why would it be on the nose to do it now, all the sudden?”

“Well I-I-I was thinkin’ maybe havin’ a pool day, maybe that was too forward.” Elvis has been rethinking this since he told George Klein to wrassle up that young bunch again, and specified the pretty young Artemis whose freckles had been covered last he saw her.

“How’s that forward?” Charlie seems genuinely confused and Elvis figures this has got to be one of those times he’s so far in his own head and foggy from pacin’ the pills that he’s not thinkin’ like regular folks.

It’s just that he couldn't take this eager young one turning him down, or shying away from him. It makes him timid in a way he hasn’t been in decades.

“I thought maybe, maybe invitin’ ‘em durin’ the bright light of day would be less, less, ya know, less susp–would raise less eyebrows.” Elvis tries to explain and Charlie really gives it the old college try to understand why his usually very entitled friend is suddenly reverting to teenage levels of strategizing to hang out with some chicks. “But now it seems like it could, could be t-taken wrong.” He’s thinking of Gigi in a swimsuit, he’s thinking of her bouncing through his trophy room headed to the pool like she bounced on the sidewalk, he’s thinking of how knowing Tammy had looked when he’d badgered her for information on her folks. Tammy has him spooked, he supposes, has him second guessing his own motives a little.

“Which nose are we worried about bein’ too ‘on’?” Charlie asks gently, and Elvis hates him for it.

“Ginger’s! And fuck you Charlie you know already, it’s Ginger’s.”

“If it’s Ginger who you’re concerned about being put out by your guests,” Charlie doesn’t bat an eye, “then I suggest you worry about her chin, not her nose. The thing’s huge, bound to be too ‘on’ it no matter what ya do.”

Elvis chuckles weakly out of sheer appreciation for Charlie’s loyalty, “Is that where I been goin’ wrong with that broad all this time? Lordy, I ain’t even tried to sit on that face, what’s she so put out for? Just anticipatin’ me bein’ too on the nose? Didn’t seem to think all that fuckin’ jewelry was too on the nose, coulda bought her one a’those Indian nose ring thingys and I reckon she’d have snatched it oughta my palm fast as anythin’.”

“Some folks are born put out.” Charlie philosophizes and continues rummaging some more in the guitar case, pulling out picks and wadded sheet music.

“I invited them today, they turned me down; they’re busy with somethin’.” Elvis admits softly, because he had tried to put this off for about five hours without her knowledge, then the Bible verse this mornin’ happened to be a little too ‘ the nose’ regarding deceitful intentions and he’d rung her up, been straight up about wantin’ her over.

Ginger said no. Declined. That’s how she put it. She was always havin’ to decline him. Except for his money and his trips. That she had an open sieve of a purse for.

The fact Charlie is as unsurprised by her avoidance as he is, suggests Elvis really is a sucker. He gnaws his cuticles bloody. “I should call it off.” He realizes.

“Yeah, what’s holdin’ ya back?” Charlie doesn’t even sound remotely sympathetic and Elvis thinks maybe he hasn’t been sly about lining up a replacement if even his friends know not to pretend to be sad.

“Her family spooks me.” He admits softly, “I got’a feelin’ about them, like they’re gonna raise a ruckus if I don’t go through with it.”

Charlie looks uncomfortable for the first time in this little gossip session. “Sounds familiar,” he ventures so carefully Elvis immediately knows he’s referring to Cilla and her folks. Referencing the day that won’t be mentioned and the threatened law suits and the getting wrung dry and the whole fuckin’ mess he’d made of what ought’ve been a blessed endeavor. Instead, he married a woman outta compulsion and reaped the seeds of it six years later.

“Reckon you’ve tried this before–pacifyin’ folks.” Charlie sounds scared but whether it’s of his decision or for offering an unasked opinion, Elvis doesn't know. “Reckon you should think about what you want, E. What you want for your life. Hell man, you may be halfway done already, you really doin’ what ya want? Maybe ya are, I'm just sayin’–you’re Elvis Presley! Ain’t anything worse they gonna say about ya than they already have, and nothin’ more tragic than havin’ all you’ve got and not doing what’s good for ya.”

Elvis thinks about the deluge of infamy that’s coming his way in a few months, not a single publisher bending to his coaxing or demands for a retraction of Red and Sonny’s little tattle-tale novella. Bastards. Those disloyal bastards.

Gently ditching a frigid woman back outta his home into her daddy’s paid for and well-furnished house is hardly gonna be the most breaking news. And by that time, ain’t no one gonna wanna come over here for pool parties or game nights or stop him on the street for an autograph. No one’s gonna want him by then, might as well enjoy the company while he can.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain today anyway,” he adds in glum summary.

“So?” Charlie tries to cheer him, “I’m sure the gals have noticed the weather and they’ll bring stuff for it, change of clothes and all that. EP, we’ve never run outta stuff to do here, have we? It’s your home, you don’t gotta perform. Can always make it a movie night or somethin’.”

Watching a movie sat next to Gigi in a skimpy bathing suit cover might be worse than watching her frolic in his pool. Elvis gnaws on his thumbnail and smashes the piano keys. Charlie doesn't even jump from the sudden noise. “What time is it?” he asks Charlie even though he has a wrist watch.

“It’s still before noon,” Charlie looks up at him from his place on the floor pointedly, “they won’t be here for another three hours. George’ll be here maybe a half hour before, since ya asked him.”

Elvis's stomach will be in complete knots by then, he knows it, and his mood will be foul for the pinching pain of it and then sitting out in the baking, humid summer heat under a gray sky that won’t rain will sound like shit. He growls and starts playing that classical piece he was trying to learn last tour.

_____________________________

Gigi’s head already aches from the plastered-high ponytail Tammy hair-sprayed her wavy locks into and she knows her face is coated in far too many layers of makeup for a pool party. It’s not what she would have chosen but she considers it a win to be walking out the door of their apartment in something more decent than the nylon scraps suggested to her as a swimsuit by her friends. It’s one thing to be aided in a little primping by one’s gals who seem hell bent on depositing a buddy into Elvis’s bed, it’s quite another to feel more than a little pimped out.

Gigi has a feeling that half of this hilarity may be selfless giggles over one of their own catching his eye, but the other half is definitely some old style sorority cunning. Whoever the mythic, absent and supposedly current girlfriend of the King is, she’s been earning Tammy’s hatred since grade school. And Gigi has a feeling that she herself is but a gilded instrument of destruction for said girlfriend. It gives her pause. About five seconds worth before she’s clambering into the back of the ride sent for them, trying to keep her swim skirt down so she doesn’t flash Lamar.

Gigi may be a bit jaded from personal loneliness, but she figures it’s free-game to pick up something someone left on the sidewalk. Things that are precious to somebody are tucked in pockets or kept in safes or worn around the neck like a talisman. They never get a chance to end up on the sidewalk.

Precious things aren’t sent off to college with no roadmap and only the weekly phone call or left to rot away in their own sprawling houses utterly bereft of company.

She pulls at her ponytail and determines to have fun. And be a little bold. It’s why she wore a skirt and razor back swim top that is more sporty than seductive–she figures that if she can keep his attention by her behavior, that’ll be the only way she can manage to tolerate it. Too much male assessment turns her into an idiot, the other night proved that, and she’d like to feel free to act in a way that might make him laugh like he had at other folks' charades.

She wants to laugh at these flimsy precautions against Elvis’ legendary hypnotizing capabilities. She just tugs at her skirt bottom and admires the way Tammy’s red swim top has her spilling out like a Bond Girl. She kicks at the duffel bag holding their change of clothes hoping it rains, she loves swimming in the rain. Bike riding in it, too, anything but these ironclad skies that trap the thick air down here but don’t send a refreshing shower. She’s got her face pressed to the Cadillac’s window when the wall whizzes by her view and then the car is turning and there’s Graceland, up on its hill, looking a little somber in the pale afternoon light.

They aren’t dropped off at the front this time, “That’s for guests and the boss himself.” Lamar explains as he pulls around to the side and slots into the humongous garage.

“What’s that make us?” Dinah asks, unabashedly enjoying the way she makes the amiable fella wait for her to adjust her bikini bottoms before stepping out the door he opens for them.

“Friends, silly.” Lamar has seen a thing or two and while coral neon high risers on gleaming chocolate skin might be pretty eye-catching, Dinah’s got more work cut out for than that, if she wants to fluster him.

Which Gigi isn’t sure why anyone would, he’s nice and keeps to himself and is good humored. She gives some frantic thought as to whether she can recall meeting a wife of his or not before she’s being herded with the rest through the sea of vehicles parked in Elvis Presley’s garage and in through the back door.

They’re immediately in the cozy dark upon stepping inside. The cool, crisp air-conditioned breeze cuts through the thick of outside and Gigi feels like she’s finally able to breathe. Next comes the unmistakable smell of burgers and through low lighting and dark painted paneling she realizes they’ve stepped into the kitchen.

There’s an immaculately polished black woman at the sink and leaning next to her, beside a row of sweating sweet teas, is Elvis, making conversation and caught by his guests mid-snicker.

There’s something so strangely mundane about the scene to Gigi that her heart lurches. The domesticity of fresh-cut onions and the comfy slouch of yet another tracksuit–it has a powerful effect on her and she finds herself beaming in gratitude at being invited back. The fact the kitchen is carpeted registers about a minute later as she scuffs her sandaled foot nervously across it, her toes dragging against the plush as she waits for the crowd in front of her, one-by-one hugging their host hello, to thin out enough for her to get at him.

She’s gonna hug him this time, she’s sworn to herself she will.

“What? No Keds? Where’d the Keds go, darlin’?” is what happens instead, Elvis frozen with his arms wide open to hug her and his eyes pinned to her french-tip pedicure like she’s Liberace and done forgot her piano.

“I thought this was a pool day.” She scrambles, and that’s enough for him to drag his eyes up the leggy length of her to meet her own blue ones, still looking like he’s in great consternation over her omission. “Is your pool bottom really that rough?” She teases and is pleased when that wipes the silly pantomime of alarm off his handsome face.

His thick sideburns draw up with his smile, pulling towards his ears like the creases around his eyes and he grins, “No doll, neither my pool or its bottom’s rough. You c’mon through right here, make yourself comfortable. You like burgers, honey?”

“I do!” she replies and obeys the outspread arm that sabotages her intended hug, directing her to the barstools at the counter instead.

“Sit yourself down and I’ll get’chu one.” He assures her earnestly before leaving her side and shuffling around the industrious lady he’d been caught gossiping with.

“I’m Gigi,” she offers to the lady from across the counter, watching as she slides the plates around and sets out the usual condiments in a tidy row.

“Mary darlin’, this is Gigi,” Elvis spins halfway through his trek to the fridge , the quick movement belying his bulk and he throws an arm around Mary’s shoulders while making the introduction as if Gigi hadn’t begun it.

“Lovely to meet you, Mary.” Gigi carries on normally as does Mary herself, warmly shaking her hand over the bun basket.

“Miss Cherry Coke?” Mary’s eyes glimmer mischievously up at her boss who tucks his head shyly in response, “Miss, we’ve got the whole top fridge stocked with the stuff, you give the word and I’ll have a case poolside for ya.”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind,” Gigi splutters, “and not at all necessary I-I can make my own burger too, let me help–”

“Sit down, you’re in my house, I’m makin’ your burger.” Elvis commands and Gigi’s bottom has barely left the barstool before she flops back down with a plop that makes the deflated cushion wheeze. “What’cha like on it, baby?” He asks then, suddenly soft as butter.

Between the pet names and the unlikeliness of Elvis Presley actually making her a burger while wearing an unzipped track suit and a king's ransom worth of rings in his own kitchen, Gigi is liable to forget whether she likes ketchup or frog legs on a burger.

“How do you like it?” She counters as if they’re in some argument and he looks surprised by that before leaning towards her, belly pressed into the counter, explaining in loving detail his preference for the onion/pickle ratio and the importance of cooked meats. The sheer amount of thought and stubborn preference for his food prep that comes out in this explanation takes her by complete surprise, not expecting him to care so much about something so trivial. His music or his career or films maybe, she might not have been so surprised, but he seems very much in love with cheeseburgers and helplessly she murmurs, “I'll have it however you like yours done.”

The moment is interrupted by the loud slurp of Tammy’s straw running out of carbonated beverage at the bottom of her bottle. Gigi had quite forgotten there was anyone else here for a minute. She spends the rest of the wait trying not to be obvious about the way she drools at his elegant hands as they meticulously pile on diced onion and bacon bits, sparkling ruby rings and glinting emeralds the only reds or greens let near the food.

He slides the plate her way, determined not to be shy but hopes she doesn't notice the way he watches her from beneath his lashes as she bites into his creation. Her cheeks bulge from the size of her bite and her puffy lips strain to keep her manners and after a few workings of her jaw he sees her eyes light up with childlike enjoyment, then roll back in her head with an appreciative moan. He chuckles and pushes his glasses back up his sweaty nose.

Damn affection, he’s in love. Oh merciful Jesus, not again.

Out by the pool, a few folks sit beside it with their toes dipping in, sloshing at the crystal clear water while a few brave and stupid souls take to the loungers as if the sky overhead wasn’t implacably slate colored. Tammy had told Gigi not to dunk her head in, to keep her shoulders at least above water or else the makeup would run. Gigi thought maybe the makeup should have been left off altogether but it’s too late now and it looks like no one’s going in all the way anyway, her little perch on the diving board isn’t conspicuous with everyone else staying out. A pool is a pool in Gigi’s mind, sunny weather or not, but she feels like it would be childish to jump in and no one else follow. She feels young enough here, so, demurely, she hangs her legs off the diving board and makes conversation with Mr. Hodge about Elvis’ army days.

Elvis himself is still in the house, something about cigars and Sam coming over. When he comes out the pool house door he has his tracksuit undone and an added navy t-shirt beneath it, swim shorts replacing the tracksuit bottoms and Gigi’s mouth starts to water from…nostalgia…she thinks. Beside him is a terribly tall young guy with a mustache and two kids trailing after them. And then there’s two young women, followed by a mature couple; their parents it would seem by the familial resemblance in the jaw.

“Y’all, this is my friend Sam, and his lil critters.” Elvis announces for the girl’s benefit, “He’s a cop, so don’t y’all go tellin’ him nothin’ ‘bout the charades the other night.” He taps his nose as if they’d gotten up to obscene rituals and Sam just rolls his eyes before shaking hands. “And these here are the Aldens, Mister, Missus, Ginger and Rosemary; this is Tammy and Dinah and Marie and Gigi–” he points out one bathing-suited beauty after another with studied nonchalance.

“Nice to meet y’all.” Gigi gives a wave, wondering if she should get up off the diving board to greet them or take a cue from Elvis's casualness and stay put.

Judging by the Superman-level beams of hatred forming between Tammy and Ginger, she figures it’s best to hunker down next to Charlie Hodge and keep her head down.

It makes her jump when Charlie outs their little haven by piping up with a, “I thought E said y’all were gonna be busy in Nashville today, Ginger.”

It makes Ginger look over at them and while Gigi has done nothing but have her head patted and swallowed down every greasy pound of the burger made for her, she feels like a skank under Ginger’s burning assessment.

“We didn’t wanna miss it.” She replies off-handedly after her inspection and turns back to Elvis who is shuffling her along the patio towards a lounger like she’s some decrepit grandma.

“Here, Ginger dear,” he’s got the same voice on that he uses with interviewers and it makes Ginger scowl and Tammy smirk, “how bout we set ya all up nice and comfy here, there we go. We’ll getcha all set up and you can watch from here, know ya can’t go in, it bein’ your time of the month and all.”

It’s funny how his tone is discreet while his volume is anything but, reaching even Gigi and Hodge at the far end, making the slight man snicker at some inside joke Gigi resigns herself to not get. He sees her confusion.

“Ginger here happens to have her period about ten times a month.” He whispers conspiratorially and Gigi gasps.

“Poor woman!” She winces at the mere concept, “Has nobody found a remedy?”

“Not yet.” Hodge shrugs, “Elvis has paid for her to be seen but no luck yet. Still, doesn’t seem to slow her down much, a hearty sorta girl. Except for pool days and sleep overs.” He adds before sipping his Coke noisily.

Gigi turns crimson at this backstage confession from so polite and circumspect a man as Charlie Hodge. She feels like Tammy may not be the only one trying to maneuver her into his friend’s arms. She sighs; she’d like to end up there, she’d also just like to swim in Graceland’s pool without a load of drama surrounding it.

“Why are we all out here anyway?” Ginger asks loud enough for it to carry to Gigi and Hodge on the diving board, “It’s been cloudy all day and the forecast is rain, if you wanted a pageant I coulda taken you to New York, baby.”

She pats Elvis' shoulder in that curious way that Gigi has noticed non-tactile oriented folks use to try to make connection with touchy folks.

Pat pat pat.

Body entirely angled away, no lingering weight after the pressure, no squeeze at the end, no dip down that broad back–it’s the sorta touch that’s worse, grating even, than nothing at all, in Gigi’s experience. Isolating, lonesome, a mockery of what it ought to be. Her heart slams in her throat like she’s watching some old trauma, and maybe she is, but she feels a compulsion to put the pressure back on, laying hands on the wound, steady and firm and untiring.

It’s stupid. But so is the silence that follows Ginger’s criticism of the weather.

“Don’t have to have the sun out to swim.” Gigi observes cheerily, looking around hopefully for someone to agree, Tammy won’t stop smirking and glancing back and forth like watching a ping pong tournament.

“No, but nobody likes to without it.” Ginger frowns at her in confusion.

“I don’t get why?” Gigi presses, genuinely confused herself. “It’s not like we can tan when we’re up to our necks in water. I’d know, I had a blistered face and pasty legs in June, last year, from a monkey in the middle game that lasted too long." She laughs and Hodge and Elvis glance down at her mentioned legs before they laugh too, maybe just to break the tension that seems to be forming in the humid air.

“You’re just sayin’ that to humor this guy.” Ginger cracks a joke of her own, thumbing at Elvis who sits at the foot of Rosemary’s lounge, looking as absolutely glum as the rest of them feel.

“No, no, I’m not actually.” Gigi’s soft voice insists and in a frustrated little huff over the way everyone’s behaving like kids but not in a fun way, decides to stand up on the diving board, her posture purposeful.

“Whoa, whoa oh, ok wait, Gigi no!” Hodge takes in her determination a touch too late as those track hardened legs start a bounce on the board that threatens to send him flying like a kid letting go of a see-saw.

The last bounce sends them both, Gigi in a gorgeous tan legged arch into the water with her swim skirt fanning like one of Renoir’s tutus, and Charlie Hodge splatting beside her a split second later, polo shirt soaked and flat on his back.

The spray of their splash dilutes Ginger’s martini and through the haze of her bitchin’ Elvis licks the chlorine drops off his upper lip and lumbers himself up and over to the pool side in time to see her surface.

She’s laughing. Sopping wet and mascara running, entirely in her element now, Gigi’s laughing.

“How’s the bottom baby?” he asks her with a grin, crouching down to her level and desperate for this to be more somehow, for her to be humoring him like Ginger said. He thinks he’ll be done if that’s all, though. He hopes that Gigi just so happens to enjoy burgers the way he makes them and swimming beneath clouds. Like he does.

“Smooth.” she grins back after dragging her eyes away from the spread width of his crotch, something calculated in her eyes soothing the tiny part of him quibbling over her youth. She ain’t a baby, she’s a big tittied young woman. “S’real smooth Mr. Presley.” She's treading water and it makes her voice breathy.

“Well, go touch it f’me baby.” He tells her.

“Why?” she perks up.

“Why?” He repeats, rhetorically, standing up from his crouch and throwing off his tracksuit jacket with all the show he puts into fanning out his capes on stage. It’s too late the little kohl-eyed bambi begins to backpedal in the water, “Cause–CANNONBALL.”

More chlorinated water splashes up Gigi’s nose and into her eyes, making her gasp and wheeze, blinking through a burning film of melting mascara as Elvis Presley surfaces like a leviathan of the deep not even a full two feet away from her. He shakes his hair out of his face and grins at her like a little boy immensely pleased with himself. Jet black hair pushed back and glasses lost in the dive, he looks unbearably soft. Gigi thinks she may have cooed as she tried to clap when he made his appearance.

“C’mere lil one, your eyes’r smartin’, ain’t they?” He swirls his arm out in the water and effortlessly, like scooping up a partner in a tango, hooks his arm around her and draws her closer. Electrified by the beefiness of his arm around her waist, she almost misses when he raises his thumb to his mouth and sucks on it before bringing the spit-slicked digit to her face. Swiping at her under eyes, gently following along the water line, returning the black finger tip back to his pink tongue, then back again to her eyelashes. Again and again until he’s satisfied with the tidying and enough of the goopy cosmetic has been removed for her to make out each individual pore on his godlike face. “There, thas’ more like it,” he examines his work and she sways towards him in the water like she’s been hypnotized, her face still buzzing from the electricity of his touch, “more like a pretty Southern peach, ‘stead of a raccoon.”

“I told Tammy it was silly.” Gigi whispers, the bulk of him so near her blocks out the rest of the world and her voice dips accordingly, feeling intimate.

“Tammy, doll,” he spins round and the motion releases Gigi, she floats beside him bereft and suddenly cold in the pool without his nearness, “sugar, don’t go makin’ this pretty gal look like a rodent when God’s given her plenty on her own.”

“I do not look like a rodent.” Gigi protests through giggles as Tammy slithers into the pool with a shrug, careful to keep her own face out of the water.

“Sweetie, I’m the one lookin’ at ya.” He points out in that fatally parental way and reaches for her neck once more, taking a good grip before he dunks her backwards in the pool, with barely time for her to hold her breath. Bizarre and a bit threatening as the action is, all Gigi can feel is his warm hand again, and the press of rings biting into her throat, the promise of his body that she’s not yet been jostled close enough to feel, but looming ever near her.

“Elvis baby, you’ve lost your glasses.” Ginger is saying when Gigi is finally let back up after her extended baptism and, with a little flail, she regains autonomy from his grip as he lets her go like he’s been burned.

He hadn’t seemed that worried about the glasses before Ginger pointed it out, but his hasty movement away from her makes Gigi think that it concerns him.

“I’ll get ‘em.” She reassures Ginger before wheezing back in a breath and arching into the water, the splash of her little footsies upending the last anyone saw of her for a brief moment until she appeared in the shallow, holding them up triumphantly.

The solitary, slow clap that could be heard belonged to Mrs. Alden.

“Oh shove it where the sun don’t shine, ya big–” Tammy was snapping at the older woman suddenly and Gigi, freshly discombobulated from resurfacing, decided against figuring that one out, the feud going beyond her even at her most mentally capable periods.

“Get in here fools, Ricky, Charlie, Dinah, c’mon.” Elvis was motioning to his fellas, conspicuously ignoring the venom spitting between the ladies, “Sam, you’re gonna be our monkey.” He directed the overly tall cop to the accompanying protests of the pool’s occupants. “Lotta sissies you are, can’t take a challenge head on.” Elvis chided them and the game was on.

For the next half hour Gigi treaded water in the deep end and tried to help Dinah and Ricky get the ball past the unreasonably tall cop in the middle. Trying to smack it into the shallow side where Elvis was waded around waist deep, in the water, T-shirt clinging to the dip of his pecs and adhered to the swell of his belly like a second skin, effortlessly hefting Sam’s young kids up to take a smack at the ball themselves from time to time. Gigi didn’t think there’d ever been a fella as entranced by the sight of bikini clad babes bouncing around in aquatic sports as she was with such effortless masculinity displayed in the good humor of his backyard. Her heart hurt at the sudden gaping hole in the house, in the pool, in his life–his little girl! She should be here, his child should be here.

Before Gigi had known how domestic and serene life could be at Graceland, it had made sense the rockstar probably wouldn’t have full custody of a kid. She’d imagined wild parties and coke tidily lined up on the back of the toilet in the bathroom for convenient snorting, stripper poles in the living room festooned with real live women of the night. But instead, there was just a beautiful, vigorous, sweet man throwing pool parties to any who would come to keep him from being lonesome.

That old feeling of wanting to hold onto him and not let go, make him let go first, came back. Maybe she’d been staring too long, or more likely, maybe Gigi hadn’t noticed half the spray sprinkling them was now raindrops and not pool splash–either way, Ginger and her familial entourage made a rather large to-do about the little shower. Encouraged to go inside they refused, and while slightly miffed by the needless interruption, the pool’s occupants varied their sport to a rather unorthodox version of Marco Polo.

Ricky led the way by closing his eyes and calling out “Marco” to which every girl, with the innate sense of those being hunted, tried to flee in the water from his grabby hands while answering “Polo” in barely audible titters.

Dinah escaped a close call by diving underwater and slithering away while Sam went on the defensive and splashed water at the kid’s nose until he could barely call out “Marco.” Gigi wasn’t as lucky, trapped between the steps and Hodge she was cornered on the third round, helpless to do anything but press against the poolside and answer “Polo” to each one of Ricky’s ever leering calls, closer and closer to her.

“Time out, time out!” Elvis snapped and Ginger peered over her glasses with knowing suspense but Ricky, quite caught up in the game kept swashing forward in the shallow towards Gigi, blindly reaching out for her shoulder only for at the first tiny touch to it, he got slapped upside the head by a very proactive Lamar who wanted to save the kid from a more fatal fate.

“Boss called a time out, idiot.” he grumbled loudly, pulling him away from Gigi’s glistening tan shoulders.

“Yeah, time out!” Tammy faked a sigh of exhaustion even though she’d done little moving through the game, “Can we get some drinks out here? Got any papaya juice left, E?”

“Oh I swear to God!” Ginger’s sunglasses landed on the cushion with a clatter, finally losing all patience with some inside barb thrown her way.

“What?” Tammy asks with far too much innocence.

“You know what!” Ginger snaps.

“Drinks? What?” Tammy scoffs, “I wasn’t asking you to get them, don’t get all huffy at me.”

“The papaya shit–”

“Hey language, ladies.” Charlie tries to intervene.

Elvis knows Tammy is weedling a fight outta Gingersnap and a month ago he might’ve had it in him to play the gentleman and defend his supposed gal, and an hour or two ago he might’ve found it fun to sit back and watch the cat fight, but there’s rain droplets splattering the pool surface and he knows she’s gonna suggest going in and he wants to make everyone else regret this about as much as he is until he sees her face.

Gigi’s.

Looking for all the world like she’s sad and scared this shitty little party is gonna end. Looking to him to keep her playtime going. Up against the pool wall as the rain splatters her freckles, mostly put out that her turn has been cut short because Elvis's jealous streak can’t take Ricky or anyone else touching her besides him but he can’t bring himself to touch her for fear she won’t purr under his hand.

Gigi’s eyes leave Tammy and Ginger’s verbal sparring and seek his own out pleadingly. His command for everyone to shut the fuck up and go inside or else leave his property dies on his lips. Instead he tries to smile back at her, finding it’s been a little while since he played at accommodating anyone, but he’s willing to try for her, to give her back her playtime. She reminds him of his younger self, such a live wire, attuned and vibrating to every emotion. She needs a calming hand, a weighted presence to tether her. Instead he just reminds the squabbling pool’s occupants,

“Gigi’s it.”

And just like that, the decision is made. Ginger can bitch and Tammy can poke and everyone else can go to hell, he’s gonna play in his pool. With Gigi. It’s her turn to play Marco. Those blue eyes dance back to life and she’s smiling so wide he feels like maybe he’s unleashed the sun, fully cheerful and fully lethal all at once.

Her eyes close but her mouth stays wide and smiling and she utters “Marco” with giddy excitement and Charlie gives him a look he knows, a look of a sure-fire backstage hookup but Elvis isn’t sure, not sure this time until she’s weaved through multiple “Polo’s” and is hunting him down with giggling ferocity. And Elvis is fucked, he’s fucked and his heart is beating in wild excitement and panic as she begins to splash towards him and her palms land squarely on the now squishy mounds of his chest.

He used to have such a nice physique. Strapping, some said, maybe never a real ripped fella but fine and toned and lean. But now all he’s got are man tiddies and his cheeks flame hot under the cool splash of water as her hands splay against his soft chest, the contact winding him, grounding him, making him yearn and shrink all at once.

She’s merciless, hands trailing over the dips of his chest and over his shoulders and down to the beginning of his belly, dragging his wet t-shirt across his sensitive skin, patting him down firmly in the way of someone who savors flesh. He thinks he’s found one of his own.

“Hmm, Lamar?” Gigi guesses but the coy lift of her lips tells him it’s a joke. Still he wants to wince.

Gigi hopes he knows she is teasing, she doesn't even think to make it a barb. Lamar is lovely and so is Elvis and she would do and say anything to prolong the contact she has on the wet material of his shirt, wiry chest hairs faintly ticklish beneath the soaked cotton, the heat and the heft and the way his chest is heaving beneath her hands–Gigi is struck with the reminder of how she fantasized about him, about the bulk of him and the sturdiness she’s now mapping out. If only he was shirtless and–there’s a nipple–his breath is ghosting over her face, she’s so close and she’s being shameless, she knows, but he’s lovely. He’s so lovely under her hands, and she can feel the thump thump thump of his heart soaking up her attention and she knows he’s been lonely for this. She hopes he can feel it through her playful hands–

You’re lovely, this has been lovely, thank you for this, can you feel how fond I am?

–she thinks she hears someone sneeze and she thinks she hears talking but it’s his breaths, labored and fast, that she listens to, senses attentive, squeezing at the soft flesh of his bicep. There’s corded muscle beneath the fluff, she barely gets a squeeze in before she’s palpably reminded that it’s Elvis she’s pawing at when he drawls, thick and forced,

“You got a strong enough grip on that honey? Did I not feed ya enough in the house that ya gonna start pulling meat off the bone?”

She pops her eyes open at that, mortified at first except he looks so pleased by her squeezing, more pleased and happy than he’s been all day and it makes her brave.

“Why, it’s Elvis!” She teases in surprise and is comforted by the hot flare of temper she sees in his face as he entertains the brief concept of her groping anyone else like this, “I could eat you up.” She admits lowly, and it feels like a natural thing to say, the sorta oddball shit you say to cute little babies–or to Elvis Presley when he’s soft and firm and giving and impossibly broad beneath your hands.

“Ya watch y’self lil baby or I’ll eat you first.” He responds careless and calm before snapping his teeth at her in a way that both scares her from its sudden shift and sends molten heat down between her legs at its possibilities.

She chooses to squeal and instead of fleeing in the water, takes refuge from his snapping mouth by scurrying behind him in the water and hunkering down from the threat, plastering herslef to his wet back. The grunt he makes when she pulls herself up by his shoulders is that of a middle aged man playing at being put out over being used as a jungle gym, but like most things he does, teeth snapping and grunting and meticulous burger layering, she finds it obscenely attractive and moans a little herself, finally getting a good press on some part of him, even if it’s just his back.

Elvis has quite forgotten anyone or anything else besides the playful little critter plastering her tits to his back and giggling breathy in his ear. He thinks he notices the way the boys resume the game and Dinah tries to revive the sport while he and this minx just float like mama and baby otter on the sidelines. He doesn’t notice much else beside the fact that she’s taken to tidying him like he tidied her, fingernails rubbing his wet sideburns back down and thumbing at his eyebrow when a commotion on the pool deck gains his attention, tearing him away from the lovely yet mortifying ordeal of Gigi humming over the discovery of too much grease in his rain sodden hair.

It appears Mrs. Alden and Ginger are having it out between each other again on the pool patio, without Rosemary as a referee for once, and Elvis would like to ignore it in favor of thinking of something to talk to this sweet girl about except that there’s a slight tussle on the sidelines and before he–or Ginger it seems–can process anything, Ginger herself is being encouragingly shoved into the deep end by her mother.

Upon surfacing, Ginger makes for him like a downed airman would an atole in the vast pacific, whining all the way like she got dumped in acid instead of saline. He’s always been this way with folks, with women and with men, puzzled as to why he tolerates shit for so long when the breath of fresh air is clinging to his back. It’s a free country, Ginger can whine about pool water all she wants, doesn’t mean he’s gotta feel bad that there’s something about the way that twenty year old gal hasn’t got a lick of child left in her that makes his affection for her curdle like spoiled milk. The giggling limpet on his back laughs before registering that Ginger is unlike her, and the pool is causing her distress. Gigi starts to let go of Elvis’ back in an unconscious reaction to aid her, he finds himself trying to clutch her hands to keep her pressed to his back.

They fumble, they clutch, Gigi slips from his back and it’s as if the water has gone freezing to him. The replacement of Ginger hanging off him does nothing to replace that soothing warmth, though he pats Ginger soothingly, wondering if now would be a bad time to tell her it’s over. It was over ever since a while back, but not being able to make it today, then able to make it only to stake her claim, and now this fawning over him -he’s done. It’s over, he starts freezing and suddenly the raindrops aren’t so playful. He hopes to god his gamble won’t leave him burned and alone again.

“Shh. S’alright honey, gimme your hand.” he mumbles as he leads Ginger to the shallow end, to the pool steps and railing while the rest of the pool’s occupants clear out as fast as rats from a sinking ship when the murky pool water shows she’s not bluffing on her period this time.

Ginger gives him a withering look and he thinks he’s gonna get blamed for her mother’s poor choice in house manners when he finds her staring down at his shorts, and maybe the water wasn’t cold enough cause he’s chubbed up and bent to the side beneath the wet fabric, acting up despite the embarrassment of being felt in his whole entirety by Gigi. He clears his throat and finds himself tugging at his pant leg as they toddle off together, not even trying to act like it’s for her–they’d both know better than that. It’s over, it’s past that. It’s over.

Gigi lags behind in the pool and Elvis doesn’t know why until she’s jogged back up to them, almost to the trophy room doors before she’s kneeling in front of Ginger, her lost sandal in her hand. “Here, I got it, ya don’t have to limp all the way back.” Gigi smiles up at her from her crouch, feckless crinkling and eyes guileless and even Ginger doesn't have it in her to be sour in the face of such unstudied kindness.

“Thanks.” Ginger gets out and digs her nails further into Elvis’ forearm as she leans her weight on him to slip the sandal on, acting as if a dunk in the pool left her mortally wounded.

Fast as lightning, he notices Gigi use the towel slung round her shoulder to dab at a trail of blood running down Ginger’s shin, a womanly little comradery to keep her from being embarrassed but Ginger says nothing and moves on, hastily, Elvis attached to her by her talons, and he hardly blames her. Kneeling -Gigi kneeling- isn’t what Little Elvis needs to be thinking about right now.

In the squelching wet walk back into the big house Elvis feels the compulsion to distract from the menstrual cause of the pool’s evacuation -and his offending boner- by making conversation between the two,

“S’alright,” he repeats, “Hodge and I were thinkin’ movie night or Monopoly if it ended up rainin’. And it was bound to, bound to start rainin’.”

As if that was the reason for getting out of the pool -it’s so gentlemanly of him, despite his palpable exasperation with the whole situation, that Gigi falls a little more in love just watching him be nice to another woman.

“Oh I love Monopoly!” Gigi offers with a genuine little skip in her step, fanning out her sporty swimskirt, half distracted as she passes by the glass showcases housing the awards given to him over his career. They glitter harshly under the low ceiling of fluorescent bulbs. It’s oddly tacky for such a wealthy man. It makes them seem more personal, like a fella got a lotta medallions and plaques for being lovely and stashed them in his pool house. “What’s the longest game you’ve ever played?” She asks since the silent trudge is getting oppressive.

“Lordy, back in ‘66 I think we had one last over three weeks.” He reminisces fondly.

“No way.” She swears.

“Yeah, yeah kept the board all set up in the music room.” He assures her. “Reckon our banker was crooked.” He divulges and Gigi giggles.

“We do a lot of reading.” Ginger offers randomly and Gigi perks up at that bit of information politely.

“Oh? What on?”

“Any and all sorts of subjects.” Ginger smiles sweetly, the sorta sweet smile he used to try to earn, now it makes him wanna shake her off his arm.

“I used to enjoy it but I think college is burning me out on books.” Gigi admits.

“That’s right, you’re in college.” Ginger reminds with a significant look in Elvis’ direction.

“First year.” Gigi nods, looking a little shell shocked.

“Whatcha majoring in?” he asks her earnestly and Gigi realizes they’re near the same height, her long limbs finally giving her an advantage as they lock eyes over Ginger’s head.

Embarrassment floods her as she has to admit to this older and unbelievably successful man, “I still haven’t decided.” She is lost and tired and lonely and that is probably why she gets off to the thought of him telling her he’s gonna baby her. Shame scorches her cheeks and he tsks before reaching over Ginger’s shoulder to pat it calm, rings chilling her fevered flesh, “My parents wanted me to go,” she finds herself purging the sentiment under his kindly eyes despite Ginger’s judicious stare, “but now I’m in, the subject -it’s up to me and I- well I don’t know yet.”

Elvis pauses in his swaying gait to relieve Charlie of the duty of holding open the side door into the main house, ushering Ginger in with a flick of his wrist and Gigi follows, limp necked and chastened. “You’re just a baby.” He is suddenly rumbling right in her ear as she passes him, as if picking up the conversation naturally but it makes her shiver in a hard, wanton shake at the sound of his voice so near. It has his eyebrow raising in some suspicion. “That’s a whole lotta weight to put on youth, ain’t no way you know what you’re fit for this soon honey, dontchu fret over it in the least.”

“Really?” She begs and feels his hand leave the door, no longer needing to be held open, and land on her back, smoothing her wet hair down her spine, rings catching and snarling in the waves.

“I mean it, you’re just a lil peanut, ain’t fair to ask ya to figure all that out right this minute.”

The sentiment mimics the mantra of Gigi’s homework meltdowns and four am panic attacks and she beams at him with utter relief, as if him having spoken what her gut tells her makes it gospel truth. She shudders and melts into that hand, covering an entire half of her face it feels, and the rest of her erupts in gooseflesh from the Arctic levels of AC he keeps in his house. She needs to be closer, she needs him to hold a lot more of her—

“We’re going to change before we get pneumonia.” Ginger announces loudly and they both jump, Elvis once again forgetting that there’s others hereabout, and Gigi from the cold shock of Ginger’s icy hand slithering into her own, tugging her to the hall bath. She trips over her own two feet to keep eye contact with him as long as possible, her cheek still glowing from his touch and reveling in the sight of him in the narrow hall with his belly outlined in stark relief by the clinging, wet t-shirt and his tiny shorts that have a little protrusion of their own…she hadn’t noticed it till now, and she wants to whimper, not from Ginger’s implacable grip on her hand but at the sight of that chubby little package pointing at her while tucked behind his inseam. She’s grinning wide and accusatory at him by the time Ginger hauls her around the corner and out of his sight, grinning as if glad that he was as big a pervert as she was, growing impossibly excited just by little touches and sweet banter.

Gigi’s not proud but she’ll admit she lost some valuable time staring into space, her mouth watering and her lips pursing at the thought of that little bulge. Staring into space as she waited for first Dinah and then Marie and maybe another to finish with the hall bath under the stairs, staring straight ahead at the paneling thinking about nothing but cock, plain and simple cock beneath a pendulous belly, as if she wasn’t currently occupying a most envied space in one of the most interesting houses in America. The portraits and gilding and artifacts were lost on her, catatonic she just thought of cupping it. She was almost entirely certain that she had been able to make out the fat little head of it beneath his shorts, the cone-like little–

It wasn’t any better in the privacy of the bathroom stripping out of her wet things and trying to rub off the cloying wet to slip into her sundress. Malleable and chilly in that post swim haze that often comes over children and dreamy young twenty years old girls, she meandered out of the bathroom and right into a spitting match.

Ginger Alden had deposited her by the hall bath after dragging her away, only to then leave herself and go upstairs to avail herself of the amenities up there. Only to be gently informed by Sam that those weren’t for her use any longer. Upstairs was for family and intimate circle: boss man said she wasn’t that no more. Boss man himself was in the downstairs room to the side that had once been Gladys’ room, slipping on a comfy tracksuit without the hassle of climbing the stairs, thinking about how Gigi relabeled a baby duckling tucking herself into the hollow of his palm and how he’d like to nuzzle at that fuzzy little head and-

So there was a spitting match going on. It was chiefly between Tammy and Ginger, although Rosemary and Missus added their own hits when the occasion afforded.

“Do your friends not mind you whoring them out for your own personal vendetta, Tammy?” Ginger enunciated very clearly in the front hall, just a few feet from the understairs bathroom.

“I dunno Darlin’, does your mama?” Tammy drawled.

“Where’s her boyfriend hmm? Doesn’t he care she’s throwing herself at another man?”

Gigi cracked open the door and hoped to God maybe the discussion was about Tammy’s house cat and not her.

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Oh great, oh perfect!” Ginger’s bangles rattled as she threw her hands up to the heavens, “Let me guess, she’s a pure as the driven snow virgin too, hmm?”

“If anyone can still be a virgin after getting eye fucked that much in a pool–” Tammy cackles and Gigi winces before slipping out of the bathroom fully and trying to make herself small against the wall.

“Language, young lady!” Mrs. Alden reprimands.

“That’s my fiancé!” Ginger wails, not to her supposed fiancé himself but her rival beauty queen contestant. “She’s all over my fiancé!”

“He sure ain’t all over you for bein’ a fiancé.” Tammy points out without a shred of anxiety over the point, eyeing the damage the pool did to her nails. “Where’s the ring, by the way?”

“Here!” Ginger held up her hand and the massive rock adorning it.

“Nah, I meant like, one he gave ya after that one.” Tammy’s chewing gum smacks with her sentences, “Not the ‘I’m desperately lonely marry me after three weeks and I’ll never mention it again’ ring. I meant like, another one, he’s given you a real promise ring hasn’t he? Oh c’mon he’s gotta, he’s so in looooove! You said so yourself, he’s sooo in loooove he’s gotta be pressin’ you for that date every second and loadin’ your hand up with promise rings. C’mon Ginger, show us, c’mon”

“I'm not above punching you, Tammy Anderson.” Gigi felt in her bones that Ginger meant it and stepped up, trying to gently pry the girls apart in their toe-to-toe verbal sparring just as Elvis issued out of the bedroom clad in a deliciously slouchy baby blue version of the black tracksuit he’d been wearing when they arrived. He looked so soft with his hair drying in tufts and his sideburns too, and the vast expanse of his chest the only cuddly looking thing in this frigid house. The soft tracksuit pants also conformed to every ripple of his steps and jiggle of his obviously unconfined package that was still faintly chubby and Gigi ogles him like he’s the display lollipops in an Ice Cream truck window.

“We have a connection!” Ginger is still protesting to the unfeeling jury that is Tammy’s gum smacking smirk. “A real, soulful connection–”

“–yeah, yeah sure cause reading books on crystals downstairs is a real connection.”

“–you aren’t here for it! you don’t know! We have a soul connection!”

“You sound like you’re talkin’ about someone’s grandpa.” Tammy wheezes, “Like, that’s exactly what some gal who don’t wanna give out talks about, like he’s some ancient little granddaddy and you read him shit while he’s in his rocker–”

“You bi–”

“–because getting treated like a nursing home inmate when he’s in the prime of life has sure gotta help that connection. Lord I’m shocked he hasn’t eloped with you yet, a real keeper.”

Gigi sees Elvis scan the surroundings judiciously before anyone notices he’s entered the main rooms again, clocking everyone’s position and attitude and when they lock eyes over the feuding gal’s heads she can’t help the compulsion she feels to lighten his mood, erase the furrow between his brows. She rolls her eyes over their drama and watches those pillowy cherub lips quirk up in reply.

“I dare you to try to handle what I’ve had to handle with his mood swings and his temper and getting goddamn shot at! I dare ya–”

“Maybe you should take an interest in shootin’ his guns, maybe he won’t point ‘em at you then.” Tammy suggests, “Gigi here’s a pretty good shot, actually. Grew up on her daddy’s big farm.”

Elvis is still smirking at her and she wonders if he is like her, only tiny portions of the conversation actually making it all the way into her ears, too preoccupied with things unsaid to be of any use for public conversation. Watching him walk across the room is only worse, the atmosphere changing as he passes, despite his casual demeanor and bulk he moves with a shocking amount of grace and poise –more than Gigi’s ever noticed another man carry.

“Would y’all like some refreshments?” Mary’s butting into the little squabble with a tray from the kitchen laden with poured up sodas and sweet teas as if anyone needs refreshing in this ice box of a house.

“Cherry Coke? Are you kidding me right now?” Ginger’s voice finally pitches up to near hysteric levels and Mrs. Alden grabs the half empty bottle off the tray to inspect the ingredients as if it’ll give her a recipe for dealing with freckled homewreckers.

“I-I-I didn’t choose it.” Gigi whimpers under Mrs. Alden’s glare, feeling compelled to defend herself under the withering derision.

“Mister Elvis stocked the fridge with ‘em jus’ for her visit.” Mary confirms helpfully with a beaming smile and if Mrs. Alden could turn any more ashen under her pancake makeup than she already is, she’d be positively ghastly.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s out!” Ginger suddenly hisses to her mom, catching sight of what Gigi’s been making bambi eyes at for over three minutes already. It’s amazing how efficiently the ladies put on a mask of decorum for Elvis’ benefit, all simpering smiles and polite acceptance of the drinks. Except in the criss-crossing of arms and the passive aggressive pinching of fingers around bottles on the tray, somehow the Cherry Coke tips over and spills its contents down the light, pretty patterned front of Gigi’s gauzy sundress.

Cherry-pink nipples, pebbled from the cold shock of a refrigerated christening, suddenly replaces anyone's objections regarding Cherry Coke. It’s obscene those breasts of hers, large and pendulous but curving upwards with obstinate perkiness as if preening hopefully for a compliment, salam-sized areolas emblazoning a landing strip for a tongue to lave… or maybe that’s just Elvis’ perception. Maybe they’re just Coke-soaked titties and he’s a gentleman so he disengages from his chat with Hodge about film selections and comes up, solicitously cooing which makes those nipples–somehow–perk even more.

“Elvis, don–”

“You did that on purpose!”

“No, she didn’t!”

“No, I didn’t! Why would I wanna do that?”

Gigi really has to focus. This was worse than her attention span on homework. “Come on, let’s be nice.” She begs the girls, succeeding in pushing Tammy and Ginger apart just a little, which also gives Elvis a clear path to her. She’s so humiliated at this point that when she sees his determined gait towards her and compassionate face as he eyes her chest that she goes to him like a child with an owie that needs fixing, utterly sure he has the anecdote.

“Oh darlin, s’alright, we’ll get ya sorted with somethin’ else to wear.” He behaves so familiarly as he comes up to her and tucks her into his side that she melts into the gesture, following his lead as he steers her away from prying eyes as she willingly follows, not processing that they’re nearing the foot of the stairs, “You brought somethin’ else to wear?”

“This was it.” She whispers in defeat because it was supposed to be a swim date and she only brought along something beyond a scrap of fabric to wear–despite Tammy’s protests–because she suspected rain and being housebound.

“S’alright little dolly, I’ll get ya covered again,” he says very gravely and it makes her shiver, “modesty is a virtue, darlin, glad to see ya have it naturally.”

She stalls at the foot of the stairs, suddenly realizing his intention is to take her up there. Her cheeks flame red at the implication of both being invited to his private space for God knows what purpose and being invited while his supposed girlfriend is barred from such spaces. Everything in her being longs for it but suddenly there is a nagging, a real fear she’s doing wrong somehow and that if she gave into this, it would taint what oughta be a blissful first time in the arms of a man she’s fantasized about for years. It isn’t fair and she wants to stamp her feet, instead she feels her eyes pooling with tears and her lip wobbling and that ole cry baby nickname sure proves its mettle as she drags her feet and makes him pause right before the first step.

“Elvis this isn’t–I’m not comfortable with this–I wanna but–” she stares miserably up at the portrait of a young, golden haired version of himself on the landing and vaguely wonders if his sons would look like that, if anyone were to give him one.

“Oh, naw, naw don’t cry lil one, tell me what’s wrong?” his hands flutter over the outline of her shoulders as if he’s unsure if his touch is welcome. She wants to glue them onto her body but instead she glances back at the crowd behind them that aren’t even bothering to act preoccupied. Elvis gets the message loud and clear. “Aww I see,” he mutters, “let’s step right in here then, fix ya up with somethin’ at least. Won’t be nice and girlish like intended,” he sounds like he’s moping a bit but he leads her towards the room he went into to change into his tracksuit, sidestepping their onlookers, “but it’ll keep ya cozy. And ya won’t have to go to no bachelors room alone, keep ya reputation all clean.” He loads Gigi’s clouded concerns with heavy amounts of motivation and moralisms she’s never even considered but she doesn’t care as she savors the feel of his hand on her waist, guiding her to a lavender-shaded room.

On the purple quilt of the solitary bed lies a rumpled tracksuit jacket, the one he’d been wearing when they first arrived and Gigi seizes it lovingly, like a child might a long lost stuffy, holding it to her nose and smelling it. To her relief it’s every bit as musky as she hoped. Maybe that way she can be surrounded by him without making an absolute fool of herself. Elvis watches her bury her tear stained face in his old jacket and has to heave in a breath to steady himself. There’s something akin to the adoring fan about Gigi that unsettles him but coupled with that unique irreverence she showed him in the pool, he could craft something here, from this young girl, something that would fill the slot he needs filled so badly.

She might as well be a child, his own Yisa, her eyes are so vulnerable when she raises her head and meets his, jacket still clutched to her chin.

“Ya can wear it.” He affirms, helpless in the face of it, addicted to the beaming smile that catches and spreads across her face like wildfire at his permission, despite the watery red rimmed evidence of her turmoil. “Use it, put it on, that’s right, be all right. That’s a good girl.” He cups her freckled cheek, making sure to keep his fat gut far away from her and she burrows into his palm again, hungry for touch and he remembers now that her so-called parents are cold fucks who don’t care about the fact their daughter is alone in a room with him. Maybe if they did she would be more carefree. “You scared of me, lil one?” he asks gently, thumbing at a dappled cheekbone and swiping down to those plush lips he wants to acquaint with his own. All in due time. For now, “You scared of me?”

“No sir!” She gasps, terribly pressed to make him understand her conflicting emotions, “I just worry–Ginger! We shouldn’t be–not if she–I don’t know.” She trails off and is back to crying again and it affects him strongly, far more than female tears usually do.

“Listen to me, baby girl,” he tilts her chin up to his face solemnly, his tone and commanding the utmost respect and she listens reverently. “This is my house; I can do as I please in it, and so can my guests. Now, some folks don’t wanna be my guests ‘till they sniff a competitor. What you and I got lil one, it’s pure and it’s good, ya feel it baby?” And Gigi did indeed feel him run those ring clad fingers over her face like a hypnotist, mapping out each feature and dragging her eyelids shut momentarily. She didn’t know what she felt except for starving hunger and utter surrender. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with our connections, and we ain’t gonna let the world tell us otherwise, are we, darlin’?”

Gigi felt his fingers trailing over her lips, pulling the blush bottom one away from her teeth before trailing further down, back to her chin, releasing it with a wet pop. She sucked in a noisy breath and whimpered in her exhale.

“Tell me ya feel it, come on sugar, if ya feel it, let ya daddy know.”

Gigi would have blamed some substance laced into her drink for the way her body reels like a mind controlled little mouse, except that she was wearing said drink and she could recognize what he was doing but was powerless to argue against it. He could have asked for her help to bury a body at this moment and she would have complied. She had long been prepared to be accepted and wanted for being smart, she had no equipping for how to navigate or negotiate with an established man who found her desirable. It sent her reeling. It set her alight.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm, whas’ tha’?” he coos, his hand sliding to her throat and squeezing a little.

“I -I feel it, sir. Elvis, I, I feel you.” Gigi gasps, tilting towards him only to find him withdrawing now he has her. Playing at cat and mouse when all she wishes for is to be a willing sacrifice, laid out for a hungry god to devour. “Please I feel you!” she pleads, trying to regain him but something has switched in him, he is confident and commanding–and a little cold as he steps back.

“That’s a good girl.” He commends and she shudders again. “You get dressed, then come on out and I wanna see ya wide eyed and bushy tailed for some fun. Ain’t gonna let the bastards ruin our day, are we?”

“No sir!–I mean, yes sir, to–to the first part–” Gosh, she’s adorable and her breasts are huge and ought to be held.

First things first, he’s gotta kick some asses. He tries to put on his most kindly face before backing out of the room and shutting the door fully again to give her privacy. When he turns around, it’s like the Spanish Inquisition in his own living room.

“E’eryone currently in this house,” Elvis speaks low and measured when he is in the midst of them, his index finger pointing to the hollowed foundations of his home, “is here at my pleasure and ‘cause I invited ‘em to create a lil fun. Anyone who ain’t willin’ or able to aid in that endeavor needs to go right now. I mean it. I don’t want no bullshit today, gonna deal with schedules and tour dates and all that bullshit another time. I want some fun. That’s all I’m askin’ for, e’ryone’s actin’like it’s hard as hell to have a good time. It ain’t. Just don’t be bitches. That goes for men and women.”

And with this admonition, having said his piece and politely ignored the inflammatory presence of the young lady currently stripping out of her soda soaked dress and donning the silky material of his tracksuit jacket.

“Charlie, Ricky,” he addresses them, “one o’vya go an’ grab some tapes, bring ‘em up here and we’ll have a vote on what movie we’re gonna watch.”

Ricky bounds out of sight and down to the basement with an alacrity that Elvis feels proves he has something to make amends for. With this brief interlude of quiet, Elvis sits himself down in his chair and enjoys a bout of smirking eye contact with Mrs. Alden that leaves the estimable lady shaking in an impotent rage across from him, so much so her vibrations rattle the opulent necklace around her neck. One he happens to have bought for her.

Next girl he tries his luck with will be motherless. Or nearly. He’s had it with courtin’ the family and not getting shit thanks in return for it. Well, that ain’t fully true, Linda’s people are good people. He’s reminded of that as Sam sits down next to him and asks if Elvis wants him to run to get some more refreshments. Ice cream, he suggests, and Elvis would have voiced his approbation of the idea if Ricky had not landed back in the room with a hamper full of film reels at the same moment the opposite door opens and out comes Gigi.

Elvis underestimated the length of those legs of hers. His tracksuit jacket just barely covers what he prays to God are swim panties under that thing. As is, there’s miles of track-sculpted and sun-caressed stems on display and they go on and on, all the way down to the pretty little footsies with the French-tip pedicures and–God help him, before this he never noticed the anklet. Suddenly it’s all he can see, that dainty gold chain encircling her delicate bones and graceful sinews the way his hand oughta be if there was any justice left in the world. When he tears his eyes away from the sight all he’s left with is the sight of her, freshly pool scrubbed and clean wearing just his jacket. Or to all appearances, just his jacket.

“That poor girl was cussing me out and praying I die the other night.” Tammy’s voice shakes him, she’s gotten so near without him noticing, lost as he watches Gigi pour over the selections of movies Ricky brought up. With the way she’s bending over he can only be grateful that she’s got her ass facing a wall and her front zipper fully zipped to the chin. Otherwise Ricky would be dead for having such prime seating.

“Not that lil innocent baby.” He disagrees, sure of it even though Tammy seems to be warming up to a business pitch.

“Oh yes she was!” Tammy Anderson insists, “Praying mighty hard for my downfall and in turn askin’ that a ‘daddy’ somebody would ‘give it to her’ good.” She sips noisily on her straw while leaving Elvis to aspirate on his spit.

“Bless me.” he mutters while patting down his pants for a cigar, unable to take his eyes off both Gigi and Sam–the latter to make sure he’s at a good enough distance not to hear this.

“The problem was,” Tammy goes on serenely, “at least as far as I can make it out, the problem was she thought I was getting to stay the night with her childhood hero while she got sent home like a little girl.”

“She is a little girl.”

“Is she though?” Tammy scrunches her nose and Elvis is reminded why he’s not going after this one. Too worldly wise for her own good. “Or just enough?” she adds in a way that makes his cheeks burn.

“I don’t need you helpin’ me feel like a dirty ole man when I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve it, Tammy Anderson. You mind your own garden.”

“Damnation, you’re such a gentleman, Elvis!” she laughs loudly which attracts a glare from Ginger for it, “Using all those lofty metaphors while shamin’ me at the same time. Hell of a talent ya got there, ole man.”

“Tammy, I like you,” Elvis begins gravely and Tammy straightens her spine and her mouth trembles with suppressed mirth which attracts even Gigi’s attention from the far corner, “but I like you from a distance. Don’t tempt me to make that distance a hell of a lot greater, you hard up bleached thicket lil hussy.”

Tammy’s eyes go wide and for a minute it seems she struggles to breathe till peal after peal of raucous laughter greets his cutting remark the way it was intended. She’s pretty when she smiles, Elvis can admit, damn dazzlin’ in the bright white of day but it’s like a shark. His eyes drift back to the bambi his heart is set on and watches with a growing frown as she and Ricky tug at one of the films, neither seeming ready to relinquish it.

“What’s goin on?” Elvis demands in a booming voice that can carry to the far reaches of a stadium and is downright deafening in the closed spaces of his home.

Everyone freezes at it and Gigi looks like she’s just seen God on Mount Sinai from his tone alone, so Elvis endeavors to clear his frown and gestures for Charlie to sort it out. By it he means Ricky. The hell is the kid thinkin’?–Playin’ tug o' war with his damn films? And with a guest! His guest!

No sooner does Charlie walk over to the two young folks before suddenly they are allies, when Gigi relinquishes it to Ricky in her moment of fear, Ricky dodges Hodge and when Hodge pursues, Gigi makes a waving motion behind ole Charlie’s back:

“Ricky, Ricky give it here!” Gigi hollers, hands up and body elongated to catch the boxed-up reel like a football at the end zone. The move flashes a peek of white swimsuit bottoms underneath the inadequate jacket. Elvis groans around his as yet unlit cigar. He’s still ineffectually patting his pockets for a light when Gigi makes the catch and for that split second she’s holding it, Elvis gets a glimpse of the slipcover. And of all the movies she coulda gotten her hands on-

Elvis is up and rushing at her before he can even think about what he’s prepared to do, how far he’ll push this, the only thing he can think of besides the acres of honey toned skin caressed by his jacket, is that sweet little baby Gigi is holding his copy of Deepthroat.

“Lil girl!” he growls at her and the way her eyes fly wide as saucers makes him think she’s actually terrified of him right before she breaks into a grin and spins on her heel, headed out the room on those track hardened legs.

He chases, ‘cause of course–what else was there to do?

“Lil girl, you give that here!” he feels the disadvantages of his bulk in this hot pursuit but it’s been awhile since the last tour and his knees have recovered in the time off and it ain’t so bad, he’s still flexible and he’s still got stamina for all that his joints feel like they got hot coals in them most times. Every painful jog is worth it for the happy shrieks she lets out as he lumbers behind her, intent on a takedown.

She’s barely gotten to the foyer and stalls for a brief moment to contemplate taking sanctuary in the kitchen or music room when suddenly she feels the jolting contact of his hands on her waist. It’s fast and grabbing and not a light touch, she’s being gripped and tugged and squeezed by those large, hot, unyielding hands before being spun and tackled to the ground.

Soft carpet and his hand cradles her head, keeping the landing from being too harsh. But even if she’d snapped her neck, Gigi would still be acutely conscious of the feel of him, all of him, so much of him, thrumming with such potent aliveness atop her that she feels herself catch fire at it, her own pulse syncing with his, heightened instantly. It’s brief, horribly brief, that instant of complete contact with his entire weight smothering her, but it’s intoxicating for life. He’s sweaty, even in this freezing house and after so little exertion, he’s sweaty and warm and he smells both so wonderfully clean and manly at the same time she wants to moan. Maybe she does, she isn’t sure, all she knows is that she does fuss, like a clingy baby, she fusses at the way he immediately props his top half up and away from her.

It makes him pause.

Unable to express anything right now except that she will be heartbroken if he pulls away, that it would be worse than those stupid little love pats Ginger gives him if he acts cold now that she’s felt his warmth, felt what he can offer her. Shelter, stability, satisfaction.

She takes advantage of his pause to wrap her legs up and around his hips, caging him in, defiantly attached.

“Don’t leave me now.” She begs softly, unable to keep up with the game of it all. If she wanted that uncertainty she could just go home.

“Oh, Gigi.” He whispers, sounding almost heartbroken, seeing in her vulnerable eyes and clingy neediness a glimpse of his old self.

Flashes of memories and rejections flood his mind, dashing home from school to find she moved, dashing back from tour to find her dancing with another man, invited back to her place just to get shoved into a glass coffee table and breaking the thing with his poor back, finding her fuckin’ the man he paid to teach her how to defend herself… he’s tired, but he remembers how it used to feel, how it used to nearly strangle him, all that youthful hope.

The film reel slips from her nerveless hand, no longer the subject of interest anymore, and she brings it to his face instead, stroking his cheek with all the lingering fondness of someone who wouldn’t rather do anything else at this moment. Elvis wishes he had such restraint, his breath puffs heavily as he tries to keep it contained and not gasp and huff atop her like some lumbering oaf, trying to keep his fat gut up away from the beauteous length of her, but she winds her arms about his neck and tugs him down despite his playful protests and stiff necked obstinance.

If she wants a kiss, she can fight for it, same as the girls at his concerts.

She can feel him slowly bending to her will, hunched over her in an attempt to keep from smothering her and she isn’t having it. She’s not a small or frail little thing, she’s an athlete and she uses it to her advantage, interlocking her legs around his waist and registering with searing satisfaction that his interest for her is dangling heavy and drippy in the silky hammock of his tracksuit pants.

Her sharp smile could rival Tammy’s at this confirmation and with a pounding heart Gigi cranes her head off the carpet and leans, closer and closer to him till her eyes go cross eyed focusing on the cupid's bow of his pouty lips and she can feel the hot puff of his breaths on her lips and–

–the rascal ducks his head to the side at the last minute and burrows that marshmallow mouth in her neck before blowing raspberries into the ticklish skin there.

As if his sending her home, his coddling of her in the pool and his distance in the bedroom had not made her feel like an absolute child, this last bit truly did. To the point where the endearing aspect of his blowing on her neck was lost in the heartbreaking need for assurance. Bucking and writhing beneath his tickles she gasped and begged and thrashed while never once letting go of her hold on his hips with her legs, keeping him near, his belly heavy and solid on top of her butterfly-filled one.

“Darlin’, stop buckin’ like that, ain’t decent.” He took a break from this torture to remonstrate as if he wasn’t to blame.

“Then kiss me.” She breathes out a challenge.

Now it happened that around this time, Jerry Schilling found himself free of commitments to Brian and his Beach Boys and, finding himself in Memphis, decided to call on an old friend and benefactor. Despite what his boss often insisted, Jerry was not an idiot, and so as he opened the front door to Graceland on this gloomy and sticky summer day he came equipped for any and all moods–his muscular arms bulging out of his thin t-shirt under the strain of carrying numerous, loaded bags of steaming Barbecue from Elvis’ favorite local pit.

Jerry Schilling had walked in on many a scene in the course of his run with Elvis Presley, temper tantrums and ecstatic jubilees and the unforgettable instance where a certain chimp was beating off against a poor gals shin much to the drunk audience’s amusement, the air thick with hooting and hollering and cigar smoke–and female shame.

But nothing, nothing had been quite as bizarre as what he saw this day when stepping into the foyer ready for anything–or so he thought. What he didn’t prepare for was the sight of his usually rather decorous boss laying atop a leggy young thing, grappling and necking her like a teenager, and getting it back in spades, which was a little more shocking considering his recent state. Whoever was under him was a moaner and more surprising still was the fact Elvis wasn’t shutting her up, or even getting up off the floor since–and here’s where it got bizarre–they weren’t remotely alone in the place. Or even the room.

Although, unlike that ill fated and depraved chimp, the two horndogs swapping spit on the floor don’t have much of a captivated audience, though Jerry bets they were captivated or at least attentive to the floor shenanigans at one point. That was before the fighting and clawing and kicking and scratching and screaming and–holy shit, Ginger and a bleach blonde are clawing at each other like they’re in for blood, Mrs. Alden beating the gal with her purse in defense of her daughter while Dodger smokes her pipe on the couch keeping Mr. Alden captive by her side with a death glare through the smokey haze of tobacco. Sam Thompson remains wringing his mouth, standing unsure beside Charlie and Ricky who can’t seem to believe what’s going on down on the foyer floor at Jerry’s feet.

It would seem Ginger’s out, and Miss Leggy is in. And Jerry suddenly feels the weight of the barbecue and the whole world pulling on his shoulders as he goes to aid Rosemary in pulling the girls apart, figuring that’s probably the one thing he can do here and not get his head bitten off by Elvis for it.

It’s easier said than done what with Mrs Alden’s purse pummeling the blonde, Ginger’s last vestiges of despairing pain and the blonde’s shockingly strong core when he grabs her from the back and tries to haul her up and away. Blondie kicks at Ginger’s face one last time and succeeds at landing a blow to the nose by the time Jerry staggers back with her somewhat restrained, feeling like he’s cradling a mountain lion to his chest. She’s shredding his forearms with her acrylics and, unsatisfied with the bloody damage she’s done, this little hottie grabs at the bags still hanging from his arms and begins to throw sticky, juicy, red globs of smoked meat at her grade school nesmises.

“Let me at her, ya goddamn sunnuvabitch!” Tammy screams, head butting him to try to make him let her go–and Jerry finds himself feeling a little funny, like the feeling his folks told him to look for when ‘the one’ wandered into his life looking like sunshine and smelling like a spring day washline and holding daisies. Except that ‘the one’ is a dangerous bottle blonde with a foul mouth and his skin cells under her fingernails.

God moves in mysterious ways.

Speaking of, no sooner has he gripped this chick right enough to preserve some flesh on his arm when he hears Elvis voice booming:

“Enough with the goddamn food! For fucks sake, Tammy! Enough! Ginger put that down or so help me–”

Everyone may want to kill each other in this room but no one, absolutely no one, wants to see Elvis grab a gun. And so, just like that, utter quiet and peace is restored.

He looks quite impressive for a man in a tented tracksuit and ruffled hair, a man who just got off the floor with a grunt and creak of his knees, no doubt. But that don’t matter now, none of those human things apply when The King is pissed. And holy shit, Jerry thinks he’s rarely seen him so angry–it’s that chilly blue suppressed sorta fury that freaks the boys out more than the hotel room trashing fits of red rage.

“Jerrah, the hell’s goin’ on throwin’ food in ma house?”

Jerry looks down at the blonde in his arms and his shredded forearms hoping Elvis will maybe take pity. Unlikely. And so he man’s up with, “Sorry boss, so sorry, we’ll get it cleaned up ‘fore ya know it-“

“Goddamn right y’all will.” Elvis seethes and Jerry sees the pretty young thing he had under him shrink behind him in the foyer at this glimpse of his wrath. As if sensing her movement with those eyes in the back of his head that only Elvis Presley seems blessed with, the boss man pulls himself together with all the haughty showmanship that only he can possess and holds his finger up as if to freeze everyone in their current position before turning around to his little sweetie.

“Baby girl, I want you to go outside an’ get in the passenger seat of the Stutz, a’right?” Elvis directs and underlying it is the explanation that the ugly work of throwing out her predecessor ain’t for her pretty eyes to witness or sweet lil ears to hear. “Lamar’s probably still eatin’ in the kitchen, ya can get the keys from him.”

A whimper sounds from behind him, and it’s Ginger’s. The genuine pain of the sound makes Gigi waiver, a pained look of sympathy and torn intentions flashing across her face. Then his ringed hand cups her fresh young cheek and it seals her fate, submissive as a lamb she melts into that touch, and her eyes drift back to his. They’re so sure, those burning sapphire eyes of his, so sure of where her future is and so intense in their intention for it. Someone who looks so beautiful can’t be as cruel as he feels capable of, surely? Surely.

Jerry watches Gigi’s bare feet patter to the kitchen, looking like a kid shuffling to time out in their dad’s jacket. He can’t think on it for too long because as soon as Elvis hears the suction of the back door opening and closing he turns around to the mosh pit that his living room had become.

“When I get back,” he's addressing those of his boys present–they know he is– and Jerry considers himself one of them still, “I expect this mess,” he gesticulates to the spattered food and his once intended in-laws with a single, bejeweled, disdainful finger, “tidied up.”

It’s not until he too has disappeared out back amidst deathly quiet in the living room that Jerry realizes he’s still holding Tammy Anderson. Not that he can think on it for long. Not when he has a PR nightmare sized mess to clean up.

Hopefully Elvis’s drive is worth it.

Taglist: (let me know if you’d like to be added)

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@kxnnxy

@kingdomforapony

@be-my-ally

@crazymadpassionatelove

@that-hotdog

@missmaywemeetagain

@fallinlovewithurlove

@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

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yoonavii · 11 months

Text

Love confession

Pairing: sanji x F! reader One shot

word count: 1k

Description: Y/n confesses her feelings to sanji

A/n: Requests are open!!

Late at night on the Thousand Sunny, you find yourself seeking solace in the company of your crewmate Robin. The two of you have always had a special bond, with Robin taking on the role of a caring and wise older sister figure in your life. Tonight, as you sit together in a cozy corner of the ship, you decide to open up to her about a pressing matter.

“Robin, can I talk to you about something?” you asked “It's been on my mind for a while now.” Robin smiled “Y/n...You know you can always confide in me.” She says to you softly “What's troubling you?”

“Well, it's about Sanji. I'm well aware of how he flirts with and chases after women all the time. But the thing is... I can't help it. I've developed feelings for him. It's confusing, and I don't know what to do.” Robin lets out a lighthearted giggle as she then holds onto your arm “Oh y/n, that's quite adorable. It seems Cupid has paid you a visit, hasn't he?”

The sudden feeling of warmth rushed to your cheeks as she spoke “Yeah, I suppose so. But I can't help feeling silly about it, considering how he behaves around other women.” She hums “although that may be true, there's nothing wrong with your feelings. Love and attraction can be complex and unpredictable. Sanji's flirtatious nature doesn't diminish the sincerity of your emotions.” her hand slides down yours and holds them “what i think you should do is to Talk to Sanji about how you feel, and see where it leads. You never know what might happen.”

Feeling reassured by Robin’s advice, you leave the conversation with newfound determination. The moonlight dances on the ship’s deck, as if mirroring the spark of hope within your heart. You’re ready to face your feelings and embark on a journey of honesty and vulnerability, trusting that the winds of fate will guide you toward the destination of love.

Moments later, you find Sanji in the kitchen, diligently preparing a delectable dessert for the entire crew. Your heart races with nervous anticipation, but you gather your courage and approach him with a request. “Sanji, can we talk for a moment?” Sanji turns to

look at you with a smile as he then stopped his cooking progress. “Of course, my dear. Anything for you. Let's have a seat at the table.” As you both then settle down, facing each other, you take a deep breath, ready to pour your heart out to him “Sanji, there's something I've been wanting to tell you... It's not easy for me to say, but... I've developed feelings for you. Despite your flirtatious nature, I find myself drawn to your kindness, your cooking, and everything that makes you who you are. Sanji listens attentively, his eyes fixed on yours as you bare your heart to him. There's a gentle warmth in his gaze, and his hands reach out, encompassing both of yours.

“Y/n…” he says softly, voice smooth like silk “I've noticed how your smile brightens even the darkest days, how your laughter fills the air with joy. From the moment we met, you've captured my heart in a way no one else has. Your kindness, your spirit... they've bewitched me. His words resonate deeply within you, making your heart practically skip a beat.

“I've spent so much time searching for the perfect ingredients to create exquisite dishes, hoping to bring happiness to others. But now, with you by my side, I realize that the most important ingredient was always missing—love.” His silky voice carries a genuine sincerity that sends shivers down your spine. You feel a surge of warmth coursing through your veins as you realize the depth of his feelings. He likes you, and wants to be with you. With a radiant smile, Sanji gently pulls you into his embrace. It feels like the start of a beautiful chapter in your lives, one filled with shared dreams, unyielding passion, and a love that will endure even the fiercest storms. As you and Sanji continue to bask in the euphoria of your newfound love, a sudden interruption shatters the moment. Zoro, with his usual lack of spatial awareness, stumbles into the kitchen, catching sight of the intimate scene before him.

Zoro raises a brow “Uh...am I interrupting something?”

Sanji's expression darkens, a mix of annoyance and protectiveness washing over him. He quickly releases you from his embrace and steps forward, ready to engage in a heated argument with Zoro. “Damn it, swordsman!” He growled, clutching his fist “Can't you see we were having a private moment here? Learn to knock!” He shrugs nonchalantly, not caring as usual. “I thought I smelled a cooking disaster. Didn't expect it to be a romantic one.

You couldn't help but laugh. Their exchanges were always entertaining to You.” Oh Zoro, I swear you have the worst timing!” Your laughter fills the air, diffusing the tension between the two feuding crewmates. “Hmph! Well, I'll leave you lovebirds to your mushy moments. Just remember, keep the sappiness away from my swords.”

Sanji frowns, crossing his arms “Tch! Mind your own business, mosshead!”

As Zoro exits the kitchen, the lingering traces of the argument dissipate, replaced by shared amusement and an even stronger bond between you and Sanji. You find solace in the fact that even in the most unexpected situations, laughter and love prevail. “Don’t worry about him. What we should worry about though, is the whip cream on the deserts. It’s starting to melt quite a bit” looking over at the deserts, Sanji adjusts his sleeves and quickly goes over to pick them up “you’re right. Do you mind assisting me with it my love?”

“Why of course.”

With lovely smiles, you and Sanji leave the kitchen with the desserts, the echoes of the laughter you both share, mingling with the promises of a future filled with love, passion, and the indomitable spirit of the Straw Hat Pirates.

#sanji headcanons #sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke #sanji vinsmoke headcaonons #straw hat sanji #sanji one piece #sanji one shots #one piece x black!reader #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #one piece x you #sanji x you #sanji onshot #one piece oneshots #op headcanons #op hcs #op x reader

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gay-otlc · 2 years

Text

Transmasc Lesbianism

I'm a lesbian. I'm also a straight trans man. This might confuse you, but you may want to consider looking at perspectives of gender and sexuality that differ from your own and don't fit into neat little boxes.

A definition of lesbian that has been gaining popularity in queer spaces is "non men loving non men." This was meant to be inclusive for nonbinary lesbians, as an alternative to "women loving women." However, the phrase is very flawed. I've spoken about this elsewhere, but the main points are

It categorizes all nonbinary people alongside women. In this context, "non-men" comes off as "women or nonbinary people who are basically women." Not all nonbinary people, even if they're non-men will feel comfortable being labeled as a lesbian, since the term has feminine connotations and can cause dysphoria. It's unfair to put them in this box just because they're not a man.

Attraction is complex and cannot be divided into "attracted to men" and "not attracted to men." This disregards people who use the split attraction model (different romantic and sexual orientations), people who experience alterous attraction, people with fluid sexualities, and more.

Gender is complex and cannot be divided into "male" and "all genders that are not male." The identity most blatantly erased by this is multigender identities- people with multiple genders can be both male and a gender that is not male. There are also genderfluid people who are sometimes male, demigender people who are partially male, or nonbinary people who don't identify as male but may refer to themselves with masculine terms such as boy or man anyway.

The focus of lesbianism should not be excluding men. Mindsets like this are echoing TERF rhetoric that seeks to exclude transfeminine lesbians because TERFs wrongly consider them to be men. And it's annoying to make our identity about men or lack thereof, when we don't need to be talking about men at all- our community is about our shared attraction for women, because women are great!

Awesome, we've got that out of the way. If you're still reading this and going "but you can't be a trans man and a lesbian, lesbian means non men loving non men!!!!!", then I don't know what to tell you. Read the list again? Go through the other posts linked? Maybe log off tumblr?

If you read all that and you're willing to accept that not all lesbians will fit into "non men loving non men," and you don't understand but you're open to learn, read on! By the end you might still not understand, but you don't need to understand me to respect me.

For some context, here is a description of my gender and sexuality.

Gender: I'm a bigender trans man. To put it as simply as I can, my gender is primarily male, but I also have some of the female gender. I'm comfortable being seen as solely a man or both a man and a woman, but not solely a woman.

Sexuality: I'm sexually attracted to women almost exclusively. As mentioned at the beginning of the post, I describe myself as a lesbian (or gay, sapphic, etc). I also describe myself as a straight man (or straight transmasc, transhet, etc).

How can I be both?

That's where my multigender identity comes into play. I'm a man and a woman. I'm attracted to women. This makes me both a man attracted to women and a woman attracted to women; a straight man and a lesbian.

Like I said earlier, male is my primary gender and being female is more secondary. So, I'm primarily a man attracted to women, and to a lesser extent a woman attracted to women. Internally, I perceive myself as more of a straight man than a lesbian. I get a lot of gender euphoria from calling myself a straight man, and the feminine connotations of lesbian can sometimes make me uncomfortable.

So, why do I still identify as a lesbian?

Although I consider myself and my attraction to be mostly transhet, that's not really how I interact with the world around me. I'm out as bigender to some people, but I'm also closeted in many contexts, and I don't pass very well even where I am out. This means I navigate my life as someone generally perceived as a woman, who is attracted to women. Even if I don't always consider myself to fit fully with lesbianism, a majority of people will interpret me that way when they find out I'm attracted to women.

Lesbianism is a label I found my home in, for many years, and it still means a lot to me. I spent a long time defining myself as a lesbian and existing in our community, and it's a significant part of my identity.

The way I experienced my attraction growing up was a lesbian experience, not a straight experience. I consider myself a straight man now, but I didn't grow up interacting with the world as a heterosexual child. I was expected to have crushes on boys and was mocked for not fitting into that. I was called a lesbian in a derogatory way when I was ten, and I found power in reclaiming that. When I realized I was attracted to women, I spent years feeling like a freak for it until lesbians communities helped me to be proud. Lesbian is the label that most accurately describes my history and my experience as a young queer.

Also, although the label lesbian sometimes causes dysphoria, I sometimes get euphoria from referring to myself or being referred to as a lesbian. I especially get euphoria from being a butch lesbian. I take so much joy from my butch identity. And while referring to myself as lesbian in a joking manner, with phrases like "I'm so gay for her" or "not to be a lesbian but oh my god," might not count as gender euphoria, saying them makes me happy, and that's enough for me.

So, why do I identify as a man? Because I am one.

Why do I identify as a lesbian? Because it describes my past experience and the way I interact with the world as someone perceived as a woman. Because it's important to me. Because I want to.

Why do I use these labels that contradict each other? Because these are the labels that are right for me, and I have every right to have a confusing identity.

Thank you for your time.

#holy shit this is a long post #i'm so sorry if you actually read all that. i don't know when to shut up </2 #lesbian #men and non men #transmasc lesbian #male lesbian #transhet lesbian #bigender lesbian #multigender lesbian #bigender #multigender #transmultiphobia #<- because it is transmultiphobic to be an ass to me about my identity #gender shit #pride tag #important #so many tags jfk #i will shut up now

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tswaney17 · 2 months

Text

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 46

Sorry all, the last week got a way from me. But here is the next part of IDBTWY as we count down to the finish. Can't believe we're almost there. 🥺🌸💙

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW (minor descriptions)

Word Count: 5,177

It had been a long day and it was only noon. Elain leaned against the nurse’s station, swigging from her water bottle. She already attended three surgical consultations, two patients who required stitches, one who needed theirs removed, and a laceration of an abscess.

The work wasn’t hard, but at six months pregnant, the almost five hours on her feet were putting her through it. She knew her ankles were swollen, and even with Azriel’s daily foot massages, the swelling wasn’t going anywhere until after the birth of the twins.

If she were being honest with herself, Elain was predicting her OBGYN to advise her on beginning her maternity leave early, rather than waiting till the week before her due date, which was the last thing she wanted. Elain loved her job, even if it made her sore and achy by day’s end. She wasn’t quite ready to go on leave just yet. But the swelling was concerning and she knew her blood pressure was up higher than it should be, so she was likely going to be left with no choice in the matter.

Setting her water bottle down, she grabbed the iPad, checking the charts for her next patient when she heard Fenrys calling her name. Elain glanced up to see the golden twin jogging over to her, two police officers following behind with Connall.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she made her way over to her security detail. “Fen, what’s going on?” she asked once he reached her.

“They’re here to talk to you. They have a few questions for you.”

That surprised her. Eyes widening, Elain realized one was the same man from the bank robbery nearly two years prior. And if the way he was watching her, she knew he recognized her as well. “They didn’t say what they wanted?”

Fen shook his head. “No, said it was confidential.”

She pursed her lips. “We’ll see about that.” Elain stepped around her security detail, approaching the two officers. “Hello, can I help you?”

The one she recognized stepped forward. “Miss Archeron, can we have a word in private? We have some questions to ask you.”

“It’s Mrs. Archeron-Knight, but I’m sure you knew that,” she corrected, a warning in her tone to not make that mistake again. Motioning for them to follow, she led them to the employee break area, shutting the door behind them.

Both officers looked at the two men standing behind her warily. “This may be better off in private,” the younger one said. He looked even younger than her, maybe mid-twenties if she had to guess, and most likely fresh out of the academy.

But Elain waved off their concern. “Fenrys and Connall have signed non-disclosure agreements with my husband and are my protection detail. Whatever you have to say can be said in front of them.” A pillar of force, those two were. She could feel the intensity they radiated, dedicated to her safety as they stayed close to her backside, guarding her even if it was from the police.

The older man shrugged as if whatever he had to say to her wasn’t worth arguing about the privacy of this conversation. “What was your relationship with Elias Hewn?”

The warning bells in her head sounded and she felt both of the twins tense behind her because the question sounded more like an accusation about something else. “Excuse me?” she demanded.

“What was your relationship with Elias Hewn,” the fucker repeated like she was deaf and not in utter shock.

“There was no relationship between Elias and myself. He was my husband’s business partner, and now he’s not.”

The younger officer, wrote down her words before asking, “So, you weren’t in a physical relationship with him?”

“What the fuck did you just ask me?” Elain hissed, taking a single step forward before Fenrys’s large hand came down on her shoulder and halted her movements.

The kid looked taken aback by her hostility like he didn’t just accuse her of infidelity. “Apologies, ma’am. We’re just trying to collect all the pieces.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she snarled, growing angrier by the second. How dare they come in here asking such vile questions. Azriel would have a field day once he found out.

The elder officer crossed his arms. “Elias Hewn was found dead by a private investigator a few days ago.”

She stopped in her tracks. He was dead? That was news to her. But Elain has a sinking feeling it wasn’t news to her husband. “How did he die?” she asked instead.

“We’re still determining the cause.”

Lie. Elain could smell the lie on his tongue. They knew exactly how Elias was killed and were just seeing if she’d reveal something to them. “So, why am I being questioned?”

The older officer nodded at his protégé. “We found a connection between Elias Hewn and the teen involved in your car accident a few weeks back. A wire payment transferred through multiple offshore accounts in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars.”

Was the floor moving beneath her feet or was she swaying? Her world tilted throwing her off her axis. Words were being said but she couldn’t hear anything but muffled sounds like she was underwater. Her chest constricted; she couldn’t get in enough air. Was she suffocating?

“Elain,” Fenrys voice broke through the fog. “You need to sit down.” His careful hands guided her into a chair that Connall brought over for her, both twins fluttering around her like two fussing hens.

She was definitely swaying then. Elias paid a teen half a million dollars to kill her and Azriel. She was going to be sick. Her chest grew heavy.

The younger officer stepped forward. “Elain—”

“You do not address her like that,” Connall snapped.

His face turned red, but before he could correct himself, Elain asked, “Where is the teen now?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question.

“He turned up dead a week ago,” the older one replied.

Her heart ached for the boy, not because he was innocent, but because she knew he likely had no choice and was searching for a way out. She sighed heavily, feeling her racing heart slow as she took a few careful, measured breaths. Elain turned over the information in her head, still trying to determine why, exactly, they were here asking her questions. “Why are you here?” she asked, finally looking back up at them.

A pause before the older man gave in. “I know the kind of man you married.” He said it so casually, that her temper flared. “Did he kill Elias Hewn because you were sleeping with him, or because he tried to kill you?”

Elain launched herself from her chair and sent it toppling backward from the force. “Are you asking me to incriminate my husband?”

“Are you willing to protect a murderer while maintaining your oath as a doctor?” he shot back, head cocked in a predatory way. She knew after that first conversation, he had it out for her, but more so for Azriel. He’d be recognized for his work in taking down an organization. That’s all this was for him.

But then she realized why they were here, asking her questions without Az’s presence. Because they had nothing on him and were looking for her to slip up. Elain’s lips turned up at the corner in a menacing grin, something she’d learned from watching her husband work. “You’re here because you have no evidence to back up your wild claims.” She shook her head, laughing to herself. “Let me go ahead and tell you that this conversation is over. And the next time you even dare come to question me, you will have to go through my husband’s team of lawyers first. And if that doesn’t scare you, perhaps tossing in my sister, Nesta Mazaei, will. I know the havoc she wrecks in your cases and she’ll tear you to shreds when she finds out about this.” Elain flicked her chin towards the door. “See yourselves out.”

Connall moved without her asking, flinging the door open to escort them out.

She would be eternally grateful that the Moonbeam twins had her back without question. Through the glass, her eyes found Thesan, watching as the two officers were escorted out of the employee area. His gaze caught hers and then he was moving, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

“Elain…is everything all right?”

No, not really. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Is it okay if I take an hour to run an errand?” she asked instead.

Her boss saw the deflection for what it was but let it slide. “Of course. I’ll have the residents come down for consultations. Take whatever time you need.”

~~~

Twenty minutes later, she was riding up the elevator at Knight Securities to her husband’s private floor, the doors pinging open to announce her arrival. Like a woman on a mission, she strode—okay, she waddled with a purpose—into the lobby area.

“Elain!” Nuala started. “What are you—”

“Is he in his office?” she interrupted, storming past the reception desk.

“Er, yes.”

“In a meeting?”

Keyboard clicks, then, “No. Nothing scheduled till this afternoon.”

She was entering the hallway that led to his closed doors. “Good. Block his calendar for the next hour and ensure nobody enters this floor.” That was all she got through before swinging open the heavy oak door to his office.

Azriel looked up from his desk, surprise dawning on his face. “Elain, love. What are you—”

“Did you kill Elias?” she demanded, stopping in the middle of the room across from his desk and crossing her arms over her heavy breasts.

His mouth dropped open before he caught himself, leaning back in his seat to steeple his fingers. “Yes.”

He said it so casually that she saw red. “What the fuck, Azriel? How could you be so careless?”

Despite her attitude, he kept his composure calm. Azriel never dared to raise his voice at her no matter how mad she got over something. “Careless? No, love. Killing him wasn’t careless. Letting him live after what he did to you, to us, was careless. I should’ve gutted him when our merger ended but I didn’t and look what happened. He went after you. He tried to kill you while you were pregnant.”

“He didn’t know I was pregnant,” she said feebly.

“Do you think that would’ve made a difference? Because I don’t.”

She sighed in frustration, knowing most of her emotions were hormone-driven but was still angry anyway. “We are about to have three children, Azriel. Three! Kaden’s adoption is finalized in a matter of days and the twins will be here before we know it. This life does not bode well for them if we don’t play this smart.”

His face softened at the mention of their children. “I am playing this smart, El. Elias would always be a threat to us, to our kids. He had to be eliminated and now that he has been, it’s over.”

Her fury resurfaced. “Only it’s not over, Azriel. Whatever you did, wherever you tried to dispose of the body didn’t work.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the police came to question me. I mean that they are looking at you and are trying to use me as leverage to point the investigation in your direction.”

That had him rising to his feet. “What did they ask you?” he demanded.

For a second, a split second, she debated whether or not to tell him the truth because she knew it would set him off. But she couldn’t do that to him. They were a team through this even if she wanted to scream when he made decisions like this without consulting her first. “They asked if I was having an affair with Elias, which pushed you over the edge in blinding rage.”

Azriel’s face darkened to a deadly place she had only seen once before. When they were in that warehouse fighting for their lives. “I will fucking rip that police force to shreds,” he growled viciously, storming from around his desk as if he would go there to do just that.

But Elan stepped into his path, forcing him to stop. “Az, look at me.” He did. “I handled the officers. They won’t get to me again without going through the lawyers, but you cannot take the bait. They want a reaction from you. It will help their case. Let it go.”

His temper flared. “I will not let it go!”

She placed a calming hand on his chest. “Please, Az. For me. Let it go.” Elain saw the internal turmoil behind his raging hazel eyes. She knew what strings to pluck to bring him back down when he became this angry. Because right now, the last thing they needed was for him to add to his kill count.

He let out a heavy breath, dropping his forehead to rest on hers. His body shuddered with restraint, his need to defend her overwhelming his every thought. “I’m still furious that they accused you of that,” he murmured, cupping her face between his scarred palms.

Elain twisted her head to kiss the rough, damaged flesh. “I know, I am too. But whatever they want to believe doesn’t matter. We know the truth and they can’t prove otherwise. Besides, we have other things to worry about.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Like what?”

She stepped out of his embrace, aiming for a chair to get off her aching feet. Az was instantly there, hand under her elbow and guiding her into the leather seat. “The police told me that a private investigator found Elias’s body,” she said, giving him a moment to take in her words.

His eyes widened in the realization of what she was hinting at.

“Somebody was looking for him.”

Az swore, running a hand through his thick hair. “It has to be the Illyrian Mob. Nobody else would be searching for him.”

“I’m assuming he didn’t have a wife, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he did and still acted that way.” She leaned back in her seat. “No other family that could have hired somebody?”

His head shook. “No, he pushed his parents away when he followed in his Uncle’s footsteps. And where he was found would’ve only been something that somebody in my…line of work would’ve figured out.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Where did you dispose of his body?”

Hazel eyes bore into hers. “I buried it,” he said matter-of-factly. Well, that wasn’t very unpredictable. “On top of Kier Hewn’s body in his grave.”

Oh. Elain pursed her lips. He was right. A private investigator wouldn’t have looked in a grave unless they were prompted in some way shape or form. And that prompting had to have come from the Illyrians if not Nicklaus or Frankie themselves. She said as much out loud. “Which means—”

“Which means killing Elias may have just started a war with the Illryian Mob,” Az breathed. “Fuck,” he swore, leaning against his desk.

Fear clenched her heart in a vice-like grip, threatening to choke her. “Azriel, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that the Illyrian Mob follows the same morals as you do. That they won’t go after our kids as an act of revenge against you.”

Devastation lined his beautiful face. “I can’t.”

The emotions spilled out of her before she could think about reining them in, tears welling in her doe-eyes. “I can’t let anything happen to them, Az,” she croaked. “Oath be damned, I’ll torture, maim, and kill anyone who comes for our babies.”

He was on his knees in front of her in an instant, hands gripping hers in comfort. “That won’t ever happen, Elain. I promise you that nothing will ever touch our children.” He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing them in the lightest of kisses. A reassurance to her no matter how ineffective. But still a reassurance nonetheless. “I’ll figure something out, Elain. I promise you I will.”

She sniffed, releasing his hand to wipe under her nose. “No offense, Az, but you ‘figuring something out’ is what put us in this spot,” she huffed a laugh. “You once said I was a Mob Queen…perhaps it’s time you start letting me help you make decisions for it too.”

Azriel gazed at her, thumb running along the back of her hand. “I didn’t want this life for you, El,” he said carefully.

Elain released his hands to cup his face, his stubbled skin scratching her palms. “I walked into this relationship—this marriage—with my eyes open, Azriel. There is no part of you I can’t handle. That I don’t love and admire.” She leaned forward to kiss him softly. “You vowed to share your life with me, Az. So, share it. Let me help you wade through your burdens, the messes. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

Tears lined his eyes as he surged forward, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss. “I love you,” he breathed against her lips, the words sending sparks cascading down her spine until they found a home in the depths of her soul.

Oh, how his words made her burn. His touch could set her on fire, but nothing could compare to how his words branded her very being, marking themselves into her essence so she lived and breathed him.

Just as their kiss turned deeper, more passionate, his phone rang from inside his pocket. Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead onto hers as he fought to catch his breath.

Elain giggled at his expression, tipping her head up just slightly to kiss the tip of his nose. “You should get that.”

“I should throw it across the room,” he growled, but still slid the device from his pants and checked the caller ID. A contemplative noise escaped him before answering. “This is Azriel.”

She sat back in her chair, readjusting her scrub top that had been skewed from her husband’s wandering hands as she listened to the one-sided conversation.

“Really?” he said to the other person. “Yes, we’re interested. No, not Friday, but we can come Saturday.” He glanced at his watch. “Yes, ten AM should work. Great. We’ll see you then.”

Her brows furrowed at the odd phone call. “Who was that?” she asked when he hung up.

His eyes locked on hers, the hazel brightening to pools of amber. If Elain could describe her husband with a single word at that moment, it would be giddy. Which was peculiar because Azriel was anything but giddy. “That was Amren, our realtor…She has a house for us to look at.”

~~~

Elain earmarked a few moments from her life in her memory bank. Special occasions she never wanted to forget. The day she graduated from college and earned her doctorate. Her first day as a resident. When she and Azriel got back together. The day of his proposal and then their marriage. When they found out she was pregnant. And the day they decided to adopt Kaden.

Today was one of those days that would get earmarked forever. Because today was the day they got to officially make Kaden their son. They had a court appearance at eleven that morning, but seeing as it was Friday, both Elain and Aziel took the day off to celebrate the momentous occasion with their boy, starting with breakfast.

“How are your waffles, Kaden?” she asked, seeing the syrup smeared across his pink lips.

The sweet boy flashed her this biggest grin. “They’re good, momma!”

She leaned over to press a kiss to his hair, loving every time he called her that. It had only been about a week since he started, but he had yet to give Azriel a fatherly name—her husband being equally happy for her and jealous at the same time.

“We are adopting him tomorrow and he still won’t call me dad,” he had complained the night before while getting ready for bed.

Elain was already tucked under the sheets, watching the bathroom doorway where her husband had disappeared. “You know how he is about men, Az. It’ll come at the most random time, but it will come. I promise you.”

The bathroom light switched off and then he approached, crawling up the bed to plop down next to her. “I know what else could be coming tonight,” he teased with a wicked smile, digits trailing over the swell of her stomach. His mouth began to place featherlight kisses along the delicate skin of her neck.

She laughed softly at the terrible innuendo, melting under his machinations. “Is that so? Pretty cocky are we?” Elain’s fingers threaded through his dark hair, tugging the inky strands until he was groaning into her throat.

“Who said anything about a cock?”

That had her freezing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have sex with him. Her drive was still fairly high and even with the new kid in the house, they still had sex pretty regularly—just typically at night after Kaden had gone to bed. But Elain’s stomach was large enough that grooming had become too difficult to manage. She was a bit embarrassed and had been avoiding letting Az go down on her ever since.

He noticed her hesitation immediately, bringing a scarred palm up to cup her cheek. “Talk to me, Elain.”

She sighed, feeling heat rush to her cheeks and making a blush spread across her body. “I can’t exactly reach down there anymore.” At his blank expression, she added, “To maintain…”

Azriel blinked at her in confusion. “So, what’s the problem?”

Elain groaned, head falling back into her pillow. “Because it’s embarrassing!”

He shoved himself up to look at her better. “Do you think I care about that? I told you that what you do with your body is up to you. I don’t care either way.”

“I know you don’t,” she admitted, feeling her emotions rise until she had to blink back tears. “I’m just uncomfortable with myself right now, is all.” It was more than that. Even though Az consistently showed her how much he loved her pregnant, told her how gorgeous she was, Elain was at the point in the pregnancy where she felt like a beached whale. And it was messing with her head.

Her husband stared at her, reading between the lines of what she was saying, and what she wasn’t. “Elain, you know that you have always been, and always will be, the most beautiful creature to ever walk the face of this earth, right? That I’m practically on my knees whenever you enter a room? I mean, fuck, El, you’re glowing right now—”

“That’s sweat, Az,” she muttered.

He waved a hand. “Semantics. The fact remains, you are gorgeous, and I want nothing more than to let my mouth show you just how much I mean that.”

Well, it was hard to resist when he put it that way. She gave him a single nod, just a small dip of her chin, before he pounced, crushing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss; slowly making his way southward until he made a home between her thighs.

Azriel spent a good half hour feasting on her, bringing her over the edge several times until her body went limp with pleasure and she dragged him up her body to taste herself on his mouth.

Too tired and sensitive to fuck, Elain reciprocated by leaning her head off the edge of their bed until he spilled down her throat.

“Elain?”

His voice drew her from her memory and she found him smirking at her, having already picked up on where her mind had wandered. “Hmm?”

His deep chuckle had goosebumps erupting over her skin. Fuck, maybe she was hornier than she thought.

“I asked if you were ready to go?��

Her face heated. “Oh! Yes, I’m finished.”

Azriel grabbed the bill to sign the receipts, slipping his black card back into his wallet.

“Kaden?” she refocused her attention on her son. “Do you have to go potty before we head to the courthouse?”

He was already nodding. “Yes, pwease!”

“I got it,” Az said, lifting the boy from his seat. “Come on, Bubba.”

“Clean off his face, too. I think he has syrup on his temple.” His answering laugh made a smile bloom across her face. He was such a doting father already. Elain had never questioned the amount of love he could give, even when he had. Wiping her hands clean, she took one last sip of her decaffeinated coffee—oh what she would give to have a cup of the real stuff again—and shoved her way out of her chair.

She turned her back to the crowd to grab her bag, the bell over the door dinging to announce a new customer when she heard a voice that she hadn’t heard in nearly seven years.

“Ellie-belly.”

Elain whipped around, brows raising as she beheld her father. “Dad,” she breathed. “Wha—what are you doing here?” The last time she had seen her dad, he was being placed in handcuffs for convicted DUI manslaughter and was sentenced to ten years in state prison.

He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into a stiff hug. “Sweet baby,” he said, his brown eyes lighting up—her eyes. Elain was a spitting image of her father. “Look at you, all grown.”

When he tried to kiss her cheek, she stepped back, bumping into her chair. “What are you…how are you…” She couldn’t quite catch up with her mind, his presence shocking her to her core.

Her dad didn’t seem to notice the tenseness of her shoulders, launching into a casual conversation like it was normal. “I got out for good behavior about six months ago. My weekly sobriety meetings are just up the street. I like to come here after for the cranberry-nut muffins.”

He stepped closer into her personal space, an endearing smile pulling at his lips. “Look at you so pregnant.”

She glanced over his shoulder, spotting Azriel stepping out of the men’s room with Kaden’s hand clutched in his. He paused, immediately recognizing the man in front of her, and raised a brow in a silent question of if he should interfere.

But before she could signal yes or no, her father reached out to try and touch her rounded stomach. Elain pushed his uninvited hand away, and that was enough to have her husband moving across the room.

Seemingly oblivious to her obvious discomfort, he asked her, “And how is my son-in-law, Graysen?”

“They’re not Graysen’s.”

That had his eyes snapping up to look at her face. “I beg your pardon?”

He didn’t know—hadn’t seen the engagement blasted on the front page of every magazine and newspaper in the city. Didn’t see the press release Azriel’s PR team dropped the day they left the Summer District for their honeymoon, announcing that they had been wedded. Or the single wedding photo that she and Azriel agreed to be a part of the announcement that was headline news for two solid weeks.

It had been a tactical plan to reduce the likelihood of them being ambushed by paparazzi on their return—and it worked. But as Elain stood staring at her father, she realized he had been released after they returned home from their honeymoon, therefore missing the tabloids and believing she had married that scum of an ex.

Either way, it needed to be corrected. “I’m not carrying Graysen’s children. I never married him.”

A look of confusion crossed his features, followed by what could only be described as disdain. “Well if they’re not his, and I’m assuming you didn’t let some bastard impregnate you because you have a ring on your finger, then by all means, tell me who my son-in-law is.”

The corner of her lips turned up in a smirk as she indicated to the looming presence behind him, “You remember Azriel.”

Her husband stepped around her father to take his place at her side and gently tucked Kaden between their bodies. “Mr. Archeron,” he said, voice deep and threatening. “Lovely to see you again.”

From his tone, it was obvious that was a lie.

Her father looked him over, taking in the man Az had grown into, from the size of his body to the expensive clothes. “Didn’t you break her heart some decade ago?”

“Dad,” she hissed, but Azriel just waved a hand.

“It’s fine, love. It’s no secret that I hurt you back then,” he said, taking her hand in his to let his thumb brush over the back of her knuckles. “But I am doing everything I can to make up for that mistake.”

He scoffed. “Like taking her from a perfectly good man.”

“That man,” she spat, “attacked me. Good is not an adjective I would use to describe him at all.”

“A mistake he could’ve made up for.”

Elain blinked in shock. “Why are you defending him? I am your daughter.”

“His father and I are good friends, Elain. We had set you two up as a perfect match. And then you blow it for this?” he waved a hand in Azriel’s general vicinity who so much as didn’t even flinch at the remark.

Actually, her husband looked quite bored with the conversation, and well, she was finished with it too. Elain knew how stubborn her father was, alcohol or not. If he was set in his ways and opinions, there was no swaying him.

“I think there is nothing left to discuss here. We have a family court appearance to get to.” She turned to walk away when his hand reached out and snatched her around the crook of her elbow.

“I can fix this, Elain. Let me talk with Nolan and make this right?”

Azriel’s scarred fingers shot out to encircle his wrist. “Take your hand off my wife,” he spoke with a deadly calm she’d only seen used on Elias.

But it worked, her father’s grip loosening until he let go of her completely.

“Here’s the thing, Dad. There is nothing for you to fix here. I am the happiest I have ever been with Azriel and this family we’ve grown together.” Her hand settled on the swell of her stomach. “If you cannot find peace with that, then you are not welcome to be a part of it.” Elain looked down at her son who had been quiet the entire exchange to ruffle his hair and then back up at her husband. “Let’s go.”

Azriel wasted no time in swooping to lift Kaden onto his hip, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her toward the entrance. Not a single one of them looked back at the man she once considered her father.

~~~~~

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thesparklingwriter · 1 year

Text

a gift from a dragon

"Was I ever going to be told about this, or was I supposed to accidentally discover it myself?"

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, reader is preganant, dragon!zhongli doing dragon!zhongli things because im a simp, nesting, tooth rottingly fluffy

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

hello everyone ^^ this segment of the zhongli flufftober that is now just 31 fluffshots is inspired by this ask! i recommend checking it out so you know what the original context was :) i had so much fun writing this, i was literally kicking my feet and giggling like an imbecile... anyway I've been told by a couple of betas on some other works that i may have a slight over reliance on dialogue so I've been working on setting the scene a bit more through description, please tell me if this slays or not.

i am down so astronomically bad for family man zhongli be still my beating heart and ovaries cause wtaf

Zhongli's favourite part of the day is easily six pm when he can hurry home from the funeral parlor to see you. But over the few weeks, he's been becoming more on edge as the clock tends to the end of his work day. He's never particularly enjoyed being away from you for long, granted, but he always wants to be at home now.

On his way home, he passes through the market stalls and finds himself drawn to a couple of stands, musing over how the wares would suit your home perfectly. Before he knows it, he's bought a ridiculous amount of goods and is staggering under the weight of it as he returns home to you. He'd only meant to buy the vase, but then he'd been drawn to some woolen blankets and pillowcases with golden threads, and how could he ignore his instincts when they were calling out to him so loudly?

"You're finally home," you smile when he comes through the front door. You dare not ask about the ridiculous amount of things he's been buying recently–when you do, he looks at you with confusion, as if you're supposed to know what he's doing. You don't. At all. When it comes to Zhongli and his instincts, you've learned to ride the wave and accept whatever you're told.

Zhongli lowers his head to kiss you, manoeuvering his pile of goodies out of your way. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm great. How are you?" You shoot back snarkily. You know that's not what he's asking—he's asking about whether the baby's been good today or whether you've done anything particularly exciting with the sudden excess of time you've been granted since taking maternity leave.

"I'm well, thanks," he replies, chuckling at your evasion of his question. You do this almost every day, withholding the details of your day from him until he sits down and gives you his full attention—something he can't do while carrying a whole mound of knitted goods.

"I'll tell you more after you put that away. Where are you stashing all that stuff anyway?" You ask, and Zhognli shrugs.

"Places." he smiles, heading upstairs. The aforementioned place is your room—not that you spend much time in it. In fact, Zhongli's been in your old room more often in the past three months than you have since you moved in. As your pregnancy progresses, you seek him out more than usual, desperate for his comfort. And so, his room has become a shared room. Not that he particularly minds.

When he returns downstairs, he lies down, resting his head in your lap, and you tell him everything you've done today, absent-mindedly braiding his hair as you talk. He likes being close to your stomach, even though you're barely showing, and listens attentively, asking questions about your adventures. Nine times out of ten, you both fall asleep like this, and you awake in the morning in your bed. But today, you wake up before Zhongli does, having napped earlier in the day, and carefully slip away from him, slipping a pillow under his head where you once had been.

The sheer amount of knitted things Zhongli brought today has made you want to revive your old hobby of crocheting in the hopes you might be able to make something for the baby. If you remember correctly, the last time you crocheted anything was when you still used your room for its intended purpose—and not as a walk-in wardrobe. And so, you march yourself to your room, ready to check under the bed for your trunk of supplies.

Or rather, you would be if Zhongli hadn't replaced your bed with what feels like thousands of pillows and blankets.

Oh, Li, you think, wrapping a blanket with golden threads around your shoulders.

Sometimes, it's easy to forget that the man wasn't always human—that even though his body is that of a man's, his mind and soul aren't, and that sometimes old instincts kick in. Was he embarrassed? Was he worried that you'd think he's weird?

You walk towards the large pile of comforters out of curiosity. If he put this much work into it, you might as well test if it's any good, right? You sink into the blankets, curling up with one of the pillows in your hands. It feels like every part of your body is being hugged by him and you can swear the blankets smell like him. Before you know it, you've fallen asleep, a golden pillow clutched close to your chest.

When Zhongli wakes up and finds you replaced by a pillow but the house silent, he's slightly concerned. Have you injured yourself while he's been sleeping? It can't be. He would have woken up. And so he decides to search for you. Just to make sure you're alright. He can't be too careful. But you're not in his bed, and you're not in the bathroom, the study, or the small makeshift library he'd put together for you.

The final place to look is your old room, but you'd had no reason to go in there before, so why would you go now all of a sudden? But of course, that's where he finds you, curled up in the middle of the sorry attempt of a nest he'd put together to try and curb his urges. He wishes he'd had enough time to finalise his preparations, but seeing you sleep so happily makes his heart swell. He sits on the floor beside the bed, carefully taking your hand in his as you stir, resting your hand on your stomach as you sit up.

"Good evening," he smiles, and you stare at him blankly as if you don't understand, a sign you've slept well. "Are you alright?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into bed with you. When you've finally woken up enough to talk, you look up at him and ask: "Was I ever going to be told about this, or was I supposed to accidentally discover it myself?"

"I had intended it to be a gift for you and the baby when you were further along, but I have no objections to you getting an early present." His smile is excited and bright as he pulls you closer to him, suddenly overcome with the feeling that you can never be close enough.

"This is not what I expected when I found out dragons nest." You smile against his chest.

"Well, I can't exactly bring you feathers, can I? You'd slaughter me the minute I step over the threshold, so this will have to do."

"I can think of worse places to sleep," you smile, kissing him lightly. "Thank you. I love it."

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bellalaufeyson69 · 11 months

Text

Steven Grant x Reader | Darling pt. 1

Darling pt. 1

Description: Steven and Yn are paired to be a fake couple for a mission.

Wc ♡ 2,830

Masterlist ♡

Warnings ♡ none

————

Steven and I had been friends for about a year now. Ever since he and the boys were recruited to the avengers him and I have gotten along amazingly. I’d even consider him to be my best friend. We do everything together, between going to the bank, and getting some coffee for the team. It’s so refreshing to have someone like this, not to mention he always makes me laugh.

Though here we are now standing in front of Nick Fury as he just spilled the news of a new mission. A mission where Steven and I had to be boyfriend and girlfriend. “May I ask why? No- you know not that- I don’t mean- it’s not a problem!-“ Steven questioned the man his face turning red as he spewed out a bunch of words. He was now looking at me panicked and apologetic hoping I wouldn’t have taken offense to his question.

I laughed and shrugged it off, I was curious why also. “Because, it’s a publicity thing. We’re trying to take the heat off of Tony after his incident.” He began as if it made perfect sense. He seemed to have noticed our expressions of confusion and furthered the point. “People will be shocked at two avengers dating each other, I’ve been made aware of videos some fans have made, stories even.” He laughed to himself at this as if it were the craziest thing he’d heard. “They really want you two together, so we figure this will get a lot of attention and take it off of Tony,” he informed more seriously now.

I glanced at Steven who’d been staring at fury with his mouth propped in a trance. “So, what does it mean to be fake dating? How often do we have to act like it, and how far do we take it?” I questioned maturely. I knew I needed to know the information for the sake of the mission. “Also how long,” I added as the question came up.

He sighed at all the questions. “Alright alright,” he gestured me to slow my roll. “It means as far as anyone outside of this room knows, you two are together romantically. You have to act like it whenever you’re in front of someone else, unless it’s me. As for how far, I’m not sure I have the grounds to say that…” he said more awkwardly which made me feel rather embarrassed. I hadn’t meant I’d offer myself up to have sex with Steven for the sake of the mission but I fear I sounded like that’s what I meant. “Just do whatever you’d do with a boyfriend,” he said and gave me a nod as if to say this conversation was over. With a gruff expression he’d then left us to comprehend everything.

“Well… it’s a good thing we’re so close.” Steven began with a shocked laugh as he turned to look at me. I felt my cheeks heat up because this all still felt so intimate. The weirdest part of it all is the fact that I’m kind of excited about it. I wonder if he is too. “I think we skipped a few steps though,” he chuckled trying to lighten up the situation.

I smiled and laughed back. “Yeah… the fact that we can’t tell the team that this isn’t real either is just crazy to me,” I admitted while smiling to let him know I wasn’t angry and more just talking about the bosses choices. “Like, can you imagine what Kate is going to say? Ugh” I groaned out at the thought and as I said that Steven responded with an “ohmygosh” simultaneously.

Kate had always teased Steven and I about dating. Yes, prior to this mission and nick fury, we already knew about the avengers fans making ship edits of me and Steven. Because of Kate. How she came across that? Who knows. From that, and how close we were she’d always messed with us saying we might as well just put the label on our relationship. “Before we go out there, what’s the limits?” I asked Steven to try and get a gauge of how to act.

He stood there for a moment stumped, his cheeks reddened as he thought about it. “Uhm…” he was pretty flustered now I could tell he was extremely nervous. “I mean… he said to act how we would if we were really in a relationship… I just feel like I’m not good at acting, so I should probably be as authentic as possible y’know?” He began through a bright red face, his voice was so soft and sheepish. “Personally I’m rather affectionate, you know the hugging, kiss on the cheek, kind of thing yeah?” His eyes bore into mine as if he was hopelessly reading every single minor expression I could be making to find out if I was on the same page.

I nodded slowly taking in what he’d said. “So… we’ll hug and kiss on the cheek?” I wasn’t sure just how far Steven wanted to go but I felt like this wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to push but to be authentic this just wasn’t me. Although I won’t be going the full 100 on how I act in a relationship because I’m extremely affectionate.

He seemed to be conflicted, like he wanted to speak further but couldn’t bring himself to. I waited for a moment watching as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I don’t want to be pushy at all so please tell me no if you don’t want to but… I feel like kissing could be helpful too? Just… everything… arm around the shoulder, holding hands at the store… stuff I would do if I was your boyfriend,” he explained nervously he seemed to be breathing just a little heavier too. With his history of anxiety and panic attacks I could tell he was definitely pretty anxious right now.

I nodded in agreement. “No yeah, you’re completely right, I was gonna say the same thing. I just feel like real life relationships, well for me at least, are more affectionate like that. Plus if we have to act like it even here at home it helps to make it more realistic,” I reassured him with a bright and happy attitude so he would relax a little bit more. It definitely worked as I watched his expression melt and shoulders sink in a more relaxed state.

He bit his tongue and nodded. “So.. shall we?” He asked gesturing to the door while holding his hand out for me to take.

I couldn’t help but giggle at this, it just felt so weird being intimate with my best friend like this. He laughed too, as our fingers intertwined. Neither of our smiles left even after the laughter stopped. We walked out of the meeting room hand in hand and headed for the common area where we were spotted by Rhodey and Tony. “Woah! Didn’t know you had it in you Tomb Buster!” Tony smugly remarked through a grin, he nudged Rhodey with his shoulder. “So he can talk to girls,” he laughed but Rhodey seemed uncomfortable that Tony would say that in front of Steven so he just kept quiet and gave Steven a little nod and smile.

“What?” Steven’s brows rose in confusion and he had an innocent open mouthed smile on his face. “Is that some sort of bet or sumthin’?” He asked quietly, I could tell that Tony made him nervous. Probably because their personalities were pretty much polar opposite.

Tony leaned against the counter of the bar and held his chin in his palm, while inspecting Steven and I. “Yeah, always thought you were too… hmm.. shy I’ll say,” he continued on more seriously. “But hey! Good for you man, and YN too?! Got yourself a spicy one, isn’t that right reindeer games?” He announced to the corner of the room where we’d turned to see Loki in an armchair book in hand, and a very disinterested expression.

At the mention of his name he didn’t move, but his eyes made contact with us. He glared at Tony which would be the only form of a response he was going to get. “Idiot.” He grumbled to himself before looking back down to his book.

I felt very awkward, I just knew my face was a dead give away of that too. “What uh… what’s that supposed to mean?” Steven tried to be nonchalant but it was obvious he was a little displeased with the comment.

Tony lowered his head to Steven with a grin. “Common, you haven’t seen those two when they’re drunk? They’re like me on a Friday night,” he smirked over at me his eyes trailing my figure then back up. “Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He was so cocky the smugness dripped off of him.

I gave him a warning look then quickly glanced to Loki to find him staring right back clearly active in this conversation. He quickly turned away to look back at his book. “Thanks for making things awkward, maybe for your birthday I can get you a filter.” I joked through pursed lips while patting his shoulder.

“Filters are for coffee, you can get me a condom tough.” He said it with a mischievously smile before shielding himself from my hand knowing I’d be quick to retaliate with that comment. I smacked his chest but hit his hands as he blocked me.

“You’re disgusting Tony Stark!” I laughed and smacked one more time, he laughed hysterically as he dodged my attacks.

He held his hands up in defense as he walked backwards toward the hallway. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right…” he softly apologized in a more serious tone. “Condoms are gross, hate the feeling, I’ll just go in all natural. Save your money, get me a better gift,” he spoke really fast while laughing before running into the hall as I lunged forward ready to smack again.

Rhodey took this as his sign to follow, I assume he was in the middle of a conversation with a very bored Stark who’d used me as a way to slip away from it. I looked to Steven as he watched Tony leave, he swallowed then slowly turned to me, his eyes darting to Loki on the couch then me again. “Me and Loki… have hooked up a few times… that’s all,” I felt the need to tell him the truth, otherwise things just felt very tense and awkward.

He nodded still not seeming very happy with the answer. “It’s nothing to worry about, we just kept each other company, filled each others wild and passionate needs,” Loki informed from his chair not looking up from his book.

Steven’s lips were a straight line as he stared at Loki on the couch. His brow furrowed slightly. “Well I feel like we should be mature about this and just say that YN and I are together now…” he said to Loki with a hint of malice in his tone.

Loki laughed from his spot a simple ‘Heh!’ With an amused expression he’d closed his book and stood up. “That’s interesting because we frequently talk about our lives and you’d never mentioned anything about a special person, not to mention a boyfriend,” he walked closer now zeroing in on me.

“Well I don’t tell you everything…” I tried my best to sound real but I knew the way I spoke was so artificial.

His eyes lowered, squinting skeptically. It felt like he could read right through me, like he knew something was off. “You know who I am love, you can’t fool me.” He said with a lowered, grizzly voice. And with that he’d left, his fingers brushing my hips, leaving me with a very bothered Steven.

He looked pissed now. He turned his from me and took a breath. I placed my hand on his arm and pulled him to look at me. “That guys a royal ass,” he began to vent through a scowl. “He acted like I wasn’t even here! Clearly flirting with you right in front of me when he knew you were my girlfriend! Well- you know-“ he began to stutter toward the end because he didn’t want me thinking this was too real to him.

“It’s okay, I know what you mean,” I soothed my hands both on his upper arms now. “Listen to me, Loki is just like that. He probably won’t stop either. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s what we’re working with… I mean I don’t think either of us expected… this..”

He took a deep breath while looking at me. “I know, I know,” he seemed sad, and mad at the same time. Just completely bothered. “I don’t like it… the way he acts around you… I don’t want him-“ he began and paused for a second. “I don’t want him touching you.” he admitted though it was more dominant and stern than I’d ever expected from Steven Grant, and I hadn’t noticed but I’d unintentionally grinned at it. When he’d seen my face he couldn’t help but smile back. “Why are you smiling?” He said through a toothy grin.

“Nothing!” I defended playfully. “I just didn’t expect you to be so demanding,” I teased there was a hint of flirtatiousness to my tone.

He seemed to have picked up on it very quickly and he perked up. “Well you just haven’t known me so intimately before,” he started now in a more playful and upbeat mood. “I happen to be a very fierce and bold boyfriend,” he joked and put emphasis on the words to make himself seem more tuff which made me laugh.

“Ohh, wow, that’s pretty hot,” I went all out on this one and as soon as I said it I felt my heart start to race. This didn’t feel like a fake thing at all, it was so confusing. Steven’s flirting seemed so real, but that’s the point isn’t it? I can’t help but think that maybe this isn’t just the mission talking though… that maybe it’s really him. He seemed genuinely jealous at Loki’s flirting. This was the time to make or break this.

His brow rose and his confidence seemed to have grown. “Oh yeah? I’ll remember that then darling,” he flirted back his voice was lowered now and he’d stood so closely. The tensions were thick as we stared at each other. His hands slowly made their way around my waist before resting on my back, he pulled me into his chest and hugged me resting his head on top of mine. I relaxed my head to his chest and wrapped my arms around him back, feeling as he began to sway us. “If anyone else tries to flirt with my girlfriend I think I’ll go mad.” He huffed and it seemed more like a confession than a statement.

I didn’t know how to respond to this, so I go along with it? Do I joke it off? What if someone else is in here? Then I’d have to go along. I decided to go with my gut, “I’ll beat them up for you.”

He chuckled at his and his thumbs traced circles around my back. “I always knew I’d have to fight off the competition for you,” he didn’t seemed to have realized what he was saying until it was too late and I could feel his body tense once he did.

“Oh yeah?” I poked playfully. “You always knew huh? Seems like you’ve thought about it for a while now.” I commented to mess with him. I knew he’d be flustered but I thought it was cute.

His thumbs stopped moving and I could tell he was deep in thought. “Uhm…” he started but couldn’t seem to grasp how to reply. “I just-“ I leaned my head back to look at him, right then Bucky had walked in giving a greeting nod and sitting on the couch to readjust his arm. I looked back at Steven with an amused grin knowing how we truly did have to be all show about this fake relationship. He looked at me softly, his eyes bouncing between mine then down to my lips. This simple pattern of minuscule movements made my heart flutter. His breathing picked up as he slowly leaned closer to me his eyes now fixatives on my lips before he finally fully kissed me. It was a hungry, long and passionate kiss, his hands placed on my cheeks and mine on his chest. Once we’d finished he leaned his head back just a small bit, still very close to me, close enough I could feel his warm breath brushing my face. He traced circles with his thumbs on my cheeks while he stared at my face in awe, a smile slowly forming on his lips which I mirrored. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it for a while.”

————

#stevengrant #stevengrantxreader #moonknight #moonknightxreader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant fanfiction

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hadesforpreswrites · 7 months

Text

dirty laundry, pt. 1

a/n: i wrote this when i was feeling incredibly low. it's based on something that happened to me. the title is from all time low. might have a part 2.

before you read this, be aware that this particular piece deals with the after effects of trauma (rape). it doesn't deal with it right after the incident but it shows how even after over a decade it can still affect someone.

before we proceed further: this is your warning that description of sexual assault on a minor will happen. this is based on truth as well as being a work of fan fiction.

i fought so hard with myself to even post this but was encouraged by @remedyx. if you don't want to read it, please by all means don't. but if you do, please be kind.

if something similar has happened to you, please reach out to me if you feel like you need to talk. i love you, you are worthy.

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: talk of past sexual assault, trauma talk, depictions of depressive episode

word count: 2,585

summary: after seeing something triggering online, y/n is struggling. noah learns some deep secrets of his friend and tries to help.

part two part three part four

she’s got her secrets/yeah, i’ve got mine too

meeting friends when you’re adults means you have to understand that you will not know everything about them as easily as if you were kids. it was something that rang true for everyone.

noah understood this and was ready and willing for his friends to have secrets from him. pasts that didn’t want or need to be explained. all that mattered to him was that they were there here and now.

that is until one day when his friend messaged a group chat that consisted of him, andy biersack, and his other friend, scarlett. scarlett messaged them saying that their other friend, one they had planned a birthday party for in this very group chat, was having a very hard time.

that wasn’t new, she had been having a rough go of it off and on for a couple of months. something to do with her meds and the pharmacy being out-of-stock, something that confused the hell out of noah. but something about this time felt different.

noah abruptly stood up, startling his friends that he was with. in his worry and being glued to his phone for the last however many minutes, he had almost forgotten where he was.

“you good, man?” nick asked.

“yeah, i just gotta go do something for a friend.”

“is it y/n?” jolly teased.

“as a matter of fact, yes,” noah said while gathering his things. he waved to his friends, promising to meet up with them again soon, and took off out of the house.

he barely buckled his seatbelt before taking off in his car toward scarlett and y/n’s house. in his relatively short drive, his brain was swirling with possibilities of what was wrong. why had scarlett threatened men specifically? (this time anyway) could he still pick a lock? (probably) what if y/n didn’t want to see them? (she usually did but what if this time was different?) what could he do specifically to make her feel better? (maybe ice cream - she likes ice cream) could he get her to open up and spill this obviously heartbreaking secret to him? (he sure hopes so, but is he prepared for the aftermath?)

he barely registered that he had pulled into the driveway beside andy’s car because it was such an autopilot response to go to their house at this point. he locked his car and walked up to the front door. he didn’t even bother knocking as he entered and was met by the smell of pizza baking in the oven.

“great! everyone’s here!” scarlett said loud enough to be heard throughout the house - obviously trying to get y/n’s attention.

“is she still in there?” noah asked, slipping his shoes off at the door.

“only came out to get water right before we got here,” juliet said, casting a glance down the hall.

“door may be unlocked now though,” scarlett said thoughtfully. “maybe i’ll go peek my head in.”

“i’ll do it,” noah offered, quickly. too quickly if the smirks on his friends’ faces was any indication. he shook his head as he walked down the hall toward y/n’s room.

he knocked softly and listened closely. “i’m fine,” a quiet voice sounded through the wood, followed by a sniffle.

“you don’t sound fine, doll,” he said as he leaned his forehead against the door. “can i come in? please?”

“it’s unlocked.”

when he entered her room, his heart shattered. the ever-present blue twinkle lights she had strung around her room had been shut off, along with any mention of light from anywhere else, except her phone screen. she had her comforter pulled up to her ear with her back facing him.

he shut the door softly behind him and padded across to the bed. he climbed under the covers and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him. he felt her stiffen at the contact but not pull away, instead leaning into him once she calmed.

he knew this had to be crossing some sort of imaginary line he’d set for himself but he couldn’t help himself. his friend, honestly probably his best friend, was hurting and that trumped any romantic feelings he has for her.

“when did you get here?” she asked, sniffling again.

“just now. needed to know you were at least physically okay. what happened? i thought you got your meds worked out?” he asked, softly.

“i did. it’s not that. i wish it were that because then i don’t feel like i’ve failed.”

“babe, whatever it is, you haven’t failed anything.”

“yes, i have. i thought i’d worked through it and then i see one thing online and suddenly my brain throws away over a decade of work,” her hand moves to wipe newly fallen tears.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks, realizing it may be a feeble attempt.

“no. but i should,” she sighs before turning around to face him. “i just don’t want you to think differently of me.”

he keeps his arms firmly around her and chances a kiss to the top of her head. “y/n, i think the world of you and nothing is gonna change that.”

“promise?” he could feel his t-shirt dampen with tears.

he pulled away just enough so he could look her in her eyes. eyes that held a pain he never knew was there. he feels a sense of rage bubble up in him at whoever caused this precious human this amount of pain. “promise.”

she took a steadying breath and began to sit up. they sat side-by-side, backs against the headboard, his legs spread in front of him and hers pulled up to her chest, protecting herself.

“when i was 15, i was in a really bad place. i was undiagnosed, unmedicated, and wanting love. so i took what i could get from whoever i could get it from. i wasn’t promiscuous or anything, in fact i’ve never had sex. i just wanted someone to love me because i couldn’t love myself.

i dated this guy who was all kinds of wrong but i thought i was in love. he kept breaking my heart so one day when we were broken up, i decided to invite his friend over to hang out. i thought he was cute and we made out and stuff but that was as far as i wanted it to go,” she took a breath and a drink of water as tears filled her eyes again.

he knew where this was going and he felt himself getting even more angry but he let her keep going.

“i tried to keep him off me, i really did. he was pulling my shorts so hard and i was trying to keep them on, i thought my nails would break. i kept crying and saying no over and over. but it was like it didn’t matter. like he didn’t hear me. but i know he did because when he stopped, he called me a tease and wiped his hand on a stuffed animal that was near the bed.”

he wanted so badly to hold her and tell her he’d never let that happen to her again, but he held himself back not wanting to make things worse.

she cleared her throat after a moment of pause. “anyway, i was working through it on my own for years and didn’t tell anyone until like a year later. and then when i got in therapy we worked on it for a bit and i thought i had gotten better. but i was scrolling through tumblr and came across this story that was non-con, non-consensual, and it just fucking broke me.

i don’t normally kinkshame or tell people what they shouldn’t do because that’s their business but i’ll never understand non-consensual, rape fantasies. there’s absolutely nothing to fantasize about. it’s humiliating. it’s painful. physically, mentally, and emotionally. it makes you feel like you’ll never be clean again and that you’re not worthy of even the smallest of respect or love.

noah, i worked so hard to make myself believe that i’m not dirty or broken and that i am worthy. i worked so hard and it was just stripped away from me again like it was nothing.”

“i know you did. you always work hard. and let me tell you something,” he moved so he was right in front of her on his knees. he lifted her chin so she looked at him. “you are so worthy. you’re the worthiest person i know. you deserve the world and he doesn’t even deserve a grave. you’re not broken or dirty, you’re strong and beautiful. and i am so lucky to have you in my life, you know that, right? and now you don’t have to work as hard because you won’t be doing it by yourself.”

“promise?” her voice was small.

“i promise,” he confirmed.

she basically launched herself at him with a sob and wrapped her arms around him. he pulled her into his lap and held her. oh how he had imagined this moment, but she was not crying in his imagination.

“will you stay with me?” she asked into his chest.

“always,” he kissed the top of her head.

after some time, she stopped shaking from crying and relaxed in his arms.

“let’s get you some food,” he said.

“ice cream?”

“absolutely,” he chuckled. “but i think scarlett made pizza if you want some of that first. if there’s any left, andy and juliet are here too.”

“i might could do that, then ice cream,” she decided, pulling away from him.

“deal,” he stood up from the bed, taking her with him. after setting her down on her feet, he grabbed her hand - just to make sure she knew he was staying by her side, and they walked toward the kitchen.

“hey, sunshine,” andy said as they emerged from the darkened hallway.

“hey, sorry,” she said as she wrapped an arm around him and then juliet, still holding noah’s hand.

“you don’t have to apologize,” juliet said, as she smoothed the other woman’s hair. “you’re allowed to have people worry about you.”

“we’re more than happy to be those people for you,” andy backed her up.

y/n gave them a small smile and eyed the pizza.

“here’s your gross ass pizza, my love,” scarlett said, handing her a plate with a piece of her favorite pizza on it.

“you’re the best roommate a girl could have,” she said, sitting at the bar by andy, noah sitting on her other side.

“yeah, yeah,” scarlett said, intently watching as y/n took a bite of her pizza.

conversation buzzed around them as she finished her slice, she only wanted one right now - her main focus on the ice cream in her future. noah participated in the conversation on the outside but on the inside he was replaying her story over and over in his head like a movie on loop. he was angry for her. he had questions. but he wasn’t sure when was the right time to ask - though he knew not right now in front of everyone.

he must have zoned out because when he came too he was met with the expectant eyes of y/n.

“sorry, what?”

“ice cream?”

“of course,” he replied, rising from his spot at the bar.

“let me go change real quick,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.

“for why?”

“i’m in pajamas?” she motioned to her shorts and oversized t-shirt. a shirt that he just realized belonged to him at one point.

“we don’t have to get out of the car,” he said, standing up fully. “you look fine.” he didn’t miss the look that andy, juliet, and scarlett passed between them.

“you don’t let people eat in your car,” she trailed off.

he leaned down to look her in the eye, “consider yourself special, then. let’s go.”

before he turned around he caught a glimpse of a blush creep on her face and felt a sense of pride. he didn’t catch the way she looked at scarlett with wide eyes, or the way juliet motioned for her to move. andy was grinning at the whole scene.

she got up and slipped on a pair of sandals that were near the door and followed noah out the door and toward his car. he opened the passenger door for her. “well, thank you kind sir,” she said before sliding into the seat.

he chuckled as he shut the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. once he was buckled and started toward her favorite ice cream place, he chanced a look at y/n as she looked out the window.

“hey,” he said softly. “you okay?”

“i will be,” she answered. “it’s just a lot to process.”

“i can imagine. can i ask you something?”

“of course.”

“when you were telling me what happened, you said that you’d never had sex before it happened?”

“yeah. so my first and only experience with sex was that. which is why i always get weird when you guys start talking about it,” she explained.

“i’d always wondered. wait. did you say your only experience?” he was baffled.

“yeah,” she answered, finally fully looking at him.

“that honestly explains so much. and also i’m so sorry that your experience was that.”

“you don’t have to apologize. it happened. it sucks. it sucks a lot. and sometimes i feel like i’m missing out on a whole world. but most of the time i’m fine.”

“don’t do that,” he scolded.

“do what?”

“minimize your trauma to make you seem more palatable. it’s not helpful. it’s not cute.”

she went quiet and looked away, back out the window.

he kicked himself. that came out a lot harsher than he meant. he pulled into a parking spot at the ice cream place and told her to sit tight while he went to get the ice cream. she didn’t argue.

“y/n,” he said when he slid back into his seat, ice cream in hand.

she was surprised to see he got exactly what she wanted, not that she deviated from what she liked all that often. she just wasn’t aware of how much he paid attention to her.

“i didn’t-” he started. “i didn’t mean for that to come out that way. i just meant that i don’t want you to minimize with me. you’re allowed to feel however you feel.”

“i know. i just guess i didn’t realize that’s what i was doing.”

“you do it all the time, doll. i just never knew why and i think i get it now.”

she smiled softly. “how did you know which ice cream i wanted?” she knew the change in subject wouldn’t go unnoticed but hoped he would catch on that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore for the time being.

he pulled out his phone and went to the notes app. “i keep track of your favorites.”

she blushed. “why?”

“haven’t caught on yet?” he smirked at her.

“caught on to what?”

“i’m practically at your beck and call. i let you and no one else eat in my car. i apparently let you wear my clothes,” he gestured to the t-shirt she was wearing.

“noah, i don’t understand.”

“how can someone be so smart and so blind at the same time? i’m basically in love with you, dummy.”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

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missywritesfor7 · 17 days

Text

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 19: Your Letter

Yoongi needed a longer session with Minho the next day. He barely slept so all of his feelings of hurt and sadness continued to grow throughout the night. By morning he was a puffy red eyed mess wishing for something to drink again.

The session was rough and involved many tears and realizations. Yoongi learned a lot of things about himself that he didn’t quite realize before. That unleashed more emotions because now he feels like he doesn’t even know himself anymore. It was the roughest session he’s had so far.

The session ended with homework for Yoongi, which is typical. Minho always gives Yoongi homework after each session. This time his homework is to read a few things about codependency that Minho sent him. The more Yoongi read, the more he got upset. He fit the description, but he wants so bad to not. It just adds another thing to his list of issues.

Regardless of his denial, he knows one thing. He needs to apologize to Hyeri. He may not be ready to accept that he’s codependent, but he’s willing to admit that he shouldn’t have acted the way he did with her. He should have believed her when she said she was fine and he definitely shouldn’t have made her feel like a helpless baby. It wasn’t his intention at all and he’s been feeling like shit ever since he came to the realization that he was in the wrong. On top of that, Hyeri’s birthday is in just three days and the last thing he wants is for her to hate him on her birthday.

He starts to type out a message but then stops midway through. He can’t text her an apology. As ashamed as he is to speak to her again, he knows a text message would be too impersonal and seem lazy. So he calls her.

The phone rings once and he hangs up.

He curses himself then calls again. This time taking a deep breath and for whatever reason hoping she doesn’t answer because he’s starting to realize he’s much too nervous to talk to her.

“Hey,” Hyeri’s voice softly rings through the phone.

“Hey,” he says with a shaky voice. “How did you sleep?” He asks suddenly going blank on what to say. “No, I mean, have you had breakfast? It’s ok if you haven’t. I mean I think you should have something for breakfast, but you don’t have to.”

“Is there a reason why you called?” She asks hoarsely. She hasn’t yet gotten out of bed and aside from that she had been crying all night, so she’s not actually in the mood to talk. Still she couldn’t stop herself from answering when his name popped up on her phone.

“No. I mean yeah, I just…” he pauses to take a deep breath and pull himself together. “I wanted to apologize for last night. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like a baby or anything. I was being…I don’t know…”

“Overbearing and suffocating,” she says finishing his sentence.

“Right,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, Hyeri. Truth is, I talked to Minho today and now I feel all fucked up and confused because he told me things about myself I never realized and I’m starting to wonder if I ever even knew myself in the first place.”

“Told you things like what?”

“That I’m…I just…he said a lot and I’m working through it all. I just wanted to apologize because I love you and I don’t want you to hate me for being a helicopter parent.”

“I don’t hate you, Yoongi. I never could. I just want you to know how frustrating it is for me. It’s like you’re focused too much on taking care of my every want and need, but you don’t focus enough on yourself. You ignore everything going on with you and devote your every moment to catering to me when I don’t need it and at times I don’t want it. I’m just tired. You’ve put me through a lot, Yoongi.”

“I’m sorry,” he says through the knot in his throat. “You’re right and I guess I’m finally starting to see that. I can’t get anything right when it comes to you.” He pauses realizing he’s saying just the thing Minho was telling him about earlier. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, I mean it,” he pleads. “It’s hard. So hard. I’m working on being better. I swear when I leave here I’ll be a much better person. I’ll be clean, I won’t lie or cheat or get back into drinking all of the time.”

“I know,” she says. “I know you’re trying to work on it, but you still have a long way to go. I’m trying my best to be patient but you have to know last night it was just too much on top of a day that was already stressful.”

“I know and I’m so sorry for that. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I’m really trying, Hyeri. I want to be so much better for you.”

“I know,” she sighs hating what she’s about to say. “I think maybe it was a bad idea for us to start talking on the phone. It was probably a bad idea for us to even text. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I think maybe we shouldn’t talk for a bit. At least until you’re able to find some mental stability.” She instantly regrets her words, but she can’t take them back. She knows he shouldn’t have been able to talk to her from the start because it could hinder his recovery, and it seems like it has.

“You don’t want to talk to me?” He asks feeling his heart drop to the floor.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she insists. “I’m a distraction to you. Even if you don’t want to admit it, it’s true. You aren’t focused on yourself because you’re focused on me. If you don’t get better what would happen to us?” She chokes back tears at the thought of being without him.

Yoongi is silent knowing that she has a point, but not wanting to admit it. It feels like she’s trying to break up with him and he’s not sure he can take that.

“Babe,” she says in a reassuring tone. “I’m not going anywhere. I can take care of me, so you take care of you.”

“So…can we still text?” He asks feeling like his single source of mental and emotional relief outside of alcohol is leaving him.

“You can text me all you want. I just can’t guarantee that I’ll respond. Just…so you can remain focused. But I’ll always read your messages. I promise.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?” He asks searching for reassurance.

“I always miss you when you’re not here. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that…maybe I have an audition for that very big role that JJS tried to stop me from going for and I need to concentrate on that right now. Just like you need to concentrate on your health.”

“You have an audition? That’s great!” He says suddenly proud and almost as if she didn’t just suggest they not talk for a while.

“Yeah,” she responds softly. “I need to focus on that and focus on my own healing, you know? I haven’t really been able to since you’ve been home and it’s starting to catch up to me. So please use this time to take care of yourself.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Take care of yourself too. I mean…you already do so I guess I don’t need to tell you that…”

“It’s ok. I love you, Yoongi.”

“I love you too, Na Hyeri. I…I hate this, but I know you’re right. I love you so much, please wait for me I promise I’ll make it all up to you.”

“I’ll be here, babe,” she says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. The call ends and he simply lays in place in the bed.

His heart hurts. It hurts a lot. But he knows she hurts too, and she deserves time to heal from everything he’s put her through.

That now leaves him alone with nothing but his thoughts. That’s a hard thing for him to deal with so he looks for a distraction. He goes to his keyboard and begins playing a few notes. Then a few chords. Suddenly he’s playing a melody off the top of his head, though it sounds like something he’s already long since written and perfected. It’s not, though. It’s just him freestyling fueled by the thoughts swirling around in his head.

After a minute he decides to set up his phone to record himself. He does it often when he wants to remember something he’s playing. He hits record and continues playing and playing.

Since Yoongi had left for treatment, the rest of the guys have been working on their own projects. Namjoon and Hobi both have taken on a number of things that have been keeping them busy. Jungkook and Jimin have worked on a few features, but spend most of their time on live with Army. Especially Jungkook. Taehyung has been taking over the fashion world. And Jin has remained mostly low key other than popping in on a couple of variety shows. However, for one day Yoongi asked a favor of them if they could.

Operation: Hyeri’s birthday.

It didn’t take long for Yoongi to think of a way to both apologize to Hyeri and give her the grandest birthday he can given the circumstances. He started by quickly polishing the song he had begun playing on his keyboard. He recorded a final video of himself playing it. It’s a song dedicated to her.

After writing the song, he went searching online for someone who could have 3 grand bouquets of flowers delivered to her on her birthday. Then he got the idea to make it a surprise. He ordered flowers, candy, jewelry, a few pairs of shoes, a massive Shooky plush, and a designer purse all to be delivered in 3 days.

He didnt stop there. He wants the surprise to be big and meaningful. He needs help though, so he reached out to his brothers to assist. Jungkook and Taehyung are both in different parts of the world so they aren’t able to help, but the rest of the guys agreed to carry out Yoongi’s operation.

Namjoon will be in charge of getting Hyeri out of the house. She has a schedule the morning of her birthday, that will keep her out for a while, but after that Namjoon asked if he could treat her to a birthday lunch. That will keep her away longer to ensure Jin, Hobi, and Jimin have plenty of time to set up the apartment with all of the gifts being delivered.

Yoongi has lots of free time, so getting all of these things setup was quick and easy. Once he had everything set he worked on the most important thing. What to say to her.

He knows she mentioned they should stop talking so he doesn’t expect that she’d answer the phone if he called. So he has no other option other than to write her a letter. He could send her a text, but he wasn’t sure that was the way he wanted to do this.

During his session with Minho the following day, Yoongi told him everything he was planning. Of course he first had to talk about the conversation he had with her and how it hurt a bit, but that’s why he’s so determined to make this perfect. Minho helped brainstorm ideas and in the end Yoongi decided he would hand write a letter to her on his tablet and send it to her that way.

Hyeri woke up the morning of her birthday almost forgetting that it was even her birthday. If it wasn’t for her birthday lunch with Namjoon, she would have just figured this day were like any other. She has breakfast, studies the script for her audition a bit, then heads out when her new manager arrives to take her to her first appointment of the day.

As soon as she’s gone, Jin, Hobi, and Jimin get right to work. They brought extra decorations for added impact, though Yoongi may not be fully aware. They have balloons, ribbons, and confetti that they put in every area of the place. They accepted every delivery that came and made sure to display everything clearly so Hyeri can see as soon as she walks inside. They took pictures of everything and sent them to Yoongi for his approval. When all was perfect they left, leaving Hyeri’s surprise waiting for her.

Yoongi waited for the signal. The message from Namjoon saying they finished lunch and Hyeri should be on her way home. That’s when Yoongi sent the letter he had written to her.

Hyeri knows she told Yoongi she may not respond to his messages, but she said she would always read them. She thought by saying that he would at least send her something, but he hasn’t. She hasn’t heard from him since they last spoke on the phone, until now. She lit up when she saw his name pop up on her phone. She couldn’t even make it to the elevator to get up to their floor, she had to read it right away.

The moment she saw that it was a handwritten note, she knew it was something sincere. Yoongi doesn’t always do handwritten letters. She leaned against the wall near the elevators not bothering to press the button. She’s only concerned with what Yoongi’s letter says.

My Na Hyeri,

Happy birthday my love! I wish I could be with you to celebrate, but since I can’t I hope this is enough. There aren’t enough words in the universe to describe what you mean to me.

From the moment I met you, I knew that you were special. Your smile, your laugh, your personality...everything about you just makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world. Spending time with you always brings me peace and happiness, and I’m grateful for every moment we’ve had together.

I am so sorry for putting you through so much pain and heartache. I know that you deserve so much better than that. I’m working hard to become a better person, not just for you but for myself as well.

I know that the past year has been challenging for us, but I believe that our love is strong enough to endure anything that comes our way. I promise to work on myself and our relationship every day, so that we can continue to grow together.

I want you to know that you are the light of my life, and I will always do everything in my power to make you happy. I hope that you can feel my love for you at all times no matter how far apart we are.

I promise I will spend the rest of my life making up for all of my mistakes and showing you how much you mean to me. I love you with all of my heart, and I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.

Forever mine. Forever yours.

Yoongi

Hyeri can hardly even read the last few lines of his letter through her tears. Her heart hurts but feels so full at the same time. She takes a second to pull herself together and takes the elevator up. When she steps into the front door the tears start falling again.

She’s immediately greeted by one large bouquet of fall flowers. When she looks up she sees ribbons strung across the ceiling along with many balloons, some heart shaped. She walks further inside and is greeted by a second bouquet, bigger than the first, sitting on the coffee table in the living room surrounded by more confetti, a bottle of her favorite wine, and a small jewelry box. Inside is a silver cuff bracelet covered in diamonds with a matching pair of earrings.

From there she goes into the bedroom where she finds Shooky presenting her with the third bouquet and a gorgeous purse and shoes that are perfectly her style. At this point shes shed enough tears to fill a pool. All of these gifts that he somehow has set up for her plus the heartfelt letter he sent her has her feeling more loved than she ever has in her life. He’s put her through a lot, but he’s so good to her.

She takes a picture of herself hugging Shooky and sends it to him thanking him for everything. She tells him that he’s made this one of her best birthdays ever and she loves him so much. He quickly responds with the video of him playing the song he had written for her. He simply titled it “Rainbow”. There are no words, just him caressing the keys into a gentle melody.

Hyeri closes her eyes as she listens and smiles at how beautiful the music feels gliding into her ears and radiating a soft weightlessness throughout her entire body. He’s played her many songs before, but none like this. None made specifically for her.

Yoongi didn’t expect Hyeri to respond, but he was so happy that she did. He’s even happier looking at the photo of her hugging Shooky the way he wishes he could hold her. The smile on her face and evident tears in her eyes lets him know his surprise was a success.

It’s more than a success. Hyeri is in tears at Yoongi’s surprise. She misses him so much it makes this moment of happiness and admiration a little bittersweet. She can only hope that next year she won’t have to spend the day away from him.

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theabstruseone · 10 months

Text

Saw this screenshot and thought I could impart some wisdom. I am definitely not neurotypical myself, but I've had to deal with neurotypical people for a long time and know some of how they approach things.

The difference is context. In both cases, you're giving the chain of events and/or logical assumptions that led to the end result. However, "a reason" becomes "an excuse" when it is used to absolve one's self from responsibility for the actions taken.

For example: I was hungry and I knew that we were placing a grocery delivery order this afternoon, therefore I used the last of the milk to have cereal. I did not know that you wanted a smoothie and you were in the bathroom so I couldn't ask.

This is a reason as it is the chain of events and the logic used to make the decision to use the last of the milk. The other person, however, may see this as "an excuse" because they're upset.

They may be upset because they were looking forward to the smoothie and just want to blame you for their lack of smoothie. They don't actually blame you for it, but they're upset in the moment and the proximate cause of their lack of smoothie is your use of the last of the milk so, in the moment, they're upset.

They may be upset because they always have a smoothie on this particular day of the week or on days when they do this particular activity, and you didn't remember (either because you were expected to learn this through context clues and have not or because you have issues with keeping track of time and didn't realize what day it was). They're upset because they feel you were inconsiderate and don't pay enough attention to their needs.

They may be upset because you said "you were in the bathroom so I couldn't ask" and previously, when you've attempted to talk to them in the bathroom to ask a question, they told you that's rude and invasive and not to do that. So they feel like you're twisting their own words to use against them (think "malicious compliance"). You're attempting to shift the blame for the lack of smoothie on them, because it's their own fault they told you not to talk to them when they're in the bathroom. They may even have jumped to the logic that you did this intentionally to "punish" them for snapping at them the last time you talked to them while they were in the bathroom.

They may also have not wanted the explanation in the first place. They're upset and, as part of their emotional reaction, said something like "What were you thinking?" or "Why would you do this?" as a rhetorical question as part of their venting. You attempting to answer the question by explaining the reasons behind the action is interpreted by them as an attempt to make excuses. If you're ever asked something like this and you're told "I don't want any excuses!" before you've even said anything, this is likely what's happening.

Now, because they are upset, they are not thinking logically. They are reading their own emotional state into the interaction the two of you are having and thus the misunderstanding between "reason" and "excuse".

And that's why it's so difficult to tell the difference between "reason" and "excuse": You don't get to decide which one you're giving, the OTHER PERSON decides.

Image description: Screenshot of a tweet from user crab need less humidity @namekianprice, 'Can a neurotypical person please explain their definition of a reason vs an excuse? Because I am genuinely confused. When asked "why did you do it this way", I'm going to explain my process to you, because you asked. But as I start talking you go "I don't want your excuses"?'

#neurotypical #neurodiversity #neurodivergent

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wystericwoes · 8 months

Text

Doomed pt.4

Warnings: cursing, slight smut, mild descriptions of violence, lore accurate Gojo and Sukuna, Sukuna's domain so blood and bones n shit, psychoanalyzing Gojo, emotions, mild implications to toxic relationships

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

"ℑ 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔲𝔭 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢, 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔢."

If Sukuna's timeline was a road, you were a deer that ran through it.

The moment the car impacts against it and you know you just took a life. At first you may feel reverence, guilt, shame, or even dread. But inevitably, you just stare at the pathetic body beneath you. And you must move on.

He’s changed, and you don’t even remember him.

You brought out the best in him. Or at least the best he could be, but that was a long time ago.

So, he had to make a decision.

You tapped on the windows of his soul, and he couldn’t help but open it. Little did he know that you would manage to vortex your soul and come powering through as a seemingly unstoppable force.

The second he came back in the body of Yuji, his soul awakened.

Something was off. Something was missing. Something wasn’t right.

And all the questions and all the answers had you standing in the center.

He comes back, and you gain powers, He gets close to you, and he feels weaker, but you become stronger. And vice versa.

Luckily, he had a personal drone that he could manifest an eye on and begin to keep it on you like a hawk.

And un/fortunately for him, you keep getting stuck with Yuuji.

What he doesn’t like however, is your innate curiosity.

You shouldn’t want to be near him, and yet, any chance you get you keep naively wanting to talk to him.

Do you not know by now?

Do you not know who you were to him? And what he did to you?

“I’m going to tell you this once.”

You stared at him, wide eyed and attentive.

“Don’t talk to me anymore.”

You were shocked.

“Why not?”

“Because I can kill you. Is that not reason enough?”

“But you haven’t!”

He tched.

“Stupid.”

Your heart was pounding. White spots in the corner of your vision.

“I just have some questions.”

“I don’t have to answer them.”

“Then don’t.”

Fuck. You haven’t changed. You were still dumb and wide-eyed as ever, always so stubborn.

You didn’t know how to ask him what you wanted to ask. If he didn’t know what you were talking about, you would seem crazier than you already were.

“Do- do you know anything about…”

He looked at you. A blank expression.

You gulped at his stare.

“About me?”

He was completely unreadable. And that terrified you.

He simply stared at you like you were stupid and remained silent.

You started to sweat, how much time did you have left?

“Okay… sorry. Ignore that.”

You could feel the adrenaline being pumped through your veins.

“You’re the king of curses, so do you know why everything is happening so suddenly with curses and my powers and whatever?”

“That’s a title given to me by sorcerers. I have no way of knowing that.”

He looked annoyed.

“Shit… sorry.”

You really were the same. Always apologizing when you were nervous, even when you had no reason to.

“I can buy us 2 minutes. Make it quick.”

“Shit yeah. Um, what happened last time we met?”

He raised a brow, confused.

“Do you not remember?”

“No. I forgot… I think I passed out.”

“I can’t answer that, but I will tell you one thing out of respect for you.”

You perked up. Respect?

“Don’t trust Gojo Satoru.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll have to figure it out. I don’t know much about it myself.”

He spoke so properly, whenever you talked after you felt like a child in comparison.

“Okay one last one.”

Your breath was heavy, and hands were shaking.

“Why haven’t you hurt me?”

He looked you up and down. His gaze was penetrating, you felt like you had nothing against him, nothing protecting you in this moment right now.

“Do you want me to?”

“No! I’m just- I'm confused- you’re not as bad as everyone says you are, and I don’t know what to do! Nothing makes sense right now, and no one’s telling me anything!”

“Why should I?”

He said in a dismissive tone.

“Because you’re the only person who I feel like isn’t lying to me.”

Stupid. Too trusting.

He stayed silent. His gaze unmoving, you shifted uncomfortably.

“I can’t stall any longer. Don’t reach me again. If anyone finds out they might kill you, I might kill you. You wear down my patience and your voice annoys me.”

“I…- “

You cut yourself off, watching as his eyes closed and he shifted back into Yuuji.

He blinked his eyes a few times before looking at you.

“What happened?”

You didn’t know what you looked like. But you quickly realized it wasn’t normal, and took a deep breath, fixing yourself.

“Nothing. What I thought was gonna happen.”

Luckily, he wasn’t interested in asking questions. And kept his curiosity to himself. He could see that you were upset, so he left it at that.

“So… what movie do you wanna watch next?”

You softly smiled. He was a good person. A nice change of pace from all the uncertainty in your life.

And after your talk with Sukuna, you never heard the rabbit scream bloody murder again.

Have you ever been so mad that your vision was blurry, and your thoughts just ceased?

Well, you weren't there yet, but you were really fucking close.

And what caused your knuckles to turn white, and your blood pressure to rise beyond earth's atmosphere rhymed with Sojo Gatoru.

You were so frustrated that someone who you thought was the only stability right now was the one who was thoroughly fucking you over.

You didn’t even want to go over to his place, but his shower is nice and if what he means is true about people wanting you dead- then you can stay another couple of nights mad at him.

It beats being in the dorms anyway.

But you didn’t know what to believe now, was he lying about that too? The fact that your uncertainty had led you to believe what Sukuna said over the supposed “good guys”.

Luckily Gojo wasn’t a total idiot and didn’t show up that night. So, he had some self-awareness after all.

You had just gotten out of the shower and into a change of clothes, when you heard to doorbell ring.

Your blood was boiling, he really had the balls to show up after he knew how upset you were? You stomped over to the door and slung it open only to be met with… food.

You were a little less upset now. But still upset!

Why would he have rung the doorbell on his own house anyway? You mentally face-palmed yourself realizing. Your mind had been on the fritz ever since your conversation with Sukuna.

"Don't trust Gojo Satoru."

Was this the truth? Or a manipulative ploy?

You shook your head and dispersed the thoughts. Shoving stressful moments into the back of your head and instead focusing on something you could trust. Free food.

In your anger, you settled on abusing the ever-living shit out of Gojo's house. Not literally, just in the disregard for how his electrical and water bills are affected.

You drank the expensive wines and binged the endless stream of TV subscriptions, surrounded yourself in fluffy blankets and supple silks.

As much as you hate him right now, you loved how annoyingly good his bathroom was. The whole house really. A modernized rustic home with Japanese influence. You were surprised he didn't live in some penthouse, but there's also a lot of evidence that he's hardly here.

His fridge is mostly empty with the exception of a variety of drinks and some organic snacks like fancy dips and cheeses. No meals, no produce. The same goes for his pantry- which had some non-perishable goods like rice, chips, and sweets. That must've been why he was sending you so much food, because he was aware of how sad his stash was.

It's amazing that he could ever bring anyone over here. What does he do for dinner? Wait for take-out? Not necessarily romantic. Or most likely he's more of a 'haste and baste' kind of guy. Bring them over, fuck, then repeat.

You almost shuddered at the thought.

Once you were done eating, you went to the bathroom. Paper doors slid open to reveal an at-home spa and sauna. The marble countertops perfectly contrasted with the hardwood floors. But the most beautiful part was the deep onyx tiles that coated the inside of the shower and bath.

The bathtub was modern, and the handles fit perfectly in your palms.

You have no idea how Satoru doesn't spend much time here, it's absolutely stunning.

The long bath was what you needed, the hot water kneading your muscles and soothing the tension that your body carried. Nearly orgasmic quality in the way it made you feel, the steam opening your pores and relaxing you to your core.

You lolled your head back against the tub and closed your eyes.

He held your hand as he guided you into the Onsen.

The steam spread across your body, welcoming you inside, its tendrils dancing around you both in a messy waltz.

You had to put your hair up, as you stepped in, he made you grow it out longer than it had ever been before- because he liked it that way.

He ogled you shamelessly as the water enveloped you like a womb.

With one drawn-out sigh, you threw your head back. The newest spring added to the estate, overlooking the sunset. Painted skies, delicate leaves, and welcoming waters were your favorite kind of nights.

He dedicated at least one night a week to you and alone time. When he wasn't out conquering lands and dominating dictators.

You were his special little secret. His Achilles heel, and above all else, his exception.

This was before he had killed thousands, before he had grown four arms and was donned "King of curses."

When he maybe still had a chance.

You were his first true love, right before power. which he had recently been on an ever-increasing and concerning pursuit of. But for now, you let yourself live in willful ignorance.

A mistake that you would end up soon regretting.

You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you had dozed off. The water was now lukewarm, your fingers pruned and neck sore.

"Well, that was a waste of a good bath..." you sighed and got out with a strained grunt.

Pulling the nearest towel over to you and drying yourself off, you decided you should go to bed.

You started to hate that bed. If not for its silky smoothness and cloud-like mattress, you would sleep on the couch.

It was unnecessarily huge- easily a king. And sleeping in alone served as the cruelest reminder that you were more alone than ever when sleeping over as an esteemed guest.

When you finally sunk into bed, it smelled like him. Which was both relaxing and distressing.

You had thrown on one of his shirts to feel a little closer to him. But even being in his bed you never felt farther away, and you couldn't stand it.

Maybe sleep would be more welcoming, so you succumbed to it.

Your eyes gently opened, but the bed was a lot harder, and colder.

You noticed the kink in your neck was gone, but so was the bed. instead, you rested upon a ground of crimson, rippling beneath you from every movement.

It was more than a dream, but it wasn't quite real either.

You sat up, the first thing you noticed was a chain on your ankle.

Then the second, bones. You were inside a ribcage.

This would usually be the moment when you would scream, but you remained quiet- in more of a silent shock, your mouth agape and heart beating more and more rapidly.

That was when you followed your eyes down the chain, to a pile of throne-shaped human skeletal remains. You let out a sharp gasp, bringing a hand up to your hand upon seeing the last person you would've expected.

Sukuna.

He was donned in godly white robes, eyes closed. A sleeping beast, and you had fallen straight into the den.

You didn't make a peep. Frantically looking around for any escape.

As you were shifting, you moved the chain. You cringed as you turned around to see that he was now awake. He had felt the chain move because it was attached to his ankle as well.

He looked at you with the most emotion you had seen in his face so far, and that emotion was shock.

So at least you weren't the only one who was confused here.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low and guttural, and absolutely terrifying.

Panic creeped its way through you from the ground up as you looked him in the eyes.

"I-I don't know how I got here this wasn't me I promise!"

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you. And he looked pissed.

"I do not care if it was an accident. I said what I said." Each word was laced with venom.

His hand met your throat, and you were abruptly slammed into the ground.

His hands are warm.

You let out a strained sound of pain. The ground was fluid but still solid- somehow.

"This... Isn't my fault!"

You fought back. And with a surprising strength, pushed him off of you, you dug one knee into the ground and yanked onto the chain as hard as you could, knocking him off his feet.

"So don't attack me asshole!"

You were so mad. And for some reason, you weren't scared.

He let out a scoff and extended his legs to swipe underneath you, causing you to also fall.

"Shit!" You fell hard on your ass and the pain shot through you.

He had gotten back up and dusted off his robe.

"What a brat."

He said with pure annoyance.

"Before you start attacking me, tell me how to get back and I will. I don't want to fucking be here."

You were panting and sweating, the adrenaline settling in fully. Slowly bringing yourself up while straining from your bruised body.

He was looking at you frustrated. Before he went back up to his sadistic and creepy throne.

"I don't have time for this."

He closed his eyes again.

You yanked on your shared chain, jerking him out of his attempt at sleep, angering him more.

He grit his teeth. As much as you didn't like pissing him off, it was better than him ignoring you completely.

You two argued like children.

"Stop it." He growled.

"Make me!"

"You don't want me to do that. Trust me little mouse."

"I have questions! If we're stuck together, I'm at least getting answers."

"And what makes you think you have that authority over me? You're in my domain."

"Yeah, break this chain then!"

He just scoffed at you.

"I don't have to."

"Then I guess you're just stuck with me." You were going to sit down but remembered it's all blood. and opted to just cross your arms instead.

"Why are you chained to me anyway?"

He opted to ignore you.

"Don't do that petty crap."

He still paid you no mind.

You just huffed in defeat and walked over to investigate the walls for an escape.

You tried sitting and closing your eyes, maybe going to sleep is how you wake up? Some movie double inception bullshit.

"You breathe loud."

He muttered out of nowhere.

You simply scoffed.

"Do you have any idea why this is happening? You're the sorcerer after all."

He re-opened his eyes and looked at you.

He let out a strained sigh.

"I might. But there's nothing that can be done about it now."

"Have you tried?"

He looked at you like you were stupid.

"Why don't you try angel?" He said in a condescending voice. Angel.

With a wave of newfound dedication, you went to your anklet, trying to pry it open only to be shocked by what felt like electricity. You knew you couldn't bend metal with your bare hands, but you weren't expecting that.

"Look closer at it idiot."

That's when you realized it wasn't metal, it was energy. Cursed energy.

"You can't do anything about that?"

"It's a binding vow. No sorcerer can break it."

You looked at him perplexed.

He tched. Too annoyed.

"A pact with jujutsu."

"That doesn't help."

"It doesn't need to. All you need to know is that we're both in a bad spot."

You contemplated his words.

It all still made no sense; you furrowed your brow and rubbed a finger on your temple.

"Only you can get yourself out of here."

“What do you mean by that? I didn’t even try to come here in the first place.”

“You came to me, brat.”

“I doubt that. Look around you, does this look like a place I would try to be in?”

“You’re the one who showed up at my feet, you tell me.”

“Try killing me then, maybe I’ll return back to my plane or whatever.”

“You can’t kill a soul.”

You looked at him dumbfounded.

He rolled his eyes.

“These aren’t our physical bodies. You’re inside my soul.”

“Well I’d like to be out.”

“The feeling is mutual. But you’re too weak to know how to manipulate your cursed energy yet.”

Your ego was a little bruised at his insult, but you knew he was right.

In an act of rebellion, you tried to escape. You pawed at the chain, clawed the walls, punched them, kicked them, frustration overtook you.

But being stuck with him was not the source of it.

It was knowing nothing but being apart of everything, it was being ghosted and controlled, it was Gojos smug fucking face and pretentious attitude.

Sukuna was actually one of the only things you weren’t entirely upset about. But you were feeling your emotions, and it happened to be right here. So you still cursed at the meaty fleshy walls of his “domain.”

You thought maybe fighting him would do it, but anytime you looked over at him it’s like he knew- and he quickly gave you a glare that shut that idea down.

“You could at least try to help.”

“With what? You brought yourself to me.”

“Right because I clearly wanted that. Look at how much I’m enjoying being here.”

He wasn’t telling the whole truth. Since it was his domain, he could usually send people out when he wanted, but because of the chain, he was stuck with you.

You let out a muffled scream in frustration. Sliding down the wall, you didn’t care if the floor was blood. It didn’t stain your clothes.

Your clothes.

Why was it for the first time you had just now realized your clothes weren’t the ones you went to sleep with- I guess shock does that to you.

You looked down and you were wearing red silky robes.

“Red is your favorite color…”

You mumbled, everything clicked into place.

You were hit with a resurgence of emotion, your heart felt like it stopped.

You weren’t going crazy.

His hands are warm.

Angel.

Red robes.

You had felt like you were hit by a freight train, everything quickly became disoriented and you felt your sense of reality splitting with a painful migraine. Your five senses all became dulled, and you nearly tripped on your own feet.

He was simply looking down at you when you went to meet his gaze.

Panic creeped into you, seeping into your pores and overtaking you cell by cell. You felt like you were being ripped apart in slow agonizing pieces by the strain that your body was putting on itself.

“You do know something…”

Your hands went up to your head, fingers gripping your hair.

“Everyone knows something but me!”

You shouted, but no one heard.

You choked a quiet sob. Not allowing the tears to run down your face, but feeling them threaten to fall.

You were slammed with emotions that weren’t yours.

He betrayed you.

As fast as they left came memories flooding in your head. All in the third person as a helpless spectator. But they were all in flashes, none of them clear. Something was trying to force its way into your brain, something that wasn’t you.

“Did you finally figure it out yet?”

Your neck hurts. But it wasn’t the kink from the tub, it was a sharp pain, a searing one that resonated like a cruel blade.

He stepped down his throne and made his way in front of you with slow and carefree movements.

“You’ve always been slow.”

He bent down and with a firm grip squeezed either side of your face, bringing it up to meet him.

“Now I just have to figure out how to get what I need without killing you.”

Your eyes shot open, your body was covered in a cold sweat and you slowly sat up.

Your head throbbed.

“What the hell…?”

You looked out and it was still dark out.

You had only been asleep a couple hours.

There was no more chain on your ankle, no more pain.

You didn’t know if it was a dream, and you didn’t want to know. It wasn’t quite real, but something was off about it too. A lucid dream maybe?

You pressed a hand to your hot face to feel wet spots on your cheeks, you had been crying in your sleep.

You picked up your phone.

You didn’t know what else to do.

He didn’t know what else to do.

He had been out clubbing the past two days every second he wasn’t at work.

He had officially been awake a full 42 hours. And even the strongest needs sleep.

He was losing control. Of his sanity, of you.

The only thing that he did have control over, was who he hooked up with. So that’s what he was doing- or- who he was doing.

Until he got a buzz in his back pocket, he had been receiving some pretty okay head- anything to distract him until he saw your name pop up.

He thought about it, thumb hovering over the hang up button.

He sighed, and petted the person's head between his legs a couple times before smiling at them and getting up.

“Maybe another time, kay?”

Before they even had a chance to say anything he was already outside, buttoning his pants and fixing his fly.

He didn’t answer.

That asshole! First you felt rage, but it quickly warped back into what could only be described as fear.

“Dammit Satoru!!”

You threw your phone across the bed. You were upset, but not break your phone by throwing it on the floor upset.

You flopped onto your back,

Until you heard it buzz again.

You were tempted not to answer; why was he awake at this time anyway? But Maybe you woke him.

You reached across the bed and picked it up.

There was a brief second of silence before you both said “hello?” At the same time

“Sorry. You go first.”

“You called me babe.”

“Not this time technically…”

You heard him chuckle into the receiver.

Another moment of silence.

“Can you… can you come home?”

“Why? Did something happen? You didn’t burn anything down did you?”

“It’s your house asshole, you should be here!”

“You miss me. That’s it isn’t it?”

You could hear his smug smile.

“I’m just… I don’t know.”

You needed someone, just not him. You wanted company, just not his. You were scared.

And he was strong.

“Something did happen… I haven’t told you everything because I feel like you haven’t been telling me everything either.”

Silence.

As big of a dick as Gojo Satoru was, he knew when he was in the wrong. He just wasn’t very often (according to him.)

“Can you just do your freaky teleporting shit and get over here? I’ve been alone too long.”

“That’s not really how it works- but, sure.”

There was a rasp to his voice. And not the sexy tired kind, the dry-throated, tipsy, sick rasp. Like when the lining of your throat is burned from throwing up. The kind of rasp after you swallow a pill too big and it gets stuck in your throat.

You waited for him to appear in the room for a minute but he never did. You thought he forgot about you until you heard the sound of stumbling in the kitchen and some cursing.

You left the bed and got up to be met by Gojo stomping around and his feet giving away his position, leaning one hand against the counter and his shoulders and head slumped.

“Jesus Gojo, are you drunk?”

“My name is Satoru.”

He had a different tone than when he was on the phone with you just a moment ago.

“Sorry… Satoru.”

You walked over and slid his tall ass arm over your shoulder and walked him over to the closest seat.

You finally were up close enough to see his face, his glasses were halfway slid down his nose, and deep grey bags adorned themselves beneath his eyes.

He smelled like a bar, and his clothes were dirty too.

“Long night?”

“Nights.” He put an emphasis on the s.

“When was the last time you slept…”

“Uhhh…”

He looked upwards as if trying to remember.

You sighed. Calling him for comfort was clearly a bad idea, but you can’t send him out like this. Although he was surprisingly well composed for someone who allegedly hasn't slept in days- he was still a wreck underneath that false composure.

“You smell like a fart took a shit. Where’ve you been?”

“You’re not my mom.”

He quipped.

You just rolled your eyes.

“Do you want to get some sleep?”

“Not particularly.”

He had thrown his head back and you watched as his adams apple bobbed.

“Why not?”

“Can’t.”

“Well yeah that tends to happen when you go out drinking.”

“Correlation isn’t causation sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms in a sassy defiance.

“You’re not in a place to be a smartass, Satoru. Come on.”

You put your hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, hinting at him to pay attention and help as you attempted to pull his arm over you, and get him up. You both almost collapsed except you managed to plant a hand against the nearest hardest surface and ground yourself.

“You’re heavier than you look. Lay off the sweets.”you said with a grunt.

You tried joking to ease up the tension, As funny as it may seem to haul a sick Satoru around- you could tell something was wrong.

You didn’t want to be an adult right now, but you were left without a choice.

He barely helped you, his feet shuffling beneath him as he leaned most of his weight against you. Finally surrendering to his exhaustion.

You managed to haul his lanky ass to the bed where you threw him on it, feeling little sympathy.

“Okay, goodnight now.”

You were just about to turn the light off and go over to the couch, before you heard him mutter something under his breath, stopping you in your steps.

“Stay…”

You turned your head around.

“Really, now you want to be with me?” You couldn’t hold back your attitude.

He was staring up at the ceiling, his hand on his face.

You sighed. You couldn’t leave him like this, his shoes were still on.

“Can you change yourself?”

He nodded.

“Okay, go do that. Then I’ll come back.”

You walked out to the kitchen and ran him some water, reminiscing on your first day here.

You walked back slowly, staring down at the glass. Feeling it against your skin.

When you came back into the room, he was laying exactly where he had been before except he was in nothing but his boxers.

“That’s not what I meant by changing.”

“Close enough.”

You sighed again, placing the water on his nightstand.

“You forgot your glasses…”

You turned over to him, and leaning over his face, Revealing his eyes, those fucking eyes. Which were focused right on you as he watched you delicately take them off and place them aside.

And for the first time he truly admired you. You weren’t conventional. You weren’t like the other people he had ever been with, you were genuine.

You turned on the lamp, then went across the room to turn off the light.

You walked back over to the bed and slid into the sheets a safe distance from him, and scrolled through your phone.

You had spent a second like that, but were distracted by the feeling of your hand being picked up by his.

He lifted it above his face, and just… looked at it. Inspecting each finger with his own.

You looked at him interested, mostly confused.

“I like your hands.”

He said out of nowhere.

“Thanks?”

Then he placed your hand against his chest and closed his eyes.

Your breath hitched, he was so cold. You spoke to hide your flustered-ness.

“Take a blanket, Satoru! Jesus.”

You reached down and grabbed a loose one at the foot of the bed and slung it over his legs haphazardly.

He then sat upright, and pushed the blanket off of him. You were about to protest before he pulled his legs up and then under the sheets with you.

“How drunk are you?”

You said as a genuine question.

“About a 9/10.”

He looked over at you.

“Is that bad?”

“Not good.” He chuckled.

He was different. You chalked it up to the alcohol, but this Satoru was entirely different than the one you had seen before. And you also didn't peg him as the type to drink. Which he wasn't.

He wore no fake smile, he faked no compliments, he didn’t act with an air of cockiness.

“Why are you partying and drinking so much anyway?”

His smile dropped.

“You.”

So no filter while he’s drunk? Cool.

“Oh, sorry?”

“It’s not your fault though.”

He was staring at the ceiling again.

“How am I the reason but it’s not my fault?”

“You’re different.”

“So you say.”

You joked it off.

You looked over at him and he was just looking at you. Intrinsically eyeing every detail of your face, as if he was trying to get to something.

“You don’t make sense.”

“I don’t make sense?! You teleported here!”

“That’s true.”

He had a small smile again.

“I just mean you don’t… work the same way everyone else does.”

“You could say that about anyone though. No one’s the same.”

“Yeah but you especially.”

You laid down next to him, both of you on your backs looking up.

“Everything’s been so weird recently.”

You admitted. Looking back over to him.

“Do you know the reason why I called you?”

“You were lonely?”

You almost punched him, But gave him a pass because he was drunk.

“Because I’m scared.”

He paid his full attention to you.

“I can’t pretend like it isn’t happening anymore. I keep having these- dreams and visions or something of myself and of…”

You almost didn’t want to say it. But he probably wouldn’t remember this anyway, and you needed to get it off your chest.

“..Sukuna.”

You said with a shaky breath.

Gojos eyes widened slightly.

The image was beginning to really take shape in his mind now, almost sobering him up as the realization was hitting him. The familiar visual of a cork board with images and blank spaces, and you and sukuna closely tied together.

It started to fall into place. He simply stared at you while you spoke.

“And I’m chained to him… and he keeps telling me all these things and I keep wanting to see him even though I know I shouldn’t, and ever since this all started my memory has been defective, and anytime I’m alone with my thoughts I just think about him.”

You closed your eyes and put your hands over your face.

“I don’t know what’s scarier… how terrifying he is, or the fact that I still want to be near him…”

You said shakily. You hadn’t even admitted that to yourself yet.

You reopened your eyes, rubbing them sheepishly. Sleep wanting to overtake you again.

“I’m sorry…”

You realized you may have over shared with the way he stared at you.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I feel like that was too much.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad.”

He reached over for your hand again, instinctively, as if it were second nature.

“I appreciate it but I don’t think that’s true.”

He let out a sigh of defeat.

“I kinda knew.”

You whipped your head around to him.

“What?!?!”

“I traced it back to that first day when we trained, the energy you used wasn’t regular cursed energy.”

You looked at him with a confused expression.

“It was something a lot more complicated that not many sorcerers can ever do.”

“It could’ve just been luck?”

“It’s something that takes skill. That’s something you don’t have yet.”

Ouch.

“And I traced it back to Sukuna.”

“You know about this?!”

“Don’t get mad at me!” He whined

“It’s not easy for me to get any angrier at you than I already am.”

You squeezed his hand with a bruising force without even realizing.

“Let me explain at least-“

“Fine…”

You glared at him.

“I don’t ‘know’ about it- I just have been… investigating in my spare time.”

You raised a brow, still glaring.

“Thin ice. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything you had going on.”

“Right so that’s where you draw the line but making me leave my job and ditching me after sleeping with me is fine.”

He winced. He had never thought of it like that.

“You’re a prick y’know that?”

“You’re not the first person to tell me.”

“You should really fucking listen.”

You snarked at him.

You wanted to say something else. But the silence was too comfortable.

Your eyes fell down to his hand holding yours.

How did he manage to have so many walls up but also act so vulnerable? He managed to put everything out there yet hide himself.

You wanted desperately to figure him out. But everytime you tried you lost yourself down his complexity.

You rolled your eyes, and then yawned.

“You need sleep.”

“You’re probably right.”

He blinked his eyes slowly.

“Remember that you said that.”

He chuckled.

You released his hand and turned the light off,

“Night ‘Toru.” You scooted over next to him and put your head on his chest,

He grunted in response.

You smiled to yourself and drifted off soon after.

When you woke up, you weren’t alone. Which was an incredibly nice change of pace.

You had barely moved from last night, head still on him. You slowly craned your neck up to see that he was still asleep.

You reached around and eventually felt where your phone was, checking the time.

It was well into the afternoon.

“Oh shit!”

Your sudden remark woke up the man beneath you.

“Huh?”

“Wake up! It’s past 3!”

“Oh shit!”

“I know!”

You two looked at each other for a moment and started breaking out laughing.

“I can’t believe I missed the whole day…”

“That’s what you get for not sleeping for two fucking days!”

You said angrily but were smiling.

“I blame you.”

“Why?!”

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t call me.”

“Yeah, because you probably would’ve stayed up another night.”

You reached for a pillow and went to hit him, but he caught it.

“That’s because someone’s taking up my room.”

“This was your idea!”

You reached for another pillow, only to be met with the Same result.

With both his hands holding pillows, you attempted to hit him with a blanket, but he just trapped you instead with his pillow-hands and held you up against him.

“Lehfme goh!”

Your words were muffled.

“Sorry, I can't hear you.”

You desperately tried to escape, but he was strong.

Annoyingly so.

“Hwhy arh you sho buff?”

He simply laughed at you.

“Okah I woh hit you anhmoe!”

He loosened his grip, and you rolled out of bed before he could hit you with another sneak attack.

“I’m gonna go and be productive now.”

“Aww, you’re gonna leave me here?”

“Yes.”

You said shamelessly as you left for the kitchen.

The sunlight was boldly peeking in through all the windows, there wasn’t even a need for lights as you strolled through, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

He followed behind, pulling up some pants as he walked.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

“I knew you liked me.”

He said cockily.

“It’s just because it’s comfy, don’t get the wrong idea.”

He was back to his normal self, that sliver of vulnerability and genuineness was gone now.

“That’s what they always say.”

“Can you order some breakfast- you don’t have shit in this house.”

You felt that all too familiar sensation of an empty stomach's rage as you rummaged through his pathetic pantry.

“You don’t even have cereal in here! What’s wrong with you?”

“According to you a lot.”

“I stand by that!”

You shouted from inside the cabinets.

“There probably aren't any places offering breakfast.” He sat on a chair and began looking through his phone.

Shit. You realized he was probably right.

“But you’re rich? Can’t you hire a private chef or something? I want some waffles.”

“Someone’s becoming needy.”

“Blame yourself for taking me out so much.”

“How are you going to live without me?”

That sentence made you think. What were you gonna do after you left?

“Speaking of which, am I allowed to go back to my place?”

“With me, yeah.”

“Just you?”

He nodded his head smugly.

“Are you sure it’s not an excuse to go steal my underwear or something?”

“If I wanted to do that I would’ve already.”

“How do I know you haven’t?”

He put a hand under his chin with a crossed leg and propped an elbow on the table smiling at you.

“You don’t.”

“Gross.”

You dismissed him.

“What are you planning on telling your job?”

“An important business trip maybe, somewhere far.”

“How are you going to lie to your own bosses about being on a business trip?”

“Oh, I’m not, I’ll lie to my students and co-workers though.”

That sounded familiar…

That’s what he told you when you were sent on that mission.

“How often do you go on those…?”

“Rarely. But it makes for an excellent excuse.”

“Don’t trust Gojo Satoru.”

“Right…”

“So, where do you want to go to eat?” He beamed at you.

The energy between you two has just shifted. And you felt that all too natural feeling of your walls rising, brick by brick.

You two spent the day together, perusing shops and laughing, just genuinely enjoying each other's company.

Maybe a little too much.

You couldn’t help but notice your infatuation to anger ratio with Satoru was never steady, and always tipped in one direction. Right now, it was a perfect medium, but slowly began to favor him every time he cracked a joke or ran his fingers through his hair, or when he rejected people’s numbers.

You two were sitting on a bench and watching the scenery. A park setting, one of the quieter parts of the bustling city.

“I noticed something today.”

You were smiling contently staring at the trees and people walking through the paths.

“Oh no. Gunna psychoanalyze me again?”

He had one arm behind you resting against the top of the bench, an ankle crossed over his knee as he lowered his face down to you.

You ignored him and continued talking.

“You’ve turned down all the people that have come up to you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, but it’s a new thing.”

“I really just do it to humor them.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You never do!”

He smiled at you.

“Yeah, because you’re full of bullshit, respectfully.”

“What evidence do you have to support your claim, sweetheart?”

You scoffed at his nickname.

“You have a used box of condoms in your nightstand, sweetheart.”

“Most people do. You’re jealous.”

He was giving you a cocky grin.

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you, you just want an excuse to cuck me.”

“I’m not that into it, but if you’re open I’m open.”

“What’s your body count then?”

“That is incredibly private, and I’m quite upset you would ask!”

He feigned offense.

“I bet it’s more than both our ages combined.”

“You’re probably right.”

You didn’t want to admit you were jealous, because you weren’t exclusive- But you were. The idea that every time he told you that you're special was something he said before, that his bed isn’t cold when you’re gone. His shirt you wore earlier could’ve been on someone else.

You went quiet. You weren’t sure why you were so upset over him, but you felt it.

“Didn’t peg you for the covetous type.”

He went back to looking forward, admiring the same view as you.

“And I didn’t peg you as a sappy drunk.”

“Subjective.”

“Sure.”

You liked your little banters. But you all too cruelly reminded yourself that it was temporary.

You were unknowingly pouting, or as you would prefer to say- brooding.

He slung an arm over your shoulder and brought his mouth to your ear.

“Someone’s maddd…” He cooed.

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes and tried pushing him away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“C’mon, let’s go home sassy.” He pulled you into him.

Time flies. Well not actually, for you it was.

But for Satoru, it was moving at an agonizing pace.

His whole world currently revolves around you. The mystery with Sukuna, you living with him, your developing friendship? If that’s what normal people would call it.

But what was really kicking his ass was he was changing.

It started off as

“I’m just not in the mood too tonight.”

“None of these people are doing it for me.”

And the next thing he knew he was sitting on the velvet couches of bright and vivid nightclubs. Bass, boobs, butt, and boisterous music were beginning to become boring. Instead of scouting out the nearest hot piece of meat he was going to fuck or make out with he was thinking about how annoyed he felt.

Predictable, and mundane. At first, he just thought that the club itself was the problem- and he tried doing rounds around the city to varying places.

But he kept circling past his house and keeping track of when the lights would be on or off.

Thursday-

lights on at 9:00pm,

off at 11.

Friday-

Lights stayed on until midnight, then went off at around 1.

Then they came back on.

Did you wake up again?

Then they were off the next hour.

Maybe just a midnight snack.

Saturday-

The lights stayed off all night.

Went to bed early.

One night He “broke into” his own home and peeked. He simply put his head in the door and leered in to see you asleep. Then he went out again. Every little thing you did he was becoming obsessed with. Obsessed with knowing, understanding, figuring out. He hasn't ever been challenged like this, so uncertain- so unknowing. From the things you say to your arduous sleep schedule.

You had been using the spare key but honestly you were in and out so much he had just made you a copy, and he saw that it was gone.

As well as your shoes, phone, but not your wallet.

This started to become his favorite game.

You were shifting to becoming the central focus of this chapter in his life.

He started to narrow down all the places you could be. Phasing through the nighttime of Tokyo and disappearing into the skylines.

You wouldn’t be clubbing, you’d need your ID.

Restaurant? But money. Unless someone was paying for you.

Dating? Hookups? Secret underground fighting ring?

He was perplexed. Every step of the way he just couldn’t predict you.

He thought about not doing it, not following you. But he just couldn’t help himself, you were just too damn interesting.

He found out later that you had gone on a walk. How something so simple had managed to stump him drew him closer into you. Just a walk- The simplest answer led to the most complicated of thinking.

Why were you such an enigma? One answer leads to two questions. At first, he couldn’t stand not knowing anything, but he realized that having you in his life was difficult. And he fucking loved it.

One week had passed since the night where he stumbled home drunk, and each day became part of a bigger puzzle.

He had seen the shift in you.

The training was getting to you, after some time you were finally becoming less mad at him- but you wouldn’t admit that. Even though he could tell.

He may not have been able to use his cursed technique on you, but he still did his best to figure you out.

You were growing tired, and each night he heard the same thing in different ways several times.

“Who knew learning magic required so much working out?”

You groaned as you stretched your sore muscles.

“You say that every night.”

He was reading a book sitting on the couch as you watched a movie and did some stretches. “Sorry we can’t all be born with the body of Zeus Asstoru.”

Your newest nickname for him. He didn’t necessarily mind, finding your frustration cute.

You had eventually pushed past the borders of sleeping in separate places. After that night when he came home shit faced you both had a silent agreement that it was nicer to sleep next to each other than alone.

And this was the beginning of a beautifully complicated relationship. Situationship, if you will.

You refused to sleep with him again to avoid further ruining yourself. Thinking that if you avoided that, everything would stay simple.

Naive as always.

You were both too caught up in the flow of life to realize how domestic you both looked.

During week one you convinced him to go grocery shopping, and you two stood side by side in the kitchen as he blasted pop songs and splashed water on you while doing the dishes, eliciting a scream and then chaos ensuing. Which always led to you two having to do more cleaning- you yelled at him how counterintuitive it was and he laughed it off like always.

Week two you had both made allotted chores to share. Gojo had the dishes, food, and the floors. You covered laundry, surfaces, and anything else. But you shared making the bed.

He usually liked to take up at least ⅔ of it with his lanky ass body, and so You eventually started rolling over and hitting him in the face until he moved. In the cases where you took up the bed, he just laid on you. Leaving you totally helpless as you clawed at him and tried pushing your huge lap dog off.

“Toru’!” Git!” You grunted as he refused to budge. Just mumbling something into your shoulder.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous.” You sighed, but ultimately accepted defeat this time.

By week three you had an allotted movie night- Tuesdays. You weren't sure how your arguing had led to that compromise, but it did. And any night you picked dinner he picked dessert, And vice versa. Invisible systems and structures were being built in this now-shared home.

And it was the first time you slipped in the shower with him. “To save water,” you said- even though you both knew it was a big fat lie. You were horny.

“I think you just want an excuse to see me naked.” He leaned an arm on the black tiles, his milky white skin contrasting the night black shower.

“And you’re complaining?”

“Didn’t say that now.”

He ogled you undauntedly. You both knew what you wanted, and so you went for it.

The coy game is what you called it, who could pretend like nothing was happening the longest?

The last article of clothing hit the floor, steam nearly blurring your features. He usually took his showers cold but heated it up for you.

You simply walked past him ignoring him completely, reaching for the bottle of expensive soap. You moved in to be in front of him, so he had a perfect view of your bare shoulders and neck, Some of his favorite parts.

He bit the inside of his lip, leaning back and watching intently.

You turned around to face him, but simply disregarded his presence and instead pushed him aside to reach the flowing water. A small moan leaves your lips as the welcoming warmth enveloped you.

You lathered up the soap in your hands, letting the suds fall down your body, tracing over every sweet dip.

“What's wrong?” You asked sarcastically.

“Nothing.”

“Really?” You looked him in the eyes.

“Need some help?” You gave him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes.

He was grinning at you.

“Sure.”

You reached for the soap again, with one hand you started working your way down the curves of his shoulders, and down the dip of his spine.

He pressed a firm hand against the wall balancing himself as your fingers left ghost traces down his skin. The tantalizing and torturous teasing of yours was driving him fucking insane. But he was persistent.

Then you moved your hands around to his abs, tracing the outline. You gripped onto his waist and put your face against his broad back and shoulders. Letting your hand roam farther and farther down until you reached his v-line.

The sensitive and thin skin being suddenly intruded on made his breath hitch. You traced little shapes along it, grazing his happy trail with your pinky- managing to keep your hand just high enough so it didn't touch where he needed you most. You snuck in writing your own name in gentle letters down it. You felt him tense up under you, grinning into his back.

Then, you left.

“Good shower. Man, I needed that!” you stretched your arms and wrapped a towel around yourself, walking out in quick paces before he had the chance to react.

“Tease!”

You heard him shout from the echoed chambers of the bathroom, as you victoriously (and evilly) laughed.

Your shared work life was growing more intense. As your situationship with Satoru increased, as did what he put on you.

You were expected to become a professional Jujutsu sorcerer by the end of this year's graduation. You had managed to master a constant stream and management of your emotions- and Satoru at home made your little Sukuna problem much more manageable. You had hardly even thought of him since that night.

Gojo eventually laid it all out for you, after week two when you had too many questions that he was too tired to keep avoiding.

The higher ups wanted you dead, or at least gone.

Your soul had residual energy of a special grade, low-level curses were scared of you, and Sukuna had acted strange upon your arrival. But what they especially didn't like- was your potential and aura. Something about your energy threatened them, something about your soul. And above all else, they didn’t have the answer. They just messily connected the dots with crayons and saw the worst of whatever shape was made-

You also hadn't figured out your cursed technique yet, but whatever it was had the ability to possibly hurt them if put in the wrong hands.

“That can be said about anyone!” You huffed to him.

Gojo was attempting to keep you alive under the guise that you could eventually help them instead, but there was something that they knew that he didn't. Which is what he was trying to figure out. For whatever reason, you were a threat to them. And with the arrival of Sukuna at the same time, they were especially on guard. Which is why he was rushing you into training this hard, to show that you can be useful.

You were mostly confused. What harm were you to anyone?

“It's not about what you can do right now, it's what you could do.”

Gojo said to you.

“You’re unhelpful.”

“How?!” he shouted

“You always answer me in riddles! I don't know what these cryptic ass responses mean.”

“You're impossible.”

“You like it.” You blatantly flirted.

“No comment.”

He crossed his arms and turned away from you, you punched him in the shoulder jokingly.

By week four, you had partially moved in.

Your clothes occupied space in his closet, your shared meals were plated and foiled in the fridge.

You both had an unspoken agreement not to mention the outside world while you were both home together, because as much as you both hated to admit it- you grew fond of each other's company.

Satoru was home more; you were starting to adapt into this new lifestyle. And he was an amazing distraction from the hardships of your life.

You two started to find familiarity in each other. His flaws, your quirks.

He wasn’t as big and bad as he paints himself out to be, he’s still just a man after all. And you had something that no one had ever had before, you didn’t view him any differently because of it.

And you- where did he even begin with you. Somehow tied to the king of curses, mystery cursed technique, and hidden abilities. You perplexed him- which at first, he saw as a curse, but now, a blessing. If he can figure you out, he can figure anything out.

You stripped him bare and pierced his soul with your gaze when the world offered him everything you weren’t included. Instead, he has to work for it and earn it after you stripped him of the very thing that makes him Gojo Satoru.

You are the last step to his true strength.

He is the last step to your sanity breaking.

You tried to deny yourself, you really fucking did. But then he bought this expensive wine and chocolates to celebrate one month of you living with him and things shifted.

It was that goddamn white button up and saccharine voice. The way he said your name like a prayer, the way he made you feel as if you deserved to be worshiped with his gifts.

By week five, things got complicated.

Do you know how they say chocolate is an aphrodisiac? That’s probably just an excuse.

It melted between your tongues as they danced around in a disheveled waltz.

You moved to sit on his lap as his hands found comfort on your hips. The sound of the film long buzzed out, fine wine pumping through you coursing warmth across your bodies.

“We shouldn’t.” you let out a husky whisper pulling away with great reluctance.

“Why not sugar?”

That new fucking nickname. He knew what it did to you.

He ran a thumb across your top lip, wiping some chocolate off and licking it off seductively.

You were absolutely unraveled for him.

“Fuck ‘Toru…”

You arched your back into him, and he stabilized your hips with a painfully delicate grip.

“What do you want?”

You groaned in frustration and grabbed him by the collar slamming his face into yours. Tired of the teasing, of the sentimentality.

You weren’t going to convince yourself he cared.

That any of them cared, not Satoru, not Sukuna.

He pulled away from you in a feverish heat, breaths hot and heavy lids.

“Someone’s eager…”

You saw Sukuna in his eyes. You wanted to touch him, to be held by him, but that wasn’t a possibility for you.

“Shut up.”

You suddenly were overcome with a deep and passionate lust, the man beneath you wasn’t who was making it. You remembered the feeling of Sukuna's warm and calloused hands against your throat, it was firm, but you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you.

You missed it.

What the fuck was wrong with you? You shook your head and cleared your thoughts.

“Satoru?”

You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Stay broken with me.” You muttered beneath your breath.

He only gave a small smile. The silence oddly comfortable .

Pt.5

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