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#(this could be better i have many critics for these gifs but i hope u like them 😓)

vrvrnet · 2 years

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The Inspiration Challenge ▸ Create content for a creator who inspires you, and tag others to do the same!

@yngseung ! beloved friend, founder of the net, you’ve helped vrvrblr so much to grow, find eachother and spread our content, forever grateful with you ^-^♥ and for aaaaall the beautiful yongseung (and vrvr) gifs you’ve made. thank u☺

#and for ur beautiful friendship and ur beautiful self thanks for letting me get to know u☺☺#(this could be better i have many critics for these gifs but i hope u like them 😓)#theinspirationchallenge #admin #yongseung #verivery #b.gif #eyestrain

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distinguishedstudentfishalien · 3 months

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AHHH ok, let's talk about Lucifer and Alastor

I've been reading a lot of reactions to Hazbin: from the gushers who think the show is perfect to the hyper-critical who hate the show, the creator, and everything in between. I don't fall into any of those categories. I had a lot of fun watching it, but there were some things I liked, and some others I didn't. You know, as it's usually the case with any piece of media one interacts with.

I love reading other people's opinions. It makes me pay more attention to things I might have missed. BUT for Hazbin, most of the criticism I've seen boils down to two things: either "I, personally, didn't like it, so that means it's bad" which is not the hot take people seem to think it is, or just lack of media literacy.

I won't go over all the examples of that last point (there are plenty), but one example people are using to criticize the show --which I can't seem to get out of my head so now I have to write about it-- it's how out of left field it was for Alastor to think of himself as a father figure to Charlie.

My guys and guysettes, that's because he doesn't.

He does it to piss off Lucifer, because he doesn't like him. That's it.

"But they just met, why doesn't he like him?" I don't know! but let's go over some examples, shall we?

In the first episode, during Alastor's TV ad, we see a picture of the hotel, clearly drawn by him. I ask you to look to the bottom left where it says "No tacky circus decor! I promise"

Do we know what he is referring to? Sure we do! the ring circus master himself! Lucifer Morningstar, whose whole schtick is circus-related. Clearly, Alastor is not a fan.

When Lucifer arrives to the hotel, did anybody catch Alastor's first reaction? (besides calling him short to his face, ofc)

Do you see that trembling eye? He is PISSED. Why? Who the hell knows! But he clearly does not care for the King of Hell himself (if you force me to give you my opinion on this, I think it's because of Alastor's delusions of grandeur, and plain-ole narcissism, but that is a conversation for another post, if I ever gather enough energy to write it)

He introduces himself and immediately does this. R-U-D-E.

Now, let's talk about the song itself, which, again, is clearly just an attempt to piss off Lucifer and not really about Charlie. At all.

He only cares about Lucifer's reactions. Because he is not being HONEST. We can all see that? right?? I mean, it is pretty FREAKING obvious. He is just trying to get a rise out of Lucifer.

And now, the moment we were all waiting for, the infamous "call me dad" moment.

Which had nothing to do with Charlie, and it was just another example of Alastor being the most annoying bastard alive. He is not even looking at her! He is staring Lucifer dead in the eye and saying "piss off shortie".

Why? Again, I dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. I hope we'll get the answer in season 2, because immediate animosity against the King of Hell himself is something I need some context for. Is it funny? Absolutely! I love that song! The violin solo? PURE GOLD (he he)

But for the love of Christ and the Antichrist, please stop thinking of "Alastor thinks of himself as Charlie's dad out of nowhere" as a valid criticism. As some have speculated, Alastor involvement with Charlie will probably have something to do with Alastor's deal and 7-year absence. If it's never explained, then sure, what the heck Vivzie?? please include it on the show!

There are PLENTY of things we could criticize about Hazbin (and people smarter and with more energy than me have done so already). But there are so many examples of "criticism" that are just examples of "I don't know how to interact with media anymore" and I beg of you to do better. This is a tiny example of the show showing and not telling, and some of y'all failed the comprehension test.

It is a fun show, guys. Enjoy it.

TL;DR: Alastor does not think he is Charlie's dad, ffs. He just wanted to piss off Lucifer.

#and NO #he is NOT jealous #I do not ship Alstor and Charlie #she has a girlfiend #he is an ace in the hole or whatever it is that Rosie said #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #my beloved #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie

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lovelybrooke · 1 year

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Can u write out the situation where the reader was saved by Neytiri you mention in your platonic yandere sully family x human reader

Neytiri protecting reader (Platonic Sully Family x reader)

Based on this: Platonic Yandere Sully family.

I used a Na’vi dictionary for some of the words so sorry if they’re wrong.

It’s was weird, Jake insisting that you and Neytiri. It came up out of nowhere, Jake showing up at the research base claiming that Neytiri requires your assistance collecting fruit for the family.

“You sure? She seems pretty capable on her own.” Jake could hear the skepticism seeping through your voice, causing him to cringe a little. Jake was to tall to fit into your room on the research base, so he remained right outside the door as he observed you as you made you bed. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, tilting his head down a little as his eyes followed your quick movements.

“I don’t know…I think it’d be nice.” He reasoned. You give him an unimpressed stare, shaking your head softly at his excuse. Jake scoffs, dropping head hands down in defeat.

“Look kid, I worry about you.” He sighs, shaking his head and his look soften. “You’re always cooped up in this room. It’d be good if you got out every once in awhile.”

You groan, throwing your head back dramatically as you roll your eyes. You cross your arms as you direct your star towards Jake. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Jake’s mood lightness, a closed smile gracing his face. He watches fondly as you grab your backpack and squeeze past him. Before you can leave, Jake ruffles your hear, laughing at your protest. You shoot him a semi harsh glare before strapping on your oxygen pack. “Have a good time kid.”

…

“You walk slow.”

You snarl from your stop behind Neytiri. Ever since you met her in the morning, she’s been criticizing every move you make. “You’re too slow.” “You’re too loud.” “The Yovo fruit you picked is too small.” You were starting to regret coming here.

“Sorry.” You drown out a small apology, scanning your surroundings for fruit in order to avoid looking at her. In the process, you miss the quick look Neytiri gave you. Her face was cold, but when looking at you, her facade faltered a bit. Her shoulders became relaxed and her breathing was less rigid as she watched you inspect fruit for any deformities.

“It this one good?” You show her a small piece of fruit that had fallen from one of the many trees. She takes it from your small hands, looking at it intensely. It’s tiny, fitting in her palm. Its texture was soft, and with too much pressure, would become mush in between her fingers. It wasn’t ready to be eaten yet, and she knew she should discard it with the hope of finding better fruit, but Neytiri couldn’t help but cradle the small fruit in her hands as her gaze flickered between it and your hopeful eyes.

“Yes. It is fine.” She ignores the swell in her chest as your face brightens at her words. Neytiri places the fruit gently in a basket filled nearly to the brim and reaches out her hand to help you from the ground.

Crack. She pulls you up quickly, you colliding into her as she quietly silences you. Your heartbeat quickens, fear coursing through your vains as Neytiri’s observant eyes scan the foliage for any signs of danger.

Slowly she puts down her basket, careful to not make a sound as she pulls her bow from her back. You, unaware of what to do, slowly back away, watching as Neytiri stalks towards the direction of the sound.

Crack. There it was again. You jump, covering your mouth with your hands to silence yourself. Neytiri doesn’t acknowledge you, continuing to trail the sound. You were so focused on Neytiri, making sure she never left your sight, that you didn’t notice the creature coming up behind you until an arrow flew past you and pierced it through the skull. Quickly turning around you back away from the now dead creature. You didn’t recognize it, and you didn’t want to.

Your breath is labored and your hands are shaking. Unable to feel or see anything in your panicked state, you fail to answer Neytiri when she calls your name, only acknowledging her when she crouches down so your face to face. She grabs your hands and caresses them, attempting to calm you.

“Parultsyìp, you are safe.” She speaks, your breathing slowly calming down at her words. She watches as your shaking calms, her eyes moving from your hands to your arm, where a small trickle of blood cascades down. The beast must’ve managed to get to you before Neytiri was able to subdue it. While it was small, it didn’t give Neytiri much comfort.

“Parultsyìp, you are bleeding. Does it hurt?” She caresses your forearm, some blood smearing. She ignores your nod and holds you tighter as you tried to back away. She easily picks you up and rushes towards the Marui for Jakes help.

…

“They’re is fine Neytiri.” Jake consoles his mate, speaking quietly in Na’vi. Neytiri’s gaze was stuck on as you were being treated by Kiri, Tuk and Lo’ak both attached to your sides, Neteyam watching from a distance.

“Humans are weak Ma’Jake. I could have seriously wounded them.” Neytiri utters, slightly pacing. Jake pulls her towards him and rubs her arm, attempting to calm her anxiety.

“You’re not usually this worried about them.” Neytiri eyes widen, looking away from him embarrassed. She sighs, looking back towards you. You were now laughing at Lo’ak, who was goofing around with Tuk. Neytiri smiled, strangely happy to see you with her children. Jake follows her gaze and nods understandably when he looks back at her.

“I want them to stay here Ma’Jake.” Neytiri whispers, so quiet Jake could barely hear it. Jake couldn’t deny he was surprised. Neytiri was not a fan of you, of humans. They took everything from her. So when she showed up at their home terror struck with you in her arms, he knew something changed.

Jake takes her hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He gazes at her lovingly before looking back at you, a tired smile on your face which was faced towards his children. He walks inside the Marui, smiling.

“Hey kid, why don’t you stay the night.”

…

A/n: wrote this on my phone, sorry for the spelling errors or weird formatting.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere avatar #yandere avatar way of water #avatar way of water x reader #avatar way of water #sully family x reader #sully family #yandere sully family #yandere fanfiction

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quirofiliac · 2 years

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yukikorogashi asked: // I know saying that I love everything about your writing would be too vague and just lazy, so I'm gonna try and be a little more descriptive for once auheau.

I absolutely enjoy how you write the thoughts of your characters. Just how incredibly fitting they are to that character's personality, and how easily engaged I get as I read it through. How I just found myself mouthing the words quietly to myself, and just slowly grinning because man- it's all so entertaining. Animated at times, for sure. But once again, so ridiculously befitting of that character.

I'm of course going to have to focus more specifically on your writing for Kira here, and just how marvellously intense his tone can be. How many times I am just left holding my breath, clapping a hand over my mouth... and it almost doesnt matter whether shit is truly about to go down or not? Again, Kira is something to be extremely wary of, even when he's not going to do you any harm... yet. And god, when he gets angry, I can practically feel it searing right off his words, actions and body languages. The pauses he will have at times... again, the intensity of it all, son!

Your writing just flows so, so well, Snii. You already know for years now just how much I admire you and your writing prowess. And am so so happy to have found, followed and became mutuals with you since that very day. ❤️

@yukikorogashi ／ writing style opinions ／ accepting.

..................................................

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--

beCKOWSKY THE WAY I WISH TO KNEW HOW TO RESPOND THIS EVEN SEMI-COHERENTLY LIKE,,, u did not have to go this hard but i motherfucken appreciate that u did like holy shit 😭 like the way i am just staring hard at this ask because i sincerely wish how to better accept compliments (recurring theme for me it seems LMAO) without seeming so downright ungrateful but oh my goodness... this is genuinely so fuckin thoughtful i am going to bite you -- affectionately! -- and never going to let go and i don’t have a rabies shot so--

i am so,, sosososooo happy to hear that though because, as i mention constantly bc i can’t shut the fuck up KAKDMKMKMD, i just... really REALLY love horror. i love the various feelings it invokes and i especially love how it can serve as an escape from the daily stress like, dude ughhhh it’s just such a good genre that i wish received better treatment from critics and the media alike bc there’s some hidden masterpieces that have gone ignore for so long purely bc they were horror or, at the very least, horror-adjacent which is just.......... so mean, honestly 😤

and it ain’t a snii blog if it ain’t super animated At Least Once LMAOOO bc how else are u gonna know that kira’s weird as hell if i ain’t talkin about how he only enjoys plain foods (black coffee, vanilla wafers, plain ramen, etcetc...) and yet he somehow also enjoys black licorice? SKDJFKMFKM lowkey an /s but also yeah honestly u right. it’s part of the experience at this point tho AHAHAHSHDFKMFK

but man i really do just...... lemme just.... * reaches to pull this close to my chest in order to cherish it, treasuring it, protecting it like it was my firstborn child * because, man. man!!

i always have this sort of, like... idk what you’d call it but it’s this sort of “disconnect” from written media in terms of the sort of emotion it’s supposed to evoke? like i’m actually kind of annoying when it comes to it bc u could probably throw the saddest angst at me and i’d just be like 😐 “oh, that is really sad, actually.” which isn’t like meant to be an insult but i am just AKSKSJSKM so obnoxiously hard to budge on that sort of stuff so whenever i write for kira with intent on evoking some kind of emotion, i’m always just kinda like, “well i sure hope this hits because my radar’s fuckin broken” LMFAO

so to know that it’s at least working to some intent is a major fuckin relief like,, deadass.

just, again, beckowsky, i love you and i CARE you. i would honestly rob several banks for u. i’d fight god for u. and his slew of minions. and, once again, i would fuckin win. and that’s a promise. >:)

#yukikorogashi #wtf you're all so nice with this meme when am i gonna get my arms torn off #KAMSKMDKFMFKMFKMF #BUT MAN FOR REAL....................#THE KINDNESS THAT I AM EXPERIENCING..........#THE WARMTH IN MY HEART...............#+45949483943939 affinity And Then Some #＊ 💥 返事：answered.#＊ 💥 摘発：out of character.#＊ 💥 留保：save.

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nofoundboy · 2 years

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I DO NOT KNOW WHY I HAVE A PENNYWISE OBSESSION BUT I DO AT THE MOMENT!

pennywise x male reader- reader just finishes a big life time project of theirs but it breaks just as when they’re showing it off (if its like an art project maybe it broke in the museum or sum in front of people) and they’re feeling fucking the worst bc of that like man ion wanna do anything man like all lazy around n shit like what is the purpose and pennywise is like being shitty bc idk i think thats how they are like why u sad all of a sudden weirdo? So kinda like angst to fluff in a way bc penny decides ‘hmm imma hear reader out and like yk be a better s/o and comfort them’ yk

hahah I like it, I hope I get it right and I'm excited for this, I really love Pennywise

The dark circles under your eyes were unmistakable proof of how hard you had worked for it. How many nights of sleep you had sacrificed in order to achieve that work of art, that intricate and significant piece that now stood before your eyes and before the eyes of several other people admiring it in that art gallery.

The move had not been easy, but it was finally there, and you intended to enjoy the attention given to it, to boast about what you had worked so hard to achieve.

Until, before your horrified eyes and those of all those people, it had begun to fall, shattered by some effect of the material that no one had foreseen.

Maybe it had been the sun, maybe the transfer had really affected it... you had no way of knowing, no matter how many calculations and tests you had done previously, you simply could not understand why it had acted in this way, just at this moment.

The face of surprise of those present quickly changed to one of mockery, of indignation towards you and your lack of preparation, of pity and even indifference.

You felt your insides boil at their ill-considered reactions. And just as their empathy had abandoned their expressions at the first failure, so did your desire to continue in that place, because you knew perfectly well that apologizing and smiling in shame before those bitter critics would consume your will to live until you were nothing more than a shell.

So you simply grabbed your jacket, your keys and ran home, the only place you could get shelter from your humiliating failure.

When you arrived, Pennywise was already there, hunched over, staring at your window.

You didn't even feel like saying hello, so you just turned off your cell phone and collapsed on the couch.

You felt the presence of the clown next to you, who was watching you curiously and somehow knew perfectly well what had happened to you.

"I...I'm not in the mood for anything" you said in a sigh before sticking your face to the couch until you could see nothing else. He seemed to mumble something, touching your head and legs briefly, as if he wanted to make you react.

The above was repeated for a few weeks. You just went on autopilot, not wanting to do anything and not having the energy to care. And you kept asking yourself, did it really make any sense? The last thing you had done had turned out to be a disaster, a waste of time, resources, effort, and even health.

It didn't help that Pennywise was walking around your house trying to force reactions out of you, scare you or make you laugh with no success, only provoking your annoyance against him.

He would make constant jokes about the fact that you didn't sleep, he would put your plate of food everywhere. Although at first, that seemed like a considerate gesture on his part, it ended up being obnoxious, as he never stopped.

"Shit shit shit...do something!" he would suddenly shout. You didn't know where he learned that word from, as it wasn't a curse word you used.

You simply avoided him or shouted so loudly that he was the one who ended up getting fed up, although he never left for long.

"That's enough! If you want to stay here you have to shut the fuck up and leave me alone!" you exploded once he wouldn't stop following you around, looking for you to stop being 'so bored' as he said.

"You, you're acting weird you stop it!" he shouted in turn, pointing his long fingers at you and straightening to his full height to demonstrate his physical superiority.

"Shit" you whispered before fading to the ground, exhausted and thanks to your terrible eating schedules.

You didn't know how long you had slept, the only thing you noticed was the warmth of a large body beneath you, soft breathing in the crook of your neck, and impossibly long arms wrapped around your body.

"Are you all right now? Your body went 'plop' on the floor" he whispered when he realized you were already conscious.

Feeling his warmth beneath you, his presence, as reassuring to you as it was terrifying to others, and his total attention to your well-being made you smile softly, gratefully.

You knew how desperate he could be, especially if he didn't understand something, but now he showed you nothing but gentleness because he understood that you were unwell, regardless of your refusal to go on with your normal life. It only mattered that something like the previous episode would never happen.

"I'm not well at all. Just...what I do never seems to matter" you began to run your fingers through his hands, so large in comparison to yours and probably anyone else's.

"Did you care?" his peculiar voice crept into your ears, making you think for a moment.

"Yes...I still care, it's my life" you felt his nose touch that spot on your neck that made you burst into laughter and you let yourself be carried away by the pleasant sensation of being pampered by your peculiar partner.

"So...live, yes? Bitter ones don't taste good" was his way of consoling you and although very unorthodox, it had worked.

"So I'll just be your next dinner?" you turned until you felt your chest press against his and saw his face in front of you.

"No, you stink" and with his big claw, he touched the tip of your nose, laughing at your grimace of indignation.

You needed a bath, but before that, you decided to stay curled up on him for a while longer, not without giving him a soft kiss on the lips that made him laugh.

"Finally! World's most horrible boyfriend!" he gave you a light smack on the forehead that caused you to grimace.

"I am?" you were glad to be going back to those warm moments you enjoyed so much.

"Yes, but only when you're sad...would eating a child help?"

"Eww, no. I'm going to go take a shower, you idiot" you exclaimed before being interrupted by his lips, greedily seeking yours. You let yourself go until you were out of breath. That never happened to him. His taste was weird but somehow, intoxicating. You loved it.

"Thank you" you whispered, before rushing to the shower.

#slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise x reader #pennywise x male reader

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theanimeview · 2 years

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Belle - Please Erase the Last Half of This Movie From My Mind (Review)

By: Beata Garrett | @zhongxia246

Belle won me over for the first hour with its gorgeous visuals, nuanced take on the power of the internet, and soundtrack. At least, that was until I saw the turn it was taking in the latter half and thought, Please no, don’t do this.

It’s hard to reconcile my overwhelmingly positive feelings for the first half with the dismay I felt later, but I’m going to try.

The movie follows Suzu, a shy high school student living in a rural village.

Since her mother’s death, she’s had difficulties singing and connecting with other people. But when she enters the massive virtual world of “U,” she becomes Belle, a beautiful and beloved singer who’s afraid of nothing. One day, her concert is interrupted by a monstrous user called Dragon. As she connects more to this mysterious “beast” and learns of his wounds, she must decide who she truly wants to be and whether her secret identity is worth keeping.

The movie wastes no time throwing viewers into the world of “U,” and showing us how bright and exciting it is to be loved and famous. If you’ve seen director Mamoru Hosoda’s other work, Summer Wars, you’ll be struck by the resemblance of Belle’s virtual world, “U,” to “OZ.” I love the way Hosoda imagines the internet as a bewildering rush of highways and nonstop traffic, and how the logic of his virtual worlds are story-driven--there’s no point in criticizing how anything works because the emotion and fantasy is the point. By allowing “U” to scan your biometric data, your hidden strengths and true self are revealed, and that’s exactly what Suzu needs.

Hosoda did a great job making viewers empathic to Suzu by showing us the toll her mother’s death has taken on her. A montage depicts how happy the family was and where Suzu’s love of music came from then cuts to her death. It’s a noble death as she rescues a child stuck in a raging river, but the event leaves Suzu still struggles with her sadness and anger towards her mother for making that decision. This was a great character moment and gave me hope that Belle could tackle such difficult themes regarding grief.

Suzu’s only other friend is Hiro, whom I found to be both funny and terrible as a friend. She invited Suzu to “U,” and supports her more as a manager than she does as a good friend. Her only other friend is Shinobu, a popular boy whom Suzu has a crush on and who just wants her to open up. This is all he is throughout the entire movie, which made me feel like their relationship was a waste of screen time.

The only bright spot in the cast of supporting characters were Ruka and Kamishin, two characters with far less screen time that still become a cute couple by the end and felt like a much better emotional investment than the Shinobu and Suzu love story.

I was convinced for the first half of the movie that Shinobu was the antagonist because there is a vigilante or “princely” user (Justin) in U, but the antagonist(s) never gets any meaningful development.

This becomes emblematic of Belle’s biggest problem-–besides Suzu, none of the other characters are fleshed out or entertaining to watch. They feel and act like cardboard cutouts.

Perhaps this was a way to make Suzu stand out more within the story since, in her ‘real life’ she’s invisible and, in contrast, Suzu’s characterization does indeed stands out. Personally, I enjoyed the way her anxiety was depicted in reality versus the freedom she has in “U.”

Source: millennium parade - U

While the internet is harmful in many ways, it does allow people to have the freedom to put a version of themselves out there that they can’t be in real life, and to connect in meaningful ways to people they would otherwise never meet. As soon as Belle arrives, she starts singing the incredibly catchy “U” by millennium parade that I’ve had on my playlist for months.

youtube

Title: millennium parade - U

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3V4sAXUJ-g&ab_channel=millenniumparadeOfficialYouTubeChannel

Predictably, people both love and hate her, introducing one of the film’s strong points: the effects of fame. This is done very well through characters like Belle, Dragon, and even includes some of the supporting characters, like Ruka. They’re heroes to some and enemies or villains to others, which is how celebrities in real life are often viewed.

Dragon is a hero to kids but monstrous to adults, and the adoration of Belle grows once she’s perceived as Dragon’s victim only helps to solidify that mindset in people’s minds.

I find the little ways in which Hosoda depicts the lives of others through social media is fascinating and condemns the easy anonymity of hating or worshiping someone on the internet. The twist on the classic fairytale of Beauty and the Beast is also clever, and Dragon had a lot of potential to serve as a well-written counterpart to Belle. It’s a shame that the reveal of his identity was so…distasteful.

For example, a part of his mystique are the bruises on his avatar which seem to increase with every virtual fight he has... only to have that note discarded when it becomes clear that Dragon’s real-life identity is a child, Kei, being physically abused and that “U[’s]” interface is simply carrying that onto his virtual identity through the constantly updating biometrics scan.

The bruises are what leads Suzu on her quest to find Dragon’s real identity, and she ponders the mystery of them throughout the movie prior to discovering their real cause. I would’ve preferred that the bruises were an indication of his emotional turmoil rather than what it turns out to be--the markings of physical abuse he’s suffered at the hands of his father while trying to protect his brother.

This revelation is the beginning of the movie’s worst half. From there, Belle sidelines Suzu’s grief and the healing process to focus on a simplistic rescue story. Now that Suzu knows who Dragon is, she must save him from his father who’s a complete caricature of an abusive person. There’s a wonderfully animated scene of her singing with her true face to win Kei’s trust with millions of users singing alongside her, but even that fell flat in its emotional impact.

Source: https://gkids.com/films/belle/

Honestly, the depiction of Kei and his brother’s trauma upset me a lot. On one hand, Hosoda nailed an important insight of how hard it can be to help someone when you find out they are in an unsafe situation. Calling the police or encouraging them to tell someone may put them in even more danger and there are solutions that those kids have probably already done or thought of that didn’t work.

Kei’s feeling of hopelessness is completely reasonable and it doesn’t help that Suzu comes to check up on him only to... well, return home--presumably, leaving him and his brother under the continued care of their father. One of the supporting characters does call the police but it was already shown that this is ineffective. I was incredibly angry when he hugged Suzu and said something along the lines of, “You showed me how to be strong and now I’m going to fight, too.”

Source: https://www.reddit.com/r/movies/comments/qmebct/discussion_on_belle_ryuu_to_sobakasu_no_hime/

First of all, being weak or being strong has nothing to do with being a victim of abuse. And…is that all? I would’ve given the movie a bit of a pass if Kei and his brother began living with Suzu but Belle doesn’t even give that to these kids.

We have no idea what happens to them--whether they get help, are able leave, or even an update of things that have changed. We get nothing to complete this major part of the story and that’s just bad writing.

Source: https://ianime0.tumblr.com/post/664753880604753920/ryuu-to-sobakasu-no-hime-are-you-really-belle/amp

In conclusion, this was a beautifully animated movie that should’ve focused on Suzu and the role of music in her story of coming to terms with her mother’s death. Like other Hosoda movies, Belle is filled with gentle moments that will make you teary-eyed but wastes the rest of its runtime with bland side characters and a muddled plot. Overall, it’s a hit-and-miss movie that left me confused and angry when I came out of the theater, and I know I’ll only watch the first half if I ever see it again.

#Belle #Belle 2021 #Review #Movie review #Music #analysis #belle ryu to sobakasu no hime dragon #ryu to sobakasu no hime dragon #belle: ryu to sobakasu no hime dragon #The Dragon and The Freckled Princess #belle: The Dragon and The Freckled Princess #belle The Dragon and The Freckled Princess

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lilxberry · 3 years

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NSFW Alphabet - Jughead Jones*

NSFW Alphabet Version

Fic Relating To Kink: COMING SOON

Warnings: NSFW obviously. Mentions of SMUT. Contains sexual gifs that may include nudity.

_______________

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

God, he’s so soft and sweet. He takes such good care of you, softly asking if you’re okay, if you need anything or just plainly whispering sweet words into your ear as you come down from both your highs.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jughead likes his hands for many reasons. There’s surprisingly quite a difference in size compared to yours and they cover a large area of your skin when he kneads and squeezes and grips at your thighs when things heat up between you. Plus, he can certainly pleasure you well with them *wink wonk*

Now, he absolutely loves, LOVES, your thighs. It’s pretty obvious from the amount of touching. Jughead loves to tease you by subtly placing his hand a bit to high up on them, giving them a quick squeeze before massaging his thumb across it, sending tingles straight through your being and a heat rushing straight to your core.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I mean, you’re both still in high school so you’re pretty careful. Some form of contraception is in play usually. It’s rare you take the risk of pulling out but, when you do, God he loves the sight of it covering your ass and the small of your back or covering your thighs and abdomen.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jughead honestly can’t get enough of you sat in his lap facing him, running your hands through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, warming his cock as he writes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced, but only in so many ways. He can definitely hit the right spot when it comes to missionary but, throw in a position that’s new for him and it becomes a very important learning curve in your relationship.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

He kinda loves it when you’re on top, riding him at any pace that you set. When he’s pretty pissed or needs to release some pent-up energy/anger, he can go pretty primal and dominant, pounding into you vicariously but usually, you’re on top, whispering sweet words to each other.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s pretty serious when it comes to your intimacy but, that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where he won’t make you laugh a smidge, and vice versa.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jughead is more on the natural side, but only because there isn’t really any grooming nessicary. You both agree that you’re comfortable with how everything is maintained in both of your lower areas.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jug is super romantic. I mean, he’s an author for God’s sake. Even if the pace or position isn’t exactly one that would “sweep you off your feet”, his words definitely will.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s human. He’s a warm-blooded male that has serious levels of testosterone. Of course, he masturbates. Granted, it practically never happens anymore, especially since he barely did so when single.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jug enjoys marking you and being marked. Not to an extreme, of course. Light scratches, gentle biting, light spanking on your ass and the back of your thighs, nothing that leaves visual evidence for more than a few days.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s usually over yours and desk and bed are usually the surfaces you find yourselves doing it on a lot. You’ve had the sneaky session at school, but nothing compares to the comfort and privacy at home.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, so many things could get this boy going when it comes to you. When you’re angry, when you’re making huge breaks in cases that you work on together, when you throw your leg over him when you’re cuddling and watching a movie, when you cross your leg over the other and show them off slightly. Anything you do could get his motor running.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Jughead absolutely hates the prospect of sharing, even just visually.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You two actually don’t take part in oral as often as the usual expected when it comes to sexually active teens. You two are rather good at it but prefer to feel each other in other ways.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It’s all dependant on mood, position and occasion, along with time. Usually, like mentioned before, when you’re on top, you usually set the pace, with the occasional assistance from him.

You tend to go slow and sensual, but if your limited with time or your in a particular mood, it can definitely be quickened.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely not opposed it them, especially with everything going on in Riverdale. You never know when you can get interrupted. Snap thrusts of his cock and quickened circles around your clit and you’re all set for a quick session before you have to go meet the gang.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk taking isn’t a huge part within your sex lives as it is in your everyday lives. Jughead and you both agreed that less risk is definitely good.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t game to experiment. Maybe a new position you are yet to try, maybe something that usually isn’t found within the bedroom brought in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can actually go for a good 3 rounds with enough time to cool off in-between. Obviously, if you haven’t participated in such activities in length of time, it’s usually one and both you and Jughead are done. Although, that singular one round can definitely be long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any, and you only really have a single bullet vibrator. He usually isn’t around when it’s put to use but, it can definitely come into play when you guys do phone sex. Plus, he thinks he does a better job than a little toy. (Which he does.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

OH BOY DOES HE TEASE. He whispers absolute pure filth when in public while he smirks ever so smugly. His touch is like fire when he does this. Any little touch feels searing hot, and you feel weak at the knees. You undoubtedly become putty in his hands and it just becomes a game of how long you can hold out until you’re both alone.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Apart from the sweet talk while inside of you, Jughead is a grunter. His grunts are deep which only egg you on further.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would love to be dominated fully. He loves his power over you in the bedroom, even when you’re on top, he’s still relatively in control. So, the thought of you taking charge, even tying his hands to the headboard of the bed all the while you control when he cums is something that really gets him going.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Jughead is pretty average but that doesn’t lower the quality of pleasure he gives you. It seems he’s just the perfect size for you, hitting all of the right spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Although he never masturbated a lot, his sex drive is definitely high. Sex is a very common occurrence within your relationship.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If the day had been tiring, yeah, you’re both pretty prone to falling asleep quickly. The two of you do enjoy just softly talking between you both whilst cuddling when you can, though.

_______________

If you would like to be tagged in the up-coming fic related to this post, just let me know

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

#jughead #jughead jones #character alphabet #alphabet #reader insert #riverdale #jughead x reader #jughead jones x reader #jughead alphabet #alphabet headcanon #jughead jones smut

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

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cloveroctobers · 3 years

Note

Hi! I saw you write for All American and I was wondering if I could make a Jordan Baker x Reader request. I don’t know if you’ve watched this week’s episode buttt when Jordan throws up because of his concussion I think? (I hope I’m not spoiling it for you) Maybe you could do something where the reader comes over and finds Jordan sick, and takes care of him for the rest of the day please 🥺? Love your work 💛

A/N: Thank you babe! I have been watching faithfully every week and every time I have to go back and watch twice to make sure I let everything sink in! No spoilers here, yay! I finally found some time + motivation (thanks to watching this week’s episode because sheesh!!!) to write! I hope you like this and thanks for your patience. Also inspired by Mic Lowry’s, “2 U — interlude” since all of my pieces are generally based on my music choices lol if you want to check that out feel free!

2 U — J. BAKER

It was wrapped in your mind that you and Jordan Baker were soulmates. You’ve had many deep deep “super deep” in Jordan’s teasing words, conversations before about how much you meant to each other. Sure it took a little persuading to get it out of Jordan while you on the other hand were a major softie and owned it. You had no shame and when you loved, you loved hard. Anybody that lost you would immediately know that and missed out on how loving you can be. As cringe as that may sound it was true. And priceless. This you knew and if those that entered your life can’t value that or see that? Then they truly didn’t deserve you in their life.

Furthermore you knew Jordan better than anyone. He adored you from the beginning and once he had you, he knew he had to keep you. He’s been with plenty people before but never have they ever made him feel the way that you do. Which is why you knew something was wrong, you felt it. Sure Olivia might be his twin but you were also bonded to Jordan in a different way and always knew in your gut if something was bothering him.

Since you missed the first game of senior year, due to leaving for Sacramento to visit your grandmother for the weekend you still wanted the deets from everyone. Even tried to persuade anyone...mainly Liv or Mama Baker to FaceTime you while doing so or livestream it or something but that didn’t work out since you ended up spending quality time with your own family. You’ve never missed a game of Jordan’s and happened to be his biggest cheerleader, he also felt like you were his good luck charm. Things have changed now on the field and especially with a new coach in town, that was really on their asses (as she should be) Jordan was being tested.

Not to discredit Mr. Baker but everyone knew that’s what Jordan really needed to rise to his full potential. In a sense you secretly agreed with Billy Sr. That Jordan needed to be pushed and Mr. Baker seemed to coddle Jordan at times. Jordan doesn’t know how to take criticism well because he’s never been challenged and you had faith in not only him but coach Montes to do what needed to be done.

So you missed the game but you didn’t miss how Jordan now had a concussion. Mrs. Baker was the one to tell you while Liv skipped around the questions saying that it was Jordan’s job to tell you, which was odd since Liv usually didn’t have any issue blabbing Jordan’s business to you...not only annoy him but to also help when she couldn’t? (100% of the time you were also on his ass when he was being hardheaded as hell) you almost ordered a Uber that night to come back to Beverly but it was Jordan who finally called you late that night and told you that he was okay and that you needed to spend time with your grandmother (who was recently diagnosed with ALS) since the woman was super emotional on not seeing her grand baby in forever.

Hearing his voice eased your worries a little bit but you could see the effects written in his eyes. Knowing what a concussion felt like due to you being not only clumsy (hitting the back of your head on the fridge) but playing volleyball, you wouldn’t keep him long on the phone and told him you were calling him in the morning to make sure he was still alive. He deemed you as dramatic but he loved you anyways. One thing about you, when you said you were going to do something, you did it. And he definitely heard from you and knew to pick up on the fourth ring even when he was in a deep sleep.

When you came back home you kept an eye on Jordan even when he was cleared to come back. Sure you weren’t the only one who thought it was too soon with Jordan passing his tests but he seemed to be okay? At least that’s what you all thought. It was a Wednesday night when you felt a tug in your chest on your night drive in your Nissan kicks. You were having a break from studying and decided to go on a night drive since your parents didn’t like you going out for night jogs or early jogs like you normally liked to do. You honestly didnt know the difference but you give the people that gave you life, some piece of mind so you did as they asked.

Initially you were just riding around jamming to Daft Punk because quality music is only allowed in this car okay? But then you decided to get some frozen yogurt when you felt it. Maybe it was just gas from the wat you ate earlier, you knew your body didn’t handle spice well but hey pop a few tums and you were fine! Yet you felt it three more times, it was always three tugs to let you know seconds or either minutes apart. That was enough for you put the remaining contents of your banana bread batter yogurt cup in the holder before you zoomed out of the parking you sat in.

You wasted no time calling the person of interest since it was 50/50 with Jordan. Usually he was always on his phone but when something was up with him, he could never be found. Let it be the only way around? He was chasing you down no doubt. When you arrived to the Baker household, you rushed out of your car and headed for the door. You noticed Mama Baker’s car in the driveway along with Olivia’s but you didn’t see Jordan’s? Unless it was in the garage?

Patiently as you could you ring the doorbell rapidly and knocked twice waiting for someone to answer the door. The door was pulled open revealing Mrs. Baker who held the phone downwards away from her mouth, she appeared alarmed as she scanned over your face noticing the worry in them. Usually you called before you showed up and only rang the doorbell, you never knocked.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” Mrs. Baker questioned lowly.

“Is jordan here?”

Mrs. Baker waved you into the house, quietly shutting the door behind you. She looked in the direction of the stairs and pointed which you nodded with a thank you before jogging up the stairs two at a time. As you got into the hallway you always jokingly told the twins that their hallway was too long and it reminded you of the shining.

“Thanks, now I’m never going downstairs to get a glass of water at night by myself.” Olivia pursed her lips with a frown written on her brows as she remembered one of the famous scenes.

Getting to the first door you saw open, you peeked in to see Olivia sitting on the edge of the tub with her arms crossed. Jordan on the other hand was sitting in front of the toilet, shirtless and copper skin shining with sweat.

Olivia immediately stopped talking as she peered over at you when her wide doe eyes. Jordan on the other hand, seemed to drag his head head over in your direction and tried to sit up straight.

“Sweetheart, what’re you—

“You look like shit, Jordan. What happened?” Entering the marble decorated bathroom you stood before the two twins in worry.

Olivia reached over to pat Jordan on the shoulder wishing him luck as she got up to walk by you. She gave you a smile and grasped your hand on her way out as you studied what was in front of you, your mind running wild as you thought about what to do.

Jordan snorted with slits in his eyes, “gee thanks? You always know what to say to make my heart race, don’t you?” He sarcastically replied as he reached behind himself to flush the toilet.

Quietly shutting the lid closed you sat down on it and gripped his face checking for any sign of fever which he let you. He liked being fussed over, that’s for sure.

“I’m fine, just a bug or something. Liv helped me out...what are you even doing out this late?” Jordan tried to shift the conversation.

Which you allowed for a few seconds, “I was out taking a break from studying and I got this feeling that something was up so you’re the first person I came to see and I was right.”

Jumping to your feet you went to start the shower but Jordan gripped your hand interlacing your fingers, “wow...no ones ever showed up for me as much as you do. Even when I don’t ask or know that I need you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Smiling you squeezed his hand, “I’ll always be here for as long as you need me, J.”

“Sounds like forever to me then,” Jordan cheesed making you swoon a little bit before pulling you close to him, “...can I have a kiss?”

“Not with your cooties!”

“I don’t have cooties!”

“You said you have a bug.”

“I was just guessing.” Jordan shrugged, “I’m sure it’s gone now that you walked into the room...it must be your aspiring doctor ways.”

Rolling your eyes it was your turn to tug on Jordan, pulling him up with exaggerated groan, you studied him as he wobbled a little bit but he smiled in reassurance. However that didn’t stop your worries, not until you did everything you needed to make him feel better that is.

“Off.” You pointed at the last remaining clothes, which made Jordan raise his eyebrows.

He wasted no time placing his hands on his waistband, “I’m truly feeling better already, doc.”

“Oh please, get your mind out of the gutter. Your getting your butt in the shower, I’m going to get you new clothes and some fluids.” You pointed at the shower which Jordan sighed.

He removed his clothes while you turned your back to start the shower to give the boy you loved a bit of privacy. Testing the temperature, you felt his presence behind you his hands wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your ear. “Thank you for always taking care of me. I really appreciate everything you continue to do for me.”

Smiling you leaned into his touch for a little bit before you whipped around to caress his face. It felt nice to be needed and appreciated. The good always outweighed the bad with you two. Kissing his cheek you said nothing more but made room for him to enter the shower while you took his clothes. Moving to the medicine cabinet you searched through it to find some Ibuprofen but Jordan called out to you over the shower.

“Um...I’d rather not take any pills right now. I’ll just take something to drink and maybe some crackers, if you don’t mind sweetheart?” that should have been a red flag to you but you didn’t think too much of it. You had no reason to.

Dipping your head you said, “sure,” before leaving the bathroom with a click of the door.

First you went to Jordan’s room, heading over to his hamper which you almost flew back at the stench of all. The boy needed to do some serious laundry and you weren’t his damn momma so you weren’t going that far. You added the clothes covered in sickness into the pile and shoved the hamper into the closet. Dusting your hands off you pulled out your phone from your back pocket to send your parents a quick text message saying you’d probably be home late, in which your mother replied that Mrs. Baker already offered for you to stay the night in the guest bedroom.

Got to love Mrs. Baker for being two steps ahead right? Grinning a bit at your phone you stepped toward tripping over Jordan’s gym bag but you thankfully caught yourself on his dresser, however there was a thump to be heard and a yelp coming from you. Either you would have a bruise in the morning from the impact or you might have pulled your foot out of socket, let’s guess what the probability of that is!

‘Jordan!’ Your inner thoughts hissed as you held onto your Talus bone. S/o to anatomy class! After a few moments the ache subsided before you thought about kicking his bag but decided that wouldn’t be wise either. Picking up the heavy bag with a wheeze you missed the box of anti-nausea meds that slid underneath his bed.

Tossing the bag on his couch that faced his window you made your way through the house to collect some Gatorade and unsalted crackers.

“Y/N,” Laura Baker’s soft voice called out to you as you pulled yourself out of the pantry, “I figured since it’s late, you don’t need to be out on the road so you’ll stay the night here with us? I already informed your parents so there’s no need to worry.”

Smiling at the woman you commented, “thank you for doing that, Mrs. Baker. Especially with the way Jordan acts when he’s not feeling well, who knows when I’d be able to go home.”

Mrs. Baker nods her head in understanding, “ah that’s what the snacks are for. I heard him rush in but didn’t get to wave him down since I was on a important call. How’s he doing? Should I phone his physician? Maybe it’s his concussion?”

“I’m not sure?” You honestly stated, “he seemed a little wobbly when I helped him up from beside the toilet...which smelled like complete vomit. Liv was in there with him so she’d know a little more than I would? If he’s worse than he is tomorrow, I’ll definitely let you know.”

It was Mrs. Baker’s turn to smile at you as she reached forward to squeeze your shoulders, “always taking care of my boy...which I love! I just hope he does the same in return for you. Sometimes Jordan gets a little lost in other things but...Never let anyone drain you or your worth, you hear me, y/n?”

“Absolutely.” Was all you said to the woman meaning that in double ways.

Back upstairs you went to see the bathroom door let ajar and no light illuminating from it now. Continuing on you went to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door before walking in. You waved the snacks at Jordan who smiled over at you with a tired one as he lounged on his bed, one hand tucked behind his head.

“There you are!” Jordan tossed his phone to the side, “come cuddle.”

You went over to Jordan going to straddle him briefly before moving to sit beside him due to your laziness. Although he gripped your waist before you could do so.

“I think I like you like this.”

“This isn’t cuddling.” You lectured, still holding the Gatorade and box of crackers in your hands.

Jordan argued gently reaching for the back of your head to pull to his chest, “yes it is, look.”

Snorting you allowed yourself to rest on Jordan’s chest for a moment listening to his heartbeat before you pulled yourself up, “my legs are starting to cramp up, so this position won’t work.”

“I mean...whatever position you like is fine by me. Just like Ariana Grande said, I’m down.” Jordan was all smirks as you laughed moving your legs as you plopped down beside him and held out the snacks to the boy.

Jordan was such a Arianator and it was finally owning it. There were countless times where you caught him singing along to her songs drunk or not and found it funny how he just tried to brush it off with, “I like the song!” Before he officially announced he was a Stan and followed her on Instagram instead of stalking waiting for whatever she released.

Steadily you watched as Jordan pulled himself up a little bit as he downed half of his blue Gatorade before putting it to the side with a, “ah! Can’t believe my mouth is that dry.”

He then popped the cracker box open before he slowly munched getting some crumbs over his shorts. You sighed knowing Jordan was a “pretty boy” to the outside but had his messy moments in comfort of his home too. You were not cleaning that mess, you slouched down to toss a leg over his waist and rest your head against his shoulder listening to Jordan crunch.

“Cracker for your croughts?” Jordan held a cracker up to your nose as he said this terrible joke.

Lifting upwards you leaned toward to take the cracker into your mouth and held your hand over your mouth, “This really scared me, J. I wasn’t there to see it which I’m glad I didn’t because I’m sure I’d be a nervous wreck with this whole anxiety thing...but this is your first serious injury and it’s not something to play with.”

Jordan deadpanned, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah you keep saying that,” You added, “but somehow I don’t feel like that’s a hundred percent true. With this sport which you seem dedicated to is filled with nothing but injuries and this was just the first. You need to be honest if anything feels off.”

“So you think I’m not being honest?” Jordan stopped chewing.

Shaking your head, “I just think...brushing any weird sensation off could hurt you in the long run. I’m not accusing you of anything but I don’t want you to be afraid to say something is bothering you. Physically, mentally, or emotionally. You have a huge support system behind you, I hope you know that.”

“I do.” Jordan brought a hand up to run his thumb along your hairline knowing that was one of the things that soothed you.

You closed your eyes at the feeling and Jordan almost revealed what he had been doing. He did to Liv and Asher was the first to know because he caught him. He was sure Liv didn’t tell his parents, and a piece of him felt like something was up with Liv but she was also known for pushing things away so no one else would have to deal with her issues. It was something she was accustomed to and he knew everyone in his family felt guilty about that but that was something they would tackle another day.

He was ashamed to even stoop to this low. He didn’t want to be like those stories he heard about football players turning to drugs and this could lead him to worse. Shit, no offense but look at Asher! Jordan Baker was embarrassed that he took the advice of his farher’s assistant coach and ran with it. But football was something Jordan loved and he would do anything for this sport. He was destined to be good and that’s what he wanted to be but more. He was now fighting harder than he ever did and anyone that got in the way of that would regret that.

He knew he could talk to you. About anything, he was so open with you. Yet he didn’t want you to hate him if he told you the complete true. That the reason he was feeling like this was because of the side effects of what he put in his body. And sure it wasn’t anything like steroids...but he was erasing his problems like they didn’t exist and he knew that was not okay to do.

However with the way you looked so at peace laying against him, he couldn’t ruin that. He didn’t want to disappoint you more than he was already doing to himself. So? He said nothing. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and a quick peck to your lips which made you open your eyes to meet his.

“Just had to sneak one in Huh, J?” Your voice was now croaky.

Breathing out a laugh jordan murmured, “yeah, I love you too much not to.”

“I love you more.”

Jordan scoffed, “not possible.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so, sweets.” He winked.

#jordan baker #all american #all american x reader #michael evans behling #Olivia Baker #samantha logan #laura baker #Asher Adams #all american cw #all american fanfiction #Jordan Baker x reader

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ajokeformur-ray · 3 years

Note

Ik it’s a few days after the fact but... I find myself still in a spooky mood... can I have Arthur’s reaction to my witchy halloween costume please and thank you?!?!?!? 🥺👉👈♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Gen 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 Darling, holy shit?!!!! You’re a G O D D E S S omg??😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 Arthur and I are over here L O S I N G it!!!!🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💙

I went and checked our Discord messages from when you sent me this picture so that I could get a feel of how you felt in this outfit and I hope that I captured it properly!!!💜💜💜💜

I hope you like this small piece, darling; I had to resize your B E A U T I F U L selfie so that it fit easier into this post and I hope you like it!!!! I’m so sorry it took so long, my love. 💙💙💙💙

Word count: 1, 398.

(Literally his reaction when you step out of the bathroom!!!!!)

You felt a purr of satisfaction which came from deep within you as you finished adjusting your clothes and really looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Not bad, Gen. Not bad at all.” You grinned at yourself in the mirror, feeling and looking cute as all hell as you turned this way and that to examine your new outfit. Your absolute favourite clothes shop had had a sale in which everything was half price. You had splurged and bought yourself this outfit, and you had your eye on a few dresses which you could go back for next week if you wanted to, but for right now was this outfit everything you had been wanting.

Oh, but you were feeling yourself in this outfit. You looked so good and you couldn’t help the smile on your face as you stepped back to cast a critical eye over yourself. You had gotten dressed up and looking good for you but even so, you couldn’t help but to wonder if Arthur would like it. He loved you in anything, this you knew well, but with it being Hallowe’en as well as something which you wanted to wear throughout the year, you really wanted Arthur to like it. You were excited for his reaction. You knew Arthur like the backs of your hands and you knew that your imagination wouldn’t have anything on the reality, which for once was better than anything your passionate and beautiful mind could come up with and so you simply... stepped out of the bathroom, came down the small corridor and rounded the corner.

As soon as your hypnotic dark eyes landed upon the fallen angel sat upon the worn sofa, his sea green eyes locked intently upon the television which Penny had won in a competition so many years ago, all thoughts of his reaction to your outfit left as quickly as they had come. Oh, but he was so beautiful. Looking at your husband made you want to sin so good and you grinned as the thought, wicked witch, crossed your mind. Oh, you had some tricks up your sleeve, but first...

“Hey, honey.” With as casual a voice as you could muster and a devilish smirk on your face, you brought yourself to Arthur’s attention.

Arthur hummed to acknowledge that you had spoken but still did he not tear his eyes away from the television. You could only assume that he was watching an episode of The Murray Franklin Show, for rarely was he so enraptured by anything when you were in the room. You had always been and you would always be his number one priority and rare was it for Arthur to not be paying attention to his goddess of a wife; a rare and precious soul was she.

Your grin only widened and you looked positively devious as you moved to stand beside the television and then did you repeat your greeting. You really did feel so cute and you knew that you looked good. You just wanted for Arthur to see; he was your entire world and though you could stand on your own two feet, you appreciated and enjoyed the times when Arthur supported you; always did he. You were his one and only person who understood him and finally was he no longer all alone in his space; for he had you to share it with. You ran your hands down the sides of the skirt, your fingers toying with the hem and getting familiar with the feel of the material. You took another step forward so that you were stood just in front of the television. He had to see you now, you were partially hiding the screen from sight. You knew what you wanted and you knew how to get it, an inspiring woman were you even in your darkest times. Whatever Arthur had been watching was now completely forgotten as did a choked gasp rip its way out of his perpetually sore throat.

“G-Gen - “ Arthur leaned forward in his seat to stub out the cigarette into the pink ashtray which rested on the small coffee table. He hadn’t been smoking, but instead holding the cigarette had he been for company and because he enjoyed the scent of one of his two vices. You were the other vice and so much more addicting than cigarettes. He ran his free hand through his dark curls as he tried to put himself together for you. You frequently told him that you only ever wanted for him to be his most natural self with you, but it was hard to undo a lifetime of being told to be someone other than who he was. With patience and persistence did you address every issue and you were slowly getting through to him.

“Yo - you look - “ Arthur bit his bottom lip hard against a small chuckle “You look, I’m - perfect.” The last word was a mere whisper, so awed was he by how beautiful you looked. “You’re... a goddess.” As quickly as he was shy did Arthur become confident and he bumped his knee on the corner of the coffee table. He didn’t even react to the impact, so used was he to pain, but you winced on his behalf. Soulmates were you and your emotions were mere extensions of the other person; so in love were you that it had transcended time and despite the age gap between you, despite how unique and rare both of you were as individuals, you had been lucky enough to find one another in the chaos of the world.

“Be careful, Artie,” Your murmur was lost to the room as so quickly did he move that you were left dizzy. Two large, hot hands seized your face and lips were against your own, swallowing your moans as those sinful hands travelled down the column of your neck, across the slopes of your shoulders and down, down your arms. Arthur’s grip was tender and firm; you knew where this encounter was headed as Arthur left no room for second guesses or speculation. He wanted you. You stepped forward into the safe cage of his embrace and Arthur giggled against your lips, melted was he into you.

“I think you put a spell on me, sweetheart,” Arthur pulled away from the kiss just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours with every syllable, “I can’t seem to pull away from you.” He sounded captivated, spellbound, entranced... shit, but you were too, a magician was your husband.

“Oh, yeah?” You pecked Arthur’s lips once, twice, thrice, “Well, how about we take this to the bedroom and I show you the ace up my sleeve?” Your smile at your own inside joke was radiant and it once more stole the very oxygen from Arthur’s tarred lungs.

Arthur smiled, knowing, and the crow’s feet around his beautiful eyes deepened in true amusement. You took away the weight of his soul and made him feel like he could fly if he so chose to. But nowhere would he go without you, for home was where the heart resides. “I do love magic tricks. Think I could use this one as part of my act?” His feigned indifference made you mimic him, so naturally did you get swept away in what the two of you had together. It came in like the tide but even when it went away for a time was there evidence upon your shores; the love between you dimmed occasionally but never would it truly leave. You were meant to be and a single thread of gold had laced your tired souls together.

“I think you could do that, yeah.” A nonchalant grin and a pleased gleam in your eye told Arthur all he needed to know: that his next performance was to be a private one, meant only for the two of you, and that he was to put your body to the test with his. You were a studious little witch, and you knew your way around Arthur’s body just as naturally as he knew his way around yours and together, why... the two of you had enough of this one thing between you to fill an entire ancient tome with all the mysterious and maddening ways of the most powerful and intoxicating witchcraft of all:

Love.

#daincrediblegg #requests closed #arthur x gen #arthur fleck #hallowe'en

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theaurorfileshq · 3 years

Photo

V E S P E R B R A N W E N / A U R O R C O R P O R A L

AGE: Thirty

BADGE NUMBER: U73E82

BLOODSTATUS: Pureblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Genderfluid, They/Them

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: White Serpent Tattoo on Their Upper Arm, Designer Leather Jackets, Tight Jeans

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Metamorphmagus, Offensive Magic, People Skills

(-): Memory Problems, Defensive Magic, Impatient and Quick to Make Reckless Decisions

BACKGROUND:

(tw: abuse, mind control/manipulation )

(i.) –– waking up.

There’s confusion, when they wake up at the hospital. A strange white room. Strange white sheets. A head that feels like cotton. A hospital bracelet around their wrist that says Jane Doe, which is –– which doesn’t sit easy in their chest. They don’t know what else should be written there, they don’t know a lot of things that they probably should.

They open their eyes, and they look around in confusion, and there’s a man sitting asleep in the chair beside their bed. He looks tired and gentle, looks dear and worried, and they have absolutely no idea who he is. In his sleep he looks peaceful, and they feel unsettled and relaxed all at once. There are warring instincts in their confused mind that warn them against him, in the same moment they feel cared for.

The nurses are kind, the doctors are kinder. It’s a very nice hospital, and they have magic at their very fingertips. When they ask who the man is, they’re told that his name is Rafael, and he’s the one who brought them here. He’s a government official. Very important. Very well respected. Very powerful. sRafael de la Cruz comes to see them every day, and so the story unfolds.

They are a lost and damaged bird, and he found them on the streets. Wandering, cold, confused. Empty headed and hurt. They must have been attacked, someone must have hurt them, and someone must have obliviated them afterwards. The damage was vast, and that’s why they don’t remember who they are, where they are. The medi-wix’s that work on their case are hopeful that with time, it will come back.

(ii.) –– rebirth.

Not much comes back at all. A name. Vesper. They pick the surname on their own, something that sounds cool, something that they see in one of the magazines that sits beside their bed. Bright, pastel things that Rafael bought for them to read. Vesper Branwen feels like an identity, and Rafael feels like a friend.

They aren’t sure why he wastes his time on them. Why he comes to see them every day, why he’s paying for the best of care. He tells them that he’s fond of them, that he could have never abandoned someone who needed help. He has a glint in his eyes, and a smile on his face, and he brushes their hair away from their face. The warring instincts inside them have leveled out, and more than anything they’re glad that someone cares about them.

Things blossom fast, with them and Rafael. It starts when a nurse tells them that they’re ‘just the cutest couple,’ and shifts into lightspeed when Vesper gets released from the hospital. They need somewhere to stay, and Rafael rents them a room in a hotel that feels far too nice for them. They have nothing, so they accept it, so they let Rafael buy them pretty dresses and nice food, a place to lay their head. They have no one, so they’re breathlessly glad when Rafael presses a gentle kiss against their lips.

Their entire life is in his hands, but his hands seem strong and safe, and Vesper trusts him. It’s like a fairytale, so people say. Vesper must feel like the luckiest person on earth. And they do.

Within two months, Vesper moves in with him. Within six, they’re engaged. They feel perfectly safe and perfectly kept, neatly tidied away. They don’t have to worry about who they were, Rafael tells them, because they’re making him the happiest man in the world. So suddenly, all Vesper cares about is making him happy.

Rafael’s family is terrifying, and wedding planning is a blur. Vesper lets their soon-to-be mother in law do most of the planning. Lets her pick the flowers. Lets her pick the dress. Lets her tell Vesper how to act, what’s expected of Rafael’s wife. It’s almost nice to have the rules neatly laid out for them. They learn how to smile just right. They learn what to say and how exactly they’re supposed to look. Raf likes their hair blonde, so they keep it that way. Raf likes them soft around the edges. Raf likes them pretty. They could be different if they wanted, they can look however they dream, but they stay the way that Raf likes them –– at least while people are looking.

Sometimes they look like someone else. Sharper edges. Darker hair. Masculine, still pretty, they hope. Rafael doesn’t like that as much, so they save it for their private hours, hoard it carefully away. They stand and look in the mirror, at this familiar yet alien face, and feel an ache. They stand and try on the pretty dresses and pretty underwear, and wonder if they wouldn’t like to wear other things sometimes.

But what they want isn’t important, and they should be happy with what they get. That’s what Rafael snapped at them, the one time they had asked. They should be grateful for what he spent his money on, just for them, when he asked for so little in return.

(iii.) –– becoming.

It’s Julián –– brother in law, friend, something dear and unexpected –– that gives them the idea to become an Auror. While their past remained cloudy, their knowledge of magic came back like muscle memory. They were proficient, and they had skills, and they were bored out of their mind. Alone for hours in that big house, waiting for Rafael to come home. The quiet suffocates them, leaves them dazed and lonely and at odds with the world. It makes them feel like a ghost, and they wonder if that isn’t what they are. A lost thing. A shadow. A pretender.

They’re choking with a feeling of wrongness, the sensation of something being not quite right. Sometimes they look at Rafael and they feel scared, sometimes they wake up and feel like they’re trapped. They fill out the application for auror training in a fit of desperation, and then forget about it for three days. They do that, sometimes. Go to sleep and then forget, time slipping away from them, moments lost to whatever is wrong with their brain. Sometimes, they think they’re losing their mind. At their most paranoid, they think that someone is stealing it from them. Rafael tells the family that Vesper is delicate, something to be treated with kid gloves. Prone to forgetful episodes, prone to flights of fancy, prone to sullen moods and depressive periods. And people say how kind he is, to put up with them. People look at Vesper like they’re very lucky, like they’re a burden on a kind man, and they feel it cut down to the soul. They have a simple, pretty life, and they should be grateful.

They find the application tucked away in their drawer, and remember filling it out only when they’ve reread it, only when they’ve traced their signature with a fingertip. They submit it, and don’t tell Rafael until they’ve been accepted. It feels like a leap of faith, like they’re a fledgling bird jumping from the nest, unsure if their wings are strong enough to carry them.

They tell Julián, before they tell anyone else. Dearest brother in law, with the look in his eyes like he genuinely believes in them. It’s strange. They don’t think Julián looks at many other people in the family that way. But then again, Vesper is kinder to him than most people. They have a long history now of sharing smiles, snarky comments, finding each other at parties. He’s the one who see’s their other face, who lets them be that person for a few hours every now and then. Julián doesn’t prefer the pretty armor. They feel proud when they tell him they’ve been accepted, that they’re going to the Academy. Vesper needs him to tell them it’s a good idea again, that this is something they’re allowed to do, allowed to have.

Rafael is explosively angry, for a while. A feeling of betrayal, a feeling of anger, of being lied to. He’s always liked Vesper small, after all. Always liked them to be within arms reach, to be waiting when he came through the door. He liked it when they shaped themself for him, so they fit perfectly into his hands. Rafael expects Vesper to back out, they know. Expects them to turn down the Academy at his command. And he’s angry when they don’t. Explosively angry, violently angry, smashed glasses and harsh hands. They don’t know what strange bravery fosters itself in their heart, but they remember Julián’s supportive eyes and they don’t give it up. He comes around in the end, of course he does. He loves them, after all. And they still feel bad for hurting him. I just worry about you, he says, brushing their hair away from their face. What if you get hurt? And it’s an argument, it’s a fight, but they find their compromise and they make it work.

They wear a different face at the Academy, at work. Shift back and forth with so much frequency that it becomes second nature to them. Their perfect blonde persona didn’t feel like the truest self – or not the only true version of themselves. They cultivate dark hair and a sharp smile, clothes that will stand up to the ware and tear of training. They thrive at the academy, and they thrive after, in a certain sense.

Things get better outside the house, they aren’t as bored anymore, their confidence grows and their personality blooms. Things get worse at home, sometimes. Conflict comes and goes in waves. Raf is more critical than ever, and Vesper can never do anything right. There are stony silences and harsher moods, and he wraps rough hands around their wrists now, makes them feel smaller than they ever have before. He leaves bruises against their skin, and they feel frantic with it all –– because Rafael loving them is the most important thing, because they’re nothing without him, because he’s the center of the universe and he likes it that way. So they try harder, they fight more for the balance. They don’t talk about work and they make sure they’re good, when they’re home, exactly who he wants them to be.

They start at Pacific Squad early. A metamorphmagus with their innate and mindless skill is an asset. They’re good at magic and they can think quickly on their feet. People think they’ll go far. They hope so. As hard as it is to navigate around Rafael’s feelings, they feel for the first time like their life is their own, like they own some part of it. They get their own money, and buy clothes that he’d hate to see them in –– to be kept an open secret, changed out of before Rafael will talk to them for the evening, before he’ll really look at them.

They become a true shapeshifter, a double of themself. There’s Vesper Branwen, auror. And there’s Vesper Branwen, trophy wife.

(iv.) –– fractures.

Everything changes, and nothing does. Vesper goes to work and thrives. Rafael disapproves and Vesper makes up for it with demure, submissive looks, with oral sex and anything else that he wants. He hurts them in some small ways, every now and then, but that’s okay. It’s what they deserve. They still wake up sometimes, from nightmares that seem cyclical and scheduled. Their depressive and unhinged episodes bring nightmares, bring fear and paranoia and they wake up in cold sweats and feel so scared of Rafael that they can’t breathe.

And then things get foggy, for a day or two. Sometimes, they wake up and feel like they’ve forgotten everything they knew, everything they were supposed to do. Rafael brushes their hair and changes them, and sends them off to work. They forget a name here, have to re-read a file for the case they’ve been working on for weeks. It comes back, slowly but surely. People are used to Vesper being weak, being foggy and ditzy in the head every now and then. So their heart doesn’t flail in panic when they look at a dear friend and their brain halts, when they have to smile and say ‘hey, you’, until the name comes back to them hours later. They never forget anything that gets them in trouble, and so it doesn’t really matter.

They work and they climb ranks and they still feel like a ghost, sometimes. They’re notoriously reckless in the field, and it holds them back. Vesper will do anything to solve a case, anything to save a life, including die. It leads to frustration, in the squad. This startling concept that Vesper has some kind of death wish –– and maybe they do, for a minute there. Because what do they really have to live for? It all changes, anyway, they learn to live for something.

The pregnancy is unexpected. Vesper doesn’t remember if they were trying or not, doesn’t remember exactly when it happened. They aren’t sure if they wanted a baby, so it must have been an accident. A happy accident, they suppose. Rafael is pleased. Happy with them, for once. They’ve done something right. They’ll give him a baby and be a mother, raise a perfect child that will grow up to be just like him. Vesper doesn’t know if they’re happy about it, themself, but then that makes them feel sick with guilt.

They decide that they have to be happy, there isn’t any other choice. Rafael tells them to do less work in the field, when they find out. So they do paperwork at their desk, for the most part. And the squad gets used to Vesper with soft features and blonde hair, a younger face. Because it would feel wrong, somehow, to look like someone Rafael hated while they were pregnant. It feels wrong regardless, but that’s a sensation that they can try to cover up.

It’s a distressing pregnancy, near the end. They’re sentenced to bed rest at the hospital, high blood pressure and risks they don’t really understand. Rafael could stay the night with them sometimes, but he doesn’t. He goes home. The wrongness of their life seems heightened in those weeks, in that room. When the baby comes, it feels like Vesper is having some kind of mental breakdown. They want their mother, someone they don’t even remember. They feel wrong and out of place, and they tell Julián because strangely they trust him. They whisper that they’re not supposed to be here, that they’re scared. In some fit of delirium, they make him promise to look after the baby, when something bad happens to them.

They feel better in a day or two. After a long nights sleep, they wake and their head feels foggy again, a feeling that lingers for a day or two. But they aren’t upset anymore, and it doesn’t feel wrong. Their world is narrowed down to a pinpoint, to a baby that someone places in their arms. Pandora Branwen de la Cruz. She’s such a tiny baby, the smallest thing on earth. Vesper loves her dearly, feels a hook in their heart that they’ll never be able to pull out again.

Vesper wants so badly to be a good mother, but in reality it’s hard. They’ve always been a delicate soul, after all, as Rafael said. In need of gentle handling. Prone to sullen silences and depressive moods, forgetful spells. Their moments alone with Pandora are rare, and Rafael hires a nanny when they get home from the hospital with her. They spend a long maternity leave sharing space with a woman far too stern, in their mind, sharing the baby they want to hoard selfishly for themself. It’s just one of those things that they learn to accept, that they have to. They don’t have any other options, don’t have any other choices.

In a way, going back to work is a relief. A chance to step into skin they haven’t had the privilege of in months, a chance to spend real time with people who love them in different and interesting ways. They’re more careful now, than they were before, death wish faded away fast. Less reckless, still hoping to be good for something, still hoping to be a person in charge of their own existence, in some small way.

#vesper branwen #auror #written by wren

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resmarted · 4 years

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i know i keep saying this but i’ve never felt anything remotely close to what i have with you. i have chased all the wrong people and all the wrong things just to get away from you and i didn’t even know that’s what i’ve been doing until now. it worked for a long time, i had forgotten about your sensitive heart and your needy little stares, your matching intensity and how we could go from deep and dark to light and breezy with a simple tumble and rustling of the sheets. i honestly repressed it all so deeply it’s only coming back in fragments, but i am remembering more and more the closer i look at you. i can see you now. i can see your overwhelming glow with bursts of sunlight beaming from your face. i can see the eiffel tower in your pupils and the reflection of the way you see me vibrating back in my direction, and suddenly i see myself that way too. sometimes you act so terrified of me, like if you say the wrong thing you’ll blow away in a gust of wind like all the others, but eventually you’ll find out i paint you with such a golden halo that even your most mischievous of crimes could garner no more than a mere slap on the wrist. i can’t be mad at you, not for real. i mean yes i am mad about so many things and at times will pound my fist demanding to know where my good morning text is, but i’m not angry at you. i’m just begging you to come back to bed already. you’re working at it night and day and i’m like an addict eyeing my phone to see if you say anything. to see if u thought of me or if you have time for me or if you are just too scared to know what to say so you wait for me to go again instead. is it going to be stupid and weird like this forever? do i really make you that nervous? it makes me so sad to think of your scared little puppy eyes anxious with indecision. i know you don’t want me to see whatever is on those hard drives, perhaps because you think i’ll suddenly remember why we parted ways all over again, but i promise not to hold your teenage self against you now and perhaps we can both just forget all of my sins as well. i mean i want to remember us, but if you insist on your “that was then this is now” spiel i will surrender to you with delight. i don’t want to make you scared, i want to make you breathless and blushing. i want to whisper things into your ear that make your cheeks so bright and your smile so big that anyone could look at you and know something’s up, the look of such delirious intoxication only an overwhelming romance that nearly caused you to burst into flames could account for it. you want to heal my wounds and get me to see that i am more than the things i write myself off as, that i don’t need anything other than a different outlook, and you remind me to breathe like it’s your job. you have all the patience and virtue while i am restless winds and a racing mind. you watch me grow in a constant lateral direction with all these stupid and selfish ways i act, and you just keep quiet on the sidelines and never waver from the spot which you stand. no one will ever love me the way you do, with the same kind of depth and unyielding devotion, and if they do i don’t want it. i know i’ve said this but there’s not enough ways to try to explain how it could never compare. for years you have lived dormant inside of me, hundreds of layers beneath my skin, and now i wake every night starving for you. now i am drunk on your high notes and perplexed by the notion that i’ve been too blind to have ever even seen you here all along, rooting me on and singing my praises, ever the protective guardian.

all of our friends are dying and grocery clerks are the new firefighters, grim reality seeping into the background of everything and floating by like scenery on a riverbank. everything is distorted and i think every shadow lurking behind every corner is you. i want it to be you. i confess lurid details about my life and what’s on my mind to strangers that i pretend are you in disguise. i confess my love to all the wrong people and none of them ever fill the space inside of me that’s cold and empty as a tomb. it’s stupid that i still have to even write these to you in here, that you get to be the silent voyeur and i, the troubled and tormented exhibitionist. this is how i usually set myself up for sabotage, my gradual and very public adoration for you and your anonymity makes for the perfect cocktail of hallucinatory addiction. eventually you will get so drunk on me without ever having to admit it that you’ll resent me when i finally muster up the courage to move on. look, i don’t have to sit here and explain the art form that is obsession when you’re the one that invented it, okay? i’d like to say i hope that won’t end up happening but i know better by now and i can only tell you the most of what i expect at this point. as much as i want you to prove me wrong, i’m not holding my breath. but i also really hope you do. i hope you’re full of pleasant surprises and that we can’t stop looking directly at each other even when we’re on opposite sides of the country, even when there’s a million people watching and staring and that you go out of your way to prove you’re nothing like the ones that came before you. you’re not even anything like what people say you are, your flocks of vocal critics who never seem to understand your delicate soul, so fragile at your very essence. you’re my psychic twin and i’m ready to escape to witch mountain whenever you are. i got a bag packed for the day we decide to break free from this prison and i’ll never let you get left behind. i’ll never let a single hair on your head be harmed but regretful are the ones who ever dare try. you’re too nice to everyone, such the peacemaker and the diplomat, except now you have me to spit venom at those who come too close to the line of fire and you can just be like wow sorry about that folks unfortunately she was never domesticated and simply cannot be tamed. i hope you look forward to all these stupid moments we’ll have as much as i do, but i swear my hopes aren’t up.

#long reads

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