#i meant to post this last night but i put it in my queue to post at a more opportune time and then FORGOT ABOUT IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nevernonline · 8 months

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✧.* just for one night; yjh

for jeonghan's birthday he teased the gift he wanted wrapped in a pretty bow this time was you. little did he know that his joke would turn into his favorite present.

𐦍 paring: jeonghan x reader.

𐦍 genre: romance, bad humor, fluff, "friendly" date.

𐦍 warnings: drinking, s3xy times, swearing, smut, minors dni, reader has female genitalia.

𐦍 word count: 2.0k

𐦍 content: non-idol characters, food/drink, cursing, slightly- suggestive, pet names, afab! reader.

𐦍 note: I meant to post this on 1004 but.. maybe forgot to queue it LMAO. this wasn't intended to go this way and I don't rlly write smut often (or read it often tbh) so pls all my baddies who read and write smut give me feedback. (pls) lolol. anyway!! enjoy kk. ily.

It was that time again, time to find a gift for a friend who had nearly everything. Scouring around shops and market places, trying to find something special that had any meaning to the two of you. Sure, you could buy a lux gift or a fancy dinner, but that was basic and well beyond the things Jeonghan had given you.

You scroll back through texts and posts over the last few birthdays you had spend celebrating him, stumbling across a photo that gave you a good idea. You were sitting on his lap as he blew out his birthday candle. After that wish was put into the universe you recall his lips coming so close to your ear his lips were almost making contact with your pierced lobes.

“All I want next year is you wrapped in a pretty bow.”

Maybe he wouldn’t remember that wish, but you did. It was silly and stupid, but your friend did always know what he wanted and wasn’t shy to ask for it.

You sprinted to the stationary store in order to find a big pink bow in under thirty minutes, so you could make it back to your apartment where Jeonghan was meeting you before his big night out with all of his friends. The options were endless, a sea of glitter, metallic, curling, satin, but you decided to be simple, just a large bound pink ribbon.

After an overwhelming time spent pondering over pink fabric, you made it home with ten minutes to spare. Lacing yourself up from your sneakers, to your hair, your bag, even a dainty piece wrapped around your neck as a finishing touch just as the doorbell rang, you told him to open up where he found you laced in pink, wearing a black dress, holding a cupcake flame ablaze.

“Happy Birthday, Hannie.”

A smile creeped in as he came close to blow his candle out looking at the pink adorned ribbon tied all over you, he remembered.

“My present I presume?”

His fingers pointed towards you, again smiling from ear to ear like he couldn’t believe you remembered his wish.

“Think I’d forget?”

“You tend to forget your own name while drinking, so yes. I love it.”

Jeonghan’s hands reached to run his hands over the ribbon in your hair, pausing before he touched the one on your neck.

“So this means you’re mine for the night?”

“Your wish is my command, birthday boy. Should we go?”

“You know when I wished for you to be my present, I meant much more than you wearing bows right?”

You huffed, watching his eyes still on your neck.

“I did. I really will oblige any wish, as long as it’s legal and safe.”

“No promises, babe. Let’s go.”

Walking hand in hand into Jeonghan’s not so surprise party was not out of the norm for you, you’ve always been the type of friend that clung to close, even for your own comfort. Something seemed to linger in the air around you as a pair.

“Mind getting me a cocktail? I’m going to go say hi to the guys and thank them.”

“Again, here to please. Vodka Cran or G&T?”

“Gin, please.”

With a small salute as a send off you walked into a line behind three other partygoers in line.

“Y/n? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in pink before?”

The voice was Joshua’s coming from behind you. He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders in a half hug greeting you hello.

“Really? Well, it's for Jeonghan’s gift. Last year he wished that I gift him myself, so here I am adorned in pink ribbon.”

“You really took him up on that? You are one good friend.”

“I know that you're thinking it's probably a mistake, you’re right.”

“Na, he’d never hurt you or let anyone else. He likes you far too much.”

Your eyes rolled now facing the bartender and placing the matching drink order before turning back to Joshua.

“Come find me later okay? I need a Shua Hong dance for my payment for being Jeonghan’s bitch for the night.”

“It's the least I can do.”

Hours passed by just as quickly as alcohol entered your system, you haven’t left the side of your male counterpart for hours, he wouldn’t let you slide away other than grabbing more drinks or running to the ladies room.

Your buzz is far more prominent now. Jeonghan’s hands slid to the lower half of your body, resting between your bare skin and the hem of your dress and your heart followed along to the beat of the edm music playing over the club loudspeakers.

“Dance with me, pretty?”

His eyes burning a hole into your head, you obliged, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the center of the purple lights and faux fog.

Jeonghan’s hands found a comfortable spot resting on your hips as you twisted around placing your back onto his chest, grinding slowly to the song.

This proximity between you has never existed, while you’re touchy or clingy the feeling from the warmth of his pants's friction on your upper thighs made you feel differently about your so called friend.

Thoughts swirled in your brain as you turned back to be face to face with his plump lips and siren like eyes. A hand, that same hand that was resting comfortably on your lower half snaked its way up to your neck, the ribbon placed there was now further from your skin as his fingers laced their way under it.

“You want to know what else I wished for?”

You opened your mouth to speak, no words formed other than some incoherent ones that sounded like soft moaning.

“I wished that you’d be my present forever, not just for the night. I can’t let anybody else get this gift.”

Your hands reached from the nape of his neck to the side of his face, trying to give him a clue that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

“Come home with me?”

He placed a small peck onto your cheek, nearing the site of your lips that so badly wanted to feel the crash of his on them.

The whole ride back in your taxi, your hands rubbed up his thigh. He knew you looked nervous, but also that you would tell him if anything made you uncomfortable.

Truth be told he was nervous too. This was a line he never thought would be crossed. Jeonghan knew for years that he wanted you and only you for that matter, but he waited for the perfect moment to be put in your hands.

Saying a quick thank you to your driver, you basically sprinted into his place, not even having a second to throw your jacket and bag down at his front door before you had your back against his white walls in the dark.

The sense of urgency to kiss you was obvious. A near feral feeling. He tasted like cherries and gin as he kissed you quickly, helping you out of your outerwear and pulling you into his apartment that was only lit by the beautiful view of the city below.

“Help me?”

Your voice came out as a whimper, turning your back to him as an indication you needed help out of your dress.

His cold hands wrapped around the zipper of your dress running a finger down your spine as it unzipped.

“Wow.”

His confidence suddenly washing away as he looked at your semi naked body only wearing a matching pink slip dress to the color of your bows and a pair of matching panties below.

“Dressed up for me too?”

“Nope. Just like to match.”

The ‘P’ of your nope popped onto his face and a devious smile appeared.

“Don’t be bad, gifts shouldn’t talk back to their owner.”

His hands found his way to the place they didn’t seem to leave all night, your hips as he placed you down onto his fresh sheets.

“Sorry, Hannie.”

“It’s okay, just be a good girl."

You nodded as he began kissing you starting at your lips and followed a trail all the way down to your sternum.

“You know the best part about gifts is opening them.”

Jeonghan’s fingers now wrapped around the waistband of your underwear as he slowly pulled them down below your knees, around your ankles and onto the floor.

A pause from kissing came as his pointer and middle finger entered into your mouth and prompted you to spit on them so he could rub circles onto your clit before entering another space he had never been to before. His first finger came in slowly penetrating you softly, when he saw you getting needy his second entered and the beats became more rapid as he used his tumb to rub circles around your much more sensitive sweet spot.

Your moaning became louder, reminding him of your voice yelling over the sound of the music in the club as you reached your first orgasm of the night.

Sitting up now watching as Jeonghan places the same two fingers that were inside of you into his mouth, savoring every last drop of the finish you had because of him, you crawled onto you knees now prompting him for some pleasure.

Undoing the button and zipper of his pants, letting him and his cock catch their breath before going down on him. You placed soft kisses along the pale skin of his stomach, making sure to nip his skin in between as you make your way down his torso. Just as you reach the waistband of his boxers, a hand comes to cup the hard thing lying beneath.

“Wanted me that bad huh?”

Jeonghan, now dethroned from his previous position of power, just groaned as a beg to have your mouth wrapped around his pulsing cock.

“I’ve wanted you forever.”

Hearing his breathless moans you released your hands from his cock and finished unwrapping yourself for him, leaving that small pink ribbon tied around your neck, before going back down to kiss your lips at the tip of his dick.

As your hands and mouth worked their way around in unison all over his engorged flesh, it takes only a few minutes for him to fill the dirty mouth that was teasing him just before.

“Didn’t take you for such a lightweight, Yoon.”

“Shut the fuck up and please get on top of me.”

Your legs came to straddle around his still sensitive cock as you teased your entrance.

“Someone’s so needy.”

“Someone is supposed to be doing far less talking and far more fucking.”

His arms pulled you down fearlessly so your lips could fall back into place and also so he could shut you up while you finally let him inside of you.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be so tight.”

Jeonghan knew he wouldn’t last long being inside of you, not because you were tight, but because of the way he felt about you and how much he dreamed about watching your breasts bouncing as they hovered over his face while he fucked you.

“I- Uh, Fuck.”

“You what, pretty? Can’t handle me? Can't it last long? Want me to fill you up as you ride me?”

“Yes, yes, all of it. Please, Hannie.’"

As his hips pounded their way onto yours, both of you running out of stamina maybe due to the alcohol or maybe the adrenaline reached your climax near the same time.

“Can you come inside me, please?”

You were practically begging him to mark you and since you looked so pretty he couldn’t say no to you.

With the two of you now finished, his cock still inside of you. Jeonghan placed soft kisses on your lips.

“I don’t want this to stop.”

His hands came to untie the pink fabric now slightly wet from your shared bodily fluids.

“Me either. I love you, you know?”

You lifted your body off of him, now under his covers with your hands placed on his chest.

“I love you too, Happy Birthday.”

“Be my present forever, okay?”

“Okay, handsome.”

And with another year gone, Jeonghan finally got the birthday present he truly wanted. You.

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wtfsteveharrington · 2 months

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take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym.

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising.

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice.

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall.

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out.

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story.

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink.

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you.

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick.

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were.

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.”

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story.

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell.

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door.

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector.

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe.

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night.

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand.

“M’still mad at you.”

He winces but he knew it was coming.

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else.

And you still won’t look at him.

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes.

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least.

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since.

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now.

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart.

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability.

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that.

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.”

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss to your head, sighing into your hair.

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.”

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks.

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening.

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together.

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you.

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment.

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.”

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you.

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor.

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!”

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy.

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys.

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.”

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b.#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

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oweninadaydream · 3 months

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𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Hangman is the certified ladies' man and everyone thinks they can read him like a book, but what neither the Dagger Squad nor anyone else can even begin to imagine is where the hell Jake has been going every Saturday night for the last few months…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : mentions of alcohol, some making out but nothing too smutty, emotional distress lmao, age gap relationship (27-35), some religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, post Top Gun : Maverick, the Dagger squad is stationed together.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k

𝐚/𝐧 : Gif by @tay-swifts , M/N (Male Name). Hello beautiful people!!! I'm so exited about posting this project I've been working on for a while. I just wanted to say that since it's my first time writing for Jake this might be a bit OC Jake but I do hope I got it right hehe. Enjoy the fic and stay tuned for the next parts!!!

It was well after midnight when Jake arrived at the club’s entrance. The throbbing bass emanating from inside made the whole building shake, making his mind wonder what it would be like to live on top of such an obnoxiously loud place, contrasting with the quietness of the accommodations the Navy offered. The reflection of the neon sign reading “Mon Ange” turned his natural olive-toned skin into a vivid dark azure that matched perfectly with the baby blue in his eyes. The smokers (all with stamps on their hands) were all gathered some feet away from the door to get back in after dragging a final puff from their cigarettes. The queue was not very long, mainly because everyone who was meant to be there had arrived way earlier than him. He reprimanded himself for getting there so late ; in less than two hours the nightclub would shut its doors and Jake would feel like he wasted four hours of his life for nothing. Well, his journey would not be in vain if he caught a glimpse of-

“Jake”

This was L.A, a city 118 miles away from the Marine Corps Air Station located in Miramar, which is a two-hour long drive away from everything he knows. He had to remind himself of those facts to avoid spiraling at the sound of his name in such a place; he hated how his body kept reacting to these kinds of situations, but not even a skilled lieutenant like himself could take the reins of these unnamed emotions that coursed through his entire being.

"What are you doing here by the door? I was worrying about you not showing up today, I was just about to send a search party. C'mon , let's grab a drink. Perhaps I can even convince you to dance this time" A wide playful smirk accompanied the flirty comment exquisitely and, even though Jake was more than used to these antics, his heart skipped a beat. Trying to compose himself, he answered while staring at the concrete floor.

"I don't belong on that dance floor and y'know it, darlin' "

“Oh don’t say that, the 30s are the new 20s! … Even if you’re not planning to dance, you must’ve driven all the way over here for something, right?”

The damn question hit him like a truck. He could try to think of the right answer, but putting something into words made it terrifyingly real, and that was exactly what he'd been avoiding for months. The breeze made them both shiver, as the party outfits didn’t properly protect them from the chilly weather.

“You're right” he muttered “Okay, lead the way. Make it worth the while, mh?" he teasingly replied. Even if what he was doing was definitely outside of his comfort zone, something about the constant banter between them calmed him.

"Don't you always have an amazing time with me? I thought that was why you only talk to me" a fake pout appeared on the face which Seresin couldn't help but to stare intensely in awe. Their hands intertwined and the pilot quickly melted into that comforting touch. His companion briefly exchanged some words with the bouncer and the doors opened for them.

"Thankfully it was Joseph working tonight, I don't think Marcus would have let you in for free just like that" “I’m sure you would've charmed him into doing whatever you wanted anyway”

The thick air of the room embraced him as soon as the doors closed and the familiar feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach almost instantly; it seems like it was yesterday when he first stepped into the nightclub he now knows like the back of his hand, but in reality, that day was what it feels like ages ago. Still, the contradictions that manifested within him every time he returned persisted and only grew each day.

“I’ll go to the bar while you stay here and look pretty, okay? Same drink as always?”

It was because of moments like these that Hangman felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be his usual extroverted self. Grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further, he raised his voice so his words could be heard even though the music was top volume. “ Don’t you even dare to try to pay for those drinks, they’re on me.”

“Here it is, the Texan charm of Jake Seresin. I didn’t know you could apply those rules to this situation. Are you trying to imply I’m the girl in this whole affair? Shouldn't we at least draw lots for it?”

"Very funny, M/N'' the hostility that emanated from his rolling eyes made the other man realize his comment had affected Jake on a deeper level than intended. “Hey I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t hav- I know it’s a touchy subject and I’m extremely sorry, please forgive me” the regret was visible in his expression and it also could be detected in the stuttering caused by the words rushing their way out of his mouth trying to obtain his forgiveness as fast as possible. Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

Hangman was no saint, he didn’t go to church every Sunday or tried to look for a good christian wife to have kids with like his father did in his day. He knew God was not exactly pleased with the way he was running his life but he used to think that when the time came, He would welcome him with open arms (after having apologized profusely, that is). But now that he had fallen for the most vile trick in the book, he couldn't trust that previous statement anymore. Lust was a capital sin, pretty serious if you asked any priest from the church the Seresin family attended back in Texas, but sodomy? Say goodbye to eternal salvation, son. If Jake was being honest, the promise of heaven or the threat of hell didn't scare him. It was the destruction of all the life lessons that made him act the way he acted, of his purpose as a son, as a man. The thing that truly haunted him at night was the thought of a deity (and his father) designing him to be this flawless individual with a very clear life path , only to end up as a filthy, disgusting f-

“Hey, are you okay? Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit?”

The thought of M/N walking away while he sank deeper and deeper in the sea of guilt and fury frightened him. “Please don’t” he begged “everything’s fine, I promise. Let’s down a couple shots and , who knows, maybe I’ll be in the mood to dance for a bit” the last comment was a futile attempt to hide the everlasting agony that clouded his mind. M/N moved so they were a few inches away and raised his hand to caress his cheek. His next step consisted in resting his arms around his shoulders and starting kissing him delicately in the neck and in the whole face in general, in hopes to kiss the discomfort away.

How could something so delicate and sweet be so dirty? Was it even dirty to begin with? What about the women he had dated? He was attracted to them but now he- Too many questions Jake was not willing to answer that night. He only wanted one thing, and he was about to claim it.

After regaining control of himself, Jake put his right hand on the younger male’s back to guide him to the counter where people were piling up fighting to get the barman’s attention. Being as attractive and well-built as he was, he obtained the alcoholic beverages rather quickly. After the last drop of tequila had made its way down their throats, Hangman took control and led him onto the dance floor. His mind was only filled of the smell of M/N’s cologne mixed with his natural scent enhanced by their bodies crashing against each other while swaying to the 2000s pop remixes, his eyes fixed on his partner’s hypnotizing movements and his hands focused on feeling what they can reach, testing if they can go further in their journey through M/N’s body. Jake was simply standing close and moving according to the song's beat but in a subtle way, just like he would do at the locals he frequented with his coworkers ; manly enough to keep his dignity intact but provocative enough to awake that lustful hunger in the other person’s soul.

‘Mon Ange’ had finally closed down and the two men were still all over each other on the angelino streets. The tingle settling in his chest could only be compared with the adrenaline rush he had previously experienced on those wild nights spent in college, the farewell by the porch of the first girl he had taken on a date or the night out after his first deployment; if he closed his eyes he could swear he was 20 again, but reality made sure to remind him of those fifteen more years that had passed.

M/N had this juvenile thing about him, Jake couldn’t guess confidently his age from afar and his curiosity was finally satiated after befriending him and asking him about it directly ; he was 27, even though he looked some years younger. His bold character combined with his kindness and humor made M/N resemble a butterfly flying around collecting the pollen from every flower in the garden and making it seem effortless. That was one of the many things that hooked Jake on him as if he were the most addicting drug out there, making him throw away his plan of not getting attached and limiting this experience with sporadic hookups that would end then and there, never with the same person twice. That was the problem, he appeared and started moving his hips to some song, making the whole room turn around him and ever since then (even if Jake was still in denial), he was a goner.

The next thing he knew, he was laying down on M/N’s bed, a king size mattress close to a very big window that allowed him to take in the beautiful sight of the sleeping city. He had only been to the apartment twice, but he had always left before the sun had made its appearance in the sky, moved by remorse and skepticism. This time though, he had stayed the whole night that was filled with passionate sex and heart to heart conversations and finally some cuddling that lured him to rest for a while. Now he was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, resting his eyes on the sunrise and on the slumbering figure facing him. He looked so calm, so peaceful. In that moment, turning his gaze away, he tried to repress a sob that came with a single tear falling through his left cheek.

M/N had always known he was queer, embracing his bisexuality in childhood. Jake had never had any problems with people who were not straight, even if the people around him growing up did, but everything was different when it came to himself. For fuck’s sake, he was closer to being 40 than from his teenage years, what was he doing? He could only paralyze at the idea of anyone seeing what he was doing. It was definitely too late for him. Risking his life everyday up in the sky felt like a minor burden compared to the endurance of the dilemmas he carried with him everywhere, just like Christ had carried the cross all the way to Calvary.

He could feel himself falling for the person right next to him, and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to Lieutenant Jacob Seresin. His calloused hand cupped M/N’s soft face, making the other man lean in closer in search of that delightful warmth. Jake’s lips burned in desperate need to say something out loud. His heart started palpitating at a dangerous speed, as he knew the thing trying to escape from his mind was a cruel thing to say and that he was a horrible being just by thinking that. It was no one’s fault and it had no solution, yet the idea popped up in his mind like an unwanted ad appearing on your phone. His chest ached at the possibility of M/N hearing the words, so he tried to whisper as quietly as it was humanly possible.

“I wish you were a girl”

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alectoperdita · 8 months

Note

Oh hell, I am all about them drugged confessions. If/whenever you’re up for it. 💕

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

Jumped this one ahead in the queue since it's someone's birthday. 💜💜💜 Enjoy, my friend! I hope this has enough of the stuff you dig about them.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

content warnings: referenced non-consensual drug use and mildly spicy because Seto is thirsty

---

The city lights stabbed into Seto's eyes. The city's heartbeat—a frantic cacophony of bumper-to-bumper traffic, music spilling out of late-night shops and restaurants, and an overwhelming pulse of humanity—pulsed against the back of his head like a second migraine.

He lifted his heavy head and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. Not an easy feat when the world wouldn't stop spinning. Seto could feel the planet's rotational force itself.

In the sky, a bloated, sickly yellow moon hung on the black canvas, a dim bulb when compared to the Oriental Pearl Tower's neon blue and magenta on the opposite riverbank. The phalanx of lit skyscrapers behind the landmark formed a blinding wall that threatened to lighten the night sky.

No wonder they were sitting at a standstill in traffic. He was in the Bund. Shanghai. He was in Shanghai. Not for the first or second time, but the city's nightlife never failed to overwhelm.

It came back to him in bits and pieces. The Pan-Asia Duel Monsters Championship was in China this year, which KC was a sponsor of, along with a dozen international and domestic corporations. Seto wasn't here to compete, though. He was here to do business and build guanxi.

Which meant night after night of hard drinking and tedious back slapping as Seto endured their patronizing compliments about his passable Mandarin. Endless rounds of maotai until his blood must be 90% alcohol. That was the preferred poison of the old-school elites, the ones who built their wealth on the backs of a rapidly booming economy that outpaced everyone's wildest imagination. Not even Japan had sustained that kind of boom in the post-war years.

Potential liver failure was the price of doing business in this country.

That was last night, though. Seto was sure of that much, even if the passage of time seemed theoretical at best. Tonight, he'd been swept into a gaggle of their children, mainly the sons of the previous night's party officials and business moguls.

The fuerdai. His "peers."

Ha! Gozaburo had handed him nothing. Everything Seto owned, everything he accomplished, was through his own sweat and blood.

Seto will give them one thing: their tastes were decidedly less provincial. While their fathers drank baijiu like fish drinking water, they preferred cocktails, or at least pitchers of iced green tea mixed with Crown Royal.

Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated how fucked up he could get on such a simple mixture.

That was the last thing he could remember. He drew a yawning gap between the afterparty at the club and this taxi cab.

Seto sank into the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach lurched. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were stuck in traffic. He might not be able to keep it down in stop-and-go traffic.

An abrasive—a familiar abrasive voice—encroached from the fringes, though. An equally combative voice shot back in a different language.

Seto's head lolled to the side, away from the window and toward the other passenger in the backseat. Reluctantly, he pried his heavy eyelids open. God, why was he so tired? It felt like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row.

His fellow passenger was Jounouchi, locked in a heated conversation/argument with the cab driver.

Right. Jounouchi was also in Shanghai this week. Except he was here to compete in the tournament. And unlike Seto, he didn't speak a lick of Chinese.

Not that his laughable grasp of English fared any better.

"Fuck, I'm telling ya, it's the other Marriott!" Jounouchi groaned in Japanese, running a frustrated hand through his bird's nest hair. It looked softer than it had any right to be, though. The strands ought to be bleached to hell and back after this many years.

But Jounouchi had been updating his wardrobe and his deck in recent years. Every victory advanced his look and style, and even netted him some media training like someone deserving of media notice, which was why he was playing in the Pan-Asian championship. Seto couldn't ignore him like he once did, like he still tried to in vain sometimes.

(And sometimes, he very much didn't want to ignore Jounouchi, wondering if he could catch the other man's attention in return...)

None of that explained why they were in the same cab, though.

Jounouchi tried again to communicate. It hurt to listen to him butcher English to that extent. The cab driver appeared to grow even more irate, threatening to eject them entirely.

Giggles spilled uncontrollably out of him. Of course! Of course, Jounouchi's incompetence got them stranded on the opposite end of the city from their hotel.

Fortunately, he was a snack to look at, even if his brains were nothing to write home about.

Seto's words croaked out of him, repeating in Mandarin what Jounouchi had been trying to convey. God, why did it hurt so much to speak? But even his drunken slur sufficed, earning a grousing retort from the driver that Seto should've just said so sooner while shooting a death glare at his other passenger through the rearview mirror.

At the sound of Seto's voice, Jounouchi jolted in shock, releasing the driver's headrest he had been clinging to. After several awkward moments of staring, he inched closer to Seto, stopping short of touching him. But the proximity and the tight enclosure made Seto's skin crawl. Not in an unpleasant way, though. His body tingled and felt a touch flushed.

How would Jounouchi's skin feel against his?

"You alright there, Kaiba?" asked Jounouchi, seemingly floating closer. He waved a hesitant hand in Seto's face.

Base urges welled up in him. He wanted to grab Jounouchi's hand and bite it, no better than a dog, as he once mocked the other man for being. Better yet, he could drag his tongue across the rough palm and lap at his knuckles. Suck his thick fingers into his mouth and learn contentment from how they could fill his mouth.

Seto was never drinking green tea mixed with whisky ever again.

He managed a small noise of confirmation before he twisted away, curling as best as he could around the seatbelt. Something like a whimper pushed at the back of his throat, but he refused to release it. He wouldn't humiliate himself any further. Just as he wouldn't crawl across the middle seat and cuddle into Jounouchi's lap.

But god, he wanted that so much it hurt.

A warm hand landed on his back, and he nearly surrendered as Jounouchi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay." Jounouchi spoke softly, but somehow it rang louder than the many decibels of Shanghai traffic. "We'll be back at the hotel in time. Just hang in there."

Seto spent the rest of the journey folded into himself, wedged firmly against the side of the taxi, trying and failing not to tremble under Jounouchi's caring touch. With a hushed tone, Jounouchi explained what had happened. It was pure coincidence that he ran into Seto and his "party" at that particular club. (Coincidence is giving chance too much credit. There were only so many high-end nightclubs in the city.) Jounouchi had wandered over to say hi before rejoining his own group. But out of the corner of his eyes, he'd noticed that Kaiba was acting unlike himself. In fact, the entire group seemed a bit off.

Seto was coming to his own conclusion before Jounouchi shared his.

Seto had been drugged. And since he knew better than to take random shit handed to him by strangers, it must've been slipped into his drink. Or maybe it was in the communal cocktail pitcher to begin with.

"They were trying to drag you off to someplace else. Don't ask me where. But you didn't look like you wanted to go, so I stepped in," Jounouchi trailed off. He'd yet to remove his hand, but it sat unmoving, a steadying weight on Seto's back helping to ground him to reality.

"I can't imagine they were happy," Seto muttered.

Jounouchi chuckled. "Not one bit. Acted like I was trying to kill the party. One chick threatened me with her stiletto heel."

"My knight in shining armor." Seto found himself laughing, then regretted it when his head throbbed.

"Don't worry, I didn't hit any of 'em. Mighty tempting, though. I just kinda threw you over my shoulder and high-tailed it outta there. That was how I knew you were really outta it. You barely cursed me out."

Heat associated with both shame and arousal rushed through him. It turned out those biceps he secretly admired weren't just for show.

"Finally, we're here!" exclaimed Jounouchi. His hand also regrettably retreated.

Seto watched blearily as Jounouchi overpaid the driver and leaped out the door. He didn't go far, though. He jogged around the vehicle to Seto's side and yanked open the door. As he leaned in and over Seto to undo the seatbelt buckle, the woody scent of Jounouchi's cologne flooded Seto's nostrils. And his strength was plainly evident as he braced his arms around Seto's shoulders and hip.

"Alright, up we go," urged Jounouchi.

Under any sober circumstance, Seto would've never allowed this to happen. To let Jounouchi touch him, especially as a caretaker. But Seto was the farthest thing from sober, fucked up on whatever combination of alcohol and party drugs he had been unwittingly fed. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own two feet.

So he relied on Jounouchi and his strength. Clung to the man's sweat-slicked neck.

The doorman didn't give them a second glance. Why should he? Seto was simply the latest in an endless stream of drunken guests stumbling back into the five-star hotel.

A lobby concierge approached and tried to help, though. Both Jounouchi and Seto waved him off. Jounouchi likely because he didn't want another stressful not-conversation, and Seto didn't want anyone but Jounouchi touching him right now.

"Hey, what floor?" Jounouchi asked after propping him against the wall of the elevator carriage.

Seto patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his wallet. He didn't expect the fuerdai to rob him blind like a common mugger, but you never knew. He tossed the leather wallet to Jounouchi and croaked, "Key card."

The tournament competitors were provided with single-bed guest rooms. Seto, on the other hand, occupied the Vice Presidential Suite for the week. Their elevator shot toward the top floors, bypassing the dozens of floors between the ground and the suites.

As they ascended, Seto snuck covert glances at the other hand. Despite the air conditioning running at full blast, Jounouchi was still huffing and sweating. Who could blame him? Summer in Shanghai could be blistering.

"Can you walk?" asked Jounouchi when the elevator doors finally parted.

Struck muted, Seto shook his head. His heart raced as Jounouchi wrapped a burly arm around his waist, and together, they hobbled down the hall to the suite's door.

The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, drawing an impressed whistle from Jounouchi as he took in the room.

"Yeah, guess I should've known. You wouldn't be caught dead living like us commoners. Where's the bed in this joint?"

The mention of bed caused something hot and heavy to coil in Seto's navel. Without meaning to, his arm tightened around Jounouchi's neck, which only prompted the other man to grip him tighter, mistaking the action as a plea for more support.

"Bedroom," he moaned, knocking his head against the side of Jounouchi's. He might be imagining it, but he swore Jounouchi shivered and pink flooded down to his neck.

Seconds later, they stumbled into the adjoined bedroom. The spacious room apparently didn't warrant any comments, because Jounouchi deposited Seto on the bed and disappeared from sight.

To say Seto was disappointed was an understatement.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Jounouchi had already done the "decent" thing: extracted him from a dicey situation and brought him to safety. Seto didn't need to embarrass himself in front of the other man any further.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, kicking a leg out blindly.

"Relax, it's me."

Silly though it was, Seto did relax as soon as he registered Jounouchi's voice. His firm but careful touch.

"Here. I got you water from the minibar and a cool towel. It's unopened. I promise."

Seto stared helplessly at the two items being offered to him. Jounouchi made no moves, either. They were at a stalemate. At least until the other man sighed and pressed the moist towel to Seto's sweat-dampened forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, and he unleashed a faint moan at how good and chilly it felt.

"C'mon, you gotta drink the water, too. The whole bottle, then I promise to leave you alone."

Panic spiked through Seto's system. Being alone, something he never minded before, suddenly sounded unbearable. He didn't want Jounouchi to leave.

He reached out. Not to take the proffered bottle, as refreshing as its content may be, but to grab Jounouchi's forearm. Jounouchi froze under his clutch.

"You can't leave. I won't let you," said Seto before he could stop himself.

Jounouchi's breath hitched. As he stared at Seto's face, his eyes darkened with something unspeakable. He licked his lips. "Okay, not leaving. Not tonight. Guess someone's gotta keep an eye on you and make sure things don't take a turn for the worse. But you gotta at least let go of my arm. I'll take the couch outside."

Seto slid closer. "I want you—"

Jounouchi gasped. Seto could kiss him at that instant, but his head spun.

He wanted Jounouchi in every conceivable way. Wanted to feel his naked skin against his skin. Wanted to feel his weight pressing down on him as his cock pushed into Seto's hole. Wanted to shatter apart and then let Jounouchi piece him back together in the afterglow, warm and content.

He thought Jounouchi might grant him those things. If only he'd ask for them. But the words remained stubbornly lodged in his throat as sobriety started to creep in on the edges.

"I want you to stay with me," he whispered, holding Jounouchi's shell-shocked gaze.

Tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. One day, Seto would give voice to the whole truth.

Read other prompt fill ficlets here

#yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #ygo #replies #saiikavon #my fanfiction #writing prompts #phew i didn't expect this one to end up this long when i started writing this morning #definitely just let the vibe carry me on this one #my knowledge of Shanghai nightlife is at least 15 years out of date but i remember drinking so much green tea and whisky #it's a good drink not too overly sweet #but the easier the drink goes down the easier it is to get shitfaced #gonna take a break from tackling more today but I have a long weekend so looking forward to working on more of your guys' requests #watch this space!

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wolfiemcwolferson · 6 months

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hello logan!! i have compe to prompt your wonderful brain into being nice again.

imagine photographer pierre putting together a set of his favorite pictures from the year and suddenly realizing that they're all of charles/related to charles. "uh oh, maybe i AM in love with my best friend" realization ensues

Oh, this made my brain go zoom.

The first year he had put together the series, it had been for his maman. She is the one who bought him that camera and he wanted to give her something physical to see that Pierre was indeed serious about this very serious investment.

In uni, it became a very logical way for him to look at his growth over the last year - to see what he had dabbled in and what was successful, what was not. It was a way to encourage him to continue to learn and grow and do better.

But, once he started working with Charles, it was really just for himself. Sure, he posted the series on his social media's and the engagement was off the charts for him, but he was sometimes moving so fast - sometimes it felt like he never put his camera down.

It was GP to GP, but in between there were sponsor shoots and private plane rides and intimate moments that Pierre wanted to keep somewhere because someday Charles would have books and documentaries and monuments dedicated to him, and that is what Pierre was here for - to document his life and these moments.

And he liked to look through them and be out of the camera for a bit.

This year he leaves it until the last minute, sorting photos from his childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, queueing them up so he can post them tomorrow.

One of Charles in his driver's room, head tilted to the side, eyes closed. It's more...intimate than any of the photos that Pierre had released to Ferrari or given to Charles to post from that weekend, but it's Pierre's favorite. The calm for him before the insanity of the weekend that would follow.

One of a discarded racing glove draped over Charles' red cell phone, half a cup of espresso next to it and a scribbled note that reads leave it all on the track.

Charles standing on a rock in the desert, face tipped up to sun, arms outstretched, looking more content than Pierre had ever seen him.

A blurred shot of Charles on a bicycle as he rides around the track in Britain - wearing that red Ferrari shirt - always red, always in red.

Charles leaning against the balcony of a hotel room in Italy, sweater rumpled and half tucked in the back of his pants because he has just woken up from a nap.

Charles in swim trunks on the yacht, Charles holding up a new bracelet from a sponsor and grinning not at the camera, but at Pierre behind the camera.

Charles.

It's all Charles.

Charles at his best - standing on a podium, holding a trophy.

Charles at his lowest - sitting alone in the back of the plane flying out of Miami, hand wrapped up with an ice pack on the back and the next photos of the bruise blooming there being slipped into another pair of racing gloves.

Charles reaching for the camera, Charles rolling his eyes, Charles. Charles. Charles.

Pierre is meant to be putting together 10 photos to wrap up his year - 10 of his best photos.

But, the only thing he can do is stare at the screen and understand that this goes beyond photographing Charles.

The last photo before his family photos start is of Charles, curled up on his side, asleep.

Pierre had taken it on the couch - the night he slept over at Charles' place in Monaco. The light from the television has bathed him in a blue light and Pierre had remembered thinking how...beautiful he looked and so he had pulled his camera out, taken the photo before he had shaken him awake to go to bed.

Pierre looks at the way he framed the shot - how Charles' hand is in the corner of the shot and...

He takes these photos of Charles - photos of him sleeping and eating and driving and training and Pierre may have fallen in love with photography when he was a boy, but it was also the best way he knew how to show his love and...he should have seen it sooner.

He wasn't just documenting Charles' life, he was also showing his love to him the best way he knew how.

#piarles #the oh shit moment when you realize you're in love with your f1 driver best friend

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leopardom · 2 months

Text

✨ sappy post incoming ✨

(and a little trigger warrning for the vague mention of suicide)

i’m not gonna do any gig reports for now because last week still feels like a fever dream and i can’t really put my thoughts in an order that makes sense. but i just wanted to stop by to say how much i love the vibes and creativity of this fandom and how happy everyone was when it came to meeting and trading/giving out their creations while queueing for the gigs or even when they were over

in Munich, Milan and Padova i got to meet so many people from here. with some of them i chatted more and with some others less. but in any case it absolutely warmed my heart to finally see all those people i see on tumblr but like, in real life! i got to trade my stickers for bracelets/stickers/art/fan stuff, got to see everyone have a good laugh because of my stuff and also got to complement people for their crafts. and i'm telling you i really meant every single word because as i already mentioned, i love the creativity of this fandom 💕

last weekend i began my trip with pretty much nothing on me and now i'm back home with a bag full of bracelets, a folder full of art and a heart so full i wanna cry. i mean look at that:

1) idek where to begin with the tags of the artists, i’m still confusion but i’ll try to come back to this post again later with a clearer mind

2) “big juicy” bracelet you will always be famous @greensolsikke <3

this last week was a tiring experience with many ups and downs but at the same time it was probably the best week of my life so far

i'm getting especially emotional about it all because this whole frenzy concided with my birthday (on the 29th of March). this may sound cringe or what, but on the actual day of my birthday and when everything was over, i was sitting alone on my hotel bed in Milan and was thinking how this last year of my life started in the worst way possible and how it was only escallating towards the worst every single day. during my 26 i reached a new level of low, a bottom lower than the one i had reached when i was 20-21 (and that was a bad bad time). and yes, there were a few times when i was close to ending it all because it was too much. my 26 was pretty much like hell

but now i'm glad i didn't give up and pushed through all the struggles. because if i hadn't, i wouldn't be able to experience last week. i wouldn't be able to see some of my dearest friends again, to meet all the amazing people from here and from twitter, to see one of my favourite bands perform for three nights in-a-row and to listen to all my fave songs of theirs live and even cry my eyes out to some of them (Barve Oceana in Munich, Padam in Milan and Metulji in Padova really were an Experience). can safely say that my 26 ended with a bang and it was a very good one 😌

i'm feeling sad that this is over but at the same time i'm so warm inside and so happy that it happened. and i would do it all over again, especially if it meant meeting you all again or meeting even more of you from in here. i have never felt so welcome by people who technically only knew me as a tumblr user and i never thought this would happen, considering how awkward i am when it comes to interacting with people online and in real life

anyway i think i've talked too much and i'm slowly loosing my train of thought because the thoughts and emotions are so many right now. i just wanna thank each and every single one of you for making the past week so special and one of the best weeks of my life. i'm beyond gratefull 💖

sincerely, the curly head with the meme stickers 🫶

#okay this is long but i had to do it #i needed to do it #i miss last week so much already :(#this is emma speaking #joker out

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hislittleraincloud · 5 months

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Miller's Girl swirled w/Status of Chapter 8

So You Know What officially releases tomorrow in its...limited release, and I just gotta say... it's a movie about a seriously horny 17 (in the script she's 17) year old brilliant 'I'm not like other girls' girl who reads classic erotica and wants to fuck her pruney old white guy English teacher. I won't spoil the end... It's just like The Crush, with less superficial pouty lip and more classic literature, unless they changed/softened it for the final film (I didn't pay attention to what draft I was reading).

That's also my story, here. I started writing this shit before I knew of Miller's Girl. The tropes MG and Satisfying Afterburn share are numerous and almost complete, right down to the mini-flashback of Wednesday attempting to seduce her Honors English professor, Professor Fortunato. It's a common (or WAS a common, I should say) trope, the Precocious Girl. And as much as current climate sexuality activists would like to deny it, precocious girls exist, and I was one of them.

I did mention in my bio that some of what I write about is autobiographical, and that I was an extremely precocious child back in the 80s and 90s. Like Afterburn Wednesday, I was left to my devices in my father's library. Henry Miller (the author Cairo likes) was one of the authors that I was reading in not-so-secret when I was around 10, since my own father had a collection of erotica (novels and art). I suppose the perversion is generational. 🫠💦✨ He was not my favorite author at 10 (at 10 it was Dalton Trumbo...I fell in love with Johnny Got His Gun, and Night of the Aurochs was pretty good too...sucks when someone dies before finishing their work), but at 11 I became a Nabokov fan and at 12, Orwell and Highsmith (Patricia Highsmith was a fkn cunt/racist/anti-Semite, but I loved Tom Ripley); I wasn't as moved by Miller's Tropics (however, I was and am an Anaïs Nin fan, and her whole Henry and June/Henry & June thing was just 🔥). Some time before 12 I read the erotic books that I mentioned in the beginning of my story (My Secret Life and Fanny Hill; I bought them at a book fair, and yes, they let me buy them). I digress, but it's relevant to my fiction.

The erotica Cairo reads and writes is designed to do what it does in the movie, just as all erotica is meant to do. Afterburn is erotica too (and all y'all writing E [for sex] are erotica writers).

I don't want

another

fucking

Greyface anon

coming at me

about

Satisfying Afterburn

after this...

y'all can go fuck yourselves.

Also, Afterburn has all of the Miller's Girl tropes, except that 'Miller's Girl' (who is ✨cleverly✨ Professor Miller's Girl and Henry Miller's girl hyuk hyuk get it) doesn't get her man. Afterburn Wednesday does, and that's why y'all Greyfaces hate on me. She gets her man, just as I got my man at that age.

And speaking of 8 and rain (I hate this app, I fkd up this post and put it in my queue instead of saving the draft I was working on)...

I wrote most of this starting late last March 2023 through late April before I started to move sections into chapters. This part here was written at the end of April, but I transferred it into a different document on May 2.

Romantic/sexy rain trope is in 8. Couldn't help it, since Burton chose to make it rain whenever he wanted to...why the fuck can't I. Anyway, a very short fkn snippet from 8.2:

It tells you nothing except that's raining hard. And yeah, it's Wenovan speaking.

Anyhow...off to create...and probably watch this fkn movie tonight (I have my ways).

ugh

#miller's girl #henry miller #jenna ortega #martin freeman #satisfying afterburn #student teacher #precocious girl #common tropes #satisfying afterburn chapter 8 #fkn movie #writing wednesday #wenovan #black bubblegum #writing #wednesday x donovan #sheriff galpin #i think if i wrote mg fan fic it would just be interchangable

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 months

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Everything is going badly right now, so I apologize for not only for not replying, but that my posting generally might run into trouble. My queue is running dry, and I haven’t had time for making new drafts. I’ve got tons of pics and months of sculpting, but I can’t just zap them up here.

Example of things getting to me:

Yesterday I put off my shopping, partly because of the rain and partly because of a scary heart spell and partly because I injured myself the previous day. I meant to take it easy. I didn’t. I was busy and “stuff” happened. Let’s just say it was officially a bad day.

So I get to the evening and light the hot water heater, eager to wash dishes and get to bed. And hour and a half later and…the water is cold. The hot water heater had gone out!

I got determined to try to figure out it out. If I was sensible I would have gone to bed, but I knew I would be unable to sleep with all the thinking about it. Besides, I have this thing about always bathing before bed. I may never find a chance to put lotion on my hands**, and I long ago accepted that my hair was going to be a rats nest whatever I do, but I’ll be damned if I am going to bed without washing away the dirt from my messy life!

Anyway, the hot water heater means kerosene, soot, and the filth caused by cats on the back porch that find that area extra snuggly on winter nights. Basically….ewwwww! Now I REALLY need to get clean.

Since I had spent all that time using that camping shower, I figured I’d boil some water and use that. Ok, first I had to spend twenty minutes trying to find it, but this would be fine for now.

It wouldn’t charge! The only zip it had left was the feeble one from that last time I used it. And the mineral build up had broken loose and now blocked the spray holes. It’s get it to work, but as a trickle.

Boiling the water went sideways too as the kettle decided last night would be a good time to spring a leak on me. I hoped adjusting the screws for the handle would stop it, but nope. The stove became a pond.

When I took a shower the water from the kettle, and the other I boiled, wasn’t enough to keep it from being chilly. Worse, when I dumped the kettle water in the scales of mineral that had built up in it*** decided to finally break loose. Some of it got sucked into the shower, clogging it.

I won’t go into everything I've done trouble shooting it. Let’s say I reached a point where it is either the copper line clogged or the kerosene level being too low.

The kerosene is always low because I can’t afford to buy much, but the way I ration it I should have had a month’s worth. If it is too low I have the mystery of where it is going, with no obvious signs of any leaks. I also have to drive to a gas station 10 miles and then spend more than $60 for 10 gallons.

If the line is clogged, things are possibly worse. If it’s at the opening from the tank it is very difficult to get to clear and likely means the tank is gunked up with rust I can do nothing about. If it’s the line I have disconnect it at both ends, which always goes wrong. Doing it alone kerosene goes everywhere. Disconnecting it from the heater means moving the refrigerator, then putting one arm through a little hole in the wall while reaching around the partition with the other, completely unable to see what you are doing.

And them every single time I work on copper line it breaks!

So then I end up having to patch or replace things. I have to find the special tools, remember how to do it, hope I’m not out of fittings the right size, work damn hard at it only to have it leak! I swear, trying to work on copper line an NOT have it leak makes me crazy. I was soooo proud of myself for getting it all just right after years of work.

If I have to clear the copper line there is a 95% chance I will end up with at least a little leak somewhere. Never mind the safety or cleanliness aspects, I can NOT afford to have a leak!

To test whether it was the line or the kerosene level I decided to tilt the tank. When I’d repaired the tank around five years ago I’d replaced the old rotten base to the spindly legs and got it set up nicely, but over time it had settled, so it could use a little more tilt.

The big crowbar is at the other house. I had to use a much punier one.

I have used up the spare bricks and cinderblocks, so I had to dismantle the steps I use to pour the kerosene in the tank.

The base, which I had made of treated (supposedly) wood and set on bricks had rotted. Not all of it, but one side, that had looked fine, crumbled away as I lifted.

Frantically I had to wedge things to stabilize the tank while holding it. I had to keep it from tilting too much and breaking the line, while also keeping it from falling over sideways, while using things I could reach.

I now need to make a new stand. I have no more suitable wood since some of this proved unsuitable. The shank on the hole saw broke when I made this one, and I found the others big enough either ruined or impossible to get to. The jumbo drill needed for these holes was stored in the metal building where the huge bookcase fell over on it (and it is now unsafe to go into…long story).

And then it rained, so I had to stop working on the tank.

That’s just a taste of how things are going. It got worse. More side troubles. Plus my body ain’t happy.

And to think I actually thought two days ago that this weekend I’d FINALLY finish the book moving**** so I could get started on the REAL work at Mom’s house!

You know, I had enough on my mind

**Can’t do it when I’m eating or feeding the animals. Can’t do it just before bed because I write in my journal. Can’t do it after supper because I’m going to sculpt. Can’t do it when I handle books or papers. Can’t do it when… And then when I’m not doing something where lotion would be a problem I’m out somewhere or am so busy I forget.

*** We have a LOT of mineral in our water. I have to flush the hoses periodically and after many decades of use the bathroom faucet it nearly blocked up inside. It has built up where it drips in the tub like a cave!

****I haven’t talked about it. Basically it’s a continuation of the “moving stuff around so I can work on the plumbing” thing that has ended up being an insanely involved process that has temporarily made the house a complete wreck that it’s almost impossible to get through. And since I am currently dealing with the stuff I had to move from my house because of the collapsed floors, I can’t even be grumpy at anyone for all the damn books! (And comics. And magazines. At least dolls and action figured are light in comparison!)

#my day #rambles #busy #hot water heater repair #so tired

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omniishambles · 10 months

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PSA: I was meant to post this the last two nights running but forgot both times so I'm just gonna do it now- I've been pondering the last couple weeks and have decided to put this blog on a temporary mini hiatus until I feel well enough to keep up with it.

If I manage to answer any drafts, I'll be focusing on the ones that I'm the most inspired for. My queue will remain very very slow and I'll only let replies slip a couple times a week. My beautiful sexy fellow queue users are free to continue posting for me, I'll just hoard the replies until I'm capable of answering them 💛

Any mutuals awaiting memes, plotting or IM replies from me, I'm afraid you're just gonna have to bear with me 🤷‍♀️ I don't have the required energy for new interaction right now.

This should hopefully just be for a couple of weeks until I feel better! But wanted to give the heads up regarding mega slowness and being unlikely to reach out for a while. Cheers

#no weeping in the museum ; psa #I've written nothing for 2 weeks and still don't feel up to it #I'm going to see if the weekend brings any joy but tbh I'm just going to continue resting if it doesn't lol

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thisisapaige · 1 year

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I totally meant to have all the birthday posts I put in my queue last night to post today but uh. Guess I forgot to move em up

#have fun seeing those in about two weeks :P #paige rambles on

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kay-elle-cee · 2 years

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I posted 1,404 times in 2022

That's 1,390 more posts than 2021!

353 posts created (25%)

1,051 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kay-elle-cee

@emeralddoeadeer

@unknowableroom

@periodedits

@vlolets

I tagged 1,191 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

#queue gotta step into the daylight - 361 posts

#jily - 203 posts

#kelsey writes - 154 posts

#ask game - 65 posts

#ask me - 59 posts

#emeralddoeadeer - 58 posts

#fic recs - 52 posts

#restless waves rise and fall - 44 posts

#jilytober - 44 posts

#potc - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and like all my friends and my partner don’t have that same history of fandom and it’s so hard to communicate my overzealousness sometimes

My Top Posts in 2022:

Magic Like This || Read on Ao3

“Do you want to go?” He presses. “It’s not that simple.” If only it was. Of course she didn’t want to go. The boy in front of her shrugs. “It sounds simple enough to me: it’s going to be miserable for you. Don’t go.” Lily blinks at him—he speaks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to just live by your own rules, put yourself first. He’s standing there, staring at her as the concept winds its way through her mind. What Lily really wants, if she’s being honest with herself, is to spend the day with James Potter.

My fic for the @jilytoberfest Bittersweet Challenge. Prompt: "Don't Go" but make it fluff.

71 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

restless waves rise and fall || read chapter one on ao3

In efficiency and general seafaring know-how, First Mate Evans makes up for what Captain Potter lacks.

So she has to make up for a lot.

Or: In which James Potter is a gentleman pirate and Lily Evans is his loyal but vastly more competent First Mate.

Written for @thegobletofweasleys Jily Week 2022 pirate au prompt. It has since gotten out of hand and is currently shaping up to be 3 parts (you can blame @sunshinemarauder for the encouragement).

78 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

no, i could never give you peace | Read on Ao3 | Playlist

But the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

93 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

I got this idea like 5 minutes ago and have been living in Saturday Night's Alright-land for so long, I'm letting myself choose joy.

7th-Year September 1st drabble below the cut.

James hastily waved off his parents with all the sincerity he could muster before he and Sirius started weaving their way through the start-of-term crowd on Platform 9 3/4 for the last time. To Fleamont and Euphemia, this was a momentous turning point, deserving some sort of emotional farewell or well-wishing, but to James it was simply an item on a checklist.

Arrive at platform: Check.

Still, he would've been more sympathetic to his parents' attentions had someone not delayed their arrival by oversleeping.

"Oi, slow down, Prongs. Christ!"

Sirius trailed behind him, navigating the crowds with more care than the other boy, who was charging through the crowd with a fervor that Sirius was all too familiar with by now.

James' eyes flitted rapidly from face to face as he made his way across the platform, searching for those brilliant eyes and the shock of red hair that he hadn't seen in much too long.

This summer had been one for the books, as far as James Potter was concerned, anyway. The freedom of being of-age with none of the responsibilities of school had meant a virtually unlimited choice of ways to entertain themselves this summer. Most evenings saw the soon-to-be 7th year Gryffindors—along with some other classmates—convalescing somewhere or other in Diagon Alley, finding little-known hidden gems of pubs or clubs, cooling themselves off with ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, or just causing general summertime mischief.

It was wonderful to feel so bonded with the others in their house going into their final year, and it had the added bonus of finally sparking that something between he and Lily Evans.

It was nothing serious—not yet. Just little stolen moments throughout the summer: a lingering glance across the table, inconspicuous hand-holding when they found themselves in the back of the group, the occasional goodnight kiss when one of them needed to side-along Apparate the other home. Little stolen moments that had been driving James mad these last few weeks Lily was visiting family and unable to join the end-of-summer hurrahs.

They had been writing each other, however, in her absence. She'd written him excitedly about her appointment as Head Girl, which was completely unsurprising to him as there was no better candidate (and he told her so). He had written back, nervously, and relayed how—incredibly—he'd been named Head Boy, only to be unexpectedly showered with congratulations and 'of course, it's unorthodox, but it makes sense'. They'd exchanged letters about the things they'd miss once Hogwarts was over, their lists of must-do's this year to fully glean the most out of their final year. They'd exchanged 'I miss you's and 'I wish you were here's and 'I can't wait to see you's.

Nearing the other side of the crowded platform, his eyes spotted that specific shade of red that had made this summer so superior to the others. His eyes zeroed in on Lily Evans, hair pulled back, Head Girl badge proudly displayed on her robes as she helped direct what he could only guess was a First Year into the train. His feet halted any forward-movement as his breath left his lungs.

'I can't wait to see you. I miss you.'

Locate Lily Evans: Check.

James moved forward with renewed vigor, her eyes finding his as the First Year loaded onto the train. A smile broke out on her face as he drew near, and gods how he wished he was able to get here earlier just so he could take in her expression that much sooner.

"Hey, you," she called lightly as he neared, looking up at him. "Big day for us, eh?"

Now face-to-face with her for the first time in weeks, after thinking only of her for the entirety of the time since she last left his sight, words escape him. Instead, he smiled down at her, at the anticipation in her eyes and felt sure in a way he hadn't felt with her in a long time, and bent down to capture her lips with his own, hand cupping her cheek.

She leaned into his touch instantly, responding to his kiss with an enthusiasm that caused James' pulse to pound in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the platform around them.

Kiss Lily Evans: Check.

James felt Lily's lips pull into another grin, and he took this as his cue to step back, breaking the kiss and grinning down at her, knowing that the excited glint in her eyes matched his own.

"Well, I meant leading the Prefects' meeting, but glad to know where your head's at," she quipped, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

James shrugged, hand flying to his hair with residual nerves. "Sorry, I was just...excited to see you."

Lily stepped forward, reaching up and pulling his hand down from his hair and lacing her fingers in his. Her eyes lingered on the sight of their entwined fingers as a blush painted her cheeks. "I'm excited to see you, too." Her eyes flickered back up to meet his, eyebrow quirking as she tugged him forward towards the train. "Well come on then. We have a meeting to run."

James followed her, gladly, as they loaded onto the train, feeling a little lighter in his step.

Be with Lily Evans: Check.

96 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

Playlist

Read on Ao3

97 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #How fucking embarrassing is it that I reblogged MYSELF most????#Also this whole thing reads as absolutely unhinged #Sorry y’all and thanks for following #✌🏼

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annakie · 2 years

Photo

One last self-indulgent Patchy post, from almost two weeks out.

It’s been some time.

I’ve mostly been off tumblr, letting the queue run things. Occasionally scrolling the dash, not much social media lately, it was a bit Too Much outside of some direct chats with friends and running/coordinating D&D stuff.

The weekend post-death I hibernated a lot. I let myself cry as much as I wanted. I reminded myself, and I may have posted this here, I don’t remember, but that the only good way through grief is to go right through it.

My work sent a nice little snack gift box. Not much I liked in it, but the thought was very much appreciated. And the vet sent the flowers I posted about last week.

It was a little better Sunday. I ran my Sunday Night D&D game and just made sure to have a cry in the hour before to get it all out.

Last week was fine. Still crying every day, but a little less every day. I spent a lot of time on the couch watching Netflix when I wasn’t working. And honestly, I didn’t work that much most days. Watched mostly like, home makeover/cleanup shows. You know, things that make you feel vaguely good without having to actually think.

Better Call Saul finale and other ongoing shows were good distractions.

Thursday I got the call that Patchy’s ashes were ready for pickup. I went in Friday at lunch. Thanked the receptionist for the flowers they sent (which are still in the house but need to be thrown out.)

Took the very nice little bag they gave me back to the car and looked inside. The box with her ashes, tied up in a pretty ribbon, I ran my hands over the very pretty box, and opened the box with the plaster paw print. There was also an envelope I declined to open at the time. I cried for a few moments, got some takeout, went home.

Sat down and opened the envelope and saw the fur clipping in the little bag and for the first time in a couple of days I completely lost it. A long, sobbing cry.

When I’d left the vets office after putting her to sleep I nearly went back in to ask them to save a clipping of her fur, but decided not to. I knew I couldn’t have gotten through it. And I thought about emailing them later but thought it might be too late by the time I thought if it and wasn’t 100% sure I wanted it. I have a little clipping of Cebu’s poodle hair though, and it means a lot to me to still have. But I decided not to.

So seeing that they’d done it anyway, without me asking, meant a lot, but also it hurt a lot. I was so very relieved and yet it was also like a sledgehammer. Having her ashes, and a little bit of her where they’d found a perfect intersection of her three colors was so thoughtful. But it was also like that final “she’s really gone and she’s not coming back” moment. Where mentally you knew it, but it’s what the heart needed for it to be final.

I at first put the three things on the shelves behind me here in the office/living room next to Jim’s ashes and picture but realized about thirty seconds later that that was wrong, the living room wasn’t her room.

I have a little knick-knack shelf in the bedroom filled with ceramics and figurines people had given me throughout the years for various reasons. I curate it and swap things out occasionally but for the most part it’s just little mementos and decoration. There was a tea light lamp on the top of it that was a thank you gift for helping run a big baby shower about 14 years ago, so I moved that lower on the shelf and set Patchy’s things on the top. The master bedroom was her domain for six years, so a little space for her there seems right.

I’ve felt more at peace since doing that. I spent a lot of time second guessing myself the first week. And I still wonder if I should have done more. Especially still kicking myself for not taking her back in two or three weeks earlier. We may have bought her another couple of weeks of life if I had, but realistically I know time was drawing short, and she’d outlasted her best estimates. I’m mostly at peace with it. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop self-doubting, just a teensy bit.

Fry moved himself back into the master bedroom immediately upon my opening it back up, and barely has left it since. It took Pemily a couple of days to understand that yes, it’s OK for you to be in here now. It’s OK to get up on the bed. You can sleep with me again. They are both loving it. Fry especially is rarely not in there when he’s not eating. He used to watch TV with me all the time and now that’s just sometimes.

There’s a small cat tree that Patchy loved to sit under but not into. It’s Fry’s favorite thing. I’d always kicked myself for not buying two when I bought the one on clearance. Patchy literally never got into the bucket seat. The few times I’d let Fry in there when Patchy was around he’d mostly just hang out in it, and now he is in it like 50% of the time.

He and Pemily are both sleeping with me again which is... mostly good. They’re a lot more restless than Patchy. They’re both also way heavier than her -- Fry is like 13lbs and Pemily is like 18 whereas Patchy was 10 or less. So when they wake me up to want to cuddle, it’s a lot more noticeable and there’s, you know, two of them. Sleeping with the bedroom door open again is great insofar as it’s no longer stuffy in there as soon as the AC goes off, but also brighter with the hall nightlight shining into the room, and noisier as I can hear all three of them moving around and using the litterbox when they need it. Leela also likes to just scream randomly, and it’s a lot louder with the door open. Leela has walked around the bedroom but as usual, prefers her bed on the desk.

Peaches -- who I saw this week is actually a boy -- and Buster have been outside a lot. I am in the beginning stages of seeing what I can do to domesticate them. Peaches seems more likely than Buster. Going to change Peaches name, especially if I can get him inside/vetted/snipped/safe if possible. Hoping Fry can handle it well if I can get one of them integrated into the house.

Four is my limit, but Leela is 17.5. Realistically, I know I won’t have a lot of time left with her. Ever since her health scare last year I’ve been doing my best to give her the best, especially now Patchy is gone. Her last few vet visits have gone great though, so who knows. Maybe she’ll live to 20. I’ve been trying not to pre-mourn her since the last 13 months were about pre-mourning Patchy.

ANYWAY. Aside from ALL THE CAT NEWS I went and played D&D4e at Marcus’ on Friday, and this Saturday is 13th Age game night. Running my Wednesday night game tonight and going to run my SUnday night game.. tomorrow? Since we’re in the middle of like, the Most Important Part of this campaign TBH and everyone wants to know what happens and not take a week off when someone can’t make it this weekend. Also just going to run a B-team game for the rest of them Sunday anyway.

Gaming is healing.

Have been dicking around in Enderal, just going exploring/dungeon diving a lot and ignoring the main quest. Just a few hours every few days. I also replayed Boyfriend Dungeon since the DLC came out and I had only played it on release. They’d added some cool stuff. I meant to treat someone else as my main romance this time but honestly, Isaac is perfect. Still romanced everyone possible to romance except Sawyer (too young, too immature. Nice kid) and let Sunder break up with me this time instead of me rejecting him for being... what he is. It was a nice, light, fluffy break.

Also watched Abbot Elementary, and loved it. Need more please.

Today is the first day this work week I’ve had a cry about Patchy. And mostly because I re-read my previous entry to prepare for this one. I am coming out of the grief stage, not there yet. But getting close. I miss her a lot. I think about her often, but I am starting to move on.

#my pets #pet death tw #personal post tag thingy

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