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#why did no one telling me writing for three people meant so much more brain breakage?
dontflailmenow · 2 years
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No Really, Not That Innocent (aka part two)
Summary: In which Reader’s attempt to get back at her boyfriend for secretly feeling her up in front of the guys (and clueing her in to the fact she has an exhibitionism kink) backfires in the best way.
Word Count: 4.1k of smutty smut shenanigans
Pairing: Junho x f!Reader x Nichkhun
Warnings: Adult content. It’s threesome smut, y’all: oral (m. and f. receiving), handjobs, fingering, dirty talk, teasing, so many petnames, unprotected!sex, cream pie, somehow both possessiveness and sharing, praise kink, exhibitionism, does it count as spitroasting if you're sitting down? idk but let's go with that.
A/N: This is my first time writing a threesome, so uhh, please do feel free to let me know if it worked for you.
For @biaswreckingfics because she enables me and I love her for it. Hope you like this one, habibi!
Previous Part
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He absolutely had this coming. And really, you had warned him after the whole handsiness business at lunch the other week. Which, yes, was followed up by the best sex you’d ever had and there was no way you were going back to using condoms, but that was a whole other story! The point was – well, it was just the principle of the matter.
Now that the perfect opportunity had presented itself, it would be stupid and wasteful to, uh, waste it. Right?
Right.
The lack of actual planning ahead of time combined with a little soju-inspired impulsivity thanks to those after dinner drinks with your friends, like two weeks of blushing constantly in front of the guys (and you just knew they knew, if not that Junho’s hand was between your legs right there at the table in front of them, then definitely that you immediately got railed after leaving the restaurant) and wanting to get back at your boyfriend… it was only a matter of time.
And it was hindsight that was 20/20.
In that moment, though, you didn’t care about stupid things like the likelihood of getting caught. Or okay, maybe you did, but not in the way that you should care. As you backed up toward his trailer, you crooked your fingers at Junho and flashed him an oh-so-innocent smile, then let your back rest against the metal while you waited for him to close the distance.
Junho’s expression, meanwhile, was curious. He wasn’t sure what you were up to – and you were definitely up to something – but he was game for whatever it was. He glanced over his shoulder at the crew packing up for the day, at the staff on their way out after having received assurances from the guys that they’d make their own ways home, and at his groupmates, who were talking and laughing amongst themselves on the other side of the trailer. Not one of them paying attention to either of you, and not one of them able to see you from around the corner of the trailer.
Wanting to see where you were going with this, Junho allowed himself to be beckoned, following until he stood in front of you. He pressed a palm into the trailer above you, fingers of his other hand coming up to trace across your lips, the mischief in your eyes contradicting that still innocent smile. “What are you up to, sweetheart, hmm?”
Your own fingers found the belt loops of his pants and you tugged his hips into yours. “Can’t a woman just come pay a visit to her boyfriend on set? Maybe I missed you,” you said sweetly, biting at your bottom lip to really play it up.
Junho chuckled, leaning his head down toward yours, and letting his gaze drop to your mouth before finding yours again. “Oh, I know you missed me. I missed you too,” he admitted, lips pressing against yours for a quick, soft kiss. “But we’re done for the day and I would’ve been by your place in a bit anyway.”
“Maybe I couldn’t wait that long,” you said on a soft sigh, a hand shifting from his belt loop to cup him through his pants and gently squeeze.
So it was like that, he thought to himself, biting back a groan, very aware of the fact that his friends were not twenty feet from where this was happening. His eyes flashed with heat as they found yours, his voice deepening, making your breath catch. “You really do wanna be caught, don’t you baby?”
You felt the flush bloom in your cheeks and spread down your chest, shaking your head, but the way you moved to unfasten his belt certainly suggested otherwise. “Just – just wanna touch you. Wanna feel you.” Which wasn’t a lie.
Playing sexy chicken with your boyfriend turned out to be unfairly hot and the look he sent you as you got the belt open, finger popping the button open next, then finding the zipper, nearly made you combust on the spot.
His next breath was a hiss and his hand covered yours, sliding it down to cover his cock, guiding your hand along the length of him, letting you feel how hard he was. “Get. In. The. Fucking. Trailer,” he rasped, tearing your hand away and opening the door to said trailer, gesturing toward the opening with his chin. “Unless you want me to take you right here.”
For half a heartbeat, you considered it – really, you had so much self-reflection to do about your sudden exhibition kink – before you were rushing into the open door and Junho was following you, yanking the door shut behind him.
Neither of you noticed that it didn’t quite latch shut, too busy eyeing each other from across the small space.
You started to feel dizzy before you realized you somehow forgot to breathe, which was something only he could bring about in you. Sucking in a deep breath, you watched his hands as they returned to his belt, slipping it out of the loops and letting it drop to the floor at his feet. Watched his fingers slide the zipper down. Watched him part his pants and palm himself through the thin fabric of his boxers.
“Drives me crazy when you look at me like that, you know,” he said. A cocky smile curving his lips, he moved past you to sit on the small sofa, glancing at the floor in front of him then back up at you. “Why don’t you come over here and show me how much you missed me, Princess?
Oh. Fuck. You wanted him so much it hurt. You felt your cunt clench around nothing and couldn’t tear your eyes away. Utterly captivated.
It didn’t require conscious thought for you to move. One moment, you were standing in the middle of the small space. The next, you were lowering yourself to your knees in front of him, hands coming to rest on his thighs and squeezing, looking up at him through veiled lashes.
“Missed you so much,” you admitted. “Kept thinking about you all day and couldn’t focus on work at all.” Your hands slid further up his legs, finding purchase on the open fabric of his pants and pulling at it, letting your fingers brush against his cock.
Junho lifted his hips for you and you were too impatient to worry about taking them all the way off. Just needed them off enough so they were out of the way.
Off enough that you could press kisses up his bare thighs, little kitten licks and soft nips as you made your way up one thigh – a mischievous grin as you skipped right over the tent in his boxers to kiss and lick and nip your way down the other thigh.
The hand that fisted in your hair was not a surprise; instead, it elicited a whimper and sent a wave of want rolling through you. You felt your head being tilted back and let your gaze find Junho’s, saw the embers burning within those dark eyes, and squeezed your thighs together, swallowing hard.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with a shake of his head. His free hand cupped your jaw and his thumb traced across your lips before pressing gently between them, and he let out a groan when you sucked the digit into your mouth. “Mm, there’s my good girl.”
The praise went straight to your head, then right down to your pussy, and you could feel the way the fabric of your panties started to soak through. “Mmhmm,” you hummed, pulling your lips off of his thumb long enough to say, “Always your good girl, Junho.”
“Are you?”
You nodded, wrapping your lips back around his thumb and drawing a line up it with your tongue as you sucked.
“Show. Me,” he rasped, hand on your jaw moving to push his boxers down his hips, cock hard, demanding, already leaking in his need. With the fingers still fisted in your hair, Junho pulled your face toward his lap, guiding your mouth to him.
With a needy whimper, you let yourself be guided and, mirroring your actions on his thumb, you traced a line up the length of his dick with your tongue. Looked up at him while you slipped the tip between your lips, while you let your tongue circle and taste him. You watched him as you took him deeper into your mouth, licking and sucking, bringing up a hand to stroke him, determined to make him feel good, so good.
“Fuck, I love you. So fucking pretty when you suck me off.”
And oh, did you feel that in your cunt, so empty, so aching for him to fill you. But he would, he so would, you knew that. Right now, though, you could not get enough of how he looked, how he sounded as he fought the urge to thrust deeper and to fuck into your throat.
Feeling his body tense beneath the hand you had resting on his thigh wasn’t unexpected – nor was the curse.
What was unexpected, though, was the curse coming from behind you as well.
Eyes widening, you tore your mouth from Junho and twisted your head in the direction of the very-much-not-Junho’s voice.
There, standing just inside the doorway, was Nichkhun. “I – shit, I am so sorry you guys. The others left but I volunteered to get you two. The door was open, so I didn��t think – shit,” he rambled, looking mortified and as though he was trying desperately not to look at you.
Trying being the operative word. You definitely noticed how his gaze darkened and kept dropping toward where you still kneeled, bent over Junho’s lap, before he forced it back up to his friend’s face.
Despite yourself, your breath caught in your throat every time he did it. You bit down hard on your lip to stop from whimpering when your own gaze dropped from his face to his groin and you saw the bulging fabric there.
“I’ll – I should go. Leave you two to, um, leave you to it.”
“Wait.” That was from Junho, startling both you and Nichkhun.
“Wait?” Nichkhun asked, confused, eyes finally meeting yours before tearing them away again to meet Junho’s.
“Unless you really want to leave?”
Nichkhun shook his head and Junho hummed. “I don’t think my princess minds you being here, does she?” you heard Junho tell the other man, the question at the end toward you. Inhaling sharply, you squeezed your eyes shut. In embarrassment? To hide the truth of his words and your reaction to them? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was why having an actual plan was important.
Junho brought his fingers to your jaw, slipping under your chin and tilting it up and waiting for you to open your eyes, to look at him. “It’s up to you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Should we invite him to stay?”
You searched your boyfriend’s gaze for any sign of this being not okay with him, swallowing hard and nodding when you saw none. “I,” you start, wildly turned on by the idea of Nichkhun being there. Glancing over your shoulder at the man in question, you let your gaze sweep over his face – noticing the clenched jaw, the banked heat in his eyes as they met yours – before letting yourself take in the rest of him, looking for all the world like a snake coiled up and ready to spring if given the word.
Holy hell, you wanted him to touch you, too.
Turning your attention back to Junho, you saw the flash of something dark and hungry cross his features. “Use your words, baby,” he said firmly. “You want him to watch?”
You shivered, “Y-yes.”
The fingers in your hair tightened and you could hear two audible intakes of breath. “Is that all you want?”
Oh, fuck him and his stupid perceptiveness. You were pouting as you admitted, “No.”
“Fuck,” you heard Nichkhun curse from behind you, voice having dropped an octave.
Junho pulled you closer, drawing your face to his and capturing your lower lip between his teeth before gently sucking and letting his tongue brush against the sensitive skin. His voice was practically a growl when he spoke, although it wasn’t to you. “Close the door, Nichkhun. Make sure it’s locked this time.”
You heard rather than saw the door latch shut and the turn of the lock, unable to look away from your boyfriend. “Are – Are you sure you’re okay with this?” you asked. Horny, you might be, but no fantasy fulfillment was worth hurting him or ruining your relationship.
“Mm,” he confirmed, hand guiding yours to wrap around his still very hard cock, slowly pumping the length and swiping at the pre-come gathered at the tip, then letting go of your hand to bring that finger up to your lips and rubbing the fluid into them. The needy whine you emitted as you instinctively licked your lips, your hand around him squeezing and stroking, earned you a groan so low and deep you felt it in your core. “Nichkhun knows you’re mine, doesn’t he?”
Nichkhun, who was a whole lot closer than he had been, so close you could feel the heat from his body, nodded. “Yeah, it’s - your rules,” he agreed and you felt his fingertips gently brush against the side of your cheek, encouraging you to turn your head toward him, where he stood behind you. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he said to you.
Lashes fluttering shut, you rubbed your thighs together, then let yourself look from one man to the other. “Please,” you pleaded, not entirely sure whether you were talking to Junho or Nichkhun.
“Look at me,” your boyfriend commanded and you obeyed. “What do you need, Princess?”
“I just,” you said on a soft gasp, noticing the way Nichkhun was now kneeling behind you, feeling the hand he trailed down your spine. Your body achingly aware of the grip of his other hand on your hip, squeezing. “I don’t even know.”
“You don’t? My poor baby,” Junho cooed. “I think we’re gonna need to help her out, Nichkhun,” he told his friend, watching the play of emotions over your face before letting his gaze take in the other man and his hands on you. “Why don’t you finish what you started earlier and show him how well you take me in your mouth, huh?” The smile that curled his lips when you immediately moved to do so was lupine.
Fingers still wrapped around his cock, you took the head into your mouth and twirled your tongue around the tip, tasting skin and pre-come, and moaning softly. “Shit, that’s it.” He thrust himself deeper, unable to fight the urge to show Nichkhun that while the other man may be playing with you tonight, you were still his. The way you didn’t even fight it, instead swallowing around him, was heady.
“Such a good girl for me,” he praised, then looked up at his friend, whose grip on your hip tightened, and whose gaze was locked on the way you were bobbing your head on his dick. “Touch her, Nichkhun.” The man in question sucked in a sharp breath, tearing his eyes from where you were slobbering all over his friend’s cock and making the most erotic sounds.
“Fuck, can I? She’s,” he hissed when you bucked your own hips back toward him, both hands on your hips now, pulling you into him while he pushed forward and ground against your cunt through your skirt and his pants. Practically panting, himself, when he asked, “What am I allowed to do here? Because, fuck, I can feel how wet she is. So needy, aren’t you, Beautiful?”
You hummed in confirmation, rubbing yourself back against where you could feel Nichkhun, already deliciously hard. Sucked harder at Junho, taking him deeper on your next downward pass, whimpering at the force of your need, caged between the two men.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Understatement. Of. The. Goddamned Century. Junho groaned down at you, watching you squirm. “The only thing you’re not allowed to do is fuck her. The only cock she takes is mine - shit,” he hissed as you let him slip out of your mouth so you could tease the tip with your tongue, stroking him with your hand. You were trying to kill him, he thought. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
You nodded, looking up at him, then back at Nichkhun. “Y-Yeah, but - you can touch me. Please touch me, Nichkhun,” you asked with another roll of your hips against him, earning you a moan and him flipping your skirt over your hips to expose your panties to him. Your panties that were uncomfortably soaked through at this point, leaving very little to the imagination.
Nichkhun traced his fingers along the edges of the lace, fingertips slipping just beneath the fabric, and having to fight hard not to lose it the second he felt your wetness, the puffiness of your lips, separated from him by a tiny scrap of lace. He rubbed against the length of your slit with his thumb, unable to not feel that in his cock. “Fuck, yeah, okay, Beautiful. I’ve got you,” he assured you then slid your panties off, baring your naked pussy to him for the first time.
Sliding a finger through the swollen, wet flesh, and cursing when you tilted your hips into his touch, when his finger slipped into you. Licking his lips as he slid another one in with the first, thumb finding your clit and starting to circle around it. He managed to tear his gaze away from the sight long enough to watch you whimper into Junho’s lap, the other man’s hand guiding your mouth back to and over his cock.
The little mewl you let out when his fingers hit the right spot inside you nearly undid him, and Nichkhun replaced his fingers with his own mouth. Needing to fucking taste you on his tongue.
Oh. My. God.
You were going to die. You were going to spontaneously combust.
Junho’s fingers fisted in your hair, head tilted back and his smoldering gaze boring into your own through lowered lashes, watching you take his dick into your mouth again and again…and Nichkhun, tongue swirling around your clit, fucking into you.
No, really. This was the story of how you died.
Between one heartbeat and the next, you were coming apart, orgasm crashing into you with all the force of a tsunami. Shivering and gasping, hips jerking back into Nichkhun while you pressed your face into Junho’s thigh, fingers catching the other thigh in a vice grip as you rode the sensations.
Junho gentled his hold in your hair, sucking in a sharp breath while he watched your orgasm overtake you, feeling you cling to him in that moment, and forcing himself to wait, to just take it in. You were so damned beautiful.
Nichkhun. Well, he lapped at your entrance, careful to avoid your clit and overstimulating you, fingers softly squeezing your thighs. Fighting desperately not to come in his pants like a fucking teenager with his first woman.
After a few moments, you were able to lift your head and pull your boyfriend down for a kiss. Were able to reach behind you and cradle the back of Nichkhun’s head in your other hand, pulling him in for a kiss after you drew back from Junho.
“Okay,” you said more than a little breathlessly. “Okay, I’m - oof!” Your words were cut off by a harsh, demanding kiss from Junho, who yanked you down into his lap, grinding his cock against the length of your slit, coating himself in your come and sliding between your lips. “Oh fuck,” you gasped.
“Fucking right, Princess. Came for us so prettily,” he rasped. “Gonna let me fuck my cock into you now and fill you up?”
The noise you made was fully a whine and you clawed at his shoulders, at his shirt, rolling your hips and grinding your pussy along the length of his cock, teasing your clit with the tip, wanting nothing more than to be filled.
“That’s right,” Junho said on a grunt, reaching down to guide his dick to your entrance, then trusting up while he pulled your hips down onto him. “My good girl, always ready for me,” he cooed, another sharp snap of his hips and a grind of your pelvises together. “You gonna suck poor Nichkhun off and put the guy out of his misery or should we make him,” - thrust - “jerk himself while he watches me fuck you,” - a tilt of his hips and his cock hit the front wall of your cunt on his next upward thrust - “fill you up with come?”
The man in question turned out to be kneeling on the sofa next to you, shirt already off and who even knew where it had landed, pants open, and his hand stroking along his own dick. Eyes dark as coal and you could feel the heat from them like a caress, remembering the flick of his tongue against your clit and the sensation of him fucking you with it like Junho was fucking you with his cock.
Waiting.
He was just waiting to see what you would do. Willing to just - that he would - it was wrong. You let yourself take in every inch of him that was bare to your gaze, every dip of muscle and play of the light. Every sharp breath he took. The grip he had on his cock and the pre-come gathering at the tip, leaking down the length of him.
You whimpered, pouting, and smacking his hand away, replacing it with your own. “Let me?” you asked on a gasp, Junho’s hands on your hips moving them in a slow circle against his, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone. “Please,” you begged.
“Yeah? You gonna let me come in your mouth while your boyfriend comes in that pretty pussy?” Nichkhun all but growled, now that he was given permission, fingers fisting in your hair while your mouth found him. “Shit, Beautiful,” he cursed at the first lick of your tongue along his cock, gaze locked onto the sight of you sliding his dick between your lips and taking him into your mouth, suction enough to twist him into knots and nearly make his vision black out.
“So fucking lucky, Junho,” he told the other man.
The other man who was covering your neck with kisses, sucking marks into the skin, hands holding tightly to your hips to steady you for his sharp, deep, fast thrusts. Torn between watching you suck his friend off and watching the way you took his cock, cunt squeezing so tightly around him, as if desperate to keep him inside of you. “Fuck, I know,” Junho admitted. “Fucking perfect, fucking mine, aren’t you, Princess?”
“Mm - mmhmm,” you moaned around Nichkhun, fingernails digging into his thigh, as you licked and sucked and squeezed and stroked him, doing your best to memorize every sound and every movement in this moment.
Something that was pretty damned impossible given the way Junho continued to thrust into you - fucking marking you - a fact which was both profoundly hot and exasperating, his thumb coming to your clit and rubbing you in just the way you liked, you needed.
If your life depended on it, you could not say who came first, but those moments - Nichkhun’s fingers in your hair, the low, deep groan he let out as he spilled himself into your mouth and jerked in your grip - Junho’s teeth catching on the curve where your neck met shoulder, his own fingers likely leaving bruises on your hips as he thrust as deep as he could, pulled you onto him as hard as you could, filling you up with his come as promised - every muscle in your body tensing, then the ecstasy of relief and release as your own orgasm hit, your pussy clenching and contracting around Junho, pulling every drop…
By the time you came to your senses, you were being held gently in Junho’s embrace and he was pressing soft kisses into the spots he’d marked, while Nichkhun sat beside you and rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back.
You hummed happily, completely spent, but fully content.
And you let yourself drift off.
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wormdebut · 4 months
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27 rated M or E because I’m a slut babe we all know this ❤️😘
HI Pretty. I know you wanted the sexytimes, but work sucked so you get FLUFF. (I'm writing kink King of Hell for you so don't worry you'll get ur slutty slutty stuff. I swear.) ANYWHOZLE, #27 on my Spotify wrapped is Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet by the Fall Out Boys so heres...whatever this is. ----
When he walks into the room, the walls lean in to listen.
----
He still remembers the first night Steve Harrington came sauntering into the bar. Eddie thinks it would be hard to ever forget a face like that.
It was back in January. The Chicago air was thick and cold and Steve came in with a green pea coat, hair sprayed up, cheeks red from the brisk air, looking like he had waltzed out of a fucking men's fashion catalog.
Eddie had thought he was gonna have a heart attack.
He almost did, when Steve had flashed that thousand-watt smile at him. He had ordered a whiskey neat and Eddie knew he was fucked then. Way back in January.
Steve told Eddie far too much about himself that first night, after what was surely one too many whiskeys. (Three, it was three. Eddie is a bartender okay? He remembers things. It's not weird. It isn't.) But anyway, Steve had opened up pandora's box. Everyone always did, especially to Eddie. That's why he and Wayne had opened the bar, people like to talk to Eddie. He never knew exactly why, but he had always been told he was easy to talk to. Apparently, Steve Harrington agreed.
Steve Harrington--college graduate, aspiring middle school teacher, recent divorcée with a shitty ex-husband--he apparently agreed, cause he told Eddie so many things.
And Eddie listened.
Couldn't tear himself away, even if he wanted to. (He didn't.)
When it had come time to lock up, Eddie had asked Steve if he had a place to go. Steve had smiled again, but not that thousand watt grin. This one was softer--private. Eddie felt honored to see it.
Hoped he would see that smile again.
And he did--because Steve kept coming back.
"Oh, darling, I know what your going through." Eddie had said…The night Steve told him, really told him, about his ex-husband. How awful Tommy had been, telling Steve he would never graduate. Telling Steve, Steve, he wasn't good enough, handsome enough, smart enough.
It boggled Eddie's brain. The man in front of him? Eddie would give anything to tell him everything opposite.
You're enough. You're a genius. You're fucking beautiful.
But instead he just commiserated.
Steve had raised his eyebrow at that. "You were married?"
Eddie had shook his head, hair catching in his eyes. "Legally? No, but--in all the ways that counted. This isn't about me though. Tell me whatever you need to, precious."
Eddie hadn't meant to flirt as hard as he had been flirting with Steve, but there was something about the way Steve's cheeks pinked up when Eddie called him sweet things, he couldn't help it. Not then, and now? Well it was worse now…but that's beside the point. Eddie is thinking about then.
The way Steve had blushed so hard, Eddie felt like he could taste the heat coming off his perfect cheeks.
"Precious, huh? You don't even know me." Steve had said--well, he had stuttered through it and Eddie was pleased.
"Yeah baby, but I want to. So tell me more." Eddie had decided then and there that it was his personal life mission to make Steve Harrington blush as much as he possibly could, if Steve kept coming around.
Steve had stuttered into his glass before leveling Eddie with a glare. Brat.
"I just--What if I peaked early?" Steve had asked and Eddie--Eddie guffawed. It was an ugly laugh and he hadn't even been ashamed by it.
"You? Peaked? Stevie, baby, have you seen yourself? You're incredible. No way you've 'peaked.'"
Things had changed after that night.
Steve had started flirting back.
----
"Eds! Hello? Babe?" Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts by Steve flapping his (big, very nice, strong) hand in his face.
Eddie shakes his head, blinking a few times to make sure, his perfect boyfriend--fiancée--damn he needed to get used to that--is still there.
"Sorry, doll. I was thinking." Eddie says, and Steve smiles--that soft, private one again. Eddie likes to think of that smile as his.
"Thinking about me?"
Eddie smirks, "C'mon baby, I'm always thinkin' about you."
Steve laughs, "Well, it's closing time, so why don't you keep on thinkin' about me all the way home, huh?"
Eddie shakes his head, can't get over the fact that Steve Harrington actually ended up being his. He grabs the keys to the bar from his back pocket, before hopping over the counter. "Sure baby doll, let's go home."
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pinknightsinmymind · 1 year
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【 hell week - abby anderson 】
abby anderson x fem!reader
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wc: 2.2k
based off request prompt: What do you think about them being in college and braving through finals together? Like, they've been working for hours and they collectively decide to encourage each other through it?
content: modern!au, college!au, established relationship, helping each other manage stress through finals, you and abby being caring gf's, LOTS of affection between you two, one sexual joke, abby being happy and sharing her sense of humor, lots and lots and lots of fluff, cuddling, use of pet names (babe, baby, love, etc.)
a/n: wowowow this was so cute to write ik its a little past finals week as the next semester has either begun or will be starting soon for ppl, but i hope reading about going through finals week and being domestic with abby is still heartwarming. i hope it can also be a comfort to be read again at a later time when its finals week again and you're stressed and need a moment to relax :) more than anything taking care of yourself during finals is the most important which is something i've barely learned and figured out how to do. anyways, now that i'm done lecturing, pls enjoy!!!!
“I think I’m going to drop out,” Abby announced. You snorted.
“Like hell you’d drop out,” you said back to her. You knew Abby was just being dramatic and complaining. Despite how draining the work was, you knew she loved her major and being in pre-med.
“No, I think I’m actually gonna do it this time. I’ll just scam people online for money. This medical shit just isn’t it. In fact, I think I’m gonna become the country’s most wanted con-woman.”
“What you need is a break from studying, not to drop out,” you advised. You leaned forward from across the table and closed Abby’s textbook and notes. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “You’ve been studying hard enough. Don’t push yourself.”
“You’re right.” She shuffled some of her note cards in her hands absentmindedly. “Neither of us have taken a break in a while. My brain hurts.”
“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “Wanna get something to eat?”
“You read my mind. I think the walk would be good for me.”
“Plus, we’ve done enough studying for a while. We can study more later tonight.”
“You’re a genius, [Y/N],” she grinned. “That’s why I keep you around.” You rolled your eyes as you gathered your things together and shoved them in your backpack. Abby followed suit as the two of you prepared to leave the library. You checked your phone and saw it was around three o’clock, and you had both been there since before noon. Yeah, you both definitely needed the break.
“Tonight,” you started as you walked by Abby’s side, “we’ll study some more. I say we take a few hours to ourselves.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked flirtily. You hit her arm.
“Not like that! I meant we should decompress for a while. Eat, watch some TV, that kind of thing.”
“Physical activities are good for decompressing,” she countered.
“Oh, I’m sure they are to you. Look at you. You go to the gym, like, six times a week,” you joked.
“Five,” she corrected.
“See!” you exclaimed. The two of you finally exited the library, the sun’s warmth and beams hitting you. The warmth was delicious, and much better than the freezing Arctic inside the library.
“I thought you liked my physique. Some say it’s Grecian.”
The laugh spilled from your lips before you could even stop yourself. “Oh, my God. You did not just say that.”
“I think I’d be a Spartan,” she mused.
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m one hundred percent serious. Sparta’s no joking matter.”
“You are so—I don’t even know what to say.”
“Charming? Hilarious? I’ve heard it all before,” she said cockily. Before you could even respond you felt her hand slither close to yours and lace your fingers together. “What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t know. What’s closest?”
“That sandwich place you like is nearby. We just gotta walk past the art building and it’s right there.”
“Deal!” you agreed. Walking through campus was always enjoyable with Abby by your side. She made the weather less dull, the day less mundane. It was these little moments with her that you enjoyed the most. Sure, it’s boring everyday life, but she made it special. Abby swung your interlocked hands through the air as she matched your stride. Yes, you may have been in the middle of exams, but at least you had Abby by your side while you endured it. You enjoyed the small journey together, taking the time to admire the beautiful landscapes before you. The university had many trees planted around campus whose lush, green branches provided bountiful amounts of shade. There were squirrels roaming around searching for food, while only a few other students wandered around. For some finals week had barely begun, while others were going through the dregs of it.
Nearly everyone had coffee in their hands while they were dressed lazily—and none of them you could blame. Finals week tired you out beyond compare, and you still had a paper to complete tonight. Abby had two more exams to prepare for, while you only had one more in a few days. You were both just trying your best to make it through the week, both vowing to help each other whenever necessary. That included monitoring each other’s sleeping schedules, making sure you both stayed on task, and making sure above all you were both taking care of your health. That was the most important one seeing as the two of you had a streak for getting so involved in your studies you often neglected your well-being. It was a slippery slope, but when you had each other to look after one another, it made things somewhat easier.
“Hey,” you said to Abby suddenly. She glanced at you, waiting for you to finish speaking. “I’ll pay for lunch today.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah. My treat.” You squeezed her hand in yours, watching as a smile spread across Abby’s face. She looked radiant whenever she smiled.
“Trying to wine and dine me?” she teased.
“You know it.”
Lunch with Abby was just as calming and therapeutic as you thought it would be. Not only did it calm your nerves, but it gave both of your brains just the break they needed. You both took your time to eat, looking to enjoy each others’ presence and the food instead of rushing. After eating, the two of you decided to head back to your shared apartment rather than go to the library again.
“Do we have to start studying right away now that we’re home?” you asked her. Abby glanced at her watch. It was barely five, but she didn’t want you to stress yourself out more. In fact, she felt you deserved to rest more, instead.
“’Course not, babe,” she answered. “You’ve already been working hard enough. Let’s just watch something together.” Abby pulled together some blankets and set up her laptop for the two of you on your bed. Settling herself against the headboard with the blanket wrapped around her, she opened up her arms for you to join her. You quickly joined her, Abby wrapping the blanket around you as well. She pulled you close to her body, arms around you tightly, as you began to watch the show you binge watched together. Abby placed quick kisses against your cheek and forehead here and there, but still made sure to concentrate on the show before her. Despite this, you still managed to distract her and pull her into more heated kisses every now and then.
After a few episodes you asked Abby if she was ready to finish studying, and when she said yes the marathon ended. You sat at the small dinner table together, Abby turning through the pages of her textbook and making countless flashcards. You, however, pulled out your laptop and began working on your paper. It was due tomorrow at noon, so you wanted to be sure you got it done by tonight, even if it meant staying up extra late. You’d make that sacrifice if you had to. You wrote page after page, inserting your quotes, making arguments, for what felt like forever. However, you were still nowhere close to done. It was already past 10 P.M., and you had at least three to four pages left to do. After about twenty more minutes, Abby wrapped up her studying and announced she would take a shower.
“I’ll be back, love,” she said, giving you a small kiss before heading to the bathroom. You sighed as you heard the water start running. You knew it was going to be a while before you finished, but you’d have to bear it for the time being. You worked in a frenzy as the pressure of your final grade hung over your head. You just wanted to finish this assignment so the semester could finally be over. Abby finally returned from her shower after some time, rubbing the strands of her hair in her towel to dry it off.
“How’s the paper coming?” she asked. You shook your head.
“It’s coming,” you groaned.
“It’s getting pretty late. Are you almost done?”
“Hardly,” you answered. Abby came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. It helped to calm you somewhat, her hands managing to rub the spots that ached the most.
“Want me to stay up with you?” she asked softly.
“I’d like that,” you said. Abby finished massaging your shoulders and pulled out the seat next to you.
“I’ll stay here the whole time with you, baby, but let’s make a deal.”
“What is it?” you asked. You looked away from your screen and into your girlfriend’s eyes as she spoke.
“Before I tell you, what time is this paper due?”
“Tomorrow at noon,” you answered.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll let you write a little bit more, but after midnight you’re gonna take a shower and go to sleep.”
“But I need to finish this,” you argued.
“Yeah, but you can’t tire yourself out, babe. You’re not pulling an all-nighter on my watch. We’ll wake up early together tomorrow and you can finish it, okay? So just do what you can tonight.”
“Fine,” you grumbled.
“So, how much you got left?” she asked.
��About two to three pages,” you answered.
“I think you should write until you only have one page left. How does that sound?”
“Doable,” you responded. You turned back to your laptop and continued where you left off. Abby leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as you wrote. Usually you didn’t like having people watch you write, but with Abby it was different. You adored her and cherished her company. While she leaned on you, one of her hands rubbed circles onto your back absentmindedly.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking you to finish your paper in the morning,” she spoke up suddenly. “I just don’t want you to burn yourself out or stay up too late. I know how we both get when it’s finals, so I just don’t want either of us to make the same mistakes again, you know?”
“It’s okay, Abs. I don’t mind,” you reassured her. “To be honest, I kind of like it. It makes me feel cared for.”
“You’re very cared for,” she said, pecking your cheek. Finally, after about twenty more minutes of writing, you finally reached a stoppining point that wouldn’t be too hard to continue the following morning.
“Done!” you exclaimed. Abby smiled at you and shut your laptop for you.
“Good. Now do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“You better not fall asleep,” you warned. You pecked her lips as you rose from the table to go take your shower. The warm water was calming as it soothed your joints and cleansed your body. Once you finished your shower and nightly routine, you found Abby waiting in bed for you. She had the blanket covering her legs as she read one of her books quietly. You crawled into bed carefully beside her and curled up into her side.
“Ready for bed?” Abby asked. She closed her book and placed it on her nightstand.
“Yeah,” you answered. Without another word Abby turned her lamp off and pulled you into her.
“Good night,” she whispered into your neck.
“Good night,” you said back to her. It wasn’t long before the two of you dozed off.
+ + +
“Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” You groaned as you wiped your eyes and they adjusted to the bright lights. She must have had the kitchen lights on and the blinds open like always since she was the morning person in the relationship. You could smell fresh coffee and feel Abby’s arms around your body. Her hand stroked your cheek as she whispered to you softly. “Come on. I’ve got your morning coffee ready. Just how you like.”
“For real?” you asked. Abby laughed at your response.
“Yes, now go wash up.” You groggily dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom to wash up, the cold water you splashed on your face waking you up. After you finished brushing your teeth, you wandered to the kitchen where Abby sat at the table waiting for you.
“What time is it?” you asked.
“Barely nine, so you have plenty of time to finish up your paper and edit,” she said. You came towards her and sat in her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck. Abby’s hands immediately found refuge around your waist as she rubbed them against the small of your back.
“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” you muttered into her shoulder.
“Well, thank you,” she said in response.
“Alright, I’m gonna finish my work,” you announced. You rose from Abby’s lap as she reluctantly pulled her hands away from your body. You pulled out your chair and grabbed the coffee mug Abby left out for you. It was exactly how you liked it, just as she said. After working for nearly an hour, you finally finished your paper and began editing it. That took close to another hour, and by then you were able to turn it in confidently. You let out a sigh of relief as you glanced at Abby beside you.
“All done?” she asked.
“All done,” you said happily. Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek.
“Happy to hear it. Wanna cuddle the rest of the day? I say we rest today since we have a couple more days till our next exams.”
“You don’t even have to ask,” you answered.
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parallelplayers · 5 months
Text
four days in interlagos 4/4
lance pov pt 11
He didn’t really get to be the little spoon that often. He really, really didn’t. So when he woke up to being pretty much cradled into George’s body, he wanted to fight a little bit. He was comfy, he was cozy, he was not overheated, he wanted George to stay but instead what came out was -
“I’m not getting up."
His brain started to try and tell him something, but he was just too damn tired to think about it at - he opened an eye to read the blurry 5:45 on the clock - too fucking early o’clock.
----
He slept until George got back from the gym. Initially he only picked up on George’s voice, but then when he heard his dad’s, he groaned. No way in hell were they going to get to do anything - which is what his brain had been trying to tell him earlier but he fought it.
Again.
His dad’s voice floated through the door George opened. “See you both soon, George. Right, Lance?”
A groan. “I’m up!” Sadly, not in the way he wanted.
----
It was a fucking tough race, but he didn’t have it in him to be annoyed with the result when he saw Alex launch himself into George, the two of them both visibly emotional.
It would be the two of them, soon enough. It had to be the two of them. If he came P1 and they weren’t out, and George wasn’t working? Fuck it, they’d come out on live television.
Which, when he settled into the debrief, did seem a touch dramatic. He took out a pencil and started to write himself little shorthand notes to ask Arlene.
LCO - Lance coming out
QOP - it was easier to write when where why in French - no one was thinking about that reading his notes.
Then, of course - GCO. George had to come out as well, and he wasn’t about to throw his boyfriend to the wolves as the baby bi between the two of them. Especially with his job, he got enough shit as it was.
Then a series of question marks. He paused after that, but Seb was still going on about something boring.
----
George: Going out with Alex for a bit! Will be back by 11.
Of course he was. And it wasn’t like Lance was Daniel, he couldn’t just - show up to another team’s victory party and be accepted. I mean, they would let him in - probably - and he knew people from when he was with Williams. They’d be nice to him at least. But it would be suspicious for sure and they both needed to behave.
His dad saying that and gesturing at his own neck and made him realize his dad was way more in the know about his sex life than he was comfortable with. But George had probably forgotten he had a bruise, seen the pool and gone for it.
Lance: k lmk if u need me to get u. have fun :)
He meant it, truly. Alex wouldn’t party too hard - not without Lily - so while the two of them could get into something, at least there was the possibility it wouldn’t be like, hookers and blow.
----
He ended up going to Esteban’s room. He’d offered for Este to come over to his, but the look of disgust on his face was clear.
“I do not doubt George is a cleanly person, but you are not and I am sure you both have been distracted. You know, I saw,” Esteban gestured at his neck, “and yes, probably not his best either. Maybe some other time."
But it was nice, the three of them shooting the shit, Mick excited about the move to Williams, and it was cool. It was easy, it involved zero effort and it was about 10 when his phone buzzed.
George: if you are still aw ake my love will you please come pick meu p fr om the party my location is on
He - George was calling him what? His hands - he didn’t shake, per se, but he definitely knew he looked a little crazy.
George calling him ‘my love’. God he was in deep, to read that from a very clearly drunk man and get his blood pressure up.
George: it isn’t tooooooo far i think?? if not i think uber works here in brazil
Something he very much did not want. A drunk happy George in an Uber. They’d never been drunk together so he had no clue what to expect.
He plugged in the address.
Lance: yep eta fifteen minutes
“Alright, guys, that’s me. Gotta go pick up George.”
The razzing he got was worth it.
----
It was a nice place that Mercedes had picked, easy to find, and it also helped that there was a tall beacon at the front of the club, face wide open from the alcohol and the air, a water bottle in hand, giddy from half a block away.
Lewis was with him, very much more sober, and he got a raised eyebrow when he pulled up. George’s face was bright and open and when he practically threw himself into the back of the car carelessly. Lance rolled the window down.
“Hey Lewis.”
“Lance.”
Lance turned around, and George was sloppy with it, trying to get himself strapped in sloppily. He couldn’t help the laugh in his voice “Russell, why are you laying down back there? I’m not your hired help.”
A hiccup, a laugh, and then -“I’ll - I’ll - I’ll tell you later.”
Lewis chuckled, looking between them like oh, look how silly George is being, Lance. If George puked, he’d blame Lewis. “He’s had a little bit to drink, that’s all. Isn’t it, George?”
He turned back to see George open and shut his mouth, thinking it over and then just nodding in agreement. Instead, he chose to wave.
A fond eye roll from Lewis. “Night, you two.”
“Night, Lewis.” Lance said, rolling the window up as he put the car in drive. They were not going to have this conversation anywhere near Lewis.
----
Once they were on the road, Lance brought it back up. It wasn’t like he was a chauffeur. “But seriously, babe, what’s up with the backseat treatment?”
A little giggle, and then George stopped and started his sentence a few times before it came out. “I am sobering up, for sure, but I am unsure if even now I could keep my hands to myself.” A handsy drunk, good thing he’d stayed in. "Contrary to popular belief, I am just as worked up as you are.” Oh, horndog city, for sure. "And you were in the points today!” George went to do something but the seatbelt kept him strapped in “See, imagine if I hadn’t been buckled in. I could have im-imp- messed up your driving.” Though he was trashed, his eyes were clearing up. “Get it together, George.” Lance laughed at that. “What? I did drink four whole bottles of water. A bottle for a shot, almost. I should be good to go, when we get back.”
“Okay, babe, sure.” Lance was 100% sure he was going to have to bodily carry George back to the room. And baby him in the morning before his flight. But it was Alex’s maiden win, so he just let it go.
----
George was clearly up to something, though he was trying to not telegraph it as they made it through the parking lot, lobby and then into the elevator. His movements were sharper, his words clearer, but his hands were in his pockets when Lance let them into the room.
Anticipating the hangover from hell, he toed off his shoes as George fiddled with the extra lock.
“Lance.” The clearest his voice had been yet.
“Hmm?” A good shower and then a glass of water and they’d be good to go, in his mind.
“Are you - do you - are you too tired?” It was shy, shy and a little sweet and very nervous and it was fucking cute.
He was just some guy, so of course he turned around. “For what?”
George sidled up, letting Lance know he was on his way, a look on his face. “Well, you’ve called me a tease quite a few times.”
He had to be the responsible one. “You’ve been drinking, babe -”
“My love,” and George had called him that to his face. How was he supposed to argue with that when it was a sucker punch to his heart? “My flight leaves at eleven. Please. I want to.” Shy hands gestured at Lance’s torso. "Otherwise I - well I - I don’t know. I’ll expire or something.”
What a fucking drama queen. “Expire? We can’t have that.” He had to wrap his arms around George, who vibrated with the contact.
“Lovely. Now, if I may?” Working his way back from buzzed and he was still proper. They met in the middle, and it lit something inside him, and then there were fingers in his hair and that was it. When he hesitated in pulling at Lance’s hair, Lance gave him a little ass pat for encouragement.
“If you’re going to do it, do it.” Lance breathed against his lips. C’mon, Russell, let’s go, pushing a little.
There was a challenge in the way George used his body, herding him until he was flat against the wall, then nimble hands went for his pants. He’d put on a pair of joggers after the race, comfort over style, freeballing it. George made a little ‘ooo’ noise when he figured that out. "No underwear?”
“I mean, I was just going to pick you up. Not like I was expecting a strip search.” Not like Esteban or Mick gave a fuck.
“My luck.” It was like he’d found a surprise, and then the joggers were shoved down and George ran his fingers up Lance’s thighs, and he shuddered. “Very much so.”
He needed his head checked from how quickly he got hard from that, light touches from spidery hands. But he could give himself a little slack, it’d been days of teasing.
And George was enthusiastic, like he knew exactly what worked from giving a grand total of one handjob.
But when the tips of his fingers slid smoothly across the head of his dick, then crisply started to jack him off, maybe that other guy had a point. He hadn’t expected George to come in so hot.
“Oh my god.” His voice was higher than usual but he couldn’t give less of a fuck because this was - it was expert level.
“Good?” When George didn’t get a response - he couldn’t fucking formulate one - he stopped.
“Babe, please. Please.” There was the begging in his voice. He was not too proud to beg when he was already on edge.
George pushed back a little, cold air hitting his dick and other exposed areas, and he followed.
George tutted, as if he was a bad kid in class. “Ah, ah, wait. I’m not leaving.”
“You sure about that?” After everything he’d gone through that week, George could tease him to the ends of the earth and he’d still wait.
He fucking keened when George took both hands back.
“Hold please.”
Like he was on a phone call or something, and Lance was starting to get pissed -
And then George did something kinda insane. He took one hand, put it up to his mouth and - he didn’t spit in his palm, the old fashioned way. He laved each finger, which was graphic enough when he’d been thinking about George licking his dick like that.
If this was his second try at this, he was going to be rocking Lance’s world after a while. Especially because after he put his hand back on his cock, he turned bright eyes on Lance, as if watching him get off was a reward.
It was going to end faster than he anticipated, his breath giving him away. George seemed crazy into it, leaning in, pressing eagerly into is open mouth. When he came - eyes rolled back, head against the wall, unable to catch his breath - it hit hard enough that he lost like any function to anything besides his knees.
George studied him as he steadied himself, as if it was more interesting to watch him recover than it was to start trying to get himself off. He was still staring by the time Lance got his brain back online. “George?”
“Yes?” Now that he’d been caught staring, he was shy, tucking his face into the sweaty curve of Lance’s neck, breathing heavily.
“You want to, y’know, switch?” It would be rude for George to not get off after that.
“Switch what?” He really wasn’t thinking about getting off at all, was he? Lance had to lead, and he wrapped his hands around George’s wait, used it to guide George where he wanted him, against the wall. “My hand."
He was sure the hotel wall had worse substances on it. But he wasn’t going to tease George over it.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got it.” Belt, pants, briefs, then he went to get on his knees.
George freaked a little at this, tugging at him. “No, no.”
“No?” Was that other blowjob that bad for him to not want one ever again?
Hands in his shirt, tugging. “No. Up here.”
“Ah, okay.” Lance unbuttoned George’s shirt as he came back up, gently pulling it off so it didn’t get come on it. One they were face to face, he pulled George in for a kiss.
A thought came into his mind - if George liked to be pinned, maybe here would be a good place to play with that. Tease him a little - give him a taste of his own medicine. Took one hand and pressed George down hard against the wall, another on his dick, and he lit up. “Oh.” It was louder than he’d heard George, from some deep, unknown part of his body.
Like his world had been rocked by this little movement.
“Yeah?” George nodded, his mind gone, letting out borderline sobs, and he was so close Lance could fucking taste it. He was easy for it, once you got the armor off. He put his lips back on George’s neck, mirroring the original bruise, blew and then sucked in a little and George shook apart from just that. Almost explosively, a hand smacked against the wall, the gross one clinging to Lance’s shirt.
Lance let himself observe as George got it back together. Let himself get a little too close, like he’d always wanted to, and he could tell when George rejoined him because they were back to kissing.
He pulled away first because he was just - just fucking tired.
George followed. “Lance.” His voice was quite hoarse, a testament to what they’d done, even if it had just been like third base.
“Yes?”
“Good?” George was so shaky, his want to be good on his face, and Lance wouldn’t ever disappoint him and say no.
Especially because it was the truth. “Yeah, baby, great. Worth the wait.” He pressed a kiss to the sweaty top of a cheek. “You want to rinse off?”
He nodded. “Oh, damn, your shirt.”
It was just a fucking shirt. “Oh well."
He could just get another one later.
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Text
The Dream - Chapter Twenty Nine + Epilogue.
The end is here, besties. A huge thank you as always for those who have stuck it out until the end and offered such kind words in the way of feedback. Huge love to you all. It was a challenge to write this as it’s very different from my usual offerings. I can only hope the bittersweet ending meets your expectations :)
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Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven  Twenty Eight
Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed
Words - 4,186 
Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!
His hand kept reaching into the space beside him on the pull out, vast in its emptiness, no small body curling against his, no warmth from her skin. He would never awake to find her using him as a pillow again, just like she had on his first morning there all those months ago. No little sleep snuffles, no morning kisses. No more shared dreams.  
She really was gone.
His brain couldn’t quite absorb it, yet the shock kept on hitting him over and over, like the perpetual jab of a knife into his heart. It had all happened so fast. One minute she was there and the next... gone.  
How precious and fragile life truly was.  
Angel knew better than most that’s how death worked sometimes, too. There were no guarantees of notice given. Death did not call and tell you to mark a date in your calendar. It snatched people without warning.  
It had done this to him twice now. First his mom, and now his love.
His eyes stung from crying, his heart completely shattered. He couldn’t believe it was real. He still expected her to walk back in from the kitchen and tell him to scoot over, or ask if he’d farted, slapping him if he revealed he had.  
Why? Why her? She’d barely even begun to live her life before it had been snatched from her. Angel felt his throat tightening again as he thought of all the things she’d shared with him, everything she wanted to accomplish, all that he was looking forward to being proud of her for. What hit him the hardest, though, was that she’d died before he’d truly made it up to her, ironed out the crazy behaviour that had been driven by his insecurities.  
He still owed her, and he could never repay it now, never show her he was worthy of her love, never prove himself. Stretching his arms above his head, his chest quivered on a sob, sniffing hard as his tears began to fall again. God, the loneliness. She’d only been gone for ten hours and twenty-three minutes, and yet he felt like he was being buried alive in the grief of losing her, how vacant he felt without her there.
He knew then he should have appreciated her more while he could and not acted like such an overgrown child at her being away, because at least she’d still been alive then. He’d now suffered the ultimate abandonment, and it wasn’t her fault or his, but fuck, how he wished he could turn back time. Just a little more time with her, just a day, an hour, a moment to hold her again.  
“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he whispered into the dark of the living room. “Dunno how the fuck I’m meant to carry on without you.” The pain crashed through him, hitting him over and over as it swallowed him whole, Keri was dead... Keri was dead. He’d managed to stop his tears by the time the bedroom door opened, Frankie exiting quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of the pullout.  
“Can’t sleep.”
“Me neither,” he confirmed.
She gestured to the space beside him. “Mind if I cuddle up? I get it, if you’d rather be alone.”
He snorted softly. “Course, I don’t. Get over here.” She climbed under the comforter, resting her head to his chest, his arm wrapping around her. He wasn’t the only one completely heartbroken. Hell, they’d had to sedate Meryl, she was so hysterical.  
“This feels weird,” she muttered, tapping his chest gently with her splayed hand. “No boobies.”
He smiled, laughing softly through his nose, Frankie continuing. “It doesn’t feel real. Like, you’re here, so my brain by default thinks that she should be, too. I keep thinking the door is gonna open and there she’ll be, my little beets.”
“Yeah, yeah you ain’t the only one,” he began, hand stroking her arm idly. “Just feels like she’s in the next room.”
“Oh, you know about the poem?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Yeah, the poem about death, about it being like they’re in the next room,” she explained, sitting up a little. He still looked confused. “Pass me your phone, I’ll find it.” He reached for it, unlocking the screen and handing it to her, Frankie searching for the piece she’d always found so comforting during times of loss.  
“Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect. Without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was. There is absolute unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you. For an interval. Somewhere. Very near. Just around the corner. All is well.”
“All ain’t well,” Angel grumbled, sighing. “I get what the dude who wrote it meant, though. But like, I ain’t in that place yet. Hurts too much.”  
“Yeah,” Frankie sighed, closing the webpage and locking his phone, handing it back. “Yeah, it’s too raw right now, but the words are beautiful. I’ll come back to them again. Right now, I just want to go someplace quiet and scream about how fucking unfair it is, that I lost my bestest buddy in the entire world.  
“Isn’t just me, though. You lost your girlfriend, Meryl and David lost their daughter, and so many other friends, too. Rachel couldn’t breathe when I called her earlier. It isn’t fair, Angel. She should be here with us and she isn’t! She’s all alone in a fucking morgue!”  
He winced at those words, not wanting to imagine it. It had been painful enough when after the nurses had pulled all of her tubes out, he’d gone back into the room, kissing her head and stroking her hair as she’d lain there, statue still, her warmth beginning to fade. She’d looked like she was sleeping, like she was about to wake up and ask him why he was crying on her.  
Having to say goodbye to her like that had killed him. At least, though, he’d gotten to hold her once last time in their final shared dream. That provided a tiny slither of comfort blanketing the sharp edge of pain, if only for a short time. Tightening his arm around Frankie as she began to sob, he lay there in quiet contemplation about those dreams he’d shared with her, so much more about them now making complete sense to him, now the story that was him and her had sadly come to an end.  
“I saw her in a dream, just before she died.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I fell asleep for a few minutes, and we dreamed together. She told me she didn’t wanna go, but she had to. Knew it was her time and shit. I begged her not to, then I woke up and she was gone.”
A little exclamation fluttered over her lips, Frankie looking up, reaching to stroke his cheek. “Of course, she’d come and say goodbye to you. She loved you so much, you were so special to her.” She swallowed back the little stab of envy, that he’d gotten to say goodbye to her when she hadn’t, Frankie realising that it was probably hell for him, to realise he was going to lose her, for him to wake and find she’d died.
“Didn’t get to prove myself worthy of that love.”  
“Hey, none of that,” she began, pointing a soft finger at him, tapping his chest. “You were the love of her life, alright? Remember that. Don’t let regrets eat you up inside.”  
“Hmm.” She didn’t push him further on it, guessing he likely wouldn’t stop feeling guilty just because she’d told him not to. Humans were rarely so simple. “I dunno, like... fuck. I dunno.” They lay there in silence, eventually falling asleep, although it was fitful, waking up regularly, both deciding to get up and go for a cigarette on the firs escape, Frankie sitting between his legs, Angel resting her chin atop his head.  
“I hate that I won’t see you anymore, now that she’s gone,” she spoke, Angel making a noise in his throat.
“Don’t talk shit, Frances. If you want, I’ll still come see y’all when I can. You guys are my friends too now. I don’t forget shit like that.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, watching at the sun began to fill the sky. “She’d like it, too. If we kept in touch.”
“Yeah, she would,” she confirmed, smiling softly. “We’re the links to her, you know? What Keri left with each of us lives on within us all, so staying connected means we have little connections to her, too.”  
“That shit’s beautiful, bro.” He knew he wasn’t capable of articulating something like that, but it made sense to him all the same. He went for a shower soon after, getting dressed and heading over to Meryl and David’s place, the latter answering the door to him.  
“Hey man.” He pulled him into a hug, slapping his back softly. “How you doing?”
“Bad,” Angel confirmed, closing the front door behind him. “How about you guys?”
David waited until there were in the kitchen before replying, switching the coffee machine on and pulling two cups from the cupboard. “It still don’t feel real. Meryl is just... shit. Beyond devastated. She’s still in bed, but she didn’t sleep. Just crying endlessly.”  
“Yeah, I think I drifted off for like, a half hour. Frankie too. You’re right, it don’t feel real at all. Keep expecting her to just walk in like nothing is wrong.”  
David smiled, a soft laugh bursting from his nose. “And tell us about one of her calamities, spilling something or the like.”  
“Showing off on her snowboard and hurting herself,” Angel smiled, remembering carrying her after she’d done that very thing and sprained her ankle.  
David’s voice broke on a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I never had my own kids, and I didn’t feel like I needed to once I’d met Meryl. Here they were, this ready-made family. I always thought of her as mine. Ain’t fair at all. I can’t get my head around it. Feels like I’m in someone else’s nightmare.”
“Same,” Angel spoke, taking the coffee David handed to him with thanks. He turned back to the coffee machine, a sudden burst of sunlight from behind the clouds making something glint upon the windowsill. Picking it up, he held the thick, silver band Keri wore on her thumb, squeezing it in his palm before handing it over to Angel.
“Here.” He placed it into his hand, smiling with a nod. “I think she’d want you to have this.”  
Angel took it, pulling off the rings he wore on the fourth finger of his left hand, placing on the band and returning them atop it, his smile sad.  
“Fitting place,” David nodded, leaning back against the counter, watching him look down at his hand.
“I would have, you know. Would’ve asked her to marry me at some point.” Just then, David glanced with surprise over his shoulder, Angel feeling a soft hand upon his arm. Turning, he saw devastation personified.
He swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes softening. “I’m so sorry, Meryl.”  
She let herself be pulled into a hug, wrapping her arms around him, steeling herself not to break down again and cry all over her daughter’s boyfriend. “Thank you. I am too, for you. I know how much you loved her.” Pausing, she leaned to kiss his cheek, straightening up, wiping her eyes with her thumb. “Thank you for making her last month's so happy.”  
“It was an honour, getting to love your daughter. She was everything to me.”
Meryl nodded, her lip quivering. “I know, love. I know.”
Angel didn’t stay for long, David vowing to keep in touch with him over the funeral arrangements before he left, booking himself a flight and heading directly to the airport. All around, there were memories of her, remembering walking through with her either on his arrival or departure, the Starbucks where he’d made her laugh so much about her frappuccino, the places they’d stood holding one another tight, the spot where they’d first met.  
It stung his heart so hard that it almost took his breath away. He felt like he was moving through clay as he checked in and then sat and waited, buying a coffee while he waited the near two hours before his flight would depart, scrolling through his phone at the hundreds of pictures of her, of them.  
“I dunno what I’m meant to do without you, tiny.”  
And the truth was, he really didn’t. It was a pain he knew he would never truly recover from.
Epilogue
The entire charter of the Santo Padre Mayans MC roaring into the cul-de-sac was quite a thing to behold, all dressed in black, parking up behind the black limousines that would usher the family over to the funeral home. One by one, each man greeted the assembled family, offering his condolences, the few who knew her a little better speaking of his fondness for Keri, Meryl and David so very touched by their words.  
The sun shone brightly on that October morning, a warmth still lingering through the crisp, fall air, Angel watching as golden leaves shook themselves from the trees, a perfect one landing right in front of him upon the handlebars of his bike.  
“Yeah, baby. I know that’s you.” Placing it carefully in his pocket, he took a deep breath, feeling a hand press to his shoulder.  
“The family is ready, mijo,” Bishop told him, placing his helmet on. “You lead, though. She was your girl. It’s only right.”  
Clasping him in a tight hug, he felt the love from his brother swell through the cold nothingness that had become of his broken heart, the sound of bike engines roaring back into life filling the air, the procession slowly moving forward behind him. It still hurt, the grief cutting at him like a razor, nine days passed since his beloved Keri had taken her last machine assisted breath, since the last time he’d felt the warmth of her skin next to his.  
He felt glacial without the sunshine of her love, a freeze that likely wouldn’t ever thaw.
He was glad Meryl had chosen a closed casket, because he couldn’t bear to see her shuttered in death again. Kissing her goodbye at the hospital had all but killed his heart, Angel instead wanting his last memory of her to be of when he’d held her in his arms at the airport, her face so bright and excited as they’d spoken of their vacation. What he would have given to be preparing for it, the trip he’d cancelled four days ago when he’d finally been able to actually get out of bed and do something other than lie there, weighted down by the lonely blanket of grief.  
Once at the funeral home, they were met by a couple more of Keri’s friends, Angel touched at the sight of Rachel rushing into Gilly’s open arms, Bishop wrapping Frankie into a huge hug, Jaime too, telling her he wished he was meeting the girl he’d heard so much about under happier circumstances. “You’re right, she does look like a mermaid.” he spoke softly, Angel smiling when he remembered the moment he’d heard Frankie liken her to one, on that first morning in Provo, meeting Keri in the flesh for the first time the night before.  
What he’d give to go back, be on that pull-out bed with her, enjoying their first kisses all over again. The pain of never having that again burned through him, as he knew it always would. There would be no cease to his sorrow at losing her, his one true love.
Turning to him, Frankie and Jaime held out their hands, both flanking him either side as they walked into the funeral home, ready to say their last goodbye to the girl who meant so very much to each of them. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. The appearance of the white casket sealed it, though, Angel swallowing the lump in his throat, letting go of Frankie’s hand and wrapping a strong arm around her when she couldn’t keep the sob in, holding her tightly.
“Good morning, friends. We gather today to remember fondly the life of our darling Keri Jane Watkins, taken much too soon from everyone she loved so very much on the second of October, twenty eighteen. As I look around at a room so full, I certainly see how her kindness, brilliant spirit, and unrelenting zest for life touched so many, from her mother Meryl and stepfather David, who we give all of our love and light to at this time, to her beloved boyfriend Angel, whom she adored beyond measure. Her Aunt Bee and Uncle Sunni, her precious cousins, and not least, her treasured friends, Frankie, Jaime, Rachel, Ash and Aaron, the core group of her heart.”
The words used by the minister were a lovingly touching tribute, yet Angel couldn’t have remembered any of them if you’d paid him all the money in the world as he sat there, replaying every memory he had of his darling over and over in his head, thinking how tiny her casket looked, for someone who was so full of energy and life. He still couldn’t quite reconcile that she was really lying in there.  
“She isn’t, man,” Aaron told him afterwards, Angel voicing that thought to him as they congregated outside. “That’s just her body. The Keri we know and love, she’s dancing around through the skies, seeing every last part of the world she said she was gonna see. She’s up in the stars, man, laughing, soaring. Free. Her body will join her when her ashes have been scattered, too.”
Meryl, David and Angel had all agreed that Keri would have hated to be put into the ground, all deciding to cremate her and scatter her ashes up in the mountains, so she would blow free into the wind, and travel wherever it took her.  
Angel smiled, giving him a big hug, thanking him for such words. “She loved the hell outta you, you know.”
“I know,” he croaked, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. “I was so damned lucky to call that little calamity my friend.”
Lucky. That’s exactly what Angel had been, he realised, moving away to stand by himself, lighting up a cigarette. He was still lost in the fog of grief, so painfully lonely, he barely slept at night without her there, but he knew in his heart that he’d been the luckiest to call her his for the too short a time he’d had her. If he could hold onto anything, it was that.  
In the months, and eventually years that followed, he was never quite the same, his loved ones all noted, those in Santo Padre and Utah, whom he had stayed in touch with. He’d welcomed other women into his life, but only at arm's length, never with any permanence, more a means to an end whenever his libido dictated to him that he should.  
It never felt the same, though, and with each one that passed through his life, it only made him long for the one he could never be with again all the more. In the end, there were no more women, not wanting for them. Not for anyone but her. He’d spray her perfume onto his pillow, try and fool himself that she hadn’t really gone, abandoned in waking and dreams by his soulmate, hoping that wherever her spirit soared, she was happier than him.
He was simply lost without her, stumbling through what he thought was a living hell. That was, until hell came calling for him, for all of them, from the brothers who grew tired of the Santo Padre charter, literally battering down their gates to wage war upon them. He and his brothers put up a valiant fight from the safety of the clubhouse, he and EZ manning guns at the windows, his brother yelling every so often for Sharise to take cover, who wanted so badly to try and assist.
She hid behind the end of the bar, watching her husband and Angel firing all they could, until their rounds of ammo ran out, the brother’s exchanging looks, both then ducking the hail of gunfire that hit the front of the clubhouse. Angel, however, didn’t get out of the way in time.
Sharise watched his body drop to the floor, screaming in horror as she crawled out from her hiding place, scrambling to reach him, her knees and hands scuffed upon the floorboards. None of that mattered as she removed her top, pressing it to the wound in his chest.  
“Angel, I got you. Stay with me,” she spoke, pressing down, turning to look at him with wide, urgent eyes. When she watched him cough out a mouthful of blood, just as EZ skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees at his side, she knew, looking down again to see a second hole, right above his heart. If it hadn’t been broken entirely two years before, the bullet that had entered his chest certainly finished the job off.  
“Angel, you’re gonna be fine,” EZ spoke, knowing he was saying the words so he’d believe them more than anything, his beloved elder brother lying there dying, spluttering again. More blood.  
“It’s... okay,” he croaked, a cold swirl chilling his bones, feeling it begin to pull at him. “Love you.” His eyes flitted to Sharise, the pain in his chest feeling like a weight of fire. “You too. Gonna go find...”
Sharise sobbed, nodding, grasping his hand as she bent to kiss his head, stroking his hair lovingly with her blood-soaked hand. “I love you, too. You go find her. It’s okay, you’ll be with her soon.” She looked over at EZ, sobbing chokingly as they both clung onto him, their tear-filled eyes the last things Angel saw before the pain burned to absolutely nothing, the vacuum of death yanking him away, the endless black void pulling him under, until there was nothing at all.
The nothingness swirled around him, Angel feeling as if he was falling, endless darkness swathing him, his consciousness muddled, messy, a sharp thought occurring to him; what if he didn’t deserve to follow where she had gone? His entire body suddenly jolted, a yank that took him downwards, descending, the nothing giving way suddenly.  
He could hear the ocean.
Opening his eyes, he squinted slightly, everything so bright. Brilliant white surrounded him, the smell of saltwater and fresh linen filling his nose.  
The white room. He’d made it.  
Turning onto his side, he reached beneath the covers, her warmth right there next to him, where he’d craved it to be in the two long, lonely years without her. He pulled at the comforter, his heart mending itself in an instant to see those pretty hazel eyes looking back at him, her beautiful smile making her entire face glow.  
She looked exactly as she had the first time he’d ever seen her.  
Finally, he’d found her again.
Reaching for his face, Keri moved into the warmth of his arms, kissing him softly. “What was the last thing I told you?”  
He beamed at her, the love he felt no longer a painful echo of loss. “That you loved me,” he stated, fingers entwining in her hair.
“And to look after yourself, and what do you go and do? Get shot and join me a mere two years later.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”  
He laughed softly through his nose, kissing her again. “I wasn’t alive in those two years, mi amor. Only existing without you.”  
She stroked his face, nuzzling him. “So, you missed me then?”
He held up a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger, her laugh sparkling in his ears. “Just this much.”  
Replicating, she mouthed the words back to him before he pulled her against him, turning onto his back, holding her tightly as they kissed. Death no longer mattered, and neither did leaving everything else behind. They’d found one another again, as they were always destined to. Their souls could rest now, there in the white room.
Forever.  
The End.
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Text
Viktor x gn! Reader - The river meeting the ocean
A/n: I had to write for my guy here
Summary: You love Viktor, you love the idiot even if he doesn't see it. But what happens when he does?
Warnings: allusions of sex, some past abuse from people (it's not mentioned who or exactly what happened), crying, maybe unrequited love (idk go figure it out), swearing, kissing, I think that's it? You have been warned!
The three P's:
[Pronouns used: You/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: romantic! Viktor x reader, platonic! Jayce x reader (he's literally only mentioned once I think)]
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"You know you don't have to bring me food." Viktor muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear with an almost annoyed look on his face as he frowned slightly.
Rolling your eyes you place the tray of food in front of him, interrupting any work he's been doing. Practically forcing him to actually take care of himself and eat.
"Ya, and if I didn't do that and force you out of the lab to sleep you would be dead." You deadpanned as Viktor stubbornly glared at his food as if it were the enemy. As if eating food would be starting a war.
And Viktor is undeniably stubborn.
Yet one look from you, he picked up his fork and started eating.
Your face relaxed a bit once he did, and a small smile was bestowed on your lips. Relief coursed through you like a title wave as you were incredibly worried for the scientist as he never took care of himself enough. Though you would never admit it out loud.
You go to leave the laboratory as you've seen your job done but Viktor's voice stops you in your tracks.
"Y/n, please don't come with food again, I- ah, I don't want your pity."
Your chest is filled with rage and your hands fists but you know, you know it's not necessarily his fault. You've had problems all your life with loving people, that doesn't mean it's Viktor's fault why you're so in a rage. He doesn't know, and with the way people often treat him you shouldn't be so surprised yourself he's asking this of you. In truth your logical side of your brain is completely surprised he didn't ask you of this sooner.
You've had people in the past who told you you loved too fiercely. That you were too much to bare and that you needed to quote on quote; "tune it down."
So you learned to stop showing your love for people and in this moment it makes you want to scream.
Because Viktor doesn't get it, he really doesn't. His intelligent golden eyes with all his observing still can't seem to grasp it and it kills you. Seeing as you don't want him to feel like you're 'too much,' but it seems like he isn't getting that you love him - because you love him more than the moon and stars combined.
You love him more than you love your favorite food, you love him so much you want to scream from the rooftops and hug him to death and just tell him; "You're fucking amazing."
But you won't, it would be too much.
Yet you can't help but snap at him; "I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't want to Viktor, I feel no pity for you."
And that was true, because when you pitted someone you thought of them as beneath you. Although if you were to hate or love, (you were the latter) it meant that you saw them as an equal.
"Then why do these things for me? Why... Why would you help me if you don't-"
Oh Viktor, you're nearly as oblivious as Jayce!
"Because I love you, you insufferable fool!" You hiss at him as you finally turn around to face him - to look him in the eyes and finally spill out your love confession because you rather he know that you thought of him as an equal rather than someone above him.
And perhaps your heart was leading you, (or maybe it was your anger issues, who knows.)
Quickly though, your face contorts into a horrified expression at what you just did as Viktor's beautiful face turns into one of shock.
You're hand lands on the door handle and you pull it open faster than you have ever in your life and sprint out of the room before Viktor can even get in a word.
Good thing too, because in your mind he didn't have anything good to reply to that confession.
If only you knew how wrong you were.
_______________
You locked yourself in your room, you hadn't come out in hours as you had been a bit preoccupied crying and moping around.
You couldn't believe what you had just done, you had just confessed a couple of hours ago. You could have possibly salvaged the friendship between the two had you maybe stayed to explain yourself. But no! You just ran away like the coward you truly are.
A new fresh wave of tears came bursting down your cheeks, forcefully taking control of your body as you shook and sobbed. How could you be so dumb?
Covering your mouth you tried to calm yourself because deep breaths obviously were not working at the moment so you tried to hold your breath instead. It didn't work and you just sobbed more in despair as your cries escaped your lips.
Then there was a knock on your door.
You didn't know who the fuck was at your door right now but you were going to strangle them.
Perhaps if you just didn't answer they would go away, you closed your eyes and calmed yourself trying to make as little as noise as possible.
There was another knock on the door.
Damn, they were persistent.
You were sure your hair looked like a mess, and your clothes looked crumpled, as well as your face probably had tear streaks down your cheeks, with red rimmed eyes and a snotty nose from weeping but you didn't care.
You were going to rain hell on however decided to disturb you.
Stomping over to the door you rip it open with a force of a elephant. Anger raided all around you and your dark expression certainly relayed a message.
They were going to regret ever knocking on your door.
When you did open it though, the face of Viktor is revealed to you and like a child... You slam it right on his face.
"For fu- Y/n I did not walk all the way up here for you to not even speak to me!" Viktor bangs his fist against the door.
You didn't reply, you didn't know how to reply.
It's silent for a few seconds before there's an audibly loud sigh and you think Viktor lets his head fall onto the door as he whispers desperately; "Please, just let me in."
One, two, three seconds debating with yourself, screaming at yourself to just leave it close, to avoid further embarrassment. Before opening the door, because you couldn't deny the stupid man anything.
Viktor had no idea just how much power he had over you, with a single word you would burn the world down for him if he told you too. Yet you would disobey every word of his if it was vital to save him.
His figure is revealed to you and he limps into the room, very obviously tired since it is a pretty long way to these parts of the dorms.
It's quiet, as both of you struggle with what to say before Viktor throws his hands into the air and pulls you towards him and kisses you firmly on the lips.
It's like a river finally meeting the ocean for the first time, it's like taking a sip of water when you're dying of thirst.
Then he pulls away and you know you want more than just a sip.
You pull him back in and your lips shift together sloppily, nothing like what you've been told it's like to kiss someone. If somebody were to walk in right now you're not quite sure they'd know you guys were even kissing both of you were so bad at it. It probably looked like you were devouring each other at best.
But that was the truth wasn't it? As you stumbled back onto your bed with him underneath you, you realized you were devouring each other. Yet you've been starving for so long you think you might you just deserve each other.
When you both withdraw your foreheads are still touching as you breathe heavily trying to catch your breaths. Viktor couldn't even open his eyes as he kept them closed as the sensation of your lips on his replayed in his brain.
Then you realized you were straddling him and that probably wasn't very good for his leg.
"Shit Viktor your leg-" You go to move but he pulls you back down with his hands on your hips.
"Don't, it's fine."
Suddenly the entire situation dawns on you and a small chuckle leaves your throat before you explode into giggles letting your head rest on Viktor's shoulder.
"How are we adults?"
Viktor can't help but join in on the laughter at your comment nodding his head.
"I really do love you."
Titling your head you observed his face, as your hands traced it. From his dark brown hair, to his golden eyes, all the way to his sharp jaw line until you cupped his cheeks.
"I love you more than I thought possible, you- you impossible man. You make me want to slap you and kiss you all at once. I love you so much I demanded that the stars listen to my pleas. Viktor I-" Your voice cracked and tears filled your eyes for the second time that day.
For a moment Viktor is silent and you fear that familiar pan of "you were too much," come over you. And you wonder if maybe you really were.
"Sorry was that too much?" You ask, voice groggy with tears in the back of your throat.
Viktor shakes his head and kisses your face. "Never is it too much, Y/n L/n I wish you would suffocate me with your beautiful words and loving actions."
"What? Like; Viktor you're so fucking amazing we should plot world dominance together?"
He laughs, and of course it's gorgeous. You didn't think it was humanly possible for a laugh to be gorgeous but of course Viktor would be the only human alive to have a gorgeous laugh.
He does end up staying the night, and he ends of being late to work the next morning and Jayce is wondering if you two finally got together.
Words: 1707
-thedelusionreaderbitch
Arcane taglist: No one yet!
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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year
Text
Sorry
Pairing: Reader/Billy Russo
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Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness. 
Request: Hi! Not sure if your taking requests rn but I absolutely love your writing ( and billy ) so much. so if possible could i maybe get a super angsty Billy fanfic where maybe the reader is in the wrong, and its just really sad. Sorry if this is too vague, and if you don’t wanna do it please just ignore me. 
A/N: First off, thank you! Also, I don't know if this was angsty enough. I’m usually so good with the angst but I’ve been feeling a little bit blegh and sad lately so I don't know if this hit the mark so much. 
Name of this one's from the Halsey song by the same name. 
And someone will love you
Someone will love you
Someone will love you
But someone isn't me
Someone will love you
Someone will love you
Someone will love you
But someone isn't me
—--------------------
“You’re really going to do this now?” you asked impatiently, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at him blandly. You were all dolled up in a tight black dress and heels, make-up and hair done. 
“Why? Afraid I’ll make you miss your date?” he sneered at you. Billy was standing in front of your door, tall and imposing in his suit. His hair was disheveled though from running his hands through it and his eyes were slightly red. You wondered if he’d been drinking. You rolled your eyes heavenward before glancing to the clock. You’d be late for your date at this rate but part of you knew you’d miss it completely because Billy was throwing a tantrum. You really didn’t want to deal with it. 
“What is your problem?” you asked irritably. He chuckled mirthlessly, tilting his head at you.
“What's my- You’ve been seein’ other people behind my back!” he yelled incredulously. You heaved a deep sigh, wondering if you should sit down. This would be a long one and your feet were already starting to hurt from your heels.
“We’ve never been exclusive, Billy,” you muttered, feeling dirty for even saying it. It wasn't a lie though. You’d met three months ago at a bar and he’d taken you back to his place and shown you a good time. He’d given you his number and it started off as casual sex. Good sex. You’d been upfront since the start about you not wanting a relationship. You weren’t in the mood for one right now in your life and any time you’d tried to have a more casual thing with someone, they got possessive and jealous and you’d had to shut that shit down. But Billy had agreed with you, told you he felt the same. And you’d believed him. Believed him more after speaking to a friend about him and she knew who he was and what reputation he had. She’d told you he was a whore and it made you feel better. It meant he wouldn't get attached. You didn't do attached. And so you continued your casual sex with him but you’d always seen other people too. It was the same deal as Billy. It would be casual or a one-nighter only. But you’d admit you went to Billy a little more frequently than the others who had mostly been one-nighters up until now. 
“You’ve got a key to my apartment,” Billy glowered, quirking a brow at you. You grimaced a little as you moved to sit down with a heavy sigh. 
“Because sometimes you like me waiting there for you, ready after you finish work to fuck my brains out,” you huffed. 
You weren't blind or stupid. You’d seen something change with Billy this past month when it came to the pair of you. At first, he’d asked you to meet his friends. You felt a little weird about it but he promised you’d have a good time and it was just so you could hang out with more people, so you’d gone along with it. And you did have a good time and you really got along well with Karen. You didn't think too much of it. But then he gave you a key to his apartment. You’d been stunned, clearly about to freak out, and he’d laughed at your unease, telling you it was to make it simpler. A lot of times, he’d been stressed at work and that's when he’d want to blow off steam with you. And sometimes he got held up and you'd be waiting outside of his apartment. It made sense. This way you weren’t loitering in his hallway bored. You’d let yourself in and wait for him there. Then, a week ago, Karen had been having some girl talk over the phone, asking for advice about Frank. And at some point, she’d casually slipped into conversation that Billy hadn’t seen anyone other than you since a month after you started ‘seeing’ each other. You hadn't known what to say. Something made you feel uneasy about it but you tried not to think about it. He was a busy man, maybe he didn't have time to go look for sex elsewhere and it was easier to just call you up. There was a familiarity there, you knew what he liked. He didn't really have to try so hard. You didn't care if he saw other people or not, so you’d moved on from it. And worst of all, a few days prior, after you’d had sex and you were about to leave, he’d mentioned about you possibly moving in. You’d outright laughed, thinking he was joking because why the fuck would he ever think you’d move in together when you weren’t even in a real relationship. But you knew now that he wasn't joking. You hadn't seen his reaction as you laughed and told him it was a good joke because you’d left right after, being amused by his antics. But now you realized he hadn’t been happy. And now here he was, somehow finding out about a date you were going on. While you didn't do real relationships, you weren’t opposed to ‘dates’ every now and again. If a guy you were fucking wanted to take you out to dinner, who were you to argue? You never lied about wanting anything more than sex, so as long as that was clear, no one would get hurt. But Billy seemed like he didn't get the memo. And out of all the guys you’d been with since starting this with Billy, Billy wasn't the one you ever thought you had to worry about with that after his reputation. Clearly, you were wrong. 
He looked ready to have an aneurysm as he stood in front of the door, as if he thought you'd bolt around him and leave. You didn't exactly care enough about the date to be sad about it. You just didn't want to be dealing with this bullshit. He had this horrible look of hurt on his face and you hated how it made you feel guilty. You shouldn't feel guilty, you never told him you wanted more, this was on him. Yet there was a niggling voice in the back of your head that told you you'd already had a feeling he was into you more than you were him and you had for a while. That you'd chosen to ignore it because he was the best sex you'd ever had and you enjoyed talking to him too. It always made it easier to have a casual fuck buddy you actually liked than one you couldn't stand to be around after. 
“You’re really gonna tell me… that this-” he gestured between the pair of you, “- meant nothing to you?” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice you'd never heard. He’d always been so calm and collected around you. So well put together. The only emotions you’d ever seen of him were lust and annoyance after a bad day at work but you always made that go away for him. It was unsettling seeing him so emotional. And a pang hit your chest at his words, at his sad brown eyes as they pinned you in place. Because he very clearly hadn't been on the same page as you and you were a grade-A bitch for ignoring it on purpose in favor of good sex and now he was hurt. You licked your lower lip, chipping at your freshly painted nails, unable to look at him. 
“We’ve never been serious, Billy. You knew that,” you murmured weakly. He did the joyless laugh once more as he took a looming step towards where you were perched on the sofa. 
“Never serious? What about all the dates I took you on? All the times you hung out with my friends? Or when you'd spend the night and the morning after we’d have breakfast together? Or meetin’ for lunch when we could? The phone calls? Texts?” he listed off angrily, making your cheeks burn in shame. You’d really been an asshole. This past month he’d been wanting more of your time, most of it not actually involving sex. But you liked him, you really did. Not enough to be in a relationship with him, but you enjoyed being around him. You’d felt like you’d become friends. Which is why you felt that shame burrowing deep in your chest at hurting him like this. Because deep down, you did know, and you chose to ignore it. You’d maybe been a little selfish, enjoying the lavish dates he’d take you on since you’d never afford to eat at those places yourself. You’d enjoyed just hanging out with him and the great conversations you would have with him. You liked having phone calls with him where you could vent and he’d be there to listen and make you feel better. Or how he’d text you in the day to check in with you. None of your other friends bothered like that and you’d liked it. 
“Look… I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that this was anything other than sex. I really am. But I told you from the very beginning that's all I wanted,” you frowned. You were conflicted really. Because you weren't lying and you never had to him. You didn't like feeling guilty when you didn't think you’d done anything wrong. But you kind of did because you suspected he was a little more into you and you should have nipped it in the bud like you'd done with anyone else that behaved the same. But it had been hard to do that with Billy, so you’d ignored it. 
“Things change,” he bit out, his eyes wide and wild looking. They were slightly glassy and you hoped to fuck he wouldn’t cry because then you really would hate yourself. You never wanted to hurt Billy like this. 
“Not for me. Maybe they did for you, but I’m still where I was three months ago,” you insisted. He was deadly silent for a moment and you watched him warily as he rolled his shoulder and tilted his head, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself. When he opened his eyes again, they were cold and hard.
“Fuck you,” he seethed, despite his emotionless face. The pure malice in his tone caught you off guard and you felt like you'd been slapped around the face, even knowing you kind of deserved it.
“Billy…” you trailed off, standing up with a small frown. 
“No!” he yelled, wildly gesturing at you as his cold demeanor dropped and was replaced by a more frantic look.
“I know what we said when he started this shit. I know! But things changed. It was so easy with you, it was… it was different. And I realized I didn't need anyone else, want anyone else, ‘cause I had all I needed with you. So I started spending more time with you, takin’ you out more, doin’ more shit together, and you went along with it! You went along with it like you felt the same!” he accused angrily. There was a deep burning in your chest and you were reminded just why it was never good to get attached to the people you were seeing. Because when wires were crossed, people got hurt. And now you’d hurt Billy and all he’d done was take care of you. And if you hadn't gotten attached to him at all, you wouldn't have cared. You’d have kicked him out the second he started yelling. But instead, you were standing there with a contrite look on your face knowing you’d hurt someone you considered a friend. 
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I was a selfish bitch. And I do like you, I enjoyed spending time with you. But I still don't want a serious relationship and that doesn't change that. I am who I am and I can't help that and I’m sorry for making you think I was on the same page as you. And I can't take back making you think that, but I can't give you what you want,” you said softly, feeling like a giant piece of shit as his face scrunched up and he quickly turned around. He let out a frustrated yell and you were worried he might start breaking things. But you felt even worse when he wiped his eyes angrily and although you couldn't see his face with his back to you, you knew he was crying. You were such a fucking dick. 
“I can't… I can't believe I was so stupid. So fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered to himself, trying to reign himself in as his chest heaved a little. You took a tentative step towards him then and he whirled around, cheeks slightly damp and you felt like you'd been sucker punched to the gut.
“Forget about it, it's just me. You're right, you never told me you wanted more. This is on me. It's always on me. Like you'd ever want me after all the shit I've done,” he muttered, his voice devoid of any emotion at all. A deep frown graced your face at his words and you shook your head. Billy had confided in you with a lot of personal information, which to be honest, should have been a red flag then that he had feelings. But he’d told you about some of the bad stuff he'd done in the past and how he’d failed to help Frank's family and they’d died. But you’d told him back when he told you this that he’d tried to stop it and it wasn't his fault. He hadn't listened to you though. You hated this even more. Him blaming himself. You hadn't told him you wanted more but you’d let him catch feelings and did nothing to put an end to it. Blaming himself for this made you feel dirty and wrong, especially when he thought it was because of things in his past. You reached out to grab his hand and he took a quick step back as if you'd burn him if you touched him. It hurt. 
“Billy… this isn't about anything in your past, it's about me,” you implored, wanting him to at least blame you again. He snorted self-deprecatingly as he shook his head.
“It’s not me, it's you, right?” he scoffed, making you wince.
“I’m serious,” you frowned.
“So am I! I don't deserve happiness after… Why would I ever think someone could love me when my own mother couldn't? I was stupid for even thinkin’ there could be anythin’ other than sex with us. Fuckin’ delusional to think you felt the same,” he started painfully and each horrible word about himself felt like being stabbed in the chest over and over again. You’d done this to him. You went to argue with him but he continued his frantic rant before you had the chance.
“I know I’m a monster! I fuckin’ know! Frank wasn't the only one who lost somethin’ that day, I did too! I lost the only family I ever had and now I’ll be alone forever and-” he was abruptly cut off as you smacked him across the face and his head snapped to the side, much like you’d seen people in the movies do when people became hysterical. You hadn't really meant to do it, you just wanted him to shut up hating himself so much when this was your fault. 
He hadn't expected it, his face shocked as he looked at you dumbly for a moment. 
“Just… stop it! This isn’t on you, Billy. You did nothing wrong and none of this has anything to do with the past. Just stop talking shit about yourself!” you chided with a frown. 
“Right, because you care,” he sneered. While you were glad he was mad at you again and not at himself, you'd be a liar if you said those words didn’t hurt.
“I do care! Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I do! The past three months, I thought we’d become friends. I never do that. I don't get attached to anyone. I either fuck them once or I keep my distance because I don’t want them to get too caught up. And with you it was different. Because you just got me and I liked you. I saw you as a friend, not just a fuck buddy, so yeah, I do care!” you argued hotly. He worked his jaw a little and rolled his shoulder as he took another step away from you.
“Friends,” he chuckled coldly, wiping a hand over his face. “‘Cause friends have keys to apartments and go on dates and meet each other's friends,” he glowered.
“Don’t… don’t do that. Don't act like things with us were ever normal. We were friends having casual sex and that's all it was,” you murmured. You really wanted him to just understand this so he could let it go. Then he wouldn't be hurting so much. You weren't worth it. He didn't speak, looking like he didn't know which way was up and you felt that dirty guilt eat at you.
“I’m sorry. Like, really really fucking sorry that I made you think this was more. I never wanted to hurt you, Billy, and I mean that. I’m just broken. I’m broken and I can't be fixed by you or anyone else. You were never the problem. You're an amazing guy and any girl would be lucky to have you. But it isn't me,” you implored. He blinked rapidly and you hated how you could clearly see he was trying to stave off the tears threatening to fall from his dark eyes. 
“I wish I’d never met you,” he lamented, his voice laced with pain. It made your throat feel like it was closing up and you swallowed thickly. It wasn't until this argument that you realized just how much you valued Billy being in your life. You did care, but you'd never be able to give him what he wanted and you were a bitch for letting him care about you like this. It was only one of many reasons you didn't deserve him. If you weren’t so fucked up, you’d have loved to be in a relationship with him. You knew from even something casual that he’d treat you like you were made of gold. You could only imagine what it would be like if you were an official couple. And it made your chest burn, yearning for something you could never have because you just weren't built that way. Despite the pain you knew you’d brought him, the past three months had you happier than you'd felt in a long while and knowing he wished all of it had never happened made you feel sick.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice wobbling and you clamped your mouth shut. You weren't about to cry in front of him, you weren't the victim here. He was. You'd caused all of this because you were selfish. Because you wanted to just take and take and never give anything back. He sniffled, rolling his shoulder once more before he gave you a look that made you feel breathless, and not in a good way. It was so cold, so different to the warm expressive eyes you'd come to know. You'd wanted him to get over it, over you, so this could all be over. But with that empty, cold look in his eyes directed at you, the lump in your throat got bigger. He didn't say anything. He just gave you that look before making his way back over to your door and yanking it open.
“Enjoy your date,” he spat, slamming the door behind him. You blinked at the door for a long moment, letting out a shaky breath as you moved to sit back on the sofa heavily. 
Your head was a mess and you sat there for what felt like forever as your brain replayed the awful interaction in your head. At one point, you got a text and quickly grabbed your phone, as if hoping it was Billy. Why, you didn't know. What would he say that was good? Even if he said sorry and that he wanted to see you again, you couldn't. He had feelings for you and you couldn't give him what he wanted, what he deserved. It was all fucked and you’d lost him now. Lost a friend you’d grown attached to. Instead, it was your date. He was asking where you were and you realized you were seriously late. But you didn't feel so much like seeing him right now. Didn't want to see anyone. You felt sick. So you texted him back and told him you weren't coming and not to contact you again. You didn't want to do anything other than curl up in bed and mope. You were an asshole. A stupidly selfish bitch. Like you’d ever deserved Billy anyway. From what you knew, Billy had been just like you before you met. He didn’t do relationships and kept everyone at arm's length. He did casual sex and that was it. He had walls of steel built around his heart to keep everyone out, yet somehow you’d snuck in without even wanting to. And that one time someone snuck in, he got hurt. You had no idea just why Billy let you in like he had, to allow you to hurt him this way when he’d never let anyone else. But it made you feel gross and dirty and the self-loathing gnawed at your soul. Billy deserved someone who could love him wholly. Someone who would treat him right and like he was a king. Not you. Not some emotionally stunted mess. Not someone who was broken beyond repair. 
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smimon · 2 months
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The other promised personal post, this one about my self-discovery that I completed last year and in the result gained a weirdly powerful feel, like when Eragon found his true name if you know what I mean
Three main paths: art, brain training, isolation.
1. Art
Art was something I always loved, of course all kids do art but I never stopped. I kept making up characters and settings and stories and theme songs and game designs. I did my first zine at like 6 years old lol.
Living in capitalism meant that the most attractive stories were beyond my reach for financial reasons, so out of disappointment I decided to start telling my own stories, as if that was hard. This was all very early in my life and I believe I was always meant to be an artist and storyteller, and the skills I gained only helped me later.
Like when things started to get more difficult around middle school. When family started demanding and gave nothing back anymore. When the only protector I had left me alone to pursue a career, repeating that if they can handle it, I can too - but I was still a child.
When it was forbidden to talk, feel and hurt, I kept creating. Losing myself in fiction, which years later turned out to be much less fictional than it seemed. Most of my writing was about myself this whole time. I was scared someone might find out so I concealed the message so deep that I alone couldn't see it anymore.
And new stories kept coming, I kept drawing, the XP I gained brought improvement. Never completing anything but always creating something new, finding endless joy in rotating the blorbos in my head. And this continues until today.
Many many times I had doubts if it's all worth anything, a devil telling me I should drop art. And always some inner force pushing me back to the drawing desk. So many times I had to ask myself the question: why do I keep making art? And finally, very recently, I have found the answer.
I am an artist. Artists make art. It's that simple.
2. Brain training
Similar to other body parts, brain can be trained. Solving puzzles, finding patterns, learning, math, there are many ways.
For me it was trying to understand my family.
Recognizing patterns level hard. Predicting what will happen. Inventing ways to protect myself. Teaching myself to do things no one would explain to me but everyone demanded me to know.
School was easy compared to this. Studying gave results in a short term, sometimes it was even fun. Teachers noticed and behaved as if it was their success. Other kids' parents noticed and started bullying their children to get the same results, because if I can do it, why can't they? They were not abusive enough to trigger a similar mechanism, but abusive enough to make their children hate me.
But I haven't noticed. I had a few friends and did not even notice everyone else was against me. This was my elementary and middle school, and then at high school the level was much more even so I could be more invisible.
All the time I tried to figure out my family, and they kept surprising me. All the time I could get good grades, and felt like this is the only thing I am good at.
But as Master's degree approached, I had to accept this can't continue forever, that I am not smart enough to get a PhD. That after graduating I will have to start a job, live a normal life, do things I never learned. I was sure I will die within months, but hey, it's been years already and it only gets easier!
My true victory came just a few years after. I have finally realized there is no way to understand my family because they are simply irrational.
That's it! I am free now! High-fiving all the mathematicians who proved a problem to be unsolvable because hey, that's an accomplishment too!!!
3. Isolation
Introverted by nature, I don't like to spend too much time with people, especially the same people over and over again. Especially my family. Three days is my limit.
And I was tied to them all my life. So when I finally moved out, the sudden experience of freedom overwhelmed me. I did not want to give it away until I get saturated with how good it feels to be alone. Also, gaining distance feom my abusers allowed healing to start. But before that, long hours of remembering and understanding and grieving. Gaining courage to finally meet myself, discover who I am. Forget who I was supposed to be. A journey of self-discovery that brought peace and hope and skill and confidence.
But I am still human. Humans are social animals. I need some contact every now or then or I go insane.
For a few years, I used pokemon go. Going to raid hour every week. But everyone was busy playing so the contact was very shallow.
I started going to fandom conventions trying to relive the same kind of wonder I felt as a teenager. It is different this time, of course. I got used to the fun parts. Nothing seems as impressive as earlier. But even then, I felt like this is my place, and my kind if people. I only needed a way to connect.
Then Käärijä happened, of course. Suddenly I had a thought: the biggest fandom convention in the country doesn't have much to offer for me, but maybe I can do something crazy, maybe I can make this event a bit more me-friendly. I returned to fb after years of break to ask on groups if there are any Käärijä fans willing to meet up.
And they were. It only gets crazier from there.
I started talking to some of them. One suggested a Frank fanclub because we all had some Frank gadgets. I designed a sticker. I designed another one. I organized three meetups, day after day. People came. I made friends. A group chat was founded. Was it me who did it?
Then another crazy idea. Make more stickers. Repeat this at other conventions. And so my convention tour started. With many many stickers.
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And then I start a daily Käärijä sketchbook. And then I find friends through the stickers. And then I find friends throught the art. And then the friends warm my heart and break it open and put a foot inside so it doesn't close back too soon.
And I realize I am not alone.
Okay?
So I am an artist, I stubbornly forced my way through my early years and ended up with a pretty cool job, and now I get just enough money and independence to decide how to spend time with people who are in general pretty amazing after all ✌️ still no idea what I want next but I am really happy I made it to here
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lovelymasks · 7 months
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Prongsfoot Week 2023 - Day 7
Write/Draw/anything for this ship.
This is a piece for my ongoing tattoo artist James AU series, set shortly after part 2. It can absolutely be read on its own, but for full context, I recommend reading the series in order.
Notes: Non-magic AU circa 2002, Sirius hasn't left home yet.
Wordcount: 836
@jmagnabo92
Uncomfortable Truth
“So, when is our anniversary gonna be?” James asks as he starts off another round of Tekken 4, which they’ve been playing almost non-stop since he got it for Christmas. They haven’t even been official for four months, so an anniversary is a long way away, but it still feels like something they should lock down. Though ‘official’ might be the wrong word….
“What do you mean?” Sirius folds his legs beneath himself on the bed and makes his character do a few threatening jumps and kicks as they wait for the Fight signal.
“Well, is it gonna be the day we first had sex or the day I asked you out?” James asks, landing the first punch right after the bell.
“Does it matter?” Sirius asks, more focused on the screen than on the conversation.
“Of course it does!”
“Why?” Sirius grins and elbows his side. “Are you gonna buy me flowers?”
“I—"
“If you ever buy me flowers, James, I will have to kill you.” Sirius emphasises his point by sending a punch-and-round-kick combo at James’s fighter, knocking him several steps back.
“But—"
“And don’t even think of writing me a valentine’s card.”
James tries to regain his ground and manages to get a few punches in, but Sirius blocks most of them.
“I wasn’t going to, you wanker. But we still need an anniversary.”
“Why?”
James shrugs, trying to seem casual. “For when people ask.”
“Who’s gonna ask? We’re keeping this a secret remember?” The faintest break in his voice betrays his worry, but he looks unaffected as he dive rolls to avoid a high kick.
James steals a glance at his short hair and the tiny hole in his earlobe that has almost closed itself now. At the dark shadows under his eyes. No, he has absolutely no plans of going public. He refuses to be the cause of any more trouble for Sirius, no matter how much it sucks to sneak around. And it won’t be forever, anyway. Just three more years.
Fuck.
“I know,” he reassures Sirius. “But every couple has an anniversary.”
He’s just pressing random buttons now, and as a result, his health bar is dropping rapidly.
“Do you wanna be like every other couple?”
“Well, no, I… I don’t know! I just… I need one. Ah, bollocks—” He propels himself back up from the ground where Sirius just sent him with a well-aimed jump-kick.
“Okay,” Sirius says, letting him get in a few jabs, but James forgets all about blocking punches at his word, and the letters K.O. flash across the screen.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” Sirius squeezes his thigh and kisses his cheek. “Let’s pick the day we had sex, then.”
“Hmm….”
That was a good day. And it’s where it all started. But not exactly a story to tell at dinner parties, is it? And considering all the shit that followed….
Sirius must have got tired of staring at the menu screen because he reaches over to James’s controller and chooses a rematch.
“But we didn’t even kiss that day,” James argues as the next Fight signal rings out.
“Is that a requirement?”
“Yes, I think so,” James says, making up his mind. “I think we should choose the other day.”
Sirius groans and rolls his eyes, sending a volley of machine gun kicks at James’s throat. “Then why did you even ask?”
James sinks into the pillows behind him, not even touching his buttons anymore. “Because.”
“Look, pick whatever day you like, I don’t care.”
“Oh.”
“No—” Sirius drops his controller and reaches for James. “I didn’t mean I don’t care about us…! I just meant…. Why does that single day matter so much? If I wanna do something nice for you, say, next Tuesday, does that mean I have to wait a year?”
“Of course not!” James searches his brain for a way to explain this need inside him, but he comes up blank. Perhaps it’s just all this hiding that’s getting to him. “Alright, maybe I’m overthinking this….”
“Look….  I really don’t know how these things work… I just…. Shit. Y’know, my father uses their anniversary to buy my mother expensive gifts to make up for ignoring her the whole year, and while they do seem to enjoy going out to a fancy restaurant and all, it’s back to the separate bedrooms the next day. Not exactly peak romance, is it? The whole concept just feels so fake to me. We can have an anniversary if you want—we’ll do something nice—but I don’t need a random date to tell me what we have.” Sirius rubs small circles on his wrist. “I think every day should be special. Every day is special. So can’t we just enjoy the now?”
“Yeah, alright….” James smiles and laces their fingers together. No need to stress about this now. They have plenty of time. “That does sound nice.”
“Yes. In fact—” Sirius crawls into James’s lap and places a kiss to his lips. “I have an excellent idea for how we can enjoy right now….”
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wander-wren · 4 months
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always gold is such a ronan song and someone else said this a long long time ago but they said it wrong and it’s lived in my brain ever since. the right way.
because always gold is about a brother who is good and solid and dependable talking to his fuckup of a brother and telling him that even if no one else thinks he’s worth anything, he still is to the speaker.
which, i can see why one would then interpret ronan as the subject of the song, the “you” if you will. but i dont think he is. come with me. take my hand.
this song is not about declan and ronan. this song is about ronan and adam, circa call down the hawk.
We were tight-knit boys, brothers in more than name
You would kill for me, and knew that I’d do the same
do i have to explain this one. it’s them. except ofc for the brothers bit but note the past tense
And it cut me sharp, hearing you’d gone away
harvard. do i need to say more?
But everything goes away, yeah, everything goes away
But I’m going to be here till I’m nothing but bones in the ground
the fact that ronan is tied to the barns both literally and metaphorically, and adam wants out of henrietta more than anything???
the “everything goes away” bit you can chalk up to ronan’s immense number of losses and also his general depression/suicidal tendencies
And I was there when you grew restless
You left in the dead of the night
And I was there when three months later
You were standing in the door, all beaten and tired
And I stepped aside
POINTS WILDLY. HARVARD. THE VISIT TO HARVARD. THE MURDER CRABS. YOU KNOW?? technically ronan left but close enough. and then adam came BACK to the barns to visit and ronan almost shot him. do you see the vision
We were opposites at birth, I was steady as a hammer
No one worried ‘cause they knew just where I’d be
“this isn’t a ronan line” says the poor naive children. i’d argue that it is! maybe not in the way it was originally meant, but generally people know where ronan is and what he’s doing because he’s reliable even in his self destruction. you know? he gets into trouble but always in the same way, in the same places. and to be honest most people except declan and gansey dont seem to worry about him so much as write him off because he’s never going to change. also i think the hammer comparison is very ronancore.
They said you were the crooked kind, that you would never have no worth
But you were always gold to me
the way adam is ostracized for being poor and the way he is described as looking strange….boy literally gets POSSESSED. he even thinks this about himself when he buries his real identity and lies to his harvard friends. but the first moment ronan lays eyes on him he prays to god and asks please. this is the most pynch line ever
And back when we were kids, we swore we knew the future
And our woods would take us halfway ‘round the world
the fact that adam is a literal psychic and they had a literal magical forest is so fitting. but also metaphorically they did have plans for their future together, and those plans did get wrecked in the dreamer trilogy. theres two lines after this about that but i cant really relate them to pynch directly theyre just about the broken dream
But I am fine with where I am now
This home is home and all that I need
But for you, this place is shame
But you can blame me when there’s no one left to blame
Oh, I don’t mind
these lines are why i cant see this as a declan & ronan song, i’m sorry. ronan loves the barns too much for it to be a shameful place. but we KNOW that adam sees his past/henrietta as shameful. we KNOW ronan would take the brunt of adam’s anger if that’s what he needed. declan is a nicer brother than ronan wants to believe but that’s not really his sentiment
And all my life, I’ve never known where you’ve been
There were holes in you, the kind that I could not mend
adam and all his secrets….adam and all his problems that his pride won’t let ronan fix. that ronan isn’t enough to fix because it’s not his job and boy needs therapy!
And I heard you say, right when you left that day
“Does everything go away?”
Yeah, everything goes away
not entirely sure how i want to interpret this, because i like the idea of it being a more positive spin on the first time its said, but also in book context adam leaving in cdth is not really a positive, nor is everything that happens after. it almost feels worse if you think about how adam is the one who loses ronan for a time right after this. adam can’t trust good things, and ronan can’t lie and say he’s not going to go and, uh, become an ecoterrorist
But I’m gonna be here till forever
So just call when you’re around
the end of this song in general makes me cry bc of the way it cuts off RIGHT at the last second, as opposed to the like, 1:30 second intro. especially when the last time they did the chorus (i didnt include it bc repetitive) it went “i’m gonna be here till i’m nothing but bones in the ground (so quiet down)”
something something….no longer talking about dying. that’s very ronan’s character arc-shaped. but the way the familiar music and the extra bit of “so quiet down” isn’t there, it feels cut off, unfinished.
like you’re waiting.
it’s unbearably sad but also soso tender, i know you can’t be here, i know you can’t stay and i can’t fix it, but if you need me, just call.
and let’s not even mention ronan’s aversion to phones that doesn’t quite seem to extend to adam parrish.
so. there you have it. always gold is a ronan song but also, more importantly, a pynch song. [bows]
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pastafossa · 1 year
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Thanks you so much @teigo-the-explorer for the tag! This makes a good break from work and/or chapter writing!
PART ONE
Are you named after anyone: I am not! Though fam did intentionally choose a name that couldn’t be shortened to a nickname or rhymed with anything.
when was the last time you cried? Yesterday when I was editing a sad section of my TRT outline to make it MORE sad, RIP me and all of you when we hit that point
do you have kids? Nope and I’ve gone so far as to have my tubes incinerated
do you use sarcasm a lot: NEVER
what's the first thing you notice about people? Whether they have a dog. But if you mean on their person, usually if they have a cool shirt! Bodywise: eyes.
what's your eye colour: Blue-green!
scary movies or happy endings: I like them both but if I HAD to choose I’d go happy endings
any special talents: According to my woodcarving teacher, I’m excellent at carving! I managed to carve 5 projects in a week on my first go, including a couple of the more difficult projects he’d set out for more experienced carvers. FINALLY, A VISUAL ART I’M GOOD AT. I’m also really good at just eyeballing a wall and figuring out how a bunch of hung frames will look good without having to draw it out!
where were you born? Los Angeles! It’s one reason I chose it for Ciro and Jane’s history in TRT - it meant I had to do less research since I was familiar with the area. I already knew a lot of landmarks, geography, culture, weather/environment, and speech patterns.
what are your hobbies?: woodcarving, reading, writing, video games, cooking, traveling whenever I can, movies and tv!
have any pets?: I do! 3 cats, 1 dog, and 1 snake!
what sports do you play/have played?: Oh god I tried a lot of them and my skills are... very much elsewhere. When I was a kid I tried soccer (fast but bad at kicking), ballet (teacher told my parents I had a future in the performing arts, just not dance), baseball (can’t hit a ball to save my life). I did have some success with horseback riding though! I did some trail and a little barrel racing for about ten years, and it is by far the most advanced I ever got with a sport.
how tall are you?: 5′5-5′6 depending on my anxiety level
favourite subject in school?: English, I loved English class. 
dream job?: Due to health problems I’m a little limited in what I can do. If I was healthy, zoologist/marine biologist. As I am, author!
PART TWO
first ship: Oh god, uuuuh let me think. Loosely was probably April x Casey in TMNT since that was my favorite movie as a kid. First active ship that I openly rooted for... maybe Rogue and Gambit from X-Men TAS, like damn I was a kid but I WANTED them together SO FUCKING BAD like why is she hooked on fucking Scott (i hated scott) when she has Gambit RIGHT THERE, RIGHT FUCKING THERE GIRL.
three ships: Since most everyone knows my Marvel ships, I’ll step outside it and go with - Troi x Worf (Star Trek: TNG), Cecil x Carlos (most wholesome ship ever courtesy Welcome to Nightvale), and Leslie Knope x Ben Wyatt (Parks and Recreation)
last (current) song: Flu Game by Fall Out Boy not me playing this album on loop since it came out last week
last movie: San Andreas, don’t judge me
currently reading: Re-reading Taggerung by Brian Jacques, which is my favorite Redwall book and the first Redwall book I ever picked up! I was at a book fair and came around a corner and saw this FUCKING BADASS PIRATE OTTER??? WITH A KNIFE??? AND TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS, IT WAS SO COOL I PICKED IT UP WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE SUMMARY CAUSE WHO CARES, PIRATE OTTER PIRATE OTTER TINY PASTA WANTS TO READ ABOUT PIRATE OTTERSSSSSSSS SERIOUSLY LOOK AT THIS COVER AND TELL ME YOU WOULDN’T READ THIS
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currently watching: The Mandalorian, shiny space husband make brain go brrrrrr
currently consuming: Just water LOL 
currently craving: SUNSHINE BUT IT IS CLOUDY
__________
I'm tagging
@wonderlandmind4 @shadeblade16​ @intricate-melody​ @softasawhisper​ and anyone else who wants to do this!
_________
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mdhwrites · 8 days
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Ten Years of Writing
February 2014, I made my fimfiction account. At the end of that month, I published my first fanfic. It has been ten years since that fateful decision that feels like it changed so much for me. I kind of want to go back through my memories, just talk about some of the highlights (going to save that for a different blog frankly. It is ten years of material and almost three hundred stories combined, potentially that many with the very few I've deleted over the years) and what that's meant to me but I know a lot of people might ask: What do you have to show for it?
Well, skill wise, I would probably argue that writing is the only trained skill I have and I am IMMENSELY proud of how far I came, especially while knowing that I haven't really had the same support to grow as for the past half decade that I did before then.
I have genuinely moved people and for some even convinced them to seek help they may not have otherwise by sharing my experiences in a more palatable format than simply writing them in a blog would. I have a lot of reasons for why I never will take down Crises Girlfriends from Ao3 and the comments are a big part of that. It's a reminder of the power of writing and creation, something that's easy to lose sight of amongst popularity and hopes of financial success.
On that front though? Amazon lets me check lifetime sales now and I've sold 793 books. It's not even just because of friends buying a glut of material because while I may have 19 books out, Sarafune Monster Preserve Vol. 1, my second ever book, written when I was barely 21, holds over two hundred of those copies. Daughters of Dusk Vol. 1 has half those numbers, though funny enough it does have have more reviews. Frankly, for an independent author who has always struggled to find his audience, those numbers make me genuinely very happy. Also, number five is Ruff Secrets at 33 copies, nineteen of which are physical which I DID NOT REALIZE and honestly makes me realize that that book has done better than I thought it did. Crises Girlfriends is admittedly the lowest one sales wise at 4 copies in almost a year of being out. That's just how it goes sometimes.
Buuuut even for the books without a bunch of sales, I can hold my head high because Ruff Secrets is also literally the only book of mine with a below 4 star rating, at least of the ones with ratings which is the majority of them. That's a feather I can pin in my cap. A testament that even back when I was twenty and published my first work, Diane and Kat: The Bound Bands, I was right to have the confidence I did as a storyteller. To believe my work was commercial quality.
I also still have people in my life I'd never want to be without because of my writing. Heck, I don't know where I'd be without one of them as I lived on their couch for almost two years while dealing with my declining health. Others have helped give me guidance while even more have made sure I never believe I'm alone and I've even been able to help them back. As one friend would say: I was once their Luna and changed what was supposed to be a suicide note into a story that made a lot of people on Fim open up with personifications of their own troubles. I don't know if I'd have found communities where I would make those sorts of connections if not for my writing.
It also still gives me what feels like a purpose to be here. A thing that is mine that I can comfort myself with, even while dealing with my broken brain. While I may be desperate for validation and want success, neither would stop me from continuing to write. My brain is too jumbled a mess of ideas for me to ever stop and it keeps those ideas locked down pretty tightly. Like hey, you know how I mentioned two series at the beginning? Yeah, well, I can still tell you my plans for them and could pick them back up someday. It's been four years since the last Daughters of Dusk book came out but I still want to eventually return to it since it only had two more books before it was done. I don't want to leave it permanently unresolved, even if I've never quite gotten the energy to finish it.
Which does bring me to being honest and admitting that the past ten years haven't all been positive. I've had to fight a growing resentment towards others success as my own jealousy festered. I've had to deal with crushing failure after crushing failure (my fifth best book of 19 makes up for a thirtieth of my sales. I have had a LOT of very quiet launch weeks) and the toll that's taken on me isn't unreasonable. I've multiple times had my brain break on the idea of publicly posting anything, leading to one offs being published and me being a wreck for the rest of the day as my brain begs for it to go as well as it perceives it should.
And yet I've still never stopped. Nor do I ever plan to. It may be a year and a half since my last finished project but I know I'll get through this. I mean, there has been a year during this where I literally wrote like two chapters the entire year. This past year and a half still say probably a couple novellas worth of words out of me, just never to one thing. I could still go back to plenty of those works and continue them. There's at least one I would really like to just because I commissioned the art for it way before I was done writing it which was admittedly a bit of a lesson.
I hope to keep learning, keep getting better and try to share some of the insights I've learned with all of you. So here is to ten years and to many more decades to come hopefully. See you next tale.
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snowdream · 3 months
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Emmanellain‘s suggestion for the Ishgard restoration project: a former poor kid‘s opinion
Another Emmanellain related post just reminded me of something that has been on my mind for a long time: Emmanellain’s suggestion of including some entertainment and luxury during the Ishgard restoration project.
Of course he got dismissed by Honoroit and Francel (even if the latter later came around), because obviously Emmanellain makes only dumb suggestions. But as someone who grew up poor, let me tell you that this suggestion and the response it got hit hard.
As a kid/teenager, my family never had much money. We mostly had food, but everything else was always a struggle. People in my school knew of course because when we had to write an essay on our family car, I had to tell the teacher that we didn’t own a car, and when there were class trips I either wouldn’t go in the first place, or I wouldn’t spend any money during them - I‘d bring my own food, not go shopping etc.
Others knew, too. Family members, neighbours, teachers etc.
Why am I telling you this? Because all these people have told my mother or me off for buying unnecessary luxuries. These luxuries included, among others:
pets (we had a dog who for many years was my only friend because I was bullied in school)
yoghurt (as in, a simple normal yoghurt cup, cheapest brand even)
a new purse (one in ~ 5 years after my mother‘s old one broke)
a fridge ("It’s winter, you can just buy bread and pepperoni and store it out on the window sill.")
Even writing this right now makes me angry. All of these complaints came from people who grew up with well off parents of course.
So let me tell you, someone saying that poor people deserve nice things would have meant the world to me. That I don’t have to be grateful and content with having the bare minimum. For YEARS after I became an adult and got a job, I‘d still buy the cheapest food possible. I discovered smoked salmon through a friend and loved it, but I never bought it because it was expensive. I’d barely buy myself anything for hobbies and when I did, I felt guilty. I bought a single book and a single video game in three years because it had been so engrained in my brain that I don’t deserve more, that spending any coin more than necessary was a sin. I could have bought some smoked salmon, a book and a game every month with what I was earning, but that would have meant spending money on my own happiness, and that was a big no-no.
So to whoever thinks that Emmanellain suggesting some joy & fun for the poor people is stupid/funny/ridiculous, go spend a few years living like that and then come back to me to talk.
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wistfulstarling · 4 days
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Devils Night By Penelope Douglas
My thoughts on the devils night series
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Trigger warnings: All tws from DN series, sa mention, grooming mention, this is not a positive post. Note: Credits to @pro-logue-epi-logue for giving me the motivation to write this (girl I was about to write a whole essay in your comments) this is the first and last time I talk about this series because I swear it gives me a headache. Also, i think there might be too many heart emotes here (╥‸╥)
So, i read the DN series a while back (all the damon-winter content had me hooked and they, at least, did not disappiont but more on that later). This series was not what i expected for one, and for two i literally did not expect it to be a series at all. My opinion is probably biased based on my liked and disliked characters, if you disagree, scroll.
I'm dividing this into two different sections, the books and the characters because as a writer myself, (and someone who has analyze and review books thoroughly as her 2024 goal) i think the two deserve to be viewed separately as much as they do together. This is by no means meant to hate PD this is again just my personal thoughts on the series.
Also, I read this series some time ago, so my memory isn't very fresh. Feel free to correct me (gently).
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ THE BOOKS ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
ღ Corrupt [Erika Fane and Micheal Crist]
‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬⁠♡♡
Three stars for the first book in the series. Why? Well, to be honest, it was boring.
I think, while the book was boring, it held potential. Everything was setup nicely, and I feel like everything went just downhill from here.
Rika, at least in this book, was an okay character to me. She was a lost girl (understandably so), she wanted to live a little, get into trouble (like every highschooler in a piece of media not written by a highschooler). Even her obsession with Micheal was understandable. The plot was nice, it was mysterious, kept me hooked and didn't bore me (too much). The pace was a bit slow for my taste but by the end of the book i knew why it was slow and i enjoyed it.
The writing left a bit to be desired, but i think that that's just a me problem. I like a very certain kind of writing style which involvles a lot of deep thought from the characters and a lot of internal monologues (this style gets executed flawlessly by Trisha Wolfe, in my opinion) but I understand that characters from devil's night (at least Rika and Micheal) aren't people who'd have that kind of thought process.
Overall the book set a pretty good stage for the rest of the story to unfold. Rika felt relatable, Micheal was okay (a little dumb but he's not the brains of the group) unless of course we mention the grooming but we'll do that at a later time.
My only complain was that, in the begining the book felt very confusing but again, that might've just been me. I loved the aesthetic the story was promising and the atmosphere built by the story telling was mesmerising and immersive.
ღ Hideaway (Kai Mori and MOTHER Nikova Banks)
❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬⁠♡♡
Banks carried the book on her back, I said what I said and I will not be taking it back.
Anyway, so three for this book too because this book had potential but it was ruined by PD's favoritism for Erika. Listen, I understand self insert characters and even I have some in my stories and I love them more than life itself but I don't think Penelope accomplished what she wanted by shoving Rika down everone's throats.
The writing and pacing was all over the place. Rika was in scenes that had nothing to do with her and overall i think PD jumped too fast to some scenes and took way too long for some others.
The book would've been so much better if PD's editors or beta readers would've helped with the pacing. As an author myself, i understand how hard it is to not include your favriote baes in everything but that's why we have editors. So, this one I'm not holding onto to PD enitrely. (Despite the injustice Banks was done.)
ღ Kill-Switch (Damon Torrance and Winter Ashby)
❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬⁠♡♡
Boring ahh, virtually no plot whatsoever, my girl winter was done so dirty and overshadowed by Erika and Damon throught the entire of the book. #SoftWomenCanBeJustAsBadassAsTheCunningOnes.
This, ugh, I can't figure out if i want to put this in the books or characters. But god help me, the idea of feminism is flawed asf with this book is not great. Now, I don't know whether that idea came from PD or the fandom, but characters like Winter and Emory are constantly overshadowed by either 1. The men in their lives or 2. The other "badass" female characters (Alex and Rika, I'm so pissed because I wish I could add Banks here but my girl barely gets any screentime)
Overall, it was just Damon and Winter's love story before getting into the finally book. Not too much to say about it. I already said what I had to about the actual main character being overshadowed by Rika who, surprise, is not supposed to be the FMC of this particular book.
ღ Nightfall (Will Grayson and Emory Scott)
Warning: My opinion is going to be biased asf here because I'm someone who suffered physical abuse as a child.
❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪♡♡♡
One star because in this book there was only 1 star, that was the star of the show, Emmy.
I'm kidding. Two stars because, yeah. This book held a lot of potential but I think either PD just doesn't work well with series or she was rushed to do this because all the potentiometer went into a fiery drain.
Actually most of everything was okay. PD could've solved the plot very easily by making Will's plan succeed but the moment Alex popped out of her little hiding spot, I cringed. So hard. (Cue me trying to keep my emotions in check while writing this)
This wasn't Alex's book and she shouldn't have been there. And I felt so SO bad for Emory throughout the entire book. I liked past Will but present Will irked me to no extent. It's like PD saw the vision of the character arc of "sunshine gone dark" but she kind of missed.
As someone who suffered emotional and physical abuse, this book was slightly triggering (grrh, Alex) but overall two stars.
One for not messing up Emmy's character and two for building good character relationships with Emmy and her two sidekicks in the story. (I forgot their name I'm sorry, Rory and Micah? Or something similar?)
The plot, the pacing, the resolving. Everything left me wanting more. It just wasn't right.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ THE CHARACTERS ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Going to try and summarise my thoughts on them with as little words as possible so I don't ramble
ღ Erika (3/5)
She was understandable at first, she could've been a great example of someone who's kind, empathetic but still can be strict when necessary but the writing of the books failed her. I can understand why she turned the way she did at the end of her arc (Micheal literally groomed her and felt insecure when he couldn't control her anymore) but I think she's a strong character despite being annoying most of the time. I like that she looked out for the girls (a little bit, before the writing failed her and she turned into a pseudo feminist pick me who thrives from male validation) Deserves to break away from Michael's grooming and become her own person.
ღ Micheal (3/5)
Boring, boring, boring. Groomer. His personality got more drained the more the books went on. Manchild.
ღ Banks (5.5/5)
One of the only two people with brains. Literal the strongest character in the series. Can't relate to her but I wish I could. She survived so much. Kai doesn't deserve her. Someone needs to make her happy, like actually. She deserved so much better than what she got.
ღ Kai (4/5)
Boring but not as boring as Micheal. Has a personality, ig. Has (some) braincells. (Thank God the asain genes didn't fail) He should've listened to what Banks went through. Does not behave like a very healthy partner from what we've read.
ღ Winter (5/5)
My baby. She deserved so much better. Underrated opinion, she's actually so strong. Takes everything life throws at her with a smile. The sweetest badass ever. I will defend her with my life.
ღ Damon (5/5)
My baby (derogatory). I'll protect him with my life but I'll punch him first. Actually probably the only guy with actual brain and the only one who wouldn't cheat on his wife, given the absolute chance (imo). Manchild (affectionate). I love to hate him and hate to love him. Call me Winter cuz I'm blind to his red flags.
ღ Emory (She's so amazing she broke my scale and I swear I can treat her better than Will)
Screaming, crying, throwing Alex against a WALL for what she did to my baby. She's so me. I understand her. She deserved better than Will but I'm glad she gets to be happy at least.
ღ Will (3/5)
He treated Emory horribly but past Will was the cutest sunshine ever. He deserved better. Manchild (derogatory). Idiot (derogatory). I'll fight him (affectionate).
[Not going to give it for Alex or Aydin becuz they're not main characters but Alex gets negative seventeen out of five because she's a bitch (no, not a bad bitch. Just a pick me bitch who told a recovering alcoholic she preferred him drunk) <33]
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mr-voorhees-husband · 2 years
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Smart Boy... pt.2
guh, part one here.
A fic I was writing for myself, but decided to post. Can be read as an x reader, but, it's written w/ me in mind, so.. yeah.
Warnings: Blood, Major Plot Change, Gore, Yandere, NSFT, NSF/W, non-con biting, dub-con elements, Reader + Riddler are both messed up, Trans Masc fingering, T-dick, top-scar mentions, major age gap, Telltale Riddler being Telltale Riddler
Reader - He/him, FtM, 20-25, Not good morals.
I’d considered tearing down the shrine. I really had. I even got as far as to go up to it with a trash can in my hand, but, no matter what I tried to tell myself, I couldn’t. Granted, I should have. Especially considering how Riddler wasn't no longer in custody. 
Waller hadn't made it to the station, apparently, not before Riddler had already broken out and run. Gordon had called me three times already, but, according to the DA, there was never a chance my father would be given parole. Not only did he lie, he was trying to continue to lie. It took massive amounts of self control to not hunt him down, and he was lucky I understood why he lied in the first place. If he wasn't doing it for the good of the people, it’d have gotten bloody.
My boots clattered noisily against the hardwood floor of my room, arms reaching down to take off my shirt and toss it to the dirty clothes. I was tired, sick of the day, and wanted nothing more than to sleep until my body was forcing me awake. My grandma was back in the hospital, Dad was still locked up, and to put the icing on top, John was trying to force me and Bruce to meet his friends. “Fuck.” I sighed, collapsing on my bed, jeans and socks still on.
“Bad day?”
I turned half-heartedly to the infamous villain, eyes cold and unimpressed as I glared. He was leaning against my wall, next to the open window, which I either forgot to lock, or he picked said lock. Riddler grinned, trailing over to my bed. “So you break out of the station, and head to see someone who put you in there?” I crossed my arms under my head, shutting my eyes with a sigh. “Real smart genius.”
“It’s 9 letters, rhymes with perfection, and you need it so dearly.” 
There’s a beat of silence, before I gave up, shoving myself up to look at him. Riddler was sitting on my bed now, at the very edge, as if he didn’t want to risk upsetting me, or just didn't want to get close to me. Rolling onto my back, I thought over the riddle for a moment.
“I don’t need affection, Riddler.” I hissed, making him smile wider.
“Ah, wrong and right,” In a flash, the sharp edge of his cane was pressed against my shoulder, “should I punish or reward?” I didn’t dare move, knowing damn well that cane was sharp enough to split skin at the barest graze, and it being that close to my neck wasn’t the most relaxing. “How about neither?”
“Sounds- Sounds good.” I mumbled, eyes flickering between the intruder and his weapon. He smiled, pulling the cane away and resting it against the bed.
“What’s something of mine that belongs to you?” He continued, adjusting on the bed so his legs were pressing against my feet.
“Wha..?”
The cane was back against my shoulder, and this time, on instinct, I tried to pull away, sitting up. It didn’t change much though, Riddler simply followed my movement to keep the threat prominent. I knew the riddle, it was some sappy riddle about owning someone’s heart. The fact Riddler was asking me is what was throwing me off. “The..” I passed a nervous glance to the cane, and Riddler raised an eyebrow. “Your heart..?”
“Good boy.” He chuckled, and I couldn't hide the shock of pleasure that shot down my spine from the simple praise. Riddler moved fast, grabbing my wrist and twisting my in a way so my back was against his chest. “Now, keep up this little winning streak, and I’ll keep rewarding you.”
Before I could ask what the hell he meant by reward, lips were on my neck. I gasped, instincts telling me to struggle while my brain seemed to understand they wouldn’t do much. It wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy it, anyway, this older man, who I’d had a crush on for years kissing my neck. It had me spiraling in the best way possible. A nip made me yelp, finally trying to tug away. I shouldn’t be getting pleasure from this, my brain seemed to finally register, or maybe it was simply what little morality I had left fighting for me to not completely accept how insane I truely was. Riddler’s grip tightened while he shushed me quietly, akin to how you’d calm a scared animal. Maybe that’s all I was to him.
“This one should be fairly obvious, my love.” I flushed at the nickname, too caught off-guard to even try and fight when he went back to marking my neck. “What belongs to you now, everyone who ever dated you wanted, and I will have?”
“I..” That was a loaded question for a riddle I already basically answered. It made me rethink it for a solid moment or so, wondering if maybe I was wrong about it being my heart. “My heart?”
Searing pain spread through my shoulder, making me cry out in agony. Adrenaline started pumping, and I tried to rip away in pure surprise. Riddler crushed me back against his chest, kissing my shoulder better from whatever the hell he just did. Choking on air, I turned to the best of my ability, eyes finding a thin line of crimson trailing down my chest. Whatever he did, he broke skin, and it hurt. “Wrong, darling.” I whimpered at the feeling of his gloved fingers sweeping up my warm blood, before I heard him hum at the taste of it. “Try again.”
“..I- I don’t-” A cry escaped my lips, fingers pressing against my shoulder. “Love?”
More pain, making me sob out a broken beg of forgiveness. He kissed the wound once more, as if trying to shake away the pain. “So close,” a kiss under my ear, and I felt his teeth graze the shell of my ear before he continued, “something I don’t already have, dear boy.”
My brain shook for an answer, pain and adrenaline making it much harder than it usually should be. I still didn’t even know how he hurt me, which made it so much worse. I didn’t know what he did, all I knew was the pain it caused and I was bleeding. “Fuck- My virgintinty? I don’t know!” My eyes shut, expecting that agonizing pain to spread through my shoulder again. Yet, it never came.
“Amazing,” a hand cupped my chin, pushing my jaw up to give Riddler more room to kiss my neck and mark me, “absolutely brilliant, my dear.” For a moment, I was just happy I got the answer right, before it fully seemed to register what the answer was. Riddler wanted my virginity. Fuck. That idea alone made me flush, not to mention how close I was to him. I knew I shouldn’t feel lust right now, but I couldn’t shake it. I liked people like this. I wanted someone insane about me. Someone who would kill if I asked the right way. He ticked all my boxes and then some. “I knew you’d get it.”
“How do you know I still have my virginity?” 
“Hm.” Fingers slipping in my pants made me gasp, head still pointed up with his other palm. “You’re too sensitive.” Riddler replied calmly, “Now, be a dear and unbutton your jeans.”
I didn’t have to listen. Nothing was forcing me. He was asking me to unbutton them, not telling me. Though, this was a one-in-a-million chance, and I wasn’t exactly known to be lucky. So, with only slightly shaking fingers I reached down and un-did my jeans. 
“Good boy,” he purred, the praise making me whine and thrust my hips. Riddler chuckled darkly, kissing the wounds on my shoulder that had finally started to stop bleeding. “Is that what gets you going?” Nimble fingers found my cock, jerking it back and forth with smooth motions. “Praise? Such a smart boy gets off on being told how good he is?”
“Uh-huh..” I wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer or not, but I still decided to answer, anything to keep his hand there. My head hit his shoulder with a moan, and he finally let my chin go to rest his other hand on my hip.
“How adorable..” Fingers grazed my entrance and I trembled, the idea of him finger fucking me with his gloves still on making my head spin. “Let’s see…” 
“No- wait-” I begged pathetically as he pulled his hand away and out of my pants. 
“So needy,” he sighed, pulling the other hand away, “pants off, and then I’ll keep touching you.”
My pants were in a heap on the floor in seconds, underwear with it before I was clambering back onto his lap. Riddler grinned madly, accepting me with open arms as he situated himself against my pillows. This time, I was facing him, knees straddling his thighs. A much more willing position, along with allowing me to see him. My knees shook when his fingers found my cock again, slipping around it and jerking it between his middle and index finger.
“Would you believe me if I told you this was my first time?” He hummed, only getting an answer in the shape of me shaking my head. I was too far gone now, I never knew being touched could feel this good, all pain from earlier being forgotten. “It is, with a man, that is.” Riddler didn’t miss the way I seemed to huff softly at that, either in jealousy or a self consciousness, I couldn’t tell. “Oh, don’t worry, darling, those whores meant nothing.” The feeling of two of his fingers stretching me out made me sob, hands finding the lapels of his jacket. He grinned, teeth grazing my neck before they bit down softly on my good shoulder. “Just means to an end, nothing like this,” I grinded into his palm, rutting like an animal in heat with a stangled groan, “nothing like you.”
“Riddler- fuck- please-!”
“Eddie, darling.” Edward gently chastised, fingers stretching me out before searching for that special place. When he found it, stars flashed through my eyes and I sobbed out a moan, burying my head in the nape of his neck. “Oh, there it is.”
“Eddie! Please-pleaseplease!”
“Shh, darling, I know,” His voice was demeaning, like talking to a child, but I couldn’t care at all, not with him making me feel like I was on cloud 9. “I know you can cum like this, so why haven’t you?” His free hand grazed up my side, before landing on my chest, rubbing the crescent shaped scars under my pec gently. “You’ve been so good too,” I moaned at that, eyes rolling back as I continued to hump his palm, “I’m sure if such a brillant, smart boy can fuck himself on my fingers, he’d be able to cum on them.”
“Can’t you, darling?”
I cried out to him one final time, body tensing as I came on his hand. Edward continued to thrust his fingers in me until my orgasm was finally over. I shuddered against his shoulder with the barest whine as he pulled his hands away. My eyes flickered over to him just in time to watch him suck my climax off his glove, pupils blown and face ever so red. Edward hummed at the taste, hand moving from my chest to tug off his gloves and toss them to the side. He glanced at me, before smiling. 
“Well, dear boy, how do you feel?”
“..Warm..” My arms dropped from his jacket to dig between his back and the pillows and pull him into a hug. Edward hummed, bare, clean, fingers going to my hair to run his hand through it. “Are you gonna leave now?”
“No.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.
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Over the last few years I have been writing birthday and thank you letters to each of the Sides on their "birthday"/appreciation days in lieu of fanart, so it seems fitting to continue that tradition today and wish a very happy birthday to Thomas himself. Both the character and creator of Sanders Sides. And to say thank you.
It's hard to put into words just how much this series has meant to me, especially in the last three years or so. It's helped me to find the courage to be passionate about writing again, to be comfortable in my body and make choices in fashion that make me happy, to feel safe exploring my sense of self. It's had a really huge positive impact on my life.
I remember going to see Welcome to Night Vale live for the first time and on the way up my friend handed me their phone and said "Look up Sanders Sides. I need you to watch it and tell me what you think."
And I will be honest, my initial thought was "This is a little cheesey", but in retrospect I think that was just a little bit of a defensive wall coming up. As I watched the series by binging that weekend, I felt a little more seen than I had before and I didn't know exactly how to phrase it other than, "That's kinda how my brain works too.".
And that is a big part of why I kept coming back to it. Because I felt seen. Then last year I was diagnosed with OSDD (otherwise specified dissociative disorder) and a few things clicked into place in my brain. I understood the why of it. I understand that this series isn't meant to be about DID and I'm not saying it should be, but for me personally, as someone with a dissociative disorder and part of a system, it was refreshing to see something mirror close to my experiences. It was huge to me. I felt less ashamed or embarrassed, less strange or weird for the way my brain worked. I finally had something to point to and say, "that's like me!". And I really think that that helped me accept my diagnosis. There are several alters in my system that have been helped by this series as well, that have felt seen and represented in the struggles they hold for our system. For some of them, it's helped thrm find their own sense of self. It's helped us heal. And I'm really grateful for that.
And it's not just this series. I remember watching the 33 lessons from 33 years livestream. And I don't know which number it was, but talking about putting on a mask and it being hard to feel like a real person. I had only been aware of my system for what it truly was about four months at that time. And having a sense of self was...shaky at best for me, but there was a sense of solidarity that came from that. It was comforting to know I wasn't the only one who experienced those kinds of feelings. It helped me to feel more like a person to hear someone else say that they also struggle with that concept.
Even things that could be considered as small as the tweets you share. For me, seeing someone else so openly share their experiences with things like body image issues, or like skin and scalp issues. It reminds me that I am allowed to acknowledge that I struggle with those things. Upon first glance I don't look like someone who would so I try to pretend I don't, and I end up feeling worse for it. But seeing your example of being open, it helps me to remember that those are just normal things that people deal with, and I don't have to feel ashamed for being one of them.
Don't even get me started on the Trying too Hard music video... The thing about OSDD/DID, it's caused by trauma in earlier childhood. And at that time I was really struggling hard with coming to terms with that. I was trying to be strong about it, learning to cope with the the plot I'd been given. And that song gave me so much hope. My brain, my system, it didn't choose to be divided. That's just what happened because of our circumstances, it was decided for us in a lot of ways. But we are strong and we are tough and we're learning to fit this plot that we've got. And we're learning to see each other and ourselves for who we are. It took me so long and so many loops of that song to be able to name that big explosive feeling in my chest. But it really helped me to feel so hopeful about our future together as a system.
There are a lot silly things I've taken from this series. To this day when things just aren't working out I still throw up my hands and say, "there's no winning at Christmas!" and it makes me smile and helps release some frustration, every time I hear "cognitive distortion" I echo "Häagen-Dazs dispersion". Every time. Even in therapy. It's an issue. But it makes me smile. Also without fail, I get called out when Taurus jokes are made. I have never put any stock in Zodiac related things before, but now I'm half wondering if there's something to it because without fail, I get called out. There are lots of little joys that this series has brought me. But there are also some incredible lessons that I've learned. And I will forever be grateful for that.
So thank you, so very much, Thomas. And happy birthday.
@thatsthat24
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