#TMI fic

[simon-x-billy]

Year of the OTP: September

September prompt: hurt/comfort

Chapter 9: Let the slings and arrows commence

AN: It was such a beautiful day. But then Simon’s PA Kelly happens, and everything goes sideways. Particularly since Simon had planned on a lusty afternoon. And then that asshat in NY he thinks of as his best friend decides to resurface after Simon has suffered the indignity of being quite so completely blown off. This again on the same day that Simon already has plans for said lusty afternoon. TWs: Whomp. This chapter heavily features drunkenness, angst, a triggered character, coping mechanisms, dissociation. More TWs: Long chapters. Wondering if large blank spaces are typos. Disappointment at the lack of sexytimes. A whopping Zero horny purple demons on the smut-o-meter. Zip. Nada. Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next wip!

Chapter 9: Let the slings and arrows commence

————/Billy/————

“This place sucks for scandalous road sex,” Simon declares. “The scenic overlooks keep getting looked-over. And there’s nowhere to, like, run into the trees, or behind a bush or something.”

“Behind a bush?”

“I’m speaking figuratively. Or metaphorically. Whatever. That’s not the point.”

“No? Seems to me that’d be precisely the point.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. I mean, even the Jersey Turnpike has rest areas and truck stops.”

“Are you saying that you prefer this Jersey…thing?”

“Jersey Turnpike,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“Whatever. You prefer the roads in this Jersey place over the Amalfi Coast?”

“Only for scandalous road sex,” he answers.

“So you’ve made a study of this sort of thing, have you?”

“No, but I’m willing to start,” he promises, the cheeky monkey.

The expression is priceless. “If you could see your face, mate. You look like you’re salivating.” Simon, you sly dog.

“Bother you?” he asks innocently. Less sly dog, more wolf now.

He can blow my house down any day. “Who am I to stop yer man gettin an eyeful?”

He’s staring at my bits without a lick of shame. “An eyefull as fuck.” And that shuts me mouth right the fuck up. But it’s grinning.

————/Simon/————

“Absolutely not! No fucking way! Don’t even think I’m caving on this, Kelly.” To truly drive home the point, I’m angry-pointing at her as if she can actually see it.

“Johnny wants a meeting. And you want to hear this, Simon. Serious,” she emphasizes in that supposedly ‘English’ accent it took me years to understand. (Who even knows where the Midlands are? Do they even exist? Like in real life?) She remains undaunted. “Listen to me, you knob! Wear a suit, yeah?”

“Why does it have to be in person? And who wears suits?” Nuh-uh. Nope. No way. This can’t be happening. “Can’t we just FaceTime or whatever?”

“Si-mun. It’s important. And besides, you’re on a fuckin panel. And you fuckin forgot. Because you’re a twat.”

“Oh my god, when is it? Fuck! SHIT!” I’ve dropped my phone scrambling to pull up my calendar. “Grrrrrraarrrrr!” What? It felt like something to roar over.

Kelly interrupts my roar. “Panel’s morning after tomorrow, half nine, yeah? But you got less than twenty four hours to get to Johnny’s meeting.”

“What?! Kelly! What the fuck!”

“The fuck is this, Simon: The panel’s on your schedule. You’re the one who said yes. You’re the one who’s suddenly back in Italy — for a week — with no call! Until you want in to a party. A party in another fuckin country, you prick! Why are you back in ITALY?!!! I am so fucked off at you right now.”

“Well, I’m fucked off at you right now, too! Whatever that means, I mean it. Even though everything you just said is right. God I hate that!”

“God I hate you! You’re such a dickhead. When were you planning on coming back to me?”

See? She loves me. Even when she hates me. Even in that barely intelligible accent.

Everyone I care about says horrible words to me as a habit, and it makes me feel loved? There’s gotta be something seriously wrong with me.

“Do I even rate a visit?” she demands.

See? She love/hates me. Angrily.

The phone vibrates against my face.

“Aw, Jesus fucking Christ, Helena Handbasket!* I’ve got another call. And I totally don’t want to talk to him, either. Sort of like how I didn’t want to talk to you, my own personal pet harpy. Text me everything, like you already planned to, whatever bye.”

I take a calming breath. I really, really don’t want this call right now.

Ugh.

“Chase. It’s been a minute.”

“I know, feels like a year, man,” he exclaims jovially. He’s jovial. Fuck him. “But don’t worry about it,” he continues. “I get it. You’ve been with Lisa. I’ve been with Lily. We’ve all succumbed to the ‘practically married’ lure of contentment and hibernation.”

“Inaccurate. You fell into domesticity. But me? There was never any domesticity to fall into. And Chase? Never speak her name to me again.”

“Wait, what?”

“Like I said, it’s been a minute,” I remind him, voice flat.

“What happened? Fuck man, I’m-” He pauses. “Hang out with me tonight. We have shit to catch up on.”

“You think?” I’ve just realized I don’t want to tell him a damned thing. And anyway, “I can’t tonight.” He doesn’t get details or explanations after blowing me off for a year.

And the thing that really pisses me off is that I love Lily! Always have. He knows this. It’s not like I didn’t want to hang out with them as a couple, and they know that. Because I fuckin introduced the pair of them! They just disappeared off the face of the earth. When I really needed my best friend. I am so pissed at him right now, it might just be the last nail in the coffin of my happy day. “Look Chase, I gotta go.”

“No, wait! I-“

“Later bro.”

I don't want to leave Italy!!! I DON’T! WANT! TO LEAVE! ITALY!

“Arrrrrgh!” I turn to Billy, “Can we put that song back on and put the top down?” I’m already pressing the button, aaaaaaand? The top is down.

This calamity doesn’t get to ruin the most awesome day of my adulthood.

Um.

Wow.

Is that an overstatement?

I literally can’t remember the last time I felt so good, so positive, so yes!!! It just feels right. God, does it feel right. I don’t know how to process my reaction to this thing that’s happened with Billy. Best day I can remember? That’s some fucking heavy shit.

“What’s all this, mate?” Billy hesitantly asks. “Who are these people and why?”

“My agent wants a meeting. In person. Wants me to come back. Johnny doesn’t usually need a face-to-face, and wearing a suit? I’m somewhere between suspicious and intrigued.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“And the worst part? I literally forgot about NY Comic Con. I always cosplay Comic Con. It’s the only time I ever get to be a vampire. (D, because obviously.) And even more worst? I forgot I’m on a panel, and that’s just irresponsible. That’s my career.”

“Oh, right.”

What’s going on with his voice?

“Right. And now Chase remembers I exist after like a year of silence. And all I can feel about it is pissed. I want my happy vibe back,” and the moment I take a breath, “Shitfuckfuckinfuck!!!” because the phone’s vibrating again. “What the actual fuck?!” I ask the Medi/Tyrrhenian sky.

With no answer from that quarter, I turn on Kelly. “Kelly, what the fuck.”

“Shut up and listen, you dick. I’ve chartered a jet from Naples. You’re coming home.”

She hung up on me! “I don’t-” I drop my head back against the head rest and roar “FUUUCK!” at the Medi/Tyrrhenian sky.

“That’s a lot of fucking,” Billy says, unhelpfully. He nudges my arm. “What do you need, Simon? What can I do?”

“Damn, that’s- Why do you have to be so awesome all the time? So annoying.”

“Simon, you barely know me.”

I feel like I’ve just been slapped in the face by his seriousness.

“That’s not true,” I say, softly.

“No, hang on, hold up, that came out wrong.” He squeezes my hand. “You haven’t known me long enough to see my bad bits. That’s all I meant.”

“Ok. Accurate. I guess.”

“So what do you need?” he asks again.

“Long term parking at the airport. Is that a thing that exists here?” I ask.

And because he’s aiming for perfection, he replies, “Let me drive yeh.”

“That’s way too much to ask. We’re almost home.” The word ‘home’ just kinda rings out, hanging there in the fresh silence.

A few minutes later, Billy pulls off into the hotel’s courtyard, makes a big u turn, and asks, “Want to run in and get your stuff?”

“Nah. Let’s just go,” I sigh. “Walking into that room? I’d never want to leave.” And I really don’t want to lose a minute of this absolute rush of a crush I’ve got on this guy, and the high of actually getting to have him.

That is, getting to have him for all of a hot second, at most. I mean, seriously, what the hell? God just punched me in the nads with fate.

“I can’t believe how completely I forgot about Comic Con. That’s like, I mean it’s kinda, um, part of my bones. My frickin identity. Happiness that sort of mushrooms up into the atmosphere over the Javitz Center at the same time every year. My very bones should have been screaming at me really loudly to remind me. And I just didn’t hear them this time.”

He nods once. Why did the vibe just get all weird?

Ok, then. This is an obvious cue to start babbling.

“Yeah. I have zero reason to be invited, but I guess they want a voice for the young people. I’m supposed to talk about what it was like getting started so early.” Pfff.

“Like it’s my job to convince them all to be graphic novelists or some shit. Which in itself makes no sense. I am not a graphic novelist. My books have only ever been prosaic print books. I mean I would almost-kill to have somebody turn them into graphic novels. And even more almost-murderous for manga.” I shiver, theatrically.

Then it occurs to me, “Oh my god, I’m a character. Holy fucking shit, can you imagine a manga me??? That’s just fucked up!” I reprise my theatrical shiver. Instead of squealing, which is what I really want to do.

“Yeah. And this year I’m on the schedule? Being real-me on a stage with a microphone, ‘educating’ this community? The community I treasure as my family of choice, even if they’re all strangers. My esteemed fellow aliens, vampires, superheroes, plushies, hardcore manga and anime perfection, I salute you! Transformers, Horus Heresy with chainswords and shit. I AM VAMPIRE HUNTER D, FOR GOD’S SAKE!!! I feel like a fraud.”

Oh no, I’m not done yet. “Allow me to repeat, I have zero reason to be included. Something about being confident enough, trusting myself to find an agent and a publishing deal, blah blah blah. I dunno, maybe it kinda makes sense, kinda.”

“Mmm,” is all I get back.

Now all I can think about is this weird, sour pall hanging over everything. In the car at least. I think it would be impossible for the Amalfi Coast to have a pall. Except when Vesuvius erupts. Obviously. That’s a big, hot, body-melting pall. (So? I’m scared of volcanoes, I’m not ashamed.)

Oh please, stop my brain from trying to fill the awkward silence growing between the two of us. It feels horrible and I want it to go away.

Oh God, I can feel it coming, the babbling turning into incessant nervous chatter. It’s somewhere between word vomit and lactose intolerance. Sentences become explosive diarrhea of the brain, and particularly unpleasant word-gas that lingers with a foul smell. Gross, right? Yeah, gross.

“Yeah, and I have to find out how badly Johnny wants to kill me right now. Oh my god. The two people who hate/love me most in the world. And I have to see them both this week. There will be blood. Lots of it. Mine. More.” Yes, I am still talking. “This sucks! Worst timing ever. Why doesn’t God want me to get laid?”

Billy doesn’t laugh like I’d hoped. Instead, he’s gone all stiff. Definitely something I said. His grip tightens on Lola’s steering wheel. This is weird. Why is he being so weird? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be anything but gregarious and positive. Now he’s just kind of gone invisible on me. Blank. Like he’s not even there.

“I’ll have Leo mail your things back to yeh,” he offers.

Huh?

Why?

“Huh? Why? I’m confused. If anything, I’ve needed more stuff, not less.”

“Well, if you’re leaving…..And you have to…..” and he just sort of trails off at the end. Then after a beat, he mumbles to himself. “I should have known.” The mumbles turn to grumbles. “Never fails. Never fuckin fails.”

“I know, right? Murphy’s Law.” Then it occurs to me, “Murphy must have been Irish. And stout.”

He doesn’t take the bait.

“Right, well, it’s been really fun, Simon. More than fun. Seems like such an inadequate adjective for, well, you know what I mean.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just- I’m glad I got the chance to know you a bit better, before yeh had to be goin.”

“Oh! Is that what this is? Billy?”

He waits in silence, a look of blank resignation on his face.

“I’m coming back!”

He pauses, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But nothing drops. “You are,” he states, as if I’m about to correct him.

“Of course I am, you idiot! How’d you put it? ‘Thick as pig shit’?”

Finally he glances over at me. He looks distinctly grey. Not his hair, I mean his face.

Oh frack. I think I really fucked this one up. Fucking Kelly! She gets me all worked up with her bald-faced contempt for my input and ineptitude.

“Billy. Look at me for a sec.”

As he glances over, I say, “I’m coming back. I wouldn’t just run off after what happened. You should at least know me better than that, Delaney. And anyway…” I have a bit more difficulty spitting this one out. “I like y- Us. I like us. You. What happened. I’m-”

Then a horrible thought arrives. “Do- I mean, do you want me to go?” comes out kinda quietly, sounding straight-up cowardly.

“Course not!” he almost bellows.

The fuck? “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Good,” I say softly.

“Good? What’s good?!” I can see him folding in on himself.

“You don’t want me to go away,” I admit even softer.

“Course not!” he yells once again.

“Hey,” I try again. “Billy, pull over.”

“Where? And anyway, you’d be late for your flight.”

Maybe he really does need reassurance. Who knew such a beautiful man could be bothered by concerns of the ego, just like the rest of us. “Hey. I don’t want to go, ok? Know that, ok?”

“Yeah, ok.” So unconvincing. Maybe he really didn’t go to theatre school.

“Billy! Come back this instant!” I use Ma’s voice, cuz maybe that’ll work on him like it works on me.

“Where do you think I am?”

“Behind your face!” I exclaim.

Tables? Turned.

“Ha. Ha.” He looks annoyed. He’s annoyed with me.

I decide some hand-holding might make a difference. He holds on tight.

I bring his hand to my mouth and brush my lips across the fingers. “I hate when people use this line, but I’m using it anyway. You can’t get rid of me that easy. Meh. Takes at least a round of antibiotics to affect that kind of change.”

“Ok,” he whispers.

“You know, maybe it’s a good idea that we have some alone time. I mean, it’s been an insane 24 hours.”

“Yeah,” he answers.

“Maybe we need to process,” I offer.

“Yeah,” he answers.

Wow, his mopes are just as epic as mine. We are going to have to talk about this. Eventually. Probably.

But for now, “I’m really not psyched about leaving, just so you know. I’d keep you in bed all day and all night, leaving Vittorio in the dark, so you lose your job and have to come back to New York with me. It’s all part of my sinister plot.” I lick his palm and finally get a snort.

“Animal, that’s what you are!” He can’t help cracking a smile.

“What’s this really about?” I ask quietly.

He lets the silence stretch on, but I can tell he’s just formulating an answer.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “When are yeh goin back? Like, leaving-leaving. For real.”

“I dunno, actually. I have thought about it a couple times. But every time, I just banish the thought. It’s a terrible idea. Going home.”

“Why?”

I roll my eyes quietly. “You know why.”

“Oh,” he says, a little pink emerging on his cheeks.

“Oh, what?”

“Just…good.” His voice is a little bit like cracked pavement. It’s been through an ordeal and now it’s got fissures. “I don’t want this to be over the day it started. It’s not enough time.”

“Facts,” I echo. And I decide that, since there will be no quickie, I should scoot a little closer and lick a stripe up his neck.

His nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath. I test the plumpness of an earlobe with my teeth. His hands grip the wheel more tightly, knuckles whitening.

“Simon,” he says in a warning tone. But I just peel one hand off the wheel and suck on a finger. Not something I’ve done a million times before. Just seemed like a good idea.

“Giving me a highway handy is…” He takes a deep breath. “…is just going to get us killed. But sucking on my fingers is good. Go on ahead doin that, if you still feel like it.”

I giggle. He sounds full of, um, I guess, affection? And that’s how my chestal region feels. Affection. Affected. But the rest of me is definitely feeling his fingers with my tongue.

————/Billy/————

Why is my heart pounding so hard in my chest? It’s…

I literally feel unable to speak at the moment. I’ve barely registered the fact that I've been sat here at the curb and there’s a busy airport in front of me. All I really have in my head is motion and colour.

I’m still stuck on the seconds before Simon walked away. He took my face in both his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. My mind’s been constantly racing around madly, lookin for something concrete to cling to ever since he… And the ferocity we had in holding onto each other, hard. Breathin together.

He could tell something was wrong, which clearly means I have to be better. Try harder. I’m slipping, and that way lies madness. Depending on people. Countin on ‘em. “You need to be better than that, Delaney. Control yerself, yeh great eejit. Then just breathe. Just breathe.”

A car’s horn sounds behind me, and I realize that it’s been over twenty minutes since Simon got out the car and walked away. That horn startled the fuck out of me. I don’t think taking up prime curbside is the most considerate thing I could do.

Pullin out.

Red light, Billy, red light. Am I permitted to turn right on red here? I have to pull over again. It’s just

Um

My head feels woolly and I’m staring into space, rather than the road.

“What are yeh playin at, Delaney. Just look at the state of yeh. Mind on the road. Mind on the road!”

And I never even got to kiss him. Find out how he tastes.

Um. “I need a pint.”

I really need a pint.

And someone who speaks the way I do. Kieran, and that’s yer man. Kieran. He’ll pull me a pint while talkin like an Irishman would do.

Um

Pint.

Pint, Billy, pint.

A Guinness it’ll be. Something thick, something a bit like a coffee milkshake had sudsy sex with the darkest of darkest beer.

“Black Rose it is, then,” I sigh the sigh of a thousand parched men.

Dissociation. That’s the term. Disappearing behind your face a while, starin out into the middle distance. The void. It’ll make a man’s face go slack, leavin him looking forlorn for all the world to see, and none the wiser for it.

I feel heavy. Like I’ve gained a stone in weight and all it wants to do is compress and compress and compress me until I’m naught more than a crushed can of Fosters.

Lady Madonna, children at her feet. (Especially Irish and Italian children, because we’re all catholic.) Maria’s voice has led me to the right place, but she can’t be bothered to make me stand and go in.

My body feels odd. Like it’s only partially awake.

“Guinness.” It’ll fix what ails yeh. Because Guinness is good for you. Truth in advertising! All the vitamins and grains a lad could ever want in a meal. Consider it room temperature barley and hops soup. So thick you could chew it if yeh liked. Oh lord yes.

“Guinness. Motivation.” I’ve parked Lola in holy Maria’s recommended parking zone.

I gots to shake this off. No use dragging others down with me. I tense and release, tense and release until the body wakes up, and I can shake off this… whatever it is I’m feelin at the moment.

“Shake it off, buddy. It’ll be all right. All right? Shake it off. Get your head in the game.” I even give it a physical try, shaking it off like a dog shrugging off fleas. You can’t really see them, but they’re there and they’ll drive that dog mad with memories. “It’s going to be all right.”

I promise myself it’ll be all right.

Game face.

————/-/————

I clear the door, and already Kieran’s callin me over. “Billy! Howeyeh?”

“Couldn’t stay away, mate.” I like this guy. I mean, not in that way. Oh lord, I need a pint. “What’s the craic?”

“The craic is what’s at the bottom of a pint.”

“And what’s at the bottom of a pint?” I’m askin.

“Another pint.”

Laughin, I promise him, “Truer words. I’m gonna borra that, and fair warnin.”

“Free to use as fit to use,” he nods. “You’re one for Budvar, that right?”

“Ta, mate. But for tonite, a Guinness, and do us a favor, mate. Keep ‘em comin. Don’t let my glass stand empty. Just keep ‘em comin til I’ve drunk the lot. It’s been one a them sort a days, d’you know what I mean.”

I’m numb. That’s what it is. I recognize it. It’s this sort of blankness. I can’t think clearly, and the clock ticks along too slowly.

I’m hollow. It feels empty here in the space beneath my rib cage.

Each good Irishman knows his way round sadness, givin it its own familiar pet name, inviting it in to sit a spell and make itself comfortable by the fire, spot o tea, givin it a room to sleep in, then devourin it, swallowin the pieces down whole.

Right, Delaney. Back in the game, back in the game.

Checkin my reflection in the mirror, I look well enough. I’ve had no comments tossed my way, such as the favorites: “Are you ok?” “What’s wrong?” And the worst of the lot, “Is there anything I can do?” Fuck that.

Posture up, Delaney. Slap a smile on yer face, and not a one will have a clue. No clues, none the wiser. Breathe. Deep breaths.

I scan the place. “Nice one, Barry’s here. I’ll shout him his next, yeah?” I can see him down t’other end of the bar tryin it on with a beautiful Italian girl - who, apparently, can’t understand whatever it is he’s tryin to say. She rolls her eyes and leaves him standin there gawping.

The man could likely use a hand.

“Save me Barry!” I shout full throated down the length of the bar.

Up snaps his head in confusion. When he finally spots me, his face splits into a wide smile. “Billy?”

“Melonfucker! If it isn’t that bastard Barry. Cuff ‘im and bring ‘im here, he owes me money!”

“Melonfucker?” Kieran asks, as Barry’s takin his place next to me at the bar.

“I loved my mother. Just can’t bring myself to say the real thing. But sometimes a man just needs that many syllables in an expletive. So, melonfucker it is. Howeyeh? All right, man?”

“Yes,” Barry answers with an elfin crinkle to his eyes, like the whole world is smilin back at him.

“What are you on, mate?” I ask, givin his arm a nudge.

He looks at his shoes a second, and smoothes the top of his hair. Then, with a conspiratorial look, “Just a little high. Just a little. W-want a hit?”

“What sort o’hit we talkin ‘bout here?” I clarify.

“Here,” and he passes me a thin little spliff.

“Um, Kieran? This ok with yeh, mate?” I ask, cos there’s not a lot o pubs as would be fine with this.

Kieran shrugs a shoulder, and Barry grins a bit harder when I take it.

“Never have been to Wales, Barry, tell me all about it.” I make m’self comfortable. Might could do with a bit of Barry’s amicable blandness while I’m so messed up about what I got up to last night.

Huh.

First time it’s come to mind that it’s not just Simon leavin as has me messed up. It’s also what we got up to. In every detail of what we got up to. I’m feelin messed up, and more besides.

I am. I don’t want to be. But I am.

I pass the spliff back to Barry.

It all happened so suddenly, and so intensely. And then poof, he’s gone. Feel as though I’ve been hit by the bus for Sorrento.

Shitting my pants, more like. What the fuck?! I can’t just, I mean it was, like, last night. And this morning. And here I am, at a-

If I can just have a couple nonsensical, nothin-serious nights. Maybe gettin really drunk. Dunno, it could happen. Barry passes the joint back to me, and I fill my lungs.

I mean, if Simon doesn’t come back, at least I’ve found my local. “I’m shoutin this round, mate. Nah, Barry. Don’t argue with me, just let me buy yous a fuckin beverage, Beverly.”

————/-/————

“What’s up wit you, you mopey fuck?” Kieran bumps my arm. I’m lookin at the clock and think I must’ve been starin into space a while, cos it’s suddenly 2 hours into the evening.

“Because we’re men. And the moment called for it,” I raise my pint and chuckle to myself. Appears Kieran has no answer for that.

I like it when I’m stoned and then the alcohol kicks in. It’s that point between tipsy and toppling to the dirt, when the two substances race to catch up with each other. So, not quite soused, but yet still very much on the verge of being oh so very fucked up.

“Hammered. Tanked. These are words my American friend uses at times like these. Or times like 4 shots from now.” Probly just snorted again. Can’t help it and don’t want to.

“It’s early, yet.” Kieran points to the glowing bar clock. It shows half six. “Slow it down a bit maybe.”

“Oh, I’m going bit by bit tonight,” I promise him. “D’you know what I mean, like appreciating each and every single hop and barley as it goes down.”

“Not quite what I was goin for, but-“

“Sure’n the last 24 hours wasn’t at all what we was goin for,” I mutter to myself. “But happened all the same.”

“What was that?” Barry leans closer. “Didn’t hear you.”

I take a long, slow breath and shrug, “Sorry, just an old song I used to know.”

Kieran and Barry are doin some sort of silent conversatin with their eyebrows, while I polish off this pint. I’ve always envied that kind of telepathy between friends. But they can’t compete with our eye caterpillars. “The two of yous make a cute pair.”

Um…

Wait. Did I- “Wait a tick, that came out wrong. Not like you’re a couple or- Em, I meant cute, like mates are cute.” Fuck, Delaney, shut your mouth’n stop talkin out of it.

They’re lookin at me with concern, and no small wonder. I’ve caught a babbling case of simonitis. Spreads with repeated contact. Another reason to wear a condom, younglings. Wrap that shit up.

Kieran leans his forearms on the bar. “Right, like I said before, what’s up with you? You don’t seem like the same man what come in two nights past.”

It’s true. “I’m not. The same man as was here two days ago. Fuck me, that’s a weird thought to try and swallow.”

Kieran looks at me like a mother hen would do. “Billy? Where you stayin mate?”

“Don’t know. Sleep it off in the car or something. It’ll work itself out.”

He doesn’t much like my answer, nor is he impressed with my lackadaisical delivery.

“You’ll sleep at mine,” says Kieran, waving away my arguments. “You could do with a kip, couldn’t you. Is all I’m sayin.”

“You’ve only just met me. You don’t barely know me, either, man.” It’s just plain fact. He doesn’t, does he.

“I know well enough. Remindin me of myself, you are. Myself in darker days.”

Ah, misery loves company. “Oh right? You’ve had somebody like that come along, have you?”

“Like what?” asks Barry, sounding confused.

“Like yesterday.” I almost slosh Guinness into my eye, gesturing with my pint in an animated fashion. “Like yesterday you were one person, and now today, you’re not. You’re nearly certain it’s down to a person or thing and then that came along and now it’s not.”

“Not what?” Barry’s lookin worried. “Was he making sense before?”

“Acourse I was,” I say. “That’s an easy question. You’ll need to throw me a harder one than that, Beverly.”

“All right, then-” Barry begins.

But not fast enough to beat Kieran’s “Who is she? Where’d you meet her?”

“Oh it’s like that, is it. Go on why don’t yeh, Cupid, yeh wee blighter. Straight to the heart of it. Well I’ll tell yeh, lads. Nobody I didn’t already know.”

Kieran ‘hmmmm’s thoughtfully, takin my measure as though I’m a puzzle for solvin.

“I don’t know, it’s a bit like,” and I scrunch my shoulders as I look for the words. “And then it’s too late. You know it’s gonna happen but you don’t know when. You have no idea, and you make the first move! You!” I point right at Kieran for emphasis.

“And then you’re a totally different person, am I right?” I nod my head. “You lot are here with me, the one that I am now. Before, it was me, before me now.”

“Quite the philosopher,” says Kieran, wiping down a glass with a funny expression. He should write it on the bathroom wall, like all the best bar poets do.

I need to make a toast.

“Gentlemen, a toast. To you two gentlemen.” They hold their pints aloft. “For bein there then and here now. Thanks for helpin me work through this. I think I just needed to say it out loud. And now I have. Thanks, lads,” I smile at them, and throw an arm over Barry’s shoulder like we’re old mates. “I needed an ear. Or four,” I chuckle.

Somehow they both get that this is genuine. Which is good. Yes. Good.

——/-/————

“Right, it’s better that I tell everyone knows so that I’m a little drunk. Just for being responsible purposeness, yeah? I mean they deserve to know. I’m sure they’ll be all right with it.”

“Who?” asks Kieran.

“Remind me, Billy,” says Barry. “How long did you say you’ve been in this situation?”

“What’s that? I didn’t. Say, I mean.”

The world is making this, “wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wah-wah” sound. “I feel like I’m on drugs. Why do I feel like I’m on drugs? Ohhhh, it feels like nitrous. Wah-wah-wah-wah.” I look up and I have no idea what I just said or why. “Hi. Heya.” Wait, that’s not Simon. Hm, when’s he supposed to be here? I’m looking around for him. He’s not spottable at the mo. But I *think* he’ll be here right now. Right? “I’m confused.”

“Yes,” says Kieran. “Yes, you are.” He hands me a pint of ice water. Quite refreshing really.

“Billy,” says Barry, smoothing his hair in that nervous gesture of his. “So you’re with- um, that man Simon? His boyfriend.”

I snarf my beer. Not out my nose, saints preserve us. “Boyfriend? Um. Er. That’s um. That’s. Why do you say that?” I am definitively taken off guard. And so bluntly. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

“What, aren’t you?” asks Kieran.

“What - boyfriends?” I can feel my chin still falling toward the floor. They can tell it’s an honest reaction, so now it’s even more awkward.

Redirect. “There’s a song I need to hear. Is there something that will make that happen?”

They both look pretty taken aback. Cultural social lesson for the future. Thou shalt not dj.

“What’re yeh thinking?” Kieran asks.

“Just one song. But you must make an oath you’ll make everyone sing, or it’s worthless.”

Kieran thinks that’s funny. But also odd. He shrugs, “Which one is it?”

“Don't be laughin at me for bein trite, it being Bono and the lads, but I need Beautiful Day. Like you don’t even know.”

It comes on, and Kieran hollers, “Alright you lot! You know the words! Let your grandad hear us in Galway.” Happily, everyone yells some variation of “ok,” but it all sounds like “fuck yeah” to me.

All in all, it works out pretty well. “You thought you found a friend to take you out of this place. Someone you can lend a hand, in return for grace. It’s a beautiful day.” That sounds about right. Next thing I know, the chorus riles em up and there’s a great amount of beer-sloshing to dodge.

“It’s a beautiful day. Don’t let it get away.” But I did. I let it get away. Aaaaand now, despite an entire pub of folk practically shoutin about beauty, I’m depressed.

Me? Depressed? When I’m this drunk? Not likely. I snort. That’s just bonkers. A scoff is the best that thought deserves. And maybe a Bushmills.

“Bushmills on the rocks, Jeeves.”

“You from up in the North then?” Kieran asks. “Don’t much sound it.”

“Spent some time there.” Redirect, and anyway, I’m curious. “Why am I so high?”

Barry turns his implish little face to me, and passes me a fresh spliff.

————/-/————

‘Baby, I’m wasted. All I wanna do is drive home to you. Baby, I’m faded. All I wanna do is hm hm hmtown. Baby, hm’sumthin, sumthin sumthin la la la, beep boop beep-boop.

“Reckon I like this pub. Ye Olde Black Rose. La Rosa Nera in Italiano,” I say to no one in particular. “Sometimes it’s good to just make a declarative statement, know what I mean.”

“I heard that declarative statement, and I thank you mate,” Kieran gives a big-hearted grin. Which has now refocused over my shoulder. “Barry, you goodfornuttin. Harp? Budvar? Harp?”

“I don’t like Bud very much,” says Barry, the strange little man. He speaks in that halting, almost nervous way of his. He also frequently speaks in declarative statements, which most people shy away from, by and large. I’ve decided I like that about him.

“Don’t yeh dare be askin me fer a Black and Tan,” Kieran warns. “Try sayin something like our Billy here, makin a strong declarative statement bout how well he enjoys our fine drinkin establishment.”

“And I do, at that,” I affirm. “‘Cept, maybe the clientele are a bit, well, y’know…” and I balance my hand side to side.

Kieran gives me a dry smile and passes Barry his pint, allowin me a moment to down another shot of tequila.

Wonder what a Welshman’s doin down Mediterranean way. They’re a cold water lot. “You livin here, then, Barry? This your local?”

“Yes, I do. And y-yes, it is.”

I decide we need to get some facts straight. I announce, “Now, I’m not one for swallowin, but-” and halt my progress. I’ve suddenly gone blank. “Wait. What was we talkin bout?”

“How far into your night are you, Billy?” Kieran asks instead of answering. That’s Irish Barkeep for, ‘Seems like you might’a had more drink than you can handle, Billy.’ “What sort of day you have, mate? I’ve seen a face or two like yours is now.”

I’ve no doubt he has done, bein a bartender and such.

“My day.” I try to laugh, but all I emit is a snort and a burble. Way too much goin on in my head. Too much goin away on planes. Too much touch. Too much of the way he smells. Too much suckin on fingers. Just far, far too much o’ life to hold in one head alone.

What was we talkin bout? Oh…holdin my drink. “Are yous lot aware that I am an Irishman? Yes, yes you are.” I wait for encouragement to continue. “How could yeh dare to impugn my honour thinkin I don’t know how t’hold my drink.? Yeh think they’da let me outta Ireland if I couldna hold my drink? Embarrassment to my country, kin and kind.”

The room spins. “What was we talkin bout? I feel like they’re right there just beyond me,” I sigh.

“What’s right there?” Barry asks.

“Words, man. Words!” Then I remember something else, too: “Beer!”

“What happened, Barry?” Kieran stands in front of him, wipin down the counter, talkin low so they think I can’t hear. “All I did was walk a few steps to help those two lovely ladies, then back again to find we’ve reached nothin but babble. It’s like we’re only getting one side of the conversation. You farin any better than that?”

“Am I?” Barry asks in surprise. “No,” he says emphatically.

“Well, lads,” I step in. “Here’s the truth. I did have a, uh, night last night.”

I wait for some signal that they heard and understood me. They did, so I continue.

“Here’s the thing. I was out with someone. Someone I’ve, em, y’know, been talkin to. But we was only ever mates. Ever. Never figured for more than that, know what I mean. But suddenly, somethin happens and boom, everything in my life is unrecognizable to me now.” I might could’ve turned a tad morose in my old age. “It felt like everything I’ve ever wanted.” Lovely. Another sentence out my mouth without originatin in my brain. “But with hi- them? Never, ever occurred to me. Not once!”

“Looked so fuckin fit, d’you know what I mean? Dancin that way and all I could do was watch. You know? Just watch. But then everything I wanted became mine,” I continue. “I had it all in my hands, and I wasn’t wastin a moment of that time on ‘what if’ and shyness. I mean lads, I think you know me well enough by now. Don’t yeh?”

They both nod emphatically.

“I wake up. Both of us wake up and can’t keep our hands…our…” I sigh. “The desire was there. It was just — everywhere. Can barely keep from havin a horn everywhere I go. But, like, it’s different when something that might be real is on the line. Know what I mean.”

Again, they nod emphatically.

“I just-“ Spit it out, kid. “I mean-“ Not doin much better. Out with it. “I just don’t want to go back to how it was before. Friends. I want to level up. And that, lads, is some deeply terrifying shit.” I can feel my eyes widen. “Maybe not for some, but that’s the way of it for me.”

I stare at my reflection in the bar mirror. I still look like me, even knowin all that transpired. I can’t have changed that much. I don’t look horrified. Which is good. But a bit stressed? That I am. And maybe a whole lot worried. My eyes look distinctly hollow and haunted. “It was so good,” I mumble.

“She’ll be back, mate. The girls love you,” Kieran grins conspiratorially at Barry, then back to me. “I bet you can’t beat em back with ennathin but your stick, know what I mean. Can’t keep ‘em off you, can you?”

“I have no response to that question,” I laugh. “It’s true. I know I’m a man whore, for certain, it’s true. But it might be I’m a one-man man whore.”

And the room sets itself to spinnin.

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next wip!

————/-/————

*Helena Handbasket is one of the very best characters TJ Klune has ever written. And now I’ve adopted Ms. Handbasket as my favorite expletive. It’s a phase. Meanwhile, you should drop everything and go read the first 2 books in the At First Sight series. (Tell Me It’s Real, then The Drag Queen and the Homo Jock King.) I basically created Simon from the afterglow of that series. Go forth and discover TJ Klune. Right now. Go.

[tscclace]

If I put it on here, please interact with the chapters so I have a reason to keep doing so

[yuyulecroustibat]

Chapters: 5/?

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros. (Video Games), The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Bowser/Luigi (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo), Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Bowser Jr. & Luigi (Nintendo)

Characters: Luigi (Nintendo), Mario (Nintendo), Bowser (Nintendo), Princess Peach (Nintendo), Toad (Nintendo), Bowser Jr. (Nintendo)

Additional Tags: Fluff, Happy Ending, Gay Luigi (Nintendo), Self-Esteem Issues, Scared Luigi (Nintendo), Luigi has a crush on Bowser (Nintendo), Good Parent Bowser (Nintendo), Sweet Bowser (Nintendo), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, How Do I Tag, Mario has bad ideas, Slow Burn

[terresdebrume]

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Isabelle Lightwood & Jace Wayland, Clary Fray & Alec Lightwood, Clary Fray & Jace Wayland, Clary Fray & Isabelle Lightwood Characters: Clary Fray, Jace Wayland, Alec Lightwood, Isabelle Lightwood Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon, the silent brothers - Freeform, Politics, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Past Torture, Mind Rape, Worldbuilding, Near Death Experiences, Childhood Trauma Series: Part 2 of Immortal Instruments Summary:

A week ago, Clary was the only child of a tattoo artist and an antiquity merchant whose biggest mystery was why on Earth they continued to live apart when they'd been happily married for eighteen years. Now her mother is missing, she knows what almost dying feel like, and she has a brother who wants to take her down to an ancient citadel against the orders of his adopted brother slash boss.

And those are just the cliffnotes.

[sanjifucker42069]

OPLA!Sanji x Reader - Blowin'

Word Count: 4.6k

I cut down some of the less, y’know, important stuff (the plot lol)

Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving), fem!reader, awkward first times, awkward af, the reader is a dipshit. I’m ngl this isn’t one of those cute first time fics where virgin!reader is suddenly a sex goddess, you are legitimately an idiot. As usual, written with a plus size!reader in mind.

Sanji finds out you’re a virgin. You suck his dick. Congrats!

Sanji was going to fucking lose it. Out of all the possible scenarios Sanji never once considered Nami would take you out to a bar to pick up guys. He brooded as he nursed his drink, Zoro rolling his eyes at the display. Sanji just growled. Usopp looked between them.

"How about another round? 'Nother milk Lu? Hey Sanji, why don't you come with me? I saw some hot chicks up at the bar."

Sanji just shook his head brooding. He looked to where you stood with Nami, laughing at some guy's jokes. He felt stupid at how jealous he felt.

"Hey, Sanj, man. Nami isn't gonna reciprocate y'know?" Usopp offered lightheartedly. Zoro scoffed from next to him. 

"It's not about Nami for once."

---

When Sanji's eyes found you again he saw you alone with the same guy, nursing a drink. Now that Nami was gone he could see the atmosphere had changed, you didn't seem happy like before. He watched as the guy said something and you shrugged halfheartedly. The guy then proceeded to wrap his arm around you. Sanji had known you long enough to see how uncomfortable you looked. Anger flared in his chest. The final straw was seeing the guy trying to tug you out of the booth to leave. You looked so defeated, it hurt. He began stalking his way to your booth.

"C'mon sweetcheeks, let's leave this dump."

"I'm good thanks, I should get back to my friends."

"I already told you bitch, we're going. I didn't spend all this time fucking around to go home empty handed. You're lucky I even stayed once your hot friend left. I'm doing you a favour, so hurry the fuck up."

"No, I really don't want to." You began, the man snarled, grabbing your wrist.

"It wasn't a question. You owe me. I don't go for ugly, but a hole's a hole, and from the back you're probably passable."

You had tears in your eyes from embarrassment. This whole trip was a bad idea. You wish Nami would come back. As the man tugged on your wrist harder you heard that gorgeous voice ring out. You tried to hide your face so Sanji wouldn't see the tears in your eyes. That last thing you wanted was for the crew to think you're weak.

"That's no way to win hearts Sunshine. So uncouth, and frankly, disgusting behaviour."

"Who the fuck are you? How about you mind your own business?"

"And watch such a beautiful lady be treated that way?"

"Beautiful lady my ass. The only thing you can know for sure about girls like this is that their pretty pussy is untouched." The man barked out a laugh causing you to wince. He snaked his other arm to cup your breast over your dress. You saw something flash in Sanji's eyes. "And I know I'm gonna really enjoy these."  

You squirmed, before biting the man. He howled in pain, releasing his hold on you. You quickly made your escape, rushing to cling to Usopp and Luffy, crying. You felt pathetic. Embarrassed that all eyes were on you.

Sanji saw red. You blinked back tears as you called out to him. Sanji was protective of all of you, but he seemed especially so of you. You knew it was because he saw you as some kind of little sister. "It's okay Sanji. Really, let's just go home. Please."

"No." He fixed the drunk man with a freezing gaze. "You dare touch someone so out of your league? I asked you nicely to piss off, but now I'm going to fucking kill you."

Before you could react Sanji had kicked the man in the chest. You watched as he began ruthlessly kicking and stomping the man, muttering profanities and sentences you couldn't understand. With a final stomp he huffed. Zoro finally pried Sanji away. You saw Nami returning, fuming. If you weren't so traumatised by the night you would have laughed at how Zoro pried Nami away too, holding the two brawlers by the scruff as they fought against it, looking like wet cats.

You don't remember how you got home. You remember Usopp covering you in his coat and dragging you out of the bar. You remember apologising to Usopp, crying that you needed to go back. The last thing you remember was Luffy running to join you, scooping you up and starting the walk back to the Going Merry, you, falling asleep in his rubbery arms.

---

"Ah my dear, you're finally awake. I made you something to eat."

You smiled tightly at him, thanking him. The way you played with your food tugged at his heartstrings. You looked so mournful. He pulled up a chair, sitting backwards on it, gripping the backrest. 

"C'mon lovely, don't make me have to feed you myself." He winked. Your lips twitched upwards performatively. Sanji frowned. "Look (name) about last night-"

"I'm sorry."

Confusion. "What?"

You cringed inward. "I'm....I'm sorry I ruined everyone's night."

"You didn't ruin anyone's night, that good for nothing prick did. Don't understand why you'd even go for a guy like that to be honest." He added bitterly. You frowned.

"I wouldn't normally. Everything moved so fast. He seemed nice...It was too late before I realised it's because he wanted Nami." Silence. "Once Nami left, I, well, I didn't want to cause a scene."

"So, what? You were just going to let him take advantage of you?"

You jolted, shocked. "No! No, I- there was no way he was going to-” 

“(Name), love, I know you can be a bit naive but-”

Your voice was small. “He said so himself! He..." you trailed off. "He didn't 'go for ugly girls'. And besides…he was right."

Sanji frowned, angry at the world. How could anyone make you believe that you weren't beautiful? That you didn't deserve some guy trying to take advantage of you? He took a deep breath, steadying his resolve

“There's no such thing as an ugly girl (name), and if there was, I can assure you you're not one of them.”

“Not that.” Sanji took in how you winced, trying to make yourself seem smaller.

What?

Sanji felt the wind knocked out of him.

You're a virgin?" He asked, clearly shocked. You bristled with embarrassment.

"Well...yeah, but I understand how it works! It's not such a big deal, I mean...I've just, I've never had the chance."

"Have you ever...y'know, at all? Not even a handy?" You shook your head. He flushed, you were completely pure.

He felt slightly sick at how his perverted thoughts twisted that. He could be your first, ruin you for all other partners. He could be the one to take your innocence. His cock twitched at the thought. Shame flooded him. You were his friend, his, admittedly, very cute friend. He shouldn't be thinking about you this way. His mind was racing with all the obscene thoughts he'd ever had, the deviant things he dreamed of. He was disgusting. You were too innocent, he'd felt guilty before, but now he felt like he was defiling you just by thinking about you.

You took his silence as pity and pointedly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.

"It's not like I don't want to. I do. But, ugh, it's so silly...no one has ever shown any interest. I'm not exactly a goddess like Nami."

"Darling, I don't believe no one has ever shown interest." He offered a smile. Gods if you only knew how badly he ached for you. How hard you made him. Now wasn't the time for him to blow your friendship over him thinking with his dick. You were being vulnerable.

"I don't need your pity Sanji. It's okay. You don't have to give me the 'everyone's beautiful in their own way' speech. There's more to me than my lack of experience! I'm a good fighter! I have talents, I don't need to be pretty. Just, sometimes, it'd be nice.". 

This wouldn't do. He had to try to fix this. He took your small hands in his, trying not to lose his breath at how warm they felt. Swinging them lightly, he stared into your eyes.

“You are a beautiful girl, you deserve way better than some kind of bastard like that. Men are pigs (name), you shouldn't trust any of them."

"I trust you."

Sanji froze. You peaked up at him shyly. He looked conflicted, and that caused you to smile sadly, misinterpreting the look. You withdrew your hands, fiddling with them in your lap. "I didn't mean that you should take one for the team Ji, I just meant that, well, I trust you. I don't think you're a pig."

"You shouldn't trust me." He lowered his voice. You stared at him, clearly taken aback. "I'm just as bad."

"No, you-"

"No. I'm an absolute pig darling. You aren't that dense surely."

You frowned. "Sure you flirt a lot with other girls, but that's just you! It's charming, non-threatening. I don't see you acting like-"

"I flirt with you too!" He tried, clearly exasperated. You smiled.

"Exactly! You make cute comments to me, and call me cute things like darling, but you're just naturally flirty."

Sanji groaned. Your smile slowly faltered. Sanji screwed his eyes shut. "I'm not 'just naturally flirty'...I mean, I am, I suppose, but I'm actually trying to flirt with you. I thought you were just being polite, but are you really that dense?"

"I....you are?"

"Are you kidding me?!"

"But, I'm..." You gestured to yourself. "You're more friendly than flirty to me?" 

"You're too innocent, it's not like I could just waltz right up and tell you that I think you're hot, can I?" He bristled. 

You felt electricity surge down your spine. Hot? Sanji thought you were hot? Sanji? 

Sanji took your silence as disgust. "See! That's exactly why I couldn't tell you."

"You think I'm hot?" He nodded. Your grin spread, hurting your blushing cheeks. Your eyes sparkling. "You think I'M hot?!"

"Yes, okay!" He sounded almost angry.

"Sanji, you're gorgeous! I'm too awkward. Too fat. Too plain. I'm not a model or some kind of beauty. And you're telling me someone as handsome as you, thinks I'm attractive!? And I-"

You stopped, really thinking about what he said. "Innocent? I....well I suppose. I'm not that innocent though."

Sanji's nostrils flared. "Not that innocent? Please love! You prance around in those low-cut tops and shorts in front of everyone, thinking that they ain't gonna go ballistic? You're too trusting of men, thinking that we aren't all beasts inside."

You laughed, still riding the high of his praise. Sanji snarled, banging his fist on the kitchen table. "No! It's true. You think someone doesn't see the way your tits look and salivate? You don't think you would make anyone insane? You don't think I got so fucking hard when you told me you're a virgin?"

He froze, blood turning to ice, clearly regretting blurting out that last bit. You stared at him, eyes round with wonder. He avoided your gaze, cringing at what you said next.

"I...I make you hard?".

"I'm sorry (name), that was very ungentlemanly of me. I didn't mean to say that last part." 

"But you did." He felt warm hands prying his open and playing with his fingers. He flitted his eyes up to see your face red, staring at him with your eyes practically sparkling with mirth. "God, I've wanted you to fuck me for ages, and now you're telling me you've actually wanted to this whole time?"

Sanji stiffened, cock twitching. He ached painfully. He felt parched, throat burning. This had to be a joke. "You...what?"

"Yeah. Fuck. I, mean, the clothing was purposeful at first, I wanted you to notice me. I had no idea it was working though, haha!"

"WHAT!?"

"Yeah, I thought you knew? You never noticed I only wore those kinds of clothes when you were around? You never noticed how I tried to cling to you in the kitchen? I just assumed you knew and thought I was gross, so I pulled back." You laughed. "Did you seriously think that because I'm a virgin I can't think sexually?"

"But you've never-"

"You've never said anything raunchy to me like you do to other girls. I thought you saw me as a little sister. It'd be weird if someone you saw like family told you they want to suck your dick."

"Fuck." He hissed. 

"Oh this is too good! Have I been torturing you?" You laughed, running a hand up his arm. "You must be so frustrated."

"You have no idea." 

"I could help you." 

Sanji groaned. "You can't say things like that."

"Oh." You pulled back, back to being timid. Even if it was at his expense, Sanji felt the loss of your confident persona. Fuck he really was a masochist, wasn't he? "I, um, I'd need you to guide me. But if you did want help, I'd like to be the one."

"God, you have no idea what you're doing to me." He heard you giggle lightly. He opened his eyes to see you biting your lip, staring up at him through thick lashes, a blush adorning your chubby cheeks. He throbbed.

"You could show me? I promise I'll be gentle! Please Sanji? Can I pretty please touch your dick?"

Sanji felt like he was going to explode from how cute you were. 

"Fuck. Please."

You squealed in excitement, jumping up from the table, both his arms in hand. He wanted to laugh at how innocent you looked, but instead he felt a lump in his throat. You didn't notice, pulling the seated man into an awkward, crushing hug.

"C'mon! C'mon what are you waiting for? Let's go!" 

"Go where?" He laughed at your eagerness. "In case you haven't noticed darling, we aren't exactly alone."

The way you deflated was comical. What wasn't was the wicked glint that formed in your eyes. Sanji gulped, that was never a good sign. He watched as you quickly dashed out of the kitchen. Sanji looked around, confused. Minutes passed. He got up from the table, moving over to the kitchen island, hiding his lower half behind the counter, lest one of the crew wandered in. He sighed, willing his boner away. 

Bang!

The door flew open. Sanji jumped. There you stood frantically in the doorway. Your hair a mess, breathing heavy, and that wicked glint set on him. He watched as you closed the kitchen door, taking a chair and boarding the door. You grinned, stalking towards him.

No. There's no way.

"We aren't going to be disturbed." You were practically vibrating in excitement.

"What? No. Not in the kitchen. We. Eat. Here." Sanji hissed. You peeked up at him, lip pouting. 

"Please? I'll make sure there's no mess left." You pleaded. 

No mess? Sanji closed his eyes and groaned when he realised what you meant. You were going to be the death of him. When he opened his eyes you were in front of him, staring at him shyly. He startled.

"Can I kiss you? Or is that too far?"

Too far? He wanted to cry. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. He bent down. You grinned. He wrapped an arm around the back of your head, pulling you closer. You tipped your head up. He smiled softly before placing his lips on top of yours.

Your lips locked together like the last piece of a puzzle. You sighed, eyes flitting closed. You pushed further against him, trying desperately to pull him closer. He tasted like cigarettes but you didn't mind, an addictive taste for an addictive man. You wanted more of him. You kissed him feverishly, reluctantly pulling back for air. You stared at the taller man through lidded eyes. He gazed down at you lovingly, a blush high on his cheeks. His blue eyes studied your face closely. 

Sanji laughed as with both hands you pulled his face back for another kiss. His skin was hot, your hands now cold against his cheeks. You tasted sweet and he wanted to devour you so badly. You were too cute. He felt you pull him closer to you. You were kissing and sucking at his lips before you felt it. Sanji bit back a groan, feeling your hips brush against him. He felt pure embarrassment as he heard your breath hitch, pulling away. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a groan as you experimentally pushed your hips against him harder.

"Oh my gods." He heard you whisper against him. He froze. "Oh my gods it's so-"

"We can stop if it's too much dar-LING!"

He squeaked as he felt both your hands rake down his chest, you humming contently as you kept yourself pressed against him. He felt overwhelmed at how eager you were. He'd never had someone so upfront in wanting to touch him. His cocked throbbed. You mewled lightly, causing another throb.

"Oh my god it moves?" You giggled. He cracked a smile back. You were so innocent.

Sanji had made one crucial mistake though. That was thinking that just because you were inexperienced, that meant you would be submissive. He felt you cage him against the countertop, the wood digging into his ass, your hands on him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, the dissonance was making him dizzy. He felt your hands find purchase on his waist. You breathed out a dreamy sigh.

"God your waist is so fucking tiny."

Sanji bristled with embarrassment. He tried to address it without upsetting you. "Love, that's not exactly what I want to hear."

You giggled. "I can't help it, it's so hot. You could kick my ass if you wanted, but holy fuck you're just letting me feel you up. Gods I've seen you fight, I've seen how thick your legs are, but fuck your waist is so little."

Sanji hissed. He'd never experienced anything like this before. Your hands migrated upwards, resting on his pecs. Your slow pace was driving him insane.

"Can I?" You gestured to his shirt.

"Fuck, love, I'd love to, but maybe when we have somewhere more private okay? Don't want to be too unclothed if someone tries to come in. Same with you okay? Don't want anyone to see something so gorgeous." He smiled at you. You nodded your head, practically buzzing at the idea of this happening again. He winked at you. "You could take off something else though."

Sanji was shocked and delighted at how quickly you dropped to your knees. You began playing with his belt, figuring out how the clasp worked. Sanji scrunched his eyes shut. Fuck, you were so eager! He never would’ve expected it to go like this. Despite your eagerness you were so gentle, as if you were afraid of touching him. He was going to prompt you, but instead you softly pulled his zipper down and began drawing the fabric down till it sat mid thigh.

Oh, fuck. There he was, huh?

You looked at his clothed cock, studying It like it was some kind of strange bug. You wanted to laugh at the comparison. Above you Sanji was flushed, embarrassed by your staring. You ran a finger over the bulge. He hissed, his dick jumping lightly. You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat. 

"What?"

"It's so cute the way it jumps."

"Maybe this was a mistake."

"No no no! I promise I'll be good. Can I, um... do I?"

"Just...hah...do what you think is right. I'll...correct you."

Sanji let out an undignified squeak as he felt you lightly grab the clothed bulge. You massaged it, feeling what you could, watching with curiosity how the man above you writhed. Exploratively, you moved your hand further back, cupping his balls through the fabric. The friction of the fabric against bare skin was pure torture.

"Oh shit!" Sanji whined. You withdraw your hand like it burnt. "That's, god, that's really sensitive okay? You're killing me sweetheart."

"Sorry." You mumbled, placing a kiss to his bare thigh. The "strange bug" jumped again. You began peppering more kisses to his thigh. Once you reached the inside of his thigh you breathed deeply, he smelt musky, it made your mouth water. Experimentally, you licked the inside of his thigh. Sanji's thigh tensed. You licked upwards in long stripes until you reached the leg of his underwear. You gave a quick moment of hesitation before you blew air over the bulge. Sanji hissed. Smiling, you placed a kiss directly over the top of his bulge. 

"Did you just kiss my dick?"

"Mmhmm. Watch, I'll do it again." You placed an open mouth wet kiss over Sanji's clothed cock. The man above you threw his head back, whining softly. The fabric was dampened with a mix of your spit and something else. You saw how taut the fabric had become. You cooed. "That looks like it hurts." 

Sanji nodded. You looked up at him.

"Can I take them off?"

He shuddered. "Fuck. Please (name)."

With curiosity you began dragging the wet underwear down his hips, settling them at his mid thigh. His musky scent overpowered you, and you watched with fascination as Sanji's cock slapped against his stomach. Looking up at him you saw how tight his eyes were scrunched, knuckles gripping the countertop. You noticed how he shivered lightly at the exposure. Sanji's cock stood, large, imposing, and leaking. You breathed out a curse. It looked gorgeous, just like him, long and lithe. His happy trail led to a neat little patch of dark hair. You salivated. Eyes drawing to your prize, you winced at how red and angry the head looked.

Sanji thought he was going to kill you when he felt you tap his cockhead like a microphone. Instead he bucked his hips away, humiliation colouring his face. "Stop that! I know you don't know what you're doing, but please use your brain dearest." 

You mumbled an apology before rubbing your hands together, trying to warm them. He watched as you wrapped a hand around his dick before moaning lowly. You studied him, absolutely enraptured, as you gave a test pump. The man above you crumbled. 

"Do you always get this way?"

"No." He panted.

"Just for me?" You tried sultry, trying to muster up some quote from a smutty novel you once read. Sanji peeked one eye open before groaning.

"No." His voice was strained, breathing heavy. You tried pumping him, but the rhythm was sloppy. "N-no. You're...it's a lot right now. I'm not used to it being this slow…or clumsy."

"Do you like it?" You looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Unfortunately." He muttered. With a burst of pride you tried pumping him harder. Sanji squealed, grabbing your hand. "Fuck (name), I really need you to spit in your hand. Th-that's painful."

"Oh...sorry." You offered. Sanji watched as you perversely spit in your hand, wrapping the digits back around his cock. You tried setting a rhythm, it was sloppy, but you focused on giving him consistent squeezing pressure. Sanji moaned lowly at the squeezing, hips rocking. 

Soon you reached a steady rhythm. You watched with bated breath before you slowed down. Sanji began to whine from the loss, only to keen loudly as he felt your lips enclose his cockhead. He began spluttering, eyes rolled backwards. He'd take anything right now, fuck he wanted to cum so bad. He sucked in a breath.

"No teeth, okay love?" 

You laughed, the vibrations tickling him in the best way. He moaned, trying desperately to not fuck your face. His eyes were so tightly scrunched.

You slowly forced yourself further down his length, squeezing the base. Sanji swore. You froze, taking a deep breath through your nose. When he didn't stop you, you continued your devotion. 

"Ack!" You choked, throat burning. You felt Sanji's hand patting your head. You retreated off him, coughing.

"Darling don't take more than you can okay. We don't want you to choke now."

You gazed up at him, eyes wet and throat hoarse. "Let me try again!" 

Your raspy voice made Sanji quiver, but the way you looked up at him, absolutely wrecked, made him burn. As quickly as he noticed it, it ended, and you unceremoniously inhaled his cock. He could feel you try to smile. 

"Fuck!" His voice was high as you sucked hard, adding your tongue to flatten against the underside of his cock. "(Name)! Baby, fuck, I-"

"Hey why won't the door open?" Zoro's voice rang through the wood. Sanji stilled, holding your head. The two of you looked at each other frozen. Sanji tried clearing his throat. 

"If you keep making noise out there, I'm gonna explode, Mosshead!"

You snorted, trying hard to not laugh. 'Yeah you're gonna explode,' you inwardly snickered. 

"Whatever shitty waiter." 

Silence. Sanji looked down at you. "Darling, maybe we should stop. It's okay, we can try again another day." He froze at the frustrated look that overtook your features. "Fuck." He whispered.

You sucked harshly causing Sanji to bite his hand hard to avoid screaming. He felt you try swallowing, watched as tears pricked your eyes. You didn't slow down on your work, sucking harshly and hands wandering. You grabbed a fistful of his asscheek, other hand tracing circles on his inner thigh. You felt him tensing, quivering. His hand reached for your neck, trying to coax you off. He was so close.

"Oh god!" Sanji gasped. "Baby I'm gonna cum, you need to hop off-AH!" 

You sucked harder, milking the man through his orgasm. It was like music the way he spluttered and grabbed the back of your head, nails scratching your scalp. You felt hot, thick liquid painting your throat. It wasn't pleasant, but fuck his reactions were. Some dribbled out of the corner of your mouth and Sanji wiped it away with a thumb, a fucked out expression on his features. He pulled his softened cock out of your mouth, and watched, breathless as you swallowed his seed. You made a grimace afterwards causing the man to laugh.

"Was it okay?" You asked, shyness taking over you. 

"You're lucky I don't mind a bit of torture. It was good for a first try." He gave you that flirty grin and a wink. "I think you need more practice though."

You laughed, outstretching a hand so he could help you up. You tried stretching your legs, noting the numb pain in your knees. You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Was I that bad?"

Sanji pulled his underwear and pants back up, zipping his pants closed. He pulled you closer. "Nah, you're just something else entirely. Silly." Kiss. "Torturous." Kiss. "And I am smitten with you."

"We've wasted enough time, better get back to it." You smiled against his lips. 

"I'd love to pay you back."

"Later loverboy, we're gonna have the whole crew in here soon if we don't hurry."

"I'm so glad there's a later."

You winked, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. You stopped, turning to stare at the man.

"For you baby? Always. Oh, can you make souffle?"

"What? Why?"

"I told the guys we were making a souffle and needed the kitchen completely silent."

Sanji laughed. You definitely kept him on his toes.

-----------

I'm not going to lie, some of this is coloured by my first time hahaha! I am an incredibly awkward person, and yes I did also once tell a guy how cute I thought it was when dicks jump. He also told me I was fucked for that ha!

[onedumbho3]

Ur Dumb Hoes’ SVT FIC REC PT.2

Guide: Not Titled (N/T)

MORE RECS

Headcannons/Reactions

Seventeen and touch-starved s/o hu vu by @wqnwoos

Saying Something They Didn’t Mean in a Fight hu vu pu by @babyleostuff

How I think (specific members) react when you reach your climax by @luvelve

them accidentally ditching you on your bday (hu pt2) vu pu by @hannieehaee

N/T & N/T by @sluttyminghao

Seventeen as Displays of affection by @mangocustard16

Ot13/Poly

Sweet Nights by @wifeyoozi

N/T by @nonranghaes

Eggs, Bacons & Sausage Sandwich by @bitchlessdino

S.Coups

White t-shirt by @seungkw1

Caught in a Trap by @cheolism

We got Married! By @yvesette

Takes Two to Tango by  @gyuwoncheol

Jeonghan

08:25pm & “Pretty” by @wheeboo

Comfortable by @watanabebad

Rain and Kisses by @babyleostuff

Mr.styles by deactivated @/yveaart (if they have another account let me know so I can tag them)

N/T by @wonuvs / @c-oupsie

N/T by @hoshifighting

[7:45 pm] by @miupow

Joshua

 Distracted by @eomayas

Always for you (my heart beats) by @dokries

Junhui

warm junhui & N/T by @mountainficss

Gentle & Sound of the Season by @junkissed

Alt title: You are my Kingdom by @fairyhaos

N/T by @4kimji

virgin!jun x reader by @hoshifighting

Doctors Orders by @xuhuihuis

Shut Up by @onlymingyus

Hoshi

You. Always by @sailorrhansol

a tiger's dominion by @onlyseokmins

how to get rid of nightmares by @cheolism

Wonwoo

Badboy!Wonwoo pt.2 by @hannieehaee

1.36 am by @heennnngggggarae

17: "Enemies. Strictly enemies." by @twogyuu

Shy bf Wonwoo Head cannons by  @number1mingyustan

virgin!wonwoo x reader by @hoshifighting

Mafia boss! Wonwoo x reader headcanons by @dirtysvthoughts

No Rainbows by @rebeccarose0315

Woozi

Eyeliner 101 by @gorae

N/T by @brainddeadd

DK

[12:44] by @bbyobbyo

Angel Eyes by @monamipencil

N/T by @sluttywonwoo

7:20am by @addicsvt

Shut up (don’t) by @gyuswhore

[14:46] & [18:26] by @onlyseokmins

Mingyu

Pink Wrists by @gyuhao5

N/T by @seungcheorry

Overstimulation by @hoekyeom

N/T by @hannieehaee

N/T by @monamipencil

The8

Dancing in the Rain by @magisland

Museum Date by @sebastiannewai

I’ve got you by @xuhuihuis

N/T by @mountainficss

Virgin!minghao x reader by @hoshifighting

N/T by @hannieehaee

First Time by @ilwonuu

Seungkwan

N/T by @hoshifighting

first by @cheolism

N/T by @min4yu

Vernon

A Picture of You by @definitely-nota-fangirl

“stay in character” by @idyllic-ghost

10:18pm | hansol vernon chwe by @wheeboo

Dino

N/T by @hannieehaee

Sub!Chan who’s only comfort id your tits by @monamipencil

[dulcewrites]

Hmm well now that Disney went and showed their asses (again), I feel like I can say this without putting bad juju out/jinxing anything. I honestly think the writing was on the wall when amandla, who was arguably the most excited pre the show coming out, essentially went radio silent. Then my gut feeling was only compounded by them (Disney - Lucasfilms - whoever) clearly pushing Qimir/Manny as the lead… which is just not how the show works??

There are possible reasons for that. As for pushing Qimir, it’s clear he (and maybe Sol as well) ended up being breakout characters from the show. I can’t begrudge that - Qimir is interesting as hell. But we see him through the eyes of our leads - he wants an acolyte. There is no acolyte without Osha and Mae. Also why isn’t Manny being pushed in tandem with the actually lead of the show. As for Amandla not being invited to things like d23 or swcj (like Manny), I’ve seen people be like “well, they could just be taking a break considering all of the racist stuff that’s been hurled at them”. And like yeah maybe, but you’d think the people that employed them, would ya know say something about it. Especially considering that Amandla has been burdened with dealing with racist since like the age of 12.

But this is Disney and Star Wars and Lucasfilms where everyone outside of the main story gets treated like shit.

Now for the thing that I didn’t want to put out there before actual news of s2 - I’m sorry but I can’t help but feel like this is them pushing the black nonbinary lead out so they pluck parts of the acolyte for something else. Because while I don’t cruelty pass them (releasing this news on Manny’s birthday is vile), something about them dragging Manny out in particular to several events knowing they were canceling the show just doesn’t make sense? Nothing is set in stone obviously but now I’m seeing people talk about them highlighting Qimir and Darth Plagueis (literally who gives af about that hag) but gutting the story of anything else.

I hope no one takes this as me saying Manny hasn’t dealt with his fair share of shit. He’s been outspoken about how hard it is being a Filipino man in Hollywood. But at the end of the day, Qimir (and by extension Manny) being a mysterious double lightsaber wilding MALE sith gives him an element of protection Osha and Mae (and by virtue Amandla) don’t have as characters. Because notice how much of the ire with the shows casting is about the lead character(s) being black women.

Anyway this is just me rambling about something that’s been on my mind. Tbh I actually have hope that it won’t happen simply because I don’t see the creator/writers of the show being down with that. Also Manny has been vocal about supporting Amandla and not being able do this without them

[sanhaoche]

i'm in my white collar rewatch era for like the 293854 time and this show is THE show of all time. it's so good. what if i was a straight-laced FBI agent locked in mutual obsession with the dashing conman i put away. and i was the only man who could ever catch him and then he put himself entirely in my hands. and we became best friends and every day our lives depended on each other as we risked it all to give some rich guy a big fine. and he was like my son and my prize show pony and he showed me the flaws in the system i'd devoted my whole life to. and i fell in love with him and so did my beautiful wife to whom he is weirdly similar. and i trusted him with my life but also stayed up all night watching his GPS tracking dot move around New York in case he lied to me about going grocery shopping instead of robbing a museum. and every so often in moments of high tension i entered a fugue state where my body and mind were possessed by a higher force intent on using and explaining the random features on my car to my friends lovers and colleagues.

[honeyhotteoks]

okay so i literally have to tell yall about this because it’s inspiring fic but also too good to not recommend BUT as if i were living out my yeosang lessons in intimacy fantasies i stumbled on this ns/fw audio creator and ended up subbing to him on patreon……. and he literally does like relaxing just chatting audios like i imagined yeo in that fic im like omg did i dream this man into existence what the fuck????

BUT my point is that literally 2 yunho stand alone ideas got fully fleshed out today and im def going to have to link back to which audios and give him idea credit because he has such insanely good scenarios and such god tier dirty talk lines that i wish i had written like it’s insane

so when i get back from vacation im gonna have to get to WORK for kinktober 😌

anyways look up AugustInTheWinter on reddit r/gonewildaudio if you’re interested but genuinely like this is actual porn which i don’t normally talk about on here but LOL hey what are we all doing if not reading smut 🙂‍↕️

[gravitygemjj]

Does anyone know that one tumblr fic (at least I read it here) where it was a sugar baby! Toji x reader one shot 😭 reader broke up with him bc she overheard a phone call of his in the beginning and he takes it soooo bad. Pleaseeeee someone help me find it

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Hello!!

Soooo I've been thinking of my glorious days of writing back in 2020

And like. Yeah I write now too but nothing like what I did then right. Like I literally wrote nearly 250k words in 2020 alone according to my ao3 stats, and that's 5 times what I wrote last year.

So I was thinking back on those days as one does, and I think one of the things that helped me write as much as I did (apart from the endless free time) was this server I was in, where I'd share all the ideas I got and even received some from the other people there, and it was this very nice cesspool of creativity.

Anyways this is probably going to end in yet another dead server in my discord but atleast I can say I tried- I made a discord server for Malec writers!!

It's 2:00 am here and I'm immediately going to sleep after this, so don't mind if you join in and it's all crickets. If you do join, see you in like 8 hours <3

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: February

Chapter 2: The European plug situation

February prompt: Different

AN: Simon x Billy is a slow-burn m/m fic using the first-time-bi trope; turns NSFW (male/male, consensual) beginning tamely at Chapter 7 (July).

Meet my OTP: Simon Lewis, author of a best-selling paranormal book series, who keeps writing himself into his novels; and Billy Delaney, Irish handsome devil and nomadic man of mystery, who chefs internationally; and Italy. It’s sort of like a threesome. Simon x Billy is a slow-burn m/m fic using the first-time-bi trope. TW: References to the pain of being cheated on, bad language, bad humor, puns, Irish-isms, making fun of Americans, massive rewrites.

Read it all: All: on ao3 || Start: January Ch.1 || Next: March Ch.3

Chapter 2: The European plug situation

———/Simon/———

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This is not going the way I planned. I hate it when that happens. I was prepared.

Except for the European plug situation.

First off, my bad. My responsibility, my fault, my dead phone. On day 1, in another country that speaks a language I don’t parlo. Except when I’m having an internal scolding session. Apparently, io parlo Italiano just fine when I least need it. Like when I’m conducting a conversation behind my face. Behind my fucking face. (Whose lip I can feel curling to express distaste and low key angst.)

Ugh. They have to have cell phone chargers at the gift shop. I sigh. Looking around, it’s pretty obvious that this was originally some kind of old, schmancy vacation villa. Something tells me there’s no gift shop. It’s not that kind of hotel. Under my breath I whimper, “Fuck.”

“All right?” It’s Billy. I jump because why is he standing behind me?

I pivot and fix him with my very best suspicious glare. I went to theatre school. Ok, fine, summer camp. Point is, I give good face when needed. This is one of those times, one of those faces. “Jesus! How long have you been standing there, creeper? Were you listening in on my conversation?”

“You mean, the word ‘fuck?’ That was a pretty quiet, short conversation.” He’s grinning at me now.

“Did you go to theatre school?” I clarify, “Like, ever?”

Billy snorts. “No, man. Where’d that come from?”

He’s all good humor and it’s so totally inappropriate, I try willing him to stop. His eyebrow — oh my god it’s humongous wtf — one arches while the other frowns. How does he do that? At least the top half of his face isn’t grinning anymore. That’s progress.

“What?” he demands. “Why’re yeh lookin at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d like me to feck right off, leaving you alone to realize you’ve not got your room key.” He jangles it at me.

“That would have been the topper to a very shitty day.” Having stopped rolling (not molly - the other kind of rolling), my eyes pop out of my head. Because he has handed me the keys. “Whoa,” I say reverently. “These are sooo cool.”

I have to keep myself from fondling them. “Skeleton keys,” I whisper.

“Glad they cheered you up, man. You were havin a mope there for a while.”

My mope returns. Sort of an exasperation + anxiety x annoyance, to the power of a lingering ache in my stomach that I know from recent experience is a bone deep sadness.

“And now it’s back,” he says. “Whatever’s goin through your head can be moped over later. Mate, you’re in Italy. Yeh haven’t seemed to notice that yet.”

“Is there a gift shop?”

“Sorry, what?” he asks. Is he laughing at me?

“A gift shop.”

“This isn’t that kind of hotel, mate, sorry. Is there something I can help yeh with?”

So many things. “I just remembered the plugs are different here. I have arrived in Italy with a dead phone and no compatible plugs. I feel so betrayed.”

He laughs and his eyes twinkle. They twinkle.

At least he can tell when I’m joking. That’s a thing.

“Don’t worry, Seemon. I’ll get it sorted.” He gives a small salute and disappears into the bowels of the hotel.

Oh shit. “Wait! Billy! Billy?”

A woman appears in his place from some dimly lit doorway. She reminds me of my mother. But with fewer anxiety and worry wrinkles criss-crossing her face.

Damn. Ma would be so wounded by that thought, so I put it out of my mind.

“Signore?”

“Oh, um, si, io non parlo Italiano. I like to start all my sentences that way,” I say with an attempt at charm. Billy doesn’t get to own charming.

She gives me a strange look, and responds with the old classic “Okaaaay,” in heavily accented English. “Why do you stand in the doorway? With the baggage around you like goats.”

Apparently neither one of us is very funny in English. I feel so lost in translation.

“Come. Let me make you checked in, and we will settle you. Come in from the doorstep,” she says as she turns away with her neck craning. “Leo? Leo!”

A young man (boy?) — A young man-boy hurries out of what appears to be an office. She’s peppering him with instructions that I can’t understand. My suitcases are being pulled right out of my hands. Rude! (But helpful. I guess.) Don’t try that in New York.

While she futzes with her computer, I finally take a moment to notice the amazing carved wood segment of wall behind her. I wish I could see it in detail. Figure out what story it’s trying to tell. It has something to do with nudity. I try squinting, but that’s all I can tell from here.

A bright, clashing array of intricately painted tiles are framed throughout the room. Chaotic, yes. Neutral, no. We’ll go with chaotic good. It’s also delightful, which I’m so not in the mood for at the moment.

She tells me about the amenities, breakfast times, the famous restaurant, blah blah blah as she leads me up three flights of stairs, and down a long, narrow hallway with many doors — none of which are mine. I’m starting to lose my bearings, but it’s only one more flight of stairs, atop which she pauses to unlock a door. “It is good, Signore Laywees? You have the face of a dog who is whining.”

“Wow,” I say, taken aback. Taken-aback has now officially been added to my repertoire of faces. Officially.

“Did I say something in a way that is wrong?” she asks, with a worried look.

“I don’t know. You might have actually wanted to call me a whining dog.” I start to chuckle.

“Yes. Exactly. A whining dog. I remember for next time.”

I blink.

She nods, “Si certo. Certo. And I tell you that what is here is the finest suite at Hotel di Limoni is here.” She ushers me on to the top floor. “You look around, you. See that there are no other doors here to this floor. You are here alone.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I nod, thank her, “Grazie,” and close the door behind her.

———/-/———

My mood disappears instantly.

Oh my god I’m in Italy.

The room before me has pale yellow walls the color of butter imported from Irish cows. That’s specific and descriptive, Lewis, nice one. (I try to encourage the writer within, whenever I can.)

Source Right: Hotel La Tonnarella. I stayed there, but not in that room. I wasn’t trying to get in that much debt.

Everything is in shades of sea and sky blues, bright lemon yellow, and pale Irish butter, with more of the chaotic good tiles here and there working their delightful magic. The bed cover is also in pale Irish butter. I will sleep in pale Irish butter tonight. Oh yes, I will.

The overall effect is an airy room, full of light, that recedes into the background against one hell of a view.

Large french doors lining the exterior wall lead out to a massive deck. One that I and I alone can access. The doors have been thrown open, with sheer curtains rippling into the room. The breeze off the Mediterranean Sea is fresh and cool.

Oh my god. That’s the Mediterranean Sea!

Or Tyrrhenian. Whatever.

I watch as boats speed across my entire view, appearing and disappearing between the open doors. They leave their long white slashes behind them, literally left in their wake. From inside the room, they look like dashes, stuttering white lines in each window darting through the perfection of the blue Medi/Tyrrhenian Sea.

Waking up to this is going to be amazing. She would have loved it.

“Fuck her. She can’t have it.” It’s mine, and mine alone.

———/-/———

I acknowledge that I need to stop. Stop with the moping. Fuck Billy for trying to be friendly and helpful, the bastard. That charming Irishman is right and I temporarily hate him for it. But only hyperbolically.

I walk out onto my balcony and into the bright sun. I immediately decide that this is worthy of a sunburn, and shuck off my shirt.

Oof. I’ve just realized that my eyes are watering because that distinctive odor is coming from me.

One would think a shower after a sunbath would be the rational, intelligent option. Nah. Intelligence has fewer hit points than stacking a 24 hour odyssey of jet lag, rumpled hair, eau de pit, and a bad attitude. I’m winning today.

“Chin up, Simon. Chin up.” That was Ma’s pearl of wisdom for this trip. The sum total of her empathy. She didn’t even like What’ser Name. So where’s the sympathy? The empathy? Apparently empathy dims in direct proportion to the glamorousness of one’s vacation destination.

Maybe I can wash the mope off. And the headache. And the me.

Grabbing my stuff, I head for the bathroom and stop dead.

“Dove il bano!” I cry. ‘Bathroom.’ Feh! What an absolutely disgraceful excuse of a word to describe something as magnificent as this. Look at it. So majestic, while also being mindfully calming. Everything everywhere is blue, and I can’t tell the inside from the outside.

Turning on a shower should not be this difficult. I am a grown man, goddammit. I should be able to figure out how to turn on a freakin shower. I mean, I figured out what the extra toilet was for. Correction: Not a toilet but a bidet. Though I admit to having called the front desk about it. What can I say, Italians like to have fresh butts.

“You will not defeat me, vile mechanism of demonkind, I will not be deterred, oh no! I will have my shower, and dammit, it will be good.”

———/-/———

I am happy to report to you, oh devoted fictitious audience in my head, that it was good. It was the best shower of my life. Or at least one of the top five, as I may have better showers even than this magnificent one at some point in the future. At least I doubt I will ever smell so good again. It’s the bath stuff made from a “beneficial” mineral spring somewhere around here. I want to smell like this every day for the rest of my life.

But first. The sun.

I feel unencumbered, unrestrained. So I skip the swim trunks and just wear my towel onto my massive deck. Deck. Not dick. Deck. I do want to let it all hang out there, but then, I also want to disappear into this experience, and the specter of horrified travelers covering the eyes of their crying children is enough to reinforce my modesty. I don’t want my dick ruining anyone’s vacation, so I keep the towel on.

———/-/———

I’m drooling as I wake up on my side with my ass half hanging out. It’s not a good look.

Turns out I couldn’t care less. Four uninterrupted hours of sun, in the peace and quiet of the apocalyptic visions usually filling my head these days. Whenever I think about the book I owe my editor — Noooo! Duck! Run! Hide! — See? I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make me.

And yet I have already double-crossed myself because I’m thinking about it anyway. Yesterday I was still slogging away at Book Four’s first chapter, and hating every single word I wrote. It was a whole pile of nothing. Less than nothing. It was tripe. So I gave up and rashly trashed it, deleting the offending text while I waited to board my flight.

All of it. It’s gone. And that’s a good thing, because every turn of phrase I had managed to wrest from my uninspired noggin just failed like a lead weight. Total fail. I’m used to having a tiny, yet enthusiastic filmmaker living inside my creativity. He’s really good at pulling forth the sweeping torrent of imagery I see like a movie in my head when I’m on a roll. (Again, not that kind of rolling.) But now? I can only manage six or so paragraphs at a time, and hatefully hate every one of them. “Whyyyyyyyy?” I ask the sky.

So here’s what I know: Half my characters will eventually be about to die unless Simon saves them. With the help of super-vamp Raphael and maybe a nymph or two. Looking up, I can see the islands they call the Syranusas, after the sirens who so callously call sailors to their deaths. So now I’m thinking maybe I’ll pull in some expendable mermaids, too. I dunno.

It all just sounds so played out. At least to my eyes. Like, I’m writing another war, with all the same characters, having the same powers, and using them all the same way, to rescue the same loved ones + world from evil the same way. Except I’ve stuck them all on the Mediterranean and added a bunch of mermaids. What’s next? Introduce zombies into the series as if they actually exist — for the first time in book four? Holy hell, writer’s block sucks. God.

This is supposed to be the book that finally focuses on Simon as the main character. The fans just will not shut up about wanting one. I groan. And not in a sexy way. I mean, I know I should be flattered that they like the whole twisty ‘he’s me’ thing, but how do I write a whole book about a character I based on me? Isn’t that kind of self-serving? Cringe?

I am such a dick. Only I would write myself into a book.

My eye-rolls are practically deafening at the mere thought of it. A whole book about me who is not me. And I have only me to blame. (Other me.)

———/-/———

Read More: All on ao3 || Start: January Ch.1 || Next: March Ch.3

[tscclace]

Becoming Jonathan AO3 Link

First two chapters posted

Summary:

After being stabbed by the sword full of heavenly fire, Sebastian Morgenstern had just enough of the man he was supposed to be still buried inside. Just enough to survive the demon blood being burned out of him. Newly filled with emotions he had never experienced in his life, the Shadowhunter must deal with the events that have occurred and the Clave that is set on punishing the man responsible for all of the attacks across the world. Sebastian Morgenstern had been raised to handle anything thrown his way, but can he handle all of this as Jonathan Fairchild?

[yuyulecroustibat]

Super Mario Bros Fic Masterpost

Take Me Instead

General Audience | Chapters 5/? | Wordcount:  8,774 Bowser threats again Princess Peach to marry him and to destroy her kingdom too. As they try to find a plan to stop him, Mario comes up with a not-so-good idea. But as Mario's plan continue, not everything goes in a good way and Princess Peach and Luigi need to find another plan. Will Luigi found a way to express his love for the King of Koopas even if Bowser might not like him back?

[terresdebrume]

Achievement of the weekend: finished transcribing the first chapter of my latest Immortal Instruments fic ^^

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

When boredom strikes, you make your faves in an angsty and cutsie picrew ✨

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/551533