#This is the first time I've written them in months so sorry if it sucked!
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ckret2 · 4 months ago
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Chapter 62* of the first day of the rest of human Bill Cipher's life—he's back in the Mystery Shack but whether or not he's a prisoner anymore is up in the air, he's proven he knows how to escape, and the Pines have proven they don't want to execute him anymore. For now. How's he gonna celebrate?
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With back pain! That's what you get from half a week of running around in the woods ignoring all your body's pain signals.
But at least it can't get worse.
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This chapter is book compatible but book spoiler free! The fic won't remain spoiler free, but while I figure out how to incorporate the new info in the fic, we're proceeding with pre-written chapters unaltered.
[*you may notice chapter 61 is missing! This plot was done sooner, so I'll be posting chapter 61 sometime after 64. It's not chronological so you're not missing anything!]
####
Soos was awakened by Melody as she thrashed and sucked in a gasp like a scream. Groggily, Soos said, "Babe? You okay?"
She rolled over, grabbing for his arms with trembling hands. "Soos—"
"I've got you." He half sat up with a sleepy groan and pulled Melody into his embrace. She pressed her face into his chest with a sigh. As he stroked her hair, her breathing slowly steadied out again.
"M'good," Melody said. "Sorry I woke you."
"Don't worry about it, babe. Always happy to cuddle." He yawned. "Sleep paralysis again?"
"Yeah," Melody sighed.
For as long as Melody could remember, she'd had sleep paralysis nightmares: nights where she'd wake up and find she was unable to move any part of her body but her eyes, and a monster escaped from her worst dreams was lurking in the room. Shadowy figures with glowing eyes, twisted demonic representations of her least favorite teachers, hunched hags with claws extending out of tattered robes—for three years, it had looked like a werewolf-mummy from an old horror movie that terrified her as a child—filling the doorway, or silhouetted in the window, or standing perfectly straight in the corner with neck tilted sideways as though it were broken, or staring hungrily down at her from the ceiling with bulging eyes, or crawling up from the foot of the bed and over her body to grab her throat.
The first time she spent the night with Soos, she'd warned him about her sleep paralysis; but for the past year, she'd never had a nightmare while sleeping in the Mystery Shack. She'd even been completely free of them for several months—something subconsciously reassuring about having her fiancé next to her, probably—until their unwelcome house guest moved in and she'd gone back to sleeping at her aunt's house in town.
And now she was even having them in the shack.
"This is the third time in less than a month," Soos asked. "Same one as usual?"
"Mhm."
"I couldn't protect you this time," Soos said mournfully. "I have failed you as your knight in shining armor... Maybe I need shining armor. Do you think they make like, shiny silver spandex pajamas?"
Melody laughed. "Soos, you goofball." She hugged him tighter. "It's fine. I always get sleep paralysis more when I'm stressed. And the situation in the shack's been... well..."
"Yeah," Soos sighed. "I know." She didn't need to tell him what part of "the situation" was stressing her out.
For the past year, ever since Weirdmageddon—which she'd been just unlucky enough to catch live on a weekend trip to visit Soos—her sleep paralysis demon had looked like Bill Cipher.
She'd told Soos this last fall, and in a panic he'd told her that Bill was a dream-invading demon; and for a moment they'd feared this meant Bill had found a way back. But no—according to Soos, Bill was a real chatterbox, and he was always doing something if he invaded your dreams. The thing Melody saw acted like any of her other nightmares: creepy. Standing on too-long legs at the end of the bed; giving off sickly yellow light she could see through her eyelids; staring at her with one bloodshot eye; crawling onto her chest with claws like gnarled black branches. It was just an unlucky coincidence that the real Bill had been a dream demon, and just an unlucky coincidence that being petrified by an eye-bat felt so much like sleep paralysis.
Ironically, now she had confirmation that her nightmares didn't mean Bill was back—because, when Bill did come back, her nightmares hadn't changed.
"My subconscious just hasn't caught up to the fact that you guys finally executed him," Melody said, getting comfortable to go back to sleep. "The good news is, the real Bill's gone and we never need to worry about that again."
"Oh," Soos said. "Um. By the way. The craziest thing happened at like one in the morning."
####
Bill was creeping upstairs to bed when he heard Melody shout, "He's WHAT?!"
He had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out giggling.
####
Bill was getting better at using his other eyes in his sleep, even when he hadn't chemically connected himself to them. His range wasn't very far yet. From inside the shack, all he could feel was his hoodie, his new necklace, a handful of drawings Mabel had done, and four blankets of his zodiac wheel: two in the kids' room, one in Soos's, and one in the dark.
Around eight in the morning, Mabel was still sleeping comfortably and Dipper was staring at the ceiling worrying; all was right with the world. He only glanced into Soos's room long enough to overhear Melody, "—I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad about the whole situation. I mean, I'll adjust, but still—" before moving on, uninterested in listening to a cutesy couple reassuring each other.
The fourth blanket was in some tight dark container—leather?—but he could hear a muffled voice: "If Bill's staying here on a long term basis, we need to renegotiate... almost everything about his captivity." That was Ford. It was gratifying to know that even when Bill was asleep, the whole household was thinking about him.
"Yeah, you're right," Stan sighed. "We can't just let him keep sleeping on a couple of cushions. We haven't been able to use that couch all summer." There was the sound of a zipper and the lid over the zodiac blanket swung up, revealing Stan standing above.
Ford said, "And trying to get him to sleep in the living room is a lost cause. He says he needs to sleep in a room where he can see the stars."
A guilty look crossed Stan's face. "Right. That's probably it." He pushed the zodiac blanket aside, pulled out a t-shirt, and shut the suitcase again. "We could get—I don't know—an inflatable mattress or something..."
"There's an unused mattress in the basement, isn't there? Maybe we could haul it up." (It wasn't a terribly comfortable mattress. But Bill supposed they only wanted to give him the bare minimum so they could get their precious couch cushions back.)
"I'll ask Soos about it," Stan said. "Well, let's get this over with."
That was Bill's cue to wake up. He'd like to look alert when they came for him. Negotiations ought to go in his favor; he could still threaten suicide if their terms felt too restrictive—or even just threaten to escape, he could do that now if he didn't like their terms!—but they couldn't threaten to kill him anymore. He wondered if he could get phone privileges...
He opened his eyes. He was laying on his left side, the window at his back. He tried to push himself upright.
Sharp pain exploded in the left side of his back. He gasped, collapsing on his side. The pain clawed over his left shoulder, inside his arm, up his neck, across to his right shoulder blade, down nearly to his hips. His entire body tensed around the pain.
He let out a weak, wheezy laugh. (He could feel his ribcage contracting as he exhaled.) That was truly exquisite pain.
All right. He shouldn't be surprised by this. He'd spent four of the last five days tromping through forests and mountains and three of the last five nights getting next to no sleep, including two nights in a thin sleeping bag. The last couple of days, he'd hiked all over creation carrying two fully-loaded backpacks, in a body that had gotten next to no exercise for the past month and probably hadn't been designed for hiking in the first place. And on top of all that, first he'd thought the Axolotl was coming to arrest him and then that the Pines were going to kill him—and human bodies handled emotional stress very poorly. Not to mention whatever the heck had happened when three-fourths of his body had simply stopped working for an hour.
He'd ached for days. He'd simply kept pushing himself through it all, because this stupid weak human body didn't get the luxury of rest when Bill's life and death were on the line. 
Apparently, that was all the pushing it could take. Now he felt like someone had shoved a knife in his back and twisted the muscles up around the blade like twirling a forkful of spaghetti. (Oh, that sounded delicious. One more brilliant idea to implement when he restarted Weirdmageddon: spinal muscle spaghetti. Freshly grated parmesan, maybe a little pesto.)
It was difficult even to breathe—that little motion was enough to make his back muscles squeal in pain. He had to carefully move his hips and right arm in tiny motions to let him roll onto his back while roiling up his pained muscles as little as possible; and then he just as carefully rolled onto his right side, his back to the room. The human body was such a fascinatingly complex interconnected thing, crisscrossed with puppet strings that all tugged each other; no matter what part of his body he moved, somehow it managed to yank on something in his upper left back. He curled his left arm against his chest and squeezed his elbow with his right arm, trying to find a way to tense the rest of his body that reduced the tension on his back.
He heard the door to Mabel and Dipper's room open. For lack of a better plan, he shut his eyes and tried to look natural as they passed him on the way to the stairs. Like heck was he about to let the kids know he was in pain, much less ask them for help. He doubted he was severely injured—he combed through his knowledge of human anatomy—probably just a muscle spasm. It would reduce in a few hours; and then he could make his way downstairs and figure out how to convince someone to get him an ice pack out of the freezer without betraying that anything was wrong. For now, he just had to lay down, try to find a position that didn't stab into his revolting muscles, and wait...
Downstairs, Stan bellowed, "Hey, demon! Get down here!"
Right. What were the odds Bill could make it downstairs and fake that he wasn't in agonizing pain in front of the Pines family? Could he suppress those winces convincingly? He tried to sit up.
And immediately fell to his side again with a gasp. In spite of his breathtakingly self-destructive willpower, he physically couldn't force himself to sit upright. Why not! What was the point?! He didn't mind the pain half as much as his body did, and he thought he should be the one in control here!
Stan hollered, "BILL!"
His voice cracked, "Later!" Ugh. Good thing he'd gotten in his dramatic return last night. He suspected that was the last time he'd look cool for a while.
####
Soos was just emerging from the bedroom when he heard Stan shouting, "I said get down here, Cipher!"
There was a long pause before the reply came from upstairs: "Can't!"
"I WASN'T ASKING!"
"ME NEITHER."
Something was up. Bill always talked a little too hard—not always loud, but hard—as though he were trying to carry on a regular conversation over a strong wind; but Soos thought something about his voice seemed even more forced today. Almost strained.
Soos heard Stan and Ford talking quietly as they headed up the stairs—"...sounds off, do you think he's injured?" "I can't imagine how, if he'd been up this morning we would have heard him banging around..."—and he followed them up.
At the top of the stairs, Stan demanded, "Well? What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong with me." Bill was curled up on his usual cushion bed. He didn't even turn to look at them. "Just—let me sleep in. Am I not allowed to sleep in? It's not like I have a job." Now that he wasn't straining to shout, his voice sounded even more pained—barely more than a tight whisper.
"All right, fine. Nothing's wrong with you," Ford said. "Then what's wrong with your body?"
Bill chuckled weakly in defeat. "Back's in too much agony to do its job, so I'm giving it the day off."
"Oh, dude," Soos said sympathetically. "Back pain is the worst. One time, I messed up my back after carrying a bunch of boxes between the museum and the attic? Yeah, it was pretty bad for like, a day. I was kinda crying, because it hurt, but also because I had to miss work, and I felt awful about it—but then I remembered the Mystery Shack was closed that day, and I wasn't missing work. So I went to sleep."
Stan and Ford stared expectantly at Soos.
"That's it, that's my whole anecdote."
"Riveting," Bill said flatly. "Did you invite everyone up here to stare at me?" With great difficulty, he pulled his bedsheet up over his head, leaving only a pile of golden curls visible. "Anyway. I'd love to come downstairs—really, I'm famished—buuut my back won't cooperate, and I can't tell you how furious I am about laying on the ground like an idiot at the feet of three of my captors, so if. you. all. would. leave. Please." The "please" came out sounding like the final word of a hex.
Soos winced. Oh, yeah, he supposed being stuck on the floor in front of a bunch of guys you didn't like was pretty embarrassing. He looked toward the stairs and shifted his feet, waiting for the Stans to make a move that direction.
But instead they huddled up to discuss. Stan muttered, "Think he's faking?"
"Why would he?" Soos asked.
Ford murmured, "Soos is right—unless he's that desperate to sleep in, I can't think of a reason he'd lie. He had some... muscular issues after the eclipse—and who knows what he's been up to the last couple of days..." Ford raised his voice, "This isn't the same thing as after the eclipse—?"
"No, just garden variety human back pain," Bill said quickly. "I assume it's garden variety. I've never had back pain before."
"Can you tell what muscles it is?"
"Ugh." Bill let out a shaky sigh. "Pain's... generalized, but... top suspect is the latissimus dorsi. Next guess is the erector spinae group."
"What," Stan said.
Ford nodded like he knew what Bill was talking about. Which he probably did, Soos figured. Doctor and all. "Probably not a severe injury, then. It likely just needs rest—"
Irritably, Bill snapped, "Like I said."
"Great," Stan said. "Then I don't care anymore." He headed downstairs. "Lemme know when the demon can walk again."
Soos and Ford exchanged an awkward look, silently debating whether to follow suite. Ford turned to Bill and cleared his throat. "What do you want for breakfast."
Bill groaned and muttered, "Probably can't use utensils. Whatever, just—bacon and toast and the strongest painkillers in the house."
"All right." Ford headed downstairs.
That struck Soos as inadequate. Trailing after Ford, he said, "Dude, Bill's in so much pain he can't even sit up. Shouldn't we offer to call a doctor or something?"
Ford said, "Knowing Bill, he'd rather die."
Soos considered that. "I'm gonna offer it anyway." He backtracked enough to get his head above the attic floor. "Hey Bill, do you want us to call a doctor or something?"
"I'd rather die."
"Haha, okay! Welp, glad I checked."
But as he headed down to the kitchen, something about the situation still bothered Soos.
Ford was already laying out bacon in a frying pan. "Soos, could you get the painkillers?" he asked. "We should probably give him individual pills rather than the whole bottle. When he got his hands on the cold medicine, he used it to get crossfaded with cider and to drug a wild animal."
Soos winced. Ouch, was that the cold medicine he'd given Bill? (He wondered when Ford had learned the phrase "crossfaded.") 
"Hey... didn't Bill say he was famished?" Soos asked. "Is it kinda weird he's just asking for bacon and toast?"
It took Ford a long moment to answer. He didn't look up from the bacon. "I... suppose he's too proud to ask for anything more complicated."
"Why wait for him to ask, then? Just make him some more stuff anyway?"
Ford shook his head. "He'd be insulted."
Ford had been right about Bill's reactions so far, but— "Okay, fine. Then I'll bring it upstairs and insult him. He'll be insulted and fed. What do you think he'll eat?"
Ford glanced at Soos. Soos thought the look was grateful.
####
Apparently, Bill's age looked a little bit different to everybody. Soos had first found out when Abuelita mentioned that Bill looked like one of those ladies she saw at bingo night who were clearly 60-something, but had had a little too much work done—makeup, facial injections, hair dye. The sort who never really looked younger, but rather just gave off the impression that they were terrified of looking older.
So Soos had asked Mabel, and she said that Bill looked like he was in his mid-20s—about Soos's age, maybe a little older. He'd asked Dipper, and Dipper said he had no idea—to him, Bill never really looked quite convincingly human, more like an alien wearing a human rubber mask—but if he had to take a guess at the age the rubber mask was supposed to portray... like, middle-age-ish? Parent-middle-age-ish? Maybe 40-something? 40-something. Melody had had a hard time as well, but eventually settled on early 30s—the age you imagined a snotty Silicon Valley startup CEO would be.
Which was all very fascinating to Soos.
Because to him, Bill looked eighteen. Exactly eighteen.
At 23, Soos was just reaching the age where 18-year-olds stopped looking like peers and started looking like babies. Eighteen was "you know this is what an adult looks like, but it takes you by surprise almost every time" age. Eighteen was "you wouldn't be surprised to see this face behind a counter working as a barista, but you'd be a little alarmed if you overheard them talking about paying rent" age. Eighteen was "they can be all alone in the world making their own decisions and it's technically okay, but if they are, then someone failed them" age.
To him, Bill looked like somebody who'd been flung callously out into the world before his time—unprepared, overwhelmed, and alone.
Soos knew Bill was older than the whole universe or whatever. He knew that Bill was the guy who'd tried to take over the Earth. But he wasn't that guy now. Look at him. He shouldn't have been worried about imprisonment or world domination or getting executed. He should have been making pocket change working at the mall food court over summer break and playing Dancy Pants Revolution at the arcade with other recent high school grads and making puppy eyes at all the small business owners in town until somebody offered him a minimum-wage full-time job and sneaking into the movie theater on Saturday mornings.
Soos was finding it more and more impossible to see Bill as the enemy, much less as some incomprehensible alien. He had cousins who looked like Bill. Slap a pair of sunglasses over his freaky eyes and try to ignore that his body proportions were just a bit unnatural, and he could blend right into a Ramirez family portrait. Just another post-high-school pre-college kid in the middle of the transition from skinny teen to fat adult that most Ramirez women went through by 30. His neon yellow hair would fit right in beside Reggie's little sister's current neon red dye job.
From the moment Bill temporally poofed into the Mystery Shack on June 1 with a Pony Heist bedsheet toga and an ineffective vengeance plot, he'd been going through the physical and emotional wringer. Soos got it, of course Bill was having a bad time, he was a prisoner because he was a danger to the whole universe. And being human for the first time was probably tough. One time Soos was stuck in a pig's body and that was rough, and it was only for one day and at least Soos had still been a mammal. It was probably inevitable that Bill was having a bad time.
But it bothered Soos, seeing somebody in his house who was so miserable. And it bothered him that no one else seemed very bothered.
He loved the Pines family—he'd reverse-adopted Stan as his dad and he'd give his life for any one of them—but part of him had to wonder whether they'd be more bothered by witnessing the hell Bill was going through if he looked like he could be part of their family.
####
"Hey dawg!" Soos hefted up the tray as he entered the attic. "Breakfast!"
Bill was still buried under his bedsheet. "Stanford couldn't be bothered to come up himself?"
"I wanted to bring it!"
Bill grumbled something inaudible. He'd made no secret of the fact that he disdained Soos, although Soos had no idea why. When a human looked down on Soos, he had a couple guesses; but he didn't know what an alien could judge him for. Was it the British dog man nightmare? Was Bill insulted by Soos's 10th grade geometry grades?
But Bill didn't protest, so Soos scooted around his makeshift bed to set the tray down on the floor in front of him. "Uh... feel better, dude. Hey, you know—if sleeping on the floor is hurting your back, the fold-out sofa in the living room is still totally available. Just, in case you wanna—"
"Not interested," Bill said. "Buzz off, Questiony."
"Okay." He'd offered.
Soos was almost back to the stairs when Bill said, "What is all this stuff?"
"It's breakfast!" The tray included bacon, a toasted sandwich, a drink with one of those straw that bent in the middle so Bill didn't have to sit up all the way up to drink it, a pre-opened chip bag, and a pre-opened pill bottle. (Soos had elected to ignore Ford's advice that they mete out painkillers one pill at a time. If they gave Bill individual pills, he'd have to ask for more when they wore off, and Soos suspected he'd rather choose to suffer.)
"I didn't ask for this."
"Well, I thought you might want some other stuff."
"I don't."
Surprise! Bill was insulted. Soos didn't understand how he could be insulted by some extra food for breakfast—he's still gotten his bacon and toast—but all right, fine, Soos had been warned. "Oh, okay. Just don't eat anything you don't want."
Bill grunted in response.
As Soos started down the stairs, Bill said, "Hey, Questiony. If Mabel asks where I am, just tell her I woke up for breakfast then decided to sleep in."
Aww, he didn't want her to worry. "What about if Dipper asks?"
"Tell him to mind his own business."
"Heh. You got it, dude." Soos headed back to the kitchen—still bothered.
####
Yesterday, Soos and Melody had made plans to take advantage of the Mystery Shack being closed for the day to make breakfast together, the way they used to during the off season. But today, Melody had said that, now that Bill was alive again, she wasn't comfortable eating in the shack, and she'd gone to her aunt's house. She'd said she wasn't mad at Soos, and he believed her—he'd played no part in Bill's continued survival—but still. It kinda felt like she was mad at Soos.
So Soos was eating brunch by himself in the kitchen when Bill gingerly eased himself downstairs—leaning to one side, wincing in pain, one eye squeezed shut, and supporting himself on his broken umbrella; but, mobile again. He ducked into the living room where Stan and Ford were watching TV and, from what Soos had overheard, planning what to do with the rest of their summer. "Okay, I'm here," Bill said. "Negotiations?"
"Hey—no weapons," Stan said. "Hand over the umbrella."
"What! You let me keep it last night."
"Yeah, when it was raining and we were tired. I don't see any rain inside the house."
"Hey, Mr. Pines?" Soos leaned out of the kitchen. "Bill was just using the umbrella to walk? Maybe we could let him keep this one?"
Bill shot Soos a dirty look, face flushed. (What was that for!)
Stan paused, and turned to Ford for a verdict. Ford pressed his lips together, looked away, and muttered, "Well, if he's using it for legitimate purposes."
Bill stared at Ford, brows raised in amazement. "Wait, wait—I'm allowed to have it now?"
"Yes?" Ford said. "I mean—If you're using it to walk, why wouldn't you be?"
"Why wouldn't I—?!" Bill laughed in disbelief. "'No weapons, Bill!' 'No weapons, Bill!' Ev-ry sin-gle time! No canes, no umbrellas, no brooms, no baseball bats, no GOLF CLUBS, no STICKS, no CURTAIN RODS—"
"Oh come on!" Stan spread his hands defensively. "Some of those can obviously be used as weapons—!"
"I wouldn't have needed a baseball bat if you hadn't already taken my cane!"
"You tried to brain Soos with a cane on your first day."
Bill shot another dirty look at Soos.
Soos said apologetically, "That did objectively happen."
Bill rolled his open eye and glowered at Stan again. "What, so because of that I'm not allowed to walk?"
"I," Stan said. "That." He turned to Ford again for help.
Ford said, "If we'd known you needed a cane—"
"I fall down the stairs twice a day!"
"Well," Ford said.
"You use me falling to tell when I'm up in the morning!"
"Ah."
"Did it not occur to you! That this was a problem! That I was trying to solve!"
"I see your point."
Why didn't he just say something, Soos wondered; followed by, what, the guy who refused to explain why he was stuck laying on the floor until we dragged it out of him?
"Well, you've got an umbrella now," Stan said. "Happy?"
"Elated," Bill said sourly. He perched on the armrest of the sofa, visibly wincing as he crossed his legs and found the right position to balance himself. (Soos noted that, since Stan and Ford were already occupying both armchairs and the sofa's seat cushions were in the attic, Bill didn't have any cushioned place to sit. With back pain, no less.) "Let's get this over with."
The crux of the negotiations was that, when Bill and the Pines had initially agreed on the terms of his imprisonment, they'd only been meant to be sufficient enough to last until either the Pines figured out how to kill him or Bill figured out how to escape. Now that both had happened and it looked like Bill would be staying here longer than planned, they supposed they needed something more sustainable.
Bill requested door rights back. Stan and Ford nixed that immediately; they didn't trust him with that kind of freedom.
"Fine, then at least let me go outside. I want fresh air, blue skies, and a social life! I'm an extrovert, I'm losing even more of my mind in here."
Stan and Ford exchanged a look. "Yeah," Stan said grudgingly. "He's more or less in solitary in here. Even for him, that's harsh." (A ghost of a triumphant smirk flickered across Bill's face and disappeared.)
Ford considered that with an unconvinced grimace; but he said, "I suppose... you can make occasional trips outside the shack for... mental health purposes. Under adequate supervision."
"Finally," Bill sighed. "So what's 'adequate' supervision?"
That was where negotiations broke down. Stan and Ford did not think that Mabel alone was adequate supervision for the villainous Bill Cipher, and Wendy was just barely sufficient for Rainbow Club nights but he couldn't be trusted alone with her outside that; Bill, on the other hand, objected strenuously to the suggestion that he could only go outside with somebody who hated and/or distrusted him—which described everyone in the shack except Wendy and Mabel—because that would just make going outside miserable.
They couldn't agree on what kinds of things Bill would be allowed to do, either. They didn't like the idea of him hanging out with Rainbow Club members outside of club meetings, or going with Abuelita to bingo, or visiting a bar in town—all of those would give him too many opportunities to manipulate people with minimal oversight.
"Okay," Bill said irritably, "so are there any social activities I am allowed to participate in! Since it sounds like socialization itself is off limits—!"
Soos decided to make himself scarce before things got any more heated. Maybe he'd go upstairs to retrieve the tray from breakfast.
####
The bacon and drink had been consumed; the bendy straw had been tied in a double loop; the pill bottle was alarmingly light; the sandwich had been picked at, before Bill elected to eat the toast around it and leave the filling behind on the plate; and the potato chip bag had been flung across the room, crushed chips left in its wake, in some sort of protest against receiving unasked-for food. Okay. So Bill was really insulted, then.
Eh, Soos should probably clean up here anyway. He took pride in keeping the Mystery Shack clean, but he hadn't had a chance to thoroughly clean the attic since Bill and the kids moved in for the summer. And it looked like the projectile potato chips weren't the only junk food trash that had accumulated. He saw empty chip bags, candy wrappers, peanut butter jars, jerky packets, cider cans... a lot of cider cans...
He went downstairs, got a broom, a trash bag, and a vacuum, and got to work.
As Soos worked his way across the floor sucking up potato chips, he quietly sang to himself, "Am I cleanin'? Girl, I'm cleanin'. I vacuum in the attic. 'Are you cleanin'?' Yeah, I'm cleanin'. I vacuum in the..." He picked up the couch cushions to vacuum under them—he still wondered why Bill preferred to sleep on the cushions rather than the sofa bed downstairs. Maybe he got scared of the dark and liked to sleep by a window? That would make sense. Since Bill used to glow when he was a triangle, he probably wasn't used to the dark. Or maybe he just thought the attic was cooler than the living room.
Soos almost set the cushions back on the ground, noticed bloodstains on one, and froze. He'd seen Bill with a lot of little injuries, but had he seen any cuts that big? The blood didn't look fresh. They'd at least been here long enough for Bill to hide them on the underside of the cushion. Soos looked around wildly for any clues about how or why or when, uneasily decided that since they were dry and Bill wasn't dead he didn't need to worry about it, and pulled out the upholstery attachment to give the stain a halfhearted vacuuming before putting the cushions back in place. What the heck was happening in this attic?
Soos scooped up the mostly yellow and black clothes sitting at the foot of the cushion-bed—they were outside Bill's cardboard box "dresser," he figured that meant they were dirty—wrapped them in Bill's Pony Heist sheet, and tossed the bundle toward the staircase. They flew down to the landing without hitting the stairs. "Yes! Three points! No net!" Soos pumped his fist.
He cleaned the window seat's cushion with the upholstery attachment, picked it up to clean underneath—and the cushion was really heavy on one side. He felt that side of the cushion; there was something hard and brick-ish inside. He caught a flash of white along one edge. The cushion's stuffing was coming out of a tear in the seam. Soos reached inside.
His jaw dropped. "No way. How did he...?"
Soos had pulled out two stubby crayons and the long-lost Journal 4.
####
(If you got this far thank you for taking a break from the fandom-wide riots over the book in order to read my fic. (I'm assuming there's fandom-wide riots, I'm queuing this Monday night so that I don't have to worry about it for the rest of the week.) Anyway, I'd love to hear what y'all think about our first Soos-focused plot arc!
And as promised, now that the book's out, I'll be getting to work crossposting the fic to Ao3 soon-ish. I don't know when yet, since I'm writing to y'all from the past, but soon.)
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httpsserene · 9 months ago
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𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐬 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!) - 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜.
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𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. idiots in love. mild angst. fluff. happy ending. attempt at humor. plot with a side of porn. the timeline is mostly accurate. max verstappen is an oblivious idiot. daniel ricciardo is an obvious idiot. 5+1 things (in a way). the three musketeers: charles, pierre, and lando. light praise kink. light dom/sub undertones. mild orgasm delay/denial. 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 9.5k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo
𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: so....how's life been treating y'all while i disappeared for two months :) ? no, um, sorry for ghosting you guys; i know, i'm surprised that i didn't forget my login info. life started being life for a good amount of time and i got really sucked into school and work. aside from the boring everyday stuff, i've got an internship this summer (yay!), i'm pretty sure i have a bit of a mutual-crush with this boy in my morning lecture, and i've started playing final fantasy sixteen.
anyways, this is my longest work ever! and i'm dedicating it to one of my sweetest betas, bianca. you requested this long before my disappearing act in december, and i told you i was nearly finished with a 6k-word fic for your request. to make up for my unexplained absence, i rewrote the entire thing into a near ten-thousand word feel-good masterpiece.
i hope this fic is of good enough quality for all of you wonderful f1-stans to forgive me because, i'm back, and hopefuily here to stay lol. enjoy reading, loves < 3.
requested & written by/for @biancathecool
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milton keynes, red bull racing headquarters, pre-season 2023
daniel looks happy. max doesn’t know why that surprises him—maybe he’s projecting his emotions (his therapist says he does that quite often) onto the man. the surprise makes sense though, max thinks, as he watches the australian chatter away with the engineers, the largest toothy smile spread across his face like he never left red bull behind in 2018. if it were max who had gone through the mclaren bullshit along with not having a guaranteed seat for the upcoming 2023 season, and he had to settle for a third driver position: he would scourge the world with his fury.
but: it’s not max, it’s daniel. it’s daniel, who was warmly welcomed back into navy blue (papaya did not suit him), it’s daniel, who doesn’t snap at the marketing team when they ask how he’s “coping” with not being on the grid. it’s daniel, who becomes friends with checo easily. it’s daniel, who’s scheduled to fulfill the pr activities that the two red bull drivers refuse to complete. it’s daniel, who has clocked in insane hours in the sim and factory while max has been enjoying his off-season. 
it’s daniel, who hasn’t shown any signs of disappointment about not having a seat this year.
if he won’t show or admit it, max will. having a race weekend without daniel doesn’t feel right. max knows this, even though the season hasn’t started yet: he’s going to be miserable. it’s like when daniel left him the team. of course, max had pushed daniel away after he signed with renault. what was he supposed to do? react calmly with the emotional intelligence he didn’t have? max thought the man hated him when he didn’t tell him that he was leaving before the news was released. 
regardless, instead of the australian leaving, this time around he’s coming back, which max had originally believed was the best thing to ever happen. he’s not so sure of that anymore. daniel belongs in the car chasing him with the smell of burning rubber and petrol surrounding them. max doesn’t appreciate how the smell of race tracks has already disappeared from him. he could tell it was missing when daniel made a show of giving max the biggest hug as soon as he stepped foot in the factory.
maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness.
“max, kid,” christian waves a hand in front of max’s face with an unimpressed look, “did you hear a single thing i said or were you too distracted by the sight of daniel in red bull gear again?”
the tips of max’s ears redden, and he snaps his head away from where it was turned to watch daniel’s constant smile, to face his team principal. max doesn’t know what he was thinking; his crush is going nowhere.
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑.
taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35
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© httpsserene 2023
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k0ff1n · 2 months ago
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Even if
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Fellow honest x reader (not yuu)
Summary: random summer night with the two of you sharing feelings? Established relationship btw so he ain't rejecting no one eheheh. Fluff and slight angst I think? The most they do is kiss so it's sfw.
Notes: sorry if it sucks but it's been some months since I've written anything and english is isn't my first language, in any case enjoy! :D
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It was rare to see him so calm. The night was just like the past one, quiet and warm, that type of warmth that doesn't make it uncomfortable to wear a shirt but that at the same time still makes you want to drink something cold, because you know that if you drank tea it would get too hot and then that balance would be shattered. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings, then again this was the only time of the day where he could relax, even if a little, so why take it away from him.
The usual smell of smoke lingered in the air, a thin cloud making it a little harder to see him as clearly as you wanted. He never stopped smoking, since the first day you met he always had a cigar or cigarette between his fingers, it almost amazed you how his voice didn't change that much even after all these years of consuming them. Not that you could blame him, his life had never been easy on him and if he found peace in a piece of paper that tasted like nicotine then he could keep on smoking as much as he wanted, it would probably hurt him more if he stopped this habit than keep on smoking.
Gidel wasn't around, not that it surprised you, just like his brother he usually used the late evening for himself, even if he didn't smoke he still needed some time alone, just like everybody else.
You kept on staring at him, looking at him with too much love in your eyes, even if he wasn't a nice person, even if he didn't take care of himself as much as he took care of his brother, even if the shirt he was wearing was probably the same he wore the week before because, when you don't have time and money, every little thing counts and a new piece of clothing isn't in those calculations. He wasn't the best, and he knew it, he knew it since he was little because in a world like this he would have never been enough even if he kept on trying, even if he had enough magic to go to school, to make a name for himself, one associated with bravery, power... and not a sketchy place where he had to 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 to survive.
The cloud of smoke was now on you, staining your clothes with that smell that never wants to be washed of, that smell that's better than a perfume when associated with something nice, with 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 nice, and he was, to you. Not to the students, not to his boss, not to the people that he had to convince to come to a magic place just to be sold as puppets, but to 𝘺𝘰��.
To 𝘺𝘰𝘶 because 𝘺𝘰𝘶 never criticized his antics, because 𝘺𝘰𝘶 never complained if he didn't have the energy to keep everything tidy, because 𝘺𝘰𝘶 never mentioned his lack of knowledge because of the system that failed him.
To 𝘺𝘰𝘶 because he knew he loved you since the first time you met.
The yellow light of the nearby street lamp was the only thing making his figure visible to your eyes, a sight that never failed to make you smile, even if only internally sometimes.
"Doll, you are staring..."
He wasn't annoyed, even if his tone would make anyone think that, he wasn't and you knew it.
"Does it bother you?"
"...."
"You know it never does"
And there it was, that light smile he wore only when around you, one which took too much time to finally see, and now that you could you would never be bored by.
"Well that's good to know because I wasn't gonna stop anyway"
The sound of his laugh ringing in your ears was the only thing distracting you from the way his canines were shining thanks to what little moonlight reached the two of you. As much as you wanted to compliment him for every little thing about his appearance and personality it always felt as if he would take it as a joke and never believe you, despite how many times you said you loved him.
Well maybe there's a first time for everything... who knows.
"Love?"
"Mmmhh"
"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?"
The silence after that was almost deafening.
"If you say so"
Damn him and his non existent self esteem.
"I don't just 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰 I know so"
Even if your eyes were searching for his they could never meet, thanks to his brilliant idea of 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 every time you tried to have a heartfelt conversation.
At least deciding to sit on his lap made it easier to look at him, the only downside being the two shades of red adorning his face making it harder to see his freckles in the night.
"Hey"
"𝘏𝘦𝘺"
His voice sounded muffled, probably thanks to how much he was pressing his face in the palm of your hand, surely to try and keep on hiding himself.
"Love, look at me"
Slowly, too slowly, he decided that maybe looking at you wasn't so bad, despite how much his head told him not to. His ears were twitching, probably the only thing expressing how he was feeling seeing the situation.
"You okay?"
"𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭"
What he wanted to say was something along the lines of "of course now that you are in my arms" but it sounded too cheesy even for him.
"If you say so"
Yeah he sure was, considering how hard his hands were gripping your waist and how he began to hide his face in the crook of your neck.
"It's okay love, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺"
His grip on you tightening only meant one thing, he was feeling worse than usual. Slowly moving your hands up his back you finally reached the back of his head, fluffy hair the color of caramel now between your fingers, a hum of approval murmured near your ear while your fingertips begun to gently stroke his ears. You knew he liked it, it was one of the first things he told you when you begun seeing each other and, after so much time you couldn't count how many occasions ended this way.
Finally his hands started to loose that bruising grip that had you almost blocked in the same position for too much time to be considered comfortable, deciding to move them on your hips to help keeping you on his lap.
"Do you think that Gidel will come here soon?"
"Probably not, he's usually walking near the ferris wheel at this time, going back here would take more than twenty minutes"
"Good, more time for us"
"What do you mean by tha-"
Unfortunately for him his time to speak was cut short by your mouth on his, shutting him up completely. With a hand still on the back of his head he didn't have many options but to keep the same pace as yours. As much as he didn't have money to buy things like chapstick he still had pretty soft lips, a nice contrast to the sharp teeth behind them.
Pulling away was always the hardest part, the both of you unsure on who had to separate from the other first, resulting in a rather awkward series of random messy kisses near the lips but never perfectly on them because of the dizziness.
Damn the lack of oxygen.
Small fleeting pecks were now placed on his neck, slowly going back up to once again reach his face. Finally able to look in his eyes 𝘺𝘰𝘶 were now the one left speechless. He 𝘥𝘪𝘥 look as flushed as you thought, except for the smile that adorned his face. A genuine one, probably the most beautiful one you have ever seen him wear. He was stunning, he really was. Be it the messy hair, the freckled cheeks, the honey colored irises or, in this case, the small smile gracing his lips.
You probably ended up with the same expression because the next thing you knew was him looking a little worried and asking why did you look so happy.
"Why do you think uh?"
"If I knew I wouldn't have asked no?"
He was smirking, he knew what you were thinking but he wanted to hear it, he would never get tired of hearing you say it.
"I love you, 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴?"
And of course it was, it was as clear as day but he had to listen to you say it, he had to watch the way your lips moved while you said it because damn it, it was probably the most addicting thing he had ever come across.
"𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴"
His heartbeat was calmer now, it surely was easier to hear when you face was pressed against his chest, feeling him move even so slightly with every breath he took. The positions were reversed now, his hand on the back of your head, making sure that if you fell asleep you wouldn't hit it anywhere. His other arm was still around you, keeping you close, almost shielding you from any possible danger.
The night was still warm, summer still present even if now coming to a close. At this point you were the one covered in moonlight, a blanket on your skin making you glow in an almost ethereal light. If he didn't know any better he would think you weren't from this world, then again, maybe it wasn't that far fetched.
"Are you still awake?"
"Mmmh.."
"Nothing to worry about doll, just asking"
"𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰..."
Your voice was already laced with sleep, unable to form a complete sentence but luckily still able to process what he was saying.
"Do you remember the first time we met?"
"𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦.."
"That time I told you that one day I'd tell you a secret, the most important one... to me at least"
"𝘎𝘰 𝘰𝘯... 𝘐𝘮𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸"
"Sure sure but for how much of a secret it is you probably have already figured it out..."
Silence.
You were probably sleeping now.
"𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵... 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦"
You might be sleeping but even if you didn't hear his words just now he was sure you would be hearing them again when he'd finally find the courage to ask you to marry him... even if in his own way.
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Susceptible - Jack Delroy/Reader
Warnings: Fully clothed grinding, very slight dirty talk, very light exhibitionism in a sense, no use of Y/N, female-hinted reader because of skirt/makeup mentions but other than that there's no real gender mention.
Wordcount: 4950
Summary: You spent a small fortune getting a ticket to Carmichael Haig's show on the promise of his new act showing his audience something the world has never seen before, as well as the possible attendance of one Jack Delroy, but will two hours of bullshit be worth the risk?
Notes: There is SO MUCH BUILDUP I'm so sorry I'm so weak for worldbuilding and plot I swear the other one I have planned will be shorter OTL I have never written a reader before but I am a huge fan of them, especially the DDverse ones I've been binging oop, so I hope this is a good first attempt! It's been a few years since I've written anything like this and probably a good decade or so since I last posted anything, so here's hoping I post more in the upcoming future~ This is also completely unbetaed so if you see any mistakes please let me know <3 The Manhattan Center is also real but didn't fit my needs entirely so I mashed it together with the theatre I went to as a kid lol
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Carmichael Haig was back in town and you had no idea why you were here. 
He had left for what felt like both forever and not nearly long enough for a few months to do his tour, seeing his smug face everywhere you looked between both digital and paper news and making your distaste grow a little more each time. You had been fond of his trickery for a time, but his move from magic man to skeptic had sucked all the fun out of the act, his determination to not only find the real but humiliate the fakes way past annoying to straight up sickening to you by this point. Tonight’s show proved to be another big presentation of the latter you’d decided when it’d been announced officially, promoted by your favourite talk show host - and current celebrity crush - Jack Delroy; his smile was wide for the cameras but it didn’t reach his eyes, you could always tell between them by now and he did not seem to be as pleased as the two talked about it that night.
‘I’m going to show the world something they’ve never seen before,’ Carmichael had said, his usual smug look in place as he hammed it up for the cameras like he could really pull that off, Jack running with it like the patron saint of patience he had to be.
‘Big talk, you sure I can’t convince you to give our wonderful audience a taste tonight?’ he asked, the crowd cheering at the mere thought of getting to experience his new act an entire month early, but if there was even an iota of temptation within him to share he hid it perfectly. He waved the offer away to everyone’s disappointment, Jack pouting on everyone’s behalf and putting those big eyes on display as his own plea; the ratings, you imagined, would be wonderful for a segment like this when his show was already starting to slip down the line, but even that was no use.
‘You’ll all get a chance to see it on the 13th,’ he promised them as he turned to face the audience, the place and date scrolling across the bottom of the screen yet again, they’d been flashing it every single time it was mentioned to the point where you were sure you’d see it in your sleep tonight, rolling across the bottom half of your dream. ‘Or, those of you who’ve been able to get your tickets will, we’re selling out fast,’ he smirked with a tip of his glass, yet another thing that’d been brought up and hammered home; you’d gone to the Manhattan Center to check a couple days ago, just out of curiosity, the ticket price absolutely ridiculous to the point that you were convinced they’d never sell out, but now you guessed your distaste of him wasn’t as widespread as you’d secretly hoped.
Jack slapped his leg in mock disappointment, Carmichael looking back to him at the sound. ‘Guess you’ll have to tell me all about it the next time you’re back in town, I had asked Gus to pick one up for me but it seems he missed that call,’ he joked, Gus’ surprise at the blame of his absence being placed on him getting a big laugh as his face fell and he tried to explain himself. 
Carmichael placed an understanding hand on Jack’s shoulder and leaned in closer, the other man leaning in in return as if to receive some kind of secret. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing my date canceled on me,’ he retorted, and when he pulled his hand back he revealed a ticket, Jack’s eyes going wide as he accepted the gift with a big smile, pointing to it before shaking Carmichael’s hand with a thanks.
Ah, so that was why you were here again.
You knew you’d never be able to get a seat on Night Owls because the thought of Jack seeing you in the crowd made you blush all the way to your shoulders, even on your bravest of nights you hadn’t been able to even call and see if there were any tickets left, but to maybe share an audience with him? To sit in the same room as him where you could steal glances if you were able to find him, with no risk whatsoever of him catching the way your eyes lit up when you looked at that handsome face, that dangerously attractive body? That was doable. 
It had cost an arm and a leg to convince that scalper to hand over one of the tickets he was parading around outside the Center, but it was worth it as you stepped inside, your heart racing because, unless he wanted to risk the aftermath of Carmichael calling him out for not going, he was here; somewhere in this building was the man you’d been dreaming about since his debut a few years ago, the one you watched nearly every night without fail just for that hour where he looked at you, talked to you, noticed you even if it was through a camera, and that was all you’d needed until tonight.
You’d gotten a pretty shitty seat despite the price but you didn’t mind, it actually worked out for you considering you weren’t actually there to see the show but to look for someone in the seats in front of you, and you hoped that you’d be able to spot him from where you were in the far back corner. As long as he wasn’t, say, the exact opposite of you then you probably stood a chance of at least a glance, since his ticket came from Carmichael himself you guessed that it was probably close to the front if not front row center just to mess with him and prove that he’d come, and you felt all the hair rise on your arms and neck when Carmichael walked on stage early to very loudly greet someone who’d just walked in.
There he was, leaving his seat to meet the other man in the middle, and he was so much further than you expected but it was still him, big smile in place, hair perfectly combed, his crisp suit being wrinkled by Carmichael’s hands as he gave him a showy hug, and he was beautiful. You froze in the middle of the row, unable to finish the walk as your eyes stayed on him, the people trying to get by you not as starstruck as they attempted to squeeze past when you ignored their presence.
‘Sorry,’ you murmured as you sat as fast as you could, eyes still trained on him as he waved to the crowd to prove that yes, he did honour the gift and was there to see this big new act he’d been promised. You let out an embarrassingly needy whine when he sat back down and you became unable to see him again, the mass of bodies behind him obscuring all but a sliver of the back of his head from this angle, and you’d be damned if you had to spend the next 2 hours stuck like this at a Carmichael Haig show of all things. The person at the end of the row finally arrived and you made your move, hurrying down and taking one last glance before getting ready to make this whole thing a little more bearable. ‘Excuse me,’ you nearly stuttered as the person, a man older than yourself who definitely gave off the air of being a Carmichael fan, looked up at you, ‘would you want to trade seats with me? I was really looking forward to the show but I was too late to grab an aisle seat.’
It’s a blatant lie but the quick glance from before proved that you could see him better from there, and the chance of getting to look at him for the next two hours was worth the look the man gave you at the request.
‘Which one are you?’ he asked, looking down to the few empty spaces still waiting for their owners, and you pulled out your ticket to double check, seeing that it was R51; wow, you didn’t realize how far away R was from A until you saw it firsthand. He looked back down to your seat and considered it, looking you over midthought when he thought you weren’t looking, and he almost got away with it if not for the fact that you felt his eyes on you. ‘$100,’ he decided, the offer knocking the wind right out of you.
‘What? The seat was already $350,’ you choke, giving away the fact that you were really, really late to the party.
‘Take it or leave it, I had the sense to order on time,’ is all he says to that, and you looked back at your possible view before sighing heavily and reaching for your wallet; goddamnit, Jack, if only he knew how worth it he was. You hand over the money and step aside, the man pocketing his fee and leaving the seat for you as promised, and the view is just barely better but there he is again, perfectly in view due to what can only be a miracle, the hole in your wallet feeling a little less big as you watched him turn his head to talk to someone, giving you a perfect side view.
He really was handsome, captivating even from this distance, and you swoon a little as the audience finished filling out, the lights dimming and obscuring your view a little more save the grace of the stage lights that illuminate him from the front as Carmichael walked back out on stage and started the show. You’d never been one for spacing out but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, the $450 price tag of this shitty aisle seat all for him and not feeling so bad even as Carmichael charms everyone around you. He didn’t look to the side that often, you guessed he didn’t actually know his neighbour since the seat was a gift, but the times that he did, where he laughed or sighed at the theatrics or even put his face in his hand because he wasn’t having too much fun, were all cataloged away in your head forever, the perfect souvenirs to last you a lifetime of home viewing after this. 
At about an hour in according to your old watch, Jack looked about ready to get up and find any reason to leave, which you couldn’t blame him for, the acts themselves were pretty damn good you realized in the times you actually paid attention, but it was getting so tiring to see Carmichael explain away all of their tricks, to see the joy leave their faces at being called a fraud or having all their mysteries revealed, and it was clear Jack felt the same down in row A. After a particularly rough walk-off from a woman who was trying very desperately to convince Carmichael that she could really read his mind and ending up with the humiliating reality that everything he answered to was false to get her to out herself, you noticed that when you looked back to his seat that Jack isn’t there, and you were in the middle of wondering where he went when the person coming up the aisle came into view so suddenly that it took your breath away.
It was Jack, his brow twitching slightly to keep a neutral face, his footsteps heavy as he tried not to stomp and draw attention to the fact that that last one really pissed him off, his hands already reaching into his suit pocket for something. You tried not to stare the closer he got but it was hard, years of being able to look all you want training your brain to look look look as he approached, and you forced yourself to stare straight ahead at the stage as he reached you. Your hands were clenched tight in your lap as he went to pass row R, and you were in the middle of thinking you were going to make it when he fumbled the small box in his pocket and dropped it with a low curse, the cigarettes he apparently smoked bouncing to the side and coming to a stop between your recently shined shoes.
Your head snapped down so fast you felt it in your neck as he came to a stop beside you, the two of you locating the box at the same time, and you stiffened as he reached for it before realizing how rude that would be despite his own sour mood. ‘I’m sorry, could I bother you for a second,’ he asked, his smile back in place despite being a bit tense, and you stuttered out a confirmation as you leaned down to pick them up.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself, Jack’s hand frozen in midair as he reached for the box, his smile relaxing a little as he looked from your hand to your face.
‘Did I find myself a Night Owl in this sea of skeptics?’ he wondered aloud, your cheeks brightening in a way that really made you pray it was dark enough not to notice. 
‘I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,’ you lie, and he crouched down so he could hear your whispers as the crowd reacted to the next act.
‘I take it you’re also not very impressed,’ he figured, hitting the nail on the head based on your expression alone. He chuckled at your silent confirmation and looked back down to the cigarettes, his fingertips just barely touching yours as you both held it, you didn’t even know when he’d grabbed it and you let go before it got awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, if you don’t tell my producer that I’m smoking again, then I won’t tell Haig that you didn’t like his show, deal?’
You sucked in a breath as he moved the box to his left hand, offering up his right for a handshake this time to seal the deal, your heart pounding as you shook on it, his smile more genuine than you’d seen all night, you could always tell. He stood back up as the act finished and Carmichael went back to his disproving, his mood dropping again as his need to escape rearose. You both offered a look of disdain at the stage before he stood back up to move again, something stopping him midstep before he turned on his heel and leaned back down to you, a shiver running down your spine at how close he was so he could be heard.
‘Have you ever been to one of my shows?’ he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, his warm breath accidentally hitting your neck and rendering you unable to do anything but glance at him and shake your head no. ‘You’d have a much better time, I’ve got some great stuff coming up,’ he pitched, either completely unaware of your predicament or just used to people acting like this around him, either way he didn’t react when your eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to watch him lick his lips so fast you almost missed it. ‘The next one’s already booked up but if you go down to the studio and give them this card, you should be able to get a spot for a night you’re free, I'd like to see you there.’
He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a business card, flipping it around to the blank side on the back before resting it on the arm of the chair. A pen was found next, and he scribbled a quick note to the ticket seller on it on your behalf, signing it and handing it over with that big showman smile of his. You took it and placed it in your own wallet, the previous hole instantly filled with its presence, his mood clearly raised by the interaction as he wished you a quick goodbye and resumed his journey outside, oblivious to the fact that you were about to disrupt the entire theater if you didn’t find a place to scream and fast. 
You gave him a few minutes to reach the doors before jumping to your feet and making for the bathroom, your heels clickclacking on the tile the entire way until you found the correct door. The place was empty, which was great because once you caught sight of yourself you knew that it was bad enough he saw you this way, no one else should get the pleasure; your face was redder than you’d ever seen it, your pupils blown from the exchange and you could’ve sworn you could actually see yourself shaking you were buzzing so hard, your grin so wide anyone else would’ve assumed that Santa had just given you the toy you’d always wanted for Christmas early. 
You tried to calm yourself as you ripped off some paper towels and dampened them, patting them against your cheeks and neck to bring your body temperature back down to a normal person’s, carefully avoiding your makeup that you were thankful you spent the time putting on just on the ultra rare off chance you’d run into him. When you were ready to go back - and after a quick internal debate on whether you should try and meet him outside for another, less hushed conversation already - you made sure to calm your breathing before heading back out there, taking a quick moment to look for him before making the trek back to your seat. 
When you got back you noticed that no new act was on, Carmichael already talking to the audience and projecting himself up on the screens for all to see, you rolling your eyes as you collapsed into the rich red velvet and preparing for more of his bullshit until Jack returned, if he felt like it that was. Everyone around you was concentrating on his words, staring right ahead as the theater fell silent save for his voice and the sound of a ticking clock; ah, he was trying to hypnotize everyone, that must’ve been his big final act that he’d promised his audience. You weren’t impressed, you’d tried to be hypnotized before at a party in your youth, it hadn’t worked then so it wasn’t going to work now you knew, so you sat back and prepared to at least enjoy whatever he was going to make the audience do.
Your thoughts went back to Jack as Carmichael’s voice slowly got drowned out, the ticking a bit louder in your ears despite the distance, but you didn’t mind because it was nonsense anyway, ‘Now who’s the skeptic,’ you think to yourself as you sink deeper into your chair. You vaguely heard the words, ‘Your greatest desire,’ in your ear before you felt a hand on your shoulder, your eyes leaving the stage to travel up until you saw Jack standing just behind you in the aisle, his smile from before now more like a smirk as he motioned towards the doors like he wanted you to follow him. 
You looked back at the stage as Carmichael invited someone from the audience up to stand with him, some poor hypnotized fool who was bound to be humiliated along with everyone else who stood with him tonight, and you decided that you’d rather not see that again before standing and following Jack. There was a small hallway between the theater and the doors on that side of the back wall, the two of you out of view from everyone else but Carmichael’s voice still reaching, and you were about to wonder if he was leading you outside to just leave or talk when he turned and pushed you against the wall with a muffled thud. Your back met cold paint as your chest met with his, your eyes locking as he cornered you where no one could see, a confidence he saved for the cameras now focused solely on you as he looked you over the same way you’d done to him a thousand times over. 
‘I couldn’t wait for you to come to my show,’ he whispered, his voice impossibly low as he held you in place, a knee parting yours and making you gasp, ‘you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘You’re just telling me what I wanna hear,’ you managed to get out, his eyes closing as he leaned in to grin against your cheek.
‘Is it working?’
You didn’t dare answer but you might as well have because your silence was enough to spur him into action, your head falling back against the wall as he started to kiss your neck, your hands grasping at anything because this was crazy. The man you’d wanted for years was kissing you not even 30ft away from a room full of people, anyone could come around the corner at any second and catch you, and you bit your lip at the thrill of it all. You’d had dreams like this before, ones that left you panting into your pillow when you awoke, but the real thing was so much better as he sucked a mark into your soft skin, your hand leaving his arm to cover your mouth lest you alert anyone within hearing distance to your current predicament.
You let him do as he pleased, let him ran his hands over your sides and down to the edge of where your lifted skirt was resting against his thigh, your legs shaking as your body tried not to grind against him; it was only due to him holding you that kept you standing as a matter of fact and he seemed fully aware of it as his nails scratched softly against your bare leg. He seemed to love all your reactions to what he did, he was in the entertainment business after all, every noise of approval that slipped through your fingers must’ve been like music to his ears but you had to hold back no matter how much you wanted to indulge him. Being denied what he wanted only made him work harder for it, the assault on your neck moving to your shoulder and collarbone instead of your covered lips, your mouth watering for just a taste as he started to move against you, one hand pulling your waist away from the wall by your lower back as the other moved up and under your skirt.
The first grind of his body against yours was decadent, you swore you could feel it in your soul the way he wanted you just as much as you’d wanted him, like he’d been watching you back through the screen for years and also craved this very moment, and now that he was getting it he wasn’t going to stop, you didn’t want him to stop. You’d never seen him act anything like this before in all his years on TV, a greedy flash of excitement running through you at getting to see such a new side of him quickly overcome by pleasure as he cupped your ass and pulled you even closer. You knew you couldn’t get undressed here, if you’d made it to the bathroom then maybe he’d be doing more but he hadn’t lasted even that long, but even with that desire being restrained you still wanted him here and now. Never in your life had you been this desperate for release but he was bringing out a demon inside of you that desired and needed and wanted so much that you were willing to throw your modesty out the fucking window for just a second of his hot skin pressed against your own, but this would have to do while the show still went on.
‘Jack…’ you moaned as your hand, moist from your panting, gripped his arm once again, Carmichael’s voice getting louder in the distance as you grew closer to your release.
‘Come home with me,’ he begged into your ear, his movements getting rougher as he also grew close, you knew you’d both have to leave before everyone saw you but it was worth it, god it was so worth it. ‘I want to have you all to myself, I need to taste you-’
You bit your lip and led his face away from your neck so you could look into his eyes, his mouth parted as he tried to control his own panting, he was coming apart at the seams for you right here in the hallway, the ticking in your ears either your heartbeat or a clock far away. You moaned his name again as you felt the heat build in your stomach, your back arching and pushing your body into him even more as the door to your right opened.
‘Dreamer, here, awake!’
All at once your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor before that final wave could push you over the edge, your head heavy and your vision swimming as the body against yours vanished into nothing. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ Jack’s voice from above asked as his worried expression came into view, the smell of rain and cigarette smoke invading your senses; the sound of the audience in a similar state of confusion drifted around the corner as Jack crouched down next to you, just back inside from his break from the show, the realization that you weren’t as immune to hypnosis as you’d thought hitting you like a bucket of cold water. You just panted in shock, surprise, and waning lust as Jack looked you over in concern, your hands moving to pull the bottom of your skirt down to cover your exposed legs in embarrassment, the scratches you were so certain he’d left behind not there, because he hadn’t been there.
‘I’m fine,’ you force yourself to say after you’d caught your breath, Jack believing you but still helping you to your feet like a gentleman, of course he would never act that way, that was only how you’d wanted him to act, you’d had dreams like that for god’s sake, the real Jack would never-
‘Is the show over?’ he asked as the roar of people applauding overtook the chatter, Carmichael now silent, and you avoided his eye as you started to edge towards the way out.
‘I think so.’
‘What was the big mind-blowing act?’
You put a little distance between yourself and him but he didn’t notice, Jack heading for the corner so he could look at the stage as he waited for your reply. ‘He hypnotized everyone,’ you answered curtly, his reaction big and full of surprise as he looked over the size of the crowd in an awe that wasn’t present for the first hour and a half.
‘Everyone? You should’ve come found me, I would’ve loved to see that.’ He was still looking at the room beyond, your eyes on him as he watched everyone else.
‘I got a little overwhelmed,’ you mumble, and he finally looked at you with that same concerned expression again, and it’s too much after what you’d just thought you’d seen, your eyes finding the floor.
‘What did he make you see?’ he asked, his curiosity quiet but still there under the concern, but you couldn’t answer him. ‘Do you need a ride home, or are you okay to drive?’
He’s too kind, he would never act that way, he would never say that to you.
‘I took a cab, I’ll be fine,’ you tried to say, but still you quickly found yourself being led to the front door as the audience swarmed around you, his hand on your back to make sure you stayed standing, a true gentleman. It had started raining while you were inside which explained the scent pairing with the smoke that covered up his cologne, and you just stood under the marquee as he hailed a cab for you as the sea of skeptics washed around you like rushing water. You hopped inside but he didn’t shut the door right away, leaning down in the rain once you were seated, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to get in when he spoke.
‘I do hope you come to my show, preferably Friday’s, it’s gunna be a good one, I promise,’ he said with that big genuine smile again, your heart pounding as your cheeks glowed red for a reason other than embarrassment as you gave him a small nod.
‘I’ll be there,’ you promised back, and he tapped the roof of the cab before shutting the door and letting you go. You looked out the back window as you drove away, the both of you waving as he ducked back inside and out of the rain, and as soon as you turned back around to face forward you found yourself reaching for your wallet. His card was in your hands as you looked it over, all in all it was an uninspiring, plain business card, and you flipped it over to read what he wrote for the ticketmaster on the back.
Wait for me by the back entrance at 11:00 Phil will let you in JD
Your cheeks turned red again as you put the card away, the cab driver giving you a look in the rearview mirror as you held your nearly empty wallet, now with one business card, to your thumping chest. Oh yeah, it definitely was all worth it after all.
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sunshineandspencer · 5 months ago
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Playing nurse (End)
Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.
A/N: I have a chronic fear of things ending. I've had this written for like two weeks but I hate the idea of it being over. Sorry, and thank you for everyone who enjoyed my first story on tumblr <33
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.
Summary: He takes care of her until she’s finally cleared by the Doctor and he can make good on his promise
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: kissing (ew), slightly suggestive at the end but nothing described
Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6, Pt7, Pt8, Pt9, Pt10
be added to the taglist!!
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While he had been overbearingly sweet and protective while she recovered, and was let out of the hospital, her pretty new boyfriend still hasn’t kissed her.
Not for a lack of trying either.
Every chance she got, she would try and subtly drag him closer, but he always caught on. Giving her a chiding look and turning them back to whatever they had been doing. She’d wear her prettiest lip gloss and do stupid things to try and convince him. 
But his mind was set, until she got cleared by the doctor, no smooching.
Besides, despite his gleaming teasing, she wasn’t desperate. After waiting months and assuming he hated her, she can last a few more weeks. For the stitches to heal and the pain to finally stop without meds.
Spencer, true to his word, didn’t leave her side. Helping her get back and settle into her apartment, at which he lamented no longer living in ‘their’ house.
That, at least, got him to suck in a painful breath and press a kiss to her hair.
God did he miss that too.
Sure, he’d stayed in the guest room and given her free reign of that master bedroom, but that had been enough - he hadn’t needed to sleep in the same bedroom as her to feel close. The whole thing had only three days together but it felt like a lifetime.
Eating every meal together, doing stupid tasks like cleaning and shopping, watching crap reality television and getting strangely into it. He missed being able to casually touch her as his ‘wife’, but girlfriend is an excellent place for them to start again together after everything they’d gone through.
The fear of losing her had been debilitating, and looking after her now, staying in her spare room, was what he needed.
To see her every day and be reminded that she’s completely fine.
His damn woman wasn’t making it easy in trying to stop her from pulling her stitches or injuring herself further. Those first couple of days, with her constantly trying to sneak a kiss in, she was being impossible. But he won’t - he can’t - not until she’s cleared.
Thankfully his incentive worked and after a while - well, after she had a breakdown in the kitchen and he’d had to hold her and make sure he knows that he wants to but he’s worried about her recovery - and was finally patient.
Thanks to her newfound patience, they fell into a routine; he would wake up in her spare room and go to wake her up with painkillers and new bandages, check on her stitches, and then spend the day together. The two of them are definitely in the honeymoon phase - as Garcia gleefully tells her in every facetime.
Yes, they love each other, but they’re also so used to having their own space, which they’ll probably love after all this is over. Needing some alone time doesn’t mean they don’t still completely love each other - but they’d lived as individuals so long it would take some time to adjust.
The honeymoon phase was saving their ass - and their relationship. Everyday spent together is bliss.
Learning, properly, about each other. She talked about her family, normal in some remote town, and his decidedly less normal childhood. He finally told her about Maeve and why he had been so harsh, which she understood but still called him daft. Honestly they talked about anything and everything. Until Spencer was fairly certain he’d be able to identify her blind, just from the breath she takes before she speaks.
Thanks to his diligence, and her eventual co-operation, it was only two weeks until she could finally get the bandage and stitches removed. With no incidents since she left the hospital.
Once she’s cleared for duty, and the Doctor begins to send the paperwork through to prove it to Emily, they leave.
Their hands laced together and swinging between them, Maeve chatting excitedly about going back to work. All the way from the office, in the elevator and through the main entrance to the parking lot.
“Oh I can’t wait to see Penelope. Facetiming just isn’t the same.. I want a hug. Plus I miss the smell of stale coffee and the patriarchy.” Giving him a grin as they get closer to her mini, the keys swinging in his other hand. “Is it weird that I miss the serial killers?”
“You don’t miss serial killers, angel. We’ve talked about this.”
But he was smiling all the same, causing her to laugh and lean into his side.
Once again, he’s impressed with his ability to hold any kind of conversation with her when his brain is melting under the constant ‘God please I just want to kiss her’. Just like he’d been struggling against for the past two weeks while taking care of her.
Somehow, Maeve had seemingly forgotten their promise as she was still talking, and he’s not a strong man when it comes to her.
“--I might see if I can babysit for JJ and Will, their kids are adorable. Or maybe finally have that girl’s night, we were meaning to go for one before all this and I miss drinking. Or--”
They got to the car and he turned to hold her against the passenger door, giving her a teasing smile. Smoothing the hair from her face and moving his hands down to her upper arms to hold her still.
“Or, you could spend time with your boyfriend?”
Laughing, she rested her hands softly over his forearms, that teasing look not dropping from her face, and subsequently making his brain melt even further.
He’s not sure how he lasted two weeks like this.
“My boyfriend who I spent every day of the last two weeks with?”
“Well-”
“Spence, if you.. monopolise any more of my time, Penelope might just--”
Incredulous, a laugh left him and he cut her off. Leaning down to kiss her as desperately as he’d wanted for the past two weeks. One hand sliding up to her hair, gripping gently to tilt her head back until it hits the roof of the mini, slanting his lips a little harder against hers.
Right here, he knew he’d never get enough of her ever again. Her taste, her lips, the feel of her, her reactions. 
God, her reactions.
At first she’d tensed, not quite believing he was finally kissing her. Once it sunk it, she relaxed against him, easing her grip where she’d started to leave marks and letting her eyes fall shut. 
Then, once he’d tilted her head back and pushed her a little more insistently against the car, she had actually whimpered against his lips, and he was desperate to chase that little noise as far as she would let him. Her hands moved from his arms to fist in the front of his shirt and dragged him closer.
Until they were all but making out in the hospital parking lot.
When he finally pulled back - dreading his need for air - he kept close. Their foreheads are near but not quite touching, still wanting to be able to look down at her properly. Giving them both a moment to breathe as two weeks, probably longer, washed over them.
Opening his eyes to just look down at her, loving the flushed cheeks and laboured breaths. Loving her.
“Angel.” She hums. “Do you want to know why I wouldn’t kiss you while you were recovering?”
It took her a little while to respond, cracking her eyes open to finally meet his again. Sure that he legs would’ve given out if it wasn’t for him holding her up against the car. Not quite trusting her voice yet, she shook her head, the hand not in her hair wrapping around her waist.
And Jesus, but he finds her so pretty like this, glossy eyed and smiling.
“Because you are perfect sweetheart, and if I’d kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop at just one.. or two.. or three.” Punctuating each number with a peck to her lips, which just made her pretty and pliant under his palm. “And I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Swallowing thickly, she let go of the front of his shirt from the death-grip she’d gotten on it, smoothing down the wrinkles she’d made as she cleared her throat from where her heart had blocked it.
Looking back up to meet his gaze as she continued to smooth away the wrinkles she’d left.
“I’m uh.. I’m alright now.”
“Yes, you are.”
With a smug grin, which looks far too good on his face, she leant in to brush their noses together. A tender action that’s completely at odds with the heat in his gaze.
That hand around her waist slipped to her lower back, pulling her fully against him and revelling in the way a soft squeak left her lips, and her eyes darted down to his own as if expecting him to kiss her. Quickly darting back up, indignant, when he started to talk instead.
“So, angel, would you like to call Penelope for a girl’s night? Or would you like to go home with your boyfriend?”
Making a face, and trying to ignore the blush high on her cheeks, she tugged him back down for another quick kiss, which he happily gave her. Trying to act very nonchalant, despite her own obvious excitement.
“Let’s go home, please.”
Finally letting go of her, he reached around to pull on the door handle. Opening up the passenger door for her and ushering her inside.
Leaning his forearm on the roof to lean in and give her another kiss.
“Alright sweetheart, home it is. What should we do? Watch a movie?”
She scowled at him, a sight he loved so damn much now it aches. Which is why it brings him so much glee to shut the door in her scowling face and walk around to the driver’s side, slow as he likes.
Impressed that he’s been able to resist the urge to sprint round and get in the car like he absolutely wants to do. His need to tease her is the only thing stronger than his need to kiss her.
Once he finally got in, she prodded his side, still glaring at him as he belted up.
“If you don’t kiss me some more when we get home, I will be going out with Penelope.”
“Don’t worry angel, I plan to thoroughly make up for the last two weeks.”
That got her to shut up, scowl falling away into something far more bashful, a pretty smile settling onto her face as she got comfortable for the drive back to her apartment.
With a happy sigh, he reached to turn the radio on, and then let his hand fall to her thigh, squeezing gently to get her attention - as if she was able to think of anything besides him when his entire presence fills the car and her head and her chest.
Rubbing firm circles to the top of her thigh as that smug grin climbed back onto his face.
“You won’t need to call Penelope, or anyone else, just yet. I told them that your appointment isn’t until tomorrow, so I have you all to myself for the next twenty-four hours.”
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Want more?! Good!
taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides ║ @peachsodameg ║ @angelinajolie0213 ║ @jiggly-puff-12 ║ @khxna ║ @kennedy2156 ║ @trulycayla ║ @none-of-your-bullshit ║ @alexxavicry ║ @meg-black ║ @princess76179 ║ @chicken-fifi ║ @averyhotchner ║ @punkyghoulz ║ @person-005 ║ @aaronlovesava ║ @Optimisticsandwichgladiator ║ @cultish-corner ║ @xox0_emma ║ @whatyagottado  (if your tag is here and not working check out this reblog to see if any of it could hopefully help!!)
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i-literally-cant-with-this · 8 months ago
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Hi. Can I request something fluff and domestic for inui x fem!reader? Maybe a bit spicy at the end if you want to ☺️
Hello! Sorry this took a few days! Yes! I love him so much and yet I've never written for him. So thank you for bringing me around to this side of TokRev. I thought I was getting tired of writing for m'boys but it turns out I was just tired. Who knew. So, I hope this is domestic enough for you? I can't think of many more "fun" domestic things than getting a kitten. Dishes and laundry are domestic but they suck. So I opted for cute/domestic. Enjoy!!
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You had your back to the sliding glass door as you bent over to feed the kitten her tiny little bowl of food. "Come now, Kazan. Eat up b'fore your daddy gets home and yells at me for having you. Let alone, in here."
Inui was not convinced he would allow you to get a kitten. After all, you had only moved in 3 months ago and things were still getting straightened out. He wasn't hard to live with, per se. He had a way of doing things ... and that was fine. But you had a way of doing things, too. It was all a bit of a learning curve.
The two of you loved each other and really, at the end of the day when you're crawling into bed, that's what it boils down to.
But this kitten thing ... well. Inui was adamant he wasn't going to be able to deal with a pet. He worried about the mess and the time. He didn't want to have to take care of something else when he was already trying to take care of the other day to day crap.
"Don't worry, Kazan," you murmured, scratching the soft spot behind her ears. "We'll find a way to make it work."
In the meantime, you'd been sneaking her food when he wasn't home. You knew it was a terrible idea and if Inui ever found out, there would be hell to pay. But you couldn't help it. She was so small and adorable and she just looked at you with those big green eyes that stood out from her bright orange coat and you melted.
You had first found her on your back porch a few days ago and you'd been trying to keep her hidden.
As you stood up, you heard the front door open. "Shit."
Inui walked in, still dressed in his work clothes, his hair tucked behind his ears. He was so handsome, even when he looked tired and annoyed.
"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying not to sound panicked.
"I forgot my lunch. I had to come back for it." He looked at you from behind the fridge door, already knowing you were up to something. That you were trying to hide something from him.
He walked up to you, his eyes narrowing as he peered over your shoulder. "What are you hiding back there?"
"Nothing!" you squeaked. "I was just ... tidying up!"
Inui crouched down and scooped up the tiny kitten, who was rubbing against his leg, purring loudly.
"You got a cat?" he asked, holding her up and staring into her eyes.
"HOW - OH MY GOD! She must've come in on your boot! Look what you've done, Seishu! Tch ... and you told me no for so long. I - I really ... am just so disappointed in you right now." You were trying so hard not to smirk but he always saw right though your shit.
"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, princess. You think I don't know what goes on in my own home? Hm?" He placed the kitten back down and she immediately started nosing at his pants leg.
"So you're not mad?" you asked hopefully.
"Of course I'm mad," he said, looking down at you, his eyes squinted. But he couldn't help that little sparkle that lived there for you - and usually, you got what you wanted.
"Just a little mad?" you asked, running your finger along his collar bone, down his tie, all the way to his belt. "Not so mad that you don't wanna talk about it?"
He leaned into you, his breath hot against your skin, his voice low and husky. "Oh, I can talk about it with you, sweetheart." He bit at your neck softly.
You slid your hand down to his stomach and rubbed them around his waist to his back.
"Good! So we can keep her? Her name is Kazan. It means vol-" you started.
"Yes yes. Volcano. I know what it means, y/n." He chuckled. "And I didn't say we could keep h-."
"Come on, Seishu. She's so cute! Look at her. Look at her little paws!" You held up the tiny kitten, making her talk to him. "Hewwo, I'm duh chootest kitteh in duh wur-uhld. Don't you agwee?" He just stood there, looking at you like you were a total idiot, and he sighed.
"Alright fine. But you're in charge of her."
"YES!" You began to prattle off things at an incomprehensible speed, "Ok, we gotta go shopping for a little bed for her and we need to get her toys and a brush and another bed for our room. Do you think she should have a little blanket for the couch and the recliner? What about letting her outside? I don't think we should let her outside. There are too many dogs in the neighborhood. Do you love her? I think she loves you. Sei? What do you think about her? Look at her sitting at your feet! Eeeee she's the cutest thing I've ever seen! SEI!??"
He knelt down and picked her up, holding her close to his chest. She climbed up onto his shoulder, licked his ear once and settled down, closing her eyes for a kitten nap.
You pulled out your cellphone and took a picture before he could see what you were doing and he could pull Kazan down to hide the fact that he was falling in love with her, too.
"She loves you. And so do I. Now come on, put her down so we can go shopping!"
"Aht! I think you need to thank me first, there, sweetheart."
"You think so, huh?" You leaned in to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away. "I don't want to disturb the kitten. But later ... after she's asleep, I'm all yours."
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@katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @viburnt @darkstarlight82 @southside-otaku @arlerts-angel
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grumfield · 2 months ago
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hi!. first of all, i'm absolutely obsessed with your blog, thank you for posting, i've never felt so validated reading someone's posts before. i'm currently falling deeply into the star wars abyss and i was wondering if you could recommend any books you personally liked (the angstier the better)? i'm a complete fandom newbie, so far I've only seen movies and clone wars season one, but id love to hear your opinion on what I should read next. if it's not a weird request. sorry if it is! have a nice day.
WAAAAH thank you so much!!! So glad you’re here and I’m SO HAPPY to recommend books to you because I was exactly in your position only a few months ago!
Okay. So the consensus within the fandom, especially if you’re an Obikin enjoyer (not sure if you are, but if you’re following me I suspect you at least find their platonic dynamic compelling), is that if you’re going to read one book it’s the Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matt Stover, and I agree with this. I’m not someone who was ever interested in reading movie novelizations but this book single handedly changed my mind. It’s exceptionally well written and just has this pervasive sense of growing doom that’s super unsettling while also giving a lot of emotional dimension to all of the characters in ways that film really isn’t able to. There’s a lot of interesting choices that are made—Anakin’s fall feels explicitly like Palpatine is taking advantage of an oncoming mental health episode and pushing him to snap, Anakin’s perception of the Obi-Wan/Padmé affair is tied more to anxieties about the two people he loves most not wanting him around than infidelity…there’s a lot of scenes that are in the book that aren’t in the movie that really just hit like a gut punch.
It’s absolutely great for angst, it’s written in such a unique way and literally the last scene gave me full body chills when I first read it. Horrible, beautiful, highly recommend it. Also uses second person narration in ways that are very clever.
(Also, it like…portrays Obi-Wan as like. A repressed gay monk in love with his oblivious straight friend and it’s incredible)
Now for my more personal recommendations for after you read that, if you want more!
I am a massive Rogue Planet and Jedi Quest enjoyer. They are honestly the cornerstones of my characterizations for these characters. Despite being a singular book and a middle grade series respectively, I group them in the same category for their absolutely incredibly compelling way it portrays the foundation of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship—specifically how absolutely fucked it is in ways that aren’t super clear in the movies. They take place after the Phantom Menace and before AOTC, so cover Anakin’s time as Obi-Wan’s padawan.
Rogue Planet by Greg Bear follows Obi-Wan and Anakin on a mission when Anakin is 12 and there’s no way I can describe it other than it reading kind of like…what if the Virgin Mary was a permissive boymom who sucked at her job and the kid she’s raising has a 50/50 chance at being Jesus or Satan. Obi-Wan in this reads like the most 15 year old 28 year old ever, is still reeling from the death of Qui-Gon and has entered the motherhood phase of “my child is perfect and special and can do no wrong ever ever ever”. He’s extremely permissive and has hinged an unsettling amount of his hopes on Anakin’s role as the Chosen One because of his own personal issues. So when Anakin does shit like…oh I don’t know…accidentally explodes a man’s head with his mind…does things he isn’t supposed to Obi-Wan is like. Don’t Worry You Did Nothing Wrong I Will Ignore It.
And then hot on the tails of this is the Jedi Quest series by Jude Watson which follows their relationship after that on various missions as Anakin grow up. The series kind of focuses on the systemic ways in which Anakin leading up to AOTC was let down and what eventually drives his decisions later. Do not be fooled by it being a series for 12 year olds, it’s absolutely apeshit and additionally my favorite place for informing my perspective of their dynamic. Obi-Wan has gone from being boymom to being more emotionally distant as he tries to make Anakin be an “ideal jedi”. Jude Watson’s entire thesis is that like, Obi-Wan is not father brother or friend to Anakin, he is a Jedi, and does not have the tools to be anything else so his and Anakin needs and wants more. There’s this insane line at the end of book one where Anakin says like “Obi-Wan would come to love him. He would make him do so” which just acts as the through line for the entire series. the push and pull between someone who wants more and someone who consistently holds back creates this very unhealthy master-disciple dynamic that drives me insane. (I have kind of an uncharitable perspective of Obi-Wan because of this but it’s actually what made me love him even more, I prefer Jude Watson’s portrayal of him to almost any other author)
Anyways that’s my long drawn out first 3 recommendations to you lol! If you like them (or if you don’t!) feel free to come back and I’d be happy to chat with you more <33
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a-substantial-trash-pile · 30 days ago
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real downer mental health stuff below cut. sorry. it's been a real hard couple weeks and i need to get things out somewhere or i'll go crazy.
i just need to get my feelings written out because right now i feel like im going to explode and i can't afford therapy right now and i can't talk to any friends because i cant live with the guilt of burdening them with my problems. so this is the only way i can think of getting it out of me. but i still feel guilty even doing this so im turning reblogs off because i don't want anyone to feel like they need to provide words of comfort or anything like that. would turn off replies to this post too if i knew how to do it. i just need to get it Out.
a few weeks ago, my family had a discussion about putting our old dog down. he's deaf and blind and has dementia that's gotten much worse this year. and he isn't really "living" anymore. i'm not sure he even knows who i am anymore. and it hurts so so bad. i know it's time. but it hurts so fucking bad. i don't want to be the one to make the phone call and make the appointment and solidify the date i lose him forever, so i asked my dad if he could do it. my mom wanted to do it immediately but my dad said he would make the call after my mom's surgeries for her parkinsons that was happening this month. i know my dad doesn't want to put our dog down. the whole thing was brought up in the first place because my mom keeps bringing it up. and it makes her and my dad argue which is not what i fucking want right now. she tends to bring up the subject with my dad and i at the worst times, when im feeling especially terrible. she just had her last surgery yesterday so she brought it up again tonight. the way she brings it up has kind of really sucked for me. i was already feeling especially depressed because everything was just feeling so overwhelming today (stress from thinking about my dog and also hearing that my mom fell on her face and got hurt while i was at work). the past couple times my mom has brought up my dog with me, she's started it off by asking if i had been crying and then when i say that i was, she asks when we're putting our dog down. i don't know why she's doing it like this. i feel upset at her for doing it this way, but at the same time i feel bad for being upset at her because she has parkinson's and just had surgery. even though the surgery went well, i still feel guilty that i'm upset with her.
i couldn't give my mom a straight answer because again, i don't want to be the one to solidify the date, so i told her i'm waiting for dad to make the phone call. she said, "ok i'm going to tell dad." then i went downstairs and cried while she immediately went to tell my dad. i could hear my parents argue about it. it's not a subject my dad likes to acknowledge and my mom has been really pushy about it with him and me. i regret and feel guilty about asking my dad to make the call. i should have just sucked it up and said i would do it. i think i might have to be the one to do it. but it hurts so fucking bad.
whenever my mom talks about it with my dad, she always tries to pressure him by bringing up how sad it's making me. when she does that it feels like im being made into the main "reason" to put our dog down. that if we don't put him down as soon as possible, my mental health will keep spiraling. and yeah, im not doing great right now, but i don't want to keep hearing it brought up over and over like that. i don't want to feel like it's my fault. i know my dog needs to be put down. but i don't want to feel like it's because of me. does that make sense? is that selfish? is the amount of crying i've been doing not "normal" in this situation? it's not like i cry all day. i only do it at night and i try to hide it as best i can. i don't want my mom to see and tell me "this is why we need to put him down now." which she has done before. i don't know. it just hurts so bad.
i haven't been able to tell my mom about how she's been upsetting me. because she'll get upset about it if i do. and i feel bad for being upset in the first place. because i know in the end, these actions she's taking is because she's worried for me. she just. doesn't think things through all the time. she's always spoken before thinking. although im not sure if her parkinson's has made this habit worse. i can't remember if she's always been at this level or if this is something exacerbated by parkinson's. which makes me feel even more guilty about being upset at her. god. everything just feels fucked right now. so overwhelming. i wish i could see my therapist again, but i just can't afford that expense right now.
i've been having more nightmares. been having the stupid sleep paralysis shit. been having more frequent intrusive thoughts of driving off the bridge i go over on my commute or looking at my pills and wondering what would happen if i took everything in the bottle at once. i don't think i would ever actually act on these things, because i love my family too much to have them deal with that kind of hardship. it's just been exhausting for my brain. and some days the thoughts feel closer than others. but that's depression for you. been dealing with it for many years. this has just been one of those real bad times for it. if anyone is actually reading this, please dont worry. i know that's kind of dumb of me to say considering everything i wrote here. but really please don't worry. i just needed a place to put my thoughts and feel like i'm releasing them somehow. im still here. i've had these bad thoughts before and i'm still here. i will still be here. it'll get better. i just need to hold on again.
i just wish dogs lived longer.
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the-hexfiles · 9 months ago
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A Village Romance (Hunter x F!OC) Ch 1: Strangers
Chapter Rating: 16+ for one suggestive comment made towards the end, and the overall tone further chapters may have -- If I choose to write further chapters.
Content: Fluffy intro to what I will hope to be a friends to lovers romance. Teacher OC because we all know Hunter would love a partner good with kids. First person narrative cause I'm lazy lol.
Wordcount: ~1580 because I haven't written in months and I need to ease back into it.
A/N: Hi friends, I've been gone a while but decided to jump back into ff. I want to start working on other creative pieces but I have Clone Brainrot so ff it is I guess. I haven't been writing at all so if it sucks, I know.
Song: Down by the Water by Abigail Lapell
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The first night Hunter and I spent together, we were strangers.
Heavy storm clouds had swallowed the sun hours ago, and the draft through the schoolhouse in town sent chills through all of my students. By the time all of my students were gone, the rain had begun and my speeder bike was already soaked. The air got colder and the wind picked up the further I made it up the mountain. It was drizzling, the raindrops turning to ice on the leaf litter and my jacket. The wind ripped through the trees, shaking the limbs directly above me, and howling through the greenhouse. The windows on the greenhouse were frosting over, the tarp covering my firewood thrashed, and my potted crops tipped in the garden, splattering mud everywhere. I rushed to secure everything.
I was kneeling in the mud, trying to salvage one of my plants when I heard a branch snap on the edge of the clearing that made up my yard. I paused and looked around, but didn’t see anything. I scooped up the plant and brought it to the greenhouse. I didn’t see the faint shadow cross the windows inside, or the door. As I came around the corner to walk inside I almost walked directly into someone, which is horrifying when you live alone on the side of a mountain. He was broad-shouldered, half a skull painted on his helmet, and a full head taller than me. He had also startled me so badly, I’d apparently dropped my plant, since he was standing there holding it with mud splashed on his armor. “Sorry,” we said simultaneously. And we stood there for a moment, in the rain, staring at one another. Like morons. A little girl’s voice called from the other side of the cabin, “Hunter?” Little footsteps ran closer until they reached the doorway, “Hunter did you – oh. Hello!” I looked at the little blonde and smiled, then back at who I then knew was Hunter: “Can I have my plant back?” I asked, pointing to my sad little potted crop in his hands. “Oh, yes,” he said, handing it back to me. I walked into the greenhouse and tried to quickly stabilize the crop so I could gather the remaining plants outside. “You’re the pretty teacher! The one in town! Miss Tala!” The little girl said excitedly. “Omega!” Hunter scolded her. I looked up at them with some surprise, “And you’re my…stalkers?” I said with a raise of my eyebrows, half joking. I did recognize them from the market square. Some whispers had gone around of some clones that settled on Pabu and were working with a couple of traders. “N-no! We’ve been working for Mr Tanaka, he told us who you were,” I could hear the embarrassment in Hunter’s voice. Omega looked up at him, giving him a knowing smirk. “We were just passing through when we came across your cabin.” “You wouldn’t happen to know where to find these, would you?” Omega showed me her data pad, a familiar sight on the screen: Storm mushrooms. “There are some that pop up nearby, but you’re running out of time. Come help me with this, and we can go.” I nodded towards the door. Omega helped me carry the last of my crops inside while Hunter secured the tarp over the wood. Hunter walked over to us as we locked up the greenhouse. “We didn’t properly introduce ourselves, I’m Hunter, that’s Omega.” He held out his hand towards me. I took it, “Tala.”
We walked single file down a game trail towards a set of downed trees, whose trunks were sparkling with the bright blue mushrooms. I took out my knife and sliced off a small one, cutting it into three pieces. I popped one piece into my mouth and handed Omega and Hunter the other two. “Why are these considered dangerous?” Omega asked, snacking on the piece I handed her. The three of us started slicing away mushrooms and tucking them into Omega’s satchels. “Inexperienced foragers underestimating how fast the weather changes up here,” I replied. “A few have died in the past or gotten very close to it. Now most people who hire foragers usually have shelters and cabins near sites so there’s a safe place to weather the storm after harvest. I didn’t know Mr Tanaka had a cabin this far up.” I looked at the two of them, and to find them looking at me a little dumbfounded. Hunter and Omega looked at each other, “We’re staying in town,” Hunter said. The drizzle turned to rain, a few snowflakes fluttered down with it and Omega was doing her best not to shiver. “Well, lucky for you I know a place,” I said, quickly slicing away at the mushrooms.The wind almost ripped my back door off its hinges when I opened it. The three of us shuffled inside as the first inch of snow started to cover the ground. I pointed Omega to the refresher to start getting out of her wet clothes, and Hunter towards the fireplace to stoke up the fire I’d prepared, while I ran upstairs to find clothes. He was looking at some photos on the mantel when I came downstairs with clothes for him and Omega. I set her clothes outside of the bathroom door, and walked over to him. His helmet sat on the kitchen counter, and his scarf had ended up bundled around Omega’s head on the hike home. The fire was still low, casting a soft light over his features. I had seen him before, multiple times, but I’d never really got to appreciate him. His wide shoulders made his waist criminally small. His bandana, and thus his hair, was slightly disheveled, and he looked tired. In the forest, I’d missed an opportunity to watch him work with the knife he carried, but I watched as they rested on his hips and moved to pick up different photographs. Not wanting to get caught ogling, I walked up and handed him the dry clothes. He looked down at them, a frown briefly flashing across his features. “Your husband going to be okay with me borrowing these?” I snorted, then upon realizing I snorted, I laughed, “Sorry. That’s probably one of the many reasons I don’t have a husband. What made you think that?” “These are a man’s and you got them from upstairs,” he gave a short laugh of relief. “It’s not an unreasonable assumption.” “Those are my brother-in-laws, and no he won’t mind.”
Omega stepped out of the refresher, bundled up in a set of my pajamas, looking clean and quite content. She settled under some blankets in a chair by the fire, while Hunter and I split off into different refreshers to clean up and warm up ourselves. When I came down the stairs, Omega was curled up in Hunter’s lap asleep on the couch, and he had his head tilted back with his eyes closed. His bandana was off letting his wet curls flop wherever they pleased. The fire crackled, warm light flickering across their faces as they dozed, faces so relaxed and peaceful. I sat in my armchair and admired the pair for a moment; until Hunter’s eyes opened and immediately found mine. They were a warm gray in the firelight, and very tired. “We left you some room over here,” he whispered. “We’ll be warmer together.” “I don’t sleep with strangers,” I said as I grabbed my book off of the end table. When I looked back up at him, his cheeks were flushed and he averted his gaze. “Right. Sorry that was forward of me.” “It’s nothing against you–” I said, moving my head into his line of sight to get his attention. “No, I understand,” he said, still looking away. “I don’t really sleep much anyways, strangers or no strangers.” He looked at me again from the corner of his eye and gave me a half-hearted smile. Snuggling into the couch he wished me a quiet goodnight, leaned his head back, and fell asleep.Omega stirred early, while the end of the storm was blowing through. Hunter awoke to the smell of breakfast. Well, more accurately, to Omega burning half the breakfast and the two of us giggling about it. Maybe my staring should have told the both of us at the time that I was at least attracted to him. But he was too busy smiling at Omega’s tragic attempt to make eggs to notice my ogling. He looked so warm to the touch, standing there half-asleep in wrinkled sleepwear, smoothing Omega’s unruly curls while she made another attempt to cook breakfast. I stopped staring and joined them, and eventually the three of us had something edible. The rest of the morning was spent playing card games together. By the afternoon the storm had passed, and they were dressed to leave. Omega gave me a hug before she bounded down the front steps of my cabin, leaving Hunter and I alone for a moment on the porch. He held out his hand, “Thanks for all your help.” I took it, “Anytime. See you around town then?”
He gave it a short shake and nodded his head with a soft “yeah” as he turned to leave. Before he reached the last step I said his name, making him turn back to me. “Don’t be a stranger,” I said. And a hint of color came to his cheeks.
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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago
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OMG I SO SORRY FOR THE ASK I HADN'T FINISHED IT I WAS ASKING ABT YOU GIVING ME SOME WRITING TIPS AND IT AUTOCORRECTED WHEN I WROTE I BC MY PHONES MESSED UP LIKE THAT AND I DIDNT REALISE OML I'M SO SORRY PLZ FORGIVE ME MOOT PLEASE I LOVE YOUR WRITING I PROMISE ESP YOUR BUCKY FICS AND THAT I'M SORRY
no worries, honey.. i figured that was the case. you want writing tips?? Sure.
Never force your writing. If ideas don't come to your mind, don't force them. It will sound like hell, and you will indeed hate yourself over it. Are you stuck on a scene in your writing? Skip it and write what comes after. The words will come eventually. I can't tell you how many times I was stuck on a scene to write out the following few scenes after, and then the scene I was stuck on came back to me in droves.
Write what YOU love and what YOU want to write if you don't want to write out a request/idea someone sent to you, then don't. You don't need to explain yourself. Don't feel as though you HAVE to accept a request from someone; you'll burn yourself out and hate yourself worrying over the request/idea.
Write about whatever you want to: your favourite character/blurbs. Write new AUs, write angst, fluff, smut, whatever you want. Ignore the antis; every fandom has them, and it's honestly not worth the time and effort. Block the people who try to bash you for writing a character/pairing they don't like. Fandoms are meant to be a fun, safe space. Write what you want, and love every word of it.
Don't proofread ANYTHING until you know you're finished with your piece of writing/art.
Get an extra set of eyes to look over your work, whether it's some stranger on the internet you trust or a person in person who you trust to be completely honest with you about edits/scenes you need to rewrite/whatever else they might ask. Sometimes, when we look over our writing, our brain ignores the mistakes, so get an extra set of eyes.
You don't have to post every day/week/month to be a writer. You're still a writer if only one word gets written/typed daily. Take care of yourself first & foremost. I know writers on tumblr/ao3 that have burnt themselves out writing nonstop, it's not mentally safe to force yourself to write just for a few commetns/reviews/kudos.
Which brings me to Ao3/Tumblr stats. DON'T compare yourself to other writers. EVER. Yes, there's always going to be a fic that's more popular then yours will EVER be. & that's totally fine. Whether you get one like/kudos/comment, or a thousand of them. ENJOY WHAT YOU DO! because guess what?? As they say on Whose Line Is It Anyway? THE POINTS DO NOT MATTER! you're writing for FUN, no other reason!!!
You'll be your absolute worst critic when it comes to your own writing. Don't be too harsh on yourself. The reason why you hate your own writing and think it sucks & nobody is going to read it is because you've read it over numerous times yourself and found it to be predictable; NEWSFLASH, DING DING! It's NOT!!
You will ALWAYS improve your writing. I recently went back to look at a bunch of my own writing from 2018 and noticed how much I've improved since then. Yes, the writing makes me cringe, but that's entirely okay. It means I grew as a writer.
Experiment with Aus that you wouldn't see in canon. I tend to always, always go for a good ole Mafia AU, because, let's face it, guns?? blood?? gore?? but also, fluff?? baking cookies with your lover ay 3am AU?? hellooo?? I never know where my mind will take me when I start a new drabble/one shot.
11. Take your time; don't rush a word out.
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shrinkthisviolet · 28 days ago
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7 and 12 with Barrisco for the angst and hurt/comfort prompts, please please please please? (if possible)
Absolutely! The first one is a bit on the shorter side, but the second one is longer (and tbh it's one of my favorites that I've written) :D hope you enjoy them both!
7: "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now." (takes place during 1x20, the night after they look into Cisco's dreams/memories)
The thing about having meta powers involving retention of memories of other timelines was that it kinda sucked. No, scratch that, it really sucked. He knew Barry didn’t mean any harm by asking him to look into his dreams. Cisco himself had agreed to it—they needed a way to uncover what had happened, to nail Wells—Thawne for something, and that was their smoking gun. But it turned out, excavating the memory and actually reliving it in front of an audience tended to make the nightmares worse. Everything was in sharper focus now—Wells—Thawne, Cisco really had to stop calling him Wells—’s fond smile, the sting of his words (“you have shown me what it’s like to have a son”), the pain of that vibrating— Cisco gasped, jolting upright as his heart hammered. A gust of wind rushed into his bedroom—oh right, Barry had agreed to sleep over in case something happened—and Cisco felt a gentle, hesitant hand on his shoulder, Barry’s voice slowly filtering in: “…co? Do you need something? Can I—no, wait, stupid question…” Cisco knew what Barry was going to ask, and truthfully, he needed it too, so he threw himself into Barry’s arms and sobbed in earnest. Barry didn’t hesitate to hug him tight, to whisper soothingly, “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” “I loved him,” Cisco choked, “he was like a father to me, I loved him, I thought he loved us, why…?” It was the one question he could never answer. The one that kept him awake at night, that left him with tears on his face. If you loved me so much, if I really showed you what it was like to have a son, then why did you kill me? “I’m sorry.” Barry’s voice hitched. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” All Cisco could do was cling tighter to Barry and cry. (And wish, not for the first time, that he’d never gotten these powers at all.)
12: "Help me." (post-3x07, pre-3x08)
As far as text messages went, Cisco had rarely been as worried as he was right now, with Barry having sent one of the most concerning texts of their entire relationship—even as far back as before they’d started dating.
<need help. please. our place ASAP>
Our place. If not for how clearly desperate he was, Cisco would pick a fight over that alone.
Because once, it had been their place. A few months after the stuff with Zoom, Cisco had confessed his feelings for Barry, and Barry had confessed his own in turn (Caitlin and Iris, who themselves had finally sorted out their feelings, had no doubt engineered something—there was no way all the doors in STAR Labs had suddenly locked at the same time in the middle of the day). After that, well…it was a very blissful few months. Barry was a doting boyfriend, and dating a speedster was truly something special.
But then…something had changed. Barry had for some reason seemed out of sync with him, and Cisco couldn’t figure out why. Had he said something? Done something? He kept asking, but Barry kept assuring him it was nothing.
But then…Cisco found out what Barry had done. Whose life had been taken as collateral damage. And now…
Well. To put it most amicably, they were on a break.
(To put it less amicably, Cisco kept his distance as much as possible so he would be less tempted to punch Barry in the face.)
So, suffice to say, Barry was damn lucky that he sounded desperate enough to tug on Cisco’s heartstrings.
“I’m here!” Cisco sighed. “Now what was so imp—?”
He froze. Barry was standing in the middle of the room—in the middle of their living room—looking like he’d just come out of a fight. And lost.
Savitar. It had to be, right? No one else could hurt Barry like—
“Help me,” Barry gasped, more desperate than Cisco had ever heard him. “Cis…co…”
Cisco rushed over to Barry, catching him just as he fell, and grunting softly as he moved him to his couch.
“S-sorry…” Barry gasped, “f’r…barging in…”
Cisco winced. “Barry—”
“Didn’t know where else…to g—”
“Dude, whatever else is going on between us, I’m not just gonna turn you away!” Cisco ran a hand through his hair. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
“S-Sav…tar…”
As Cisco expected. “Okay. I’ll call Caitlin, but…I’ll do a little screening first.” He held up his fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“No concussion,” Barry murmured. “Feel fine…just dizzy. I can…hear fine. Three fingers.”
Cisco nodded, relieved, starting to stand. “Caitlin can do a better checkup on you when she—”
“No!” Cisco flinched as Barry grabbed his arm hard. Barry winced. “I-I mean…I’m fine. Just…I just need…rest. Your first aid kit. Please?”
He was already sounding better, so Cisco reluctantly nodded, excusing himself to grab the first aid kit. “You’re sure you don’t want Caitlin to check you over?” He asked as he brought back over, opening it.
“I’m fine.” Barry smiled. “Got my best friend here to look after me, don’t I? In case I need anything?”
“Anything,” Cisco promised. As pissed as he was at Barry, he could put that aside for today, just until he was feeling tip-top again. So instead, he opened the kit and started patching Barry up.
Barry squeezed Cisco’s hand—something about his smile was off, it was strange, but maybe it was the pain he was in—and said, “I don’t deserve you, Cisco.”
Cisco laughed nervously. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” Barry insisted, stroking a thumb along the back of his hand. “Cisco…I’ve done wrong, I’ve hurt you, I was reckless, I got Dante killed. You can’t imagine how sorry I am.”
Cisco pursed his lips, busying himself with cleaning Barry’s injuries. “It’s fine.”
Barry huffed. “Stop saying it’s fine. It’s not fine. I hurt you, and I’m sorry I did it, and that you felt like you couldn’t be mad at m—”
“Barry.” Cisco squeezed his hand back. “I am mad, okay? I’m gonna be mad for a while. But it is fine.”
After a few moments, Barry spoke up. “Do you still want me to—?”
“No,” Cisco said quickly, knowing exactly where Barry was going, looking back down to the injuries he was now bandaging. “No. Don’t you dare ask me that. That’s not fair.”
“I would,” Barry whispered. “For you? I’d do anything. Don’t you believe me, Cisco?”
Cisco’s eyes met Barry’s, and he suddenly saw the truth of it—the extent of how far Barry would go.
To make it up to him? Or just because he loved him?
(Or is there something else going on?)
“You should get some rest,” Cisco said finally, finishing up and standing up.
“Cisco—”
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Cisco, wait.”
And Cisco, naturally, stopped at the sound of Barry’s voice.
“I love you,” Barry whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”
Cisco turned to face him. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do. Now get some rest, okay? You sound pretty off-kilter. I’ll call Caitlin in the morning, and that’s final.”
Barry laughed softly. “If you insist. Night, honey.”
Cisco’s heart did a flip. He and Barry were still technically broken up, he shouldn’t feel like this over Barry audaciously calling him that, but… “You too, Bear.”
That night, Cisco dreamed of Barry. More specifically, he dreamed of kissing him again.
(But he also couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. He just wished he could figure out what.)
(Laid up on Cisco’s couch, and nearly fast asleep, Savitar smiled.)
prompt list!
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asleeponelmstreet · 4 months ago
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Burnt (part 3)
Part 1 Part 2
Something is tainting your memories, so you turn to your knives as a distraction.
Tags: Blitzø x female reader, Alastor x female reader, a little bit of smut, but also lots of plot, oral (female-receiving), slight bdsm, slight non-con if you squint but also not, daddy kink because Blitzø, this is just a teaser for the smut to come, there will be smut, and it will be kinky as hell, implied drug addiction
wc: 4,158
Ugh, sorry it's been so long! I've been so busy that I haven't had as much time to write. And honestly, this chapter was a lot harder for me to write. Probably because it was all from scratch. Rough drafts for the first two chapters and several later chapters were written months ago. But I wanted to add this in. Don't worry! My goal is to not have as long of a gap between chapters from now on. I already have a rough draft for a decent chunk of the fourth chapter as well as several future ones written out. Enough of my groveling, let's get to the good stuff.
You can also read this on AO3 here if you'd prefer.
Minors DNI!!!
“On the bed,” the voice whispered against your swollen lips. But you wanted to fight back a little, so you reached up to grasp his chin pulling him for another searing kiss. He complied, kissing back only for a moment. A string of your saliva still connected you as he broke away. “Now,” he growled.
Much better. Your eyes raked over his half-naked body as you walked backward until your legs hit the edge of the mattress. You liked what you saw standing before you. His pants hung low on his hips, exposing where red skin met white scars on his torso. Those lean muscles drew you to the prominent bulge restricted by black fabric.
“What next?” You asked, baiting him. “Daddy…”
“Fuck.” He groaned before striding towards you and clutching your chin in his grip. “Lie back, bitch.” His other hand found your shoulder, firmly pressing you down until you bounced against the sheets.
Caging you in with his arms, he hovered over you. Red irises glowed in the darkness as he scanned your body. Watching as your breasts heaved under his heavy-lidded gaze. Heat swelled below your stomach and your breath quickened in anticipation. He captured your lips in another kiss, prying your mouth open and making you surrender to him.
A hand moved from where it was gripping the sheets beside your face and found your breast, groping roughly before tweaking your nipple with his sharp nail. You whined into the kiss, and he repeated the motion on the other before trailing down your abdomen to the last scrap of clothing left.
Your breath hitched as he slipped a finger under the waistband of your panties and snapped it back against your tender flesh hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a yelp, even though you could admit it was pretty hot. He beamed at you even as you were growing impatient. “Fuck, Blitzø. Stop playing with me.”
The imp shook his head as he tried to contain a chuckle. “Not so patient now, huh? Fucking brat.” He lifted your hips off the bed to yank them down your legs, leaving you completely bare. “Now, for the fun part,” he said as his hands cleaved your knees apart, spreading your thighs and exposing your throbbing sex.
He grazed his knuckles on your inner thighs before spreading open your folds. His eyes bore into yours as he flicked his forked tongue against your clit. “Blitz!” you cried out.
“That’s my name bitch, don’t wear it out,” he snarked before sealing your aching nub with his lips and sucking. His teeth grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves, making your eyes shut in pleasure. The image of the black heart-shaped skull on his forehead that the two of you shared framed between your quivering thighs imprinted on your mind.
You lost yourself in the feeling of him devouring you. Two fingers collected your arousal and sunk into you, quickly finding your g-spot.
As you threw your head back in ecstasy, you felt something shift. A vibrating sensation joined the mouth on you as static filled the air. You blindly reached out your hands to grab Blitzø by the horns, but instead you found cartilage covered in fur. “Look at me,” a new voice commanded – this one sounding disturbingly like it was being broadcast on an old-fashioned radio.
You jolted but a hand came to your hip, keeping you firmly pressed into the mattress. When you finally felt brave enough to open your eyes, the imp you had once loved had been replaced by none other than the radio demon. Somehow, Alastor was still sporting his signature grin as he gorged himself on your soaking cunt. His handsome face dripping with your juices as radio dials whirred in his pupils.
“Good girl,” he praised, clearly satisfied with your wide-open eyes. Your hips bucked as you struggled under his grasp. It egged him on. His tongue lashing at you as fingers prodded faster and deeper into you. The tension that had been building at your core hurdled towards your peak.
You screamed as you reached your climax. Tremors wracked through your body as you rode out the blissful feeling of that wicked mouth on you. And then he was gone. You startled awake. Alone in your bed. The twisted sheets around you were soaked in sweat… and something else even more shameful.
Fuuuuck. Eager to get out of the bed where you dreamed up that twisted scenario, you threw the blankets back and searched for a change of clothes. Your mind set on finding something to make you forget about that dream nightmare.
You watched as the knife soared through the air before finding its target. Sinking into the lavender skin between Valentino’s eyes. It was a picture of the bastard, of course. It was not as gratifying as it would have been to slice the oversized moth but satisfying, nonetheless. You had torn the photograph of the overlord out of a magazine you found in the hotel’s parlor.
Trudging up the slight hill, you retrieved the knife from where it was buried in the beat-up chair you had discovered gathering dust in a closet. You didn’t think Charlie would notice it gone. The red armchair furnished the Hazbin Hotel before it was remodeled. It somehow survived among the rubble left by the battle with the exorcists. But you would see that it didn’t survive your wrath.
You pulled out the other knives seated into his chest and crotch, revealing the scraps of flimsy paper that remained. You had begun your assault with his wings and skinny limbs, wanting to maximize his use and elongate the pain. He deserved it. For all the damage he had done. For all the souls he devoured. For Angel.
The photograph was torn to shreds so it was time for a new victim. Crumpling what remained into a ball, you hurled him aside with the picture of Mammon you annihilated earlier that morning. Slicing into the king of greed had felt just as good and reassured you that your aim was still perfect – even if you hadn’t thrown a single knife since moving in with the princess.
You picked up the magazine you had haphazardly tossed to the ground, flipping through the pages in search of a new target. You knew taping a page out of a magazine to a chair wasn’t the best setup for practice, but you were in a rush to find a good distraction. Your head still in a haze from what woke you this morning, refreshing this set of skills had been the first distraction that popped up in your mind. You needed this. So did your beautiful knives, having been neglected for too long.
An advertisement for VoxTek Enterprises caught your attention. Why would anyone be motivated to buy tech from an ad that merely depicted its CEO and founder? Vox must be a self-absorbed asshole!
You ripped the page out by its seam before realizing what you were doing. While aiming at Mammon, you thought of Fizz refusing to see you after the fire. You thought of the bruises covering Angel’s body after a long day at work when shooting at Val. There was a clear reason for your last two choices, but who was Vox for? You shuddered at the thought before brushing it aside. You would pretend it was only because you found the blockheaded overlord annoying.
With a new victim in your sites, you walked towards the hotel. This time you created more space between you and the chair than you had for the last round. A slight challenge would force you to focus, especially since your mind had been muddled with thoughts of the radio demon.Curling your toes into the soles of your shoes as if you could grip the dirt beneath your boots, you grounded yourself. You effortlessly shifted into a fighting stance while maintaining your balance. A slight breeze tickled your skin as you took in the peacefulness of your surroundings.
You always felt the most centered during times like these. The calm before the storm unleashed by your rage and power. That’s the real reason you sought out some target practice if you were being honest with yourself. You needed the fight to feel like yourself. Having abandoned it to aid Charlie on her mission, you were left feeling like a stranger in your own skin. 
Since you weren’t about to wake up Angel at five in the morning for some hand-to-hand combat or even a turf war, this shitty makeshift setup in the fields behind the hotel was the next best thing. And you could admit to yourself, that your ego needed this. After turning into a blubbering mess yesterday, you needed to reassure yourself that you were still deadly. 
Narrowing your focus to the knife in your hand and the distant target, you inhaled deeply. With a steady exhale, you let the knife slide out of your fingers and watched as it soared through the air. Your whole world centered on the knife as it made an impact, plunging between the spindly legs of the overlord. 
With a satisfied smile, you prepared yourself to replicate it. This time through his right eye. You weren’t exactly sure why you were driven to skip straight to the good stuff, but it felt right.
Everything around you slipped away again. Even the faint sounds of the wildlife surrounding you came to a halt. You aimed and pulled your arm back like before, but a faint buzzing sound crept up on you. A chill ran down your spine as you realized what it heralded. Before you could bring your hand down, fingers wrapped around your wrist and held you in place.
“And what do you think you’re doing, my dear?” He whispered, so close that static tickled your ear and danced across the nape of your neck. You could even feel his stomach pressed against your back since the radio demon was directly behind, mirroring you if it wasn’t for the extreme height difference.
“Let go,” you said to him through gritted teeth. He only inhaled sharply in response. Eugh. He was smelling you. What a freak. Your thoughts immediately jumped to regret. Thinking you should have probably showered before changing into your leathers. You hoped he wouldn’t scent the sweat and arousal from earlier this morning.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before responding. “Not until you answer my question.”
“Get your fucking hand off of me,” you spat as you thrashed against him, struggling to escape his embrace. “I’m not afraid of you.” A lie.
“Oh, but you are.” His other hand curled around the nape of your neck, roughly pulling you backward and forcing you to look up at him. The twisting position was straining, and you wished you had the guts to truly fight back. But no matter how tough you were, he unnerved you, unlike any other sinner. With other overlords like Vox, you merely felt disgusted. But with Alastor… he was a creature like no other.
“Why would I be afraid of you?” It’s not like I have a soul.” You grumbled that last part. If you did have a soul at one point in your life, it could never go to Heaven, and you had snuffed it out like a flame years ago. Even if you did, you had never heard of a sinner owning a Hellborn demon before. Had you?
“You don’t?” The question was almost mocking, but you ignored him. You had stopped your efforts to escape, waiting for him to let down his guard or loosen the constraint he had you in. “If you’re not afraid of me, why are you trembling?” You hadn’t realized you had been shaking. You dropped the knife letting it clatter to the ground between you. That’s when he finally released you from his grip, allowing you to move several steps away before facing him.
“Don’t feel special,” you were going to leave it at that, but you continued with an excuse. A real one. Even if it wasn’t the only reason you were shaking in his arms. “Sometimes, I get a bit shaky. It got so bad when I was younger that my mother used to motion to me to keep my fork steady at the dinner table.” Why were you explaining this to him? And why mention your mother? Even the thought of her concerned eyes as she watched you attempt to eat without spilling made your chest tighten.
“I bet your target would disagree,” he said gesturing towards what remained of the chair.
“That’s different. When it comes to my knives, my mind is quiet. Same with guns. And hand-to-hand combat. Or anything to do with fighting.” Stop rambling, your thoughts screamed.
He hummed to himself thoughtfully. “Are you going to answer my question?”
Exasperated, you threw up your hands in the air. “Isn’t it obvious?! I’m throwing knives.”
“Do I need to remind you of the rules here at the Hazbin Hotel?” You rolled your eyes at that. Yes, technically, weapons were not allowed at the hotel. Before you arrived, it had been a much stricter rule but after the exorcists attacked, the new building was filled with weapons for defense. Others even had their own weapons: Alastor had his staff, Vaggie had her angelic spear and Angel had his tommy guns, even if he did hide them from Charlie. In your defense, everyone in the hotel was just about as deadly without weapons as they were with them.
“You know those rules are outdated. And I’m not even a guest.” You argued, folding your arms over your chest.
“Then, what are you?” He inquired.
“I-I help out.” Satan, why did you stutter? Probably because even though you had set out to help with the hotel, in the weeks since you moved in you had done nothing. You barely got out of bed that first week. You had felt so empty even with the promise of a purpose. Since then, you acted like a guest. Participating in Charlie’s exercises with Angel and the rest of the staff – excluding Alastor, who usually just watched from a dark corner – and generally just fucking around.
“And what exactly do you ‘help out’ with? What is your job title?” You stared blankly at him. He had you stumped. You should probably ask for a specific job from Charlie soon. To give your life meaning obviously, not just to get Alastor off your back.
You shrugged, trying to shake off the shame that flooded your body. Redemption was a lot further away than you thought. “I’ll figure that out.”
He chuckled and you fell silent, looking down at the knife that lay at your feet.
“You’re very talented.” Another compliment from the radio demon. That was the second one in two days. It was an effort to keep your mouth from gaping open. You didn’t want him to see your shock, but you knew from the smug look on his face that it was written all over your own… no matter how hard you tried to hide it.
“Thank you,” you said sheepishly as you refused to remove your gaze from the ground. You pushed the knife around with the tip of your boot. If you weren’t already red, you would certainly be blushing a deep crimson.
“Where did you learn to throw knives like that?”
“What kind of question is that? I live in Hell. Of course, I can throw a knife.” You rolled your eyes. “Duh.”
“That kind of precision is unique for an imp.”
You wanted to roll your eyes at that too, but you had already met your quota for this conversation. Throw in some cystic acne and you would revert to your moody teenaged self. “Imps can fight.”
“Not like that.”
“Fuck, old man. You can’t say things like that.” His eyes widened as if he was shocked that you bit back a little. Part of you enjoyed seeing him taken aback. Maybe, that’s why you decided to tell the truth. “If you absolutely must know, I worked as an assassin for a few years.”
“Were you any good?”
“At the killing, yes. But we ran our own business, and it was a fucking mess. I thought for a while that we had run it into the ground.”
“We?” Oh. You realized what you had implied and inwardly cursed your lack of filter.
“My friend and I,” you said, feeling weird about calling Blitzø your ex. “Apparently, it worked better without me. After I left, I started seeing billboards all over the city for his new and improved hitman service.” Even if it wasn’t your dream, it still hurt.
The look in Alastor’s eye told you that he sensed there was more to the story. More to your friend. It was almost sympathy if the radio demon could feel sympathy. Whatever it was, you hoped he would drop it. He looked like he would, but then he asked, “Why him?”
“Why who? My friend?”
“No, your target.” He drew your attention back to the present moment.
“Oh, Vox. He’s my latest. I had already obliterated Mammon and Valentino. I just picked a random picture out of the magazine.” You didn’t want to admit that you briefly thought of the radio demon when you had chosen to target the flat-faced corporate overlord.
“I understand Val, given your close relationship with our resident effeminate fellow. But then why Mammon?”
“Can’t I just hate the king of greed?”
“You can, but I was watching. You picked him first and it appeared… deliberate.”
“Let’s just say that I know on a personal level, he’s one of the worst kinds of demons.”
Alastor looked like he wanted to ask more, but you had avoided enough of his questions that you didn’t want to deal with it anymore. “So, if you don’t mind. I’d like to return to my target practice in peace.”
“Very well,” he began to walk back towards the hotel before adding. “I’ll see you in a few hours for another one of Charlie’s delightfully charming exercises.”
“You don’t even fucking participate!” You yelled at the back of his fuck-ass bob. A low chuckle accompanied by a faint crackle of static his only response.
Later that morning, you found yourself teetering on the top rung of a ladder while Angel stood at the base holding it steady. Ever so carefully, you placed a playing card on the top of the tall tower of cards that the group had been working on for the last hour. It was supposed to be a team-building exercise that followed a brief lesson from Vaggie about the power of working together towards a common goal. You understood what they were aiming for with this lesson and assumed it would benefit the hotel to have everyone working together. But you couldn’t help but wonder if Charlie was running out of ideas. How was this supposed to help sinners get into Heaven?
Two other ladders surrounded the comedically large playing card structure. Husk stood on one with Charlie keeping it steady as Lucifer stood on his tiptoes on the top of the other with support from Vaggie. It was a bit of a surprise to see him. He moved into the hotel a little while before you, but he was always holed up in his room. Likely working on his latest rubber duck invention. A particular quirk of the King of Hell that you found very surprising. Nifty was also there, banished to the sidelines after she knocked over the first tower halfway through while she was chasing after a nasty bug with her needlepoint. And not surprisingly, Alastor merely watched from a seat at the bar, taking in all the “entertainment” playing out before him.
Angel handed you another playing card to add to the outrageous pile and as he did, he threw a sly smirk Husk’s way. “You look good from down here,” your friend hollered.  The winged-cat demon growled in response, not wanting any of the attention that Angel gave him.
“Knock it off, Angel.” Charlie scolded. “We want our friends to be comfortable around us when we’re working together.” She was clearly trying to tie the lesson about teamwork in with one about Angel’s incessant sexual harassment.
“Don’t worry, Charlie. I’ll make sure he’s comfortable.” The lilt to his voice suggested he wanted to make the bartender a lot more than comfortable. In an instance, Angel let go of your ladder and strutted towards Husk with determination. “Are you sure you don’t want me… underneath you?”
It all happened so fast after that. Charlie chided him for not supporting his partner, but then let go of her hold as Angel neared. Husk didn’t notice as she moved to hold your ladder in place of his. She was clearly hoping the spider would at least support Husk’s ladder as he harassed him, but he didn’t. Husk let out a groan in frustration as Angel tried to sweet talk him before pounding his fists against the top of the ladder. That’s when the whole thing started to slant. Almost in slow motion, the ladder came crashing down to the floor and knocked over Lucifer in the process. The king of pride somehow fell forward into the tower, sending everything tumbling to the ground. Remarkably, your ladder was the only one left standing as the dust settled on the pile of cards, ladders and demons strewn across the floor.
“I’m fucking done,” Husk said, dramatically dropping the cards that remained in his hands before leaving the scene of the crime for the safety harbored behind the bar top.
“Yeah, I’m over it.” Angel added, puffing his chest out and crossing his legs casually as he sat down next to Alastor. The radio demon looked annoyingly delighted by the disastrous outcome of this silly little exercise.
“You know, what?! FUCK IT! I should’ve known you guys wouldn’t be able to work together on this.” Vaggie fumed, but her girlfriend moved close to her.
Placing a hand on the former exorcist’s shoulder, the princess tried her best to calm her down. “It’s alright, Vaggie. They worked together for a while and that’s all that matters.”
“And we got it like really tall before it got knocked over,” you said, trying to salvage a shitty situation. “I feel like that’s an achievement in and of itself.” You climbed down the ladder, joining everyone else on the solid floor.
Vaggie mumbled some Spanish curses under her breath before storming off in a huff. Before Charlie could follow, you stopped her.
“Hey, can I talk to you about something?”
Charlie’s head bobbed between you and the door Vaggie slammed behind her before deciding. “Uh yeah, for a minute. She probably just needs time to cool off. What’s up?”
“I enjoyed today’s lesson,” you started. It wasn’t exactly a lie since you had found yourself having fun at certain points. “But I wonder if were approaching this the wrong way?”
She rubbed at her shoulder, looking a bit nervous. “I’m glad you enjoyed it!” She blushed, but clearly something was on her mind. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” your words trailed off as you thought about the best way to put this without offending her. “I agree that teamwork is important. But I wonder if it would help to mix in a few lessons that focus more on the individual – since it’s an individual’s journey along the path to redemption. You said that not even the angels seem to know what it is that gets someone into Heaven, so what if its slightly different for everyone? Since everyone is their own unique sinner, what if their path to Heaven looks different as well.”
Charlie’s face brightened. You hoped it was a sign that this was going better than you thought it would. “I actually love that idea!” She said, excitedly. “Though, I’m not sure what that would look like. Do you have something in mind?”
“I was in and out of group therapy and rehab all my adult life. We did tons of exercises that I think we could adapt to fit our goal of redemption. Could I maybe pitch you a few options tomorrow and if you like one, we could do it the next morning?”
“Yes! Yes! A million times, yes! I should probably go check on Vaggie now but just let me know when you’re ready.”
A part of you wanted to stop her once more. To ask her for Asmodeus’s phone number, but you decided against it. What would you say to him? Or a better question, what would you say to Fizz if you spoke to him? But Charlie was out the door before you could muster up the courage to change your mind.
Hope you enjoyed! It's actually funny. Two of my best friends read the little smut scene out of curiosity while I was proofreading it. They're not familiar with either show, they're just horny and in love so they thought it would be fun. I cringed so hard, but their reactions were priceless. She's very prim and proper and hates words like pussy and cunt so she struggled but couldn't stop reading. My favorite comments were: Male friend: His skin is red? Female friend: Yeah, he's a demon. She watches this shit all the time. - M: His name is Blitzø?! What kind of name is that? - F: You said there's two guys? Me: Yeah, just wait. M: Oh, I think I found him. - F: You know I hate the word clit. Me: I use cunt later too. F: *shudders* - F: Folds!? Me: I thought you stopped reading it. F: I did, but I couldn't look away. - After they finished reading... M: Do you want feedback? Me: On the writing, yes. On my choices in men, no. M: *looks at me way too seriously* It's very well written. F: I can tell it's very well written, and I don't want to offend you but that's just not my thing. 20 minutes later, she returned... F: I really hope I didn't offend you. I know you're a good writer, it's just those words *shudders* Me: I'm not offended!
So... what did ya think? Hope you're not as grossed out by the words clit and cunt and folds as my friend. Luckily, her partner didn't mind. I don't know why but the scene with the knives was really hard for me to write. And honestly, the short little smut scene, too. For all the smut I read, I've surprisingly written very little smut. But I'm hoping to get better at it. There will be more smut to come. That was just a little teaser. And it will mostly be kinky because Blitzø exists and because well, I'm kinky. Anyways, hope you like it!
tag list: @sirens-and-moonflowers @whoknowswhoiamtoday @kisskissshutmydoor hopefully y'all are still interested in this story!
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worlds-oldest-teenager · 1 year ago
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Kind of controversial but why are people acting like TSATS is Rick Riordan's first queer book? Like Magnus chase who? Trials of Apollo?
Warning ⚠️: Long rant under the cut. It's not very tsats friendly so please scroll if you don't want to read.
Idk it just feels like sometimes the fandom doesn't really view queer rep as valid unless it centers around romance. Completely biased as a toa fan but toa had so much rep. The bi mc, the gay geysers, the kindly old lesbian couple taking in unwanted kids, ace characters, characters struggling with comphet, characters crushing on people of the same gender and none of it being taken as something out of the ordinary. It just wasn't centred around romance.
The toa fandom has always been pretty small and chill with activity spiking everytime a new book releases. Then suddenly when Tower of Nero came out there were so many people. So what changed, what brought in so many people who weren't even interested in the premise of the book?
It was Solangelo.
I like solangelo as much as the next person (minus the year of seething rage when they were dominating the toa tag) but the way that people discount an amazing series about change, growth and overcoming abuse with some of the best casual queer rep I've seen and consider the only thing of value being a minor mlm couple with a few pages of screentime leaves a pretty bad taste in my mouth.
Magnus chase is another book. Alex fierro isn't perfect rep (stop calling Alex slurs holy fuck) but it was revolutionary to have a gender fluid character in a children's series and this was back in 2016. Fierrochase is pretty popular but I wonder sometimes if Alex and Magnus would be as popular as they are if they never got together. They're still not as popular as solangelo but in good faith that might be because people became too fatigued to read mcga.
It just feels sometimes that these books are viewed as lesser queer books just because there's no shipping or it's not a (I'm so sorry don't kill me ) heart stopper esque gay couple. Idk if im taking this too personally as a potentially ace *slides nsfw art under desk* person whose gender is wonky but it's just my thoughts on this.
But I just feel like the focus should be on the countries banning and censoring the book instead of people with perfectly valid criticism of it. There are so many of his books with queer rep and most of the criticism I've seen have come from LGBTQIA+ people that like these books or at least put the same energy into scrutinizing them too. Idk why people assume anything bad said about TSATS was a bad faith reading done out of homophobia.
All that being said, tsats is definitely being marketed as the first queer book. It's banned not very accessible in my country despite all the others going through- which sucks. It's being treated like the first queer focused book Rick has written and it's coming out at a bad time for everyone but especially people in the US apparently. So I understand why any reactions would be taken as the fandoms reaction to the first queer book.
So who is more homophobic? The person who doesn't like a queer book or the person who holds a queer romance as the pinacle of queer? The answer : no clue man it's complicated and it's sucks that we're all so on edge in these trying times that we automatically assume the worst. There's nuance that a smarter person than me can elaborate on but I am not he.
Sorry for writing something so divisive during pride month but it is a conservation that should be had and what better month than one celebrating queer identity and representation. Hope everyone has a great pride month and stays safe.
Peace and love ✌️🏳️‍🌈💜
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doctormage · 4 months ago
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ok i know this was literal months ago but genuinely curious what your actual answers are for dai romances: which do you think is the best narratively, which is the most fleshed out, which do you like the best, which has the LI you like the best? also bonus q which do you think is the best written as a contained story vs best written as it meshes with the broader narrative/themes? whichever of those isn’t already covered by “best narratively” :o) bonus BONUS q: best kiss superlative???
this made my WHOLE day tysm :') as expected this got incredibly long so under a read more it goes lol
[insert general disclaimer that these are just ~my thoughts and opinions~ and i won't pretend they're inarguable/objective]
best narratively: SOLAS. SORRY
this comes as a surprise to absolutely no one but I SWEAR I don't just have solas fucker glasses on. like I do have them on but I am capable of being objective I prommy
for one, Solas himself is a critical part of the narrative! i've gone on this rant a trillion times so I won't go full throttle here, but I will go slight throttle. every single companion serves as a foil or mirror to Solas, including the inquisitor. Solas watches the inquisitor go on the exact same path that he did in becoming Fen'Harel—the loss of self, the sacrifices for the greater good, the impossible decisions that have long-standing and international impact. it HAS to be brutal to watch. extremely juicy to intertwine this with a romance.
for another, I am just. destroyed by the fact that the inquisitor can come SO CLOSE to getting him to abandon his task. they don't know who he is, what he's done, or what he's trying to do; just by virtue of being themselves, they make the world around him come to life. he is an immortal being that sees the separation from magic as the most tragic and unnatural thing possible. so much so that he doesn't even view the people who walk this earth as people at all. they're NPCs in the bad timeline to him. he's just waiting to reload his save.
and literally without even knowing any of this, the inquisitor makes the world around him come to life. they make what he sees as tranquiled husks into people he cares about. they turn a fallen, lifeless world into one worth appreciating. and, for a time, into one worth saving. (both in the sense that he stays to close the breach / save everyone from Corypheus, and in the sense that he nearly abandons his plans.)
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"you're real, and it means everyone could be real. it changes everything, but it can't." like. are you serious. i'm eating drywall rn
i find it absolutely insane that his romance was a last-minute addition. it is the sparsest of the romances as far as in-game content for main game, so that part I understand, but it works so well in the overarching narrative (and presumably that of DA4 as well) that it really blows me away that we almost didn't get it. as annoying as solasmancers can be—and I know we really can be—it makes a lot of sense to me that so many people were sucked down this rabbit hole
solas is a devastatingly lonely man for a multitude of reasons. he is immortal in a world where not everyone is anymore. nearly everyone he ever knew is dead. the thing he did to prevent the Evanuris from destroying the world still, in his eyes, destroyed it anyway. it is his greatest regret and it literally surrounds him at all times and he can't talk to anyone about it. through the inquisitor he is able to know what it is to love and be loved, and it shakes him so thoroughly he nearly abandons his entire purpose. and because of that—assuming from what we know of DA4 so far—he refuses to get close to anyone ever again. for fear of laying down his burden. I FEEL INSANE!!!!
i do want to throw in a disclaimer that I think most of these things are still true with a high-approval, non-romanced inquisitor as well. my first lavellan was a Solas bestie and I maintain that the overall themes that I love in the romance are still present in the platonic arc. but we don't get the crestwood scene without the romance, and FOR ME PERSONALLY(!), that is the most crucial part of the relationship's role in the story and what it says about both his and the inquisitor's character arcs.
last thing I swear. I also think inquisition has a lot of untapped potential as a story about what people can accomplish when they work together and care for one another. I acknowledge this isn't really explored in-game but TO ME! it is an important part of the story overall and solas's place in it. he altered the fabric of reality because he wanted to help people, and eons later he stuck around to knit back up his greatest mistake...to help people. I am gutted by the fact that this might be the only time in his entire, immortal life that he had the relationships with the people around him like he does while in the inquisition. AND by the fact that rather than see what caring for one another accomplished, he sees it was a weakness. completely misses the point because his shame and regret is just too suffocating. again i'm extrapolating a lot here but I couldn't not mention it in an answer about why I find his romance the best narratively lol
i'm so sorry this became literally an essay but academia never leaves you and I will also never not be deeply unwell about Solas. I hope this answered your question and wasn't just me losing my mind for 7 straight paragraphs (jesus christ) dksfjsdk but yeah. i'm done now
most fleshed out: CULLEN
this is a Bit hard for me to say bc i've only fully romanced 3 LIs in inquisition (Josie, Solas, Cass). i've read through/watched the others but imo it's not quite the same as experiencing the major beats of the relationship alongside the rest of the game. ANYWAY
to me the cullenmance seems most fleshed out, and I would be surprised if it didn't since he's been around for 3 whole games. they're able to rely on the players' past experiences with him as a kind of shorthand to develop his character (imo) and that history makes it feel a little fuller than romances with people you've only met this game. and he's the only other LI you can marry in trespasser and i am naught but a bitter josiemancer at the end of the day
also it pisses me off tremendously bc EYE think if they had actually put any effort or thought into his "redemption" he could've been one of the most impactful romances in the game! perhaps even second after solas! they had such a juicy opportunity w him (character-wise AND romance-wise) and they just. fumbled the absolute shit out of it. but idk why I expected anything else tbh slkdfjd
romance I like best: JOSIE <3
i'm taking this to mean the one I would like best for myself, and i'm sure i'm at least partially biased bc she was my first EVER dragon age romance but I really, really love Josephine's. I find it so sweet and such a great extension of her character <333 I love being able to go smooch her in the gardens whenever you want, I love that you get her to unwind a little, and I love the whirlwind fairytale drama of it all when you literally duel for her hand. is it unrealistic that the other dude would just give up? perhaps but idc it's TRUE LOVE and it CONQUERS ALL
I also personally find the leliana shotgun talk endearing bc it gives us a glimpse into their friendship. genuinely one of my only complaints is that I can't marry her/didn't get a romance specific scene w her in trespasser. like you just go to the opera. but whatever it's fine bc I love her so much. Josie deserves the world and, as someone who has spent her life taking care of others, she deserves someone who wants to take care of HER. I love that the inquisitor can be that for her :') additionally the epilogue slides (at least if you disband the inquisition idr what the others say) are fucking adorable bc her family loves you!!!
LI I like best: JOSIE AGAIN <3
antivan girllll I love youuuuu!! Solas doesn't win this title bc honestly he annoys me sometimes and Josie never annoys me lmao (I do still like him and think I would if I was a person in-game, but I gotta be realistic). I wish I had a deeper answer to this but I just think she's sweet, funny, interesting, beautiful, smart, sexy, and cool. I love that she's aggressively organized and that she can diffuse almost any situation and that she loves to talk shit and that she has regular tea parties with the other advisors. she is so cute and I love her!!! just in case I haven't said it enough times already!!!
best written as contained story + best written as it meshes with broader narratives/themes: I'M BALD/NUANCED ANSWER
tbh. the josiemance is probably one of the best ones (imo) as a contained story. you could completely remove it from the game and it would still make sense and be cute. it CAN mesh with the broader narratives/themes but it really doesn't have to and I haven't thought about this at all until just now! wow!
actually maybe i'll sort it this way. of the ones that could function well as standalone: Josie, Cassandra
ones that didn't NEED to happen during inquisition but still fit in well thematically: Blackwall, Dorian, Bull
ones that mesh best with the game's broader narratives/themes: Solas obviously, Cullen, and...Sera, actually, I think!
given that inquisition is about losing your personhood and being treated as a symbol, I appreciate that Sera is someone who tries to stay grounded and keep the inquisitor grounded. pretty sure the inquisitor actually says so verbatim to her in the scene after the post-corypheus party. she loves you for YOU, and reminds you that you are "a people" and not just the inquisitor, and that becomes a rare and beautiful gift by the end of the inq's story arc :')
i reserve the right to switch these around w more thought but for now I think i'll leave it there lol
best kiss(!!!): STILL BALD/NUANCE
to get the obligatory solasfucker brain rot answer out of the way: when he kisses the inquistor while removing their arm. I won't write another 7 paragraphs about it but just know that I COULD. lmfao
i love the Josie kiss after you duel for her hand ;_; and the one at the very end of the scene where her foot pops like mia in the princess diaries ;_; wah
i swear i'm not exclusively picking ones that i've personally romanced!! there are many good kisses those are just my favs
ANYWAY!
thank you SO MUCH for this ask I had an incredible time answering it this was extremely fun for me. and a good excuse to go back and watch all 8 romances via YouTube lskdjfslkdjf but fr thank you <3
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bitter-limelight · 10 months ago
Text
Time to sound like a cranky old person but,
I am begging gen Z to understand that you live in reality. Begging.
I work management in a job that attracts a lot of teens and young 20 somethings. It's an expected first job, not super hard, not super busy, but more involved than stocking shelves or bagging groceries. And I get some great kids once in a while, some young adults who are learning how to adult.
But I get more kids who are coming out of a post COVID terminally online cocoon who have never been given a realistic image of the world outside their Tik Tok screen and it's horrifying.
I routinely have kids who call out at least once a week because they're stressed, they're anxious, they don't feel good, they overslept, they stayed up too late (note that this is after I try to teach them that they do not need to tell their employer why they are calling out and that it's in their best interest to not share personal or medical information that can be used against them but they think saying they're sick will be a get out of work free card). I've had more than one employee who I find sitting on the floor in front of the customer area because they're tired or "just chilling". Several who tell me after they've been hired that they can't work mornings, can't work evenings, can't work more than 5 hours days or more than 3 days in a row. I've had several talk to me about how they need to prioritize their mental health and take a self care day today, and tomorrow, and two days next week.
And I'm WORRIED for these kids, because the thing is, they are right that capitalism is a soul crusher, that we are overworked, that we are expected to give too much, that we deserve better hours and better pay, that our mental health needs to be our priority. These are all true things, but they think they can step out of mom and dad's house and into a world where they will be given these things and that's just...not the world we live in.
When I get a new hire I tell them about what is expected of them, they sign papers about hours and call outs and attendence and how they can be fired for not following this (I have no power to hire or fire I just manage them at their work). And still I have 22 year olds crying at me in the bathroom because they got fired for calling out 13 days in a month. I have kids who don't understand why they can't just stand there on their phone "vibing." That they should be exempt from talking to customers because they have social anxiety and have to accommodate them (this is a customer service job, there is no accommodations for not interacting with customers ) "They can't fire me for being sick!" But they can. "They can't fire me, I'm disabled and need these accomodations!" But they can, because nobody ever taught you what a reasonable accomodation is. "But we have a union!" A union can't help you after you've been written up four times.
I try to be a good first job and first boss. You need an extra break? Sure, go grab a snack. A customer yelled at you? I'll handle it, go cool off then we will talk about what to do next time. If you have an emergency, talk to me, you can probably leave early. I try to be a buffer between these young people and the corporate machine above me, meeting them where they are while trying bridge the gap between their ideals and the reality they're facing. And I still have employees who quit, telling me they're over worked and this or that is illegal (it isn't, it's just unfair) and they're gonna go find a job where they're appreciated, only to come back a few months later and ask for their job back because everywhere else sucked too.
But sorry. You didn't put in your two weeks like I told you to so now you're non rehireable and banned from ever working at this brand again.
I admire Gen Z's desire for something better. I'm not here to be a corporate bootlicker. I'm here as someone who needs to work my ass off to make ends meet. I'm disabled, my options are limited. I've been fired for my disability, which is legal cause you can't prove that's why and do you have the money for a lawyer to fight them? I don't. I play the game, I get by, and I'm just honestly really worried for these kids who have big dreams of a better world but no idea how to get by in the one they are in. You gotta eat, you gotta pay rent, you gotta have heat and power and water. You have to survive while you work on a world where you can thrive.
This isn't "gen Z lazy, gen Z stupid, Gen z bad", this is gen Z, especially working class gen Z, disabled gen Z and queer gen Z is gonna be totally fucked if they don't learn some entry level work skills and how to not get fired from Costco
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achaotichuman · 1 year ago
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*Slides in asks* okay but like Modern!AU but like Lucien as a Hot Motorcycle guy riding down the coast with his hot artist boyfriend Tamlin.
Sorry but I'm a motorcycle lover and imagining Lucien riding A Harley, wearing all those leather and gears is making me 🥴🥴🥴 and the gloves, don't get me started on the gloves 😭😭😭
Ngl I have never written a Modern!Au before, and I know nothing about motorcycles, but first time for everything right? One hot man with motorcycle and hot boyfriend coming right up!
"Do you need a ride home?" Tarquin asked. Tamlin looked up from his music sheets to see the younger man packing up his guitar, preparing to head back to his place.
Tamlin glanced around at the others, Kallias was sitting on the couch up against the wall with Viviane beside him. Both knee-deep in papers and books. Eris and Cresseida were sprawled over an armchair, practically covering each other as they jotted down notes. They were at the recording studio, today they were supposed to be recording some vocals for a song they had been working on for six months now. But it seemed most of Tamlin's friends were taking the opportunity to cram in extra study time. Considering exam seasons were coming up it was now wonder why everyone could only think about their courses.
It still made an irrational part of Tamlin angry. They had started this group to record and eventually put out music, not to study.
Tamlin himself was pursuing a bachelor's degree in environmental science. He desperately wanted to help with the protection of their natural world. It was dying, slowly but surely, dying. He was pursuing this path out a need to do something. To help. To do his part.
Still, he was trying to juggle what he really, truly wanted to make his life. Music called to him at every given opportunity. Never in a million years would he give up his hope to one day help restore at least some of the earth they had lost, but he still hated that his friends were just... seemingly no longer interested.
Even Tarquin who had picked up his things and was preparing to walk out the door, had only played a few chords today before burying himself in notes and studies.
"No, I'm fine, thanks for the offer though. I might take you up on it next week." Tamlin said, returning his eyes to his music sheets.
"You sure? Everyone's staying here for the night, you'll have to catch a taxi if you want to get home." Tarquin pressed.
Tamlin sucked in a breath. Everyone was staying here tonight, because their recording studio, was also technically classified as Eris' basement that he let them use from time to time. Eris mostly came down to listen and watch the show when they were using the studio. Every now and again Tamlin could convince him to play a melody, but those were rare occasions.
Their entire band wasn't here at the moment. Thesan and his soon-to-be husband were buried in their own life. Bron and Hart were on a back-packing trip around Europe. And the second eldest Vanserra brother Silas was on vacation with his girlfriend. So at least most of the time they were busy when they were at the studio.
Still, it felt like they had stopped playing for the most part. Maybe he was being a little dramatic, but he loved playing in this group. The idea of losing it broke him more than he cared to admit.
"Yeah, I've already got a ride, he'll be here in a couple of minutes." Tamlin snatched up his phone and quickly checked the time, already 5, he should start packing up his things as well.
"Who's picking you up?" Kallias asked, not looking up from his notes.
"Lucien." Tamlin said, beginning to pack up his sheets.
"Ooohhh" Cresseida whistled from her seat beside Eris, "Hear that Eris, Lucien's picking him up."
"Yes I heard Cress." Eris hummed, "Believe it or not they have been dating for some time now."
Viviane huffed, "Dating since they met more like it."
"Hey!" Tamlin said, "We were good friends, its just... recently it became more."
"As if," Kallias said, "I remember when I first saw you two at a party together. Lucie practically had his hands all over you, and you glared at anyone who dared to try and get his number."
Eris let out a loud 'hah'. And Tamlin's face couldn't have been hotter.
He couldn't deny the truth in their words though. Tamlin had always felt strangely possessive over Lucien, and Lucien had never held back from touching Tamlin like he owned him. That had just always been their relationship, they stuck so closely together one might think they were joined at the hip.
It was also Lucien who warned Tamlin against dating Rhysand. Tamlin hadn't listened, too charmed by Rhysand's flirtatious personality that he never saw how the man gaslighted and manipulated him. Nearly talking Tamlin out of thinking Rhysand had cheated on him.
Six months, that's how long it took for Tamlin to leave bed without sobbing every time he passed a place that reminded him of the bastard he once called his lover. A year it took for him to look at Lucien, the man who had stuck by him the entire time and finally realize what had been beside him all along.
And how he was teased for not realizing it sooner.
A message popped up on Tamlin's phone. Lucien. It read 'Outside, ready when you are.'
Tamlin quickly grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, "Alright, I'm going now."
"Have fun with Lucie!" Viviane called out, the rest of his group laughed. Tamlin walked outside with Tarquin. The younger man knocked his shoulder against Tamlin as they headed out of Eris' house and out onto the street.
"You have to admit, it took you ten years to realize Lucien was right there, you're lucky he didn't get taken before you could have him.
"Yeah, I know, I don't deserve him." Tamlin hummed.
"No one does, its Lucien for the Gods sakes." Tarquin said, a wistful look appearing in his eyes, "You scored with him."
"Don't even think about him like that Tarquin." Tamlin snarled. Tarquin rolled his eyes, then turned towards his car parked on the curve.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Tam." He said as he unlocked and opened his car door, "You head off with your precious lover."
Tamlin rolled his eyes, but waved as Tarquin started his car and drove off.
What a prick. A what a bunch of pricks his friends were.
Well, they were his pricks so he couldn't really complain.
As Tamlin watched Tarquin drive off down the road. The sounds of another engine filled his ears, he turned to see Lucien heading down the road towards him. On that damned motorcycle.
Lucien stopped abruptly in front of him, sending dust flying in his wake. He swung his leg off the motorcycle as he pulled his helmet off.
Head to toe in leather, gloves covering his hands and red pouring out down his shoulders, Lucien stood before him. Tamlin felt his breath get caught in his throat as he watched Lucien's chest expand with his breathing, forcing that tight jacket to stretch around his ribs, accentuating every muscle he had.
"Hello beautiful." Lucien purred as he walked towards Tamlin and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Tamlin blushed so hard he felt dizzy. He bit his lip and pressed his forehead to Lucien's.
"You brought your motorcycle," Tamlin murmured, remembering one to many times Lucien had done terrifying tricks while Tamlin had watched, scared out of his mind.
"You love it." Lucien accused. Tamlin laughed.
"I like the leather." Tamlin whispered, tracing a circle over Lucien's sternum. Barely able to take his eyes off the gorgeous body before him.
"Everyone does." Lucien said as he pressed his lips to Tamlin's. Tamlin entertained his kiss for a second, before he pulled away with an eyebrow raised.
"Who is everyone?" Tamlin asked.
Lucien laughed and wrapped an arm around Tamlin's waist, holding him close, "Anyone that passes me."
Playfully, Tamlin shoved Lucien's shoulder, "You've got too big an ego for your own good."
"You say that like you don't."
"I deserve to be egotistical." Tamlin said.
"Whatever you say, my love." Lucien said, pulling him in for a proper kiss. Tamlin complied, pressing their bodies right up against each other.
After Tamlin finally remembered they were in fact, in public, he pulled away from Lucien and pulled out his helmet from his bag. Quickly strapping it on, he let Lucien get on the bike first before his slid in behind him.
Tamlin wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's middle. Tamlin wouldn't admit it aloud but being on the motorcycle tended to terrify him at times. Considering he had no clue how it worked, and Lucien often went faster than he should just to 'impress him'.
It was impressive, or it would be if Tamlin wasn't on the bike with him. At least Lucien always slowed down whenever Tamlin asked.
They took off. Speeding down the highway so fast everything in Tamlin's vision became a blur. He held tightly onto Lucien and laughed. Watching the blurry view beside them.
The wind whipped around him. A welcome coolness against the hot sun. They passed cars and sped through the city. Tamlin felt every part the girl on her bad boy boyfriend's bike from the Hollywood movies, and he loved it so much.
They eventually found the coastal road. Lucien slowed as they went through the scenic route. Passing the glorious sea spread out over miles and miles, glittering in what was now the sunset light. Oranges, red and purples danced on the horizon, a beautiful painting that adorned the sky.
Tamlin let out a content hum as he hugged his boyfriend a little tighter.
Eventually they slowed to a stop outside of their favorite restaurant. Tamlin furrowed his brow as Lucien shut off then engine. Taking off his helmet Tamlin asked, "What are we doing?"
"I'm taking you out to dinner of course." Lucien said, taking off his helmet, and pulling off his gloves. Tamlin nearly licked his lips as he watched those bronzed hands slowly be revealed.
Standing up, Tamlin placed his helmet on the bike, then turned to Lucien. He wrapped his arms around Lucien's neck, then stood up on the tips of his toes.
He pressed his lips to Lucien's. The Vanserra paused for amoment, seemingly surprised, but then he gripped Tamlin's waist and pulled him close. His tongue gently prying Tamlin's mouth open and slipping inside. Tamlin moaned and pulled him as close as he was physically allowed.
The sun set over their heads. A brilliant end to the day.
In Lucien's arms. Covered in that skintight leather. Kissing him senseless. Tamlin didn't think he could ever be happier.
I may add more to this at a later date, just because I really like it. Thanks for the prompt! I loved writing this!
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