#and for once I don’t think I was one ??? I feel like I was mostly watching

[slut4thebroken]

Pathetic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepbro!Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Your stepbrother is weird and annoying, but you’ve found a way to make good use of him.

Warnings | Smut, dub con? but like not really, incest technically, dry humping, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, he’s very pathetic, and subby, reader is very mean.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Idk in my head they’re both in college but still living at home lol. Also once again, I can’t think of a title😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 17: degradation

You thought your step brother was super weird and honestly a little annoying… but there were some redeeming qualities. He’ll pretty much do whatever you say— he’s only a few months younger, but he acts like it. Even though he’s taller and probably stronger, you can still boss him around like an older sister should. Then there was… his other useful quality. 

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You spat, almost disgusted, and he whined behind you as his hips sped up. You were currently on your hands and knees on his bed, wearing just a shirt and panties. Neil was behind you, holding your hips still so he could dry hump you with his clothed dick in the cleft of your ass, over your underwear. “This is what gets you off? Humping your sister like a dog?” You snickered. 

“Oh god…” He moaned, rutting against you harder and faster. “Fuck, I- I’m gonna come.” He whimpered and you barked out a laugh. 

“Already?” His whines got louder and louder until his hips stilled a little and he was moaning and whimpering instead. You could feel his come soaking through both pairs of underwear and his cock twitching as it stayed pressed between your cheeks. “That’s all it takes? You just rub your dick on something and come in less than five minutes?” 

“Stop..” He whined pathetically. 

“Get off me.” You huffed, leaning up to push him down on the bed. You got him on his back, then straddled his hips and began grinding on him again, this time with your cunt.  

“Wait- wait,” He choked out, grabbing your hips. He let out a pained whine at the overstimulation, only encouraging you. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” You started grinding down on him harder, mostly to make it hurt more for him, but also to finally get yourself close to the edge. 

“Please stop..” He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, barely coping with the overstimulation. 

“God- do you ever shut up?” You groaned, leaning over him to put a hand over his mouth. The new angle was stimulating your clit even more, making you curse under your breath. 

He sobbed out a moan behind your hand and looked up at you with glossy eyes, his brows scrunched together in pain. Pink dusted his cheeks and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight. 

He’s never looked more pathetic. 

“Y’know, if you actually knew how to make a girl come, I wouldn’t have to do this.” You said bitterly, making him whine. “Of course I had to get stuck with a fucking virgin for a step brother. Maybe I’ll go find one of your friends— see if they have better stamina than a fucking teenager.” His hips bucked under yours, making you smirk a little. 

“Oh, do you like that?” You sneered. “Is that what you are, a cuck? Should I let you watch your friends do a better job than you ever could?” In response, he whimpered and shook his head. 

“You’re so fucking useless. This isn’t even worth it— I’m just going to get off by myself.” You started to lean up and when he reached out for you in a panic, you slapped his hands away. 

“No! I- I’m sorry. I can help.” 

“Can you?” You scoffed. “I don’t think your pathetic excuse for a cock will help me very much.” 

“My— my mouth..” You huffed, but laid down on your back, making him frown when your come soaked underwear got on his sheets. 

“Get to it then.” You snapped, bringing him into motion. He laid down between your legs and wrapped his arms under your thighs, then pulled your underwear to the side. He started with slow kisses and licks, quickly testing your patience. “Why am I coming like this and not with my vibrator?” You asked sarcastically, egging him on. Which got him to start moving more enthusiastically, sucking on your clit and slurping up your arousal. 

“God, you even eat pussy like a fucking virgin.” You muttered, sounding almost bored. He whined against you, sucking on your clit even harder and occassionally fucking his tongue inside you. 

You waited for him to bring you to the edge, but it was taking a while, so you decided to grab your phone and watch something to help you get there. The movement of you picking up the device caught his attention and he looked up at you without removing his mouth from your pussy. When moans started playing through the speaker, he immediately frowned and his ministrations faltered. 

“I let you come. Do the same for me or I’ll tell your mom about how much of a pervert her ‘precious baby boy’ is.” You snapped. He stared at you with slightly wide eyes, then reluctantly put his attention back on your cunt. 

The porn was definitely helping, as was knowing how degraded he probably felt. After a few minutes, he pulled back and you looked down at him, raising your brows. 

“My tongue is getting sore.” He explained with a pout, making you scoff. 

“You’re the one who begged to eat me out. Stop fucking complaining.” Using your free hand, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back down, burying his face in your pussy. You held him in place like that for a few minutes, but when you started nearing the edge, you put his head in a leg lock, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against your cunt, giving him no other choice but to make you come. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you squeezed his head with your leg even tighter and your back arched off the bed. He was moaning against you and humping the bed, apparently enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you. 

After the pleasure faded, you let out a heavy breath and sagged back onto the bed, closing your eyes. Neil let out a soft sound against your pussy, so you sighed, but let your leg fall back down onto the bed, allowing him to pull off. The bottom half of his face was completely covered in his spit and your arousal, and he panted heavily for a few seconds as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“Can I please come again?” He asked timidly, waiting until you had mostly recovered from your orgasm to ask. 

You looked down at him, then rolled your eyes and reached for your phone again. “Whatever. Hump my leg I guess.” He whined quietly, but straddled your thigh and started rutting against you while you scrolled through your phone, waiting impatiently for him to finish. 

Soon enough, his breathing was starting to pick up and his hips were moving more desperately as he neared the edge. “Fuck.. I’m gonna come.” He choked out, humping you frantically. When the front door slammed shut though, both of you froze. 

“Can you help bring in the groceries?” His mom called out from downstairs. 

“Be right there!” You yelled back, then sat up, making him whine loudly. 

“No- please.. I’m so close.” 

“Not my problem, loser. Get off.” You spat, pushing him off your leg onto the bed. You stood up, but paused when you heard quiet whimpering. More come was leaking from his underwear and he quickly reached down to try and salvage the rest of his ruined orgasm. You watched him stroke his erection through the fabric, getting his come all over his hands and crotch, making an even bigger mess. 

“You’re so fucking gross.” You scoffed, making him whine pathetically. Before leaving, you picked up his shirt from the floor and wiped the rest of his come from your ass, then put your shorts back on and walked out. 

[jifloulette]

it was foolish enough that you fell for his trap, but now you know how to play the game — no way were you going to let him win.

what ? . . . hcs of blue lock men reacting to what you did the second you found out about their hidden affairs. who ? . . . shidou ryusei, reo mikage, itoshi sae warnings ? . . . swear words, reader is a diva, toxic men, cheating

SHIDOU RYUSEI !

The second you found out he cheated on you through a call he had with his so called “manager” when he was stepping out of your shared house, saying things like “don’t worry, babe.. y/n’s dumb as fuck. they’ll never know.” — you really didn’t mean to eavesdrop but when you heard him mentioning your name it got you curious. And like what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

It was safe to say you had your fair share of cries and screaming that night. Not because you were sad — well you might’ve been but it was mostly due to anger. Why couldn't you stop the tears flowing down your face and your eyes from going blurry when you knew this was always going to happen? He just dated you for clout. Swarms and swarms of fans came flocking to him so in order for them to stop, he chose to love one of them. You were just an easy victim.

You were oblivious to his plan to keep you with him for his own good at first but his actions inside and outside of the home you two shared showed that he really couldn’t care less about you.

You went from always asking him if he ate, packing him lunch, “i love you” messages daily to barely doing the bare minimum in a relationship.

You weren’t lying if you said that you did want Ryusei to notice about the change in your behavior recently — to reassure you that he genuinely loved you. Adding that it was a honest mistake and he’d try to change.

It was a stupid thought really. How delusional did you have to be to think that? Looking at the man who you once loved so sickly makes your blood boil knowing about his true intention about being with you was.

So when an article blows up about Ryusei getting caught by paparazzi making out another with another woman in a soccer event of his, you could only laugh bitterly.

You immediately packed your things, a medium-sized white luggage and a black duffel bag ready to go. You didn’t pack all of them, some of your trinkets and clothes were things he gave to you because of how “special” you were to him. It irked you knowing that he only gave it to you out in public, never in private.

So imagine his surprise when he sees you with your things on the way to your car, immediately running towards you so he could stop you.

He hugged you tightly, it really disgusted you knowing that this man who was holding you in his arms like his life depended on it had touched countless of women too. 

You could only do so much to push the behemoth of a man off you before laughing hysterically at how he looked so pathetic.

You told him to drop the act because you already knew what you meant to him. You were nothing more than someone who he used for his own comfort and privileges. You were a backburner, a rebound, a temporary person in his life full of fame and soccer.

He pleaded for you to hear him out so you let him, at least wanting to hear what this pitiful excuse the man in front of you had.

“Please don’t leave, y/n..! It was just a small mistake, she came onto me! I was drunk, I couldn’t do anything.. please I can’t live without you. You know everything I need, you know what to say and what to do. You’re everything I have besides soccer, I’ll be damned if you leave me.” 

You could almost feel like cussing the man out in front of you. I mean, the audacity? Saying that you were the love of his life, that he can’t live without you? It’s almost as if he never did anything to you, he was making you seem like the culprit!

You applaud his acting before giving him a nice, good slap to bring him back to his senses. You weren’t stupid, you know more than this feeble man could ever know in his entire life. 

Before leaving, you say something that leaves him speechless. 

“You know? Be glad you chose soccer as your career because you could never cut out for acting. Plus, shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving you? You can fuck around all the girls and guys you’d like! Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll expose you or anything, oh wait! The public already knows.. boohoo”

REO MIKAGE !

You and Reo loved each other more than the two of you could ever know. Everyone knew that. You, Reo, and Nagi were the dynamic trio in your school, everyone saw that. You loved Reo because you just did, not for his popularity, his looks, and his money. 

Well maybe you were considering that last part ever since you discovered that he was fucking around some random girl in your class.

You really only found out when Nagi told you about it after 2 weeks of your boyfriend’s secret affair. Nagi really only knew after he eavesdropped the conversation the girl Reo was cheating on you with, saying that the girl said she was using him for clout and for his money. Something you’d never do to him.

To say you were angry was an understatement, you were fuming. The audacity of this man who you considered to be your first and last to do something as cruel and shitty as this?

So, you did what you had to do. Use his own fears and insecurities against him, being used. You knew it was brutal doing something like this, but was it really that bad compared to what he did to you?

You started off slow, asking him for a few hundred bucks before spending it on your heart’s desires. Reo noticed how most of your conversations was just you blatantly asking him for money before kissing him goodbye. To be honest, he was scared. Not because there was a chance of you using him but because you might’ve known about what he was doing behind your back and you were doing this as revenge.

Then, you started doing something bigger. He gave you free will of his credit card, saying that you deserved to treat yourself because you were his so called “love of his life”. You bought designer brands, buying jewelry that god knows you can’t afford, treating your friends for days and days. You had no thought behind your eyes but to just hurt the taro-haired boy for whatever he's worth.

And when he noticed the fatal drop in his savings, he finally confronted you. You could only really laugh at him for now only noticing your intentions recently.

He became disheartened — but really, who has he to be disappointed in what you did when he had done something much more evil? So when you told him that you knew about his little act, he could feel his heart drop.

He tried telling you that the girl who he supposedly “fucked” was just a bitch who could only create fake rumors but you’re not dumb, he knows that.

Shortly after, he became mad. He was screaming at you as if you started all of this. Victimizing himself, saying that if you really loved him, you would confront and talk to him about it like a normal person.

“You know what y/n?! Fuck you and your shit! If you really loved me, you would’ve done everything you could to keep me by your side! But not, you had to be a cunt about it and hit me with this mess! You know how insecure I am about all of this so w-why..?”

You were flabbergasted at his sudden breakdown — to be honest, you had more right to be mad at him than he was to you! I mean, who cheated in the first place? His father was a billionaire, so why did he care so much?

Likewise, you screamed at him. Telling the teared up boy in front of you that no one could ever love him like you did, adding that everyone who has ever had a crush on him were only after his status and fame.

“Okay, who the fuck are you to talk about shit like this again? The last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who cheated, huh?! So why do you care so much about what I do with your money? You did say that I deserved to treat myself so here I am! Go fuck that litte cunt all your life because all she’ll really love is your money, nothing else. Can you really call yourself a man? It’s funny how you make yourself the victim when I have more right to be mad at you?!”

Not to mention, you and Nagi also had something going on the second you found out about what he did. You told that to him as well, saying that even if Nagi was sloth-like, he took much more care of you than he ever could.

Oh and, the girl he was cheating with you on left him shortly after, her reason being that she had enough money to leave him, lol.

ITOSHI SAE !

People would view your relationship with Sae as destiny, i mean it certainly had to be fate, right? The light pink-haired man really didn’t let anyone in his life except for you. The two of you were happy in the world that you had created for yourselves! Or so you thought.

It turns out that Sae actually never loved you that much, you were just a replacement for his ex. You knew how harsh his past relationship with this girl was and boy, it frustrated you because how did he manage to play with your heart for two whole years?

Your efforts to make him love you didn’t go to waste, right? He did say he “loved” kissing you,  making sure to cuddle you every now and then. But who were you kidding, you could see right through his ice cold heart.

He never loved you for you, you were just an easy target, prey in other words. He knew you couldn’t deny his irresistible charms and fuck, was he right.

You fell for him the second he held your hand that one night in the club. It was a dangerous game to play, the relationship you two had was like russian roulette, except Sae knew where the bullet was. He made sure to let the bullet hit you.

How did you found out a bit, you ask? Well, when the two of you were on the couch, cuddling. He was whispering sweet nothings in your ear. unbeknownst to him, he had accidentally said the name of his ex. He didn’t notice he said it and as the lovestruck person you are, you didn’t say anything. You couldn't afford to confront him and have the possibility of him leaving you.

It happened a little 5-6 times before you really knew that it wasn’t you that was on his mind whenever he was with you, it was his ex. It was always going to be his ex. 

You’ve had cries and screams the moment you created that conclusion. It seemed as if you were pierced through the heart yet you still remained alive.

So, what better way to get revenge than letting him get a taste of his own medicine? Let him think you were cheating on him? Why not make him think you had something going on with his brother?

You had met up with Rin a few times before, but was only usually because he wanted help with something outside of soccer. Sae had seen you with his little brother enough times to know that your intentions to him were good. Even if they aren’t in good terms, he still has to care about him.

You started doing in minimally — only doing it every now and then. But now, it seemed as if you couldn't stop saying his little brother's name, it was like the man holding you as he was caressing your hair was no other than Rin. You wanted him to get hurt, it was the only reason you could think of as why you were still with him.

It's only when Sae had enough that he blew up on you, for the first time in years has he showed true emotions and anger. He was scary when mad, but you were terrifying. How dare he say that you were a bitch for supposedly cheating on him with his little brother?!

But really, you were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. A spoonful of what he was doing to you. If he's doing it to you, it's okay — but when it's you doing the same, you're suddenly the antagonist, the villain?! How narcissistic can someone be?

He was screaming all sorts of swears at you, adding that the only reason he was with you this long was only because you were a mere duplicate of his ex. A mirrored version of her, except you already knew that. It was a useless attack in order for you to get hurt.

"What the actual fuck, y/n? How the hell are you here cuddled up with me when the only person you could think of is my little fucking brother? What?! Did that bastard treat you as good as I did? You know, be glad I'm still here with you because you're nothing more than an exact replica of my ex. Yeah! That's the only reason I'm with you! You're just nothing but a gullible bitch!

To say you were revolted was an understatement, no words could describe the burning hatred you felt towards the pathetic excuse of a man in front of you.

You obviously would never back down from an argument. I mean, you had more reasons to be mad at him than he was to you. As much as you wanted to scream at him back, shout words that would be too harsh to say again, you just stayed quiet. He was throwing whatever was on the bed at you — blankets, pillows, even his own jacket.

You waited for him to cool down before saying your own side of the story. You were never the villain after all, he had to know that.

"I didn't even do shit with Rin, I was only doing the same thing you were doing to me! You think I don't know that your ex was on your mind just right now as we were cuddling? You think I don't know the reason why you're still with me?! I knew at least 2 months ago, the audacity you have to say all sorts of words at me as if I did something wrong? It's no wonder your ex was such a bitch to you!"

Then, you left his house shortly after. but of course, you wanted the public to know as well. Your ig bio had Sae's username tagged in it, which you removed. As well as any posts you had with him on all of your socials.

Let him clean up this mess he had created, let him put the fire he started out. Let the public and paparazzi attack him, asking for questions as to why you did all those actions which seemed as if the two of you were over. You were done with him after all, everyone clearly knew. You had made him do all the 'clearing up', it was his fault after all — why should you have to clean up after him?

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[ganxiously]

This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness. 

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips.  He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue. 

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

[etherealevangeline]

Midnight Morgue—The Morgue

hey ya’ll! please read the notes below. MDNI! please enjoy and don’t hesitate to leave feedback, it means a lot to us writers! words: 20k. my ao3: etherealevangeline

summary: reader finds herself joining Price as a coroner to pursue her “career,” as a mortician. this may or may not be an excuse to explore her eerie curiosity of death, considering her painful backstory of her dead family. this story deals with explicit themes such as smut, gore, horror, alcoholism, mental health, delusions, surgical themes/terms but probably inaccurate lol.

notes: just love the look of 2009 simon riley in this morgue AU. morgue may or may not be haunted :) ritualistic themes/cult like behavior. random sketchy ass town. Price is the supervisor. Mactavish & Garrick are small town police officers. slow burn simon x reader, enemies to lovers, simon has a huge chip on his shoulder. reader is questioning her belief in the spirit realm. feminine pronouns are used.

You found your way into the small borough of Carbon county shortly after losing your loved ones. Now, that was a while ago, having been a few years. But the pain and agony of that night never left you. It left a sinking, wallowing hole in your chest every time you thought of it. And to disguise your pain—you had turned to drinking. The feeling of the whiskey went down like water on the weekends. If anything it was less of an alcoholic drink to you and a source of never ending depravity. A way to rot on your couch.

‘’A wee alcoholic, aye?’’ You’d remember the man's words. He wasn’t the new rookie deputy cop you’d expected. No, near him was a towering man, all clad in his uniform. He had a buzzcut. What you remember was his cognac eyes boring into yours, the sight of a frown pulling at his lips from the stress of the job already taken over. Crow's feet pinched at his eye corners. His hand rested on his walkie talkie as if cradling it to soothe him.

’’Bloody hell, I don’t remember his name.’’ You muttered weakly, a sigh leaving your nostrils. Your languid, half lidded eyes from intoxication gaze up at the ceiling. It spins. You could hear the background noise of your TV—it’s nothing interesting. Nothing seems to be of interest anymore. It drags on and on until her voice drowns out. That wallowing hole inside your chest can never be sewn up, you think.

And that was mostly why you worked in a morgue. Since seeing the death of your kind—it stirred something deep inside you. Something you didn’t understand from the very beginning. It was a need to know, a primal curiosity to understand death and how it impacted the human body. You were once told it was how you coped with what happened, but how many times did you believe that when you drank your hundredth for the night?

What you still wanted to know was how it felt when that car wrapped around that pole. The smell of gasoline to burn your nostrils, and how it felt to have a 9mm blow your head off. The sound must be deafening. It must have had to blow in your eardrums and produce a shudder so violent you'd whip around. It was sickening and frightening, the kind of thoughts you had. Some would think so. But how could you sit there and write them off, when they whispered from the dark halls of your mind? Every night, beckoning. Chanting like venomous whispers.

And when the nights came, you’d sit and analyze. Hunched on your bed as the autumn night howled and the wind moaned for reprieve. Rain splattering like blood against the window. You’d replay what you’d see over and over again—only for your body to fall short of it all. The one thing missing was the experience. You were just an outsider when it happened to them, that is what it felt like.

But soon, the voices seemed to unravel. A slow hum settled down from the corner of the dingy, messy kitchen. Tablecloth slipped off, no center piece for decorum. The window was open letting in cold stark air. The lamp blinked, and surely enough your attention was back on the TV ahead of you. Rain pounds the screen as the reporter wears her flapping raincoat, eyes squinting as water raced down her pallid skin.

‘’Rattling one of the small boroughs of Pennsylvania in Jim Thorpe, a 32 year old woman was found dead by the Delaware river. Her body was found by a hiker.’’

‘’The small town is terrified as strings of bodies are found scattered around the Poconos Mountains. Will get back to you once we take five.’’ Just like that the screen cuts off. You’re left staring, shot in one hand empty. It feels cold and stale all of a sudden. It churns uneasily in your stomach, gathering like a whirlpool. Pulling at your insides and causing your vision to tilt.

Before you knew it—you’re throwing up again in your trash bin you kept beside you for when it did happen.

With all of the murders happening—bodies came in for an autopsy faster than usual. Normally, it was of a man who had fallen off a ladder and landed fatefully on his head. Leading to a subdural hematoma which then took his life. Or normally it was a druggie overdose.

But this—this pronounced a temperamental chill down your spine. Your arms brushed your sweater in uncertainty as you walked in. Your purse hangs from your shoulder—giving a glance at the receptionist who is flat faced and has saggy smile lines.

She bears no interest as you walk past and down the rickety, narrow hallway. You punch the elevator and walk in—dim and yellow lights casting a pallid sickly glow on you.

Once in the morgue downstairs, you amble down the cold constricting hallways. It’s peacefully silent, and occasionally scuffles from inside the autopsy room could be heard. When you walk in—you’re not surprised to see the bear of a man washing his hands in the sink, back facing you. He wore a reddish brown sweater, and it's rolled up. Streaks of grey line his once blonde hair. Its faint, but when you look closely you can see it. In front you is the morgue table, an overhead fluorescent lighting sending your head pounding. The lab is beside the sink, the fridge to the side holding blood samples.

‘’You’re late,’’ Price greets you gruffly, turning to wipe his wet hands on the nearby rag. He slaps it down a little too hastily for your liking--turning his shoulder to look at you, and you swallow, distant eyes tracking his boots. They were distressed, worn, and the leather was peeling from the toe front. The flaps weren’t firm anymore. His khaki pants slouch slightly at the rim of the boots.

’’Got caught up.’’ You said, the words sounding flat. It bore no heartbeat. You knew what you got caught up with.

‘’Get on with it, MacTavish is coming in with a body.’’ Price said firmly and you nodded your head. His pinched eyes watch you for any signs of swaying or slurring. You feel like a carcass—being picked apart under his gaze. He picks and prods at the meat and torn flesh that resembled you, leaving nothing but that exposed hole of deprecation.

You shudder under his gaze. You don’t like it. But you know this is how he is. Ever since you first came. It must be from all his years of military experiences which is why it came so easy to tear you apart like this with just a look.

You unwrapped your scrubby red scarf, hanging it in the closet door inside. You hang your purse and quickly scrub your hands down, head lowered in the sink where he previously stood. You get under your fingernails, as the suds glide down. You scrub until red shows up and your chest feels less tense than it did under his gaze.

‘’Get on with it, MacTavish is coming in with a body.’’ Price said firmly and you nodded your head. His pinched eyes watch you for any signs of swaying or slurring. You feel like a carcass—being picked apart under his gaze. He picks and prods at the meat and torn flesh that resembled you, leaving nothing but that exposed hole of deprecation.

Wiping your hands, you move with haste. You walk past him and the smell of tobacco hits you. He moves back to address you, eyes lingering on the top of your head uneasily. His arms cross as if surveying you. Was he a hypocrite, eyeing you as if you’d committed a war crime for drowning your sorrows? You shouldn't think like this—he’s your superior. But apart you has little to no room to care for his reputation.

You draw a figure of a body, finishing the legs, trailing up to the arms, and head. You then do a quick rinse and snap on some gloves by the lab desk area. Your fingers wiggle, and you turn to Price, holding up your hands and nodding.

He makes a quick move to talk, ‘’You’re not dead until—‘’

‘’You’re warm and dead.’’

Something almost like pride flickers in his eyes as you now announce it with ease. At first you didn't understand the implication behind the words but to him it held some sort of motivation. You thought it was silty to have said it--but upon seeing that glint in his eye it has you second guessing your thought for a second.

‘’If I ave’ to drag you to work, I will personally see to it that you’re warm and dead.’’ He said dryly. There's a hint of something in his scruffy voice but you can’t quite name it. The way his expression is hidden makes you tilt your gaze to his to see what’s underneath. To cut him open like a can of worms, to expose his insides and all his guilt. Shame. Repressed nightmares. The way he'd done with you. Maybe you’ve been staring too long because he then clears his throat.

The sound of boots thudding down the hallway come into earshot and soon a pretty, tall and boisterous man walks in. He’s sporting a mohawk, his skin somehow glistening despite the dreading atmosphere of the night. ’’We copped one, Doc.’’ He said in his thick Scottish accent, nodding a head before his eyes roamed over to you. His light eyes if it was possible--swelled with even more amusement.

You stand there, ignoring him as the body rolls in. It's the new recruit, you remembered, the one who held his walkie like it was something beloved to him. You flash a glance at his uniform—Garrick.

The victim is covered in a white sheet, you can’t tell if it’s a woman or man yet. The feet point out, unmoving and poking at the cloth. After MacTavish removed his gaze from your still form, his walkie beeps and he then comes over by Garrick who situates himself at the other end. On three, they hoisted the body onto the table.

‘’I had it.’’ Price muttered, slapping his gloves on.

Mactavish gives him a sloppy grin before stepping back on his boots, ‘’Wanted to impress the Bonnie.’’

Bunny?

What Bunny?

Confusion must’ve betrayed your normally flat face as you walked to the table, tilting the overhead lights to the body below. MacTavish's’ eyes glitter at your reaction, happy he got to milk some sort of response from you. You could tell he was interested, but not quite sure what to poke and prod at just yet. Garrick scoffs and a hand rests on his belt.

’’You’ll get it soon, dinnae fash yer’ self.’’ You glance at where the face is supposed to be, and then at MacTavish. Your lashes brush your brow bone, unwavering.

’’Give her a few and she’ll pick up the Scotsman, yeah?’’ Garrick said roughly, moving so he strolled the gurney out. He disappears down the dreadful hallway and you hear the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights again. Something irked you. They spoke as if you weren't in the room. Then again, you had a habit of shrinking away to hide from the limelight. Could you really blame them?

‘’English, MacTavish.’’ Price mumbles, but MacTavish is stepping back, saluting comically at you both before heading out, one hand resting on his vest. You don’t miss the way his holster wraps around his thigh and hugs it, his sidearm jiggling.

Price grabs his little voice recorder from his table, fingers pressing the red button. It's small and fits in his larger hands perfectly.

’’This is the autopsy of an unidentified male, assisting with John Price is the coroner.’’ He mentions your name and it almost has a grudging sense of respect behind it.

Your heart lurches ever so slightly at the recognition. Did you like that? Did you like being seen? You're not sure what to think as you cross the line of curiosity and shame. He then gave a subtle nod to you to start working. Your hands ghost over the edges of the thin sheet for a second too long.

’’Remove the sheets.’’ Price orders, still not having loosen up his tongue from his ex military days. It's sharp and biting, firm. You bet it straightens the soldiers up before any real whipping began.

And so you do.

You don't shudder at the sight. After seeing it so many times it burns like a memory behind your eyes. Pale cloudy eyes of the man meet yours. At the sight you find it intriguing even, as his eyes convey no emotion. It’s flat, staring into an abyss. He has no consciousness of course. But when you arrived at the scene of your mother, you thought you could’ve seen the horror written on her face in the aftermath.

''Unidentified male appears to be in his early 30s. He is wearing no clothes.’’ You begin, trailing your eyes down his features before his body. You reach out and flex an arm, seeing how the muscles move and flex.

‘’The man is still in rigor mortis.’’ You identify.

Price nodded, ‘’And what could that mean?’’

’’He was found in a colder temperature, or he just died within 24 hours.’’

Price gets up to shuffle to the drawing board. He then goes to write with the thin chalk, his back facing you. ‘’Timeframe 24 hours.’’ The chalk moves with haste. He doesn’t bother to write straight, his writing is long, narrow, and at the end his letter swoops down from the effort of removing the chalk. It screeches a bit.

‘’Blonde hair, possibly blue eyes but hard to tell since it's clouded over.’’

‘’So is it blue or not?’’

You give him a glance from under your lashes, and then suck in a breath. ‘’Blue it is.’’

You then continue, tilting the head this way and that, a pinch forming between your brows as you noted diligently his features. You can feel Price studying you intensely. You know you have yet to have order to your examinations. ‘’Caucasian.’’

You could then hear Price writing on the green board.

’’Scarring around his ankles and wrists, like he’s been bound.’’ Price drops the chalk on the ledge near the eraser and comes forward. He slapped his gloves on, standing at where the head is positioned and he nods for you to go to the board instead.

’’Left and right?’’ He looked at you, watching as you walk past and to the board, a hand still adjusting the gloves. He had a bit of a struggle with the gloves being too tight. You circled the ankle and wrists as he taught you, to which you drew arrows and defined “bound.”

He raised a brow and then his eyes lowered to the unidentified male, ready to start his own observations. The feeling first began as a trickle against his neck, almost like lengthy fingers stroking the skin there. Price rolled his shoulder, as if working out a kink to which you noticed after you turned.

How you wished you blinked an eye. You shifted in your spot.

“I’ve seen this before.” Price murmured, raising the ankles carefully. The joints were shattered, leaving the bone bruised and inflamed. It’s mottled purple and blue, the area ballooned. He reached out almost tenderly to push at the bone in the ankle where it meets the bulbous joint. The bone juts and pressed against the superficial skin, threatening to pierce. It slides uneasily.

“When?” You can’t help but ask. Curiosity strikes and you find yourself tip-toeing to eye his movements. He stands quite far, so you have only the view of his head tipped down, hands skillfully working below his waist.

In fact his grey is pronounced even more. It shines under the light like silver. “Ten years ago…another male came in. Unidentified. Broken wrists and ankles just like this.”

You swallowed and Prices’ eyes flashed. Almost as if reliving a forbidden memory. It's the way he said it--like a breathy whisper, as if too afraid to still admit what he’d seen. “It was a kid at that time.”

“A kid?”

Price nodded and then furrowed his brows. The skin pinches from the urge to shove the memory away. He then looked up at you, his eyes shadowed as he rested the ankle down. You clamped your mouth shut, as it seemed personal, and the voice recorder was still rolling.

Price then swiveled around to open the mouth of the male. His hands pry and it falls open unnaturally, slack and limp, “Front incisor teeth are missing. Looks to be yanked from the root.”

You wince at the comment, imagining every bit of it. It makes you shudder. You turn and continue writing down his observations, circling the mouth area. A nauseous feeling arises in you. The feeling where your stomach rises and drops on a rollercoaster ride—except there is no rollercoaster. You couldn’t tell if it was from the drinks the night before, or from seeing the body crudely mangled.

“There’s something stuck in the throat. The esophagus.” Price suddenly said, shining a light down the man's throat with a smaller penlight. You turn around, hair whipping slightly, approaching the table where the body lay. You move as light as a feather, your footsteps unheard. A steady hum from the light above soothed your nerves. “What is it?”

Price sighed heavily, as if the nights worked dragged on. It did, you couldn't blame him. “When we perform the internal examination we’ll see.”

During the internal examination, Price steadily held his instrument. The scalpel slices cleanly at the pale flesh. When he inspects the throat area, he detaches the larynx, the and the esophagus, there’s swelling and trauma. You narrowed your eyes in focus to see.

“It looks…round.” You muttered as his gloves prod at it. Price extracts what looks to be a small pouch. When he lifts it in the air because his eyes occasionally struggle to see in the dark, his brows shoot up. At first you couldn’t tell what his reaction was. That glimmer of surprise goes away, as if squashing the butt of a cigar.

From behind the pouch as it swings, his gaze then shifts to you, brows lowering into an unsettling scowl, “It’s a small pouch. Looks like it didn’t make its way into the stomach, it was too big.”

“So he choked on it,” You conclude but Price is quick to stop you.

“We don’t know that’s how he died. Open this pouch for me.”

You nod and round the corner of the table, hands fumbling for the pouch carefully. He placed it in your palms and you moved over to the lab table, where the microscope is and your vials. You sit, eyeing the pouch under the microscope as Price continues speaking to the recorder. “The pouch was lodged in the esophagus, someone made him swallow it. Or he did it on his own. But the bound marks suggest otherwise, along with the shattered left and right fibula.”

You shudder gruesomely. Someone made him swallow it? It was looking more and more likely, especially with the bruises which pointed to a clear MO. You leaned in, eyes narrowed like lasers and eyeing the material under the microscope. You hum and then move away, glancing at Price who is working the victim.

“It’s just a pouch, nothing is inside.”

“Why would he swallow something empty?” Price muttered, shaking his head as his eyes trail to the rest of the body. You wanted to know as well, to have the dots connect. Suddenly, in the line of work you found yourself feeling alive. A thirst for understanding death, yet a desire for figuring out the puzzle pieces. You thought you couldn’t feel that way ever again. You swallowed and your eyes darted away at the floor, and Price cleared his throat. You joined him.

The night ended and before you knew it, you and Price concluded the death was caused by a stab wound to the heart. A tiny hole, piercing through the muscle and flesh, almost looking like a corkscrew. it was located laterally, by the ribs. It was nestled well. The thought of someone painfully easing it in, twisting and hearing the bone crack under pressure—It was too much. And then to endure the plain of everything else. It was borderline torture at that point. Maybe it was torture.

But why? Why this person? What did they do? More so, who did this?

''Whoever did this must've had a helluva PTO.'' Price muttered, before he shut off the lights, casting the area in complete darkness.

''Who do you think did it?'' Your voice comes out strong and grounded. Apart of you was not afraid to ask, you yearned for an answer. You gazed at Price who sighed and grabbed his hunky jacket, slinging it on. He glanced at you.

''If I took a wild guess, someone with a lotta' experience. They knew which bones to break, most importantly corked the mans heart fatally.''

You don't necessarily feel an ache towards the male, but it manifested as an insistent need to analyze the situation. That was how your brain worked, like a piston.

Price had left a while ago, leaving you to fend for yourself. The night is settled with a thick, blue haze stretching solemnly across the cemetery. The trees huddle and lean in as if sharing secrets, but more than ever you feel it offers you no child like curiosity, the way you would have felt when you were naive. Blankets of fog roll in like an oncoming wave. You strolled to your car.

“What d’ya find?” Suddenly, a voice cuts through the cold stale air. A certain MacTavish called out from behind you as you walked. You're arms are crossed as your burgundy cardigan is wrapped around you to keep you warm but it offers little comfort. Your scarf flits in the air as you turn around to see him.

Mactavish is leaning against the patrol car, and biting into a sandwich. It reminded you that your stomach ached as well for food. Something warm. Something tangible beyond years of numbness. You eye him before walking forward to stand beside him, although not necessarily mingling in his personal space. “What are you doing here? At this hour.” You ask, not wanting to discuss what had been on your very mind as you walked out the morgue. It was teetering at 2am now, and the idea of having a lengthy discussion of blood and bones did not interest you.

“Got called in for a bar brawl.” He said with food in his mouth. You eye him with a sense of distaste, a brow cocking and your arms still crossed to shield yourself from the October cold. You swallowed and shook your head. The shadows of the gnarly fork like trees draped over your faces, the lamp shade doing nothing to console your uneasiness. “Sounds better than my night.”

“Join me, then.” He said a bit too cheekily. You scoff, shoving a hair away from your cheek as it grazed in the wind. You’re pretty sure you resembled Rudolf the red nosed reindeer since the cold was getting harsher and unforgiving these nights. It consumed the forests and every crevice it could.

You then look at him, pausing and eyeing his amused expression. His eyes twinkled, most certainly remembering a certain event you two shared.

Finishing the last of his sandwich, he dusted his hands off and stood tall, shifting on the pavement. “I’ll drop ya home.” Did he forget you had a car?

“Not necessary.” You said a bit too fast, cutting him at the last second. You stiffen up and grasp at your elbows tighter, as if trying to melt away in your cardigan. You’re not sure what’s worse, him seeing the bottles of alcohol on the ground, or your messy unkempt place. It looked as if a hurricane rummaged in there. And his joke of being an alcoholic—it rubbed you the wrong way. The alcohol would only confirm his jokes of you.

But there was no use hiding it. It’s what you depended on for a second long high. And then the weight came crashing down, it crashed hard. But now it had been a running joke of your drunkenness, when you came into work accidentally and met the cop, MacTavish. Let’s just say, you two played in places you weren’t supposed to be.

He happened to just drop off a body, whilst he found you sitting at the stale reception desk, working. You typed clumsily and appeared dazed. The lady called in sick, so Simon took over your shift, a man you'd met a few times. MacTavish then grinned devilishly, “Aren’t ye' the new morgue lass?” And you gave him a bedazzling smile and grin as if you’d known the man. Cheeks lifted, hair flowing in waves, the warm light almost illusioned you in such a cunning way. You did not know him. It was the alcohol pumping loudly combined with the horrible urge, insistent urge to run away from your past. And behind your eyes you hid very well the pain and agony. It was believable, to the point MacTavish thought you were one of those rowdy restaurant girls, cosplaying as a mortuary assistant. Probably his favorite trope.

You could remember the way he hid without a car it seemed in the morgue storage. He laid down, went in and you shut it. To scare him—you suddenly spoke amongst the corpses when five minutes passed and he yelled, wanting to get out. “Lass, I swear to god next time ye’ will be in here.”

Snapping back to reality, as the wind howled like a wolf in pain--you knew that wasn’t the real you. This was. This distant, shrouded and shell of a self. You zoomed back in, the voices and vision fading away from view. You could hear him talk clearly now.

He had his hands raised as if his hands were burned, brows raised, “I willnae’.”

You awkwardly glance at him, to which he gazes at, before walking on your boots off the pavement, fishing for your car keys in your cardigan pocket. Your car beeps when you press the button and you sighed. Your silence left him stunned momentarily, and confused. The man is not sure of what to think when it came to you, your behavior. You were first a Tinkerbelle, the manic pixie that night, and now you were a closed off wall.

“Get home safe, will ye?” He hesitantly said from behind you. He watched as your hair whipped and you then gave him a weary glance before leaving in your car. You thought he muttered something along the lines of, “Can never seem to pick one up, aye?” He sighed pitifully, turning away.

In your car as you drove down the narrow highway, trees whizzed past. An eerie fog had set in and you put on your hard lights to see ahead. You then slowed down, sighing through your nose. Long morning, love drive.

[esmereldapearl]

Random head-cannons for PJO (again):

- Nico loves music videos— like Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi MTV performance he would love. (Maybe too because if Lady Gaga played during his stay at the casino, it might remind him of good memories with his older sister.)

- Hazel has met Bianca. I like to think that Bianca sat with her before leaving because Nico was coming to save Hazel. Like Bianca knew that was her sister the same way Nico knew— but Bianca sort of knew it would happen but wanted to meet Hazel— have a sibling relationship with Hazel. (This is leading into AU stuff) I feel like Hazel wouldn’t know until she found a random photo of her when going through some of Nico’s stuff he had as a kid.

- I feel like Will is the type of character for when something insane happens this is his reaction:

Percy: Hey man, so uh, during Harleys maze, I may or may not have broken like- two bones? One is my arm, the other is Annabeth’s ankle.

Will: *one eye twitches as he sort of half glare, half not yet still shocked* Mkay Percy.

(Like just imagine Will on his last straw, that’s how I imagine this)

- Kayla and Michael were really close. Lee and Will were also very close.

- Michael hid a safe in the infirmary that had files and stuff that he wanted hidden— also like random possessions and letters/ stuff from Lee except nobody could find it and then when they did find it nobody knew the code. Kayla did some digging and found the code. (They refused to let anybody try to break the safe or have Hermes cabin try to pick the lock)

- I have quite a few headcannons for Kayla even though she hasn’t been seen much throughout the books. I feel like one of the bigger ones I have is that she has two older siblings who are twins- very random, but she doesn’t really have a cannon backstory (yet?).

- Once the Apollo cabin realizes that Nico has not seen like— a lot of pop culture stuff and Disney movies, they force him to watch a lot of them.

- Everyone, including Nico, forgets that Nico was born in like the 1930/1940s until they bring up some big historical fact and he’s like:

Will: Ya’ll up for watching this rocket take off? You can see it from our cabin, it’s gonna go to the moon.

Nico: What do you mean to the moon?

Will: ??? Wait do you not know about the moon landing?

Nico: PEOPLE HAVE GONE TO SPACE???

(This is the only historical event I could think of for some reason)

- Nico would 100% love video games and love like a 3DS

- Hazel cusses— like a lot— mostly when she’s annoyed/angry though.

- Frank is good with younger campers. He likes to reassure them that it’ll be okay and try’s to make them laugh

- Nico is less emo/dark and more just- random? I don’t think he has a set style, nor do I think he’s gloomy— I think of him more like a combo of Sam and Sebastian from Stardew Valley.

- Nico likes to hangout in the infirmary and goof off with Kayla and Austin. Will’s glad they get along

- Lee or Michael had set a rule where you can’t hang from the beams in the ceiling— Kayla disregards the rule quite a bit.

- Will 100% has a southern accent— not like a full blown accent but it mixes with his daily speech. Like specific words and phrases bring the accent back.

- Hazel and Nico like to draw— both have completely different styles though, and Nico draws more often while Hazel experiments with art.

- Hazel (and Nico) likes to visit Nico and talk to her brother often- so they hangout like once a month and talk very often. I feel like after Leo would create some device/adapter to make it so monsters wouldn’t attack every time you sent a text, they’d text more often than Iris message. (Ik not everyone has the best relationships w/their siblings but my sister and I are like this so I promise I’m speaking from experience lol) like every piece of gossip/major event, every “what would you do in this situation”, etc

Hazel: OMG NICO

Nico: WHAT???

Hazel: PERCY AND ANNABETH ARE ENGAGED— YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE HOW.

Nico: OH GODS.

[lunaatthezoo]

Introducing: What None Saw

As I'm finished writing and now just in the editing stage of the final chapters of She'll Wait No Longer, I have begun work on its prologue: What None Saw. This will be a dual-POV mostly canon-compliant multi-chapter Elriel fic leading up to ACOSF Solstice. I wanted to explore interactions with them that we didn't get to see in the first four books, and I've been having so much fun writing it. It's unfortunately not smutty, but a whole lot of mutual pining, angst, and fluff. We're talking a WHOLE lot of soooooooft Azriel and blushing Elain. Preview below ;)

🎨: padawan.carol, commissioned by stephdaydreams

“Another question?” Azriel asked her, as if he could sense that void still pulling on her. Elain nodded again.

Azriel considered for a few moments.

“What did you dream of becoming, when you were a child?”

Elain blinked. She gazed down into her tea again. 

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “When my mother was still alive, she expected me to marry and unburden the family of my care, I suppose. Or perhaps bring them further fortune. I was only ever encouraged to think, act, and look like a highborn lady. I played the pianoforte, I learned to read and write with my tutors, and I attended society events. I was never told I could be anything other than a wife and mother.” 

A pang of guilt swept through Elain at the thought that Feyre did not get that chance to learn to read and write, and that she and Nesta had done nothing to teach her. 

Azriel only watched her, impassive, so she continued. 

“When we lost our fortune, I had no time to dream. I became quite skilled with sewing, as we could not often afford new clothes and ours always needed repairs. I gardened seldomly, only when I could afford seeds and had the time to. I helped keep our cottage in working repair and cooked in my father’s stead, because he was injured. The only thing I ever allowed myself to dream about was falling in love and marrying. Partially because it was something I desired, but also because it was a way out.”

Elain had never admitted any of this to another before, and she didn’t know why she did now.

But Azriel just listened, so quietly and thoughtfully, and the words falling from her felt like…a relief. A grounding. He listened to her without judgment or concern, only honest curiosity.

“What did you dream of becoming as a boy?” She asked him.

Azriel kept his cool, collected mask on his face, even as Elain swore she saw something flicker through his eyes.

“I had no dreams as a child.” 

Shame flooded Elain at what an insensitive question it was. Azriel had just told her he was locked in a dungeon for eleven years. Of course he wasn't thinking about becoming a warrior or a courtier or an artist. He was just trying to survive. 

Azriel must have seen the guilt on her face because he considered. 

“I suppose I dreamed of freedom.” 

Elain let out a breath. 

“As did I,” she answered. 

Their gazes locked and they simply stared at each other for long moments. 

“What is your favorite dessert?” Azriel asked her. Elain felt the smallest semblance of a smile tug at her mouth. 

“Do you enjoy sweet things, Azriel?” She asked him, surprised once again by his question. She couldn't imagine the warrior eating a slice of chocolate cake or lemon tart. 

Azriel grinned a bit, too. “I do enjoy sweet things, Elain,” he answered, holding her gaze with intensity. 

And despite everything, despite her doomed engagement and the unfolding war and her stolen life and her daunting mating bond, Elain felt a blush kiss her cheeks. 

She looked down, feeling bashful. 

“Strawberry shortcake,” she told him. 

Azriel grinned a bit broader at that. 

“Strawberry shortcake,” he repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “I have never had that.”

“Really?” Elain asked. “Is it not eaten here?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, I have never heard of it.” After a few seconds he added, “Perhaps I can try it one day with you.” 

Elain fought a blush once more.

“And you?” She asked, curious now. 

Azriel leaned back, considering. 

“Honey biscuits.” 

And despite herself yet again, Elain swallowed a laugh. Azriel raised a brow at her reaction, which made a true giggle escape her lips. 

“I'm sorry,” Elain laughed. 

Azriel's mouth twitched at her amusement. “What is it?” He asked her.

“It’s just,” she chuckled. “Honey biscuits are rather a…a youngling snack, are they not? A snack for a hungry toddler stomping his feet?”

Azriel chuckled a bit himself then, smiling truly. Shadows flitted around his head as if in response to his laughter.

"Yes," he answered, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I suppose they are."

Elain giggled once more. She imagined Azriel munching on honey biscuits in a secret Spymaster lair and laughed harder still.

"But can you deny their perfection?" Azriel asked her with an amused smile.

"No," Elain answered, shaking her head with a smile. "No, I cannot."

Azriel's smile seemed to falter as he gazed at Elain's face.

"That's the first time I've heard your laugh," he noted.

[thebdsmsofurlife]

Confessions of a Manipulator

It was almost too easy.

It usually is. It’s not hard when you know what to look for. The insecure ones. The ones looking for approval from an authority figure; desperate for approval, attention, acceptance.

Speak kindly to them. Show interest - but not too much interest. Don’t make it look like you want anything from them. You want to give the appearance that you’re casually surprised to see her again but you can’t hide the flash of excitement - the physical confession of how impressive she is - that crosses your face.

Then slowly insert moments of intense attention. A couple minutes of utter focus, like you’re hanging on her every word. Nothing in the world is more interesting to you than what she will say next.

Then move on. Have a few days where you’re just so busy. Smile and wave but keep walking. You’re not giving her the cold shoulder, you’re not an incel trying to “neg” her. You’ve got a life, you’re busy, you’re focused on other things.

Make her crave your attention. Make her obsess over what she can do to get more of it.

Sure there are quicker ways to get some women into bed. But I wasn’t after a quick half hearted fuck followed by a couple awkward conversations.

I wanted her to give herself over to me completely. I wanted utter control. I wanted her to sacrifice her self respect at the alter of my acceptance.

It took six weeks, from the time I decided I wanted her until I invited her to my house so I could cook her dinner.

She came over dressed to impress. High heels, a cute little skirt, a tight top. She looked beautiful, absolutely stunning - and I told her so.

A nice meal. A couple glasses of wine. A long conversation mostly focused on her. It was a great date.

By the end I knew a couple more dates like that and she’d eagerly jump in my bed. But that wasn’t enough. I needed to push her boundaries. I needed her to hate how much she loved what I’d done to her, so the next time she came over she would consciously sacrifice a piece of herself, knowing what would happen once she got there.

I walked her to the door with my hand on the small of her back. I waited until she was a step from the door before I spun her, pulled her to me, and kissed her.

After a startled hesitation she kissed me back. It was sweet, intense, passionate. I pulled her body into me, my hands sliding over her back. I slid a hand up her body to the back of her neck. I stepped into her, bodily pushing her back against the door.

My hands slid down her waist, over her sides, brushed against her breasts. It wasn’t until I reached for the buttons on her shirt that she broke of our kiss.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m not …”

I cut her off with my mouth on hers. I got three buttons undone before she broke the kiss off again and grabbed my hands in hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not ready.”

I smiled at her. “Yes you are,” I said. “You just don’t know it yet.” I held her hands in mine and lifted her arms above her head.

She tried to resist a little - or maybe it was a lot for her. It’s hard to tell as she isn’t very strong.

I held her arms up and kissed her neck.

“Stop,” she said. “Please.”

Between kisses I murmured, “I can’t. I want you so much. I’ve wanted you so long.”

I grasped her wrists with one hand and slid the other down her body to her thigh. I ran my hand up the back of her leg, pulling her skirt up as I went, and cupped her ass. I pressed myself against her, letting her feel my excitement.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whispered.

I kissed her neck, down between her breasts, up her throat. When I tried to kiss her lips she turned her head, so I kissed her cheek.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised, “but I have to have you. I can’t help it. Just let me take you.”

I tasted a little saltiness on her cheek. I think she might have been crying. I don’t know. I kind of stopped paying attention to her reactions. I was lost in the moment.

I pulled her over to the couch, pushed her down on her back, and climbed on top of her. I pushed her legs apart with my knees and pressed myself against her as I started kissing her again.

This time she didn’t fight me when I unbuttoned her shirt, nor when I pulled her bra down to get to her breasts. I kissed a line down her neck, over her shoulder and down to her breasts. I covered her breasts with little sucking kisses, ran my tongue in little circles around her nipples, while grinding myself against her.

I lifted my body off hers enough to undo my pants and pull out my dick. I was so hard I ached. I just wanted her so much.

I kissed my way back up her jaw while wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck. I slid a hand between us and pulled her panties to the side, working myself into position.

“I love the taste of your skin,” I murmured as I pressed my cock against her entrance. She was so tight and wet - probably against her conscious desire. I worked myself into her slowly, letting her adjust to the feel of me inside her.

I wrapped my arms around her head and pressed my lips against her ear. “You feel so fucking good,” I said. I slid inside her gently. Every few strokes I pushed myself completely inside her and ground myself against her.

We made love like that for several minutes, me kissing her cheek, nibbling on her ear. And this time, when I went to kiss her on her lips she didn’t turn away. I guess she knew it was going to happen so she might as well give in to it.

As I kissed her I started working myself inside her faster. Thrusting and grinding, not trying to split her in two, but enough to show how much I wanted her.

When she moved her hands to my back, and started gently rubbing me, I knew she’d already given a little bit of herself. The thrill that went through me - I can’t even describe it.

But I wanted more. I needed to push her further.

I pulled myself out of her and climbed off the couch. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her off as well, setting her knees on the floor. I stood over her and cupped her face with one hand. When I pressed my dick against her mouth she slowly parted her lips.

She closed her eyes when I pushed myself into her mouth, but she took me none the less. I held her still with a hand on the back of her head and started to thrust into her mouth. Her tongue slid down my shaft as I pushed at the back of her throat. I didn’t push hard enough to make her gag - there was plenty of time for that later. I just thrust into her mouth, strong but gentle thrusts.

I was already close to the edge at that point and it only took 3 or 4 minutes until I was ready to explode.

I think she realized it too - I guess my grunts gave it away. I could see it on her face, like she was preparing herself for me to cum in her mouth.

But at the last moment I pulled out. I held her head still with one hand and finished myself off with the other. I cursed as I came, unloading on her face and chest. I threw my head back and groaned as I covered her, the release was so fucking intense.

It was a terrible thing to do to her, I know. Humiliating. Shameful. But I’d kept my promise. I hadn’t hurt her. It was a gentle debasement.

I looked down at her and smiled. “God, you’re beautiful,” I said as I looked at her cum covered face. “You’ve never looked prettier.”

I cupped her face with my hand and brushed my thumb over her cheek.

“You’re stunning,” I said. “Absolutely perfect. Turn around. I’ve been dying to taste you.”

She looked up at me completely bewildered. So I took her hands, lifted her to her feet. Gently, but firmly I turned her around, pushed her forward so she was kneeling on the couch and bent her over so her face was pressed into the back cushion.

I scooted back a bit to give myself room and pushed her skirt up over her hips. I slid my fingers into her panties and pulled them down to her knees slowly. I ran my hands up and down her legs, over her ass, feeling the softness of her skin.

“Fucking perfect,” I growled.

I squatted down behind her and kissed the back of her thighs. I kissed up one leg and down the other. I wrapped my hands around her thighs and pulled her legs apart.

I planted my face between her legs and started licking her pussy. I ran my tongue between her lips, over her clit. I kissed and sucked her folds between my lips.

I explored her with my mouth, my tongue - eager to give her pleasure. I murmured and growled how good she tasted. I slid a hand between her legs and spread her so I could taste ever part of her.

I wanted her to feel good. I wanted her to enjoy it, to think back and remember how it felt. I wanted her to know that even though I brought her so low, I took time for her pleasure. I wanted to teach her to begin to crave more despite herself.

I enjoyed her like that for several minutes before narrowing my focus on her clit. I opened my mouth wide, spread my tongue flat and lapped her like a man lost in the desert finally finding his oasis.

It didn’t take long like that before she gave into the feeling. She started to rock her hips and make this low groaning-purring sound. I kept my rhythm steady, pressing in, reaching out to fondle his breasts as I continued licking her pussy.

She let out a near scream as her entire body tightened like an electrical current had run through her, constricting every muscle. I lapped at her until her body relaxed and she breath slowed to a deep, heavy pant. I kissed her pussy, the inside of her legs and over her ass.

I stood and ran my hands up her back to the back of her head. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and gently turned her face toward me.

Her eyes were closed so I said, “Look at me. I want to see those beautiful eyes.”

She did. She looked me in the eye for only a moment before looking away, but I swear in that moment I saw a flash of every emotion known to man. Her conflicted emotions were an exquisite sight.

I leaned over and kissed her, long and hard, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue. As I did I started rubbing my dick against her pussy.

After a couple minutes I straightened and positioned myself behind her. I slid myself back inside her and held myself still, buried to the hilt.

“God,” I groaned. “I just can’t get over how good your pussy feels.” I slid my hands around her and grabbed her breasts as I began to thrust into her again.

I was not as gentle this time. I wanted to see just how far I could push her, how much she could handle. I wanted a clear baseline to compare with how far down the rabbit hole I’d take her.

I started thrusting into her harder. Standing straight, I held her still with a hand holding her hip and started pounding into her.

“Spread your legs,” I commanded. And when she hesitated I slapped her on the ass. “Spread them.”

She did, shifting her knees a little further apart.

I slapped her ass again. “Wider.”

She moved her knees some more. I slapped her ass again. And again. She spread her legs as far as they’d go, straining against the panties still wrapped around her knees.

“Fuck. Good girl” I said. I held her hips tight and slammed into her, our bodies slapping into each other’s in a beautifully sharp rhythm. “Fuck,” I said again. “That’s how you take a dick. That’s how you take a fucking.”

I reached forward and grabbed her by her hair. I turned her face toward me again and told her to look at me.

“That’s right. Look me in the eye while you give me this pussy.”

She lasted just a moment before she closed her eyes again. It was enough though. I wanted that image burned into her brain. I wanted her to remember looking back at me, looking me in the eye as I railed her. I wanted her to wonder if she had actually given me her pussy or if I had taken it. I wanted her to doubt herself.

I pulled her head off the back of the couch and turned her sideways. I climbed on my knees behind her, pushed her face down into the seat and shoved my dick back into her.

I fucked hard, slamming into her with her face buried in the cushions and her ass in the air. I bunches her skirt up in my hand and used it as a handle, pulling her back to meet me with each thrust.

I was close to cumming again and I slammed into her harder and harder. Her knees gave out and she fell down flat on her stomach. I rode her down, fucking her flat, holding my self up with my hands on her shoulders. Her leg slipped off the couch and her entire body almost followed along, but I held her in place and kept pumping until I exploded, filling her push with my cum.

I collapsed on top of her, a panting sweaty mess. Once I’d caught my breath I gently brushed the hair from her face. I kissed her cheek lightly.

“God you’re beautiful,” I said. “Stay with me tonight. I want you to stay the night. I’ll cook you breakfast in the morning.”

There was a long pause before she whispered softly, “ok.”

I smiled to myself. God, this girl had no idea what she was in for. She had no clue just how far she’d end up sinking for me.

And it’d been so easy.

[catras-breakup-song]

how do you feel about the whole "you always wanted more" line that got cut? at first i was wondering why they did that because adora didn't want more until it made me think "huh, what if prime was just running on catra's memories and didn't actually know adora?" but i'm curious as to what you think

OH MY GOD I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED THIS. i am such a sucker for the cut STC script. back in late 2020 & early 2021 i had a twitter layout based on “that little spot on the roof that only they knew about” because S3 is my favorite:

even better, i have another old twitter fancam saved from around that time too that used that screenshot of the script in the beginning. it was by the username yoosene but is now long gone, so i reuploaded it to imgur here (the hands part, i’m going insane…)!

anyway, as for interpretations, it was absolutely to manipulate & guilt-trip adora. i recently saw someone say (i don’t remember where though, sorry) that he was torturing both of them by setting up that nasty fight against both of their wills and had planned to kill catra all along — despite saying he wouldn’t right after she rescued glimmer and was imprisoned for it, in my opinion there was an unspoken “yet” even though he did technically say that word but you know what i mean; “you will be of use to me, and then everyone from your blighted planet, including yourself, will be destroyed.”

that’s the thing about what the show was trying to convey through her stay on prime’s ship via glimmer’s desperate pleas, isn’t it? her illusion of power was only ever temporary. once she no longer had anything of value to serve, what would she be worth? how could she have genuinely believed that he wanted to save her, of all living beings, from the curse of humanity & will of consciousness? what makes one individual different to an omnipotent god compared to countless others across the universe throughout space and time? i truly believe that he was subtly mocking her when he talked of her being “exalted, raised up above the other wretched creatures of [her] home world.”

i was actually trying to find another five by five takes quote about this, because mentioning them is always an obligation for me, but surprisingly i didn't really find anything about how catra had worked her way up to prime's recognized single subordinate (only that moment of reflection afterward, which is just this entire short video), and was under the false impression with a cocky & confident attitude that her position meant something for her safety & survival; i'm mostly referring to this moment:

the horde's the horde...even in space. as long as i'm of value to horde prime, i've got a place in this world. i can work my way up here, just like i did before.

actually y’know what… i’m going to tag @horde-princess because this is starting to dive into religious meta which is like… her whole gimmick thingy. we would be blessed (pun intended) to see your take on this writing that never made it to the show, if you haven’t given it already!

now this is veering too far off from the original point after getting sidetracked. the tone of those quotes in the alternate script is (fake) pity, and horde prime was entertained by the struggles of mere mortals. to make adora a failure of what she represented would surely force her to give up she-ra to him, because what would even be the point anymore of living up to expectations if she couldn’t save catra first & foremost (that’s something that she struggled with since initially leaving the horde over three years ago due to how catra made her feel about supposedly breaking their childhood promise… but it’s a story for another post)?

i don’t doubt that your thought process is at least partially right too though, anon. prime didn’t read adora’s mind thoroughly at any point, so it’s entirely possible that he just read off catra’s intense feelings of abandonment & betrayal. that being said, if he really did see all as he claimed, maybe he was able to recreate an objectively accurate collection of events and knows what really happened and what the intentions behind certain actions were. i also wonder if catra secretly knew deep down that adora’s defection wasn’t directly about her but just couldn’t admit it until she had time to deeply reflect on it during “corridors.”

i’ll leave this messy, unorganized post with an amazingly relevant gif set made by an editor whose work on here i really enjoy:

as i said a long time ago, you just had to be there on november 19th 2020 when that excerpt was released because the hype was crazy!

[haddonfieldwhore]

florida!!! - aleksander barkov

aleksander barkov x reader

summary: while in florida on vacation you reconnect with someone from your past

warnings: a mixture of aleksander and sasha used throughout, angst, nsfw implied, small age gap (not specific), not edited (it’s 3am)

word count: 4.1k (oops)

“i’ve got some regrets, i’ll bury them in florida”

the smell of coconut wafted through your nose as you applied sunscreen for the third time that day, your skin not yet used to the heat of fort lauderdale. you were visiting for 2 weeks, a much needed vacation from your life back home, and you already felt relaxed after only two days here.

some of your friends were supposed to join you on the trip, but eventually cancelled, either not having the money or not being able to get the time off from work.

though it would have been more fun with them here, you didn’t mind travelling alone, having studied abroad in college and enjoyed every second of it.

well, mostly - you thought to yourself. despite only being here once before as a child, florida was bringing up some memories in your mind that had been long dormant. it wasn’t the state itself that was to blame though; it was something else. someone, to be more specific.

your phone rang in the back pocket of your shorts, and you swiped answer on the call.

“hey jessie,” you answered with a smile.

“hey! how’s florida?” your best friend asked.

“i wish you were here with me, but it’s still pretty amazing,” you admitted.

“i know, i wish i was there too,” she sighed. “next time, i promise - even if i have to quit my job so i can get the time,” she laughed.

“how will you pay for the trip then genius?”

“leave that to me.”

“alright,” you surrendered with a chuckle.

“see any hot guys yet?” she asked, of course that’s what she wanted to know.

“a few, not that i’m really looking,” you admitted. while there had been a few good looking men you had spotted while you were here, there was one specifically that was occupying your mind for the last few days; and you were trying to drown out any thoughts of him.

“did you decide if you’re going to a game or not?” jessie asked as if she had read your mind.

“maybe - the arena is right near my hotel, but i just don’t know if i’ll find the time,” you brushed it off.

“babe, you’re there for 2 weeks, i think you can find time if you want to.”

“you’re right,” you sighed deeply, flopping onto the soft duvet spread across the bed.

“i always am.”

“i’m gonna ignore that,” you smiled. “it’s not like i would see him anyway,” you thought out loud.

“unless you did.”

“that’s not helpful,” you replied with a roll of your eyes.

“i’m sorry!” jessie apologized. “and don’t roll your eyes at me, i can hear it in your voice,” she teased, and you both laughed.

during the 2 years that you had studied abroad in finland, you had wound up entangled with the one and only aleksander barkov; who in the years since then had blossomed in the national hockey league and become the captain of the florida panthers.

things were good for the most part, despite both of your busy schedules you made it work, and all too quickly found yourself falling for the handsome and humble man. he was a few years older than you, kind, handsome, and a perfect gentleman. there were ups and downs, and he was away from home a lot, but you made it work, keeping things casual and not exactly exclusive; not that you even entertained anyone else when he was gone. unfortunately, like most college relationships, things fell apart when you ended your studies there. you tried for a few months after you finished your courses, but despite your feelings for him, there wasn’t enough to keep you in finland without school to occupy you when he was gone so much of the time.

you thought back to the day that you told him you were leaving; the hurt in his eyes broke your heart, but you both knew the day was coming. you were on borrowed time and you both realized it long before either of you gained the courage to admit it.

“i don’t want you to go, but it’s selfish of me to ask you to stay,” he said sadly, and you buried your head in his chest, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly around your body.

“we knew it wasn’t forever right?”

“yeah, we knew,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head.

a part of you wished it could have been.

“are you listening to me?” jessie’s voice snapped you out of it, and you ran a hand over your face in frustration.

“yeah, sorry,” you shook your head, trying to think about anything else.

“you’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

“it’s hard not to - knowing how close we are right now,” you sighed in defeat. you had found it hard to stop yourself from wondering how he was doing, besides thriving on a successful hockey team.

“you miss him.” the way she worded it, it wasn’t a question, you realized.

“our lives are so different and it’s been years since i’ve seen him, jess.” the last time you had seen sasha was when he dropped you off at the airport, the kiss goodbye was almost enough to make you stay. you had texted him when you landed back home, and you’d kept in touch for a few weeks, calling eachother here and there but the distance drove a wedge between you. soon enough life got busy and it was easier to lose contact.

“you didn’t answer the question,” she pointed out.

“i don’t even know if he’s the same person he was back then - i’m certainly not. and he’s a hotshot nhl captian now.”

“of course people change, but this is sasha were talking about. do you really think he’d be that different than he was when you knew him?” she asked. you had told her so much about him, it was like she knew him even though they’d never met. and it was true; the sasha you knew would never let the fame get to him.

“i don’t know him anymore.”

“if you say so. i got to get back to work, my break is over. i’ll call you in a few days?”

“sounds good,” you replied. “love you jess.”

“love you too. keep me updated.”

before you could protest she hung up, and you tossed your phone onto the pillow next to you.

you stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, before grabbing your phone again, opening it to contacts without realizing what you were doing until your finger hovered over the name ‘sasha’.

you hesitated for a moment before closing the app, and googling florida panthers tickets instead.

•

three days later you found yourself sat in one of the crimson seats of amerant bank arena, waiting for the game to begin. you casually followed the nhl, not watching every game, but for obvious reasons, you had a soft spot for the south florida team; it helped that they were fun to watch and had become a force to be reckoned with these last few seasons.

as interested as you were in the game, you found it hard to focus on anything but the memories of aleksander that had continued to float around in your mind for the duration of your vacation. you had woken up this morning with an ache between your legs as you dreamt of the last night you had spent tangled with sasha beneath the sheets of his bed. you could still remember the way his hands felt tracing every inch of your body; not even a cold shower could erase it.

you’d considered not going to the game despite having bought a ticket, but wanted to experience a panthers game while you were here, unsure of when you would get the chance to see them play at home again.

the panthers won, and you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the crowd lingering, but you found you thumb hovering over sasha’s contact in you phone again as you sat next to the pool back at the hotel later that night.

you decided against a phone call, typing out a text message before you could talk yourself out of it.

hey - it’s y/n from college. congrats on the win tonight! :)

a simple ‘hey’ didn’t seem like enough - you weren’t even sure if he had the same number after all these years, or if he remembered you at all. the doubt started to set in the second you hit send, the possibility that you hadn’t left as much of an impact on him as he had with you setting in fast.

what if he didn’t remember you at all?

you decided to call jessie to distract your mind, and you were thankful that it didn’t take her long to pick up.

“hey! i was just about to call you!”

“great minds think alike,” you laughed, her voice putting you at ease a little already.

“what’s up?” she asked.

“just sitting by the pool,” you replied. you hadn’t told her you’d decided to go to the game, and you hadn’t decided if you were going to tell her about the text you’d sent or not yet.

“ugh i’m jealous. i’m considering ditching work and flying out there to join you at this point. you’re still there for another week or so hey?” she asked.

“yeah, 9 more days actually. it would be nice to have you here, jess.”

“is everything okay?” she asked, always able to tell when something was bothering you.

“yeah, i think i just got too much sun today, my head hurts.” you weren’t entirely lying, but you just hoped she didn’t check the weather and see that it had been cloudy in fort lauderdale that day.

“bet you never had that problem in finland, hey?” you knew she was teasing, the climate in finland in fact being drastically drearier than florida, but you were hoping to not think about that for at least a few minutes.

“yeah, definitely not.”

despite the cold, you loved everything about finland. it took some getting used to the dark and cold, but each time aleksander showed you around different places around the country, you knew you would find it harder to leave.

for more reasons than just the scenery.

the day he showed you around his home town of tampere finland was the day you realized that you were falling in love with him.

you walked hand in hand down crowded streets, sasha pointing out different things from his childhood, like where he grew up playing hockey, his favourite restaurants, everything.

you looked up at him in wonder as the glow of the street lights illuminated his face, a light pink tinge across his cheeks and nose from the cold. fluffy white snowflakes fell softly around you, gathering atop the beanie that covered his head and across his broad shoulders.

it was only a few months since you had met, but it felt like you had known him for years. you never imagined a day would come where it would feel like you were strangers, even knowing that your time in finland was temporary.

“you don’t have to leave,” he had said, only a month left in your final semester abroad.

you laid bare next to him, his bedsheets the only thing covering your body as you fiddled absentmindedly with his hands, tracing calluses with your fingertips.

“once the semester is over i won’t have a place to stay, i can’t stay at the dorm.” you had gotten a job at a coffee shop that made you enough money to afford food and necessities, but you couldn’t afford an apartment with that salary, and hadn’t intended to get a job in your chosen field here. the plan was always to go home after your schooling was done.

“you could stay here, with me.”

it wasn’t an absurd idea; you spent a lot of nights at aleksanders house anyway when he wasn’t on the road. but in reality, he wasn’t home that often, and you would feel weird living in his house without him.

“you mean it?” you asked, your heart aching at the thought that even if he said yes, you knew your answer was no. part of him knew it too.

a notification went off on your phone, and you snapped out of your daydream, realizing that you’d once again become lost in memories of what once was.

you pulled your phone away from your ear, jessie’s voice getting quieter as she went on about something that happened at work today. you knew you were being a bad friend, and made a mental note to make it up to her later.

you saw that you had a text message and your breath caught in your throat as you tapped on it.

hey ☺️ it’s been a long time. you watched the game?

you stared at the message, suprised he’d responded so fast, if at all.

“i’m sorry, i gotta go, my phones about to die, i’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” jessie said, and you said a quick goodbye before you both hung up, leaving you alone to deal with your thoughts.

what had you intended when you texted sasha? you weren’t sure even you knew, but typed out a reply anyway; deciding you would figure it out as you went.

i was there actually - i’m in florida for a few days.

you impatiently waited as the three dots appeared to indicate that he was typing.

oh wow. thank you for coming to the game.

you smiled.

i wouldn’t miss it.

it took a few minutes after he read the message for him to reply this time, and you worried you’d said something wrong. deciding you didn’t want to sit by the pool anymore, you wrapped your towel around yourself, fighting of the evening chill that had begun to tickle your skin.

you’d made it up to your hotel room by the time your phone went off again, though it was a text this time; it was ringing. you assumed it was jessie, but froze when you saw sasha’s name light up the screen instead.

should i answer it? you thought.

a thousand reasons why you should or shouldn’t ran through your mind, but you ultimately swiped accept and closed the door behind you as you stepped in to your suite.

“hi,” you answered nervously. all these years later and he still had this much of an effect on you.

“hi,” he replied, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “it really is you.”

“did you think it might not be?” you laughed slightly, and on the other end of the call, aleksander realized how much he’d missed the sound.

“i don’t know, maybe,” he admitted. “it’s good to hear from you.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“how have you been?” you asked, pacing around the room. despite how easily sasha used to be able to put you at ease, you couldn’t stay still.

“i’m good,” he replied, and you had forgotten that he was a man of few words at times. “what about you? what brings you to florida?”

you couldn’t exactly tell him that you had been good save for the fact that he was all you’d thought about for the last few days.

“good,” you decided was your answer. “why did you call instead of texting?” you asked. it had been years since you last spoke, but you felt like you were back in college, calling him while he was on the road to hear about his latest game.

“oh… i just wanted to hear your voice i guess,” he admitted, a blush forming across his face that he was glad you couldn’t see.

sasha sat in his car outside the restaurant where he and some of his teammates had been out to celebrate their victory when you texted, and he had excused himself to make a phone call, quietly sneaking out to his car.

of course he’d thought about you in the years since you left finland, always considering you to be the one that got away, despite the fact that you both knew from the beginning that you’d be leaving.

he hadn’t expected you to text him out of the blue that you were in florida, and it made him anxious to know that you were so close, especially knowing that you had been at the game earlier that day.

a happy anxious.

“yeah, it’s nice to hear your voice too.”

“are you coming to the game later this week?” he asked. you hadn’t planned on it, but the way he asked made you hope it meant that he wanted you to say yes.

“i might be, i’ll have to see about getting a ticket,” you replied, giving an open ended answer.

“if you need a ticket i can send you one,” he said, before quickly adding. “if you want.”

“do you want me there?” you asked, hoping you weren’t being too bold to assume that could be what he meant.

“of course i do.”

•

you spent the next few days feeling like you were floating on air, like you would wake up any moment and this would all be a dream.

you had been texting aleksander almost constantly, and he called you every night, catching up on the years you had missed, though it felt like no time had passed.

you were suprised when he had asked you to meet him after the game tomorrow, which he had in fact gotten you a ticket for. you tried to offer to pay for it, but he refused. you knew he could easily get them for free as the captain, but still felt wrong taking it.

you were getting ready to head to the arena, when your phone rang.

“are you ever actually working when you’re at your job?” you laughed as you accepted the call from jessie.

“i’m on my break for your information,” she argued playfully.

“fair enough. how are things back home?”

“boring without you of course,” she laughed.

“obviously,” you teased.

“did you decide if you’re going to the game tonight?” she asked, and you half wondered if she had cameras watching you.

“i am actually getting ready to go right now, stalker.”

“good - i’m sure you’ll have a great time,” she replied. “and who knows, maybe you’ll run into a certain finnish captian while you’re there…”

“i doubt it,” you lied. you still hadn’t told her that you’d already gone to a game, or that you’d been talking with sasha non stop for the last three days.

“you never know. cupid works in mysterious ways.”

“jess…”

“i know im just teasing.”

you talked for a few more minutes before you had to leave to go the arena, still thinking about what she had said.

if only she knew, you laughed to yourself.

•

you waited in your rental car after the game for aleksander to text you where to meet him, giving him time to shower and talk with the team after yet another panthers win.

he had let them know that he wouldn’t be joining them to celebrate tonight, but hadn’t told them why, deciding to keep your existence a secret for now as neither of you were sure exactly that this was.

you phone went off and you checked to see that he had sent you his location, still at the arena but he must have parked on the other side where fans couldn’t usually go.

you drove over until you saw him standing outside the players entrance, and your heart rate sped up.

talking on the phone was one thing, but seeing him in person was different.

you hoped you looked okay as you parked and got out, walking up to him with a smile.

“hey,” he smiled, and you couldn’t resist the urge to embrace him in a hug, which he thankfully returned.

sasha felt a pang in his heart as he held you tight to his chest, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. he missed this; sure he had moved on with his life in the time you had spent apart, but there was a part of him that always wondered what it would have been like to have you there by his side the whole time.

“did you get taller?” you laughed, and he smiled, blushing softly like he always did anytime you complimented him.

“maybe,” he shrugged as he felt your arms release their grip on him. as you stepped back, he took in your appearance. you had grown up slightly since he’d watched you board a plane and leave him behind, but the years had been good to you.

“congrats on the win by the way,” you said, suprised at how the nerves had melted away. so far, he was still the same sasha, and you’d always found it easy to talk to him.

“thank you,” he said shyly, humble as ever.

“where did you wanna go?” you asked.

“do you want to get coffee?”

“sure,” you smiled. “lead the way, captain.”

•

you and sasha spent nearly three hours in the small coffee shop, catching up on anything you’d missed telling eachother over the phone, and repeating somethings you already had. neither of you minded, and when the barista let you guys know that they’d be closing up soon, you found yourself wishing you had more time.

just like in finland.

there was no one else in the coffee shop since it was late at night by now, and the soft music was quickly making you tired despite the caffeine in your system.

“i should take you home,” he offered, and then as if he read your mind, added. “i can pick you up tomorrow morning and take you to your car if you want.”

“sure - thank you,” he helped you put on your light jacket you had worn despite the florida heat, and you hesitated before slipping your hand into his as he walked beside you to his car, fingers interlocking.

once you were back at your hotel, you hesitated before getting out of the car.

“do you want to come up with me?” too scared to see his reaction, you looked down at your lap as you waited for his answer, but the sound of the engine shutting off made you lift you gaze and meet his eyes.

“i’d like that.”

•

you woke up to the feeling of sasha’s fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder, and cuddled closer into his chest as the sunlight crept in through a crack in the curtains.

“good morning,” he whispered.

“good morning,” you repeated, feeling the warmth of his arms wrapping around you, your legs tangled with his beneath the covers.

“i missed this,” he admitted, and you hummed in response.

“me too.”

he was silent for a moment, as if he was mustering up the courage to ask you his next question.

“do you ever wonder what things would be like if you had stayed in finland?”

you looked up at him, your eyes meeting.

“yeah, a lot actually,” you admitted. “sometimes i regret leaving.”

“you had to go,” he said, but you could tell that it had hurt him when you left. maybe as much as it had hurt you.

“it was one of the hardest things i ever did. leaving you.”

“we found eachother again though,” he replied, always finding a way to look at things in a positive light. reality set in as you realized the harsh truth.

“i’m only in florida for a few more days sasha,” you confessed, and you felt guilty. surely he knew that you had to leave again, but it still felt like you were doing something wrong.

“i know,” he assured you. “no one stays anywhere forever.” you knew he hadn’t meant it with any hostility.

“do you like it here in florida?” you asked, trying to shift the subject off of you leaving. “it’s so different from home.”

“it’s very different, but it’s nice.” he agreed, and while he knew when you called finland home you meant his, but there was a time when you called it home as well, even if you were just a guest there.

“yeah, it’s really nice,” you agreed.

“will you visit again?” he asked the question you had been dreading.

“i don’t know when i’ll be able to,” you said honestly. “but i’ll try, sasha.”

he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“we play in your hometown next month,” he remembered aloud, and you smiled, knowing you would see him again sooner than you imagined.

“i’ll have to get a ticket,” you smiled at him.

“i think i can help with that.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[winloe]

okay, I know every stardew valley character could have a pretty decent argument for being autistic, but I want to say one character that I honestly don’t see being headcanon’d as autistic nearly as much and that’s alex!

before I start, I just want to say that you may disagree and that’s completely ok! you’re entitled to your own opinion and so am I ^^ I am also autistic myself, so this is mostly coming from my own experiences

one quote that sticks out to me is ‘oh wow...your shoes are a little dirty... but that's fine, too! different people have different tastes I guess’. alex is attentive to small changes, something that many autistic individuals are heightened in. he zeroes in on how your shoes look, something he may have noticed while avoiding eye contact and looking down to the floor rather than looking straight at you (an autistic trait is avoiding eye contact)

mentioning your appearance may be alex’s way to try and engage a conversation, but it comes off as blunt and even unintentionally rude when he says how your shoes are dirty, rather than how your hair looks nice or something similar. he seems to have realised his mistake and after a pause follows up with ‘but that's fine, too! different people have different tastes I guess’. to me, this seems like an attempt of smoothing over a mistake he may have only just realised could be seen as insulting, which highlights a struggle of social filters.

another quote which I think exemplifies alex’s difficulty understanding social cues is: ‘hey, you must be getting pretty strong working on that farm all day. maybe you'll reach my level some day. Something to look forward to, huh? why do you have that look on your face?’ (which alex will still say even if you’re 4 years into your farm and probably now jacked)

alex saying you ‘reaching his level some day’ as a goal may come across as egotistical and condescending, but it’s likely not intended that way (because of his later ‘why do you have that look on your face?’). I think this shows his unfiltered confidence (which isn’t always ego! It’s good to be confident!). he seems to just be proud of his physique and seems to be the only reason he’s been complimented before (including his appearance) so that’s what he wishes to show and talk about.

it may seem patronising, yet I think alex sees it as motivational or friendly banter. his ‘why do you have that look on your face?’ underlines his trouble at understanding nonverbal conversation. alex doesn’t immediately understand why his comment could provoke offence.

the player is, in other dialogue from characters, assumed to be reasonably quiet, which may be why alex finds difficulty when it comes to talking to them. 

when alex is insulted after asking if you think he’d ever become pro (and you say that he will fail and become a salesman) he snaps back with ‘that's insane. you're just jealous that I'm talented and popular and you're not. get away from me’. he reacts strongly to negative feedback and interprets it as jealousy, which could stem from how he reckons his dad was jealous of his youth and that’s why he called alex ‘worthless’ and the fear of failure (i.e. wasting his youth). for autistic people, self-worth can be closely tied to one or two abilities, and being questioned on their skill can make it very threatening.

alex also clings onto this idea of being ‘popular’ which may have been his school identity, being a jock and an all-star quarterback, which is a stereotypical popular archetype. this could suggest a difficulty in updating his self-image (and we know he has been outside of school long enough to get married and have kids, so he doesn’t have a reason to call himself ‘popular’ as there’s no context to be called popular anymore)

alex’s insistence on being ‘popular’ could be a form of masking. he shields his emotions from everyone but his dog dusty (and you once hearts are higher). he feels more confident in acting like this macho bravado than he would if he expressed his feelings which also ties into his toxic masculinity, which in turn goes to internalised homophobia. he feels as if he has to act ‘normally’, and being good at a sport and assumingly getting friends in school because he was good at that sport, would probably give him a tunnel vision that talking about gridball is the only chance of having another friend (why he only talks about gridball!)

and I know a lot of people would probably think that gridball is alex’s special subject if we’re going down the autism route, but I don’t actually think so. I could see alex having it as his special subject when he was younger, but as he grows up and as it becomes more of a goal and more of a job, he starts to forget the reason why he started playing gridball in the first place (because it’s a hobby, because his mum played catch with him). 

I can definitely see him struggling with autistic burnout, where he’s tried so hard for so long and still hasn’t seen success. this is why I can 100% understand why he’d like to work at the farm with the player, completely giving up his dream for a change in the current, a turn in decision. change can be frightening for autistic people, which could be why alex hadn't thought of doing anything other than going pro, but as you become his friend, he realises that he doesn’t have to stick to this one made-up persona for eternity and that he can be himself and subvert expectations.

no beta (me) we die like men... this may ramble and one day I'll reread this and cringe at the grammar... hi future me :P

[itspileofgoodthings]

School is going so great and also I am so exhausted and also I am having an existential crisis

[arolesbianism]

Welcome to the “they’re just like me fr (derogatory)” club featuring no color because I would rather die than draw Sif with color

[apolohgy]

hello beautifuls, i got a job offer last week in [redacted] and i’m so grateful and excited to be… making money again! and to finally have my own place and fix it up to my taste and get 2 cats 🥹 there’s a job in [redacted] w the same exact salary range and i’m really hoping i get it bc it’s a much more desirable hot girl walkable city. my final interview for that job is next wednesday send hot girl city job offer vibes my way pls

[yoohyeon]

I should be asleep I’ll hate myself tomorrow, but while I’m preparing myself to go to sleep I remembered the dream I had last night and remembered that I thought in my dream that it would make a good story but now I don’t remember anything and I’m mad fbskndjd I haven’t write in so long, especially with characters that aren’t my long time ocs or fanfic it would have been good to think about something new but yeah 🥲

[ntaras]

i think a lot of people coddle kuai liang too much. yes he’s good and a tortured man etc. and people see that he has struggled but don’t really see that he still is struggling and has faults. even in mk12 people aren’t really talking about how he did in fact try to kill bi-han- which yes, he would have regretted, but that is still a fault you have to see in him. he’s susceptible to fits of blind rage that will make him do things he’ll regret. his anger was justified (obviously) but he’s also capable of murdering his own brother (which once again, i am sure he would have regretted).

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Wouldn’t my neighbors just love me if I decided to deep clean the house right now and not stop until 3:00 AM