#but in the end... this song fits them very well

[hurlingdown]

                     THE BAAAAD TOUCH!

synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.

tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)

a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.

“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”  

he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity. 

 “fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory. 

“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there. 

“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.” 

you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair? 

“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?” 

“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle. 

he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust. 

“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?” 

“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.” 

“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.” 

“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.” 

“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.” 

jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really. 

“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?” 

he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him. 

“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.” 

and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it. 

his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.

VANDER

. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes. 

“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…” 

he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide. 

there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty. 

vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care. 

it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is. 

“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust. 

“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.” 

who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were. 

“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock. 

hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it. 

before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed. 

the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it. 

“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.” 

he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted. 

“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.

SILCO

silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon. 

“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?” 

silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes. 

“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts. 

“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.” 

“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?” 

silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through. 

“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.” 

you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that. 

“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.” 

“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?” 

“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.” 

“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?” 

but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?” 

“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.” 

you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content. 

he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good. 

“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?” 

“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.” 

the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly. 

you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything. 

“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy. 

“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.” 

you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name. 

you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.

VIKTOR

“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.” 

his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it. 

“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?” 

viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so. 

“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.” 

it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him. 

but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?

he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself. 

it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is. 

maybe it’ll fit. 

“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.” 

“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all. 

“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…” 

you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only. 

he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.” 

you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak. 

he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.

it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined. 

“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.” 

you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.

masterlist!

[concretecultist]

The Vulture and The Finch

summary: a short story where the finch trusts the vulture, leading to a gut-wrenching betrayal.

word count: i have no idea actually but it is short.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, betrayal

A/N: Inspired by the song Birds by the Sea by BANKS. im back and im here fo bring the heartache.

“You never sang for me,”

Fighting the tears in your eyes was something you found yourself doing more often these days than not. His outfits were the same, but he wasn’t. How did this much time pass? You felt so lost, you stand alone now and the one person you wanted to stand by you forever… now stands with someone else.

“Y/N… what did you call me here for?” He has a right to ask this question. You haven’t spoken in almost two years. All the rumors you heard have become too much to bear, it was gutting you to even think about any of it being true. But seeing the five o’clock shadow and the ring on his left hand was answer enough.

“Heard you’re living with a girl by the sea,” You tried to smile, tried to choke out laughter to seem supportive but it all just sounded strangled; gurgled as if you’re drowning.

You stare out at the waves, aching with the knowledge that Noah always knew you wanted to settle down by the water as it was your safe space. You could cry while sitting on the shore, sharing something in common with the water that greeted you, the salt in your tears mimicking the crashing of the waves, releasing your pain. The wind that whisked past you whispered in your ears with each gust, ‘this too shall pass’.

It all feels like a lie now.

He said he’d never leave you. With all the warnings your mutual friends were giving you, you shouldn’t have believed him, especially because every time he said it, he said it by the door.

Subtle foreshadowing.

Was it because you broke the ancient superstition to never buy your lover shoes unless you want them to walk right out of your life? Perhaps it was the time you bought him the watch he wanted, bringing forth the bad omen on yourself, giving you no choice but to countdown how much time you had left together.

How rich that he’s wearing that very watch now.

“Heard she’s have a little baby now, how sweet”

He’s taken your dreams, your visions, just to fashion them to fit his current life. A piece of you has been stolen, it has kept you up at night more times you can count while he sleeps ever so peacefully.

“You don’t get to speak on my family,” His voice was void of any patience. He’s not even sure why he entertained you to come out here.

It’s sad really, the thought of Noah was always accompanied by birds, flying around you two as they sang their tune, but he never sang for you. His refusal should have been sign enough, he knew the type of love you desired and his defiance was a display of the deprivation.

“I should have listened to everyone when they told me not to fall for you, fuck! Even your own best friend warned me! He always told me you’d never change your ways but he was wrong. You did! I just wasn’t worthy, apparently,”

“Y/N, I have a wife and our child to get back to. I’m not here to debate my choices with you!”

“Then why did you come?!,” spinning around to take in the sight of him. He always had tired eyes but they only seemed more exhausted as they ran over your features. You weren’t sure if it was due to him preparing for a child… or if it was the fact he always found you mentally and emotionally taxing; that any energy he spent dealing with you was quickly depleted.

“Because I felt bad for you!,” his own expression was an indication of his involuntary slip up, however, he figured he might as well drive the sword deeper, “I came here because I still ask Nicholas about you and he tells me you’re not doing well. I know it’s my fault but what can I do now, Y/N? I’m married- I have a daughter on the way, I-,”

“So you take my plans and execute them with another girl? Yes. That sure shows your sympathy for me, Sebastian!”

“What is the point in all this?,”

The million dollar question. You asked yourself this all the way over here. No answer you came up with sounded good enough and you know no matter what answer you give, he will find pitiful.

“Closure, I guess,” You shrugged, wrapping your cardigan tighter around you as you turn back to the sea. Standing ankle deep in the water, wishing to be carried away in the ebb and flow. You hated how he could easily make you cry.

“You took the life I wanted for us both and you gave to someone else,” now there was venom on your tongue, “You were my songbird… y-you were supposed to bring love and joy but come to find out you’re a fucking vulture hiding in the skin of a finch. You mimicked me until the hunger of your own selfishness took over! You picked at me and picked until you were full and sated then you left my fucking carcass to rot and you think you deserve the peace? The clear conscience that you have?!,”

You really didn’t mean to break. You came here to ask how he was and to congratulate him on his new life, but the more you think about it- you didn’t want to do that anymore. He took the heart of a hopeless romantic and squeezed it dry right in front of you. How do you congratulate that? When he drained the blood from you just to pump it into the life he has today, making it full and youthful?

It’s sickening, actually.

You turned once more to look at him and swallowed thickly.

“You are the bad omen in my life. There was no black cat, no broken mirror, no walking under a ladder. Just a 6’3 bloodsucker who carefully chooses his next conduit to drain until he gets what he wants,”

You began to walk past him, just wanting to leave. That want was quickly diminished when you come to an immediate halt, feeling his hand wrap around your forearm, the coolness of his ring seeping through a hole in your cardigan brought a type of burning you’ve never experienced.

“That’s not fair,” he hissed, eyes strong and dead set on yours, surprised with you snatching your arm out of his grasp.

“No, what’s not fair is Nicholas telling me you’re naming your daughter after the name I was going to give our child!,” you push him away, a fire burning under your flesh, the complete opposite of the cool air that rushed between the two of you, “What’s not fair is you giving your wife my dream home!,”

Another push.

“What’s not fair is you making me believe that what you have now could have been with me,”

Another one.

“What’s not fair is you leaving me in the middle of the night while I cried for you and never turning back!,”

Another.

“What’s not fair is you dedicating songs to your wife and all I ever fucking got was a half assed unreleased verse on a usb!”

One more.

“What’s not fucking fair, Noah!! Is you watching me fall in love with you knowing you never felt the same way. That I was just a place holder until the girl you truly wanted, wanted you back!!!”

Next thing you know he’s stumbling and falling into the crashing waves, sea foam in his hair and salt water burning his eyes.

“You can have it! Have my life!,” you bellow, watching as he tries to pull himself together.

“You’re the one that has to live the rest of your life knowing you’re so empty that you have to siphon others to feel joy, to feel anything!,” you take a few steps toward him, pointing a finger with so much anger it could kill, “You have nothing left to siphon from me, so good luck trying to figure everything else out on your own,”

“Y/N,” he just sat there, head hanging low while his arms rest on his knees.

You had nothing left to say, nothing left to hear, so you had no reason to stay.

“Y/N!,”

The sand sinking with each step, forcing you to use your arms, your anger promoting the momentum.

“Y/N! Fuck!,”

His voice became quieter the more distance you made.

His facade will crumble.

And you’ll find your birds by the sea. Reminding yourself over and over that you’ll get what you deserve out of this life.

“Someone will sing for me”

————————————————

I know it’s quick and short but I really missed writing and this is to help me get back into it after the long and unexpected hiatus!! Thank you all for your support and patience!!!🩵

tags: @dravenskye @babs-96 @tech-depression-inventory @magnificentstrawberryomen @mrscevans @tinyfairies @mxddymay @themorticians-world @rainy-darling @darknightstarryeyes @thisbicc @lilhobgobbler @lovethe-void @cind6547 @flowery-mess @widowsofchaos @abiomens @amelia-acero @collapsedglasshouses @poppy-in-the-woods @rostoken @dkxxm @fadingintothegrey @blairboo @lacy1986

[agrlsname]

Thank you @therealsaintscully for the tag! I'm soon about to post what might be my very last fic, so it's quite fitting to look back on my journey now.

How many works do you have on ao3?

38 – all Johnlock, except for one GO fic. On New Year's Eve I will post number 39!

What’s your total word count?

371,360 (will soon top it off with another 221 words ;))

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What Friends Do (by FAR), Who I Really Am (personal fave), The General Idea, Coldness/Heat, Tomorrow's Song

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

At first I responded to every single one! And I still try to respond to every single person. But now, I sometimes only respond to the last one if it's a reader who's commented on every chapter and I get all the comments at once. I like staying connected to the readers, that's one of the most fun parts about fandom!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

It has to be This Is Your Song. I mean, there's another one within a series that end in an angsty cliffhanger, but MCD surely has to take the prize?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Oh my, nearly all of them have happy endings – so what would count as happier than happy..? Maybe it's actually the one that isn't posted yet – stay tuned for the resolution of the New Year's Kiss series!

Do you write crossovers?

Nope. I've written a fusion though (Johnlock and Moulin Rouge!).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yup. Some people get really angry at John in What Friends Do and they take it out on me. It's interesting because many MANY others adore the story with all their hearts! I even wrote a sequel from John's POV just to try to get people to understand, but the haters didn't understand anyway.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Even though at the beginning I said I'd never, half of my works are now rated E or M. What kind? Um, is "emotional, gay sex" a genre?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Many of them, into five different languages! Coolest thing ever.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I think I'm too pedantic for that. I've loved working with my beta on some poem translations, though, that The Sky is Full of Fiddles is based on.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

38 fics – you all know it's Johnlock, right? There are others that I love, but nothing can ever compare.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't have WIPs! I'm too much of a control freak and perfectionist when it comes to writing – I want to be able to change the beginning when I'm writing the ending. I don't even have unpublished WIPs – I hate the idea of leaving works unfinished. If I was still in those first years of writing frenzy, when I was single and didn't have a child, I'd have expanded on This Time – but as it is, I knew that I wouldn't have the time to do it justice. So I purposely ended on a cliffhanger that would still allow it to stand on its own the way it is.

What are your writing strengths?

Emotions, according to my beta! If you ask me, I'd say describing things – often emotions, I suppose – in new, poetic ways that play on different senses and therefore make them immediate. It's something I love reading myself, anyway, so it's something I've been practicing for... well, decades now. I'd like to think I've gotten at least somewhat good at it.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm weirdly bad at coming up with the small details that aren't important, but needed. A recent example is I needed a character to text another with an invented problem to try to get him to come over. It wasn't at all important what the problem was, but it also couldn't be just anything; it had to be in line with his character. I could not for the life of me come up with this problem myself – eventually my husband did it for me. So those kinds of details in my stories are rarely from my own brain!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Hmm, well, I've tried not to do that. As a reader I find it annoying to have to look things up, or scroll down to the notes. I have three fics in which characters aren't English; in This Is Your Song I added a couple of "Bonjour"s for flavour, which is about as far as my own French knowledge reaches... In the Fiddles series they're Swedes and speak my mother tongue, but I've written everything in English except for the words that English doesn't have (like for example "polska", a kind of dance), and at the very end, some song lyrics that are then translated into English in the end notes that come immediately after. I did want to add that song for flavour, but I didn't want it to be annoying.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock! I started in the aftermath of season 4 back in January 2017 and then couldn't stop.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'm wondering whether I will come back to fic writing at a later point, but for another fandom. I've long wanted to write more for GO, although I already have written one fic. It would probably be a lot of fun to write for OFMD too. Doctor Who maybe? I don't know, it intimidates me to write for a new fandom where I don't yet know the characters as well as I know Sherlock and John.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This question is too cruel! There are so many of them that I love. Maybe I have to say The Sky is Full of Fiddles, after all – it holds such a special place in my heart for many reasons that go beyond the story itself (although that's true for several fics). Other faves are Your Daughter, The Zebra Sheets and of course Who I Really Am, which I'm liking enough to turn it into a novel I'm now trying to get published. See, I couldn't pick one!!

I'm on Tumblr way too sporadically to have any idea of who's already done this and who hasn't, so I don't dare tag anyone... Feel free to take it and tag me if you feel like it!

[smile-files]

two birds on a wire

one tries to fly away and the other

watches him close from that wire

he says he wants to as well but

he

is a

liar

(objectober day 22: birds)

[narcissosbythepool]

PriceGaz - Breath of Life

[caityelizabethjoy]

Fall into me and I'll catch you, darlin' We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching It's just you and me and the song on repeat in my head

[getosugurusbangs]

what if i said i actually love too weird to live, too rare to die and think it’s underrated. what then.

[seaweedstarshine]

*Poll inspired by typical ambiguity in the new audio story Victory of the Doctor, which on an unrelated note is amazing!

Evidence for each argument beneath the cut!

Open marriage

The Doctor's wedding to Marilyn Monroe occurs in A Christmas Carol, when he storms off to a chapel with lipstick marks on his face. “I’ll just go and get married then, shall I? See how you like that. Marilyn? Get your coat!”

While he wasn't yet with River then, he maintains this relationship afterwards, apparently with River involved. In the mini-episode Good Night, the Doctor enters the TARDIS with a euphonium, calling over his shoulder, “River! I’ll see you later! Tell Marilyn she’s too late, she’ll have to use the biplane. Take care!”

Another piece of evidence comes from The Wedding of River Song, when they're passive-aggressively flirting.

“Hallucinogenic lipstick. Works wonders on President Kennedy. And Cleopatra was a real pushover.” “I always thought so.” “She mentioned you.” “What did she say?” “Put down that gun.” “Did you?” “Eventually.” “Oh, they're flirting. Do I have to watch this?” (from Kovarian)

I've never understood the innuendo (please tell me what I'm missing), but Kovarian does, and as we know from The Husbands of River Song, the Doctor and River are both married to Cleopatra, so… it's definitely something.

There's also that diary page in The Eternity Clock game that suggests the Doctor, River, and Jim the Fish got blackout drunk at karaoke night and started “some sort of religion of love” which went on to last for centuries.

Serial cheaters

“How can you be engaged, in a manner of speaking?” The Doctor is jealous in Flesh and Stone before he's even kissed her, which doesn't set him up as a person who'd be interested in an open marriage.

“No, wait. That's your husband? That's who you're married to? Not anybody else?” In The Husbands of River Song, the Doctor is clearly not expecting the other husbands. Culminating in the same episode…

“So, King Hydroflax?” “Oh, how many times? I married the diamond!” “So you say.” “Elizabeth the First!” “Ramone!” “Marilyn Monroe!” “Stephen Fry!” “Cleopatra!” “Same thing!”

It appears he is well aware of her other spouses (and that she's aware of his); so perhaps his surprise was more that didn't expect her to be so flagrant about them. It makes him insecure (“I posed as his nurse. Took me a week.” “To fall in love?” “It's the easiest lie you can tell a man. They'll automatically believe any story they're the hero of.”) enough to start an argument about it.

River also expresses her jealousy as an obvious fact, as seen in The Day of the Doctor Novelization (written by Moffat who (along with Alex!!) knows the character best):

“Ow!” “Madame de Pompadour?” “Jealous?” “Of course I’m jealous. Keep your hands off her.”

In The Name of the Doctor, we learn that the Doctor, who has had a number of... sexually-charged moments with Clara (including, but not limited to, Victorian Clara), has avoided telling her that River is his wife. Vastra is uncomfortable with having to introduce them, having “gone a darker shade of green.”

“The Doctor might have mentioned me?” “Oh, yeah. Oh yeah, of course he has. Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.” (from Clara)

Actually both

This could mean many things (i.e. open marriage with boundaries which are violated), but potentially, all the same evidence from prior arguments! With a shade of “Our lives are back to front.”

In the mini-episodes First Night/Last Night, when River, having burst into the TARDIS and pretended to faint, mistakes her past self for another woman the Doctor's hiding from her, she openly expresses jealousy.

“Doctor. Have you brought someone else here? Does anyone agree to wear that dress? Where is she!” “River, think it through!” “This happened the last time we were here. You brought someone else!” “No I didn’t!” “Yes you did, I heard you talking to her!”

However, when a third and significantly older version of River makes the same mistake, she no longer expresses jealousy, but rather curiosity, which could at least signal a shift in how she sees their marriage.

Maybe there was a conversation that happened. Maybe it slipped the Doctor's mind when he forgot Clara.

Actually neither

This could also mean multiple things, but one of those things is this. The Doctor is a widower from the start. Likewise, River is well aware of Doctor's death on Trenzalore, “of course River would know, she's always known,” having been raised to prevent those events, and having refused to be bound by that destiny.

How can fidelity be defined the same way for time travelers? Everyone's spouses are dead somewhen. River understands the paradox of her husband's existence better than anyone. To quote The Day of the Doctor Novelization yet again…

‘Because you live in a time machine. All of history is still happening outside those doors. On a good night that means everyone you ever met is still alive and you can’t wait to see them again. On a bad night, it means everyone’s dead, and you want to charge around the universe, pretending you can do something about that.’ She looked up at me. ‘I know which version of you I prefer.’ 

And there she was, so alive again. I remembered her, twisted, burnt and dead, in the depths of The Library. ‘What if there are people who died because of me?’ I asked. ‘What if there are people I should have saved?’

‘People die. All people, everywhere. We grieve and we move on. That is how we respect the dead. That is how we forgive ourselves in their presence and their absence.’

Please feel free to add anything I missed!

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sotogalmo]

12:22

Nevermore by sasakure...... Such a Luka song but like. Also. Ivan- but I see it as like. How similar they are

[volivolition]

pspspsp heyyyy if you liked good morning sunshine you might also like Joy Joy Joy also by the narcissist cookbook :3c v much an electrochemistry song tbh FBFBSJSJ

HI!! <3 MAN THIS GUY HAS SUCH FITTING LYRICS!! NARCISSIST COOKBOOK HOW DO YOU DO IT? <33 orugh YEAH THIS IS A PERFECT ECHEM SONG YOU'RE ENTIRELY CORRECT. head in my hands as i read along with the lyrics. the bright nonsense beginning and the descent into a more sullen self-awareness. ough im not normal about either of these songs :'] electrochemistry my darling dopamine chaser i care about him so deeply <3

[1pcii]

finally... frobin playlist 🤲

[keeps-ache]

!! what if i made another outfit for Teddie. just cuz

[strawberrywindow]

i want to try and start making/getting into animatics but the only idea i currently have for one involves putting it to a song and that's probably not the best thing to START learning with lmfao but go big or go home right, not like i'll be getting to it anytime soon with how goddamn busy i've been and how many other things i want to do first 🤣

[bluewinnerangel]

.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Bonus:

Willow saying something in the same vein.