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faegoddessog · 1 year ago

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Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 33/41

Chapter 33: Overwhelm in the Stars

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, fellatio, fingering, forced orgasm, unprotected PiV( play safy ya'll )

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes involved here.

Chapter 33: Overwhelm in the Stars

Special thanks to @purejasmine who partially inspired the action in this Chapter!

April turns into May and temperatures start to drop. Which you find bizarre being from the northern hemisphere. But as long as you don’t think about the month, the fall is quite lovely and mild. Restrictions ease, Austin takes to walking the beach, listening to Elvis in his headphones. Sometimes you go with him, holding hands on the relatively deserted beaches. You like to find a spot to paint or read while he wanders for a couple hours. It always makes you giggle to see people’s reaction to him when he is practicing Elvis’ words or sounds. The best one by far was Elvis’ laughter. He was on his way back to you, laughing, stopping, listening, laughing again. As you watched, one guy with a surfboard walked by him, then turned around and gave him the funniest look. You just cracked up, Austin barely noticed at the time, but turned red when you told him about it.

Even though the situation is a bit scary and tedious at times, it has been kind of magical to have Austin all to yourself. Well, you share him with Elvis, but that doesn’t really bother you. Honestly it’s good that he has something to focus on.

You begin to email and text with Rita about her kitchen in Greece, getting roughly sketched floor plans and pictures and researching potential materials and construction regulations for the area. You enjoy planning and sketching all old school with graph paper, cuz you got nuthin’ but time!

June rolls in and, like the rest of the world, you are starting to get restless with the sameness of every day. He still wakes up early, still asks to slide into you often. Sex has been nice, but routine.

He comes out of his office room early one afternoon and firmly shuts the door.

“Kitten, I need a break.” he says seriously, knife-handing for emphasis.

You look up at him from the couch where you are reading a book with big eyes. Does he mean from you? from Elvis? What did you do? What did you not do? What is happening? Your heart is beating in your ears. Why the fuck are you reacting this way?

“I uh… Oh… Okay,” your voice stammers, frightened. Be cool, you said no hard feelings, shit, shit, shit.

“Don’t let me go in that room for like a week,” he says, rubbing his eyes, head down. He has not noticed your panicked reaction.

You feel like a deer in headlights, it takes a few seconds to understand what he said.

He blinks down at you, probably expecting some kind of reaction.

“OH!” you let out a shuddering breath you didn’t realize you were holding, hand partially covering your face, “I thought…. ” your voice sounds so small.

He looks at you in confusion, then realization dawns on his face.

“Oh baby no! Shit I’m sorry hunny! Not from you, not from us, from Elvis!” He closes the gap between you in two long strides, sitting down next to you and pulling you close to him. Tears you didn’t know were holding in spill out.

“I don't want to do this without you, baby,” he strokes your hair as you bury your face in his chest. ”No, no we are good…. Are we good?” he asks, suddenly looking down into his chest at you.

“Stupid inadequacy issues,” you puff out, shaking your head. You look up at his concerned face, with tear streaked cheeks and sniff.

“Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. That’s what I mean, I’ve not been thinking about anything other than Elvis for too long. And you’ve been amazing and I’ve just been obsessed. That’s what I need a break from,” his words tumble out, trying to reassure you. His thumb wipes away your tears, he kisses your forehead.

You take a big breath in, blowing it out, nodding your head. Apparently, you hadn't realized how deeply intertwined you two have become, when just the passing idea of him leaving brings you to tears. You are more upset that it affected you like this than you are about the misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I immediately jumped to that conclusion. This whole lockdown thing has me all….” you stick your tongue out to the side and roll your eyes. You look in each other's eyes for the space of two heartbeats. You start sniggering at your own ridiculousness, holding your hand over your mouth. He chuckles and shakes his head, holding you to his chest.

“Oh Kitten, I love you. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you and you’ve been so patient and caring,” he says, “and don’t tell me I’ve not been, cuz it’s how I feel. ”

“Ok,” you say simply.

“I wish I could take you out on a date, or lavish you with gifts or do something big for you right now,” he laments, his fingers rubbing on your forearm.

“Austin, gifts and dates and grand gestures are nice,” you assure him, “but I don’t need them. What I really could use is just some you right now, plain and simple.”

“You got it, Kitten,” he says, tilting your chin up to his mouth. His kiss is sweet and simple and present. You melt into him.

You sit, cuddled up on him for a bit, he is rubbing in long strokes up and down your back.

“How about we get out of here tonight,” he says.

“Ok, where though?” you ponder.

“Let’s pack some food and bring blankets and stuff and just drive until we can see the stars, we just can’t cross the border,” he suggests.

“Yes! I fucking love the stars! Let’s do it!” you sit up, excited for the first time in weeks, and throw your arms around his neck, kissing him hard.

Austin makes PBJ’s and packs some random food into a cooler. You gather pillows and blankets, toothbrushes and a quick change of clothes for both of you. You come out from the 2nd bedroom triumphantly holding a big thermos up high. Austin is filling water bottles and you start heating water to make some hot chocolate. The excitement in the air is palpable.

Thirty minutes later you are pulling out from the underground garage, Austin sitting in the seat next to you for the first time, instead of hiding. Who the fuck cares now anyway, plus no one is hanging around outside anymore anyway.

You insist on using your own non-Elvis playlists for music, Austin agrees, he really does need the break.

You drive west for almost two hours. It is marvelous and freeing to get away. No plan, just driving.

The sun is getting low as you pull up to a picnic area next to Lake Moogerah that is scattered with pavilions. You find one next to the lake and cuddle together on the picnic table, munching on PBJ’s and watching the sunset. You hear some crunching on the gravel behind you. You turn around to see a lady walking her dog towards you.

“G’day, beaut of a sunset yeah?” she says, stopping about 10 feet from you guys.

“Yeah it really is” Austin says.

“Oh yanks are ya, well ya know ya can't park overnight here. Do ya have a place to stay?" she inquires.

"Oh, no we didn’t know, thank you,” Austin is always so polite, ”we might just drive back to the city later, unless you have any suggestions.”

“I have a glampin’ tent just up the road there that’s vacant. It has a heatah and access to the bathroom in the main house, has a queen bed and a minibah. We just got the go ahead to open today. So it’s yours if you want it.”

Austin looks at you eyebrows raised. You are already nodding.

“We’ll be up after sunset then,” he says. She gives you directions and says she’ll meet you there in a half hour.

The tent is amazing. It’s set up just in front of a huge Queenslander rental house, which is where your bathroom is. It opens up to a gorgeous view of the lake and mountains. It is much larger than you expected, clean, warm and comfortable. It has a stocked snack and mini fridge bar and a coffee maker. There are little fairy lights hung inside for soft lighting. There is no one renting the main house tonight, so you can make it really dark for stargazing.

It’s not that cold out, just a chill in the air. Your sweatshirt would suffice, the blankets are just to make it cozier. Austin pulls out the hot chocolate and you snuggle up with your blankets and pillows to watch the stars, sipping the sweet hot liquid.

It’s so odd, because you grew up stargazing with your family, and these are definitely not your stars. You feel like you are on another planet. You open your phone app that helps you find constellations. It is magical, just being together under the stars, feeling so small in the universe, yet also expansive.

You are nerding out, finding several of the southern constellations including the southern cross and Canis major. Trying to point them out to Austin.

“Why does that one look so damn familiar?” you are pointing up. You hold up the phone above your head

“I’m a goofy silly girl! It’s fucking Orion, just upside down! My daddy always said heaven was in the middle star of his belt, see?” you point up then look over at Austin. He is just staring at you with soft eyes in the red glow of the phone.

“I think it’s closer than that,” he says to you.

Your heart swells, then melts.

Like the opposite poles of a magnet your lips are drawn together. Your leg swings up and over his body, bringing your blankets with you. Straddling him on his chair, kissing, hips pressed together. For a few minutes you are just teenagers making out, dry humping on the porch because your parents won’t let you be alone inside. You can feel his bulge through the double layers of jeans.

He pushes you away just a little and reaches down to readjust his hardening cock. The nice thing is, you are not teenagers and no one is trying to restrict your access to this gorgeous man and his willingness to fuck the daylights out of you.

“Why don’t you get that out for me,” you whisper in his ear.

You duck down, between his legs, as he undoes his fly and pulls himself out, lowering his pants down his hips just a little.

While he is doing that, you undo your own jeans under the blankets and manage to wiggle out of them, leaving your soft, stretchy undies on.

Holding him upright, you trace designs with your tongue on his shaft and up to his tip. You lick your lips under the dark blanket. Placing your tongue on the top, you use your lips to massage his tip. Retracting your tongue into your mouth and closing your lips around him, then dragging along his head as you push him out with your tongue. Saliva drips from your lower lip every time you push him out. You hear him groaning on the outside of the covers. You push him in deep, slurping up all the spit you dribbled along his shaft. You ride him with your mouth for a dozen strokes or so.

Then you emerge from under the blankets, kissing him with your wet sloppy mouth. You straddle him again, just below his now hard and exposed cock. His hands land on your bare thighs.

“When did that happen?” he asks, indicating your pants-less state.

“When you were distracted,” you smile.

“Well you are distracting,” he rubs you through the crotch of your panties, soaking your wetness through. He slips his fingers under the fabric, then pulls it aside, dipping his fingers into you.

“Mmmmmmm” a slow lazy moan falls from you.

“Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry I've been neglecting you. I’m gonna make it up to you, promise,” he says, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Austin, you don’t…” you start, but he interrupts you with a kiss and his fingers running circles around your pussy. Fore and middle fingers around your opening, pinky and ring fingers brushing your clit.

It shuts you right up because it feels amazing. Your hips drop forward toward his hand.

“Oh mon Roi, that feels good,” you murmur into his mouth.

His other hand drifts up your shirt and around your back, undoing your bra deftly. His cool fingers trace around to the front. You gasp through your nose since he was still occupying your mouth with his tongue. He rubs along the line where your bra was tight, heightening the sensations that much more. He massages your breast, nipple caught in the crux of his fingers, sending a needle like zing to your core. Still his other hand is steadily working your pussy. The familiar warm glow is building just behind your mons. You lift up, reaching for his cock to slide him into you. He sits up a bit, pulling his hips and mouth away from you.

“Oh no, baby, this is just about you right now,” he says, “look up when you’re close, Kitten, I want you to cum in the stars.”

Damn, how is it that he makes things that could be corny, sound so damn sexy.

“Keep talking Austin, tell me dirty things,” you moan. Your hands are on his shoulders, holding on. You realize there is more light now, the moon is beginning to light up the sky, threatening to rise over the mountains.

“God, I love seeing you worked up just from my fingers playing with your cunt,” his deep voice draws out that last, filthy word, enunciating the /t/.

“I love your long gorgeous fingers,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah? Do you want them inside you?” he almost whispers.

“Uh huh,’ you bite your lip, nodding.

“You want t’ cum on them?” he asks low, licking his lips.

“Please, yes,” you would do anything to have him inside you right now.

He starts pulsing the two fingers at your slit, but not going in. It’s driving you crazy. You try to grind yourself onto them with a closed-mouth pouting moan, but he won’t let you.

“Ah ah ah, baby. Just wait,” he admonishes you.

Pulling his fingers away and bringing them up to his mouth, he licks a long line between his fingers. You watch him like you are lost in the desert and he is the only water. You find yourself diving forward as his tongue reaches his fingertips. You press your open mouth partially to his upper lip, partially to his fingers, your tongues meet and play between his two digits, tasting of your slick. His fingers slide away and you keep kissing him, your hands on his face. You feel him sliding under your panties and along your labia again, wet from both your tongues.

He resumes his pulsing against your opening, still refusing to enter you.

He is pinching your other nipple, mimicking his pulses at the same rate.

You pull away from his face, head tilted up in a pouting whine to the sky. You are trying to be patient, trying to wait, but your body wants him inside you. Your hips rock back and forth, desperate for penetration.

“Oh Kitten, so wanton, wanting me inside you any way you can get me,” he chides, still pulsing at your entrance, “and I want you too, my gorgeous little hussy,” the last he breathes into the night air.

Finally, his pulses start sinking into you, a little further with each one.

“Oh- my- fucking- god,” your voice is rough and breathy with each pulse inside you. You are staring into his eyes.

“Yes, I am your fucking god,” he slides his hand out from under your shirt and to his mouth. His eyes burning sexy, maddening holes into yours in the diffused moonlight. A hint of that dark fae around his edges.

Sticking out his tongue, he slides the pad of his thumb over it. Watching you intently, he slips his wet thumb under your panties and onto your clit with a little roguish smile. He knows how it will affect you.

“Oh god, yes, right there,” your hips are shaking under his ministrations.

His fingers are fully seated inside you now, pulsing still, thumb rubbing in little circles.

“Don’t stop,” you moan.

“Oh, I won’t,” his tone is that of promise and threat.

Moonlight spills over the top of the mountains. Silvery strands of light laying themselves upon you both.

“Your naked skin would look so amazing in the moonlight,” Austin remarks, mostly to himself.

Without a second thought, you pull your sweatshirt and shirt off over your head, your bra tangled in amongst the fabric.

“Oh baby, you’ll get cold,” he says, concerned.

“Then you better keep me w–w-w-w-arm,” you moan out as his fingers find a particularly perfect rhythm. The glow inside you is on the verge of spilling over. You lean back, your hands on his knees, head tilted up. The blankets fall back, the cool night air makes your nipples pucker and your skin pebble. But you barely notice the chill, Austin has you so hot.

“Holy Mother, you are shining, baby,” he breathes.

You move rhythmically, grinding into his hands.

“The light on your throat, on your tits. It’s like the moon herself is cumming on you,” he says.

Fuck, that is a thought you’ve never had. Hot, especially from Austin’s dirty, sexy mouth.

Each push forward into his hand is accentuated with a moaning “ah, ah, ‘ah.” Then you inhale in a gasping breath, holding it in as everything tightens, your hips vibrating against him.

“Fuck yeah Kitten, cum on my lap, cum in those stars,” he urges you on.

It starts deep in your seed center and waves up your spine in a rippling shudder. Even your eyelids shiver as you struggle to keep your eyes open and pointed up. When you finally exhale, it’s in waves. You barely make any other sound to the sky.

You jerk forward, hunched over Austin, hands on his shoulders, pulling your hips away.

“Oh no you don’t dirty girl,” he says. His hands are on your hips, pulling you back to him, “you aren't getting away from me.”

He straightens upright in order to wrap one arm around your low back, hand pressing to keep you close to him. Austin immediately takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking with his tongue. His other hand is fliplped over, palm down, between you. The backs of his first and middle fingers like snake fangs pointing down on either side of your clit. The tips of those long fingers falling against your inner labia. The sensations go deep as he pushes in and down, in and down, milking your clit. It’s such a small movement with such a big impact.

You rut into his bent knuckles, clenching and releasing your glutes, your thighs, your pelvic floor. Your eyes are squeezed tight, head bowed to his.

“Open those eyes, look up,” he says, switching to the other nipple.

You tilt back, supported by his hand on your back. You do your best to open your eyes. But as his mouth pulls hard at your nipple, you are lifted, tilted over the next edge.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” you chant. Your eyes close and you are jerking to get your sensitive clit away from his knuckles. Of course, he won’t let you get away. He is always so much stronger than you assume. Holding your hips tight, his hand flips over and rubs light and fast over the surface of your clit. You writhe.

“Oh no, baby, you are gonna keep cumming,” he asserts, unable to keep his mouth on your twitching tits.

He refuses to give you any reprieve. He buries his fingers inside you again, pummeling your pussy with his palm. The switch in sensation is like an upslope that lifts you higher. You freeze, still for a long moment. Holding your breath, you let him finger fuck you hard. Sloppy, wet slapping sounds are the only thing breaking the night's stillness.

You didn’t think you could clamp down any harder, but as everything funnels down to your core, you tighten around his fingers. Your back arches and a high pitched whine careens from your throat. Your pelvis grinds down onto his fingers as your voice modulates low “OH! Fuck me, YES!” His hand drips with your juices.

Austin just chuckles low. “Not yet, Kitten,” he is watching your face as you cum with each dig of your hips.

Your hips come to a full and complete stop as does his fingers. Your ragged breath barely begins to even out. You lean down, hands on either side of his face and softly kiss him.

“Mmm, that was good, baby,” you murmur into his mouth. His hands disengage from your crotch.

He guides you off him, “Turn around,” he says, having made a decision.

You stand up wobbly, blankets and all. Austin takes the opportunity to pull off his jeans and underwear. You are expecting a good hard fuck in the grass as he reaches up and yanks your panties off. But he pulls your hips down to sit between his legs on the chair instead. The blankets spread over you both.

“Lean back and spread your legs, beautiful,” his voice is low and gravely in your ear.

You are not sure how he is going to get off in this position, his cock would be trapped behind your back, not in you.

‘Austin, I’m, I’m done, I’m good, what about you?” you say, turning a little to look at him and reaching for his cock.

“Oh hoh Kitten,” he laughs deviously, his gaze locking onto yours, “ I’m not done with you , I think I owe you a little more,” he pulls you back against him.

“Oh baby, you don’t-” you start trying to assure him once again, but his hand comes under your jaw. Thumb and forefinger spread, pressing just in front of the joint on either side, the rest of his fingers digging into the side of your neck. You gasp, hand going instinctively to his wrist. It’s the closest he’s ever come to choking you, although there is no pressure on your throat. You are immediately putty in his hands.

“Shhhh, Kitten, my darlin’,” he purrs in your ear, “you still haven’t cum in the stars for me. So you are going to take it, and like it and beg me for more until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath comes out in a shudder as your pussy drips. God, his voice, his words, his hands, how is this man possible? You didn’t know that was what you were in for tonight, but you fucking love it.

“Now, spread your legs,“ he says pointedly.

You do, looping your legs over his in the chair. Your wet pussy lips peeling apart under the blanket.

Austin reaches down and starts moving against your already swollen, sensitive snatch.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispers in your ear.

His fingers move in soft circles around your clit. You moan, eyes closing.

“You like it when I play with this pussy, don’t you Kitten,” his voice like honey, dripping onto your neck.

“Oui, mon Roi,” you answer in French.

“Should I have fingered you in the car on the way here?” honey dripping in between your breasts.

“Uh huh,” your other arm reaches up, your hand curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh this pussy is so wet, always so needy,” his fingertips push harder.

“All the time, always for you, mon Roi,” you moan.

“God damn, you make me want you so much,” his hips are pushing against you.

You are flushing with heat, you kick the blankets away, the cool air tingling on your wetness.

“Oh, such a naughty Kitten, you want to be exposed?” his breath hot on your neck, ”anyone could walk around the house and see me fingering you, watch me make you thrash. You would love that, wouldn't you.”

Oh fuck, you didn’t know you had a an exhibitionist kink until this moment. The idea of being watched kicks you up a notch.

“I would,” you moan, nodding.

“What if it was Loki,” he plays to your fantasies, “and I hold your legs open,” he wraps his legs on top of yours, holding them apart, “and let him fuck you, use you,” he disentangles your hand from his hair and pushes your own fingers into your cunt, “just like this, while I rubbed you the way I know you like it.”

Oh. My. God. The idea of a hot Tom Hiddleston with dark hair mercilessly sinking himself into you as Austin holds you. FUCK, that takes you to a whole other level.

“OH Fuck Austin… yes. Yes, YES!!!!” you are crying out, fucking yourself with your own fingers.

You are pushing back against him. His hand tightens on your jaw, holding your head tilted back against his shoulder as he works your clit. His cock, desperate for friction, is working between you, spreading his pre-cum on your low spine.

FUCK YES, It feels so fucking good, being held down by him, being so open to the sky, to the silky moonlight.

You skyrocket into the stars, your eyes shoot open and you are staring at Sirius, the dogstar. For long held seconds you are Sirius, with rays of light shining from your head as you ignite, lighting up the night.

“There she is, my shining girl in the stars,” he is humming in your ear. Jerking, you stop your barrage into yourself. Austin’s hand covers your pussy, pressing softly, soothingly, drops of your cum cooling on your inner thighs.

You get a long breath or two, shaking as you start to think about coming down.

“Thank you Austin,” you say breathily.

“Oh no, don’t thank me yet,” he growls in your ear. Your orgasm-addled brain is confused. Until Austin slaps your pussy, jolting you back to him. It’s not super hard, but it makes you jerk.

“I’m still not done,“

Slap

“Oh, I don’t know if-” you begin.

SLAP!

You gasp.

“What a filthy, naughty girl, to be so turned on by someone else’s cock,” his voice is not angry, but husky with desire.

“I think you like the idea too,” you risk, undulating against his cock, “it’s pretty wet back there.”

Austin’s gruff laugh puffs out with a shake of his head.

“Maybe, as long as I get to reclaim you as mine,” his fingers tighten on your jaw and neck for a long, pointed moment before releasing entirely to slide down to your breasts. His last word rumbles into your brain, sending shivers down your spine

“I’m yours, Austin, all yours,” your voice is light, airy, full of yearning.

“Mmhmmm, yes you are,” he kisses your cheek tenderly.

“Now, tell me you want more,” Slap

“OH,” you squeak and jump. You hadn’t expected it.

“Say it,” he demands. Slap

“Oh- I,” you aren’t sure if you can go more. ‘ Yes you can, you want it and you know it.” your demon says.

“Tell me,” he says through gritted teeth. SLAP

“I want more,” you squeal a little on the last word.

“Say my name.” SLAP

You don’t quite register that this is your out, should you need it until you are saying:

“I want more Austin.” Fuck yeah you do. That bitch.

“What do you want, Kitten?” he prompts you. SLAP

“Spank my pussy ‘till I cum again,” your succubus answers for you before you can think. Oh shit, that was your outside voice.

“Oh, my filthy little insatiable harlot,” SLAP. His voice is full of unmet desire, you know he is just as turned on as you are. His hard cock is throbbing behind your back.

He starts in on your mons, stinging slaps then rubbing your clit fast side to side. The combo is unhinging you.

“Holy shit Kitten, you’ve got me so,” SLAP, “fucking,” SLAP, “hot.“ SLAP. Each stinging smack a little harder than the last. Clearly it’s unhinging him as well.

Flicking light and fast over your swollen nub he growls in your ear “I’m going to fuck you so hard after this, you won’t have to open your eyes to see the stars.” SLAP. SLAP.

You meet each new sting with a gasping moan.

His hips are rutting against your back. You wish he was inside of you.

“Please fuck me Austin, I need your cock,” you whine and moan.

“Oh Hunny, cum for me and I will,” his voice vibrates against your back and into your brainstem. How is he so fucking good? With each flick, each smack, you vacillate between being hungry for more and wanting him to stop.

Immense pressure is building behind your clit with every contact of his hand. You are forced over the brink yet again. You cinch down onto nothing. Every muscle straining You curl and try to close your legs, writhing. But his legs are forcing you to stay open. He continues the actual onslaught of your pussy. SLAP. Rub. SLAP. Flick. SLAP. Rub.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

“Nononono,” you are trying to pull his hands away from you, to protect your poor, wanting pussy. He grabs your hands and holds them tight to your belly and keeps rubbing and spanking you. You are struggling against him in the most delicious way.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear.

“Please, please, stop, Austin, stop,” you whimper weakly.

“I don't think you really mean it,” his chuckle is deep in this chest. He slaps you again, and again, and again. Then his long fingers plunge into your dripping slit, stirring at your g spot. It pitches you into a spiral. Dangling over the chasm in his grip.

You are keening; cumming. You are biting into the meaty part of your own thumb; cumming. You are dripping around his fingers onto the chair; cumming. Cumming so hard, you are bewildered, disoriented and also laser focused on his fingers rasping against you again and again and again. You thought you were cumming before, it’s nothing compared to this. This is celestial devilry made carnal. Only the gods orgasm like this. You feel as much as hear your sweet fluid squirt out of you.

“Please, I can’t, again” you beg, sobbing.

He ignores your plea, raking his hands from back to front in succession along your pussy, fingers digging into your slit as he drags them up, grasping and shaking your mons and clit in his palm at the top. Right. Left. Right. Left. Over and over again, triggering immense aftershocks. Your spine is undulating in time with his raking of you. Your screaming moans modulate with the motion of his hands.

With a final grip and shake on your vulva, he stops. You are still shaking.

“Oh lord baby I need to be in you,” he presses you forward, up and off his lap. You are unable to stand, fuzzy. You ooze onto the blankets that fell on the grass, lying on your back. He is on you in seconds, knees between your legs. You are brought back to sharp focus by his cock sliding into your buzzing pussy.

“Oh my god Kitten, you are so hot around me,” Austin moans.

It is nirvana to be filled with him at last. You wrap your arms and legs around him as he thrusts in and out of you, banging the hell out of you under the night sky. He isn’t holding back, chasing his own release. He is right, you see the stars whether or not your eyes are open.

Holy fuck you’ve never been pushed this far in so many ways. Your tight, clenching pussy feels so full, so stretched by his cock pounding into you. Nerves that have been overstimulated are on the verge of rebelling. Fuck you want him never to stop, and if he doesn't stop you may never recover.

“Come on baby, one more big one for me,” the strain of his lust evident in his low gritty tone. It washes over you and you fracture. Your full throated scream echoes across the lake. You twist, and turn and thrash under him, your whole body contorting in inscrutable pleasure. No, pleasure isn’t right. It’s higher than that, harder, vehement. It rocks the foundations of what you believe to be true. Only the gods fuck like this.

“Ohmigod, my Kitten, fucking mine, all mine,” he underscores each thrust with a word. You are violently shaking under him as he surges into you, every muscle straining.

Finally all motion ceases, you are crying into his shoulder, clinging to him as a touchpoint of reality. You aren’t sure who you are or where you are, only that Austin is here, keeping you from dying.

He lifts off you. Standing. Leaving you in the cold momentarily. You curl around your core, crying in overwhelm. Then you are in his arms, floating. Crying into his shoulder. Being laid in a warm bed with his warm naked body protecting you. Holding you. Petting your head and rubbing your back. Whispering soft words of love. Pressing a water bottle to your mouth as your crying subsides into soft whimpers and then into shaky breaths.

“You are here my love, with me” Austin is saying,” just breathe. I got you.”

...........

You wake up in the morning to sounds of birds outside. Austin is asleep next to you, just where you like him to be. You sneak out to pee and take care of yourself, after last night's worship to Eros, you need a shower.

When you get back, Austin is still snoring. You climb back into bed and cuddle up next to him. You doze. You wake up to the smell of coffee and Austin, also freshly showered, bringing you a cup.

You sit up in bed and gratefully accept it. He sits down on the bed with you, sipping his own cup. He left the tent flap open and you can see across the lake. What a magnificent thing, to have that view while in bed, and this dreamboat of a man next to you. Bringing you coffee nonetheless! “Thank you for last night Austin,” you say, hands wrapped around the white steaming cup.

“You are so welcome, my love,” he says with a smile, obviously feeling like he has ‘made it up’ to you.

…............

As you are leaving, the owner is walking her dog along the road towards you. You stop and roll down the window to thank her for everything.

“I was comin’ to check on ya! Did ya hear that cougar screamin’ last night?” she says concerned, ”it sounded pretty close by.”

“Oh? I don’t think we did,” Austin says a little confused.

“Yeah,” she says, “a month or so ago, one was spotted a bit north of here, but have never heard it before. It were erie, echoed across the lake.”

“Oh, well we are ok, glad we didn’t see it!” you say.

You tell her thank you and that you’d leave a glowing review.

As you are driving away, Austin is shaking his head, “Wow, that is a little scary.”

You burst out laughing.

“What is so funny, we could’ve gotten attacked! Being just in that tent!”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. That was no cougar she heard, it was me cumming last night. Cougars sound like a woman screaming.”

“No way, you think so?” Austin is smiling realizing the implications.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard them back home, I would have recognized it.

“Oh my god, that is funny!” Austin joins you in laughing.

#Austin Butler #Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #Austin Butler fic #Austin butler fanfic #@purejasmine #@slowsweetlove #@richardslady121

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thosesillylittlegayghosts · 1 year ago

Text

My (positive only) thoughts on the rwrb movie

BAD REPUTATION

I’d be down’ and ‘actually I’d argue that-‘ is so on brand for Alex I love him already

The lil intro thing is jokes

It’s giving MAJOR early 2000s romcom vibes and I’m LOVING it

DAVID BOWIE

Shaan taking none of Alex’s shit what an icon

We love Henry being a lil history neek

His mum outranks my mum HENRY STOP I LOVE YOU

‘Means you’ve got good taste Alex’ is so crushing Henry coded

‘And why do you dislike me?’ He sounds like a bratty three year old I’m howling

‘I need to get out of here’ BECAUSE HE WAS CRUSHING I CANNOT

I’m sorry what the actual fuck was Henry talking to that kid about? Cause I heard ‘it’s so sticky as well’

Wait is Miguel Liam? Also bestie Alex why are you admitting this was a cover up so easily my guy you are in PUBLIC

Oh yeah no it is those two have definitely hooked up

EYELASHES

What an entrance to his dms Henry truly (also what is that bitmoji bestie 😭)

HRH PRINCE DICKHEAD

BUT WE WERE EVER SO CAREFUL DEAR WE ARE FUCKING WINNING BOOK FANS

No because this is such a cute way of showing the text messages?? Like Alex and Nora hanging out and Henry just ranting cause he’s all Alex can think about is adorable

‘Bellend’ please he’s so British

HENRY ON ALEXS BED AS THEY TALK I CANNOT THIS IS BETTER THEN ANYTHING I COULDVE IMAGINED

That entire convo was gold

Okay so then making Nora June with pez confirmed?

GET LOW YESSSS

Henry’s awkard dancing I actually adore him he’s so me

THEH GAVE US THE MUSIC FADES OUT ONLY FOCUS ON THEM MOMENT LIKE WE KNEW WE WERE GETTING IT BUT STILL

Oh ok so Alex and Nora aren’t gonna kiss it’s just random girls

Are Alex and Nora exes in this or no?

I’m half an hour into this and it’s taken me an hour cause I keep freaking out

‘Made me understand the difference between rugby and football’ Alex bestie what the hell are you going on about?

‘I can wrap my head around being low level into guys’ ‘I’ve been with two guys’ ALEX

wait so is Liam like a different person still? The guy from high school and Miguel is just another guy?

AMY WALKING IN ON THEM PLEASE

FUCK OFF ok so we might not of have got Henry singing the national anthem but we got ruining the names of a bunch of British landmarks so yay! Ig?

I love how in the book he’s early and in the film he’s late? Like what?

So they’re just gonna casually mention Henry ‘fancying’ Alex since the beginning (is that what we’re calling it these days?)

As gay as maypole, ok so we’re not getting that line later then

HANOVER STUART PLEASE ARE THEY NOT ALLOWED TO USE MOUNTCHRISTEN WINDSOR BUT ALSO WHY OF ALL THE OLD ROYAL NAMES THOSE TWO?!

HENRY YOU ARE ALSO IN PUBLIC

OMG ACTUAL CANON CONFIRMATION THAT PRINCE HENRY AND HENRY FOX ARE DIFFERENT PEOPLE?! LIKE ACTUAL EXPLICITLY SAID?!

This is not very causal friends with benefits of you I’ve gotta say, it’s giving major love of my life deep convos

LANA DEL RAY 😭

DEAR

Bestie this is really not very casual of you

Slay politics talk! (I have no idea what any of this means I’m way to English for this shit)

Omg Alex being a politics nerd! Also why does he know his mum better than she knows herself 😭

Don’t he’s so happy to be back in Texas I’m gonna cry when he gets fired

EMAILS THE EMAILS ARE STARTING

HE DID THE LINE HE DID THE SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT LINE

NO SHIT HES ABOUT TO START TALKING ABOUT ARTHUR

Ok wait not he’s not it’s fine

Bloody love zahra

LITTLE LORD FUCKLEROY

His mothers book?

ALEX WAS READING ONE LAST STOP I LOVE IT WHEN AUTHORS DO THAT

There’s a distinct lack of Bea in this movie

THEY MADE HIM SING BADLY POOR NICHOLAS

KARAOKE BITCHES

Alex while Henry is singing is the DEFINITION of ‘Alex is so in love he could die’

Ok so they just changed Oscar to senator of Texas rather than California

Honestly props to Nicholas cause you can see him rethinking all his life choices that led him to that moment

He fr went peace and jumped and I love him for that

NOOOOO HENRY

also did he just like leave pez there or what?

Please for the love of god put Bea in a leather jacket I beg

AHHH HES PLAYING THE PIANO

Slay prince Henry bbg

I CAN LOVE YOU AND WANT YOU AND STILL NOT WANT THAT LIFE YES THAT IS MY FAVOURITE PART OF THAT SCENE IM SO GLAD ITS THERE

Okay so they’re going straight to the v&a? Slay ig

Literal tears in my eyes over that MINUSCULE Arthur fox mention

They changed your song 😭

Okay I actually like this though

HISTORY HUH BET WE COULD MAKE SOME YES THIS IS PERFECT (but also does this mean no one’s gonna know about that line?)

If I had a nickel for every-time one of the guys in a queer couple said I love you in a hug….

Nah this is gonna be it isn’t it

Shit shit no I’m not prepared for this, not from Henry’s pov fuck off im already nearly crying and I’ve got it paused

NO NOT PHOTOS OF THEM AT THE V&A THAT WAS MEANT TO BE JUST THEIRS

is this how people know about history huh?

Also I’m sorry but Reddit? Really?

Okay yep I cried

PREACH ALEX PEOPLE NEED TO HEAR THIS

I fucking love zahra

‘Mooing over the prince like a cow in labour’

Alex is gobsmacked

WE GOT A BABY GUYS

Them playing the national anthem together was not on my bingo card

Also the subtitles say it has an actual name?? I legit just thought it was called god save the king/queen respectively

‘My affection comes with strings’

YESSS SLAY SHAAN THE OG BOYFRIEND ON A STRING

Also we love to see firstprince gossip

Okay that shot of Henry going to twist his ring only to pan over to Alex twisting the ring means SO MUCH TO ME ITS UNREAL

Minor slay to the king for putting Philip in his place (never thought I’d say that)

The way Henry slouches before he asks that question makes my day

‘Homosexual’ im sorry that prononciation has added years to my life can we all say it like that now please?

Not them swapping the motorbikes for bicycles 😭😭

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #Henry fox mountchristen Windsor

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st0nesnglitter · 4 years ago

Text

The boss

This man, this fucking man, will be the death of me

Also it’s the gifs fault this has taken so long cause I’ve just been staring at him

Also thanks to @quindolyn who helped me write a part of this so I could get it out

Disclaimer: This is just a piece of fiction and the abuse of this power balance isn’t acceptable.

Smut lol

The constant tapping of keys could make you mad sometimes, a pattering melody that indicated that time was passing during your work days. The job was simple. Check emails, answer the phone and keep track of his schedule. During the months of working for Mr. Black you had also developed a habit of ordering his lunch. In his top drawer he always had some crappy candy to keep him going, sometimes walking down to the floor below to get himself a coffee, and nothing more. So you asked him if he wanted a sandwich when you got back from your lunch break and kept doing it ever since.

The sound of buzzing pulled you from your thoughts and you looked down to press the intercom button.

“What do you need, sir?” You asked politely and looked over at the calendar to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.

“Will you please get in here?” Sirius responded before dropping the conversation, keeping pleasantries short.

You stood up and straightened out your skirt before walking around your desk. Even though didn’t need to you gave the door a small knock before opening the door to his office.

“What can I help you with?” You asked sweetly and closed the door behind you.

Sirius sat behind his pitch black desk wearing just a dress shirt and slacks, his jacket descarded over the stiff sofa by the window. His hair was pulled into a bun that sat at the bottom of his neck, a couple curls had sprung free and framed his face.

“Can you look over these forms for me and then get them down to HR?” He asked holding a folder up toward you and you stepped forward to take it.

“Sure, should I make copies and get them back here or are HR filing them?” You asked as you flipped through the papers to get an understanding of what they were about.

“Tell them to file them, don’t want to put any more work load on you, love” he said and looked up with a smile, before turning back to his screen, “that’s all”.

You took the folder and walked out to your desk again, a little more flushed in the face than when you walked in. Before you took the job you had heard how the boss was harsh and pretty mean when he wanted to, but Sirius seemed to have taken a liking to you. He had only spoken kind words to you and had never made you worked overtime. In the mornings he always greeted you, sometimes staying to have a chat about the day ahead, and if he didn’t stay to work late into the night he always bid you goodbye.

Your thoughts started to wander into a daydream as you tried to read the forms he had given you, slowly drifting to some rather inappropriate thoughts to have about your boss. But how could you not when he looked like that? Eyes shining like the moon with such a depth that could make anyone lose their breath, hair silky and shiny that fell over his shoulders perfectly and the most blinding smile. How you got to see him so dressed everyday always made your mind wander to how he looked under his clothes. And his hands, oh his hands, were the most glorious things you’ve seen. The rings he wears, the way the veins pop out when he grips a pen and how he gestures to make his point clear always made you drool and your knees buckle. It always ended up with you thinking about how his hands would feel on you.

You shook your head to rid the thoughts and took a deep breath. After lazily reading through you walked three offices over to give them over to HR. The secretary behind the desk was unfamiliar to you and you greeted him with a smile, making some small talk before walking back to your desk.

The rest of your work day was uneventful. Talking with other companies over the phone, planning meetings and updating Sirius’ schedule over the next month.

Two men walked in for an afternoon meeting and you decided to take a little break, going down to the nearest cafe.

When the two men came back out you met them with a smile and the blonde one walked up to your desk.

”He wants you to in there” he said before giving you a quick nod.

You finished up the email you were writing and went into the office. Sirius sat behind his desk with his jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the wood of the table.

“What’s wrong Sir?” It was clear that something was wrong with Sirius, tension radiated off of him, if the physical signs weren’t clear enough.

“Close the door please,” he commanded with a stern tone and a slight unpleasant feeling washed over you as his irritation was now directed toward you. For the whole time you had worked for him he had never been harsh against you.

Closing the door behind you, making sure it latched, you walked further into his office and thoughts were flashing in your head. Is he going go fire you? Did something happen to the deal? Was it your fault?

“Did those men bother you?” He asked, his eyes holding yours with what seemed like a kindness hidden behind layers of despise and

You furrowed your brow in confusion, had you missed something? The only words they had uttered to you was about him wanting you in his office.

“No sir, is something the matter?” He was silent, “Did they agree to your proposal? Should I begin the paperwork?”

He scoffed, leaning back further in his chair, “I won’t be doing business with them. I’m sorry if you wasted your time with beginning the paperwork.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t start it but may I ask why not? It seemed like a promising partnership.”

Sirius sighed as he massaged the bridge of his nose, seemingly very upset over something. When he didn’t answer right away you opened your mouth to say some rushed apology if you overstepped some boundaries, but then his cool grey eyes shot up at you.

“They said some very unprofessional things about you and I don’t wanna validate their statements by going into a partnership with them”.

You were slightly taken aback by his statement: both relieved that you were not the one who explicitly did something but also even more stressed since he blew off a big deal because of you.

“Mr. Black, if I’m in some way am standing in the way of this deal I can stand back, work behind the scen-“ you started but got cut off by him standing up abruptly.

“You did not do anything wrong. They’re just sexist pigs who obviously never been in the presence of a gorgeous woman” he muttered out, dropping the professionalism and the proper words, shifting the energy in the room.

He turned around to look at you, the line in between his eyebrows softening and he slowly tilted his head.

“M’ sorry, didn’t mean to put this in you” Sirius put his hands in his back pockets and pulled his lips into a thin line.

“I’m just confused why you aren’t more upset about the deal” you said honestly, feeling comfortable to share your thoughts in the more casual conversation you had, “I’ve been planning sub-meetings for weeks”.

“They disrespected you! Said some shit about you being a trophy” he sighed and leaned against the front of his desk, “can’t stand stuff like that”.

Your eyebrows knitted together tighter and let your head fall into a shake as you huffed slightly.

“Don’t understand why I go higher than a multi million dollar deal”.

Sirius looked back up to you again and sighed, but not as frustrated anymore.

“You really don’t get it, huh?” He asked, mostly rhetorically, but was encouraged to continue when he saw your little shake, “you are ethereal. You have this magnetism to you and I’ve tried to stay away but it’s so fucking hard!”

You gasped slightly at his word and in a haze from his compliments you took two small steps forward, getting closer to him.

“Why don’t you try not staying away from me?” You asked in a quiet voice, almost like you didn’t want him to hear.

But, oh, did he hear you and he closed the gap in between you, soft lips grazing yours. He stopped his movements right before it became an actual kiss, savoring the moment before crashing into you.

The kiss went from slow and reassuringly to heated in a matter of minutes and you started to grip onto him harder, pulling him as close as possible. But as his kiss went down your neck you realized where you were and who you were doing this with.

“We.. we maybe shouldn’t do it here, in your office” you whimpered out, but your grip on him to get him closer, “you’re my boss”.

His lips kept attacking your neck, sucking and biting, and he huffed at your comment.

”We can stop if you want, just say the words” he challenged and nipped extra hard at your neck.

You shook your head violently and let out a gasp at the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin, right by your pulsepoint.

“You’re a teenage wet dream” he pulled away to look at you, his lips a little swollen, “the sexy secretary”. He punctuated his words by grabbing a handful of your ass.

Sirius’ lips went back to your neck but slower this time. The passion was still their but it felt like he made an attempt to savor it, to take his time. His hands gripped onto your hips to push you closer to him.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to bend you over my desk?” He growled as he pulled off his tie, snapping you out of your shock and your hand went to help him with the buttons of his white shirt.

His movements were harsh but you were always comfortable, he kept pulling away for eye-contact to make sure you weren’t regretting anything. And in your frenzy of pulling at the fabrics around his body your brushed against the package in his pants and his whole self tensed up. At first the placement of your movements and his reaction didn’t connect, but when it clicked you laughed breathlessly and started to palm his softly.

“Did that feel good, Mr. Black?” You asked as innocently as you could when you stood there with your skirt hiked up, red marks all over your neck and with your hand on your boss’ bulge.

“Oh you little minx” he growled before reaching for the buttons of your blouse.

Slowly the black fabric of your bra started showing and he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, letting out a low groan, before taking in the view that was your chest. His eyes raked over your figure and a mix between a giddy smile and a mischievous smirk found its way onto his lips.

“You’re gorgeous, and all for me, huh?” He asked as his bottom lip got caught under his teeth.

You backed up so you could rest your butt against his desk, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. Sirius’ hands found their way to the back of your skirt, fiddling with the zipper until he felt the nod of your head, pulling it down so you could step out of the garment.

When he got a glance of the black fabric of your panties that matched the bra he let his head fall back. You weren’t ashamed to admit that a chunk if your paycheck went to pretty underwear, one of your favorite ways of self-care.

He started undoing his pants as he watched you, eyes slightly glazed, and with his full attention on your body you felt a surge of confidence and your hands went behind your back to unclasp your bra. You let it fall to the ground, next to the rest of your clothes, and you smiled proudly at him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me” he muttered as he grabbed onto you again, kicking his pants of off him, “gotta be quick, love, and I promise to make it up to you”.

Sirius hooked two fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs, kissing his way back up. Somehow he had pulled down his boxers too and your eyes went down to see the most glorious dick you’ve ever seen. Instinctively you went down to grab it but he caught you.

“Can’t right now darling, gotta be inside you right now or I might combust” he grabbed onto your hips and placed you firmly on the desk.

With your legs spread he had easy access to slowly push into you, eyes trained on yours to detect any discomfort. Your breath hitched as you felt him stretch you out, dragging a hand through his raven hair.

“Fuckin’ hell, you feel so good” he let his head once again fall against your shoulder as he slowly brought his hips away from you, feeling every intricate detail of your inner walls.

The lazy pace didn’t last long though as his hips started to snap into yours, a rush flowing through his veins to make you feel as good as possible. You wrapped your legs around him and hooked your feet at small of your back.

“Harder Sirius, please” you whined, slightly embarrassed that he had made you so desperate so quickly, but the pleasure that resulted in your command let those thoughts fall out of your head quickly.

The sound in his office was downright filthy as you both moaned out loud, skin slapping against each other. Even though you were at a considerably public place that didn’t stop the noises that he pulled out of you.

“Fuck you’re so big, sir” you didn’t mean to utter the title in that moment, your need to be professional hardwired into you, and you felt Sirius slow down slightly.

“Say that again” he demanded.

“Yo-you’re so big... sir” you mewled out and his eyes scrunched together.

The speed that his hips were moving most have been close to speed of light, your body moving around like a ragdoll on the furniture. A pressure was forming in your lower stomach and an urgent need for release filled you. Your hand went down to rub at your clit but he swatted it away to do it himself.

“Are you getting close?” He breathed out, his thumb moving deliciously over your bundle of nerves.

The combination of stimulation got you so close that you couldn’t even utter the words before crashing over the edge. The way you squeezed him got him there too, filling you up with warm ropes of cum.

The two of you stood there for a while, foreheads pressed together, and basked in this new form of intimacy. Sirius slowly moved to pull out of you and let out a puff of laugh as he looked down at his clock.

“Seems like I might have kept you in the office after hours” Sirius smiled brightly at you and you shook your head with a giggle.

“Fine by me if that’s the work I do after hours.”

#sirius black #sirius black smut #sirius black headcanon #sirius black one shot #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black blurb #sirius black fic

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 3 years ago

Text

Hallmark Movie - Guy x Reader

A/N: This is for @wiypt-writes 25 days of Chris-mas! Day 20! dividers made by @firefly-graphics I’ve renamed Me from playing it cool as Guy, I’ve never written for him before so apologies if the character is off.

Summary: Guy said explicitly no more romcoms, so when yet another falls at his door will it change his outlook?

Word Count: 2.5k (this one kinda got away from me...)

Warnings: Swearing

Masterlist

When Guy saw the email from Bryan, he was not happy. What was worse is the sound of a book sized parcel landing by his door. He didn’t even need to open it to know exactly what book it was. He still opened it though groaning out-loud when his suspicions were confirmed.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him” Guy groaned grabbing his jacket and the book before storming out of his apartment.

When he got to Bryan’s office he didn’t wait for him to be ready. He hunted him down to give him a piece of his mind. He found Bryan stood just outside his office talking to a woman.

“I told you very specifically no more romcoms” Guy states slamming the book into Bryans chest.

“Oh come on man, it’s a good one” Bryan chuckles shaking his head glancing over at the woman.

“I don’t care, I want something with more weight” Guy complains.

“It has got weight! People are saying it could be award winning, you could get an Oscar” Bryan reasons making guy scoff and shake his head.

“Look there isn’t much else at the moment, this was the best I could get and it’s pretty damn god, if you don’t take this I can’t promise you anything until the New Year” Bryan tells him passing Guy the book.

Guy sighs looking down at the book in his hands before glancing over at the woman who was watching with an amused expression on her face. She was incredibly beautiful and had that cheeky air about her, he could tell she was the kinda girl you could have fun with.

“You said in the email the author wanted to be involved in the writing of it” Guy queries looking back over at Bryan.

A grin grows on Bryan’s face as Guy gave in “yeah, the book has an extremely strong following and she’s seen plenty of books get murdered by the film industry so she just wants to make sure that doesn’t happen” Bryan explains.

“That’s fair, plenty of directors have murdered my scripts” Guy mutters looking down at the book.

“I’m glad you agree, meet Y/N, you guys are gonna be spending a lot of time together” Bryan smiles putting his hand on your shoulder introducing you.

Guy inwardly groaned, he hadn’t even introduced himself to you, someone he found quite attractive and he’d already insulted your work. This is why love and romance was all a scam.

“Looking forward to working with you” you smirk holding out your hand.

“Likewise, and I’m sorry for what I said about your book- um- for evermore” Guy says looking down at the book so he could read the title.

“Its fine, but maybe try reading it first before you pass judgment” you smirk nodding down at the book in his hand.

“Um yeah sure, I’m Guy by the way” Guy says holding out his hand.

“Guy? Is your sister’s name Girl?” You joke as you shake his hand.

“Um I don’t have a sister” Guy say awkwardly.

“It’s a joke” you chuckle “I’ll see you soon Guy” you say before heading off.

Guy watches as you go before turning back to Bryan and hitting him on the shoulder.

“A heads up would have been nice” he grumbled as Bryan just laughs.

Guy put off reading your book for a week. He knew he had to eventually, but he despised the romance genre so much that he found every excuse not to read it. Even when he told himself to read it he’d find himself sat at the table resting his chin on his folded arms staring at the closed book.

“The quicker you read it the sooner it’ll be over” he grumbled to himself finally picking up the book.

He’d expected to have to force himself to read it. Reward himself for every chapter he finished. Break the book down into manageable chunks. He did not expect to fall head first into the story.

The story you had constructed wasn’t like any other romance story he’d seen. Every character including the two main characters had serious yet normal flaws. The book covered serious topics like grief, divorce and mental health without shoving it down your throat. There was no clear bad guy in the story either, just people making mistakes like humans do.

Before he realised, Guy had read the entire book in one sitting. He was stunned into silence as he put the book down and leant back in his chair. His mind was racing, so many thoughts and questions he wanted to discuss with you. Without thinking he grabbed his phone and found your contact in the email Bryan had sent.

Guy has arranged to meet you at a cafe not too far from his apartment. He wasn’t sure how but he ended up getting there slightly early to ordered himself a coffee. When the barista asked if that was everything he realised he should probably buy you something. He then also realised he had no clue what you liked. Taking a stab in the dark he ordered what the female protagonist in your book likes.

You were just walking in as he sat down at the table and pulled out his laptop. You smiled when you saw him walking over and sitting down in the chair opposite him.

“Is this for me?” You ask pointing at your coffee.

“Yeah, thought I’d better since I wrongly insulted your book” he says with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

You let out a quiet chuckle before grabbing the coffee and taking a sip, an appreciative hum falling from your lips.

“How’d you know this was my favourite?” You ask putting the coffee cup back down.

“Lucky guess” Guy grinned proud that his hunch was correct.

“So what did you wanna ask me?” You ask reclining back in your seat.

“Oh yeah um, just some insight I guess? Like the woman’s husband, he doesn’t have a name at all? The closest you get is her last name, why?” Guy asks leaning forward.

“Well the two main characters are the only narrators and their own views distort their narration making it unreliable, she doesn’t name him because she doesn’t care for him anymore, and neither does the guy she falls for because he doesn’t like the husband, so much so that his description of him doesn’t match everyone else’s” you explain sipping at your coffee.

“Wow, I like that, I hadn’t even noticed the difference in descriptions” Guy says shaking his head in amazement.

“Well I wanted it to be subtle, this book covers a lot of themes and I wanted everything to be woven together and not just jammed in because its a better representation of life” you say with a small smile.

“Yeah not everyone’s love story is a romcom” Guy agrees earning a huff of a laugh from you.

“You could say that again, a lot of the time I think I have a really cynical outlook on love” you sigh looking down at your fingers as you fiddled.

“I’m the same, for the longest time I thought love wasn’t a real thing, then I met a girl who made me feel different” Guy says recalling his time with Her.

“What happened, are you still together?” You ask glancing back up at him.

“No she left me so I’m straight back to my cynical ways” Guy states with a small smile making you laugh.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna write another Romcom?” You question.

“Yeah, none of them felt authentic, especially getting closer to Christmas they all become super cheesy, but I like yours because it’s realistic, the ending leaves things open, its optimistic but its not a happily ever after” Guy explains watching as the smile grows on your face.

“Thank you, that means a lot” you smile bashfully.

“Did you bring your laptop?” Guy asks, you nodding in response “great I um ended up writing a few scenes last night so I could send them to you to read over while I woke on a couple more?”

“Yeah sounds good” you smile pulling out your laptop.

For the next couple weeks you and Guy worked together to put together a script. It was the fastest script he’d ever written, normally he’d be pleased but this time he wasn’t. He really enjoyed spending time and working with you.

Whenever you came over to his to work you’d put on Christmas music, or wear a cute little Christmas jumper. He actually found your excitement for the holiday wearing off on him.

“So what are your plans for Christmas?” You asked on your last visit.

“Dunno maybe hang out with my friends? What about you?” He asks as he drums a pencil in thought.

“Dunno either, haven’t decided what I’m gonna do” You say shrugging your shoulders.

“What about your family? Or friends?” He asks sitting up in his chair.

“Family live in Europe and my friends all have kids, so its just me myself and I, you can see why I’m so cynical about love” you laugh shaking your head as you slouch in your seat looking up at the ceiling.

“Why don’t you hang with us?” Guy asks quickly.

“Huh?” You ask looking back down at him.

“Hang out with us, me and my friends?” He repeats as you sit up.

“Really? Are you sure?” You ask uncertain.

“Yeah it’ll be fun, better than sitting all alone” guy smiles making you smile back at him.

“Yeah sure why not” you smile agreeing to it.

“Its a date-plan! Its a plan” Guy says quickly correcting himself while you just laugh.

The script was done a week before Christmas. Guy had sent the final draft to you to look over which you happily accepted. The only thing left to do was submit the script to Bryan, but for whatever reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The deadline wasn’t until after Christmas day anyway so there was that excuse at least.

The week leading up to Christmas had also been the slowest week of his life. He’d grown so used to seeing and working with you on an almost daily basis that he wasn’t sure what to do with all his spare time now. There had been many occasions when he thought about texting or calling you to just chat or hang out but decided against it each time. At least he was seeing you on Christmas though.

So as soon as it was time to meet up with you and his friends he was dashing out the door. So much so that he was at the bar much earlier than everyone else. Soon his friends started making their way in greeting each other and wishing each other a merry Christmas. He kept his eyes on the doors though waiting to see you appear.

An hour passed and still you were nowhere, he’d checked his phone but nothing. Maybe you decided not to show, preferring your own company over his. Leaving Guy slumped at the bar fiddling with a beer mat wallowing in his own self pity.

“Hey what you moping about its Christmas!” Mallory says draping some red sparkly tinsel over his shoulders.

“I’m not moping I’m just tired” Guy mumbles not lifting his head from the bar.

“So nothing to do with that writer chick you’ve been hanging out with that was supposed to join us over an hour ago” Mallory says prodding his shoulder.

“Why am I friends with you again?” Guy mutters sitting up enough to rub his forehead tiredly.

“Because of my quick wit and infectious personality, now c’mon cheer up” Mallory says putting some Christmas tree sunglasses on him.

Guy sighed opening his mouth to say something but then he saw you rushing in over Mallory’s shoulder.

“I’m so so sorry! I had a nap and forgot to set an alarm so I over slept” you apologises quickly as you approach.

“Its okay you’re here now that’s all that matters” Guy smiles the moody persona completely gone.

“And you can buy the next round to make up for it” Mallory smirks before slipping away.

“Guess that’s fair” you chuckle flagging down the bartender “like the glasses by the way” you add with a smirk.

Guy quickly raises his hand to his face forgetting about the sunglasses Mallory had put on him. Quickly removing them and clearing his throat.

“So good Christmas so far?” Guy asks after you order all the drinks.

“Yeah its been good, you?” You smile leaning against the bar.

“Good, here let me” he says paying for the drinks before you get the chance.

“Hey I’m supposed to be paying” you complain as he passes you your drink.

“Consider it a Christmas present” Guy smirks taking a sip of his drink.

“You turning my book into a movie script was a present enough already, speaking of which… Bryan told me you haven’t submitted it yet, how come?” You question taking a sip of your beer.

“Well I um just wanted to sit on it for a bit just in case I wanted to change something” he lied knowing full well that as soon as he submitted it there would be no reason for you to see him again.

“And um I had a look over it yesterday and I think maybe we could re do that coney island scene?” He suggests hesitantly.

You furrow your brows slightly “but that scene is perfect, easily my favourite scene in the movie, don’t be so hard on yourself it’s perfect” you reassure him putting your hand on his arm and stroking it softly.

“Okay yeah um I’ll submit it tomorrow morning then, it’s been nice working with you” Guy says his mood once again deflating, struggling to find a way for you to stay.

You tilt your head at him studying his shift in mood. The corners of your lips lift slightly as you leaned in closer to him.

“You know if you just wanna hang out, all you gotta do is ask. I’d love to get dinner with you sometime” you smirk.

A grin spreads across his face when your words sink in. You were asking him to ask you out. He turns to face you pulling the tinsel from around his shoulders and placing it around yours.

“Look at us, the cynicals having a Christmas hallmark moment” he smirks over at you.

“so you asking me out or what?” You laugh shaking your head gently.

“Yes I’d love to take you to dinner” he smiles.

“Good, I’ve been waiting you to ask for weeks” you smirk making him laugh.

“Was I that obvious?” He asks wincing slightly.

“A little, maybe you’re not as cynical as you think” you smile shrugging your shoulders making a grin grow on his face.

“And seemingly neither are you” he points out.

“Merry Christmas Guy” you say kissing his cheek.

“Merry Christmas” Guy smiles before cupping your cheek and guiding your lips to his.

Day 19: Nick Vaughan / Day 21: Frank Adler

Masterlist

PLEASE LIKE SHARE AND REBLOG (it can be your christmas present to me....)

#wiypt25daysofchrismas #Me from playing it cool #playing it cool au #playing it cool #chris evans #chris evans x reader

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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So first, I just want to say that I love Mortified, especially the arcs involving Ereshkigal and Innana. The whole thing is absolutely incredible, and I'm always thrilled to see an update. Second, I was rather hoping to offer you a prompt I've had swirling about my head. What if there is some sort of research facility exploring "that which is unknown and previously thought to be impossible" (i.e. magic but they don't call it that because people don't really know about magic and ghosts in this AU) and Danny's class is invited to go on a field trip there. At first, everything is normal, but just after the class leaves the researchers realize that their instruments show that some sort of Eldritch Horror is nearby and they start freaking out, but it's just Danny. I don't know where else this would go though.

Mr. Lancer chewed on the end of his pen. It was a disgusting habit, he knew, but he could never quite get himself to kick it, especially when he had a problem to confront.

Said problem was, presently, that enough of his students had expressed an interest in careers in ectology and paranormal science that he really had to give them a relevant field trip. Unfortunately, there were very few reputable options for such a field trip. The Fentons were unsafe, Axion Labs refused to give tours, the GIW were essentially a government sponsored hate group. Most other ‘ghost hunting agencies’ were outright scams.

But there had to be something nearby. Or at least in the state. Maybe not something that explicitly or solely dealt with ghosts, but something.

Maybe...

Oh!

He shifted to sit straighter in his chair. That would work. He started typing an email.

“We got a what?” repeated Johannsson.

“A field trip request,” repeated Deer.

“Like... from a school?” asked Johannsson, cautiously.

“A high school,” confirmed Deer, sounding rather stunned.

“Do they... know what we do here?”

“Evidently,” said Deer.

“Like, they know we research magic and telepathy and stuff.”

“Yes.”

“And astral projection, higher-dimensional beings, alternate universes, that kind of thing? Fringe science?”

“He says the junior class is interested in the ‘paranormal sciences.’”

“Wow,” said Johannsson, finally bringing his coffee up to his mouth and sipping at it cautiously. “Where,” he started, “where are they from?”

“Um,” said Deer, peering at her computer screen. “Casper High. One sec.” She started typing. “It’s in Amity Park? Do you think it’s a joke?”

“Ah,” said Johannsson. “No, that tracks, actually, if it’s Amity Park. We’ve got some weird readings on file from there, if you look it up.”

“It’s close,” said Deer. “If we get readings, why don’t we have a presence there?”

“Another agency called dibs first,” said Johannsson. “We have enough trouble. No need to step on toes.”

Deer looked up at Johannsson incredulously. “We fight eldritch abominations from the edge of reality,” she said. “Is the boss really worried about stepping on toes?”

“Hey, that’s how we get funding,” said Johannsson, shrugging. “We don’t want to end up like MKUltra.”

“MKUltra was a scam, Steve. And also mostly illegal.”

“Yeah?”

Deer shrugged. “Anyway, should I send this on, or...?”

“Yeah, go ahead. The boss will probably get a kick out of it, if nothing else.”

“I would not have told the boss about this if I knew I’d be the one babysitting a bunch of teenagers,” said Deer through a clenched smile. She jerked on the hem of her blouse, not used to the more formal clothes she was wearing on this momentous occasion.

“Yeah,” said Johannsson, “but it isn’t like we get a lot of people coming into this profession for this profession. And they’re kids. So be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” grumbled Deer.

“Well, look like it,” said Johannsson, elbowing her. He caught sight of the yellow school bus. “Here they come now.”

They waited until most of the students had gotten off the bus to approach.

“Hi,” said Johannsson, “you must be Mr. Lancer.”

“That’s me,” said the rather frazzled-looking teacher. “Come on kids, let’s get settled down. Listen to our guides. Let them introduce themselves.”

“Yeah, hey,” said Johannsson, waving. “Welcome to the Edge Institute, where we study that which is unknown and often thought to be impossible.”

“Hi,” said Deer, frowning at one group of students in particular. Johannsson followed her eyes.

The trio in question didn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary. Except... Well, there was a reason Deer worked here.

“I’m Steve Johannsson,” he said, getting back on track. “This is Sylvia Deer. We mostly work in report processing and assessment, but that brings us into contact with all our other departments, so we’re more than suited to show you around.”

Sylvia put her thumbs up. “Yep,” she said.

“Most of what we work with isn’t terribly dangerous, however, there are exceptions to that rule, and we have some classified projects, so don’t wander off. Stay within view of us at all times.”

“What if we need to use the bathroom?” asked a student.

“Well, that’s different,” admitted Johannsson. “We’ve got a couple scheduled stops, so make sure you go at those times. Other than that, don’t go through any doors we don’t open for you and don’t touch anything without asking first. Got it?”

There was a soft murmur of assent.

“Come on, kids,” said Mr. Lancer, clapping, “he asked a question.”

The murmur became slightly more unanimous.

“Right,” said Deer. She jerked her head towards the building. “Let’s go.”

“Anyway,” said Johannsson, “this is reception, which is the only part of the building freely open to the general public. If you do need to go to the bathroom, they’re right there. We’re going to hang out here for a few minutes, get everyone taken care of.”

Most of the students made their way to the restrooms immediately, however, that one trio stayed put.

“Hey,” said the smallest of the group, “do you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Johannsson.

“Um,” said the boy, slightly rocking forward on the balls of his feet, “there’s, like, an alarm or a siren going off? It’s really faint, but is everything okay?”

“We’d get a text,” said Deer. “Not to mention an announcement on the PA system.”

“And the radios,” said Johannsson, tapping his.

“Right,” said Deer, nodding. “Maybe you have tinnitus or something?”

“Isn’t that recurrent, though?” asked Johannsson. “He’d know if he had it.”

“I do not have tinnitus,” said the boy, firmly. “I really think there’s an alarm going off. Or maybe someone has a mosquito ringtone. Gosh, I hate those...”

Johannsson glanced at Deer and noted that she, once again, was staring at the children rather intensely. Mostly at the boy, but that made sense since he was the one speaking.

“Danny has good hearing,” said the girl, who was decked out in an array of gothic and mystic symbols. One which, on closer inspection, would probably be fairly effective at passive protection.

Johannsson wondered if that was the result of research, intuition, or sheer luck.

Perhaps that was why Deer was looking at them like that?

“Maybe I’m just imagining it,” said Danny, shaking his head. “Let’s go to the bathrooms. There’s probably a line by now.”

Once the kids were gone, and Johannsson and Deer were more or less alone in the entry hall, Johannsson turned to Deer. “Think we should call Detection?”

“Yeah,” said Deer, pulling out her phone. “There’s something not right, here.”

“Maybe he’s a sensitive?” suggested Johannsson. “He could be picking up a project.”

“Or maybe he’s like you and he’ll break every piece of tech invented in the last twenty-five years as soon as he touches it. Or he was cursed by a goddess, like Vicky in Containment. Or maybe he just has tinnitus and is in denial. I still don’t like this.” She finished dialing Detection and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, I-” She pulled the phone away, glared at it and cautiously brought it back. “What’s going on? An incursion? Then why aren’t we on lockdown?”

Johannsson’s blood ran cold. “An incursion? How big?”

Deer held up a hand. “That doesn’t- You know we can’t detect everything! It doesn’t matter if nothing else gets triggered, the protocol is lockdown until we can determine- If you had done your job, the kids would still be on the damn bus!”

At this point, Deer’s shouts had drawn the attention and worry of Mr. Lancer and several of the students who had emerged from the bathrooms.

“Is everything alright?” asked the man.

Johannsson glanced at Deer. “No,” he decided, just before the security shutters slammed down and the emergency lighting came on. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “but it seems like some of our colleagues were overly excited about your tour and didn’t, er, follow proper procedure following a, uh, event. So-”

The PA system stuttered into life. “Attention. A level seven entity has been detected. All nonessential personnel, please proceed to the nearest shelter. Repeat-”

“Seven?” echoed Johannsson, starting to sweat. “Seven?”

“It’s probably a false alarm,” said Deer, putting away her phone and smiling in the way only people who feel very ill do. “None of the other incursion detectors went off. No radiation associated with dimensional breaks or anything. We should still get everyone to a shelter. Maybe you can round up everyone from the bathrooms?”

“Right,” said Mr. Lancer, who was enviably calm.

“Is an entity like a ghost or something?” asked one of the kids, who clearly weren’t grasping the gravity of the situation. “How strong is a seven?”

Level seven entities couldn’t be described in terms of strength alone. They were eldritch, uncaring gods that tore at the fabric of reality with their very presence, creatures that had no business being on the material plane. They shed bright magic and dark science in their wake, leaving those unfortunate enough to see them grappling with madness that was not.

He really wanted to know what was happening in Amity Park (ghosts?) that made these people so blasé about the alarms, flashing lights, and security shutters.

Wait a second.

He unclipped his radio from his belt. “This is Johannsson, calling detection. Can you describe the signal to me? Over.”

The radio crackled. “Slowly rising over the last thirty minutes, peaking and plateauing in the last ten. Why? Do you have something? Over.”

The bus had arrived ten minutes ago. Johannsson closed his eyes. “Maybe. Will inform. Over and out.”

He looked over at the bathroom where Danny and his two friends were emerging. Danny had his hands pressed over his ears. Whenever the overhead lights flashed off, the boys eyes reflected green. Just for a second.

Yeah. Johannsson had something. The question was, what was he going to do about it?

#danny phantom #not quite your prompt but...#close?#ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill

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peachiimilquetea · 3 years ago

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heyyyy :) can i get an angst scenario (fem!reader) for your event, with tenya and the prompts, "fuck you for making me love you.", "i'm sorry that i was never enough" and "i just want to understand why i wasn't enough." please?

your writing is *mwah* chef's kiss <3 thank you!!!

“𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮” + tenya iida

ft. “i’m sorry that i was never enough” + “i just want to understand why i wasn’t enough”

a/n: PLS WHY DO YALL ENJOY ANGST SM IT MAKES ME SAD WHEN I WRITE IT EVSJSBSJSSN. this one was just… damn. i hope i did the prompt justice tho! check out my event here!

contains: infidelity, tenya CURSES????, fuck mc ion like her in this one, breakup, overall just a shitty time, hakagure is a real one even after graduation

length: 1.2k

a/n ii: tysm for the kind words abt my work!! 🤍

hey iida, i hope this email finds you well given the circumstances,

i’m really really sorry…

tenya’s eyes scanned over the contents of the email and he could feel his world crumbling around him as he read. he had to remember to give hakagure something for all her troubles, as he was appreciative of all her help.

he had suspected something was going on for a few months, he wasn’t stupid. he saw the way you had started leaving your phone face down and picking up “extra shifts” at your job.

he noticed the way you smiled, how hollow it looked now when he said something to you or how you tensed up whenever he touched you, almost like an aversion to his affections.

so he pulled some strings, reached out to his old classmate from high school, now one of the top heroes that specialized in stealth in the country. he asked her to tail you on the way to one of your shifts and see what she could find. all he needed was confirmation.

i’m really really sorry…

you had decided to surprise him by coming home early from work that day. the guilt of sneaking around was eating at you and you knew he was suspecting something you made the snap decision to try to throw him off your trail.

“ten ten? baby i’m home!” you called, putting your stuff down at the door and striding into the room.

“why are you home so early?” he clipped out, initial devastation turning into anger the longer he looked at your face.

“what, i cant surprise, my boyfriend, anymore?” you attempted to joke, picking up on how tense the air was becoming.

“oh now i’m your boyfriend?” he chuckled in disbelief.

“what are you talking about? you’ve always been my boyfriend, ten, we’ve been together for like a year.”

“don’t bullshit me right now, _____. how long?”

“excuse me?” your smile started to slip, hoping he was angry about something else. anything else.

tenya turned the laptop sitting next to him around and your voice caught in your throat as you tried to answer him. high definition proof sat in front of you, a testament to how little you cared anymore. the look on his face told you everything.

he knows, you thought but used all your energy to keep your face as neutral as possible, opting to play dumb.

“how long, _____? answer me.”

you stayed silent, still trying to figure out a way out, but you knew you had reached the end of the line.

“how long have you been doing this _____?”

“s-seven months,” your voice was small. you were scared and ashamed- knowing you had been stringing him along for all this time and never seeing him react to anything like this. not when his brother was attacked or when his father died.

tenya didn’t think he could feel any worse. 7 months was more than half of the time you had been together officially, meaning you had checked out of this relationship a long time ago. you had been lying the whole time. having your cake and eating it too. it made him want to scream, cry and throw up all at the same time.

“im sorry tenya… really i am, but youve been so busy with hero work and your father left you in charge of everything, i’ve just been feeling really neglected, you know?”

“and you didn’t come to tell me about it? you went outside the home, outside of us to get your needs met?”

“it wasn’t like that-”

“then what was it like?” he pressed.

“i..”

“answer me, _____, what was it like?”

“you want the truth?” he gestured for you to go ahead, “i was bored.”

everything you said after that fell on deaf ears. you were rambling, and he wasn’t even sure if you were coming up with excuses for your own sake or for his.

you cheated because you were bored- bored of him and his unwavering love, bored of the late nights you stayed up to imagine your future, and bored of the way he treated the ground you walked on like gold. he absolutely adored you, and you got bored.

tenya’s mouth felt dry as he tried to articulate exactly what he was feeling. he wanted to go for a run and let the world blur into the background as he cleared his mind. he wanted to cry, one large cathartic release of everything that had been building up for the past few weeks. but most of all, he wanted to know why.

“you... got bored of me?”

you breathed out, exasperated, “yes, tenya, god! i needed some excitement, something different. you’re always so uptight, i just wanted to let loose sometimes, it was suffocating!”

iida flinched, the truth stinging more than he anticipated it would. he didn’t even recognize the woman that was staring at him, trying to explain away the betrayal of a lifetime.

“fuck you," he spat, even surprising himself with how hostile he was.

“tenya…”

“no. fuck you for making me love you, and fuck you for not having the integrity to break up with me when you knew you didn’t want to be here anymore.”

you deflated, feeling sick to your stomach at what you had done. initially, you hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but that didn’t matter now. “i know, i’m in the wrong and i’m sorry, but i think we can make this work and-”

he raised his hand at you to stop you. he didn’t want to listen to any more of what you had to say. he wanted you out of his house and out of his life.

he wanted to make you leave, and that’s exactly what he did, helping you pack up the things the two of you had gleefully moved in 3 months prior, and kicking you out.

he told you explicitly to never contact him again, much to your anguish. you knew you fucked up but you still wanted to be selfish, you still wanted access to him in ways that you didn’t deserve.

the rest of the day didn’t feel real. tenya went ghost, turning off his phone and sitting on the couch staring at the wall, unable to sit in the bedroom he once shared with you.

he thought about the ring he had asked his mom for, the ring he had already planned to give you, and heaved out a shaky sob. it was probably burning a hole in the nightstand drawer now, never to be used for its original purpose.

his eyes scanned the room, landing on a photo of the two of you that sat on the tv stand. getting up, he walked over to it to get a closer look. such a stark contrast from the way things were now. the two of you were all smiles in the photo, faces flushed and rosy from the cold air. he ran his thumb over the frame, finger caressing your face.

“im sorry i was never enough… i just want to understand why i was never enough.”

#[🍑]peachiiwrites #peachiileaf50!#mha iida #iida angst #angst #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida #iida x reader #he doesn’t deserve this #peachiileafsfw

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soundsaboutrighttumblr · 4 years ago

Text

WBL meta ep 4.

On lucky ones and fools for love, of which there might be not one, but two, each, on broken means of communication and bridges, hierarchies and equal footings in relationships. Started out as typing along each scene, but then one scene stole all the paragraphs, so I cut it a bit short in the end. So yes, kinda my stream of consciousness again.

- We are reminded: Shi De’s mails have always been unanswered, his messages, after 1 year approximately, stay even unread. Communication and its multitude of possible errors will be touched on… good.

- We are told: Little baby Oscar is Shi De’s brother. Ashley probably his step sister that helped take care of Oscar while Shi De’s mom recovered. Shi De stayed, because of his mother’s health and problems in the company, to help out the people he loves, because they are his family, too. Besides Shu Yi. That made two months into two years.

The scene that stole all the paragraphs:

- Moving light on concrete walls, bowls and symbols of present and enduring care and nourishment, a fresh morning, fresh eyes, new awakenings. Man, that scene is everything, not only because it is the scene where Shu Yi will realize imo that this man before him did not cheat on him, without anyone explicitly having to address it. I love this scene already. Will there be fic? Possibly. First, watch me type through it like this, if you want:

- They turn towards each other, like really facing each other. At eye level. Do I make myself clear, lol? They are both sober and rested and calm and are looking right at each other, in a safe space, with morning fresh eyes, eyes open once more after their night TM, a period of darkness, that might have stretched longer than this actual night. Yeah, I am feeling dramatic alright.

Boy do I love that Shi De just starts to speak. Apologizes sincerely, and for the thing that shows that successful communication actually can happen between those two, when they are together, that Shi De actually has listened to Shu Yi and his side and considered it and is aware of where his fault lies, to a degree.

He admits that he realized he didn’t believe in Shu Yi’s forever.

I understand the following lines as carrying the sentiment: Shi De always loved Shu Yi, but as he said to Dad, he wanted to be with him forever the moment he got together with him. Before that was his one sided love, a vague concept of love, but the dream to be together with Shu Yi was just that, a dream. One that became concrete and true, and that was the moment Shi De actually felt and decided he wants this forever.

It became a decision to commit, and the process of it becoming real for Shi De, a decision that reaches into his reality, it took ten years. So he was reluctant to believe that for Shu yi that process of reaching certainty could have happened much quicker. He only had his own love as reference, and used to carrying it all by himself, that standard made him question, if Shu Yi COULD be as certain as Shi de was, after arriving at his decision after 10 years, versus Shu Yi’s rather recent-feeling awakening.

– maybe Shu Yi loved you for longer, even if his knowledge of it was asleep, Shi De, you know he comprehends things in his sleep, we know that about him, right? Sorry side tracked –

Shi De realizes, and TELLS Shu Yi, I mean that scene, he just tells and talks, the marvel… sorry, Shi De realized he DID not believe Shu Yi’s devotion to be the equal to his, thought that Shu Yi was just swept off his feet by the moment, and then he realizes, that the fault for that lies in his own insecurities. And he says that. To Shu Yi. InternalYesScreaming.

- Okay. The intricacies of miscommunication and manipulation. Dad’s arguments were received by Shi De with open ears, because they were thoughts and insecurities, he’d already had himself. The worry of being not good enough, of holding Shu Yi back. That’s why they work even if Shi De realizes he’s being manipulated by that entire put together scene.

- And then Dad presented that broken phone, the symbol of broken communication and broken bridges between them, on a silver platter almost, I mean do you remember the way Dad orchestrated that meeting with the food and the waiter handing him the device on silent cue? It must have felt like things were truly broken beyond an immediate chance of repair.

- BTW : Dad holding the cards, ahem, the phone, the means of communication between them in his hands? We will remember that later, right.

- So yeah, the only chance Shi De saw to salvage anything of it, was in the future. So he gave himself those 5 years, to be worthy to stand next to Shu Yi.

- I think that is about the time that Shu Yi realizes, finally allows himself to let it click, that this man never looked at anyone else but him. Like, that for Shi De, there is no one better on this planet than Shu Yi, there’s no arrogance that a cheating situation could have been born out of.

- Also? He sees that Shi De actually has always perceived himself as inferior to Shu Yi, deep down, and/or is afraid Shu Yi might see him as such, which is a reversal and touch on their theme of who is No 1 and Mr. Second, see conclusion waaay down below in highlighted on this monster of a meta.

- The power of it. For Shu Yi to be able to finally SEE Shi De and who he is enough again, that he can overcome his doubts. Without Shi De addressing the misunderstanding, but, and that is important, by Shi De TALKING. About himself, without pretense for strength. The misunderstanding is made nil by communication per se, not communication about it but by the essence of communication, of baring yourself to another, who listens, and understands.

- Gah.

- The way Shu Yi finally acts, when Shi De mentions someone better for Shu Yi. Like there would be someone. How he makes him face him again when Shi De starts to get lost in his own self-flagellating thoughts. Reminding him, this is not a monologue this is a dialogue, by making him face him again. So important, because that happens with them when they are in a room together. They can draw each other out of their heads and communicate.

- Btw, there are wet spots of tears on both their pillows.

- And yes, he puts it in words. That it is his call to choose Shi De, and decide to want to stay with him forever. Not Shi De’s for him, not Dad’s.

- Stupid Gao Shi De. And that affectionate slap on his head. Because they will always be physical like that.

- And there it is, the bracelet that was never gone, and what follows is a renewed wedding vows scene if I ever saw one, is humility and forgiveness and renewed promises on an equal footing. I think that scene deserves way more words, but I might put that in fic or another meta, this is getting ridiculously long. But I think the feels in this one are quite clear. But let me say this:

This episode poses the question who is the lucky one. Also, related to that, who is Mr. Second, and who is No 1? Is it who we thought it was? Or was it reversed, was Shi De the lucky one after all? OR was it the two of them from the start, two lucky ones, two fools for love? And finally: a sense of growth, away from the hierarchy and the illusion of No 1s and Mr. Seconds, of winners and losers in relationships:

You can be equal only through honesty and vulnerability and shared responsibility.

- Please let me know what you think the statue, the rabbit and the crystal ball symbolizes, knowing the show it might symbolize something, but I am lost here, lol. Is it a chinese character thing? Soundsalikes? Three syllables? Am i interpreting too much into it?

- I actually will skip some scenes now, because I just want to mention the ones that tie into the topics I started on above, communication and bridges, because else this will break all limits lengthwise.

- The scene where Bing Wei tells Shi De of the magnitude and depths of Shu Yi’s love. Once again solidifying, that it has always been Shi De’s love’s equal, devotion wise.That Shi De is the freaking lucky one, too.

- The matter of the phone as the symbol. Shu Yi crying alone with the phone, the broken symbol of the broken communication between them, and then Dad taking that out of his hands.

- How it ties into when they both realize at the same time, Dad’s involvement and interruption of their communication might have even started earlier, with blocking the emails from the start when they were apart. You lose sympathies in this ep again, dad, lol.

- The scene on the bridge. BRIDGE. Yeah, besides that it has history for them, look what they do in that scene. They reconnect further, mend bridges, by their shared history in highlights, but also by levelling the ground between them, each admitting and being told that they both have been idiots in this for their own parts, laughing about it even with tears in their eyes. Teasing each other with it, but pulling each other closer over it, the teasing, careful, long unused steps around each other, but on a bridge between them that they revisit, that has been mended, that is secure again under their feet.

It’s the ground they can stand on, the ground they can and WILL use to talk about all that stuff, the bridge between them, their equal love.

- Also, Shu Yi is eating in that scene, happily.

- Oh man, I will end it here, because there’s just too much to say, and I will, in fic and more meta, let me know what you wanna talk about if you made it this far.

#wbl #we best love: fighting mr. 2nd #episode 4 #meta #there will probably be more #but have this for now #@noona96n #@sfjessii

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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

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Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain.

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.”

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?”

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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mka1098 · 4 years ago

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I Ask For Your Hand In Marriage

Part 4 - I'm really tired guys I'm sorry

“You’re really annoying.” That was the first thing Percy heard when he woke up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes; Annabeth had collapsed at the foot of his bed.

“Wow. You’re loving.” he said sarcastically. She groaned into his bedsheets. “No really. You suck.” Annabeth continued. Percy made an offended noise and reached for one of the pillows next to him to throw at her.

“I had to plan your meeting with the next princess and it was so freaking hard.” Annabeth said, swatting the pillow away. She sat up and sighed, looking back at him with an annoyed look. “Why didn’t you just pick Hazel. She was sweet and our kingdoms would have been so powerful together; you know that your dad was hoping for you to marry her right?” She said.

Percy frowned. “She was nice, I’ll say that’s for sure but it just wasn’t right.” He told her. Annabeth huffed.

“I guess that makes sense.” She said begrudgingly. “Plus-” Percy said with a grin. “-she likes one of the animal caretakers in her kingdom. I told her to go for it.” He added. Annabeth's expression softened.

“Did she?” She asked. “I hope.” Percy replied. A small soft and sweet smile made its way onto Annabeth's face. “That’s very sweet of you. Real love should never be thrown out for sake of power or kingdom politics.” She admitted.

Percy nodded but his mind began to wander. Hazel seemed so genuinely sure that he and Annabeth were something. They weren’t, that was for sure but would he rebel against the good of the kingdom just to marry her? Sure, Hazel wasn’t the first born royal so she didn’t have to worry about that part but say Percy did. Though his parents hadn’t ever explicitly told him, Percy knew that he had to produce the next heir to rule. If, if, he and Annabeth were to be something and his parents wanted him to marry a royal princess, would he rebel or would he listen? After all, he had a duty to the people and was the only son.

“If by the end of this you don’t find a wife, I’m going to end you myself.” Annabeth said, snapping Percy out of his thoughts.

“Huh? What?” He said with a playful smirk.

She rolled her eyes and shoved Percy over. “It’s so much work! And the ball, jesus christ I’m going to be buried in work by the time the ball planning comes. Pick a nice one.” She said, looking at him with an intense glare. “I’m not dealing with a bridezilla when the wedding comes around.” That made Percy sputter and his eyes go wide. Sure, wife meant marriage but he didn’t realize everyone was thinking so far ahead and to the wedding itself just yet!

“Wedding?” He cried out. Annabeth raised a brow at him as if to say, are you stupid?

“Yes. Wedding. What you do to legally have a wife.” She said, mocking him playfully. Percy rolled his eyes.

“Wow, thanks for telling me what a wedding is; I didn’t know what it was before.”

“Of course, how could we expect something else?”

Percy frowned at her deeply as she snickered to herself. “I’m tired; you’re annoying. I wanna sleep.” He said, leaning back into his pillows and covers. Annabeth scoffed and threw the pillow back at his face.

“Well me too but I have work to do.” She said.

Percy lifted his hand lazily. “Skip it all.” He told her. Annabeth gave a sharp laugh.

“No, because you are my work. And you’re putting more work on me because you’re an idiot who can’t choose a freaking queen.” She said.

Percy frowned at her. “I can choose a queen.” He defended himself. Annabeth rolled her eyes playfully.

“Tell that to my emails and schedules. DO you know how condescending all of the other royal advisors are? I mean, I know I’m young; you all can stop reminding me.” She complained.

Percy scowled, mentally noting to be extremely passive aggressive with the advisors in the future. “I can though.” Percy continued. “You can do all the queen stuff till I get a girlfriend. You already know what to do; it’s basically what you do now.” Percy said. Annabeth smacked him in the head.

“No. I already told you why we can do that.” She said strictly, still Percy pouted at her. “I think it’s a great idea!” He said.

She looked at him blankly. “Your subjects will beg to differ.” She said drily

With a roll of his eyes, Percy grabbed her arm and pulled her now next to him, only he was under the covers with a ratty old tee shirt and fleece PJ pants while Annabeth wore an olive green jumpsuit. “Nap time.” He announced like a child. She rolled her eyes but snuggled into the cover’s surface.

“But really, you need to think about your future queen or else all my hard work is for nothing.”

“Nap time!”

“Percy…”

“Nap.”

Annabeth looked at him with scolding eyes. Percy pouted. “Oh come on, you know the only person I’ve ever even thought about doing the queen and other stuff while I rule is you. Give me a break!” He cried out.

Annabeth scoffed and sat up, much to his dismay. “You’re not even listening to me.” She said, and tugged on his hair; Percy yelped and batted her hands away.

“Yes, I am!” Percy pouted. Annabeth shook her head. “No you aren’t.” SHe let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I am not allowed to be your queen even take over some of her roles. You have got to get that out of your kelp-filled head.” She tugged on Percy’s hair, shaking her own head of golden locks as Percy shireked.

In total honesty, her words made him feel, deflate, in fact. He didn’t really know why though, it wasn't he didn’t know that. Annabeth had practically beaten it over his head that she couldn’t help him with those duties; it didn’t stop him from relying on her for them and mildly preferring it. Really though, she was his best friend, it would make sense for them to work on ruling an entire kingdom together.

“You’re not listening to me again.” Annabeth’s laughing voice cut through his thoughts. She smiled at him softly.

“As much as I appreciate you thinking I can do all that stuff and as much as I know I’ll do well ruling. I can’t.” Percy nodded. He knew that.

“You need to get up though, for real. And changed.” Annabeth announced, getting off the bed and standing next to the foot of it, much to Percy’s displeasure. He tried reaching for her arms to pull her back into the comforter again but she stepped back and out of his arm’s span.

“Come back!” He whined. Annabeth reached forward with an arm, grabbed his outstretched one and pulled him to the ground in one smooth quick motion.

Percy cried out as he hit the ground, hard and fast. “Get ready for the day.” Annabeth snorted, turning around and walking away. Percy smiled from the ground, spotting her silently shaking shoulders and knew that she was trying hard not to burst out laughing. He apperaticed that she always pushed him to do things, even when he didn’t want to but did it out of love.

Perhaps that one of the reasons Hazel wasn’t right for him or as a queen of his kingdom. Percy liked to have fun, Annabeth could attest for that. He perhaps needed something that wasn’t so nice and would push him to do his best. After all, that was what Annabeth did. He needed a person like Annabeth as his queen. (In his personal opinion he needed Annabeth as queen or at least royal caretaker for the rest of his life). After all, she was one of the few people in his life that lamented that he wasn’t lazy, just unfocused.

“Get off the floor, seaweed brain.”

“Ooh harsh.”

“I mean it!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#percabeth fanfiction #percabeth #annabeth chase x percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #fanfiction #annabeth chase

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extra-salt · 4 years ago

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The Growing Height, Feelings, and Distance (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Title: The Growing Height, Feelings, and Distance Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader Genre: Fluff, very light angst? A/N: Hi there! I've been listening to several songs on my playlist in hopes of getting some inspiration for a story and I did, BUT, I don't know how to put them into plots and words. I only managed to write this one out and this has been sitting in my drafts for a week or so. I wanted to finish writing it but work keeps eating my time sad noise .

This story is loosely based on a song called 20cm by Tomorrow x Together (lyrics here). When I started getting inspirations from the song, I immediately tried to find a character that will go with it and I chose Kei (one of the things that this song explicitly talks about is the height, so yea, that's how I really decided for it, there ya go). I love Kei, but I'm not entirely confident of how I wrote him in this one :(

(Also posted this on AO3.)

Let me know what you think~

Masterlist

—

“Am I missing something?” Kei questioned as he went downstairs to the dining table only to see a lot of dishes being served.

“I’m home!” Kei heard from the entrance.

“Kei, can you put this inside the fridge please?” His brother handed him a box containing a cake. A strawberry shortcake.

“Are we celebrating something I’m not aware of?” he asked.

“The L/Ns are coming over for dinner. They just moved back from Tokyo and they’re staying for good this time.”

That means…

Akiteru gave his little brother a teasing grin. “That means Y/N is back and that cake is not all yours. I got that flavour because you two liked it so much.”

—

It’s been 4 years since you and your family moved to Tokyo to look after your grandparents and also for your father to take over the family’s business as your grandpa decided to retire. Your families lived next to each other, and as your parents put it “you and Kei have known each other since you were in diapers”. When you left for Tokyo, you shed some tears while bidding goodbye to Kei who only teased you for being a crybaby.

You would come back to Miyagi during your summer breaks. The first time you went back for a vacation, to say that you were surprised is an understatement. It had only been a few months but it was very much visible how he grew taller and his voice was a bit deeper than what you were used to. Let’s say you didn’t let him live a day without teasing him about it.

Even if you would often annoy the hell out of each other, it was needless to say that you got each other’s backs, even in as kids. You were there for him when he discovered his brother’s secret and he got you when your parents were going through a rough patch.

Things got busy for you when you entered middle school. Your family got busier in handling the business as well so there wasn’t really a chance for you to go back to Miyagi even for a short vacation. You and Kei remained connected through emails and occasional phone calls for a few months until you’ve never heard from each other again.

—

The family dinner started and you two were sitting across each other while the older ones are talking and with Akiteru chiming in from time to time. You and Kei were quietly eating your dinner, not finding the right time to strike up a conversation any time soon. Kei excused himself first from the table after finishing his meal. After a while, you stood up to excuse yourself as well, but Akiteru called for you from the kitchen counter. You can see him getting a cake from the fridge and settling it down on the counter and then goes to get small plates and utensils. He proceeded to slicing the cake and placing them on the small plates and pushing two to your direction. “One for you, and the other one is for Kei. He's at the backyard, will you please bring it to him?"

"Sure," you replied. "Thank you, Akiteru-nii."

"Be sure to catch up with each other. As much as I hate how rowdy you two were back then, I kinda miss it."

"Just say you miss me and go," you replied with some sass and earning a laugh from Akiteru.

"I was so sure you lost your words and sass somewhere in Tokyo when I didn't hear anything from you back at the table."

"I think it only comes out when I talk to an annoying Tsukishima sibling?"

"That ain't me."

—

You went to the backyard and as what Akiteru said, Kei was there with his headphones and sitting on the porch.

You put the other small plate down beside Kei and quietly took a seat in the opposite direction with your own slice of cake. He must have felt your presence as he removed his headphones and noticed the slice of cake beside him. He muttered a thank you and started digging in. You rack your brain for whatever topic or question that you could use to strike up a conversation. All the questions that you wanted to ask seemed to have evaporated. Think! Think! Come on…

"Kei, how much have you grown since we last saw each other?” you asked awkwardly, mentally slapped yourself for it. You were not expecting an answer for it really, but Kei did anyway.

"Last time I checked it was around 188cm."

“That’s around 20cm! You’ve grown so much!”

"Duh, of course. It was several years ago. Do you really expect me to remain a shorty just like you?"

His last statement ticked you off, but you can't help but smile as you slowly felt the atmosphere between the two of you go back to how it was. Seeing that faint shit-eating grin on his face is enough proof.

"I'm not a shorty! I grew up too!"

"Really? Let's see then," he challenged. He stood up from his spot, you followed him, and stood right in front of him to compare. "Alright, stand still--" you said, holding on both of his arms to make him stay still and when you looked up, blush crept up on your faces at the close proximity. Before you completely drown yourself in his golden-brown eyes, you pushed him out of panic and lost your balance. Luckily, he managed to catch you before your clumsy ass hit the ground. He pulled you up and you steadied yourself. “Sorry about that.”

While you were trying to collect yourself, he flicked a finger on your forehead causing you to yelp in pain. “What the hell?! I said I’m sorry!”

“Ah, sorry. You’re so annoyingly clumsy, I can’t help it.”

“Damn you beanpole!” He then walked back to his previous spot and picked up the now empty plate. "Leaving already?"

“Yeah. I got things to do," he casually replied. You wanted more time to catch up with him but he already marched back inside. "I guess that's enough for today?" you thought.

The previous scene was still playing in his mind as he went back inside. You were standing too close to each other that he can smell your shampoo scent. He had the urge to pat your head, run his fingers through your hair and graze them lightly on your chin, but he managed to hold it back. Where did these urges even come from? He doesn’t understand. He never did, and it annoyed him.

—

Monday came and you were surprised to see Kei outside your house in his school uniform. Damn, he’s just wearing a gakuran but he sure makes it look like he’s gonna be on a runway. “Your mom asked me to accompany you to school, transfer student.”

“Sounds like a very troublesome task. I like that.”

“If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna leave you behind.”

The walk to your new school was rather silent. You two bicker a lot but you also used to have moments where you enjoy the comfortable silence. But right now, there's nothing comfortable with the silence between the two of you. “We really drifted off, didn’t we?” Those thoughts were never meant to be spoken out loud. Kei saw your mouth moved as he was sneaking glances at you, but he was not able to catch what you said. “Sorry, what was that—?”

“Good morning, Tsukki!” From behind, you can see Yamaguchi Tadashi running to your direction. “Y/N is that you?!”

“Good morning to you too, Yamaguchi,” you greeted. “Yes, it’s me. The one and only.”

“When did you get back?! Oh, you’re wearing Karasuno’s uniform, does that mean—“

“Shut up, Yamaguchi. We’re gonna be late,” Kei interjected.

“Hehe. Sorry, Tsukki!”

When you arrived at school, you parted ways with the two guys and went to the teachers’ office to get your class schedule. You got introduced to your new classmates and immediately hit it off with your seatmate, Yachi Hitoka, who was willing to show you around and accompany you on your first day. During lunchtime, you two were on your way to the cafeteria and saw Yamaguchi and Kei who seemed to be headed to the same location.

“Yamaguchi—!”

“Kei—!”

You and Yachi called out at the same time, earning the two boys’ attention. “You know them, Yachi?”

“Yeah, they’re members of the school’s volleyball team. I assume you know them too?”

“Ah, I remember you mentioned that you were one of the managers.”

Yamaguchi and Kei made their way to the two of you. “I’m friends with them. Kei and I are childhood friends, and I met Yamaguchi through this blonde beanpole.”

Yamaguchi and Yachi can’t help but snicker at the way you talk about Kei. “You two must be very close if you’re on a first-name basis,” Yachi commented.

You suddenly felt Kei’s arm on your head and moving it to mess up your hair. “Yeah, we’re very close,” Kei replied in a mocking voice. Once you were able to get his arm off of your head, you held onto it as he was still attempting to bring it back on your head. “You never told me you were in the volleyball club.”

“You never asked," he replied nonchalantly. It kinda stung, but you buried it at the back of your mind. You used to tell each other everything even if you didn't ask.

“Well I wanted to catch up with you during the weekends but you declined. So much for being friends.” You felt him trying to lift his arms up again in an attempt to further mess your hair but you somehow managed to get away from him and run behind Yachi and Yamaguchi.

“Anyways! Can I come to your volleyball practice later, Yachi?”

“I think you can. I’ll go and ask permission from Takeda-sensei and I’ll let you know.”

“Nope.” Kei objected. “There are already enough bothersome people in practice. Don’t try to add more by coming over.”

Do you ever listen to him? Nope, so after class, you went with Yachi to the gym. "Keeeiiiiiiii!!!" you called the moment you saw him enter the gym. He was visibly annoyed by your antics but you're pretty much used to it.

You also got to meet the rest of the Karasuno team that afternoon. They found it amusing that there’s a girl who can actually talk back to Kei and get away with it unscathed. For the rest of the practice, however, Kei did not pay you any attention at all. During their breaks, he would rest somewhere away from where you’re sitting, making it clear that he doesn’t like having you here in their practice. It didn’t faze you though. When they were done with practice, you went up to him to say that you’re gonna wait for him to clean up and you can go home together.

“You looked really cool today, not gonna lie.” You kept your eyes on him as he wiped away his sweat and removed his training bib. No response. “Let’s go home together! It’s a bit late already.”

“I told you not to come here.” He places the towel on his shoulder and turned to your direction, displaying his annoyed face. “You could’ve gone home earlier and it would save me the energy to walk you to your house.”

“Did you really expect me to listen? Duh. And you said I never asked about you playing volleyball so I went to see you play,” you retaliated. “And our houses are literally next to each other, stop overreacting.”

“Don’t come again.”

“Not gonna happen.” And it never really happened. You’d always go to their practice after class hour like it’s your normal routine that Shimizu even considered getting you as a manager, an idea that Yachi rooted for. You declined, saying that Kei might disown you for good, which is half true.

Kei still doesn’t talk to you whenever you’re there, but you still go home together. You can already feel yourself running out of patience. The unanswered questions have been plaguing your mind ever since you went back to Miyagi but you never even got a chance to bring up one of it.

“Tsukishima Kei!” you yelled from behind as you two near your houses.

He was clearly taken aback with your use of his full name that he immediately looked back. “Why the hell did you stop talking to me back then? Did I do or say something wrong?” You asked with a pained expression. “Did you get tired of me?”

Kei remained unmoved. The distance that you felt between the two of you seems to grow further as he remained silent. He has been trying to avoid this moment ever since you came back because he doesn’t really know how to answer that question. But the look on your face when you asked if he got tired of you seemed to tug some strings on his heart.

“I’m sorry. What was I thinking?” You continued. “You did get tired of me. I’m sorry, Kei. I won’t bother you anymore.”

You walked past him, but he was able to grab ahold of your arm and pulled you to his chest. “I would never,” he whispered. “I would never get tired of you.”

“I’m not good with words when it comes to expressing my feelings. Heck, I didn’t even understand them.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you snuggled closer to his chest. You felt him lean his chin on the top of your head and heaved a sigh. “My brother used to tease me a lot because we kept in contact to the point that he got so annoying. So to spite him, I stopped contacting you.”

“What a lame-ass reason! You got me overthinking and feeling sad for years just for that LAME. ASS. REASON!”

“I know! Stop rubbing it on my face! I wanted to reconnect but I was thinking that you already either hate me or have forgotten about me. I never had the courage to speak to you again but I cannot find it in me to let the thought of you go. When you came back, you asked me how much I’ve grown. I don’t think it’s just my height. My feelings may have caught up with it as well.”

You pulled away from his hold for a bit and looked up at him. “Then why did you ran away from me that night?”

For the first time since you came back, you saw him looking at you fondly. The same look he’d use to give whenever you render him speechless when you’d never back down when bickering with each other or whenever you manage to throw a good comeback to his snarky comments. “I was unsure..of what I exactly feel, of what you feel towards me.”

“I forgot how dense you could be.”

“Now you’re just being annoying.”

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.10/25

The flat was filled with the melodic sounds of sitar strings, or more accurately, the screeching sounds of sitar strings.

Jaskier still hadn’t gotten the hang of his new baby.

It was a truly beautiful instrument but completely different to his usual stringed instruments. The long neck of the sitar had way more pegs than he used to and he just couldn’t get it to sing like he wanted. He was struggling to play with the microtones that the sitar music was famous for. He would probably have to see if he could find a teacher to help him. That wasn’t going to be easy.

He gently put the instrument back in its case and sat down at his piano instead. His flat wasn’t really big enough to house his baby grand piano but he just hadn’t been able to leave the beautiful instrument behind in the shop. It had called out to him like a siren and he’d been helpless to resist its call.

Of course, he’d probably be able to afford a bigger flat if he managed to stop buying instruments.

He laughed. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His fingers idly pressed the keys without him putting much effort in. He closed his eyes and let the music free from his heart.

School was starting back the next day and he’d been up almost all weekend trying to finish up his lesson plans. He hadn’t meant to leave it to the last minute but time had just gotten away from him and suddenly it was Saturday and he’d not done any work. Luckily coffee and cat naps were his bestest friends in the whole wide world and he’d finally managed to get it all done. Just in time to enjoy his last evening before the kids took over his life once more. His kids were amazing but full of energy and it took a lot out of him to be so switched on all day long. He’d already drafted his email to the parents to send out on Friday evening based on his lesson plans for the week, but he still had Geralt’s left to write.

Not that Geralt received any special treatment or anything.

It was just that he needed to be mindful of Ciri’s special circumstances.

Or at least that was the lie he’d told himself all term.

But at least he still personalised each of the emails a little before sending them out!

And so what he he wrote Geralt handwritten letters more frequently than the other parents.

It wasn’t a crime.

The only crime was Geralt’s ass.

It was to die for.

He groaned and shook his head to try and clear out the thoughts of his love, his fingers slipping on the keys of the piano, but there was really nothing he could do to stop the barrage of Geralt thoughts. Since parents’ evening he’d developed a blooming friendship with Geralt and it was making him feel all sorts of things that he really shouldn’t be feeling if he wanted to keep his job.

They had managed to meet up a few of times over the last half of the school term to discuss Ciri’s progress at school, although Jaskier could count on one hand how many times Ciri’s classwork had actually come up in conversation. Jaskier could never resist flirting with the firefighter which Geralt took in his stride. Although Jaskier wasn’t entirely certain that Geralt even realised he was flirting.

Jaskier was ninety-five percent sure that Geralt was interested in men, and in him specifically. He’d never explicitly said it and there was nothing about their meetings that really screamed anything more than friendship, but every so often Geralt would seemingly flirt back and it floored Jaskier every single time. How was he supposed to handle that? This tall muscular amber-eyed God was actually paying him attention. The small smiles that Geralt gave him made his heart sing, and to the gods when Geralt laughed, he felt his insides turn to mush. Geralt was usually happy to let Jaskier hold most of the conversation, talking about his new instrumental conquests, books he was reading, the beautiful birds he’d seen on the walk to work, but the white-hair man was beginning to open up.

Jaskier had learnt more about Roach, who he’d mistaken for a large dog in Ciri’s drawing. He had, of course teased Geralt over his choice of name but that hadn’t lasted long when Geralt had turned the table on him and asked what Jaskier would call a horse and the only name he could think of was Greg. Geralt offered up a little information about his teammates but notably avoided talking about his childhood. Jaskier couldn’t blame him for that. He had avoided that topic himself.

He knew that Geralt struggled to find time to cook but always made an effort to cook something from scratch with Ciri’s help at least once a week. Their favourite thing to make was pizza, it was also their favourite take-away. He’d learnt that Geralt tended not to watch much tv unless it was with Ciri and the man could tell you far too much about Ciri’s favourite cartoons, which explained his Apple Jack lunchbox. Geralt preferred to read in his free time instead, normally fantasy books, anything with a dragon in. Geralt’s favourite colour was blue which Jaskier adored. He could pretend that the reason was because his eyes were blue. He had filed that information away to fuel several romantic daydreams which ended in a summer wedding.

His fingers began to dance over the keys in a previously unheard melody.

It was beautiful.

“Ah fuck!” He cursed and scrambled to find manuscript paper as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

It was buried in between his lute and his computer. There was barely a spare page in the notebook but he managed to find one in the middle. Once he’d got the melody captured he would copy it over into a fresher, more organised book that held his complete compositions.

He closed his eyes again as he tried to remember precisely what he’d played before but it was missing something. The chords weren’t quite right and it left the piece sounding almost empty and dead.

“Bollocks!”

The moment had passed and his muse had left him.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his recents calls until he found the number he wanted. The phone rang twice before the sweet dulcet tones of his younger cousin sounded in his ears.

“What do you want?” Essi asked wearily.

“Lovely to speak to you too.” Jaskier shot back.

Essi sighed. “I’m working, Dandelion.”

“This late?” He double checked the clock. It was almost nine in the evening but then again she was a professional singer. If she had a gig then it was likely to be later on in the day, and now that he paid more attention he could hear the sounds of a bar in the background of the call.

“Not all of us work nine til five, Dandy.” The old nickname slipped out.

“Essi!” He groaned. “I stopped calling myself Dandelion years ago”

“Says the man that realised an album last spring under the alias of Dandelion.”

“It’s a stage name.” He pouted before he remembered she couldn’t see him.

He heard someone calling her name in the background and she yelled back. He winced as the shout hurt his ears. “I gotta go, did you need something?”

He sighed as he ran his fingers over the keys of his piano without making a sound. He could still hear the notes in his head as he desperately tried to recall the tune he had played before. “I just lost another composition to the cruel winds of time.”

“Who were you thinking about?” She asked and he could picture her easily. One hand on her hip, guitar case slung around her shoulder, long blonde hair falling in front of one of her cornflour blue eyes, eyes they had both inherited from their shared grandfather.

He frowned as he considered her question. “Who said I was thinking about anyone?”

She laughed before shouting again at whoever was trying to get her attention. Jaskier held the phone away from his ear this time. Essi really did have a set of lungs on her. “Dearest cousin. Your first album was all about your failed relationship with Pris. The second album was your failed relationship with Stella, and Valdo’s betrayal by stealing away your true love.”

“Wow. Geez. Thanks Essi. You really know how to build a man up.”

“So what failed relationship is it this time?”

“There is no relationship.” He spat back through gritted teeth, wondering why he even bothered with his cousin sometimes. In many ways she was like his little sister and she never hesitated in telling him exactly what she thought of him.

“Sure, sure. That’s why it’s failed. Look I really have to go. They need me on stage. Don’t be a stranger Dandelion!”

The phone line cut off and Jaskier stared at the phone in his hands.

“Oh cock!” He cursed as he realised she was completely right.

He’d been thinking about Geralt.

He closed the lid of the piano with more force than necessary and moved to sit back down on the sofa. He hadn’t meant to think about Geralt. He’d just been thinking about the work he needed to do for school and his thoughts had drifted to his infatuation on their own accord.

As if reading his thoughts, his phone buzzed signalling he had an email.

From Geralt.

“Oh no. No no no. Can’t do this right now.” He moaned and put his head in his hands, knocking his glasses half off his face. “Can’t I have a moment in peace?!” He asked the ceiling.

It was Sunday. He didn’t have to worry about what to say to Geralt until Friday. That was the rules… unless they had a catch up about Ciri but they hadn’t organised another meeting yet. Yes he missed Geralt desperately but he was aware that that was borderline clingy and he didn’t want to scare the man off, and yet here he was emailing Jaskier out of the blue.

It was probably about the present he’d bought Geralt. It wasn’t much, just a voucher for one of the outdoor activity shops in town and a poem he’d written about Roach.

It was terrible.

He hated it.

“Oh fuck off.” Jaskier groaned at his own thoughts and clicked on the email.

Jaskier,

Sorry for bothering you. I know you’re busy.

I wanted to say thank you for my present. I read Roach the poem. She was very impressed.

Jaskier grabbed a pillow from his sofa and hugged it tightly as he continued to read, feeling very proud of himself.

I am sorry I didn’t think to get you anything from me but hopefully you liked Ciri’s gift.

He had. Ciri had bought him a brand new travel mug. It was covered in music notes just like his mug from the staffroom at school. There had also been a little photo of Roach tucked into the card because Jaskier hadn’t stopped asking Geralt about her.

I need to ask you something. It would probably be better in person or over the phone. I’m not good at emails.

- Geralt.

Jaskier re read the last paragraph twice before hitting the reply button.

He sent Geralt his number before he could change his mind and then threw his phone onto the sofa. The phone barely managed to bounce on the cushions before it started ringing and Jaskier lunged to pick it up.

He clicked to accept the call and all at once he felt lighter than he had in weeks.

“Geralt!” He cried happily. “Hi!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s gruff voice answered. Jaskier felt like he’d turned to goo. The way Geralt said his name never failed to make him feel weak at the knees.

Pull yourself together Jaskier! He chided at himself.

“So, my dear, what was it that you wanted to ask me?” He kept his voice light like his fingers on his lute strings, not betraying the way his heart thundered in his chest.

Geralt grunted on the other end of the line and Jaskier rolled his eyes and smiled. How was it that he even missed Geralt’s ineloquent grunts?

“It’s not a stupid question, Geralt.” He replied. “If you don’t know something then you should ask.”

“I’m not one of your kids, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed.

He laughed at that and put the phone on speaker. His fingers were itching to move and he was getting restless not being able to play whilst holding the phone.

“Yes yes. I know that.” He hummed as he let his fingers trail across the many different instrument cases that were stacked up against the wall. They landed on his lute, an instrument long forgotten to many but one that remained so dear to him. He’d originally started to play the lute because it was different and he liked to stand out. Every musician in the folk scene played guitar or violin or piano.

He didn’t want to be like every other musician.

He wanted to be the best.

So he’d pick up the lute and never looked back. It was an expensive and delicate instrument so he tended not to bring it into school that often but he often found himself playing it at home.

It was also a reminder as to why he’d begun teaching full time. At first he’d only taught guitar and piano whilst he was at university in Oxenfurt to help finance his music career and pay for his rent after he had had a disagreement with his parents. The lute was the first instrument he’d bought for himself after the argument, to celebrate having enough students to finally make it through the month without begging his friends for cash and managing to save for the first time.

Soon after he realised how much he really enjoyed teaching and after graduating with a degree in music, he went on to study teaching. He’d worked as a teaching assistant in Oxenfurt before moving to Upper Posada where he finally had his own class, the Buttercups.

“Have you put me on speaker?” Geralt asked.

“Don’t you have sharp ears?” Jaskier teased his friend, he was sure they were friends. “It’s just me here, I just needed my hands.”

“You needed your hands.” Geralt replied and Jaskier could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

“Not like that!” He cried. “Honestly, Geralt, is that really what you think of me?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I just wanted to grab my lute.”

Geralt laughed. “Is that what they call it these days?”

“Geralt Rivia!” Jaskier exclaimed.

Geralt just laughed in response. It was infectious and soon enough Jaskier was laughing along. Once they’d calmed down he began to strum the strings of his beloved instrument gently, fiddling with the pegs to make sure it was in tune.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject, Geralt.” Jaskier spoke softly as Geralt’s laughter faded away.

“Right.”

“Geralt!” He all but whined. “You said you needed to ask me something. Come on! The suspense is killing me.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll finally get some peace.”

“Now hang on!” Jaskier gasped in offence. “You rang me!”

“Regretting it already.”

“I’ll hang up!” Jaskier warned.

“No. You won’t.��

Jaskier sighed. “No. I won’t, but honestly Geralt. Is something wrong? Not that I’m not delighted to be talking to you, but…”

“But you’re Ciri’s teacher.” Geralt finished.

“Yes.”

It was a topic that had come up a few times. They weren’t doing anything wrong exactly. The friendship that had sparked up between them came as natural as breathing. They argued as if they’d known each other their whole lives, an easy banter that was unpracticed and yet almost flawless. Jaskier was fighting his attraction to Geralt the whole time, and he was sure the other man was doing the same with him but there was still this cloud looming over them. The line between professional and appropriate behaviour between parent and teacher.

He knew teachers and parents had hooked up before. It was scandalous and often the topic of vicious rumours in the staffroom. If it was reported to the headmaster and proven those teachers got in a lot of trouble, some of them were often asked to resign. Jaskier knew his professional relationship with Stregobor was rocky at best. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

But he was falling in love with Geralt, hard and fast.

It had moved beyond infatuation the moment he’d sat in the fire engine and they’d began to talk. The more he learnt about the man, the more he fell in love. Geralt was a complex man. He struggled to express himself and he constantly worried about being a good father to Ciri, but he was kind and loyal to his family. He had a surprisingly quick tongue that never failed to make Jaskier cackle. He wasn’t a pushover either, he was strong-willed and relentless in sticking to his own morals.

His determination to be a good man made Jaskier feel all fuzzy inside.

This strong and handsome man was just a gentle giant, one that could absolutely kill him given the chance, but there was just something about Geralt that made Jaskier trust him.

It was probably those eyes.

He adored Geralt’s eyes.

They were so unusual, like swirling pools of amber brought to life by bright beams of dazzling sunlight.

And that was why it was so important that their calls and meetings had to remain professional.

Without the guise of Ciri or work then their friendship was ruined. Jaskier would fall head over heels in love with Geralt and then…

and then…

He’d have to break it off.

He couldn’t risk it.

Even if there was a chance that Geralt fancied him back.

So he constantly reminded himself that they were friends and managed to frame every meeting or conversation they had as a work based thing. It was imperative that he didn’t forget that.

Friends only, and even then he really should be careful. Tissaia was right. Stregobor was just looking for an excuse to get rid of him and if he was shown to be favouring Geralt ,and in turn Ciri, too much then he might as well start looking for a new job.

He closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being a fool.

“So talk to me Geralt.” Jaskier pleaded. “What did you need? Did Ciri say something?”

Geralt just grunted again.

“I told you it’s not stupid.” Jaskier sighed. “It was obviously important to you.”

“It’s for Ciri.” Geralt stated bluntly. All traces of their easy laughter was now gone from his voice.

“Good. I am her teacher, what does she need? Did she say something?” Jaskier’s mind instantly recalled every interaction he’d had with the young ashen-haired girl over the last few days, looking for moments where he might have upset her or said something wrong. He couldn’t think of anything but he could have easily misread the situation.

“We went to Lambert’s for Solstice.” Geralt added.

Jaskier frowned trying to follow Geralt’s train of thought and failing. He stayed silent, waiting for Geralt to find the right words.

“He likes this band and Ciri just started screaming.”

Jaskier felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.

A band.

It wouldn’t be.

It couldn’t be.

Barely anyone even listened to his band. They barely had a thousand views online for their most popular song.

“She swears to the gods it’s you, Jask.” Geralt finished.

Jask.

It wasn’t the first time Geralt had called him that. He hated it. It made his heart do weird things in his chest that was not appropriate when talking to a friend.

He took a page out of Geralt’s book and hummed noncommittally. “Right.”

“And then Lambert pointed out Ciri’s Ukulele teacher is called Priscilla just like Dandelion’s bandmate. I thought it was all just a coincidence, but then I realised, Jaskier, Buttercups.” Geralt added, sounding weary. “Dandelions. All flowers.”

“Ah.”

“Jaskier?”

His fingers stilled on the lute strings. He pressed down with the palm of his hand to dampen the resonating sound. “It’s, well, it’s sort of a hobby?”

“You’re Dandelion?” Geralt stammered.

“Hello?” He tried to joke. “Nice to meet you.”

“Fuck.” Geralt swore loudly. “We all told Ciri she was wrong.”

“And now you’ll have to tell her she was right. That’s embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier scowled. “Hey! None of that grumpy firefighter stuff. It’s not my fault you didn’t trust your daughter!”

Geralt growled and hung up the phone.

Jaskier gaped at the blank screen.

“Oh no you don’t!” He rang Geralt straight back and to his surprise, he actually picked up.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier said before Geralt could say anything. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Hmm.”

“Well. I did mean that’s it not my fault and I don’t know why you’re cross that I have a band, but I shouldn’t have said that about Ciri.” He rambled on.

Geralt still didn’t answer. Jaskier had to check the screen to make sure he was still on the line, quickly putting it back onto speaker. “So I’m sorry. I can explain to her tomorrow at school, about the band. Although, you really should be able to admit your mistakes. I know it’s not always easy.”

“Hold on.” Geralt said and then was a thud. Jaskier assumed that was Geralt putting the phone down. He could hear footsteps and the sound of a door opening. He held his breath whilst Geralt did whatever Geralt needed to do.

He picked his lute back up again and began to play. The notes flowed easily this time, the same tune as before. He grinned and scribbled the notes down onto the coffee stained page of manuscript. He got so caught up in the music he didn’t hear Geralt enter the room on the other side of the line, and this time he wasn’t alone.

“Mr Jaskier?” Ciri sounded exhausted. Geralt had probably just woken her up given the time.

Jaskier blushed and thanked Freya that the young girl couldn’t see him.

Ciri wasn’t supposed to know they’d been talking more outside of school in case she got confused or the wrong idea. Why was Geralt involving her?

Unless the wrong idea… was the right idea?

He swallowed nervously.

“Hello Buttercup!” He put on his best teacher voice, smiling brightly even though she couldn’t see him.

“Dad said you needed to tell me something. That it couldn’t wait.” Ciri asked in a small voice. “Did I do something wrong, Mr Jaskier?”

“Of course not Ciri!” Jaskier reassured her. “Geralt just wanted to ask me about the band your Uncle Lambert likes.”

“In the middle of the night?” Ciri groaned.

“Well…” Jaskier searched for a good explanation.

“It’s not as late for adults.” Geralt suggested.

Which wasn’t entirely true. Jaskier had to be up early for work and he was exhausted from his late night the day before. Geralt would have to up early too to get Ciri to school on time. They both needed to get to bed soon but there wasn’t a better explanation.

“Hmm.” Ciri hummed starting to pick up on some of Geralt’s mannerisms.

“Your father said you thought that Dandelion sounded like me?” Jaskier asked cautiously.

Ciri gasped and squealed excitably. “It sounded exactly like you Mr Jaskier! But everyone else said it was impossible and then Dad said my guitar teacher was called Priscilla and Uncle Lambert said a naughty word and apparently you are Dandelion, which I already knew because I’d already told them it was you and then Dad said a naughty word!”

Jaskier chuckled. “I am, indeed, Dandelion.”

“Of course you are!” Ciri answered completely certain in her assessment.

“But I need you to keep that quiet. Have you told any of your friends yet?” Jaskier asked.

“You have to speak, Ciri, he can’t see you.” Geralt answered softly.

“Nope.”

Jaskier sighed in relief, his band wasn’t exactly child friendly and he didn’t want it getting out that he’d inadvertently taught his whole class how to swear like a sailor. “Can you keep it to yourself, Ciri?”

“Yes, but why?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of a good way to explain. “Umm….”

“The band is something Mr Jaskier does outside of school. It’s good to keep work and play separate, Princess.” Geralt answered for him.

“Will you still play for us?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier laughed. “Of course I will, Ciri. It wouldn’t be Buttercups without song time!”

Ciri seemed to consider that. “Good. Dara likes it. Everyone else assumes he can’t listen to music but he can. Dara said he can hear it through the vibe…vibe—”

“Vibrations?” Jaskier suggested.

“Vibrations!” Ciri agreed “and he can still understand the words. He likes that you don’t treat him differently.”

Jaskier almost sobbed. That was probably one of the sweetest things his kids had ever said to him.

“I’m tired now. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight Mr Jaskier, Goodnight Dad!” He heard Ciri’s footsteps patter away.

“Fuck me.” Jaskier sighed and Geralt chuckled. “She’s a good kid.”

“The best.” Geralt agreed. “I should go too.”

“No hanging up this time?” Jaskier teased.

Geralt hummed in response.

“Goodnight, Geralt. Sleep well.”

“Night, Jaskier.”

Jaskier hit the end call button, his hands shaking in his lap.

“Fuck me…” He repeated under his breath and rubbed his eyes, smearing his glasses.

Geralt Rivia was going to be the death of him, and he would die happy.

______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt/jaskier #modern au #essi daven #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #fireman!geralt #teacher!jaskier #you set my heart ablaze #wolfie's witcher writing

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rotationalsymmetry · 4 years ago

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Living with CFS/ME overview (your mileage may vary):

Doctors: can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em. Do your own research if you can, if you can tell something is bad for you don’t do it, and if your doctor doesn’t believe anything is wrong with you get a new one (if at all possible.) Don’t expect perfect understanding, do deal with your feelings outside of appointments and not during them, do have clear requests as much as possible. Do expect competence: not dismissiveness, not ignoring what you say, not failing to do relevant lab tests. Write stuff down, before and after. If possible, have someone else come with you to appointments (especially if you have serious brain fog issues and/or are the sort of person doctors tend to not take seriously.) With emails, some doctors will only answer one question per email, so if you have five questions that means writing five separate emails. Don’t be afraid to be pushy, as long as you’re pushing for something the doctor can actually give you.

Getting stuff done. You can’t. At least, not as much. Do you need help with: housework, shopping, childcare, filing for benefits? Personal hygiene? Figure out how to get what you can and learn to live without what you can’t. Delegate as much as possible. Whatever weird feels you have about accepting help, figure out how to set them aside and accept help anyways.

Other people: in my experience most people will take your lead. If you tell them you’re not sure what’s going on or aren’t sure what to do about it, you will get more suggestions and advice than you know what to do with. If you want sympathy, you might get that (or you might get unwanted advice — sometimes saying explicitly what you want helps.) If you talk about your illness like a totally routine thing that you’ve totally got, the advice and general “oh shit I want to help but don’t know how” goes away. In my experience.

On that note: it’s OK and a good idea to tell people explicitly what you want from them. “If we’re going on vacation together I need a place to stay with no stairs.” “What would really help is if someone could run groceries once a week for me or pay for delivery.” “I could really use help from someone who knows how to read scientific articles.” “I could really use some patience and understanding about sometimes having to cancel plans at the last minute.” “I need a therapist who’s worked with people with chronic illness before.” Whatever.

Fuck exercise. Or rather: stretchy gentle exercise can be fine/good, strength exercises that you can do without raising your heart rate might be fine; anything that raises your heart rate is much higher risk. Walking is appropriate exercise for people with CFS, just be careful to not overdo it. (I am not joking.) Personally, I do a lot of yoga, but I’m not exactly doing sun salutations. It’s yin yoga and restorative yoga and a small amount of strength exercises. And...pranayama. Exercise for people with CFS/ME doesn’t look the same way as it does for people without it. That thing where it’s good for healthy people to take the stairs and this and that? Not for you. Be lazy. Do things the lowest energy way possible.

PEM and pacing: it’s all about the activity intolerance. Sometimes you run out of steam right away, sometimes it happens two days later. If your body says “stop” it means it; if it gives you a green light it might be lying. If you’re getting some days that feel almost normal and some days when sitting upright is a Herculean task, chances are if you do a lot less and try to do approximately the same amount of stuff each day, you’ll figure out what your sustainable “energy envelope” is. Or how many spoons you have, if you prefer that metaphor. And, most likely, you’ll end up with way fewer “can’t sit up” days.

Breaking things up means you can do more with less consequence. Eg: wash dishes until the first hint of feeling tired, take a break and sit or lie down for five minutes, then keep going. Pushing past the point you feel tired is risky.

In particular, in some situations you may be excited or stressed enough to not notice when you’re tired, so sometimes it makes sense to plan breaks rather than relying on the self awareness approach. When I play games with my partner, for instance, we set a timer for half an hour.

Adaptive equipment and behaviors: I use a folding stool in my everyday life and a wheelchair (provided by the airport) if I have to travel by plane. At one point I figured out how to wash dishes in a plastic basin sitting down (although, paper plates are an option too.) My partner and I leave a couple cooking pots on the stove and the things I use most often on the counter, since digging up a pot from the floor level cabinet that’s full of pots is much more tiring than the pot already being where I want it. In general, stuff above shoulder level or below waist level is significantly harder to get to. If showering standing is tiring, get a shower chair. Some grocery stores have motor scooters that can be used by disabled customers (that means you.) Grabbers can help with things like when a sock falls on the floor and you don’t want to have to bend to pick it up. If your walking is very limited, but you have someone who can push you around, a rolling walker with a seat may be more affordable than a wheelchair.

How to get your doctor to prescribe you a wheelchair so that your insurance will cover it: your doctor is worried you’ll lose mobility due to walking less, so if you actually want a wheelchair so that you can get outside and do more stuff for longer, focus on that. Ditto for a scooter. I’ve found writing a comprehensive list of what I can’t do or can only do with great difficulty, and handing the list to my doctor, is significantly more effective for getting taken seriously than mentioning one or two limitations and expecting the doctor to be able to extrapolate. Make it easy for them to do what you want them to. (Sorry if this sounds manipulative. My experience is that if you come in assuming your doctor will just give you what you need as long as you’re up front and trust them, you’re going to be sadly disappointed. I was not like this before I got CFS and spent months practically begging doctors to take me seriously.)

Taking naps or non-sleeping lying-down rests during the day might help. Yoga nidra, progressive muscular relaxation, or some sort of guided visualization can help with relaxation. You can also just lie there and let your mind wander, but if your mind tends to wander to sad or worrying sorts of places then you should give it something to do. One note of caution: if you’re near your limit you might feel more tired after a rest, that doesn’t mean the rest was bad for you but it does mean you gave the tired a chance to catch up with you. I do think the benefit comes as much from doing it regularly over time as from any one rest by itself though. (I can’t do anything on time, so for me “regularly” means “to within about two hours, most of the time.”)

On that note: your feelings matter. Stress and extreme emotions can take as much out of you as grocery shopping or a two hour zoom call. So...therapy if possible, self help books, doing things that help you feel calm and put things in perspective. You might need new coping strategies if your old ones take too much energy.

Some people with CFS have more energy/activity tolerance/spoons in the morning and less late in the day, others like me are the opposite. I couldn’t find my pattern when my energy levels were swinging wildly from day to day, but eventually when I got things more leveled off I figured it out. If this is the case for you, planning hard stuff for your best time of day and light stuff for your worst times is a good idea. For instance, I shower in the evenings rather than the mornings.

Once you’ve gotten your symptoms to more or less level off, if you get to that point, you can try very, very gradually expanding your activity levels. When I say gradually, I mean gradually, and be ready to go back to less activity any time things get worse again.

Thing is: if you don’t use all your energy, it does seem to sort of build up a “reserve” so you can bounce back from expected or unexpected stressors (illness, travel, etc.) But when your reserve runs out, it takes much longer to recover. So, there’s something to be said for not going at 100%.

In particular, don’t try to go back to 100% too quickly after one of those stressors, like a cold or (sigh, speaking from experience) a cross-country move, even if you feel like you can. Where 100% means using all of your spoons/energy envelope, not functioning at 100% of what a healthy person can do.

Plan ahead of time how you’re going to handle special occasions like holidays, a visiting friend or relative, or travel. “If the movie theater is too loud I will have to leave” etc. When I got married, I planned when and where I was going to take rests, and planned absolutely nothing for the days after. (Interestingly: I did better afterwards than I thought I would, even though I got major brain fog during the reception. Apparently the stress before the wedding was messing me up more than all the activity and socializing at the wedding itself.) We went on our honeymoon a full month later — even a relatively restful trip is still more tiring for me than staying home.

Get advice from multiple sources. This list is aimed at, well, basically myself and anyone with similar symptoms. I’m not addressing pain because that’s not one of my symptoms, but if it’s one of yours you should absolutely get advice from people who experience pain. Likewise, I’m not housebound so I’ve got limited advice there. I don’t have kids, so I don’t have much in the way of parenting advice, and I’m not working so I don’t have “how to handle a job when you have CFS” advice. Oh, and I’m in the United States, what you can expect the government, schools, businesses etc to do for you can vary considerably by country.

A lot of this comes from this website and backed up by my own experience. They have lots of easy to read articles and success stories, and email-based “classes” (think structured support group, not like college class) on living with CFS/ME or fibromyalgia. They don’t get money from promoting supplements or whatever, which is a thing I look for as a sign of integrity. (Not that supplements can’t help, but if someone is getting money from saying they do it’s harder to trust if they’re being fully honest.) There’s also groups on FB and I’m sure other places that are well suited for asking questions and getting advice. There’s books, both on the disease itself and possible treatments (mostly highly speculative and/or alternative) like Living Well with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Fibromyalgia, and on the “how do I live like this?” side of things, like How To Be Sick. Point is: you don’t have to go it alone.

Postscript: recovery. The odds that you will get somewhat better are pretty good. The odds that you will make a full recovery, given the current knowledge about CFS/ME, are low. I know that doesn’t feel good if you’re newly diagnosed (side note: you don’t need officiant diagnosis to start assuming that you’ve probably got CFS and looking for resources, I didn’t, official diagnosis can take a while.) I know when you’re new to this, all you want is to return to normal. (And you might; some people do.) Here’s the thing though: even if you don’t get back to normal, it’s not always going to feel this bad. What feels bad isn’t mostly the state you’re in, it’s mostly change: improvement feels good, getting worse feels bad. If you level off or get a bit better (super likely) and start comparing your current state to your low point, rather than when before you got sick, you’ll start to feel better again. It’s the adjustment period that’s rough, more than the illness itself.

It’s grief, it’s loss: grieving the life you had and the future you hoped for, and the way people respond to that is similar in many ways to how people respond to losing a loved one. Therapy might help, religious guidance if applicable to you might help (if not, perhaps consider this a good time for a deep dive into philosophy, or some form of creative self-expression like drawing or writing poetry); whatever you do, be aware that this is a huge thing to have to come face to face with, and it’s normal to struggle with it. (And: it’s not always going to feel this bad.)

It’s possible to have CFS/ME, and have a good life. It’s possible to have CFS/ME and have many sources of joy and delight and excitement and satisfaction and connection. It’s possible to have CFS/ME and have a deep sense of purpose and meaning, even if your old sources of purpose and meaning are no longer available. It’s possible to live well.

#long post #cfs/me #chronic illness #living with chronic illness #living with cfs/me #stoic on main #can do bolding for emphasis on request #or break it down into smaller segments #this is kind of a brain dump

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fictional-affliction · 5 years ago

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Strip Me Down

(Alternate tite “I’m In Lust With a Stripper”)

Words: 2,710

Rating: M/E

I know I’ve been a bit m.i.a as far as posting and stuff goes, so I hope whatever the heck this is that my brain puked up, makes up for it. Also, yes, it’s an au where Duncan is a stripper, I know I’m trash.

She should had never agreed to come to this bachelorette party. Bridgette was her best friend from childhood and had been there for her through thick and thin but this isn’t what Courtney had in mind when it came to returning the favor.

She was shocked that Bridgette would ever want to come to a strip club to begin with. Her and Geoff had been together practically since they were teenagers. Sure they had a few breakups over the years that lasted less than a week, but they proved time and time again that they were happiest when joined at the hip, or mouth. So when Geoff finally proposed and Courtney began to fulfill her maid of honor duties and plan Bridgette’s bachelorette party, Courtney asked what Brigette wanted for the occasion. She never expected this.

Courtney raised her glass and knocked back the second round of tequila shots they’d ordered so far that night. Bridgette was absolutely beaming in her bachelorette sash and tiara, already giggling from the alcohol.

“Are you sure Geoff’s okay with this?” Courtney asked after sucking on a lime and winced a bit as the alcohol burned down her throat.

“As long as there’s no touching he’s cool with it. I had to assure him repeatedly that it’s just for the experience of it and that his body is better than any stripper’s.” Geoff did take great pride in his physique.

Courtney sighed, she wanted Bridgette to have fun, truly, but part of her hoped that she would have changed her mind at the last minute. The other ladies in the bridal party didn’t seem to have any qualms about throwing handfuls of singles at half naked men. Then again, Courtney was considered the prude of the group and stuck out dressed in a blouse almost buttoned up to her neck.

As music flooded the room and different scantily dressed men took the stage, Courtney sat back in her chair let the other girls be the ones to scream and shell out cash. She still watched the show though. She couldn’t pass up ogling attractive men showing off their assets.

It was a lot of the same after a while and when her work phone vibrated, Courtney diverted her attention to her email. Because of this she didn’t really register the rock music that came on next, or how some ladies in the crowd got inexplicably louder, it wasn’t until Bridgette’s cousin, Brooke was nudging Courtney that she looked at what the fuss was about.

Oh...

“I fucking love guys with tattoos, can I have your cash?” Courtney wordlessly handed it over to Brooke without taking her eyes away from the man on stage.

Her eyes raked over his toned but not overly muscular body. His strong arms lead to broad shoulders that were only highlighted by the colored lights bouncing off of the stage. She found herself staring at how his stomach muscles were framed by that perfect v shape. She avoided fanning herself and regretted dressing so warmly.

The ink all over his body was something that she’d vocally frowned upon. She was taught tattoos and piercings weren’t a lifestyle choice for those with lucrative professions, but secretly Courtney thought on the right person they were sexy. They teased a rebellion that she never could indulge in.

He exemplified everything she could never be allowed to want but fantasized about. Shamelessly she watched him strut his stuff on the stage with a smirk that said he knew how hot he was. What could it hurt to give into carnal urges and lustfully gaze at him, it’s what he was being paid for. His vivid teal eyes and killer smile was enough to make her bite lip till it hurt.

The other girls in the bridal party whistled and waved their money in the air when he took off his pants reveling the tight briefs underneath. Her face heated up when he danced his way over to their section. The girls cheered him on except Courtney who sat back with Bridgette.

She felt so dirty staring at a man she didn’t know like he was a piece of meat and she was a starving lioness.

Then he locked eyes with her right as she licked her upper lip.

Quickly, Courtney diverted her attention to her phone, extremely embarrassed. She held her breath while her heartbeat pounded in her ears louder than the booming music. If she just looked down for the rest of his act then maybe she could walk away with some shred of dignity tonight.

“Court...” Bridgette said from her side.

“Mhmm.” Courtney pretended to be drafting an email.

“He’s looking at you.”

“He’s looking at everyone.” She played it off. Bridgette’s hand lifted her chin and gave her no choice.

“No, he’s looking at you...” Dollar bills were flying in his direction and he still gave the audience what they came there for but his gaze was directed right at Courtney. She raised her eyebrows in question, her face now on fire.

In turn he winked at her.

“I’m going to get another drink.” Courtney made up an reason to excuse herself. Bridgette didn’t bother reminding her that her current drink was only half empty.

The bar provided a safer distance for Courtney to watch from. Far enough away that she didn’t feel like she was the one on display. If he was bothered by her exit it didn’t show, he continued to thrust and roll his hips in fashion that gave way to what he could do with them in the bedroom. Courtney crossed her legs and ignored how turned on she was getting. Matters only became worse when he ended his routine by pulling down his underwear and giving the audience a peak at his ass.

Damn he had a great ass.

Courtney chugged the last bit of her red wine before ordering another.

———

Later, bachelorette party sat in a booth, most of them fairly intoxicated, while going on about the different strippers they’d seen. A large chunk of the conversation being about how explicitly they’d have their way with each of them.

Courtney checked her watch, noting that it was past midnight which meant it was getting closer to calling it a night.

“C’mon Court, at least try to have some fun.” Bridgette begged and bumped her with her shoulder.

“I am having fun.” Courtney tried convincing her but Bridgette knew her better than that.

“That one guy was definitely checking you out, you should go home with him.”

“Bridgette!” Courtney almost choked on her drink at the suggestion.

“What? It’s been like a year since you’ve been laid.” Courtney kicked Brigette hard under the table, when she saw someone approaching their table. It was as if her talking about him summoned him to their booth.

“How’d you ladies enjoy the show tonight?” He asked in his deep tenor that made the hairs on the back of Courtney’s neck stand on end. The other occupants at their table exclaimed their praises, the liquor making them bold.

“Anything more private I can do for anyone?” He cocked his head toward the back of the club where there were secluded rooms designated for one on one time. Courtney felt his eyes burning through her but Bridgette’s cousin Brooke eagerly spoke up.

“You should just come back to our hotel.” She suggested with a forward hand on his bicep. Courtney watched his face and felt a sense of victory at the small hint of disappointment that crossed his features before smiling.

“Sorry babe, I don’t do house calls...anymore.” Courtney couldn’t imagine what that must entail.

“Actually, my friend over here would love a lap dance.” Bridgette interrupted and wrapped an arm around Courtney’s shoulders. Courtney balked and pushed Bridgette away.

“Oh no, I’m good.”

“I’m the bride and you have to do what I say!” The girls cheered at Bridgette’s demand showing their approval. Courtney came up with an excuse.

“I gave all my cash my Brooke.” Bridgette then reached into her purse and pulled out a large wad of cash.

“I’ve got you covered.” Courtney had never seen Bridgette smile so evilly in her life. “You know you want to.”

“Yeah you know you want to...”The stripper looked her up and down. She did want to, she was single and he was hot. She had no reason to object other than her own self consciousness. The party of girls began chanting her name to egg her on, adding pressure and fueling her frustration toward them. Finally, with her heart in her throat, she scowled and stood. With a death glare at Bridgette, Courtney grabbed the stripper’s hand and dragged him toward the back of the club.

——— They entered a room secluded by a curtain that blocked them from prying eyes. It was small but cozy and decorated with a few leather couches. The red lights glowed above hem and the sensual music that played set the mood for what usually happened in there. Courtney was relieved that it wasn’t a sex den equipped with whips and chains. She turned around to tell him nothing would be happening in there but he was right behind her. Courtney’s eyes widened. Their chest were almost touching and he was close enough for her to see the light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

Of their own accord Courtney’s eyes wandered from his face to his chest where his nipple ring caught the light, down to his abs, even to his groin and back up again. When she looked back to his face there was a gleam in his eyes and a corner of his mouth was turned up. Courtney immediately felt humiliation take over and that familiar feeling of her face on fire.

“Sorry...” Courtney took a step back.

“I like the way you stare. I liked it on stage too.”

“I bet you say that to every girl.”

“I do, but with you I actually mean it.” He didn’t break eye contact and Courtney found it hard to catch her breath. He gestured over to one of the sofas against a wall.

“Have a seat...”

She could do this, she was a strong independent woman who had taken on high profile court cases. She thrived in a male dominated career. She lived alone in a big city and took care of herself. There shouldn’t be any reason why she couldn’t get a lap dance from an attractive man without looking like a complete spazz. And yet she couldn’t get her body to move.

“Here I’ll help you out.” No sooner he had picked her up bridal style like she weighed nothing. “I’ve got you, Princess.”

All Courtney could get out was a high pitched squeak of surprise and then she was being gently placed on the leather furniture. She had instinctually wrapped her arms around his neck when he picked her up but was too caught off guard to remember to let go.

“I was hoping I would get some time alone with you.” He murmured in her ear. Courtney let her hands go and when he pulled away they unintentionally slid down his chest.

“Name’s Duncan by the way.” Duncan turned up the volume on the stereo, drowning out the noise from the rest of the club. “Any special requests, gorgeous?”

Courtney sat there with her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Duncan sensed her trepidation.

“I don’t think I can do this...” Courtney admitted, mortified that she was chickening out and bolted for the curtain they came in through.

“Hey wait,” Duncan caught her carefully by the shoulders, “it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, I’d be happy just to talk to you.” He wasn’t going to let her slip away now that he had his chance.

Duncan could tell she wasn’t like the type of woman that would normally come here for a bachelorette party and was out of her comfort zone. Earlier, when he spotted her during his routine he knew she was definitely into him too. He just had to get her to let loose a bit.

“Dance with me.” He held out his hand to which Courtney looked at cautiously. “Just follow my lead, Princess.”

This time when she took his hand it was him directing her. He put her hand on his shoulder, her other hand following suit, and put his hands on her waist.

“This okay?” Courtney nodded and followed as he swayed them to the music. Her eyes were down but he could see the small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. That pretty little smile alone was getting him excited down below.

There was a shift as Courtney’s reservations began to waver. The tension in her arms began to dissipate and the full weight do them fell to Duncan’s shoulders. She got a little closer, then so did he, until their swaying turned into a slow grind. Their torsos where completely pressed together and one of his legs were wedged between hers.

His erection was hard against her leg but instead of jumping away, Courtney stared at the outline against his jeans in smug satisfaction. Growing bolder, Courtney let her right hand slip from his shoulder and let a finger time drag down his chest, purposefully letting her finger nail catch on his nipple piercing. He hissed and bucked against her leg.

Their eyes met with the same hazy gaze of desire as Courtney continued her journey down his chest, to his abdomen and to the waist of his jeans without breaking eye contact. She hovered there, unsure.

“Like I said...” Duncan rubbed circles with his fingers on her waist “we can do whatever you want...”

Courtney hooked her finger into the waistband of his pants. “Take these off.”

His pants hit the floor a second later leaving him in only his black boxer briefs, his cock even more noticeable. Courtney continued to stare with labored breath but did only just that. She look at him like she was going to devour him yet did nothing. It was infuriating, and incredibly sexy.

Duncan threaded his fingers in the hair at the nape her neck. He was close enough to kiss her full lips but resisted despite how tempted he was.

“What do you want to do to me?” Duncan asked low and eager. His groin brushed against her when she leaned into his words and he gave up on personal space and molded their bodies together again. “I know what I want to do to you...”

Her nose brushed against the stubble on his chin as she inclined her head.

“Then do it.”

Duncan lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist, then attached his lips to Courtney’s neck. She gasped at the sudden change in position and stabilized herself by holding onto his shoulders. Her gasp turned into a surprised moan when he kissed her skin. He continued the assault up her neck, pausing to suck and nibble against her pulse.

Courtney dug her fingers into his shoulder to keep quiet although all she wanted was to express how good this felt. She was going lightheaded with want and didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

“Duncan...” He lost a bit of control when she whispered his name so wantonly and pulled her against him. The angle allowing his cock to grind between her legs.

This time Courtney couldn’t hide the broken moan that came from the back of her throat. Duncan looked at her with his eyes glazed over, waiting for her next move.

This was it, now or never.

Then fabric rustled as a curtain was yanked back.

“My turn! You’ve had more than enough time with him-“ Brooke took in the situation and raised an eyebrow “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Courtney jumped away from Duncan, her whole body lit with shame. She didn’t get to see either of their reactions because she kept her eyes down as she pushed passed Brooke.

“Sorry, I tried to stop her...” Bridgette tried to apologize as Courtney claimed her purse, but Courtney bolted for the club’s exit, desperate to be anywhere but there.

#duncney #td courtney #td duncan #fanfic #umm..#im gonna go hide now

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fank0ne · 5 years ago

Text

Let's get it started.

- CHICAGO MED:

Sexcel. Marcel is a prick but I still kinda love him..? I don't know, it's not my fault, leave me alone. For real though, I really like him as a doctor, he seems like he really knows what he's doing, and as a human being... nobody's perfect, right? LOL I don't even think he should be considered the cause of Chexton drama to be honest: maybe trying to get in April's pants wasn't the right move, but he's not the one in a relationship. There's only one person to blame.

Chexton. Ethan really did put a ring on it, uh?! And she said yes, too. Wow, I admire the audacity! Do I think the marriage is gonna occur? The fuck not, he is somehow gonna find out about the Sexcel kiss and call the engagement off. Happy endings? We don't know 'em.

April. Wow, she's really decided to not tell Ethan about the kiss with Crockett! Gross. As I said before, I hate liars... I could've understand if the kiss was like - little crossover - Renée and Kelly's at the end of season 5 (was it season 5? I'm dumb lol), but it seems like it was a big deal for April. She herself said, correct me if I'm wrong, that things could've quickly gotten out of control. Like, excuse me?!

Will and Nat. So are they still gonna let them fight and annoy the hell out of me? Is this a fucking curse or something? Oh my god. This time I'm not on anybody's side, the fight was dumb (not the topic itself, but the way the whole thing was managed) and could've easily been avoided: Will needed to do a more thorough check on that junkie mama and Natalie should've told him she was gonna contact CPS whether he liked it or not. You see how simple it is? Fuck, I hate them so much. (Nick/Will looked really good with that shirt in his last scene - his shoulders are very sexy).

Elsa. She's a baby, I wanna protect her. And she smiled, she so cute. And she's gay af - quick reminder, in case you think that shipping her with Will can even remotely be a good idea (jk, y'all know me, you do you).

Daniel. The scene of him singing for his CeCe at Molly's was truly heartbreaking to see. By the way, Oliver has a nice voice, our cast is multitalented! Dr. Charles has a history with depression, though, so I hope he's gonna take care of himself, a thing he seems determined to do, maybe with the help of Sharon - and Elsa too, they're starting to bond.

Maggie and Ben. They're cute, yeah, Ben is in remission and I'm happy for him. But I honestly don't really care about them as a couple to be honest... There's nothing wrong with them, I'm just not interested. Stop.

Quick question: can they change Dr. Marcel's name, please? I mean, when she confessed the whole thing to Maggie, April's voice was trembling, her eyes were watery, but I couldn't help but laugh at her: "I kissed Crockett" LMFAO, you kissed who?! Like, c'mon, what kind of garbage name is that? Gross. *almost throws up*

- CHICAGO FIRE:

Seager. She was ridiculously embarrassing. At first I thought she was gonna accept the fact that Severide is already taken (even though he didn't tell her explicitly from the beginning, so it's partly his fault too, kinda), but when she asked him out after seeing him and Stella clearly acting as a couple, I lost my cool. Bye, Felicia. I'm so glad Kelly told her he's not interested and, y'all, did you see how he looked at Stella and could tell the situation was making her uncomfortable? Wow, couple goals. I'm waiting for a proposal by the end of the season.

Pickles? Foster... I like her, I hate her, I don't know. She's too moody. The fight with Brett was honestly very childish and uncalled for and I'm glad Sylvie stood up for herself and put Emily in her place. Plus, she did it in such a well-mannered and polite way... she's a princess, what can I say. Stella speech about girls sticking up for each other... Yes! Just yes.

Blake. I'm not gonna censor myself: he likes pussy..? Yikes. You guys know I was already starting to ship him with Ritter, but the writers had to ruin it for me. It's ok, I guess. For the moment I'm not really interested in his relationship with that girl (maybe I'm still bitter LMFAO), even though she seems really cool.

Ritter. When are we gonna see his boyfriend?! Damn, those writers! Blake joined 51 just the other day and we already know every little thing about him, I ask to see just a bit of LGBTQ+ content and they act like they're dumb..? How about you show it properly instead of just mentioning it and act like your job is done, mh? I'm ready to fight, I don't care.

Whose tool? : Our tool = What team? : Wildcats! — SAME ENERGY.

Iconic lines: "I'm gay, I'm not blind" + "I know it's hard to imagine with your emails and Facebook and Myspace...," – Mouch, Myspace? In 2020? Ok Boomer (I had to, I'm not sorry)

- CHICAGO PD:

Well well. We've been robbed. We're not clowns, we're the whole circus. The episode wasn't bad at all, I liked it, but still, what the fuck was that?! We've been waiting for more than a month to see some really angsty, whumpy stuff, the episode was supposed to be Jay centered and what did we get? A lame murder case that somehow became interesting only when Kevin and his brother got involved.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad my baby Kev gets to get more screentime (it was about time!), but why giving him now and not the next episode? What's the logic in this?

The beginning wasn't even bad, the premises were good. It was all very serious and solemn and all that good stuff we like and then, boom!, they said fuck that, fuck Jay Halstead, fuck you clowns who thought we were gonna treat him with the respect he deserves. Man was literally about to die and then suddenly he's fine, he talks (Jesse was making the voice he uses to imitate Jason, I heard that!), he even jokes around... Like, make it make sense. I'm frustrated. I wanna say a whole lotta other things, but yeah, I hope you get my point.

The Upstead content was kind of a payoff but yeah, still better than nothing. And about that... that fucking phone, really? Hailey was about to confess her feelings, or at least say something really serious to Jay, but of course they were interrupted. As I said, we're clowns. And Jay was ready: my man was so ready to get out of the friendozone, I saw that smirk that slowly faded into a disappointed look. We'll get there, Jay, I probably want it more than you do LOL

Vanessa's gonna be the godmother of Upstesd children. She ships them so much, cutie. "It's hard because you love him" - "Of course I love him, he's my partner" Hailey, sis, stfu and stop lying.

Burzek. They're having a baby, I'm so happy, I'm gonna cry. The little Alvin Ruzek (Kev is gonna be their godfather, I don't make the rules) is gonna be the Intelligence unit mascotte. I'm so ready. Yo, we're having this baby, right? No funny business here, they already broke our hearts with Dawsey twice. Also, did you notice how Adam screamed Kim's name when he thought the million bullets might've hit her and the baby. OMG gheyret having a baby. Whew, I'm not crying, you are!

I admit I wasn't following the storyline at all, like I literally can't tell what was going on before Jordan, Kev's brother, got involved. I wanna see where they're going with this plot: it can potentially be a cool one, I'd actually like too see some drama around Kevin's character - and maybe him being supported by Vanessa, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't know, they either develop it properly or they better end it with 7.11

Y'all, the dude Darius was supposed to set up, the one who got killed by Jordan's girlfriend, is identical to Chris Brown, minus the ears. It's scary.

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