#i spent so much time experimenting with it

[risingchaos]

Oh man, do I have thoughts on this. Apologies for the can of worms about to be unleashed.

So, I am aroace, aromantic and asexual. I consider myself a romance and sex neutral person, edging more on the repulsed side. Romance doesn’t interest me beyond the sociological elements, and sex doesn’t interest me beyond a scientific level. I am, for the most part, indifferent to the experiences of both any deeper than a first hand analysis situation. I cannot overstate how emotionally uninterested I am in either, and that all of my interest is in the same way I regard the deep sea.

In the media I consume, I regularly and overwhelmingly dislike canon relationships. I find them tiresome, uncreative, frustrating, and ridiculous. They drain the story and ruin characters. This applies heavily to Star Trek. Romance episodes are among of my least favorite, and over basically all of Star Trek that I’ve watched, there has been exactly one relationship I thought was well done, and that was Riker and Deanna. They didn’t even get together in their show. A lot of that can be contributed to people not knowing how to write women, but I digress. There’s a point to this, I swear.

In the fanfiction I consume, I don’t like to read first times. I don’t fancy getting togethers, or weddings, or pining. On occasion I’ll read them if the fic is long enough, well written, or the other tags interest me. I much prefer established relationships that focus on the interactions between characters, because romance is not my thing.

When I do seek smut, it’s often because there is an intensity to it that is oftentimes difficult to get from fics that aren’t heavy romance focused. The rest of the time is a genuine, pure interest. What do people interpret this as? What kind of views on there in how people see this character? Sex in most human cultures is a very intimate act, and is proven to often be very psychologically revealing, so I like to see what goes on behind closed doors. I am curious.

I have been absolutely entranced by kinks since I was maybe thirteen. I have always thought they were fascinating beyond words, but I view sex the same way I view an interesting chemical reaction. It’s interesting, I want to know more. I am so very intrigued by the brain, and sex is a window into how people act. It’s the world’s greatest puzzle for a reason.

I could talk for ages and ages about my views on this. The complexities of man is one I will ponder until I am old and withered, watching children run down the street from my front porch and wondering if their parents know where they are. Sociology is a major interest of mine. Behavior is enthralling. I love watching the individuals around me, and that translates to the fics I read. I want to observe. I am aware how creepy that sounds, but it’s true. I am so, so deeply curious about humanity, and when I read fics, I seek the same stimulation. Watching and knowing.

I write fics, too. I haven’t published smut yet, but I’m sure I will. I can’t say how my writing comes across, but often I intend for my writing to often be reflective and introspective. I want to see how they interact, how they respond, what kinds of switches flip what kinds of relays. One of my favorite pieces I’ve done was a nightmare sequence for a Haymitch Abernathy fic, and one of my favorites I have in progress is a study on the time Julian Bashir spent in solitary confinement. I recently published a 5+1 about how everyone’s views on Bashir have shifted over the years as they got to know him, and then as his augmentation was revealed.

That’s what I want to know when I read. I want to know what happens in their heads, and part of that study is sex. So, this was all a very long winded way of saying I read all kinds of things from fluff to angst, homecomings to torture, aftermath recovering to hurt/no comfort, introspection to smut. People view characters differently, and I want to know all of those ways.

This is for my Master's Thesis on Star Trek fanfiction, I'm trying to see if my hypothesis that the smut aspect of many fanfictions is yes for horny reasons but that other factors are also at play. That had me wondering why I know so many ace people who write absolutely incredible smut, so I'm trying to quantify a few things in some way here. I'm aware this isn't the most academic way to get that data ever, I just need it as anecdotal evidence for my conclusion and set up a dissertation that I can do real research for 🥰

If you'd like to share where the appeal is for you personally, please do 💖

Reblogs also appreciated!

[sodapopkiss6]

Imagine Caleb and you switch bodies after you fall asleep with Sylus still hard inside of you. And he wakes up as you, confused about a lot of things but the littlest of movement has his body tingling in a way it never has before. Slowly realizing it's not his body.

Walk with me and I'll explain.

Sylus and you hadn't seen each other in a while, the two of you busy with work. Finally though the two of you had a day off, you went out on a nice date, talking and having fun as usual.

Night came and so did you. Embraced the two of you indulged in your desires, pent up from the long time spent apart.

However you were tired and fell asleep in the middle of it. Sylus chuckled when he noticed, pressing his lips to your forehead. He held you while you sleep, still inside, the two of you liked it and had consented to it before.

Now here's how it goes down.

Caleb wakes up feeling a warm and heavy weight on him. It's odd because no one is supposed to be at your house but him. You are out on a date with your boyfriend-which he doesn't approve of-and you don't have any pets either.

He slowly opens his eyes, the room looks unfamiliar. He scans around trying to figure out if he's still dreaming or actually awake. He tenses, feeling a small twitch somewhere inside of him. It felt too real, too vivid.

He looks down, eyes widened in shock.

"W-what...?"

It couldn't be, he has to still be dreaming. There was no way he became a girl over night. He tries to get up, moving the arm around him. All the movement though is enough to stir the body on him awake.

"Mm, Ready for another round already kitten? You're insatiable" a voice says, low and husky from sleep.

Caleb's new body unconsciously clenches at the sound, making both him and the other persons breath hitch.

Caleb's eyes brows furrow at the nickname and voice. It sounded familiar.

"Sylus...?"

"Yes-" the man paused "...puppy?"

Caleb doesn't register the nickname, mind hazy from all the new sensations this new body gave him.

Noting his lack of response Sylus speaks up again "Is something wrong? Do you want me to pull out?"

As Sylus slowly moves his hips back to pull out, Caleb whimpers at the feeling, his body instinctively thrusts back to keep Sylus inside.

"N-no don't mm"

Sylus chuckles amused "you want me to keep going?"

Caleb nods furiously, eyes scrunched up from pleasure.

"I'm gonna need a verbal answer" Sylus’s hand sneaks up to his lips to tap "come on, open up that pretty little mouth of yours"

Caleb hesitates, before mumbling a small please.

"What was that?"

Calebs eyebrows furrow, he can hear the smugness in the other man's voice.

"Sylus" he gives in "please keep going"

In a flash Caleb's new body is on all fours.

Meanwhile you wake up in Caleb's body also confused, you think it's a dream at first, after a couple slaps that you still feel the sting of you realize it's not. It wasn't common to wake up in another persons body, much less experience what it's like to be the opposite gender. Excited you tested out Caleb's evol and strength, it was fun at first but then you remember what you were doing before you fell asleep, and if you were in Caleb's body then that would mean...

You quickly call your phone.

Sylus’s notices your phone lighting up with an incoming call, he doesn't need to check to knows it's you. Reaching over to get your phone he presses even deeper into Caleb making him tremble and whimper. With your phone in his hand Sylus answers and moves the phone next to your body, he figures you'd want to talk to Caleb first.

"Caleb is that you?"

"mm Y-yes!"

You stifle a giggle, you had your suspicions of how this incident would turn out. Hearing the two most important people in your life getting along makes your heart flutter, you can't wait to join them.

"I'm glad! I don't know what happend but don't worry I'll be there soon"

The last thing Caleb wants is for you to see him like this, a mess, mind weak from pleasure. Not only that, but also the fact that he was letting your boyfriend be the one to reduce him to putty.

"W-wait no-"

Before he can further protest Sylus takes your phone, his conversation with you drowning out as Caleb feels himself nearing a climax.

Suddenly, Sylus puts the phone down next to your body.

His eyes widen, "Sylus?"

Grinning at his shocked expression, one of his hands glides over your exposed hips, sliding in between the bed and your body. Caleb gasps as he feels the other mans skilled fingers rub against your sensitive little nub.

"Yes that's it sweetheart, let her hear you"

He's mortified, he thinks you'll be angry, hate him. But instead you laugh loudly into his ear.

"I'll be there soon, make sure you don't fall asleep okay? I want a turn next"

With that you hang up leaving him shocked once again.

"You heard her, make sure you don't fall asleep Caleb"

"Pip-?" He starts, name cut off by moan.

Said man feels his heart stop, when did Sylus find out? did you tell him or...

did he know since the start?

No, he wouldn't have kept going if he knew, his mind tries to reason. But he hasn't felt the other man push him away nor scold him. It's almost as if Sylus wants this, wants him.

His mind wants to deny it, he wants to deny it. Find any excuse to deny the possibility that the other man may desire him. But then he thrusts again, right into the spot that makes Caleb cry out.

"Talk to me, what's wrong puppy?"

He shakes his head and Sylus stills.

"If you want me to stop I will, I can wait outside until she's here or we can just lay here"

"I will only do what you want me to do"

"I...I want to keep going, please Sylus. I want this"

A choice, having a choice is rare, having a choice of what is done to his body is rare. The other man's words were sincere, he can't detect any anger or disappointment. He really will stop if Caleb asks him to, he has control, over the situation and his body.

He feels a gentle kiss against the back of his head, then more. Each one trailing down slowly making his body relax.

"As you wish"

Caleb grips the sheets tightly, feeling the other man start thrusting again. He feels so full, this brief moment of clarity allows him to really feel how big he is. He wonders if Sylus is bigger than him, he'll have to check when you get here.

Sylus watches carefully his reactions, he knows your body well. Knows what are your weakest spots that will draw out the sweetest reactions. His mouth kisses and sucks your skin, one hand rubbing at your nub again while the other squeezes and massages your breasts.

Caleb can feel himself nearing that peak again, he feels a little strange. It's different compared to his own body, he can't help but panic and beg for more at the same time.

Smirking, Sylus picks up the pace, relentlessly targeting any area that makes Caleb shake.

"Sylus I-ah-I'm!"

"I know sweetheart, you're doing so well for me" Sylus leans down to kiss his cheek "just relax and let go"

Caleb cums loudly, moans and drool spilling of his-your-lips. It's so different from how it normally feels, it's as if his mind and soul was in the clouds. His body can't stop squirming and shaking, riding out every last bit of it. All the movements and the erotic sight triggering Sylus's own release.

"Oh" the feeling of Sylus spilling inside of him is also new, well at least for him, your body seems to be very familiar with it.

Humming, Sylus lays next to him while pulling him close, the two of them catching their breaths. gently he pulls out watching his own release dribble down.

"Are you this loud in your own body too?" Sylus teases.

Blushing Caleb tries to push him away "S-shut up"

The other man laughs and tugs him back, burying his face in your hair. Caleb relaxes in his hold and reaches for one of his arms to make Sylus hug him tighter. He feels strangely vulnerable for some reason, desperate for the other mans comfort.

As if reading his mind Sylus starts to hum a soft melody.

"You suck at singing"

"Ouch, how mean, I thought that puppies are cute and friendly" Sylus responds dramatically.

"I'm not a puppy!" Caleb barks "I've told you countless times not to call me that"

"A feisty kitten and an agressive puppy, the two of you are so alike"

"I am not feisty"

Sylus looks up to see your pout, it's funny to see that no matter the body you still hold your same habits.

"Sweetie, how nice of you to join us"

You walk over to the pair huffing "I kept hitting my head while walking around, being tall is overrated"

"Are you okay? come here let me check" Caleb instantly goes into 'care for pipsqueak' mode.

"I'm fine, your body is like super pain resistant, are you secretly made out of metal or something?" you joke.

A flicker of something goes through his eyes, you miss it, but Sylus takes note of it.

Caleb chuckles "I think you hit my head a little too hard, let me inspect the damage"

"Caleb...?"

He moves to stand but then suddenly falls, his legs feel like jelly for some reason.

He looks up to you embarrassed, blush deepening when he notices the look in your eyes. Your heavy gaze taking in every inch of your claimed skin.

He tries to hide his cum stained lower half, feeling himself get even wetter. He's a bit surprised about how wet he could get. Nervous he bites his lower lip, praying it's not forming a puddle on the floor.

Curious, you part his lips making him gasp. At the moment you are stronger than him, you're not used to it but you quickly adapt liking this new dynamic. And it seems he likes it too.

With measured steps you make your way towards him before crouching down. Your hand gently holds his chin in place as you lean in to kiss him. His eyes widen for a moment before he quickly melts into the kiss. It's soft, innocent at first, exploring the taste of one another.

It should be awkward because of the current situation, but the two of you are so lost in the moment you don't even think about it.

Finally parting for air, the two of you look into each others eyes, he looks so dazed and needy you can't help but giggle.

Using your new strength you pick him up and lay him on the ned next to Sylus.

"Think you could handle two at a time?"

Caleb blinks, slowly processing your question.

"What?"

JSJSJS this one has been sitting in my drafts for a while. Couldn't really figure out how I wanted to handle the situation itself, I really wanted to highlight how it's Caleb's choice and how he has a say and also that MC and Sylus want him and it's not just Sylus going at it thinking it's MC. Basically MC x Sylus x Caleb, love writing poly ships. Anyways that's it, love whiny needy Caleb.

Tags:

@caterpillar-in-disguise

[lucydixon]

Bad Idea

Eddie Munson Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog

A/N: For some Bestfriend!Eddie backstory, you can check out Two Hearts, One Home, which goes more in-depth on Eddie and the Reader's relationship. Eddie's a liiitle bit of a perv in this one

Summary: You decide that you're tired of being a virgin, and your best friend of ten years jumps at the chance to make your first time a good experience, consequences be damned.

You and Eddie were in his bedroom, doing what the two of you did most days after school. 

He was trying to nail a guitar solo, his sweetheart unplugged from the amp to spare your ears, while you sat on the ground reading magazines. 

You’d flipped through the hundredth ‘how to drive your man wild’ article and sighed heavily. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Eddie asked without looking up from his guitar. 

“I’m tired of being a virgin,” you huffed, not meaning anything by it. You really were just vocalising your frustration.

His head snapped up to stare at you. 

“Huh?”  

“I think you heard me,” you groaned, letting your head fall back against his dresser. “I haven’t even kissed a boy, and everyone at school is either lame or mean.” 

“Which one am I?” The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, but you were too busy wallowing to notice the blush creeping its way up his neck. 

“You’re fine.” You rolled your eyes. “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d totally fuck you.” 

His entire body went rigid. 

“What?” he breathed, eyes wide in disbelief. 

For the first time since he’d known you, he regretted ever agreeing to play with you the day you’d met. 

What if he wasn’t your friend? 

Would you seriously fuck him? 

Had he spent all this time secretly dying to touch you, only for it to come back and bite him in the ass?

“Oh, what do you mean what?” You groaned, letting your head fall to the side so you could look at the baffled look on his face. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not blind, Munson. I get why all those girls crawl into the back of your van after gigs. You’ve got your bad boy rockstar thing going.” 

He could not believe you were being so casual about this. 

You’d never been shy, the two of you joked around and teased eachother, flirting sometimes like it was a game. You were never the one blushing by the end of it. It was always him. 

“Okay.” he set down his guitar as carefully as he possibly could while still flailing his arms. “Hold the fuck on for a minute.” 

You scoffed out a laugh at his theatrics. 

“Why haven’t you ever said anything?” He exclaimed. 

“'Cause it doesn’t matter.” You shrugged. “We’re friends, we don’t do that kind of thing.” 

“Says who?” 

Your brows furrowed, and you sat up to cock your head to the side. 

“Show me the rule book where it says we can’t do that kind of thing.” He urged, gesturing around the room wildly. 

“I didn’t say there’s some rule that we can’t.” You frowned. “It’s just not something we do.” 

“Some friends do that kind of thing!” He pointed out, knowing full well that he couldn’t just be your friend if you so much as pecked him on the lips.

He’d want more. 

He did want more. 

But he was too wrapped up in the idea that you might let him fuck you.  

“What is this?” You squinted at him. 

“I’m just saying!” He held his hands up like it was no big deal. As if he wasn’t about to risk the ruin of a decade of friendship, “Think about it! You don’t want to be a virgin, I don’t want my best friend to suffer through having her first time with some idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing.” 

“Oh, and you do?” You raised a brow, a little intrigued. 

It wasn’t a blatant rejection. 

You weren’t entirely convinced, but he could work with this. 

“Yeah.” He scoffed, smirking smugly, “I do.” 

“And you think it’s not gonna be weird after?” 

“Doesn’t have to be.” Eddie gave the least convincing shrug you’d ever seen in your life. 

“Prove it then,” you challenged, pulling yourself to kneel. 

If he’d been standing, his knees would’ve buckled, and he didn’t even know where you were going with this yet. 

“C’mere.” You patted the carpet next to you and stifled a laugh when he tripped over himself, scrambling out of his bed to join you. 

You were being way too normal about this. 

“Kiss me for a bit.” You proposed, and Eddie couldn’t suppress the dumbfounded look on his face. “Then we stop and see how we feel tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” He answered far too quickly, overeager and obvious. 

“If it’s weird after, no more.” You warned, “We just pretend it never happened.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, but knew that he couldn’t do that. 

If he got to kiss you right then, he’d never stop thinking about it for as long as he lived. 

He just had to stop himself from doing something stupid, like professing his love for you. 

But Christ. The second you started leaning in, he knew that he was about to be in for a world of hurt because you hadn’t even touched him yet, and he was crumbling. Falling apart at the seams. 

Your lips brushed against his softly at first. Barely even a peck. 

Any and all sense of self-control went out the window when Eddie pulled you back in and kissed you harder. One hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him while the other rested on your waist. 

You gasped into the kiss, steadying yourself with a hand on his thigh, gripping his flesh just above his thigh through the ripped denim. 

A groan tore its way out of his throat, desperate and hungry and- 

Fuck. he was going to lose his mind just kissing you. 

When he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, Eddie half-expected it to be the moment where you cut him off for the day, but you didn’t. 

Instead, your lips parted and you let his tongue snake into your mouth, trying to keep up with the intensity of the kiss despite the shudder rolling through your body. 

You moaned into his mouth, and he thought he might die. 

You had to force yourself to pull away after a couple of minutes, bleary-eyed with swollen lips, blinking at your best friend, who was in no better shape. 

You’d hoped that you wouldn’t like it. 

That maybe the two of you would laugh it off and never speak of it again. 

But no. 

Of course, it had to be the most devastating first kiss, and of course, it had to be with Eddie, of all people. 

Eddie, whom you’d loved since you were a girl, but spent years convincing yourself was nothing more than your friend. 

Your best friend. 

You wouldn’t survive losing him. 

But, fuck. 

Why’d he have to offer to fuck you with so much enthusiasm? 

To slip his tongue into your mouth? 

Grip the back of your neck as if he couldn’t bear to pull away? 

You’d been the one to bring it up and could only blame yourself for the suffering you were sure that you were about to endure when this inevitably blew up in your face and ruined things with the most important person in your life. 

I’m screwed, Eddie thought to himself. 

That felt way too good.

Criminally good. 

It didn’t help that you looked like you’d enjoyed it. He could tell that you were overthinking, but you weren’t upset, which was a good sign. 

“So,” He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, “Weird?” 

“No,” You smiled softly, despite screaming internally, “It was kind of nice actually.” 

“Yeah,” he bobbed his head, trying to be as cool about it as possible, “You sure that was your first kiss?” 

“You trying to say I’m a natural, Munson?” You leaned back against the dresser with a little smirk. 

“I’m not, not saying it.” He shrugged, wondering how long it would be before he could kiss you again, “You’re just a good kisser, is all.” 

“I’d tell you the same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to, and I don’t think your ego needs it.” You chuckled.

It was quiet for a whole minute before either of you spoke. 

“So,” It was Eddie who broke the silence, “Now what?” 

“Now, we go on with our day and see if it gets weird.” 

“Okay.” 

It didn't.

Sure, you were both thinking about that kiss relentlessly, but it wasn’t awkward or anything.

The two of you still went to Hellfire and sat in your normal seats, directly across from one another. The looks you gave eachother weren’t abnormal. Eddie was in full DM character and still tried to kill you off just like he usually did. 

Afterwards, he walked you to your trailer and then called you when he got back to his less than two minutes later, as if you didn’t watch him walk all the way to his front door from your window. You laughed and told him goodnight, same as you did every night.

You spent a little extra time staring at your ceiling before falling asleep, but it didn’t feel bad. 

If anything, you were excited to kiss Eddie again tomorrow. 

Meanwhile, across the lot, Eddie Munson was dreaming up all the things he could ‘teach’ you if you’d let him while fucking his fist in the shower. 

He went to bed feeling a whole lot less guilty than he thought he might, knowing that in the morning, you might let him kiss you again and maybe even do more.

At eight in the morning the next day, Eddie was knocking on your door loud enough to tear you from sleep. 

It took a full two minutes for you to answer the door with messy hair and tired eyes. 

You were wearing a matching shorts and tank top set of pyjamas, and he couldn’t help but stare. 

You weren’t wearing a bra, and it was painfully obvious. 

“What the fuck, Eds?” You grumbled, annoyed that he’d woken you up. “Do you know what time it is?” 

“It's tomorrow.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, acutely aware of how desperate and pathetic he was acting. 

“And?” You huffed, still half asleep, not picking up on what he was saying.

“And it's not weird.” 

“What?” you frowned. “Eddie, I’m too tired for whatever the fuck is going on right now.” 

Eddie sighed dramatically, ushering you back inside and following along behind you. 

He knew better than to wake you up. 

You’d never been a morning person. Always cranky and whiny before 10 am, even at school. 

He knew, but he’d done it anyway because he just couldn’t wait. 

You seemed to clue in halfway down the hallway to your bedroom and froze. 

Eddie stopped himself just short of running right into you, distracted by your bare legs.

“Edward Munson,” your voice was sharp and annoyed. The tone reserved solely for lectures.

He grimaced at the sound of his full name. 

“Did you wake me up early as fuck on a Sunday morning, to make out?” Slowly, you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing as they landed on his. 

“No.” He lied. 

“Liar.” 

“Okay fine!” he conceded, throwing his arms out at his sides. He’d never been able to lie to you and get away with it. You saw through him every single time, so he might as well be honest. “Maybe.” 

“There’s something wrong with you.” You jabbed a finger into his chest, and Eddie felt panic building inside his chest. 

He’d blown it. 

Already. 

“Let me brush my teeth first.” You veered off to the right suddenly, into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you, leaving him standing frozen in the hallway. 

He was 99% sure that was a yes and scrambled down the hall into your room to check his hair in the mirror. 

When you emerged from the bathroom with brushed teeth and hair, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. 

Eddie was sitting at the end of your bed, playing with his rings.

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly very much aware of how little you were wearing in terms of clothing. “We’re just gonna make out in my bed all day?” 

“If you want, yeah.” he was struggling to keep his cool. 

“Well, what do you want?” you urged, a little worried that this was only happening because he thought you wanted to, which was ridiculous considering this whole thing was his idea and he’d pulled himself out of bed at an ungodly hour just to come kiss you. 

“To make out in your bed all day.” Eddie leaned back on his elbows, smirking at you slyly. 

“Okay, good,” you sighed cutely, crawling into bed with him. 

Your hands caught the collar of his shirt and tugged him gently towards you, lying back against the pillows at the top of your mattress. 

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. 

Eddie’s brain was going haywire when your lips met. 

You were kissing him and lying down. 

He was kissing you horizontally. 

In your bed. 

He knew he’d get himself too worked up if he settled in between your thighs, pressed up against you like that, knowing full well that you didn’t wear panties to bed. 

One layer for you, two for him. 

That would be all that was separating your warmth from the bulge in his jeans, and he couldn’t risk scaring you off before he’d even gotten started. 

So, instead, Eddie grabbed your hip and rolled you onto your side, mirroring your position, close enough that he managed it without breaking the kiss. 

His other hand cupped your cheek, and it was such a tender action that it made you shudder. 

You hadn’t expected it to feel so intimate. 

So loving.  

Could you really have sex with Eddie and not let it ruin you? 

Your heart already ached for when the time to stop fooling around eventually came. 

You’d sleep together and then what? 

Pretend it hadn’t happened? 

Just stop kissing each other and go back to normal? 

Get on with your lives as if you weren’t completely, painfully in love with your best friend?

God, could you stand to watch him go out with other girls after? 

It physically pained you just to think about it. 

So badly, in fact, that your breath hitched in your throat while you were kissing, and Eddie pulled back to look at you with a concerned, but soft look. 

“You alright, Sweetheart?” He brushed your hair out of your face gently. 

“Is this a horrible, terrible, very bad idea?” Your words came out rushed and breathy. 

“Whoa,” He frowned, not used to you being the one to freak out, “what’s wrong?” 

“We’re gonna fuck this up.” Your eyes were wide, almost panicked. “It's gonna get weird and we won't be friends anymore, and I cannot take that.” 

“Hey,” Eddie found your hand and gave it a squeeze, “stop freaking out and take a breather.” 

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

After a few more, you squeezed his hand back, keeping your gaze fixated on the glow-in-the-dark stars you and Eddie had stuck up there years before. 

“Now tell me what happened in there a minute ago.” He tapped your temple lightly with his pointer finger. “What’s got you so freaked out?” 

You’d never been any better than Eddie at lying. You knew you had to give him something. It just couldn’t be the whole truth. 

“I’m gonna get too wrapped up in this and it’s gonna get messy.” You sighed, draping your free arm over your face to hide it from view. “I’m gonna hurt my own feelings.” 

Eddie felt his heart rate pick up. 

What were you saying? 

“Maybe I’ll get wrapped up too,” he muttered. “Why does it have to be messy?” 

“Because we're friends,” You groaned. 

“And?” He was confused. 

“I don't want to fuck you, then watch you fuck other girls.” You admitted stiffly, still hiding behind your arm. 

“Okay, I won’t then,” Eddie said it without even having to think. “No fucking other girls. Got it. Done.” 

Your arm fell to the side as your head snapped over to look at him questioningly. 

“The reasonable thing to do would just be to not fuck eachother.” You pointed out. 

“When have we ever done the reasonable thing?” he scoffed, trying not to look too hopeful. “I wouldn’t want you being with any other guys either.” 

“There are no other guys!” You groaned, rubbing your face. “That’s how we ended up here in the first place.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe I just don’t want you using my moves on other dudes.” There was a slight teasing undertone, but his eyes were dead serious. 

“So, you’re not fucking other girls, I’m not fucking other guys.” You raised a brow. “That sounds an awful lot like dating."

"Why don't we just agree to not think too hard about it?" Eddie proposed, desperate to keep you both from overthinking it, especially while you were lying in bed together with swollen lips. "It doesn't have to be weird. We're just friends who do this kind of stuff now, and that's fine!"

You were quiet for a long time, not even thinking, really. Just sitting with it.

"fuck it," you muttered, leaning back in.

Eddie sighed in relief and caught you by the back of the neck, smashing his lips into yours.

Dividers and Banners by me on my side-blog @dividers-are-us

Taglist:@justalotoffanfiction@s1mp-4-ga11y@farrowroyale@awkward00noodle@shokihomin@jjmaybankswifes-blog@mdurdenpitt@buckyswife108 @walleloveseve @zroberts13@gxpsywitch19@monkeylaura627

[avanzinii]

her, again — DANIELA AVANZINI (1)

synopsis: you spent all of high school in love with daniela, until she left. she practically disappeared, all of her accounts were deleted and she wouldn’t respond to anyone. and when she appears two years later on a survival show, you can’t help but want her back.

pairings: idol!daniela x ex!reader

warnings: high school sweethearts, set during dream academy, swearing, angst, forbidden love, miscommunication

now playing… 🎵 about you by the 1975

the day she left was probably the worst day of your life. as dramatic as it sounds, you had completely lost her. she didn’t leave—she vanished.

you called, texted, you even showed up to her house. four times. the house was empty every visit.

her social media accounts were entirely wiped. like she had never existed.

one day, she was your girlfriend who you adored. the next, a complete stranger.

weeks had passed, and you slowly began to give up. what were daily messages became silent check-ins. still, all you had left of her was what was left of her identity on google—which amounted to a few childhood photos.

you tried to move on, you really did. if daniela could run without a word, then she wasn’t ever the person you loved.

part of you would always ache though. she was the first person you truly longed for. you had spent your entire high school experience with her. you met on your first day of freshman year.

your locker was right next to hers. daniela wasn’t nearly as nervous as you were. “do we have the same combination?” she asked curiously.

“do we?” your voice was thoughtful.

your combinations were not at all the same. she pretended you shared the same one after peering over you to see yours. she held her locker open just enough that it wouldn’t lock, but not too much that you could see.

“seems like we’re matching,” she laughed.

your personalities clicked quickly. so fast that the years flew by with you.

you were both seniors when she left. what was supposed to be two weeks of dates and warm moments became the emptiest point for you. your winter break was isolating, to say the least.

going back to school was worse, though. every class you had together felt weird. other students asked you where she went, and all you wanted was to yell at them that you had no fucking clue.

the day you really moved on was your graduation. not a single trace of her there. leading up to that day, you still had a slight bit of hope she would come back. you wouldn’t admit it, but you held onto her deeply.

however, it felt like a sign to leave just as she did then.

the next year passed without too many reminders of avanzini. there were a few times family would ask about your “good friend,” but besides them, daniela was completely out of mind for you.

it was early september when you saw her face again. you and your closest friend were sitting at the public library studying with nothing except fall leaves for background noise.

the quietness of the setting made every small noise loud. when whispers sounded, it was pretty hard to not eavesdrop.

“did you watch the performance yet?” a voice could be heard.

“oh my god, yes, which was your favorite?” now, another, this time deeper.

as much as you wanted to tune it out, it was impossible for you to quiet your curiosity.

“pink venom, for sure, did you see the curly-haired girl?”

“yeah, daniela? she was crazy.”

pause.

your throat tightened.

you knew it couldn’t be your daniela.

it had to have been a coincidence that she also had curly hair. you shook your head, it couldn’t be. you moved on, deciding to focus again on your work.

as you reached to put your headphones over your ears, you heard one of the voices again.

“i heard she’s from atlanta. she’s been dancing since she was a baby apparently.”

it couldn’t be.

really, how could it be the same curly-haired, dancer named daniela from atlanta as yours. atlanta is big enough for two, you told yourself.

“avanzini is her last name, yeah?” the deep voice spit.

your heart skipped a beat.

your pupils dilated, lungs swelled, and your stomach sank.

your hands seemed to have let go of the headphones, dropping them onto the ground with the sound echoing throughout the library.

you coughed a few times, trying to get back to consciousness. “uh, sorry,” you whispered to the crowd of turned heads.

you quickly picked them up, but you could barely feel yourself moving. it felt as if your heart was stuck somewhere else. and it wasn’t with your body. it was stuck with someone.

“y/n, are you good?” your friend asked, with a clearly concerned look on their face. you nodded, assuringly. you weren’t sure whether you were trying to reassure your friend or yourself.

when you returned to your apartment later that evening, your first thought was to search her up.

“mission… pink, god what was it?” you groaned out in frustration, slamming the table a few times.

“pink v-” you tried sounding out what you remembered. “venom?”

slowly, you pressed enter.

and sure enough, there she was. in all her glory, daniela avanzini was on your screen again.

she looked normal. happy, even.

part of you wanted to close the tab before it sunk in. but you couldn’t hide from this.

her movements were perfect. you could tell that she got better at dancing since you last saw her.

as her eyes connected with the camera, a shiver ran down your spine. memories flooded back. your thoughts raced. that overwhelming feeling of desperation. the same kind you felt that winter.

you couldn’t do much more than just stare. even if you texted her, she wouldn’t respond. you wanted to reach out through the screen. like you could just pull her back to you.

as the clock hit 10, you happened to see a recently uploaded post by dream academy on instagram.

your eyes scrolled through the photos. then the description.

“we are happy to announce that the contestants of dream academy will be at a pop-up event this friday at [location] in los angeles. come with questions ready—we’re excited to see you there.”

you blinked as if the words would disappear. they didn’t. you tried rereading, maybe it was fake. maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. it was all still there. her name, and your city.

a part of you knew how terrible of an idea it would be to go. to see her. for the first time in a crowd of who knows how many people.

and if she somehow saw you? then what?

it felt as if you were fighting with yourself to just stay home.

you’d moved on, you were happy now. why entertain this? she’s her own person.

as you went back and forth with yourself, your thoughts raced. but one thing was certain.

daniela avanzini would be just down the street in less than 48 hours.

——

a/n: hi my loves!! im so excited for this fic seriously 😭 also im rewatching yellowjackets rn and UGHHH I MISS JACKIESHAUNA

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Tortured Heart.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

main masterlist

Summary: Spencer’s final case was meant to be routine: one last, meaningful success before walking away. But when you get hurt, everything changes. Now, he has no choice but to have the conversation he’s been avoiding.

Words: 3,1.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mentions of serial killers, injuries, weapons, hospital, and drugs. this takes place after season 15 and before season 16, so it may contain spoilers. angst WITHOUT happy ending. two idiots obviously in love. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I missed writing intense angst so much, so this is what came out :)

The hospital room was too quiet. Too white. The kind of sterile silence that didn’t just settle over your skin, it invaded it. Crawled beneath your clothes, into your marrow, until it filled the hollows of your bones like static. The air smelled of antiseptic and something faintly metallic, like blood barely scrubbed from the edges of an emergency. You could hear the distant beep of a heart monitor from another room and the occasional muffled footsteps of nurses pacing the corridor, but inside this space, inside this moment, there was only the hush of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

And him.

And the sound of paper in his shaking hands.

Spencer stood at the foot of your bed, motionless except for the tremor in his fingers. He hadn’t even taken off his coat. Still FBI. Still armor. Still holding it all together by force of habit, but only barely. His jaw was tight, shoulders braced like he was waiting to be shot himself. You watched him silently from your half-reclined position, your body aching in places you hadn’t even realized could hurt. The bandages around your arm throbbed in time with your pulse, a dull, dragging pain that sat somewhere beneath the morphine and the adrenaline crash.

He didn’t know you were watching.

Or maybe he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Not yet.

His gaze moved over the medical report in quick, mechanical flicks, dissecting it line by line. Like he could analyze your near-death experience into something clinical, something manageable. He was probably cataloguing the bullet’s trajectory, the centimeters it missed your brachial artery by. Probably parsing the rate of blood loss, calculating just how close you’d come to not making it. There was a timestamp on the paramedic’s note that made his breath catch; you saw the way his fingers spasmed, the way the page crinkled in his grip.

The words reduced everything to data: entry wound, hemorrhage, compression dressing, tachycardia, and fentanyl dosage.

But Spencer read between the lines.

And whatever he saw there, it was ripping him apart one sentence at a time.

You just watched it happen.

You watched him fall apart in real time, and you didn’t move. Maybe because you couldn’t. Maybe because your body had already done all the fighting it could. Or maybe because a deeper wound, one with no exit and no sutures, was bleeding out slowly in your chest, and there was no gauze thick enough to stop it.

You studied him the way you used to study crime scenes. Deliberate. Focused. Memorizing every line and shadow and shift in posture like you were afraid you’d never see them again. The crease between his brows, deeper than usual. The stubble on his jaw, missed shaves stacking up like forgotten days. His coat smelled like cold metal and tension, like a long night spent hunched over evidence and a badge clipped too tightly to his chest.

He was still in uniform, still in the job, still in the world that had stolen him away from you.

But everything about him felt impossibly far.

You hated that he hadn’t come running. That it had taken a bullet in your arm and a frantic call over the comms to pull him back to your side. That now, when it was almost too late, he showed up like a ghost summoned by tragedy.

And now that he was here?

He wasn’t really here at all.

He was somewhere in between, caught in the liminal space between who he’d been and who he was about to become. Between the partner who used to whisper poetry to you in dim hotel rooms after long cases, his voice soft and reverent in the dark, and the man who had already started packing his desk up in quiet increments. Between the friend who used to rest his forehead against yours on planes, warm and tired and silently grateful to be beside you, and the stranger now staring at your medical chart like it held a map back to something neither of you could find anymore.

You shifted slightly, testing the pull in your shoulder, and winced as pain flared sharp and hot down your arm.

The sound must’ve broken his trance, and his head snapped up.

And finally, finally, he looked at you.

The eye contact was brief but devastating.

His gaze held no armor now. Just raw, open anguish. Something sharp and broken, something entirely human and unguarded, leaking through the careful detachment he always wrapped himself in like a second skin. His lips parted, and for a second, you thought, maybe, he’d speak. Maybe he’d ask if you were okay, or tell you he was sorry, or say something to fill the impossible distance that had grown between you.

But nothing came.

Only silence.

Only the weight of everything he couldn’t say pressing down on you both like gravity.

And somehow, that silence hurt more than the bullet.

You looked away first, because if you didn’t, you would speak, and you didn’t trust what would come out. Something cruel, maybe. Something bitter. Something desperate and aching and years too late. And you couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

Because this, this moment, this was what heartbreak actually looked like.

Not slammed doors. Not screaming matches. Not the end of a relationship that never officially began.

Just the unbearable stillness of the person you loved most reading about how close they came to losing you and still choosing to walk away anyway.

Still choosing to leave.

After a long silence, he finally broke it.

“Does it hurt?”

The question landed heavy between you, softer than you expected, yet rough in a way that scraped across the back of his throat, like something raw and unfamiliar was struggling to escape. He folded the crumpled medical report with such delicate precision, the movement almost absurd in its gentleness, as if handling the paper too roughly might cause you to shatter completely, despite the blood that had already soaked into your skin hours ago. You could feel it lingering beneath the surface, a slow, insidious ache blooming beneath the sterile bandages wrapped around your shoulder.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked down, eyes tracing the thin white hospital blanket draped over your legs, your body still trembling from the shock and exhaustion that followed the bullet’s merciless strike. You gave a slight, almost involuntary shrug, a small movement that pulled sharply at the tender flesh of your injury, sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through you. A wince escaped your lips, quick and reflexive. He noticed.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice tight and laced with bitterness, like you were trying to convince not just him but yourself as well.

But his response came swiftly, too fast to be anything but genuine, his concern cracking through the thin veil of your facade. “You’re not.”

The words landed like a verdict, and you caught the sudden shift in his eyes, the faint shadow of worry and frustration, the kind you’d only ever glimpsed in moments when he was trying desperately to hold himself together. “You lost too much blood. You passed out in the ambulance.”

You snapped your head up, surprise and accusation mingling in the sharp edge of your gaze. “You weren’t in the ambulance.”

For a heartbeat, you caught a flicker of guilt flickering across his face: quiet, fleeting, but impossible to miss. Like a crack in his carefully constructed armor, a crack you had always known was there but never expected to see so exposed. Because every single time you’d been hurt before, he was the first to arrive, steady and unwavering, even for the smallest scrapes. Even the time you fell in the backyard while watering your plants, leaving you with bruised knees and shaken nerves, he had been right there, like a guardian you never dared to take for granted.

“I—no. I rode behind it. They…they wouldn’t let me on.” His voice faltered, a weak attempt to explain something that needed no explanation.

You narrowed your eyes, disbelief sharpening your tone. “You’re a federal agent, Spencer. They would’ve let you on.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked down. Hands in his pockets now. Fidgeting like he always did when he was unraveling and trying to pretend he wasn’t. You’d seen it for years: the little gestures, the panic behind the logic, the way he tried to build distance with facts and numbers when his emotions were clawing their way up his throat.

“You shouldn’t have gone in alone,” he said suddenly, almost angrily. “That’s not protocol. You were supposed to wait. You’re—” He stopped. His voice cracked. “You’re my partner.”

You felt heat rush to your face. Not the good kind. The kind that rises from somewhere deep and ugly: rage, betrayal, and grief all boiling together.

“Don’t you dare pull the partner card on me now,” you snapped, voice shaking with the force of everything you’d been holding inside. “The case is over. So you’re not even part of the team anymore.”

The words hit him like a blow. His mouth parted in shock, silence swallowing the space between you as the hurt bloomed like a fresh wound in his eyes, deeper than any bullet could have pierced. You saw it there, raw and vulnerable, but you didn’t take back a single word. You couldn’t.

Because it was true. Or at least, it felt true in every shivering fiber of your being. It hurt like hell. The way he had already left, even though his body still stood rooted in the same room. The way no matter what you did, you knew he wouldn’t be there the next time the darkness closed in.

“You don’t mean that,” he finally said, voice low, soft in the way he always got when he was trying to contain something much larger than he could manage. His hands were clenched at his sides now, white-knuckled, like he was trying to hold the moment together by sheer force of will. “You know you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you hissed, eyes shining now. You hated the way your throat felt too full, like something inside you was trying to claw its way out. “You’ve been halfway gone for months, Spencer. You made your decision and didn’t even give me a chance to weigh in. Didn’t you think maybe your partner should know before you started packing up your desk and looking at plane tickets?”

His fingers raked through his hair, frustration and helplessness etched into every line of his face as he paced, unable to stand still. “I didn’t tell anyone yet—”

“But you told them before me,” you interrupted sharply, venom dripping from every word. “Emily knew. JJ knew. Even Luke. They all knew you were leaving. And I—I had to figure it out on my own. From the way you stopped sitting next to me in the SUV, from the way you shut off your comms early, from the way you stopped telling me about your headaches and your books, because my best friend would never just disappear like that unless something was breaking him.”

Spencer stepped closer, close enough for you to see the glisten of tears in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks, and the uneven rise and fall of his chest. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to say it out loud because I knew…I knew it would sound like goodbye.”

“Because it is,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the truth.

He stopped in his tracks like you’d struck him, the word goodbye echoing in the sterile space between you louder than anything else had.

His lips parted, but nothing came out. Just a breath. Just silence. Just the sound of his entire world tilting in real time.

“Because it is goodbye,” you repeated, this time louder, almost needing the truth to land, to be real, final, and brutal. “Don’t pretend we’re going to keep calling each other once you’re gone. We both know we won’t.”

His face twisted, grief raw and unfiltered, like you’d told him someone he loved had died. Maybe in some ways you had. Because once he left, Spencer would vanish from your life completely, fade away into nothing but memories and quiet, aching absence. Your job wouldn’t allow you to keep contact. And your bruised pride, too, would refuse to try.

The next time you saw each other would likely be at a funeral. Just two ghosts pretending to know each other again. And that thought tore through you like the sharpest blade, leaving nothing but silence and the echo of goodbye.

“That’s not what I wanted,” he said, and this time, his voice wasn’t just trembling, it was splintering under the weight of something too big to carry alone. “I just needed to…I needed to breathe. I needed to stop waking up every morning wondering who’s going to die next. I didn’t want that to be you.”

You laughed, sharp, wounded, involuntary. Not because it was funny, but because it was the only sound your chest could make before it caved in.

“Well, surprise,” you said, your voice like cracked glass. “It almost was me. And guess what? It probably will be me next time. Or someone else we love.” You shook your head slowly, like the weight of the last few days was finally beginning to crush you from the inside. “That’s the job. That’s always been the job.”

You’d both been here before. Not this hospital, not this bed, not this wound, but this moment. One of you broken, the other unraveling. It had become a ritual over the years, unspoken and brutal: one would get hurt, and the other would hold the world together with shaking hands and stitched-together hope until you could both pretend it was normal again. And it was never easy, but it had always felt worth it. Until now.

Because now, it felt like it didn’t matter.

Your words hit him like a shot to the chest. You saw it, felt it, the way his jaw clenched and his posture collapsed inward, like he was trying to physically occupy less space in the wreckage of your pain. He looked smaller. Not in stature, but in presence. As if he was trying to disappear beneath the guilt. You didn’t let him.

“I thought we were forever,” you whispered, voice trembling, eyes stinging. “I thought—” but the rest of the sentence caught in your throat like a sob you refused to let out. You had to close your eyes just to survive the sound of your own voice. “Fifteen years ago, Gideon put us together. Fifteen, Spencer. He said we’d balance each other out. He said we’d last. That we’d protect each other.”

Your gaze was glassy now, unfocused but locked on the space just beside him, because if you looked at him too closely, you might never stop crying. “And I believed him. I built everything around that. Around you. I gave up promotions, transfers, cities..whole versions of my life that never happened, because I thought you and me…that was the plan. Even if we never said it out loud. Even if it was just coffee at 2 a.m. or finishing each other’s thoughts across a crime scene. That meant something.”

Spencer looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. There was no calculation left in him, no facts or statistics to retreat into. Just a man who had once promised to never let go now standing in the aftermath of having done just that. And still, you weren’t done.

“You were already halfway out the door,” you whispered, the words like razor blades in your mouth. “And you didn’t even tell me.”

His mouth opened in a gasp of guilt and helplessness. “I didn’t know how to,” he said. His voice sounded like something collapsing. “I didn’t want to say it out loud because I knew…I knew it would sound like an ending.”

“Because it is an ending,” you said, your voice rising despite yourself, heavy with grief and disbelief. “You left. You didn’t even look back.”

“I did,” he said, suddenly stepping forward, like if he got close enough, maybe it would matter. Maybe it would change something. “Every second. You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” you said, and your tone could’ve frozen fire. “I think it’s easier than staying. I think it’s easier than looking me in the eye and saying, ‘I’m tired, and I need to go.’ Or even asking if I wanted to go with you.”

The silence after that wasn’t just silence; it was a chasm. A quiet so vast and cold it made the air between you feel unbreathable. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, and the beeping of the heart monitor beside you grew impossibly loud, as if mocking the fact that your heart was still beating when everything else inside you felt dead.

Spencer’s eyes were raw, unguarded in a way that used to be sacred between you. He raised his hand, reached for you, but stopped halfway, as if he remembered, just in time, that he’d lost the right to touch you. His hand hovered in the space between you like an unanswered question.

“I thought if I left quietly,” he said, barely above a whisper, “it would hurt less. For both of us. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess before I was sure.”

You shook your head bitterly. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? You were sure. You made your choice, and it’s real.”

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, words caught in a tangle of guilt and regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was cracking like something breaking from the inside out. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to lose you like this.”

You let out a laugh, low, bitter, and completely empty. “You lost me the moment you stopped being honest with me,” you said. “You lost me the second you decided I didn’t deserve to know.”

The hospital room was cold now. Not from the air conditioning, but from the space between you, the gaping, echoing wound that no apology could close. And yet, even now, something inside you still wanted to reach for him. To grab his wrist. To scream, don’t let this be it.

But instead, you turned away. Slowly. Deliberately. You picked up your phone as it buzzed on the tray table: work calling, life still moving, the world not stopping just because yours had. You didn’t even look at him as you answered.

“I have to work,” you said into the receiver, voice quiet but steady. “Without you.”

There was a long, aching pause. On the other end of the line, someone asked you a question. You responded like you weren’t falling apart. Like your heart hadn’t just walked out of the room without touching you goodbye.

Spencer didn’t speak again. Maybe he couldn’t.

And maybe that was the most devastating thing of all.

Because sometimes love is not enough.

Sometimes goodbye is the only answer left.

[laurrelise]

hey this edit took me 16 hours i hope you enjoy

real talk: this is my baby. i started it over three months ago. this is one of the most well-made songs i’ve ever heard and it’s literally about doomscrolling. syncing the music to the extremely fast pace of the drums was so unbelievably difficult but so so worth it. genuinely one of my favorite things i’ve ever made, to the point that i’ve been procrastinating posting it for several weeks in case only like two people see it.

but who cares!!! i just wish that whatever two people see it think it’s as cool as i do

take a peek under the cut for the ramblings of a madwoman who spent way too long meticulously planning out every single shot of this thing

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

okay so i’ve had a recent fixation on djo, and when i heard this song for the first time i was like “goddamn those drums are so cool, the buildup is fantastic, the vocals are done so well, overall it’s just super good” and then i thought nothing of it otherwise that it was a great song

but then i got this particular bit stuck in my head and suddenly the lyrics started clicking with the siblings a bit too well and i was like..ok so i have no choice but to spend entirely too much time assembling an edit to this particular bit right. like there’s no question i simply have to right

anyway i really did think it would be one of those projects so big that i would procrastinate it until i no longer had any motivation to actually make it and then lo and behold i was just too excited not to get going. so i did

anyway ok so i pictured this edit broken up into three main parts:

a) five’s experience with the apocalypse, since the events of the show basically wouldn’t exist without his knowledge and determination to stop it

b) viktor’s descent into the white violin

c) the four apocalypses and what caused them all building up to this climax before dropping off into the shot of the marigolds at the very end. because if i was a casual viewer that would’ve personally made me lose my marbles

here’s a lyric analysis in the context of tua + the specific visuals i had pictured:

first time through . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

something is about to break — five is about to run right into the apocalypse and change his life in a devastating way / the meal directly before five leaves, cutting abruptly to him realizing his mistake while surrounded by destruction

the fault line has been fractured — nothing can change the inevitability of what is about to happen, five has always been stubborn and determined and he was always going to run right into his own downfall / five with his siblings, seemingly content to stay with them

maybe it’s not too late — exactly what it says, maybe it’s not too late for five to turn around and save himself / mere moments before his mistake, as he runs out of the academy to go prove himself

to learn how to love each other — five can still turn around and realize that what he has is all he needs and that venturing into the unknown may end badly for him / five opening the gates and saying goodbye to the life he could’ve held onto

what’s it gonna take to change it? — what could possibly change the outcome now that five’s messed up? (not a single thing) / five slowly realizing his mistake and trying to undo it contrasted directly to his siblings’ continued lives at the academy

don’t you wanna save this planet? — wouldn’t it have been better to have thought this through? what if he’d been able to prevent the apocalypse by sticking around? (he couldn’t have) / continued shots of five v. his siblings

blame it on manipulation — five could tell himself that it didn’t have to be this way and that it all happened because he just wanted to prove himself to his father / continues shots of five v. his siblings, except he’s come to terms with his situation and he’s now doing what it takes to survive + growing up in this terrible place

we’re human after all — exactly what it says, five was always going to make this mistake because he’s only human at the end of the day / five slowly turning to the handler after hearing her offer, taking in the thought of exactly what he’s going to have to do to survive and save his family

second time through . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

something is about to break — viktor is about to cause the apocalypse and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it / viktor getting overwhelmed by the things he’s learned and his newly-discovered abilities and hurting allison

the fault line has been fractured — the damage has been done, viktor has been hurt and lied to and manipulated and it’s all going to topple over uncontrollably / viktor discovering leonard’s lie and killing him

maybe it’s not too late — maybe if things change, maybe if his siblings could listen and understand what’s going on, the apocalypse wouldn’t be inevitable (it always will be) / viktor going back to the academy to check on allison and ask for forgiveness, just to be locked away like he always has been

to learn how to love each other — luther and klaus and diego can still try talking to viktor before he descends to a point of no return (they won’t) / viktor trying to convince them to let him out and talking to a vision of his younger self

what’s it gonna take to change it? — what could possibly stop viktor now, as he destroys the academy and leaves for the concert at the end of the world? (nothing can) / viktor looking through the home he grew up in and seeing nothing but his family’s contempt for him, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake

don’t you wanna save this planet? — couldn’t this have been prevented? couldn’t his siblings have just talked to him and helped him work through his trauma? couldn’t that alone have saved so many lives? (of course not) / viktor getting ready for his final concert

blame it on manipulation — viktor spent his entire life thinking he was worthless at the manipulation of his father, causing the neglect to build up into mass devastation / viktor seeing allison as he plays and thinking she’s finally there for him, just to discover it was all a ploy to stop him

we’re human after all — viktor is only human, when driven to the point he’s at, he can only take so much before everything builds up and comes to an end / the last moments before everything explodes

anyway that’s about it. i cannot actually express with words how much i loved making this despite how tedious and painstaking it was (and how much i did NOT want to watch s4 to scavenge for clips and also edit them).

i genuinely don’t know if anyone is reading this because it’s more for me to just ramble about a bit of a passion project for me lol. but if you are, i love you thanks

anyway LISTEN TO DJO!!!! listen to djo, especially this song, because i fucking levitated the first time i just sat down and listened to this song, with headphones on and my eyes shut, and took it all in. it’s a song about doomscrolling for the love of god, but the lyrics are masterly crafted and the instrumentals are heavenly. djo is a warlock we charge at dawn

also here’s some more of me rambling about it because i truly never shut up

ok thanks so much for reading and watching and supporting have a lovely day!! mwah mwah mwah

[sylluvschoso]

blood rush~ (choso kamo x reader)

synopsis: choso's cursed technique is hot. that's all

cw: first time together, virgin! choso, premature ejaculation, overstim?, whiny choso

word count: 1.2k

a/n: hello i've literally not posted a fic in like a month??? im sorry if this lowkey sucks ive just been trying really hard to get something out on here but i've been working like CRAZY so i barely have any time and blah blah blah my life... anyway!

Big, tough, powerful Choso. The half curse who spent over a hundred years sealed away in the darkness. Who has dealt with death and pain and betrayal. Who has killed people.

You didn't expect him to be like this during your first time together. He's all shaky, movements erratic; pupils blown as he's helping you remove your clothes. His lips are slick from how feverishly you were kissing him, his cheekbones dusted with pink as he heaves out nervous breaths.

He looks terrified. His hands are almost trembling as he touches you, handling you as if you're something fragile.

He has you naked on the bed, looking up at him expectantly with your legs spread. His virgin cock twitching and weeping as he stares down at you.

Choso honestly looks gorgeous like this, fully undressed for you, eyebrows furrowed and lip curled in concentration. His features look so sharp from this angle, but the warm glow of the room softens him out in your gaze.

He's not even inside you yet, and he looks completely and utterly wrecked. He's been paused for a moment, just sitting there between your legs, big arms caging you in.

"Choso," you speak softly, brushing a strand of his hair with your fingers.

His stressed expression remains for a moment longer before his eyes flick up to yours, as if you've pulled him out of a deep thought.

"We don't have to if you're not ready," you continue, looking deep into his eyes to convey your understanding. Your gaze scorches him, entire face turning red as he looks away again.

"I'm ready," he says, deep voice almost pouty and defensive.

"Cho.." your hands are cradling his face, thumbs stroking along his cheeks. "What's wrong-"

You're cut off by him suddenly pushing his tip in, making you inhale sharply. You can tell he was embarrassed and trying to shut you up, but you think to yourself that you'll pester him about it later. You've been trying to make him communicate more with you, it's not like he had a lot of healthy normal relationships while he was sealed away in Tengen's barrier. But that's okay. Choso needs time, and you're more than willing to wait for him.

It's not like you could say anything coherent to him right now anyway, because his pretty cock is stretching you open so good that you can only sigh out in pleasure. He's warm and thick, and the way you can feel him twitch makes a shiver go down your entire body.

But your condition is nothing compared to Choso's. This is his first time, ever. He really hasn't had much time to discover things about his body even privately, and unbeknownst to you, he hasn't even had an orgasm yet.

He's done his best to study and educate himself for you so that he doesn't make a total fool of himself, but every time he tries to experiment or touch himself, he just can't take it. This physical form is so sensitive, and he'd end up achingly hard and trembling, unable to work himself to completion. If you could've heard the whines and gasps that he managed to pull out of himself, you would've been soaking wet in no time.

But now he has no choice, and he wishes badly that he would've just forced himself to cum at least once so that he knew what to expect. Your tight heat is dizzying, and he cries out as he finally bottoms out inside of you. Not a groan, not a whimper, but a wail; a full-bodied noise that sounds as if he's in pain.

He's not moving, just fully sank into you as he hyperventilates, whines bleeding into each breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," you soothe, still cradling his face.

His eyes are screwed shut, chest heaving. You continue to shush and comfort him, stroking his face, waiting for his muscles to relax.

You decide you're satisfied with his de-escalation once he starts to breathe through his nose (albeit sharply) and is able to open his eyes again (although he still looks pained.)

You've been ignoring your own discomfort, feeling so empty but full at the same time, but as his breathing evens out, you decide to encourage him further.

"Try moving, it's okay if it's slow."

His eyes flick up to yours and he nods quickly. You can't help but notice how wordless he's being, this is so hard on him. But he obeys; a slow, wet, squelch as he pulls out, making him vocal all over again. He's already shaking by the time he pushes back in.

It feels good, and you want more, but you don't mind waiting for him. Even when he can barely pull back out, his thrusts so shallow and slow that you know you won't cum like this. You don't even care. It's still overwhelming, the warm heat of Choso's body bare against yours, his gorgeous face so expressive just for you, your cunt stuffed full of him. You can't help the way you clench around him once he pushes back in again.

That was the last straw. Poor Choso is gasping out, trying to stop himself from filling your womb to the brink. You can feel him twitching inside of you, he bites down on his lip and digs his nails into your hips, but that just makes you squirm more. He can't stop it, his limbs feel like jelly and his vision is whiting out as he paints your plush insides with hot cum.

He almost screams. His orgasm was practically ripped out of his body, and you do your best to steady him by gripping his biceps. It doesn't work, and his heavy frame collapses on top of you, hair tickling your face as he hides away in your neck. He's moaning out still, cock still weakly spurting inside of you as he trembles.

You're rubbing comforting circles into his back, carding a hand through his hair, and kissing his forehead. "You did so good for me, baby."

He's still huffing and heaving. "I'm- sorry-"

"Shh, shh."

"I need to make you feel good.." he mumbles against your skin.

"It's okay, Cho, that was good. We can always try again another time."

He looks up at you, sensitive and pouty, with a small flash of determination in his handsome features. Trembling, he pushes himself back up so that he's caging you in once more.

"I promise it's okay, Choso," you smile sweetly as you cup his face in your hands.

He says nothing, breathing heavily and looking distant as if he's concentrating on something else. He bites down on his lip as his cursed markings appear on his face, and you feel him hardening inside of you again.

A soft groan from the sensitivity parts his flushed lips. You gasp, nails digging into his forearms.

"You don't have to-" you choke out.

He's rock hard, the intense blood rush making him dizzy.

"I need to," a dry sob escapes his throat, "make you feel good."

[monet-poetry]

Hello to you, @subjectanomalies, @rain-rainynights, @knight-qoheleth, @echo-temporis!

Please forgive me if I respond a bit late, as right now I am going through the process of taking exams and completing various thesis papers. Also, I apologize for combining two threads with similar questions into one, since I don’t have anything new to add off the top of my head to the list of amusing facts. I also want to thank you for your attentiveness toward me and express warm feelings of gratitude that are hard to put into words — just like so much else we experience within ourselves in relation to others. Feelings has an inexhaustible variety of forms and is a wonder for the mind. So, let’s move on to the amusing facts!

When I was a child, my governess secretly dressed me in girls' clothes. You know, those funny straw hats with blue ribbons and sailor outfits. While walking around, she would tell me I was a "beautiful little girl," even though I was a boy. Eventually, this secret came out, and Mr. Pederastov vanished from the horizon of my sunny childhood.

I once had a red canary that sang like a nightingale. We even held small concerts, where I accompanied her on the recorder. Poor thing died of old age, but I still visit her little makeshift grave at the roots of an old maple tree, made of stones and moss.

Once, I traveled to another city to find an article containing a story by an obscure poet, preserved in a single copy in an old century-old journal, to get a sense of the spirit of the people of that time. Later, I transcribed it in two versions: pre-revolutionary Russian and modern Russian.

I also want to mention @odditywrites123, @quitegaze, and especially @philology-gworl, who also founded a poetry community called @poetry-in-russian, which I can recommend to you. When it comes to poetry, it is filled with lightness, softness, a "Malynovym" color, and, of course, sadness. And even if the community is dedicated to Russian-language poetry, I highly recommend you take a look at her works—believe me, you won't regret the time spent learning Russian just to read her poems.

I also deeply appreciate @inky-sun for her, on the contrary, dark-colored poetry, her entwining shadows, her attempt to understand time and the meaning of emotions, and I eagerly await her new works. Her poetry is a dark and beautiful gift. I don’t know whether I am fully worthy of touching such delicate themes, but I have boundless faith in her talent.

@subjectanomalies, you are, as always, wonderful. I know that in this paragraph only those who are given the word are being mentioned, but I simply cannot overlook you because you are also one of my favorite poets. I reread your work—and that alone says a lot. "Trying so hard / To keep my heart / From drying in the blaze"… Words are directed toward the emotions of those who hear them, but the mind turns away. Thank you for your art!

hey guys, if you get tagged in this share 3 random facts about yourself that people may not guess, then tag the last 10 people in your notifs

1: I'm terrified of yellow flowers

2: My favorite band is The Linda Lindas

3: I'm in a band with someone tagged here (stay guessing >:3)

@demonshauntme2 @sasgaycumfilledcondom @warden-draws-sometimes @megarattdrawsstuff @draxolot @cheeseboi101010 @nyxisclown @gothweirdo1 @harumichan12 @jocie-questions-reality

[formiito]

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE

veritas ratio x gn! reader. SYNOPSIS: your strange, slightly unconventional relationship with the eccentric dr. ratio needs no name of its own. this is a study in quiet admiration.  AUTHOR'S NOTE : i'm sorry this took longer than expected, @mixxdpunch, i got wrapped up in college apps and all. i'll be writing more hsr fics if people request them!! my askbox is open for requests right now. enjoy <3 read on ao3!!

i. night in the library

Sitting at his ten o'clock, it had become something of a tradition for you and Veritas to sit down late at night, working together on your own tasks. He insists for you to be there with him despite your work having nothing to do with his, much to your confusion. Eccentric as he is, you knew still that he kept an almost calculated distance from other people, especially those that he deemed as idiots. Ignorance is a plague, they say. Veritas takes it literally.

Perhaps then, the fact that he seeks you out every night to do nothing in particular, should just be taken for granted, without further question. Especially since you did not mind either, quite the opposite. Books on philosophy and literary analysis were sprawled on the table, along with notes on astrophysics and various star maps of galaxies you will never see. Your fingers trail the constellation of the swan— Cygnus. You remember he told you about the ones listed on this map a few weeks before. He tells you of a lot of things; faraway planets and star systems with strange people and even stranger philosophies they lived by.

In a way, he became your telescope, the glass through which you see the wide universe. He, in turn, would bring you souvenirs each time. Educational journals, pieces of curated art and occasionally interesting literature from the planets he visited, along with details of his own experiences there. He knew of your interests, claiming that it was what set you apart from those other fools who were too entrenched in their own hubris and conceit to see the world 'as it were and has been'. You doubted it, for it truly seemed like such a mundane thing. Wasn't it prerogative for a student to atleast be curious?

Despite the fact that you both were learning entirely different topics, it's not as if Veritas could help himself but to tell you about everything he had seen.

Not when you hang onto every word he says as if it were the very essence of truth. He doesn't have any shame in admitting that the only solace of his recently dull days is a conversation with you. After all, even without being his intellectual equal, your earnestness drew him near, and perhaps over time he could almost call you a friend. The other students and professors, or atleast those who liked to spend their useless efforts gossiping, called it favoritism. Dr. Ratio always scoffed at the suggestion. As if someone like him would ever indulge in that!!

It's only that it's hard to find someone so pleasant to talk to, so naturally he seeks out your company the most. But he never minds the moments spent in silence, either. Veritas is most at peace when the only sounds in the room are that of pen scraping paper, flipping pages and coffee cups hitting the table.

Your notebooks were shut and your cup was on its last dregs. From his peripheral vision, he observed your half lidded gaze with quick, discreet glances; not lingering too long, but just enough to give him the silent assurance that you wouldn't pass out. He could see the late night's tiredness on your face, and yet you don't bother asking him to leave with you.

Once your soft gaze becomes all that there is on the forefront of his mind, he shuts the essay journal he was reading, looking at you.

"If you are tired, then we should go home. There's no use pushing yourself."

"Hm? I know. I just don't feel like going home yet."

"You have classes in the morning, don't you?"

"Well, I always do. Doesn't matter to me, I want to stay."

Veritas feels strangely glad at that answer, though he doesn't know why. He'd never ask you to stay, but he always wonders if you will. Still, this sort of senseless stubbornness is why he finds himself far too concerned for you.

If only he knew the true nature of this seemingly unearned admiration was something far more sentimental than merely academic. You don't follow him room to room with no attention and stay late nights in the library simply because you're bored, after all.

If only he ever caught on. For a genius, he was remarkably oblivious.

Or perhaps he already knew, but simply did not wish to acknowledge it.

"My work here is finished. Let's go home."

He always said it as though home meant the same place for the two of you, as if the both of you were heading in the same direction at the end of the day. It wasn't the case, but even that illusion was something you found special.

Looking at the loose leaf papers below, his half written sentence where the ink was still drying, you knew he wasn't done and that he wasn't tired. When he was, it always showed on his face and to some extent, his temperament— an already low tolerance for trivial annoyances diminishing to almost nothing.

It was for your sake, that was obvious, but you never knew how to tell him that you'd rather stretch the night hours into infinity than have to greet the loneliness that waited for you behind your bedroom door.

Still, with a sigh, you gathered up your books and the star maps, placing them in the bag and walking out into that inky night with him. Just a touch too close, but not enough.

ii. unseen muses

You looked at the sculpture in front of you, a bust with a name engraved in gold letters on it's pedestal: Antinuos Mondragone. While you had little idea of who this referred to, that deified boy of the mythologies from one of those distant, far flung galaxies—the piece in front of you was masterfully made. Sculptures always held a strange sort of irony; the attempt to make a rigid, unfeeling stone into the likeness of a person. The metamorphosis of an object into something alive, yet too cold to touch; the eye socket was empty, but the deep set of the brow held a melancholy too tender for stone.

You wonder how the sculptor must have felt, chiseling out every soft curl. What their painstaking devotion must have felt like. You wonder if you'd ever be capable of the same.

Your notepad remained pressed in your hands, quick pen sketches of the various arts in the museum having filled it's pages.

It was a study in light and shadow, although crude sketches would fail to capture the full essences of the pieces you had seen in the dim, sun-drenched hallways of the museum. The warm light that diffuses across the cheek, coruscating around the hard edges and made to blur with a sculptor's patient touch— the coarse penstrokes failed there. Mere likeness, lacking of all the dreamy subtlety.

You looked down at your sketch, and then at the bust, but you weren't entirely unaware of the footsteps sounding behind you.

"Ah, I didn't expect to see you here."

Veritas stood next to you, head tilted slightly as he leaned to observe your sketch, then the bust.

"It's a good study in light, and your approach isn't too bad. A few corrections will naturally improve it, but… Oh?"

His eyes, clear and brilliant in the light, caught the slight marks of rouge on the side of the sculpture's lip. You did not catch it at first, but now that you had noticed it, the smudge became impossible to ignore. He seemed, for a moment, slightly mortified at it's implications, but nonetheless cleared his throat.

"I suppose the curator might have overlooked it. It creates an artistic statement of it's own, but… really?" He sounded slightly baffled by the idea that anyone would kiss a statue. It is one thing to be transfixed by beauty and artistry, to admire it, but entirely different to act on such admirations.

However, as you looked at him—glowing in the fading sunlight, perfect as though touched by divinity—you found it no wonder that someone could possibly have had fancied themselves Pygmalion, or perhaps Hadrian, captivated and needing to touch. After all, how could anyone not feel the need to press their lips to something unreachable yet beautiful in all holy reverence?

As Veritas fixed the sketch, smudging out the crosshatching with his fingers, you could understand.

iii. surrender to slow days

Veritas was immune to love until it had fully sunk it's claws deep in his skin.

Perhaps that is why people say that cupid shoots arrows. Such a distressing feeling could easily be likened to a wound. If asked, he could have pinpointed it's location. Several inches deep, stabbed through his back and into the centre of his chest.

But he could not have figured out it's true nature, not a moment before that evening.

It seemed as if all the eaves in the city had somehow conveniently disappeared that day in late July when Doctor Ratio had set out to personally hand over some papers for peer review to a colleague. Of course, it was only a formality, as a digital copy already existed, but there is something of a security in handing over physical writing.

Well, it didn't matter if he had brought those papers or not, as presently his bag was thoroughly waterlogged, and any document in it was likely beyond salvation. It was a good thing he hadn't brought his codex, ruining it would've just made him give up on the day entirely.

The sky seemed clear in the morning, yet just as he stepped out of his home, grey clouds were suddenly overcast and it began pouring. If he wasn't rational by nature, he'd almost consider it a personal slight against him by the gods.

There was something slightly pathetic about standing under a short overhang that dripped water over him every five seconds or so, hair sticking to his forehead and clothes heavy. He picked the collar of his shirt from his neck where it was stuck, and the sensation made his skin crawl.

The only salvation of that evening had been the subtle perfume of petrichor, and of course…

"Doctor Ratio?"

The little droplets of water had suddenly stopped, a blue umbrella awkwardly lodged between his head and the overhang. A voice so familiar he could've known it anywhere, and considering how his day had gone so far, he was glad for this small mercy.

You looked at him with slightly wide eyes, clearly not having expected him to be hanging out under a random alley's eave like some sort of abandoned cat.

"I'd rather you call me by my first name."

"…Huh? Didn't you say you disliked being referred to as Veritas?"

You gently gripped his sleeve, taking him out of the shade of the building and into that of the umbrella.

"I said I disliked being touched as well, but that hasn't exactly stopped you. You might as well call me Veritas too, you've more than had the right, haven't you."

You seemed slightly mortified at that moment, and he realized how his words could sound more than sarcastic. He was a bit slower than he usual on the uptake, but he blamed it on his stressful day. The way his heartbeat had sped up slightly was simply a side effect.

"Sorry, I didn't realize."

When you tried to take your hand away from the cuffs of his sleeve, he didn't stop you, only sighed.

"…That wasn't to say you had to let go."

"So, may I?"

The answer came far too eager than he would have preferred.

"Of course you can."

Soon after, he cleared his throat, muttering a quiet word under his breath. Something along the lines of 'I meant to say, only if you want to,' but the full sentence didn't reach your ears. Once you grasped his hand again, he took the umbrella from you, holding it over both of your heads for convenience.

Conversation was lost in between the sounds of rain hitting glass and quiet murmurs. Your gaze shone like dew drops on the leaves not too far away, and he observed the glint quietly while watching you talk. Somewhere along the way, he had deliberately slowed his pace just to draw out the conversation longer. In this way, in the absence of people and quiet stillness of a world frozen in raindrops; that day his thoughts were particularly consumed by you.

By nightfall, his routine returned to normal, intertwined with yours. The same two seats in the library, two coffee cups and two journals. But something had shifted fundamentally then; a different perspective. A simple, long overdue realization.

At first, he merely considered it a panacea of sorts; it was a matter of simple solace. It went without saying that someone like him was no lacking of such a thing, or so he had thought, but there was strange comfort in sharing his time with you. You slotted in effortlessly in his days and nights, between lectures and sculpting sessions—your presence became a second skin. Like a tattoo without ink, like the splotches of paint on his hands that wouldn't come off.

Weeks passed in this way, and in times when he'd absentmindedly sketch on a loose page of paper, the strokes began to take the shape of your face almost naturally. Only in the late night, turning that piece of paper in his hands, he snapped out of his trance. All he could do was place his head in his hands, sighing quietly to himself.

"Ah, what an idiot I've been…"

Even for all his intellect, it couldn't carry the burden of an affection such as this. The burden of that cherubic arrow, leaden in that open wound.

taglist: @ejkreader, @gravitatives (to be added or removed, send a message in ask box)

[justnatoka]

Murder Capital of the World

Gentle touch of the Sun - Chapter 1

Poly! Lost Boys x Fem! Reader

A/n: A lot of this was written about a year ago, when I was just starting out with writing fanfiction, so you can edfinitely see some clumsy writing in some parts. At least I can. But I decided to mostly leave it as it was, because it's interesting to see how my skills and style has evolved over time. I definitely couldn't have written this series a year ago in a way that felt right, so in the end I'm pretty happy to come back to it with a bit more experience. I'm hoping I can do this idea justice, because I'm definitely a sucker for a good Soulmate AU.

Word count: 5.2k

Warning: fluff, lots of platonic emotions, childhood best friend Michael, meeting your soulmates, slight confrontation but also sweet sweet tension (hehe), a few uses of Y/N

Summary: You arrive to Santa Carla to visit your childhood friend you haven't seen in a year. But along with the happy reunion, you find secrets and untold stories, as well as four strangers who seem to share some history with Michael. And there's just something about them.

Previous part | Next part

Welcome to Santa Carla. Murder Capital of the World.

You breathed out an amused laugh as you glanced at the back of the sign through your rearview mirror. So it really was there, just like Michael had told you. It’s not like you didn’t believe him, more like you didn’t expect it to still be there a year later. Surely, it can’t be too good for business. But judging by the number of tourists you saw as you rolled into town, and from the stories your friend told you over the phone about the beach parties happening in the summer, the ominous sign didn’t seem to have much effect. Most people probably chalked it up to the same thing you did: some local teens trying to cause trouble.

You felt like you knew the town already, even before setting foot in it for the first time. You’ve heard a lot about it over the past year, ever since Michael and his family moved there. You kept in touch regularly, none of you wanting to give up on a lifelong friendship just because he was suddenly many, many miles away instead of the other side of the street. He told you all about the sandy beach where people held bonfires, and about the boardwalk where seemingly the whole town gathered on hot summer nights. You couldn’t deny that it sounded like a fun place.

You turned off on one of the dirt roads leading up into the hills overlooking Santa Carla. Going up the winding backroads while trying to keep in mind the instructions Michael told you about which turns to take, you caught glimpses of the ocean and the beach down below. The waves were rolling gently into the shore, and you could see a few surfers out on the water. You wondered about how nice it must be to live in a place like this.

You finally turned the last bend in the road, spotting the house. It certainly had a… unique charm to it. In a beat down, old hippie kind of way. As you rolled in through the gate, you could already hear Nanook barking inside the house, alerting everyone to your arrival. You barely got out of the car when the front door burst open and the pupper bolted towards you. Dropping down on your knees, you welcomed his energetic greeting, eagerly petting and rubbing his fluffy head and body, earning yourself many slobbery kisses in return.

“Hi there, Nanook! I missed you too so much! How are you doing, you good boy?”

His answer was more excited tail wagging and licks to your hands. You basically saw him grow up from a puppy, having spent many afternoons and holidays at the Emersons’, and it was undeniable that you were one of his favorite humans, aside from Sam of course.

“Admit it, you only came to visit Nanook,” you heard a familiar voice, and as you looked up, you saw your childhood friend standing on the porch stairs with an amused smile.

“Why? Did you think I came for you, Michael?” you teased right back, a wide grin spreading on your lips when he pretended to be offended.

With a last pat to Nanook’s head, you stood up and met Michael halfway as he walked up to you, crushing him into a big hug.

“God, I missed you,” you sighed.

“We’ve been talking every week on the phone,” he chuckled.

“I know, but it’s not the same.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You fell into comfortable silence, the two of you taking a moment to soak up each other’s presence for a bit. You grew up like siblings, and you would be lying if you said the move hadn’t been hard on both of you. Before they left, you promised to visit as often as you could, but then life got in the way, as it always does, and none of you could make the trip sooner. You were just relieved to finally see each other.

Squeezing you one more time, Michael pulled away to get your bag from the car.

“I saw that Santa Carla is still the ‘Murder Capital of the World’,” you mused.

Something changed in Michael’s expression at that, but it was gone the next second, his movements barely faltering as he shut the car door. You probably would have missed it if you didn’t know him so well.

“Yeah, I guess no one bothered to take it down.” He sounded so casual, you figured it was probably nothing serious.

Nanook followed behind you into the house, where you were immediately greeted by Lucy, who pulled you into a warm hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again, honey! You wouldn’t believe how excited Michael was when you told him you were coming. He wouldn’t stop talking about it,” she sent a smile towards her son. You could barely contain your grin as he started blinking rapidly in embarrassment.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Lucy,” you replied, feeling genuinely happy to be so warmly welcomed. But then again, she always had a way of making you feel at home.

“Yeah, I thought he would never shut up,” came a voice from behind you, and you turned around to see Sam coming down the stairs.

You gave him a quick hug too, and playfully ruffled his hair as you let him go, earning an indignant yelp from him.

“It’s good to see this place didn’t kill off your fashion sense,” you teased.

“Yeah, I mean a man has to take care of his appearance,” he muttered, already in front of a mirror, trying to fix the damage you caused to his perfectly done hairstyle. You just gave him a good-hearted eyeroll.

“Mom, I’m going to town to meet the Frogs,” he shouted, already moving out the door.

“Have fun, honey!” Lucy yelled after him.

You looked at Michael incredulously.

“He’s made some interesting friends,” he commented, and you had a feeling that there was a story there. Before you could ask about it however, another person appeared, and Michael changed the subject.

“This is Grandpa. I don’t think you’ve met before.”

The older man walked out of a side room at that moment, sending a quick glance and a somewhat friendly smile towards you before making his way to the kitchen.

“Good, you’re here. Now he can finally stop yappin’ about you coming every other hour,” he tossed it over his shoulder as he got out a root beer from the fridge. Michael facepalmed so hard, you almost started cackling. You thoroughly enjoyed him getting embarrassed by his family. Grandpa paused in the kitchen door and motioned back with the bottle in his hand.

“The second shelf is mine, so keep your hands off,” he warned.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“No need to call me sir, I’m not that old,” he complained as he shuffled back to where he came from, shutting the sliding door behind himself.

You met Michael’s eyes with amusement, and he just shook his head.

“He had a long night at the widow Johnson’s,” he explained with a slight grin, and you now looked even more incredulous.

With greetings and introductions concluded, Michael guided you up the stairs and into a guest bedroom, a few doors down from his own. You looked around while he put your bag on the bed. You couldn’t NOT notice the squirrel sitting on your desk. You stared at it in bewilderment and as Michael followed your gaze, he let out a laugh.

“I forgot to tell you. Grandpa’s hobby is taxidermy. He wanted to give you something to feel more at home while you’re here.”

“I’m not sure I can sleep at night with that thing watching me.” You couldn’t keep your eyes off of it, as if expecting it to move the second you weren’t looking. Michael chuckled and went to grab it.

“Here, I’ll put it in the closet for you. Sammy’s was full of them after the first few weeks.” It was your turn to burst out laughing at that mental image, Michael following suit. When you finally quietened down, he left to make you some refreshments after your long drive, and to let you unpack in peace.

You went downstairs after you finished, and he gave you a tour of the house. You spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the property, sipping lemonade on the porch with Lucy who asked about your parents, petting the horses, playing with Nanook and catching up on what happened since your last call.

As the sky turned into shades orange and purple, you got up from sitting on the porch to get ready to go out.

“I can’t wait to see the famous Boardwalk,” you grinned in excitement while walking up the stairs. “You told me so many stories about the nightlife around here, I’ve been wanting to experience it for myself.”

“Yeah, the nightlife is… something else.”

You looked at him quizzically, his strange tone making you think that there might be some hidden meaning behind his words. His face wasn’t giving you any clue, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to elaborate either, so you let it go.

You really had to ask later what was going on with him. He seemed genuinely happy about you being here, but sometimes he got this look in his eyes that you just couldn’t explain. You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but you had a feeling there were things he didn’t tell you about. Growing up you shared every secret, every worry with each other. This was new, and it made you a little uneasy. As you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit, you decided to try and put it in the back of your mind, at least for the night.

You met up with Michael in the living room and went out to his bike. The sight of him standing next to it, looking at you expectantly brought back memories of years gone by. Seeing his excited face when he first showed you his new baby, having spent his summer holiday working hard to be able to buy it. Opening your door to him and his bike waiting for you to take you away from your everyday worries, away for some great adventure. It was linked to images of warm summer nights, the feeling of wind in your hair, to long conversations about teenage dreams and crushes and anxieties about the future. Any time either of you felt like you needed to get away for a bit, you went on a ride. Michael talked about how things at home were getting worse between his parents, and in turn you confessed to him about your insecurities and how you felt awful about yourself sometimes. It was on one of these occasions that Michael told you about the divorce and the move to Santa Carla. A lot of memories were bound to this bike, it was the representation of your high school lives.

After Michael and his family left Phoenix, your long rides were one of the things you missed the most. They were therapeutic for both of you in a way that your weekly phone calls just couldn’t compare. That’s why you felt a wave of emotions as you got on the bike behind him, and if the fond look he sent you over his shoulder was anything to go by, you knew he felt it too.

Your sentimental mood was quickly swept away by the rush of adrenaline when you rolled out the gate, your body already anticipating the ride. You loved the speed, there was no denying it, and Michael let you indulge, going faster on some of the dirt roads. You held onto him tightly as the wind whipped against your face, the scenery rushing past you in a blur. You couldn’t help but let out whoops of joy, the sound bringing a smile to his face.

You could already hear the noise of the boardwalk before it fully came into view, and as you arrived, you felt your stomach flutter in excitement. You caught glimpses of it during the day while you were driving through town, but it looked even more spectacular during the night. It was truly alive. The crowds of people were just as colorful as the lights that lit up everything, the air filled with screams from the rides, mixed with the sounds of the games and the music coming from further down the beach where, you presumed, the stage was. Behind the smell of popcorn and the sweet scent of cotton candy you could faintly detect the fresh saltiness of the ocean.

As you stood there for a long moment, taking everything in, a warm feeling started blossoming in your chest. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but it felt right. Like this is where you were meant to be. Before you could try and analyze it further, Michael’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Let’s go get something to eat.”

“You know the way to a girl’s heart,” you joked, your pervious thoughts already forgotten.

After getting some hotdogs, you wandered around the boardwalk, looking at all the different shops and stalls, marveling at the small accessories and trinkets and clothes and everything they offered. You screamed your heart out on the rollercoaster, enjoyed a chill ride on the carousel, munched on some popcorn, then challenged Michael to a few games and joked about how bad you both were at them. Eventually, you ended up near the stage, swaying and bopping to the music. You even got Michael to dance a bit, laughing at his less than smooth moves.

It was during you break from dancing, while aimlessly surveying the people around you, that you noticed the girl on the other side of the crowd. She had dark, long, curly hair and even from afar you noticed how pretty she was. And she was watching you. When Michael noticed you staring and followed your line of sight, he froze.

There is was. You knew he was keeping something from you, and it looked like she was part of that something.

“Who’s she?” you asked.

“Nobody,” he replied instantly, averting his eyes from the girl and grabbing your arm, pulling you through the crowd. You just stared at his back in bewilderment. As you stumbled after him, bumping into people left and right, you were starting to grow slightly agitated.

“Michael, stop it.” He didn’t listen and didn’t stop, not until you arrived to an area by the railing separating the beach from the boardwalk, where there were significantly less people. You finally felt like you could breathe. “Michael I swear to god. There’s something you’re keeping from me and I can see it eating at you. Please, talk to me.”

He let go of you at last, and when he turned around to look at you, his body was wound tight with tension, his expression guarded and hesitant. You’ve never seen him like this, not towards you. However, you were determined as you stared back at him, pleading him with your eyes to open up to you. After a long moment, he averted his gaze and let out a dejected sigh. His hand combed through his hair nervously as he leaned back against the railing.

“I knew this would come up eventually, but I was hoping to enjoy the peace a bit longer before that,” he admitted. You furrowed you brow in confusion.

“She’s someone I’ve been dating for a while.”

Your jaw fell open.

“She’s your girlfriend? You had a whole ass girlfriend and you didn’t even tell me?” You smacked his arm playfully, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. After the initial shock, your tone grew serious. “Why did you feel like you can’t tell me about this?”

He was avoiding your eyes as he continued.

“Because if I told you about her, I also had to talk about how we met. And that’s a complicated story.” He hesitantly glanced at you, and you nodded to show him you were listening. “I first saw her the night we arrived to Santa Carla. At the time she was hanging around this group of guys. I knew they were trouble, but I ignored it because I wanted to be with her. And in order to do that, I had to become one of them. I think I even liked it at first.” I hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he recollected some seemingly fun memories. It quickly morphed into a frown however, and it looked like he wasn’t sure how to continue for a moment. ”A lot of things happened, and it turned out they were even more trouble than I first thought. We managed to get away from them in the end, and she hasn’t gone back since. But it wasn’t easy. Some things happened that can’t be changed. They are still around, and even though we try to stay away from them, we still run into them sometimes.”

He looked into your eyes with such seriousness that you rarely saw from him. “These are not good people. I didn’t talk about them because I didn’t want you to worry. But now that you’re here, I guess it had to come out sooner or later. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You listened patiently while Michael was talking, taking everything in. As he finished, you gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, I understand. I still wish I could have helped you when it was happening, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Honestly, I’m just a bit shocked that you managed to keep all this from me. You could never really hide anything, I always saw through you.” You sent him a mischievous grin, lightening the mood and finally making him break into a smile as well.

“What’s her name?” you asked softly.

“Star.” The stupid lovesick expression on his face as he told you more about her made your heart swell. You were happy for him. Happy that he found someone he cared so much about. Sure, Michael had girlfriends before, but you’ve never seen him like this. She must be someone special.

You were too busy to notice the pair of eyes watching you from afar.

Dwayne felt strange tonight. There was something indescribable in the air, some kind of unseen tension, like before a thunderstorm. Other people didn’t seem to notice, and he was about to shrug it off, wondering if maybe it was just him. That’s when he saw you.

Well, he saw Michael first to be exact. It’s been a while since they ran into him, and Dwayne was content to keep it that way. Ever since the fight between their group and Michael’s allies, he harbored resentment against him. Not just for trying to kill them, but also for taking Laddie. He had been taking care of the little guy for so long, he genuinely felt like a younger brother to him. But after Max died, Michael, Star and Laddie all turned back to human. Star left them, found a job and a new place to stay, taking the boy with her. One time they accidentally ran into each other on the boardwalk, she told Dwayne that she reunited Laddie with his family, and they regularly keep in touch. He knew that the vampire lifestyle didn’t suit such a young kid, however that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel some type of way about Michael’s involvement in how things turned out.

As all of this was going through his head, he noticed that Michael was talking to someone. And when he turned his attention to you, the strangest thing happened. A dull ache started growing in his chest, so much so that he began to rub the skin over it absentmindedly. You were glancing through the crowd while you were talking, and the moment your eyes met his, it felt like fireworks went off in his body, spreading warmth through his veins. His breath caught in his throat for a second. At the same time, something crossed your face, and he was sure you felt something too. But the next moment, you tore your gaze from his, leaving behind only a lingering hint of that warmth.

He was so caught up in his emotions, he almost missed when Marko tapped his shoulder.

“What’s going on, man? You alright?”

The blond could see that something obviously wasn’t right. Dwayne’s otherwise calm and collected demeanor was frazzled, his eyes slightly wide as he looked down at him. He didn’t answer, just glanced back in the direction he was looking before, but neither you nor Michael were there anymore. Now Marko definitely knew something was up, when Dwayne started searching through the crowd, turning his head in every direction.

“Dude, you’re starting to freak me out. What is it?” he asked, his voice becoming urgent.

The brunette looked into his eyes and uttered the following words,

“I think I just saw my soulmate.”

Marko’s jaw hit the floor.

You took a deep, steadying breath. Still feeling a little rattled, you tried to hide your nerves in front of Michael by rambling about random stuff, but you couldn’t shake the image of him out of your mind. That tall figure, silky dark hair and brown eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. Something happened in those few seconds while your gaze was connected. You weren’t sure what it was, but you knew he felt it too. You were so caught off guard, you had to forcefully avert your eyes from the handsome stranger. Your mind started to reel a bit, so you suggested going to get something to drink.

When you glanced back as you were moving further away, you noticed he wasn’t alone anymore. A shorter blonde guy was with him as well. The tall one was scanning the crowd, probably looking for you.

“Everything okay?” Michael’s voice snapped you back.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you deflected. He gave you a curious look, but didn’t push.

“So when can I meet Star?” you asked, hoping to turn his attention elsewhere.

“Soon. How about tomorrow?” he suggested with a smile.

“Sure, I’d like that. Maybe we could go for lunch or something.” He agreed with a nod. “You know, you could have just introduced us when we saw her.”

He suddenly became flustered.

“Yeah, about that. I actually asked her if she could give us some space today to just hang out a bit. I wanted to have at least one day before bringing up this whole story. But I guess she was worried.”

“Why?” you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Because that group of guys I mentioned usually hangs around the boardwalk at night. She knew I wanted to bring you here, so she probably worried about us running into trouble.”

You hummed in response.

“I still think it was stupid to just run away from her.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he chuckled. “I guess I panicked.”

“Hey,” you grabbed his arm gently. “Don’t let this situation stress you out so much. I might not know much about what happened between you all, but I won’t just let some guys mess with you. You know I can stand my ground.”

He looked at you funny for a moment, then a grin spread across his face.

“I know. You never let me forget how you kicked Mick Thompson’s ass in second grade for making fun of me.”

“Mick Thompson was a dick,” you retorted, and Michael burst out laughing, causing you to do the same.

“Isn’t this nice,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted. “Looks like someone’s having fun.”

From the corner of your eye you saw Michael freeze up next to you. You turned around and saw four guys standing in front of you.

You immediately recognized the handsome stranger from before, who somehow looked even more attractive up close. He was looking at you with an intense gaze, and from this distance, you could even make out all the little details of his intricate necklace. You willed your eyes not to go lower and start staring at his exposed chest. As you forced your eyes back onto his, he cocked his head to the side in wonder. A blond who looked like he stepped right out of the music video of a rock band had his arm propped on his shoulder, striking blue eyes looking you up and down with a small smirk on his lips. The shorter one you saw earlier was there too, curly hair framing his angelic face. His stance however, reminded you of a jungle cat, all lithe with an undertone of danger. The contrast of it made your head spin. He was peering at you curiously, studying your features.

It was the last one who spoke again, all confident smiles and searching eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. He had an air of confidence and authority around him, leaving no doubt that he was their leader.

“Hello, Michael.” A shiver ran down your spine at his voice, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He directed his attention to you, the corner of his lips curling upward on one side. “Who’s your friend?”

His eyes mesmerized you. The cool blue ignited a fire in your body, the warmth spreading through your veins. It was intoxicating. He seemed to take in every little change, the slight coloration of your cheeks, the widening of your pupils, the quickening of your breath.

Michael’s voice brought you out of your trance, blinking rapidly and averting your gaze, trying to get yourself together.

“None of your business, David.

He sounded upset. As you sent him a quick glance, you noticed he was wrung tight, his body language defensive, and he moved ever so slightly in front of you.

“Don’t be impolite, Michael. Why don’t you introduce us?”

He clearly didn’t want to do that. You could feel the tension practically radiating off of him. You had to deescalate the situation somehow before something happened.

“I’m Y/N,” you chimed in. All heads turned to you suddenly, Michael trying to silently communicate to you not to get involved, but you didn’t back down. You looked right into the cool gaze of their leader, his eyes losing some of their hold on you now that it didn’t take you by surprise. That obnoxious smirk was still on his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” The way your name rolled off his tongue sent excited chills through you, which you pointedly ignored. “We haven’t seen you around here. Not from the area?” His casually inquisitive tone fooled no one.

“I’m visiting Michael from Phoenix.”

“Ah, Phoenix. And how do you know each other?”

“Is this an interrogation?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

David raised his hands in mock defense. “I’m just trying to make friendly conversation. We want to get to know Michael’s friends better. He used to be one of us after all.”

This caused the others to chuckle, and David’s smile grew. However, it sent Michael into rage.

“You leave her alone!”

“Michael, it’s okay,” you grabbed his arm, stopping him from lunging forward at the group. Some of them seemed to practically anticipate a fight, and looking at the odds, it obviously wouldn’t end well for you. “Don’t let him get under your skin. Relax.”

The blond rocker guy chose this exact moment to speak up, his tone filled with mocking. “Yeah, you heard the lady, Mickey. Relax.” The others started laughing, and you had to hold him back again.

“And you,” you turned on them, now clearly annoyed. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I’m not gonna just stand around and let you bully Michael. Leave us the fuck alone.”

They started laughing and whistling even more at your outburst.

“All right, kitten,” David spoke again, his voice filled with amusement. “We’ll leave you alone.” He turned to leave, sending one last grin towards you above his shoulder. “Let’s go, boys.”

“See you around, sugar,” the shorter blond waved with a mischievous smile, the taller one giggling and patting him on the shoulder. The brunette looked at you for another long moment, his face unreadable, before he followed the others.

When the crowd finally swallowed them, Michael turned to you.

“Are you okay?” His eyes were full of concern.

“I should be the one asking you that. It was them, wasn’t it? The guys you told me about before?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“What a bunch of douchebags,” you grumbled and Michael let out an uneasy laugh, the tension slowly leaving him.

“Thanks for what you did, you know, standing up for me and all.”

“Of course. It’s what friends are for.”

He got silent for a bit before turning to you with a serious expression.

“They are a lot more dangerous than they seem. I don’t want you to get involved with them. But knowing David, they’re not going to just let this go.” He seemed conflicted.

You put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I have no desire to talk to them again.” You shared a smile before you decided to head home for the night, both of you in the opinion that that was enough excitement for one day.

But despite what you told him, you couldn’t deny that something has changed within you. These strange newfound feelings confused you, not really finding any explanation for them. You also had a feeling you would see these four boys again, and your stomach clenched at the thought, whether from nervousness or something else, you couldn’t tell.

David was deep in thought as they made their way back to the bikes. The others, however, were in an excited frenzy.

“I’m not trippin’, you felt it too, right?” Paul was looking at each one of them, practically buzzing with energy.

Marko nodded enthusiastically. “I half thought Dwayne was pulling my leg, but it’s true. She’s our soulmate.”

“Max never said anything about more than one person having the same soulmate,” Dwayne interjected.

“Maybe, but I sure as shit felt it,” Marko countered. “And so did you,” he pointed at Paul, “and you,” he turned to Dwayne. They unanimously looked at David who still hasn’t spoken a word.

“Even if it seems strange, it looks like we all share a soulmate,” he declared. The boys let out excited whoops. “We just have one problem. What do we do with Michael?”

They fell silent at that.

“We have to remove him from the picture,” Marko clenched his fists.

“Not so fast,” David cautioned. “If we take him out permanently, we might lose her.” And even though things irreparably changed between them after what happened to Max, David still wasn’t sure he could kill Michael if it came down to it. But he wouldn’t voice that, of course.

“Then what should we do? We’re not gonna just let it go, right?” Paul was getting agitated.

“No.” David’s voice was full of resolve as he climbed onto his bike. “We’re not letting her go.”

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[pyramultimuse]

Cole sat up straight and when Arthur placed his hand on his chest he placed his other hand over it, holding it over his heart. He didn't want to think about loosing Arthur so soon, there was so much he wanted to experience and share with this man and the fear he had felt the last couple hours nearly broke his heart. But they were going to be alright now and he could look forward to more time spent together.

"We need to take a break. Cool down, eat and drink. I don't know about you but I'm starving." He said and helped Arthur to sit up. "They're fixing us a nice feast and a place for us to rest, going to be here for awhile while we recover." Cole explained and stayed at the other's side, he felt weak but he had enough strength in him to help Arthur who he was sure felt much weaker. "You can lean on me, it's not a far walk."

"Yeah...the worst part is behind us." He muttered. "I don't breathe so well since...since so long. I think it's working." Cass' caressed on his chest got him blushing, feeling all tingly, but he couldn't help but smile a little. Seeing Cass cough and look so tired worried him at first, but if himself in such a worse shape had made it, Cassidy sure had to make it as well. Arthur just remained still feeling Cole's hand on his chest, a soft blush on his cheeks and nose, he felt so happy they were together.

"Yeah, I almost didn't make it. At that tent I thought there was no way back. Thanks for not giving up on me. I'm here thanks to you." His eyes were reflecting such a deep tone of green- they seemed tired, but so relieved. As they rested, his thoughts started to wander. If he really got cured, did that mean he would be able to kiss Cass without any consequences? W...why was he thinking that?? Arthur blushed harder, this time at himself- was the fever making him imagine such things....?

But he knew...and he could feel it. The thirst was there. It was nearly impossible to deny it. Gently he also moved his hand to Cole's chest, touching him gently- and what a strong chest he had. Arthur made a brief little weird noise when he felt Cole's chest against his palm, a soft brush almost turned into a caress and Arthur was almost shaking.

"Yeah...the worst part already is in the past."

That was so true. It was a new start for him now. His gang, his friends, his illness, it was all left behind. What seemed to be over was now just the start of his story, the book starting a new chapter instead of being closed.

[lambiconic]

Hey! I love you’re writing and was wondering if you could write maybe a John Price x suicidal reader comfort?

If that’s out of your comfort zone, I understand. Have a lovely day!

lifelines

this is heavily inspired by my own experience with suicidal ideation! i hope i did you justice.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You thought about it a lot. Dying. 

You spent so much time imagining your own death that it felt strange whenever you realized most people didn’t. 

They could open a medicine cabinet without picturing themselves swallowing every pill. They could lean over a balcony rail without fighting the urge to climb over. They could keep a gun beside their bed for protection and never wonder if, on a bad night, it might become a way out. 

It was a part of your daily routine, really. Wake up, hold your hands in your head and think about it. Sometimes you’d cry, sometimes you couldn’t manage those tears. But every day you still had to get up. Pull on your house shoes and trudge into the bathroom. Brush your teeth, fix your hair, dress yourself, maybe a cup of coffee if you felt like it but you never felt like much.

Every single day, every single day. Stand on the sidewalk and imagine throwing yourself into traffic. Every single day. Pass by the park and imagine drowning in the lake. Every single day. Go grocery shopping and linger at the sleeping pills. Every single day.

Wake up, and put your head in your hands and think, let the weight settle on your shoulders like it does every morning.

Until one day, it didn’t. Or maybe it did and you just couldn’t feel it, because there was something much heavier. A strong arm tossed around your mid section and pulling you back down with so much force you let out a little squeal. 

“You get up too early..” Followed by a shower of kisses down your neck.

Oh, okay. He’s still here. 

Your one night stand. An impulsive decision but you needed the dopamine and he was very easy. 

You wondered if all one-night stands turn into one-day stands, maybe that was why he was in your house still…. What you didn’t expect was for him to linger. When you finally stood up, he stood too.

He followed you into the kitchen. Into the hallway. Into the bathroom doorframe, just talking. Just there.

You didn’t get a second to think that day. To lose yourself in your usual thoughts. 

He caught your wrist before you opened your cabinet, you didn’t get to lay your eyes on a single bottle before he pulled you back against him. “Let me make you breakfast…”

He pulled you away from the street when you took a step too close while getting the mail, warned you about staying away from the water at the lake when he followed you on your walk that night.

He stayed with you until the sun went down…and stayed that night too.

You wondered if John knew he was like the sun. Bright and warm. If he knew he made you want to stretch out against a lawn chair nursing a sweating glass of water and just relax. Maybe that's why you were dating him now.

It was definitely why your mornings started staring at his face instead of the floor. Pulled into his chest until he decided he had to pee too bad to keep you stuck in the sheets. 

It was why you started to eat breakfast again. Not because you were hungry… but because he sat across from you. Smiling over his coffee like mornings were something to look forward to. You started laying out your clothes the night before, ironing out wrinkles you used to ignore. You spent extra minutes on your hair. Not for vanity, but because somehow you wanted to look like the version of yourself he seemed to see.

It was why you stopped a foot away from the street now. Because you didn't want to go any closer. Why you could lean on the edge of bridges and just watch the fish swim. Why your fingers could graze pill bottles, take one for a headache, and slide the cap back on without lingering.

But even with all the good days, even with *him*, there were still moments. Still bad days. The kind where the heaviness crept back up your spine like it never left. What did you do then? When the light felt too far away again? When the voices in your head whispered the old, familiar lines, asking if any of this was really enough to keep you here?

When it told you you were a burden… that he’d see what you were and leave? 

You sat with it. Sometimes you cried. Sometimes you didn’t. But more often now… you told him. And he didn’t flinch.

You didn’t mean to say it. Not like that. Not on a Tuesday night when the world was already too loud and you’d barely made it through the door without crumbling. But the moment you sat down you saw the way he looked at you. 

“I wanted to disappear today,” you said, voice small. “Not in a poetic way. Just… I wanted to kill myself.”

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t rush in with comfort. He just shifted closer, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice low.

“Rough… everything.” You shook your head before nodding, trying to swallow around the weight in your throat. “Everything felt like it was pressing in. I walked past a bridge and thought.. I just thought about it."

Your voice cracked, full of shame. “And then I felt guilty. For even thinking it. For thinking it so casually.” 

Silence fell between you.

“I still think about it,” you whispered. “Not every second anymore. But enough. More than I want to admit– I thought I was doing better!”

His hand tightened gently around yours…that same steady warmth he always offered when the words got hard.

“You are doing better,” he said softly, like he wasn’t trying to convince you, just remind you. “Doing better doesn’t mean never hurting again.”

You shook your head, frustrated tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “Then what’s the point? If it keeps coming back..then what’s the damn point of trying so hard?”

You looked down at your hands, the same hands that once trembled over pills or clenched too tightly to railings. His thumb brushed across your knuckles.

“Bad days don’t erase the good ones,” he said. “They just ask you to hold on until they pass. And you don’t have to hold on by yourself anymore.”

He didn’t try to fix it. Just reached out and took your hand, warm and grounding.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” he said. “Not today. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him. Not because the pain was gone...but because someone was finally willing to stand beside you in it.

[deadhands69]

Reader Loses Their Virginity to Tomura Shigaraki [Request]

Tomura Shigaraki x afab reader

To the anon who sent this - sorry it took so long!! Request: [ Can you do a Shigaraki virginity loss fic where its readers first time ? Like maybe he doesnt have alot of experience but she has none or something like that ] -- I spent a while trying to find the original ask to link, but it's unfortunately buried and no tags I searched brought it up which is on me. -- tws: nothing beyond what it says in the title

It has to be well past midnight, at least you think it is. There are no windows. In the faint glow of his monitor, Tomura Shigaraki stares incredulously at you.

You’ve been dating for a while, long enough to know you’re not the first person he’s been with. At first that made you nervous – you’re both in your twenties so he’s probably been with people with much more experience than you and you have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve never even had sex. What if you’re bad at it? What if he finds out and leaves? As time went on, you felt weirder about bringing it up since it’s the sort of thing you probably should have told him months ago. Instead, you steered things in other directions, hoping to avoid the conversation.

Which brings you back to now. 

As your boyfriend grinds into you, the hardness in his pants is impossible to ignore. So is the wetness in yours, as you press yourself back. There’s no way you can hold yourself back from him and…it slips.

Cue Tomura Shigaraki staring at you like you just told him you were dropped here by a UFO.

“You're kidding, right?” he says while his hand hovers the tiniest distance from the elastic of your underwear. 

“Is that a problem,” you ask. Your voice sounds small, like it's not yours anymore. 

“No,” he replies in a rush, “not at all. It's just surprising. I've never been anyone's first.”

“Oh,” you pull back slightly. “Sorry, if it's too much pressure we don't have to. I know it's a lot to drop on you.”

“No, it's not that at all. It's just…are you sure you want it to be with me?”

“Better you than anyone else,” you say. “I don't expect everything to be perfect or anything unrealistic, I'm just comfortable with you.”

Tomura closes the gap to kiss you but he's smiling too much. “Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.”

“Deal,” you half mumble through a kiss. 

Kissing turns into more and before you know it, he’s made his way between your legs with his cheek resting against the inside of your leg. Your underwear are forgotten on the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him. Yet he’s the one who looks nervous.

“Are you okay,” you ask hesitantly. Maybe he is bailing.

“Yeah,” he says, voice muffled as he kisses the crease of your thigh. “I just don’t want to fuck your first time up.”

“You’ll be fine,” you run your fingers through his hair, “like I said, I don’t expect anything perfect.”

He continues kissing. Every brush of his rough lips over your soft skin sends tingles through you. His mouth hovers over your clit, you can feel his warm breath before the slipperiness of his tongue makes your toes curl. 

It doesn’t take him long to get you worked up, especially not with how heavily you were making out earlier. You feel drunk on him, needing anything he can give you. If you had told him ages ago, you could have been doing this the whole time. At least you’re here now.

Your hips are shaking and you can barely catch your breath. You're so close, just a little bit more and –

“Save that one,” Tomura's mouth pulls away from you, “I want to make sure it feels good when we start.”

Start. You were so in the moment that you forgot there is a next step to this. 

You nod, catching your breath as you sit back against the sheets. It’s been seconds, but you already miss the feel of him.

He presses up from the bed, pulling his underwear down. You watch as his dick springs out with a bounce. It’s hard already. And, while you’ve felt it through his pants, the size of it is now starting to wonder how that could possibly fit inside of you. Sure, you’ve tried toys, but never anything that size. What if it doesn’t fit and he leaves? You watch as he stretches a condom over the tip, rolling it down his length. He seems to sense your unease, kissing your cheek and whispering, “we can stop here if you want.”

“No, I want to. I’m just nervous, that's all.”

“Okay, let me know if you want to stop.”

You nod.

The tip of him feels smooth as he slides between your lips. Slowly, he moves deeper. At first it stings slightly, but the feeling subsides. Tomura stays still, eyes glued to yours for any signs of discomfort. When the tension drops from your face and your breathing goes back to normal, he pulls his hips back slightly before slowly pressing back in.

It doesn't hurt, but the pressure is new for you. It's different in a way you could never replicate by yourself. 

“You okay,” he whispers, you can feel the restraint in his voice.

“Yeah,” you breathe back, the word catches in your throat. It catches you off guard how lewd your voice sounds. Tomura seems to be spurred on by this though, bringing his hips to a slow but consistent pace. At first you wondered how he would fit, but your body has other ideas – sucking him in as much as possible. You can hear yourself moaning and you’d almost feel awkward about it if he wasn’t just as loud. Hearing Tomura like this is so much hotter than you thought it would be.

In no time, he has you quivering again. Your hands grab desperately at his shoulders, leaving trails of pink in their wake. Every snap of his hips sends ripples through your body, more and more until you’re gripping his back and falling apart in his arms. Whatever you expected, it wasn’t this.

“Fuck, I'm not going to last very long,” he cries, moving more erratically. The uneven pace does nothing to slow your own orgasm.

“Fuck y/n,” he moans as his hips stutter to a stop. “Sorry,” he mumbles into your neck, “next time I’ll last longer.”

You smile, happy to know there will be a next time.

[tomura shigaraki masterlist]

taglist: @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16

@shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

 @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @love-for-yoosung-kim @venom-barf

[kaivenom]

can you please write a shanks + beckman x reader? I just wanna know how they'll operate given that they're sharing one s/o. THANK YOU in advance if you do write this.

Dating Shanks and Beckman HCS

Warnings: polyamory and NSFW part separated.

Masterlist

Surprisingly for them is a normal thing, like an unspoken agreement.

Since he is the captain and he is the right hand it is natural to share everything, they are best friends.

They have shared woman before, but only in bed... so a real romantic relationship is a little more tricky for them.

Not because the can't cooperate but because neither of them is the usual romantic partner type.

One of them is always with you, especially on battle cause they can't handle the idea of you getting hurt while they aren't looking.

Shanks is the one who usually acompanies you to shopping clothes, he says he wants to give you the best feedback ever... and he is, like your biggest fan and the best critic, sitting outside the changing booths and giving you scores, notes and everything.

On the other hand Beckman acompanies you to chores and grocery shopping, he is the type of men than carries all the bags.

They both try to teach you how to use their type of weapon, even challenging each other on what you would be better at.

Sharing a bed is easier that you thought cause you use Beckman's chest as a pillow and Shanks cuddles you as the big spoon in some sort of tetris, a funcional one.

Everyone on the crew knows not to mess with you and everyone outside the crew takes little time to get it.

They too are not really jelaous of each other, maybe it happens when you are spending much time with the other or you are annoyed at one of them and use it to your advantage.

Shanks gets all grumpy and pouty, really obvious and noisy, everyone knows when he is jelaous cause he wants them to know.

Beckman gets silent and isolates himself from the two of you, he groans for response and is short of words, only an apology, talking or kisses gets him out of the mood.

Towards others, they aren't jelaous cause how could you trade them for anyone else? but they made clear who you are with: an arm around your shoulder, dominant kisses, hickies on your neck, intimitading looks, etc.

But they still argue at some points cause they are two different type of people and they don't always argue with the other.

Before you entered the crew, the other members tried manipulating them so one of them says sorry first and they can talk, now you are here, that responsability is yours.

You are the one who makes them sit down and talk, or delivers messages, sometimes you even have to slap them on the nape as a reprimend.

Both of their PDAs are more reserved to the bedroom, even though that Shanks tends to kiss you a little more outside of the quarters.

Since the height difference is high, Beckman loves to kiss you on the forehead, and Shanks on the cheek.

Hugs don't ussually happen but when they do, you feel like the cheese of a sandwich being pressed between two big slices of bread.

NSFW

Like I said, they have experience sharing woman, so no problem from there.

The problem was making it romantic and not just erotic.

They wanted you to feel like their partner and not a one night stand, cause they know you know about their reputation.

Before having sex for the first time, they spent about a week arguing the best ways and positions to make you feel good and loved.

They even (somehow) made paper, scissors, rock to decide who would eat you out first.

When it happened, you were a little nervous but they took it so serious that soon enough you felt really relaxed and safe.

From that moment, they always try to be romantic while also savage to you.

And when you told them that they can be rough with you and after that compensate you with aftercare, they became beasts (in a good way).

Sometimes you can't walk after being with both of them, but you don't care, thats what you asked for, right?

You three konw that you can't be always together to have sex so you set a rule: if you want to have sex just two it's fine, but then you should say it to the third one.

Which often leds to a sesion of dirty talking, a little of vouyerism and another round of sex.

Shanks mouth is voracious while Beckman loves using his fingers on your clit.

They both love being sucked and jerked off, but they acknowledge your desires and retribute you right.

Their fantasy is for you to take them at the same time, and they are secretly training you for that, mostly using small toys on you while you have already one of them inside.

They aren't opposed to some kind of homoerotic tension while having sex, but probably will never do gay intercourse... but once you convinced them to make out.

[intimidaid]

🤑 AABUUNDANCE 🤑 MIIINDSEEETTT 🤑

explaining what it's like to know you never lose, in brainrotted baby monkey terms...

"my s/o broke up with me, i guess i'm not good enough"

WRONG. 👎👎👎. ❌❌❌❌. BUZZER.

"my s/o broke up with me, now i have more time to show my true, amazing self to the people who will appreciate it"

✅✅✅✅

AABUUNDANCE MIIINDSEEEETTT

"i just spent so much money, i'm going to be so broke for the next few weeks..."

❌❌❌❌

"i had enough money to afford a fun experience, i'm so lucky"

✅✅✅✅

AABUUNDANCE MIIINDSEEEETTT

"i was too undisciplined to study, so i only got a 60% on the test"

❌.❌.❌.

"i didn't study and still passed the test"

✅!✅!✅!

AABUUNDANCE MIIINDSEEEETTT

"i was burnt out and ended up staying at home for several school years"

❌❌❌

"i passed several school years by doing nothing except lounging in bed all day"

✅✅✅

AABUUNDANCE MIIINDSEEEETTT

you are never losing; you only ever gain.

AABUUNDANCE. MIIINDSEEETTT.!!!

i am so lucky. abundance is a natural thing for me. i can spend whatever and have it return to me in tenfold. i don't even have to spend; my desires are gifts that keep being given to me just because. everything works out for me. things are always working out for me no matter how it looks at any point in time. that's just how it works. i only lose problems and gain advantages.

[callizinc]

Ok. I'm about to talk about something that... maybe everyone else has already completely put together 😭😭 BUT I haven't seen much discussion of these kinds of ideas so let's just get into it anyway HEHE!! So:

I think I understand the Forgotten Man in Chapter 3.

Firstly, something that's always made me (and my friend. Shoutout if you see this) wonder, ever since I first played Ch3, is how this Shuttah says that TV World used to look like.... Undertale. Like they say it used to be Undertale. Preceded by a line that was something like "There used to be the great wilderness here:"

.....Like. Okay. Undertale. That's Undertale. Like.... Why? .....Hello?????

And then they say:

Which i always found Very interesting. All the Dark Worlds we've seen thus far showed no signs of ever having, I guess, a "history" before their civilizations were built. It seemed as if Card Castle popped into existence already being made up of its original four kingdoms, for example.

So the concept of a Dark World that started out as just wilderness and THEN grew its civilization BECAUSE of Tenna, like it's TENNA that created the world's structure and civilization, just seemed very strange and fascinating?

(How tragic is it that Tenna spearheaded the building of TV World and all its society, possibly as a way to keep the Dreemurrs entertained and happy, only for that, too, to become obsolete and forgotten eventually? Just like the wilderness he apparently built it on top of?)

But no matter. Because I think I get it now. I get All of it.

Let's cut to Mancountry/the Forgotten Island, the last remnant of any "wilderness" we see in all of TV World, where the Man says:

I guess I do question if when he says "the whole world looked like this" he means that it was like... A video game??? Or everything was green???? Or just in a general sense that it was more wild???? Or maybe all of the above. Because either way, the whole world used to be Undertale. For some reason.

I think the Forgotten Man and the Shuttah are talking about what the Dark World looked like before the Dreemurrs bought the TV and brought Tenna home. Or, maybe they're describing what the world used to look like before Tenna frequently began to be watched by the family...? One of the two.

But, crucially, I also think this is a representation of Kris having grown up and lost the light and wonder of their childhood. A representation told a little bit through our experience as players, too.

Because Undertale is something the large majority of Deltarune players obviously have a lot of nostalgia for. Once upon a time, when many of us were children, the whole world was a frozen waste, a watery basin, a metal desert; it was a great wilderness, with no infrastructure to force you into society, nothing to force you into contracts or societal obligations or anything of the sort.

But overtime, we had no choice but to grow older and watch as ourselves and the world around us changed. The new things we had to focus on in life, the boring things, the mundane things; all of these things were built over the time we spent loving Undertale without a worry in the world.

Of course, this is a bit of a dramatization, I know none of us... Forgot about Undertale to the point of having to be reminded about it by a Childhood trauma Tree man????? But still You get what i mean hopefully LOL

And again, the same goes for Kris, even though they have no frame of reference for the descriptions of what TV World used to be. We know the Forgotten Man has SOME kind of connection to them personally, as well as their childhood. After all, the Forgotten Man says "the whole world used to look like this," and then says:

So not only can he only speak in Kris's Dark World, he can only speak in the last remnant of the nostalgic wilderness that used to be their Dark World's entire landscape. Yeah that feels pretty supportive of this idea I think LOL

The whole world used to look like this: wild, free, barren of reminders of the things that have gone wrong or all the things that have changed. Maybe it all used to look like the video games little Kris enjoyed... the ones they inadvertently played with Ramb. But either way, it was childhood innocence, plain and simplistic fun.

Hell, not only is the island the last remnant of the wilderness, it's the only place that seems to house the people who never joined Tenna's contract, the Seven Flying Aces. Based on what the Shuttah says about how people who didn't like Tenna's change left, I think the Aces might've been some of those people. Especially since Kris apparently lost them in the couch, maybe them leaving and not joining the contract is the Dark World's representation of that.

Either way... as Kris grew older, as some kinds of strange and terrible things happened to them and their life never improved again, all of the simplistic innocence that used to exist here began to disappear.

In TV world, Society was built over the wild: boring things, contracts, jobs, a world that is organized and trying to be fresh and conform to the present day, and yet is desperately clinging to the way things used to be.

In the real world, what was built on top of the wild was boring, hard for a child to understand, yet life-altering all the same. Maybe it was struggles with money as Kris's father lost his job; divorce proceedings and custody arrangements; their brother leaving for college. Either way, in both worlds, things continued to change until all that was left of what used to be was this single island.

Kris never seems to talk much about their childhood, anyway. Noelle reminisces so much about all the things they did together whenever she's around them, but we have no indication that Kris ever says anything similar, or ever presents memories of their own.

I doubt they like talking about it. They'd probably rather this island not be here at all, with how they have apparently forgot the Man countless times before. But no matter what the deal is, there's at least SOME part of them that still wishes they could go back to these times. If there wasn't, why would the Man appear and speak at all?

And if the Forgotten Man does have some kind of connection to whatever traumatic events they've suffered, as I think is extremely likely, We already know that no matter how hard they try, they "can never wash it all away."

And at the end of it all...

It's unclear how soon he means by "soon" because just prior to this dialogue, the Man says "But one day, this island will disappear, too." The phrasing of "one day" versus "soon" does seem confusing and brings to mind different time frames... But change can come in sudden and unexpected ways, after all.

Either way, the world marches on. Forgotten Island is the last haven for those who didn't join Tenna's contract, the last group of people who refused to join the march of changing times. The last reminder of the times we spent with Undertale when we were young, But try as one might, no one can escape the march of time forever.

But even if this island will disappear one day, that doesn't mean it'll be the end of good times you had like when you were a child.

Kris may not understand this yet... But no matter how much is built around the places you grew up, no matter how much you try to forget everything the reminders of your past, no matter how much things change, no matter how much you've moved away from Undertale: