#i tried and tried and just could not fucking manage that

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

next

[holybibly]

The latest news, my sugar bunnies.

Unholy thoughts of the day: Seonghwa's oral fixation always gets worse before a concert, as his girlfriend you help him to relieve the tension.

"Seonghwa, baby, you have to… you have to get ready for the concert…" Your hot, wet breath fanned the soft, thin skin of his ear, sending shivers of excitement down his spine. "Can you hear me, baby?" But all your attempts to get through to him were completely useless because Seonghwa could barely concentrate on your words. And how could he, when you were fucking yourself deep and slow on his cock, with two of your fingers sliding sensually between his plump, wet lips, rubbing against his tongue and caressing the inside of his cheeks? Your rings clinked against his perfect, snow-white teeth as you pushed them deeper into his insatiable mouth, pressing the soft tips of your fingers to the back of his tongue. "It's… so good… I just need a little more…" That's all he can manage to get out. His velvety, pornographic voice is muffled by the wet sounds of drooling saliva and noisy swallowing as he speaks through your fingers. "Fuck my mouth, my beautiful star… Please… Fuck my mouth… ""Everything for you, Hwa."

Your fingers slip out of his mouth for a moment, all slick with spit and cherry lip balm, only for you to rub it all over his luscious, fuckable lips in a kinky, dirty caress. But Hwa doesn't care, he opens his mouth wider, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, as he thrusts his hips up so that the thick, swollen head of his cock presses right against your cervix. The hot, smooth walls of your cunt immediately tighten around the massive girth, holding it securely in a velvety grip and stimulating the bulging veins on his cock.

"Fuck, Hwa, just like that... You do it so well, the most beautiful boy ever".

Behind the closed door of the dressing room you can still hear the loud cheers of the fans who have come for the sound check and you wonder for the umpteenth time what they would say if they saw Seonghwa like this - needy, whiny and not afraid to beg for what he so desperately wants.

What would his fans say if they found out what a slut he really is?

Your fingers return to his mouth, and his long, soft tongue immediately begins to move diligently to wet your fingers with his saliva.

You grab his chin with your other hand and hold his head still so you can enjoy the fucked look on his beautiful, godlike face. With drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and his dark cat eyes unfocused and heavy, you can easily see how much he enjoys having your fingers in his mouth.

Seonghwa pulls in his cheeks and sucks hard on the tender appendages, his tongue moving fast and chaotically around your graceful fingers, reminding you of how his tongue used to dance in the same way between your labia, licking and rubbing the moist, sensitive folds of your needy little cunt as you swallowed his amazing cock deep down your throat in your favourite 69 this morning.

You begin to move on his cock again, noticing how Hwa's eyes glaze over, becoming nothing more than a smooth black mirror. He looks like he's in a daze. Drool drips from his luscious lips, his tongue lolls out as he tries to swallow your fingers.

His loud, whimpering moans come through your fingers, and you just push them deeper, making contact with the back of Seonghwa's throat, making him choke on both his saliva and your fingers.

But just as you're about to pull away, thinking that maybe things have gone too far, Hwa's teeth sink into your fingers and his lips close tightly around you, preventing you from pulling his treat from your mouth. His muscular thighs begin to move wildly, the fast pace hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your walls clench, fluttering around Seonghwa's cock.

He came before you, his whole body shaking and his eyes rolling back. Hwa is too stunned to notice that you're carefully pulling yourself away from his cock and instead start rubbing your swollen clit hard and fast to bring yourself to orgasm.

The sound of his name falling from your lips as you finally cum catches his attention, and Hwa smiles apologetically at you, looking away shyly.

"Sorry, angel, I didn't mean to..." Seonghwa squeezes out barely audibly, his voice getting huskier and lower.

You smile lovingly at him, kissing his rosy cheek lightly.

"It's okay, love, really. I don't mind helping my handsome boyfriend with his damn hot oral fixation. But I still expect you to fuck me senseless after the concert."

[mayapapaya33]

Well at least you're disagreeing with what I DID say and not what I DIDN'T say! That's fine then, I much prefer that. Yeah, sure, agree to disagree that's fine.

As for the misogyny bit you're going for... um no. It's a bit ungenerous that you defaulted to that interpretation but ok. No, like Yeza, I am supportive of Veth's career as a strong independent adventurer lol. In your mind is there no happy medium between what happened in canon and what you just proposed? Her cowering in a basement in Felderwin forever? Do you REALLY think that's what I meant? Yeza loves her enough to not live in Felderwin in the latter part of the campaign, do you really think he wouldn't leave Felderwin for her if she had somehow managed to explain the situation to him earlier, or if finding a way to get a new body took longer than it did in canon? What if they never found an answer? What if she was stuck in the body of a goblin forever? Would she have been justified in never telling her family and never seeing them again?

Goblins are not reviled everywhere in the world, there are places they could live together in peace. And let's be real, how old is Luc anyway? Who knows? Certainly not Veth! Does he remember the terror of the goblin camp properly in his teeny tiny toddler brain? Even if he does remember, Goblins are a race of people not actually creatures so they should probably confront that at some point so that he isn't scared and prejudiced against an entire race for the rest of his life due to childhood trauma. Idk just putting that out there.

For instance, in this alternate universe where finding a spell for a new body took longer, maybe they could have set up a home base somewhere less anti-goblin for Yeza and Luc to live, much like the set up in Nicodranas during the latter half of C2 with Veth popping in and out visiting them between adventures. My point about finding a new body taking longer is that at a certain point, it does become a conscious choice to stay away from her family on Veth's part. Yes, the goblins are 100% responsible for their initial separation, but at some point, it is Veth's choice that keeps them apart. So how long does it take for it to stop being an acceptable decision? 1 year, 5 years? 10 years?

The Mighty Nein could hold off the entire city of Felderwin if they tried to start shit with Veth, so eventually it's not about her bodily safety anymore. It's about her fear of rejection. (I'm fairly certain Caleb could take the whole town by himself with a well-placed AOE lmfao). And I know they are allergic to it, but subtlety is also an option. Seriously, what if they never found an answer to get her a new body? Would she have never seen her family again? Sometimes there is no answer to life's gross unfairness, and you just have to bear terrible things and live your life anyway. That's my point. I'm thrilled for Veth that she got her wizard treatment plan and has a new body. That's fantastic! I'm saying sometimes life doesn't work out like that, and how long is it ok for her, or Anyone, Male, Female, Non-Binary, what-fucking-ever, to stay away from their family and not reconnect with them?

I hold everyone to the same standards of parenting I'm holding Veth to btw. Shitty double standards are shitty. I think Veth tries hard and does her best. But sometimes your best isn't good enough. To be blunt, she's an alcoholic who can't remember how old her kid is. Yes, the meta reason for that is because Sam Riegel can't resist making a joke and child ages are hard and he didn't think about it before the show. But Yeza knows how old Luc is and Veth doesn't. She straight up said she was drunk for most of his childhood. (1:04:26) The Mighty Nein Reunion: Echos of the Solstice.

Now, this is NOT to shame people for having a substance abuse issue, it's a serious problem and people deserve compassion and help. But it's still a serious issue that causes a lot of problems for the people around them. Again, in the entire context of the show, the scenes themselves are all very funny, but the in-universe facts of the matter are actually quite sad. Think about it, she was drunk for MOST of his childhood. Think about the implications of that.

To take the spotlight off of Veth for a moment, let's speak of probably my favorite mom in critical role, Marion. Perhaps this will clarify my stance on things, and maybe you'll still disagree, but that's ok. I love her dearly and she is a wonderful person. She is kind and caring and she love's Jester with all of her heart, but she is also not the best at parenting on the planet. She did the best she could, but her agoraphobia caused her to unintentionally neglect Jester. It's not her fault that she's mentally ill, but it was her responsibility to take care of Jester, and in that respect she failed. Life is hard and no one is perfect. Sometimes that's just the way it is. But child neglect is still child neglect, even when it's unintentional and you have good reasons. Now, I happen to like Marion as a person more than I like Veth, but I'm holding her to the same standards. Are you taking care of your kid, yes or no?

You said that Veth is indulgent because she feels guilty, yes that is 100% what it is. Which is totally understandable but doesn't exactly lead to the best parenting decisions or the best partnering decisions either. Honestly poor Yeza got volunteered into owning a dog and having their kid do combat training without even a private conversation, you'd think that would warrant a discussion between them. (I'd be annoyed if a male character unilaterally decided something like that without consulting a female character, why not extend the same consideration to Yeza?)

Here's an example, Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43): She unloads the crossbow of arrows, puts the "safety" on (lol) and stresses the importance of a balanced education, so that's great! Well done parenting right there! But she does immediately follow it up by getting the crossbow back from Luc by trading him a Grappling Hook for it lmfao. Not super safe for a 5ish year old to be playing with, those things are sharp! If she gave him extra candy or toys that would be one thing, even the dog is pretty forgivable and within acceptable levels of spontaneous indulgence given everything they've been through. I feel like THIS level of indulgence crosses some pretty firm parenting lines of Hey, maybe don't hand a 5ish year old something they could accidentally kill/maim themselves with! Maybe that's just me though?

Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43) but she trades him a grappling hook at (1:48:23) hahaha.

If you watch all those family scenes again, try your hardest to ignore how funny everyone is being, which is a difficult task I'll grant you, and actually look at what is factually happening with the characters, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Or maybe you won't, like I said, it's fine to have different interpretations of things. I'm not saying she's a bad person, I'm saying she's a complicated person and she's not super great at parenting, but she does try.

Or here's a big example, how about that time Luc straight up died because Veth and Jester couldn't shut the fuck up for 10 minutes to let Caleb cast the dome to make their families safer in a completely unknown location while they were on the run from a terrifying evil wizard? You'd think responsible parenting (or responsible daughtering, looking at you Jester, your mom is right there!) would prioritize the safety of the child, rather than wandering around chatting about future plans for a detective agency in a potentially dangerous situation.

Veth IS a rogue, they could have snuck around the whole time, but they were having fun and got careless, and the cost was steep. She lucked out big time that Caduceus is THE Cleric of all time and saved a spell slot. (The blame is shared 50/50 with Jester on this one, it's just a vibrant example of the shit I'm talking about. She's reckless, makes bad decisions, and endangers people accidentally).

Again, the meta reason for this is because Sam and Laura can't stop cracking jokes, and THEY were having fun, and weren't paying attention to the volume of the conversation because the CR cast forget to do that all the time anyway. Too bad for Veth and Jester that it reflects INCREDIBLY badly on their characters this particular time. And Veth has a history of carelessness so you can't even say it's out of character, or just a one-off incident. Considering she accidentally killed both Caduceus and herself by being careless, it's a fairly consistent character flaw at this point.

(At least she pays child support though lol you are correct. Where's Relvin's child support Liliana?! Granted the child support payments from nowhere did freak Yeza out a bit so they might also double as accidental psychological warfare, but oh well, she DID try, I give her all the credit for that!)

As for the "hag thing" it's not about "thought crimes" or whatever, it's about her having the support system around her to have the strength necessary TO resist stuff like that and like Halas, etc. It's like how without the Mighty Nein Caleb would almost certainly have ended up back in Trent's web as a Volstrucker (Liam and Matt said it themselves, and that was Matt's plan if Caleb left the group) or Fjord would have ended up releasing Uk'otoa (Uk'otoa). Thinking about doing a thing, and doing the thing are not the same. I merely acknowledge the potential inside her for doing the things, and I think it's more than "just a thought" or a "moment of weakness." In the right circumstances, I think she'd do it. But she has support and love and hope and a wizard treatment plan, so she won't.

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[secret-moonstruck]

PLEASE COMEBACK TO ME | K.SN

— Pairing: sunoo x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/n and Sunoo broke up because of his jealousy. But even though Y/N ​​was angry, she ended up surrendering to him.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, overstimulation.

It had been almost a month since Y/N and Sunoo broke up, all because of a stupid fight after he got jealous and ended up offending her, about how she couldn't be so stupid as to not notice that Jungwon, her ex, still liked her.

Y/N was still angry with Sunoo, so she was furious when she saw him arriving at the party he was going to have for the residents of the building and Y/N was one of those responsible for organizing the event, he knew that so he didn't miss the chance to go, he needed to apologize, but she was avoiding him.

During most of the event she managed to avoid him despite him continuing to follow her, but when one of her neighbors stopped her with the excuse of talking about her twin children that Y/N always stopped to play with, Sunoo was unable to keep her distance. he pulled her in the middle of the conversation.

- What the fuck do you think you're doing? - She screamed at him when he dragged her to a room where there were some things that would be given at the end of the party.

- You've got to be kidding me. Don't you know the nonsense he said about you out there? I don't want you anywhere near this guy again, who knows what he might do.

- What, what does it matter to you? We're done, in case you forgot. You have nothing to do with who I talk to. And he was just talking about the babies, you're so paranoid.

- The babies? Okay, you seem to really like babies. - He said sarcastically.

Y/N opened the door to leave, but he slammed the door shut again, before hugging her from behind.

- Wait…Y/N forgive me. Not just for now, but for that day too. I shouldn't have offended you like that, please forgive me.

As he spoke he kissed her neck, she tried to let go, but he continued, and she wasn't really trying, he knew very well how to provoke her, how to manipulate her, she was already melting in his arms.

When he didn't receive a response, he turned her around and kissed her, she responded and then he intensified the kiss as he guided her to the back of the room, pushing her on the table, knocking everything that was on top of her.

He moved away to take off his shirt while she did the same. Y/N pulled Sunoo back by his belt to finish taking off his clothes, who soon did the same to her. He kissed her again while her hands went straight to his penis, spreading the precum that already covered the tip, he moaned into the kiss, how he missed her.

A shiver ran throughout Y/N's body when she felt his beautiful fingers against her wetness. He broke the kiss smiling at her.

- You missed me too, there's no denying it, look how you're already dripping for me. - Sunoo said before licking his fingers. - How I missed that.

Sunoo couldn't take it anymore, he lined himself up rubbing the tip against her entrance, she twitched in anticipation when she felt it rub against her clit.

- Go soon Sunoo. - Y/N was clinging to him with her face in the crook of his neck.

- So hurried, always so desperate. - When he said that he penetrated her at once, hitting her deep.

Y/N's nails were digging into his shoulders as she felt him give strong deep thrusts, he was punishing her for depriving him of fucking her in the last few weeks.

As he quickened his pace he made Y/N straighten up, holding her face he wanted to see her expression of pleasure, he missed seeing how fragile she was when he was inside her. Taking his other hand to massage her clit making it squeeze around it before cumming, he groaning seeing her beautiful face full of tears as he continued pounding her sensitive insides, he wanted so badly to cum inside her soon but he tried to prolong it as long as he could to continue seeing her expression of despair being overstimulated. When he finally came she clenched around him it felt like he would never stop filling her with his sperm, she ended up having another orgasm as he continued his movements, he smiled before finally stopping his movements. A victorious smile that irritated her. She knew that expression, he did that when he planned something, but she didn't understand what.

While getting dressed, Y/N cursed him, but she also cursed herself, not believing that she had given in so easily.

- Don't think I've completely forgiven you, let's talk later, I need to take care of the event.

Y/N was setting up the toast table when she saw Jungwon talking to someone, she approached to say hello, after all even if it was her ex they still maintained a certain friendship.

- She's a manipulative bitch, she's cruel, no one could stand dating her. - Jungwon said to his friend.

She thought he was talking about her so she gave him a dirty look as soon as he saw her. But to her surprise he smiled when he saw her and approached her.

- Y/N, it's good to see you. - Jungwon said excitedly.

- I heard what you were saying, I hope it wasn't from me. - She scolded him.

- Of course not, you are perfect; A crazy girl has been following me. That's who I was talking about.

While they were talking, Y/N saw Sunoo staring at them, he looked upset and angry, after all Jungwon was the reason they broke up.

Soon she was called by another resident saying that they needed her, so she said goodbye to Jungwon.

Y/N would have to present a new space that they would open in the building for pregnant women and newborns.

When she finished explaining about the place and everything that would be available there, she saw Sunoo smiling at her, but ignored it. While checking if everything was ok at the tables she felt arms around her waist, it was Sunoo hugging her.

- This new space is great for future moms. If it's up to me you'll enjoy it soon, if everything went well I've already left a gift in you. 

Y/N turned around immediately, when she saw that smile on his face again she understood exactly what he meant, and the meaning of that smile earlier.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[deeplyshalllow]

I will agree with you that Fiyero is woefully underused in the musical, so we do have to use what we have to decipher what information we do have about him. Either way is headcanon.

However, this is what we get from act 1:

1) He is good at lying to people about who he is, all while being able to make himself likable

2) He is secretly unhappy and has been thinking about the day with the Lion Cub a lot

3) He takes the initiative to save Animals and help Elphaba, but in a way that doesn't immediately get them caught

With this in mind, along with his bitching in Thank Goodness and the fact that he immediately turns on the Wizard and runs off with Elphaba the moment he has a chance, I think it’s a much more plausible headcanon that he has always been working as a double agent than your headcanon that he’s decided instead to randomly embrace being a fascist.

“You're basing your interpretation of his character on speculation — because it is somewhat difficult, in some ways, to reconcile the compassionate boy we saw in the woods with the fascist commander he's become by Act II — but I'm basing my reading on sheer text; on the actions and statements on the page.”

Oh honey, you are so close!!! Maybe it’s hard to “reconcile the compassionate boy we saw in the woods with a fascist commander” because he isn’t one? Maybe if you “read by sheer text; on the actions and statements on the page” you’d realise that his actions in act one don’t make sense in act two if you read him as part of the regime? Are you sure you’re not “basing your interpretation of his character on speculation” because you don’t like Fiyeraba?

“Saying you'd totally join the Gestapo instead of the Resistance if given the chance — because of "resources and information" — is not the winning argument you think it is, I'm sorry, lol.”

Oh sorry, Fiyero should have just gone down to the resistance job shop and got a top post there! The resistance that, as far as we know, basically doesn’t exist, as it doesn’t seem like Elphaba has got much help either (we know there’s rebel Animals that shelter her, but she’s also at the point where she tries to beg her father for help and seriously considers just giving up and joining the Wizard). It is probably endlessly easier for Fiyero, especially with his connection to Glinda to get into the Gale Force.

You also completely ignored my second part of the argument. Someone has to do this job, if it’s not Fiyero it’s someone a lot worse. We know Fiyero has compassion for Animals, we know Fiyero wants to protect Elphaba (we literally see him doing so three times in act 2). If Fiyero places himself in command, however grim it might be, he now has some degree of control over Oz’s army and how much damage they can do to the Animals and Elphaba.

“None of which was REMOTELY planned, or even likely.”

It wasn’t planned that he’d meet her in the throne room, no, but it certainly was planned and relatively likely that, by putting himself as the head of the search for the Witch, that if she was found in a dangerous situation he could get her out of it. He manages to get all his guards away and for her to escape safely, he couldn’t have done this if he’d been in any other position.

If you’re talking about the wider context, no obviously Glinda taking over wasn’t planned from this. But you told me him being in the Gale Force achieved nothing, it saved Elphaba’s life and allowed the ending to happen.

“Yes, she was literally forced into that, lol. Claiming she wasn't forced into her position when she was literally captured and molded into an asset of the regime — and then moralizing about her trying to make the best out of her literal enslavement — whilst somehow insisting that Fiyero going out of his way to enlist as an armed servant of the regime wasn't "endorsing the regime", is actually absurd.”

Oh don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you patronise Glinda by saying she didn’t have a choice. Don’t you ignore those quotes I gave you showing how she enjoyed it. Even her sad verse in Thank Goodness imply she joined because she wanted it (and only later found out it wasn’t quite how she planned). No one was going to imprison her, (you think my headcanons are wild lol), in the movie she literally only went to follow Elphaba because Morrible told her to, in the play she was given a little more agency, but she still made it very clear she was going to “get her back”, there’s literally no reason at all to enslave her, even in their eyes she’s done nothing wrong.

But ok, let’s take your “enslavement” fantasy scenario. Fiyero is literally the next candidate for Morrible to “enslave”, she knows he and Elphaba were at least tentative friends, she might even have realised he was also absent after the day with the Lion Cub, he’s dating Glinda and his royal connections and fame and likeability make him a useful asset. If Morrible really is blackmailing people to join her on trumped up charges, it would be very easy for her to either use the Lion Cub situation to blackmail into it, or threaten to hurt Glinda if he does not.

Sounds far-fetched? Yeah, you’re right. He joined willingly. Like Glinda.

“He acted on spontaneous desire, as he always does, and is a nihilist who never gave a shit about any of the things (or people) he cast to the wind to begin with. "He lost everything" — and you expect me to find that brave and romantic, I take it? I don't. Throwing caution and care aside to run off and have a passionate night with the object of his affects isn't WRONG — and I've never said that it is — it's foolish and selfish and impulsive.”

This is headcanon.

This is canon: he pointed a gun at the Wizard to help Elphaba escape. He had to escape too. (Did they have to have sex in the woods? Obviously not, but that’s kind of not really here or there, the egg was already broken, might as well make an omelette).

“He doesn't think about the potential consequences of abandoning Glinda; for never cared about either his own safety or hers,”

I’m sorry, are you really blaming Glinda telling Morrible and the Wizard to spread a rumour about hurting Nessa on Fiyero? Talk about fucking victim blaming.

I’d argue he cares a lot about Glinda’s safety actually, it’s pretty telling that all three times he saved Elphaba in act 2 (funny, you haven’t mentioned that in your reply) he leaves Glinda in a place where she not only is safe but can’t possibly be seen as and arrested for supporting Elphaba. As for his own safety? Well he secures it in the throne room, by the cornfield scene he’s sort of out of options – so he gets his girls to safety and sacrifices himself – that’s not not knowing the consequences, it’s deciding he is ok with them.

“When he makes "plans", they're all very ad hoc and making resourceful use of situations that he absolutely did not (and could not) have planned for.”

Not the Elphaba faking her own death plan! That must have taken days as the scarecrow. And careful manoeuvring of everything involved!

“I think it's a bit sad that he behaves that way tbh: because it speaks to his pretty hollow existence, as Elphaba herself identified.”

Well I have happy news for you! He no longer has a hollow existence! That’s literally what act two is trying to tell us!

Elphaba: Fiyero, you frightened me. I thought, I though you might have changed.

Fiyero: I have... changed.

*

You’ve got me seeing through different eyes

Somehow I’ve fallen under your spell

and somehow I’m feeling it’s up that I fell

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[bexcookiee]

All the Batkids failed their first drivers test. They all got too used to occasionally driving the Batmobile. (Whether they were allowed to or not.) They broke at least half a dozen road rules each minute in that car and all struggled to switch to legal driving.

Dick was first and he got so many lessons to correct his poor driving. After being a menace of a child and Bruce letting him get away with shit, despite all the lessons Dick just couldn’t get the “way too many” road rules to stick in his head when he would go out a break half of them once a week. He was fully angsting during this period and only tried the test a max of twice before Jason died and he took a long break. (And maybe drove a lot of vehicles illegally when he needed to, there was no proof.) When Tim came along he tried again. At this point he had (illegally) driven enough and was old enough to properly understand road rules and passed on his next shot at it.

Jason died too early to take the test as ‘Jason Todd’, he took the test once in his main civilian identity and was about a meter away from crashing before the instructor slammed the brakes. He forged the license and told everyone he only failed because he couldn’t stand the backseat driving. He has crashed many vehicles and sends any of his traffic violations to Bruce to pay (despite having crime money that could definitely cover it). Dick bails him out frequently when he gets taken in due to the sheer amount of repeat offences Jason’s racked up. (Jason getting revived legally would just mean he claimed to have taken the test and wouldn’t actually take it.) TLDR; Jason literally never gets his license but certainly failed first time ‘round.

Tim was pretty close, he didn’t sleep the night before and told everyone ‘this is how I work best’. He failed on account of accidentally speeding, max 10km/h, over the speed limit when he zoned out slightly. He failed the second time because he, again, didn’t sleep the night before and so fucked up his parking and failed to stop properly at stop signs. He got his license third try when he actually got some sleep the night prior. However no one ever wants to get into a car with him because he never actually sleeps enough for his driving to become road safe.

On Cass’ first drivers test she failed on account of ignoring road signs. After driving the Batmobile regularly using the quickest route she was used to turning left despite signs that say no left turn and honestly stop signs, what are those? Cass was begrudgingly a little more sensible than some of her siblings so she drove the Batmobile more often and instinctively broke many of these before the instructor could get a word in edgewise. Her instructor considered switching jobs after she crossed four lanes of traffic, very well mind you, when there was absolutely no reason for her to even go that way. (It was the path she always took to Arkham after a breakout. Instinct had kicked in.)

Duke failed for speeding. There were a couple other infractions but he managed to get those excused, no one really knows how. Miraculously he got his license on his second try. (He shouldn’t have, letting him on the road was a mistake.)

Damian got a bunch of lessons and tried really hard to show his siblings that he was the best of them. By the time he took the test he got all the normal stuff down and could probably drive better than Duke or Cass when he wanted to. He failed on account of accumulating too many little infractions. He was pissed. He took more lessons, like way more than he actually needed to, and also got his license second try. No believed he actually got it without threatening his instructor (he tried it the first time) legitimately and wouldn’t get in the car (civilian ids) with him behind the wheel for a good while.

[quarterlifekitty]

To add to my earlier ask about how I have more step-dad Nik, your add on was so good because absolutely. Yes. Sweet girl is too fucked out to ask about protection or to think of anything other than Nik fucking load after load into her. She also doesn't think to ask for protection the next day in the shower since Nik gets her so worked up with his mouth first. Makes her cum on his tongue at least twice before fucking a few more out of her and filling her again. Cleans her up too, happy to hold his sweet girl and bathe her. Now I don't know how but she manages to get Nik to let her leave a second time (Nik is getting a new house ready closer to her college so she can attend online schooling, he doesn't want her feeling stir crazy when she's further along after all) and about a month after getting back she finds out she's pregnant. And despite being absolutely terrified of the situation she doesn't want to get rid of it, or at least keeps putting it off out of nerves. She eventually asks Nik if she can come visit and he's like 'oh, I sold that house, too many memories with the ex, new house is much closer to you though, do not worry' and he picks her up. Hand on her thigh the whole way to his (their) new home. She tries to act normal and everything but Nikolai can tell his sweet girl is distressed and presses her for the reason. Eventually she caves and tearfully confesses she's pregnant and she's 'so sorry' that she was so reckless and that she swears she won't bother him with anything and she'll go and he doesn't have to worry about her. And Nik only smiles 'Ah, what makes you think I'm mad? Hmm? And on that note, what makes you think that I'm not going to keep my pretty girl right here where I can take care of her?' and while SD should definitely be nervous and the red flags should be waving she never had a great basis for healthy relationships and she is falling for Nik as ashamed as she was of it at first. She keeps asking him if he's sure and it gets to a point where he just picks her up and takes her to their bed to show her just how sure he is. Funny side note Nik fully shoots her mom a text with something like 'thanks for introducing me to my soon to be wife, you should expect grandchildren within a year. Don't expect to see them though.' (take any dialog I type as an idea of what someone says cause I'm ass at typing in character) Once again thank you for listening to my rambling

Bro please ramble here all the time forever. I love this and I owe you my life.

Nik sending his ex a picture— doesn’t have your face in it, but you’re wearing like the one piece of family jewelry you ever got from her side of the family. It’s got your baby bump, and his hand holding yours— got a pretty ring on it now, too. And then he blocks her <3

Also reader like 100% has daddy issues in this one. Like her mom is piece of work and her dad is completely absent for whatever reason— when was the last time someone took care of her? Probably back when she was physically incapable of caring for herself. From the moment she could dress and feed herself she was on her own. It’s why it’s so painfully easy for her to fall into things with Nik. After a life that kind of treatment, Nik’s brand of doting is like crack.

And I like to imagine, while she might not know this in a full conscious way, she wanted to keep the baby because she fully expected Nikolai to leave her. It’s what she’s used to— and it’s strange for her to depend on him so much when he’s just her former stepfather, no? She’s constantly second guessing herself about leaning on him even a little— that she’s probably bothering him, and he’s just too kind to tell her off. But she does love him. So things would be hard, to raise the baby on her own, but at least she’d have a piece of him with her. She could remember the moments they shared that way, even when he left her.

She’s in for the fucking, no, the lovemaking of a lifetime when she confesses that little tidbit to him.

(This is all just my humble onion as this story is yours lol but this is what goes on in my imagination realm)

[jareaul0ver]

I love you, I'm Sorry

wc: 978 warnings: angsty but a happy ending! pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

A/N: omg im actually posting?? don't get used to this i go back to school soon and probably wont post anything til either spring break or the summer

Two Years Ago

You were pacing around your apartment, waiting for Nika to come over like she said she would.

Nika's been your unofficial girlfriend for a while, but you never put a label on what you had.

But she was leaving for the W soon, and you either wanted all or nothing with her.

A few minutes into your pacing, there was a knock on the door. You walked over and opened it, seeing Nika's smiling face. "You wanted to talk?" She said.

You nodded and invited her in. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee or tea?"

Nika shook her head and sat down on your couch. "I'm okay, thank you."

A small sigh left your body as you went over and sat down, leaving a bit of space between the two of you just in case everything went south.

"What's this about?" She asked cautiously.

You took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch a little. "You're leaving soon, and-"

"That doesn't mean this has to end, if that's where you're going with this," Nika interjected.

A small frustrated sigh left your lips. "What even is this, Nika? Are we girlfriends? Or just casually fucking?" She stayed silent and you just scoffed. "It's your choice, either we put a label on this, or I'm done."

The last thing Nika wanted was to completely lose you, but she didn't like the ultimatum you were giving her. "That's not fair, I need to focus on basketball-"

"And just lead me on the whole time? Have me thinking we could be something more, even though we never will be?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was getting difficult.

She sighed and stood up. "I- I'm sorry, but I can't do this," she said before grabbing her things and walking to the door.

You stood up and watched her. She was so ready to leave, no hesitation. "So that's it then? You're just leaving?"

Nika's jaw twitched and she stared at you for a moment. "I"m sorry," she mumbled before opening the door and leaving, letting it close behind her.

You forced your eyes away from the door and looked out the window, watching the May atmosphere warming up the world, but it felt so cold in your apartment without Nika.

It hadn't been that long since Nika left for the W, and everyone already loved her. She charmed everyone she met, other players, fans, the media.

It's like she trained herself, got lessons on how to be a people person. She never was before. She was always polite, but kept to herself.

Except around you. You always were able to break down her walls and see what was really going on with her, how she really was.

But now you see this people pleaser on TV and social media, and all you can do is complain to your friends about it.

Two Summers from Now

After a while, you had managed to get over Nika. Well, more so over what happened with her.

You'd always have a soft spot for the girl, she saw you and supported you at your worst, and you could never stop loving her because of it.

It was ironic. You were about to head out to Seattle to visit some friends, and Nika was about to get on a plane back to Storrs to see her friends.

At this moment, you broke no contact with her. You sent her a text, hoping she didn't have you blocked, or that she didn't change her number.

You were a little surprised to see an answer from her short after you sent the message. The two of you ended up talking about life, realizing that just maybe, you could be cool with her.

She gave you some advice about Seattle, and you let her know how excited the other UConn girls would be to see her again.

The next few days went by in a blur. You were in Seattle, taking in the scenery, leaning out the window of your hotel and having a drink.

I love you, I'm Sorry

You were still in Seattle. You didn't realize that Nika had messaged your friends, asking what hotel you were at and your room number.

She came back early, and she wanted needed to see you before you left. She wanted to attempt to fix things.

Nika's feelings for you never left. She knew that she reacted badly when you told her what you wanted, and she wasn't sure that she could forgive herself for walking away so easily.

But she at least needed you to know that she still loved you.

At about 10pm that night, there was a knock on your hotel door. You looked over in confusion before getting up from your bed and walking over.

You opened the door, and it was like everything from the past few years came flooding back. "Nika?" You invited her inside. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to say sorry for everything. For the way I reacted back then, I was a dick about it, and you didn't deserver any of it," she said.

You were speechless, so she took it as her que to keep going. "I was the worst, and every time I go for a drive I think about the ones we used to take to clear our heads. I swear, it haunts me-" She cleared her through.

"Nika-" You said, but she cut you off.

"I still love you, I'm sorry." The words fell from her lips so effortlessly, you couldn't help but want to give in and see where it led.

So you did. You caved and rushed up to her, pressing your lips against hers.

It lasted for a few seconds before you rested your forehead against hers. "I love you, and I'm sorry, too."

[adhdo5]

An incomplete list of things LXC daydreamed about while holed up somewhere hiding from the Wen in occupied Yunmeng with nothing better to do and it's the most unstable and terrifying experience of his life but at least his rescuer is life-changingly hot

Kissing Meng Yao under the moonlight. Obviously

Calling him a-Yao. Also obviously

Showing Meng Yao around a fine and normal Cloud Recesses

Someone from the Cloud Recesses showing up and LXC introducing them to his wonderful rescuer

Nie Mingjue showing up and LXC introducing him to his wonderful rescuer

Mentally replaying the time Meng Yao held his hand for 37 full seconds and the expression MY was wearing about being allowed to

Meng Yao holding his hand forever maybe?

Meng Yao's lips have been a bit dry with the cold lately and he licked them the other day and LXC has been thinking since about what would happen if he'd been like Hhey can I t;ake care o fthat for yuo

"Meng-gongzi, I... I've never been at someone's mercy like this before..." "Don't worry. I'll be gentle ^_^"

Meng Yao's beautiful dazzling mind means he manages to get some vital information abt the Wen troop movements and this wins them the war and he's legitimized and it's awesome and some idiot says MY would be nothing without LXC's vouch and LXC goes You have it the wrong way around... I would be nothing without him 💗 and then the entire bus claps and cheers for MY yayyyy ☺️

Hearing out Meng Yao's miseries and reassuring him and holding him gently. Meng Yao of course tries to bear it alone and with grace but Lan Xichen is honored to hear out Meng Yao's woes and be of any sort of help he can... 🥺

"Ah... you've... found a conveniently remote and/or insulated space that one could theoretically play a musical instrument in without alerting unwanted attention...? Would Meng-gongzi mind terribly if Xichen played a song for him....? :looks at you with my sopping wet romantic eyes:..."

Seeing Meng Yao's wrists

Seeing Meng Yao's collarbones

Seeing Meng Yao's... well... let's just say...

"[coughs weakly] Please, Meng-gongzi... it isn't your fault... it's only by your kindness I survived as long as I did... Meng-gongzi, the qiankun bags in my effects are the remains of the Cloud Recesses library... you must return them to Gusu when it is safe... tell my didi... tell Wangji I believe in him and I'm sorry..."

Actually saying something abt the Cloud Recesses and how fucked up scared he is right now and having Meng Yao actually comfort him. Which is of course the most shameful daydream of all.

"Meng-gongzi, with such news of the Cloud Recesses... I... I'm afraid I have nothing to repay your kindness with... whatever shall I do... all I can offer you to settle my debt is..... my body.........."

Just straight up unvarnished contextless sex. It's been a minute and he is tired and miserable and scared and horny they can't all have plots

[l0relaii]

reader riding josh sloooow and steadyy, while josh smokes. either cigarettes or weed. he feeds some puffs to reader as well with his own hand of course…yum

this is.. perfect..

it's late at night. outside it's raining very heavily.

you can hear the rain drops hitting the glass of your bedroom window

you're straddling josh while he smirks at you

"come on bae.. you know what to do.."

and you do. you wrap your hands around his cock lifting yourself a bit to nudge him at your entrance

he bites his lip while reaching for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter on his nightstand

you sink down on his twitching length with a small whimper

"fuck.. josh i told you to quit smoking inside-"

he takes a cigarette out of the pack and places it between his lips before answering

"d'you want me to open the window babe?"

you turn your head to the side watching how heavily it's pouring out

"no but-"

"that's what i thought"

he thrusts up harshly into you making you lose your balance and fall forward on his chest.

he continues his heavy rhythm making sure you're a bit fucked out before straightening you back and urging you to bounce on your own

the cigarette is still hanging between his lips, maybe he forgot about it?

wrong

his hand comes down on the mattress searching for the lighter hidden between the sheets

"come on baby.. bounce on my cock.. that's it.. goooood girl, yeah just like that.."

when he finally finds it he shoves it in your hand

"could you help me with that?"

you look dumbfounded. he's not even sure you heard him

"what's wrong baby..? too cock drunk to light my cigarette..? maybe we should sto-"

"nono please no please don't stop-"

you fingers fiddle with the lighter clumsily trying to light it. his hands have a steel grip on your hips, a reminder to not stop your movements

he rolls his hips making your aching clit rub against the soft curls at his base when you finally manage to make a flame appear, but you drop the lighter on his belly at the sensation

"fuck- shit i'm sorry"

"come on darling, try again"

he knows what he's doing.

otherwise why would he rub your puffy nub everytime your fingers tried to make the lighter work?

you got this. come on. press down just a little harder and it should-YESS THAT'S IT

good, now lean down and light up the tip of his cigarette

he watches you like a hawk, stopping his teasing for a moment while he drags the smoke deep into his lungs

after the cigarette does light up he leans back on the bed frame taking slow puffs while watching you with lidded eyes

his eyes trail from your expression, down to the way your tits bounce up and down from your movements, down to where his cock and your pussy are connected and he lets out a drawn out moan of your name

he blows the smoke in your face watching your face scrunch up at the smell

then he brings the cigarette to your mouth watching you wrap your lips around it slowly taking a drag of your own

"see how good it feels baby..?"

"mhm.."

you exhale the smoke through your nostrils leaning your head back and closing your eyes focusing on the way he feels inside you

when you open them you lean down on him trying to get another puff

he smirks as he lands a firm smack to your ass cheek with his empty hand and brings the cigarette close to your lips, brushing it against them

when you open your mouth he drags his hand away making you chase for it frustrated

"what were you saying babe..? about smoking inside..?"

"oh shut up josh"

after you're done you lay beside him with your chest heaving slowly

he takes the pack handing you a cigarette of your own, this time lighting them himself

you watch the flame flicker between you two lighting up his beautiful features

then you talk. about life, about what you did that day, about what you were gonna do tomorrow..

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

You’re like the best writer of smut here ☺️☺️☺️

Please I’m begging 90s James (can be any era) taking reader’s virginity? But he didn’t know she’s innocent and she thinks after all the groupies he fucked he’d be disappointed in her? But he’s actually super turned on, cause no one touched her and now he gets to ruin her??? So I guess corruption kink, purity kink, dirty talk, size kink (he’s big, we all know that)???

A/n: I've had this conversation with a friend a few times, my idea is that -going off of the picture of James on the record, we all know the one- he's roughly 5-7 inches (8 being a generous amount) because he's holding himself in his hand and there's still some poking out, plus he looks flaccid SO by my calculations I've come up with said lengths, let me know if you want to hear more of my thoughts on sixty year old mens dicks🫠

Warnings: Smut, size kink, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), idk about corruption and purity kinks but I tried lol, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You straddled his lap, arms around his neck with your fingers laced in his hair. James's arms were around you, holding you close while he attacked your lips with your own, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You'd been dating for two months, getting closer to three, and you still hadn't told him he would be your first. You'd gone on a few dates, some highschool romances but those didn't mean anything really.

You were quiet and kept to yourself, you didn't go out, you didn't get dates, how you managed to get him was beyond you but here you were, in his bed, in his lap, in his arms with his hard on pressed firmly against your ass.

Honestly, you didn't think you'd make it this far with him. James was a rocker, the lead singer of a big band, he'd been with so many women it was hard to believe that he went cold turkey just because he met you.

"Sweetheart," he spoke, getting your attention, "what's wrong?" He asked, bringing a hand up to your face and thumbing your cheek in a soothing motion.

"What's wrong..?" You repeated softly, letting him move your face further away so he could look at you. "Nothing's wrong, why?"

"You were thinking about something." He said with a warm smile. "You stopped kissing me."

You gave a small nod, understanding why he was stopping now. "Right, sorry." You leaned closer to kiss him again but you only got a quick peck before he pushed you away again.

"What were you thinking about, sweetheart?" He asked, eyes flicking down to your red lips.

"Nothing." You assured.

James rolled his eyes. "It's not nothing, tell me." He said sternly, looking you in the eye. You chewed your cheek, he knew just what eyes to give to make your knees weak.

"I'm sorry." You finally said. "I know you're used to a lot of women, you're used to groupies, and I'm not them and I don't think it'll be good enough but I want to try, I just literally don't know how..?" You explained.

James blinked at you, expression blank. "Sweetheart, I mean this politely, what the fuck do you mean?" He couldn't hold back a small chuckle. "Are-are you saying you're scared you're not good enough at sex for me?"

Your mouth opened before the words came out. "Well, yeah but that's not exactly what I meant." You mumbled. "I mean... I-I might be lacking in the, um, sex...ual... intimacy? With, you know... others?"

James inhaled deeply, he gave a nod and rested his forehead on your shoulder. "Sweetheart, are you trying -and failing miserably, might I add- that you're a virgin?" You huffed at his comment but you had to nod.

"Yes." You mumbled, fingers curling in his hair to scratch his scalp. He gave a small hum and pulled away from you again, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he did.

"Right, and I'd be upset because?" You thought for a while but whatever train of thought you were on was cutoff when you felt him twitching against your ass. "Sweetheart, we can take it slow, you just gotta talk to me."

You inhaled deeply, nodding along as he spoke. "Jamie," you started, "I-I want you to take me... my virginity..." Your voice fell to a mumble, embarrassed at actually saying it out loud, so bluntly as well. Straight to his face.

James smiled up at you. "Alright then." He said, hand going to undo your shorts.

Your face flushed as he did so. "What-what are you doing?" You asked, slight panic slipping into your voice.

"Don't worry, I told you we can take it slow." He assured, closing the gap between you for a moment as he helped you out of your shorts. "But that means I have to get you ready for me, sweetheart, it's not gonna be easy fitting me into you if you're not ready." While it made sense you didn't want to think too much about it.

James continued to pepper your face with kisses as he pushed your panties to the side. He ran a finger through your folds, giving a small hum of approval at how wet you were already. He pushed a finger into you, enjoying the soft gasp that left you when he did.

"Tell me, sweetheart, and be honest." He spoke. "You have touched yourself before, haven't you?" He asked, combing his free hand through your hair.

You hesitated before answering, cheeks already dusted a candy red colour. "Um, I-I have toys..." You mumbled, unable to look him in the eyes as you said it.

James's smile widened. "You do, do you?" He asked. "And when you use them, you think of me don't you?" He questioned further, started to pump his finger in and out of you.

Your breaths grew heavy, eyelids fluttering as his finger moved. "I think of you, Jamie." You said, but it wasn't enough, you were already going this far, you had more to get off your chest. "I-I think of you on top of me, I think of the faces you make and I think of what you sound like... I think of you naked, I think of-of what you'd look like with my-my hand around you... your cock... I think about what it-it looks like when you cum." Once you started you couldn't stop, all the filthy things you'd been thinking about coming out like dirty commandments.

James listened in slight shock, he hadn't known you to be so needy. "Filthy slut." He said with a smile, adding a second digit. "Keep talking." He urged. "I want to hear what else you think of when you're getting yourself off."

The addition of another finger made you whine but he slowed down to let you get used to the stretch. You swallowed thickly and nodded, mentally preparing yourself to continue.

You closed your eyes, letting his fingers resume the same motion, in and out, slow and curling to find what made you tick. "I think ah-about riding you, my-my hands on your chest while you tell me wh-ah- what to do, how-how good I'm doing."

"What kind of toys do you have, sweetheart?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You bit your lip, he wasn't even supposed to know you touched yourself, now he was supposed to know what you're using to do it with? "C'mon, I won't judge." He said, kissing the tip of your nose as his fingers curled in you, making your eyes roll and he knew to hit that spot again.

"They-they're vibrators."

"They?" He repeated. "As in multiple?" Your eyes widened as the realization of what you'd admitted to. "Naughty girl." He curled his fingers again, bringing you closer to your already nearing release.

James added another finger, moving his hand faster now as he scissored your hole in an attempt to prep you for his cock. "When you're alone in bed with your toys, that's how you do it, isn't it?" He asked for confirmation.

You gave it willingly, nodding your head as more moans started falling from your lips.

"You're thinking about me." He continued. "What kind of vibrators?" He asked again. "You've never had anything inside you, sweetheart, right? I'll be the first?" You nodded, his fingers making it hard to focus on anything else. He chuckled as he saw how close you were. "That's it, that's my good girl, cum on my fingers."

Your gut tightened before bursting, your eyes rolled back. Your hands resting on his shoulder clutched his shirt in your fists as you came, a string of curses leaving you.

James groaned lowly at the sight, his fingers still moving in you and letting you ride out your high on them.

As you came down from it, though, he let you melt into him, slowly and carefully shifting you to lay on your back on the mattress. Your head fell back onto his pillow, his scent filling your nose, completely taking you over.

James hovered over you a moment, propping himself between your legs and holding himself up with his hands firmly planted on either side of your head. "Is this what you fantasize about, sweetheart?" You could only nod and let him undress you before following shortly after.

"I'll go slow, so just relax." He said, brushing some of your hair out of your face. "And if, for any reason, you want to stop, tell me. I want to know- I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything for whatever reason, am I understood?" He asked firmly, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand.

You nodded, staring right back at him as he used his other hand to line himself up with your cunt before pushing in. He did just what he said he would, moving slowly.

He stopped to pepper kisses all over your face and tell you how good you were doing. "That feels good, doesn't it? Feels good when I stretch you out like this." You nodded, arms wrapped around him, hands splayed out on his back.

"You-you're so big." You mumbled, looking down at him in hopes of catching a glimpse of where you both connected. Only, what you saw was a few more inches still needing to be pushed in.

James let out hearty laugh when he saw your eyes widen. "Only halfway, sweetheart, you'll know when I'm balls deep, don't worry."

You slowly relaxed back into the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, mind full. "You're gonna tear me in two." You muttered to no one in particular, James was the only one there to hear and it made him laugh.

"Damn right I am." He agreed. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart, no ones gonna stretch you out like this, no ones gonna make you theirs." His eyes flickered over your face, taking in your expression of wide eyes and the small pout on your lips. "No one else gets to be your first."

In a quick motion he pushed the rest of himself into you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, hands clawing at his back and making him groan. He looked down, grin only getting bigger as he saw the bulge he made in your stomach.

"No one else gets to do that." He purred, reaching a hand down to press on your stomach. A whine left you as he did, your legs tried to close but he was in the way. "Not so fast, sweetheart, we haven't even gotten started yet."

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: More miscommunication makes the situation between Tommy and Lucy go from bad to worse.

Word Count: 7,074

Warnings: Angst, insecurity, violence, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, nightmares, minor character death, and references to past torture and sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 14: Good Intentions

She woke up with a tortured scream, half flying upwards out of bed, kicking and scrambling. The covers got all twisted around her, half pinning her legs, and that only fed the panic coursing through her. It wasn’t until Asher jumped to his feet and shoved his big head into her face that she fully processed where she was and what was happening. 

Breaths heaving, she looked around the room, taking in the familiar furniture and decor. Asher poked at her chest with his cold nose with a small whine. Trouble meowed. 

Drawing in ragged breaths, Lucy closed her eyes, focusing on filling her lungs with air. It was okay. She was alright. She wasn’t in that alley anymore while Matthew and his friends descended upon her. Or dangling from the ceiling while Luca Changretta carved into her. She was safe. 

Nightmares had always been a common occurrence for her. But they’d been getting worse lately. More frequent and somehow even more vivid and frightful than they’d been before. On the rare occasion that she actually did manage to fall asleep in her room at the yard, Charlie often had to come in at some point in the middle of the night to gently shake her awake because she’d started screaming in her sleep. 

Wiping at her forehead, she winced to find that it was drenched with sweat. Giving Asher and Trouble a few pets, she then forced herself up, heading to the washroom to splash some cold water on her face. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the bathtub, swallowing down the lump in her throat at the memories of the last time she’d bathed in it with Tommy. 

She got cleaned up and dressed in a slight daze. Her head felt all fuzzy from both her nightmare and spending a large chunk of the night sobbing into her blankets. The very beginning of a headache was starting to throb at her temples.  

It was so early in the morning that the sun was only just starting to settle up in the sky. So it did not surprise her that she was one of the first people down for breakfast. Asher remained at her side, watchful. Every once in a while, his ears twitched. 

She found Arthur at the window, leaning so close to it that his nose nearly touched the glass. 

“Arthur?” she was still adjusting the cuffs of her shirt while she approached him. Looking around the room, she craned her head to peer through the doorway leading into the dining room. She caught sight of Frances and a couple of maids bustling about in there, working quickly to try to clean up the broken glass before breakfast was to be served. “Where’s Linda?”

Arthur’s shoulders shuddered, a fist rising to his mouth. Lucy watched the reaction sadly. He had not treated Linda well, and she could not entirely blame her for leaving, but it still saddened her to see him so distraught. Tentatively she rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once in sympathy. 

“Come on. Let’s go get some food,” she tried to encourage, pulling him towards the dining room. 

“No,” Arthur stepped away from her. “I think…I think I’m just going to go.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” Lucy gave him a tight hug. He felt very skinny, almost frail, in her arms. “I’ll see you later.”

He shuffled away with only a small murmur of acknowledgement. She watched him go, hands buried in her pockets with a frown painted on her features.  

“Miss. Winters.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Her jaw tightened at the voice. Asher’s hackles rose slightly, but a hand on the base of his neck had him quieting, though not without a small growl rumbling in his chest first. “Good morning, Mr. Mosley.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Breakfast is being served in the dining room,” she gestured, hoping that he would leave her alone. 

No such luck, it would seem, as he leaned in closer to her, looking around theatrically. “No Mr. Shelby?”

“He’s probably still in bed. It’s quite early.” Though not for Tommy, who was often up at the crack of dawn. But she wasn’t about to tell Mosley that.

“Mm. Interesting, isn’t it? What relentless lengths he has gone to in order to establish his claim over his wife,” Mosley chuckled. That slow smile twisted the bottom half of his face when he looked at her. “And yet, this is the third time in less than a day that he’s left you alone.…” he reached out a hand that she jerked her face away from, an action he seemed to take complete delight in. “Ripe for the picking.”

Bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Mr. Mosley…”

“I’m glad, however. There’s something that I wanted to speak to you about.” He kept trying to crowd into her space, and while Asher sitting between them helped buffer him a little, he was still far too close for her liking. “As I’ve already mentioned to Mr. Shelby, your affair with him…it has the potential to cause issues should it ever come to light.”

Lucy gulped. “We’re being careful…”

“A single woman, employed by a man who she is known throughout Birmingham to have had a relationship with during at least one stretch of time while she was working for him…that has the potential to insight quite the amount of gossip. Don’t you think?”

“If it’s gossip you’re worried about, Mr. Mosley, I suggest that you turn your attention to your own affairs. I’m sure many people would have lots to say about your very close relationship with most of your wife’s female relatives.”

Briefly, the mask of amusement he kept across his face faltered, replaced instead by a flicker of annoyance and something far darker. Beside her, Asher growled again. Lucy tightened her grip on his lead. But Mosley seemed to pay no mind to the dog, taking a step closer to her.

“I have spoken to Thomas, and we have concluded that the best way to handle your particular situation is through two potential avenues. Either you leave his employment, or you find a husband.” That shark-like smile was suddenly back in place. “I already have several potential candidates in mind.”

Lucy felt as though she’d just been punched in the stomach. Her lungs constricted painfully. Her stomach heaved. She had to ball her hands up into fists to hide the slight way that they started to tremor. 

“Tommy agreed to that?” she asked, her voice coming out sounding very small. Mosley’s smile widened. 

“He said that he would consider it.”

The next breath that she managed to draw into her lungs was shaky. Quickly, she looked away, feeling the burn of tears starting to build up in the back of her throat. 

“You have a say, of course. But I think we both know that you’ll do whatever it is that he decides for you.”

Her jaw tightened at the implication. “He knows how I feel about marriage.” Only half true. He knew how she had once felt about marriage. But he did not know that her feelings on the subject had softened with time. At least when it came to the idea of being married to him.

Mr. Mosley tilted his head. “Then…I wish you the best of luck in finding employment in the future. It may be hard, with your reputation for fucking your employer.” His eyes darted over her shoulder into the dining room. “Oh! Would you look at that? Breakfast.” And with a sleazy smile, he stepped around her and walked away, as if he had not just potentially brought what little remained of her world crashing down around her ears. 

Tommy…had agreed to consider getting rid of her. Seemingly without even putting up a fight on her behalf.

Again.

Lucy stood there, staring straight ahead, so shocked and heartbroken that she couldn’t even move. 

Was this not the ultimate confirmation that everything she had been thinking was true? If he was willing to send her away, or push her into marriage with another man, did that not indicate in absolute certainty that he no longer wanted her?

Forget about want. He didn’t even love her anymore.

“Miss. Winters?” It was Frances’s soft voice that drew her out of her trance, finding that the housekeeper had come up right beside her. “Are you staying for breakfast?” She thought that she might’ve detected a trace of hope in Frances’s eyes. 

Lucy stared at her, then looked over her shoulder to where those who had spent the night at the house were beginning to gather to eat. 

“No,” her voice came out weak and hoarse. She had to clear her throat before trying again. “No. Actually, could you have a car and driver brought around for me?”

“Now?” Frances’s voice filled with dismay.  

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to wait for Mr. Shelby–?”

“No. I think it’s better if I just slip away this morning. In fact, tell Mr. Shelby that I’d rather he not bother me for a little while. Unless there’s something urgent that needs to be done for work.”

Frances hesitated. “He’ll want to see you…”

Lucy shot her a sad, understanding smile. It was sweet of her to try to make it sound like Tommy still cared for her. “No, he won’t.” With Frances following her, she went to the entryway, slipping on her coat and pulling on her gloves. “Let him know that Linda’s left Arthur. Maybe this time for good.”

Frances nodded, though her expression was troubled. “Yes, Miss. Winters. Car will be around in a moment.”

“Thank you.” She flexed her fingers back and forth, eager to be out of the house soon. It echoed with too many memories and residual feelings. The paintings watched her when she moved, and she could hear voices in the walls, see ghosts walking in the rooms. All of a past life. A life she once had here. 

A life that was gone. 

It took only a few minutes for the driver to come around with the car. She was gone before Tommy even set foot outside his room. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Frances, where’s Lucy?” Tommy asked as soon as he’d descended the stairs. He’d gone to her room as soon as he was up and dressed, eager to tell her about the compromise he’d worked out with Lizzie. She could stay here. At home. With him. And he would make sure that she never felt like she needed to leave ever again.

But she hadn’t been in her room. So he’d headed downstairs, assuming that she’d already gone down for breakfast. 

Frances looked away, shifting from foot to foot. “She left, sir.”

He froze. “She what?”

“She was up early this morning. She spoke with Arthur and Mr. Mosley, and then she requested a car and driver to take her back to Mr. Strong’s.” She fumbled with her hands. “I tried to stop her, but…she was insistent.”

Tommy blinked, processing. “Did she say anything before she left?”

Again, Frances hesitated. “She said…to tell you that Linda has left Arthur. Maybe this time for good. And…” she paused, biting her lip. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“She said that she doesn’t want to be bothered. Not unless it’s something urgent related to work. At least for a little while.”

Tommy stared at her, not fully understanding. 

What did I do wrong now?

He was more than aware that last night could have gone better on a whole array of accounts, but he didn’t think that he’d done anything that terrible to cause her to want nothing to do with him at all. 

“Did…did she say why?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” Frances’s eyes were sympathetic.

He sighed heavily, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking out the window. “Alright, thank you.”

“Mr. Mosley was just getting ready to leave.”

“Right.”

He went with her to the entryway to say his goodbyes, and watched from the window as Mosley got into his car and finally drove away. Relief washed over him potently, a little of the tension going out in his shoulders.

Even after Mosley was long gone, he stayed standing there, frowning as he gazed out towards the road that led up to the front of the house.

Why was she so earnestly running away from him? Was that what she wanted? Space between them? Separation? His chest burned agonizingly at the thought. 

He was aware of Frances hovering by the door, watching over him with worry in her eyes. Tommy pinched at his brow. God, it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning and he already needed a fucking whisky.

“Where’s Arthur?”

“He left not long before Miss. Winters did.” 

For fuck’s sake, could people please just stay in place for once? What was with everyone scattering all of a sudden?

“Alright, thank you, Frances.”

She nodded, but paused before heading to the door like she usually did. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He gave her a shake of his head, not needing to ask what she was referring to. “Don’t have anyone to blame but myself.” Looking back out of the window, he thumbed at his brow, wetting his lips and drawing in a shaky breath. 

He could get into the car and go to her. Find her amongst the horses in the stables at the yard and tell her that he’d done it. He’d fixed things, like he promised. She could come back home, with no worry over breaking Lizzie’s rules or inciting conflicts. Things could go back to the way that they were. 

But he hesitated. She was upset with him. As she had every right to be, about all sorts of things. And she clearly didn’t want to be around him. As evidenced by her asking Frances to tell him to leave her alone. 

He would respect her wishes, he decided. Even though it killed him a little to not immediately seize the opportunity to bring her back home. The last thing he wanted to do was further upset her by stomping on her boundaries. And she couldn’t avoid him forever. They would have to interact for work eventually. He’d tell her about it then. 

And, perhaps, he was a little frustrated with her. She kept pulling away from him. Every time that he tried to reach out, without fail. A switch had turned within her since he told her of the deal he’d struck with Lizzie. He’d been locked out of her mind, with no combination to get back in. And it was driving him mad not knowing what she was thinking. Each time that she rejected him, it hurt a little more. He didn’t know how much more of it he could take.   

Would getting her exempted from Lizzie’s rules be enough, or had he already so irrevocably broken things that they could no longer be fixed?

∗ ∗ ∗

“I can’t believe him,” she whispered, sitting with her knees tucked beneath her, a cup of tea held in one hand. 

“It might not be exactly what you think it is,” Charlie tried to reassure her gently. Lucy sighed. 

“Yeah, maybe.” But her tone was not convinced.

“You’re really going to trust anything that comes out of that fascist prick’s mouth?” He shook his head. “Talk to Tom first, before you start getting too upset about it. I sincerely doubt that he’d ever even consider sacking you. Or marrying you off to someone else.”

“He did it to John,” she pointed out. 

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

Charlie cast her a baffled look. “Of course it was. He loves you. He’d rather saw off a limb than let someone else marry you.”

Setting down her mug on the table between them, she stood, walking forward a few paces with her hands jammed into her pockets to stare out over the canal. She could feel Charlie still watching her from his seat. 

“Why? It’s not like he’s ever going to marry me.” She couldn’t help the slight way that her voice caught on the words.

“Do you ever regret not marrying him when you had the chance?” Charlie asked. Lucy sighed. It certainly would have solved a whole hell of a lot of their problems. If she’d just managed to get over herself and do it.

No point thinking about any of it now. It wasn’t like she would ever get the chance, anyway. 

“Yes,” she answered in a soft whisper.

“You should tell him that.”

The wind pulled a little on her hair, stinging where it whipped across her cheeks. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good.”

“You don’t know that.”

Looking back out over the canal, at its tempting rushing waters, she felt herself slip, then drop a little further down into the well of despair she was already lost deep, deep within. 

“Yes, I do.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy was only half paying attention to the conversation between Tommy and Ben, too busy working tirelessly over finishing up reports from her spot seated at the round table in the middle of Tommy’s office. 

The days following the ballet had been rough. Arthur was an absolute mess after Linda left, and Michael was clearly still up to something, though she’d had limited time or ability to figure out what exactly that was. Tommy had respected her request that he leave her alone for a while. This was the first time they’d seen each other since the party. When she’d come in, he and Ben were already talking, so she’d just sat down and started in on her work. 

“Younger,” Tommy called as the man stood to leave. “Please don’t listen to my sister’s opinions of me. They are always hopeful. Therefore they are always wrong.”

She shot a smile to Ben when he passed her on his way out the door, the door closing heavily behind him. Tommy stood from his chair, cigarette in hand.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come in today,” he commented after a moment. She glanced up briefly from her stack of papers, then looked back down again, unsure what to even say to him.

His shoes thumped against the floor as he made his way over to glance out the window. He turned back to look at her. Coughed and glanced down at his shoes. “I miss you.”

She looked back up at him, frowning. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Tommy…” she leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her temple in an attempt to stave off an oncoming headache. “I…” she looked away at the bookshelves in the corner. She sucked in a deep breath, reminding herself to be strong. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“It’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about your fucking wife, Tommy? Your kids, who don’t have to live in a house where their parents are having screaming matches every night!?” she stood up from the table, striding towards him, suddenly furious. 

“So what? We’re not allowed to be happy? We have to spend the rest of our lives being miserable?” Tommy argued back, voice raising.

“Yeah, well you seem to be doing just fine to me,” she spat out bitterly.

“What the fuck does that mean!?”

“Nothing,” her voice softened as she turned away sharply.

“Hey!” He grabbed her by the arm, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to hold her in place and force her to remain facing him. “You’re the one who left!”

“And you’re the one who made that deal with Lizzie in the first place without even thinking of me!”  

“Which I fucking fixed! Which you would know about, if you would stop dodging all my attempts to talk to you.”

She froze, brows pulling together. “What do you mean, you fixed it?”

Tommy drew in a ragged breath, voice lowering from the raised pitch it had been in a moment ago. “I worked out a compromise with her. The new rules still apply to anyone else, but not to you.” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she pulled her face away, searching his eyes, not even sure what exactly she was looking for. He sighed and dropped his hand. “You can come back home. Things can go back to the way that they were.”

She could have sworn that she saw a hopeful spark in those big blue orbs, but chalked it up to just wishful thinking. 

A part of her wanted to fall into his arms, let him whisk her away and back to Arrow House so they could return to carrying on like they had. But the rest of her, the part now in control, recoiled at the thought. 

“No,” she whispered, still staring at him, her lips parted and brows drawing inwards. Tommy jerked back as if she’d slapped him, eyes widening with such deep hurt she wondered if it would have wounded him less had she actually cut him.

“What? Why? The rules don’t apply to you anymore, love. We don’t have to worry about sleeping together under that roof, or any of that nonsense about me not being able to touch Ruby a day after–”

“This isn’t just about Lizzie’s rules, Tommy,” she shook her head back and forth furiously, voice rising again in hysterical frustration. He was so smart. The smartest person she knew. How could he not understand? Was he unaware of it? Or was he just toying with her; doing what he needed to keep her close, like he did with the likes of Lizzie, Jessie Eden…

Was it not enough that he’d already broken her heart? Did he really need to drag her back to the place where she was obviously so unwanted just to stomp on it some more? To…what? Assuage the guilt he felt for falling out of love with her? Or was it duty and responsibility that he felt he still carried for her that made him so insistent?

“Then what? What is it?” his eyes were imploring, both hands gripping at her upper arms. “Tell me,” he practically begged.

“I can’t go back. Not when I know she only changed the rules because you twisted her arm on it–”

“Actually, I didn’t really have to–”

“Just stop it, Tommy!” she snapped. “Just stop it! You don’t have to keep doing this. There’s no need to keep pretending, or feeling guilty, or whatever the fuck this actually is!”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” his voice rose alongside hers, frustration and bewilderment crackling across his face.

A sob heaved its way out of her lungs. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I already understand, isn’t that enough!?”

“Understand what!?”

The question, combined with her continued downward spiral, only served to make her more angry. He didn’t love her anymore. They both knew it. Why was he so insistent that she say it? Did he not understand that, by making her actually speak aloud the truth that she’d come to believe since he’d chosen Lizzie over her, he risked destroying her completely? “You know exactly what!”

“No, I don’t! I can’t, when you won’t fucking talk to me!”

KA-BOOM!

Whatever response she would have come up with was interrupted by a thunderous boom and the spray of broken glass as the window behind Tommy blasted inwards. One moment she was standing in front of him and the next she was seized up in Tommy’s arms, sandwiched between the desk and his body as he curled around her in a protective shield. Her hands fisted with the lapels of his suit jacket, ears ringing and eyes squeezed closed.

For a moment, neither of them moved from their position scrunched down against his desk. Lucy blinked sluggishly, squinting at the broken window in an attempt to process just what the hell had happened. 

“Are you alright?” Tommy asked. When she didn’t respond he leaned off of her, hand on her face. “Lucy, hey, are you okay?”

She stared at him with wide eyes. Her hip ached a little from where he had slammed her into the desk, and her ears were still ringing, but other than that she seemed uninjured. “Y-yeah. Yes.” She reached out an unsteady hand to cup his face. “Are you?”

He nodded, straightening to take in the damage. Had it been under other circumstances, she would have been amused to notice that he had somehow managed to keep ahold of his cigarette in his right hand. “C’mon,” he took her tightly by the hand, guiding her swiftly out of the office and towards the front door. 

“What was it?” she asked, pulling her gun from its holster against her ribs when she noticed him taking out his. 

“Car bomb. I think. Ready?” He rested his hand on the doorknob. She nodded and he pushed it open. They filed out into the street, guns raised as they scanned the area around and above them for assailants. There was no one. Ben’s car that was parked just outside the office was in flames.  

“Check the car,” Tommy told her as he rushed towards the collapsed figures of three children who had been playing in the street. She jogged over to the burning vehicle, careful to keep away from the raging flames, and peered in. She could just barely make out a figure in the driver’s seat. Unmoving. The smell of burning flesh made her recoil. Tommy was shouting instructions to one of the women from the office who had ventured out to see what was going on. He helped haul two of the three dazed children to their feet and usher them inside. The third child, the one closest to the car, wasn’t moving, Tommy instead hefted the little boy up into his arms, the child’s limbs limp as a rag doll’s. Tommy sat down heavily on the curb with the boy’s body still cradled in his arms. Cautiously, Lucy approached him, holstering her gun and sitting beside him.

“Ben’s dead.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. She rested a comforting hand on his knee. 

“Lucy, listen–”

“Later,” she shook her head, eyes fixed on the boy’s dead body held tight against Tommy’s chest. The smell of the burning car was still fresh in her nostrils. “We’ll sort it all out later.”

“When?”

She didn’t have an answer for him, instead just squeezing the hand on his knee.

“When you left,” his voice was shaky, eyes staring at some point faraway, “you said that we could still be together.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing. Instead she just leaned into his side, arm wrapping around his back while her head rested on his shoulder. His cheek immediately came to settle on the top of her head.

“I know,” she said, and closed her eyes. For a while they sat there, a question balancing on the tip of her tongue, trying to muster up the courage to ask it. “Are you going to send me away?”

Tommy looked over at her sharply. “What?”

“Mosley told me what you two were planning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He said that you are either to sack me or marry me off to one of his friends.”

Tommy let out a harsh breath, shoulders heaving. 

“Are you?”

“No. Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never send you away. I’d never let any of his people touch you.”

“He said that you were considering it.”

“That’s just what I told him to get him to stop badgering me about it.”

“He seemed pretty insistent.”

Tommy released another trembling sigh, eyes going to where Ben’s car was still burning. “I know. I’m working on it. Don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling a little silly for having believed Mosley. Even after Charlie had tried to dissuade her from doing so. Next to her, she could feel Tommy’s eyes boring into the side of her head. He scooted a little closer to her. 

“That’s not all that this is about though, is it?”

She felt her brows pinch, considering if she should just ask him the other dreaded question. Maybe the answer wouldn’t really be what she expected it to be. 

She was just about to speak, when the police and ambulance arrived. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy stepped into his and Lucy’s London apartment, sweeping off his cap and shrugging out of his coat after closing and latching the door behind him.

The image of Ada, silver tears rolling down her cheeks when he told her of Ben Younger’s death, kept replaying in his head. The smell of burning rubber and flesh was still lodged in his nose, and he swore that he could still feel the weight of the dead ten year old boy in his arms.

Good intentions. That was all he’d had, and now a child and his sister’s lover were both dead.

If only he’d gone carrying on as he had. None of this would have happened. And he wasn’t just talking about his professional life. 

If he hadn’t tried to patch things up with Lizzie, if he had continued to allow her to wallow in her resentment and bitterness towards him without interference, he would not have lost the love of his life. 

He was unable to get the devastated look on Lucy’s face while she shouted at him before the bomb went off out of his head. Her refusal to return home burned, chewing away at his already fragmented heart. 

She no longer wanted him. It wouldn’t surprise him if she left for good soon. Every time he let her out of his sight, he wondered if it would be the last time that he would ever see her. 

Anyone you touch…

He closed his eyes against Ada’s words. They all really would be better off without him, wouldn’t they? They certainly would be a whole hell of a lot happier. 

Push the button. Unlock the door and come home to me.

He had. He had pushed the button so fucking fast, bracing for the rush of flames of a bomb igniting the entirety of his car. Disappointment crushed over him like a mountain falling upon his shoulders when the reprieve that he longed for did not come, the engine merely starting smoothly. 

Coughing softly into his fist, he went to the main bedroom, hesitating in the doorway when he found Lucy sitting up on her side of the bed, in one of her nightgowns but reading and marking up some documents by the light of the lamp on her nightstand. Sensing his presence, she looked up. 

“Hey,” she set aside her work. “How did it go?”

He wetted his lips. “She cried.”

Lucy nodded, expression grave, eyes observing him carefully. Tommy shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the space next to her in the bed. He wanted nothing more than to clamber in and lay his head on her. Let her hold him and stroke his hair and help melt away some of the agony he was in. But she did not want that anymore. Clearly, considering she’d refused his suggestion that she finally come home and they put this madness of separation behind them.  

He didn’t deserve that type of comfort, anyway. Certainly not from her, when he’d already put her through so much. He would no longer burden her with his problems. 

“Anyway,” he hefted in a deep breath, the awkwardness between them close to killing him. “I’ll go…sleep in the other room.”

Lucy frowned. “You don’t have to…”

“It’s fine,” he took a step back. “Goodnight.” He did not wait to hear her response, closing the door softly between them. He rested his hand longingly against the heavy wood separating them, throat spasming with the force in which he swallowed to try to keep himself from crying. 

I’m so sorry, my sweetheart. He wished that there was a way for him to convey to her the true depth in which he regretted ruining what they had. Slipping away to the second bedroom, he stripped out of everything save for his pants and climbed into the crisp white sheets, sprawling out on his back.  

It wasn’t that he was giving up, he just had no idea what more to do to try to mend things between them. Not when she wouldn’t even talk to him about what was really wrong. 

He would not be getting much sleep tonight, if any at all. He knew that already. So instead he resigned himself to staring up at the canopy, and allowing his miserable thoughts of self hatred and regret to consume him.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at him blankly after he finished relaying the new plan for dealing with Mosley to her. Blinking slowly, she looked down at her hands, clasped in front of her on the table. Tommy shifted from foot to foot anxiously. He’d sat her down at the round table in the Birmingham office after they’d gotten in from attending the funeral of the boy who’d died in the explosion. They’d walked together down the street, following the carriage carrying the tiny coffin as the horses pulled it along. Lucy’s shoulder had brushed against his every few paces, as if in an attempt at comfort. 

He knew how what he had just told her probably looked, and wondered sorrowfully why he couldn’t seem to stop fucking things up when it came to her.

“Why him?” she asked, finally.

“He was the best sniper in our company.” When it came to this job, he wasn’t going to risk anything less than the best. 

“I could do it.”

He shook his head. “No.” It physically hurt him to look at the wounded expression that crossed her face. 

She probably thought that he was trying to replace her. Giving the job that had always been hers out to a man in a straightjacket. She ran a hand through her hair and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. Tommy wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. 

“Love, listen,” he said gently, sitting down in the chair beside her. “When this is over, there’s going to be a massive investigation. Heads will roll trying to figure out who was behind it. We can’t be linked to it.”

“I won’t get caught–”

“They will hunt you until you are, love. But this way, they’ll just attribute it to a madman who still thinks he’s in the middle of a war. There won’t even be a need for further investigation.”

She looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “I’m very annoyed that you’re making this make sense.”  

Tommy made a sound that could have been the beginning of a laugh. There she was. There was his girl that he had missed so much. He knew she was still in there somewhere. His hands cupped her cheeks, forehead pressing to hers. “Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite assassin.”

“I was looking forward to putting a bullet in his fucking fascist face.”

“I’ll make sure you have a front row seat,” he petted her cheek with his thumb. “Alright?”

Her lips twitched upwards into a small smirk, hand resting over his own. He had missed this; the feeling of comradery. Of it being them against the world.

∗ ∗ ∗

The asylum was cold and eerie. The guard searched them rather thoroughly upon their arrival. Lucy could sense Tommy watching him like a hawk the entire time that he patted her down, supervising in case the guard tried to push things too far with his touches. But he didn’t, and they proceeded to follow him down the white hallways without incident. 

The sounds of indiscernible cries and screaming echoed in the cells that they passed. Tommy kept checking over his shoulder, to make sure that she was still behind him.

The man Tommy told her was named Barney was huddled in the corner of his cell, strapped in a straightjacket, eyes darting around wildly. But he seemed mostly lucid as he spoke to Tommy. Lucy remained quiet, save for briefly introducing herself when they first entered, and sat watchfully in the corner, eyeing up her replacement.

No, not her replacement. It was just for this job only. At least that’s what she kept trying to remind herself. 

Barney seemed, well…nice. It was almost sweet to listen to him and Tommy reminisce about the time they had spent serving in France together. He reminded her a bit of a puppy, Lucy decided. It was the way he had perked up at Tommy’s mention of a beautiful French waitress they had encountered. Or the way he stood at the bars, watching them leave, smiling and murmuring in excitement at his impending break out.  

“Barney seems like fun,” she commented after they walked out of the asylum. Tommy smiled a little.

“You should have seen him before. You two would have gotten along great.”

“Horrific place, though,” she glanced over her shoulder at the asylum.

“Yes,” he agreed, deep in thought. 

“Do you really think that this is going to work?”

“Why? You don’t trust me?” his voice was teasing, but his eyes were sad.

“You? Absolutely. I just hope that your sniper hasn’t lost his touch after all these years.”

“He hasn’t.”

“Alright then.”

She had been feeling particularly guilty ever since their fight in Tommy’s office. Both for brushing him off and avoiding him, and also for still not having truly sat down and talked about any of it like he so clearly wanted to. But at the same time, the painful sting of feeling unwanted continued to prickle at her. It was hard to fully believe that Tommy was as broken up over her being gone as he claimed to be. 

Even when staying over at the apartment, he’d taken to sleeping in the second bedroom. If that wasn’t an obvious enough message as to how he felt about her, she wasn’t really sure what was. 

Fuck, she was so damned confused. She missed being able to read him like a book. 

A painful feeling of something else, something tied to the feeling of being unwanted, twisted inside her. Because it didn’t really matter if he was as upset as he claimed, because he had still chosen Lizzie over her. And now, he had chosen another person, one he hadn’t directly interacted with in ten years, to give her job to.  

A hand brushed over hers, quietly demanding her full attention on him. His blue eyes were stern.

“You’re not being replaced,” he said. 

“No?” she tried to keep her tone light, though she was certain that he could see the doubt in her eyes.

“He’s going right back there once the job is done,” a gloved thumb rubbed along her knuckles. “I promise.”

There was no room for argument, no dishonesty in his eyes. Hope, cruel and malicious, flickered in her chest. She nodded trustingly.

“Okay. Let’s go kill Oswald Mosley.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“I had more complicated strategies in mind for Mr. Mosley. Then he spoke badly to my wife. It’s gonna be a busy few weeks, brother,” Tommy said to Arthur before walking away. Arthur answered in the affirmative, rubbing his hands together and going to assist Charlie and Curly with unloading the boat carrying Chang’s shipment of opium that they’d arrived on. 

Lucy remained standing where she had been stationed by the very edge of the canal. Staring with her eyes straight forward, her entire figure going stock-still at the words Tommy had just so casually uttered. 

Lizzie. He was going to kill Mosley, for Lizzie. 

Not for business reasons, or political ones. Not because he’d insisted that he either sack her or marry her off. Not for the good of the country, or the safety of the family, or even because wiping that fascist, dangerous piece of shit off the face of the earth actually was the morally right thing to do. No; he was doing this for her. For his wife. The mother of his children. 

The woman he loved. 

Lucy felt her heart constrict inside her chest, splintering in half agonizingly.

Below her, the waters from the cut raced past in a wild surge. She thought of how easy it would be to just step off. One tip forward. A slight unbalancing, and she would go into the water.

Would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care? Or would she be left to sink beneath the dark black depths, for the fish to eat out her eyes and the water to swell within her lungs?

Lizzie had replaced her in his heart. Barney was replacing her in her job as one of the gang’s assassins. They had a whole network of spies that Isiah was more than familiar enough with to run on his own if he needed to, and Adam could easily pick up the brunt of what she did at the London office. The rest of her various professional duties could be divided up between the rest of the family without fuss. The kids had Lizzie to mother them. 

She was not needed. Not wanted. Not even loved anymore. 

Maybe Tommy had never even really loved her at all in the first place. 

She’d started to foolishly allow herself to hope again, just a tiny miniscule amount, after the car bomb went off outside the office and he practically dove on top of her to protect her from the blast. But that must have just been the result of the old instincts of the soldier he’d once been. Not a symptom of any enduring love for her. 

Mist curled around her ankles, as if trying to coax her to the water. Just tip forward. You don’t even have to take a step. Just lean into the embrace of the black current, and the water will do the rest. You can be with Grace again. No one here will miss you anyway.

Tempting as the offer was, she did not move. She was unable too, so crushed by one simple realization that she was incapable of any other motion, thought, or speech.

She had lost Tommy forever.

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[hannahssimblr]

Astrid, 

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you. 

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts. 

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude. 

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway. 

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him. 

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

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[minteagalaxea]

steep (woo) | r.r

roman and quynh genre: angst . fluff . smut (minors dni) content warnings: thigh riding . praise kink . mild sir kink . nb character (afab) . multiple orgasms . implied age gap (quynh is in their mid-twenties) . protected sex (quynh is stated to have the arm implant) word count: 4.45k inspiration: roman reigns' many barbs about missionary position against john cena . tea and boba obsessions songs: woo by rihanna (slowed and reverb) (x) . claws by kim petras (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "steep (xxviii reasons)" (x) note: thank you to @lov3rla03 and everyone who enjoyed the first one, so i hope you guys get to enjoy the journey quynh gets to experience and lets you guys get to know them!! they're one of my favorite ocs i've made (and i've made a lot lol)

at twenty-five, quynh learned the weight of building a life around a ghost—rightfully so for someone who was twenty-five, it wasn’t something they particularly enjoyed.

they loved john. of course they did. but it was tiring to know that when they had crafted a life, a career, and identity of their own outside of his shadow, was equally liberating and suffocating to know that they weren’t just connected to him in career, they weren’t connected to him in the slightest.

they corrected themselves as they sipped their tea as they read through the card for the night, noting which questions they were asking and to whom backstage as they did their round of pacing. it was somewhat liberating that they weren’t tethered to a clean-cut image that was so saccharine quynh’s stomach roiled violently just at the mere thought of it. but, he liked it, so they tried. they really fucking tried.

as they paced in the room, quynh realized that they should be angry with john. it was well within their rights to be. they did their part, calling and texting and sending photos to include him in their life, the moments they crafted. fuck, they even texted him and called him about their tattoo appointment, wanting him to share it with them and be there.

that text barely went acknowledged—quynh went alone, and that was when they really knew that they were living with a ghost for a boyfriend.

when they heard the door open, they looked at their lover and realized the title felt hollow, like an empty platitude to justify that they both used to be in love. and, with a hug, a kiss to his cheek, they said they couldn’t do it anymore. and he understood, kissing their forehead and wishing them well on the show; they did the same.

the shit thing was how their farewells were so easy: given how he relocated, it made it harder for them to miss him. how could they miss something that never really existed?

“you could mourn, you know?” quynh heard someone say as they started to prepare, slipping in a pair of colored contacts. silver, to separate from his blue and orange.

they peered up once they were on, affixing their gaze upon the other man through the mirror. “what do i have to mourn if there isn’t anything to mourn, roman?”

roman reigns—if quynh had to consider who they really built their career around, no matter how unintentional it was, it was him. they knew, as everyone did, and they knew that wwe was pushing him hard. so hard that they weren’t sure how he managed to get in the ring every fucking night and have the self-possession to not let it hurt his soul. except everyone figured out that there was a surefire way to get roman over without absolute question.

all it took was quynh interviewing him.

quynh knew that it wasn’t inherently as simple, but they always shared that same sense of intensity. and the way they looked at one another, body harmonizing and eyes smoldering as they let him bury his own grave with each question they asked and each silence prolonged. there was something about the tension, the unspoken dance, their natural dynamic, that seemed to have the wwe universe cheering and actually getting him over. not that the audience ever realized that they weren’t together. both had a healthy appreciation of one another, but knew what it meant if either were to ever entertain the fantasy when they were still with john up until less than thirty minutes ago.

except now they weren’t. and quynh thought that perhaps was scarier.

the two stared at one another through the mirror for a moment, silent as they pondered one another’s words in the mirror. quynh tried not to fantasize about the way his arm piece would look against the ones on their sides as their top rose while they started to work on their makeup.

roman offered a smile, one of those genuine ones beneath the smoldering intensity of his gaze, and wished them good luck, and they did the same. quynh tried to not consider how much more invested they felt with a man they were never with.

at (almost) twenty-six, quynh learned what it meant to miss someone that wasn’t a ghost, despite being far away.

roman looked…healthier. and that was good, given what he just fought. and yet, here he was, staring at them with a pallor that suggested he actually did see a ghost, except perhaps the ghost was them.

out of respect, quynh didn’t excessively contact him, preferring their meetups for boba when they were in town or a rare video call. casual and easy, they tried to be close to him, offering him patience where they could over the past four months. and they enjoyed learning about roman, the soul that was strong and gentle, sweet and bitter in equal measure.

it took them a moment to realize that roman hadn’t seen them quite as glamorous in a long while, sensual as they were deadly in their long legs and heels that put them just at his height. maybe it was a good thing they were attempting to kill a man who just came back from beating cancer, because it gave him one of the greatest reactions ever.

except nobody had to know how he took their hand when the camera didn’t notice, trying to ground himself in quynh’s iciness, their stoicism. the pallor might have remained as he stared, but both knew what their job was, and it was to give their audience the greatest damn show in the world with his return. quynh missed seeing him grind his eyes into theirs, onyx meeting whatever artificial color suited their whims. tonight was their normal color for once.

nobody noticed how they settled in the hotel bar together with drinks as they celebrated, both casual and intimate at once as they scrolled through their phone, responding to their artist about their appointment. “first one?” roman asked, voice warm and low and genuinely piqued.

quynh shook their head, swirling their grasshopper before they took a sip. “i got one a year back.”

“he come with you?” he didn’t need to name him—both of them knew.

“left me on ‘read’.” they weren’t sure why they didn’t sound as bitter; perhaps it was due to john’s own lack of them. their eyes lingered on roman’s own arm, a beautiful tapestry of his culture and took another sip of their drink, trying to not think too hard about how it contrasted and complemented their minimalist lines.

“i could come with you, if you’d like,” he offered, snapping them out of their introspection. quynh’s hand stilled, eyes heavy with scrutiny as they questioned his intentions. “i know you probably didn’t cry or anything, but i’d want to be there if you wanted mortal support.”

they blinked at him carefully, not wanting to set themselves up for disappointment, “day after tomorrow if you wanna come.”

quynh hadn’t expected for him to show up then, sitting sentinel throughout their session and providing copious amounts of attention to them as he watched the art take shape on their physique. they hadn’t felt quite seen like this before, and it made them feel acknowledged as he saw the art continue onto their thighs—heard the story behind the genesis of the piece from their artist. when the piece was finished, the heat returned to roman’s eyes as their artist applied the second skin bandage, admiring the masterpiece to their body with ferality. he looked at them through the mirror as their artist took more photos of their physique. the heat was unmistakable as they tilted their head in confusion.

“what was he like?” he asked them.

quynh considered the question thoroughly, attempting to find the words for a man they didn’t want to entirely badmouth.

yet, they couldn’t deny the heat in their eyes as they responded, “regular white meat babyface, i guess.”

“and i’m not, baby?” roman challenged with a smirk, one that brought heat to quynh’s eyes as they let themselves indulge in the timber of his touch, the velvet of his voice.

“you’re back now…i guess we’ll see if you can follow through on your ambition, big dog.”

at twenty-seven, quynh learned exactly how ambition turned a ghost into something physical, ferocious, and fantastic.

they had always liked roman just fine—they had no reason to deny the unfathomable amounts of chemistry and connection they had. yet, they had no reason to broach the territory beyond tenuous friendship and burgeoning want. not because of john, though the beginning certainly contained that, but they were both…complacent, they supposed. it wasn’t unwarranted, and the constancy of their dynamic was one they definitely valued and appreciated as the pandemic hit.

and then, roman returned at summerslam and destroyed braun strowman and the fiend with absolute vengeance that quynh hadn’t seen from him before. and he took a chair to braun strowman. and quynh, who had observed the entire match, commentated on the entire match?

well, they had never felt more heat stream through their veins when he met their artificially gold ones.

in quynh’s opinion, roman had never been more attractive to them, now that he was tapping into the ambition, the darkness, the power they always thought he tried to temper to make himself successful. and now that the brakes were off, and he was asserting what was his, taking without mercy, quynh felt their heart rate spike.

when roman took back his universal championship, they smiled with a feral want they hadn’t expected in themselves. they were starting to truly understand why roman looked at them so, and perhaps why things seemed to naturally work between the two of them, with each appearance to support them through their tattoo appointments (not that they ever needed it) and each interview and comment they gave him now that he was the head of the table, the tribal chief.

quynh quickly learned where the irony really lied—he took from others, but gave to them beyond measure. and it really started one night in his hotel as they fell back into their easy ways until he leaned up into them, forehead against theirs as he offered the smile of a jackal poised to pounce. “what was it like…being with him?” roman asked, and quynh wasn’t sure how to respond, or the context he even asked. the only additional hint it required for them to really decipher the context was his hands splayed on their waist.

“he preferred missionary,” they murmured dryly, ambivalent about it all, but not wanting to badmouth a man who they loved once a long time ago, dissonant as they pondered the reasoning. it was easier, given his exhaustion, and he wanted the intimacy they could provide in that way.

certainly, though, routine was the mother of complacency, and it did explain quynh’s revolving door of boba drinks they picked depending on their temperament.

“every time?” he asked, subsequent to a moment of silence. they nodded, and shrugged haplessly as they thought about it.

“it was easier.”

roman’s voice growled as he cinched their waist closer to him, “easy doesn’t mean good, baby.”

quynh nodded, a hand resting against his arm as their legs straddled over his hips, while his own roamed up to their halter-neck bralette, the crisscross cutout revealing the moment of ink on their sternum. “baby, why did it take so long?” he asked, “you know this ain’t something you can hide. you know we keep coming back to each other.” they knew, and they whispered exactly why.

“the beginning…we knew…with john, and we knew we were better than being dirty secrets,” they confessed, “but, i was waiting…you seemed like you were going through an evolution, trying to figure who you wanted to be. and the man i see now is the man i adore even more. i’ve always known what we could be, but we weren’t ready. we didn’t know who we were then. we do now.”

when roman bridged the gap, capturing their lips into a kiss that told them everything he didn’t say aloud, quynh knew that this was where they were meant to be as he lifted them to his bed, extricating their bralette and undergarments to have them straddling his thigh. flexing the muscle there, he let them set the pace, allowing them to rediscover human intimacy in a way that died down long after their relationship with john. maybe even because of him. roman, however, seemed hellbent on trying to reignite that spark in them as he murmured things. so many things and fantasies that dated back to the very first interview they conducted with him. things about how he wanted to kiss them, pin them against the wall.

“baby, when i came back in remission and saw your outfit?” he rasped with interest as he helped them bounce on his thigh at the pace they were finding they liked, “that silver hair of yours, that turtleneck? your leather jacket? your heels? fuck, i wanted to get you out of those right then and there, make a big statement on my return with you.”

part of quynh realized that this probably explained a large part of why roman’s gaze always lingered the way it did, like he was trying to respectfully undress them in his mind. not that they were susceptible to that type of energy now, and especially now that he made it so much easier with those fitted t-shirts over that tactical gear.

as their hips flexed on this thigh, they rested their face into the junction of his neck, whimpering in an almost uncharacteristic shyness as one of his hands brushed their pearl, pressing insistent circles to help them along. quynh thought their body was crumbling apart, bursting into seafoam, only for him to mold them back together.

maybe the metaphor is inaccurate—roman might just be more adept at helping them blossom and be devoured at the right time, like a master of fine and rare teas that they had been exploring at tea shops more recently.

yet, somehow, it didn’t matter as he whispered them promises of desire, stories of want, years of yearning that he could finally have them, the version of them unencumbered with ghosts and monsters and tannins that sucked the moisture from their mouth. it was enough for that wave of tension to crash over them and soak the fabric of his pants as he offered them a kiss and swallowed their gentle sounds with greed until their hips stilled. it was a fascinating paradox, then, one that sent their mind reeling and hazy in the most saccharine of ways as he held them close, pressing kisses that made the heat rise to their skin and dilation to their pupils.

“you okay if i fuck you now, baby?” he asked, running his hands along the new pieces along their waist and thighs with a small, playful smirk, “promise it won’t be missionary for the hundredth time.”

quynh leaned into him, a breezy sort of giggle as they assented, their artificial nails digging into his shoulders as he knelt, wrapping their legs around his waist as he rubbed his tip against their soaked folds, before helping them sink down onto his length and feel every stretch.

“better than missionary?” he teased, giving them a moment to adjust before allowing them to set the pace while he caressed every inch of their inked body in between fevered kisses. they didn’t respond, not verbally, punctuating their desire with slow, impactful slams down onto his sizeable girth, the airiest of mewls tumbling past their lips as they kissed, tongues tangling as his hips met theirs halfway and harmonizing with his heavy growls.

as they arched their back towards him and tilted their head back in bliss, roman took over the pace for them, matching their preferred rhythm while lavishing kisses and marks to the column of their throat; quynh held him close, claws sinking into his luscious locks to keep him affixed to their throat as his thrusts swept inside deep into them, imprinting their cunt to fit him perfectly as he dragged them to the precipice of euphoria.

it was with this that they came with a breathy moan of his name, letting him spill into their clenching tightness not long after, sinking his teeth into the junction of their neck just above their tattoo as their groan reached a crescendo, just enough to bathe the room with their desire as roman pistoned himself through both of their climaxes. whispers of his name flowed from their lips as quynh settled, craning their neck forward again to press their forehead against his as their breaths mingled.

as their voice came back to them, quynh’s eyes settled on the man beneath them, cupping his face as they finally decided to answer that question of his from earlier. they hadn’t remembered the last time they felt this powerful, this free, now that their ambition for an equal let them take as much as he was willing to give them.

quynh lilted, “better,” and they felt like they had finally blossomed into the creature they were always meant to be as they peered at roman with a breathless, blissful beam.

at twenty-eight, quynh learned that some ghosts, no matter how much they buried them, didn’t like to stay there.

john was back, of course he was. they weren’t sure how they felt about it personally, but they maintained their professional veneer. they weren’t sure how they could function without it, despite their body simmering into frustration, because of course john had to return now.

roman, as he always did, took it somewhat unpleasantly, though it wasn’t just for his own sake, much to their shock. because he was right: john didn’t change, no matter what hollywood wanted to portray him. however, the other part of it was the intrinsic knowledge of their relationship, and the snippets that quynh offered over the year of their relationship, their proper relationship as partners.

the fact that roman really had to use the missionary reference for john when delivering that promo made them sound like a borderline hyena backstage despite the audience jeering at the statement. though, quynh considered, a fair majority of it had more to do with the fact that they knew roman was trying to protect them in his own way, upset about the situation for them about john in a way they never really processed.

and when john cena hijacked the signing for that summerslam match? all because roman denied him his challenge for the universal championship?

they felt like they were a teapot of steaming water about to fucking explode.

roman told them he was going to deny it—that wasn’t the surprise, because they knew what the whole point was. roman had changed, evolved into someone with so much more than the initial reputation he had. and that had made them even more chilling on the microphone during their interviews with him than he probably expected, because he still knew them. more than they wanted to admit to themselves.

hence, the sense of vindication they felt when roman brought up how twenty years of missionary wasn’t enough for them evidently. quynh could only smirk behind their mug of tea as they blinked at him with a raised brow, safe behind their sage colored contacts and their almond-shaped press-ons, the perfect juxtaposition to the vivacity of john’s attire and roman’s monochrome. and the nebulous definition of their relationship on the screen enabled roman to rattle john so deeply, a lesson john had taught them about letting the appeal of their relationship, the on-screen will they won’t they parts of it, become the major draw of their thing. quynh loathed that they had to learn how to hide the true nature of their relationship with someone they loved so deeply to spare them both given how intertwined their persona was with roman’s.

when summerslam started, they let everyone else talk. there was no point for them to exert that energy towards something that they didn’t feel pertinent to the overall story, though they provided their own analysis of the situation in the way that would make sense to anyone else: john wanted to come back and take opportunities away from younger, more current workers. and they chose not to answer when cole asked them if they thought it had to do with them, providing context for others the potential jealousy john might be experiencing given how roman swayed their affections. everyone else could think what they wanted to about the matter.

yet, as they thought about the nature of their relationships with these things, they scoffed as roman nailed john with another spear after some superman punches after john tried to mimic roman’s signature move. quynh wasn’t sure if they wanted confirmation that he tried that after seeing their disinterested expression. and then roman looked at them as they leaned back in their chair, and he finished the job. corey also had to snark that roman worked devastatingly hard to earn quynh’s praise, praise that felt like an elusive prize for someone as dominant as he was.

so, they gave it to him, commenting that roman laid out an almost artful performance. john nearly glared at them for that, though they paid him little mind as they worked on commentating the loose ends of their feud. and the heat in roman’s eyes when he looked back at them as he walked away made their cheeks imperceptibly warm.

the smirk on their face from brock lesnar’s unexpected appearance and giving john german suplexes and a f-5 in immediate succession was just the icing on the cake to try and keep their ghosts away now that this was all over.

at twenty-eight (several hours later), quynh learned how to properly bury a ghost.

roman, for all his exhaustion, was determined to celebrate in his impatient sort of way as he kissed them, hard and intense but with considerable care as they leapt into his arms, his hands gripping their denim trousers before slipping off their leather jacket and the belt of their pants.

“you make it hard for me to do my job, baby,” he teased, voice raspy in his exhaustion as he managed to slip off their pants and leave them in their black turtleneck bodysuit.

their hair billowed in this face, soft and fluffy against his wet and denser tresses from his conditioner and water as their nails tangled into them. “does it matter since you won?” quynh rebutted, jovial and seductive in equal measure as they buried their nose into his neck, “can’t have a fighting champion that slacks off right, sir?”

he nearly ripped their bodysuit off of them, how they used that title like it was a weapon that made him bleed with pride for them, one used sparingly and with the full force of a freight train as he pressed them on top of his face, sinking them down onto his handsome visage with vigor. they took from him, cognizant of his exhaustion in this position as they rode his face with semi-reckless abandon, blossoming underneath his tongue like a moon-blooming flower as they mewled and whined and preened for roman over and over. his tongue delved in like a man starved in the desert, having finally found his oasis—an oasis willing to give him all the ambrosia to consume.

they weren’t sure how many times they came like that, but quynh knew that at some point, they felt a pair of eyes on them, a familiar pair that could easily discern by the sheer weight of his gaze. yet, they didn’t deign to give him more satisfaction beyond a view that he evidently couldn’t look away from. maybe it was ironic, then, maybe it could be attributed to roman’s youth relative to john, the fact that he never really stopped wrestling, and didn’t just return on a whim.

they also knew their lover well enough to know that he really wanted to spite john just a little more, while also bringing them to new precipices of pleasure as he took them from behind, their body arched deep as he took his time, letting everything about them melt into a perfect harmony and contrast, their complexions, their ink, the bodies telling a story of yin and yang as roman pulled moans from them and had their body writhe in inexorable ways with each apex of pleasure.

but the reality that they were being watched set quynh’s nerves ablaze, and not because it made them aroused. it was the fact that the ghost they wanted to exorcise wouldn’t fucking leave. and they wanted roman to hide them, to shield the type of vulnerability they had just started learning to give again. roman hadn’t broken a promise with them yet, and he understood what they needed as he held them close, helped them slide onto his length, meeting them despite his exhaustion, his stamina relentless as ever.

quynh was starting to forget what it felt like to have just a piece of silicon bring them pleasure on nights like these, nights where they couldn't have the closeness they craved more than anything else. roman always delivered on that aspect, their banter fluid as water and viscous with adoration as he felt the imprint his length made in their abdomen, the deepness he provided, as they begged. and with the impeccable timing of his favorite pet name, he spilled into them, deep inside their walls as he kept them close and worked through their nth climax. yet, their most favorite part was the aftercare, the way he always ensured their comfort as he kissed the shrine of ink along their body, especially their arm with their implant as they shied away from their intruder, wanting to hide the artwork that defined their journey without him, especially their first one on their sides.

roman helped them back up back to their feet, helping them affix their heels and hair before draping his hoodie over them and asking if they wanted hotpot for dinner. quynh also heard the scurry of john’s footsteps to try and recover some semblance of dignity, but they knew when they affixed their gaze onto him, eyes scanning as they always did as they reflect on the amount of barbs roman had left about missionary, him asking them earlier if their coupling position beat it out.

at twenty-eight, quynh learned that they became their old flame’s ghost with just a single word: better.

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Reckless Indulgence - Jeff the Killer & Ticci Toby x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: Dubcon

Tags: Threesome, double vaginal penetration, fingering, oral sex, creampie, German dirty talk

Words: 5.1k

I posted this on AO3 a while back but I’m cross posting it here now :3

As always, all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy

if you speak German I’m sorry LMAO (and if you don’t just hold down to highlight the text and hit translate)

Trees blurred past as you drove down an old back road, music blaring through your speakers. You had curated the perfect playlist for the long drive ahead of you. There was nothing on these roads for miles and miles.

The sun was setting along the rows of trees, dipping down to disappear below them. Despite the night winding down your energy was all the way up.

You were on your way back home from a visit with one of your closest friends. It had been months since you had gotten to see her, so even with the distance the trip was definitely worth it. Ever since she moved away for college a couple of years ago, you only got to see her whenever there were breaks in both of your college’s schedules.

Now that it was summer you finally had the opportunity to go down and see her. You had an amazing time all weekend, it was hard to leave.

That’s why you ended up leaving a little later than you had intended. It made you a little nervous to be driving so far at night by yourself, but you tried to remind yourself you had nothing to worry about. You made sure to fill up your gas tank before you left, you didn’t need to pee, and you’d chosen only bangers for the music to accompany your trip.

You took a sip of your monster and got back to belting the lyrics to Yeah Boy and Doll Face.

“DO YOU WANT MEEEEEE? DO YOU WANT TO LET ME KNOW THAT YOU’RE OKAYYYYYYY?”

There was a slight rumbling sound coming from your car but you decided to ignore it.

“A DIAMOND GOLD RINGGGGG, CUSTOMIZED TO CUT YOUR CIRCULATION.”

The rumbling started to get louder.

That can’t be good.

“I COULDN’T LET YOU GO. I NEVER LET YOU GO MY DEAR!” You continued screaming.

The rumbling started to overtake even your loud vocals.

Maybe I should pull over?

Before you had the chance to weigh the pros and cons of pulling over on the side of the highway as a woman alone at night, your car had started decelerating.

“Fuck!” You managed to pull over in time for your car to completely stop running.

For a brief moment you just sat there, thinking about how absolutely fucked you were.

I don’t fucking know shit about cars. What the fuck am I gonna do?

You decided it would be best to at least try to take a look at it. You reached down and pulled the lever to pop the hood. After doing a little unceremonious walk to the front of the car you pulled the hood open and propped it up with the hook.

Your phone flashlight didn’t offer the best lighting, but after propping it up at a good angle you felt like you could actually take a look. You put your hands on your hips as your eyes scanned over the engine.

“Yep.” You said to yourself, taking a pause. “I don’t know shit about cars.”

You grabbed your phone and closed the hood. Who were you kidding?

You got back in the car and dialed your dad’s number.

The phone didn’t even ring. There was just the immediate ended-call beep. You pulled the phone away from your ear to glare at it for not working properly. The screen read “call failed.”

Great. You didn’t have reception now either.

What the hell? It was working a few minutes ago.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you rested your head on the steering wheel. You were definitely well and thoroughly fucked in this situation.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on the steering wheel. A previously unnoticed light ahead caught your eye.

Perhaps that is a gas station or some other source of respite.

So you got out of your car and started your sorry little trek to the gas station, shivering every time the wind blew just a little too hard.

Should’ve brought a damn jacket.

In your defense, it was summertime, so your crop top and shorts made a lot of sense for daytime weather. You just hadn’t anticipated having to walk half a mile at night. Clothing aside, you were being incredibly vigilant as you walked. Tonight just didn’t feel like the right night to get murdered.

As you got closer to the gas station, you could see it was dead as hell. Not surprising given you were in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night.

Two dudes standing on the corner of the building caught your eye. One was wearing black ripped skinny jeans and a white hoodie, pulled up over his head. You could see his messy long black hair coming down out of the hood. The rest of his face was obscured by a mask.

Maybe he’s worried about getting sick?

The other one was a bit taller, also wearing a hoodie, but his had stripes on the sleeves and he didn’t have it pulled up, which left his shaggy brown hair and a pair of goofy looking goggles on top of his head completely visible. There was also one other super notable feature about him, which was that he was wearing a huge bandage on the left side of his face.

These guys look kinda sketchy.

Other than your quick glance at them, you tried to keep your head down and walk into the gas station quickly. Once inside, you walked straight up to the counter, only to see it was empty.

There’s no one working here?

You waited for a bit, thinking maybe they had just walked to the back or were on break or something. A peruse of the aisles didn’t seem like a bad idea, but even after finding a monster and some candy, no one had come to the counter.

“Hello?” You called into the store, only to get silence back.

You waited for about 5 more minutes, your stomach starting to churn. Your original plan was to come in here and beg to use the phone, but there was no person behind the counter to beg to, and no phone in sight for you to just take matters into your own hands.

After another ten minutes of waiting you weren’t only anxious, but now you were feeling pretty pissed too. What kind of gas station doesn’t even keep staff on at night?

I’m fucking stealing this shit.

You walked out of the gas station, fuming, only to find that those two guys were still standing there.

Can’t hurt to ask.

You swallowed your fear and walked up to them, both of them turning to look at you as you walked up.

“Hi, um, sorry to bother you guys, but do either of you have a phone I could use?” When the pair just stared at you for just a beat too long you decided to keep going. “I promise I’m not trying to steal it! It’s just my car broke down and I’m not getting any reception out here.”

The tall one chuckled and you could tell the other guy was smiling a bit beneath his mask, they exchanged a glance before looking back at you. The pale one in the white hoodie was the first to speak up. “Nah, we’re not getting any reception out here either, sweetheart.” His voice was gruff and a bit raspy.

Despite the bad feeling in your gut from the way they had glanced at each other and the fact that you felt like that was a lie, you pushed further. “Well… You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about cars would you?”

—

“So what are you -fuck- doing out here in the middle of the night anyways?” The tall one, who had introduced himself to you as Toby asked. You noticed he jerked his head to the side in tandem with the swear, but you decided not to ask, it was probably some kind of medical condition or something.

“I was just passing through on my way home from visiting a friend. I hadn’t really anticipated my car totally malfunctioning.” You were walking in between them, Toby on your right and the other one, Jeff, on your left. You hadn’t really thought much about the way the three of you had fallen into stride, but now as you walked with them you felt a little nervous about being alone with them.

You cast a glance at Jeff, who had been a lot quieter than Toby. He glanced at you at the same moment and you immediately averted your eyes.

That shouldn’t have made my heart flutter like that. That’s just pathetic.

“You’re not go- -cough- gonna ask what we’re doing out here this late? You must be pretty carefree.” Toby had leaned in to say to you, causing you to jump just a little, especially since his jerking caused him to lean his head even closer to you than you assumed he intended.

You immediately realized how rude you were being. “I’m sorry!” You clasped your hands together. “I totally just asked you guys for help and I haven’t even asked anything about you guys.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Jeff finally spoke up. “Not the smartest, are you?”

You cocked your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“A girl alone asking two random guys for help when she has no way to escape? Pretty fucking stupid.”

Your brain short circuited, thrown off by the fact that he would say something like that so directly. You didn’t know what to say. Wanting to lighten the mood you just blurted out, “I mean at least you guys are hot.”

You immediately regretted it once it had come out.

What the fuck did I just say?

“Oh?” Toby had leaned in towards you again. “You’d just -fuck- say something like that so directly? Are you trying to ask us for something?”

“No, no!” You immediately tried to cover your ass. “I was just trying to make a joke or something. It was stupid.”

Jeff was looking at you now too, a dark look in his eyes. You could tell he was smiling under the mask, too.

“Are you a -fuck- sicko?” Toby asked, jerking a little more as you could feel his excitement rise. “Huh? Do you fantasize -fuck- about getting kidnap- -fuck- kidnapped by guys in the woods?” There was a clear fascination in his eyes, like he was dying to know the answer.

“I’m not!” You attested, holding your hands up in front of you trying to create a little bit of space between you and Toby. “I swear I was just-”

“This thing yours?”

You turned to see Jeff standing in front of your car. Thank god you were back to the car, it’s a worthy distraction.

“Yeah!” You said a little too eagerly. “I’ll go pop the hood.”

You circled the car and hopped into the driver's seat, pulling the handle under the steering wheel. The hood instantly jumped up with a little pop sound. You got out as Toby was pulling up the hood, propping it up with the hood rod.

You walked around the front of it, leaning over the car to point. “So it was making like a rumbling noise and it kinda sounded like it was coming from over here.”

You were completely bent over the car, painfully oblivious to the way your shorts hugged your ass.

They were on either side of you now, Toby a little closer than Jeff.

Jeez he really doesn��t know personal space…

“Yeah? It was over -fuck- here?” Toby jerked some more, pointing in the opposite direction you had shown them.

“No, it was more towards the back. Like-” You bent over even further to point in the direction of the noise. “Here.”

You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder right after you said that. Toby was way too close to you. Even worse, he looked like he was jittering with excitement.

Before you could even process that, his arms snaked around you. One around your hip to harshly press you against him and the other roughly squeezing your chest. He leaned in close to your neck, nose pressed against your hair before he inhaled deeply. You yelped in surprise, both from Toby and from the sudden sound of the hood closing.

“You always rush the fun parts.” Your eyes whipped next to you where Jeff was, pulling off his face mask which revealed two large gashes on his face, gruesomely exaggerating his smile.

“Yeah, but she smells so good.” Toby sniffed you again, then squeezed the places he was holding you even harder causing you to yelp again. “And I knew she’d make cute noises.”

“You’re scaring her. She’d like this better.” Jeff said, lifting your chin and pulling you into a kiss that slowly became sloppier as it went on. Electricity shot down to your cunt.

Your head was spinning, your body growing hotter as this went on. How did this even happen?

“Hey, that’s not fair -fuck-. I wanted -fuck- to kiss her first.” Toby seemed to jerk even more the more excited he got.

Jeff seemed to ignore Toby’s complaining, only pushing his tongue deeper into your mouth. You felt the wetness collecting in your panties, especially when Toby pressed himself even harder against you. You could feel how hard he was already, and that knowledge only served to send more electricity down to your cunt.

“Y’know you’re not really struggling at all.” Toby whispered to you. “I was right about you wasn’t I? You’re sick, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, Jeff still occupying your mouth. Toby started kissing your neck, landing on the perfect spot to suck hard and leave a mark. His hand snaked down from your hip, dipping under your waistband and into your panties. His fingers slid between your folds, immediately getting coated in all your wetness. He groaned in your ear. “You really do like this don’t you? You’re so fucking wet.”

Jeff pulled away from your mouth, looking you in the eyes. “You’re fucking wet already? That’s pathetic.”

Toby bit into your neck, causing you to moan. Jeff grabbed your face, squeezing it as he forced you to look him in the eyes. He looked completely fascinated with you. “She really is a good one.”

Toby started to run his fingers in between your folds, deliberately slowing down each time his fingers ran over your clit. You bit your lip to stifle the moan that rose up. “See? Good thing I killed that stupid fuck at the gas station.” Toby said, sounding pretty proud of himself.

You froze, your face twisting into a horrified expression.

“Oh, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” Jeff teased, a sick grin on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of us now?”

“Let me go!” You sounded panicked, starting to struggle out of Toby’s hold. Toby giggled at your attempts, they had no effect on his grip. He was much much stronger than he looked.

In some sick twist of fate, the fear was only making you more aroused, but there was absolutely no way you could let them know that. That would undoubtedly be disastrous.

“That’s the expression I love to see.” Jeff smiled wide, loving the way the fear was etched into your features. Toby bit you again, harder this time, causing a half scream, half moan sound to come out of you.

“You know that you’re only getting wetter?” Toby said, just to taunt you. He dipped a finger into you. “Fuck, you’re tight. You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl.”

Jeff leaned down to your neck, biting down on the side opposite of the one Toby bit earlier. The pain caused you to cry out, only turning into choked moans as Toby slid another finger in and curled them forward.

Jeff had one hand on your waist and the other started unbuttoning your shorts as he sucked a dark purple mark onto your neck. Toby only continued to grind his fingers against your g-spot, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

Jeff pulled back to admire his work, biting back a smirk quickly before practically ripping your shorts down to the ground. “She even wore cute panties. Those for us, sweetheart?”

You whined in response. You were only getting wetter and wetter, your cunt making gushing sounds as Toby continued to pound your g-spot with his fingers. “I think she really likes being treated like a slut.” Toby said. “She’s not even fighting it.” He leaned closer to your ear. “You like it when we’re rough with you, don’t you, pretty girl? Makes your cunt feel good?”

Your eyes started to flutter back, and Jeff gripped your face once again. “Hey. Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He simultaneously wrapped his other hand around your throat. “Gonna come already?”

Toby let go of your chest, only momentarily though, so he could slip his hand under your crop top and bra and tease your nipples. The combination of everything was too much, you felt hazy and your brain was turning to TV static. The tension in your stomach was coiling and coiling until it finally snapped.

“That’s it. Good girl. Come like the pathetic fucking slut you are.” Toby taunted you as you came hard around his fingers, your cunt convulsing around them.

“Fuckkk…” you moaned out, your eyes rolling back in your head. “Don’t stop…” you just barely whispered, but it was loud enough for Toby to hear. He giggled in your ear. “God, you’re sick.”

Jeff was getting annoyed watching you two. Albeit watching you come was entertaining, he was a little pissed he wasn’t the one to make you come first. “Alright, my turn. Get her up on the car.”

Toby swiveled around with you in his arms, sitting back on the hood of the car with you on his lap, your back pressed to his chest. He hooked an arm under each of your legs, hauling them up and completely putting you on display for Jeff. “That good enough for you?” Toby asked, a little smug. He was clearly still feeling cocky from making you come first.

Jeff just rolled his eyes, sinking down to his knees. His face was just inches away from your cunt. He gripped your thigh with one hand, using the other one to spread you open even further with his thumb.

“Aww~, your pretty little pussy is trembling.” He snickered, looking right at your most intimate area.

You trembled in Toby’s hold. “What? You’re embarrassed now?” Toby asked, mockingly.

Jeff watched you tremble for just a second longer before licking a thick stripe up your cunt. A long moan tore out of your throat, your head falling back onto Toby’s shoulder.

More moans followed as Jeff started lapping at your clit, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of electricity through your body.

You were still so sensitive from coming a few minutes ago, so it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge again.

Toby pushed one of your legs to the side, leaving you to hold it open yourself as he occupied his hand by pushing up your shirt, taking the bra up with it and exposing your chest to the cool night air.

He used the hand that was still holding your other leg to start kneading your chest and the other one to turn your chin towards him, tipping it upwards to claim your mouth.

You moaned into Toby’s mouth as Jeff’s tongue started to tease your entrance, dipping inside. He used his thumb to put pressure on your clit as he fucked you with his tongue.

Toby bit your lip a little bit before releasing your mouth. “You that close already?”

“Fuck…!” You moaned out, gripping Toby’s pant legs below you to ground yourself.

Toby roughly turned your chin towards him again, “You gonna come all over his tongue, pretty girl? Huh? Answer me.”

“I’m… coming…!” You whimpered, almost breathlessly.

Your climax seemed to never end, dragging on and on as Jeff continued to rub circles on your clit while he tongue fucked you. Finally, he relented and you were able to come down.

Jeff got up, already unbuttoning his pants. “Keep her up like that.”

Toby immediately refused. “What? No way. I want to fuck her first.” He let go of your legs and stood up, hauling you up with him. He turned you towards him, sitting back down onto the hood of the car and pulling you into his lap.

“You already got to make her come first.” Jeff argued.

“So?” Toby looked unaffected, already unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his cock out. “She’s already in my lap.” He looked up at you. “Besides, you wanna fuck me first anyways, right?”

You could barely focus on what they were saying, focusing more on Toby’s cock pressed against the entrance of your cunt. You were dripping onto him. The need to have him inside you was dire, and if you were honest you didn’t have time to wait for this argument to play out.

You rocked yourself against his cock, signaling how desperate you were. “Such a cockslut.” Toby muttered under his breath, biting his lip as he helped guide you onto his length. You both let out a groan as you sunk down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck… I knew you’d be tight.” Toby breathed out, gripping your hips with bruising force. You winced, and he looked up at you with eyes full of morbid fascination. “Does it hurt?”

His hold on you didn’t loosen as he lifted your hips and slammed you back down onto him, watching the way your face changed from pain to pleasure. “But you like it? It feels good?” He kept moving your hips up and down on his lap.

“Slow… down…!” You moaned uncontrollably. The more times you came, the more sensitive you had become.

“Really? You want me to? You’re creaming all over my cock right now.” He bit his lip.

It was then that your ears started picking up on the horribly lewd squelching noise made by your movements. You were creaming all over him. Tears were brimming in your eyes as you got closer and closer to coming again.

Toby slammed into your g-spot just a few more times just right until you finally broke, coming around his cock. You were almost crying out, letting out choked moans until he bit down hard on your shoulder. He let out a low groan and kept his face buried in your shoulder. “Du fühlst dich so gut an.” He mumbled.

You were too out of it to even process that he wasn’t even speaking English.

“He acts like we can even understand what the fuck he’s saying.” Jeff scoffed, his fingers prodding at your cunt.

“Jeff!” You whipped around, surprised that he had gotten so close without you even noticing.

“Hey what are you doing?” Toby narrowed his eyes at Jeff. “Wait your turn.”

Jeff had coated his fingers in the substance created by you and Toby and was slowly edging his finger into your cunt.

“She can take it. Relax, Toby.” Jeff rolled his eyes. You felt yourself stretch wider as Jeff got his finger in, pushing it as deep as possible.

“Oh my god…” you breathed out, gripping onto Toby even tighter.

“You can take it, can’t you?” Jeff whispered in your ear. “I know you can.”

Jeff added a second finger, stretching you even wider with Toby still inside you. The increase in pressure from behind was pushing Toby’s cock against your g-spot hard, causing you to tighten around him and Jeff’s fingers.

You leaned forward, burying your face in Toby’s shoulder so you could let out a guttural moan without having to feel so embarrassed about it. You lifted your hips as much as you could with Toby inside you, giving Jeff the perfect angle to slip into your cunt.

You felt the head of his cock push at your entrance as soon as he retracted his fingers. “Such a perfect little slut. You want to take both our cocks, sweetheart?”

You whined, hoping he would just fuck you already.

Jeff gripped around your throat, his voice coming out in a low growl. “I want an answer. Tell me you want both our cocks in you, fucking slut.”

Toby lifted your chin. “Look at me while you say it.”

It was absolutely humiliating having to admit that you were this greedy for both of them, but it only made you want it more. “I want… both… inside.”

Toby’s eyes went almost hazy, dazed with lust. “Gott, du bist so verdammt süß, wenn du auf meinem Schoß sitzt.” He whispered against your lips before hungrily kissing you as Jeff slowly started to push himself into your cunt.

It was unlike anything you had felt before, the feeling was so overwhelming you felt like coming just from having them both inside.

“See? I knew you could take both, just like a good fucking slut.” Jeff groaned into your ear, holding onto your waist and slowly pulling back before pushing into you again.

Your mind had gone offline, only able to focus on the overwhelming sensation in your cunt and the hands all over your body.

Toby’s hands gripped around your hips again, holding you tightly as he started to rock you in time with Jeff’s thrusts. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, leaning into Toby as he slowly laid back on the hood of the car, pulling you down with him.

You could easily see on his face how good it felt for him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes were completely dazed as he stared at you. The intensity of the eye contact combined with the sensory overload was enough to make you climax again, not even able to really squeeze around their cocks with how much you were stretched, but it still had you shaking and whining.

“God… you’re taking us so well, sweetheart.” Jeff was pulling you down onto his cock even harder. “Gonna fill your pretty pussy up with so much cum.”

You were so pliable in their hands, allowing them to move you in anyway they wanted. The pleasure wracked through your whole body, making your muscles go limp.

Toby’s brain seemed to have come back online, finally adjusting to the tightness of having both of them inside. He got a sick grin on his face when he saw just how fucked out you looked. “I’m gonna break you.” He said breathlessly, before moving a hand off your hip to press on your clit.

It was then that you swore you could see your life flash before your eyes. You were going to die, death by orgasm. You collapsed fully on to Toby’s chest, giving Jeff an even better angle to fuck you. You came so hard you swore you could actually see stars.

“Fuck.” You heard Jeff curse, his thrusts getting more sporadic before feeling the warmth fill your cunt.

For just a moment, everything was still. The only sound was the overlapping panting of you three. You squeaked as Jeff slowly pulled out of you. Despite the loss, you still felt so full with Toby inside.

“Fuck you’re still so tight.” Toby almost growled in your ear. He gripped your hips and lifted you up off of him. You whined at the loss of him before you even registered how embarrassed you should be for whining at such a thing.

He quickly flipped you over on your back, like you were weightless. “C’mon, don’t whine. I just want a better angle now that I don’t have to share.” He harshly thrusted into you without warning, with an obscene gushing sound from Jeff’s cum still in your cunt. You gasped sharply from just how harsh and sudden it was.

“That was mean wasn’t it?” Toby asked you, cruelly. He was mumbling more to himself, “Ich kann dir nicht widerstehen, wenn du so wehrlos für mich bist.”

You finally noticed that Jeff had sat down next to you on the hood when he turned your chin towards him. “Be a good girl and clean me off?”

You opened your mouth, licking his half-hard cock clean of his cum and your juices. You moaned over his cock as Toby gripped your hips hard, drilling into your g-spot.

“Does it feel good when he fucks my cum into you?” Jeff taunted you, looking right into your eyes as you continued to lick his cock as best you could while you were completely fucked out.

Toby was getting more breathless, a series of groans coming from him. “Du bist so verdammt süß, wenn du so wehrlos unter mir liegst.”

Feeling satisfied with your job, Jeff pulled back, allowing Toby to fully focus on filling you with a second load. He pushed one of your legs back to your chest and leaned forward, fucking deep into you. “You want me to come? Huh? You want me to fill you up again?”

“Fuck…! Please…!” You were so close, desperate for just a little bit more.

Toby bit your neck hard, a half groan half growl ripping out of his throat as he came deep inside. The pain was just enough to send you over the edge, your cunt milking every last drop from him.

He kept his head buried in your neck and muttered something. “Ich kann dich nicht einfach davonkommen lassen.”

—

It was cold, your breath puffed out in front of you as you walked along the sidewalk, the streetlights barely enough to illuminate your path. You shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets, they had started to get red from the cold.

One of the flyers on the telephone pole caught your eye, strangely illuminated in the sea of papers stapled to the pole.

Your own smiling face stared back at you. The word “missing” written in big letters at the top, with a physical description of you written right under. The text at the bottom listed where you were last seen and where your car was found.

You stared at it for what felt like forever.

“Getting distracted, sweetheart?” Jeff asked, tilting your chin towards him.

Toby grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him and away from Jeff. “C’mon -fuck- pretty girl. We got places to be.” He jerked his head to the side.

“Pfft. You two are always the same.” You smiled, walking along with them.

Okay so btw, back when I wrote another Toby fic (which I will post later) I did some research to make my characterization more accurate. So according to the users of reddit, for the most part tics will subside during sex, so I wrote it that way here. Just wanted to clarify that I didn’t just forget to write his tics halfway through.

Hope you enjoyed~