#ill stop here lol i have so many more fics i want to add | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grapesodatozier · 3 years ago

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years ago

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Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn’t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

#analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #wisherbystarlight

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ipatrichor · 3 years ago

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hello pat! a little late for this but 15, 27 & 28 for the writing ask game!

hello! :D

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

this is a difficult one for a few reasons! first of all is the difference between mediums, and how a lot of my writing wouldn't translate very well to film just because of how different they are. i guess maybe my chatfic the thing with the window because of the amount of work i put into worldbuilding and supernatural lore ^^ i'm already planning to eventually write a non-chatfic version with bonus scenes, and i have lore planned for a while ahead that i think people will enjoy, so :'

27. How do you feel about collaborations?

i've actually only ever been asked to collaborate once, and it's an original story rather than a fanfiction lmao. it's honestly pretty flattering because it's like me?? you want my input??? i'd honestly love to work with other people, because y'all frequently astound me with your creativity and talented writing ^^ but yeah, i'd love to collaborate with people more often! i'm just too nervous to ask and sometimes when i've been the one to start an idea i get a bit protective of it, like what if people think it's meh or dumb :' add to that the various diverse opinions on characterization my friends have, and i've just never asked lol

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

mm okay let me look through my bookmarks :'

okay idk if the first one has a tumblr, but angelsdemonsducks has written some incredibly good c!wilbur-centric fics (i was gonna link a few of my favorites, but there are too many to choose from so just go look, trust me). i adore their writing because they really get c!wilbur, and write him in a way that stays true to his flaws while also never forgetting that he's a human being who loves and is loved and deserves to grow and be happy. just trust me and go at least look through what they've written, everything of theirs i've read has been incredible

second is probably @bigbraveboop (ao3 here). yet another person with incredible c!wilbur fics (their wingbur au breaks my fucking heart every time i reread it), and my favorite part of their writing is the relationships and interactions between characters, especially crimeboys :D like they just Get It

ok this is really hard but last one is @nic-takes-ls (ao3 here) for incredible characterization crimes (especially the bombs in your head and how to make them stop- seriously, if you read nothing else by aer read this one it's so fucking good and doesn't villainize wilbur's mental illness). he's really good at creating these unique and fitting vibes, and they've made me cry more than once with their fics :'

ask game

#thanks for the ask :}#i have a lot more favorite writers but it said three and these were the three that came to mind so :'#asks #ask game #abnormal-normality

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icharchivist · 3 years ago

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cries think I made my ask too long so like half of it got deleted bc I typed it right into the askbox. anyways. I come bearing a3 thoughts! at first i was gonna watch the spring/summer and autumn/winter ones and then give my thoughts on both but. turns out i had too many thoughts lol? which i shouldve expected but i actually kind of... got bored by the first two chapters of this event! so i skipped and went to the stranger. and then went back. (1/?)

and then i got to like "tsuzuru and kazunari are having a fight?" and jumped on that like a starving wolf bc helllll yeah! i rly adored kazunari in sardine search, i think he was great! hes just so nice and has good vibes. he and taichi are kind of similar i feel? but i think their respective ages contribute to a lot of difference in their characters. why does it feel like this askbox limit personally wants me dead. (2/?)

anyways! i rly enjoyed the improv scene devolving to a real fight. admittedly i was kinda surprised that the content of that improv wasnt rly too similar to their actual fight? like normally a3 has the story of the play run parallel to like the actual real character drama so i thought the improv might function as the play in this event... it was still good tho. the scene i mean. (3/?)

also i rly liked tenma ragging on them afterwards. like he was mean but. first i adore tenma. second he just felt like. a different meddling type to muku lol? like the vibes he gave me were always like... im going to be a considerate leader and watch out for the ppl under me! therefore im gonna make sure theyre doing fine! aggressively. i think tenmas also just like a friendly person who likes to take care of others in general? like im not saying hes omi or anything but just like. (4/?)

that time he offers his car ride to juza so they can go to school together like hes surprisingly open compared to his initial prickliness. also ive got thoughts abt the tenma juza SSR conversation thing i read. one day ill make a tenma and juza fic and complete a trifecta haha... but thats something for another day! back to the actual story. the way tsuzuru dives right in after kazunari! that was so nice. like its easy to see how much they care abt each other. (5/?)

to the point where like even while theyre fighting theyre like angry but still like fairly quiet bc i think theyre both at least trying to be considerate of each other. ah the moment kazunari didnt respond to tsuzuru trying to talk to him i KNEW he was sick tho. felt proud of myself for calling that one but also the reason i knew is bc i have used the "character being sick during an argument causing them both to make up with each other" trope myself before so uh. like recognizes like haha. (6/?)

anyways the cg there was fuckin beautiful like kazunari looks so sad in the middle bit but then u see his shy smile? like hes sick but hes also like. happy to be there. idk. lovely. i adore kazu i think hes just deeply sweet to other people. tsuzuru telling him "you make everyone around you feel as bright and cheery as the things you design” is so wonderful too (7/?)

now im thinking. ah tsuzuru probably feels quite drained after a script and such (i know i am when i finish any piece--its like the emotions just rush out of me) so i like to think that like yknow. kazunari dropping by his room or whatever helps him set himself back to normal! but also when tsuzurus like oh u left ur magazines here! i suddenly remembered. wait shit kazunari and tsuzuru arent even roommates. wonder how much they bother masumi lmaooo. anyways overall very good story! (8/?)

some more thoughts: itaru and citron were so cute in this event! just like. citron saying itaru winking makes his heart skip a beat and itaru quoting citrons wrong sayings (which. i am also guilty of today i told my brother "we'll jump that bridge when we cross it" so) also i love how yuki is like "thank god i wasnt partnered with that hack" but like. yuki. u could literally just not talk about him. like its so funny to me yuki is like wow i hate tenma but he wont shut up abt him haha (9/?)

i also was a lil taken aback at hearing itaru go "for the lulz" tbh... like it fits him. but im mad it fits him? anywaysss thats all i had for this one! im gonna watch autumn/winter and go say my thoughts on that soon. sorry the ask was so broken up, idk what happened!

OLA FRIEND! Glad to see your thoughts again omg :3c

tho omg the fact tumblr deleted it all + the ask limit was all so evil D: poor friend.

I'm putting my answer under a read more because. Well. *waves hand* it got long.

The non-play events can be perhaps a little harder to get into because unlike the plays events that you start with a clear idea of at least the main plot (re: "they are preparing a play, i know the leads so i know who it will focus on"), non-plays events take a little longer to first set up what event they're participating in, how to prepare for it, and then bring up the conflict and which characters are going to have something to do with said conflict. So i can understand that they're a little harder to get into when we know the plays awaits.

On top of that, the first few events still were a bit tame because since it was early when the app released, i think they didn't go too heavy at once in case some people were still stuck on earlier chapters (esp since especially Winter is hard to unlock)

ANYWAY glad that it sucked you in on the second read :3c

So glad you were invested in that conflict!

Totally agreeing with you about Kazunari, and very good point about Taichi as well! they aren't the Puppy Pair for nothing :'D (Yuki took one look at both of them together and just Knew. His suffering knows no end (lovingly)). But yeah i think they have a lot in common, they both are the really bright and friendly figure, both also started in overcompensating a bit because both wanted to be popular in some ways.

But we do have, on one hand, Kazunari who wanted that rather late in his life while Taichi always thrived for that, the fact Kazunari made friends easily and it's just that he was scared of getting to the next level, while Taichi always struggled with this quest for popularity. In a way too both of them were at least scared to share a part of them, Kazunari worrying to show his thoughts, and Taichi being a spy and all of that... which impacts them really differently considering the guilt it puts on Taichi. And then you add their age into the mix, especially the fact Kazu is the oldest of his troupe and Taichi the youngest of his, it makes them fairly similar all while being fairly different.

both are so interesting to me and i love them bothhh, so it's always nice to see them have focus.

admittedly i was kinda surprised that the content of that improv wasnt rly too similar to their actual fight? like normally a3 has the story of the play run parallel to like the actual real character drama so i thought the improv might function as the play in this event

i love how you are seeing the patterns a3 tends to do it's so neat!

It's true the fight isn't really similar to their actual fight, though i do love that they had "swapped" their personality for the act and ended up insulting each other for theirr swapped personality. Like, Kazunari insulted part of himself in Tsuzuru's character and Tsuzuru did the same?? and then the fight escalated and the way Kazunari broke character hurts bc it's really that Tsuzuru hit where it hurts. But yeah it still wasn't too relevent to their actual fight, though i think the thing is that their fight was as such mostly because they tend to clash often due to their personalities rather than just this singular reason why, so to have the play go more "it's their personalities the problem" kinda hurt lol. But yeah still agreed that it didn't reflect much on the plot itself

I was rereading the improv bit to answer correctly and man since we're going to talk about Tenma next, i just. Love that when Kazunari, breaking character, his eyes sad, tells Tsuzuru "you have no rights talking to me like that..." it then cuts on Tenma being upset. Bc like. Exactly like you say, he wants to look out for the people under him. and like. Kazunari is his friend. A friend he also snapped at once and insulted for being who he was, so he probably could have relived a bit of his fight with Kazunari seeing those two fights; Except that now Kazunari is one of his closest friend and he doesn't like that.

Also like. It was also because he could still hide under the plot of the improv but it's so rare, and it never happened before that point, that Kazunari stands for himself in a "the way you treat me is unfair"? Like again re: his fight with Tenma, when Tenma snapped at him, while Tenma was unfair with him, Kazunari took the blame, called himself annoying and all yaknow?

The fact Kazunari is starting to accept that he can take more place for himself is something the whole Summer Troupe have been trying to help him work on, but especially Tenma. Tenma is always there trying to push Kazunari to say what he means, to express his feelings, to stop hiding.

And for once, Kazunari does that in front of everyone... and it's because he's breaking because of his fight with Tsuzuru.

I think Tenma probably felt it was even more of a reason to get involved like, this is the thing he's been working on with Kazunari about, and now he's being all hurt about it, not on Tenma's watch!

And i totally agree with your take on Tenma! (and would LOVE to read the Tenma and Juza fic once you get to it :3c). I think, Tenma is really caring and is trying to take a place as a caretaker and all, but unlike Omi, he has absolutely no reference for it.

Omi is the eldest of multiple brothers and everything indicates his parents have always been lovely to him. Add to it how he ended up leader of a delinquent crew he was clearly looking after, Omi has a history of taking care of people, of nurturing them, and he knows what he's doing. Meanwhile Tenma grew up on TV sets, mostly surrounded by adults and not by people his age, mostly getting advice from being ordered around by directors i think. And his parents are distant, hyperfocused on their job, not really nursing with him. So Tenma meanwhile really didn't have a family emotional support and was in situation where he couldn't befriend other kids his age. His only reference was probably Igawa (his agent) and i think for a long time he didn't exactly see it, and Igawa remained mostly professional so there was probably the idea of it not being sincere? That Tenma had to grow out of.

So like, they're both extremely nurturing and caring, but my point is that Omi has experiences in it and is at ease with it, while Tenma has been so alone and in places were he had no support system that even if he wants to support others, he still struggles with how to do it because he has no set exemple. And that's his development in the main story arc, to learn from how Izumi shows she cares in order to care back at them all.

Like i mean the way Tenma yelled at them about their mistakes at first feel like he would have picked it up from some directors on TV set yaknow? Probably hearing them say that with no consequences on others actors, seeing it worked, didn't think "that's an abuse of power and the actors probably all think badly of their director for that" but "wow that works", tried it on his troupesmates and realized this is... not how that works. And it's spending time watching how Izumi encourages them that have him fix his way to approach it.

So yeah i got lost too into it but like. I feel you on Tenma i love him so much and i love his development so to see him get pissed and involved there? was really nice. even if he was aggressive about it. He's still learning.

ANYWAY back to Tsuzuru and Kazunari, totally agree with what you say next. They still care a lot about each other and yeah they're at a point where this consideration they have for each other make their anger more quiet than trying to attack one another (Banri could NEVER-). so yeah totally agree with you!

DLKFJDLKF i LOVE the reasoning on "recognizing that Kazunari was sick". Your writer's powers making you see through... *coughs* unlike Tsuzuru....

AND YEAH ALL YOU SAY ABOUT THE CG.. YEAH. Kinda crying thinking about it again now LDKJFLKDJF It's just. Everything about it is so soft and tender. The things Tsuzuru tells Kazunari are soo so sweet sobs. They're just adorable i love those kids. and also i feel you for Kazu he's just that great huh?

The whole set up about Kazu dropping by his room is so so cute! I love it! Like probably the very first time Tsuzuru braces himself because "oh no i'm not in the mood to stand mister hyperenergy himself" but Kazunari quickly adjust his energy so that Tsuzuru can just recharge without being overwhelmed. Yes it would drive Masumi completely nuts. Which i think is a plus for Tsuzuru like, hey, if Masumi gets annoyed once in a while it's a win. But yeah also i think that Tsuzuru and Kazunari should really have the Artistic Soldiarity of Students in Art school Probably Working Until Very Late To Complete Their Projects. Would love if at the end Tsuzuru gave it back yaknow?

but yeah their story was really nice i'm so glad you liked it! :D

oh god yeah Itaru and Citron were SO cute in it too, i also love the comments Citron makes about Itaru's winks. Just there flirting in front of everyone like those two embarrassing friends huh. (probably with Muku being all starry eyes considering he greatly admires both Itaru and Citron and, well, Romance.). And yeah i love how Itaru ends up so much into Citron's rhythm (and this idiom you said? is glorious actually, 10 points for you)

DLKFJDLKF what a call out toward Yuki. "yes i hate Tenma,no i won't shut up about him, also if YOU say you hate Tenma i'm going to stab you with my needles, have a nice fucking day.". I love their dynamics so much aha

And yeah Itaru is there cursing us the whole time with the fact he's the greatest nerd ever and it fits him perfectly. It makes me laugh so hard.

Thank you so much for having shared your thoughts there! it's always a blast to read through them and i dearly enjoyed it! (+ it makes me relive the event a little and it makes me soft!)

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! So glad you had so many thoughts about all of this, what a blast.

thank you for sharing, and looking forward the Autumn/Winter reactions :3c

Take care!

#ichareply #ichafantalks a3 #sonnets of beauty

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neo-shitty · 3 years ago

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toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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kalypsichor · 5 years ago

Text

and they were quARANTINED [a beatles fic] - ch 1

summary: George takes a shit. Ringo braves a trip to the tescos and loses a bit of his soul. John harrasses the general public and Paul’s just trying to get them home before they kill each other. All while a virus tears the world apart.

warnings: CRACK (not cocaine), geo’s bad potty habits, ringo’s copious use of emojis

so, this is different... but i’ve always been a crack fic writer at heart. this is the result of being quarantined myself due to COVID-19. i’ve been seeing so much fear and frustration and hatred that i just wanted to write about it kinda cathartically. enjoy!

Unfortunately, George doesn’t realize that they’re out of toilet paper until after he’s taken a shit.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Ringo?”

No answer.

“Ringooooooooo. RINGO!!!”

George’s legs are starting to lose feeling. He bounces them up and down a bit and the motion almost makes him drop his phone in the toilet.

“RICHARD FUCKING STARKEY!”

There’s the sound of footsteps and then a pause before Ringo answers.

“What’s up?”

“What took you so long?”

“Had my headphones in. Sorry I couldn’t be at your beck and call, O Lord of the Loo.”

“SHUT up. Look, do we have any more loo roll?”

A pause. “Why, are we out?”

George rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “No, I’m askin’ for the banter.”

“I’ll go check. Don’t move!”

George can almost see the shit-eating (heh) grin on his mate’s face as he walks away. With a sigh and some choice curse words that would make Louise cry, George pulls out his phone again. Opens Twitter. Sees yet another tweet from that spraytanned clown across the pond. Closes Twitter and contemplates deleting it. After about three rounds of this, Ringo comes back and knocks on the door.

“We’re all out. Got you some tissues, though.”

Krishna help me. George tips his head back against the wall and thumps it a few times for good measure.

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Could you- ?”

The door opens just a smidge before he can finish talking there’s a flying blur of Kleenex box, a blinding pain in the side of his head, and a sickening crACK—

***

“I’m really sorry,” Ringo says for the millionth time, hovering over George as he examines the spiderweb of cracks on his phone screen. George huffs. He wants to be mad, he really does, but Ringo’s face is doing that stupid thing where his eyes are very, very blue and droopy and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip and it’s obvious that he’s genuinely remorseful and—fuck, he’s got it bad.

“It’s fine,” George insists, even though he can hear his bank account having a fit. “Piece of shit phone, anyway. And look, it still works!” Very shittily, his brain adds, but that’s what you get with a five year old phone.

The older boy’s eyes still have an unconvinced, sad look about them and George wishes he could kiss it away. No homo, though.

“How can I make it up to you?” George’s brain does a slutdrop into the gutter. “I’ll… I’ll get the groceries! How ‘bout that?”

“NO!” Scrambling off the couch, George just barely misses smacking noses with Ringo. “What about the… the virus?”

“I’ll wear a mask and all. Wash hands for twenty seconds, stay six feet away from people… am I missing anything?”

“Yeah, the quarantine bit.”

Ringo snorts and puts a hand on George’s arm. “Quit your worrying, Geo. I’ll be fine. Haven’t John and Paul been out all day?”

***

John and Paul want to go the fuck home. They’d walked all the way to a new art gallery opening only to find out it was cancelled (“Why didn’t you check Google?” “Why didn’t you?”). And now, both being tired as hell from their long trek, they couldn’t even flag down a single cab to take them home.

“This is the worst thing ever,” John cries, flopping his entire body down on a park bench. Paul rolls his eyes and lifts up John’s stupidly long legs so he can sit down as well.

“People are dying, John.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“John.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m being dramatic. But this stupid… thing… is fucking up all our plans!”

“It’s not fucking Voldemort, you can say the name.”

“Alright, fine. Coronavirus. CORONAVIRUS. You happy, Paul?”

A woman hurrying by shoots them a wide-eyed, nervous look and crosses the street, tugging a little boy by the hand.

“... bitch.”

“Jesus, John.” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d do that too if some rando was shouting in the streets.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t hafta shoot that nasty look at us… did you see that? Paul?”

“Hold on, hold on.” His phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fumbles to pull it out. “Your stupid legs are in the way.”

John huffs and makes a show of wiggling said legs, almost kicking Paul in the face. Still, he tucks them to his chest (flexible, Paul thinks and then instantly regrets) so that Paul can take out the buzzing rectangle.

bongo: do u or john want anything? 🤔🤔

bongo: like groceries

bongo: going to tescos

Shouldnt you be quarantining?

bongo: ur literally at an art museum 😂

It’s a gallery

And it got cancelled :/

bongo: oop sorry m8 thats tough

bongo: srsly tho whaddaya want

We need more vegetables. Carrots, etc

“Tell him to get cornflakes,” John says, peering over Paul’s shoulder. He’s sat up and practically draped over Paul’s lap. Paul sighs and shoves his legs off, ignoring the indignant squawk the other boy makes when he almost falls off the bench.

Also that cornflake cereal stuff

bongo: k

bongo: tell john i said hi

Heyyyyyy rich wots up

Paulie’s being a bitch he pushed me :((((

Why is his auto caps on lsdnfol

“Give it back!”

“Ow! Ow stop hitting me Jesus fuckin-”

Sorry that was john

bongo: yeah i could tell lmao

bongo: where are u guys??

Stuck at some park. Can’t get any cabs home

bongo: well duh coronavirus 😷😷😷

bongo: bad time to be a cabbie man 😔

Yeah yikes

Pick up some rice for george too

And hand sanitizer

bongo: ill try but twitter says handsan itizer is going fast

bongo: what the fuc why did it space like that

Lol

bongo: oh also

bongo: geos being a mother hen and making me wear a face mask

bongo: u know where they are?

Second drawer down in the bathroom, behind the rubber gloves

bongo: … how did u reply SO fast

Uh i know where things are in our flat? Like a normal person?

bongo: thats sus but ok

bongo: wow theyre actually here

bongo: okay imma head out before it gets dark

What’s after dark? Zombies?

bongo: u never no

bongo: *no

bongo: FUCKING *KNOW

Nice

Okay stay safe ritch

bongo: 😘🙃👍🏼✌🏼✌🏼🌈🌟🥦🥦🥦☮️

***

Ringo has never seen this many people at Tesco in his entire life. Two grown men are having a full on argument in the pastries. A harried-looking dad almost knocks Ringo into a rack of Twinkies, pulling along two screaming kids with one slung on his hip. And… is that person actually wearing a Hazmat suit??

“This is insane,” Ringo mutters to himself, slightly muffled due to the face mask. He just needs to find the loo roll and then he’s going to yeet outta here ASAP.

Okay, hygiene aisle… here we g—what the—

The entire aisle is empty.

It’s like a goddamn Old Western. Just add a cow skull… cue the tumbleweed… and it would be perfect.

Not for the first time that day, Ringo sends a prayer to whoever is listening above. There’s got to be something left. He walks down to the end of the aisle. Walks back. Jumps a couple times to check if there’s anything on the top shelf. Sincerely hopes no one just saw him do that. Finally, shoved at the very back behind a couple of Always boxes, Ringo digs out a dusty as shit six-pack of toilet paper.

Well. It’ll have to do.

As he’s walking to the check out lines, a woman drops her bottle of hand sanitizer. It rolls across the floor in a perfect arc and Ringo scoops it up before it can get too far.

“Oops, you dropped this!” He says cheerily, handing it to her. Well, trying to. The woman makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, physically flinches away from his outstretched hand, and almost drops the rest of her groceries. Before Ringo can react, she’s disappeared behind the produce aisle.

Ringo’s arm falls to his side. He stares at the space where she was just a second ago and holds in a scream.

“More for us, I guess.”

***

By the time Ringo reaches the flat, he’s ready to never see another person again. He trudges right past George in the kitchen, dropping the groceries on the table with a thwack. John hums a greeting to him in the living room and offers him a biscuit.

“No thanks,” Ringo says. He faceplants into the couch.

Something clinks onto the coffee table. Well, coffee table is one way to put it; it’s more of a hunk of stone from back when Paul thought he was going to be the next Michelangelo and get really into classical sculpture. It now sits in the living room and primarily holds George’s textbooks, plus takeout for whenever they don’t feel like cooking (which is all the time), so you can see how that panned out for Paul.

“Tea for you,” George says. He plops onto the floor between the couch and the table and runs a friendly, comforting hand through Ringo’s hair. Ringo practically purrs, leaning into the touch, and George feels his heart melt and trickle through his ribs. “You okay?”

“I’ve lost all faith in humanity,” Ringo mumbles into the cushion. John reaches over and pats him on the back.

“Don’t worry, Ringo. There won’t be any humans to have faith in soon.”

George throws a packet of sugar at John who dodges it, snickering. Ringo groans and tries to sink even deeper into the couch.

And that’s when they hear Paul scream.

#mclennon #starrison #mclennon fanfic #starrison fanfic #john lennon x paul mccartney #george harrison x ringo starr #beatles fanfic #beatles crackfic #kalwrites #idk

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littlebabycrybtch · 4 years ago

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bro..... im sooo tired of ppl being whiny freaks about ppl liking fictional shit ‘~too much~’. like bitches are literally fully convinced if you prefer acting out certain ideas in fiction but not irl, thats not your normal preferential boundaries but rather your brain is a mental illness BOMB and you need to be fucking hospitalized for being imaginative and having autonomy. like yall if its not taboo or smth shut uuuuhp man you’re not ‘concerned for their health’ or w/e you’re fully just tryna get away with being a nihilistic asshole who lacks sympathetic reasoning skills. listen to me. fiction is valuable. the thoughts we have on it are important. the personal lack of value you happen to put on a media is next to worthless. its not a fuckin waste of time dude, creators are people, who live in the real world, they experience it and have ideas through it and about it, they form and tweak their ideas while still definitely existing in the real world, and then put that back into the world with a new angle and new perspective, to share with other people definitely encountering it in , you guessed it , the real world. thats not disconnected. its not nothing. these things do not magically appear from fairytale land, they are created. stories mean smth, people tell them for a reason, its ok to feel smth for any story, why would we even tell them if not with the intention to impact others emotionally somehow i mean??? fiction does not Just affect reality, it is valuable to real life society, it is a functioning thriving part OF reality.

humans have told stories since the dawn of our existence. it is literally all but an inherent species trait for us to imagine things, its tied to each and every one of us, and to reject ‘fantasy’ as smth worthless to human life is frankly just fuckin wrong and weird of you. bitch we are Supposed to get outside the box, the fandom ppl you cringe your pants over arent thinking abt fake shit too much, you guys very often just arent exercising abstract thought and imagination enough, which actually hurts your ability to engage with it critically in all the ways its meant to be. if you dont see the value in fiction its because you put in no effort to form the analysis skills. in other words, you idiots dont get the hype bc you’re too stupid to get how you're supposed to compare a book to the real world it came from. ‘uu but cmon not everythings valuable what about [tumblr designated cringe media]-’ 1. ok! somehow you havent come to this conclusion yourself yet but thats not real, whatever ppl get to enjoy is not all abt you, your bias means less than dirt to others outside of hivemind social medias, you can keep it to yourself, ppl shouldnt care about it bc it means nothing outside of ur own space, its literally funny to me that you’re so elitist you want me to cater my interests to you, Your Standard Of Quality Isnt Universal, 2. ranking the values of fiction is the waste of time here, if you compare mlp to pride and prejudice ill dissect your teeth, different emotional impacts from tragic to funny to Just A Vibe are all able to be assessed as ‘valuable to somebody else so leave well enough alone’ if you dont have 2010+ funnyman brainrot disease that makes you incapable of reflecting on anything you can find a way to joke abt first.

i mean seriously like. whenever randos start engaging with medias you ppl dont like or in ways you dont get, the strawmans yall make up to get to be cringe culture vultures abt such benign shit, and almost Always at the expense of neurodivergent people with a deeply rooted undertone of extreme ableism might i add..... its just so selfish. u have a brain ok, you’re manipulative but we both know you dont Actually think ppl automatically default to being a waifu obsessed incel rotting away at their basement computer, stagnating their social skills and straying further and further from reality with each passing day, a poor disturbed wretch that you just HAVE to save from themselves, all bc they say they. prefer fictional porn or w/e to having sex irl. buddy thats not a big deal, theyre normal, just different from you. theyre fine, you’re just uncomfortable. as a functioning adult you’re gonna have to try and recognize that sometimes that feelings gonna be 100% on you, and you cant always just lie abt the validity of it to make ppl feel obligated into agreeing with you. this is gonna be one fragment of their personhood and your self obsessed brain imploding over how unrelatable that is doesnt fucking matter, grow up bitch like. how detached do you have to be to think thats so unstable or morally wrong.... its just a completely inconsequential preferential decision that only affects them and isnt a wrong choice at all cuz nobody has to get their dick wet if they dont wanna for any reason ever and thats gotta be that tbh.... and it kills me cuz they still inherently experience the real world and are capable of thinking abt it critically,,, even tho they... masturbate to drawings or w/e the fuck ppl think is unhealthy ???? like? imagination is just fun we dont need to moderate it anymore than we moderate other fun activities i mean lol ksdjfsd this is the DEFINITION of ‘just vibing’ no one FUCKING cares and it deosnt fucking matter the way you desperately try to make ppl think it does just so u get to be loud abt ur shortcomings as a decent understanding person.

‘uuuuuu im sorry but thats unhealthy :///’ you sound like a goddamn maniac dude stories are not unhealthy having feelings abt them is not unhealthy thinking some anime bitch that was DRAWN TO BE HOT , IS HOT, is not UNHEALTHY and you clowns arent convincing anybody you ‘care’ abt that concept anyways !! im losign my mind here skdlsdfsd medias are literally DESIGNED TO DO THIS TO PEOPLE... WE’RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL THINGS FOR IT.... IT IS WHAT MAKES THE ART WE’VE TAKEN PART IN FOR CENTURIES, “ART”.... ITS JUST... HAVING IDEAS AND EXPERIENCING IMAGINATION..... whats wildly unhealthy actually is yalls toxic obsession with ‘harsh truth’ and validating your stupid ass cwinge feewings to the point where everything that gives your underdeveloped selfish ass hives has to be a matter of health and morals and whats ‘best’ for everyone. u dont know that shit!!!! ur a petty brat and im not ur mommy ok i wont baby you so u dont feel like the shitty whiny person you are, you need to grow and do better and think outside urself already, dont put the responsibility of making u feel right for judging somebodies benign hobbies on me. i wont bc its wrong and unnecessary. you’re not a savior no ones falling for that lmao you’re just a bitch girl xoxo get over it shit truly does not matter. let them write nsfw self insert fics instead of banging !!

to make it real do yall really not Get that basic consent kinda doesnt just mean ‘no when im not in the mood at the time’ but it means ‘no if i just dont fuckin feel like having sex ever for literally any reason at all bc i choose what i do’ and pressuring them, even with what your warped brain translates as the best of intentions, is inherently disgusting? especially with the ‘i know how to help you’ attitude like......... ohhh die soonly ew lmao! lay off this nasty shit already please it doesnt matter! stop trying to make it matter!! its not hurting you or them you stupid tumblr phd ass!! and like again yeah some media shits just truly gross but tbr now its like even That kind of shit, the Real social issues caused by Actually problematic media that ppl should discuss Genuinely without ulterior motives, is being used more and more rampantly as just a stepping stone to get to the needless mockery of other harmless things in the media they want an excuse to bag on.......... like a bitch cant just be grown and talk about problems at face value without getting a bully jab in. smhhhhh you all fuckin suck please just stop talking already. so anyways yeah being attracted to fictional characters instead of real people or w/e IS funny, funny how many boyfriends they have when u have none xoxo theyre having fun and you can die sad abt it they get to die 5 times in an angsty fantasy fic and be brought back with mouth to mouth by fuckin kakashi every time and then they go get lunch irl while ur updating tinder bitch ... different fucking strokes ig !

#long post//#i would like one free ticket to pop off please. thank you #can i cash it in immediately if you dont mind

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artistic-writer · 5 years ago

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The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 7

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

AO3 - Ko-Fi (100% of coffee’s bought go towards buying @adognamedkillian toys and treats!)

A/N: Chapter 7!!! It comes with some trigger warnings i’m afraid, because I am just that kind of writer *evil grin* TW: domestic abuse. I don’t know what else to call it without giving anything away, which i do not want to do. As always, if in doubt, message me. This chapter has the answers everyone has been waiting for, and some other good news! Ch 8 is already done!

Fantastic artwork by @kmomof4 so give her some love and beta’d by the lovely @hollyethecurious And as ever, thank you to all the ladies in Discord! Thanks ladies!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics. Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg. Just so you know. There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O. If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @ineffablecolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist: I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ [email protected]) and I’ll add you! I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook @winterbaby89 @carpedzem @courtorderedcake @profdanglaisstuff @itsfabianadocarmo @donteattheappleshook @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615

——————————————————————————————

A week was going to be far too long. It was only seven days but in the grand scheme of things, Emma worried that it might feel like forever without the Alpha she was now sure she was in love with. Of course, she hadn’t told him that. Like an idiot, once he had declared his feelings, she had pretended she was asleep and let him pull her harder into his embrace where she had spent the rest of the night. Morning had come and he was gone but she didn’t blame him. After all, she was well aware that Graham was having the apartment watched, making sure that neither of them broke the terms of his precious contract.

Maybe this was a blessing. Maybe they had been spending too much time together. As much as Emma wanted her bastard husband to be wrong, maybe he was right. For the next seven days she was to accompany Ruby to a very exclusive spa where they would get some much needed rest and relaxation, or so Graham had told her. In truth, he had been angry at how much time she was spending with Killian, his loyal henchmen having told on them and their extra meetings. She should have known. Graham was far too connected to not find out, and Emma had only agreed to go with Ruby because she was afraid of confirming the reality of his paranoia.

Emma did have feelings for Killian. They were more than she had ever felt before, powerful and robust and she was sure that not even seven days apart would change them. The time would be perfect for her to process her own feelings, and how to let Killian know that she felt the same. Emotions had ever been her strongest point, and to play along with his little game, Emma had told Graham that she would be glad to get away from all the men in her life, which also meant, however, that she had to be careful of what she told Ruby. Best friend or not, she was still a spy for Graham and she had no doubt that Ruby would sing like a songbird given half the opportunity.

All Emma had to do now was tell Killian.

It would crush him to see her gone. Emma knew what it meant for an Alpha to declare their love for another. Most of the time they never did until they were sure they had found that perfect someone, but she had never known a single Alpha to pair with a Beta as their mate. Ever. That was half of the confusion currently swirling around inside Emma’s head. She was a Beta, and a broken one at that, illness rife within her body, and she was damn sure she wasn’t worth the love of any Alpha, let alone one so perfect.

She paced up and down the apartment, stopping briefly to draw the curtains. The metal rings scraped across the metal rail, but the sound was quickly drowned out when a car sped passed outside. Emma pulled one curtain back a little in case it had been Killian, but the bright red tail lights at the end of the street dashed her hopes in a second. With a sigh, she shut the curtain again and resumed her steady pacing around the apartment.

She had never been a worrier before, but suddenly she felt herself apprehensive for Killian’s arrival. Years of mental control at the hands of a so-called husband would do that to anyone, but rationally Emma knew that whatever she had to say, Killian would be okay with. In a way, she kind of agreed with Graham, not because she thought they needed to be apart, but because they had been spending so much time together even she was starting to realise that she only smiled when she heard Killian’s voice. Graham was a lot of things, but he was not blind.

Emma only wanted to tell Killian one thing; that she felt the same way and she would be back with the same feelings in her heart.

Her attachment to Killian had become so much lately that she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. She had become someone else, someone liberated and where she had previously been quick to argue, she was now willing to accept whatever pleasure or punishment was dealt out to her. Killian had awakened that inside of her, and she was not ready to let it go. She knew Graham would never give her a divorce, but over the last few hours she had found herself trying to fabricate ways of getting rid of him for good.

A soft knock on the door woke her from her murderous daydream and she was up and racing towards the door before she had even looked in that direction. She knew it was Killian. She could smell him, even through the door, cedarwood and sea salt with a dash of darkness that only she had been privy to. She grabbed the door handle and pulled hard, the wooden panel jumping from the frame without a single sound. She gasped, because somewhere between drawing the curtains and plotting her husband’s death, it had rained, obvious by the fact that Killian now stood in her doorway dripping wet.

He was out of breath having raced from his car, but had been unable to avoid the downpour. His clothes were soaked, clinging to every definition of muscle that Emma could see, his dark blue t-shirt moving with every heave of his chest. Her eyes moved down, over the outline of his bulge now defined by the dampness of his pants and she felt herself suddenly become short of her own breath. When she looked back up to his face, hair dishevelled and clinging to his forehead, she noticed a drip as it fell from the tip of his nose and his eyes were wide with worry, the blue much brighter than she remembered as he searched her face for an answer.

“Emma,” he whispered, like it was the only word he could say. It held so much meaning, a question he needed to know the answer too, but as he searched her face for what he sought, Emma burst into tears.

Killian was over the threshold in a heartbeat, slamming the door behind him just before clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head down to attract her gaze again. Watery eyes tried to focus on his features but Emma couldn’t speak. All she could do was shake her head to tell him something was wrong, and Emma grabbed his hands, holding them to her face in an attempt to keep his warmth on her skin. Even after standing in the rain he was hot, a true Alpha trait, and Emma felt herself immediately calmed by his touch.

“Shh, my love,” Killian said calmly, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away her tears, but his words caused a new wave to burst from her eyelids. “Oh, Emma,” Killian soothed, placing one hand on the back of her head and pulling her to his chest.

Her arms wrapped around him immediately, fingers interlocking behind his back and holding him tightly. Killian let her cry, let her expel all of her wails into the fabric of his t-shirt as he stroked her hair, his own tears burning the rims of his eyes. He pinched them closed in an attempt to halt the sob in his chest at how much she was hurting, and a single tear rolled down his still wet face and fell onto the fabric of Emma’s oversized shirt.

After rubbing her back for a good few minutes, and letting her cry until her energy was almost gone, Killian smoothed his hands over her shoulders and pulled her from his body. Her eyes were red, as was the rims of her nostrils, and she quickly wiped at her nose with the extra long sleeve of the white shirt. “Is this one of mine?” Killian asked her with a small smile and Emma coughed out a watery laugh at his attempt to distract her.

“Maybe,” she shrugged weakly.

“It looks good on you,” he said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow playfully.

“It smells like you,” Emma sobbed, a fresh set of tears causing her vision to blur again.

“Hey, now, don’t start that again,” Killian pleaded, rubbing her arms lovingly. “What’s got you all upset, love?”

Emma’s bottom lip quivered and she was unable to stop it. She opened her mouth to speak but the lump in her throat stopped any of the words from coming out.

“Is it something I’ve done?” Killian asked her urgently, the tips of his ears blushing with pink. Emma shook her head and real panic rose up from within him about their last encounter. “Something I’ve said?”

“It’s…It’s…,” Emma stammered, unable to find the words she needed.

“Is it me?” Killian forced himself to ask, his jaw clenching straight after the words left his mouth in nothing but a whisper. He hated himself for being so selfish but Emma instantly reassured him.

“Never,” she breathed, placing her hands on his face. “You’re everything to me.”

Killian heaved a sigh of relief. Emma’s words were exactly what he needed to hear, even if they were not the ones he wanted to hear. He hastily gave his face a wipe, another stray tear having fallen in joyous comfort.

“Then please, love, tell me.” His hands slipped down to hers, clutching her fingers in his and giving them a little shake.

Emma gave him a small nervous smile and a nod of assurance before giving his arm a gentle tug and leading him to the couch. Killian followed, letting his hand slip from hers just long enough for him to slip off his jacket and hang it over a stool as they passed by the kitchenette. Emma was already settling against the arm of the couch when he got to her and reached out to take her proffered hand.

“I have to go away,” Emma said softly.

“Away?” Killian repeated, his stomach falling away from him as he sat down and made sure there was no gap between them.

“To a spa,” Emma said, hanging her head. “With my best friend who is also Graham’s mistress.”

Killian let out the breath he had been holding and a nervous laugh. “Is that all?”

“For a week.” Emma looked over to him and he was still smiling.

“Love, that’s nothing. I’ll be here when you get back,” he promised, rubbing a hand over her knee.

“Graham says we are getting too close. He’s been watching us.” Emma’s confession had Killian narrowing his eyes and an envious rage boiled inside of him.

“How?” Killian licked his lips and shook his head. He didn’t need to know the answer really, because he had seen the same car parked outside with the same distinctive henchman behind the poorly blacked out windows as she had. “Are you safe?”

“I think so, but I don’t want to go and have Ruby fish around for information I know Graham has told her to obtain. It’s going to be so fake,” Emma pouted. “I don’t have a lot of people in my life I can trust anymore.”

“You have me,” Killian told her. “You’ll always have me.”

Emma was suddenly overcome with a warmth pooling inside her that she never thought could be felt at a time like this. Killian’s concern meant more than she could say, more than she could describe, and all she could do was launch herself across the sofa and into his awaiting arms. Killian fell backwards onto the cushions and Emma fell onto him, her mouth seeking his for a passionate kiss. He let her fall onto him, nestling her against his chest as she scrambled for his touch, clinging to his wet t-shirt and holding on for dear life, forgetting all of her troubles in an instant.

Emma kissed him hard, like he was going to be gone the second she opened her eyes, and Killian let her, his lips parting ever so slightly and tracing the seam of her lips. Emma obliged, her tongue slipping passed her teeth and into his mouth where it duelled with his in impetuous passion. Her hands clawed at the hem of his shirt, desperate to rid him of the fabric as quickly as possible, but her weight pinned it to his body because she was reluctant to let even a slither of light pass between their bodies.

Killian grew hard despite his intention to not become aroused and he could smell that Emma was too. She was coating his senses in a cloak of visceral need, the animal within him roaring to life at the mere scent of her, and before he could rationalise any thought, his fingers were fumbling with the buttons of the shirt she was wearing, desperate to get to the skin beneath. Emma shifted her position until her knees were on either side of his legs and tore her lips from his, pushing herself into a sit and helping him divest herself of the shirt.

“Are you alright, love,?” Killian breathed, his words a whisper.

“I am now,” Emma sighed. She was in such a haste to rid herself of the shirt that she tore the bottom two buttons off before wrenching it off her shoulders. She was naked underneath, expectantly or not Killian wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but watch the sway of her breasts as she wobbled atop his groin while her hands went to work on his pants.

“No, Emma, stop,” Killian ground out, hating his rational brain and grabbing her hands, halting her advances. It pained him to his very soul to stop her, and the look in her eyes, one of pure hurt, sliced right through him.

“Don’t you want me?” Emma whimpered.

“Aye, of course I bloody want you,” Killian assured her with a sure nod. He still found it absolutely baffling how someone as beautiful as Emma had such a low self esteem, but as usual, the answers to his many questions led right back to her sorry excuse of a husband. He sat up, a huge flat palm spreading out over the middle of her back to make sure she didn’t topple backward, and gave her a loving smile. “I know you’re scared he is going to stop this,” he began, skimming his other hand down the length of her arm and massaging her fingers. “Only the gods can express how unbelievably frightened I am of the same thing.” Confident she was well balanced now, Killian slid his hand up her back and buried it in her hair, cradling her head and holding her face to his. Their noses were pressed together side by side and he felt his breath hitch before he pressed his lips to hers for a quick, chaste kiss. “I meant it when I said I loved you, Emma, and I don’t think I know how to stop.”

Emma pulled her head back and Killian’s hand moved to comb her golden tresses through his fingers, eager as ever to reassure her that whatever worry she was feeling would be over with soon. She blinked, swallowing hard. Emma had never told anyone she had loved them, not even Graham. Sure she had told him, but it had always been after he had said it first, as fleeting as those times were, and she wasn’t exactly sure what it meant to love somebody as openly as Killian clearly loved her.

“I can’t-,” she began shyly, but Killian cut her off.

“You don’t have to say it,” Killian added softly, recognizing the turmoil in her features and giving her a boyish smile that melted her heart. He reached behind her for his shirt she had discarded and pulled it up over her back to cover her once more. “I just want you to know that you are loved, Emma, and despite what you might think, you are not worthless.”

Emma’s lips curved into an unsure smile, little ticks of the corners that were accompanied by a rosy blush across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose that told Killian she was not used to such compliments, something he thought of a as grievous crime against the beauty of both her body and soul. She deserved more than she had ever received and if Killian could offer her just a small piece of his heart, he would wait forever for her to fill the void it had left with the gift of a piece of her own.

“Not to me,” Killian added, reiterating his feelings with a smile. “And I do love you.” He stroked the back of his knuckles over the apple of her cheek and his heart warmed with how deep red her cheeks grew. “But we shouldn’t do this, not here, not if the place is being watched.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “You’re right,” she pouted.

“I’m always right, love,” Killian winked. “And when you return I promise to show you just much I want you.” There was a darkness to the tone of his voice that had a shiver running down Emma’s spine but as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared in his next words. “And luckily for you, I’m soft.”

“Soft?” Emma asked, confused.

“Soft,” he repeated with a nod and a grin. When Emma’s brow furrowed he chuckled and took pity on her, sliding her from his lap and wrapping one big strong arm around her. “It means I like cuddling too, even without sex.”

Emma snuggled into his side, stretching an arm across his still soggy midriff and hugging him tighter with a content purr. “Me too,” she said softly, a smile breaking out across her face as wide as a mile when Killian turned his head and kissed her on her forehead. “I mean, the sex is great, but,” she teased and Killian’s chest rumbled with laughter.

“But?” Killian prompted her to continue with a little nudge.

“But this is nice too.” Emma had never really had much physical affection like Killian had given her, little touches here and there and now a full blown snuggle on the couch as if they were a real couple. It made her feel special, more than she ever had done, and somehow she was okay with tonight being a different kind of intimate.

–

Angry didn’t even begin to cover what Emma was feeling right now. Thank the Lord for small favours and her chauffeur being on call, because when she had insisted on her driver staying at the resort too, and Graham had obliged, more than likely because the tall, skinny man with small round glasses and a hat Emma was pretty sure was glued to his fake hair piece underneath was actually one of Graham’s many little birds whose favourite song was the Killian and Emma show, she’d had no idea that after just two lunches with Ruby, she would need him to drive her home.

Even thinking about that invasion of marital privacy had her blood bubbling with fury, let alone what she had been stewing on during the drive home after less than half the week at the spa. Was nothing sacred to the man? Emma had been trying so, so hard to fight her growing feelings for Killian, despite everything thrown at her, if not for Graham than for the sake of her reputation as a lady of elite society, a reputation that had helped her fashion out a little niche existence of her own. It wasn’t about being rich, or being able to rub shoulders with these people, but instead about her identity as an individual without Graham, and she still had friends in high places, and many endeavours that would not look favourably at an affair, but did Graham care?

Fuck no.

Clearly not, because if the truth bomb Ruby had just dropped in the lap was anything to go by, Graham didn’t give a flying fuck about her or the meager life she had tried to build for herself in his shadow. Ruby was pregnant and her ever doting husband was the father, apparently something he was thrilled about. However, perhaps the most telling indication of who he was as a person, was when, after telling Ruby how delighted he was for an heir, he told her that Emma would raise the baby with him, as if they had sired the next CEO of the Humbert empire together, totally disregarding the feelings of a mother who would have her tot ripped from her bosom quicker than he could wish he was an Alpha.

The only reason Ruby had told Emma was because she was leaving town to get an abortion and regardless of what had happened between Graham and herself, she still thought of Emma as her best friend, and the whole thing with Graham had been fun and games until she had missed a period. She would tell Graham the baby was dead and knew he wouldn’t waste resources following her to check. Emma understood completely. Ruby was one of her most valued real friends, someone who had been there for her through so much already, and she couldn’t imagine taking the woman’s child and trying to raise it as her own. She just couldn’t. And if Graham knew either of them, he would have realised how insane the idea even was in the first place.

The ride home hadn’t abated Emma’s vehemence towards her husband one bit. It wasn’t about her, and it wasn’t about Ruby, or the life inside of her, but it was about how he had, for so long, managed to breeze through life treating people like property. Emma was sick of it. She was sick of how he had treated every single person and events around him with such frivolity, like his life was a game and his actions had no real consequence. Maybe she was taking it a bit far, storming out of a spa and wellness resort in the middle of the afternoon with nothing but the clothes on her back, but Emma just had to give him a piece of her mind whilst her temper charged storm of emotions swirling inside of her still fuelled her every being. If not for any other reason than he deserved it.

The time it had taken Jeeves - Emma knew that wasn’t his name, but Graham had never let her know his real one for fear they had, ironically, begun an affair - to get her home, Emma’s rage hadn’t fizzled out one iota. She launched herself from the car quicker than it took Jeeves to put it into park, and raced across the expansive gravel driveway in the fading light of afternoon. The sun was heading down for the evening but Emma was wide awake knowing that Graham would be home at this time too, and with any luck, she would be interrupting something he deemed of the utmost importance.

As usual, when the door was opened for her, the lobby of their mansion was empty, cold and uninviting despite the rays of sunshines currently warming their mark into the stone floor. Absentmindedly Emma wondered if they had owned a dog, would it be sunning itself in the beams the way dogs often did, desperate to catch the last warmth of the day. Equally as unnecessary in her thought process, Emma wistfully wished for the carefree life of a pet, free to do whatever she wanted all day without being constantly reminded of how she was nothing but a dissatisfaction wearing an expensive wedding ring.

Boy, was Graham in for some kind of shit storm.

Eventually she found him in his study, after a few pointed directions from staff who thought better than to get in her way, and didn’t even try to hide her ire as she strode across the expansive Persian rug between them and, just as he turned to look at her in shock of her actually being there, slapped him across the face with an audible smack. Hard. Graham’s previously relaxed stance stiffened up in an instant, his eyes fluttering closed as he rearranged his jaw from one side to the other before clenching it closed. Emma was seething, positively vibrating with wrath, the tips of her fingers tingling from the impact that had left a rather telling mark across Graham’s cheek.

“Hello wife,” Graham spat, peeling his eyes open to give her a cold, dead stare. “Back so soon?”

“Don’t ‘wife’ me, you bastard,” Emma yelled, jabbing Graham in the shoulder with the heel of her hand.

“I take it Ruby opened her fat mouth,” Graham mumbled to himself, sighing dramatically. “I guess you know the rest, judging by the pain in my shoulder,” Graham sneered.

“Why the fuck would you think I would raise someone else’s child with you?” Emma shouted, eyes wide with her words.

“It’s not someone else child, Emma, it’s mine,” Graham growled, his voice low and his words ground out through his clenched teeth.

“Oh, that makes it all better!” Emma laughed.

“What are you so angry about?” Graham shrugged. “It’s not like you aren’t getting what you want out of this arrangement.”

He meant Killian and Emma knew it, swallowing the spiteful words that threatened to fall out of mouth back down where they could fester in her stomach some more. “And what about Ruby, huh? You think she is just going to give up her child?”

Graham turned and Emma was taken back by his calm demeanour. “The child is a Humbert. It will live with me and you are my wife, and as such you will be expected to raise it accordingly.”

“Accordingly?” Emma shook her head. “What the fuck, Graham? You really have no idea how your actions affect everyone around you, do you?”

They stared at each other, Emma shaking with exasperation and Graham as cool as ice, still and motionless. Emma watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, slowly and deliberately like he even had control over his body’s most basic instincts.

“The child will be raised a Humbert,” Graham repeated slowly, pushing his hands into his pockets and taking a few menacing steps towards her. Emma didn’t back down, squaring her shoulders and met his gaze with the same intensity he was giving her. “You will raise it as a Humbert.”

“I’m not some fucking wet nurse for your bastard, Graham!” Emma sniggered. “I will not raise someone else’s kid, and I will not let you manipulate this situation in your favour like you always do. This is a life, a human being, Graham, surely you realise that!” Emma waved her hands, trying to find any empathy behind the blue eyes staring back at her, but all she saw was a wall of stone.

“You are my wife,” Graham ground out. “You will obey me.”

Emma laughed, loud and heartily, her entire body moving with the deep, belly rumbling hilarity of Graham’s statement. “I won’t, and there is nothing you can do about it. What are you going to do? Divorce me?” Graham’s furrowed brow meant she had struck a nerve.

“Pity,” he huffed, looking down at his feet. He knew there was no way Emma wouldn’t do as he wanted. She might want to be with the Alpha more than him, but he was pretty confident that if it came down to it, she wouldn’t leave a defenceless babe to fend for itself. Graham would simply take the baby form Ruby and leave it with Emma, sure nature would take its course and she would be unable to not help, and over time they would become one big semi agreeable family. He smirked to himself, and Emma scoffed a laugh as if she could read his mind.

“I’m so sorry I’m such a fucking disappointment!” Emma spat at him and with her words, Graham snapped, his biceps bulging under his sleeve caps as he clenched his fists in his pockets.

“Disappointment?” He snapped. “What do you know about disappointment, huh? Maybe if you’d been the wife I was promised-,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma cried, moving towards him and grabbing his arm as he attempted to turn away.

“Nothing, forget I said anything.” Graham shook her off and made for his desk, the decanter of whiskey already halfway to the bottom.

“No, no, go on,” Emma insisted sarcastically. She followed after him, giving him a little shove that spilled the whiskey right out of the glass in his hand. “I’d love to hear about how yet another one of your problems in life is caused by me.”

“Not this one you wouldn’t,” Graham cautioned. He lifted the cut glass tumbler to his lips and took a sip of the burning liquid, exciting all of his taste buds at once.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Emma screeched, running her hands through her hair. “Ten years of marriage and you won’t even be honest with me?”

“You wouldn’t want honesty, Emma, trust me.” Graham finished the whiskey, pouring the last of the honey coloured drink into his mouth and swallowing the lot in one gulp. He pinched his eyes closed until the burn at the back of his sinuses passed but when he opened them, Emma was still as disgruntled as before.

“Trust you?” she said spitefully. “Graham Humbert, the almighty, the all powerful, the good for nothing burnt out Beta who wishes he was an Alpha so badly? Where has that ever got me before?”

Graham spun around and advanced on her, making Emma jump back for a second. His hands were on her face, clamping her jaw in his grip and silencing her long enough to stare into her eyes and cause real fear to spark behind the green hues. “I can tell you where it will get you if you don’t stop with this Ruby bullshit.”

“Well it won’t be a divorce, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” Her words were compressed through her lips but they made her point. Humbert men didn’t get divorced, or so Graham had pounded into her brain from the second she had married him.

He pushed her head aside and released her jaw and Emma immediately rubbed at the soreness there. He walked by her as if she wasn’t even there, like she was nothing, like he hadn’t put his hands on her and hurt her. “Oh there are worse things to do to you, Emma. Don’t push me.”

“Don’t push you? Oh, honey, I haven’t even begun!” Emma ground her teeth, stalking after him with heavy footsteps that echoed off the vast ceiling above them. “You’re a bully, Graham, plain and simple,” she shouted. “You use other people to get what you want and you always will, and I don’t know if this is some kind of bullshit Alpha complex run amok, but I’m sick of it!” Emma caught up with him and dipped sideways, reappearing in front of him and halting his escape attempt. “I’m sick of the lies, the cheating, the galas and fake smiles, pandering to all your important friends, and most of all, I’m sick of you!” Emma took a breath, balling her fists at her side. “You’ll never be an Alpha as long as you live so-”

Her words were cut short by an overwhelming thud and the instant Emma’s eyes filled with the stinging sensation of tears, she knew he had hit her. The moment was in slow motion, like an out of body experience, and Emma felt the point of Graham’s knuckles hit her under the eye in a back hand punch. It shook her, physically and emotionally, and her body flushed with white hot prickles of adrenaline that blinded her so much she didn’t see the next blow coming.

“Shut up!” Graham shouted, his words hidden behind the slap sound. “Shut your dirty whore mouth!” Graham roared, spittle dripping from his lower lip in his rage. He raised his hand again but paused when Emma cowered away. “You want some truth? Here, how about this for a truth. The only reason we took you in was because you were an Omega and I was supposed to be Alpha, that’s the only reason I married you.”

“What do you mean I’m Omega?” Emma snapped, the pain in her cheek radiating through her entire jaw as she gently pawed at the underside of her eye socket where the skin felt like it had split open.

“Come on, Emma, don’t be dense,” Graham sneered. “Have you ever wondered why you couldn’t remember seeing a doctor for your ‘illness’? Ever wondered why my family were so insistent on your medication? It’s a supressant, you dumb bitch!”

Emma’s entire life flashed before her eyes. It all made sense. Everything was much clearer. She was Omega, a completely different gender class that she had always believed, and the entire Humbert family knew about it, but had suppressed her nature with drugs. For a second Emma imagined what her life might have been if she had never had the misfortune of crossing paths with the Humbert family. Would she have married an Alpha? Would she have pups of her own? Her mind swirled with scenario after scenario, all of which had been ripped from her grasp by Graham and his family.

“All this time,” Emma whimpered angrily, shaking her head. “You knew and let me think I was sick.” Her rage boiled up inside of her and she felt her fists ball at her sides again, her feet carrying her closer to the man in front of her.

“And you would have never have found out if it wasn’t for that fucking Alpha,” Graham rasped, his nose wrinkling at the thought of Killian being more than he had ever developed into.

His misplaced rage was evident and Emma was quick to interrupt his fury with a balled fist pounding on his shoulder. “Leave him out of this. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Aww, did I hit a sore spot there, darling?” Graham leered, cocking his head to one side in mock sympathy. “I’m not a fool Emma. I know you two have been fucking without my prior consent!”

“Your prior consent?” Emma yelled. “Listen to you, trying to control my life, what I do and who I see.” She laughed, scrubbing her hands over her face with a sigh. “Well, newsflash Humbert, I’m not your property.”

“Newsflash, Emma, I’ll be suing the fuck out of Killian Jones to recover all of the money he took whilst still fucking my wife, and then, when he has nothing else left, I’ll take his brother’s bar. I know people who could get that place shut down like that!” To emphasize the power he had to do as he had threatened, Graham clicked his fingers right in her face, and Emma blinked in an attempt to fight her flight response.

“Why are you like this?” Emma asked, her voice turning softer, more sympathetic. She had been fond of Graham once, and they were friends for so long before they got married, so the man in front of her right now, the man who had dared to lay hands on her, was not the man she had once known. “What happened to that sweet, charming guy I married, huh? Look what you’ve become, Graham. Spoiled, hateful and with so much anger-,”

Another blow took Emma by surprise and she had no time to brace herself. Graham’s clenched fist hit her again in the same place and Emma was sure that that blow had split the skin under her eye now. She tumbled backwards, falling flat onto her butt and only narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the marble fireplace surrounding behind her.

“Because of you!” Graham bellowed, looming over her, the vein in his forehead bulging.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t become an Alpha!” Emma slapped the floor beside her to highlight her point. “That’s not on me!” Emma snapped.

“They said an Omega presence would draw it out of me, make me into the most powerful Alpha my family had ever seen, but no!” Graham yelled, shaking with anger. “We paid good money for you!” He accused, pointing at her. “You ruined me, you poor, good for nothing ungrateful Omega whore!” Graham raised his hand again, intent on making sure Emma felt this one, but she scrambled backwards across the floor, pushing herself to her feet when her back hit the solid door frame. “Now do me a favour and get the fuck out!”

When Emma pulled open the door, the cold air from the hall hit the welt under her eye and halted the throbbing pain when she blinked. Graham was hot on her heels, shoes pounding the stone floor and sending echoes into the hall. One of the staff was barged out of the way by Emma and stumbled into Graham’s path, slowing him temporarily and Emma took the opportunity to race for the front door. She yanked it open and couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer. One of her shoes came loose and she kicked the other one off, ignoring the searing pain shooting up her legs as she tore across the gravel driveway.

“And don’t come back!” Graham yelled after her, the door knocker clattering as he slammed the door and cast her out into the night.

#cs fic #the contract #A/B/O #a/b/o dynamics #cs fanfic #alpha!killian #emma swan #tw: domestic abuse

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wild-aloof-rebel · 5 years ago

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Some Favorite Fics from 2019

Before I dive into my list, let me send out some love to ALL of the authors who have contributed fic to this fandom this year. There are well over 300 people who wrote Schitt’s Creek fic this year, and you’ve brought joy to so many people and should be super proud of what you’ve written, whether it was only 100 words or 100k. I’ve personally read more than 6.5 million words of fic in this fandom this year, and I want to thank you all for every single one of them. <3

Now, in continuing this year-end love fest we’ve had going on the last few days, I also want to highlight some of my favorite fics from this year. I decided to cut myself off at twenty fics or we’d end up with a list too big to be allowed, lol. I also decided to limit myself to one fic per author in order to spread the love around as much as possible; there would definitely be some repeat authors on this list otherwise.

And now with all that in mind, I’ll shut up and get on with it.

Here are twenty of my favorite fics from this year and what I love about them...

this roof is a blanket by withkissesfour • rated M • 3k+ I love Patrick-centric fics. He’s such a beautiful character, but because he isn’t one of the four Roses, we miss out on a lot of his pov in the show, so I’m always here for fics that try to capture that. And this one does it beautifully, focusing on four different but thematically-connected moments in Patrick’s life.

We’re Getting Something for Free by MoreHuman • rated G • 1k+ This is one of those fics where you can see how much Patrick KNOWS David and loves him for exactly who he is. His refusal to let David villainize himself for just being who he is makes my heart so very happy.

Heart of Gold by barelypink • rated M • 40k+ I love love LOVE a good AU, but AUs based on other media can be really tricky to get right. The best ones take elements from both sources and elevate them into something fresh and new, and this fic does exactly that.

now you see me by grapehyasynth • rated T • 4k+ Did I mention that I love AUs? I never get tired of seeing them meet in new ways, and their New York-set blind date in this one just makes me smile a whole hell of a lot.

I’m All Lost (in the supermarket) by sullymygoodname • rated G • 9k+ This fic combines David “Good Person” Rose, headless mannequins, tiny cardboard houses, karaoke, ugly sweaters, and all the friendship and shenanigans you can possibly stand. What’s not to love?

I know, I’m strange, too much light makes me nervous by another_Hero • rated T • 4k+ I’m so in love with the entire premise for this soulmate AU and everything that it says about love and the choices that we make because of it.

Pizza Night by smoulderandbraids • rated M • 4k+ Sometimes you just need to read about them making pizza and making out. Thank goodness this fic exists for those times. It’s a straightforward concept executed perfectly.

cinnamon sugar... by startswithhope • rated T • 1k+ All of startswithhope’s fics have a lovely softness to them that almost seems nostalgic, like you can feel yourself missing them before you’re even done reading them. This one I think captures that feeling best and most explicitly--David’s mood here is exactly that kind of nostalgia. And his thoughts about Stevie near the beginning are something that I’ve found myself thinking about over and over again since I first read this.

On My Way by Distractivate • rated M • 11k+ As much as I love the happy place that is this show, I also really love fic that acknowledges that sometimes relationships are hard, that things aren’t always perfect, that love is a CHOICE which has to be actively made again and again and again. This fic showcases exactly that. Love isn’t always easy, but choosing to love each other anyway is always worth it.

around us by lamphouse • rated G • 1k+ This one is a simple idea, written with a soft touch, and every time I re-read it, I’m crying by the time David says “I want to stand still.”

of all the riches. by falconeggs • rated T • 9k+ Who doesn’t love a good celebrity AU? This one is as cute as you could possibly want it to be, from their first meeting to taking their relationship public. It’s just a little slice of joy.

Overreacting by codswallop • rated M • 17k+ Fics dealing with hospital visits and illnesses and things of that sort can easily tip over into whumpy territory (which is totally fine if that’s what you’re looking for), but this fic goes a different direction and manages to be funny and sweet and charming while balancing the anxiety of waiting for news. David and Patrick’s dynamic here is so good; they’re both sharp and funny and vulnerable and messy in turn, joking like normal when they can, lifting each other up when they can’t.

101 by Hth • rated E • 8k+ Like I said, I love fics that acknowledge that things aren’t always perfect, and there’s nothing more rife for imperfection than a first night spent together. Their night at Stevie’s is the perfect setting for starting to navigate some difficult conversations, especially in the wake of Jake’s unexpected appearance, and this fic does a great job of getting them through the nerves and the talking and the the stops and starts of that night. And their last two lines of dialogue are perfection.

The Sidelines by wildhoneypie • rated T • 5k+ Comedy is so much harder to write than you might expect, and I am constantly awed by how well this fic does it. It feels effortless and in-character and in line with the kind of humor that beats at the heart of the show, all while still capturing that instant, playful attraction between David and Patrick. It’s just such a fun read.

holy sick divine by earlylight • rated T • 36k+ If the tags “Strangers who Met in a Field to Coworkers to Friends to Lovers” and “Paperwork - But Make It Sexy�� don’t endear you to this fic before you even start it, I don’t know what to tell you. My favorite part of this story is actually the role reversal of Patrick being Stevie’s best friend, Patrick having dated Jake, etc. That’s just one way that this fic takes everything we know and turns it on its head, and it does it with good humor and such a strange sweetness. It’s utterly unique, and the final scene just burrows down into your heart and sets up house there.

A Fair Return by thingswithwings • rated E • 237k+ This is probably the most insanely well-crafted canon retelling I’ve seen in my life. It adds so much backstory to the show and makes you rethink scenes you know intimately, which is what any good canon retelling should do. The OCs and the ways they’re carved into the structure of the story we know are where this fic particularly shines; it’s so, so well done.

my heart was broke, my head was sore by blueink3• rated M • 31k+ I think the only thing better than fake dating might be the exact reverse: having to pretend you’re not dating when you are. Even though they’re technically together, there’s just so much opportunity for pining and angst (both of which blueink3 always does SO fucking well), and this fic takes that to another level by adding in the fragile newness of their relationship and the anxiety of a family medical scare. David is so, so careful with Patrick here, and I love every single word of it.

let’s go dancing in the light by goingmywaydoll • rated G • 2k+ It was so difficult to narrow this down to one fic by goingmywaydoll because I absolutely love everything she does, but ultimately I went with her first one for this fandom. I’m SUCH a sucker for David and Patrick seeing each other before the wedding, and David having anxiety about not having anxiety is pretty much the most David thing possible. The characterization, the dialogue, the whole entire mood of the fic--it’s all absolutely spot-on. This one is everything I could ever want from wedding fic.

for feelings unbound by wardo_wedidit • rated E • 20k+ Picking one single fic by wardo_wedidit was also a near-impossible task, but ultimately I had to go with this one because it’s honestly perfect. David’s empath abilities add SO much to his characterization and the trajectory of his relationship with Patrick, and it fills this fic with so many gorgeous moments that leave you feeling like maybe there really is magic in the world--and this fic has plenty of it.

Watching Through Windows by helvetica_upstart • rated E • 38k+ Every single moment of this fic is heartbreaking in the best possible way. Reading it is like cracking yourself open and then putting yourself back together a little stronger. Watching David learn about the man he’d grown into and have to decide if he wants to (or even can) become that man all over again is simultaneously gut-wrenching and soul-healing. And Patrick in this fic--god, what can I even say about him? He’s so understanding and GOOD, even when he’s terrified and heartbroken. He is absolutely everything. Everything. This story is 100% perfection from start to finish, and the bench scene in particular is hands down the best scene in any fic I’ve read this year.

#thank you to all the amazing authors in this fandom #you've kept me plenty busy and wonderfully entertained this year #here's to even more fic in 2020!#fic recs #long post

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phanlight · 4 years ago

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Imagine Living Like a King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

me thinkin i’d cleared this fic up w the last chapter til i re-read a bunch of it and HOOOOO BOI why was i so obsessed with plot twists without the fkin plot

I am determined to make this all add up and work together but it may take a few chapters also I still have no idea how this is going to end LOL

[ao3 link]

Southview owns a lot of land.

It spreads out in blanketed acres of green, field upon forest upon meadow; miles of emerald patchwork. The building itself, founded somewhere in the fourteenth century apparently, makes up only a fraction of the private greenery Phil has been calling home for the past decade.

Habitatually speaking, it’s impressive. To be able to call such rich halls, such polished corridors and winding mahogany stairs, ever spiraling further and further below his house, his own dwelling; is something he struggles to grasp. He supposes every other student currently residing here may find some relation to a certain degree – but to look at a winding cobbled path and every single brick completing every wall, to name the clock tower chiming every high-clouded noon into existence anything remotely of an heirloom – isn’t anything his soul will allow him to process. He doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

He stares at the wall-to-wall bookshelves lining every corridor brimming with ancient knowledge, medieval tales and just about every participle of the literary canon. There are strict rules against removing any books from their respective shelves with dire consequences if unobliged (absolutely ridiculous, Phil thinks – who in their right mind would consider reading a punishable offence? They’re there to be read.) He and Dan had taken it upon themselves to create a discreet enough rule-breaking method; choosing the dead of night to tiptoe through long, hallowed corridors devoid of light and sound and people and life, all whispers and giggles and cold interlocked fingers, sleepy eyes scanning fraying ladders of spines, whispered-yet-echoey assessments over which would be least missed for however many hours.

The candles up above, though only illuminated during the seasonal months, drip hardened wax onto the stone walls covering every inch of interior; something he otherwise never would have seen anywhere else in this time, let alone place. The beams hang dark and gnarled, curving across every roof with chapel-like grace.

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

Why, then, does he feel like a bird in a cage? Why can he sense the wings, feathered promises of freedom, hit against iron bars whenever he outstretches? This place is becoming too small, he decides. Seven years walking the same grounds, with the same windows and the same views no matter how creative he gets with his detours. The same faces, same conversations with all the same values; with only sporadic weeks of the outside world in between.

He wonders what he would have done had Dan not entered the scene. Wherever the place in his mind, he knows madness would reside. He only feels a breath away from it now.

He blames it on his surroundings, pushing down the rise of unease that jumps through his stomach. It’s got to be that.

It doesn’t subside.

“Are you okay?” he hears a voice soften beside him.

He can’t lie. Not to Dan.

He shuts his eyes and realizes he’s been staring at that Oscar Wilde painting for way too long. The afterimage burns his retina in every shade of negative. His hair deep black on canvas now chalk white behind the eyelids. His eyes look like caves.

“I don’t know,” is the closest to the truth he can get. “I feel weird.”

Dan’s entire stance changes. Concern floods his eyes and he’s suddenly upright

“Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t-…” he shakes his head in defeat. “I really don’t know. That’s why I’m so-…” his racing mind interrupts him. So what? So comfortable, yet so ill at ease? It makes no sense.

This should be bliss. Curled up on a beanbag with his favourite person somewhere on the third floor of the library behind a wooden disguise of bookshelves and tall tables. Their ‘spot’ lies in a convenient nook no other soul seems to have yet discovered – a definite perk of being the son of the owner is having premium, extensive knowledge of every single crack and avenue this place has to offer; surveillance included.

That’s how the undercroft became a meeting point in the first place, Phil suddenly remembers as his stomach falls through three stone library floors.

It was him.

He had come up with the idea. He had planned the safest night-time route, locating every surveillance camera and possible risky window. And he, funnily enough, was the one who had spent an hour talking the three of them into it to begin with – if he strains his mind far back enough he can recall even Liam having doubts. Many of them, actually.

“Come on,” a harsher, younger and definitely more obnoxious version of himself had urged.

“No way,” Liam was the first to say. Freddie and Violet hadn’t been overly keen, but it was Liam who was adamant.

He feels sicker.

“What’s bothering you?” Dan closes the book they were giggling at no longer than forty seconds ago and turns his attention completely to him.

His heart is thudding now. He hasn’t given any of that any thought whatsoever since it happened; all anxiety surrounding the situation having been newly dissipated by evenings of laughter and love and-

Had it been dissipated? Or merely masked? Ignorance by will or by proxy?

“Phil?”

Had he spent all these passing months pointing fingers, dodging the blame, deflecting everything like a house of mirrors when this whole thing, this entire time, had actually been his fault?

He snaps out of himself and realizes it’s Emily Dickinson now burning behind the eyelids.

It’s too much. Even the oil portraits, beautiful as they are (and original too, allegedly), are all the same faces. It’s all the fucking same.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dan frowns. “Huh?”

“We need to get out of here,” he repeats, and stands up immediately. The book that was on his lap catapults to the floor, landing outstretched in a papery mess.

“Wait-“ Dan scrabbles around behind him, rescuing the book and smoothing out the newly crumpled pages. His own expression creases a little with the paper.

Phil doesn’t. He can’t. His vision is a tunnel and it’s only blind panic propelling him forward, past shelves and students and voices he can only barely decipher. Every cell in his body, every single drop of blood and beat of his heart is drilling the same message into his mind.

Get out.

It’s only until he feels the slap of winter air against his damp forehead he realizes he’s outside. He stops sweating and starts shivering, clutching the corner of the stone wall as if gravity be seconds away from disappearing and flinging him into the night sky.

His chest feels like lead. Each breath comes heavy, deep; never quite enough despite each gasp filling up his lungs like he’s drowning on air alone. His stomach feels like someone has clawed it out with blunt, bare fingers.

The huge door flaps open and a tiny figure runs out.

He can barely see. His vision still exists in blobs and grains, like someone turned up the contrast too much but also turned it right down completely. What’s happening to him?

“I’m sorr-“ he gasps, but Dan hushes him.

“Focus on your breath,” his voice is calm but firm. He’s unaware of the soft grip on either shoulder until he sees two arms outstretched in front of him.

Phil tries to, but each gasp gets stuck in his throat.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Dan guides him, demonstrating. Each breath seems so smooth, so calculated. Phil doesn’t want to think how often he’s had to do this.

His heart is still hammering, but he manages to comply.

“Imagine you’re blowing on a candle,” Dan continues. “But don’t blow it out.”

It’s a challenge to focus when his mind is running one million mines a minute, but Phil shuts his eyes and eventually the swirling grain begins to subside. He’s still breathing way too hard and it’s probably enough to blow out a ninety-seventh birthday cake, but Dan’s encouragement doesn’t waver.

“You’re getting there,” he says, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his grip completely. “Are you okay with that, by the way?” he gestures toward his hands. “Fuck, sorry- I should have asked- but when I’m having a panic attack it usually helps to keep me like-… centred.”

“No, it’s-…” Phil releases a shaky breath. “It helps. Thank you,” his eyes flutter shut when he feels two warm hands on his shoulder. He’s already feeling a fraction calmer.

“No need to thank me,” Dan says, his voice like velvet.

His eyes fly open. “Panic attack?”

Dan’s own are soft. “I think that’s what you’re having.”

His heart is still thudding, but at a marginally dropped pace. He’s never experienced anything like that before. Shit, is that what it’s like?

His vision has almost completely cleared; certainly enough to make out Dan’s silhouetted form in the amber glow of the lamp post.

“Is this really what you go through?” his voice is reedy, hoarse. All he can focus on is the boy inches away from his face.

Dan nods quietly. “Can be up to five times a day. Once it was twenty.”

He feels like crying. However much adrenaline there had been ripping through his veins had melted away; albeit only slightly, but the thought alone of this being a daily endeavor makes him want to physically remove his central nervous system himself. The thought of enduring such pain not only on a daily basis but multiple, only to emerge with a smile and with enough capacity to help others with the same issue-

Dan is an angel.

He doesn’t deserve him, his mind cries. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s hyperventilating again.

“Fuck,” he curses, slowing his chest down. He remembers the candle and closes his eyes again.

“You’re doing great,” Dan whispers when his breathing softens. “You’ve only blown out about seven this time. You’re on your eighth.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, his heart melting into a puddle. As if he’d been counting.

“Ah,” Dan grins. “Maybe ninth, now.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, still trembling. He can’t tell if it’s temperature or panic-related anymore, but he doesn’t think he cares. He doesn’t have the capacity to right now.

“Come on,” Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wound tight around the waist as if there be no intention, no need to let go. “You’re okay.”

“How can you deal with that?” he says, not bothering to mask the crack in his voice.

“I have my ways,” he says as smoothly as his voice can allow, but Phil feels him gulp. Feels the quick jump of his throat against his shoulder.

The nausea returns.

“Ow, fuck-“ Dan snaps his fingers up from the drawer. “Bastard thing.”

“It wants your fingers more than I do,” Phil mumbles, then coughs on a mouthful of Mountain Dew.

Droplets fly everywhere.

"Phil!” Dan’s jaw drops when a few darken his trousers. He’s more than used to the other boy’s frequent laughter at his own jokes, but that one wasn’t even funny. “For fuck’s sake. So not only am I in pain, I’m wet too?”

“In pain and wet?” A voice pops up from around the corner, sending a jolt through the pair of them. “Phil, you naughty bastard, what have you been doing to the poor guy?”

“Oh, you f-“ Phil clutches his chest, his heart hammering. “Are you ever going to stop doing that? I had my first panic attack today. I don’t want another.”

“You’re saying that like it isn’t my plan,” Noah raises an eyebrow and slides past.

“Come in,” Phil gestures sarcastically.

“Leave your door open,’ he retaliates with equal sarcasm, blowing him a kiss. He plops himself down on the revolving chair and takes a token spin. He’s frowning on the other end of the 360 degrees, the other half of the sentence only just registering. “Shit, are you okay? What brought it on?”

“I am now,” Phil’s eyes flicker to the other company, mopping his trousers with a clump of tissue. “Dan got me through.”

He doesn’t deliberately avoid the latter question, but it’s certainly no accident.

“Candle trick works wonders, I’m telling you,” Dan says without turning around, still dabbing at the stain.

“It does,” Noah agrees, picking up Phil’s empty pen holder. He usually lasts a record of ten whole seconds in his room before finding something nearby to fiddle with. “It got me through the Death of a Salesman production, that’s for sure. Christ, I was a mess,” he shudders. “The four-seven-eight trick is good, too,” he adds.

“Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight,” the other boy echoes. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You press your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth, too.”

“Really?” Phil’s eyes dart between the pair of them. Is this something he’s going to have to get used to?

“It’s meant to recalibrate the nervous system. Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio uses it,” Noah adds.

“Wonder if it would have helped on the Titanic,” Phil raises an eyebrow.

“The fucking boat would have sank anyway,” Noah cackles. “The four-seven-eight is good, but it can’t demolish icebergs, babe.”

“It has its limits,” Dan adds, plopping the tissue in the bin and heading for the bed. A quick "you okay now?" is mouthed as soon as Noah takes another spin on the chair.

Phil nods and gives his hand a little squeeze, praying he hasn’t noticed the sweat.

“So,” Noah spins again, eyes to the ceiling, before muttering a “fuck that” and leaping up off the chair. He stumbles around for a handful of seconds, clutching the desk. “What have you boys been up to, then?”

“What, since this afternoon?” Phil says. He’d only seen him about five hours ago.

“Yeah. Anything could have happened,” Noah replies, dizzily plonking himself down on the bed next to Dan with such force the shorter boy bobs upward. Phil splutters.

“That was- oh my god, that was adorable,” he gasps delightedly. “Do it again.”

Dan glares at him, fighting a smirk. “Shut up. No, don’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” Noah glances between them. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Did you not see that?” Phil widens his eyes. “Oh my god. When you bounce down like that,“ he giggles, ignoring Dan’s “no, shall we not” – “Dan’s like a feather, so he literally defies gravity.”

“Hah,” Noah springs upward and launches himself down with about three times the force as before. Dan catapults up, starfished in the air for about a second before hurtling down on the mattress.

Noah and Phil hoot with laughter. Dan’s doubled over in stitches, clutching his abdomen. He can feel tears of laughter brimming at his eyelashes and he probably looks in pain right now but really he’s anything but.

He’s so happy it hurts.

“Shit, he really does!” Noah shrieks. “Oh my god, that’s quality. You okay?”

Dan manages to breathe out an ‘I’m fine’, still clutching his stomach. “Holy shit,” he sighs when he gathers enough composure to speak. “’Memory foam’ my arse. The springs under that thing are giant.”

“Or you’re just tiny,” Phil gushes affectionately, combing a hand through Dan’s hair. The feeling of silky waves between every finger are enough to chase away any remaining claws of anxiety, any pegs to his stomach, if just for a moment.

Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just a product of an overactive mind. He’s been so wound up recently, what with looming examinations and deadlines and just about everything he could really do without so close to Christmas, that maybe it’s manifesting itself oddly.

Maybe.

He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He swallows the feeling down with another mouthful of beer, the bubbles foaming up like lather in his mouth.

“Shut up,” Dan glares at him, rearranging his fringe. “I’m not that short.”

“He’s mini,” Phil jumps back into conversation, as if Noah he can’t see for himself

“Short people deserve compensation for the amount of shit they go through,” Dan mutters, feigning grumpiness, but the shine in his eyes tell Phil it’s difficult to feel anything other than utter bliss.

“Ah, so you admit it!” Phil’s eyes match the light. “You are short.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan blushes, realizing what he’d insinuated.

“Don’t worry, Dan,” Noah chips in. “Phil’s been the same height since he was about twelve. I remember him in year seven,” he glances at the other boy. “You were terrifyingly tall. But then everyone else caught up.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there I was thinking I was some sort of superhuman. Twelve years of age and almost as tall as my dad. They used to call me Slenderman.”

“He looked like Mike TeeVee at the end of the film,” a giggle ripples through Noah.

“I can’t even imagine what he-” Dan frowns. “Mike who?”

Two jaws drop. Silence.

“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?!” Noah spits as if it be as outrageous an exclamation as never visiting Sainsbury’s.

Dan’s eyes dart to Phil, blue eyes wide.

“Not even the original?”

“No, I-…” his eyes flick between the two mirroring expressions. He huffs out a chuckle. “Is this really a big thing? Okay, well I’ve never seen Shrek, while we’re at it.”

A collective groan echoes through the walls.

“You’ve got to be fucking-“

“But it’s a-“

“Please tell me you’ve seen Star-“

“Not Wars, or Trek,” Dan cuts him off. “I don’t even know the difference between the two.”

“Dan, I-…” Noah cuts himself off with a sigh, staring at Phil. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“This is a crime,” Phil shakes his head. “This is actually outrageous.”

“If the most offensive thing I’ve done since arriving here has been not sitting through three hours of an ogre’s life, I’ll definitely take that.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Noah leaps up off the mattress, grabbing his laptop from the revolving chair. “It’s about six hour’s worth in total.”

“Seven-and-a-half if we count the spin-off,” Phil chips in.

“Do we have to?” Dan whines. “I’m sure I’ll love it, but with all due respect I can’t even sit through films I like sometimes.”

“Are you implying you’ll dislike this?” Phil puts a hand on his chest in mock-offence.

“I said I’m sure I’ll lov-“

“Could watch Star Trek,” a voice pipes up from under the bed. Noah’s folded over to one side, the rustling of a carrier bag apparent. He adds, “not Wars, I can’t stand- Phil stop giving me evils you shit, it’s just not as good.”

Phil’s glare toward his turned back turns into a grin. He knows him too well.

He re-emerges clutching a six-pack of bottled beer, tearing one out of the cardboard and dropping it into Phil’s lap.

“He’s talking shit,” Phil mutters.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dan smirks. “Star Trek is just Shrek with extra letters.”

“We’re gonna have to culture you up, Dan,” Noah shakes his head, thrusting a bag of popcorn almost the size of his torso in his general direction.

“God, you came prepared,” Phil notes. “It’s almost as if you knew we were both here.”

“I could hear you both from down the corridor,” Noah fires back, before adding “Plus you two are inseparable anyway. If I needed to find you, I’ll find you,” he points at Dan, then at Phil. “And vice-versa.”

Phil and Dan exchange glances. Do they really spend that much time together?

It’s difficult to calculate. They spend time apart, obviously. It’s not as if he’s sat in Maths with Dan pirouetting all over the place with a feather duster, but once are done and the final document has been closed; once the day’s duties are behind him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be found tearing from East wing to West; desperate to drop his workload and swap computer chairs for soft mattresses and lamplight.

They’re melting into each-other, and he can feel it.

Noah smirks, and only says, “We’re performing Alice in Wonderland next week,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Have you seen that?”

Feedback is always appreciated literally HOW IS THIS pls let me know i haven't posted anything in years i love u all for reading thank u so much

i spent a good 15 minutes attempting to calculate the total running time of the shrek franchise im crying the things i DO i hope its accurate

#phan #phanfic #dnp #dan and phil #phan au #illaks #i posted this to ao3 ages ago but never did here apparently

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crescentmoon223 · 5 years ago

Text

When This is Over

As promised, my Stella/Scully quarantine fic. Heads up, it’s SUPER SMUTTY - you’ve been warned lol.

Tensions run high when Stella and Scully are forced to self-isolate together at home during a global pandemic. How far will Scully go to convince Stella to take her on a belated honeymoon once this is over? (Hint: bedroom hijinks!)

Read it on AO3 Note: This is set in present day (spring 2020), post Two Worlds Collide and after their wedding. When I write the sequel to TWC, it will be set during the summer and fall of 2019, directly after the epilogue (and yes, it will include their wedding!) Sorry if this is confusing, but it’s the only way the timeline made sense in my head lol. Obviously, I would rather write the TWC sequel first (and I do hope to write it next month!) but the idea for this quarantine fic hit last weekend, and I decided to go for it while it was relevant. I hope you enjoy! xx

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There were certain sounds that Scully associated with this new chapter in their lives. The clatter of fingers on a keyboard. The murmur of newscasters from the television in the kitchen. The flute music Stella listened to while she did yoga. And currently, the bump and clatter of her obsessively cleaning their flat. Scully looked up from her laptop with a smile as Stella entered her line of vision. She wore gray yoga pants with a black tank top, her hair tied back with a red polka-dot bandana. She wiped down their already sparkling countertops, spraying and scrubbing at spots only she could see. Everyday Stella was a neat freak and a bit of a germophobe. Stella during a viral pandemic was next level. “Nice ass,” Scully called as Stella bent to wipe down the front of one of the cabinets. Stella shot her an exasperated look, but she turned, leaning over the sink to rinse her cleaning cloth in a way that pressed her breasts together, emphasizing her cleavage beneath the snug-fitting tank top, and it certainly wasn’t accidental.

Read the rest on AO3

Scully closed out of the software the university was using for its virtual classroom. She’d been teaching forensics online for a week now, and it had gone relatively smoothly, although she missed the face-to-face interaction with her students. Setting her laptop on the table, she returned her attention to her wife. “Planning to stop cleaning anytime soon?” Another sharp look from Stella. “I’ll stop when it’s clean.” Scully knew better than to argue with her. She fought a smile as she remembered the abject horror on Stella’s face after she’d been told that as Detective Chief Superintendent, a position which required little to no field work, she was one of the non-essential Met personnel who would be expected to work from home until the self-isolation period had passed. In the days since, she had quickly demonstrated why she was not a good candidate to work from home. Unable to go to the office—or the pool—she’d covered the living room table with Met paperwork, file folders and notebooks filled with her ingenious musings. When she wasn’t working, she alternated between cleaning fits, ill-fated yoga sessions that tended to end in a lot of swearing and whiskey drinking, and watching entirely too much news BBC coverage on COVID-19. In short, she was driving Scully crazy. For her part, Scully had a more pragmatic approach. She’d suffered through many less pleasant quarantine situations than this one during her time on the X Files, and she’d already faced the potential end of the world as she knew it…more than once. She was perfectly content now to teach from her home office, run her own data on the progression of the virus, and spend plenty of time with her wife. If only she could get Stella to settle. “I need to check on my mom, and then we should start thinking about dinner,” Scully told her. “There are steaks in the freezer,” Stella said. “I’ll put them in the sink to thaw.” “Perfect.” Scully picked up her laptop and opened FaceTime to dial her mom. Maggie’s face appeared on the screen, and Scully felt something deep inside her relax. Probably the hardest part of this mandatory self-isolation was being trapped an ocean away from her mom, who was in a high-risk category due to her age. Thankfully, Maggie had lots of people checking on her. “Dana, I was just thinking about you,” she said with a smile. “How are you today, Mom?” “Oh, I’m just fine. Fox dropped by earlier. He brought me groceries, that sweet man.” Scully’s heart clenched. Mulder was a sweet man to check on her mom for her, not that she’d ever doubted this about him. They were family, in every way that mattered. She made a mental note to call him in the morning to thank him, and to make sure he was taking care of himself too. “He didn’t come in, did he?” “No. He left the groceries on the porch and then sat and talked with me for a while through the window.” Scully smiled. “That was nice of him.” “He talked a lot about increased UFO sightings, particularly in areas with the highest rate of infection.” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Mom.” Scully shook her head in exasperation. “It’s not an alien virus. In fact, it originated from bats.” “Well, he was very convincing, is all I’m saying,” Maggie told her. “He always is,” Scully agreed. “You’re still feeling fine? No symptoms?” “I’m as healthy as a seventy-six-year-old woman could expect to be,” Maggie said. “I even went for a walk around the neighborhood earlier, and before you ask, yes, I kept my distance from everyone else.” “Good,” Scully said, wishing more than anything that she could reach through the screen and give her mom a hug. “Remember, there’s no reason to panic if you do develop symptoms, but it’s extremely important that you get tested right away. Tests are hard to come by in the US, but I know people who can pull strings for you.” “I know, I know,” Maggie said, waving her hands impatiently. “How are you and Stella?” “We’re fine,” Scully told her, glancing toward the kitchen, but Stella was nowhere in sight. “Just a bit stir crazy, but who isn’t?” “I imagine this is very difficult for Stella,” Maggie said with a knowing smile. Scully grinned. “You got that right.” “Did I hear my name?” Stella emerged from the hallway, having changed into a white T-shirt and drawstring pants, her hair loose over her shoulders. She sat on the couch beside Scully, waving politely at Maggie. “Hi, Stella,” Maggie said warmly. “How are you?” “I’m fine, despite what Dana may be telling you,” she said, giving Scully a look. “And how are you, Maggie?” “The very same,” Maggie said with a laugh. Stella joined the conversation for a few minutes before excusing herself to the kitchen to check on the steaks. “I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, Mom,” Scully said. “And call me anytime, for any reason, no matter the hour. Promise?” “Will do,” Maggie said. “Good night, Dana. I love you.” “Love you too, Mom.” She ended the call and closed her laptop. Her gaze caught on the gold band glinting on her left ring finger. She was thankful for it for so many reasons, but right now, it symbolized a vitally important connection between her and Stella. If the worst were to happen and one of them became sick, they would have spousal privileges at the hospital. Stella was her next of kin, with visitation rights and the power to make any difficult decisions that might need to be made. And Scully would do the same for Stella. Both of them had living wills and all their wishes already clearly defined, but it gave her an extra sense of peace knowing they had each other. She touched the ring with a smile. “What do you want to do until dinner?” Stella asked, rejoining her on the couch. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.” She smiled as Stella’s fingers traced the seam of Scully’s jeans from her knee slowly up her thigh. They’d always enjoyed an active sex life, but being stuck at home together had made them even more insatiable than usual. She reached for Stella, sliding one hand into her hair as she pulled her in for a kiss. Stella smelled like lemons and soap, her lips soft and pliant against Scully’s. She stared into the azure depths of Stella’s eyes as her mind flipped all the way back to their first kiss against the side of Stella’s car over twenty years ago. They’d shared a lifetime of kisses since, two continents worth, from London to Maryland to Wyoming. Lately, she’d been wanting to add someplace new to that list. She pressed her lips against a sensitive spot on Stella’s jaw, feeling the shudder that ran through her. “You still owe me a honeymoon, you know.” “This isn’t enough for you?” Stella quipped, hands roaming beneath Scully’s shirt. “Endless weeks trapped here at home, fucking each other senseless?” She shook her head, gasping as Stella sucked at the spot beneath her ear that had always been her undoing. “I’m serious. If we survive this pandemic—” “If?” Stella interrupted, her tone sharp. “When,” Scully corrected. “When this is over, we owe it to ourselves to take a real vacation, one that has nothing to do with work or family. Just you and me, celebrating our marriage somewhere special.” Stella said nothing, instead swirling her tongue over Scully’s neck while she teased her through her jeans. But despite her already-wet panties, Scully persisted, because seduction as a form of distraction was the oldest rule in Stella’s book. “Paris,” she said, sliding into Stella’s lap. “There are so many museums we could explore, so much art. The Mona Lisa…” Stella arched her hips so Scully could move against her, friction building through their clothes. “I’ve seen the Mona Lisa.” “But I haven’t.” She slipped a hand between them, touching Stella through her pants, pleased as Stella’s breath hitched, nipples hardening beneath her T-shirt. “Take me, Stel.” “Yes,” Stella said throatily. “Take me to Paris,” she clarified, fingers moving over the soft cotton of Stella’s pants, already damp with her arousal. “We’ll see,” Stella hedged. She thought vacations were a waste of time and money, an extravagance that could be better indulged in fine liquors, fabrics, and other luxuries right here at home. Scully was generally inclined to agree with her. They both worked hard and traveled often enough for work or to visit family that a separate vacation just for the two of them sometimes felt like too much effort. But this was different. She’d already lost too many years to unpredictable viruses and quarantine protocols. She deserved a trip to Paris, at the very least. They both did. But if sex was Stella’s preferred means of communication at the moment, maybe she could use that to her advantage. Scully bent her head and kissed Stella, hands sliding behind her back to hold her close. Her tongue slid into the welcome heat of Stella’s mouth, tasting whiskey. “Picture it, Stella,” she murmured against her lips. “Sidewalk cafés, wine and cheese and melt-in-your-mouth pastries on our balcony.” “Mm,” Stella said noncommittally, hands gripping Scully’s ass. “Versailles,” Scully whispered against the pulse point on Stella’s neck, watching as goose bumps rose on her skin. “Gardens. Flowers. So many beautiful churches.” “I hate church,” Stella said breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to sit through a service with me, just admire the architecture and the stained glass.” She swirled her tongue over Stella’s collarbone, rewarded by a sharp inhale. “Let’s go, when this is over.” “Dana…” Stella’s body stilled beneath Scully’s. “We don’t know when that will be or what the world will look like.” “I know that.” She sat up, taking Stella’s chin in her hand to force her to meet her eyes. “I know that better than almost anyone.” “Then why are you pushing me for a trip right now of all times?” There was a fragility to the fierceness in Stella’s gaze. She was afraid. Scully softened at the realization. “The world will look different when this is over, and it will be a while before we can go to Paris, but it’s good for morale to have something to look forward to, and I would imagine the economy will need a boost from tourism when all is said and done.” “I can find you plenty of architecture and stained glass right here in London.” Stella popped the button on Scully’s jeans, pushing down the zipper with a soft metallic hiss. Scully pressed closer. “Not the point.” “Agree to disagree?” Stella’s fingers dove down the front of Scully’s underwear. Her hips rolled against Stella’s hand as a soft whimper escaped her throat, and a wicked idea took hold in her mind. “I’ll play you for it.” “What?” An adorable wrinkle appeared in Stella’s brow. Scully sat up straighter, grinning. “Sex games are your specialty, are they not?” Stella’s eyebrows lifted. “What kind of game?” “If I can make you come first, we go to Paris. If you make me come first, we stay home.” She dangled the bait, knowing Stella would be unable to refuse, even as she also knew her chances of winning were slim. Stella’s self-control was legendary, after all. But it would be fun to try, and it might even distract Stella from the reality of their situation for a little while. Sure enough, the flame in Stella’s eyes lit. “You’re on.” * * * Stella pushed Scully onto the bed and climbed on top of her, both of them still fully clothed. Now that Scully had made this a game with their honeymoon as the prize, they were both eager to take things slow. Frankly, Stella couldn’t imagine a better way to spend what remained of the afternoon than to slowly and relentlessly tease Scully right over the edge…repeatedly. “You smell good,” Scully murmured, shifting beneath her so that Stella’s right thigh slid between her own. “I took a quick shower while you were talking to your mother.” Stella pressed her thigh more firmly against Scully, rewarded by a little moan. She liked this position, being on top, in control, a feeling that had been in short supply since she’d been sent home from work. Stella hated laying low, waiting the threat to pass. Her every instinct screamed for her to get out there on the frontlines and fight this thing. She’d fearlessly stared down every kind of evil imaginable over the years, but this one was different. There was no bravery in going outside now, nothing but her own stupidity to blame if she allowed the virus to catch her. There was a helplessness to being trapped at home that was slowly eating her alive. She’d cleaned everything she could get her hands on, the only way she knew to fight this faceless threat. She’d checked on Fran nearly as often as Scully called her mother. She’d watched while Scully analyzed articles and data, showing her graphs that scared the fuck out of her, while Scully herself faced their uncertain future with a kind of serenity that made Stella want to scream. Distantly, she wondered if Scully knew all of this, if she’d manufactured this sex game to get Stella out of her head for a little while, to give her a sense of power here that she couldn’t find elsewhere right now. It wouldn’t surprise her, but she wasn’t going to let it ruin this moment either. She slid a hand beneath Scully’s top—a crisp black button-down she’d worn for her online teaching earlier that day—and cupped her over her bra. She brushed her thumb back and forth, feeling Scully’s nipples harden beneath her touch. Scully deftly untied the drawstring on Stella’s pants, slipping a hand inside. “Stella,” she said in a scandalized tone. “Did you FaceTime my mother without underwear?” “Easier to get undressed afterward.” She swallowed a whimper as Scully’s fingers slid over her bare skin before retreating to palm her equally bare breasts. “I’ll say.” Scully pushed Stella’s shirt up, helping her slide it over her head. Stella straightened, tits bouncing as she rocked her hips against Scully’s. The coronavirus was outside her control, but this—her body, her pleasure—this she controlled. That she would win was already a forgone conclusion. She could hardly believe Scully had even offered the challenge. “This might be a better view than anything I would find in the Louvre,” Scully said, gaze locked on Stella’s tits. “All the more reason not to go.” Stella began unbuttoning Scully’s blouse, pausing after each button to kiss the newly exposed skin, leaving a wet trail down the center of her chest and over the clasp of her bra. She continued all the way to the waistband of Scully’s jeans, her shirt now hanging open at her sides. Scully looked down at her, chest heaving, bottom lip pinched between her teeth. “Well, don’t stop there.” “Wasn’t planning to.” Stella eased the shirt down Scully’s left arm and then the right before tossing it to the floor. She helped Scully wiggle out of her jeans, dipping her head to kiss her through her underwear before she stripped those away too, followed by her own pants. Once they were both naked, Stella turned her attention to worshipping every inch of Scully’s bare skin. She kissed her breasts, teasing Scully’s nipples until they had tightened into tight rosy buds, which she flicked with her tongue until Scully moaned. Stella looked up and caught her gaze as she began to kiss her way down Scully’s stomach, making sure to pay special attention to all of her most sensitive spots, like that little patch of skin just below her left hipbone, the one that made her whimper and squirm as Stella’s tongue swirled over it. “God, Stella,” Scully groaned, hands fisted in the sheet. “Mm,” she murmured as she flicked her tongue against Scully’s clit, causing her hips to buck upward with a gasp of surprise. Stella was torn between the desire to drive Scully straight over the edge or to hold herself back a bit and at least give Scully a fighting chance. In the end, she wanted this to last as long as possible. Power games in bed were a huge fucking turn on. Just thinking about what was to come had her throbbing in anticipation. She teased Scully with her tongue, licking and sucking but never giving her as much pressure as she knew Scully preferred. She pushed a single finger inside her, thrusting in time with her tongue, toying with her. Scully’s gasping breaths became increasingly labored, her hips shifting restlessly, her arousal fueling Stella’s. She reached between her own thighs, pressing two fingers against her aching clit. She stroked herself once, twice, just enough to give herself momentary relief from the tension building there before returning her hand to Scully’s body, letting her own need drive her as she focused on her wife. She nipped Scully’s clit, drawing a strangled cry from her lips, before trailing a string of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her inner thighs until Scully was writhing beneath her. “Stop,” she mumbled, pushing at Stella’s shoulders. Stella smiled as she complied, sliding up Scully’s body to kiss her on the mouth, tongues tangling, bodies pressed together from head to toe, spreading heat with every movement. They kissed for what felt like hours, and Stella was lost in the sensations, the warmth of Scully’s breath on her cheeks, the weight of Scully’s breasts against her own, the teasing rub of her skin against the parts of Stella that ached for release. And then Scully was moving, shimmying down to position herself between Stella’s thighs. She inhaled sharply, everything inside her tensing in anticipation. Scully was talented in too many ways to name, but the wicked pleasure of her mouth was something that still overwhelmed Stella in the best possible way. She began with one long, slow lick, and Stella felt herself arching off the bed, her body instinctively seeking more. Scully centered the heat of her mouth over Stella’s clit, swirling there until Stella was dizzy with desire, unaware of anything but the hot press of Scully’s tongue and the powerful need coiling inside her. She moved her hips, rocking against Scully’s mouth, allowing herself this moment of surrender before she slid sideways, rolling to face Scully. Need pulsed wickedly inside her, invigorating her, burning away the ugly things that had built in her chest during the day. “Touch yourself,” she demanded, feeling a shiver of excitement as she watched Scully push a hand between her thighs in response. Scully stroked herself, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed. Her lips parted in silent pleasure, and Stella watched, entranced. Scully stared straight into her eyes as she moved, pleasure apparent in the flush on her cheeks and the slightly dazed expression on her face. “You too,” Scully said breathlessly. “Touch yourself.” Stella did, bringing a hand between her thighs, which were already slick with a combination of her own arousal and Scully’s recent attention. She kept her touch light, careful not to give herself too much stimulation, not when Scully had already brought her so close to the edge. She skimmed her fingers over herself as her core clenched, seeking the release she so relentlessly denied herself. “How close are you?” Scully asked, gaze dropping to Stella’s hand, watching as she touched herself. “Not very,” Stella told her, which was technically true, although she could get herself there quickly enough if she allowed it. “On a scale of one to ten,” Scully persisted, her own fingers still moving, stroking. “One being barely aroused, and ten being the point of no return.” Stella smirked. “Six.” “Oh.” Scully slowed her fingers, looking pained to do so. “And you?” Stella couldn’t help asking. “Eight.” She whimpered slightly. “Maybe a nine.” “Interesting.” Stella reached for her, drawing her close. She pushed Scully’s hand aside, replacing it with her own, and fuck, Scully was so wet. It sent a hot thrill through Stella’s body, shooting straight to her clit. Swiftly, she rolled, sliding a thigh between Scully’s in a move streamlined by years of practice, intimate knowledge of exactly how to position herself so that their pussies pressed together for optimal pleasure. Immediately, Scully began to move, grinding vigorously against Stella. “Nine,” Scully gasped. “Definitely a nine.” Stella was headed there pretty quickly herself, her clit thrumming with need beneath the hot, wet slide of Scully’s body. She watched as Scully surrendered, shuddering in her arms, her pussy pulsing against Stella’s as she came, whimpering, hips jerking, and it was so powerful, she nearly took Stella over the edge with her. She began to move against Scully in earnest now, chasing her own release. She arched her hips so that her clit rubbed against Scully’s pelvic bone with each thrust, and yes, this was it. This was perfect. So fucking perfect. Need coiled hot and tight in her core. Scully rolled away with a wicked grin. “I demand a rematch.” “Well, that’s hardly fair,” Stella said, attempting to steady her voice as her thighs pressed together uncomfortably. “Not exactly a level playing field now, is it?” “It’s perfectly fair,” Scully told her. “You deserved to start with a handicap.” And well, she had a point. Even in her current state, Stella could probably still win their bet. She blew out a long, slow breath. Strike that. She could definitely still win their bet. She could win it three times over if she had to. The game was all part of the thrill for her, and as long as it lasted, she didn’t have to think about what was happening outside their flat, the invisible threat she didn’t know how to fight. “All right.” Scully gave her a smug smile, but Stella kissed it right off her face as she moved in, getting right down to business this time. She fucked Scully hard and fast with her fingers, not letting up until Scully was writhing against her all over again. Once she had her sufficiently worked up, Stella withdrew her hand, trailing her glistening fingers over Scully’s stomach, thrilled with the way she trembled beneath Stella’s touch. “And now?” she asked. “Where are you on your little scale?” “At least a seven.” She pressed a thigh between Stella’s legs, angling her hips to give them both some much-needed friction. “You?” “Same.” Stella pressed herself firmly against Scully’s thigh, attempting to hold still, but Scully stymied her with her own movements, causing her thigh to rub rhythmically against Stella’s already hyper-sensitive clit. She gripped tighter with her thighs, allowing it…for now. “You’re so gorgeous when you’re this turned on,” Scully said reverently, tracing a hand over the contour of Stella’s face. “Makes me want to tease you like this forever.” Stella exhaled, hearing the hitch in her breath. Her thighs, still clamped around Scully’s, began to shake. Scully’s hips stilled, bringing them both to a gasping halt. Stella unthreaded their legs, channeling the energy inside her into a blistering kiss, her lips devouring Scully’s, tongues thrusting in an imitation of the act their bodies craved. This kiss was deep and ravenous, feeding a hunger that only grew with each passing moment. Stella could lose herself here, every cell in her body achingly, breathtakingly alive, adrenaline coursing through her veins, all centered in the pulsing ache between her thighs. They moved together, never quite allowing their bodies to touch the way they needed, instead letting the whisper soft brush of skin against skin stoke the fire blazing between them. “Stella,” Scully gasped, fingernails biting into Stella’s back, causing her to exhale sharply in pleasure. “Do that again,” Stella demanded, her voice low and hoarse. Scully’s nails bit into her skin, dragging slowly down her back to dig into her ass, hauling her up against the welcome heat of Scully’s body. Their hips pressed together more firmly now, and Stella couldn’t help but gasp as Scully thrust against her. “Fuck,” Scully mumbled, and Stella grinned against her lips. Despite her best intentions, Scully had very little willpower when it came to postponing her pleasure. “Nine again, hm?” Stella asked. “Yes.” Scully’s movements became increasingly frantic. Stella arched her back, separating their hips, causing Scully to swear. But Stella wasn’t quite ready for this to be over. Not to mention, Scully was also incredibly, impossibly beautiful when she was this turned on. Her blue eyes gleamed with desire, cheeks flushed, breath coming in irregular gasps. Stella slid down to lavish her breasts, licking and sucking as Scully writhed beneath her. And then, Scully rose, flipping Stella beneath her and pinning her to the bed before she’d realized what was happening. “Time to get you to a nine,” Scully panted, and Stella shifted restlessly against the bed. Truthfully, she’d already been there a few times, and it wouldn’t take much to bring her back…or to carry her over the edge. She held herself still as Scully crawled down her body, giving her a heated look before she closed her mouth directly over Stella’s clit, sucking hard. Stella’s hips bucked, and she held her breath against the urge to beg for more. Scully was on a mission, her tongue licking, flicking, swirling with such an intensity that for several long moments, Stella completely lost her wits, grinding shamelessly against Scully’s mouth. Scully pushed two fingers inside her, expertly stroking her upper wall, and just like that… “Nine,” Stella gasped, pushing Scully away as her core clenched desperately against the emptiness left behind. “Oh, I definitely like you like this,” Scully said, eyes burning hot as they raked over Stella’s body, scorching her everywhere they touched. It was all she could do not to bring her hand between her thighs and let Scully watch as she fucked herself right over the edge. Instead, she pounced, hands gripping Scully’s hips as she evened the score. She held nothing back, nipping and sucking at Scully’s clit as she pushed two fingers inside her, followed quickly by a third. She showed no mercy, working Scully hard and fast, dimly aware that she wasn’t even trying to slow Stella down this time. Scully came in a wet rush, her pussy clenching around Stella’s fingers as her body shook and her hips bucked, followed by a long, low cry of relief. Stella rolled to the side, one hand already between her legs, fucking herself as hard as she’d just fucked Scully. “Wait,” Scully gasped, rising unsteadily as a smile stretched her cheeks. “No,” Stella protested, even as her hand stilled. She could wait. She could keep this up as long as Scully wanted to play. But she was ready to come. Her body shook with the effort not to. “I won fair and square. Twice.” “Yes, you did.” Scully planted a hot kiss against her lips. “And you deserve to be rewarded properly for your efforts.” “Do I?” she asked, one hand still pressed firmly between her legs but not moving, holding herself on the brink of release. “Yes,” Scully said with a brisk nod. “Hands off.” Stella complied, desperately curious as to what Scully had in mind. She steadied her breathing, trying to relax, pushing back her need so that she’d last long enough to properly enjoy her reward, whatever it was. Scully scooted to the edge of the bed and opened the drawer where they kept their toys. A fresh wave of arousal rushed through Stella, and she pressed her thighs together. As she watched, Scully took out the hot pink strap-on that was possibly Stella’s favorite possession. Scully slipped into the harness before turning to face Stella, pink cock jutting in her direction, and she couldn’t help it. She moaned. If it was possible to come from anticipation alone, this would be the moment. Scully squirted lube onto one palm and slicked it over the cock, warming it beneath her palms with long, sweeping strokes while Stella clenched her fists in the sheet to keep from touching herself. She ached to be filled, desperation making her weak. “Ready?” Scully asked as she crawled onto the bed, and Stella nodded, thighs parting in anticipation. “You’re so wet for me, Stella,” Scully said as she allowed the head of the cock to brush against Stella’s entrance. “Mm,” she agreed, gripping Scully’s ass, pulling her closer. “Impatient, are we?” Scully quipped, rocking her hips so that the head of the cock slipped inside Stella. She whimpered, too far gone to argue. Scully pressed forward, testing Stella as her body adjusted to the toy before she drew back and slid home, filling Stella completely. She moaned in relief, falling back against the mattress as Scully straddled her, thrusting into her hard and fast, just the way Stella liked. Scully reached between them, stroking Stella’s clit in time with the movement of her hips, and Stella was done for. Her eyes fell shut as she rocked up to meet Scully, barely able to breathe past the need rising inside her, throbbing in her core, building hotter and stronger with each thrust until she thought she might burst from the power of it. “More,” she gasped. Scully picked up the pace, pounding into her as her fingers circled Stella’s clit, harder, faster, and then she was coming, arching off the bed with a moan as the orgasm rushed through her, leaving her hot and tingly in its wake. She lay there, gasping for breath, still impossibly aroused by the feel of the cock inside her and the woman on top of her. Scully paused, allowing Stella a moment to catch her breath before she resumed her movements, this time tilting her hips so that the head of the cock rubbed against Stella’s G-spot on every stroke. She swore as need rose inside her again, impossible stronger and more urgent than before, so intense she could only writhe and swear beneath Scully as she carried Stella swiftly toward a second orgasm. “Come for me,” Scully whispered, and Stella did. Her core ignited with release, pulsing through her with such an intensity, she almost thought she was having an out of body experience. A high, keening cry tore from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. It kept coming, she kept coming, as her body released all the tension she’d built up during their game. When she regained her senses, she was limp and shaky, her body covered in sweat, her pussy still tingling with aftershocks of pleasure. “Wow,” Scully whispered. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you come that hard.” Rather than answering, Stella pulled her in for a deep, drunken kiss. She wasn’t entirely sure she could form words just yet, let alone move, so she just lay there, panting for breath, as Scully climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom to clean their toy. She returned a few minutes later and tucked the dildo back into its drawer before sliding into bed, a pink cloth in her hands. She pressed it against Stella’s flushed face. The cloth was warm and damp, and it felt so good as Scully gently wiped the sweat from her skin. She worked her way down Stella’s body, washing away sweat and sex. When she’d finished, she tossed the cloth toward the bathroom and crawled in beside Stella, one arm thrown over her stomach. They lay like that for a while, both of them calm and sated. Scully’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Stella’s skin. “We’ll have a lovely honeymoon here in London when this is over,” she said softly without a trace of disappointment in her tone, true to her word. Stella looked down at the gold band on her finger. She tightened her arms protectively around Scully as teared pooled in her eyes. Despite their self-isolation, what if the virus managed to penetrate their home? What if something happened to Scully? Stella couldn’t bear the thought. Scully closed her eyes, resting peacefully in Stella’s arms. Was she daydreaming about their honeymoon? Stella tried to imagine it, but she found herself picturing Scully sipping champagne on the Eiffel Tower, eating pastries at a sidewalk café, spouting scientific details as Stella showed her magnificent stained glass in Saint Chappelle and Notre Dame, so much stained glass it would take her breath away. If they survived this—when they survived this—how could Stella possibly deny her the honeymoon of her dreams? How could she deny either of them that chance? She held Scully tightly, burying her face in the floral-scented depths of Scully’s hair. “But not as lovely as Paris.” Scully pulled back to give her a baffled look. “You were right,” Stella whispered. “We should go to Paris.” Scully beamed at her with a joy so pure, it warmed even the darkest, most fearful parts of Stella’s heart. “Really?” “Really.” She drew in a breath. “But it will be a while before we can go, Dana, and I don’t—” “I know.” Scully brought their lips together for a gentle kiss. “It took us twenty years to get married. However long we have to wait for our honeymoon, it will be worth it.” Stella nodded as a tear slipped over her cheek, knowing in her heart that it was true.

#fanfic #Two Worlds Collide #scullyxstella #stella and scully #scully/stella #Stella Gibson #Dana Scully #quarantine #quarantine fic

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gtseven7 · 5 years ago

Text

My Seven Idols

Summary:

Got7 as highschoolers as they deal with graduation and college at the same time starting up their own Youtube channel as idols.

A/N: Second chapter skskskskssks updates are slow but it’ll be slower coz i have a job now lol and i just realized that my format (for all my fics) looks horrible on pc but it looks ok on mobile (thats where i used to do everything) imma be editing those bc they’re so awful i apologize.

//prev

The big doors of the gymnasium opened, allowing a certain man in. Walking with confidence and steady feet, the murmurs of the people slowly dies down. At the very front, the reason of the crowd gathering together, stood oblivious to the person who just came in. They were still dancing to the beat of the music, trying to charm the ladies watching. Until the music abruptly stopped. Jinyoung holds the plug on his hand. The five guys, known as Five Roses, who were dancing earlier paused and looked for the source of disruption.

The audience parted as if it was the red sea as Jinyoung, the student council president walks towards them.

See, Jinyoung has a perfect face, perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect uniform, probably perfect everything. Many girls and some boys has a crush on him, obviously. But the fact that he's strict, cold and savage dwindles the affection the student body has for him making him the not so desirable anymore.

"What the...this guy again...dammit." Ji Woo, one of the Five Roses said upon seeing the sour look on the President's face. "Why is he here again?!"

"I should be asking that. Why are you here? Don't you have class?"

Knowing better for themselves, the rest of the people dispersed and went back to their respective rooms. No one wants to anger Jinyoung. No one wants to be in his bad side because he's scary. Nobody could say what would happen if they did disobey him. There was no brave soul who dared.

Maybe Jung Hwan will dare, as he speaks. "C'mon man, leave us alone. We're practicing for the idol competition. Our school's name is at stake here." He was only rewarded with a scoff and an eye roll. Jinyoung finds idol competitions between schools funny. It was a well-known fact that he doesn't support it. At all. Especially if you disregard your studies in favor of it. His nonchalance about the matter slowly aggravates the five boys. "Our school's academic performance is at stake. Adding you bunch of idiots skipping classes will not help it." The leader of the group, Yeon So, feeling a little less happy with how things are going, strode towards Jinyoung. "Pres, we could care less. But since you took the effort to go here and nag us, we'll follow you. The next time you do it again though, I wouldn't care if you're the president."

Face to face. It was like a two wolves staring each other down ready to bite off the other. There was an air of crackling electricity between them, trying to win and make the other back down. "You think that would scare me Yeon So?"

"No. But that was a warning. Stay in your lane, teachers' pet."

The five boys walked away with a grudge, leaving an exhausted Jinyoung. Don't get him wrong, he understands the passion they have what they do. He thinks it's a wonderful thing: to be passionate about something. To do something that you love. He might be a little jealous of them for having something that he doesn't despite the fact that everyone thinks he's perfect. It also irks him that they sacrifice learning to do it. More so that their school's academic standing compared to other schools is pathetic. Add the humiliating downfall of their sports team.

Everything's not going right for their reputation. The only good win they have is the idol competition, which is not really saying much. It's Jinyoung's second term as president and his last year. The pressure he has on himself to exceed his performance from last year before he graduates lays heavy on his shoulders. Resulting to him being more uptight than he usually is.

"Thinking too hard there, aren't you?"

Turning to see who spoke, even though Jinyoung knows that voice very well. It was Jaebum. He's scratching his head while yawning, worsening his bed head. The president's eyes turned into slits. "Do I have to reprimand you as well?" His long time friend only shrugged, already used to the president's stern warnings. "It's our break, I took a nap." Jinyoung sighed. He already knows making the other follow him is a lost cause. It doesn't mean he'll stop though. "You weren't in class before the break."

Both walked out of the gymnasium to head back to the main building. "Mrs. Kim called me in her office. Apparently I'm the only senior who hasn't submitted college plans." Mentioning college made Jinyoung stop in his tracks. The big elephant in his life. Something that he avoids to think about these last few months. "I heard you submitted late as well. Who would've thought Mr. Perfect Jinyoung had doubts as well." Jaebum teased his friend. He had seen him struggle to finish the forms. Conflict clearly written on his face every night as he stared at the piece of paper that probably has his future. Hair disheveled when he pulls it out of frustration.

The man in question can't help but to huff out. Even after submitting his half-hearted plans, he couldn't help but still ask himself what he wants to do with his life. "Have you thought about it? College, I mean..." Jinyoung asked his companion. A light breeze flew by them as he waited the other to answer. "I know what I want to do. I've always known."

Music. Im Jaebum's first love. Of course. Why did Jinyoung ask anyway? He knows it well.

“What about you?”

They both walked the side field, mulling about the future and what awaits them.

“I don’t know. My parents want me to take Medicine, but Mrs. Kim said I’ll fit in well with a business course.”

“Do whatever you want man, whatever would make you happy.”

“Hmm…”

What would make him happy anyway? He doesn’t have an answer to that. He’s been asking himself for a long time but Jinyoung comes out with a blank space in his heart waiting to be filled by something he himself can’t answer what. Now with their graduation looming, entrance exams coming closer, Jinyoung felt like he’s out of time.

“If you knew what you wanted, why submit late anyway?” He asked his friend condescendingly, his JB hunter mode on. “I lost the form.”

And Jinyoung’s signature eye roll with a dash of an exasperated sigh came out as usual whenever Jaebeom does anything stupid. “I don’t even know what to say about that.” They both stopped walking, the president ready to rant again, his back facing the field where their prestigious basketball team were playing (prestigious my ass, they lost four consecutive games already). “You could have…” But Jaebeom wasn’t entirely listening, seeing the orange ball flying towards them. Specifically, at his friend.

“Jinyoung!”

Jaebeom held the other’s shoulder and pushed him aside. He shielded Jinyoung with his body, the ball hitting him directly on the back. He was almost hugging him, bracketing his smaller shoulders with his wider ones. "Ugh. What?" confusion was what Jinyoung felt. 'Why is he hugging me all of a sudden? If this is because I was being a bit sentimental… I'll hit you Jaebeom.'

"Omo! Sorry! Sorry!'

Jinyoung peered over his friend's shoulder and saw Jackson, one of the members of the basketball team. "Didn't mean to hit 'ya! Sorry." He was cringing and had his hands in pleading. Their president was almost hit with a ball. They might get suspended! "Next time, watch where you're throwing the ball." Jaebeom's reputation isn't that great to be honest. With his biting stares, long hair and seasonal peircings, he's known to be the school's bad boy. A man you shouldn't cross. Someone to avoid at all costs. It's also well known that even the great disciplinarian Park Jinyoung can't handle him. Now, Jackson who's receiving ill intent from the other, he didn't seem to mind and his apologetic smile just bounced off Jaebeom's scary aura. Jinyoung was quite amused.

"It wasn't me though! Sung Hwan threw the ball. I was only asked to fetch it. I'm sorry in behalf of the team though. Jinyoung, we're sorry for almost hitting you." He then bowed politely to express his sincerity. Jaebeom was dumbfounded at the boy who did not seem to mind his usual scary air.

When Jinyoung realized that Jaebeom was still holdong him protectively, 'Tsk, what a worrywart.', he released himself indignantly and smoothened his uniform. Seeing the other still bowing to him, he felt uncomfortable. "Hey, it's okay. It was an accident."

Jackson immediately straightened up and beamed. "Thank you! Anyway, are any of you hurt? The ball's a bit hard."

"No not really." Jaebeom answered nonchalantly. Trying to look like a cool senior. Again, the president rolled his eyes at him.

"We're fine Jackson. How about you, how's the team going? Are you still benched?" The athlete rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He laughed lightly, but his smile decreased. Way to go Jinyoung. You officially made him feel bad. "Yeah… But that's okay! I can now do my other hobbies other than sports so…" Jackson covered his embarrassment with a hearty laugh, waving off the dampening of the mood. "No but really, I'm totally okay with it Jinyoung. No need to worry." He gave his most convincing smile to Jinyoung as the other frowned. Jackson's a foreign student who transferred to their school because of his parents' business in the area. Before he went to East High, he's already a great athlete with a bright future ahead of him. From what Jinyoung heard, he had already collected a ton of medals and trophies.

"Are you sure? I can talk to the coach. Seriously that Coach Jang has favoritism. Only letting Sung Hwan to shine."

"No no no! Don't worry about it. It's okay. I prefer it this way."

Jinyoung was not convinced but bit his tongue from saying anything further. He just nodded and it seemed to satisfy Jackson as well. But Jaebeom on the other hand looked like he didn't like the friendly way of speaking of the other. "Hey. You're a junior aren't ya? Pay some respect on your seniors."

Jackson looked at Jaebeom curiously, a teasing smile already on his face. "I'm older than Jinyoing though." The long haired senior's eyes widened. He turned to his friend to confirm and Jinyoung was not reacting to it. "He is?"

"Yes. You guys are the same age. And you both make it sound like I'm so much younger. It's just a few months "

The laugh that resounded the area was cheerful. Jackson's mood lifted up again. He bid goodbye to the two after grabbing the ball and jogged back to the court. But Jaebeom was stuck in his position, floored by the surprise of the fact and most likely because the foreigner wasn't really all that faltered in his presence unlike other people "Why is he a junior though?"

As the subjects from his old school were quite different from what they have, some were not credited. Thus making him repeat his junior year. Having no choice but to accept, since it was an urgent migrate. Jackson got into the team with his natural sporty abilities, even better than the current players they have. But unfortunately, Mr Jang doesn't care and only fluffs up his favorite, the captain ball Sung Hwan. Which was such a waste and irks Jinyoung to the core. They lost consecutive competitions already even if they have someone like Jackson, they never bothered to bring hin out anyway.

"You seem to know him well."

"I toured him around campus on his first day."

"Oh aren't ya such a good student president?" Ah, Jaebeom was joking around once again. A feat that most people don't see. "Apparently not, you won't cut your hair and remove that metal on your nose."

As if he was wounded by his friend's ribbing, he put his hand on his chest feigning hurt. "Yah! You said long hair suits me."

"My opinion outside school doesn't mean a thing inside. Cut that hair."

next//

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 fic #my seven idols #park jinyoung #Im Jaebum #jackson wang #kim yugyeom #bambam #mark tuan #choi youngjae

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