#it's been several days and i am still not over this

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut this is the last part so I hope you enjoy it!!

part 2

It would be an understatement to say that Charles was over the moon when you and Louise showed up in the paddock on the race day. He was so delighted and happy that he had a hard time hiding it, and everyone present could see it.

He didn't separate from Lou, and he thanked you several times for bringing her and for coming with her telling you how much that meant to him.

Of course, you both attracted the attention of all the media, knowing that tomorrow the main news on the internet will be how Charles' ex-girlfriend appeared with his daughter in the paddock for the first time after a full year since the breakup.

The cameras were everywhere, but having learned from previous experiences, you decided to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist. All you were focused on was giving your daughter an unforgettable weekend and supporting Charles as well.

Lou got hungry so you and Charles decided to get her something to eat at the Ferrari hospitality. Lou didn't know what she wanted to eat, so Charles decided to leave his things at your table, including his phone, and said he would go with her to the restaurant to choose. While Lou went with Charles, you sat down at the table and scrolled through your phone waiting for them to come back.

“Am I seeing things or is it really y/n?” A very familiar voice asked you, making you look up from your phone.

“Carlos!” You smiled from ear to ear as you stand up to hug him.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in the paddock. How come you’re here?” He asks curiously.

“Lou had a hard time accepting that she wouldn't be spending this weekend with her dad, so...yeah, here we are.”

“Oh man, he’s gonna beat my ass on the track today..” Carlos says shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little unsure of what he’s talking about.

“He always gives 110% on the track when Lou is there to support him, I can only imagine what it’ll be like today when you are there too.”

The two of you started catching up talking about what was new in your lives, what wasn't, and so on, until Carlos commented on Charles and Lou's relationship, saying that he really loves spending time with her and that he talks about her nonstop.

“She loves spending time with him too, he is her soulmate I’m sure.” You commented.

“And what about you? Is he your soulmate too?” Carlos asked catching you off guard.

Both you and Charles were close to Carlos and he pretty much knew everything about you and your relationship. He was also very angry with you when you broke up because he thought it was a bad decision and that you should have worked on your relationship and not give up on it so easily.

“I-I..” As you were trying to think of an answer to his question, at that very moment the screen of Charles's phone, which he had left on the table in front of you, lit up.

What caught your attention wasn't the notification he received, but your eyes got stuck on the wallpaper on his lock screen. It was a picture of you and Lou that Charles had taken shortly after you had given birth and came home from the hospital. You were lying on the bed and Lou was lying on your chest while you kissed her head.

It was a picture that was very dear to both you and Charles, and he had it as his wallpaper since the day he took it, and what surprised you the most was that he still had it to this day. Even though you were no longer together, he never changed it.

Carlos noticed what you were staring at and he basically took it as an answer to his question although he had already knew it.

“Uncle Carloss!!” Lou screamed with her mouth full of pizza as Charles carried her in his arms over to the table where Carlos and you were sitting.

“Hola, hermosa! Did you get hungry?” Carlos chuckled squeezing her cheek.

“Out of all the possible foods you can think of, my baby chose pizza.” Charles laughed sitting her down on the chair next to you.

You were completely lost in your thoughts and didn't even pay attention what the three of them were talking about. All you could think about was the picture you saw on Charles's phone and how you were getting closer to confessing your still deeply held feelings for him.

And of course today was just as Carlos said it would be. Not only did Charles beat Carlos’ ass on the track, but he also beat all the other drivers by proudly and deservedly taking P1. He couldn't let the win slip through his fingers in front of the two most important people in his life so he fought extra hard for it today.

When it was time to celebrate, your eyes filled with tears at how proud you were of him. First he celebrated with the team, then his eyes searched for you and Lou.

“You wanna congratulate daddy, baby?” You asked her and she nodded excitedly.

You pushed your way towards Charles with her in your arms and when you reached him he instantly hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good job, daddy!” She said.

“Thank you, baby. This one was for you.” He told her kissing her once again.

“Congratulations, Charles. We’re really proud of you.” You say softly smiling at him tears threatening to run down your cheeks.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for being here.” He said looking deep into your eyes.

The cameras went crazy over your family moment, closely capturing every interaction between you. It won't be until the next day when you see one of the taken photos of the two of you that it will become completely clear to you how your eyes are betraying you and showing how deeply and obviously in love you are with each other.

When the day was coming to an end, you didn't stay in the paddock any longer, but immediately got on the plane and flew to Monaco, all three of you together. Lou was completely exhausted and when you landed she was already asleep. Charles didn't offer but instead insisted on driving you to your apartment no matter how tired he was.

Charles, carefully so as not to wake her, carried her in his arms into her room and put her to bed. He kissed her goodnight before closing the door and going into the living room thinking he would say goodnight to you too.

“She’s sleeping like a log.” Charles chuckles quietly as he stands in front of you.

“Poor thing, she was so tired. She passed out as soon as we sat in the plane.”

“But I'm glad you came. Both of you. It really meant a lot to me to have you there.”

“I’m glad too. We had a lot of fun. Maybe we can come again sometime.” You say making him smile.

“Anytime you want” He says feeling that the conversation is slowly coming to an end. He wants to continue it so bad, but he knows that both of you are tired and with a heavy heart he has to leave, even though he would rather lie in bed with you now and hold you close to him all night.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now. It’s getting really late.” He says running his hand nervously through his hair while you bite the inside of your cheek so desperately wanting him to ask you if he can stay. “See you soon, yeah? Good night”

Before he turns around to head for the door, you decide that enough is enough. There have been so many obvious signs by now that it's not over between you and that you're still madly in love with each other that you don't want to waste another second being stubborn, but rather surrender to the moment and finally enjoy it.

“Or you can stay the night here..you know..i-if you want to” You blurt out stuttering the last part.

He turns slowly towards you. His expression is unreadable until he places his hands on your cheeks and asks you “Do you want me to stay?”

Without much hesitation, you nod your head and quietly say “I do.”

Initially, it was as if you were afraid to approach each other, as if you were afraid of each other's reaction even though both of you were hoping that the desire was mutual. Then his lips slowly and cautiously began coming closer and closer to yours.

At first, your lips just brushed, pulling back a little, and then they connected into a long, passionate and deep kiss that you both had been eagerly waiting for.

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you let out deep breaths in relief you didn't even know you were holding in.

Things were moving quickly and you didn't waste any time getting to your bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he picked you up and without breaking the kiss, carried you into the room and laid you down on the bed.

Exhaustion was long forgotten when you took each other's clothes off and started kissing every part of each other’s body.

“I missed you, I missed you so much you don’t even know” He said into the kiss, barely catching his breath from the intense excitement he felt.

“I missed you too, Charles” You half whisper as he pushes into you and one tear rolls down the side of your face.

It felt so good. He felt so good inside you, fit so perfectly like he was made for you. He wanted to make love to you, to show you how much he cares about you so he kept going on and on making your legs shake so many times throughout the night, kissing every inch of your body, pulling you closer to him to calm you down, breathing in your scent and getting lost in your eyes.

“I’m gonna cum, baby” His voice trembled as he rested his forehead against yours and pulled his cock out of you cumming all over your stomach, hands free, then pushing himself back in and wincing.

You fell asleep with him holding you close all night. His arms were hugging you so tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go even just for a second, he would wake up and it would all be just a dream.

The morning sun's rays didn't let you sleep past eight, so you spontaneously woke up together still in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Good morning ma cherie” He said with a kiss to your lips.

“Morning baby” You smiled caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm, very well” He murmurs against your skin. “And you?”

“Me too. I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah” You glance at the clock out of the corner of your eye and see that it's almost time for Lou to wake up. “Oh shit, Charles you need to leave, Lou is about to wake up” You say nervously, which completely confuses Charles.

“What? What do you mean I need to leave? Why can’t she know that I’m here?”

“It's not that she can’t know it’s just that I want us to take it slow this time. I'm afraid of screwing this up because it feels so good and so right and I don't know if I could handle us hurting each other again.” You sigh as you explain your reasons to him. “And most of all, I don't want to break Lou's heart.”

He pauses for a moment to think about what you just said and realizes that it makes sense and that you're right. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry we’ll take things slow to make it right this time.” After all, he just wants to fulfill all your wishes and wants to make you happy with whatever you want. “So when do I get to see you again?” He asks and you laugh at his silly question. “What?” He asks confused.

“It's funny that you ask me that. You can see us whenever you want. It's just for a short time until we see how things develop and then of course we'll live together again.”

“I can’t wait for that.”

Soon he got out of the bed and got dressed. He kissed you barely breaking away from you before heading out of the bedroom. The door to Lou's room was open and so he walked slowly on his tiptoes, not wanting to wake her up.

But he realized that was in vain when, passing by her room, he heard “Daddy?!” He stopped in his tracks, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing quietly under his breath.

She’d already seen him and he couldn't leave now or get out of the situation in any way, so he decided to go into her room and say good morning to her.

“Hey, baby. Good morning”

“What are you doing here?! Did you sleep here?!” She didn't know what to ask him first from how happy she was that it was morning and he was there.

When the two of them appeared at your bedroom door, it was clear to both you and Charles that from that moment on, you were all living together again.

“Hi there” Charles said holding her in his arms and looking at you.

You didn't say anything, you just covered your face with your hands and started laughing before you uncovered the quilt and said "come here, both of you"

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164 @seonghwaexile @landossainz @little-miss-naill @taygrls @sturmatt @myescapefromthislife @stylesmoonlight12 @st4rgirl-ellie @eloriis @sillyfreakfanparty @rebelliousneferut @kahhorri

[topzsun]

AM I NO GOOD?

── ♡ MR CRAWLING

from the abyss of your mind, he crawls in. your last remnants of humanity. cw: familial death, suicide idolisation

Your ceiling fan has a creek in it. It groans melancholy as it slowly spins, barely giving enough breeze in your poorly ventilated, dingy apartment. Despite how the sound tempts you to rip your ears off, it still stays on as you lay in bed, vacantly staring at the ceiling as it rotates until you can’t bear hearing it anymore.

Your room is dimly lit, curtains drawn and your lightbulb a mess of shards that you haphazardly brushed aside. You haven’t had the energy to buy a replacement bulb, fix it, and carefully throw away the remains of your old one. The process felt long and arduous, like most things these days. It was taking you a Herculean amount of strength to get up for work, but it’s not what your co-workers or managers see when they cast judging glances at your sunken eyes and unstyled hair. Perhaps, if you had always been this sloppy, their stares wouldn’t have burned holes into you as much. There was a time when you had cared for yourself, your work clothes iron-pressed, hair carefully decorated, and skin glowing. Now, it felt like a distant memory concealed by thick fog in the crevices of your mind.

People were hardly the same after burying their mother.

There is shuffling underneath your bed. Once, the sound had scared you. Now, it’s welcomed. It gives you a faint flutter in your stomach when you see a grey-tinted hand, marred in grime, reach outwards. Reach for you. You lift yourself into a sitting position, and a genuine smile graces your lips when you see him crawl from the space. Appropriately, you named him Mr Crawling. A man with long, dark tresses that fall over his shoulders, concealing his face like a curtain. From the bridge of the nose, in replacement of his eyes, is a wide red slash caked with what you assume is dried blood. His unnerving, foreboding appearance should predictably scare you. Yet, it doesn’t. He is born from the rubble of your mind, how can you hate the only friend you have left?

You have severely outgrown the age of having an imaginary companion, and yet he is an anchor, even if communication is hard and there isn’t much for you both to speak on. You weren’t aching for conversation anymore, anyway.

“Hi Mr Crawling,” You greet him, almost affectionately, and while you know he doesn’t understand your tongue, he seems to have grown used to the syllables that leave your lips and the tone of your voice, a toothless grin stretches across his face as a result. You flop from the bed to the floor, sitting beside him as he perks up straighter, supporting the weight of his body with his arms. He lets you lean into his side, strands of hair tickling your cheek. The gown draped over his body is raggedy, stained and tattered, and yet he seemed the most put-together inside the mess of your home. If you had the energy, you would have laughed.

Your fingers graze his skin and he is ice-cold, like the dead. Yet beside him was the warmest you have been in a long while and you savour it. It’s the closest you have got to another person’s loving touch.

“Work was tough today,” You mumble under your breath, and he stiffens when you speak in his vernacular, or whatever you managed to pick up over the months. “It’s difficult.”

He garbles something close to “Leave” and a breathy, humourless laugh leaves you, hoarse against your dry throat.

“I can’t. I’ll die without money,” Your fingers twirl the end of his hair and he takes it as an invite to drop his head on top of yours, becoming bolder at your contact. “Maybe it won’t be the worst thing in the world.”

He doesn’t reply, and you aren’t sure if it’s because he didn’t understand or if he’s displeased by what you said, seeing as his grin has left and been replaced with the neutral press of his chapped lips. You felt a kick at his reaction, disgusting but innate, pleased that someone cared enough if you died, and guilty that you wanted to put him through the same cycle of grief.

Mr Crawling was kinder than most people you have met, and somehow you felt that even a being curated from your imagination deserved better than you.

You blearily sit up, hit with a sudden wave of nausea and inertion that makes your head spin. However, you attempt to fix yourself upright quickly, even when Mr Crawling asks if you are sick, reaching with a single hand at a poor attempt at breaking any sudden fall. You weakly smile at him as reassurance. You crouch over to the TV positioned at the end of your room. It was incredibly old, evident by the boxed screen and antennas sitting on top of the plastic frame. However, it was your mother’s, recalling nights when she would lay in her bed watching the jittering coloured shows as you blundered through making yourself dinner. You had rolled it into your room shortly after your impromptu burial of her. Your clothes had still been stained with dirt, a shovel tossed to the ground as you clumsily attempted to fix the device. When you laid in bed that night and flipped through channels much like she once did, you didn’t understand the appeal.

However, Mr Crawling was utterly fascinated by the moving pictures on the screen, so for him, you turned the old thing on. When it flickered to life, his grin returned, much to your relief. You took your place next to him again, pressing your knees to your chest as a soap drama whose title you were unfamiliar with played. Honestly, you couldn’t have cared less. Mindless entertainment lost its appeal around two months ago, with you spending your time after work lying motionlessly in bed or sitting around with your new companion. You had already tuned out the show, blankly staring at the eye-straining colours with disinterest, your mind already wandering. The floor beneath you, the chipped walls, and even Mr Crawling beside you felt as if they were worlds away. The soil from the plot of land next door, visible from your bedroom window, curls within itself. It shakes. She is desperately clawing away and reaching out when you—

He makes a confused sound next to you, and you snap your head away to meet the tilt of his head. Once again, he’s not smiling and your heart seizes. You begin to stammer out an excuse when he points at the screen and you follow his finger to the television screen. There is a bright wedding scene playing, two characters standing at the alter as they exchange vows, the male actor’s hand encased around his pretend bride’s as he beams at her. Carefully scripted lines, perfectly painted masks and flawless costumes. You could almost admire the craft.

However, Mr. Crawling isn’t of the same opinion as you, unable to understand what was happening outside of the funny laugh tracks and comical acting. His confusion is almost cute, though you don’t voice this out loud.

“That’s a wedding,” You say and when his expression doesn’t change, you switch to your shoddy understanding of his language. “It’s a party. For love. Love between two people.”

He sits up a bit straighter and you assume he’s starting to comprehend what’s happening and he fixes his gaze back to the screen where the scene has now moved onto what seems to be the after-party. He seems pleased that the show has gotten back to the humour and repetitive laugh tracks he likes as opposed to the more emotionally heavy wedding he is unfamiliar with. However, not long after he momentarily turns his attention back to you.

“Me,” He points to himself. “You,” He points to you. “Love,” and finally he points to the screen. “Party.”

This stupifies you into silence, your eyes widening as you digest the confession. You are sure the meaning of love varies for him, just like it does for people here. He doesn’t understand the type of love that is involved in marriage, perhaps him meaning something akin to the care between two friends.

“One day,” You reply flippantly, but you lean into his shoulder anyway, letting his long tresses conceal your line of vision as if it were a curtain between you and the damn window. “If only you were real, Mr. Crawling.”

Unable to see from where you have hidden yourself at his side, his smile drops into something more contemplative. How odd humans are. They could be holding someone in their arms, and still not believe they exist.

[amialunatic]

Just trust me baby..

divider credits to @anitalenia

Based on anon request: would you be willing to write a sam fic about his first time between him and reader where she has scars from her time with a vamp nest (say she was taken a while back and that’s how she got into hunting) and she’s insecure and a little anxious with having his mouth on her body because of the way she was once treated but sam is very patient and understanding. basically just really sweet and sam is catering and talks her through it :,)

Warning: Light smut, Fingering, Sam Winchester/ Hunter!Reader, Fem!Reader, brief mention of readers time in vampire nest. 

A/N: Omg my first actual fic. I'm quite stoked to be putting it out. Nervous too. I hope you all like it. I'm starting simple and soft core ig.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

“Hey, you awake?” Dean called from the driver’s seat. That jolted you from down the memory lane. They were returning from the hunt. It was rough. At least 10 vampires. 3 newly turned, innocent, and pain-stricken but unable to control themselves. You guys had to kill them all. Everyone sustained injuries. That was natural. You getting bitten was not. You tried your best to not get bitten as it brought back nightmares that lasted quite a while than you cared to admit.

Sharp teeth piercing you had been a routine for weeks. Until you were rescued by Bobby and the boys. They found you on the brink of death. Several weeks of hospitalization later, you were fit to hunt. You hunted alone, focused mostly on vampires. And sometimes with the boys if the targets were nests. Helping those trapped there brought you catharsis. You wanted to be the hunter you needed all those weeks. And you strived your best to be that.

As you got out of Impala to the motel you were staying, you realized how tired you were. Slumped shoulders and bitten forearms, you moved slowly to your room. In the background, you hear Dean invite Sam for a drink and he refuses. As soon as you enter the room, you get into the shower. Maybe warm water can block out the sensations, the fangs that haunt your mind when you close your eyes. It never has, but you always hope it does this time. As you get out, red from the shower, you hear a knock. Sam’s voice calls out “Hey, it’s me.”

You open the door to see him standing at the door frame all fidgety. “I didn’t think you’d be showering.” he looked unsure almost second guessing his decision.

“I was done.” You moved back as he let himself in. Awkwardly standing with his arms on the chair, brows furrowed he asks “You okay?”. “As ok as you’d be after ganking a bunch of vampires I guess” you tried to lighten the situation. But Sam was having none of that “ You got bitten”. “Yes Sam, vampires bite. That’s like their whole MO.” you poured sarcasm to derail the conversation. This enraged Sam. “Don’t downplay this” his voice raises.

Reaching your breaking point and seeing that Sam wouldn’t leave you without a confrontation, you spit out the truth “You wanna know? OK. I’m fucking tired and I’ll probably have nightmares for days." Your outburst continued as you paced the room in a dressing gown. "You wanna know how weak I am, how the thing that happened to me years ago still brings me to my knees? There you go”. These moments were always followed by tears for you. But he didn't have to know that. You move across to the window facing the half-empty parking lot and turn away, not wishing to humiliate yourself further.

You hear the shuffling of feet as you feel two large hands wrap around me. “Y/N..” his voice laced with sympathy and concern. You lean into his familiar hug, your back nestled against his chest, his warmth enveloping your core. “Sam. I..I don’t want you..guys to see me weak. I am not weak.” you sigh. Sam chuckles “Now that’s the dean-est sentiment I’ve heard you express.” you appreciated his efforts to cheer you up.

“Hey it’s not like you too to sit around and express your feelings” you counter.

He sighs “I know. Me and Dean. Not the greatest examples of sharing feelings. But..you can tell stuff to me. You know that right?” He continues. “Also I don’t think you’re weak at all. Infact you’re one of the most badass hunters for recovering and facing your fears.”

You look down with a grateful smile “Thanks Sam.” As you turn around to face him, you take in his face. His eyes look desperate. Like he is trying to convince you that he can be your safe place. That you needn’t be scared of being vulnerable. And you can’t help but place a kiss between his furrowing eyebrows. Those lines that form when he is worried. You wanted to stop those and let him convince you. To forget the pain and nightmares even for a moment.

“Kiss me”

He looked at you, slightly surprised. “Now? You sure?”.

They had made out before. But this felt different. Somehow more intense, somehow more desperate.

“Yeah Sam, kiss me. Now.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. He bend down, caught your face with his hands as he pressed his lips on to yours. Restrained strength flowed through his hands that he tried to keep in check while pure gentleness caressed your lips. He lifted you effortlessly so your faces were leveled as he continued kissing you, gently tugging your lower lip with his teeth drawing out sighs. You mindlessly tugged his flannel, wishing it’d disappear.

“Patience” He chuckles as placing you on the desk, your back against the wall. You hastily removed the buttons one by one while he untied the knot of your dressing gown in a nanosecond. Your freshly showered skin glistening with water drops stops him in his tracks. As he stares at your underwear-clad body mesmerized, he stops to notice the bite on your forearm, still fiery red, even with the ointment around it. Around your shoulder and neck were faint scars. He caresses the skin around the bite, careful not to cause you any pain. After gently running his fingers along the scars when he looks back to your eyes he only notices your fierce stare, bestowed on his eyes, his swollen lips, and his now visible body, muscular and oh so strong. How you wanted him to take you then and there.

Not wishing to drag it any longer, he starts kissing you again as you gently run your hands through the battle scarred abdomen of his. Moving down to trace a drop of water from your jaw to your neck, he presses gentle kisses coaxing you to lean back your head opening up your neck and chest in the process. He practically groans as he gently nibble across you neck connecting to your shoulder.

In a flash, you freeze and push him away. All of it happened so sudden, Sam stared at you one feet away, confused. In a moment of clarity, it dawned on him. He gently came close to you and tentatively caressed your sides. Your apologetic eyes said everything it needed to. He lifted your chin up to him.

“hey hey..baby. , it’s ok. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He looked at you concern etched in his forehead. When you remained silent he coaxed you “Baby, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just..I..was bitten..mouths on my body.” you shudder, visions running through the back of your eyes

“ Does it bring back memories?” He gently asks

“Sometimes, I just can’t block it. I want to Sam, believe me. I want this. I want you..so bad.” I look at him desperate.

“I know. But you know I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with right? We don’t have to do this at all”

“I want to. Sam. I need you.” you lock eyes with him, forehead burrowing

His eyes searched mine for any trace of hesitation. Seeing none, he reaffirms gently “Do you trust me, baby?” “I do” I whisper as I breath out.

“You can stop me whenever you need to.”

A corner of his lips curled revealing the deep dimple. “So no biting I guess?”

“Yeah, no biting.” You bit your lips slyly. “ Well not you anyway”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart” He nudge your lips again easing them apart. As the same time, his hands part your thighs as he stepped impossible close.

You feel his hands slipping the robe off you. Before long, his long fingers were moving closer to your core. His fingers slipped in to your panties and finding the wetness pooling, he groans. I met his gaze, my eyes a blend of desperation and embarrassment at being so affected by him. “Sam..”.

“I know baby” He looks at you for permission before plunging his finger in the wetness. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your fingers never managed to reach that deep. He ease it out. And again and again until you were a slobbering mess. To add to the torturous pleasure he lifts his palm so each thrust is paired with your clit being rubbed enough to cause friction but not enough to tip over. This was agony but delicious agony.

Sam looks into your convulsing face, his features radiating nothing but the desire to please you. To make you forget, to have a moment of pleasure, away from the darkness that consumes both of you. As you almost reach the height of pleasure, he adds in yet another finger. Through your hazily closed eyes, you don't see him kneeling. Suddenly you feel his warm mouth enveloping your clit. You gasp as your eyes flew open. “Sam..Sammy..” you say tentatively.

“Trust me baby..this will feel good” his voice is laced with soothing promise.

Before you can have further doubts, pleasure blankets you and drags you up to the height of it. As he sucks and laps gently, your hands involuntarily wander through his luscious locks. Finally with a cry and grasp of his hair, you tip over. His hands and lips soothe you through the fall with barely-there touches of your slit.

“oh god..that was..” you breathe heavily through your mouth as you struggle to push words out. Sam leans over and kiss you sloppily, with a goofy smile. “it’s cute to see you all thoughless and spent”

“Sam..you little jerk” you say in amidst panting.

“Hey remember I was the one making you moan my name a moment ago. Some gratitude” he smirks.

“And I’ll make you do the same, just you wait” you rope your hands through his neck pulling him.

"Is that a threat or a promise, honey? Either way, I'm all in." He interlocks his lips with yours, the deepening kiss tasting like an invitation for round two.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

MAybe there should be a second part! Idk. This felt long but not long enough at the same time. Please let me know if anyone would like a second part. I'll try to write one (meaning I'll probably stress over it and write it in 2 weeks)

[trainbrain27]

Even with an excellent credit score, rates haven't been that low at any point in the data I found (minimum 13% in 2010, currently 18% at excellent, and well over 25% for the highest acceptable risk.

That kind of makes sense, they need to cover inflation (almost 10% in 2022), plus cover defaults and all business costs before they make any profit.

I am rather unprofitable as I pay my balance every month and they still do all the work of moving money around and a multi-week interest free loan between when I buy and pay.

Usury is terrible, it destroys families and communities, but cutting of credit cards will just shift it around. Hit pay day loansharks first, they're charging the equivalent of several hundred percent interest on loans they roll over every couple weeks, but they hide it as fees. It's such a threat that the government has capped interest on military loans to 36%, which is still high, but theoretically decreases the risk of servicemembers being financially compromised by the enemy.

Funny seeing all the MAGAs support price controls when it's their guy doing it

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, I hope that I'm not too late for a small request for the NRC family interaction. But still do want to ask for a req for Azul Ashengrotto and Jamil Vipver to interact with Najma Viper. I could already imagine how chaotic it would be already.

Oml, Jamil’s worst nightmare would be if Najma developed a crush on Azul 😭 He would so go protective big brother mode… I didn’t decide to do that for this interaction though, it’s just a funny thought I had.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Oya, is that my dear friend Jamil-san over there?”

That voice. That ever-so grating voice, trilling out his name so sweetly. Immediately, Jamil wished to retreat into his hoodie like a turtle to a shell and die there.

Alas, he could do no such thing—not when he was trapped among several milling bodies, his younger sister in tow. Najma had heard and glanced over her shoulder. She locked eyes with the approaching octopus and arched an eyebrow as she tugged on her brother’s sleeve.

“Hmm? Hey, Jamil. There’s a guy in glasses headed this way and waving. It sounds like he wants your attention,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he hissed back, already starting to powerwalk away from Azul. And that’s just what I’m afraid of.

“Aren’t you going to at least say hi? It’d be rude to straight up ignore him.”

Jamil internally cursed. All that nagging from their parents about etiquette and how to show hospitality had been well and truly drilled into him as well as into her. Now it came back to bite him like a loose snake where it smarted the most.

“Please. He isn’t worth my breath—or the trouble.”

“Jamil-san! Please wait.”

To his dismay, Najma stopped dead in her tracks. “I really think you should greet him before you go.”

He gaped at her. “You’re joking.”

“Sevens, why are you being so weird about this?” She rolled her eyes. Then, cupping her hands around her mouth, she called out to Azul. Jamil’s stomach sank. “H~eeeeey! Jamil onii-chan’s friend! It’s nice to meet you. I’m his adorable little sister, Najma.”

He frowned. “Since when am I Jamil onii-chan? And since when are you my adorable little sister?”

“Since now,” she muttered back.

“Ahhh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Azul crooned. He took Najma’s hand and shook it. “Azul Ashengrotto, at your service. I’m a classmate of your brother’s, as well as dorm leader of Octavinelle and manager of the student-run on-campus eatery, Mostro Lounge.”

“Oh, wow!! That sounds so cool.”

“He’s humble bragging,” Jamil said flatly, folding his arms. “… What do you want, Azul?”

“Is that any way to greet your beloved bosom buddy?” He sighed, shrugging his hands up. “I only wanted to check in with you and make sure that you were enjoying Family Day.”

“Don’t say that. It’s disgusting—and patently false.”

Jamil’s eyes sharpened into pointed daggers. He’s surely sniffing around for weak points. If he cannot glean them from me, then he intends to pry those secrets from Najma. I won’t allow that to come to pass.

He gripped his little sister’s hand tightly and tugged on it. “I believe this concludes the obligatory pleasantries. Come along, Najma. We must get going to our next meeting.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” she pouted, yanking back. “You’d seriously rather go to a boring old meeting than chat with a friend?”

“Don’t be difficult. You’re not visiting to make social calls, you’re here on business.”

“But you’re not attempting to socialize at all. Geez, you’re not putting anything you learned at home to practice, are you?”

“I am plenty!! I’m just selective about where and when to apply those teachings—as should you.”

“What a deep bond you have with your sister, Jamil-san. You fuss over her like a mother hen,” Azul chuckled, pushing his glasses up. “Why, as an only child, it warms my heart to see this kind of camaraderie. I shall have to commit this to memory.”

A heart? he scoffed. A cold, slimy one, perhaps.

Jamil shot Azul a frigid glare. “Do NOT.”

“Oh? But what is so wrong with appreciating a tender moment of bickering between siblings? It’s something I could never hope to experience myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jamil! You’re so totally being mean to your classmate for no good reason. Don’t you feel any shame?”

“Are you taking his side in this?!” he demanded of his sister.

“So what if I am?”

“My, my, Najma-san!” Azul suddenly wedged himself between the Vipers like an octopus slipping into the crack of a rock. His smile was annoyingly broad and simpering. “It seems that you and I are kindred spirits.”

“Yup! Looks like we are,” Najma agreed, an equally unsettling smile creeping onto her face.

Jamil paled. I don’t like where this is going…

“Then it is clear what we must do.”

“Yeah, it’s so obvious.”

They both turned to Jamil. The dread in his stomach spiked, hitting his peak, then sailed past it. He could feel his blood pressure shooting up too.

“We should bully him!”

[bomberqueen17]

lurkey lurkey

so i had in my mind been like "when the farm season is over i'm gonna get so much done" and also in my mind been like "bitch be real i am going to be decompressing uncontrollably and will achieve nothing" and just as one might have predicted, i have split the difference, spinning wheels wildly and also achieving little.

i did do a final definitive trial of ADHD meds, long put-off because the season was too hectic, and decided that yes, my impression of July was correct, I suck at being medicated LOL

I did start publishing the 150k of incoherent fanfic I started writing in August while insane, and I might keep going on that; there's a small audience but a lovely one

and I really really did take the characters from that fanfic and shove them into a new story and I have written several tens of thousands of words of notes but in the last couple of days I actually think I have begun to write a draft. So.

If anyone is interested in possibly doing some beta-reading, even just cheer-reading, of a draft of an original novel about bisexual tall ship sailors in a solarpunk setting, I should mention that the stay-at-home wife is turning out to be the B-plot heroine (it might actually be the A plot) and the Admiral's sassy gay socialite husband is doing some heavy lifting I hadn't expected, but on the other hand, the children are less onscreen than I'd expected. And I'm not sure where the sex is going to fit in, if at all. But there is still an OT3.

So let me know about that. I'm not quite ready with a shareable draft but I'm two chapters in and cautiously optimistic that this is actually a story. Maybe?

But I'm about to head back to the farm for the turkey processing ordeal, which is a solid week of extremely hard work with a major holiday in the middle with family obligations and then more work immediately afterward, so I don't expect to have time to work on it for a bit. But it's ruminating in there, I promise.

I have a snippet, which is a first-- everything I've written so far I've hated upon rereading, so that's why I think I'm making progress. I've renamed everyone but kept the first names mostly, where I didn't swap genders. This is the opening of chapter 2, so we've already had Technology Backstory With Smart Wifey, and Action Sequence At Sea With Explosions, and now it's time for Character Backstories:

Someone shouted his name from down the street, and Tom laughed aloud, handed his datapad to the mildly alarmed merchant captain walking beside him, and turned, holding his arms out and bracing himself to receive the sudden arrival of thirteen stone or so of Yardley at full velocity. James always jumped and Tom always caught him, that was how it had worked since they were about thirteen, and he spun around to absorb some of the excess velocity and then kissed James soundly on the mouth before setting him down.  “Atkins, you fucker,” Yardley said. He’d knocked both their hats off. He was tan, straight off a run from around the Storms, and had been long-scheduled to meet them here. Constellation’s limping had slowed them down so much they were eight days overdue, so he’d likely been hanging around a while now. “I hear you have a good excuse for being late.” “I don’t know that it’s good,” Tom said, retrieving their hats and putting Yardley’s back on him. Then he realized it was the wrong hat, so he switched them. “But it couldn’t exactly have been avoided.”  James grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him again, and it could read as just friendly to a casual observer but Tom knew it was not, and smiled, curling his tongue wickedly but briefly behind James’s teeth before pulling back. James kept hold of his face and frowned. “You look like shit,” he said. “Thanks,” Tom said. “You look like you’ve been lying around Barka drinking and fu--” He rerouted the sentence, remembering they weren’t alone. “Making friends.” “Well,” James said modestly, preening, “naturally.”

[madangel19]

if you're still doing writing requests

anything fluffy about the fire ghouls maybe 🙏🏼 especially alpha or dew?

my day just got progressively worse haha so I need a pick me up

thank you so much 💗 have a lovely day/night wherever you are

- cupid ghoul but asking from anon bcs I'm NOT putting main on blast here haha >:) 💗

I'm having a rough day as well after dealing with my car stuff. Hopefully some fluffy Dewdrop content will make it all better @cupid-ghoul :' )

Copia rushed through the halls, looking into any nearby room. He had been looking all over for Dewdrop, but he couldn’t find the sometimes elusive fire ghoul.

It had begun to snow outside and he wanted to check in on Dewdrop to see how he was doing, but he wasn’t in the ghoul den when he checked. The rest of the pack was outside enjoying the snow, but Dewdrop often did not go out when it was cold. The poor thing did not enjoy the cold that much.

“Where could that ghoul be?” Copia murmured, crossing his arms as he thought of all the places Dewdrop could be. He had checked multiple sitting rooms where a fireplace was roaring but he wasn’t in those rooms. Most siblings asked for his help with getting a fire going so Copia just had to check all of those rooms. He would find Dewdrop sooner or later. 

After checking several more rooms, Copia was about to give up before he noticed two siblings rushing out of a room, whispering amongst themselves.

“Didn’t know he could do that. How does that not hurt?” One questioned.

“I don’t know. Good thing he took his clothes off. The smell would be awful,” another said. 

That was a hopeful sign. 

Copia put on a smile when the siblings noticed him. They gasped and straightened themselves up, looking frightened for a moment before calming down.

“Good morning, Papa. What brings you here?” The first sibling asked.

“Ah, buongiorno. Good morning. Have you two seen Dewdrop anywhere?” Copia replied.

“He’s in that room. Go take a look,” the second sibling said, gesturing to the open door. 

Copia could already see the glow of a fire from within. His search was quickly coming to an end.

“Grazie. Thank you so much, my dears. Go get yourselves some hot chocolate or something nice and warm for helping me. Tell the siblings in the kitchen that Papa sent you,” Copia chimed, chuckling when he saw the delight on both of their faces. 

“Thank you, Papa!” They exclaimed before rushing away together. 

Copia nodded in approval before turning his attention back to the room. He stepped in and immediately saw the roaring fire in the giant fireplace. The room felt like an inferno, but Copia was unphased. If a fire was this big, it meant only one thing. 

Copia stepped closer and spotted Dewdrop lying in the fireplace, completely at peace and napping away amongst the burning logs. He held a log to his chest, purring away while nuzzling it. His clothes were strewn about the room, safely away from the fire.

Copia had heard tales of fire ghouls just napping in an open fireplace and it was quite a sight to see. Most times, he found Dewdrop laying before the fire and he never flinched when an ember flew out and hit his skin. Sometimes he was a bit too close to the fire for Copia's liking.

Dewdrop yawned loudly, inhaling embers and exhaling smoke as he opened his eyes, looking up at Copia tiredly. 

“Mm, mornin’, Papa,” he murmured, his voice barely heard over the fire. 

“Good morning. Are you comfortable in there, Dewdrop?” Copia asked, smiling as he sat in a nearby armchair.

The ghoul nodded, curling up like a cat in the flames. He looked so cozy in there.

“Can you add some more logs, Papa? It’s fuckin’ cold out there,” Dewdrop said, his tail lazily thumping the floor. 

“Of course, ghoul. Are you making yourself nice and toasty for the others?” Copia chuckled while gathering some logs and tossing them into the flames, making them bigger. 

“Sure am. You want first dibs on cuddles?” Dewdrop asked, making space in the fireplace for him.

“Ah, maybe later. You get your warm rest and I’ll see you later.”

Dewdrop didn’t say anything else as he got comfortable with the new logs that hissed and sizzled around him. He was completely at peace in the fire and Copia was certain the rest of the pack would be all over him once they were done playing in the snow. Copia looked forward to joining that nice warm pile.

[lostintransist]

In and Of Itself

Simon has joined a new military pilot program. An AI therapist will have access to his memories to help him deal with his traumas from the inside out. To bad he doesn't need any help dealing with the mess inside his head from a robot.

CW: Mentions of rape and general Simon big T Trauma.

The whistling is not the first thing he expected from an AI therapist. The pitch drop spoke of being impressed. His eyes snapped open and his body to standing with less pain than he had experienced in a decade.

A woman stood before him, shorter than himself, though most people were. Hair barely held back by a headband and one hand holding her wrist behind her back Simon watched her. Could it be a her if it was an AI? The attempt to parse through the pronoun situation of an unliving thing set his eye twitching.

He respected that different people used different ones; Johnny had asked to go by they/them before they had died. That had been quite a conversation as Simon tried to wrap his head around a concept that had never occurred to him before. He had never examined that he always felt male, masculine, man until Johnny asked him if he did. When he confirmed that yes, he always had felt like a man Johnny smiled and replied.

“I barely feel human most days Si, someone used them when referring to me recently and I have never felt more at ease in my skin. I’ve been play-acting being a man because I’m a person and nothing more.”

Simon still didn’t fully grasp it but he loved Johnny enough to immediately adhere to the request. Johnny had been gone less than a year later.

The woman, thing? Turned and smiled up at him.

“You must be deeply suicidal my friend,” you stuck out a hand as if for a shake. “I am your AI therapist. It’s good to meet you.”

Yes, death haunted his every thought, a shadow that loomed even in the darkness of night. Johnny called to him. The only thing that kept Simon from answering was the idea of Johnny’s face falling as they had seen what Simon had done.

Simon glanced from the hand offered to the distance, finally taking in the shifting scenery made of a tapestry of his memories. His childhood hell, he refused to call it home, sat perpendicular to the base where he first had been sexually assaulted as a recruit. He had been thin and unskilled at seventeen when he joined, unable to fend off his superior officer. Briggs had been dead a few short years later under friendly fire. Simon had found out that even after he broke the man’s hand, he continued to assault young men. The distant mountains spiked his fear, he turned from them back to the presentation of a woman.

“The hell is this?” he pointed with his eyes at each of the horrible spaces that were normally shrouded in time and distance.

“Those are your demons,” you shrug in his side vision. “Those are what we are here to conquer.”

“Don’t need help from a damn computer,” Simon groused.

You tip your head to one side, studying the distant storm brewing over the mountains.

“Maybe not, but that is what you signed up for.” Simon catches sight of your skirt as you spin, it flairs wide. Are those planets dotting the dark landscape of it?

Did the programmer base this interface’s outfits on Ms. Frizzle? Simon watches the storm until he notices the emptiness beside him. Spinning he finds you striding toward a large tree. It had been a favorite of his until he started to find animals hanging in the branches. The wide low branches were perfect for his young self to climb. They were thick nearly all the way up; Simon would climb as if he could hide among the clouds.

He hadn’t signed up for this damn program, he had been strong-armed into it. Word had come down from the top commanders that several of the longest-serving or highest combat-seeing members would be signed up for an experimental treatment. Simon had been selected and told essentially to sign the paperwork or sign his discharge. He didn’t need to explain this to a chip inside of a machine. He didn’t need to explain anything to the shape of a woman who twirled with planets on its skirt because you, it, wasn’t real.

The moment your feet touch the roots of the old tree your outfit changes. A shimmer and you now move confidently in boots, jeans, and a buttoned plaid. Your headband has been replaced with a loose band holding back your hair. You lift yourself into the tree with ease, feet disappearing before Simon could get close.

Your voice drifts down to him.

“Ooo you had quite a nasty surprise here, didn’t you? Had to be what eight? Maybe nine?” The tree shakes as if you are jumping on branches.

No reply from him brings your head popping between the branches. You hang upside down by your knees staring at him with a brow lifted.

“This only works if you answer my questions, your scary ‘I’ve killed people’ face won’t work here. I’m in your mind,” you wiggle your fingers at him as you lift a brow at him.

When he makes no response you loop a hand over the branch and swing your legs free.

“Tough crowd,” you dust yourself off as Simon folds his arms and stares at you.

Your presence in his mind stirs up his rage, he dealt with all of this trauma fine. He would deal with it without your help.

“Don’t go touching things, you aren’t real and I don’t need you to deal with all of this,” he dropped the words between you.

Eyes narrowed you look from his boots to the top of his head. It is only now that he realizes he is not wearing a mask. He tries to conjure one but fails.

“Nice try, the one thing you won’t be able to do here is mask, physically or emotionally.” You smile up at him as if you haven’t ripped at his only coping mechanism in this hellscape. “You remember your quitting word?”

“Mothman,” he growls and the simulation dissolves.

Simon blinks awake as a blood pressure cuff squeezes his arm.

A face in a surgical mask leans over him and looks at both his eyes.

“How are we doing Mr. Riley?”

“Not dead.” His voice is horse.

“That is the goal around here, too much paperwork if you croak on us,” his nurse joked. “The doctor will be by shortly to look over your vitals and clear you for leaving.”

You stepped from his small curtained partitioned space, leaving Simon to his thoughts. They weren’t pleasant ones.

When the doctor confirms that he is good to go the nurse returns and removes the plethora of wires, sticky buttons, and tubes from his nose and veins. He was told his implant, near the base of his skull, would be removed when the project concluded. Simon sat up and rubbed both hands across his face before sliding his mask back on.

He could mask, even in his mind. He would find a way to keep you, the creepy AI from rattling around in his mind while he cleared the skeletons and specters himself.

Masterlist

[aggro-my-beloved]

here’s a blurb from a dasher fic i’m working on. it was originally going to be for soulmate sept, the print being soulmates that save each other from near death experiences. let me know if it’s worth finishing…TW: descriptions of violence, gore, ptsd and insomnia

▼△ ▼△ ▼△

The last fortnight has taught Asher to despise silence. His ears still suffer residual chimes with credit to Milo severing the ward. The nightmares are nonetheless merciful. Babe’s admitted to stop waking him in the middle of the night when they feel the uncontrollable twitches of his body rock the mattress. As much as it pains them to do so, they’d rather their husband suffer a full night’s sleep than be a zombie in the aftershock. Only when—if the screaming starts, do they unshackle him from his subconscious with vigorous shakes and desperate pleas to come to. His crisis counselor assigned eagerly by the department following the disastrous elemental games knows this, they’re in his head right now. But Asher refuses to let them fester on even more of his trauma in order to recommend some new, up-and-coming meditation tactic. It’s already enough to breathe and hold on counts of four when David’s present.

“David Shaw—he’s your alpha, correct?”

Damn. Asher counts to four on his inhale, and strains out an answer. “Yes.”

“Have you been confiding in one another since the incident?” The department worker crosses one slack-painted leg over their opposite knee and entwines their hands. Asher knows this pose well. They have found more of his pain to gnaw on.

He plays dumb. “Confide how?” The counselor releases a displeased sigh.

“You know, Asher, there’s only so much I can understand about your situation. I was not present that day in the stadium when…everything occurred.”

“But you’re supposed to be who I confide in. That’s what the department bribed you for. My friends aren’t being paid to treat me.” He sinks back into the uncomfortable polyester chair. The backing digs into every vertebra of his stiffening spine as he crosses his arms.

“Of course you can confide in me. I am licensed to treat those suffering with post-traumatic stress and grief. But I was not beside you to witness the full extent of what happened that day. David was, hmm?” They raise their eyebrows in a silent challenge. Does Asher see where they’re going with this? He does. But he stays silent and stoic in his seat. He counts: one, two, three, four…

The end to this conversation is predictable. But hearing his best friend’s name urges the healing gash on his abdomen to ache. He knows David was covering him (and failed) as the shade’s piercing talons raked his side. Waking to the sight of his alpha’s amber eyes swimming with tears and trembling hand’s gloves in crimson walks the fence of fever dream and religious experience for him. But of one thing Asher is certain, it wasn’t Sam who’d saved him in the arena.

[blujayonthewing]

pitched battle inside my brain between the part of me that's desperately shaking myself by the shoulders going "YOU HAVE GOT TO ACTUALLY LIVE THE KIND OF LIFE YOU IMAGINE INSTEAD OF JUST SITTING AROUND IMAGINING IT UNTIL YOU DIE!!" and the part of me that's clutching my face going "is this allowed? is this allowed?? is this allowed???"

[rosicheeks]

-

[limitlesses]

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐄��𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃. The way he had regarded that room full of people with a dismissiveness that was ultimately ready and willing to wipe them from existence -- Amanai hadn't been heavy for Satoru to hold, not when they first met at least, but she never felt heavier than when she was deadweight in his arms. Suguru, should we kill these people? The way I am now ---- I wouldn't feel anything.

That should've scared him. That should've felt wrong to say, to ask. He shouldn't have asked Suguru that -- something so heavy, so loaded, after their shared traumatic experiences... but he also was eternally glad he did instead of swallowing it down, if he could call it that -- feeling glad, that felt wrong. But ---- THE WAY I AM NOW --

He felt burnt out. Those bright smiles and bright emotions and bright words exchanged now had Satoru reeling in emptiness, like he had just poured all of himself out to Suguru without realizing he'd need to be replenished. RCT couldn't regenerate this loss. He was exhausted.

And his mind leapt lazily to the next train track that ran parallel to loving Suguru, to reassuring Suguru, to telling him that he'd protect him and keep him safe and be with him. Inevitably, his mind reeled back to the past two day's events.

Suguru's soft smile and words of praise, a blade in his chest, a knife through his throat, flyheads crawling across his face, Amanai's corpse wrapped in a white, bloodstained sheet, applause, Suguru's soft smile and words of praise, a blade in his chest, a knife through his throat, flyheads crawling across his face, Amanai's corpse wrapped in a white, bloodstained sheet, applause, Suguru's soft smile and words of praise, a blade in his chest, a knife through his throat, flyheads crawling across his face, Amanai's corpse wrapped in a white, bloodstained sheet, applause... Suguru's ----

He clutched onto Suguru a little tighter. He needed to stop thinking about it. Take a deep breath, recenter. Focus. Focus.

Loss wasn't unusual -- everyone at Jujutsu High had lost someone, either a friend, a coworker, a family member, or just someone they knew -- all to the tragedy of curses, of the horrible reality they all lived in this quiet slice of Tokyo. Satoru had returned from missions as the lone survivor, or in cases where he was dispatched solo he'd arrive to sights of carnage. The death of Amanai shouldn't have shaken him, was he even actually shaken about it? She would've lived the rest of her life in hiding, on the run, or erased by Tengen -- or killed by a fucking assassin.

Fuck, he was still dwelling on it, trying and failing to not let the weight of worrying thoughts crease his brow -- yet there he was, squeezing his eyes shut after trying to maintain a meaningful glance, Suguru's hand cupping his cheek, his face nuzzling against that touch. He was mourning, he wasn't mourning, and then he was mourning all over again. Suguru wanted him to feel safe and he did, of course he did -- he felt safe right now, he felt ---- god, what did he feel, he felt like he was fading out, maybe he was tired. Of course he was tired. He felt like he couldn't stay grounded, floating up and away from Suguru if he didn't keep a grip on him.

❝ -- Suguru, ❞ a soft, smallness -- tentative, pleading. ❝ I'm -- tired, I think. ❞ He looked tired. His eyes were getting that look in them, too. Several days without sleep, now, but that wasn't quite it. He wanted to say I'm feeling wrong again. But they had finally settled, finally started feeling okay again, at least for now -- he must've let his guard down, must've let that wrongness creep back in. He opened his mouth, grasping at straws. He was swimming in stars. Come back down. Keep himself here. He twirled a lock of dark hair around his index finger's knuckle as though it was capable of tethering him to the bed, to Suguru. ❝ What was that book you were reading ---- on the plane, on... -- could you... could you talk to me about that? ❞ Keep me here. Keep me here, keep me here.

All of that emotion had him... drained of it, but that was normal, right? Shutting down, or whatever this was. Or maybe it wasn't normal. He felt too big to be in this room, swimming and spinning and ---- breathe, fuck. He was okay, Suguru was okay -- no, not quite, Suguru needed him. He needed to just... -- they needed to sleep. They could kiss and touch and talk but what the both of them needed now more than ever was rest. To stop thinking.

He leaned in to tuck his face against Suguru's shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly shut and -- he was holding his breath until he couldn't. Then he eased in another intake, a breathe out, then back in. Slow. Come back.

❝ -- I love you, ❞ he spoke softly into the space along Suguru's collarbone, saying it like he needed to hear himself say it to believe it. Or something like that.

❝ I love you. ❞ A repeat, spoken slower yet with more clarity. Deep breaths began to even out, less of a shaky undertone to them as he slowed, stilled, and regardless of Suguru's low purring voice filling the silence or not with any randomized summary of his plane reading... Satoru fell asleep. Finally, finally, the sorcerer fell asleep as the sun slowly began to rise and bloom golds and pinks across the splash of blue light easing in through a crack in their curtains.

Satoru woke sluggishly, drunken and uncoordinated. He was a mess of limbs, tingling sparks of mild discomfort traveling up his left leg when he moved it -- squished between Suguru's own legs, circulation cut off enough to make him vaguely consider whining about the limb being a lost cause. Normal things. Lighter things ---- because it hadn't quite hit him yet, what day it was and what happened prior.

All he knew was that Suguru had him in practically a headlock. So, the brat that he was, he squirmed and nudged the guy with a flop of his available limbs, quite readily remembering his nakedness and Suguru's own, too, in the process. Ugh, they needed to shower again, too -- a nose scrunch and flush of color flashed across his face at the memory, oops. But damn, Suguru wasn't budging, wasn't letting go. That was endearingly annoying, so he promptly whined, voice hoarse and petulant.

❝ Suguruuuu, I'm stuck. ❞

Everything was okay if he just didn't think, just didn't remember -- and thought of this as just another shared morning, another day off spent lounging thoughtlessly in the other's arms.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.  A love that transcended so much hardship; that did not stutter even for a second when provoked, or challenged.  It was freeing, in a way —-- to feel so invincible in the presence of another.  And yet…

Satoru’s touch was electric as he moved to rest his hand against Suguru’s ribs.  Idly, he considered that touch —-- those hands, that were capable of such a potent power they should’ve been considered terrifying.  And perhaps they were, to those threatened by Satoru’s existence.  But Suguru saw the slightest tremors that ran through them… the gentleness of his touch, of his heart.  While the rest of the world viewed Satoru as a weapon, Suguru saw him for who he really was, underneath it all.

Perhaps that was why he was so terrified, now.  Suguru finally knew the stakes… he knew what he could lose, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of it.

Satoru managed to defy all laws of mortality, of existence itself, when he got back up and killed Toji.  He came back… stronger, somehow.  And not entirely himself.  The Satoru that returned did not need Suguru by his side to be the strongest —-- he alone was enough for the modern era.  And while Satoru had long since grown accustomed to the uglier side of a jujutsu sorcerer’s life, Suguru was still figuring out how to navigate those dark, curse-infested waters.  He had known of sorcerers that had died in their line of work, but not personally… HE WASN’T WELL-ACQUAINTED WITH LOSS.  Nor did he want to be.  Ah, but… that was what he had signed up for, wasn’t it?  A life on a knife’s edge, waiting for some awful death that would go unnoticed and forgotten by the rest of the world.

Would there be applause, when it was his body hanging limp in someone else’s arms?  Or when it was Suguru carrying Sa—-

He shut that thought down as quickly as he could.  Instead, he swallowed, and continued searching those bright blue eyes, seeking out their warmth as his thumb smoothed across Satoru’s cheek, still holding his face as if it were the most precious thing he had ever held.  He felt Satoru’s lips graze his skin, towards the palm of his hand.  Felt that quiet chuckle —--  felt everything Satoru offered him. 

Suguru wanted to protest —-- to tell Satoru that he was already doing more than enough, that he didn’t want to pile onto an already full plate… but he thought better of it.  Satoru genuinely wanted to help him… Suguru knew that.  And if the roles were reversed, he knew fully well that he would be offering up that same help, and saying it wasn’t a burden… even when it was.

❝ You’re too good to me, ‘toru, ❞  Suguru whispered instead, his heart still so very heavy. ❝ I feel the same way, you know.  Wanting to help… wanting to be there for you. ❞  His eyes were full of so much love as they wandered across the features of Satoru’s face, intent on remembering every second of this exchange… of this night, really.  The only silver lining of what Suguru had easily deemed to be the worst day of his entire life.  

He couldn’t help but extend his hand upwards to gently tousle Satoru’s hair when he started fretting over the implications of them not being a team.  An aim to distract —-- to avoid Satoru beating himself up any further.  ❝ I do feel safe with you!  I just… want you to feel safe with me, too. ❞  I can’t lose you, Satoru.  I can’t bear to think about living a life without you next to me.  I’d rather die fighting for a world where you don’t have to be the strongest than to ever be without you.

Suguru used the hand in Satoru’s hair to then pull him in for a kiss.  His fingers lingered at the nape of his neck as his lips moved against the other’s, enjoying the softness of the moment. The midnight hours were a distant memory now; dawn threatened to break against the horizon at any moment.  Suguru’s dorm  ( in which Satoru outwardly considered to be their dorm )  was still dark, though shades of blue had begun to creep through the blinds, highlighting the shadows their bodies cast as they remained situated on that messy, albeit comfortable bed.  Exhaustion had begun to wear heavy on Suguru’s form —-- the bags under his eyes a direct result of his lack of sleep, as well as the tears he had shed only moments prior.  

He was fully prepared to just fall asleep like this, cuddled up at Satoru’s side, when he heard the other speak again… though hesitant, it seemed, by the way he continued to pause.  Suguru’s eyes remained closed as Satoru began tracing the lines of muscle along his side, lost in the tenderness of that idle caress.  It was only when Satoru mentioned Amanai Riko that those violet eyes opened up again, a brief flash of remorse obvious to anyone really looking.

❝ That—... yes, of course. ❞  Suguru swallowed against the lump that had begun to form in his throat as he remembered her… as he remembered all of them, and their time in Okinawa.  

❝ I think she would like that very much. ❞

[novampiresremain]

hello long vent / kinda updates ( in tags for both ) & also i love you all sm

[triglycercule]

This is a question related to the mtt hobbies answer that you wrote, the murder trio go around the multiverse and live in a place together, then what happend to horrortale au and horrortale papyrus? If the murder trio got to meet horrortale papyrus how would it go? (The meeting propably wouldnt end well with more canon mtt haha)

aaaaa i dont think it through to be honest when i talk about that concept. they just do. maybe horrortale's issues are already solved and aliza's already gone through horrortale and somehow fixed the hellhole (ALIZA MY GOAT PLEASE SAVE HORRORTALE I DON'T CARE IF IT TAKES 10 YEARS‼️‼️‼️) by the time that horror somehow meets dust and killer (since i dont see a feasible way that horrortale could be fixed outside of aliza or outside intervention.) or maybe he just visits from time to time. and by time to time i mean probably quarterly weekly. idk sorry i cant be bothered to think about it,,, they just do. anyways bad answer i KNOW I KNOW put the tomatoes down pls PLS

if the mtt met horror paps? horror would obviously do his little bantering thing with paps (he's probably revealing every single one of horror's embarrassing moments to them as they speak and horror's desperately trying to get him to shut up because he can tell. dust and killer are piiiiiiissed.) dust is probably like eerily calm during the whole thing. he manages to hold up a conversation pretty well with horror paps and gets along with him good enough without mentioning that theres a ghost version of him screaming asking why dust is ignoring phantom paps. meanwhile killer is mostly silent during it too probably only responding when he's spoken too. i mean like killer already doesn't like being around papyruses (papyri? papyri is so shitty i dont like it we will be saying papyruses) and then seeing horror's papyrus??? what the FUCK happened to horror paps??? sunken in eyes and cracks in his bones and those jagged teeth AND THEN THE FUCKING CROOKED SPAGHETTI????

needless to say once horror paps is gone all of them get into a biiiiig fight. dust drops the cool act because he's not gonna lose his cool around a papyrus but also he's absolutely fuming. he can tell that the changes that phantom papyrus has gone through have something to do with horror with the way that he's acting. killer is also incredibly irritated too (surpringly. being around papyruses just gets him like that) and seeing papyrus like that just gets him upset and angry. like wtf horror did you even TRY with keeping your papyrus safe??? at least killer reset his au and now papyrus is living an unharmed life (with minor concerns about killer's whereabouts but he'll ignore that for now) but horror paps looks so fucked up that there is no WAY that horror tried to prevent him from getting to that point

obviously they fight and many many many many MANY words are said about eachother's characters and the state they left their respective papyruses in. horror knows damn well that horrortale paps's state is because of him but he regretted telling paps to eat humans and neither dust nor killer knew the struggle of living with that guilt and how much he regrets it so they dont get to drag him for not trying hard enough to keep papyrus safe. dust is definitely getting some low blows here and there (but he's getting fucking assisted by phantom paps so he's got some of the deepest hitting insults) and he's definitely getting ganged up on for killing his papyrus and like. not even attempting to leave him alive in someway shape and form aside from the absolute insult that is phantom paps. surprisingly killer is winning this fight because he left his papyrus in a relatively good state. even though he's in a more emotional state than he normally is and would've absolutely OBLITERATED dust and horror in the fight in stage 2 he's actually doing pretty well. probably because hororr and dust dont really have anything to drag him on. they might bring up how something new papyrus is searching for killer but like,,,, is that really that bad compared to how they left their papyruses

[smile-files]

today i'm going home so i can get my flu shot and vote with my family... hopefully both go well

[all-pacas]

wait because i've fallen deep into the weeds (ie: am thinking way more about this than the writers did BUT EVEN SO)

Stacy says that Chase met with the brother "last Thursday." That was the day Chase got himself sued. House aired on Tuesdays: The Mistake aired on November 25th, 2005. Flashbacks aside, no one changes clothes in the episode; the episode spans a single day. It's also generally established that episodes take place the week the episode airs, spanning several days. So we can assume Hunting began on the day it aired, Tuesday, November 22nd. (I know I am going full Pepe Sylvia on this, but this is fun for me.)

So, here's the useless deep dive into Hunting's timeline: (tl;dr: Cameron and Chase had their meth hookup the night before Chase tried to get himself sued.)

TUESDAY the 22nd: Day one. The team starts work on Kalvin's case; House visits Stacy that day, hangs around her house, and finds Steve that evening. Outfit reference.

WEDNESDAY the 23rd: Day two. First thing in the morning (it's the first scene we see of the day), Cameron visits Kalvin and gets coughed on. She partakes of the hospital showers and wears scrubs for a while, before changing into a turtleneck of sadness to search Kalvin's hotel room. It's at this point Chase invites her out for drinks, although she doesn't accept (or decline). They return to the hospital to report their findings to House. Chase is wearing a blue button down with an ugly tie and suit jacket. Cameron returns to Kalvin, who tells her about how great drugs are. House ducks over to Stacy's again, but when he returns to the hospital it's still the same day, no one's clothes have changed. Kalvin tells Cameron to try drugs, and House leaves the hospital for the day to lurk at Stacy's again. Cameron invites Chase over — he's wearing the same blue shirt, although hilariously he's untucked it to show he's off the clock — for sex.

THURSDAY the 24th: Day three. Cameron has a meth hangover. Chase is actually dressed sort of casually here too — or, more than he usually does: he's skipped the tie and hasn't buttoned his shirt all the way. No one can accuse him of being a sharp dresser but he actually does usually to always wear a tie; I kind of like the implication that, you know, he got dressed in a hurry, too.

This is also the day that he got Kayla's brother to sue him. In the flashback in The Mistake he's wearing the same blue shirt as he was on Wednesday, but a different tie, in that scene. On the other hand, we see Chase briefly in the locker room with Cameron in Hunting and then he vanishes from the episode until the final scene (where he's shirtless), so, you know, I could buy that Chase just threw on yesterday's shirt and grabbed a random tie (it would explain the light blue + emerald green combo he has going) for clinic duty. This is the final day of Kalvin's case: we see Cameron with him briefly — it is night time — at the end of the episode, still in her Meth Turtleneck (although she's put her hair up). (Hmmmm something about Cameron wearing her hair down when on meth, literally.)

btw if nothing else this adds an insane layer to chase's story that he was hungover, that he'd been up half the night drinking, because, again, this is the day after he was up half the night having a meth hookup, and cameron currently is hungover out of her miiind

Never realized I until I binge watched this time that the episode where Chase and Cameron first have sex is the episode before his dad died. Once again I must ask if he’s doing okay (he’s not) and can time loving people without making me wonder if he’s displacing daddy issues

It's actually even more nuts! Because in The Mistake, they give a timeline; Stacy actually gives us dates. The Mistake aired, for context, November 29, 2005. Episodes last multiple days usually, but we know from holiday episodes they tend to take place around the air date. (Hunting aired November 22nd) So according to Stacy:

Cursed aired on March 1st, 2005. In the episode, Rowan tells House he has about three months. This turns out to be an overestimate.

Kayla first showed up to the clinic May 11th, 2005. This puts that case right between Love Hurts and Three Stories in the episode order. This is also just a couple weeks after the whole Vogler debacle. Chase was very much on House's shitlist for most of that spring, only seeming to get off it around Kids, after a last hurrah of bullying.

Kayla leaves the clinic, and returns the next day for a planned followup. This is when Chase gets the phone call his dad died, so Rowan Chase died either the 11th or 12th of May.

Everything goes wrong with Kayla, but she gets a liver transplant and lives three more months before being diagnosed with (her brother's) cancer. Chase is doing follow ups and seems to be pretty close to her and the family at this point: she's filling him in on her kids, he's someone they trust. This would be around August. Once the cancer is diagnosed, Chase says Kayla dies "a week later." So probably still August, maybe September. Presumably, the hearing is still scheduled, but Chase seems to be doing okay. His dad's been dead a few months, Kayla and her family like him. He's made a mistake, but he's dealing with it.

Chase continues to be her brother's doctor and point of contact. And this is where it gets good. "Last week," Stacy says, the brother suddenly decided to sue. A week before The Mistake, Chase finds out Kayla's family (who he likes!) has to move and has no money and in a fit of self-flagellation, he lies to her brother and provokes him. He has to provoke him. Chase actually works pretty hard at it:

SAM: Ever since the operation I've been on disability and there's the mortgage so… moving out of state somewhere cheaper. Anyways, thanks. [they shake hands, Sam is not at all mad at Chase.] CHASE: [as Sam is leaving] I killed your sister. I misdiagnosed her ulcer. Killed her. SAM: Shut up man. She liked you, just— CHASE: [not meeting his eyes] I was hung-over when she came back to see me. I'd been up half the night drinking, had a headache and I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Couldn't have cared less what your sister was saying about her stomach pain. [Sam kicks a table or something, makes a mess. Chase flinches.]

He really has to try to get the brother to hate him! He puts in a fucking EFFORT! And it's at that point the brother decides to sue and destroy Chase's career, because Chase feels guilty and wants the family to get the money and not have to move.

And again. This was a week ago. What else happened a week ago???????

I am insane about this. Absolutely insane. Cameron, quite possibly, tells Chase he's not a good guy the same exact day Chase had already convinced a man who liked him that he was in fact a bad person. Of course Chase immediately fucks her (and falls in love with her). Of course