#life doesn’t even have to be GOOD. as long as I can live and not be stressed and be lazy I will 99% of the time just do nothing

[tenitchyfingers]

Nobody’s gonna get any pleasure from reading things you were the first one to get no pleasure from since you didn’t bother to write them down.

Like genuinely writing down raw ideas like “I was thinking maybe Obi-Wan started a diary a long time ago, he’s reading it now way after killing Anakin and realizing he fell in love a long time ago and let his feelings drive his actions in a way he swore he would never allow them to” or something like that. As long as it’s your thought.

Also, don’t you even get excited by your ideas? Don’t you get the nagging impulse and need to write them down? Don’t you write parts of a story in your head word for word before putting them on paper as fast as you can? Have you also never thought that you could write a story, leave it alone, go back to it and realize you love that story, that it’s exactly up your alley, in the style you love, with the themes you care about? Don’t you want to have a history of your ideas and stories, re-read them chronologically and see your improvements in real time?

Because you can’t get any of this if you let a computer do all the work. And if you can’t imagine the satisfaction of writing a story yourself, looking at it and thinking “I did pretty good”, then I don’t think writing is for you. Maybe your ideas are meant to be put in a song, or in a comic book, or in a painting, or in a short movie or whatever. But you genuinely aren’t adding anything of value to the world and you aren’t doing anything for your self-esteem and confidence by letting a machine live whatever parts of your inner life you don’t think are worth living in first person. And most of all, the world doesn’t “need” your stories. The world goes on with them or without them. You do. You need your own voice. And you’re doing yourself a disservice by shutting it down in favor of letting others tell you what to do.

By the way, at no point I even implied I was going to tell you to kys. But think about what you wrote: that’s you, telling yourself something you may need to think about and work through. I don’t want to know what it is and I don’t know why you wrote that last part, but whatever it is, it’s worth addressing and working through with whatever means you have, going at your own pace. But I’m not gonna tell you to kys. I’m going to tell you to be kind to yourself.

just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ make up for lost time ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. alhaitham, diluc, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli

synopsis — even when they arrive home from work much later than usual, there you are, ready and willing to welcome them into your arms; 3.7k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. oral. fingering. mirror play. kissing. sexual language. afab!reader with no use of specific pronouns. sub!reader.

— alhaitham 𝜗𝜚

acting grand sage alhaitham this, acting grand sage alhaitham that. alhaitham has lost count of how many times he’s heard that title today, a perpetual reminder of his current station and a thorn in his side. he isn’t one to do more than required of him, what with his resolute desire to live an easy life. but one thing he is is dutiful. he will do his job, as scribe or acting grand sage alike, because doing his job well will save him the hassle further down the line. but this isn’t to say alhaitham isn’t annoyed with the situation he’s found himself in, temporary as it may be. he’s beyond aggravated as he leaves the akademiya, the sun already well beyond setting. another long day. his annoyance doesn’t last much longer through the threshold of his home, however. especially not when he sees you curled on the couch with a book. he almost sighs of relief when your pretty eyes turn upwards to meet his.

“you’re home,” you say in greeting. you snap your book shut gently as your body turns to face him, already preparing to welcome him in as you watch him move closer.

“you waited up for me again.” it’s a matter of fact statement, and it falls off alhaitham’s lips in a dull tone, but you know him, and know that he feels somewhat bad that you’ve stayed up so late just for him. but he’s grateful for you all the same. his toned body collapses next to you on the couch, quickly bringing you in close with one arm. you’re eager to receive the embrace and quick to settle yourself upon his lap.

you nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe; you’ve missed him. “i’m glad you’re home.” your arms are around his shoulders and you sigh when his hands find your waist and squeeze. the man below you simply grunts, and you know he’s beyond tired from the day. “i missed you today.”

alhaitham’s hands smooth over the curves of you and finally slip under your shirt to feel your skin. he feels you shudder. “oh yeah?” he’s never been a man in need of affirmative words, but he can’t help but love to hear you say that you missed him, him of all people.

“mhm.” your hands are toying with his hair now, fingers tangling in the silvery locks. you can’t help the involuntary grind of your hips.

the man beneath you grunts again at the action, your clothed cunt warm against his groin. his fingers travel higher up under your shirt just as he feels your lips against his neck. “how much?” he hears you sigh and feels the heat of your breath. his skin is littered with goosebumps, and they don’t go unnoticed by you. and he’s not concerned with hiding the effect you have on him.

“a lot,” you reply against his skin, your hips rolling again. you feel something hardening under you, and it grazes your heat in a way that makes you shudder. you pull your head away to look at his handsome yet tired face. “care for a demonstration?”

he smirks. “by all means.” and you’re so eager to show him, to prove to him the way you yearned for him all day. and he doesn’t speak it aloud just yet, but he doesn’t need words when his hard cock that springs out of his pants is sufficient evidence that he has also longed for you. you’re on your knees now, taking his length in your hand. he’s hot and solid in your grasp, and already so sensitive as he takes the first plunge into your welcoming mouth.

you hollow your cheeks and suck after taking what you can of him. your hand wraps around what’s left, and the combination has the scribe-turned-acting-grand-sage groaning above you. he’s so heavy on your tongue, and he tastes so good just like he always does. you’re already a mess between your thighs, panties dampened with your slick. you clench your thighs as you suck him off. the taste of him and the sounds of his raspy groans are getting to you, accelerated by your desperation.

alhaitham watches you bob up and down his shaft through hazy vision. his eyes are heavy with sleepiness, but also lust as he admires the way you swallow him. fuck, he’s missed you. it’s so evident in the way he reaches his end quickly with one final push of his cock in your mouth, his hot cum spilling down your throat. you take all he has to give and then some until he’s pulling you off him.

you swallow the last of his release while your eyes remain on his. his hand tightens in your hair. “was that good enough proof, hm?” the man above you smirks.

he’s pulling you into his lap again until your face is only mere inches away. he can feel the way your arousal has seeped through your shorts with the way you settle yourself over his bare cock. alhaitham kisses you once, twice, thrice. “i suppose,” he whispers against your skin. “but now i think it’s my turn to show you, yes?”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

it’s no secret that your husband diluc is a busy man, to say the least. he wears many hats, and has many responsibilities. he’s dutiful in all things, dedicated and diligent. anyone would be hard pressed to find someone more committed to mondstadt than him. he does so much beyond what people are even aware of, and as much as you adore how honorable and noble he is, you can’t deny that you some times grow tired of how busy he is. he always does his best to pamper you when he can, to be the most attentive, caring spouse he can be to you. and he is very much that and more. you couldn’t ask for a better husband, it’s just…you wish you could have more time with him. and as for the last few days, he’s been even more busy than usual.

and diluc knows this, so painfully aware of his absence. which is why he wastes no time in heading towards the direction of your bedroom after getting home tonight. it’s so late that even the winery staff have already retired for the night; it’s quiet, but diluc doesn’t linger near the front door too long in worry some other obstacle may stand in his way of you. his heart is fluttering faster the closer he gets to your door, and it all but bursts in his chest when his eyes find your form. you’re springing off the bed before he can even register your movement, but his natural reflex to always reach out for you allows him to catch you when you barrel into his strong chest.

“you’re home.” you’re relieved, immensely so. your body melts in his warm embrace and you almost purr with content when you feel him relax around you.

diluc’s overwhelmed by your scent and he feels like his knees could give way any moment. as elated as he is that you’re awake to greet him, he’s overly aware of the hour and a worry rises within him. “and you’re still awake. should you not be asleep, my love?”

“can’t sleep without you,” you whine. “wanted to see you when you got home. i missed you so much.” and the pouty eyes that look up at him just about does him in for good.

he feels the way you cling to him, and he breathes a chuckle while he kisses your forehead. you’re too cute. “i cannot deny that i’m happy to be welcomed by you. i have missed you as well, my love.” and he’s pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and he only intends for it to be a quick gesture but the way you tug and pull at him keeps him rooted in place.

the longer you kiss him the more heated things turn. you’re clambering at the lapels of his coat because you simply cannot get close enough; his hands are in a firm press around your hips and soon enough he’s pushing you backwards towards the large bed. there’s so much you both could say, so much left unsaid from all the time apart, but the best way either of you could express it all is through desperate touches and sighs. and it all escalates until he’s balls deep inside your warm, wet cunt, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

diluc isn’t precise in his rhythm, his cock driving wildly into your warmth and it’s all he can do to keep himself together. you’re already so overwhelmed under him, nails in his skin and his name on your lips. his mouth is all over your face, your lips, and then your neck. “missed you, missed this tight little pussy. i — hah — am so sorry, my love. promise i’ll make it all u-up to you.”

and you have no doubt he will. it doesn’t really matter how much time he spends away when he’s always so good at coming back to you at the end of the day. your face is buried in his shoulder as you wail out his name. “diluc! ‘m so close! don’t stop!”

diluc groans when you squeeze him so good. a hand snakes down between your body to press a warm thumb to your puffy clit. “will never stop, my love. never stop making you feel good. so good.” and he doesn’t stop that night; he’s tired, you’re tired, but neither of you could get enough after all the time apart.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

neuvillette suspects there must be something in the water as of late, because the oddities he’s endured in such a short amount of time are abundant. his job as iudex has been particularly peculiar lately, or rather, the trials he has been overseeing have been quite…out of the ordinary. there’s been more legal documents atop his desk as of late, and as the ever diligent chief justice that he is, he allocates all of his time to make sure they’re properly sorted. a hectic work schedule wouldn’t be so unbearable though if the thought of you didn’t dwell on his mind every waking moment…

you’re his motivation to push through every document, to be done with his responsibilities and finally leave his office and seek out your presence that awaits him at home. he groans at the thought of you waiting for him, your pretty little self eager for him and only him. his trousers are becoming all too tight the more he muses upon you; it’s too much, you’re too much and you’re not even near him. he feels wildly inappropriate getting so worked up within his office, at his place of work. it’s so shameful, but he supposes it cannot be helped. all he can do now is finish as quickly as possible so he can alleviate his pent up sexual frustration.

it’s late when he arrives home, and neuvillette is certain you’re well asleep by now. but to his pleasant surprise, you’re very much awake when he steps into your shared bedroom, sitting at the large vanity. he’s stunned for a moment as he watches you; why does it feel like it’s been ages since he’s last seen you? you’re brushing through your hair but stop when you notice him, your gaze meeting his through the mirror.

you make his heart leap in his chest when you give him a smile in the reflection. “welcome home.” it’s so simple but he feels all the stress wash off of him at your attention. his feet are moving on their own accord, and you stay put to welcome him in once he’s close.

“my dear, my love.” neuvillette sighs out in both relief and adoration while he towers behind you. he’s bending forward and burying his face in your nape, and his breath makes goosebumps erupt all over your skin. his gloved hands are squeezing at your shoulders before wrapping around to settle against your waist. you giggle when he peppers kisses along your throat and shoulder.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you missed me,” you tease, leaning into his embrace. your eyes watch the reflection, and you enjoy the sight of his larger frame around you. “is that a fair statement, love?”

neuvillette groans; it’s a sound that slips out more guttural and needy than he intends. “very fair, indeed.” his hands smooth over the silk of your night gown and you exhale. his need from earlier is returning with a vengeance, dick throbbing pathetically in his pants. your smell, your body, it’s all affecting him. “you’ve taken over my mind all day. I simply could not escape you in the slightest. very distracting, i must say.”

you sigh when his large hands rise up your arms to toy with the thin straps of your night gown. he tugs them off your shoulders the moment he nibbles at your neck, and you can’t help the moan that flows forth. “show me, neuvillette. show me all the ways you thought about me while you were away.”

and oh, he does. he soon has your breasts free to his viewing and feeling pleasure, one large palm around one of the plush mounds of flesh, fingers pinching at the pebbled nipple. his other still gloved hand is plunged between your thighs, two fingers knuckle deep in your weepy cunt. he watches you in the mirror and it’s a nasty sight, and when your eyes find his he almost meets his end right then and there. he fucks you on his fingers while his thumb works over your swollen pearl, urging you to your climax with haste.

“neuvillette, m-my love —” you dissolve into pleasure before you can finish your words, your high overwhelming all of your senses. it’s so intense, amplified by the way your eyes remained locked on his through it all;

neuvillette guides you through your high and relishes in the way your cum soaks through his gloves. he’s kissing your temple as you calm down, but he is far from finished with you. “well done, my love. now,” he urges you on your wobbly feet. “lay on the bed for me.”

— wriothesley 𝜗𝜚

the duke doesn’t get to see the topside often. leaving the depths of the fortress is a rarity, but when he does ascend to the world above, it’s always to make his way home to you. but as luck — or lack thereof — would have it, spending time at home with you has become even more rare these days. being the warden is a never ending job, and his responsibilities persist even when he misses you so much it hurts. he’s wrangling new inmates when he’d much rather be tangled up with you, your knees folded over your form, and him balls deep inside —

wriothesley grunts when his dick throbs impatiently in his slacks. he’s fumbling with his keys in a frantic search for the house key because he quite simply cannot get inside fast enough; there’s an overwhelming urgency to be inside you that’s compelling him to practically knock down the front door once it’s unlocked. it’s been much too long since he’s been graced with the sweet wrap of your cunt. he’s almost sprinting through the house towards your shared bedroom; fuck, he hopes you’re still awake. and thank the archons, you’re awake and so beautiful and right in front of him with the prettiest little smile that’s beckoning him closer.

“ah, there you are!” you’re sitting up in bed and wriothesley almost falls to his knees at the sight of you in one of his shirts. “i was beginning to think you weren’t coming home at all.”

“sorry, darlin’,” he’s climbing over the bed, his icy gaze locked on his target: you. “tried my best to make it on time. you haven’t been waiting up for me, have you?” and he knows you have and he’s grateful. his pretty darling staying up just to welcome him home.

you hum and open your thighs so he can slot himself between them. your fingers are quick to tangle in his hair and you almost hear him purr. “not too long, i suppose. but you’ll need to be quicker next time, or else i won’t be so forgiving.”

the duke in your hold smirks widely, and you feel a pulse between your thighs at the sight. “understood.” wriothesley presses a quick peck to your nose and you giggle; the sound is music to his ears, but as he travels down your body, he’s in search for a much different tune. he hikes up your — his — shirt and sighs at the sight of your panties, which he’s swift to hook two fingers underneath. he tugs them to the side and you so obediently widen your legs for him, to show him. “mmh, guess this means i’ve got some making up to do, huh?”

you don’t get to respond. well, not with words at least. you’re gasping when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, your fingers that are still in his hair tugging at the sudden sensation. “wriothesley!”

he smirks against your sex before offering another suctioned kiss to your mound. he follows it up with long swipe of his tongue through your folds and he earns himself the most precious moan from you. “you’ve got the prettiest and sweetest little pussy, darlin’. been missing her so much.”

you burn red at his words. soon enough he’s making a sticky mess between your thighs, and all you can do is lay there and take it while he laps up your essence like a dog. “fuck, wrio! that…that feels so good!” your legs are beginning to shake as he winds you up to your release.

“is that right, darlin?” wriothesley gleams up at you, distracting you with his devilishly handsome face while his fingers sneak their way to your entrance. he might not be punctual in getting back home to you tonight, but he’s eager to get in your good graces once again.

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

zhongli thinks that maybe he’s getting too old for this after yet another errand for the wangsheng funeral parlor. there’s been an uptick in responsibilities recently, and the ever energetic director has been full of many requests for the consultant. and he powers through them, but all zhongli can focus on is the way he misses you terribly. all he wants is to get home to you at a decent hour, to spend time with you for a moment before you both have to retire for the night to prepare for the day ahead. it’s a domestic lifestyle the ex geo archon finds himself, working a steady job with a wonderful spouse waiting for him at home. he doesn’t want it another way truly. the only time he grows tired is when his work life overwhelms his personal one, leaving him with less time with you.

zhongli ponders back on this morning; you underneath him, your hands in his hair, his name on your pretty lips as he fills you with two long fingers. the way your back arches into him, the way you shudder and weep. it’s so clear in his mind, him so close to taking you on his cock before he realizes just how late he’s running for work. he never got to have you, to relish in your tightness, and he swears he hasn’t been able to get over it all day. the desire to have you grows the closer he gets home; he wonders if you’re still awake, and he also wonders if he’ll have the self control to not wake you up if you aren’t. he gets his answer when he walks into your shared home, his eyes finding you quickly.

you’re seated at the dining room table. you look so beautiful, and there’s a pot of tea with two cups sitting in front of you. you smile as he draws nearer. “welcome home,” you greet him. “i figured i’d wait up for you, and brew you a pot of tea. i know you’ve been working so hard lately.”

the god of old’s heart swells in chest. he smiles warmly. “you’re always so good to me, my dearest,” he praises as he closes the distance with a few more strides. when he’s able, he reaches out to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek affectionately. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, and oh, how he’s missed you.

you hum in delight and look up at him with eyes so beautiful they might just bring this ex archon to his knees. you giggle when he dives back in for another kiss, and then another, and then one more. this one lasts, it’s slow and languid. but then you reach and grasp his collar to pull him closer, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes.

it makes zhongli pause and chuckle, and he casts an almost apologetic glance at the teapot. “mmh, the tea will get cold…” he follows up his words with another searing kiss and clearly neither of you are too concerned with the tea. he’s handsy with you now and desperate to feel you, to pick back up where you both had left off this morning. he’s so hard, cock straining in his trousers, and when he plants you on the table and slips his fingers passed your underwear, he feels how aroused you are as well. you’re slippery with slick, and he groans. “my dearest, i simply must have you, is that alright?”

you nod eagerly. “y-yes, zhongli. please.” he absolutely cannot deny you when you sound so sweet.

which is why you find yourself a while later with your legs pinned to the table, your back arched in pleasure, and his cock nestled deep within your sodden cunt. the poor teacups rattle with every thrust of his hips, and even the table itself can’t withstand the way he takes you, the wooden furniture skidding across the floor. you’re so tight and warm and perfect around him. it’s maddening, and his large hands are squeezing your waist to keep himself grounded to reality. his tip kisses your womb repeatedly and you wail out his name. this is everything he’s been aching for all day. “so good for me. taking me so well, my dearest,” he groans. “i will never tire of coming home to you and this wonderful little pussy of yours.”

nat’s notes — if you’ve read until this point, thank you! this is my first fic/first time writing for genshin impact. so i figured this is the best time to introduce myself. i’m loveliluc aka nat! i’m new in the genshin impact fandom space, and new to the game overall as i only just started playing back in early september. guess you could say i’ve very much fallen down the genshin rabbit hole lol. i hope you enjoyed this first piece, and i look forward to posting more! would love any support on this, and would love to create new moots going forward. i also ask for patience as i am still getting to know many of the genshin characters so sorry if i write anyone ooc. thank you! <3

[livingsurreal]

Thoughts and theories in regards to my favorite senior necromancer

This man swept me of my feet so completely that I am still reeling. He is my new Solavellan and the amount of feels I have about him, its ungodly.

So I present to you my way to long essay about why Emmrich is the saddest and greatest man Bioware ever created, right next to Solas.

Please be aware of spoilers if you have not completed the game yet.

Also, shutout to @jaal-ama-daravv - you were looking for others peoples thoughts and theories. Also, thank you for all your posts and love for Emmrich.

(Edit for typos)

Their whole romance starts with dear Rook trying to flirt with him. And Rook being Rook their flirts are… questionable. I image Rook always doing a facepalm “Oh god, what did I just say?” afterwards. They… are not really that good at flirting. Half the time he doesn’t even seem to get that Rook was flirty with him.

But, oh, he did get it. He just couldn’t really comprehend it. This pretty, young and exciting person, flirting with him?!? Rook can be anything up to their mid-40s according to canon. That is not that much younger than him. But to him, they do SEEM young. Despite them being somewhat younger than Emmrich, I do think though, in quite a few ways, they are more experienced and knowledgeable than him. Emmrich led a pretty sheltered life. His childhood seems to be a happy one, despite them being poor. The loss of his parents had a huge impact on his life. To a degree where it still impacts him in a major way, even now, a lifetime later. But outside of that, I don’t think there was much strife or adventure in his life.

He is a quiet man who loves his books, and his time and work in the necropolis. He rarely even left the Necropolis. He never saw much of the world outside of it. But he always wanted to. Always dreamed of some kind of adventure. I think this is one of the reasons he so readily agreed to help Rook. A chance for adventure (and to help the world).

So here he finds himself in the company of a vibrant adventurous Rook who has seen and experienced so much. I think no matter their age difference, they would seem younger, “fresh faced” and vibrant to him. They are so full of life compared to him, who has not done that much living in recent years. They are less stuck in their ways, are out in the world and not sequestered in a life of routine.

In some ways he seems to be older than he is. That man is in his 50s. That is NOT old. But he seems to have lacked the courage to take life by its horns and just ride it. He is cautious, a coward in many ways. But somehow this dear Rook seems to bring out a different side of him. An almost forgotten yearning for more.

So, Rook awkwardly flirts with him. Bumbles and stumbles over words to flatter him. And he is exhilarated, touched and most of all confused. Why would this beautiful, vibrant person be interested in HIM of all people. There are other people around who should be so much more interesting to them than him. And how could he not be interested in them himself? They are, in a way, what he wants to be. Adventurous. Full of life. Indomitable. No matter what life throws at them, they refuse to yield. They have a courage the lacks, or thinks he lacks.

But that man is so much braver than he thinks. The fact that he is so open with Rook about his thanatophobia, even with a Rook that is not romantically interested in him is so touching. He tells them his most inner fears and all he wishes for it in return is some respect and kindness.

So, after some light and awkward flirting he tells them. If they DO mean it, he is interested. Emmrich is a deeply romantic man. In the dept of his heart he does not want a short-term affair. He wants someone to spend his life with. He wants something real. He wants everything.  It’s what he always wanted, but never found and had completely given up upon.  So he opens up a bit more.

But around that time, he also realizes that he absolutely has to tell them about his plans for lichdom. He tells the Rook on the friendship path why he hopes for their help in regard of Johanna. He explains why it is so important to him to find and stop Johanna.

Same goes for Rook on the romance path. But here comes the other side of the coin. Lichdom puts a possible halt on their fledging romance. He cannot know if Rook would be willing to continue what they’ve barely started.

They may either continue under the understanding that they have just temporary affair. What he never wanted. He always wanted that eternal flame – but by the Maker he wants to be with them, even if it is just a short time. He is still all feely at this point and the whole scope of his emotions have not yet hit him.

Or even, can he dare to dream, beyond that point of no return and stay with him after he becomes a Lich.

But he must put it out there. He cannot go further into their romance pretending his plans do not exist. He thinks Rook has a right to know what they are getting in to, and he is correct (and much respected) for that.

At the end, Rook commits to being with him with the full knowledge that Lichdom will come, sooner or later. If they stay with him from that point on is still undecided, but for now they are his. And how can he say no to that. He certainly did not expect this. I believe he fully expected this to be their end. But his confession ended truly in a night of unexpected splendor.

So, we know he always wanted “enduring affection”, love and commitment. And he had his fair share of lovers, paramours and affairs. I would think that he is someone who, when he does fall in love, loves so deeply and completely that it often scared his lovers away.

Not necessarily in an unhealthy way, but he is, underneath all that poise and manners, a deeply romantic man with strong emotions. I don’t think that Rook is special b/c he loves them more than he could love someone else, but b/c they not only accept all his love, more so, they welcome and return it in equal measure. They accept him and want him, even with all the baggage he comes with.

I think he was burned quite a few times in the past. So, he is trying to hold back, “be normal about it”. It’s just hard when this person he loves so much looks at him like he is their moon and stars and flame eternal. It’s hard when he feels finally and completely seen. He told them about his deepest fears, his plans about lichdom, and they are still here, willing to be on his side all the way. And while they seem to act like teenagers being all over each other, all want and need and stolen kisses, I think what they feel goes way deeper from the start.

At the same time, I also think that is partly at fault for not being able to find a lasting relationship. He had people in his live who did not want to fully commit to him. But I also think, the he never truly committed to anyone. He did, surely, on a more surface level. But a part of him always stayed closed off. He never gave himself completely. His fears made sure of that. What happens with Rook, the wonderful, oh so romantic start of their relationship? Only to end in this uncomfortable limbo because he lacks “the guts to say how he feels”? I think that was not the first time a relationship ended sour this way for him.

Take the amount of his feelings, add to that his thanatophobia, and that poor man becomes more and more a complete mess. What starts out as exciting and new and OMG THEY LIKE ME, becomes soon a new target for his fears. All those feelings inside him warring with each other. He wants to pin them against a wall and declare his undying love and run and hide at the same time.

Then comes Manfreds sacrifice and his big decision. Will he restore Manfred? Will he give up his friend to achieve his dreams?

Since I went with Manfred, I will mainly describe my feelings regarding mortal Emmrich. Though I believe Lich Emmrich suffers from the same base fears, they just find a different target.

Tbh, what Lace says to him certainly would not have helped. Her words feed into his doubts and fears and give them credibility. See, even Lace says this might not be right. Rook is younger. They move too fast. He will die earlier. Rook will be devastated. A whirlwind of emotions and half formed thoughts fueled by fear.

All he ever sees and what is constantly on his mind is not the time they can spend together, but the end of their time together. His death, their death, it does not matter. One of them will be gone and the other will be left with the pain he felt after his parents died. A pain that might even be worse than what he felt back then.

Rook being younger just becomes the vehicle by which he tries to convince himself that this might not be such a good idea after all. But its all his fears speaking.

And fear can be so strong, so overwhelming.

When they had this fight, my read on his words was that he wanted to break up with Rook. His words at that moment are condescending, bordering on mean.  He is lashing out. We know he can be vindictive when he feels wronged, but he is nothing but kind and gentle to those he likes and who treat him with respect. I think, in a way, that it was not necessarily a conscious decision, but more of an instinct to hurt Rook. To make them angry and not love him anymore. To make it easier to end it, spare them the pain of breaking up now and of loosing him to death one day. By protecting himself from the pain of their death should he outlive them.

As if that would work and make any difference to Rook, or him. They are already so madly in love with each other.

And I think, what makes Rook different from his previous partners is that they realized, if they let him finish this sentence, he might break something beyond repair. Even if it was his fear speaking at that moment, not his love. Running away from his feelings is a recurring theme for him. And he does not WANT to break up with them. But his fear tells him its better this way. Fear is a liar, though.

So they speak a harsh truth. It’s his fear, insecurities and cowardice speaking. They do not let him get away with it. It is harsh, yes. But I think it was also necessary. It spells out a truth he did not want to admit to himself. He is afraid, insecure and a coward. And the big question, is that what he wants to be? They are, in sadly not the nicest way, telling him to get hid goddamn shit together. And sometimes that’s needed. Especially for an academic man like Emmrich. No Emmrich, that is not logical. It is pure emotion and fear is running your life, not you.

In a perfect world they would have told him so in a calm and collected manner. Less harsh words and more kindness. But would that have had the same impact on Emmrich? Rook is a person too, with their own fears and hopes and dreams. And Emmrich right now is breaking their heart. I think he needed that. To see the pain and hurt he inflicted on them.

Can you imagine the regret he would feel in the end? If he left Rook? It would leave him a broken shell of a man. His final defeat. Fear had won. Nothing would be better, and no one would have been spared any pain. I would just be a lifetime of regret and what ifs. The one person who accepted him fully, loved him so deeply, and HE threw everything away.

I think, the time Rook was trapped inside the fade prison might have been the best thing that could happen in the long run. It’s all his fears come to reality. Rook is gone. He lost them. And he just wants to curl up and hide. But he can’t. He needs to find them. If he lets fear win now, Rook might be lost forever. He cannot allow himself to be coward now. I think this time was a come-to-Jesus moment for him. It forced him to look at his fears and what they’ve cost him. It’s a moment where he needs to stop letting fear control his life.

The last real private moment they had was a fight, filled with fear and anger. (That short apology in the middle of a battlefield was hardly private and could in no way make up for the words that were said.)

That last evening should have been a time filled with love. A memory to cherish. But now it’s a memory one would want to forget. And that was his own doing. It was not something out of his control, like “death”. It was his words and actions that tainted their time together. And what if that was the last time they’d seen each other, been with each other? What if that is his last real memory of them? The look of anger and pain and hurt on Rooks face, caused by HIM, by what he had actively said and done? I think this might be the first time he realizes that his fears take more from him, than death ever could.

Phobias and anxieties are not cured that easily, of course. I think in a way, they will always stay with him, to a degree. But I do think he had some important realizations that will put him on a path of growing. At least in regards of how he deals with his fears.

And then he found them. He found his Rook. They are back and they are alive. He can hold them in his arms again and how could he ever even think about turning away from them? They are a gift, a miracle, the deepest wish fulfilled. A wish he’d given up upon. Something he thought he would never have.

And then the last scene with the coffin. Okay here I go the Astarion route and I am absolutely convinced that that coffin is his. Of course he had planned all things in regards to his death. He had chosen the crypt he wanted to be buried in. And at that moment he took them there. The place that had been the mark of the final end, now the mark of the rest of his life. And Rook? Rook still wants him, after everything. They still love him.

When they pull him into a kiss? He doesn’t see the end of their time, but the start of the rest of their life together. That look on his face when Rook leads him to that coffin? This look of absolute vulnerability? I think, in a way, this is a first time for him. All open and vulnerable. All he is and feels no longer hidden away but cherished and loved. He will always fear loosing them, them loosing him, how could he not. But they are here and HE is finally able to truly commit. He is finally giving everything. He will always fear, but now love wins. Rook holds his heart in their hands, and he trusts them completely. He gives himself to them. He is theirs, forever.

Hell, that man breaks my heart in so many ways.

So what’s in store for them in the future? Sadly we do not get epilogue sliders for our LIs.

But those two I truly think are in it for the long haul. There will be many good days, filled with happiness and laughter and kisses. They will go on adventures, see the world, experience life together in its fullest.

There will also be bad days, when fear rears its head, and his chest hurts from the sheer pain it inflicts on him. But I hope he comes to a point where he is able to turn to Rook in those times, instead of pushing them away. Where he lets them comfort him, hold him, until this feeling loses its grip on him.

Those bad days will never diminish those wonderful days they have together, though. Just a rain cloud, hiding the sun for a day or two. And it can’t rain forever.

Then, when one of them finally goes on to their last journey, they will wait for their love. And when they are united again, they walk eternity hand in hand.

[gothcsz]

part nine of the neighbors series. i just had to write this... it was too good of a thought to keep just in my head! javier going back to helena after you rightfully tell him to get lost for standing you up. he's not into it but decides to fuck her anyways?! this man and his unhealthy coping mechanism: sex. smh. this takes place after part seven 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~1.5k word count. spanish heavy (translated), s m u t, honestly javi just comes with his own warning at this point, angst (as always)

Javier winces as the door to your apartment shuts in his face, the sound echoing louder than it should in the quiet hallway. He stands there for a long moment, his heart lodged firmly in his throat as guilt churns in his stomach.

He’d known, from the moment you opened the door in that beautiful dress, that he’d made a colossal mistake. He’s not sure how the fuck he’s going to make things right between you.

He sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. The way you masked the hurt he caused with dismissiveness and a sharp, cutting comment before turning him away somehow stung worse than if you’d just yelled at him.

His feet feel heavy as he trudges back to his apartment, the guilt following him like a shadow. 

When he opens the door, Helena is there, sprawled comfortably on his couch with her legs crossed and a glass of whiskey in hand. She looks up, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she watches him close the door behind him with a slow, almost reluctant motion.

“Eso fue rápido,” (That was fast) she comments, “¿Todo bien?” (Everything okay?) she tilts her head slightly, her gaze curious but not overly concerned.

Javier stands at the threshold of his sunken living room, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his thoughts. He doesn’t answer immediately, too busy replaying the image of you in his mind.

She sets the glass down and stands, closing the distance between them.“Puedo ver el conflicto en tus ojos, Javi. ¿Tu vecina te gritó o que?” (I can see the conflict in your eyes, Javi. Did your neighbor bitch at you or something?) she teases, resting her hands on his shoulders before letting her fingers curl into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Her touch pulls him out of his thoughts momentarily. “No,” he replies, his tone low, “Pero me porte como un culero y me siento mal por como la trate.” (But I acted like an asshole and I feel bad about how I treated her)

She raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an amused smile. “You’re an asshole to everyone,” she says lightly, brushing a kiss along his jaw.

He scoffs, his frown deepening. “¿Qué? No hagas ese ruido—sabes que tengo razón.” (What? Don’t make that noise—you know I’m right) she chimes in as she continues with her affectionate touches. 

Normally, he’d lean into it, let her distract him the way she always does. But tonight, it feels hollow, like a cheap salve for a wound cut too deep.

She notices his hesitance, pausing as she cups his face in her hands. “Nunca he visto a nadie tan interesado en lo que hace su vecina. Should I be worried about her?” (I’ve never seen anyone so into what his neighbor is doing) she’s half-teasing as her gaze searches his face for an answer, but Javier avoids it, the hesitation clear in his brown eyes even as he tries to shrug it off.

“No,” he attempts to be nonchalant with his reply, “Solamente tengo ojos para ti, hermosa.” (I only have eyes for you, beautiful) His hand slips down to grip her ass, trying to redirect the moment, trying to bury the ache of guilt beneath something physical.

She narrows her eyes slightly, skeptical but willing to let it slide. “No mientas, Javier,” (Don’t lie) she murmurs. “Tengo suficiente de eso con todos los hombres en mi vida.” (I get enough of that from all the other men in my life)

Instead of responding, he leans in and kisses her, rough and insistent. She doesn’t push for more answers, letting him take what he needs, but she doesn’t miss the edge of hindrance in his touch.

“Si necesitas hablar de algo, sabes que aquí estoy,” (If you need to talk about something, you know I’m here) she says softly, more serious now as their lips brush together.

“Me ayudas más cuando no hablas,” (You help me more when you don't talk) he mutters before pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip, and it’s enough to spark the familiar lust between them.

Urgent touches, clothes discarded in a trail to the couch, and soon they’re a tangled mess with a throw blanket lazily thrown over their bodies.

She sinks down onto him, her lips on his neck as she whispers dirty encouragements against his skin.

It feels good—sex with Helena always does—but it’s different tonight.

No matter how tightly he shuts his eyes, no matter how hard he digs his fingers into her hips to ground himself, his mind keeps drifting back to you. To the way your lips trembled just slightly before you masked it, to the look in your eyes when you told him to ‘have fun vetting his lead.’

“Javi…” Helena’s airy moan pulls him back briefly, the clench of her around him sending a spark up his spine. He leans in to kiss her, messy and urgent, but it’s not to deepen their connection—it’s to keep her quiet.

The last thing he wants is for you to hear this, for you to know just how badly he’s handled things tonight.

Large hands move around to knead at her ass, guiding her movements, but his touch lacks its usual fervor.

The thought of you fills every corner of his mind even as he tries to lose himself in her. Your excitement that day by the fountain, the shy smile as you invited him out, and the way that smile disappeared the moment you saw him walk in with Helena.

And when her orgasm begins to crest and she’s shuddering around him, he barely notices, too consumed by the ache in his chest that no amount of physical release can fix.

She notices. She always does. Her rhythm falters slightly as she leans closer, her lips skimming his ear. “Pareces distraído.” (You seem distracted)

“Estoy bien,” (I’m fine) he growls, “Sigue moviéndote así.” (Just keep moving like that)

For the sake of not ruining this moment, she says nothing else, though he can feel the slight hesitation in her movements before she settles back into the pace he’s been guiding her toward.

Her breath hitches, her fingers tangling in his hair as she rides him, and he leans his head back against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut again.

It still doesn’t help.

Helena’s nails rake lightly down his chest, and he shivers, but it’s not desire that ripples through him—it’s frustration. With himself. With this situation. With the way he’s here, with a beautiful woman in his lap, and all he can think about is how badly he’s screwed things up with you.

Even as he drives her to her peak, there’s no satisfaction in it for him. His body is moving on autopilot, chasing a release that feels more like an obligation than a need.

When he finally comes, her name is the last thing on his mind. Yours, however, lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to lash out.

He bites it back, swallowing hard as she digs her nails into the skin of his shoulders, a guttural groan muffled against her neck, his hands clutching her ass like she’s the only thing tethering him to this moment of fleeting pleasure. 

The instant it’s over, he feels heavier than before, the guilt settling back over him like a dense fog that refuses to lift.

Helena collapses against his chest, her breath warm and uneven against his neck. She’s still for a few seconds, and then she lifts her head, her dark eyes searching his face.

“¿Seguro que estás bien?” (Are you sure you’re okay?) she asks softly, concern threading through her voice.

Javier exhales sharply, avoiding her gaze as he gently shifts her off of him. “Estoy bien,” (I’m fine) he repeats for what feels like the millionth time, his words clipped. He stands, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor and pulling them on hastily.

She watches him in silence, wrapping the blanket around her naked form, unspoken questions hanging in the air. He can feel her studying him, trying to piece together the puzzle of his distraction, but he doesn’t have the energy to reassure her. Not tonight.

He grabs the carton of cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table, his movements practiced, almost automatic. The flick of the lighter illuminates his face briefly before the glow fades, the cigarette catching with a faint crackle. He takes a deep drag, smoke filling his lungs before he exhales, watching it swirl toward the ceiling.

“¿Te vas a quedar?” (Are you staying?)

She doesn’t answer right away, licking her lips. “No. Tengo otros planes.” (No. I have other plans)

Relief floods through him, and for the first time since they started hooking up, he’s okay with her walking out the door. He nods, tapping ash into the tray on the table.

“Bueno entonces, cuidate. Here,” (Well then, take care) holding the cigarette between his lips, he fishes his leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a wad of cash, walking over and holding it out to her.

Her eyes drop to the money, her expression tightening. “Javi, ya te he dicho como me siento con esto.” (Javi, I’ve already told you how I feel about this)

“¿Qué?” He shrugs, speaking around the cigarette between his teeth. “Te estoy pagando como lo hacen todos los demás.” (What? I’m paying you like everyone else does)

“No eres como los demás.” (You’re not like the others)

They lock eyes, the tension between them heavy and tangible. His exasperation simmers, then bubbles over. He tosses the money onto the coffee table with a thud.

“Entonces no lo tomes. Me vale madre.” (Then don’t take it. I don’t give a damn)

Helena stands, redressing and stepping into her heels. Javier finishes his cigarette with slow drags as she collects her things. She swipes the cash on her way out, crumpling it in her fist.

“¿Ves lo que te dije? Eres un culero con todos.” (See what I told you? You’re an asshole to everyone)

He doesn’t flinch but his jaw flexes, a muscle ticking as he watches her brush past him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

She stops at the door, one hand resting on the knob as she glances back at him. “No sé qué está pasando entre tú y tu vecina, pero necesitas arreglarlo porque odio cuando actúas así.”  (I don’t know what's going on between you and your neighbor, but you need to straighten it out because I hate it when you act like this)

With that, she unlocks the door and leaves, leaving him standing there in his living room, now feeling worse than he did before and he has no one to blame but himself.

He stares at the spot where she stood, the remnants of her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He doesn’t move for a long moment, caught in the crossroads of her parting words.

Finally, he curses under his breath and heads to the bathroom. The cool tile beneath his feet as he flips on the light, the hum of the fluorescent bulb filling the room. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edges so tightly—his knuckles go white.

The faucet sputters to life with a twist of his wrist, and he splashes cold water onto his face, droplets streaking down his cheeks and dripping onto his bare chest. It does nothing to clear the haze in his head.

When he looks up into the mirror, the man staring back at him looks just as wrecked as he feels.

This isn’t sustainable and he knows it. He can’t keep making a mess of every little thing in his life, can’t keep masking his despair with sex, whiskey, and cigarettes.

But knowing is one thing. Doing is another.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @almostfoxglove . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @phry-k . @larascorneroftheworld . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack . @picketniffler . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @94namkooksworld . @prose-before-hoes . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: happy no shave/no nut november! an anon had asked about this challenge for william and i couldn’t resist. 😇 thanks to the anons that helped out on deciding on the prize! enjoy and get ready for so much more fic fun to come!

word count: 4.8k

tw: so much smut, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m) but not finishing, fingering (f recieving), nipple play, use of toys, creampie, edging, honestly it’s a no nut november fic so it’s just porn without plot (let me know if i missed anything)

summary: between william taking part in no shave november and no nut november, you think you’re going to go crazy. who knew the month could feel so long?

“I hate November.”

Your whine is obnoxious even to your own ears, childish and petulant. You kick a foot out on the mattress for good measure and William laughs.

“Älskling,” he coos, coming over to the bed and wrapping a hand around your ankle. He tugs gently and you slide easily down the mattress towards him. “You didn’t have to agree to the bet.”

“Yes I did,” you grumble, kicking your other foot at him. He catches it easily in his free hand and then suddenly, you’re trapped, both of your legs held in the air before William pulls you forward again and has you wrap your thighs around his hips. His hands are warm on your skin, calloused fingers stroking gentle, lazy circles. You’re fully aware that, with your legs spread like this, he could easily get his hands on your cunt and can probably feel the heat radiating from between your legs.

Your clit gives a painful throb, untouched and desperate for him.

Nearly three weeks without sex and you’ve never been hornier in your entire life.

It hadn’t been bad at first, and then you’d been on your period and the thought of being touched at all was repulsive. But now you’re rapidly hurtling towards ovulation week and it’s nearly impossible to be in the same room as William without wanting to jump him.

William’s keeping his lips zipped, but the second you find out which one of his godforsaken teammates decided a No Nut November bet was a good idea, you’re killing them.

Of course, you’re partially to blame since you’d laughed at William and told him “how hard can it be? To not have sex for a month.” So he’d made a bet with you, challenging you to take part and not come for the whole month and do the challenge with him. You’d agreed, not really deciding on what the winner gets since you’d figured that you would be able to outlast your boyfriend and would just make him do whatever you wanted anyway. Maybe you’ll make him do all the laundry for a month.

What you’d conveniently forgotten was that No Nut November coincided with No Shave November and William’s rocking a moustache that shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does.

“You did this to yourself,” William laughs, torturing you by running his palms up the inside of your thighs and stopping inches from where you need him the most. “You can stop any time.”

He knows you can’t, knows you’re stubborn as hell.

You scowl at him, completely disagreeable with the lack of orgasms. Your whole body feels tight and like a live wire. Any touch might be enough to send you over the edge.

Frustratingly, William doesn’t seem to be as bothered as you are. Sure, he’s been walking around with some aggressive erections, his thick cock prominent against the front of his pants when he’s home with you. But he’s been like a maniac on the ice, racking up goals and assists at a pace that rocketed him to the top of team’s point sheet.

“I don’t know how this isn’t frustrating you,” you mutter, kicking your heel lazily against the top of his ass. You’re satisfied to see the shape of his cock press against his jeans, thickening slowly. “Shouldn’t you be all cranky and blue balled?”

“Trust me, älskling,” William grumbles, “my balls are plenty blue. But I get my frustration out on the ice. If I’m scoring a goal or whatever, I’m not thinking about how fucking horny I am or how badly I want to fuck you into the mattress.”

You let out a little squeak and your legs instinctively try to close, blocked by William’s bulk. He grins wickedly when your thighs flex and you nearly cry when his hand snakes up and his fingers press against your core, plastering the fabric of your panties against your wet cunt. You wiggle, trying to get away from him, but all it does is make your clit pulse and arousal drip more steadily down the seam of your ass.

“Williammmmm,” you whine, kicking at his back and reaching to pull his hand away. Your grip on his wrist falters when his fingers press down harder, a gasp punching from your lungs.

“You’re so wet, huh, my girl?” He murmurs, dick twitching in his pants. His gaze is locked on you, watching as a wet spot forms on the fabric, soaked through your panties and onto your shorts. “If you asked nicely, I could make you come right now. Just a few presses of my fingers against your little clit and you’d feel better.”

It sounds so nice, relief from the achy fire that’s consumed your body for three weeks. Getting rid of the lust fog in your brain too would be helpful. And he’s right, a quick twitch of his fingers against your clit and you’d probably be a goner. But then you’d also be a loser, and you refuse to be a loser.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you manage to choke out, breathless. Your hips move on their own accord and you know you need to get him away from you soon or you’re definitely going to lose.

“You sure?” He laughs, stoking you lightly.

You nod, biting hard on your tongue. William’s lips are curled up in a wicked smile that immediately turns into a frown and a grunt when you shift your leg and angle your knee so you can press the heel of your foot against the hard bulge in his pants. He grunts again when you press down, smiling sweetly at him.

Shoe’s on the other foot now.

“I could take care of that little problem you’re having,” you murmur, getting relief when he finally moves his hand off your cunt to grab your ankle again and pull it away from his dick. He lets you rest the sole of your foot against his stomach and moves his other hand to block access to his dick.

“You know my problem isn’t little,” he retorts, pinching the top of your foot and making your toes twitch against his shirt. “If anything, it’s getting bigger by the day. You’re going to have a massive load to take when this is over.”

You whine and wriggle on the bed, your core clenching desperately around nothing. “Stop, you’re playing dirty,” you complain. “It’s not fair when you do all the dirty talk looking like that.” You wave your hand in the vague direction of his face.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause you walking around in that skimpy ass towel for an hour after you got out of the shower two nights ago was all above board and clean play,” William drawls, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t seem to realize that his hand is working absently over the fly of his pants, his gaze flickering between your legs and back to your face.

“Yeah,” you shoot back, yanking your ankle away from his grip and rolling away from him, “because I’m just a girl and I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

You get to your feet, still half draped over the mattress, and wince at the uncomfortably wet feeling between your legs. A cold shower and change of clothes will do wonders for your mood.

William rolls his eyes at you, his hand still moving over his cock, and you’re tempted to let him continue so you can win. But one of the dogs barks out in the living room and William turns to the door, hand falling away from his pants.

“Saved by the dogs,” you mutter, grabbing a pair of jeans out of your drawer to change. It’s time for their pre-game walk and you need the fresh air to cool off.

The walk works to tamp down the worst of your arousal and you manage to make it through the game easily enough. Although every time William throws his body against an opponent, you find your face getting warm and your belly flipping. Damn him.

It doesn’t get easier when you’re tucked together in bed after the game, watching TV to unwind instead of your usual post-game routine of fucking until one or both of you passes out. You miss that routine.

“Ah, fuck, stop that,” William grunts, pushing at your hip to put a little space between your ass and his cock. You wiggle, annoyed that he dislodged his half-hard cock from where it was resting in the seam between your ass cheeks.

“I was comfy,” you whine, rolling over onto your stomach. You tilt your head and look at William with wide, pleading eyes and subtly arch your back a little so your ass lifts in the air.

William swats at your ass gently, a bolt of lust shooting right to your clit. “Yeah, too comfy. You’re playing dirty, älskling,” he says with a good-natured smile. The smile twitches his moustache and you sigh, unable to look away from it. All you can imagine is how it would feel between your legs.

You fold your hands under your cheek and lift your leg to drape your thigh over William’s hip. He lets his hand drag up and down your thigh, keeping his touch chaste even as you can see his cock harden in his boxers, tenting and warping the shape of the plaid fabric.

“What if,” you mumble, “we call a draw. We both finish at the same time?”

The perpetual state of horny is starting to make you feel crazy. That coupled with the wave of exhaustion that’s hitting now that it’s the end of the week, you’re ready to jump William and be done with this stupid challenge.

“Say the word,” William’s jaw clicks as he stifles a yawn. It might be insulting that he’s yawning if he hadn’t played a team high time of twenty two minutes on ice and scored two goals. “I’ll make you come in a second.”

“Ugh, no,” you grumble, pressing your face into your pillow. “I want to win fair and square.”

William’s blunt nails scrape against your skin and he drags your thigh higher up on his hip, opening you up to him. “You’re so competitive, älskling,” he mumbles. “‘S what I love about you.”

His words settle warmly in your stomach and you reach a hand out to hook your fingers in the thick chain around his neck, pulling him closer so you can kiss him softly. His moustache scratches at your upper lip and you trace your tongue over his, deepening the kiss even though you know it’s going to drive you both crazy. William’s hand tightens on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to bruise, and you’re both breathless when you break the kiss.

“When you lose, I want my reward to be sitting on your face,” you mutter, huffing a faint laugh out of your nose. William pinches your thigh and you swat at his hand.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he says, tone full of frustrated affection. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and drags you closer, wrapping his arms around your back to keep you in place. You won’t fall asleep like this, but it’s always nice to be tucked up close to William, with his heartbeat thumping steadily under your cheek and his fingers tracing nonsense patterns on your skin.

William’s gone early the next morning, with a kiss to your lips and a light spank to your ass, off on a road trip that’ll keep him away from you for nearly a week. He’ll be home again on the twenty-sixth, with just four days left in the month. The temptation is mostly gone with him, your libido getting a reprieve when you aren’t able to look at his face every day and imagine it between your thighs.

He does his best to tempt you, sending voice memos and photos that have your hands drifting below the waist band of your pajama bottoms when you’re in bed, like a horny teenage boy desperate to jack off. You honestly hadn’t realize that you could even be this horny, your previous boyfriends never inspiring this kind of lust or arousal.

Of course, you give just as good as you get, replying to his messages with pictures of your own featuring new lingerie sets in the royal blue of the Leafs’ jersey. You’re particularly proud of one picture that gets William calling you immediately to complain about playing dirty. You can hear the schlicking sound of his hand choking his cock through the phone and you click your tongue.

“I hope you’re not going to come before the end of the month,” you sing-song. “I thought you had better willpower than that?”

“Älskling,” he groans, a strangled noise, “I’m just about ready to end this shit and fuck you until you scream. My dick is so fucking hard, it’s goddamn painful.”

“Forfeit and I’ll take care of you when you get home tomorrow,” you offer, stomach flipping when you hear his hand’s continued movement. William grunts directly in your ear and the noise shoots straight to your clit, making it swell and throb.

His familiar chuckle draws you back to the conversation, “no way. There’s only five days left in the month. I’m not quitting now, I’ll just take another cold as fuck shower.”

You grumble, annoyed that he refuses to forfeit and impressed by his willpower. November thirtieth is going to be a night for the books.

It’s a bad idea, you know, tempting fate and all that with William expected home in a few hours. If he catches you, if you go slightly too far, you’ll lose the challenge and William will know that you were too horny for your better angels to prevail.

But you miss the feeling of his cock wedged tight in your cunt, filling and stretching you to your limits.

Besides, knowing that it’s risky and you have to keep yourself just at the edge of the orgasm is making your heart beat fast in your chest and your cunt get slick.

You’re comfortable on the bed in nothing but one of William’s t-shirts, the faint remnants of his cologne infused in the fabric. With one leg bent and your foot planted on the mattress, you circle your clit with two fingers, relaxing back against the pillows. It’s light pressure, but enough to get the bundle of nerves swollen and wet. Arousal drips from your entrance and you know there’s going to be a puddle under your ass even if you don’t finish, but you spread your legs a little more and cool air hits your flushed skin.

All of your nerve endings are on fire and you haven’t even started with your toy. It’s shorter and narrower than William, but it’ll do the job in a pinch. When he’s away, you use it more often, no reason to use it when you have the real thing. But you’re at the end of your rope and need the feeling of something filling you, even if it’s just silicone.

It’s just a little plastic cockwarming, you rationalize. You’re not actually going to come, just edge yourself into insanity since you’re already half feral with arousal.

The first press of the toy against your entrance takes your breath away and you work your hips a little frantically over the silicone, soaked and panting with each little push. Your clit twitches and throbs, walls fluttering around the toy as you settle it in place with a final nudge.

“Fuck,” you whine, breathless and trying not to clench around the length of silicone. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, imagining it’s William’s hot, throbbing cock nestled inside of you, imagining that you’re keeping him warm in a reward for your delayed orgasm. Just the feeling of being stretched out is better than you thought it would be, after so long with nothing to satisfy you.

You whine his name involuntarily, carefully fucking yourself with the toy to make sure you don’t get too close to the edge. Your stomach muscles clench and your fingers brush against your clit, sending shockwaves of electricity throughout your body. When it’s too much, you stop, leaving the toy half in your cunt, arousal dripping down the curve of your ass.

The sound of your heavy breathing is filling the room and you’ve got an arm thrown over your face, heat radiating off your body. Your hair feels damp from sweat and you haven’t even gotten to come. It was a mistake, to edge yourself so much because now you’re feeling even more twitchy, frustrated with the pit of your stomach in knots from holding yourself back.

Your legs feel limp, too heavy to get up and you close your eyes. There’s still a couple of hours before William is home and you need to bring yourself back to a baseline so you focus on your breathing, twitching around the silicone half buried in your cunt.

A warm chuckle rouses you, working its way through the fog of sleep cloaking your brain. You hum and stretch, dislodging the toy from between your legs slightly, a spark of electricity racing through your veins.

“William?” You mumble sleepily, cracking one eye open.

The shape of him is fuzzy around the edges, but you catch the upturn in his cheeks that means he’s smiling at you and the way his arms are crossed over his bare chest. You blink again and he comes more into focus, the grey sweats hanging low and loose on his hips, the hair on his chest fluffed in the way you know means he ran his hands over it roughly after his shower.

“Sleeping Beauty’s been naughty, huh?” He chuckles and you wrinkle your nose at him, still half asleep until he leans one knee on the mattress and reaches his hand out to nudge his knuckles against the base of the silicone dick that’s half buried in your cunt.

You’d nearly forgotten about it and yelp when it shifts an inch or two further inside of you and try to snap your legs shut. William’s reflexes are faster and his other hand grabs at your knee, holding your legs wide open. His grin is positively filthy as he takes in the mess between your legs.

“I didn’t come,” you inform him primly, fisting one hand in the duvet cover.

“Oh yeah?” William clicks his tongue. “Just sat here like a good girl and edged yourself?”

It’s clear from his tone that he doesn’t believe you and really, why should he? Especially when you have the evidence between your legs and drying smears of arousal on your inner thighs.

“Mhm,” you hum, wriggling away. William’s grip is tight on you, his fingers dancing around the base of the toy, twisting it ever so slightly. You hiccup a gasp.

“Seems like a silly way to lose the bet,” his voice is low, raspy. Deft fingers continue to twist the toy inside of you, making your clit swell and your stomach clench. “Coming on a plastic cock instead of mine. But, if that’s how you want to lose…”

He trails off and pushes the remaining few inches inside of you, punching a gasp from your lungs and making your back arch off the bed. You shout and scratch at his forearms, shaking your head. “No, no,” you murmur. “Wan’ your cock, William!”

It’s torture, the way he slowly fucks the toy in and out of you, your walls clenching and arousal dripping down the curve of your ass. Your breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling as you get closer and closer to the edge. William murmurs filth to you, leaning over your body. His cock is thick and hard behind his sweats, and you can feel it twitch where it’s pressed against your thigh.

“Beautiful, my beautiful, dirty girl,” he coos, using his free hand to push the fabric of your stolen shirt up your stomach until it’s bunched up under your chin and your breasts are free for him to play with. He leans down and alternates sucking each nipple into his mouth, his moustache scraping against your skin and his tongue circling each nipple until they’re tight and painful.

“Please,” you whimper, bending your leg and opening yourself wider for him. “I’m done, I quit.”

You can’t stand it any more, the lack of orgasms is making you crazy. It’s not worth winning. Not with William’s dirty mouth running in your ear and his cock hard against your thigh.

“Mutual,” he grumbles, shoving his sweats down with one hand and you gasp, nearly relieved, when you feel the velvety soft skin of his shaft against your thigh. The wet head of his cock slicks against your hip and you arch into him. “Stupid challenge anyway.”

In one quick motion, William yanks the silicone toy from your cunt and replaces it with his cock, your indignant whine morphing quickly into a wanton moan. He fills you to the brim, balls slapping against your ass and clit rubbing against the coarse hair at the base of his dick.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, lifting your knees to his sides and meeting him thrust for thrust. It’s not going to take long for either of you to come like this, spiky hot pleasure already building low in your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck I love this pussy,” William growls, burying his face in the valley between your breasts. The scrape of his moustache and stubble are going to leave makes all over your skin, but you can’t wait. “So goddamn tight and wet, squeezing my cock. Fuck, älskling, so fucking good. Gonna fill you up, gonna make you feel so good.”

You’re not even sure if you’re saying actual words around the noises you’re making as the head of William’s cock batters your g-spot, thickening and swelling inside the tight grip of your cunt. You wail when he presses his thumb against your sore, swollen clit and kick a foot against his back, making him grunt.

He latches his lips around one of your nipples, tonguing at it until it’s stiff and puffy. You arch your back, pressing up into his mouth and the coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach.

“Please, please, oh my god, please William,” you chant, scratching at his back and moaning when his hand splays over your stomach and presses down, the pressure making you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Gonna come, älskling, almost there,” he mumbles, adjusting his angle to hit even deeper inside of you. “Gonna come together, yeah? Me and you, right now, go ahead. Come on, prinsessa, come all over my cock.”

William rubs circles around your clit and you can feel his cock twitch and thicken, bumping up against your g-spot to finally send you over the edge. Your stomach clenches and starbursts dance behind your eyes as the force of your orgasm hits. Above you, William groans and his hips stutter, coming at the same time you do. He fills you, his hips pumping and his fingers working at your clit so you’re both shaking and panting heavily. Beads of sweat roll down his temples and you can feel the sheen of sweat all over your skin.

Your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm and William finally finishes emptying inside of you, more than he ever has before and putting your IUD to work.

He collapses on top of you, forcing the last little bit of air left in your lungs out in a harsh exhale. You huff a laugh, running your fingertips over the sweaty, muscled planes of his back, enjoying it when he laughs as you tickle at the spaces between his ribs.

Your legs are locked around his back, his cock still hard inside of you and you rock slightly under him, fully relishing in the feeling. His chest hair is soft against your skin and you try to shimmy around so you can keep feeling it rub against you.

“We’re never going this long without sex again,” William mutters into the crook of your neck. His cock twitches inside of you and he flexes his hips. You can feel the warmth of his come when it’s pushed out of you, making you shiver a bit.

“Stupid challenge,” you agree. The fabric of your shirt is still bunched up under your neck and it’s choking you a bit, but you’re too sated to move. William works his hand between your bodies and toys with your breast, scraping his thumb nail over the sensitive point of your nipple. You clench around him and he grunts. Your clit still feels swollen and sore and need builds up low in your stomach. “I need another, Will.”

His mouth is lazily sucking a mark against your collarbone and he releases you with a wet pop. Propping himself up on one elbow, William grins down at you with a hungry look in his eyes. His hair is messy and damp with sweat. “We need to make up for lost time,” he replies, sweeping his hand up and down your stomach, brushing his fingers close to your clit to see if he can get your hips to jerk. A twitch of his hips has his half-hard cock slipping in and out of your slick cunt, an almost obscenely wet sound filling the room.

You nod, taking your fingers through his chest hair and down through the trail below his belly button. His stomach muscles jump under your touch.

“I think we can be conservative and say I need at least twenty more,” you grin, clenching around him to watch his face twist up in an expression of pleasure. “When you take into account the travel days and whatnot.”

His laughter is bright and loud and he tweaks your nipple. “Greedy,” he murmurs. “Let’s start with three and see if we can beat that record first.”

You let your legs fall to the side and open yourself up for him. Grinning wickedly, you reply, “do your best, Mr. Nylander.”

An hour and a half later, after you’ve gotten two more orgasms and William washed your hair for you in the shower, you’re curled up against his chest with an icy blue Gatorade poured into your fancy Anthropologie glass.

Your legs are shaky, but you’ve never been more content in your life.

“I would say I’m sorry that you lost the team’s challenge, but,” you shrug, sipping at the drink, “I’m really not.”

“Eh, worth it,” William replies. “Only a couple guys left anyway. Hell, even Kniesy lost back in week two and he’s the idiot that suggested it.”

You gasp, shooting up in the bed and nearly spilling your Gatorade. “I’ve been in the orgasm desert because of Matt and he didn’t even have the decency to WIN the challenge?”

William laughs and shrugs. “Yeah, he kind of sucked at it,” he replies, tugging you back against his side, “I think it’s just Mitchy, Domes, Tanev, and Woller left.”

“Wait,” you frown. “What was the prize for winning?”

“We each kicked in one-fifty,” William rolls his up to the ceiling and squints while he does the math. “So, three k? Plus winner gets a steak dinner from Reavo since he was the first to cave and we all have to kick in for the winner’s golf club membership for a year.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes. “What is it with you guys and the steak dinners? And if I had known that these were the prizes, I would’ve held out another four days! I thought it was just like a pride thing.”

William laughs again and you let him pull you onto his lap, settling right over his cock. “Älskling, none of us would do this shit if it were just pride on the line,” he says seriously, resting his hands on your hips and letting his fingers dip below the waistband of your sweats.

You roll your eyes again and pout, “obviously cold hard cash, steak, and a golf membership were the only three things that could get you idiots to keep it in your pants.”

“None of those things are holding me back now,” William teases, leaning in to pepper kisses against your jaw. “Want me to take it out of my pants?”

The scratch of his facial hair feels good against your skin and you know you’re going to be beyond marked up tomorrow, but you angle your head to the side anyway to give him better access.

You hum, taking stock of the pleasant soreness between your legs and the flicker of arousal pooling low in your stomach. He kisses down the column of your neck, nipping gently at the jut of your collarbone. William’s hips rock under you and you can feel him grow hard and press into your core.

“I think I could go for a fourth,” you grin, gasping when he trusts his hips up into yours.

“Steak dinner is overrated anyway,” William replies, before taking your cup and putting it on the bedside table so he can manhandle you onto your back. “I’ve got something better to eat.”

[nadvs]

　　　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 destined ⟢

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary after you find out you’re pregnant, you tell zach and prepare to share the news together.

this is a continuation blurb of this two-shot! requested by anon.

You impatiently check the time on your phone again. It’s been fourteen minutes since you sat down in the private room at the doctor’s office.

Your eyes travel over the lockscreen photo from your wedding half a year ago. In the captured moment, Zach is holding Ella. Her left arm is around her father’s shoulders and her right is around yours.

Her poofy dress is sparkling under the warm banquet hall lights, her smile just as big as yours and Zach’s.

You’d done a lot of happy crying that day, but a moment after the photo was taken, you’d never had tears of joy quite like this.

Ella had run off after the shutter of the photographer’s camera and Zach pulled you in by the waist, his lips soft against your cheek, murmuring just loud enough to be heard over the music and people dancing around you, “You know what she asked me this morning?”

“What?”

“Since I get to call you my wife, if she can call you her mommy.”

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, tearing up as he held you tighter. She had just turned seven years old and still didn’t talk about her biological mother all that much. She also hadn’t called you anything other than your name.

Zach had told you he’d be comfortable with it if Ella grew to want to call you her mom. You’d told him you’d be, too, but that you hoped she didn’t think you were ever trying to replace anyone.

“Really?” you said, your hand over your heart. “What’d you say?”

“I said she can,” he replied. You pulled back to meet his eyes, beaming up at him, almost in disbelief that three years ago, you’d knocked on his door for the first time. You could have never known the turn your life would take.

“You love her like she’s yours,” he said, his eyes glossy, “and she loves you the same way. I’m so happy she has you.”

You squeezed his hand. He’d already reassured you many times that you weren’t taking the place of Ella’s mother or being a substitution for what she lost. Instead, you’re an addition to their lives.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said. The tears he was trying to hold back fell from his eyes and he chuckled defeatedly. “Who’s cried more today, do you think?”

“I’d say it’s even,” you said with a laugh.

The door opening pulls you out of the memory. You meet the doctor’s eyes, your heart thrumming.

You and Zach had been trying for a baby for four months now. You didn’t even have to ask Ella what she thought about gaining a sibling. She’d been asking for one for a long time now.

After a string of failed attempts, you prefer not to tell Zach every time you take a test. You can see the disappointment in his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it behind a gentle, “The baby just wants to make us wait.”

A couple of nights ago, when the home test you secretly took showed two lines, you booked a blood test to be sure. The doctor starts her sentence with Congratulations and you exhale a shaky breath of relief.

────୨ৎ────

Later that day, you’re folding laundry in the living room while Ella’s at school. Zach gets home from an early practice and beams when he sees you, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Hi, baby,” he says. “How are you?”

“Good. How was training?”

“I’m getting old,” he chuckles, stretching his arms over his head. You laugh.

Zach had already decided that after eight years, this is his last season professionally playing. He was offered a position on the coaching team after he told his managers he’d be resigning. He’s ready to slow down, to work a job that doesn’t have such a high risk of injury, to have more time for his family.

He sits next to you, takes the t-shirt out of your hands, folds it and then puts it on the stack on the table so that you’re free to hug him. You giggle as he leans forward and pushes you back against the couch. He’s hovering over you, his cheek pressed on yours as he hugs you, smelling like his body wash.

Zach lives for these simple moments. Getting home to you, holding you, grounding himself and reminding himself that this is what life is about.

“Hey, how’s your day look six Mondays from now?” you ask.

“That’s specific,” he laughs. “I’ll have to check. Why?”

“I’d prefer it if you came to the ultrasound with me.”

He pulls back, searching your face in awe.

“What?” he whispers. “Are you… What?”

“I am,” you laugh, tears building in your eyes, stroking his soft hair.

“When did you…?”

“This morning,” you say. “I didn’t want to tell you in case it came back negative.”

“I’m…” Zach doesn’t have words. He leans forward, gently pressing his lips against yours, shuffling quickly so he doesn’t put any weight on you.

“It’s okay,” you laugh. “You won’t break us.”

“Us,” he repeats happily, his voice cracking. He looks down at your stomach, gently putting his hand on you. “It’s okay that you made us wait,” he whispers to the baby. “I already know you were worth it. Are you being gentle with your mom?”

He looks up at you, a flash of concern washing over his awestruck face.

“I’m a little more tired than usual,” you say. “But nothing crazy yet.”

“I can’t believe it,” Zach sighs. He sniffles, his heart racing with happiness as his eyes fill with tears. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” you breathe. “Me, neither. We can give her the book soon.”

Zach smiles. He’d bought a children’s book a few months back about becoming a big sister for when it was time to tell Ella a baby was on the way.

Having known you for nearly four years now, he was already well aware of how pure your heart is. But the fact that your first thought is to tell Ella is yet another reminder of how you’ve always seen yourself as not only sharing your life with him, but with her, too.

“Gonna be hard not to do it right away,” he says.

“Do you have any idea how hard these last three hours have been?” you laugh. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. But we’ll share the news with her after the first trimester. To be safe.”

“Of course,” he agrees, cupping your face and pulling you in for another tender kiss.

────୨ৎ────

By the three month mark, your appetite has grown and fatigue has hit you hard. When the day comes to tell Ella, you’re bursting with excitement to tell her the news.

After dinner, you sit on the couch, already used to Zach quietly telling you to sit down and not do any housework.

Ella’s doing homework at the coffee table as you help. You gaze at her as she concentrates on her writing and remember the four-year-old she was when you first walked into this house.

She’s nearly eight now and still has so many of the qualities you’d first noticed about her. She’s energetic and loves conversation and never hesitates to show affection.

Zach comes in from cleaning up after dinner and raises his eyebrows at you, discreetly holding the book. You nod to confirm you’re ready, nervous.

He sits next to you, taking one last moment to look at you and at his daughter, accepting that this is the last moment the three of you will have like this. His family is growing now, and it feels like his heart is, too.

“Is it two R’s? Or one?” Ella mumbles, the pencil in her hand. She looks up when you don’t answer, too busy trying not to cry as you watch her. “Are you okay, mommy?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m okay. Can you sit with us for a moment?”

Ella nods, running towards you. Zach stops her in his arms before she lands too close to you. You laugh, having already told him privately that she’s never rough enough to hurt the baby, but he can’t be too careful.

“I have a book for you,” Zach says, kissing Ella on the temple as she sits between you. “Can you tell me what you think?”

He hands her the purple hardcover.

“What’s it called?” you ask.

“Big Sisters Are The Best,” she reads. She curiously opens the page, gazing over the illustrations of a little girl with a baby.

“Thank you,” she says politely. “I’ll tell my friend Kaley about this book. Maybe she can borrow it. She’s a big sister.”

You chuckle, meeting Zach’s eyes. He rubs Ella’s back and tells her, “You’re going to be a big sister, too, honey.”

Ella’s gaze darts up to him, then to you, then back again.

“Really?” she says. Zach’s face brightens with endearment, eyes growing shiny with tears.

“Really?” she repeats, looking at you.

“Really,” you say, putting a hand over your stomach. “That’s why I keep going back for seconds at dinner lately. There’s a baby in here making me extra hungry.”

Ella stands up, unable to contain her happiness, jumping up and down in her spot a few times before wrapping you into a hug. You laugh as she wiggles in your arms.

Zach wipes his eyes, still unsure of what he did to deserve this sort of happiness. It’s like he’s in another world, experiencing a type of joy reserved specifically for him.

“This is the best day ever,” she says. “And you’re the best mommy ever and daddy’s the best daddy ever.”

“He is,” you agree, looking at him with pure love.

────୨ৎ────

“You’re such a girl dad,” you say amusedly when you go into Ella’s bedroom.

Zach’s sitting on the floor as Ella adds what looks like the twentieth clip in his hair, while he holds Olivia, who’s happily ripping up a piece of paper.

He smiles at you gratefully. Your one-year-old is exactly how Ella was at that age. Curious, smiley, and eager to make messes wherever she can. He knows you’re technically a blended family, but it has never felt like that.

“Ella, can you do mine next?” you ask.

“After Olivia,” she says happily. “I told her she’s next and I have to keep my promise.”

“Of course,” you say. “She’s lucky to have such a nice big sister.”

“Ebba,” Olivia babbles.

“Ella,” Ella corrects. You laugh. It feels like yesterday, you’d just met her and Zach, and he was correcting her on how she’d called him the bestest. Now, she’s growing before your eyes, already so mature and well-mannered.

“But Ebba’s okay,” Ella says with a smile. She leans to give her little sister a kiss on the forehead, earning a giggle from her, clapping for more.

You sit on the floor next to Zach, squeezing his knee lovingly as your daughters laugh together. He takes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it.

“And to think,” you joke, “we wouldn’t be here if I bombed my interview.”

Zach laughs, shaking his head as he kisses your hand again.

“No,” he says. “This is how life was meant to be. You would have found us, no matter what. I know it.”

You grin at him, nodding in agreement.

Sitting here with his wife and daughters is the definition of destiny. Zach knows deep in his soul that he was always fated to be right here, with his heart split between three beautiful girls.

(the end)

if you enjoy a fic, reblogging is the best way to thank and support the writer!

[artist-issues]

I think…I don’t know, the context of these three screenshots are kind of wonky.

Midwest Indigo - He’s home and he wants to be there and wants something to be happening, but instead it’s hard to be home. Kind of like how, in freezing cold Ohio after a long bleak winter, the sunshine should probably be a welcome thing—but instead it’s uncomfortably bright. And they’re on a frozen lake—if the sun thaws it out, that’s going to be even more uncomfortable.

Snap Back - He’s in a garage where he’s been alone, pondering the space between losing-progress and a fresh-start (which is what shaving your head looks like) and then he’s not alone anymore—someone is coming into the garage. They’re going to see what he’s done to his hair, and, whether for bad or good, they’re ending that moment he was having, where he pondered it all. The moment is over when the lights come in. Plus, the lights are bright in a way that looks like he’s exposed, like a convict caught in a spotlight or a naughty kid whose hiding spot has been found.

Next Semester - He was losing himself in the music, which is describing a moment—so again, lost in a moment. Then the lights are too bright and they remind him of another time when, lost in a dark moment, headlights brightly illuminated what he was doing. And almost ran him over. And he was kind of welcoming their approach because it meant he could get out of the life he was in, even if that would obviously hurt him. At least in Next Semester, the lights are followed by a voice telling him to get out of that dark moment, get out of harm’s way.

I guess the pattern is:

Miserable Moment Where You’re Stuck Thinking About Where You’ve Been vs. Where You Wanna Be -> Moment is Interrupted by Bright Lights, Which Are Uncomfortable Because They Expose You & Could Kill You -> Ultimately The Lights Are Good Because You Need to Get Out of That Miserable Moment Whether It’s Uncomfortable Or Not, & Lights Can Move You Forward

You can’t kill the Old You til the Old You is exposed. A fresh start doesn’t come from avoiding truth. Once it’s exposed by light, it can also be burned up by light—then, start fresh.

At the show I went to in Raleigh, Torchbearer kind of appeared out of nowhere (in character) and brought his torch to the B-Stage where Tyler had been singing nostalgic songs, and Tyler got into character, looking grim and interrupted and uncomfortable, and then Torchbearer (holding that natural light) gave Tyler the Clancy jacket and he put it on and they went to DEMA to fight.

So. You know. The light seems harsh and unavoidable and uncomfortable in each of these music videos, but I think it’s actually supposed to lead to something good, even if that good is currently seen in a feared and uneasy perspective.

“This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.” (John 3:20-21)

After all, what is Blurryface? Insecurity. And insecurity is self-focus. And self-focus loves to over-analyze “Will I ever get this right or will I always fail.” That type of analysis is actually just pride, trying to “get better” in your own power. “Nobody needs to see how messed up I am, they just need to see me fix it.” Insecurity. But the Light exposes everything—how messed up you are, and how you need Help to fix it.

Maybe this is wishful thinking.

But please oh please if the Light is representative of God, I hope it shows Him off the right way.

“I can feel the light shine on my face”

[bloodismymedium]

Mona x Tina Toxic Yuri Headcanons because I’m a bad person 🫀🌸🔪🧁

Ya’ll can blame @dollsleeper for giving me the toxic yuri bug. I am officially a Tona shipper thanks to them XD

TW: references to sexual assault, stockholm syndrome, stalking and abuse

☠️ Mona didn’t think much of Tina when she first laid eyes on her, she was just another piece of meat to be used in her art, what really made her fall in love with Tina was when she heard her scream. She heard so many screams before her and always took twisted pleasure in hearing the screams of her victims but Tina’s screams just hit different, it was like a beautiful song to her and she wanted to hear it forever. Ironically, Tina’s screaming was what saved her life because it made Mona do what she never did with any of her victims… she hesitated in killing her. Mona would have many lesbian thoughts about Tina since that fateful day, she often wondered how soft her hair must be and how much she yearned to smell the perfume on her body again.

☠️ Mona became completely obsessed with Tina after hearing that beautiful scream of her’s and would end up stalking her for the next two years, memorizing her schedule, occasionally stealing her belongings but she didn’t make a move on her until after watching her interview. Mona took Tina’s “once you’ve been to hell, you don’t come back” quote as a sign that Tina wanted to come back to her, like a piece of her was still with Mona since that day and she was beckoning Mona to take her back… It was the most romantic thing Mona has ever heard in her life.

☠️ Mona actually tries to make sure Tina is as comfortable as possible. She took her beautiful, bloodstained lace bedsheets with her to put over the dirty mattress she has Tina placed on, she actually cooks her food even if they don’t turn out right most of the time, she’ll cuddle up with her if she looks like she’s cold, she’ll check to see if the pretty pink collar she picked out for her isn’t too tight, she even bathes her semi-frequently.

☠️ Tina is constantly trying to fight off the warm, fuzzy feelings that Mona gives her. She doesn’t want to admit how much she melts when Mona touches her thigh, she hates how good she feels when Mona says things like “you inspire me so much” and “you’re so pretty when you cry”, she finds herself actually blushing when Mona compliments her. Every day is an inner war to stop herself from falling in love with the woman who killed everyone around her, dismembered her and now keeps her hostage in what looks and smells like a lived in sewer.

☠️ Tina hates herself for finding Mona so pretty, she’s a monster, one who killed her sister, her boyfriend and her mother, mutilated her, keeping her alive just to treat her like some kind of toy or pet… and yet she thinks her long, black hair is so pretty, her eyes so beautifully haunting, the expressions she makes when she paints those horrible portraits are strangely charming, that course yet oddly soothing voice that makes her feel a strange combo of fear and comfort. She just can’t keep Mona out of her head and she hates it.

☠️ Mona loves to doll up Tina, dressing her up in pretty outfits and doing her makeup, trying out different hairstyles, she would even do her nails if she still had hands. Tina hates this but she’s learned not to fight back, having come to fear making Mona angry and besides, every day, against her better judgement she likes Mona’s games of dress up a tiny bit more. Mona knows this too, remembering the time when Tina blushed after Mona said she had good fashion sense.

☠️ Mona and Tina surprisingly have a lot of common. They both have a major sweet tooth, they both have a love for nature even though Tina is a deer girl and flower enjoyer while Mona is a rat and bug lady who collects molds, spores and fungus, they both have artistic talent and an interest in the arts (Tina being a knitter and sewer) and they even have a shared quirk in a tendency to play around with their hair when bored or anxious.

☠️ Tina is bisexual but she’s kept her sexuality a secret from her mother since she’s a conservative christian type and she feared she wouldn’t accept her if she found out, Jack and Flora both knew however. It can be surmised that Mona is pan since she has a very “a hole is a hole” mentality when it comes to sex but she wouldn’t identify as pansexual since she doesn’t really care for labels.

☠️ Shockingly, Mona hasn’t gone too far in forcing herself upon Tina. She could easily subject her to her darkest, sexual fantasies like she has done to so many others and you better believe she’s had some real devious thoughts and yet the worst she’s done to her is groping/squeezing her breasts and thighs on a regular basis or licking her face. Tina of course is horrified and disgusted by these acts and yet… why does her face and nethers feel so warm when she does it? And why does she whimper and mew the way she does when Mona bites her neck and shoulders even when she draws blood? And why does she always kind of look forward to when Mona cuddles up to her even when she’s soaking in blood?…

☠️ Bill is VERY jealous of all the attention Tina gets from Mona and is always thinking about murdering and getting rid of her so that he can be Mona’s “favorite” again but has enough smarts left to know that he would be severely punished, maybe even killed if he did so he has no choice but to grit and bare it. His patience will always be tested when Mona talks about her while they’re out murdering like when Mona finds some kind of accessory or article of clothing and will ask Bill “do you think Tina would like this?”. Bill will scare the shit out of Tina when Mona isn’t around in a vain attempt at revenge against her.

[flippedorbit]

i’m gonna be so for real, if things don’t start changing for me in good ways i will be disappearing off the face of the earth

[floral-hex]

Hey, do you got doctors appointments you need to schedule but haven’t for whatever dumb reason (for me, laziness. probably. no no, complacency. That sounds better)? Well, go do it! Now! or soon! You need to just hurry up and schedule that shit! I’m sorry! Make the call! You gotta! You’re probably gonna have to wait multiple weeks for the appointment anyway, so if you wait until the problem is really bad, then you’re just condemning yourself to waiting extra long to get checked out. Jeez!

[thnksfrthmmrs]

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

[tonystarkstan]

there was no preparing me for how lonely post-grad life would be lmfao

[finderseeker]

@leucoratia Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk about him even more

First off, I’m glad this solution seems to be such a hit!! I just couldn’t reconcile the character WD was becoming/had become with what we know of Gaster. So this works well!!! (Despite the questions it raises meta-wise.)

*Rubs my hands together evilly* Okay SO! WD and his relationship with Grandpa here. I haven’t completely decided on anything just yet but I do have some Ideas. Some Notions if you will.

I think there’s pressure to get into the field from family, yes. But I don’t think it was necessarily negative pressure, if that makes sense. Like, I’m not sure it was the kind of thing where they would have been disapproving or upset if he chose some other career, per se. More that they didn’t even consider the possibility that he would choose anything else. Sans is a physicist, Papyrus is an engineer/mechanic/something like that, and they’re both very smart, but WD, oh, he’s the prodigy. He’s the golden child, even for all his quirks and rarities. An anxious disposition and weirdly long tail and unusual font and cracked lip aside, he’s got so much going for him!

I think that, likely, in their efforts to ensure that he didn’t feel any different than anyone else regarding disposition and physical traits/limitations, and that he knew he was ✨special✨ because he’s so smart, his parents probably made it all worse, actually. Not acknowledging that he was, in fact, different and unusual only made him feel more invisible. Which of course made him feel bad, because he was the main focus of his family’s attention. (‘How can I be unsatisfied with when I get so much attention compared to my brothers? Am I just spoiled?’)

He felt he had no time to goof around, no time to play, because he ought to be studying and learning more. ‘Why, with a mind like that, he surely takes after his grandfather in more than just font! Perhaps he will be the next Royal Scientist!’ said everyone. Which, y’know, gets to you as a kid.

While it was only ever meant to be encouraging, the pressure to live up to that was overwhelming. It’s not just that he’s named after his grandfather, it's not just an abstract sentiment for skeletons. He’s got his font. Which, apparently, suggests some other similarities. He’s always The Serious One among his brothers because they’re always goofing off (from his POV anyway) when they should be working! How can they be so lackadaisical? The fate of all monsters rests on them helping their grandfather; how can they be so relaxed just because they aren’t on the clock? Is their pay the only thing that matters to them!? They should be endeavoring to find solutions at all times!

So. Yeah. His mindset is very much shaped by the idea that it’s his responsibility to use his abilities to help others. It’s not as simple as letting his family down. What he wants has never been a factor in the equation, and so he doesn’t linger on it. The way he exists has already dictated his life course. It’s as simple as that. It’s not out of love for others— whether his family specifically or monsterkind at large— but rather out of obligation and responsibility. He does not feel a particularly strong affection towards monsters in general. (The opposite, actually.) He has never seen the surface, and frankly, with as dangerous as humans are, he doesn’t entirely understand why or agree with the idea that getting up there would be a good thing to begin with. But breaking the barrier is the goal that’s been put in front of him, and so that’s what he works towards. Along with the supposedly more achievable goal of “helping people,” despite that being an incredibly vague and nebulous concept with no real direction.

He’s got this whole complex about what he’s supposed to be. No one is actually stopping him from being anything else, but the barriers he’s erected in his own mind feel immovable. If he has all of this ability, how could he not use it? Everyone is relying on him to be as brilliant as his grandfather and carry this mantle, but no one understands the pressure he’s under. No one understands anything! Even Papyrus, who practically never sleeps, doesn’t appreciate why he can’t just “take a break.” If he doesn’t accomplish something, he will never be free from these expectations!

I think deep down that’s why he kind of idolizes sci-fi supervillains? All the intelligence, all the means, and they use it for their own interests! They are beholden to no one, only themselves, and even the “heroes” can never stop them for good. Sometimes, the villains have better motivations than the heroes, even. I think WD’s fantasy, subconscious or not, is being able to go completely off the rails and create and do something utterly selfish. He has some bizarre resentment, I think, against people in general. Maybe it’s envy, in the sense that they lack the burden he does. Maybe it’s some kind of frustration that they’re all just standing around, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for some kind of “salvation” from either the king or from them, the scientists responsible for every other quality of life. If this solution needs to be found so desperately, why is it being left to so few people!? Why aren’t study of human magic and other magical-scientific disciplines a required field in schools? Why is there not a requirement that all who are able work on this pressing issue!?

So. He’s got this buried, probably subconscious resentment. He’s always irritated because of it. It feels like he’s the only one taking this seriously, and therefore the only one who can do anything about it. Rather than be reassured that no one is forcing this on him, his perception is that because no one else will “take it seriously” (read: “work ceaselessly”), it must fall to him. He has to. Because otherwise it will always be hanging over his head.

Now. Grandpa Gaster definitely doesn’t approve of… any of this. (In general, not the supervillain thing. WD is taking that secret to the grave.) Gaster encourages him to take breaks and not work himself so hard. Unfortunately, despite his kindness and reassurance, WD only sees that as, “Look, this is so simple for him that he doesn’t even need to exert effort! He thinks I’m far more capable than I am, he must think I’m accomplishing more than I actually am. I have to work harder so that I can reach that level and live up to this.”

Yeah.

Gaster is quite caught up in his own work, and although he cares very much for his grandsons, I don’t think he’s entirely… connected with them. He doesn’t realize what WD is putting himself through, entirely. He just sees a bright, like-minded young man with a strong work ethic and a love for helping others! Even if he’s a bit prickly and perhaps embarrassed about it. But he’ll come around! Young people are so caught up in how they’re perceived by others; surely WD will mellow as he ages.

(Spoiler: he doesn’t. Or, he doesn’t really get the chance to.)

The biggest difference between them is that Gaster is doing this because he loves people and he loves his work. All his efforts are a labor of love. For monsters, for unity, for freedom, for the universe. WD is doing this because he feels that he must. He is not especially moved by love. He doesn’t gain a sense of purpose from this, he only feels burdened.

Gaster doesn’t quite… pick up on this. I think he would love to have a warm relationship with his grandsons, and prooooobably does more with Sans and Papyrus. WD, meanwhile, has so many self-inflicted mental barriers and blocks and restrictions and obligations that he’s created this artificial distance between them. It really, really doesn’t need to be this way, but unfortunately our perception shapes our reality, and the stronger a person believes something to be a certain way— that is, the less open they are to being wrong— the stronger they shape their reality. Someone like Gaster, who is open to different interpretations and understandings and so on, is more likely to see reality for what it is— but even he’s not infallible, because he is a singular person who has his own experiences and therefore his own perception. He thinks WD is just “at that age” (whatever that means) and is simply trying to prove something or is overly worried about what other people think of him, and that it will pass with time. He doesn’t understand that WD is torturing himself over pressure that isn’t even real.

He thinks it's so wonderful that WD wants to work with him and spend time with him, and oh, he's such a bright young man, he will surely accomplish so much! He's so proud of him.

WD is... not really capable of accepting love (in the form of acceptance or pride) from others right now, because I think he feels like he has yet to earn it, maybe? He's got this impossible standard he's trying to reach,* and he's depriving himself of everything until he can get there. (Which will be never.) He's miserable and it's all self-inflicted. It doesn't even need to be this way. ((He and Seeker (the character) have this in common I think…))

He does love his family. He loves his brothers and his parents (probably?) and his grandfather and his cousin(s). He loves them way more than he'd ever admit out loud. He's exasperated that none of them seem to Get It, but he's so convinced that he's the only one who's right that there's really no telling him otherwise. He doesn’t even know what he wants, only that he doesn’t have it and can’t have it. (Except, he can, of course, if he would just freaking calm down for a second.)

The funny (or sad) thing is that if he could just get past this thing he’s got in his mind, he’d be a much happier, more fulfilled person. If he weren’t busy stressing himself out and running himself ragged (and actually making his own anxiety worse in the process), he’d be a warm, conscientious person and a loving, attentive partner. As it stands, he’s Stress Response Central and essentially is slowly cutting himself off from the people who care about him, rather than rely on them. (This potentially includes Asteri, but their relationship is a whooole different post.)

If he keeps on this path, one of two things is going to happen: he’s either going to end up killing himself (or worse) by falling into the same thing that shattered Gaster in some desperate last-ditch attempt to Fix Everything; or he’s going to crack (no pun intended) under the pressure and burn out in an absolute fireball of metaphorical explosives.

And from the outcome where he doesn’t die/end up meeting a similar fate as his grandfather, there are two outcomes.

So, he’d burn himself out gifted kid style, but like several times worse. Has a complete breakdown and it resigns him to being stuck at home/in bed recovering his mental and emotional energy. But also being extremely depressed and probably rotting a little bit. And isolating even more, honestly.

The good ending would be him slowly recovering and making peace with not being The Only One Who Can Fix Everything, and maybe not even staying in the same field of work (if he can work anymore). The good ending also involves him being on good terms with Tempus again. (But that’s an entire can of worms I’m not touching here.) If he’s anything like me, it’s gonna take a few years (minimum) of rest and recovery after pushing himself that hard. I would not be surprised if he causes some permanent damage to himself (either mentally/emotionally or physically) that renders him unable to work/do what he used to.

The bad ending is that he rots in bed and wallows in depression and mourns the fact that he “wasn’t good enough” to stand up under the weight of everything and Fix It. And he just. stays like that. Isolating himself more and more, refusing to talk even to his brothers. And also Tempus still hates him. And that’s it that’s his whole life. The rest of it is spent mourning and regretting and reliving every decision that got him here, reflecting on all the things he deprived himself of in pursuit of his goal, only to fail and end up unable to have those things now that he has all the in the world. Self-deprivation of pleasure or enjoyment or rest, and for what? To break down under the weight of it all and have none of it anyway. He should have enjoyed what he was offered when he had the chance to accept it.

Anyway, as you can see I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about him (and this isn’t even all of them). I doubt that he resents his grandfather, but I do think that with the way things end up, he feels like a disappointment to him and there’s really no way to ever be assured otherwise because Gaster’s gone by that point. But I guess that’s part of the point, really: that you’ve gotta be okay with where you are so long as you’re doing what you can (to a reasonable degree), even if it disappoints other people. I think WD needs a lot of things but honestly I don’t even know how to begin to help him. He needs to go on vacation.

On an ENTIRELY unrelated note, I may have come up with a really funny (read: “stupid”) solution to the problem mentioned in the second half of the tags on this post.

Which isn’t what I wanted to focus on. I need to work on the stuff I already have going. But. It would be funny and unfortunately sometimes that’s the most compelling thing.

I will elaborate on what this possible solution is tomorrow.

[milo-is-rambling]

Me when I want to be wanted more than anything else

[whimsyprinx]

currently failing to cope with the fact that none of my friends feel like My Friend