#now only a dozen more fics to ahahahaha....

[xcerizex]

"The vacancy of your eyes is a curse."

"you drew scars, around my scars" Peter Pan took Wendy away, but he knows she doesn't belong to Neverland. "but now I'm bleeding"

(3.3k words, angst, contains spoilers for the main story, cael anselm, horrible attempt at minor fluff, how do you do tags and stuff???)

Day #36:

The morning sunlight is bright on his skin as Cael does the laundry in the garden. Flinging the bedsheets up, he then drapes them across the wire, after all the sheets need to be dried before tonight so that she can get a good night sleep. Unfortunately, she won't be able to use the spares, not when it's been torn to the point where it's unusable.

He senses her gaze on him and shifts his position so that he can watch her discreetly and see her looking at him through the glass walls of her gallery pretending to paint. Having failed subtlety, she repeats the same strokes over and over again, creating an unusual blob of blue and white. Judging from the look on her face, it seems as if she wishes to talk to him again.

The wind picks up, and the white sheets whack him in the face, covering his sight. He doesn't need his eyes to see that the girl is giggling at his predicament and he wonders how on earth she finds his suffering a source of amusement.

'If it makes her happy.'

He quickly finishes the rest of the laundry and heads inside, ready for the girl to pounce on him the moment he steps back into the house and sure enough, she approaches him as he places his shoes down on the floor.

"Are you planning on doing the groceries soon, Cael?"

She pretends as if she were simply asking him out of curiosity, but he knows better. Noticing the way her feet fidget, he smiles at her and nods his head.

"Yes, I am. I'll be here for an hour or two before I leave, so I'm not in any rush."

"Then..."

She holds up a box of new paint he had gotten for her and asks him eagerly;

"Can we paint together?"

He smiles serenely. He notices that she has started to paint less in her time here despite not having much else to do. So he agrees, it's best if she picks up the brush again, and he wants to spend some time with her anyway.

"Alright then, let's head to your gallery."

After moving a new set of blank canvas for Cael into the gallery, the both of them start to paint side-by-side, and a tranquil silence falls across them. They have never needed idle talk to feel comfortable with one another once they start painting, and in a way, Cael is glad he doesn't have to force himself to act as her guardian during these moments, where time passes like the wind.

Right now, it's just him, Cael, and the girl whose existence has made him spiral to a deep end he can't get out of.

He hears her choking on her paint water again, startling him out of his thoughts. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he hands her a clean handkerchief and a proper glass of water to clear her throat. While wiping her mouth, she wheezes a hoarse "Thank you" before finally calming down and resuming her painting. Next time, he hopes that she'll learn to separate the glass that holds her paint water, and the one that holds her drinking water at opposite ends the next time.

However, years of spending time with her has made him acutely aware of what her next course of action may be. So it doesn't surprise him when she takes the shift in mood as an opportunity to nonchalantly ask him;

"Can I...join you later? To do the groceries?"

Her voice is still slightly hoarse as she says this, and as if afraid it won't be enough to convince him, she adds;

"It's just, wouldn't it be easier if the both of us carried the load, instead of just you? I can help you and I won't stray away-"

He places his brush aside on the easel and despite placing it down as gently as he could, the sound of it rings loudly like a bell, as she immediately falls silent. Her response is like a whip to the heart, lashing and cracking an irreparable crevice and he doesn't know why. But she does not back down and stares into his eyes after his gaze finds her.

"I understand that you wish to go out. But it is dangerous." He says, making sure he speaks gently to appear as affable as possible.

"The trip to the main island is full of danger. Those who wish to capture and hurt you may take the chance to do so."

Standing up, he moves forward towards her until their faces are only a few inches apart. He feels the tremble of her breath on his mouth while he, softly, lightly, rests his fingertips on the area under her eyes.

He doesn't remember ever coming this close to her before...this, and the proximity makes him feel slightly giddy.

He feels sick.

"It is better for me to protect you here, than endanger you by letting you go outside."

He hopes to convince her by emphasizing about the possible dangers. But in their proximity, their eyes find each other and it is not he who wears the heavy stare. It is her. She gazes at him and for the first time since he's brought her here, he sees something else that is not the hue of hopelessness in her eyes that haunts both him and her even when she's smiling. It is an emotion he cannot recognize.

Acquiescing to his desires, she nods her head.

"Yes...Cael. I'm sorry to have bothered you again with this."

She excuses herself, abandoning her painting as she exits the gallery claiming she needed some alone time and he lets her go. At the moment, he has no heart to chase after her and offer comfort. The unease he feels in his chest roots him on the spot and he wonders about the way she looked at him.

There is a sinking feeling in his gut, telling him it was not his words that had convinced her.

What did she see?

He fears the answer.

You coward.

Day #122:

She has begun to hide her emotions from him now.

Placing a plate of strawberry toast on the table, Cael turns his head towards the kitchen door to find her entering the room. Her steps are slow and heavy, but retain their daintiness and mimic the footsteps of a doll.

She draws a chair back and sits down. It's early in the morning and as usual, Cael makes breakfast for her. He greets her with a practiced smile.

"Good morning, I'll be preparing some black tea shortly. The strawberry toast won't turn cold just yet, so it's fine if you want to wait until then."

She nods her head quietly and whispers "Thank you, Cael", before she starts staring out at the window.

He frowns inwardly to himself as he turns towards the teapot. Strawberry toast had always been her favourite. Knowing her, she would have long scarfed down her food regardless if the tea was ready or not.

Does he really not understand why however? He does. And yet, he stays in denial. Knowing that the moment he wakes up from this dream, it will tear him apart with no mercy. It will break him.

"!"

He hears a clatter on the floor and turns around to see that she has dropped her butter knife and now sports a cut of scarlet red. Alarmed, he rushes over to her, forgoing the most practical solution of immediately finding a bandage in favor of taking her hand in his and pressing his handkerchief to the wound. For some reason, his time here with her has eroded him of his logic and has now turned him into someone who breaks out in cold sweat over a mere injury.

"...What happened?"

But if it's her who was hurt, then it's not just a mere injury to him. That was enough to send him into a frenzy. He looks up at her face hoping she'd answer him already but freezes.

When humans feel pain, it is common for them to react in kind. Be it a shift in facial expression or an outburst of sound.

But looking into her face, he finds nothing. Sees nothing. Blank eyes stare back at him expressing nothing and everything.

Regardless of her time here, she should still be susceptible to the average human response towards an injury. Simply put;

She does not want to share her pain with him.

She is fearful of you.

Cold silence fills the room and Cael thinks about the time they've spent painting in the gallery together, silently sharing their feelings amidst the soundless interactions. He bites his bottom lip before standing up and walking towards the cupboard containing bandages.

"...I dropped my knife on accident. It won't happen again, Cael."

"..."

"Cael?"

There is a tinge of worry in her voice.

He finds a box of plasters hidden in the corner of the cupboard and grabs it with unnecessary force before returning to her.

Will saying her name right now scare her more than reassure her?

Bending down, he starts applying a small bandage to her cut.

"Please..." he murmurs.

He has no right to feel afraid of her reaction. He was the one that turned her into this after all.

But he still keeps his head down. Refuses to look at her vacant face once more even as he continues speaking.

"...please be more careful."

Maybe he could still have her like this.

"I will, Cael. So..."

She cups his face with her hands, with a touch softer than he could ever hope to mimic with ones as bloodstained as his own, and holds his face up to look at him properly.

She smiles the best she can. It's hollow like all the rest before, but it is kind. The way she always is towards him even now.

"...don't worry."

"..."

"If seeing me hurt makes you this upset, it won't happen again."

Like the ghost of a whisper, he hears the silent continuation of her words;

I just don't have to show it.

While most birds avoid human abodes, a little one enters through an open window in search of food. Sensing no predators around, it jumps inside.

Day #???:

She has decided to completely lock herself in her room. Only occasionally coming out for meals when she feels like it, or to go to the gallery and stare at the open sky.

And Cael...

Cael doesn't know what to do anymore.

He tries his best to coax her, of course. Offers her new paints, albums featuring her favourite singers, and cooks the different types of food she would always ask him to make back when he took care of her when her mother died.

But she is not the young child who once poured dish soap into the washing machine anymore. She has grown and matured. Saw his wrongs, and the monster he is. None of his efforts will work on her anymore. She is a grown women, not a teenager.

Initially, he thought that he would be able to keep her here despite the fact she had the capability to leave and thought so long as he sheltered her from the outside world and took her away to Neverland, she could still find happiness and comfort in this small bubble he's built for her.

But he never thought that...this would become something he couldn't fix. He thought he could fix anything.

"...It's time for lunch."

Knocking on her door, he hopes that the allure of the pasta he holds in his hands will be enough to bring her out of her room. But minutes pass and once again he has no choice but to resign himself to the fact that she won't be coming out of her room today either. Still, it's not good for her to continuously skip meals. She may die of malnutrition if she doesn't eat properly.

The very thought makes him shudder with fear and he has to hold himself back from pleading with her again like the last time. The plate in his hand trembles with his slight movements however, and he has to straighten himself properly lest her food falls down on to the floor.

He recalls the time he offered her a handmade pastry, something that he thought she would have jumped at eagerly even with her current state, in an attempt to pry her out of her room. But it had been days since she'd last eaten and desperation had gotten the better of him.

He still remembers everything with clarity.

With his head hanging down and his hair unfurling limply from his shoulders, the pastry he held on a plate fell to the floor with a loud clatter, with his hands having lost their strength for some unknown reason. When did he lose control of his own body? But what he does know is that his whole being feels hollow. And for the first time in days, she finally opens her door. Aggressively so. A loud bang resounds across the house as she slams it open and such a violent outburst makes him raise his head in surprise and he finds her staring down at him with her vacant eyes and the features of her face having twisted with worry again.

He feels a knife twisting in his chest. He thinks it might kill him.

But he ignores the pain, ignores the impulse to plunge his hand into his chest and physically rip out that lump of pain, and uses his hands instead to embrace her.

It is sudden and quick, startling her. But she slowly relaxes in his trembling hold and moves her hands to pat his back awkwardly.

"Cael?"

"..."

Again, he finds himself unable to respond to her. She continues talking.

"I'll come down to eat, alright? I'm sorry I made you worry."

Pulling back, she faces him and gives him what should have been a smile of assurance to put him at ease. But he knows that stretching the corners of the mouth does not make a real smile. He does not love that smile.

The worse part is? He still finds her so, so lovely.

"It won't happen again."

She tries to voice it confidently, to be sincere about it, because she knows that will be the only way to convince him. And just for a split second, he sees the ghost of her, smiling back up at him in exuberant joy, and watches it all melt away to bones like a burning candle in the same second.

How many times has he heard her say that?

How many times will her make her say that?

He's grown nauseous of it.

She stayed true to her word, for the next few weeks only anyway, having retreated back into her habit once more to Cael's misery.

Placing the plate in front of her door, he can only hope that she would come out of her own accord today. While he knows that he could simply convince her to come out of her room the way he did last time...

The thought of doing so makes him shudder with disgust. Knowing that he can affect her like that to such a disturbing degree, gives him an itch he can't scratch off no matter how hard he tries. He hides it from himself well, but his palms still carry the faint scars of a history of digging his nails too deep into his hands whenever that suffocating feeling comes back to haunt him.

He flexes his hands, to make sure he's not unconsciously doing it again.

He did.

Still, at least he's not bleeding this time. Marks as red as it could be, but not bleeding.

She bled.

Sighing, he accepts the fact she won't be leaving her room anytime soon and makes his way downstairs. He hears each and every step he takes a little too clearly, something that he has become accustomed to ever since she has stopped talking regularly. Or rather, ever since she came here. There was a time where being in the same space as her would bring a variety of noises, ranging from her loud caterwauling after having stubbed her toe, the sound of her footsteps banging against the floor as she runs across the house, or just....the sound of her being there.

And she was always there. She used to always be there.

He reaches the living room and a quick glance to the right brings the door of her gallery into view. Cael hesitates for a second, and another two, before making his way towards it. He doesn't know why, he could never understand his own impulses, but he's given up on trying to control them.

The door creaks open, an evidence of a long time gone by since it was installed, and Cael walks into the space of her gallery. Despite her no longer using it frequently, he made sure to keep the entire room clean. Dust is an annoying irritant, and something that would have disturbed her by constantly triggering her allergies, disrupting her focus as she painted.

He sees a canvas lying upright on the easel close by the windows, and the blue, white blob she had painted a while ago has now transformed into something else. He inches his way towards it after deciding to take a closer look, and feels a foreboding sense of trepidation for some unknown reason. Having always left her alone when she painted, he has never once seen the results of this one creative endeavour and wonders what sort of painting could she have possibly produced in this life of stagnation, where true inspiration has become a corpse.

Closing in, his eyes land on the painting...

And he sees himself.

He is standing on the coastline of Harp Island's beach as the waves rock back and forth against the rocks. By perfectly capturing the melancholy of the ocean, and coupled with the expression she drew on his portrait, the somber and gentle colours give off a hue of loneliness as he stares out towards the sky as if he were waiting for someone. And he...

He thinks he may die from the pain in his chest.

He grasps the area over his heart while gasping, as his ears ring from the words that bore down on him like cursed chants;

It's because of you.

She stays here because of you.

Wendy choose to stay with Peter Pan.

So that was what she saw.

You are lonely without her.

"I see."

You must let her go.

"I know that now."

Again and again, the whispers torment him with the truth, but he answers all of them with a mind clearer than ever before. There is no hesitation in his answers, only impatience.

Simply answering won't do after all, he must act on it.

Still, the entire ordeal leaves his mind in a frenzy and by the time he comes to his senses, Cael isn't sure just how much time has passed. He looks up at the painting again to see that the moon has risen, with it's benevolent light illuminating the gallery and the portrait.

He thought that her painting would have been a reflection of vacancy, but instead what he finds is the secret he has been denying for so long.

His heart still hurts, but looking at the lonely portrait before him, he finds that the hazy edges of his vision has cleared, and sees the consequences of his actions as clear as day. Similar to how one would clean the fog from their glasses.

Cael laughs bitterly to himself and clenches his fists as he stands up.

"This cannot go on."

If he lets her go now and admits his forbidden feelings, he may break.

But perhaps, he would rather be broken if it meant she could be fixed.

He makes up his mind.

"To Godheim it is."

[xxsycamore]

SINFUL DESIRES

╰┈➤ 🖤 You have a hard time relaxing on your spontaneous overnight trip with Victor, so he wastes no time showing you he has tons of fun in store for the two of you…

Victor x f!Reader; • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Overnight Trips; Crimes & Criminals; Mentions of Dungeons; Baking Together; Jealousy; Humor; Competition; Kissing; Biting; Mentions of Knife play; Kitchen Sex; Oral Sex; Cunnilingus; Gentle Sex; Embarrassment; Hair-pulling; Hair Kink; Hand Kink; Finger Sucking; Table Sex; Victor briefly makes reader imagine a dangerous situation; Creampie; Post-sex cuddles; Aftercare • wordcount: 3,842 • masterlist

a/n: Here's my fic for the Ikemen Villains Gift Exchange hosted by @aquagirl1978 ! My giftee was @konekotaichou - I'll let you know I had the widest smile on my face finding out I'll be writing for you. I see your name often under my fics so that's just one way of saying thank you for the support~ Hope you enjoy! <3

"We're hoooooome!"

You should be used to the loud exclamations of your dear Victor by now, but there are still some occasions where you can't help but jump at the sheer volume of them. No, no, you have a very valid reason for your reaction right now! It's because you're still linking arms with him - you have been doing so ever since setting a foot out of the carriage - and this close up, his cheerful greetings directed at no one in particular are even louder.

But it's also because this is not your home at all. It's the vacant ex-base of some criminal group, the estate now seized by Her Majesty.

"Victor… are you sure this is a suitable destination for an overnight trip…? What if there's a dungeon right under our feet filled with—"

"Worry not, my darling! Even if there was such a thing here, right now it would be nothing more than just another empty room with no other purpose but to make things a little more thrilling while we walk above. But you haven't come here before on a mission, have you? I'll let you know - there's nothing like a dungeon in this building!"

Victor's words are very reassuring, if only there weren't another dozen adjacent possibilities to utilize a base that you want to ask about. Whatever. Even on the off-chance that someone was lurking inside the shadows of the place, Victor's noisy and nonchalant barging in has surely scared them way more than it scared you.

Your beautiful Grim Reaper makes himself busy lighting candles left and right, making the place more livable, even if just for the short duration of your trip. It all happened so spontaneously. Just earlier in the day, you mentioned how nice it would be to go somewhere for a change, just the two of you, and in the next moment Victor swept you right off your feet and declared that it's been decided. Being an Aide of the Queen definitely comes with its perks, you just weren't aware that borrowing one of the numerous properties of her Majesty was one of them. He's been very convincing at telling you not to sweat over the details and enjoy the impromptu trip, painting picture after picture with his words earlier while in the carriage, of all the nice sights to be seen around the estate… Though, that would be left for the next day. Right now it's only you and Victor and the empty halls that he's trying to fill with his exuberant presence.

"May I have your attention?"

While distracted with your own thoughts, Victor has entered another room so you hurry to follow his voice to what seems like the kitchen. As if waiting for a spotlight to land on him, Victor's smile widens upon finding your gaze on him. He opens his jacket to reveal…

"Are we going to bake?!"

At least it's not doves taking flight or anything else alive, but that doesn't make the contents of his inner pockets less bewildering as he takes the items out on the counter one by one.

"Ahahahaha! Are you surprised? I came here prepared! I've brought flour, milk, sugar, and butter! Yaay!"

"Scones?!"

"Scones!"

Of course it's scones. But what compels him to enter another's home and bake scones?

Your chemistry must be very good because the look on your face is always enough for Victor to read your mind. Sadly, you can't say the same about the numerous shades of a grin that typically occupy his features, but you're still learning.

"You see, I was thinking of allll the exciting ways to use our privacy, now that we're here. And there's always been one thing I've wanted you to indulge in without limits…"

Victor's eyes shine with a strange light, and you find yourself sinking into their alluring amethyst waters until the meaning behind his words gets all twisted and tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Heat creeps up to your cheeks.

"Like what?..."

"Like stuffing yourself full of scones, of course! As much as I loooove my dear fellow Crown members, these just disappear awfully quickly when they're around!"

Ah, true.

You fight the urge to shake your head and with that shoo away any other unwelcome thoughts like the one you just had. Victor, now stripped down to his black dress shirt, does the next step of preparing himself for the self-appointed task and gathers his long, luxurious dark hair into a ponytail. It's your cue to do some prep of your own, and by habit, you look around for an apron… But of course there'd be no extras like an apron here, the people who used to live in that place were criminals! The mental image of them using the kitchen as intended is somehow comical and it definitely distracts you from the eerie energy gathering around the place. Admittedly, Victor does a great job at it as well, you remind yourself as you sneak a peek of him with a hair ribbon in his mouth - a rare instance of him being quiet, due to the obstacle preventing him from speaking. The giggle finally falls from your lips, and you realize you're having a good time here.

"Oh? Did something funny happen?"

"No, I'm just excited to share this moment of privacy with you. Though, Victor, I can't help but worry a little… Would the others be alright without you? What if they get into a fight with each other… I'm sure William is going to miss you too, you barely warned anyone about us leaving so abruptly! And besides—"

Before the name of another Crown member could fall from your lips, a tall figure towers over you; a pair of hands grab your shoulders and turn you around with the gentleness of a courting dance step. Your rear presses into the counter, and you realize Victor has trapped you in between it and his body. The smile is still on his face, but it's not a grin - it's something lighter, a tad more modest.

"You talk about being excited to have privacy with me, but you're thinking about other men, my little robin? Tsk, tsk, tsk…"

The clicking of his tongue lacks the usual eccentricity that he dresses his manners with. It sounds more threatening than anything, even if you know better than to feel intimidated by the slight change in his tone. It's something else that catches your attention, the tang of jealousy where you least expected to find it. It truly wasn’t your intention, and you probably should find your words and speak up-

"Not that I could blame you. I think about my boys too, haha! But tonight, will you let it be just the two of us?"

His gaze softens, and you can breathe again. The lungful of air is enough to make your chest expand and touch Victor's front, and you realize how tightly he's pressing you into him with his current proximity. It doesn't last long, because Victor steps away the very next second.

"Why don't we play a little game while we're here? There's always room for more fun to be had and I just thought of the perfect thing in our current arrangement."

You remain backed against the counter, just for the sake of the support you didn’t know you needed in the first place. "What kind of game?"

"There are quite a few drawers and cabinets around here, and we have to retrieve all utensils needed for preparing our scones… We will search for each one of them on our own, but whoever finds it first wins one wish to be granted by the other. How does that sound to you?"

Now, this is unexpected. Even though your partner always has a few tricks up his sleeve to spice things up between the two of you, he's still astonishing you with his ideas. You think about it for a second. If you take his word for granted, he must be as unfamiliar with the terrain as you are, putting you on equal grounds for this little game. Besides, you might have a wish ready for him - something small and intimate and fitting for the purpose of utilizing the privacy you just talked about.

"Okay, let's do this! Bring it on! What do we need first?"

Victor finishes starting the coal oven in no time before readying himself for the search and announcing, "A bowl, of course!"

You give each other a brief competitive look before going into opposite directions of the cabinet-lined space, hands reaching out in a rush. Victor uses his height advantage to check the upper shelves first, while you aim for one that is near the sink.

Bingo.

"Here, a bowl!"

Blinking in yet-realized defeat, Victor stares at your triumphant face and then chuckles in his usual tone.

"My, aren't you quick! You better start thinking of a wish, I'm afraid we're having a limited time for goofing around!"

Oh, you're not going to waste any more of it. Or at least no more than enough for the duration of one longed-for kiss.

Victor's expression goes through another change when you pull him down by the collar, and you close your eyes to let it linger in your mind when his lips crash down into yours. You savor them slowly, risking the intended innocence for the sake of enjoying him just a little longer. Soon he's out of breath, and it comes out in the form of a moan - and instead of letting go, it makes you want to kiss him breathless for a little longer. So you do. Because he's so irresistible when he lets you take the lead, when he stays still and pretends to be caught off-guard and lets you have him. He must have held back just for that - else he'd kiss you as soon as setting foot inside the house, he can't fool you that he wasn't awaiting this moment as much as you did.

His jealousy-tinted remark earlier, and this little game… they tell you he might have waited for you to make the first step and show him how much you missed his kisses, his embrace. It doesn't tarnish your victory one bit, for it is still your victory as long as you get what you want.

Victor hisses into the kiss as you realize you got a little too lost in it and bit his lower lip. You withdraw, drawing a breath of your own that you didn’t know you needed this much, but not without placing an apologetic little peck over his lip. The distance between you grows a bit more and looking him in the eye suddenly robs you of the courage you just demonstrated. Even if his cheeks are noticeably tinted pink by the endeavour.

"Next, we'll need a knife."

Your imagination fills with corset ties cut by a sharp blade and garter belts following them, and you fail to consider the task at hand, involuntarily giving Victor an advantage. It only takes two or maybe three drawers for him to find where the cutlery is stored, and he turns back to face you with the glint of a silvery surface catching abundant candlelight.

"First."

Victor gains himself the right to a wish, and you know you'll do anything he says at that moment. He's still carrying a small smile on his face, without showing teeth, just menacing enough to pin you to the counter from a distance. He still prefers the more hands-on approach, and so he takes those few steps to where you're standing, knife still in hand.

He tosses it somewhere on the counter and it lacks the decorum otherwise accompanying his every action. Instead, the hands that crawl all over you are warm and gentle, nothing like the cold blade of a knife. They don’t cut through clothing, but rather make it fall undone in a slower, more lascavious manner.

"Let's take this off…"

To think you were worried about putting on an apron earlier… Victor leaves you down to your underwear, and the last bits of your patience have crumbled to dust by the time he noses your exposed neck. You press yourself more into him, embarrassed at the mewling sounds that fall from your parted lips every time he kisses or sucks at the sensitive skin. He always makes sure to love you throughoutly, no matter how starved he might seem - the gleam in his eyes might trick you into thinking him a beast, but his actions always prove the opposite. His hands run all over your body, grasping and caressing where you want him most, but it's only when he puts you on top of the counter that he strips you down completely in order to please you properly.

He parts your legs with his big sturdy hands, and the trademark chuckle reaches your ears again.

"Ahahaha! Aren't you a dirty girl, getting wet so easily for me? When did that happen? When you kissed me so passionately, or perhaps even earlier? Could it be as soon as we got here?"

Moving to close your legs proves to be futile as Victor's grasp on them prevents you from doing so. There's no point in hiding the obvious, so even with your head turned to the side, you give him an answer.

"I don't know what's gotten into me, I just… I need you, Victor."

"Hmmm…" Victor hums and the sound vibrates low in his throat, "I believe it was my turn to have my wish granted, no?"

You squeeze your eyes shut when his fingertips dance on your belly, making their way down lower and lower.

"And what do you- wish for?" You ask between breaths, trying not to just grab his hand and place it directly where you want it.

Victor looks at you and smiles. "Why, to make you relax of course! Now, if you'd be so kind to let me…"

Unceremoniously, Victor leans down and buries his face between your legs, sending your senses to overdrive with a single sweep of his wicked tongue right across your swollen nub. You groan out his name, but it comes out meekly, troubled by the imaginary danger of someone overhearing you. Even through the fog of immense pleasure coming from Victor's newly-set steady pace, you remind yourself that this shouldn't be the case now - but you still can't let your voice out. It doesn't take long for Victor to notice, and he interrupts his actions to look at you.

"My dear, I need you to tell me how good I'm making you feel."

His gentle voice coaxing the sounds out of you is contrasting with his actions as he shows no mercy on your hot center, making your juices seep out and coat his tongue as he drinks them down hungrily. Victor is a great lover, able to send your head in the clouds with ease, ready to pleasure you for hours on as long as you're able to take more.

You keep your hand in front of your mouth but make sure it doesn't block out the noise, your fingers grazing into the skin of your knuckle just for the sheer need of finding an anchor in this whirlwind of pleasure. You can't stop looking down at Victor, his beautiful long lashes, the slight blush on his smooth cheeks…

"V-Victor- Nhhh, Victor~!" The sound of your own voice embarrasses you as you're not used to hearing it out loud, wanton and obscene like that, and you curl the last syllable into something meeker, softer. It makes him chuckle.

"If that's too much for you, you know how to make me stop." He sing-songs, even if it does little to hide the desire rasping his voice. It awakens a new need inside you, now that you're bare and exposed and things are so unfair - from this angle you don't have a chance of spotting his own arousal and you have to know you're not alone in this uncontrollable desire, heightened by the thrill of the unknown place you found yourself at. It's this that convinces you to make him let go instead of grinding down on his tongue until you find your peak.

Bitting on your bottom lip, you reach out a hand to perform the familiar gesture as Victor laps at you again and again. Your hesitation grants you a bolt of pleasure that drives you dangerously close to the edge, and it's all you need to finally reach for his ponytail and yank him off of you.

"Ahh…" Victor moans at the sensation, knowing fully well he was the one who asked for it and still falling prey to the tantalizing act he loves so much. He straightens himself back up and his lips are glistening with your liquid arousal, so you can't help tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, caressing over the beauty mark. He takes the initiative and kisses you on the spot.

His sweet kiss serves only to distract as Victor makes a quick work of unfastening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Warm arms wrap around your middle and in answer your snake yours around his neck, whining at the sensation of his diamond-hard cock pressing against your folds so close to where you need it. But Victor doesn't take you just yet, because his strong arms carry you to the table instead.

Your back meets the wooden surface and your legs are spread apart at the knees by a pair of large hands as Victor looks down at you, open and dripping and ready for him. His smile never leaves his face as you sense him giving himself a couple of pumps before aiming for your aching hole.

"Remember to scream my name loudly!"

Victor's sizeable hardness is gradually stuffed inside your tight hole as you find yourself doing anything to prevent his kind request.

"Ahh—"

One of his hands comes to brush yours away but instead you take a strong hold of it, almost enough to bruise him with little crescents left by your nails, in an attempt to keep it over your mouth. As Victor takes his time getting you used to his cock, you put his index finger in your mouth, looking him in the eye as you both test the limits of your patience.

"Be careful now, I don't want you choking on that when I start loving you in the earnest!"

The promise of what is to come sends a shiver down your spine as your mouth is left agape even after the loss of his finger.

"Nhhhh- Victor!" You shout his name as he suddenly picks up the speed, fucking you onto the table and holding you securely into place. You toss your head back and stare at the ceiling, unable to catch your breath as the head of his cock repeatedly prods at your deepest parts.

"My, aren't you starting to relax at long last!" Victor exclaims between heavy breaths, not being one to hide his own sounds of arousal, "Being fucked on the table where such dangerous men used to sit, plotting their next crime…"

Your eyes snap open, insides clenching tightly around Victor's cock, a mere instinct and nothing you have control over. The words sink in, even if you're mostly unable to think straight with your current circumstances. Your brain, high on pleasure hormones, gets creative against your will, until you can almost see playing cards being passed around on the table right where you lay bare; drunken shouts and crude remarks birthing shrill laughter and cigarette smoke dancing in the air to leech thickly onto the curtains.

Your body convulses, but it only serves to shake away the unpleasant visual as it all dissipates like a fog around you until only Victor remains. It makes you want to scream his name louder, to feel his presence domineering over every silly thought in your head. Perhaps it was his plan all along. It's so easy to lower your guard around Victor, around Victor's hearty laugher, around Victor's ever-smiling eyes-

"Nhnnn— Ahhh!! More, give me more!"

You lock your legs around Victor, and the hand reaching out to his shoulder quickly gets naughtier as you tug at the ribbon holding his hair together. Long strands cascade down and frame his form, the ends of it pooling just over your belly and tickling you softly in a very familiar manner - you can't help but miss the dark veil of his hair falling over you every time he's taking you from the front like that. It also makes it easier to tug down on it and make him groan.

"Ahh— You're too naughty, aren't you?"

You can't help it, feeling your climax approaching, wanting to drag Victor into that pit along with you. You chant his name as you care little about letting your voice out anymore, focusing only on the man in front of you and how badly you need to feel him erupt inside you. Your legs locked around his torso prevent him any escape that you know he won't look for anyway, because he only fucks you harder and faster, losing all demure and rhythm as he moans your name in return.

"I'm coming—"

His warning sends you over the edge as hot-white takes over your vision, nerves sparkling with pure pleasure all over as your whole body tremors in copious amounts of ecstasy upon feeling Victor join you suit, his come painting your insides spurt after spurt. He keeps fucking you through it all, half-broken I love you's whispered among other not-so-sweet things that still somehow keep his gentleman persona intact when combined with the soft caresses he places over the small of your back, your body arched and unnoticeably raised from the table to meet his thrusts. He lays you back down carefully, but your arms are still held out and inviting for another embrace, a freshly fucked-out but pouty look on your face to match.

"Hahaha. I'm not going anywhere, cute little robin!"

Still catching your breath, you press clumsy kisses all over his cheeks as he hugs you, and he does the same.

"Victor, that felt…somehow sinful."

"But so good?"

You hum out a sound of agreement, and he giggles in your neck like a naughty child. The peace doesn't last for long, because his next whisper alerts your senses anew.

"What about making something even more sinful now?"

You ask with hesitation and just a tad of curiosity in the mix.

"Like what?"

Victor grins, withdrawing so you can clearly see his closed-eye grin.

"Like adding some eeeeextra butter to those scones! It could be our dirty secret!"

Oh. Your heart should be signaled to calm down now, but the truth is, this is one thing you can't pretend to be a saint about, not when your mouth waters at his words. There's little left to do than to answer your partner in a fashion that matches his antics.

"Yaaaay!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @justpeachyteastea Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[ettawritesnstudies]

notebook, wip, personal (writing ask game)

I am so sorry in advance this got really long

notebook ; how many notebooks do you have? do you write in them?

ahahahaha this is a loaded question. I have at least 8 notebooks that I either actively use or plan to use once I finish the current ones, and dozens of those cheap free notebooks that you get at events just sitting in a box for writing down quick random notes that I don't want in one of the others, if you know what I mean? Just memo logs.I also have several notebooks for lab, engineering projects, and school notes but those don't count. Out of the Real Notebook Stash I have:

Weathered Leatherbound with a strap to close it that I started using as a diary in 2020 and quit when The Apocalypse happened. I've restarted it as my session notes for DnD because I'm in 5 campaigns and have the memory of a goldfish and it fits the vibes

Falling apart dot-page journal from Walmart that I use as my daily habit tracker/diary/bujo/scheduler and take everywhere

Two sketchbooks: one for messy sketches that lives in my bookbag and one big one with better paper that I use for my marker illustrations

Prayer journal that was a Christmas gift from my friend - it's not a devotional with certain Bible verses but each page has a place to write your fears and prayer intentions and what you're thankful for, so it's more guided which I like. I listen to the daily liturgical readings from USCCB or the chronological Bible in A Year podcast from Ascension every day and use it for Lectio Divina. So I'll write reflections on the reading and how it ties to what's going on in my life at the moment. Diary 2.0

Two leatherbound noteboks embossed with trees and flowers that have metal latches I love dearly and haven't started yet, one was a gift from my best friend and the other was a gift from my boyfriend. They will likely become either more dnd notes once I finish the other leatherbound, or a character journal for Madelyn. In Laoche, she keeps a spellbook that becomes kind of her lifeline, and I think it will be cool to fill a notebook with entries from her perspective, worldbuilding notes on the places she travels, scrapbooked with cool things I find, etc. So it will be used I'm just not working on it right now.

My bookbag is so heavy it's becoming a problem

wip ; talk about one work that you've recently started/just started!

I think my most recent are "Space Dragons!!!" aka WorldWanderers, which is exactly what it says on the tin. There isn't a WIP Intro yet because I don't have a set plot yet, but there's a masterlist of mostly worldbuilding rambles here.

I also recently came up with a fantasy story where the magic system is entirely based around textile arts and lying/storytelling. It's set in an ancient/prehistory setting where gods and spirits walk among humans and features a matriarchal society, but it only exists in a discord ramble with the ever-patient @siarven at the moment.

personal ; is there anything that you always try to add to your writing? like a message or moral? anything that you like to read, so you write it yourself?

Family and religion are both really important to me so my work always has Catholic themes in it, though hopefully they're still appealing to a secular audience. I write them without the "christian fic" label because I don't like that, but the morals are there if you put on the apologetics glasses lol.

Thanks for the ask!

[cheekybarnes]

Saudade (Peter Parker x reader) -INFINITY WAR SPOILERS

A/N: INFINTY WAR SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!!! This is one of two infinity war Peter Parker x reader fics I am writing! Infinity war broke me and I have way too many ideas swimming in my head to write about ahahaha I'm still crying. This one broke my fucking heart. If you want to be tagged in my future work, let me know and send in requests if you have any!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader (with some Tony Stark)

Warnings: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS BELOW “READ MORE”, angst, crying, character death and all around sadness and grief ahahahaha I hate myself. This also isn’t edited!

Word Count: 3,630

Prompt: You wait for your best friend Peter to come back after heading towards a spaceship in the sky while on a field trip so you can tell him how you really feel.

Three days.

It had been three days since you were on that field trip bus, three days since that god-awful donut shaped spaceship popped up in the sky and three days since you and Ned distracted the rest of the students while your best friend Peter webslinged his way into danger without a second thought. Three days since the moment you didn’t realize would be the last time you’d get the chance to tell him how you really felt.

Three days… and he hadn’t come back.

You were currently sat in front of you and your mother’s television, grazing over every single video or image that was displayed on the news, looking for any visual of red or anything that indicated that Spiderman was still out there. That Peter was still out there.

You had met Peter about two years ago in your sophomore years when you were assigned his lab partner as a new student. The way he fumbled over his words trying to introduce himself to you immediately captivated your attention and by the time the class was over, you two had accomplished nothing but talking and goofing off the whole time, despite both of your love of science.

Never in your life had you come so close to someone so quickly, and even Ned, someone who you were nervous to meet from the get-go because he was Peter’s best friend. He could’ve hated you on the spot just because he didn’t want you to take Peter away from him.

But, god, you were so wrong; Ned absolutely adored you.

From the time you had socked Flash in the face for being a dick, leaving his nose, and ego, broken, Ned was convinced you were a total badass. Peter agreed but in a much more fidgety-manner, not wanting to say anything that would offend you in fear that you wouldn’t want to be around him. But that’s one thing that really made you come close to him, granted you were too oblivious to the true reason of his usual nervousness around you - he thought you were drop dead gorgeous.

It wasn’t until a few weeks after talking to Peter in class and hanging out with him and Ned during lunch did they come sauntering over to your locker one day after school. Ned had elbowed Peter in the stomach after you flashed them a big smile. Peter awkwardly stood in front of you and went on to flounder his words into asking if you wanted to join the two of them to study for an upcoming Spanish quiz at Peter’s place.

You had cut him off mid-fumble and said that you would love to join and Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and flashed you the most genuine smile. That goddamn smile that you absolutely fell in love with.

After that, you hung out every single week, whether it was studying, playing video games, sometimes including Ned, watching movies and him comforting you after your parents went through a divorce. It wasn’t until Peter had insisted that you stay the night at his and Aunt May’s place on a spare bed while your mother dealt with lawyers 24/7 and it wasn’t until he allowed you to let all your emotions out and him hug you, apprehensive at first, while tears spilled out of your eyes, that you realized you truly had a huge crush on Peter Parker.

And you had no idea that he was Spiderman. That is, until Ned accidentally spilled the beans.

You knew about the ‘Stark Internship’ but you also knew that there was a lot that Peter wasn’t telling you about but you just figured that some of it must be classified. But once the cat was out of the bag that Peter was Spiderman, everything made so much more sense. That didn’t mean that you believed it when you first found out though, in the moment, your first instinct was to burst out laughing.

Peter laughed nervously at your reaction, hoping that you would just play it off but Ned just stared at you with furrowed brows. After a few moments you faltered and asked if he was being serious and their only response was to glance at each other because they didn’t know what to say, which sealed the deal to your question.

The rest of the night, after Ned had left, Peter sat down with you and explained everything. He told you about the spider-bite, his powers, the “real Stark internship, the Avengers fight, Tony’s spider-suit, Vulture, everything.

You just sat there with your eyes wide and your mind racing to try and process everything that Peter was telling you. You couldn’t believe that the person you were closest to was freakin’ Spiderman. But it also scared you as he told you about all the fighting he did without you even knowing, the real reasons as to why he had to cancel hangouts or the times when he was absent in school.

After he finished speaking, the only thing you could muster out was a quiet, “You could’ve died, Peter.”

Peter pressed his lips together and nodded his head, looking towards the ground as the two of you sat there in silence for a few minutes before you composed yourself and asked a question,

“So… Do you lay eggs?”

“What? God - no! That’s gross, Ned asked me that same thing!”

You didn’t realize your shoulders were shaking until you felt a hand steady one of them. Your head jerked to the side to see your mother standing there, her lips pressed together and her face full of worry.

“I’m sure everything’s going to be fine, sweetie.” She said in a comforting manner, though you didn’t feel very comforted.

You forced a smile at her and shrugged her hand off your shoulder, standing up from the couch and mumbling, “I need to go get some homework done… you know, if we still have school after all this.” And you sauntered out of the living room, down the hallway and into your bedroom.

Closing the door behind you, you rested your back against it and ran a hand through your hair. You refused to think of the worst-case scenarios that kept barging through your mind, you didn’t want to believe them.

Shaking your head, you walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, pulling your cell phone out of your pocket. You had already tried to phone Peter dozens of times but there was never an answer, which immensely worried you. It had never been longer than a day where he wasn’t able to get back to you. But, recently, Peter had given you one number to use for emergencies:

Tony Stark.

You stared at your phone screen for a few minutes before pressing the call button, this classified as an emergency, right? You had no doubt in your mind that Stark had some sort of clue to where Peter was. If anything, he should be with Stark right now with everything that was going on.

The phone rang and rang, until it beeped at you to leave a message. To be honest, you hadn’t expected an answer, but at least maybe he would see the message and call you back.

You fumbled over your words as you spoke into the phone, “Hey, Mr. Stark. Uh, This is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m a friend of Peter Parker’s and he gave me this, or, your number in case of an emergency. I know he went up to that spaceship, and I just, I haven’t heard from him in a few days and… I just need to know he’s ok. Please call me back, thank you.”

Seven days.

It had been seven days since you were on that field trip bus, seven days since that god-awful donut shaped spaceship popped up in the sky, seven days since you and Ned distracted the rest of the students while your best friend Peter webslinged his way into danger without a second thought. Seven days since the moment you didn’t realize would be the last time you’d get the chance to tell him how you really felt.

Seven days… and he hadn’t come back.

And you had yet to receive a call back from Tony Stark.

As you were walking back to you and your mother’s apartment, you hastily pressed end call on your cell phone and re-situated the two bags of groceries over your shoulder. You had just ended your call with Ned which was nothing but unanswered questions and concerns. He hadn’t heard from Peter at all either and voiced his terrifying concerns that matched your own. At this point, your mind was trying to wrap your head around the possibility of Peter never coming back.

You breathed out a shaky sigh as you picked up your pace on the sidewalk next to the busy road. You were uneasy walking around outside with everything that has and still is happening and were surprised so many people were bustling around - then again, they could be trying to escape the city, not that it would make a difference.

Your mind wandered as you walked down the streets, in the past, you were never fond of Tony Stark. You didn’t really know why but you just always had this lingering feeling that he was always linked to disaster, and when Peter had told you about the suit Stark had built for him, you were completely taken aback. Peter was so excited about it that you mostly played along. But, you had a voice in the back of your head convincing you that Stark was pushing Peter further into danger. And he was just a kid, he was your best friend and you couldn’t fathom him ever getting hurt.

Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted when car horns erupted throughout the street and you gasped as a van came barreling towards you with no indication of slowing down. You jumped backwards and to the side, flying to the ground in the process and likely breaking the eggs in your grocery bag as the vehicle crashed straight into the brick wall you just walked past.

You scrambled on the ground to stand up, and what you saw completely baffled you. There was no one in the driver's seat.

“What the hell?” You muttered as you circled around, watching people scream and run away from something you couldn’t put your finger on what quiet yet. Most of the cars were stopped, many of them had rear-ended others and crashed up on the sidewalk. You stepped further away from the vehicle that had almost hit you and turned around the corner. What you saw, made you think you were in the middle of a nightmare.

You almost ran straight into a man and in turn, it caused you to put your hands in front of you to keep the man from falling straight into you. But as soon as your hands touched his shoulder, his shirt and skin crumbled away.

You drew in a breath sharply and lurched away from the man, letting him fall to the ground as you stood there with terror written all over your face. The man rolled over onto his back and lifted his hands up to his face as they disintegrated into thin air. He looked up at you with fear in his eyes as the rest of his body began to disappear.

“Please help m-”  He spoke to you until you watched his face fragment and then disappear.

You were frozen in place but quickly jerked out of your trance when someone shoved there way past you, sprinting down the street as the yelling and screaming got louder. You moved your gaze across the street and caught a glance of someone else disappearing into thin air. You clenched your teeth and started sprinting down the street as fast as you could.

What in the actual hell is happening?

It had now been ten days.

You still had yet to wrap your head around what happened the few days before hand, refusing to believe anything that was said on the news which you still watched religiously. Everyone believed that whatever spaceship that had been hovering above the Earth for multiple days had cast some sort of spell that caused haf the population to be wiped out.

And you still hadn’t heard from Peter, Ned, Tony Stark, or… your mother.

When you arrived back home after witnessing the horrors outside, you waited for your mother to come home from work, but she never did. You called her cell phone and her work phone and never received an answer. You were terrified that she was one of the millions of people that disappeared into thin air.

And one question kept running through your head, What’s happened to Peter?

The anxiety that riddled you prevented you from eating anything in the past three days and rarely slept. You spent every moment watching the news and staring at your cell phone, waiting for a call from Tony Stark, your mother or even Peter, but you knew the slim chances of that happening.

Abruptly, a sharp knock on the front door echoed throughout the silent apartment and your head snapped up. You stared at the door from the couch, waiting to hear the noise again just to make sure you weren't imagining things, after all you weren’t in the best mental state after everything that had happened.

The sharp knock occured again and you jumped at the noise, scrambling off the couch and to the door. You stood in front of the door, your hand hovering above the doorknob, shaking. You didn’t know who was on the other side of the door, or what. Did you really want to open the door? But what if it was Peter?

Your hand slowly rested onto the cold doorknob and you twisted it, letting the door swing towards you.

“Mr. Stark?” Your voice croaked as your gaze landed on the wounded looking man in front of you. It was the last person you would ever expect to be standing in your doorway and the fact that it was the one you tried to call multiple times, your throat thickened as you stared into his eyes - eyes that were full of grief.

“Is Peter with you?” You blurted out, your voice trembling as you tried to move forward and past Tony who was standing there like a rock, “He’s with you, right? Where is he?”

Your vision started to blur as you tried to move forward and into the hallway but something was stopping you. A immense weight fell on your chest as you realized it was Tony holding you back. You tried pushing harder but the adrenaline running through your veins was making you weak.

“Where’s Peter?!” Your voice became erratic as you ignored and refused to process the words that Tony was trying to say, his hands on your shoulders, preventing you from moving anywhere out of your apartment.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, kid.” Tony’s hoarse voice finally flooded your ears as you shoved his grip off of you and tears leaked through your eyes. He wasn’t giving you an answer and it was scaring the hell out of you, you knew what was coming but you didn’t want to accept it.

“No! Where’s Peter? Why isn’t Peter with you?” You wailed louder as your breathing became more and more rapid and your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Peter wasn’t with Tony, and there was only one reason for that.

You took a wobbly step back and Tony tried to reach his hand out to you so you wouldn’t fall over but you swatted it away and he froze, standing only a few feet away from you. Looking up, you met his gaze and your tear-filled eyes matched his own. It was silent between the two of you, aside from your quiet sobs. All Tony did was shake his head and press his lips together.

“No… No, no.” You shook your head carelessly as you mumbled to yourself. Tony didn’t even have to say it out loud because you knew. God, you knew the entire time you just didn’t want to face it because it hurt so damn much. Your whole being didn’t want to believe it.

“That’s not possible, you’re lying!” You sobbed louder this time, your eyes now swollen and red, “Where’s Peter, please just tell me where Peter is!” Your voice cracked.

Tony’s hand hesitantly came up to rest on your quivering shoulders to try and calm your hysteria, “I’m not lying, kid, I-”

You immediately ripped his grip off of you in anger and forcibly shoved him away with your hands, fury overtaking you, “This is all your fault!” You screamed at him, and he looked at you with guilt evident in his eyes, almost like he knew you were right.

You continued as sobs wracked through your body and you pointed at Tony in front of you with such force, “He’d still be here if it wasn’t for you! This is all your fault!” The words kept pouring out of your mouth as the waterworks continued to get worse, “He idolized you and now he’s… He’s gone because of you!”

You took a step forward and shoved Tony in the chest, pushing him back further. He had no response to your physical abuse, though you weren’t doing much damage in the state you were in as you continued to hit him in the chest, as you blamed him.

“He’s gone…You were supposed to protect him. What kind of hero are you?” Your breath hitched in your throat as your fists rested on Tony’s chest, your body to weak to put out the strength to hit the man in front of you anymore.

And then you turned away from him, taking a few steps further into your living room, your hand making its way up to your mouth and eyes as you tried to dry them. You didn’t even want to glance back at the man that you blamed for your best friend’s… Your best friend’s death.

Your actions were futile as the tears kept spilling out, though your sobs were getting quieter as everything was finally settling in. Your emotions were still raging but at this point you were just so mentally tired you couldn’t acknowledge them anymore. Only the memories of Peter flooded you, the study-sessions, the movie-nights, the one time the two of you had to spend detention together, talking about him being Spiderman. And it was all gone. None of it would ever happen again.

After a few moments of silence after your outburst, Tony spoke quietly, testing the waters to see if you would let him speak, and you did, not having the strength to care anymore.

“He wanted to me tell you something. His last words, he…” Tony paused, clenching his teeth but then continued, “He made me promise to tell you something.”

Even though you were still facing away from him, you nodded your head without a word, indicating he could continued speaking.

“He wanted me to tell you that he loved you. He loved you so much, Y/N, God, he would never stop talking about you.” Tony spoke, his voice cracking

“What?” You asked rhetorically and turned around to look at Tony, your eyes wide and puffy.

“Everything that he talked about, it always had something to do with you.” He said, full of emotion, “He was always so happy with this stupid lovesick grin on his face.” Tony chuckled light-heartedly and looked to the floor before bringing his gaze back up to you.

“I…” You faltered, not knowing how to respond to what Tony had just told you. Your best friend Peter Parker loved you. All that time, the two of you could’ve been something more, but you had never said anything. You never told him how you felt. Your throat tightened once again as you watched Tony take another step forward, now standing right in front of you.

Tony brought up his hand again, placing it on your shoulder in a comforting manner and you made no move to push him away now as one thing circled through your mind.

“I never got to tell him back.” You croaked as one last tear made its way down your wet cheek.

Tony looked down at you with such guilt and sadness as he replied, placing his other hand on your other shoulder, “He knew, I promise, he knew...”

Your breath hitched in your throat again as tears threatened to re-appear out of your eyes at Tony’s words. Here you were blaming the man for Peter’s death and he was comforting you. You had just screamed your heart out at him and he didn’t bat an eyelash at it, all Tony wanted was for you to know and not be left in the dark. You were just a kid, just like Peter.

“Come here, kid.” Tony muttered as you sniffled and pulled you in close to him. You wrapped your arms hastily around his torso and clung onto him like it was life or death. Tony’s embrace was warm and you felt just a bit more safe, which was something you hadn’t felt in the past ten days.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Tony mumbled into the crook of your neck, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner and his other hand resting on your head, holding you close as you made an effort of calming down, at least physically.

“I’m going to fix this, I promise.”

tagging: @mindlesslymental, @havokspolaris (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics!)

[violetclarity]

Fic Writing Meme

I was tagged by the wonderful @oceaxereturns, thank you!

What is your total posted word count on AO3? (Go to your Works, then click Statistics.)

87,147 - considering I’ve been posting less than a year that feels pretty good!

How often do you write?

My goal is to write at least a little every day, but it often depends on my motivation, other responsibilities, and if I have any deadlines coming up, haha. I’m working towards a better balance of really focusing on writing when that’s what I’m meant to be doing, and doing some every day while allowing time for my other hobbies, which are often neglected because it’s easier to open google docs than turn on my sewing machine.

Do you have a routine for writing?

Not really, although I’d love to develop one.

What’s your favorite kinks/tropes/pairing?

I’m not particularly picky about kinks, and will read the vast majority of things if done well. My favorite trope, hands down, is mutual pining, and I love all related/subsidiary tropes to that one, which allow tor the pining to happen, strongly and mutually. I also love good relationship dynamics, romantic and otherwise, and stories that do something unexpected. I don’t know that I have a favorite pairing to write at the moment, I’ve got 4 different WIPs going for 4 different ships and I’m really feeling all of them, but to read it’s probably drarry or victuuri.

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

I think right now it’s the strength to stay, which I wrote for H/D Wireless 2018. It’s my longest story to date, and it’s a case fic, which was definitely a challenge for me, but I worked really hard on it and I’m proud of how it turned out.

Your fic with the most kudos?

Antlers and Ivy

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

Ahahahaha. Hm. I would like to work on making my characterizations more precise, as I think I can sometimes be too general and, as oceaxe said, rely on fanon too much. I would also like to work on precision of language. I rarely have the time or patience for the kind of line-by-line edits I’d like to do, removing extraneous words and refining the writing, and I would love to have a mind for more creative description - there’s only so much you can do, but I’m often groaning at myself for writing a phrase I know I’ve read in dozens of other fanfics - not that they’re bad, but simply overused, and I’d like to get better at avoiding them.

Now something you do like?

I try to tackle something new that I want to improve on with every long fic I write (for example, plotting and outlining in the strength to stay, my next long drarry I want to work on location and setting), which I think is cool - I’m proud that I’m challenging myself and trying to improve. I think my dialogue is good, and my ability to convey emotion. I write a pretty awesome insecure Draco :P

I’ll tag @aibidil @goldentruth813 @gracie137blogs @restlessandordinary @foularcadebanana @unicornsandphoenix @thealmostrhetoricalquestion @lettersbyelise if any of you would like to give it a go!