#this really fucking hurts but I have to go through it

[strange-aeons]

hi strange i’ve been enjoying yr videos for about four years thank u for giving me giggles for so long. however i am writing as i am not totally sure who else to ask…

my boyfriend had a traumatic pneumothorax last week and about 80% of his right lung collapsed. i don’t really know anything about pneumothorax (although i have learned so much recently lol) aside from hearing you mention it and as such i don’t know how to help him :(

i know it’s a shot in the dark but i was wondering if there are any comforts or ways to alleviate pain you could share? thank you so much strange you are super tough btw to have gone through this several times this Sucks big time

many good wishes to you and your sweet hairless babies in the new year!

If it happened one week ago he’s already gotten through the worst part! I’m assuming he’s still hospitalized with a chest tube in right now??

When I was in that situation it helped a lot having frequent visits from my partner and family. Especially when they brought snacks!!!!!! Hospital meals can be borderline inedible and there’s no way of escaping to the food court when you have a chest tube in (unless you plan to deceive multiple nurses and risk life threatening infection through the OPEN HOLE IN YOUR CHEST. Don’t do that).

Good food can be a relief in an otherwise horrible time, so finding out what he really wants to eat and brining it will definitely help. If he has no appetite then things like smoothies or drinkable soup can be very helpful. I often live off booster juice and Tim Hortona chicken noodle soup when hospitalized.

Finding the right media to keep sane is also very important!!! Your sleep schedule disintegrates entirely when laying on your back full of tube for multiple days. 2AM listening to alarms go off and 6AM getting woken up for x-rays and 1pm having the lunch slop delivered and 3pm being woken up for x-rays and 9pm visit from your surgeon all become basically indistinguishable, especially if you have no windows. Podcasts were ideal for me because it can be very hard to find a comfortable position with a chest tube / pneumothorax and looking at a screen was often too much of a hassle. Queer as fact and fall of civilizations are both excellent if you want non fiction btw. Old gods of Appalachia or welcome to nightvale if you want fiction.

There’s not a lot that you as a loved one can do about his physical pain, but I will share some of my pneumothorax expertise with you and anyone else who might go through this.

There’s no nerve endings in the lungs so all the pain/ discomfort related to a pneumothorax has to do with pressure in the chest cavity.

The pain is the absolute worst when your lung is actively collapsing so when that feeling starts SHOVE SOME EXTRA STRENGTH ADVIL OR TYLENOL DOWN YOUR THROAT, then lay down and wait for it to finish collapsing. It may seem tempting to rush to the hospital as fast as possible (or rush your loved one who’s lung is collapsing to the hospital) but trust me the last thing you want to do with a lung that is actively deflating like a sad balloon is exert yourself (this is how I collapsed my lung the full 100% and could not move my upper body for an hour. Quirky). Give it at least 30 minutes of floor time before you try to move. You will have a way better time getting to the hospital.

Wait sorry I lied lung re-inflation hurts sometimes more than the initial collapse. The sometimes are the times when ER nurses do not know how to do it properly. Immediately after they put the chest tube in, they attach it to a suction machine to suck out the excess air in your chest cavity. I do not know if these machines are the same internationally (I’m Canadian) but if you’re dealing with one where the settings are percentages, the one you want is 20% suction. NOT 100%!!! that just causes unnecessary excruciating pain without being more effective. I have had to fight numerous nurses while in the worst pain of my life to TURN THE PAIN MACHINE DOWN. fuck the pain machine. Anyway. After the pain machine they leave the tube in for a few more days to make sure the lung stays inflated. Nearing the end of that process, most of the discomfort is caused by the tube itself, so as horrible disgusting the worst getting that thing ripped out is, just know you will feel so much better after.

Throughout the healing process (and in the case of small pneumothoraxes not requiring chest tubes — I’ve had over 10 of those ones) I’ve noticed that heightened discomfort lasting a few minutes results from going from laying down to standing up or vice verse, or from bending over. This is why I have pioneered the sophisticated technique know as the pneumothorax squat. It is just as cool and hot as you’re imagining.

This post was supposed to be about how to support a loved one with a pneumothorax what the heck am I even talking about now.

Most of what he’s going to need will seem boring or insignificant. Companionship. Food. Medication. Toiletries. COMPANIONSHIP. podcast recommendations. But it absolutely is not insignificant. Abruptly losing mobility, independence, and bodily autonomy as a young person is really fucked up and I cannot fathom doing it without my family and my partner, even if most days that consisted of talking to me and bringing me smoothies and underwear.

Wishing a quick recovery to your boyfriend! Good luck with everything!!

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die. 

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well. 

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself. 

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her. 

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there.  Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there. 

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto. 

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped. 

For just a moment, everything was quiet. 

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked 

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully. 

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top.  At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly. 

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

[hivemuthur]

The Ugly Thing

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! smut, love confessions, D/S dynamics (if you squint or if you know what I'm talking about), pinning, dom!viktor (but also not, if you squint, something something), Viktor-centric, AU college/university + modern era (again, you have to do some squinting for it to be relevant)

word count: 4,9K

summary: Yet another self-indulgent one-shot of Viktor and Reader. It's just an exploration. I want to believe this is erotica, but you tell me. Subspace/Domspace if you squint. Just squint, alright?

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Viktor was, at the very least, difficult. That was what he had called himself, and he relished the label, as it allowed him to be all things at once—sweet, shy, bold, cruel, smart, oblivious, observant. He walked through life making observations and turning his conclusions into actions, placing people exactly where he needed them, ensuring they couldn’t place him somewhere he didn’t want to be.

His relationships were fleeting moments of leniency—sometimes even kindness—offered only when he felt inclined. Occasionally, the kindness transpired twice, or three times, but never more, as the risk of forming a one- or double-sided attachment was undesirable. Viktor’s desires lay elsewhere, and in his pursuits, he indulged the weakness of the flesh while keeping his ultimate goal—recognition of his brilliant mind—crystal clear.

Always polite, so that nothing could hurt him. His armour of politeness and astute behaviour shielded him from the lingering hands that sought to cradle him through the night, from the tender offerings of morning coffee, and from the quiet intimacy of shared silences. Viktor didn’t crave these things. He made sure his politeness was cold, detached, and practised—a skill perfected to keep others at bay. There was no warmth in it, no invitation to linger.

From time to time, he indulged in fleeting encounters, moments where he allowed himself to surrender to the pull of human connection—physical, but never emotional. Emotional, but not lasting. It was a necessary recharge, a way to quiet the body’s demands, but he was always one step ahead. He ensured his partners understood that whatever fragile universe they built together in the night would dissolve with the first light of morning, leaving no trace beyond the cooling embers of his skin.

All that was left was being polite—a polite smile in the hallway, a pencil lent during a lecture, an elevator held for his perishable lover rushing to class. Their names never forgotten, but their warmth never wanted again.

Until you. Until you invaded his orbit and refused to be erased. Until you befriended Jayce, making it easy to keep meeting him, keep looking at him, keep exchanging amusements and something more than politeness—exchanging kindness. Until it turned out you were smart and driven and managed to scare him once or twice by pinning him with your joke.

Until he had slept with you, giving you his mediocre self—not the calculated, observant one, but the needy, touch-starved, pathetic one that moaned your name and groped you with begging hands. All during a completely unorchestrated evening in your dorm room, still half-clothed, just lustful and impatient. Just really fucking hungry in your mutual understanding, though you understood absolutely nothing. Oblivious to the ugly thing in him. Oblivious to the concept of boundaries. Oblivious to the need to protect yourself from prying eyes that might see the truth of what they were.

And the way you stared at him afterwards, gave your body a long stretch, and your limbs flopped back onto the mattress. And the way you said, “It’s ok if you want to go,” an understanding smile cracking across your face—yet you understood absolutely, utterly nothing. A way out he craved, but he wanted to carve it out for himself with his politeness, not with this—this knowing, wise look in your eyes that came from nowhere, because you knew nothing. He almost wanted to stay, just to spite you, but found himself only nodding, scrambling to his feet to fetch his brace and cane, and bidding you goodnight with a polite nod.

And the way you remained friendly. Not friendly—the way you two remained friends. The long nights spent in study groups, pulling straws to determine who was doomed to coffee duty, your head slumped in sleep on Jayce’s shoulder, his head resting on Mel’s. Your bare, cold feet stretched out, toes brushing against Viktor’s thigh, sending ice through his veins—and the way he didn’t mind. The way he contemplated cradling your feet in his palm, warming them against his better judgement.

The way your touch lingered on his arm when you grabbed him in the corridor to show him something funny on your phone. And the way the thing on your phone actually was funny—a picture of Jayce passed out in the library under a mountain of plastic cups balanced on his shoulders. The way his own laugh startled him, made his chest shake and his face lean in close to yours.

The way you would fall asleep in the common room, watching old horror films, your throat vulnerably exposed on his lap. And he just wanted to grab it, squeeze it tight, choke the confession out of you—that you lingered because you wanted more, because this friendship was unthinkable.

The way you got upset when he was mean, and the way he went out of his way to apologise with a childish, shit-eating grin. His arms reaching out for you, your palm pressing his face away in that same friendly gesture.

When he flushed his system with alcohol, all he could think about was fucking you senseless. And when your gaze lingered on him, burning all the way down into his ugly thing, you would ask what was on his mind, and he would say, “Physics.” And you would laugh his lie out.

The way, once, he gave you a lingering kiss on your doorstep and stopped himself. But seeing the question poised on the tip of your tongue, he sunk back in, turning the kiss into a sloppy, drunken mess, so you would be the one to push him away. A gentle pat on the shoulder, sending him off with the unspoken instruction to come back sober. And how he never came back for that.

All of this made him so fucking angry. His carefully mended self, constructed from sweetness, shyness, boldness, cruelty, wisdom, and oblivion, was crumbling under your pensive eyes—and the way you floated atop the pissed-off ocean of his mind.

And oh, he loathed himself on that evening, loathed the way his feet carried him to your room because he was feeling vaguely sad and distracted. He loathed his feet for doing so, loathed his finger for pressing the elevator button, loathed his knuckles for placing a quiet knock on your door. It was all so gross, so out of character, and he loathed it all.

And there you were, opening the door, your face full of dinner, hair messy, cheeks puffed out as you curled them into a closed-mouth grin and gave him a wave to come inside. A quiet “hi,” followed by a chuckle as you tried to swallow before chewing—and a cough when the gulp was too massive for your throat.

“Are you busy?” Viktor found himself blurting out, scanning the room. Your flatmate was gone for the weekend—her bed made, her shoes and coat missing. Observed, concluded. His eyes flicked over to the other bed: messy but cozy, notes scattered across it, a steaming cup on the bedside table, and a laptop propped in the leg area playing background noise. Studying, of course.

“I am always busy,” you grinned at him, your teeth bare and beautiful like the rest of you, as you dropped your dishes into the sink and put the kettle on. “Watching Dexter and studying. Do you want tea?”

“Maybe,” Viktor mused, biting his lip. He negotiated silently with himself, wondering what it was he hoped to find in this room that might sweeten his sour mood—and why his mood was sour in the first place. His hand wobbled on his cane, the traitorous thing, and he leaned against the doorframe to deflect, refusing to decide whether to step fully in or out.

“Okay, what’s gotten into you today?” you huffed, picking a mug you deemed suitable for him. Good Vibes Only, with a middle finger printed on the bottom of it, seemed fitting.

“Meaning?” Viktor cocked an innocent eyebrow, feeling the burn of your inquisitive gaze. Oh, to yank that lovely head by the neck and shove it between his legs, to ease the torment in his mind.

“This is the third time you’ve bothered me today. It’s the weekend. You usually work on the weekends. You’re being vague but resistant to probing. Did something happen?” The countdown of his sins, and it was only the count of one day. Nothing had happened, and that was the issue.

“I suppose I’m feeling… down?” He shrugged, the movement worn down, defeated. His brain ached, and he felt lonely. It had started to feel indecent to pursue others—and for that, you deserved a whack as well.

“Do you need a hug?” A mocking snort reached his ears. A long pause as the scales tipped between a ‘no’ and a ‘yes.’

“Yes.”

Another long pause, as you blinked and scanned him for any signs of a sham, your expression still uncertain. You had to make sure again. “Do you need a hug now?”

“No, in fifteen fucking minutes.” His undignified huff earned him a pair of raised eyebrows from you, and a remark already rolling off your tongue—but he cut it short. “Yes, now. Come here.” His head hung low, and only his hand made a beckoning gesture.

You smiled, disarmed by the black cat of Viktor, finally trying to scramble into your lap after months of teasing and playing around—head bumping and blinking at each other from afar. You walked up to him, your hands hesitant, as if this open display of need was unthinkable.

Before you could settle, Viktor snaked himself around you, his cane propped by the door, his frame bent and draped over you, leaning his body weight forward. It was the grabbiest, the neediest hug he had ever given—or that anyone had let him have. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, smashing his nose against your skin, and inhaled you deeply, through both mouth and nose.

His palms, open and wide, raked as much of your body in one go as they could. They slipped under your clothes, seeking the taut skin stretched across your back and shoulders. He wanted to go lower but could only squeeze.

You weren’t hugging him; he was hugging you. Caging you in his grip, controlling when the hug would end—and as far as he was concerned, not ever. You stilled under his touch, your hands resting obediently on his chest as he rubbed his face on yours, purring like a cat.

“Viktor?” Your voice was barely a whisper, bouncing off his mouth, an inch away from yours. “Would you like me to kiss you?” He sang his swan song in that moment, almost asking permission, granting you the illusion of control, the illusion of choice—when in truth, it was him silently begging for the kiss to happen.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Of course. A deflection. Nothing he wasn’t prepared for.

“I asked you first.” A cruel blow, almost childish. He pulled his face back a few inches to watch you wrestle with the indignity of the situation. The whine you tried to suppress at the loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed, and the snake in Viktor’s belly coiled its head up, smug and poised.

But then you did the thing he didn’t expect—twisting the serpent’s head off and tossing it aside with quiet defiance. You moved closer, nudging his chin with your cheek, your wide eyes pleading for his plea. His resolve shattered instantly.

He held you in place, his lips hovering just above yours. His whisper was longing, desperate. ���Can I kiss you?”

A silent ‘yes.’ He only knew it was a ‘yes’ because he felt the movement of your lips on his—but he didn’t let you finish. He sank into your mouth with a disturbing, possessive urgency, pressing his tongue inside, licking your beautiful teeth, biting your beautiful skin.

He kept you locked in, pressing you down under the weight of his kiss. His mouth drooled into yours obscenely as he breathed heavily through his nose. It was the ugliest kiss he had ever given anyone—the ugliest anyone had ever taken from him. And yet, it was taken with such grace, such gratitude, that he wanted to give you everything else.

With inhuman strength, he pulled you both apart and placed his thumb on your lower lip, still glistening with his saliva. He traced it lazily, transfixed by the shimmering reflections on your skin. His heart swelled as he observed the redness blooming around the spots he had bitten. He wanted you bruised by his love—for everyone to see.

“What are you doing tonight?” Another plea, another promise, fell between you. Viktor cursed himself for being so open, so exposed. Because even though you knew nothing, you would understand this question.

“Watching Dexter and studying,” you said in an absent voice, your eyes following his, following the path of his thumb. The silence stretched between you, taut, until you felt the need to fill it. “Do you want to watch Dexter and study with me?”

“No.” The word escaped him in a croak, sung low and jagged, as if he had only just realised this wasn’t what he wanted at all. “Are you wet?” was all he wanted to know.

“What?” The word escaped you, surprised, almost appalled. Viktor braced himself for you to pull away, so he tightened his grip—but you didn’t. You just stared at him with those beautiful eyes on your beautiful face, your pupils dilating at the vulgar perversion of his question.

“I think you heard me. Are you wet right now?” He leaned in to whisper the filth into your ear, feeling his snake grow out a new head at the full-body shudder that went through you.

“What if I said no?” you asked shyly, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“I would demand proof,” he murmured, holding the sides of your face as he poured his poison straight into your ear, his voice so quiet and rude that your eyes fluttered closed.

“What if I said yes?” You found some bravery in yourself, tracing your fingers along Viktor’s neck, just under the line of his hair. You smiled at the feeling of goosebumps rising under your fingertips. He couldn’t have this, of course.

“I would demand proof regardless,” he responded, his lips grazing the shell of your ear before licking it, slow and deliberate. He craned his head back to look at you. You appeared frightened and excited all at once, and if Viktor had no restraint, he would have run his fingers through your hair to soothe you. Instead, he placed a flat palm on your stomach, fingers pointing down, waiting for your permission.

He received a timid nod, but it wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.”

“You can check.” You closed your eyes and exhaled, as though allowing yourself to be judged for your crime. And as the crime was that of lust, Viktor, somewhere deep down, knew he didn’t really need proof, and that your punishment would be light. Because he didn’t truly want to punish you. He wanted to love you in an ugly way.

He slid his hand down, down beyond the waistband of your pants, down your lower belly straight to your womb, palming your cunt through the underwear and gasped, “Oh lásko, look at you.” His chest fluttered at the first touch, with joy and accomplishment, but also because he was right, when he slid the fabric to the side and ran his finger through your slit. Warmth dripped onto his fingertips, and he felt himself grow hard beneath the restraint of his own clothes.

“Do you really like me this much?” he cooed, so pleased that just one ugly kiss had managed to drench your knickers and make you feel so ashamed you nearly flinched away.

“Viktor—” You looked at the floor, your brows furrowed, your face burning from being so exposed, so naked. And you looked so, so beautiful.

“I am not mocking you,” he murmured, placing a reassuring hand on your cheek and caressing it gently. It was almost a praise, though he dared not say it yet. “What makes you want a cripple so much? Is it your heart that longs for me, your mind that thinks you can change me, or just your body?” he mused, revealing too much merely by asking.

You looked almost offended by how blunt he was about knowing what you wanted, just not knowing why. His fingers now parting you, playing at your entrance, teased you but you wouldn’t flinch. You just searched his face hesitantly and as Viktor grew tired of waiting, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them, mercilessly bumping your wall, forcing you to flinch. He really wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, and he really wanted to hear his name distorted by a breathy moan.

“Which… would be the worst?” Your breath fanned his face as you steadied yourself on his shoulders. Truly, you weren’t ready for any of the options to be soured.

Viktor thought for a moment, his fingers slowly retreating, almost absent-mindedly. When his answer was found, he pushed back in, smiling innocently, his face moving close to yours. “The first. The second,” he mused, another slow, unbearably so, thrust. “I could fuck out of you. The third, well…” A gentle kiss on your lips, almost loving. “I see no fault in the third.”

“Of course, you don’t,” you scoffed, your grip on his shoulders tightening with each minute. “And what bring you back to me over, and ah,” a gasp escaped your mouth when Viktor brushed his thumb over your clit. You closed your eyes and evened your breath. “Back to me. Heart, mind or… body?” you asked, your brow furrowed in concentration against Viktor’s efforts to throw you off course.

“Which would be the worst?” He quirked his lips against yours and chuckled at another concentrated huff. He could feel your unrelenting grip on his shoulders, was convinced that it would leave a mark, and it made his cock twitch in his pants. To be marked by this gentle creature, a dream.

“Any of them, without the others,” you quipped, your eyes shut. Viktor’s movements stilled at that. You had managed to surprise him. Again. Of course, you would want to devour him as much as he wanted to devour you. Eat you whole, spit out the bones and build a shrine out of them. Ugly.

He retreated his hand and chuckled at the muffled whine that followed. He licked his fingers clean once your eyelids fluttered open, making sure you were watching. Rude. But he was going to kiss you with this mouth.

His hands snaked back up your spine, your body pliant against his, providing him with warmth. His teeth and lips got back to work on the swell of yours, and you fell right into it, mouth open, when his tongue pushed itself down your throat as Viktor began his meal. “I will die if I don’t fuck you,” he rasped. So fucking dramatic over nothing, over just a kiss and some unfinished fingering, and a clipped conversation about what he wanted.

He could abandon it here. He could walk out; he could sit on your bed and just study and watch Dexter. He could drink his tea, already cold, he could make you blush all evening, bid you goodbye and go back to his grimy room to jerk off and fuck off. But he couldn’t stop.

“Please, I’ll be so good to you,” he prayed to you, your hands so warm on his waist as he kissed you till he was out of breath. “You don’t know what you are doing to me.” Pathetic, moronic wail escaped him. And he knew you only grew wetter and wetter, your lips getting hotter on him. Panting, you pulled him by the belt and walked the two of you over to the bed, leaving Viktor with no other support than yourself.

He had never rid himself of his clothes so fast. Everything he had on, tossed and crumpled by the bed, next to your own little pile. All the layers of the second, the third skin abandoned, his brace, his pants, his boxers, embarrassingly soaked with sweat and precum, when he crawled on top of you just to keep kissing you and biting your neck, leaving nasty marks everywhere. He panted, his own breath betraying him as your skin came in contact and Viktor whined simply at his cock rubbing against your thigh and he wanted more.

“If you want to stop, tell me.” Another raspy, absolutely dishonest, but a proper plea, asking for the complete opposite. Please, never ask me to stop. “Do you understand?” You nodded, again—not good enough. Your eyes so wide, he could barely see the colour. When you were splayed flat below him, he could see your heart twitching, your chest contracting. A minuscule movement, but he could see it.

“Words, I need to hear your words, lásko,” he growled, stunned by his own impatience.

“I understand.” A kindness in your voice enveloped him. He slid you down the mattress by the ankles, his cock rested against your slit. With clumsy hands he put on a condom, stole a pillow from under your head to support his bum leg and adjusted his crooked crouch. You had the audacity to chuckle at the commonality of his movements and he bit your calf in response.

Absolutely unhinged, you hooked your foot behind his neck, and he immediately loved the weight that pulled him down, steadied him, as he teased your entrance. You held a breath; he had forsaken the privilege of air long time ago.

The first thrust was just blissful. He could feel the crease on his forehead relaxing, his mouth opening, his jaw hanging heavily, just joy and warmth, him awash in it. He felt so full, so complete, yet it was you who was full of him as your bodies slotted together easily, differently to the last time, which left him feeling awkward and ashamed and unfinished.

You rested your hands on his hips, gripping the sharp angle of his bones, your fingernails leaving crescent marks that he would run his fingers over in the morning. “You are doing so well,” he whispered in awe, and it was honest, and you loved it, he felt it in his cock getting squeezed in a silent gratitude.

He felt his ugliness leaving him with each pump of his hips, each sloppy sound of your bodies bumping against each other, his cock twitching inside you, and he needed one more thing to make this even less ugly.

He brushed his thumb over your clit, stretching it, teasing you and taking in all your huffs and puffs, your contorting stomach muscles, your tightening walls. A longing look and an echoing question followed. “Do you love me?”

“Viktor, don’t be cruel,” you answered so fast, he almost retreated. How could you think so? A childlike curiosity creeped onto his face.

“I am not. I really ought to know. Just say yes or no,” Please, just say yes. He felt you twitch at the question, and it made him think he was right. But he could have also been completely deranged. Brain burnt by lust and all the ugly things.

“Viktor—” you pleaded at the loss of his thumb on you.

“I can feel you. Yes or no?” A hard thrust, right up your guts. You yelped, and he could see the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and the sight was something to behold, keep in the palace of his mind forever.

“Then, why are you asking?” You were ready for filth. For his erotic weirdness, for his awkwardness, for all the want he would suppress every time you interacted. You felt it all in his fleeting touch, in the warmth of his thigh when your naked toes rested against it idly, unintentionally, though very intentionally. But this was how you coax a cat. And this was not how cats responded.

“You will see,” he promised, more to himself. “Do you love me, now, in this moment, when I’m fucking you? Yes or no?” Another twitch of your cunt at ‘love’. He left himself unguarded, shielded only by the mould of your womb.

“Yes.” A tiny, shy ‘yes’. But it fell right into Viktor’s heart and there it grew into a big promise, and he would keep it and take care of it and cherish it.

His body bent in half, his mouth seeking yours. A sloppy kiss, painful, with teeth at your tender lip. Another, earnest, slow and careful. Another, quick and fleeting, before he found your ear. Between them, “I love you,” whispered back like a secret, like a prize for your struggle.

Your breaths grew frantic, you wanted to keep him close. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging him in, so you could lick the sweat from his neck, bite it and claim it. Your leg slipped onto his hip, and you curled it around him, his bone digging into your thigh.

“Do you see? How it feels?” he rasped into your ear, gripping you tight. “To be loved while being fucked? Tell me how it feels.” Viktor moaned with each of his thrusts, holding back getting harder and harder. His cock getting more swollen. Your walls getting tighter.

“Amazing,” you whispered, pulling his mouth back to yours. “I love you.”

Viktor’s eyes rolled back into his skull. He slumped onto you, his hands snaking behind your waist, and he could feel your sweat merging with his as your chests pressed together. “I love you,” he cooed weakly. “You can come now, lásko.”

He felt your thighs clutch on his hips, a long spasm twisting your spine underneath him. You came with an orgasm wrenching breath out of your lungs, leg bending, blinding. The ‘I love you’ falling from your lips over and over again, and Viktor could finally let go and spill all his ugliness out. He came with a loud moan seconds after, his brain fucked out, his heart swollen, as he came loved for what he was.

He held you tight through it, chests heaving, when he felt a quiver and wetness on his cheek. “Are you hurt?” he whispered.

You sobbed onto his chest, hands caged in his arms as you tried to release them and wipe the tears away. “No, no,” you shook your head. “What is this… feeling?” It had no name. For Viktor, it was a dumbing bliss. He could cry too if he wasn’t so warm.

“How do you feel?” He wanted to know what it was like on the other side. No one ever told him, no one ever shared this with him.

“Hollow. Ah… fuck. Empty,” you struggled to find the words, trying them out on your tongue, but they felt wrong. “I feel like you took something… bad from me. And now I don’t know what to do with the space left—” you gasped between sobs as Viktor rolled you to the side and pulled your hair to expose your neck.

You buried your face in the curve of his shoulder. Tears fell on their own, and Viktor wanted to drink them and cry them out himself. When the sobs transformed into clipped breaths, and clipped breaths transformed into one long exhale, you asked carefully, “Viktor, you don’t really love me, do you?”

“Well, do you really love me?” His chest was swollen, his head heavy. He was triumphant. He was so invincible he had it in him to love you.

Silence, for a while. Viktor nudged you gently with his chin and whispered a soft command, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll be here.”

You looked at him, the practicality of it spreading a strange warmth in your belly. Wordlessly, you got up and disappeared, still naked as day, and Viktor watched your feet shuffle in the creak of the bathroom door. He got up, put on his underwear, and drank his cold tea in one go.

When you got out, a relief glimpsed through your face, as if you were expecting him to be gone. He waited for you with a cup of tea and a clean sweatshirt, beckoning you to slide into it. Once you both had a singular piece of clothing on, he pulled you back into bed and cuddled sweetly into you. “How do you feel now?” he asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“I feel… like I really need you to love me right now,” you let it slide out. Even though your sweatshirt shielded you from the chill of the room, your soul was still completely bare and shivering. And Viktor loved this nudity, the weirdness of it, the feeling of belonging it gave him.

He found that is was his hands that were lingering now, that the tender thought of the morning coffee was no longer distorted by fear, the quiet and the silence became comfortable in a good way. He felt so wanted, so beautiful in your eyes. He felt all the right things and none of the wrong things. His ugly snake was skinned and turned into a beautiful object. In this beautiful space only beautiful words seemed fitting. “I really do love you right now.”

[charmedimsure]

Wake Up Call

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: Thanos is you're least favorite regular at the club you bartend for. But when you find him passed out against the building one night, you can't just leave him there. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i'm really proud of this fic. expect a second part sometime soonish (gonna work on requests first tho). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

The music in Club Pentagon is so loud it feels like it's inside of you. You're placing the olives in a dry martini a patron is waiting for, handing it to them with a smile. You're one of the most popular bartenders at Club Pentagon. Men order from you because they're drunk and want to fuck you, and women order from you because they're more comfortable drinking cocktails that have been made by another woman.

"Señorita, over here!" A voice yells out to you and you sigh at the familiar voice.

You turn and put a hand on your hip, spotting the telltale purple hair of your least favorite regular. "What do you want?"

He puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch, you hurt me, baby. I just wanted to see my favorite girl."

You roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby towel and quickly wiping drops of different liquors off the bar. "Well, you saw me, so you can leave now."

He takes a glance at his little posse around him, consisting of guys hoping to get famous, girls wanting to say they slept with a rapper, and your least favorite coworker Nam-gyu. You have no idea how the runner still has a job here, considering he spends more time licking the failed rapper's boots than actually running anything.

"You know, I have an extra space at my table," he says. "I'd love if you came over after your shift. Thanos will treat you well."

You groan. The boy has been relentless in asking you out ever since you started working at the club. "I would rather sit with the movie villain than you." You look over his shoulder at your coworker. "Nam-gyu, take him away or I'm gonna volunteer you to clean the floors."

With a hiss, Nam-gyu puts his hands on Thanos' shoulders and steers him away from you. Thanos smiles over his shoulder, waving at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Señorita!"

You cringe, knowing that you most definitely will see him again tomorrow.

<>

The next night goes by much too slow for your liking. You spend your shift mixing the same drinks over and over, putting up with the men who flirt with you, and calling security on some men who won't leave girls alone. You had of course seen Thanos, but the club was so busy that you didn't even have the time to reject him, instead just huffing at him and turning to another person waiting at the bar.

Once your shift is over and you've finished everything you need to do, you step out through the back door, taking a deep breath of air that doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol.

As you walk toward the street to hail a cab, you spot a flash of purple against the wall. Getting a bit closer, you recognize the passed out body of Thanos.

While a small part of your mind is telling you to just leave him there, you know you can't do that. You crouch down next to him, putting your fingers on his pulse point and letting out a sigh of relief when you feel his heartbeat. You look down at him, furrowing your brows when you notice that the cross that always hangs around his neck is slightly open.

Carefully picking it up, you take a peek inside and see an assortment of multi-colored pills. Shit, he's lucky he's just passed out. Had you known he'd been on... whatever this shit is... you would've banned all bartenders from serving him drinks. He may be the bane of your existence, but you're not going to let him die.

You close the cross and remove it from around his neck, shoving it in your pocket. You lightly slap his cheek a few times until he blinks his eyes open, looking around him. He looks at you, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Hey, Señorita," he slurs. "Where is everybody? Where's Nam-su? He was supposed to take me home."

You let out a small chuckle at the name he called your coworker. "They aren't here."

He frowns, trying to stand up. "I need another drink."

You grab onto his shoulders, supporting his weight as he nearly topples to the ground. "I think you've had enough, Thanos. It's time to get you home."

He makes a sound of protest, but doesn't have the strength to stop you from dragging him to the curb as you wave down a taxi. The car pulls up and you help Thanos into the back seat before sliding in next to him.

"Where to, Miss?"

The plan was to take Thanos to his place, but you don't know where he lives and the odds of him telling you or the cab driver right now are slim. He also can't be left alone in the state he's in. One more pill could send him over the edge.

With a sigh, you tell the driver the address of your apartment building, holding Thanos upright as he pulls away from the club.

<>

Thanos wakes up, his head pounding worse than ever. He reaches for his cross to pop a pill to get rid of the headache, but instead of finding the necklace, his hands just grab his shirt.

He opens his eyes, hissing when the light makes a pang of pain go through his head. Looking down, Thanos' cross is nowhere to be found. That's when he realizes that he's not in his bed, or any bed, for that matter. He's laying on the couch in an unknown place, a small garbage can on the floor next to him. On the coffee table in front of him is a glass of water. He reaches for it, downing the whole glass in one go. Spotting a small note next to the glass, he picks it up and reads it.

'If you barf I'll make you clean it up. Use the garbage.'

He hears a noise coming from the other room and stands up, wanting to figure out what is happening and where he is. When he steps into the kitchen, he nearly gasps when he sees you with your messy hair and oversized t-shirt on.

You turn to look at him. "Oh good, you're not dead. I really didn't want to deal with that." You walk over to the fridge. "Blue or red?"

He gives you a confused look. "What?"

"Gatorade," you clarify. "Blue or red?"

"Oh, uhh, blue."

You grab the blue bottle and place it on the table. "Drink that. The electrolytes are good for hangovers."

Thanos walks slowly to the table, picking up the bottle and taking a sip. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"No, I just pee out the window," you deadpan without thinking. You see him look down, a look of embarrassment and shame taking over his face. You sigh. "Down the hall to the left."

The boy nods and disappears down the hallway. He walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He feels in his pockets, taking out his phone and huffing when he sees the battery is dead. Looking inside your medicine cabinet, he frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. How can you have no painkillers? Instead he takes the mouthwash, taking two big gulps. Mouthwash has alcohol, and he needs it. When he doesn't feel the familiar sting, he looks down at the label.

'Alcohol free'.

Just his fucking luck.

He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes it, coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been darker, at least not that he can remember. His skin looks pale, and his hair is disgusting. He turns the knob for the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

When he walks back into the kitchen, you're no longer there. He moves to the table, seeing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast sitting next to his drink. Thanos hesitates, not really knowing what to do.

"That's for you, you know."

He jumps a bit when he hears your voice behind him. You come out of your room dressed in your casual clothes.

You smile slightly at his expression. "Do you not like eggs?"

He shakes his head. "No, eggs are good."

Your smile grows. "Good because that's all I know how to make. Do you want any hot sauce with it or something?" You put the rest of the eggs from the pan onto your own plate and leave the pan to cool off.

"Do you have pepper?" Thanos asks.

You nod, walking to the table and putting your plate down on the opposite side of his. "It's on the table."

Thanos cautiously sits down in his seat, reaching for the pepper and putting it on his eggs. He takes a bite, pleased to find that they are cooked just right. He watches you as you eat your breakfast in silence, scrolling through your phone mindlessly. A shot of pain going through his head and he winces. "Do you have any painkillers?"

You shake your head, not taking your eyes away from the screen. "I do, but I think you've mixed enough substances with whatever's in that cross you carry."

Thanos feels his entire body tense at the mention of his cross. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing ends up coming out.

You lock your phone and put it face-down on the table. "Don't worry, I didn't throw it out. It's in a safe place, along with the painkillers and anything else that could potentially be abused."

The boy lets out a breath and nods, continuing to eat slowly. He looks you over silently. Your face is bare of makeup and your hair is still messy. Thanos has liked you since the moment he first saw you at the club, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"I found you passed out outside the club last night when I was leaving," you explain. "You said Nam-gyu was supposed to bring you home but I couldn't find him, so I took you back here."

Thanos huffs. "Fucking idiot," he says under his breath.

You snort out a laugh, and Thanos thinks it might just be the most beautiful noise he's ever heard. He wants to know what he can do to hear that noise again.

You both finish your food in a comfortable silence, you looking at your phone and Thanos looking at you. At one point you catch him looking at you and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You sigh. "Honestly, I've been asking myself the same question. I think I just saw you there, alone and in need, and I thought that I would've wanted someone to help me had they found me like that. You have been an ass, but I think that's more the pills than you."

Thanos nods slowly, taking in your words. "Well, thank you."

You nod. "Just please don't make me regret showing you where my apartment is. I don't wanna move."

The boy chuckles, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up at the sound. "I won't. I promise."

"Good." You stand, taking your plate and his and bringing them to the sink. "I have off today. You're welcome to stay here for a bit until you're feeling better. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready."

Thanos goes back to the couch he woke up on, sitting down. He finds a charger for his phone and plugs it in. You come into the room, putting a new bottle of gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. He thanks you and cracks the seal.

The two of you end up talking for hours. He tells you about how he got into music, and you tell him that you always wanted to try learning to play the guitar, though you've never had enough money to buy one or the other equipment. Thanos feels his heart grow fuller with every laugh he is able to get out of you. He gets more satisfaction from these few hours spent with you than he has every night drinking his life away at Club Pentagon.

At one point, you look at him, a lazy smile on your face. "What's your name?"

He gives you a look of confusion.

"Your real name. I doubt your real name is Thanos."

He lets out a nervous laugh. He hasn't gone by his real name in at least a year. "It's Su-bong," he says shyly. "Choi Su-bong."

"Su-bong," you repeat, as if trying out how it feels. You smile at him. "I like Su-bong. You should be him more often."

Later, as you stand outside your building calling for a taxi, you turn to look at the boy next to you. "You know, you could be so much more than this."

He looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have talent and heart, more than you've ever shown while out of your mind drunk and stoned," you say. "So many people's lives are ruined because they keep chasing that high. Don't be one of those people. Please. You're meant for better."

A cab pulls to the curb in front of you. As Su-bong opens the door, you put an arm on his shoulder, stopping him. Digging into your pocket, you pull out his cross and hand it to him. "The choice is yours. And if you decide you want to give your life another chance, I'll be here to support you." You hand him a slip of paper with your phone number. "This is for support. If you text me the way that you talk to me at the club, I'm going to block you. Do not make me regret this."

He smiles as he takes the cross and the paper from you. Once he sits in the car, he rolls the window down. "Thank you again, for everything."

You give him a small smile and wave before walking back into your apartment building.

Once inside his own apartment, Thanos walks to his bathroom. He takes the cross out of his pocket, opening it to find his pills. He picks one up, examining it. With a sigh, he drops the pill into the toilet, turning the cross over so the others follow. He watches as the bright pills swirl around bowl before disappearing down the drain. He doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be someone that you can be proud of. Someone that he can be proud of.

[smittenmeraki]

The fandom keeps taking about how they want Jeremy to get red carded defending Jean (if anyone is going to do that it would be Cat but yall arent ready for that convo) or for Jeremy to yell and go off on kevin for leaving Jean at evermore. I think Jeremy would understand, he wouldn't like it and may be angry but I think he would be more hurt that Kevin had to choose between saftey and betraying a friend. HOWEVER! I counter that Neil would be the one to get onto Kevin. Picture this, its a first banquet since Jean became a Trojan and Neil finds him and they start having a conversation in French about his new team or whatever random topic. Jeremy sees them and immediately is like 'nope, no way, last time these two were alone Jean came home in the middle of the night in shambles.' And goes over there. He doesnt say anything, just stands by Jean giving Neil heavy side eye. Of course Neil being Neil glares straight back. 'The fuck is his problem. He wants to be pissed at me when he failed to protect Jean?' Jean steps in at this point, trying to keep Neil from starting a fight.

"Do not start anything here. Jeremy's done nothing wrong and I am not cleaning up your messes.' Jean scolds in french.

"Nothing wrong? He was supposed to keep you safe. Which he failed at by the way."

"I dont need anyone to keep me safe." Jean glares at him, defending himself to which Jeremy takes one more step closer, just in case. Kevin and Andrew catch onto the commotion and walk over, taking stance next to them.

"Really? If we honestly believed that we wouldnt have sent you to the Trojans, you may as well have been a fox." Neil loosely gestures at Jeremy, dismissive.

"You and I both know he could never fit in as a fox." Kevin cuts in, switching them to English

Neil turns to him full of animosity. The glare of a Wesninski, its enough to make his stomach drop.

"I think youve already had enough say in where he ends up considering you left him at evermore in the first place." Kevin recoils, taking four steps back and staggering on the fifth, a look of horror on his face. When he glances at Jean, hes looking down. He knows its not true but its how it felt. Neil doesn't have to say anything else, Kevin knows what the ravens are capable of, hes seen it, on Jean, on himself, on Neil. The twisted smile on Neils face is enough to force Kevin to look away. Neil switches back to French, in a calmer tone.

"He is meant to keep you safe and help you get through all the shit they did to you. If he is incapable of doing that, you know where to find me. If you are hurt under his watch again." Back to english "I'll handle him." He glares at Jeremy then turns away, Andrew a step behind, staying between them.

[moody-alcoholic]

CW: Death, funeral, angst.

___

It’s not easy. 

Christ why did he think it would be easy.

The room is mainly empty, only a few close friends and family. There’s no coffin, just flowers, lilies and forget-me-nots, some of your favourites. There’s a priest reading words that Simon’s not listening to, there's hushed sniffles and silent tears.

It was what you wanted, something small, simple, quiet. A stark difference from the way you really left the world. 

Johnny reaches over and takes his hand, Simon lets him lacing their fingers together. They exchange a glance, Johnny’s face is puffy from all the tears he’s shed for you. Simon has to keep it together, at least here. You made him promise not to cry for you, to be there for the team, especially Johnny. 

Simon squeezes his hand and Johnny turns away, his head focusing on his feet as the priest finishes up. Kyle is sat next to him and John is on the end, their hands resting on their knees, heads dipped, jaws clenched. 

No one gets to mourn now, they’ll all do it later in the privacy of their own homes. After this they will go to the pub, raise a glass for you. Talk about their favourite memories, smiling and laughing. That’s what you would have wanted. 

It’s not easy. 

Music plays and Simon looks up to see the priest going over to your weeping mother, arms wrapped around her by your sister and friends. He bends down to pray with her, her sniffles cutting through the soft music. When he’s done he turns to leave through a door by the stage. 

Johnny squeezes Simon’s hand, he looks over at him. Johnny brings Simon’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it, Simon quickly smiles at him. 

“You worked with my daughter?” Your mum asks. Simon turns to see her and her entourage stood at the end of their row of seats. 

“Yes, Captain Price.” John says standing up and extending his arm. She shakes his hand.

“She used to talk about you alot.” Your mum sniffs again trying to keep it together. “She loved her job.” 

Simon feels the pit form in his stomach. Yeah you did, gave your life for it. All for the greater good. 

“I need to know. The army didn’t tell me much.” A louder sob comes out her throat, she chokes it back. “Did she suffer?” 

It’s like a knife to the heart. Simon looks away. He hears Johnny let out a breath, he can almost hear the quiver in his lip. 

“No. She didn’t suffer.” John says keeping his voice level. He’s so good at remaining calm under pressure, so good at lying to people’s faces too. Simon doesnt think he could do it, not about you. 

Guilt starts to eat away at him as your mother sobs, Simon sneaks a glance seeing John’s arms wrapped around her. 

Why is it never fucking easy?

He looks away squeezing his eyes closed, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

He’ll mourn later, later when he and Johnny will go home after a few pints and cry in each other's arms, in the bed they shared with you. It will hurt, it’s going to hurt for a long time. 

That’s just what happens when love dies.

___

I have writers block bad. I'm just writing anything to get rid of it. (send help)

[skysdelusions]

Where are you going?

Summary: An argument that turns rather spicy

Pairing : Stray kids (ot8) x Fem!reader

Genre : Angst , Smut

Word count : 2.3k

Warnings : multiple positions , unprotected sex (I don’t condone, wrap it up), creampie after cream pie, oral sex (m!recieving) , name calling (kinda) , overstimulation. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Notes : Lord , I pushed through writing this. This is kinda of everywhere but I just want to get something out😼.

(This isn’t proof read , please forgive me 🧍🏽‍♀️)

You had been in a polyamorous relationship for about a year now with eight men. You loved these men so much that you could explode but your relationship was getting to that point where you guys had constant arguments. It wasn’t like your arguments were just with one person but eight people, Once one started the rest followed. Usually you’d end the fight with something hurtful then have hate sex. Today was nonetheless one of those days.

You were arguing with Minho because he had said something so out of pocket that it hurt your feelings. That argument had gotten so loud that the boys started piling out of their rooms to see what was all the yelling for.

“No cause your being such a bitch about it” Minho yelled

“I’M BITCHING? YOU FUCKING STARTED THIS!” You yelled

You were so fucking livid at this point , he tried to act like he was the victim when he didn’t have to say anything negative to you.

“YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO OPEN YOUR BIG FUCKING MOUTH TO CRITICIZE SOMEONE , SHUT THE FUCK UP SOMETIMES!” You yelled

He looked stunned , you never really curse anyone out that bad before. You didn’t care how he felt , you were tired of him poking and prodding at you. He needed to be put in his place.

“Baby don’t you think you were a little harsh?” Chris started

“No, I don’t think I was too harsh Chris , he had it coming .”

You were trying to calm down but they just kept saying you should apologize to Minho. Of course they were taking his side.

“I don’t think she should apologize, you guys know how Minho gets” Changbin said

Tears started to stream down cause you were getting frustrated. When you get mad , you start crying . It's been like that your whole life. Finally, some stood up for you and it was your lovely changbin. You loved changbin so much and you were thinking about rewarding him tonight but your thinking got interrupted.

“She should’ve never said those kinds of things to him though.” Jisung said, and the rest of the boys started agreeing. You honestly couldn’t take it any more and you didn’t have the heart to listen so you walked past some of the boys , to the front door and started putting on your shoes and coat. They started to walk towards you and asked where you were going but you just continued to leave.

You just needed time to breathe, to think, to calm down. You went home and replayed the argument in your head so many times that you cried yourself to sleep.

Hours passed, you woke and it was 10 pm already. You had worn yourself out. Even though you were mad at the boys, you missed them so much. You couldn’t stand being mad at them so you ultimately decided that you were going to make up with them , even though Minho started it.

On the ride to the boys dorm , you were just thinking about the argument and how Minho said those rude things to you. As you pulled up , you had to mentally get yourself together before going inside.

As you used your key for their apartment, you saw that they were sitting on the couch. Once they heard the clip of the front door , they quickly got up and tried to make their way towards but they were toppling over one another.

You put your hand up to stop them from coming close.

“We all need to talk.”

As you all sat on the couch , Before you could explain what’s been weighing on your mind, Minho started to speak.

“Baby, I’m so sorry , I didn't mean anything I said.”

“It felt like you did , you even called me out my name. Then everyone started to gang up on me. You guys made me feel like an outsider in my own relationship.” You cried

“Baby , we never wanted you to feel that way .” Chris started

Before Chris could say anything else , you cut him off.

“Well you did. Only changbin was by my side.” You sniffed

“But I don’t care any more , I said some things I shouldn’t have. I just can’t stand to be mad at you guys.”

After the boys started to give they’re apologies and hugs, you were thinking of a way to punish them.

“I want everyone to sit on the couch except changbin.” You said

As everyone settled on the couch , you went and grabbed a chair from the dining room and placed it in front of them.

“Sit , Changbin.”

Changbin had sat down and you started to explain what you were doing.

“I felt the need to punish you guys so this is what I’ll be doing. I’ll be fucking changbin and you guys will be watching. You guys can’t touch yourselves , you guys can’t touch me , you guys can’t touch changbin and you cannot touch each other. If you break these rules then I won’t be fucking you guys for the rest tonight and the rest of the month. Got it?” You smiled

You were so ready to punish and make Changbin suffer. Your sweet baby was just staring up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Baby , just be a good boy for me and let me do everything ok?”

“Yes.”

You started kissing changbin's body, as you were kissing him , you started to strip him until he was naked and until you were on your knees in front of him. You pulled his boxers down and his cock shot up and hit his stomach. You grabbed it and Changbin let out a sweet moan. You started stroking up his cock while sucking on his tip. You smiled around Changbin's cock as You heard groans behind you. You continued to take changbin whole cock in your mouth , saliva running down the sides of your mouth as changbin started to fuck your throat.

“Fuck baby, I can’t take it, I’m going fucking blow.” Changbin groan

You continued to deep throat Changbin’s cock until he came down your throat. You made sure you swallowed everything he gave you with a smile. As you get up , you decide to start stripping. You made sure you put on a show for the boys. Once all your clothes were off, you started sinking down on Changbin’s cock. The stretch felt so good. You didn’t have time for being prepped.

“Fuck look at her, that pussy is just sucking binnie up.”

“Baby, I’m so hard.”

“Baby I need that pretty pussy.”

You sank down on Changbin and wasted no time bouncing on Changbin's . Changbin gripped your ass and helped you bounce on his cock. It felt so good but you didn’t want to cum just yet, you have seven cocks to go. You kept bouncing until you felt Changbin tighten his grip on your ass.

“Baby , I’m going to cum fuck.” Changbin whined

You started bouncing faster until you and changbin came undone , he filled up your hole so well.

“Fuck I need a turn.”

You got up off Changbin and turned around to see if the boys had broken any of your rules. None of them broke your rules so you knew they wouldn’t take the chance to not fuck you for a month.

“Han, I want you next.” You said

Han got up and started stripping , he was eager to have his fill of you or you filled up of him.

“How do you want me babe?” You asked

“I want you to ride me like changbin please baby.”

“Anything for you , love. Now lay down.”

You had Han lay on the floor because Changbin was still fucked on the chair. Han looked utterly pretty on the carpet but you were going to have him drooling after you were done with him. You were going to give the rest of them head , they didn’t deserve it today. They were lucky enough for you to fuck them.

You grabbed Han’s cock and started to stroke it. He started to whine so you just eased his suffering and sunk down on his cock. The moan he let was just music to your ears. You got on your knees and started to lift yourself up and down on his cock. You quickened your pace and not even long after, you and Han were cumming together.

“Fuck baby”

You got up from Han, cum dripping out of you but you didn’t care. You were still hungry for cock.

“Felix I need you love”

“Sweetheart , please” Felix begged

Felix's voice always made you feel some type of way and that feeling somehow always made its way down south.

You knew how Felix loved to have you. You grabbed a pillow off the couch and laid on your back. Legs wide and open for Felix. By this point , everyone were stripped down to nothing so it was easier for Felix just to fit between your legs and just start fucking you.

“Shit baby, you already had three cocks in you, how are you still so tight?” Felix groaned

You threw your head back and moaned, enjoying this time on your back cause you still had five delicious cocks to go and they just knew how to fuck you. You came and Felix followed. Fuck this was a lot but you never backed now.

You looked at Seungmin next, oh you were so ready for your puppy. Felix got up off you so Seungmin can fill your hole up with his cock. Seungmin just started to fuck you, he grabbed onto your jumping boobs and started groping them aggressively

“You think you can try to punish me ? Bark for me.”

It looks like he made you his puppy for today.

“Mong , Mong” you moaned put

He was quickening his pace , you came after he finally finished in your hole.

Fourth cock down, four more to go. You had mixed cum stuffed in your hole , running down your legs onto the carpet. This carpet might need to be replaced.

Now you are ready for your pretty hyunjinnie and his long cock. You turned over so you could be faced down, ass up. Hyunjin sank down to his knees and started to knead the flesh of your ass, his finger running over your leaking hole. He was observing.

“So much cum baby, you ready for mine?”

“Yes love.”

Then Hyunjin just stuffed his cock into you without warning , it felt so much different from behind you , Hyunjin was pounding into you and it felt so good fuck. He was hitting the sweet spot in you that made your toes curl.

“Fuckkk Hyunjin.” You moaned as you came, you were so sensitive at this point.

Hyunjin continued to fuck you until he was cumming in your hole. You were left trying to catch your breath.

Five down , three to go.

It was now the maknae’s turn to have you.

“Baby you ok, you’re not too far gone right?” He smiled at you

“If not , I need to hold on to the couch.” He said that with so much dominance. Your innie always seemed to disappear when it was time to fuck you. You got up on shaky legs and held onto the couch. Jeongin rubbed the small of your back as he eased his way into your fucked out hole.

“Fuck, still so tight”

Jeongin snapped his hips into yours at a pace you couldn’t keep up so you just stood there taking it. Jeongin had power , the way he was blowing your back out was utterly so much that you came without even knowing. By this point you were fucked out of your mind , just letting Jeongin fill you up.

Fuck , two more and these were by far the worst cause you knew your pussy was going to be destroyed.

Someone had pulled you down to the floor on your knees and that someone was Minho. He loved to fuck you from behind because he loved to see your ass.

“Just sit here and take it jagi.”

Then you were stuffed full of Minho , you moaned. He set a brutal pace as he grabbed the back of your neck and forced you into a deeper arch. He was ramming his hips into you while keeping you in place.

“I’m so sorry for earlier jagi , please forgive”

Minho was hitting that spot that made your insides tingle , fuck your were about to cum so hard. Minho continued to abuse your hole and you eventually creamed his cock. Minho continued until he stuffed you full.

You were wrecked , cum leaking out of you , hair everywhere but you weren’t done.

“Chris, I need you.”

“You sure baby? You already taken a lot-”

“ I’m sure come on and be the last to stuff me.”

Chris put you on your back with your legs pushed up by your head. Chris loved the matting press. Chris made sure you were comfortable before pushing his big cock into your worn out pussy.

“Fuck , Chris.”

Chris started to put his weight on you and drilled his hips into yours. The sound that was echoing through the living room was sinful , his balls were hitting your ass every time he thrusted into you. Chris was set on making you cum first and hard. Chris quickened his pace until you were babbling. He was hitting your cervix so good that it made you so stupid his cock. It was too much.

“Yes baby girl , take it.”

“Too much, I can’t take it.”

“You can and you will baby girl.”

With that you came on Chris’s come , your juices and the mixed cum running down his balls. Chris came and pulled out. Your legs were shaking and you were fucked out. All you wanted now was sleep. One of the boys picked you up and started taking you to the bathroom so you could pee.

Once you were clean , you were laid in bed and cuddled with your lovers.

[lynnaredfield3383]

Not my characters. Aged up 21. Swearing. Established relationship. Angst.

Katsuki's voice came through the line.

“I won't be home the next couple nights.”

“OK. Be safe.”

Katsuki was suddenly alert. Your voice was normal, but your response was nothing he'd heard before or ever imagined you saying. Did you know? How could you know? As fear crept in and took hold of him, he lost control.

“Look you know what hero work takes, and I wish I could be there with you…”

“Kats, it's fine. Really.”

You chuckle genuinely, refusing to comfort or dispel his uneasiness.

“I can change shifts…”

Bakugo's palms were sweaty now, and his hands were beginning to spark with nervousness.

“I took a shift tonight, so it'd be pointless. Now go get the bad guys.”

There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Shit. You mad?” Bakugo asked.

You laughed at this and it actually calmed him completely. He knew your genuine laughs, smiles, and tones. Knew them so well, but why until this very moment had he thought he was bored of those things, of you?

Mad had never crossed your mind. Hurt, disappointed, discouraged, and done. Sure. But you'd never been mad at him. Not for a second. Bakugo wasn't cheating on you, just flirting with some woman at his agency. Though you wish he'd tell you he was ready to move on, you weren't mad. Nor were you going to hold him back. You loved him too much for that.

“Never mad. Never.”

“O-okay. I'll see you tomorrow night then?”

“Not sure. Depends on the case tonight. You know how hero work is, Bakugo. Bye.”

Bakugo had been caught on the fact you used the same line he had regarding hero work, but then he swore loudly as he realized you'd used his last name.

“Fucking fuck! Shit!”

Bakugo called you back, but it went straight to voicemail. So he started running redialing every few seconds.

As soon as you'd said his last name you knew you'd fucked up. Which is why you already left the apt. You moved all your stuff from his place into your new place a week ago. As observant as he was, he hadn't noticed because he'd only been home once in the last 3 weeks. Just to shower and grab more stuff. As soon as you ended the call, you rushed to block him, knowing he would blow your phone up in moments. You'd left the letter a week ago when you cleaned the house top to bottom the way he liked it and hadn't been back since.

“You good?” Shinso, your current case partner asked.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Bakugo was on the floor of the kitchen hot tears flowing down his face as he held the letter tightly.

Bakugo, Sorry I couldn't keep you interested. Never thought we'd end up like this, but it's obvious you have feelings for that woman at your agency. I saw you & heard you two flirting the day I dropped your lunch off. It's okay. I'm glad you found someone that makes you smile and laugh like I used to. Move on, be free, and accept that there are no hard feelings. I didn't give you a heads up because I know you'll fight for us. I don't know why, especially since you've already moved on, but that's just who you are. You never fail. You didn't fail me or this relationship. You didn't. It was just time for us to move on, and that's OK. It happens. Wish you the best always, but you need to know I can't be friends with you right now. Maybe in a few months, but let's see how it goes. Be safe, be #1 & live your life with no regrets.

Y/N

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi it's me, the trans man with male privilege people like to talk about. I pass pretty well, cis men often see me as any other dude. But I have trauma commonly associated with womanhood and interacting with a lot of cis men it's clear they've never experienced it, don't understand it, and oftentimes don't care. Some will try to bond with me over woman hate and it's extremely triggering. I don't identify with or have a lot of comradery with cis men and I don't let their misogyny slide, either.

But the queer community is soooo good at explaining my situation to me. It's impossible for a Man to have trauma from misogyny, I'm just saying so to get sympathy. My feelings are irrelevant because I'm not actually being hurt here. In fact, I probably find misogyny affirming and need to be taught a lesson. By identifying as a man I am posing as these guy's ally and enabling them, I should be apologizing for their behavior. /s

Being treated by other men as superior to women is a privilege probably but I really don't feel like I'm winning here. It's alienating on both sides.

you summed it up perfectly. it's alienating no matter what side its coming from. it's still depersonalizing as hell to have to go through with this shit. everyone wants to tell you what your experience is like for you. nobody trusts you to be a reliable narrator. it's fucked up beyond belief.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLIII)

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4472

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The curve of your eyes winds around my heart, A round of gentleness and dance, Halo of time, night cradle and safe, And if I no longer know all that I’ve lived It’s that your eyes haven’t always seen me.

Leaves of day and foam of dew, Reeds of the wind, scented smiles, Wings shading the world of light, Boats brimming with sky and sea, Hunters of noise and sources of colour,

Scents bloomed from a brood of dawns That still rests on a bed of stars, As the day depends on innocence The whole world depends on your pure eyes And all my blood flows into their gaze.

Paul Eluard, Capitale de la douleur, 1929

Summer. Emerald waves tainted the sea with white foam. Warmth. Rest. Vacations. Rain…

… it was Galway, after all, rain was never far away.

Andrew was getting frustrated. He was so excited to go on this vacation with you, you had spent so much time planning, and talking about it, and awaiting this trip…

… and now it was raining. It was cold. You were lost. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Stuck behind some bloody sheep…

Only in Ireland, really… It was fucking August, for God’s sake…

He heard you letting out a long exhale, feeling your frustration creeping through every corner of the car, your negative energy matching his.

He knew you would end up fighting. It didn’t happen often, but every couple fought from time to time. It had never been important, never been anything you couldn’t get passed in a matter of minutes. Your fights had always grown out of frustration over situations, like this one iteration of everything going wrong…

On the back seat, Elwood was growing restless. Andrew could hear its heavy breaths, the noise of his fur moving against the fabric of the seats. Even him was getting annoyed now.

“You should have turned left.”

There it was. Andrew knew you had longed to voice that sharp remark. To be fair, you were right, he was the one who had insisted to turn right at a previous intersection, hence getting the three of you lost.

He was not in the mood to be a reasonable adult and recognising his wrongs though.

“Next time, you’ll drive, so you can take all the bad decisions, and I can do the blaming. You had the map…”

“We have a fucking GPS…”

“Which is not currently working in this godforsaken land…”

“And I told you to turn left, and you didn’t listen!”

“Again, just take the fucking wheel then!”

You exchanged a glare, your eyes sparkling with thunder, before you huffed and looked at the time on your phone.

“We won’t catch the ferry. We should turn back.”

“We can still catch it.”

“It’s leaving in less than half an hour…”

“We can still catch it.”

“Andrew! We have no fucking clue where we are! We’re stuck behind those bloody sheep! We will not make it to the ferry, so let’s just… go back to the house.”

“You’re getting defeated…”

“No, I’m realistic. We’ll never get there on time, and especially not with these bloody sheep!”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?!”

You stared at each other for a moment. And then you did something Andrew had not predicted.

You unfastened your seat belt, opened the car door, and left.

You climbed out of the car, forcefully slammed the door shut. And you started walking across the road, walking ahead without so much as a glance in his direction. You had barely managed a few steps that you were already soaked.

As he stared at you walking under the rain, walking away from the car, walking away from him, all traces of anger left Andrew’s body. Instead, an old fear came back, raging, blurring his world for a second.

You were leaving…

In the span of a handful of seconds, mere seconds, his brain raced to the worst scenario possible. His thoughts stopped being logical and were filled with his worst fear instead.

You were sick of him. You regretted moving in with him. You wanted your ex back all over again. You would have been happier with Frank than with him. You were leaving, dumping his arse, it was over…

God… how could he survive that? You were… you were… he couldn’t…

But then you did turn around.

“ANDREW! HELP ME OUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

He frowned, unable to move.

“ANDY! COME HELP ME OUT!”

That was when he finally realised what you were doing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t walking out of his life. You weren’t breaking up with him, you were…

He saw you moving your arms in the air, calling through the heavy rain towards the scattered sheep, and he finally understood that you were trying to gather them all on the side of the road, towards an open field.

He tried to regulate both his breathing and his heartbeat while he climbed out of the car, securing his coat around his frame to protect himself from the cold rain.

He was panicking over nothing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t leaving. It was fine… he was fine… all fine…

He longed to hurry to you, but his body couldn’t. It was a strange mixture of tiredness, frustration, remnants of anger, and fear. Mostly fear.

He had to stop overthinking everything. You weren’t like that. You loved him, and he knew that, deep down… it was just difficult for him to believe he was that lucky sometimes. He couldn’t help it…

You turned to him as he approached.

“We need to get them out of the way,” you said, your voice still shaking with anger.

You were visibly surprised when he wrapped his arms around you, held you in a fragile embrace. He felt you instantly relaxing, your body growing numb into his arms as you reached up to hold him as well.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” you mumbled under your breath, although you were still frustrated.

“I’m sorry too.”

“We should go back.”

“I’m sorry. You were excited about this trip.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It is though.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

You didn’t hesitate a second to say it back, to pick up on one of his pet names again. And he ought to stop overthinking everything, but he couldn’t…

“Let’s go back to the car. You’re soaked, love. You’ll catch your death. Come on,” he prompted you towards the car, and you followed him.

Andrew made a U-turn, drove back to the small cottage-like house you were renting during your two weeks in Galway. The drive back was quiet, but the silence was comfortable and warm again. All traces of frustration seemed to have disappeared from your features by the time you reached the cottage. It had stopped raining too, so you didn’t get even more drenched as you walked from the car to the front door.

You heaved a relieved sigh as you stepped inside the warm house, you wiggled happily as you took off your coat.

“We can try to get to the ferry again tomorrow,” Andrew started, his tone cautious.

You surprised him with a shrug.

“We could. We’ll see.”

“I thought you wanted to…”

“Andy… it’s alright. I don’t care. Don’t overthink this. It’s just an afternoon, it was just an activity. We can stay here today, relax, enjoy each other’s company. I don’t mind if we don’t go see the Arans. I don’t mind at all. I promise.”

Andrew forced his shoulders to relax.

“We can still go later this week.”

You nodded, a playful glimmer shining in your eyes.

“Although, next time, we’ll turn left,” you quipped, teasing him while gently pinching his side.

He rolled his eyes, but a smile was back on his lips. If you were joking around, it meant that you weren’t mad. Good… that was good…

“You should take a shower, love. You’re freezing,” Andrew spoke in a quiet, warm voice, the one he knew always soothed you. He let his knuckles brush the sharper edge of your cheekbone, hated the coldness of your skin, longed for you to be warm and content again.

You nodded, taking off your jumper and wet jeans as you made your way to the bathroom.

“Actually, I think I’ll take a bath. We can take our time today, relax.”

You turned around, tilted your head a little in a tempting way as you spoke again. Andrew was having a hard time looking at your eyes instead of the length of your naked legs…

“Want to join me?” you smiled.

He gave you a suggestive look.

“In the bath? Or in bed?”

You bit down on your lower lip, and Andrew was gone for good. God, you had him wrapped around your finger… were you aware of the extent of his need for you?

“Hmm… bed first, then a bath? After all, we did fight… Some make-up sex is in order, no?”

He hummed, nodding his head as he walked closer to you. This time he didn’t refrain his urge to let his gaze travel down your legs, marvelling at their perfect curves, his fingers tingling already at the thought of touching them, feeling the softness of your skin, your warmth spread through his palms…

When he stopped, right before you, and looked up at your eyes again, there was something inviting in your gaze. He knew this look very well by now. It was the one that granted silent permission, the one that said I want you too, you can touch me…

His heart swelled at the thought that you were granting him the right to be this close to you now. That you were allowing him, even inviting him, to touch you. To kiss you. To worship your body… and he would. For the coming hour, he planned to do nothing but worship you, in the hopes that you would read in his adoration how much he loved you. How much he cared. How much he needed you.

You were staring right into his eyes as your hands slowly rose to his chest, as you peeled his cardigan off his body. There was so much tension in the air then, electric, as heavy as your stammering breaths, while you slowly unfastened the buttons of his white shirt. One button at a time. At an excruciatingly slow pace…

He let you do it though, do as you pleased with him. He loved it, the way you were setting a pace now. The way you were taking control. There was a quiet tenderness in each of your touches that told him he was safe with you, that you would never do him harm, that he could lay his heart, his body, his life into your hands, and despite that power over him, you wouldn’t destroy him.

He needed to stop overthinking everything…

He helped you slide his shirt off his shoulders, let you rest your palms on his undershirt, one hand on of each of his breasts.

“I love you.”

He grinned at the tender confession.

“I love you too.”

When you reached up to kiss him, it felt like breathing after a lifetime without air, like relief, like being alive…

At last… at fucking last…

This ought to be heaven.

After your pleasurable reconciliation, you opted to take a bath together. An hour spent in pleasure was incredible, but also exhausting, and both of you longed for rest now. Sharing a bath offered the warmth and quiet perfect for your tired bodies, and the intimacy you both craved after sex.

Andrew smiled at the memory.

Incredible sex, actually…

You heaved a content sigh as you readjusted your head against his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His brain was fuzzy with a happy static, the kind he had never experienced before. A strange sense of peace, contentment, happiness… but that felt better than all of that combined. He couldn’t explain it. He felt it only with you, that was for sure…

“Your skin is so soft,” he mused, trailing his fingers across your waist and hip, speaking without thinking.

It felt so soothing to have you in his arms like this. There was something grounding, reassuring, and delightfully vulnerable in lying here with you, naked, sharing a bath and cuddling. You seemed to have a special power, one that made his busy brain grow quiet.

You chuckled at his words, kissed his chest as a reward.

“Yours is soft too,” you nodded, caressing his chest as if to stress your words.

Andrew shifted his legs, unfolding them to prop his feet on the edge of the bathtub, making the water and its bubbles shift with his movements. You had added some scented salts, and he liked it. It was soothing. It felt so nice.

Loving you was so good…

You giggled, making him look at you again.

“God… even this gigantic bathtub is too small for you…”

He laughed then, bright and happy with your teasing. He wiggled his toes for good measure, making you break into laughter once more.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged.

“I love that about you. That you’re really tall.”

“Do you, now?”

You hummed in response.

“It’s sexy.”

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink.

“Oh… so I’m sexy?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Of course you are,” was your only answer, offered as if it was obvious.

Sometimes he forgot that you loved him this way. Like it was easy. Like there was nothing more natural in the world. That was how he felt for you; loving you felt as natural as filling his lungs with air, blinking at the bright sun, moving his leg over yours in bed. It was easy. Obvious. Ineffable.

You said that you felt like that, too. If it were a truth, it was a hard one to believe in. He wanted to though, longed for the safety of certainty.

He looked up at the ceiling, let out a long exhale as you nuzzled into his neck again, ran your fingers across his chest in such a soothing way, he almost closed his eyes.

He needed to stop overthinking this. You were here, in his arms, naked, loving him… it ought to be proof enough that you truly wanted him.

This fear he had felt in the car, seeing you walk away, this… uncontrollable dread that you could leave… He had to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

What if you left?

He tried to picture his life without you in it. There would still be Elwood, his parents, his brother, Alex, his friends, his classes, his writing, music, poetry. He could find someone else, eventually. He hated every part of it…

When he pictured you in the same scenarios, everything seemed brighter. His life was better simply because you were in it. He tried to think of his life in a year, in five years, in ten years, in sixty years… Every time the life he wanted had you in it. He couldn’t picture a future that was happy without you being a part of it.

He had never felt like that before. Even with Sam. He had thought he would always love her, and yet, there were bits of his life that he didn’t picture her into. He could imagine living on his own, he could imagine his career, his friends, his family… without Sam in it, and still be content.

Not with you. All these lonesome pictures felt wrong. You were missing…

He thought of his life, the one that awaited him, that laid at his feet, and he didn’t want to live it without you.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice was quiet, warm. When he looked down at you again, if there was puzzlement in your gaze, there was infinite tenderness too.

He wanted this to last forever. You. Him. Forever…

He never wanted this to end. And somehow, he just knew then. That the reason why he couldn’t picture a happy life without you, was simply because you were the one for him. You were the love of his life. And his heart would always be yours.

He thought he would be scared by such a realisation, but he wasn’t. He reckoned the feelings had been in his heart for too long, had become a part of him. He was simply putting words on what he felt. You were the love of his life. He was so happy it was you…

He wanted to believe that you felt the same, but he wasn’t sure. It was okay. One day, perhaps, he would be. If he loved you for long enough, if he let you love him fully, perhaps, one day, he would stop being afraid of losing you.

Instead of answering by any of these thoughts, he cupped your cheek, gave you a tender smile.

“Nothing important. I love you, that’s all.”

Andrew was on the porch, you could hear him play the guitar. A soft melody you didn’t know, perhaps it was his own. You encouraged him to write full songs, but he kept on claiming he didn’t really want to. Poetry was enough. Music was enough. The two entities didn’t need to mingle. Sometimes he did play some guitar, hummed a melody to match one of his poems. Which you called ‘writing a song’, but he called it ‘exploring a theme through different media’. You rolled your eyes at him every time.

After the heavy rains of the afternoon, the evening was sunny and surprisingly warm. Outside, the sun was setting, kissing the hills goodbye as it lingered on their tops, flashing its golden hues into the sky before it would grow dark. You walked out with a cup of warm tea in each of your hands, took a moment to watch the beautiful colours in the sky, all golden and orange fading into red. It was quiet, you had rented a small house as an AirBnB in the country side, and there was no one around. Your closest neighbours owned a farm about a kilometre away, the road leading to the cottage was rarely used. You let your eyes travel across the fields, the green of grass, the deeper shades of bushes, the winding lines of stone walls. It was magical, in a way. There was something anchoring to this land, that made you feel like you belonged there.

The soft melody resumed on Andrew’s guitar, you turned to him. Elwood was lying at his feet with his eyes closed, but the movement of his tail told you he wasn’t asleep. Andrew was sitting on a wooden bench, right under the window of the kitchen, his legs stretched before him and taking up the whole width of the porch. His fingers danced on strings, he was humming every now and then. His notebook was by his side, open on a page stained with black ink. It was the notebook you had offered him the previous year, for his birthday. He never went anywhere without it. He seemed so peaceful, a content smile tugging at his lips. His long hair was tight in a messy bun, and he was gorgeous in an old pair of jeans and a blue plaid shirt, his skin and hair bathed in the golden light of the sinking sun. Beyond him, hills rolled, green and gorgeous. Andrew was all you could see.

You remained standing there, motionless, like a fool, staring at your partner with awe written all over your features. It was such a mundane, simple sight. And yet, it struck you then. The depth of your feelings for him, your longing for this never to end, for him never to leave.

It was silly… so silly… to realise that truth just by watching him, in casual clothes, playing mindless melodies on his guitar. And yet, that was the moment when you admitted to yourself that this was the life you wanted. You. Him. Forever. You never wanted this to end.

And God, he told you he loved you daily, showed it even more in a thousand actions and attentions he had for you each day. And yet, a part of you was still afraid he would leave, that you could lose him. What would you do without him?

You hadn’t noticed the music fading, too busy getting lost in the green of his eyes as he turned to you.

“You’re alright, love?” he asked, accent thick on his tongue with the fondness of his words, while he tilted his head.

You shook yourself, walked over to him.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay,” you smiled. “Made you some tea.”

“Oh, thanks!”

He accepted the cup you offered, moved his notebook so you could sit by his side. You didn’t mean to pry, you knew Andrew would not want you to read his writing unless he offered to tell you about it, so you looked away from the notebook as soon as you caught the title of his new poem.

That You Are.

“It’s about you,” he explained, noticing your glimpse at the notebook.

“I didn’t read…”

“I know. I trust you.”

You exchanged a smile.

“Are you really writing about me?” you asked, feeling shier now.

He chuckled, kissed your cheek.

“Who else could I write about? You’re my partner…” he answered, bending slightly in search of your gaze.

“I don’t know… your mistress…”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re right, she’s hiding in the trunk of our car.”

“Can she breathe in there?”

“Bottle of oxygen.”

“Clever.”

He shook his head at you while laughing, but when he spoke again he was serious once more.

“It’s not quite finished, you can’t read it for now.”

“That’s okay. Do you want to tell me more about what it’s about?”

He shrugged, blushing.

“It’s about… being in love with you. And… wanting to be where you are all the time.”

He stared at you, and you couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

“What about the music?”

“Just…something I’ve been thinking about. To go with the poem.”

“So… you’re writing me a song now? Am I about to be serenaded?”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re insufferable,” he mumbled, before shushing your unspoken teasing with a quick kiss.

“I like it when you sing.”

“I know.”

There was something emotional shining in his eyes, but he didn’t speak more about it, and you let him draw the conversation away.

“What have you been up to?” he asked, taking a sip of his warm beverage while he put his guitar away.

He always asked these kinds of questions. At the end of every day he asked about how your classes had been, how was your research, how you were feeling. What had you been doing during the hours you had spent apart? It wasn’t prying, if you didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t insist. He just… genuinely wanted to know how your day had been. And you did the same for him. You remembered a time when you had settled for less than that simple, daily gesture. What an idiot you had been…

“I was just checking the weather for the coming days. It should be sunny on the Arans in a couple of days, so perhaps we could stay on the main land tomorrow. Perhaps a nice trek? It should rain early in the morning, but it’ll clear before noon.”

Andrew nodded, sipping on his tea, readjusting his glasses. At his feet, Elwood was now napping for good.

“We can drive to the national park, it isn’t far from here” he offered, looking at your phone as you showed him a page that referenced some paths across the wilderness of Connemara.

“Yeah, I thought we could walk around a lough.”

You studied the maps for a while, decided which path you would take the next day. Once the plans for your little adventure were sorted, Andrew gave you a mischievous smile, turning around and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bench. You fondly smiled as he moved to rest his head on your laps. His knees were bent over the edge of the bench, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I?” you asked in a quiet, tender voice as you lightly tugged on his hairband. He merely lifted his head a little as a response, so you could free his long curls, letting the chestnut strands cover your laps.

You took off his glasses too, secured them by your side. He let his eyes close with a relieved sigh as you ran your hands through his hair. You felt his body relax, the tension in his muscles disappear under your soft touch.

“This is so nice,” he hummed.

“It is,” you nodded, softly scratching his scalp, and he let out a long breath in response.

“I know that we had to wait until August to leave for our anniversary, instead of celebrating properly at the right date… but it was worth the wait!”

“We did celebrate on the date, though.”

“Yeah… but this is the actual celebration. Like… the real gift.”

“Hmm… yeah, you’re right. And I agree, it was worth the wait.”

“We outdid ourselves with this trip.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“It feels so nice to be just the two of us. To not have to worry about the usual, daily problems for a while.”

“Yeah… I reckon we both needed this.”

He took one of your hands in his. While you kept on running your fingers through his hair, he brought your other hand to his mouth, pressed it to his lips for a long kiss, intertwining your fingers together. He brought it to rest on his sternum next, stroking your knuckles.

You wanted to tell him, then. That he was the one. That he was the love of your life. That you never wanted him to leave…

But you couldn’t. You didn’t have neither the courage nor the strength. It had been a year, it was too soon. You knew, but he probably didn’t. Why scare him off when you could stay quiet and stare at his handsome features while the day ended and a new night was born out of the sun’s absence? It was safer this way…

“I love you so much, Y/N. You know that, right?” he asked in a whisper, and you noticed by how his voice had quietened that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.

You offered a tender smile he couldn’t see.

“I love you too, Andy. More than anything.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and a moment later, his lips were parting, and he was asleep, your hand still in his, resting on his chest, and his head on your lap. You kept on looking at him, admired his peaceful expression as he slept, every detail of his face, making sure to commit each of them to memory. You didn’t pay much attention to the dying sunset, despite the colours it shone onto the world. Only when it was getting too dark for you to see Andrew’s features did you notice the passage of time. But then again, he was beautiful like this, and his hair was so soft, and the weight of his head on your lap was reassuring, grounding…

Five more minutes…

[mintsturniolo]

♡ I'm Sorry

bf!matt x f!reader

summary: matt's in a bad mood and snaps at you, which leads to him having to apologize

You didn’t know what was going on with Matt today. He’d been agitated all day, but after filming with his brothers earlier, he’d stopped talking completely. You were sat on the couch watching a movie with Nick when you heard movement in the kitchen. Looking up, you saw Matt rifling through his backpack that he’d left on the dining room table. You glanced back at Nick who was still focused on the movie you guys were watching. “I need to talk with him alone real quick,” you told him. “I’m sorry.”

Nick shook his head as he stood up. “Do what you gotta do,” he told you. “I’ll go play Fortnite with Chris.”

As Nick left the room you made your way to where you boyfriend was muttering something under his breath. You hated seeing him so stressed. “Matt?” you said timidly.

You frowned when your boyfriend didn’t acknowledge you. You watched as he got himself a drink from the fridge before trying to get his attention. “Matt, what’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Matt replied, still not looking at you as he went back to searching for whatever it was he couldn’t find in his bag. “Dammit,” he groaned.

“Do you need help finding something?” you asked. “I can help you out.”

“Don’t worry about it,”Matt replied coldly.

“Oh…” you muttered, not knowing how to respond.

You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t know what to say to get Matt to talk. You glanced over at your phone and saw that it was getting close to dinner time. “I was going to make something for all of us to eat. Is there something in particular you wanted?” you asked.

“I don’t care. Just make something,” Matt muttered.

You were quiet for a moment, hurt by Matt’s tone. You couldn’t help but think that you had done something to upset him. While Matt continued to organize the stuff they’d used for filming you decided to start planning dinner. As much as you tried to focus on making dinner, all you wanted was to know if you had done something to upset your boyfriend. Bracing yourself for an argument you turned towards Matt. “Is there a reason you’re snapping at me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“Oh my God. Just shut the fuck up,” Matt snapped, turning to look at you.

The silence was loud as Matt realized what he’d just said. A look of regret crossed Matt’s face as he saw your eyes fill with tears. He hadn’t meant to snap at you. All the stress from the day had been building up since this morning. “Baby…” he sighed, reaching for your hand.

You pulled away, as you fought back tears. Without another word you made your way into Matt’s bedroom and locked the door.

Almost an hour had passed since Matt had snapped at you. You had heard him leave the house a couple minutes ago, and made your way back to the kitchen to continue making dinner. You heard Nick and Chris yelling from their rooms, still on live playing Fortnite. As you were getting done with dinner, you heard the front door open. “Hey, my love,” Matt said.

You looked up at him, but didn’t reply as he walked towards you. You noticed he had his hands behind his back, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry about earlier,” Matt said softly. “It’s been a really rough day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You watched as Matt pulled a bouquet of white roses from behind his back and offered them to you. “The last thing I ever want to do is upset you. I love you.”

You accepted the flowers and let Matt pull you into a hug. “So I really didn’t do anything to upset you?” you asked worriedly.

“No, baby,” Matt replied sadly. “We had an argument during filming. It wasn’t anything you did,” he told you, leaving gentle kisses on your lips.

You smiled slightly as you admired the flowers in your hand. "Thanks," you said quietly. "These are beautiful, by the way."

Matt gave you final kiss before pulling away. "I'll be right back to help you with dinner," he told you, leaving the room.

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @sturniolo04 @flouvela @mattyblover07 @sturnioloveniamh @slutforsturniolos @ivysturnss @ksturnz @emely9274 @amelia-sturniolo3

[kisses4kuna]

How I think the jjk characters would comfort you after a break up !!

Includes: Satoru, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi.

(Hurt/comfort, mentions of break ups (obviously) murder and vandalism (jokingly), might be ooc, written with fem! reader in mind but anyone can read!! Please ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes, I accidentally posted this twice...!..!.!!! So fixing it was a little difficult so ignore it if any paragraphs are merged......)

Satoru Gojo:

You've been isolating yourself in your dorm for about three days now.

The guy you've been dating just dumped you and you've been devastated since.

Of course, Satoru, Shoko, Nanami, even Yaga have reached out and tried to comfort you, but you brushed it off with a muttered “I'm fine.”, being sure to shut the door in each of their faces before they could say anything more.

But you weren't fine. Of course you weren't.

You were so in love with your ex. He was your entire world and he just left like you were nothing.

You've spent the last three days crying, sleeping, and rereading old texts.

You probably looked like shit, but you couldn't care less. What was the point in trying to look or act decent now that he was gone?

You're forced to pull yourself out of your thoughts once you get a knock at your door.

You groan, you really, really don't wanna talk to anyone, but you force yourself to get up.

You open the door and before you can even get out a full “What do you want?”, Satoru shoves past you into your room with a shit-ton of snacks.

“Did you really think I was gonna let my favorite person stay isolated and wallow in their sadness forever?” He asks, giving you a teasing grin.

You can't help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

“What's all that for?” You ask, pointing to the snacks that were now covering the entirety of your bed.

“Movie night!! We're gonna watch a bunch of movies and eat a bunch of snacks and stay up all night until you stop being all mopey!” He exclaims, and you feel an excitement replicating his bubbling up in your stomach.

“If your big ass doesn't eat all the snacks...” You mutter back with a sly grin as you get into your bed, sitting beside him.

He immediately puts his hand over his heart and squeezes his shirt with a look of faux offence.

“What!? And to think I went out of my way to be all nice to you after your dick-head boyfriend dumped you!” He whines, crossing his arms to look more angry.

This only pulls laughter out of you. His face immediately softens, it feels much better to see your pretty smile than your depressed frown.

He pulls you into an unexpected hug, and once you process it, you hug him back.

“I can hollow purple him if you want.” He says, muttering the words softly against your hair in order to keep the moment quiet.

“That's not happening and you know it.” You whisper back. Suddenly, this break up isn't seeming so bad.

Maybe you just need Satoru and your other friends, and you'll be better in now time.

Nobara Kugisaki:

Ever since you found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you, you've been visibly down in the dumps.

Right now, Nobara is the only one who knows since she helped you catch him.

“I just can't believe him. All that time together and he fucking cheats.” You groan before looking up at Nobara, who's currently going through your closet to help you pick what you need to throw out and what you need to keep since you've got way too much clothes.

“Yeah, he's a total moron. Keep or no?” She asks before lifting up one of your shirts.

“You can throw that out. And with my best friend too? No offense to you, of course, but seriously? He could've slept with anyone, and he chose one of the girls I trusted most in the world.” You shake your head and your heart clenches at the thought.

“Well, at least one good thing came out of this.” She says, tossing your shirt into the ‘keep’ pile.

“What?” You ask with major confusion. What the hell is that supposed to mean? She thinks it's good that you got cheated on?

“Now I get to be your best friend!” She smiles and laughs, and that causes you to laugh as well.

“Yeah, and I guess if he had cheating in his mind, I don't want him anyways.” You then get up off of your bed and sit next to Nobara, leaning your head on her shoulder.

She puts the pair of pants she was holding down and wraps her arm around you.

You both just sit like that. Neither of you says a word, but you feel a sense of peace washing over you for the first time since the break up.

“So do you wanna beat up his car now?” Nobara says, breaking the silence, and all you can do is smile and laugh.

Yuji Itadori:

“He did WHAT??” Yuji practically screams and you immediately slap your hand over his mouth.

About thirty minutes ago, you found your boyfriend (well, now ex-boyfriend) kissing another girl.

Your first reaction was to run to Yuji's room despite it being midnight and pray to God that he was still awake.

When he answered the door, you could hear Human Earthworm playing in the background, basically telling you that you hadn't woken him up or anything.

Yuji stares at you with wide eyes and says something from under your hand, buts it's muffled.

“Yuji, you have to shut up! It's midnight and I'm not supposed to be in here! We'll both get our asses kicked if we wake anyone up!” You whisper-scream to him and he begins frantically nodding his head.

You remove your hand from his mouth and wipe it on your shirt since he got a little bit of his spit on it.

“Ew...” You whisper softly.

“I can't believe him! You're supposed to be his Jenifer Lawrence, guys aren't supposed to cheat on their Jenifer Lawrence's!!” He whispers back, somewhat aggressively.

You can't help but chuckle at his dumb reference.

“Tell me his address!! I gotta square up with this guy!!” He whispers again and you laugh again.

You don't know it, but he's acting stupid on purpose. He's not super skilled at comforting people, but he's great at making people laugh.

“‘Square up’??? Yuji, what is this? A 2000's drama comedy?” You whisper through hushed giggles, your hand now over your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing too hard.

“I'm serious, no one cheats on my best friend without catching these hands!!” He whisper-yells back, which only causes you to laugh harder.

He continues making dumb statements until you both forget the time and are now laughing hard, not even whispering anymore.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door that snaps you two out of your laughter.

Yuji quickly throws a blanket over you to ‘hide’ you in case it's a teacher then gets up to see who's there.

When he opens the door, he's met with an extremely annoyed and tired Megumi.

“Listen, I don't know what the hell you two are doing up at 1:30 in the morning but if you could shut up and go to sleep so that I can sleep, that'd be great.” He groans, glaring at Yuji then you.

“Do you think hiding under a blanket is actually gonna work?” He asks and you get out from under the blanket, your face is slightly flushed from embarrassment.

“That was Yuji's fault.” You say while pointing your finger at Yuji who them gasps.

“What!! I was trying to keep you out of trouble, how dare you push the blame onto me!!” He jokes back, and Megumi groans loudly.

“Just shut up.” He says before storming off back to his room.

Yuji shuts the door then walks back to his bed and sits beside you.

“We should have a sleepover!” He suggests with a big smile.

You tap your chin with your index finger, pretending to think.

“I dunno... You kick a lot in your sleep.” You tease him.

“I do not!” He retorts in offence.

“Fine. But if you kick me even one time then you have to do all my homework for the next month!” You say before laying down in his bed, pulling the covers over yourself.

He smiles and lays beside you.

“Deal.”

Megumi Fushiguro:

You hate this.

You can handle a lot of things, curses, training, homework, fighting...

But break ups?

You would rather take on a hundred special-grade curses all at once.

Megumi knows that about you. Which is why he's decided to let go of his nonchalant ‘I don't care about anything or anyone’ act for just today for you.

He knocks on your door and you answer.

“Oh, hey Megs. What're you doin' here?” You ask, your gaze shifting from his gaze to the blankets and snacks in his hands.

“Don't play dumb. You know I'm here to comfort you.” He rolls his eyes, walking into your room and setting everything down.

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” You smile.

One of your favorite things to do is tease Megumi.

He knows that about you.

Come to think about it, Megumi probably knows everything about you. He's definitely your best friend. You'd probably choose him over anything and anyone. He knows your favorite songs, snacks, meals, movies, drinks, your biggest fears, your type, your pet peeves, everything.

So of course he came with every single snack you've ever said “Hey, this is really good” or “You know what you really need to try -!!” about.

Of course he came with his laptop to watch your favorite movies.

Of course he came with blankets and pillows to build a fort to watch said movies in.

Because contrary to popular belief, Megumi Fushiguro was the most thoughtful person you've ever known.

That's why he's your best friend.

“Oh, by the way, if you get a very detailed and remorseful apology from your ex, don't respond.” He randomly blurts out while building the fort for you two.

It's basically muscle memory for him after how many times he's done this for you.

“Megumi, please tell me you didn't threaten my ex into an apology...” You wince at the thought.

“I didn't threaten him.” He smirks as he puts the final blanket on the fort before crawling in.

You barely catch the smirk because it's gone within the same second it appears.

“Uh huh.” You reply sarcastically before crawling into the fort with him.

“So what do you wanna watch first?” He asks as he lists off all your favorite movies.

If you told anyone that the cold-as-stone Megumi Fushiguro was here in your dorm, building a fort for you and watching your favorite movies with you and cuddling with you when you both fall asleep, they'd laugh in your face.

But that didn't matter to you, since all you cared about was that you got to see that side of Megumi, and you wouldn't trade moments like this for the world.

---

A/n: this is basically just because I have evermore stuck in my head rn and it made me think ab Satoru helping reader after a break up!? Also, guess which one of them is my favorite 😋😋 I think it's obvious but idk..

[salty-an-disco]

What chapters would you say are your favourite characterisations for each of the voices? I ask because a lot of the way they act is very much based on what chapter they’re in :3c

Ooooohhh, that's a good one…… I take all the different ways they're portrayed in these chapters in consideration to inform different facets of them, but if I were to choose a favorite, let's see–

Contrarian: As much as I like seeing their more spiteful side in Fury and Apotheosis, and their line readings in Razor is fucking top-notch, nothing can beat the character arc they go through in Stranger for me. It's just. so good. Love this clown who's full of resentment and guilt <3

Cheated: Torn between Cage and Wraith…… Wraith, because seeing her bond with Cold over their mutual hatred for the narrator is just so fun, and how she goes about suggesting throwing Wraith in the pit ("Fuck those two. Let's flip the table!" how Contrarian of you Cheated) is just incredible to me. But I also really like how Cage shows that as sympathetic as Cheated can be, she can still fall into doing cruel things just to assert control over her circumstances, even to her own detriment. That's some good stuff.

Skeptic: EotN Skeptic, my beloved…… I feel like after pris-cut, people started focusing too much on Cage for Skeptic's characterization. Which doesn't feel fair, when that's him at his most stressed and desperate to cling to any semblance of control. It's still a very interesting look into his character, but people seem to be taking that as his default, and not him in dire circumstances. In Eye of the Needle, though, Skeptic is much calmer and even friendly, trying to gas Stubborn up to get him to help. He has a theory and a very simple set of circumstances to test, and even seems a bit excited to test it. Also shout out to Den Skeptic, the moment when he realizes the Princess is more than just a moment is everything to me. He's got low empathy, but he tries to be fair to others <3

Smitten: Sighs, really wish we got to see more of him, really feels like out of anyone, his character is really underexplored, which is a shame. Character-wise, though, gotta give it to Burned Grey. He's just…… so fucking devastated, lashing out at everyone around him, and the way he quickly switches up the moment we see the princess aikskkdmdk This chapter is what really shows where Smitten's priorities are to me. Her safety. Her happiness. At the expense of anyone and anything, even himself. And if he has to hurt, to burn alive, to get to it, he will.

Stubborn: Listen…… the way he managed to have such good chemistry with Adversary despite never speaking to her directly is just sijsjddjjdjdjf SO GOOD SIKSKDKJDKFJ. And I love, LOOOOOVE how he isn't the cliché 'ew, emotions' kinda tough guy. No, he feels, and he feels STRONGLY, you can even get him and Ada to sob in this route I'm just simskjdmdjjdjfj THEM!!!

Broken: Call me a contrarian (heh), but I love seeing Broken getting worse and doubling down on his devotion lol. It's more engaging, OK? And how spiteful and even mean he gets in Tower-Fury is just so good akmskkdmmdjdjd

Hunted: Den with Skeptic…… Just. Seeing this lil guy who was so so afraid of Beast finally get to understand her, to connect to her, and be the one urging you to reach out to her is SO GOOD. Also, the ending where you end up trapped under the rocks with her, when Hunted realizes there's no escape, and it just says it'll lay down and rest for a moment…… OUGH.

Opportunist: Gotta go with Wraith for him too aikskdjdjdjdis Not only is him hilarious there, but also surprisingly competent??? He actually manages to successfully suck up to the princess here???? The surprise factor of it matched with just how funny he is really bumped him up for me when I first saw this version of the route lol

Cold: Another one where their own route just can't be beaten to me akmskddmxmdm. I just love how even after murdering her in cold blood and suggesting we try to kill her again, Cold still gets along with the Princess so well. I also just really like his insights in this route when you decide to free her, about where does a world ends and another begins. It just goes to show how detached he is from reality. (Also, him casually insulting the Narrator every other sentence is just too good lol).

Paranoid: Apotheosis……… What I think is interesting though, is that while on the outside, it looks like Paranoid is 'winning' here, I think she's never been losing it more. She just confirmed that there are no fucking rules. This world is whatever they think it can be. And for someone with a lot of intrusive thoughts (no, it isn't Cold who's 'intrusive thoughts personified', stop calling him that, it's medically inaccurate and honestly insulting to people who actually suffer from intrusive thoughts), the mere idea of it is TERRIFYING. And I think she reaizes that just as they go to that epic fight, which is why she laughs like that, and why the fall is so hard on her and immediately makes her back down and feel like everything's doomed again. For a person full of delusions and intrusive thoughts, the construct is a fucking nightmare world (pun intended).

Hero: Now, for him, I just can't choose one route for his characterization. Out of all the voices, I think he's the most important one to really take into account how he can act in each route when characterizing him. I love his complexities and different facets so much, I made them into a plural system wkmsdmdkdmd he's just. sighs. Hero, my beloved <3

[utilitycaster]

Idk how to articulate this but in regards to a lot of defense of certain elements of C3 being that they “make sense” in universe, (Ashton becoming indecisive, the party not knowing each other well because of the little passage of time, the party not having stakes in much of things,) it’s always very misguided because something can make sense in universe and still be a really bad writing decision. Especially if you’re trying to respond to an out of universe criticism with in universe logic.

Correct. I think there are two big problems with these arguments. The first, is as you said, the fact that these Doylist critiques (story poorly structure, party lacks investment) are being met with Watsonian defenses (makes sense for the party). We're saying "the party should have been given a reason for investment in the beginning."

The second is, and I've been reluctant to point this out because the bulk of hate I've gotten has been (largely false and frankly idiotic) claims of hypocrisy. But man is a lot of this hypocritical, the defense of Ashton specifically. Like, yes, Ashton is someone who's had a difficult life and frequently had very little power, so the fact that they do have power now isn't something they are used to. However, and this really is the even larger problem, just because a sentient being has a reason for feeling a certain way does not in fact mean that acting on it is excused from criticism. Ashton also learned he contained the shard of a titan only a few weeks ago; why aren't we granting the same "well, it's new, let them process" it to the party's fixation on avenging the titans? Why are we getting this from people who frequently treated Orym as "irrational" and bent on nothing but vengeance for deaths he'd carried for six years and had thought about extensively? Hey, Ludinus is acting from trauma! So is Liliana, according to a lot of these people. If acting from trauma is always valid, then criticism of any of these people is cut off. So clearly, what you do with that trauma matters!

You can feel any way about anything, but how you act matters, and time and time again, a huge number of Bells Hells and Campaign 3 fans have argued that actually it doesn't, and if you've ever had your choices curtailed your lack of agency means you are entitled to do whatever the fuck you want. It extends to themselves as well - doesn't matter if (for example) there's absolutely no indication that Gelvaan's issue with Imogen was homophobia or misogyny and in 118 episodes there hasn't been - if you feel like Imogen's experience is relatable to your real-world one where those were factors then obviously your feelings are right so who cares about like, the facts of the situation! You're new to the campaign! You can't be EXPECTED to LOOK THINGS UP and THINK.

You know what I realized, upon answering this question: I don't know if Ludinus realized that the impact of reaching out to Predathos would be the ruin of Molaesmyr; I don't think he was terribly worried about consequences but I do think it's fair to say "he might have not realized how badly this could go, and was surprised as any by the result". Just someone following a path because they were hurt and traumatized and not thinking things through. We keep talking about how Bells Hells might be remembered as Vespin Chloras, and they might be remembered as such, but Vespin was an arrogant but genuinely competent and even, arguably, well-intentioned person with a clear plan that was ultimately a gross underestimate. I think they're more likely to be just fuck-ups in the dark who could cause mass destruction because they cared far, far more about the hurt they'd received than the world around them.

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter one

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You get some life changing news, and telling Billy doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, angst

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N:

Yay a new series! I’ve been dying to write for Billy again. I hope you guys like this, your comments and support mean the world to me.

When Billy had arrived at Hawkins High for the first time, roaring into the parking lot in his blue Camaro and wearing the tightest jeans known to man, he had caught the attention of every girl in school.

Including you.

You weren’t exactly…popular. Actually, you were considered a freak. Best friends with Eddie Munson and proud member of the Hellfire club, you caught a lot of shit from your classmates. You knew from the second you saw Billy Hargrove that you never had a chance.

You had never been more surprised to be wrong.

You knew Billy had a reputation for going through girls like crazy, sleeping with them and leaving them high and dry. Yet you still found yourself falling for him. And when he approached you and asked you out, you said yes embarrassingly fast.

“Asking you out” ended up being a late night trip to Lover’s Lake, making out before moving into the backseat and letting him fuck you. That might sound crude, but there was no better way to describe it. It certainly wasn’t making love.

Your late night visits with Billy became a regular thing. It was kept quiet - Billy didn’t tell anyone, and he acted like he didn’t know you at school. The only person who knew was Eddie, because he was your best friend in the world and you told him everything. He did not approve, but he wasn’t about to tell you how to live your life. He was just scared you’d get hurt.

Which, of course, you inevitably did. But we’ll get to that.

You held out hope that one day Billy might see you as more than a secret hookup, that he might take you out on an actual date and show you off at school, but you knew those were just dreams. Deep down, you knew Billy was embarrassed to be seen with you. He showed up at Hawkins High and became the most popular guy in school - he wasn’t about to let anyone know he was secretly sleeping with The Freak.

This routine worked out for a while. That is, until you had the realization you had skipped your period while you were throwing your guts up before school one morning. Ice cold fear struck into your heart, and you realized you had really fucked up.

That day you went to school looking nearly as bad as you felt. Carol Perkins giggled as you passed her in the hallway, whispering something to Heather Holloway. You had too much on your mind to care. Billy gave you a strange look when he saw you, but didn’t say anything.

You found Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant at your usual spot in the cafeteria. You walked over and took a seat, not even bothering to get anything to eat because it would just come back up anyway.

Eddie did a double take when he saw you. “Jesus,” he said, taking in your messy hair, bloodshot eyes and melancholy expression. “What happened to you?”

The other guys were deep in conversation about the latest campaign. You leaned closer to Eddie. “I skipped my period. And now I’m getting sick.”

Eddie just blinked at you. He looked like he didnt understand - you saw the moment the realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking down at the table. “Oh, shit.”

“Did you…take a test?” Eddie whispered, leaning in closer to you.

“No.” You picked at a loose string on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I figured I would go to the doctor so I don’t fuck it up.”

Eddie looked around the cafeteria before his eyes landed on you again. “Do you want me to take you?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “You would do that?”

Eddie smiled. “Well, yeah, of course. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna make you go alone.”

You felt relieved to hear that. This was scary enough without having to go through it all alone. “I don’t know how I would have even made it there by myself without alerting my parents anyway.”

“Eddie Munson chauffeur, at your service,” he said with a bow. You snorted.

“Thanks, Eds.”

That evening after school you rushed home before your parents could get there and picked up the phone. You dialed the number for your primary care doctor’s office with shaking hands and made the appointment, not telling the receptionist over the phone what it was for. You figured you’d deal with that when you got there.

The next day passed in a blur. You looked presentable at least, but you had to leave class twice to go throw up in the bathroom. Billy gave you a concerned look when he saw you in the hallway again, but you ignored him.

After school you met Eddie at his van. He opened the passenger side door for you - “My lady,” he said with a dramatic bow - before jumping in the driver’s seat and starting up the old vehicle. You noticed Billy watching you from his Camaro where he waited for his younger sister.

Eddie blasted music over the radio while you drove. It made you feel better because you weren’t in the mood for conversation. The butterflies in your stomach made you feel like you could throw up again. You took deep breaths as he drove to keep the nausea under control. Eddie always drove like a maniac.

He pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, some older ladies standing by their cars giving you a dirty look as the van tore into the parking lot blasting Metallica. Eddie didn’t notice.

He walked with you into the office, taking a seat in the waiting room while you went to reception to check in. You gave the receptionist your name, and she handed you a clipboard and pen and told you to take a seat.

The questions on the forms were standard. Your personal information, health history, medications, etc. By the time you finished with it, a nurse was opening the door and calling your name. Eddie squeezed your knee before you stood, letting you know he was here for support and would be right where you left him.

The nurse had you do the usual tasks - your weight and height, pee in a cup, and they took some blood samples. You waited in the exam room for the doctor, kicking your feet as you sat on the tall table. You felt more like a child than you had in the past few years.

When the doctor walked in carrying a clipboard and saying your name, you felt like you could throw up for the millionth time. He looked at you solemnly, and you knew it wasn’t going to be good news.

“Your pregnancy test came back positive,” he said. “Based on your bloodwork, I would estimate you at about 6 weeks.”

The room spun around you. You suddenly felt way too hot and claustrophobic in this tiny room. You wished you had asked Eddie to come back with you. You felt incredibly dizzy, like you could pass out. This was not happening. It was not happening.

“You’ll need to start taking prenatal vitamins,” he continued, oblivious to your internal panic. “I’ll give you some brochures with information and resources.”

You left the doctor’s office with a handful of pamphlets on pregnancy, birth, babies, and motherhood. Your face was white as a ghost, and Eddie clocked it the second you walked back into the waiting room.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, standing as you approached him and wrapping you in a tight hug. The tears fell as you buried your face in his chest. He stroked your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out. You’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie helped you walk back out to the van on shaking legs. You couldn’t stop the tears now. Your life was over. Billy was never going to want to stick around for this.

Oh, god. Billy.

You didn’t even want to tell him. It was going to be a disaster. He was already embarrassed for anyone to know you were hooking up, but for the whole school to know he had gotten you pregnant? He would never allow that.

You were on your own.

Fuck.

You wanted to skip school, but your parents weren’t buying the “I’m sick” excuse. Of course it was the one morning you weren’t throwing up everything you’d eaten the night before. You got yourself together as much as you could, dressing yourself in a band tee and your favorite ripped jeans.

Eddie stayed by your side as much as he could at school. He met you in front of the school and walked you inside to your first class. You were grateful for his support.

It was halfway through first period when the nausea hit you again. Your hand shot up, asking “Can I go to the restroom?” and then sprinting out of the room before you even got a response. You barely made it to the bathroom in time, locking yourself in a stall and falling to your knees as you threw up.

When you were done, your eyes were watering. You grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your face, flushing the toilet and standing up shakily. You straightened your clothes and unlocked the stall door, walking out into the bathroom.

Only to see Carol Perkins, of all people.

She gave you a smug smile, tucking some of her curls behind her ear. “Hope you feel better, Freak.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed past her back into the hall, but you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach, the voice in your head telling you this is very, very bad.

You were surprised that nothing seemed to come of it as you moved on to your next classes. By the time you went to lunch, you were wondering if maybe she just kept it to herself for once.

That bubble was popped by Gareth Emerson.

The second you and Eddie placed your trays down at your usual spots, all the boys looked up at you. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant all looked at you with pity, which made your stomach twist into knots.

“…What?” You asked hesitantly, your blood running cold.

Gareth looked at Eddie, then back to you. “Uh…Carol Perkins is telling everyone you’re pregnant.”

If you weren’t already nauseous, you certainly were now. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your hands gripped onto your tray tightly as you tried to focus and calm yourself, but it wasn’t working. Your breaths were coming in shorter, like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

The feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing your arm brought you out of it. His rings were cold against your skin, grounding you to reality. Your reality wasn’t that great, though.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Jeff asked.

“It’s not…true, is it?” Gareth asked, his eyebrows raised.

You burst into tears. You couldn’t help it. You covered your face with your hands, crying your eyes out. This seriously could not be happening like this. You knew it would come out eventually - I mean, you could only hide it for so long - but you weren’t ready for it now. You’d only had one night to wrap your head around it yourself.

“Oh god,” Gareth said. “It is true.”

Eddie pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back and giving Gareth a dirty look over the top of your head. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed into his shirt. “Everyone knows. That means Billy’s heard. The whole school has heard. My life here was shitty enough, this is a whole other level.”

“Wait, Billy?” Gareth said, exchanging a look with Jeff and Grant. “Billy Hargrove?”

Eddie gave him another look. He stroked your hair, the soothing gesture helping to calm your racing heart. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Billy flicked the ash off his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. He leaned against his car, talking with Tommy Hagan. He was just about to leave when Carol came walking over, smiling like she knew something they didn’t.

“Hey baby,” Tommy greeted her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Have you guys heard?” Carol asked, like she couldn’t wait to say whatever she knew. Billy wasn’t particularly interested, dragging on his cigarette one more time.

Tommy took the bait, however. “About what?”

When it was your name that came out of Carol’s mouth, it grabbed Billy’s attention fully. He glanced up at Carol nonchalantly, but he was listening intently.

“What about that Freak?” Tommy asked with a laugh.

Carol giggled. “She’s pregnant. I caught her throwing up in the bathroom during first period.”

Billy felt sick to his stomach. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with his boot. “No way that’s true.”

“Why?” Carol asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Billy.

Because you would have told him, right? And he always used a condom. There was no way. “That Freak? No way she’s getting any action.”

Carol and Tommy laughed like Billy had said the funniest thing they’d ever heard. “I don’t know though,” Carol said, “Tina said she’s been running out of class to go to the bathroom all week. She’s definitely knocked up. It’s probably Munson’s. Two freaks in love.” Carol giggled, and Tommy started laughing again.

Billy forced himself to laugh, but nothing was funny. He wanted to throw up himself. “Hey, I left something in my locker. I’ll see you guys later.” He pushed off his car and walked back into the school.

He had to find you. He had to find out what the hell was going on.

You closed your locker as you got the last book you needed for your homework. You had waited until most of your classmates had left, the hallway deserted. The looks from your classmates all day had been enough. You shoved your stuff into your backpack, preparing to leave to meet Eddie at his van.

As you were walking down the hall, the doors opened and you saw Billy walking towards you. You felt like turning and running the other way. As he reached you, he nodded towards an empty classroom.

You thought about ignoring him, about leaving and letting Eddie take you home and maybe transferring schools and never seeing any of these people again. Instead, you followed him into the classroom.

Inside the empty room, Billy was pacing, running his hand through his dirty blonde curls. Your stomach hurt as you closed and locked the door behind you. When you reached him Billy spun on you, his eyes wild.

“Are you pregnant?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. This was not how you wanted him to find out. You thought you’d have more time, time to think about what to say and how exactly to break the news. Fucking Carol Perkins.

“Yes,” you said, opening your eyes to look at Billy.

He looked horrified. “You’re- it- it’s…mine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

Billy let out a rush of air. He started combing his fingers through his mullet again, pacing back and forth in front of you. “I- we- there’s just no fucking way. I used a condom every time.”

“Condoms can fail, Billy-“

“Bullshit,” he said. “I mean, yeah, but it’s so rare. There’s…there’s no fucking way you’re- pregnant with my kid.”

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with,” you reminded him, your voice small. You knew you weren’t the only girl he slept with. “And I went to the doctor. They did blood work. I’m definitely…pregnant.” The word was still hard to say.

Billy shook his head. “You- this is fucking insane. I’m not raising some kid.”

Your stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” he breathed out another rush of air. “I’m not doing this. Whatever you want from me, I’m not doing it. I’m not ruining my life to raise a kid.”

The tears welled up in your eyes. “So you’re saying you’re abandoning us.”

Billy scoffed. “‘Abandoning.’ I have more to live for than this. I was gonna…I was gonna get out of here.” He laughed humorlessly. “I was gonna get the fuck out of this shithole town. I was gonna go back to California. I…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’ll give you money for an abortion, I’ll take you to get it, whatever. But I’m not doing this.”

And with that he left, slamming the classroom door behind him and leaving you alone.

The tears really fell then. It was worse than you imagined. You were really all alone in this. Just you…and your baby.

On your own.

tag list

@rincallistis

[strawberry-daiquiris]

trying to recover from the jondo + 26 that took me out at the knees and greedy as I am, if that's anything, a jondo + 24 would probably be the last nail in the coffin 🙏🏼

a top reader, a top prompt 💕 this could either be seen as a continuation of edging jon and lando ooooor, just another version of them where jon gives lando what he needs because it's safer than letting him try to find someone else who might not be so trustworthy

jondo | oral fixation/mouth play | warning for gagging, choking, being a bit dangerous with plastic objects

for the kink generator ask game

****

It’s boring, when they have to wait around for the rain to clear. Lando’s hit over a hundred in a row playing keepy-uppy against the wall with his padel racket and one of Andrea’s stress balls.

Boring. Like Oscar when he refuses to rise to the bait of Lando’s challenge to try and beat him, retreating to his driver’s room to call his girlfriend, or something shit like that.

For the last five minutes, Lando’s been trying to get his mouth around the plastic of one of his water bottles.

He’s just about made it past the spout, the hard rim of black popping through the straining red sides of his lips. It stings, but in a good way, his eyes starting to water as he feels the smoother plastic start to slide in, the bit you suck on with your mouth poking at his uvula. He must be past the markings now, slipping down the 1000ml to the 900ml. He got to about 850 before, once, but the bottle was smaller. Thinner.

When Jon wanders in, right on time for his scheduled lunch, he doesn’t look as shocked as Lando wanted him to. Just rolls his eyes, chucking a plate of chicken wrap and badly cut vegetables onto the table.

“Lunch. Looks like that might hurt,” he comments. He cranes his neck, looking for Lando’s crotch. “Ah, maybe not.”

Lando smiles, or tries to anyway, the plastic suddenly feeling too hot in his mouth. He tries to tell Jon to fuck off, stop staring at his willy if he’s not going to do anything about it, but the only sound he makes is muffled, like he’s getting choked.

That’s when the panic starts to set in, a bit. He tries to pull at the bottle, but it’s not coming.

It’s stuck, he mumbles, but it just sounds like a hum.

“You bloody idiot,” Jon snorts, leaning close to Lando’s face, peering through his stupid big glasses. “Can you not get it out now?”

Lando tries to plead with his eyes, blinking out tears. Jon leaves it just long enough that he’s starting to feel his heart beat painfully against the shell of his chest before he gently puts a hand behind Lando’s head.

“You’ll have to relax,” Jon tells him. “Or it’s going nowhere.”

Lando tries, he really does, but it’s no use. He can feel himself going a bit faint, forgetting he can breathe through his nose.

He’s going to die with a big fuck off plastic bottle plugging his mouth. The photos of the crime scene will be all over the internet. Someone will leak them.

“I have to do everything around here,” Jon grumbles, as he steadies Lando’s head a bit firmer and hooks his finger in next to the plastic. “Stop moving.”

Lando grabs at his hand, because it fucking hurts, and the whole point is that his mouth is splitting open, so why is Jon sticking more in?

“Stop. Wriggling,” Jon says, teeth gritted, and his fingernails are digging into Lando’s scalp now. He can feel the bits of dandruff flaking off him. “I’m trying to help you, you muppet.”

The air Jon lets out through the corner when he pulls his finger out is enough to break the seal, and the bottle comes free. Lando breathes in deeply, coughing and retching as Jon pulls it out, the plastic covered in spit, bubbling in some of the deeper grooves on the lid.

“What was that about?” Jon asks, wiping the bottle on the expensive jacket Lando wore into the paddock that morning before he chucks it onto the pile to go to the hospitality dishwashers. “If I hadn’t been here you’d have had it, you idiot.”

“Knew you were coming, didn’t I?” Lando counters, picking up one of his crudités and sticking it in his mouth. It feels impossibly small after the bottle, and he clashes his teeth when he bites down too hard. The carrot chops in half, hitting against the swollen mess he’s made of the roof of his mouth before he can swallow it. “Wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

Jon puts two of his fingers back in Lando’s mouth, but gentler this time. He feels around the bits that are red, pink, in danger of bleeding or already well past that point. Lando can taste the metallic twang when he smacks his lips together, like when you pick at a spot on your lip, or have a nosebleed.

“You have to be more careful,” Jon says quietly, soothing his fingers along the inside of Lando’s cheek. It tickles, sensitive, and if he was hard before, he’s harder now. “It’s one thing wanting this-“

Jon flips his wrist over, and slides the rest of the fingers from one hand in until the bent part of his thumb bumps against Lando’s lips. It takes him by surprise, even though it’s what he set all this up for, eyelids fluttering at the intrusion.

“And another doing whatever that was.”

He jerks his head at the bottle, and Lando tries to make sure his eyes look understanding, sorry.

When he pulls his fingers out, Lando rasps it out too, to really hit home.

“Sorry Jon, I didn’t think it woul-”

“Fuck off,” Jon snorts, plugging his thumb into Lando’s mouth and waiting with it resting on his tongue until Lando accepts the peace offering, closing his mouth and sucking on the digit. It tastes a bit like peri-peri, like Jon’s already had his lunch. “You absolutely fucking did, you weirdo.”

Lando feels his cheeks go a bit pink, and there’s actually a bit of shame that creeps in. Wanting weird stuff comes naturally to him, but acting on it takes a bit of confidence. It’s the same in racing - he knows he’s good, he knows he can take it.

He just needs it to go well to kick him off.

Jon sighs, using his free thumb to swipe the tear on Lando’s cheek, and then he leans in.

“Since you got started, d’you want to finish off before you eat?”

Lando nods, so eagerly he moves Jon’s hand. It’s like they’re shaking on it.

“Idiot,” Jon says, but not unkindly, ruffling Lando’s curls. He pulls his thumb out with a pop. “Go on then, trousers off.”

They always do this before Lando eats, if they can, just in case. He’s never, not really, but he’s gagged a few times when it’s been too soon after a meal, or he’s downed a big glass of water.

Jon gets him to sit on the side of the bed, legs hanging off. They swing about, miles off touching the floor. Lando works himself up a bit, first, spitting on his hand and sliding it along his dick until a bit of pre starts to collect on his tip.

“Eager,” Jon comments, as he comes up beside him. “Open up then.”

They do two things in this position. Sometimes, Jon adjusts his neck, gently pressing it from side to side to work out a knot, relax a muscle.

And sometimes, he loops an arm around Lando’s head, holds it to his shoulder and sticks his full fist in his mouth, until Lando chokes, feeling fingernails brush the sensitive parts inside.

“That’s it,” he says, as he uses his free hand to slap Lando’s own off his dick, taking hold of it himself. “Good boy.”

Lando wishes he could see what he looks like, his dick red and leaking and Jon’s arm disappearing into his mouth at the wrist. The metal of the band for his whoop keeps bumping cold against the tip of Lando’s nose, so he knows he must be that deep. There’s a mirror on the wall, but it’s just a bit too far away.

Still, Lando points at it, even as his eyes roll back in his head, breathing as heavily as he can out of his nose. Unlike the bottle, he trusts Jon not to hurt him, not to push too far.

“Hmm?” Jon asks, following Lando’s finger, and then laughing. “Jesus, really? Fine, just… careful when you jump down.”

Between them, they manoeuvre him off the table, his legs shaking as Jon helps him across the room, still working over his dick. Lando closes his eyes, not wanting to see the full picture too soon, like not paying attention to the start of a reel and seeing the punchline before you get the set up.

“Look,” Jon commands, when they get in front of the mirror. “Come on, you wanted to see, didn’t you? So fucking look.”

Lando opens his eyes.

“What do you think?” Jon asks. “Do you like it?”

Lando nods, slurping around Jon’s hand. His mouth is full of saliva, bubbling out the corners like an overflowing bath.

Jon squeezes his dick, and spreads his fingers at the same time, and Lando loses it, coming into Jon’s hand, lightly splattering the mirror at the same time.

”Oh fuck,” Jon says, with a cheeky smile playing on his lips, the one he uses on the engineers when he’s doing the whole isn’t this one annoying thing like he doesn’t like shit just as weird as Lando does. “How fucking messy are you, mate?”

Jon steadies Lando’s head as he pulls his hand out, positioned over the sink to let him dribble and spit whatever he needs out into the ceramic, tap running to wash it away. He splashes Lando’s face with water, washing away the crusty bits at the sides of his mouth, and the tear tracks on his cheeks.

Outside, the rain has stopped.

“Let’s see you,” Jon’s voice is kind as he tilts Lando’s head up, using his phone torch to check the back of his mouth, like some kind of fucked up dentist. When he’s done, he leans in and kisses Lando. Just a peck. That’s all he ever does. “I think you’ll live.”

He looks to the window, a high rectangle angled so you can’t see through it, and smiles. The sun is starting to reflect on the bright white of the walls, making the room lighter, like a new dawn.

Over the walkie talkie in the corner, Andrea’s voice carries.

“Session will start in twenty-two minutes, everyone back to their places, please.”

Jon grins, nodding his head over the mirror, the drops congealing against the glass.

“Guess you’ll need to clean that up later, won’t you, mate?”