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velvetures · 8 months ago

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Got Me Snoring pt.2

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long... I've been doubting doing a part two simply because the first blew up like... crazy... and I'm afraid this one isn't going to measure up to the first. But THANK YOU to everyone for the love on part one... it's wild how much you all liked it. I appreciate all of you thirsty fuckers. Summary: Ghost is set on giving you the same change of perception on reviving head after figuring out just how bad you are at taking care of yourself. T/W: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, cunnilingus, size kink if you squint, spit?, lots of fem! fluids, a little male fluids..., cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and I'm still terrified this is gonna suck.

You woke up with a sore throat.

No doubt or haze in your mind about how it happened or why. And the only thing you could think was the word big…. big… big…

God, Ghost was so fucking huge. You nearly mistook the images in your mind for a dream. One so goddamn filthy you’d not be able to look him in the eyes. Only one of those big hands was sprawled over your belly. Fingers digging possessively into the little bit of pudge under them. Denting your skin and steadily reminding you of the rest of his body melted against the back of yours. You’d not moved an inch all night. Highly unusual on a normal day, but not with your Lieutenant sharing the bed.

Sharing a seat on the plane home wasn’t familiar either.

He felt inhumanly warm with his arm rubbing yours as the jet stream rocked the cabin of the plane. And the looks shared between the others as they watched the pair of you didn’t make your skin feel any cooler. Gaz staring at the spot where Ghost’s thigh rested against yours nearly made your pants singe. You couldn’t believe Ghost was just sitting there with his head leaning back against the wall. Maybe sleeping… he wasn’t really moving much. But you couldn’t tell. Nor possess enough confidence to look up or nudge him and find out.

Your sore throat ached a bit too. Raw, and making your voice scratchy, it’d been hard to give a solid ‘good morning’ without everyone asking if you’d come down with something. Your only thought was how Ghost came down something… and you had swallowed. A thought that felt good to hear in your own head… at least when Captain Price wasn’t looking at you with sharp, observant eyes.

Surprisingly, Ghost wasn’t the one who made you feel anxious. He’d been… different in leading up to the flight home. Having your bag packed before you’d noticed, getting you up before the others…. ‘Answer their questions later, little one.’ he’d whispered, masked mouth heating up your ear as he murmured so closely to it. Thoughtful… you’d decided. Realizing only after he’d solved the problem that waking up in bed with him would’ve caused a stir amongst the boys. He even made you tea… the way you like it; With some thick honey at the bottom. No doubt for your rasping voice.

No. Ghost was different.

No one had the gall to mention the Lieutenant strangely shadowing you though. Like you’d suddenly gained a massive black phantom tagging alone at your heels. On missions he would linger close by without anyone noticing, but that just felt… professional. Watching his wide shoulders slump towards yours while sitting on a shitty, makeshift, bench in a cargo plane? That was a whole different look. Even Price spent a good half hour chewing on an unlit cigar, trying to work out what you two had talked about the night before for Ghost to act like this. It was clear though. None of them suspected anything close to what actually happened.

Sitting next to him felt surreal. Especially when he’d been the one who silently insisted that you sit next to him. Having snatched you by your belt and tugged you onto the bench beside him instead of letting you find somewhere mushed between Gaz and Soap like normal. A low grunt of a sound and a firm nod pointed in your direction once he got a look at you sitting next to him much more shyly than normal.

You could smell his cologne, and memorize the tattoos peeking out close to his wrist. Feel his leg twitch to steady himself in his seat when the plane shook a bit. Even listen to the sound of his steady breathing. A whole new experience you’d not really thought about trying before. You nearly felt like you were learning Ghost all over again. Taking every small movement and reexamining it. Because… you couldn’t deny that he had readjusted his view of you.

A blowjob shouldn’t have felt that… intimate, you thought. Remembering the undeniably filthy things Ghost had said. It should’ve left you fulfilled… but not like you actually were. Some warm, expanding feeling, filling up your chest and making you want to hide your face and giggle. A grade school crush level of nervous energy you’d never felt towards a man before. Yet here you were, sitting there half-dumbstruck, watching your Lieutenant stretch his long legs and sigh softly as the landing gear rolled to a stop on the tarmac.

“Comin’?” He muttered, voice level. Maybe a bit impatient as those dark eyes settled on you.

Normal… you reminded yourself. He wasn’t talking you differently; No need to over analyze everything. Letting him lead was the smartest thing. The only way, really.

“Yeah,” Your voice makes you hesitate to say anything more. “Just got stuck staring…”

Ghost doesn’t show any real reaction. Just nods, and grabs his rucksack off the floor next to him. Wordlessly taking yours along in the same hand, walking off with -essentially- everything you had. Suddenly motivating you to not only move your ass off the plane, but follow his long strides to wherever it was he was possessed to go. And whether or not the others even noticed, you didn’t have the luxury of worrying about.

The Lieutenant had your weapons… and your only clean pair of pants.

You didn’t have to follow him far though. Only walking a few meters past your own quarters and down a hallway. Staring at the wide gap between his shoulder blades and the heavy sway that rocked the belt clipped around his hips.

He had your bag tossed next to his on a desktop inside his room without a single trace of the fact it wasn’t a habit. Sitting down heavily and reaching over stiffly to tug at the laces of his boots. Toeing them off with small squeaks of new leather and sitting them under the desk. Either purposefully staying silent to listen to your brain working, or totally unaware that you were stupidly standing there, watching your Lieutenant do a decidedly human thing with wide eyes.

“Come’ere…”

Ghost took off your boots just as simply as his own. Quiet, leaned over your foot propped up on his thigh and not even mentioning your hand resting on his shoulder to steady yourself. Feeling him tug the blouse out of your pant legs, and gently squeeze at your ankle to hold your foot steady.

You didn’t know how to feel about it.

Mortified… maybe. For the simple fact that you had worn the same socks for two days and his head was too close for comfort. Touching you. At least, touching you in a way that wasn’t meant for sex. It didn’t feel like you were doing enough. Weren’t providing him anything.

Guilty… yes? This wasn’t something normal in any situation. You hated a return. It’s what made you feel like you were causing a problem. Made laying low and staying quiet a habitual behavior. And Ghost being the one bent over and struggling to undo the tight knots in your laces? Nearly unacceptable. He didn’t need to… shouldn’t lower himself like that.

Ghost noticed it and you tried to beat him to the punch.

“You don’t have to-”

“Look like you’re gonna faint.”

That hand squeezing softly on your ankle tightens a little before releasing, gliding up your calf and patting you softly before guiding it off his leg. Those dark eyes look up and down your clothes, over your decidedly nervous expression, and back down to your boots before sitting them right next to his.

“Don’t tell me…” he mutters, leaning back in his chair, hands resting on his hips. “You’re not a fan of receiving… are you?”

The next two days, you leaned quickly that what was his, suddenly had made room to account for you as well. Almost instantaneously you’d been accounted for in just about every single way you could think of. You washed laundry… you found it put away in one of his drawers. You ordered food to base… it was in his room, not yours. Tried to get into your old quarters… the key wouldn’t open it anymore.

How he’d managed it, you didn’t even want to know. But, Ghost effortlessly took into account every single thing necessary to move you into his life without even a single question. And managed to do it perfectly. You couldn’t question it either, since he’d accomplished the endless tasks to such a degree of attention that you weren’t sure a man could even reach.

“Um, have you seen my black jeans?” The question felt a bit odd, and so did standing in the doorframe of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.

“Top drawer. In the closet, next to my pants.”

You couldn’t quite adjust this easily. Not that it wasn’t what you wanted per se. You’d enjoyed Ghost’s company more than anyone else the past couple days. And while he’d been accommodating, it wasn’t like he was bowing to your feet. He came and go as he wanted and didn’t crowd you like he was clingy either. However he did make you feel uneasy with how little he made a fuss about doing something for you.

You never asked for him to do anything. Yet he managed to do everything you ‘hadn’t gotten around to’. And worst of all, when it was time to sleep, he wouldn’t lay down until you eventually caved in and crawled under the blankets first. Almost like he was letting you get settled exactly how you wanted before even thinking about moving closer. No sex. No outward attempt at it. Not even a subliminal hint that he wanted more of your mouth, or anything else for that matter.

It nearly broke you. Or, better spoken, broke your perception of how you expected him to act. Which, made sense considering Ghost wasn’t anything close to the men you’d been with previously. They were always pushy… and he didn’t even push you to your side of the bed when you unconsciously wormed your way to his side at night. Your exes treated sex like a favor needing to be owed. And Ghost wouldn’t begin to act like he’d ever thought about the possibility despite having fucked your throat like he owned it.

Your jeans were indeed in the drawer next to his. And he did ask you to grab a pair of his as you retrieved yours, adding on that you’d be leaving in fifteen minutes… unless you needed more time to get ready.

You finished up in less than ten.

A bar on a Saturday night was Soap’s idea. Drinks, a few cigars, and the whole task force was his way of ‘team bonding’ and no one had a good enough excuse to deny him. Especially when there was a new mission lingering in the next couple weeks, and Price already had the files on hand. You thought it was a bit cliché. Sitting in a musty bar, listening to Price talk over the music about terrain, entry points, possible back-up, and the preemptive teams he was putting together.

It seemed his mind had been working just as hard as yours over the past days. Only you were preoccupied with Ghost’s hand firmly kneading at your thigh under the table. His thumb working at a sore spot just up and to the right of your knee. Forefinger squeezing to alternate the pressure and resist from making the movements feel too harsh. Looking far too relaxed while scanning a document and flipping through the pages with his free hand.

You’d resisted for hours at this point. Forcing yourself to stay quiet and not say something about it. Reminding yourself he was just doing it because he wanted to. Not because he thought he’d get something out of it. He wasn’t holding out. Every time his skilled fingers found another sore spot that made you twitch, you needed to physically clamp your mouth shut or take a drink so you didn’t tell him to stop.

“Another round?” Gaz held up a few bills in his hand, looking around the table.

When everyone agreed, you lost the willpower to sit still. Straightening up and trying to scoot towards the edge of your seat.

“I’ll go up since you’re paying.” The rush in your voice was lost on everyone. Everyone but the man who suddenly locked down with a vice grip on your leg.

Ghost didn’t even flinch. Still looking at the file in his hand, but that cold grip on you didn’t hesitate. Gluing you to your seat and enhancing the sudden sensation of his fingertips dipping under the ripped material stretching over your thigh. You couldn’t understand it. Dumbly trying a second time to stand up, only for it to earn you a side-eyed glance and a slight pinch to your exposed skin.

“No.” he muttered, chin jutting out in the direction of the man, already heading towards the table after seeing Gaz pull out cash .“The waiter’s comin’.”

And right on cue, a younger guy walked up and began taking orders. Going around the table, and stopping at Ghost was a very familiar kind of apprehension on his face after seeing that black mask stretched over his face. If only he could see under the table at the way your thigh was shaking from the soft touches.

“Nothin’ for us,” Such a cool dismissal of the guy that you hardly even notice what he said. “Price, leavin’ out.” He added, moving his hand to palm the back of your neck easily. Giving the slightest tug to get you up out of your seat as well.

“Little one’s comin’ with me.”

Not a soul at the table questions it.

Against the wall yet again.

Not unlike the first time… Ghost has a pattern. You’re breathless, but much more unaware of how this situation is going to play out. He hadn’t said a word in the drive, and kept the tightest sightline out the windshield you couldn’t even see his irises from your profile view in the passenger seat. The second he could spot the door to his room? His big body bullied yours right where he wanted it. Keeping you pacified by a hand over your mouth and dark, plotting eyes glaring down.

“Why’d you do that?” His question further raised the questions in your head. It’s all you can do to shrug, as if you had much autonomy over the rest of your body at this point anyways.

“At the bar,” The clarification deepens his irritated tone. “Why’d you take orders like that, huh? Like some fuckin’ maid.”

“You all wanted drinks.”

Unfortunately it’s not the answer he wanted, and you’re hauled that much further up the wall. Only now, you’re suspended fully off the ground. Balanced on his forearm jammed between your thighs; feeling his palm flat against the wall. God, it felt fucking ridiculous. He shouldn’t been able to do it, but he wasn’t even shaking. Dead calm and just watching you unintentionally grind down more on his arm the longer you’re forced to stay like that.

“I got my own.”

You nearly catch an attitude. Wanting to mention that it’s just ‘polite’. And for that matter, you’d not paired for a single drink all night. So, naturally it was only fair you go get them… You settle on saying something a bit more safe. Maybe more manageable even with how little your mouth wants to function.

“I didn’t pay.”

Ghost just snarls, head tilted and looming closer.

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” His hips flinch forwards, jamming against you to send the point home. And you’re not stupid enough to ignore that he’s hard. The long, thick line of his cock disappearing under the edge of his belt; tucked safely to have been able to escape the bar without anyone throwing looks his way.

“Stop doin’ shit just because.” He growls out a bit more directly. “Do it because you want it.”

His point skims over your understanding. “I do what I want!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” The dismissal is soft enough you know he’s not totally pissed.

“When’s the last time you made yourself feel good, huh?” He pauses, giving you a glimpse of his tongue licking his lips under that mask. “I think I remember you sayin’ you’ve faked it plenty of times… How many times is that? How many times you ignored that pussy cryin’ for attention?”

You get it. Oh, you finally understand… And damn it your face doesn’t burn hot with the realization that he’d caught on to just how bad you were about prioritizing yourself. Not even the dull, thudding pressure of your cunt sitting directly in his muscled forearm is enough to distract you from it. The mind game over, and Ghost holding yet another victory in his hand.

“I.. I don’t know,” You look away, unwilling to admit it. “A few times.”

“Bullshit,” He grunts, jerking his lower body against yours yet again. “You might not know that… but you do know how many men… don’t ya, sweetheart?”

Chest caving in defeat, you answer. “Five.”

Ghost’s chuckle is almost patronizing. A deep, rumbling one low in his chest that makes chills run up your back. Purposefully his wrist rotates a bit and your clit rolls over a thick muscle. You’re helpless to hide the pinched yelp it earns him, and it only makes him chuckle for longer. If you’d been in any other position, it would’ve been music to your ears. Now it just felt… punishing. Arousing beyond belief, yes, but still a bit of a sting to your pride.

“Five boys…” He muses aloud. “Not a fuckin’ one with enough sense to breathe without thinkin’.”

He stills for a moment, eyebrows furrowing over dark brown eyes. A debate in his head.

“Then i’ll teach you…” He nods once. Firm and resolved to the decision. His free hand coming up to trace your jawline with a reverent, almost scared touch. “Now that you’re mine… I’ll teach you how to be selfish.”

“S’not like I don’t know how.” It’s a wonder you’re able to sound that confident between the pressure to your cunt and the way he’s talking to you. Unflinching as always, he just smirks under that mask.

“Gonna show you how easy it is… to take pleasure. How to enjoy it.” Each word falls from his lips like thick honey. Whatever he’s planning so fucking rich in his kind that even his mouth slows and his accent thickens at the mere imagination of it. “You’re gonna learn to be good for me… and M’gonna start with that little pussy…”

One dangerous look down at where your thighs are trying to clench together freezes you.

“Not gonna let her be ignored anymore…”

Ghost’s tongue curls through your swollen, sensitive, lips; helping guide himself to your pulsing clit. Humming victoriously when your stomach flexes and your body jerks away from the steady pressure. Each lick is the same. Dragging up your slit and purposely spitting against your hole until you both can feel it dripping between your cheeks. Taking his time like this was almost painful. Feeling the twitch of his jaw against your inner thighs and hearing his thick swallows as he drank down your arousal.

It almost made you feel queasy, being the sole focus of this. Your hands unable to find somewhere to rest. Feet unwilling to settle on his back or off to the sides, like you knew you probably should be. Ghost was so intense that you shook. Muscles tremoring around his head and exciting him that much more. You were still stiff though, and it showed. Much to his excitement, it meant that he’d have that much more time between your legs. More opportunities to take you out of your head and throw you into a totally new one.

“It ain’t my mouth makin’ you shake, little one.” He murmurs, almost like he’s talking to your cunt instead. It’s hard to reply when those dark brown eyes lay locked on you from between your slicked thighs.

“I… I don’t know…”

Ghost just chuckles, kissing your inner thigh. Both hands slipping between your legs and using his thumbs to spread you open for him. Heavy eyes looking at your glistening hole covered in his saliva. Spitting on you yet again, and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh when your breath evaporates from the sheer sight of it.

“M’gonna make you feel everythin’ they couldn’t,” your eyes nearly roll back in your skull when he blows a soft, cool, breath over your hot skin. “You’ll memorize what my tongue feels like in your cunt… never gonna come empty again…”

You clench when those words come out more like a threat than a promise. Having heard that tone so many times sitting in on his interrogations. Always relating it to pure torture and the promise of wishing for death over being rested in Ghost’s hands. Only now it was startling just how badly you wanted to hear him speak like that again. Never having heard anyone sound so fucking serious about sex, or find yourself reacting so desperately. Your eyes scrunching shut and your head falling back against the bed, nearly pained with anticipation and a healthy dose of the most fearful arousal you’d mustered.

“Ghost - please, please… just, god take it easy on me.” Your voice is soft, pleading. Actually a bit timid of how far he planned on taking this. Of course he wouldn’t hurt you. You trusted him that much. But pleasure could be just as effective of torture, and Ghost was well-versed.

Another kiss presses to your thigh, “Nothin’ without your permission,” Those dark eyes gain crinkled lines at the corners though as he smiles. “But you’ll like it, little one. Every disgustin’ thing m’gonna do to make this pussy cream…”

His thumb glides over your outer lips, toying with you. Gentle to avoid sensitive spots and draw this out, but mean enough to remind you just how dedicated he was.

“Yeah, baby… you’re gonna look so good when I lick the fuckin’ come out of you.”

His mouth descends over you without another moment of hesitation. Still slow, but now it’s not just his tongue lapping at you. It’s his lips, rough with a couple days neglected of shaving. His teeth -which make you jump at first- pinching and nipping. But it’s all in the perfect pressure. Somehow fully aware of how sensitive you are right now and that the slightest move could be far too much. Reversing your twitches of apprehension into soft rolls of your hips against his face. Allowing you to guide him without a word. Learning how you want it whether or not you ever realized that it was guiding him better than a map.

You loved the slow, consistent pressure around your clit. Not rubbing right over it like he was sure you’d been subjected to before. No… you needed it softer. Sweeter. Just how a pretty girl like you deserved. Circles with a flattened tongue and his fingers working inside you. Even then, you got so fucking tight when he didn’t pull his fingers out all the way. Instead letting you milk them as the pads of his fingers curled against that textured, upper wall needing attention.

God, it was so easy. You had such beautifully clear reactions. What felt good, you’d nearly hold still for. As if you’d never felt it before and couldn’t withhold from the desperate curiosity. And when it didn’t, such polite grinds and roll of your hips would be almost too helpful in moving the bridge of his nose or his tongue to where you wanted it.

Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he ate pussy with such rapt attention. Enjoy it had always been easy. The taste, the sounds, feeling in control… any man in his right mind would relish in it. But you? You made his hard cock brushing up against the mattress fall to a true afterthought. He didn’t even care that there was enough precum drooling from his tip to soak through denim jeans.

Your first orgasm is a beautiful accident. Ghost’s body isn’t even what earns it. It’s his fucking mouth saying the nastiest things imaginable with a busy tongue stroking your clit. Rambling low and sluggishly, a thick lisp when his bottom lip tries to slide across your pussy on the right syllables.

Good job, tha’s it… s’good for me.

Keep fuckin’ drippin’ like that.

Stay right there -just like that- let me lick her clean baby…

You come quick and hard. Not even getting to relish in the feeling of release that wasn’t by your own hand before Ghost is working for another. It’s the most impatient habit he’s got and won’t deviate. Using the clench of your pussy around him to advantage by working you open all over again. Purposefully providing that “first touch” stretch throughout orgasms like a reset. Short term memory erasure of all his hard work just to massage at your shaking legs as gentle reassurance.

“Don’t — Don’t stop.” Your panting. Wanting to warn him as the second approaches a bit slower.

You’re still nervous to perform, but the edge is off. Having been given just enough reassurance that you can, in fact, come from someone else’s touch. But the slight tremor in your voice hints at the hesitation you have to come again.

Enough time elapsed to overthink what you sound like. How you appear from this angle and anything in between that has been a problem before now. Ghost doesn’t move an inch. The only thing he does is take a steady deep breath and move one arm to rest his forearm on the bed. Like he’s settling in.

Getting fucking comfortable.

And he stays just like that until you’re shoving yourself up the bed and away from his chasing mouth to try and take at least one complete breath. Your feet sliding in the sheets and the hair on the back of your neck getting cold once it’s not matted to the pillow. Previous experience anticipates that it’s the end. That Ghost isn’t going to follow. That he’ll take the credit for making you come twice, and enjoy a fluttering, wet cunt around his cock.

His face is next to yours and his swollen lips are kissing your temple over and over sweetly. One hand keeps his heavy weight off of you while the other gently reaches to your neck. Holding your head to ease the acute angle of it and shyly feel your pulse. You’re too dazed to see the look on his face. How relaxed he is, counting your heart beats and watching sweat slide across your temple and get caught in the baby hairs there. Observant, but utterly obsessed by this moment. Drinking in self-satisfaction and the much more addictive taste of seeing you fall apart under him.

“I got you. I’m here, breathe baby.” Keeping his chest close, he exaggerates his own. Pressing against you, grounding the feeling.

“It’s so much.” Admitting it makes you feel awful. Like you’re not enjoying it more than anything you’ve felt before. But you’re unable to explain just how raw your nerves feel. Terrified that if he touches your clit again it would bring real tears to your eyes.

Ghost moves closer, sharing body heat you didn’t know you even wanted. “I know, little one… you’re so sensitive. S’okay.” He answers, gently reaching down to pull both your thighs together and against him.

Curling you to his body and holding your legs to help ease the radiating pleasure signals thrumming in your pussy. His hand rubbing your outer thigh, squeezing at the stretched muscles in your hip. Dissipating the tightly-wound lower half of your body that is still expecting his fingers to touch you again. Split between wishing he would force another orgasm out of you and nearly passing out from overstimulation.

Ghost knows better though. You’d gone too long without someone else controlling your pleasure that it was going to be hard enough. And a second only compounded your body’s response. In the moment he felt possessed to prove a point. Really, the same one you had for him. But the moment you scurried back, that part of his brain turned off. Keeping you safe in this state was just as important as anything else. He didn’t want you faking anything again. That included when you felt like you couldn’t take more.

“We’re done, baby…” he kisses your cheek, tasting the sting of salt on his lips. “No more; jus’ easy touches… M’not gonna play anymore.”

It works wonders, simply taking the guesswork out of this. Allowing your legs to fully sag against him, trusting those fingers grazing up and down. Even your head letting go of the remaining tension holding you off the pillow. Ghost can’t help but smile. Kissing you yet again. And again. Helping himself to the sounds of your breaths evening out and the softness of your dewy skin on his mouth.

His hot body sticks to yours a bit, but it’s comfortable. Helps you feel secure, laying there balled up and trying to work through the multiple sensations still making it nearly impossible to open you eyes and look at him. Desiring to say a simple ‘thank you’ or at least, give him a smile just to show that you’re appreciative. Another one of those nasty little things you’re convinced is necessary right after the deed. Poised to give positive reinforcement at the first moment so the guy won’t run off.

“Th-thank you,” The way you say it almost sounds guilty to Ghost. Even the hand rubbing you doubles down, more firmly. Like he’s hoping to keep his own emotions in check by reminding himself of how skewed your perceptions are.

“S’not a ‘thank you’,” He replies, lips against your ear, feeling the easy, toothless, smile he’s got. “Told you the other day… I wanted it. Wanted you.”

Your eyes do open then. Hearing him refer back to the mission. Like he’s not the least bit affected by it in an embarrassed kind of way. Adding that much more reinforcement to the nearly unbelievable idea that he’s actually meant it and not just so he could get a bit closer to you. Surely he couldn’t, right?

“You mean that?”

Ghost’s eyes brighten, and he chuckles very deeply. Bumping his forehead against yours.

“You and your sweet pussy aren’t going anywhere.”

requests are thanks to: bvxygriimes bobochacha kmcmpmd simonsslvt verynastyspoon featherbrainedangel flower-olive riri-is-a-girlie bii-aan-ckaa mxshpitmom stormy-knight134 glocuseguardian3rd variety-fangirl and about eight anons that I can't tag unfortunately :(

you're all so lovely and I want to give you each a big smooch

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

my ask box is always open, but fair warning I'm slow haha

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #anon <3 #velvetures answers #anon answered #anon ask

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httpiastri · 6 months ago

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

series masterlist

MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

show all 54 comments

user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always – and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

show all 47 comments

user you did the best you could 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

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zerobaselove · 5 months ago

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where do we go now? | kim gyuvin

pairing: gyuvin x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ending kinda

word count: 1707

warnings: swearing a little bit. lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: hiii everyone <3 little angst for yall because i've just been in that kind of mood idk. i got a request for a gyuvin hurt comfort and wrote this (only to not realize until after it was written that the request was for bff to lovers MY BAD) but its close enough idk i just got home from work and wrote this so sorry if its ROUGH

tick. tick. tick.

the faint sound of the clock hung on the wall was the only break from the silence that seems too thick to swallow as you sat on the couch, alone. it wasn't supposed to be like this. this was the third time this week that your boyfriend gyuvin had no call no showed one of your dates. 8th time this month if you wanted to get specific, and you were only a few weeks in.

you shouldn't be surprised. you thought to yourself. you could barely get a reply out of the boy nowadays, let alone seeing him face to face or hearing his voice. you were long past convincing yourself he was just busy; that idea died the third time you watched him post pictures with his friends on days where you had stayed up wondering if he was safe.

so when you heard the front door creak open, you didn't even turn around to greet him. your gaze fixed on the clock hands, anticipating the click to the next minute.

"no welcome home?" gyuvin's voice called out, his footsteps getting closer to where you sat.

"welcome home." you said monotonously, still not giving the boy any more attention than he had given you.

his body landed on the cushion beside you with a plop. his hand finding its way to your arm, lightly shaking as if to get your attention. you turned to face him, pressing your lips together, trying to muster the strength to even ask how his day went; the day that was supposed to be spent with you.

"how was your day?" you asked, trying your hardest to mask the emotion in your throat, whether it was annoyance or sadness, you didn't know.

his face lit up like a christmas tree. his smile beaming as he told you about what him and his friends did, the places they went, the food they ate. everything. everything that caused him to not even send you a hello or a good morning, not even a message that he was cancelling.

"that's nice." you said flatly after he finished his recounting of the day. he hummed in agreeance, not even noticing your shift in tone or energy anymore. "so what did you do?" he asked. he was oblivious still.

you only sighed, not even fully turning to look at him. you were sure if you looked him in the eyes right now that the tears wouldn't ever stop rolling. "nothing," you started playing with the ring on your finger, the one he had gotten you nearly a year ago now. "i got ready earlier for our date but i never heard from you, so i took a shower and i've just been here."

admitting it out loud felt pathetic. you had let this ruin your whole day yet again. you had let your emotions get the best of you again. maybe you were the problem, you thought to yourself. maybe you cared too much.

it seems the boy had begun to connect the dots as a sympathetic look crossed his face and an apology spewed out of his mouth, as if on command, just like every other time. it was always the same.

except this time you couldn't shrug it off anymore. you couldn't lie and say it was okay anymore. because it wasn't. it wasn't okay.

"i'm so sorry," he started, reaching out to grab your arm before you moved away from his touch, "it slipped my mind."

you only hummed and nodded, "things like this always seem to slip your mind when it comes to me, don't they?" your voice was laced with venom as the frustration kept building, as if the last month had all been bubbling up to this moment.

"i'm sorry, you know how important my friends are to me y/n." gyuvin immediately regretted the words that left his mouth. his jaw went slack in shock at his own words, but you had snapped back before he had the chance to back up and defend his poor choice of words.

the tears had started welling up in your eyes, your vision blurring more and more by the second. "so am i not important to you? because it sure feels that way."

"that's not what i meant y/n," gyuvin's voice had become raised, mostly against his own will.

"well what else am i supposed to think gyuvin?" the blood in your veins felt like it was bubbling, like your body was on fire and the only way to let it out was through the words you spat out without much thought. "i'm sick and fucking tired of begging for any ounce of attention from you gyuvin. i'm tired of being an afterthought to you."

you stood up from the couch, fighting the urge to storm out of your own apartment. "i deserve more than that gyuvin. i can't keep going if it's going to be like this." your heart hurt, in a mix of anger and pain your voiced raised even louder, nearly yelling at the stunned boy sat on the couch. suddenly it was quiet, there was nothing to drown out the sound of your beating heart as you tried to take a deep breath.

"i think you should leave, before i say something that'll hurt you," your voice was eerily calm, "you shouldn't have to feel like i do."

gyuvin stood up, apologizing profusely as you stood there in silence, drained and emotionless.

after a few more attempts at a reaction from you, the boy left with a slam of the front door. and there you were, alone, again.

maybe it was better that way, at least right now.

---

it had been three days since you let the anger bubble up and spill, burning through you like molten lava. you felt empty. you hadn't texted gyuvin and he hadn't messaged you either, but that wasn't exactly abnormal for him; what was strange was his radio silence online. maybe he hurt like you did.

you had found yourself pondering it all over a cup of once hot coffee, having long gone cold as you lost yourself in your thoughts, opting to merely stir the liquid around as if your answer would appear in the cup like a crystal ball. what were you supposed to do now?

a firm series of knocks on the door broke you from your thoughts. you knew that pattern; the one gyuvin always used to let you know it was him, a special rhythm that you two had settled on early in your relationship, a secret between you two.

reluctantly you dragged yourself from your seat in the kitchen towards the front door. you didn't even bother looking through the peephole before you unlocked the chain lock on your door. it was almost pathetic how happy you were deep down that he was here, choosing to ignore the way this could all go wrong.

"hi." he smiled awkwardly, holding up a bag with the logo of a local convenience store, his other hand firmly grasping a bouquet of flowers. blue hyacinths and baby's breath to be exact. "can i come in?"

you let the boy in without saying a word, simply gesturing him in as you moved out of the doorway.

he set everything on the counter alongside your cold coffee before taking in a deep breath.

"i'm sorry." he started, his voice shaking slightly, "i know i sound like a broken record saying that but i really am. i've been so in my head lately that i've forgotten what is important to me, and how lucky i've been to have you around all this time." the tears welling up in his eyes caused you to mirror the emotion on your own face.

he held up the bouquet of flowers, a small smile breaking onto his face, "mrs. lee from down the road helped me pick these out, because apparently flowers have their whole own language and i am clueless in that department, and apparently in the boyfriend department," a small chuckle left your lips at the boy you've spent all your days loving, even in the rough patches, "the blue ones are supposed to represent apologies, and the little white one's show sincerity and love, and i love you, so it felt fitting." he rambled on, slightly shaking despite the smile on his face. he handed the bouquet to you with a look of hope in his eyes, a hope that you would forgive him despite his flaws oversights.

"they're beautiful gyuvin," your voice was quiet, trying to silence the tears that threatened to spill.

he smiled as you took the flowers with a smile, "i understand if you don't forgive me, and i know i'm going to have to prove it, but i promise i'm going to work towards being better for you, because you were right the other day, you do deserve more than that, and i want to be the one to give it to you, if you'll let me."

you paused to think for a moment, despite knowing deep down you didn't need to think for even a second, you loved him more than your heart knew what to do with, and you didn't want to lose him over this.

"i would love that," you smiled, taking a step towards the boy, "thank you gyuvin."

his arms wrapped around your torso to pull you in for a hug; his grip tight on you as if you were going to float away through his fingers if he wasn't careful.

he pulled away shaking his head, "no, thank you," he exclaimed, "thank you for being so amazing, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me y/n." his voice lowered as his face got closer to yours, your foreheads nearly touching as you felt his breath on your face. "i love you."

"i love you too gyuvin, always." you leaned forward and connected your lips, letting your hands run through his hair gently as if to savor the boy that you had missed so dearly.

gyuvin pulled away, letting the two of you catch your breath as you stood in each others arms, "so how about that date?"

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #kim gyuvin imagines #gyuvin imagines #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin x reader

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gyjo-enthusiast · 7 months ago

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special case. ch.2

retired!nanami x younger!sorcerer!reader

summary: during field training, each student is assigned one semi-grade 1 or higher ranked sorcerer. after the last student is left without a mentor, her professor pairs her up with his old, retired grumpy friend.

reader is in their 20s (attending college), afab!reader, fem pronouns

tags: fluff, eventual smut, colleagues with benefits (is that a thing?), age gap (reader in early 20s, nanami in mid 30s), virgin reader

previous chapter: special case. ch.1 | next chapter: special case. ch.3

jujutsu kaisen masterlist | masterlist

chapter summary: during the first day of field training, you successfully defeat a high-grade curse alone. after lunch though, there seems to be a problematic fight when you should be watching your mentor fight a cursed spirit.

proofread: yes

word count: 1 269 (4m 45s)

song rec:

jumping through the unusually dark alley, you hunted the cursed spirit your mentor had mentioned earlier. it was fat and sleazy, but its legs were skinny and it ran as if its life depended on it. and it did.

reaching under your coat, you quickly whipped out your cursed weapon and followed the blob of sorrow and hatred. it was a long, although fairly light, double-edged sword with a fancy hand-decorated handle.

nanami was quite surprised at that, being a cursed tool user himself. he thought all the young guns had to be top notch and have their own special techniques, not to mention domain expansions, to get into jujutsu college. even then, he'll wait for a bit more before judging, just to see how well you're going to do.

of course, you did not want to disappoint - you could not - after all the trouble he's going through just for the sake of teaching you. leaping forward, you swiftly cut off two of the monster's six legs and started chipping away at its skin.

'not bad,' you thought to yourself, small smile making its way to your face as you tried to keep up.

"not bad," a voice suddenly said behind you, making you almost stumble, "keep it up, l/n."

oh, you were not letting this curse get away from you, the slightest of blushes appearing, both from the praise and the excessive physical activity.

speeding up to quickly finish the job, your sword - purposefully named severance - slickly severed the cursed spirit's head, along with some of his gross dark shoulder hair. some of its remains got splattered on your shoes, but that could wait.

hastily returning to nanami, you asked: "how did i do, sir?" to which you got an approving nod and an expression which you could only assume was one of consideration.

you looked around, just to make sure nothing was creeping out there, and then you finally started cleaning up your shoes.

"l/n," you heard after a bit, "you're quite skilled i take it."

you smiled awkwardly, "you can call me y/n. and i wouldn't consider myself 'skilled' exactly," your mentor nodded. "everybody has their ups and downs when it comes to fighting. maybe i've just been lucky to survive!" you laugh it off as a horrible joke, hoping he'd smile at the very least.

"yes.. me too." he looks at you with guilt in the eyes as he continues, "although i do think you have the potential if you keep this up." he sends a soft smile your way.

"thank you, sir."

"just stay strong and focus, all in your own time," nanami focuses up and starts walking.

"of course," you follow up behind him, "where are we going to now?"

"well, it's already 11:32. it will take a bit to find a good place but for now, let's eat somewhere before we continue," he turns his head to talk to you and then immediately looks ahead once again.

to be honest, you didn't even believe he ever took any breaks on the job, let alone ate lunch. nevertheless, you couldn't wait to treat yourself after that satisfactory exorcism.

you spent a while looking for an adequate place to eat, ultimately deciding to take a seat in a simple yet homely bakery. both of you bought their signature bread, silently enjoying the view of the street.

with no words needing to be spoken, you observed how nanami acted with nobody but you around. he was stoic, but once every few minutes his expression softened.

after lunch, when nanami checked his watch, you both set out to find another curse. this time though, you'll be the one watching - and learning - from none other than your mentor.

'this curse is way stronger.. what's going on?' you thought, being careful to watch nanami's flank as well as keeping an eye out for him. it's not that he would need it necessarily, but better be safe than sorry.

your mentor bashed at the curse with his weapon, except it was hard to get a decent hit in while also guarding. at this point you felt useless, only watching from afar. wanting, no - needing, to help nanami, you took a step forward, suddenly remembering the words he spoke before you approached the curse.

"i won't need help, don't worry. if i do, i'll call for you. just defend the fight from weaker curses," his voice rang in your ears as you froze in place.

not wanting to disappoint, you stood still and helped the only way you could - that was to be ready to strike down any curse that approached.

and in a trice, you heard a roar behind you.

"y/n! above!" nanami shouted your way before turning back to the problem at hand.

you turned your gaze to the sky and sure enough, there was a cursed spirit. it was dropping down so quick you barely had any time to react and dodge.

just before it thwacked onto the ground, it pulled out its tiny wings, slowing itself. when it was sure it wouln't hurt itself, the bizarre flying cursed spirit fell to the ground, briefly not being able to move.

you were gobsmacked, not fully processing what had just happened.

"snap out of it, i got a lot going on here! i can't defeat both of them y/n," nanami breathed out, his energy surely running low from not fighting for such a long time.

and snap you sure did, just maybe not out of it.

"are you insane?! you just almost killed all of us, including yourself!" you shouted, discarding your cloak. unsheating severance, you let your canines shine in the afternoon sunlight, grinning out of your mind.

your mentor, as any person would, thought this remark was aimed at him, so he briskly sent you a look. that was until he saw the animalistic expression you wore, that changed everything.

slashing your sword in the curse's singular eye, you noticed it was being sinked in, almost like into quicksand. you laughed and revealed another weapon hidden on you, that being foulblade. as the name suggests, it was a blade the opponents didn't expect, so they might call it a foul. you pulled it out only if severance was not available at the moment.

with the newly sharpened shorter sword you started cutting across the monster's body, mainly face, leaving behind ugly scars that were soon to be removed completely, as you stabbed it in the heart and exorcised it. you felt cursed energy overflowing within you at that moment, having to calm yourself down.

when you came to your senses, cleaning your blades, a few minutes later, nanami approached you from behind.

"are you okay, y/n?" he rested a hand on your shoulder. startled, since you didn't even sense him coming, you just nodded. he sighed, "i dealt with the curse, we're done here for the day, okay?" he reassured you.

"okay.. sorry about," you paused, now fully remembering what happened, "sorry about that." you finally finished your sentence, guilt filling up your eyes, hands shaking as you stood up from where you were sitting.

"don't apologise, nothing happened. you saved me after all is said and done," your mentor removed his hand, went in front of you and tilted his head back at you. "let's go."

"where? i thought we were done," you muttered quietly, still being shaken up by the whole situation.

"to my house," he casually declared, continuing with his statement, "or do you want to climb up the hill up to college dorms every day?"

a/n: if you made it this far, i’d like to thank everyone who is enjoying this so far, i never thought my work would actually reach someone. so thank you so much for reading, stay safe and have a great rest of your day!

#nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento #Spotify

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tamiveldura · 9 months ago

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I'm autistic and have ADHD, and I'm a chronic illness spoonie, and I'm here to tell you that A System is your friend. You don't have to write every day. You don't even have to write once a week. But you do need a system or routine that you can activate when it's Project Time.

I have been writing to-deadline for about 6 years now. I have never missed a deadline, but a few of those first ones were skin-of-the-teeth and I've been perfecting my systems ever since so that never happens again. I can't handle the stress.

The deadline is not a healthy motivator. Though my ADHD peeps will agree that it is effective. I've spent the last 6 years figuring out how to avoid Crunch Time.

The answer is a system.

I do not write every day. I do not track wordcount. I tried both of those and they don't work for me. (Maybe they work for you. Try it, but try other things too. Don't force it.)

Your system will be unique to you. But you'll figure it out by trying other systems on until you assemble the pieces that work.

My process looks like this:

Idea or deadline: either I've thought of a genius plot or I've chosen to tackle a project with other people (like a multi author series, or an anthology). Both of these trigger a new file in my scrivener wherever the story belongs.

Setup: I have a brainstorm document, an outline document, a draft document, a notes document. These keep the project contained.

Ideating: most writers really love this stage of a project, it's where all the great excitement of discovery lies. I dump all of this into my brainstorm document.

Plotting: works very well for me. Might not work for you. I organize all the tangled things in the brainstorm document into a structure. I check the beats of my chosen tropes. I hunt down plot holes. I scene block characters and action sequences in very rough terms just so I have large movement gestures. Emotional arc.

Drafting: not my favorite task, NGL. I dictate the initial draft and it's not good. I'm not trying to come up with beautiful words and amazing turns of phrase. I could, but it would make this part take 10x as long and it doesn't need to. Often this is a very dull series of simple sentences just to work my way through each scene. My goal here is to literally convert the plotting notes into the correct tense and sequence of events. Nothing more.

Revision: I like this part because I don't have to do the heavy lifting of "what happens next?" I already know what happens, now I get to make it pretty

PWA: proofreading. Not my strongest skill, so I use Pro Writing Aid to jumpstart me. It really helps with passive voice, which I'll slip into when tired.

Editing: paid. Not everything gets a paid pass. Some works go on submission. Others are released naked into the world. I do a lot of short stories.

Publishing: formatting, cover art, audio art, uploading, audio upload, newsletter announcement, promo scheduling, etcetcetc

Ok so these are the general steps of authorship, but what is the dang system?

The system boils down to two things:

1: days I decide I'm working

2: days I decide I'm not working (number 1 can turn into number two if it's a bad day)

By default I work Monday-Friday from about 1 pm to 4 pm. Weekends are off. Any day my husband comes home early gets cut short. Any day he is off I'm also off. Any day I wake up with no spoons, I'm off. Any day I realize I'm feeling stressed, I look at the calendar to check deadlines and book a week off. I take a week off after every novella or novel, but I'll go two or three short stories in a row. I take December off, usually starting at Thanksgiving and ending a week after new year.

You may be seeing a trend here. I take a lot of time off. It turns out, when I started giving myself the time I needed to rest and read and relax without guilt, my output on workdays skyrocketed.

Side note: you are probably not living with a sugar daddy paying the bills. I'm really fucking lucky to have funding in my corner. But REST is a requirement and you must do your very very best to protect your resting days/hours to the death.

Tami, I hear you say, what is the system? The writing system. The system that keeps you getting up every Monday-friday and having the energy and attention (if not the motivation) to work every day on the book?

Rest is the system. But the system is Deliberate. The system is Attentive. The system asks: is today a rest day? If yes what storytelling are we consuming to refill the well for our next workday?

It's not restful to doom scroll Tumblr "looking for inspiration." It's not restful to binge 6 seasons of Survivor in two weeks. Both of these things have their place, but when was the last time you deliberately planned your rest to be fulfilling and recharging? When was the last time you gave it any more thought then "I'm just tired."

The first day I decided to rest on purpose, I slept for 12 hours straight. The next couple of weeks were solidly 10/11 hours per night. That has since eased up to about 9 or 9.5, but it's 9ish Every Single Night. Before I decided to rest, I was only giving myself 6 or 7. Did you know some symptoms of chronic exhaustion are indistinguishable from dementia? I had no idea how much sleep I really needed.

If you're still here (I appreciate you), this is where we get to the work. You have rested. You have refilled the creative well. You wake up and decide Today Is A Writing Day.

Cool. Open the document and read your most recent chapter to figure out where you left off.

Take a glance at your notes or your outline if you have one.

What scene sounds fun today? Start writing that one, [put brackets around anything questionable] or that you have to look up later (do it later!) and as soon as you come to a point we're you've exhausted the initial energy of the day: STOP.

Write a few notes to yourself about where you think this is going next. And put it all away.

Congrats, you've probably been writing for 20 minutes. Maybe 50 if you had a good run. Perhaps you managed more than 1k. Maybe. I can only break 1k/hr when I'm dictating.

But Tami, the book is NineHundredThousand words long this will take forever.

Yeah, it will. It's a novel. But if you rest and you refill the well first, you will have more and more and more workdays.

You wanna write a book in a year? You're running a marathon, but you've gotta build up your muscles. It takes months, years, to train for a marathon. And you know what a marathon runner needs to train well and hard?

REST.

Writing Tip - What ‘Habit Over Motivation’ Actually Looks Like

We’ve all heard the writing advice that you can’t rely on motivation to get you through writing a book, sometimes you need to force yourself to do it and make a habit of it. And a lot of us will scoff at that or find it too restrictive or boring, it leaves us feeling like it’s a chore rather than a fun activity

As someone who only worked out what people actually mean by it recently, let me explain my take on it

You’re not always going to be inspired to write, you’re not always going to be motivated to write, but if you only write when you’re motivated it’s gonna take a crap ton of time - and writing anything to completion already takes donkey’s years as it is. Forming a habit is going to enable you to write consistently, and thus even unmotivated or uninspired progress is still made. Hence, sometimes you have to force yourself to write

But writing too much will make that habit impossible, or at least it becomes a chore and not a fun activity. You need to give yourself realistic goals to meet, even if it’s only something small. Write for ten minutes a day, write 500 words every week, any snail’s pace progress regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Something small enough that it doesn’t drain you but frequent enough that there’s still a habit being formed, there’s still consistency to it

I used to only write when I was inspired and motivated and could get myself to start writing, and even then the word count would be inconsistent. It could be weeks or even months between proper writing sessions. But now that I have a baseline for productivity, I have a baseline for consistent progress. And I’m only on 1K words a week! And if that doesn’t work, you can do less, or go by time spent writing if that’s a better metric for your writing style!

There’s no such thing as not enough progress when it comes to forming a consistent habit; if you can get at least one word per deadline (day, week, whatever) then that still counts as consistent progress

What everyone else seems to think of is “You must get this big amount of words written daily, think of it as eternal NaNoWriMo, if you miss even one day you’re a failure and you’ll never get the book done, SUFFER FOR YOUR ART!”

Just do what’s comfortable and it’ll be fine, no worries

#god i hope this finds the audience that needs it #i needed to hear this 15 years ago #but i know i wouldnt have listened #not really #its so hard to explain #you have permission to rest.#indie author #chronic illness #rest #amwriting

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tyrannuspitch · 4 years ago

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Jumping off @kidrat ’s recent post on JKR, British transphobia, and transphobia against transmasculine people, after getting a bit carried away and too long to add as a comment:

A major, relatively undiscussed event in JKR’s descent into full terfery was this tweet:

[image id: a screenshot of a tweet from JK Rowling reading: “’People who menstruate.’ I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud?”

Rowling attaches a link to an article titled: “Opinion: Creating a more equal post-COVID-19 world for people who menstruate” /end id]

This can seem like a pretty mundane TERF talking point, just quibbling over language for the sake of it, but I think it’s worth discussing, especially in combination with the idea that cis women like JKR see transmasculine transition as a threat to their womanhood. (Recite it with horror: ”If I were young now, I might’ve transitioned...”)

A lot of people, pro- or anti-transphobe, will make this discussion about whether the term “woman” should include trans women or not, and how cis women are hostile to the inclusion of trans women. And that’s absolutely true. But the actual language cis women target is very frequently being changed for the benefit of trans men, not trans women, and most of them know this.

Cis people are used to having their identities constantly reaffirmed and grounded in their bodies. A lot of cis women, specifically, understand their social and physical identities as women as being defined by pain: misogynistic oppression is equated to the pains of menstruation or childbirth, and both are seen as the domain of cis women. They’re something cis women can bond over and build a “sisterhood” around, and the more socially aware among them can recognise that cis women’s pain being taken less seriously by medicine is not unrelated to their oppression. However, in the absence of any trans perspectives, these conversations can also easily become very territorial and very bioessentialist.

Therefore... for many cis women, seeing “female bodies” described in gender neutral language feels like stripping their pain of its meaning, and they can become very defensive and angry.

And the consequences for transmasculine people can be extremely dangerous.

Not only do transmasculine people have an equal right to cis women to define our bodies as our own... Using inclusive language in healthcare is about more than just emotional validation.

The status quo in healthcare is already non-inclusive. When seeking medical help, trans people can expect to be misgendered and to have to explain how our bodies work to the doctors. We risk harassment, pressure to detransition, pressure to sterilise ourselves, or just being outright turned away. And the conversation around pregnancy and abortion in particular is heaving with cisnormativity - both feminist and anti-feminist cis women constantly talk about pregnancy as a quintessentially female experience which men could never understand.

Using gender-neutral language is the most basic step possible to try and make transmasculine people safer in healthcare, by removing the idea that these are “women’s spaces”, that men needing these services is impossible, and that safety depends on ideas like “we’re all women here”. Not institutionally subjecting us to misgendering and removing the excuse to outright deny us treatment is, again, one of the most basic steps that can be taken. It doesn’t mean we’re allowed comfort, dignity or full autonomy, just that one major threat is being addressed. The backlash against this from cis women is defending their poorly developed senses of self... at the cost of most basic dignity and safety for transmasculine people.

Ironically, though transphobic cis women feel like decoupling “women’s experiences” from womanhood is decoupling them from gendered oppression, transmasculine people experience even more marginalisation than cis women. Our rates of suicide and assault are even higher. Our health is even less researched than cis women’s. Our bodies are even more strictly controlled. Cis women wanting to define our bodies on their terms is a significant part of that. They hold the things we need hostage as “women’s rights”, “women’s health”, “women’s discussions” and “support for violence against women”, and demand we (re-)closet ourselves or lose all of their solidarity.

Fundamentally, the problem is that transphobic cis women are possessive over their experiences and anyone who shares them. Because of their binary understanding of gender, they’re uncomfortable with another group sharing many of their experiences but defining themselves differently. They’re uncomfortable with transmasculine people identifying “with the enemy” instead of “with their sisters”, and they’re even more uncomfortable with the idea that there are men in the world who they oppress, and not the other way around. “Oppression is for women; you can’t call yourself a man and still claim women’s experiences. Pregnancy is for women; if you want to be a man so badly why haven’t already you done something about having a woman’s body? How dare you abandon the sisterhood while inhabiting one of our bodies?”

Which brings me back to the TERF line about how “If I were young now, I might have transitioned.”

I’m not saying Rowling doesn’t actually feel any personal connection to that narrative - but it is a standard line, and it’s standard for a reason. Transphobic cis women really believe that there is nothing trans men go through that cis women don’t. They equate our dysphoria to internalised misogyny, eating disorders, sexual abuse or other things they see as “female trauma”. They equate our desire to transition to a desire to escape. They want to “help us accept ourselves” and “save us” from threats to their sense of identity. The fact is, this is all projection. They refuse to consider that we really have a different internal experience from them.

There’s also a marked tendency among less overtly transphobic cis women, even self-proclaimed trans allies, to make transphobia towards trans men about cis women.

Violence against trans men is chronically misreported and redefined as “violence against women”. In activist spaces, we’re frequently told that any trauma we have with misogyny is “misdirected” and therefore “not really about us”. If we were women, we would’ve been “experiencing misogyny”, but men can’t do that, so we should shut up and stop “talking over women”. (Despite the surface difference of whether they claim to affirm our gender, this is extremely similar to how TERFs tell us that everything we experience is “just misogyny”, but that transmasculine identity is a delusion that strips us of the ability to understand gender or the right to talk about it.)

I have personally witnessed an actual N*zi writing an article about how trans men are “destroying the white race” by transitioning and therefore becoming unfit to carry children, and because the N*zi had misgendered trans men in his article, every response I saw to it was about “men controlling women’s bodies”.

All a transphobe has to do is misgender us, and the conversation about our own oppression is once again about someone else.

Transphobes will misgender us as a form of violence, and cis feminist “allies” will perpetuate our misgendering for rhetorical convenience. Yes, there is room to analyse how trans men are treated by people who see us as women - but applying a simple “men oppressing women” dynamic that erases our maleness while refusing to even name transphobia or cissexism is not that. Trans men’s oppression is not identical to cis women’s, and forcing us to articulate it in ways that would include cis women in it means we cannot discuss the differences.

It may seem like I’ve strayed a long way from the original topic, and I kind of have, but the central reason for all of these things is the same:

Trans men challenge cis women’s self-concept. We force them to actually consider what manhood and womanhood are and to re-analyse their relationship to oppression, beyond a simple binary patriarchy.

TERFs will tell you themselves that the acknowledgement of trans people, including trans men, is an “existential threat” that is “erasing womanhood” - not just our own, but cis women’s too. They hate the idea that biology doesn’t determine gender, and that gender does not have a strict binary relationship to oppression. They’re resentful of the idea that they could just “become men”, threatened by the assertion that doing so is not an escape, and completely indignant at the idea that their cis womanhood could give them any kind of power. They are, fundamentally, desperate not to have to face the questions we force them to consider, so they erase us, deflect from us, and talk over us at every opportunity.

Trans men are constantly redefined against our wills for the benefit of cis womanhood.

TL;DR:

Cis women find transmasculine identity threatening, because we share experiences that they see as foundational to their womanhood

The fact that transphobes target inclusive language in healthcare specifically is not a mistake - They do not want us to be able to transition safely

Cis women are uncomfortable acknowledging transphobia, so they make discussion of trans men’s oppression about “womanhood” instead

This can manifest as fully denying that trans men experience our own oppression, or as pretending trans men’s experiences are identical to cis women’s in every way

#transphobia #transmasculinity #transandrophobia #this could maybe do with one more proofread but i've spent way too long on this so whatever!

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yuwumeniji · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hi~! If you’re still taking requests at this time I was wondering: when do you think the Luxiem boys realized that they were truly and deeply in love with reader-Chan? This concept has been on my mind today >w< thank you if you answer this!

Luxiem & Falling in love

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: request thank you!! and just as a general thing, i've decided to do the requests out of order, so if you sent something earlier, i'll eventually get to yours if inspiration hits ^^

GENERAL

i'll make up different scenarios for each boy! just a short reason (or long idk) as to how you guys met and how they started to develop feelings for the reader

what kind of person they are with a crush/interacting with their crush & how they are when truly in love ^^

i didnt proofread... just dont perceive my mistakes lmao

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

IKE EVELAND

a school crush

at first, he doesn't think too much of it; maybe it's just a one time thing, maybe once the school day is over, he won't think about it, but then you started to appear in his dreams.

oh boy the dreams - don't get me wrong, they're pure, i swear

he doesn't really go out of his way to interact with you but instead waits for you to come up to him - luckily for ike, you seem to have a lot of questions about studying you'd like to ask him.

the type to be a bit on the quieter side when it comes to having a crush - in fact, he's the kind to quietly suffer from a one-sided crush.

he tends to stay away and avoid the person of his affection while craving your attention. he's very hot-and-cold in that sense

the moment he realized he truly had a crush on one of the top students in his grade (aka you in this scenario), his face flushes red. he starts kicking his feet in the air when thinking of you and draws little hearts around your name in his notebook

LUCA KANESHIRO

The stranger he locked eyes with at a club

he spent all night trying to find you amongst the crowd of drunkards and party-goers like the prince looking for cinderella after the ball.

the moment he finds you, it's like roses filled his field of vision, the birds were chirping and he felt like he was the cleanest man alive (metaphorically speaking, he may be pure of heart but at the end of the day he is a true mafioso ((im not using that word correctly huh lmao)))

you both often meet at the same club every single time - and for every single time, it feels as if he is the only person looking at you amongst the crowd of people

he's the kind to be a little more bold when it comes to confronting his crush - he'll go out of his way to even serenade you

he wants to spend the utmost time with the target of his affection, from inviting you to dinners, taking you to movies, etc, but surprisingly, he's a little shy when it comes to asking the question

he doesn't really realize when he's truly in love with you until you started to take up space in his mind - if you ask him to earn 5 cents for every single time you've been on his mind, he'll only have 5 cents since you were always there

MYSTA RIAS

Accidentally bumping into the reader as he rushes to another crime scene ; it was nearly at first sight

he was dashing around the city, trying to avoid spilling the beans of his latest case until he suddenly runs into the cafe door that you happened to open ‐ papers and other important documents fly through the air and all he could think about was how red and flustered you looked when accidentally hitting him

from that fateful meeting, the two of you would often bump into each other around the city by pure coincidence. they do say that after the third meeting, it must be meant to be.

he's either the kind of person who couldn't shut up about how much he likes this person and when someone asks him "why not ask them out?", he suddenly becomes super bashful and shy and "d'aww!!! do you think they like me too??"

or he's super lowkey about it until the point where you have to ask yourself "does he really have a crush?"

the moment he realizes he has feelings for you was just during an average conversation - you could be talking about your day, complain about other people or whatever, but mysta's mind seems to drift elsewhere ; "ah. i like this person."

SHU YAMINO

The mysterious, but good-looking stranger on the bus you frequent

first it was sneaky glances, then it was taking the seat next to you and asking how are you and where are you going - you later find out that he's in the same school/workplace as you

from there, it started hanging out outside of the bus - taking you to different locations across the city and just spending time with each other

shu seems to be the kind of person who is lowkey about his crush - he just likes to be able to be near you and thinks that if he suddenly starts telling you how much he thinks about you, you could get scared off by that

in fact, he's also the kind to suffer from a one-sided crush as well - he'd rather have you happier with someone else than him sometimes even if it makes his heart hurt a little bit

the moment he realizes he has a crush on you, he says it feels as if something just clicked. like a gear shifted in the right way and a light started appearing around you. in his eyes, the world seemed a lot brighter after this realization.

VOX AKUMA

Switched orders on accident at a local cafe

picture this - you're at your favourite cafe trying to get your favourite drink. you're distracted when suddenly you hear your name get called out to retrieve your order. the second you take a sip from the cup, it isn't yours.

you then meet the light tapping of someone's shoe (or... sandal?) against the cafe's floor and lo-and-behold; the akuma himself, holding your cup

he seems to take a liking to you, especially after you complained about his weird drink and he even gave you his number, strange.

from then, you would meet up often at the same cafe, discussing different culinary techniques and even teaching each other new things

vox seems like he'd be lowkey but very direct if asked about having a crush too, but fortunately for him, not one to suffer from a one-sided one either.

"do i like this person? of course i do."

he realizes he has a crush when he firmly believes that he can truly stay by the side of this person as equals. it's a cozy, warm feeling he feels in his heart when he realizes how much affection he feels for them.

#yuwrote #i dont even have a witty joke to add to this but thank you sm for the request #i wanted to do something similar so im glad i was able to write this - i hope this fulfills your request tho!!!#luxiem x reader #nijisanji en luxiem #luxiem imagine #luxiem drabble #nijien 4th wave #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader

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padfootagain · 4 years ago

Text

The Adviser

Hey! I'm writing this little fic for @musicallisto's event! I'm using her prompts 4 and 29 for Caspian :

4. “Can you stay with me?”

29.“Their hands on your skin…”

I'm also including a bit of the drunken confessions trope for this one!

I hope you all like it, tell me what you think about it, and thank you again Clara for hosting this event! This is just pure fluff, you know me, it's soft hours time!!!! We love cute clichés here!

Pairing : Caspian x reader

Word Count: 3597 (I've proofread but I've been writing for four hours and my brain is fried, I am so sorry if there are more mistakes than usual, forgiiiiiive meeeeee!!!)

You shouldn't have been drinking like this. Deep down, you knew it was a mistake. But what choice did you have? It was the only way to forget what this princess what doing at that moment.

Her hand was on Caspian's arm, and you didn't fail to notice the way her fingers slipped down the length of his velvet sleeve to brush against the skin of his wrist. You took another large gulp of liquor, but the image was already printed all over your eyelids when you closed your eyes and tried to blink the sight away.

It was more than you could stand. So much more than what you were humanly able to stomach. And the worst part of it all, really, was that none of this was Caspian's fault. He didn't even know about how you felt for him, so how could he have guessed that him letting her touch him like this, being so close to him, were hurting so.

But it did hurt. God, it hurt so bad.

The room was full of noises and conversations. You were celebrating the signing of a new commercial agreement between Narnia and their neighbours. It was exciting, and all the politicians that had been involved in the elaboration of the treaty and its negotiations were now enjoying a much-deserved celebration. The treaty had been signed earlier in the afternoon, and hopefully it was the first step towards a friendship between the two nations.

And you should have been celebrating as well, because after all, this treaty was your baby. You had written parts of it, you had worked for months to convince lords that this treaty was a good thing. You had worked and worked relentlessly for so long on this project. It was your baby, in a way.

When you had begun this adventure, you had envisioned yourself in the position you were finally in now. With a signed treaty resting on the king's desk in his study, and surrounded by lords, princesses and other important political figures, drinking wine and eating pastries and laughing as the future seemed a little brighter than it was before.

What you had never imagined though, was that during the months you had spent working closely with the King of Narnia, you would fall madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with him.

You wanted to slap some sense into your own head for falling for him the way you had, but it would be useless. There was nothing you could have done to avoid it. And every time you looked at him, you were reminded of this cruel truth. Nothing could have prevented you from falling in love with the king, not even yourself, not even him. Nothing, no one, could save you now.

Sometimes, it was driving you mad, really. The way he was so kind, and a little shy around you. You forgot that he was even a king, then. He had a way to make you feel safe by simply smiling at you. There was something in the way he walked, in the way he held himself, that would have betrayed his rank if he had tried to hide it. He was so… inspiring, in a way. More than that, he was magnetic. When he walked into a room, it was clear who he was. A mere glimpse at him, and even if one had no idea what the King of Narnia looked like, they would have recognized him. But then he would blush in the most precious way when complimented, bending his head as if to hide his reaction, and there was so much hesitation in his polite smiles, as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Maybe it was that contrast that had make your heart melt. The way he was the most charismatic man when you saw him, and the kindest when you talked to him.

Yes, yes, that was it. Or at least, part of it. Maybe it was the starting point of it all. Then, every single detail that made him unique had sealed the deal, and your heart was his, for good.

At the end of the day, though, no matter how much you loved him and how friendly and kind he was to you, he was still the King, and you were merely a representative. There was nothing special about your ancestry, even if your position now was quite high in the government. But you were one of the King's advisors, that was all, and every time you looked at one of these princesses throwing all their charms and manners at Caspian, you really couldn't hold it against him to fall for them and not you.

If he had known these inner thoughts of yours, he would have been adamant at contradicting you, at telling you that you were just as special as they were. But he was busy talking to one of them, and you were busy drinking. It ought to be the way things were meant to be, right?

After a couple more glasses of wine, your head was starting to spin and Caspian seemed to finally notice that something was off with you. He frowned hard as he saw you reaching for the nearest wall to keep your balance, while you lifted your glass to your lips again. You finished all the alcohol in one gulp. It wasn't like you though, to drink like this…

At first, he thought maybe you were simply letting loose more than usual in celebration for the treaty, but you didn't seem happy at all. On the contrary, your features were twisted in one of pain. Were you sick? A wave of fear rushed to his heart, crushing the little organ in his chest. He hurried to excuse himself and leave the princess he had been talking to. He was aware it was barely polite, but if you were unwell, he didn't exactly care about the etiquette. In fact, all his thoughts were set upon you and his worry now, he couldn't even realize what he was doing as he crossed the room in just a few long strides, ignoring people in the crowd trying to intercept him as he passed by.

You hadn't noticed him approaching, you had settled your attention on the marble ground, in an attempt to avoid seeing Caspian talk with the flirty princess that had been clinging to him for the past hour. Only when his brown boots appeared on the floor right before you did you notice his presence. You looked up in a jolt, your hair growing with fear and apprehension, while your quick movement made your head spin even more than before.

"Your Majesty," you mumbled, trying to stand a little straighter. "Can I… do anything for you?"

Your words were slurred, obvious sign of your intoxication. Caspian's frown only deepened.

"I was about to ask you the same question, you don't seem to be well," the king answered.

"I… I am perfectly fine," you lied.

"You seem to need a bit of fresh air," Caspian insisted. "Let me accompany you to the gardens."

You didn't have the strength to fight against him or argue in any way. Besides, Caspian was right, you did need a bit of fresh air to clear your mind. So you let him take your arm, assuring your balance, while he guided you outside.

The afternoon was slowly dying out into the early evening. The sun was still quite high in the summer sky, but the heat it released had diminished as the hours passed by. A salty breeze was blowing through the roses in full blossoms and the branches of the tall oaks that offered their shades to the visitors. It was quiet though, most of the inhabitants of the castle being either busy with their daily tasks, or at the reception. It was an easy task for Caspian to find a quiet spot for the two of you to walk by.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, noticing your steps were a little steadier, even if he still kept a careful hold on your arm, just in case.

"I did need a bit of air, indeed. Thank you. I feel better," you nodded.

You tried to give him a smile, but it was harder to hide your feelings when you were drunk. It seemed more like a wince, instead, and Caspian fully turned to you this time, stopping you in your tracks in the middle of the narrow path in between the bushes of roses. He remained silent for a while, the noises of the wind in branches and the bees buzzing in the flowers the only sounds you could hear. And in this quiet place, staring right into the king's dark eyes was even more hypnotizing than usual. You were suddenly very aware that the two of you were alone. And very aware that his hand still rested on your arm too…

"Are you sick? What is wrong?"

Under his insisting tone, you recognized worry. If Caspian had tried to hide it, he had failed miserably.

"I… am quite fine. I think I simply celebrated a little too much…"

"You seemed sad back there," the king shook his head, cutting you off because you could finish your lie. "You did not seem to be celebrating at all. Why? What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess… I must be very tired. The negotiations were difficult and…"

"Why are you lying to me?"

You merely stared at him, not knowing what to answer.

"I know you are lying. I know you. Why will you not tell me what is bothering you?"

"It… is nothing…"

"Is it why you drank too much?"

"I am not drunk…"

"Yes, you are. You can barely stand."

"I can," you replied, even if it wasn't true. You knew that if Caspian suddenly let go of you, you would probably fall down in the roses, and the thought of the many thorns cutting your skin wasn't particularly appealing to you.

Caspian's frown slowly disappeared though. From worry, his expression changed to one of sadness and hurt, but you didn't understand why.

"I am your friend, Y/N. Why will you not tell me? I could help…"

You let out a bitter laugh. The liquor was taking the better of your judgement, for you would have never answered him this way had you been sober.

"My friend? As if we were friends…"

Caspian stared at you with the most puzzled expression you had ever seen adorning his handsome features.

"What do you mean? Of course, we are friends."

"We are not friends. You are the king, and I am… a commoner working for you."

There was so much hurt passing through Caspian's eyes, but you didn't feel guilty. It was true, after all. And the sight of this woman with him… with her eyes all over him, and the way she leaned towards him…

It was more than you could take…

"I thought we were more than just that by now," Caspian answered in a low voice.

"How could we be?"

"Why did you drink so much tonight?"

"Because I cannot take it anymore… I… these feelings I just… I can't fight them…"

"Feelings? What…?"

But then it dawned on him, only, not completely.

Of course, a question of heart would explain your sadness and your drinking tonight, such behaviours that were so out of character for you. He wasn't particularly good at hiding the way his heart broke in his chest at the thought that you loved someone else, though. He had to be thankful for your inebriated state that made you fail to notice his reaction when it was written all over his features.

He opened his mouth to ask who this was about, but you spoke first. The wine was making your mind blurry, your thoughts turning into a whirlwind, bumping into each other and making your usual filters lift. In any other circumstances, you would have never said any of the words you were about to utter, but then, liquor and broken hearts make confessions tumble easily.

"I cannot do this anymore. I want to resign."

"Resign? What…?"

"I cannot handle it. Being around you all the time…" you went on, barely realizing Caspian was trying to speak. "And today seeing her… her hands on your skin and…"

Your voice broke, and you lost your balance for good. Caspian was still here though, and he managed to catch you in his arms right before you would fall to the dusty ground.

His brain was repeating again and again your words, trying to analyse their meanings…

Did it mean that… you… was it about him, then?

"I will take you to your room. You need to rest. Come on…"

With the gentlest gestures, he guided you back inside and to your room, crossing empty corridors and avoiding people as much as he could. No one else but him needed to see you like this.

He helped you settle in bed, and only then did he notice that you were crying.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

He brushed your tears away. He had never touched you this way before, and it made his heart pound in his chest like it had never before. He let his fingers linger a little longer on your cheek.

"You must rest. We will talk about this in the morning."

He gave you a warm smile before turning away, but you held him back, catching his wrist before he could walk too far away. He turned to you again with a puzzled look.

"Can you stay with me?"

Your voice was barely more than a whisper, uncertain and fragile. He was used to hearing it loud and confident while you discussed amongst politicians and advisers, it was such a drastic change, it scared him. It was evident you needed someone to take care of you at that moment, and Caspian wouldn't have let anyone else do it in his stead.

He should have gone back to the reception, but how could he leave your side now?

So, he dragged a chair next to your bed, and sat down, offering you a reassuring smile. He held your hand in his, giving it a soothing squeeze.

"As you wish. But you need to sleep now."

"Are you angry?"

"No, I am not. We will talk about it tomorrow. Now, you need to sleep. Close your eyes."

You did as ordered, and fell asleep as soon as your eyelids had fallen. The warmth of Caspian's hand on yours was the last thing you remembered before surrendering to slumber.

-----------------------------

Your headache wasn't the worst thing that happened when you woke up. Nor was your nausea, or the disgusting taste that lingered on your tongue. No, the worst part of waking up was the note you found folded by the side of your bed.

Caspian would be waiting to see you in his office.

If parts of the previous day were a little blurry, you still remembered perfectly your conversations with the King.

He would ask you to resign. Or he might even fire you altogether. He could have asked you already for someone to pick up your things and carry them out of the castle… but then, Caspian was a kind man, and you weren't altogether surprised when you picked up an outfit to dress up and found all your belongings exactly where they belonged.

After your behaviour, there was no other alternative. You had been disrespectful, and you highly doubted that the king would appreciate working with someone who had romantic feelings for him.

But your pride made you decide that you would resign first. You would not let him throw you out of the castle. If you had to leave, which was painful enough already, never to see the man you loved again, then at the very least, you could be spared the humiliation of being pushed away. At least, you would be the one leaving.

You made your way to his office, at last. Taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. Your heart missing a beat when you heard Caspian's low voice answering on the other side. You walked in.

Caspian welcomed you with a smile, he was sitting at his desk, his back to the stained-glass windows that painted colours all across the room. The light coming from behind him made the image ethereal, a vision you could have summoned in one of your dreams…

"Good morning, Y/N. Please, take a sit," he invited you. "Are you feeling better?"

You struggled to swallow, cleared your voice. His voice made butterflies tickle your belly, but you ignored the feeling. You ignored how much you wanted to comply and approach him. This was not the time. Now was the time to be strong.

You remained at a safe distance from his desk, refusing to sit down.

"Your Majesty," you tried to keep your voice steady, but couldn't help the slight shake that accompanied your words. "I am well, thank you."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but you interrupted him, raising your hand to silence him.

"Please, your Majesty… let me speak."

He nodded, letting you continue. You took a deep breath, and finally gathered the strength you needed to speak again.

"I…My behaviour yesterday was… unforgiveable. And I am aware that I have crossed a line. What transpired last night is the proof that I can no longer work for you and serve Narnia at the best of my abilities as your adviser anymore. It is why I would like to resign. I would be very thankful if you would agree to allow me to stay in the castle for one last week, to allow me to look for a new home. My resignation will be effective immediately, and I can write it down, if you want me to."

Caspian remained silent for a moment, before slowly standing up, and walking towards you. His hands behind his back, he only stopped when he was but one step away from you. You stared at him, waiting for his reaction, completely motionless.

"I agree that… your confessions from last night make it impossible for us to continue like this. Things cannot remain the same now."

You fought with all your might to refrain your tears, that merely gather at the corner of your eyes, but didn't fall. You didn't flinch, nor did you back away though.

"I do think that you need to resign from your position in our government. I would not be… proper… to have my advisor be…"

"I will inform the rest of the staff immediately," you interrupted him. Which was incredibly rude, interrupting the king… but you couldn't take it. You couldn't stomach the pain that it would make you feel to hear him say the words he was about to utter.

It was enough that he didn't love you. You didn't need him to say it out loud.

You turned on your heels, but Caspian didn't let you step away. He caught your wrist before you could move away, and you turned back towards him, your eyes growing in surprise.

"I have not dismissed you, yet," he told you, quirking an eyebrow.

"I apologize, your Majesty."

Caspian gave you a smile. You wondered what was worth smiling for though.

"I thought we had agreed that there was no need to call me this way when we are alone."

"Things have changed."

"Not nearly enough, yet."

It was your time to frown.

"There is no need for you to move out of the Castle."

"But I…"

"Would you like to take a walk in the gardens with me this afternoon?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, completely confused.

"I… don't understand…"

"Did you mean what you said? Yesterday? Or did I not understand you right? I thought you said you had feelings for me."

You nodded, unable to answer, fleeing Caspian's gaze.

"I did… but…"

"Well, I am asking you if you would like to take a walk with me this afternoon."

"But I… why?"

His smile grew fonder, and you noticed the way his fingertips were shaking when he reached to hold your other hand.

"I… was hoping you would… like to spend some time with me," Caspian added, hesitant this time, a little shy, pinker shades appearing to colour his cheeks. "Not as my advisor but… as… a friend…"

"A friend?" you repeated, stunned.

"Or well… maybe… maybe more than a friend."

"But I… I am…"

"I feel the same way."

He had said the last sentence as fast as he could, forcing the words out like he would have pulled an arrow out of a wound. In one, quick motion, before the strength and courage would fail him.

Your mouth fell open.

"You… you do?" you stuttered, out of breath for some reason. You only just then noticed that you seemed to have forgotten how to breathe altogether.

"I do. And well… I am afraid that you need to resign, for it would be impossible for me to court one of my advisors. But as you have done so, I thought… what about a walk?"

There were a thousand thoughts swarming in your head, and most of them were going against Caspian's idea. Most of them told you this was impossible.

But you chose to simply ignore all of them, and answer what your heart was desperately begging you to say instead.

"Yes. Yes, a walk would be lovely."

#caspian #caspian x y/n #king caspian x reader #caspian x reader #caspian x you #king caspian #narnia #caspian fanfiction #caspian fanfic #caspian imagine #narnia imagine #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writing challenge

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crown-anon · 4 years ago

Text

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

#limeade-zest #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #george davidson x reader

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daydream-believin · 4 years ago

Text

Flowers Have Feelings

summary: it's valentines and you're making some gifts for your good pal douxie,,, also confessing

warnings: swearing probably, no proofread cause tired

word count: 2659

a/n: i've been struggling with writers block. i guess. i've returned to this only to write like, a paragraph so many times. which is bad cause like cheese designed the bouqeut and this should have been done ages ago. idk idk bon appetit

tags: @yagirlcheesely, is for you

image below: sketch of the bouquet

You jumped out of bed and slammed your alarm. Today was the day. You had to get everything ready today. Tonight would be the presentation. The night you finally do it. The night you confessed to your closest friend and crush, Douxie. Also happened to be Valentine’s day.

Your friends may have told you: “Just be patient. Drop hints. If he likes you, he’ll let you know.” But you weren’t about that passive love life. You liked to grab that strawberry cow by the horns. Subtly was boring and took far too long. You were in love with your friend and you were gonna let him know frankly if it killed you. It probably would, to be honest.

As confident as this makes you sound, you were aware of the possibility of him not liking you back, and that was okay. Sure, your heart would be shattered and you might not be very peachy for, say, a month or six, but you accepted that. At first, you had resigned yourself to just adoring him secretly. But you quickly grew impatient with that. What were you afraid of, really? Him letting you down gently, and ushering you two into an era of awkwardness? Okay so maybe that was worth considering. But not really. You wouldn’t let it come to that. Even if he did turn you down, you weren’t about to let that fact taint your friendship like that. You two were very close, and Douxie wasn’t the kind of guy to suddenly treat you differently after such a thing. Just a few weeks of awkwardness at most before all was forgotten (on his end at least). Only a problem for you. But, boy, it would be really, really nice, and not awkward, if he reciprocated.

You and Douxie were thick as thieves. There wasn’t a thing you hadn’t told each other. Not a secret between a pair of buddies as close as you. Oh, one thing, you know. The fact that you had caught feelings, that was definitely something you had kept secret from him. As eager as you were to do so, you couldn’t just drop a bombshell like that at any old time. That’s why you chose today of all days to confess; a little extra luck from St. Valentine. A little magic to give you a boost, placebo or not. This was going to happen. This was going to work.

You strapped on your helmet, safety first, before heading out on your bike. You cleared your schedule for the day cause you weren’t really sure if everything would work out or not. You could have everything done and ended wrapped up neatly in a few hours, or you could have a complete disaster on your hands, which could take up all your time. Time you would happily give, since you were determined for everything to be perfect. It was also nice to know you didn’t have to come in to work later,, lest you spend the whole night, crying your eyes out. You shuddered at the possibility. You were gonna stop thinking about that now. Yeah, only confidence now.

You may be a teensy bit sleep deprived. Only a teensy bit. You chugged a monster this morning, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault you were up all night researching flower language. There were so many flowers, and those flowers had so many feelings. Eventually though, you managed to settle on a bouquet of roses, daisies, and dandelions. Fern leaves for greenery too. Greenery was important for flower arrangements. It tied the whole thing together. While it wouldn’t be the most on theme color scheme, the yellows, whites, reds, and greens, would mix together prettily. You definitely didn’t have to go as far as this, and you were banking on the fact that Douxie even knew flower language, but it was sweet, it was romantic. And you were going to be romantic about this, dammit.

Daisies, for friendship. It was really important that you communicate just how much you valued Douxie’s friendship and how nothing would change between you two if he were to not return your feelings. Red, red roses, classic romance. There was a reason the blooms were so strongly associated with the valentines holiday itself; no one sees a red rose and thinks of anything other than love and romance. A clear message to your beloved. And well, the dandelions? Cheery, beautiful, resilient, common weeds, never to be approved of, finding the strength to bloom despite assholes like Merlin’s best efforts. Dandelions were Douxie’s favorite flower.

Too bad the florist didn’t even consider them to be anything but said common weed. You had included them in your order when you called it in and you could hear the florist laugh, but muffled as if he put his hand over the receiver, before returning to the phone to inform you that you would have to add them yourself. Pretty rude, if you say so. No matter, hand-picked dandelions would be romantic, anyways. Even if no one else knew about it but you.

You placed the bouquet neatly into the basket of your bike. You’d pick the dandelions to complete it later, right before the big confession, in order to keep them fresh. But as of now, the bouquet peaked out of your basket, the floral fragrance wafting up to your face as you made your way to the next store.

Last week, you had seen such an adorable little box of chocolates. It had chocolates shaped like little skulls, flowers, and ghost cats, and the box had a silly pun about death. Goth chocolate, def. It would have been perfect for the edgy wizard in your life, but alas, it was way too fucking expensive. Like obscenely expensive. But no matter, you’d just steal the idea. How hard could making chocolate be anyway?

You left the grocery store with your haul safe in your skull-patterned reusable shopping bag. Wizard-chic and eco-friendly, it was your favorite bag. The contents of the much-loved bag? Melting chocolates, a jar of marmalade, a jar of raspberry jam, a jar of strawberry jam, and a new roll of wax paper, since you were out. Now you weren’t as ambitious as to make your own jam here. This was a failsafe. There are only so many ways to ruin chocolates if you did not make the chocolate nor the filling yourself. Now just a quick run in the stationary shop on your way home for a cute box, and you were all ready to start your chocolatier career.

* * *

Douxie was getting antsy. Not many patrons had paid a visit to his bookstore this afternoon. Which was strange for valentine’s. and it left him with nothing but his thoughts to entertain his anxious mind. Doux had a lot to worry about. His band had a gig in a new town, so he wasn’t sure how they would be received. He was waiting on a shipment of books that was supposed to show up days ago. It may have gotten lost. That Lake kid was getting himself into more and more trouble these days and it was starting to become hard to help out without overstepping his vaguely imposed bounds. But most of all, at the very moment, he was worried about you.

You had asked him to meet up for dinner tonight. Okay, pretty normal for a Sunday night. Not that the weekend meant anything to either of you, but you normally set aside Sunday for dinner hangout. So nothing to abnormal. But then. Then, you said, something… Douxie actually can’t recall what you said, per se, just that it was along the lines of “we need to talk.” And that your tone sounded nervous. He did not like that one bit, nope nope. He had spent a great part of the day just revisiting every interaction the two of you had had in the last month or so, desperate to figure out if he did something wrong. But he was coming up blank, for all his efforts. Across the room, the clock ticked on. It would be closing time soon enough, and then he’d no longer have to wonder just what he did wrong, as you would be there to tell him directly. Fuzzbuckets, he couldn’t wait.

* * *

You wiped the goopy chocolate off of your cheek with the back of your hand. So far this wasn’t a total disaster. You had at least seven chocolate skulls filled and drying in the molds. The white chocolate seemed to have melted smoother than the regular chocolate? The regular chocolate ones looked kind of lumpy. You hoped they came out of the molds okay. Not to mention the ones you already messed up. A little mountain of chocolate pieces and jam had started rising from your table top corner.

It had been lots of fun at the start. melting the chocolates with a double boil, planning out which molds would be which flavors. But actually filling those molds? A messy, messy ordeal. You had chocolate and jam all over your kitchen, up to your exposed elbows, and even a little in your hair. But that was okay. You’d clean the kitchen later. With the molds in the freezer to set, your priority now was cleaning yourself up rather than the kitchen.

And you cleaned up nice, if you did say so yourself. You got the chocolate out of your hair, and had on a fresh outfit, taking a little time to put effort into your style. You looked snazzy, but not too fancy. You needed to stay casual. Something that you hoped would make Douxie be like ‘wow they look pretty okay’ but not freak him out with formality. Yeah. This was good.

Your watch beeped. Okay, you needed to get out of here, no more dilly dallying. You pulled the candies you made out of the freezer. Moment of truth. Thank the stars, all of the chocolates came out of the molds smoothly without breaking. You arranged them in the cute circular box you set up earlier and folded the tissue paper over them. They all fit in perfectly. The cheesy valentine card, the most important part, didn’t quite fit on top of the candies, you’d have to put it with the bouquet. You slid the lid onto the box and fastened a bow around it with a blue ribbon. Maybe this was a bit overkill, but Douxie knew how to appreciate the dramatic. He’d love it, you were sure.

Last but not least, you headed to the greenspace across the street from your apartment for the final ingredient in your Douxie wooing, dandelions. You were lucky that the empty lot had recently bloomed an entire garden’s worth of the yellow things. The chilly breeze mussed up your newly-fixed hair as you danced about gathering the tiny flowers, adding to the bouquet until you felt like it was enough. Which took longer than you had hoped. You definitely could have kept adding in more dandelions but your watch beeped once again and you had no choice but to make peace with the level of yellow and book it to the bookstore where you and Douxie were supposed to meet before heading out for the night.

* * *

Hearing the ding of the door chime, Douxie turned around to kindly inform the customer who came in that he wasn’t open, but the words caught in his throat when he was met with your smile. There you were, standing in the shop with a box in one hand and flowers in the other. You looked cute. Really cute. But Douxie chased that thought away. He fumbled with the book he had been re-shelving. It fell out of his hand unceremoniously, landing with a thud.

“Hey,” Doux managed to get out. “What’s all-”

“These are for you!” you shoved the presents into his now empty hands. That courage you had earlier? Gone. Your resolve? Dissolving as we speak. You had to get this over with before you chickened out. He was just so good, okay. And why did you think this was a good idea. Douxie looked down at the gifts in his hands confused, before blushing. If he could have reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck he would have.

“I didn’t know we were doing Valentine’s, uh. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh! Don’t be. I just,, felt like doing something nice for you and uh, special,” Douxie tilted his head. You took the box, freeing up his hand. “These are chocolates I made, like, like you’re supposed to do.” You waltzed over to the counter to place them out of the way. “The bouquet is the real star here, uh, I picked them out very carefully.” You tucked your arms behind your back. “I, uh- I brushed up on flower language, and I hope I got it right.”

Now Douxie may have been a Victorian once upon a time but he had barely any surviving memory of the frilly flower language people socialized through in those days. But thankfully, the blooms in the bouquet in front of him were straight forward enough that he did in fact get the message without taking too much gear turning in that noggin of his. Although, the friendly daisies with the red roses were kind of sending him some mixed signals. He knew what he wanted them to mean, but he could just be misinterpreting. You seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Um, there’s a card too. In the flowers somewhere. That. Probably explains what I’m trying to say a little clearer.” You carded your fingers through your hair. You had anticipated not being able to really speak with your voice, as you barely could now, so you’d written it all out on the card as backup. But damn, that card had everything on it. You maybe got a little carried away. There wasn’t going to be any going back from this.

Douxie dug out the card from amidst the blooms. It was handmade, with a cheesy little drawing on the front complete with a pun. And then he opened it. It was almost solid black with ink. Yeah, you had written that much in there. Both sides. And a little on the back. Wow. Doux tried his best to keep up a poker face while reading it but failed quickly as the first few lines alone left him flushed. It was true, everything was on it. From how much you adored Douxie as a person, to how much you valued his friendship, to how pretty you thought he was, to how you longed for something more, with him? Douxie felt like his hands were getting the card all sweaty.

It was nerve wracking watching him read that card. It seemed like he was finished, since his eyes stopped raking through it, but now he was staring intensely at the words written on the pages, in a trance. He broke focus, looking to the bouquet, back to the card, and then finally settled on you.

“Wow.”

“… is that a good wow?”

Douxie caught you by surprise. He pulled into a hug. “Yeah, a good wow.”

You and Douxie’s first non-platonic hug? Yes please. You didn’t even mind the flowers pressing into your back. Okay so a few rose thorns were poking you but that was fine. Douxie smelled like something you couldn’t name, but it was spicy, and cozy. He let you go sooner than you were ready to, but he grinned at you as he left to rummage through his things in the back for a vase. He turned to you as he proudly displayed them on the store’s counter, right where he could look at them all workday,

“So, where are we going tonight? For our first date?” Doux chuckled, “and, technically, our first Valentine’s day too.”

#valentines💘#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #my writing

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cumholland · 4 years ago

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Neighbors Part 2

Chapter Two - Designed for You

(Tom Holland x Reader)

a/n: Thank you so much to everyone who loved the first chapter and asked for a second one! Also thank you again to @2018shawn for helping me come up with the idea and @moonshineholland for proofreading! Chapter 1 here

Summary: After a wrench is thrown into your relationship, will you and Tom be able to handle it or will it force you apart? WC: 9.6k

Warnings: Language, LOTS of smut, angst.

"I knew it!" Hannah screams into the phone. You had finally told her about the Tom situation after mulling over it for a couple of days. Now you were sitting in Tom's sun lounger by the pool. He was out shooting today but you decided to let yourself in to go for a swim and keep Tessa company. The last time you were over Tom had given you a spare key. Invited you to come at any time you pleased. He especially encouraged you to keep Tessa company as he worried about leaving her alone for too long. After taking for her for a walk, Tessa decided it was time for a much needed nap. With her asleep, you decided to catch up on tanning as well as catch up Hannah on your predicament.

"Don't get too excited, nothing has really happened since then." Ever since that steamy make out session with Tom, the two of you hadn't really talked about it. Tom's hands were all over you for the rest of the night traveling up and down your body, his lips all over your neck. You even fell asleep in his arms, not moving from the couch until almost three in the morning. Eventually, Tessa jumped on the couch, waking you both. Tom headed to bed as he needed to prepare for shooting the next day and you spent the rest of the night back home. Since then you had hung out with Tom once, only having dinner and watching a movie. Now, two days after making out with Tom, you weren't quite sure where he stood on the situation. "We haven't really acknowledged it, I guess," you explain to Hannah.

"Wait, so you're saying you had a lust filled night of passion and now you haven't porked his brains out yet?" Hannah never was one to put a filter on what she was thinking, but when it came to your love life she was especially honest.

You get up and pace around the pool, concrete hot against your bare feet. "It wasn't a lust filled night of passion, Hannah," you start. "All we did was make out. Maybe I'm a bad kisser and that's why he hasn't tried to make another move."

"No way!" Hannah exclaims. "Boys are horndogs, they could be kissing a corpse and still be into it."

"Gross," you interrupt. "Tom isn't like any other guys I've met, Han. He's really sweet and caring and he gets totally flustered any time we get flirty." That was a fact. Tom's face could turn red faster than the blink of an eye, as could yours. Neither of you had been particularly proficient when it came to the art of flirting, but you had mastered the art of making eyes at each other from across the room. It felt like both of you were holding back, and you weren't sure when that dam was going to break. You were almost certain it had when you finally kissed, but maybe not after all.

A bark pulls you from your thoughts. Your head whips back to the house and you see Tessa standing at the back door wanting to join you outside. You jog over to the door and let her out. "What is that?" Hannah asks. "Do I hear a dog?"

"It's Tessa." You had told Hannah about the situation with Tom but you had also left out the part about the spare key, meaning you hadn't told her you were at his house at this very moment either.

"Who's Tessa? Am I being replaced as your best friend?" Hannah says sarcastically. Tessa dances around your feet, whining for attention.

"Han, it's Tom's dog, you literally met her when you came over." You pat Tessa on the head before she takes off.

"Oh yeah... I would have remembered her name if she wasn't asleep the whole time I was there!" she pesters.

"She's a dog," you roll your eyes as if Hannah can see you. "Maybe if-"

"Hold the phone, you're at his house?" She interrupts. "Is he there? Are you about to bone? I'm so confused, please explain." Hannah's thoughts often ran a million miles a minute and today was no exception. You didn't mind though, she was just excited that your love life finally had a spark. You'd been hurt in the past and she knew you weren't the most open and willing when it came to dating. It made you happy that she was ecstatic for you, even when she was a little cavalier about it.

"No, he's on set today. I'm just hanging out with Tessa and sunbathing. He gave me a spare key, it isn't a big deal." It wasn't a big deal, really, but you knew Hannah could go on about that one for hours. "I'm just hanging out here until he's back and then maybe I'll try to talk to him about the - uh - incident."

"You mean your tongue down his throat? That incident?" She pesters.

"Yes, that one," you say, rolling your eyes. You settle onto the sun lounger again, just now noticing Tessa digging around in the garden. "Tess! Get out of there, I'm not giving you another bath today."

"I wanna hear whatever details you have after tonight," Hannah insists. "And we need to hang out soon, I miss you."

"I promise, Han, we'll hang out soon." You tuck your phone under the cushion and pull out your sunscreen to apply another layer, but the only thing on your mind is what you want to say to Tom when he's back.

When Tom finally arrives back home it's almost 10 pm. You spent the rest of the afternoon working on homework while Tessa kept herself occupied with a toy. You fed her at dinnertime and made yourself a sandwich. Waiting for Tom made the minutes feel like hours, each one dragging longer than the last. You were antsy for him to come back, but at least the longer it took him to come back, the longer you could put off talking to him about your feelings.

That kiss had left you reeling, even more so than you thought it would. After confessing to Hannah, the scene kept replaying in your head. Every time you forced it out of your mind, that feeling of Tom's hands on your bare skin would pull you back in and you'd be caught up daydreaming about the way his tongue had slid into your mouth. Your hand is gripping your thigh, heat building between your legs just thinking about it. You bury your head in your hands and rub your eyes as if you can rub away the thoughts of Tom in your head. Before you get too caught up again you hear the sound of the garage door opening. Tom's home.

Tessa makes a break for the door and whines until Tom finally opens it. He's got a big bag of takeout in his hands and heads straight for the kitchen, Tessa still sniffing and dancing around his shoes. "I didn't think you'd still be here," he calls over from the island. You make your way from the living room to the kitchen, joining him in the brightly lit room.

"I would've made you dinner if I had known what time you were gonna be back but I wasn't sure." You had texted Tom earlier in the day but he hadn't responded until he was already done on set for the day. By then you had already eaten dinner and you didn't even have time to prep anything for him anyway.

"That's alright love, I was in the mood for shitty takeout anyway." You try to smile but you just scrunch up your mouth instead. All that confidence you had about confronting Tom melts away at the sight of him. He looks a little disheveled, probably just from a long day of work. It seems almost silly now, like bringing up the situation would just annoy him. You decide to bite your tongue and keep it to yourself for now. What's waiting until he has a day off? It wouldn't hurt anything.

Tom looks tired and a little annoyed so you want to be out of his space. "Um, I think I'm just gonna go, I'll let you have some peace and quiet," you say. It was probably nothing, but you wanted to give him his privacy, this was his house after all. "I was just keeping Tessa company anyway."

"You should stay," Tom says abruptly. He doesn't look up from his food, twirling the lo mein around with his fork.

"Are you sure?" You ask, testing the waters. "I don't mind going, I have some homework to do anyway." That was a lie, but if it makes Tom feel better, it made you feel better.

"It was just a long day. The director was really pushing me and I was getting frustrated. It isn't a big deal," Tom explains. He finally looks up at you, the bags under his eyes dark. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to." Tom's eyes are dark and heavy, lids almost swollen. It just now registers that he might've been crying. Frustrated at the very least.

"I know," you say softly, almost whispering. You stop for a minute, looking him up and down. His eyes are trained on his food, his usual cheery demeanor almost entirely absent. He tosses a noodle down and Tessa gobbles it up.

"I'll share my lo mein if you stay," Tom murmurs, finally looking up from his food. You let out a soft chuckle and take a seat next to Tom. He passes over his fork to you and for the first time since he got home, a smile appears on his face. It's a gentle half-smile, but a smile nonetheless. You twirl some noodles onto the fork and bring it to your mouth.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You ask through a mouthful of noodles.

Tom just shakes his head. "I'd rather hear about what my two girls did today." Tessa's ears perk up at that. She pretends to look to the side away from Tom, pretending like she isn't begging for food.

"Well, it was a pretty relaxed day," you start. "I swam in the pool for a bit and did my homework. Tess tore up another toy." You nod over to the living room, stuffing from the toy littering the ground.

"I'm starting to think you're just using me for my pool," Tom jokes.

"Of course! I don't know what else you thought this was," you joke, hitting his shoulder. "My friend Hannah thinks it's weird, me being at your house all day."

"It is weird," Tom affirms. "It isn't really the most typical of friendships, but I like you, so why not hang out with you instead of being alone? Same goes for Tess, I'm sure she's a lot happier not being alone all day." The statement dances around in your head for a moment. Specifically the word 'friendship' along with 'I like you' storms around in your head. Thomas was good at a lot of things but sending mixed signals was maybe his best talent. "Do you think if I lay on the ground Tess will walk on my back and give me a massage? I'm sore as fuck from stunts today."

"Um," you chuckle, eyebrows scrunched together. "Yeah, I'm not quite sure she's capable of doing that." You let that linger in the air for a moment before blurting out "I could give you a massage, maybe. If you want or whatever?" "Yeah?" He asks, eyes finally meeting yours. "I'll take what I can get."

"Really?" You accidentally blurt. It wasn't like you didn't want to do it but you didn't expect him to actually take you up on it.

"What? Are you too shy?" He cracks. "We've already made out, I hardly think a massage is that scandalous." Your cheeks immediately flush with red, your palms becoming sweaty. This is the first time he's mentioned the make out incident since it happened. He doesn't even look phased as he continues to scarf down the noodles.

"I guess you're right," you hum, fingertips buzzing from the thought of touching Tom. You leave Tom at the island and go back to the living room, Tessa following behind you. You move the coffee table out of the way and set up a blanket and pillow for Tom to lay on.

Tom joins you in the living room, setting his takeout on the coffee table you pushed aside. "Nice set up," he says, examining the space you have laid out. He takes his shirt off and tosses it on to the couch and lays down on the floor on his stomach. Your eyes are like saucers. You had expected this to be a 'through the clothes' kind of massage but you weren't about to ask him to get dressed. You eye him up and down, eyes raking over his back muscles down to the Calvin Klein waistband peeking out from his jeans. Before you even touch him Tessa has gotten up from her bed and is now trying to lick Tom's face off. "Tess!" Tom whines. He gets up and takes her out back, shutting the door so the two of you will be uninterrupted. Tom is back on his stomach so you wordlessly drop to your knees by his side. The tips of your fingers meet his skin, warm and firm. You slowly move your hands up his spine, slowly palming his tense back. You feel him laugh under your hands. "Your hands are so cold, darling," he teases.

"Give it a minute," you say, lightly slapping his back and pretending to hit him. Your hands continue across his shoulders, where he is most tense. Your thumbs dig into the muscle, and Tom moans under you. You dig your thumbs into the same spot again.

"Fuck," he moans again. "You can go harder, I won't break I promise." You weren't exactly trying to be gentle, but it was hard to put your weight into it when you were arched over his side.

"Okay," you start "I just have to...," you trail off as you swing your leg over his waist and you're now straddling him. Tom lets out a soft laugh, but you don't acknowledge it. Now with better leverage, you dig back into his shoulders. Tom's smile is wiped off his face and is replaced with a look of ecstasy as he lets out a long moan.

"Shit," Tom gasps through another moan. "What did you just hit?"

"I guess you have a g-spot in your shoulders." This makes the both of you laugh. You bring your hands down to his shoulder blades and start massaging the muscle that surrounds the area. Tom had some bruising on his back from his stunt work so you didn't want to get too rough with him. Tom moans into the pillow, this time lower and drawn out. "Geez, I hope the neighbors don't hear this, it sounds quite sexual."

"It's better than sex," Tom mutters.

"Oh?"

"Not really, but it's a close second." He turns his head and looks back at you over his shoulder giving you that killer smile. You work your hands lower again, reaching the small of his back. "Am I getting an ass massage too? My glutes are sore from all the running I had to do on set today."

"In your dreams, Holland," you roll your eyes.

"Fine, fine, what about a happy ending?" Tom starts laughing before he can even finish his joke.

"Once again, in your dreams," you tease him, although for a second it crosses your mind that something like that might be in your dreams too. You massage all the way down Tom's back and all the way up to the top again. After about a half hour of massaging Tom, you finally crawl off his back and sit on the floor next to him. Tom's eyes are closed and he's half asleep from the relaxing massage. "Alright, my fingers are about to fall off." Tom slowly flips over onto his back. Your eyes dart to the bulge in his jeans. He isn't totally hard, but he at least has a semi. He doesn't seem to notice or acknowledge it as he rubs his eyes. "What? Only the back side? What about the front?" He teases again.

"You're not getting a happy ending!" You exclaim.

"That isn't even what I meant," Tom says through his grin. "My chest is sore from pull ups and I paid for the full experience!" You shoot him a confused look. "I gave you lo mein, duh."

"Tom, I had like two bites!"

"Yeah! One bite for the back and one for the front!" Tom takes your hand and brings it to his chest.

"Have I told you that you're annoying?" You badger him, caving in to his request. With your hands on his chest, you move your palms in slow circular motions, hands traveling from his chest to his shoulders. You can feel Tom looking at you so you meet his gaze. With Tom facing you everything feels a lot more intimate. You feel every inch of your skin connected to his, the heat radiating from his body to your hands. Tom licks his lips and all you can think about is kissing them again. Before you even know what you're doing you're crawling on top of him and straddling him again. "Um... leverage," is all you can stutter out. Your cheeks are flushed pink but so are Tom's. His eyes travel down your body before slowly grazing back up. Your eyes meet again. Your hands are on his chest, legs around his waist. You're riding him.

Well, sort of. You can feel his bulge pressed against your ass now, straining against his jeans. His hands come up to your waist, taking a firm hold on you. Without a second thought, you bring your face to his, lips crashing again his. Tom captures your bottom lip with his teeth, teasing you before slipping his tongue into your mouth. He traces over your lips before gliding his tongue over yours, flicking against you. Your kisses become needier, filled with lust and desire. Your noses bump together, trying to melt into one another as deep as you can go. Tom pulls your body flush against him, every part of you now rubbing together. Tom's hands explore your back, hands traveling up the back of your shirt. You bring your hands to his face, capturing his strong jaw. Tom consumes you, surrounds you with himself. From his hands on you to his tongue tracing your teeth, you feel yourself falling into him. His breath is warm, spilling into your mouth, his mouth now traveling down your neck. Tom moans against your neck, his guttural groans sending shivers down your spine, you can feel yourself getting wet. You gasp, fingers catching in Tom's hair, slowly grinding your body against his. You bring your lips to his about to press them against his again but then...

Both of you hear a whining followed by a bark. Tessa wants back inside. "She'll be fine," Tom says, his lips returning to your neck.

"No, it's fine, we don't make her stay outside. It's not like there aren't other places we can make out," you say as you get off of him, standing up. "Besides, when was the last time you even vacuumed?"

"Not since I moved in," Tom says as you go to the back door to let Tessa in. She trots into the living room, ignoring Tom and going straight for the lo mein, burying her nose in the takeout container. "Tess!" Tom chides her. "No, nasty!" Tom drags her by the collar away from the food. You can't help yourself but giggle at how things went from you on top of Tom to Tessa stealing his food. "Go on, go put yourself in timeout!" Tessa's head hangs as she slowly walks up the stairs.

"Aw, c'mon Tom she just wanted a bite! Plus you deserve it, you locked her outside."

"Whatever," Tom says as he rolls his eyes, taking his food to the trash can to throw away. Finally, with a moment to breathe, you check your phone. It's nearing midnight and you have some work to get done tomorrow.

"I should probably get going, I have to be up in the morning and it's getting a bit late." Tom looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that he has perfected but all he does is nod. He walks you to the door and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks.

"Yeah, sure," you smile at him before returning the kiss, this time on his lips. "See you tomorrow, Tom."

The next day it was around 7:30 pm and the sun was already beginning to set. After a long day of working from your computer, you were ready to throw in the towel. After taking a bath, you decide to text Tom and ask if he is almost home from set. It isn't until 9:00 pm when he finally responds. Just got home. Come over. Without a second thought, you get dressed and walk over to his house. As soon as your knuckles meet the dark wood of his front door, it opens to Tom's face, brightly lit with a smile. "Miss me?" Tessa comes running out the front door and sniffing at your feet.

"Tessa clearly missed me," you say, flashing a smile back at Tom.

"I missed you more," he says as he moved out of the doorframe and motions for you to come in.

"Were things easier on set today?" After how run down he looked the other day, you were hoping he was still feeling okay after another long day.

"Not too bad. Nothing a genius like me can't handle," he says as he ruffles his hair.

"I guess that explains why your head is so big."

"What!" Tom shouts, cocking his head at you. Tom grabs you around the shoulders and starts messing up your hair.

"I'm kidding, you dork!" You tell him, grabbing a hold of his arm, all too aware of the muscles underneath his soft skin. Tom releases you from his strong grasp. "Your head is perfectly average sized."

"Thank you!"

"Your ego on the other hand," you start. Tom's eyes widen again, ready to lunge at you. "Kidding again!"

"You better be," he jokes, pulling you in close again. This time his hands are wrapped around your waist, head tilted over yours. He brings his face to yours, closing the distance, lips meeting again. So this is what you were now? Intimate. More than friends. Nothing was set in stone, making you all the more nervous. You move your lips against his, falling into his kiss once again. Once you pull away you smile at him, but Tom can tell there's something off about the look on your face. "Is everything okay?" He asks, hands falling off your waist.

"I just... um," you start, shaking your head. "I hate to sound so cliche but what are we?"

"Friends?" Tom says, a confused look on his face. You return the confused look back.

"Just friends?" "Well, um, special friends," Tom clarifies. Clarifies in a way that clarities absolutely nothing. You take a step away from him.

"What does that mean exactly?" You look deep in to Tom's eyes. It's hard to tell what he's thinking.

He's wearing his glasses today making him look cute as ever. His hands are pulled tight by his sides, clearly showing he's a little on edge. "I guess I don't know exactly." Tom leans against the counter, putting a little more space between the two of you. "I just...," Tom trails off. "I can't really be in a relationship right now."

"What? Why?" You demand, the edge in your voice all too clear. You don't mean to sound pushy or even sound angry, but having your emotions toyed with is something you've never put up with. Knowing your worth has always been important to you and you didn't like to play games. You and Tom had been flirty from the start, so there was obviously something between you. In a matter of seconds, every interaction you've had with Tom flies through your head, analyzing everything from mixed signals, missed opportunities, to your especially erotic massage make out session last night. Had you missed something? What weren't you getting? What wasn't Tom getting?

Tom's mouth hangs open for a second as he tries to articulate what he's thinking. The seconds stretch out in front of you, feeling like years. "I'm not gonna be here forever," he starts. "I'm constantly going back and forth between places. In two months, once I'm done with this shoot, I'll be back in London for who knows how long." You feel the ground start shifting under you as Tom talks. Tom, the guy you had been slowly developing feelings for no matter how hard you tried not too. Tom, the guy who was jaw droppingly gorgeous and the sweetest gentleman you've ever met. Tom, the guy who didn't want to date you.

You try to muster up a response but you have no idea what to say. Now it's your turn for your mouth to hang up. "I guess I don't know what to say." "You don't have to say anything," Tom says, closing the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you again. "Why do we even need to have a label on it? Why can't we just enjoy each other's company? I've loved spending time with you and I don't want that to change."

"But...," you start.

"But I just can't have a relationship right now, love." Tom places a kiss on your forehead. I have to be a million places all over the world as soon as press for my next movie starts. It would just make it harder on both of us and I can't do that to you. I can't promise you something when I know it isn't going to work out." You do your best to suppress rolling your eyes. After all this time of being a total gentleman, now he wants to be a fuckboy like every other guy in California? Hannah would definitely be hearing about this later.

"Sure," you say bluntly. You were irritated and you just wanted the conversation to be over. If Tom didn't want a girlfriend then fine, you wouldn't push the envelope, but you wouldn't let him play with your emotions either.

"Please, don't be mad at me-"

"I'm not," you interrupt. "I guess I'm just disappointed. Let's just drop it." You cross your arms and lean against the counter.

Tom crosses his arms too and stays silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I can't lead you on I couldn't keep that from you."

"It's fine," you reiterate. "It's whatever. I'm glad you told me." You really were glad he told he told you. Glad you could keep yourself from getting more hung up on him. You uncross your arms to keep yourself from looking too upset. "So what's the plan? Are you making me dinner or do I have to do everything around here?" There was a stillness and a comfort around you. Without worrying about a potential relationship you could just enjoy yourself, right?

Tom cracks a small smile of that, breaking through the troubled look on his face. "How about I buy you takeout instead." You jokingly roll your eyes, making fun of his inability to cook.

Friends. There was nothing wrong with friends. Watching Tom as he grabbed his phone to order food, you thought to yourself that there were plenty more fish in the sea.

"I don't think I'm understanding," Hannah ranted. You texted her as soon as you got back from Tom's and she immediately made plans to come over the next day. Now the two of you were laying in your room listening to music as you so often did before you started spending so much time at Tom's house.

You pull your blanket over your head, groaning into the soft covers. "I don't even know why I got so invested. I'm sorry I haven't been around as much, I shouldn't have let trying to get with Tom take up so much of my time."

"Don't say that!" Hannah asserts. "You're still in desperate need of dick and it doesn't always just come to you, you have to put in work for it sometimes!"

"But I didn't even get any!" You whine. "Besides that wasn't what I was going for! Haven't you ever heard of happily ever after?" "My happily ever after includes me getting good dick." While Hannah is talking you get up from your bed and go over to your bay window, sitting down on the cushions. "His dick isn't even off the table either, hun. I know it isn't exactly what you were hoping for but you don't have to go back to the nunnery just yet." "I think that's called a convent," you tease. Hannah always knew how to make you smile even when you were feeling down. Hannah sits up from the bed and joins you at the window. You look over at Tom's backyard to see him coming outside with a towel, about to go for a swim. "Listen, boys change up like the weather all the time. They never know what they want and they're always changing their minds. It doesn't matter if you and Tom aren't destined to be together, just have some fun." Hannah grabs your hands, pulling you close. "I know you're never satisfied with guys and they're always letting you down, but you've been the happiest hanging out with Tom than you have been in a while. You don't have to totally cut him out just because he's a little bit of a douche. We already knew that hun, he's a guy they're all dicks."

You let out a soft laugh and nod. Hannah had a point. She always did, she was too smart for her own good. "I'm not gonna tell you you're right because you already know you are."

"Of course I'm right, babes," Hannah says as she hugs you. "Have some fun, let loose! You practically wet yourself when you made out with him. It's up to you, hun, do whatever you want. Do you know what you want?"

You look out to Tom's yard and watch as he dives headfirst into the pool. Dating Tom might not be in your future, but there was obviously something between you. Did you know what you wanted?

You took a few days to yourself to think about your situation. Tom had been texting you but your responses were inconsistent and sporadic. He asked you to come over more than once but you told him you were busy or had plans with Hannah, which wasn't technically lying as Hannah had come over for a few nights to watch movies. Now, it was the weekend and you had spent most of the day laying in bed. Tom was at work but you had texted him and asked to come over later. He replied almost instantly with an absolutely. Tom didn't seem to be upset with you even though you pulled had a bit of a disappearing act. He could probably imagine how confused you had been over the past few days. But you weren't confused anymore. Tom was just a boy and you were just a girl. And you were just a girl wanting to let loose.

You found yourself in Tom's living room once more. Tom was on one side of the couch and you were on the other. It had felt a bit awkward since you had come over, but the conversation had been flowing as usual. You had fallen back into your typical poking fun at each other banter and Tom had put on some shitty horror movie. "Why do you always have to put on shitty movies like this, why can't we watch a good one?"

"Well if it's a shitty movie then we can make fun of it. We always end up talking over it anyway," he explains.

"Then why don't you put on music or something, dummy," you tease.

"Fine!" Tom caves in. He turns off the movie and pulls up Spotify on the TV, turning on one of his playlists. "Alright missy, you got your wish, now what do you want to talk about."

"First we can talk about how Chris Evans is so much hotter than you," you joke. Tom tosses a pillow at your face but you smack it out of the way before it hits you. "I'm kidding Mr. Holland, you're the hottest superhero."

"Damn right," Tom says, smile proud on his face. You roll your eyes at that.

Would now be a good time to ask him? runs through your head. You've thought about it for days now, so why pussy out? It's just a few simple words. "Tom, I...," you trailed off.

"Huh?"

"I, um... ," you started again. "Um, do you have any snacks?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Tom says as he got up from the couch. He disappeared into the kitchen to grab whatever the fuck he thought you wanted. Shit was all you could think. You always froze up at the last second, always too scared to shoot your shot. After a minute, Tom came back with an assortment of snacks. He dropped the pile of snacks on the couch next to you and took a seat on the other side. "Plenty?" Tom asks as he digs his hand into a bag of chips.

"Yeah," you start again. "Actually, um, I meant to ask about the other day." Tom looks up from his chips, mouth full and his loud crunching distracting you. He doesn't interrupt, just keeps looking at you. "About the relationship thing..."

"Hun, I-"

"You're not looking for a relationship," you interrupt him. "That's fine, I know, but... why don't we just... have fun then?" Tom studies your face for a minute. His eyebrows are scrunched together and the look of confusion takes over his face.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "What exactly are you asking?"

Hannah's words fly through your head: just have fun. "Fun, like I said," you say, looking him in the eyes, his tight knit eyebrows slowly coming undone. "No strings attached."

"Friends with benefits?" Tom asks.

"Exactly," you explain. "You don't want a relationship and I don't want to get my feelings hurt. But that doesn't mean I'm not still... attracted to you." Tom keeps his eyes trained on you, watching you as he chews on his bottom lip. "You can say no, I'm just thinking out loud."

"Are you sure?" He asks. You weren't fully sure of yourself, but these days you often weren't. The world kept going even when you were standing still, so what was the point in waiting around to question yourself any longer?

"Yes," you blurt. "We have a good thing going for us already, I mean. And we're both adults with needs so... why not?" The silence hangs in the air for another moment, the atmosphere in the room warm and still. Your hands are clammy and your face is definitely on fire. You weren't often bold like this and it was a new sensation to you.

"Well then... why not?" Tom finally says. "I mean, I'm not exactly sure how to go about this I guess."

You weren't exactly sure how this would go either. Or even how it would start. "We can just let things happen organically and see what happens."

Tom nodded, tossing the bag of chips aside. "So we can make out now?" He looked like an eager kid in a candy store.

You laughed at him and rolled your eyes. "I said organically, Thomas."

After talking to Tom about the new aspects of your friendship, you decided to turn the shitty horror movie back on to fill the silence while you retreated into your thoughts. It was hard to tell what Tom was thinking and it made you more nervous that he might be thinking this was a bad idea. He seemed excited enough, but your doubts had a way of getting the better of you. You were so shrouded in your thoughts you hadn't even noticed the movie was over. "Not as shitty as the last one but still pretty shitty," Tom commented.

"I get to pick the movie next time," you declared.

Tom laid down on the couch, using your lap as a pillow. "My taste is immaculate, don't be jealous." You rolled your eyes at that one. "Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"I think so. Every night before I go to bed you tell me I'm gorgeous and the most important woman in the world," you pester him.

"No, that's Tess," he says laughing.

"Whatever," you roll your eyes.

"You are gorgeous though," he says again. "I know I've put you in a complicated situation and all, but you're the fittest girl I've ever met. You're stunning and you're way smarter than me."

"Clearly," you tease him again.

"And I'm not just complimenting you to get in your pants, I really mean it," Tom says. "I just... are you really sure about this?" Tom looks into your eyes. His eyes are soft in gentle. Everything about him is soft and gentle. He's so sweet and compassionate and caring that you start to feel your doubts melt away. Maybe you weren't making the right decision, but it was a decision that still made you happy. You push him off your lap and force him to sit up. Before he can say anything else, you press your lips against his. It's softer than your last kiss, this one more gentle and subdued. Your lips move in sync, pushing into one another, slow and passionate like you have all the time in the world. Tom runs his hands through your hair, pulling you into him.

Tom pulls back for a second to look at you. "Is this okay?" He asks, voice heavy with desire. You nod your head and lean back in, lips meeting his again. You deepen this kiss this time, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Tom's breathing is getting heavier by the second as the kiss becomes more intense. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer until he has you in his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck as you straddle him. Your tongue slides against his, teeth clashing as the kiss becomes sloppier. Tom pulls away again, this time his lips shiny and starting to redden from your lips hungrily attacking each other. "Should we take this upstairs?" His voice is low and gruff, saturated with lust. You try your best to formulate words but all you can is nod your head.

Tom leads you up the stairs. He brings you to his bedroom, which you haven't been in since the first night you came to Tom's house. He closes the door behind you and dims the lights, giving the room a soft, sensual glow. Tom backs you up against the edge of the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it. Tom crawls on top of you, kissing up your neck as he comes back to your lips.

Your hands find their way under his shirt, slowly traveling up his back. Tom breaks to kiss to take his shirt off, pulling it over his head. You watch as his abdomen muscles ripple as he moves before his mouth is all over yours again. You can already feel the heat building between your legs, the wetness forming as your desire for Tom burns like a wildfire. He kisses back down your neck to your collarbone until his lips meet the fabric of your shirt. "Can I take it off you?" He asks, looking up at you. His puppy dog eyes now taking a different form, something more raw and needy.

You sit up as Tom grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it over top of your head. "I don't think I've ever told you how great your tits are," Tom teases.

"Shut up," you laugh, shaking your head at him. You unclasp your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders. Tom's mouth practically gapes at the sight of your bare breasts.

"Wow," is all he can muster. You giggle at him as you back your way to the top of the bed, Tom following right behind you. With you on your back, he crawls between your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He slowly grinds his body against yours and you can feel his erection through his sweatpants. You palm his bulge, feeling the harness through the fabric. Tom moans into your mouth as his tongue meets yours again, warm breaths exchanged between you. Tom begins to slide down, his bare skin against yours as he goes. He kisses a trail down your neck before choosing a spot to slowly lick and caress with his tongue, gently sucking in a way that will be sure to leave a mark. His hands find your breasts, taking a handful and slowly rubbing them and creating friction against your nipples. A gentle moan leaves your lips, giving Tom the green light to let him know that you love what he's doing. After he's satisfied with the mark he's left on your neck he lowers his face to your tits, his tongue finding the nipple. Tom gently begins to suck and graze his teeth of your sensitive nipples, now hard from Tom's work. This time you let out a louder moan, knotting your fingers into Tom's hair as his warm, wet tongue focuses on your erogenous zone. Tom moves to the other side, his tongue lashing at the tender skin, driving you crazy before you're even fully undressed.

"Fuck, Tom," you let out a breathy moan. He looks up at you, nipple in his mouth and lets out a low moan. You bite your lip at the sexy sight of him. While Tom is still working on you, you start to wiggle out of your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with one hand. Tom notices you struggling and helps slide them off of you. With his warm mouth gone, the cold air hits your skin where he has left it wet with his tongue.

With your pants gone, you're left only in your underwear, and Tom looks captivated by the sight. "You're so fucking sexy, love," Tom practically moans. He positions his head between your thighs and kisses each one, licking his way back up. His mouth meets the fabric of your panties and he lets out a hot breath that breaks through the thin fabric. By now you're practically soaked from anticipation, desperately aching to feel his tongue on you. Tom hooks his fingers across the fabric, moving it to the side without taking them off. He licks a tantalizing slow strip up your slit, his tongue finding it's way between your slit, enveloping him in your heat. "So fucking wet for me," he moans against you. Tom's mouth feels like heaven against you, his soft lips rubbing against you, his tongue working it's way in and out of you, gliding up and down your slit. Tom grabs your ass, slightly lifting you off the bed to slide your panties down to your ankles. He spreads your legs as far apart as he can before his head finds it's place between your legs again. His lips wrap around your clit, slowly licking against the nub before grazing his teeth against it. You involuntarily gasp for air and moan, throwing your head back against the pillow as your hips buck up against his tongue. You look back down to watch Tom as he gently assaults your clit with his tongue, eyes trained on you. "Keep your eyes on me," Tom murmurs against you.

"O-okay," you manage to get out between moans. It had been a while since a guy had gone down on you but this was already a million times better than you had ever had before. Tom lets out a gentle puff of air onto your sensitive, throbbing clit. You struggle to keep your eyes open, watching Tom as he expertly works every inch of you. Your hand finds it's way to his hair again, your fingers threading through his hair, keeping his head in place. Tom's head is moving up and down now, his tongue traveling over your soaked folds. Tom has one hand on your thigh keeping you spread open as he moves the other one to hover over your clit. As his head moves down further, his thumb takes the place of his tongue, now rubbing your clit in circles.

Tom moans against you again, sending deep vibrations into you that you feel in your core. "You taste so fucking good," he groans.

"Please, fuck, please," you moan. "More." Your hips are slowly bucking in rhythm with his tongue, your juices flowing from how turned on you are. "Fuck," you gasp. "Please... fingers." Tom wordlessly responds. He lifts his head up spitting onto your opening, saliva and your juices dripping from his lips. It's messy and sloppy and probably the hottest thing you've ever seen. Tom uses his spit and your wetness to easily slide his index finger inside you. "Fucking hell," you gasp. You sit up on your elbows to get a better view of Tom as his tongue travels back to your clit, as he buries a second finger inside you. "Tom, fuck!" You cry out. Tom curls his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out, quickly picking up the pace. The faster he goes, the more stars that start to appear in your vision. "Tom, I'm getting close," you warn. You feel your body begin to get warm all over, that pit of pleasure building in your stomach. Tom begins to pick up the pace of his fingering, his tongue lapping aggressively at your clit, swirling around it and gently biting it. "Fuck, fuck!" You scream as your body starts to fall to pieces. You feel your orgasm wash over you, starting in the pit of your stomach and reaching all the way to the tips of your toes and back up. A sob escapes your throat as your toes curl and the orgasm finished wracking through your body. "Holy shit, Tom, where'd you learn to do that?"

"Practice," he says, flashing that cheeky smile at you. Although this time he has your juices drenching his lips and chin. Tom comes up from beneath your legs, planting a wet kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips but that seems to only turn you on more.

You pull away and give him a devilish grin. "My turn?"

"You're naughty," he teases. "But absolutely," Tom crawls off of you and falls beside you on his back, putting a pillow behind him to prop himself up. His hard on is still raging through his sweatpants, a small patch of precum leaking through the grey fabric. Fuck, his bulge looks big. You run your hand across his bulge, palming at his hard member. Tom hooks his thumbs over his waistband and slides his sweatpants down, cock smacking against his stomach as it jumps out from his underwear. His cock is long and hard, precum dripping from the tip. His cock is red and straining, throbbing from how excited he is. Without hesitation, you grab his cock, slowly pumping the thick meat. You rub your thumb against the head, spreading the precum over it and dragging it down his shaft. "Fuck, baby," Tom moans, head falling back against the headboard. You tease his cock, jerking him off at a tantalizingly slow pace, letting the tension build.

After teasing him with your hand, you bring your mouth down to the head of his cock and flick your tongue against it. Tom lets out a breathy moan and tangles his fingers into your hair, pushing your head down with a bit of force. You take the head into your mouth, tongue finding the sensitive spot under the tip. Tom's cock was already hard but you felt it grow rock hard in your mouth, his pre cum leaking into your mouth now, hot and salty. You bob your head up and down, opening your throat up for him. "Your mouth feels so fucking good," Tom pants, thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You grab his balls, slowly tugging at them and working them around with your fingers until his cock is buried entirely down your throat. Tears escape your eyes but you keep yourself from gagging, pulling off his cock. You lick a stripe up his shaft and back down, taking a second to play with his balls in your mouth, tongue traveling around his sack. You take his cock down into your mouth again and he thrusts up into your throat. Tom pushes you down further onto his cock, fucking your mouth. You gag a couple of times before you get the hang of it, but once you do Tom is thrusting into your throat with ease.

Tom's breathing is heavy and labored as he breaks out into a sweat. He raises up his hand, bringing it down on your ass, causing a loud smack, leaving a red hand print on your ass. "Open your legs for me, baby," he commands. You do as he says and he leans forward so he can reach you, his long fingers finding their way in your slit again. He collects your wetness and brings it to your mouth. You open up for him and taste yourself on him, your tongue dancing around his fingers. You moan onto his fingers before he pushes you back down onto his cock again. He leans forward again, this time his fingers meeting your entrance, sliding into you to the knuckle. He fingers you fast and rough, the sounds of your wetness turning him on even more.

"I can't take it any longer I need to be inside you now," Tom demands, standing up on the bed as you pull off of his cock. "Get on your hands and knees." You do as he says, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed. He gets on his knees, his face in line with your dripping pussy. He buries his face in it, tongue licking it's way through your folds, making you gasp and scream with pleasure.

"Fuck!" You moan, burying your face into his duvet. "Tom, it feels so fucking good!" As you're gasping into the pillow, Tom gets up from his knees and lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, slapping his head against your soaked folds. You bite your lip and push your hips back against him, begging to feel the fullness of his cock inside you.

Tom teases you with his cock, holding your hips in place, making you wait and beg for him to give you what you want. "You want more?" All you can muster is a moan as you push against him harder. He slides the head inside you, slowly opening up your entrance. "So fucking tight."

"Oh, fuuuck!" You cry out, mouth hanging open as he slides another inch inside. He slides in until he's halfway in and you can feel yourself stretching around him, the heat of your tight walls adjusting to his size. "Tom, please," you hiss. "More, please." Tom adheres to your begs, sliding in the rest of his cock with a quick, hard stroke, balls slapping against you. "Ah, fuck, Tom!" You moan, gasps and hisses falling from your mouth. You try to form a sentence, tell him you love it, tell him it feels fucking amazing, tell him his cock is bringing you the most pleasure you've ever felt, but all you can muster is garbled moans and cries.

Tom starts pumping in and out of you, faster and faster, his hips slapping against yours. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his rhythm steady and consistent as he fills you up. Tom grabs you by the hair and pulls you up, your bodies flush against each other. He buries his face in your neck, licking and sucking on the mark he already left on you, the skin still sensitive from the earlier assault. Tom's hand travels down to your now easily accessible clit, his index and middle finger rubbing in circles in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. "You're so fucking wet... dripping down my cock," Tom grunts through gritted teeth. "Fucking hell, your pussy was made for me."

Tom pulls out of you and spins you around then pushes you back on the bed. He crawls between your legs and lifts them onto his shoulders, centering his cock with your entrancing and sliding his entire length back into with a resounding thrust. "Fuck!" You cry out, grabbing hold of his arms, feeling the veins that wrap around his muscles under the soft skin. Tom immediately picks the pace back up, the bed squeaking and shaking from the ferocity of his fucking.

"Play with yourself, I wanna see you touch your clit while I'm fucking you," Tom orders. Your hand flies down to your clit, fingers toying with yourself. It feels even better with him inside you, every thrust sending a shockwave to your core.

You throw your head back, letting your body succumb to the pleasure. "Tom! Fuck I can't...," you trail off. You try to warn Tom that he's getting you close, bringing you closer to the edge with every thrust, but the pleasure has left you unable to form words. Tom brings your legs down from his shoulders and wraps them around his waist. Tom lays his body across yours, bare skin rubbing against bare skin, gliding over the other from sweat. Tom wraps one arm behind your head, bringing your face together, lips meeting as he buries his cock deep inside you, the head rubbing against your sweet spot as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, hitting that spot deep inside you over and over. "Tom!" You moan into his mouth. You feel the pressure building in your stomach each time he buries himself deeper. You grab his hand from your waist and push it to your clit, begging him to give you your release. Tom gets the memo and starts to rub your clit in circles with the rough pad of his thumb.

"Such a dirty girl for me," he moans into your mouth. You feel your body start to convulse. You grab on to his shoulders, your walls closing in around him. Tom picks up the pace of his thrusting, burying his cock as deep inside you as he can, working on your clit harder, collecting your wetness on his fingers to use on your clit.

"Tom," you gasp. "Fuck, don't stop!" Your hips buck and your legs shake, Tom hitting your sweet spot as you feel the pressure release. The pleasure washes over you, your mouth hanging open as guttural moans escape your mouth. You close your eyes, stars swirling around your vision as you feel your orgasm reaching it's peak. Tom knows what he's doing to you and he's loving every second, feeling your walls tighten on his cock, feeling your body shake in his hands as he pushes you over the point of no return. You buck your hips onto his cock, riding out the waves of your orgasm as you start coming down.

Tom gives you a few more thrusts before he grunts in your ear, his thrusts becoming short and hard as his body tenses up. He lets out a final groan before his pulsing cock begins to spurt his ribbons of cum inside you, holding your hips steady as he realizes inside you. "Fuck!" He grunts through gritted teeth. "Fucking hell," he moans, pumping inside you, his spent cock throbbing and twitching, fucking the cum out of you, letting it drip from your opening. Tom's mouth meets yours again, tongues intertwining as you pant and moan into each other's mouths, hardly able to move from how spent the both of you are.

Breathing heavy, the air hot and sticky, Tom is the first to break the post-orgasm silence. "I can't even remember the last time I came that hard," he smiles, breaking out into a laugh.

You bury your head into your hands, hiding your face from him. "So we really did that, huh?" You peek out through your fingers to see him flash that cheeky grin at you. You start laughing and shaking your head. "Such a dork."

"A dork who made you cum harder than you ever have before," he teases, leaving one final kiss to your neck. You roll your eyes at that, even though it was the truth.

Tom gets up from the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. He turns on the shower before coming back, placing a towel beside you. "So," he starts. "Again tomorrow?"

"Obviously," you giggle, flashing him a devilish smile. Oh boy, what had you gotten yourself into?

Taglist: @hollanddolanfangirl @quaksvn @fandom-phaser @hollands-osterfield @evanssgi @happytsholland @lu-morningstar @ilivefortomhholland @quaksonhehe @ninjassassin13 @softholand

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brookeolin · 4 years ago

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TRIGGER WARNING/TW: emotional and physical abuse and violence

Hi! I've been paying attention to the stories of assault that have been shared by brave survivors over the past week... and years... Every time a movement to share revives, I consider talking about something I've been through... but usually by the time I feel like I can, I tell myself "it's too late, the moment passed". I am finally realizing that this mentality was a stupid way of silencing myself--and it's truly never too late to speak up.

I don't have a games industry person to call out. I'm sharing my story just to get it off my chest.

A couple years ago, in my late 20s, I was dating a guy named Mike. The relationship was pretty toxic from the start, but I was naiive as hell (yes you're still probably naiive about a lot of things in your late 20s btw) and thought his mean streak was sort of... refreshing? I fooled myself into thinking that I'd finally met a guy that would be honest with me about my flaws, and who would love me despite them. Because of this infatuation with a mean streak and the emotional highs and lows that come with it, I ignored all of the red flags. Some examples related to games: If we played a new game and had different opinions about it, mine were always wrong. If I tried to make an argument for my opinion, he'd accuse me of trying to make him feel stupid. My opinions were always invalidated without a discussion. We would play games together--he would tell me I was bad at it. He wouldn't even play the games I'd worked on, and told me he didn't like them. Everything I did or said was bad or wrong, but he'd always sugar-coat it and comfort me with encouragement that I could "do better". It was a rollercoaster of emotions every day. My self-esteem was so low that... I believed he was right. His gaslighting prevented me from seeing the reality of the situation--I was being emotionally abused, constantly.

Time flew by during this relationship. I was always either ecstatically happy or deeply depressed, and so I developed intense anxiety and panic attack problems. I would have a panic attack and would try to talk to him about it, and he would get mad at me or ignore me. The next day, he'd apologize and we'd make up. This happened more times than I can count. The relationship was so all over the place all the time that my emotional energy was always spent. I got too tired to talk to friends, and cut myself off from everyone without realizing it. I was also shipping a couple games at the time, and stopped working on them in the normal way... I didn't playtest, I didn't proofread, I just hacked things out as fast as possible so I could get back to putting out fires in my relationship. Every single disagreement about games or anything else was always turned back on me, and used to further belittle me.

Things continued to escalate with Mike, and maybe... a year into our relationship, one day, he was mad at me for arguing with him about... something. I was probably mad at him about rent--at this point, he was playing games all day and not working. I was paying for our entire existence, including rent, so we'd fight about that a lot. Anyways, we were fighting and it escalated and he started to hit me. He then shoved me onto the couch and started strangling me. I couldn't get him off. I was seriously at the limit of being conscious when I managed to pry him off of my neck, and then he hit me some more. That went on for a bit, until I managed to run out of the apartment. I wandered around in the streets for a while before coming home.

Guess what! Even after something like that, I stayed with him! People aren't kidding when they talk about how difficult it is for abuse victims to leave their abusers. Why? He convinced me that he beat me up because I pushed him to that point. He managed to manipulate me into believing it was my fault. Turns out, this kind of gaslighting is pretty typical in these abuse situations, but I didn't know that at the time and was... so traumatized and fucked up that I believed him. It took me almost another year, and more physical abuse, to finally leave. I almost died multiple times while dating this guy. On the last occaision, he strangled me again after slamming my head into the wall. He stopped strangling me at my breaking point again and started running towards the kitchen, saying something about a knife. I sprinted out the door with only a shirt and underwear on.

An old guy was closing up at a bar nearby and he let me in and called the cops. Of course, the cops weren't helpful--they stood there asking me "but how bad was it, really"... even asking me to rate my fucking beating on a scale of 1-10 while I was sobbing and covered in bruises. Eventually, they finished questioning me and taking pictures of my neck, and finally drove me home. We got there and they asked... "Do you want us to arrest him? You need to decide." These fuckers made me decide if I wanted my abusive boyfriend to go to jail, outside of my apartment, while I was shaking like a leaf, with no pants or shoes on. It was the lowest point of my life, by far. I was like... seriously in disbelief that they were asking me, the victim, to make this decision. Thankfully, I said yes, and he went to jail. I went back into my apartment, alone, surrounded by broken furniture. I called my mom and a friend. I'll never forget how strange it was to just lie there in my ruined apartment, not really knowing what to do. I went to the ER the next day and the nurses there told me they see girls like me in this condition every day, and they told me that a lot of those girls go home and it happens again and again. They asked me sincerely to never speak to Mike again, and I didn't. I have not seen him since. Oh, but I was still effected by the gaslighting so deeply that I gave money to a friend to bail him out of jail a couple days later, because I still felt like everything was somehow my fault. It was NOT my fault. He chose to violently assault me. That was his choice. It took me a long time to recognize that, because his gaslighting really effected me to my core. The power of abuse is truly incredible and horrific, and the power an abuser has remains even after they are gone.

I was was lucky to come out this alive and on my feet. I am no longer in that relationship--I am safe and happy. As lucky as I've been to come this far, I've been through some very real PTSD since then, and still struggle with the physical and financial repercussions of my assault to this day. Things have gotten a lot better though, so I thought it'd be a good time to share this with folks.

I hope that anyone out there who is also a domestic abuse victim can see that they're not alone, and that they can get out of the situation... hopefully faster than I did. I can't advise anyone personally--I'm a victim, not a professional. However, I can promise you, if you're a survivor/victim of domestic abuse, that there's hope. You can get your life together, as impossible as it might seem--I am living proof of it. Trusted friends, therapy and local domestic abuse centers are incredibly helpful. I have personally literally used all of these methods to help with my own situation, when it was at its worst. There is no shame in asking for help.

If you're not a victim, or don't personally know anyone who is... I hope that you might now recognize that domestic abuse is a very real and pervasive thing. It doesn't happen to one specific kind of person--it can really happen to anyone, and often for long, drawn out periods of time. Relationships are complicated things that can be incredibly difficult to get out of, especially when abuse (emotional and/or physical) is happening. Please keep this in mind, watch out for your family and friends, and support victims as much as humanly possible.

-Nina Freeman

#domestic abuse #partner abuse #nina freeman

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tobethefairybest · 5 years ago

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First Miraxus fic is up! Thanks @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate for proofreading! :D

The fanfic can be read here below or by clicking the ff.net link above :)

--------------------------

It was late at night at the Fairy Tail guildhall. Mirajane walked down the stairs from the highest floor, it had been a long day. Ever since the guild had been re-established, she and Levy had been helping Makarov nonstop with all the paperwork needed to get the guild back into business with the entire city again. Levy already left an hour ago, but Mirajane had stayed a little longer. Not because she had too, but simply because she felt like every time spent with the almost century old master was precious to her. She never wanted to leave before knowing he was feeling well.

It has been strange for everyone to go back to the lives they had always led here. Some had gotten used to their new life already in a new place, but most of the guild members had never felt home again since the disbanding until now. So had she. Fairy Tail had been her and her siblings' home and suddenly being left without it had thrown them into the dark. Of course they still had their house in Magnolia, but the city had had a gaping hole in its heart without the guild.

She awoke from her thoughts by a low rumbling sound coming from the main hall. It was followed by an almost inhuman sound of rasping and gurgling. Mirajane froze in place. It was as if a large animal was drowning and gasping for air. It eerily resonated in the now empty and dark guildhall. The last thing the now peaceful guild needed, was trouble from outsiders. Maybe an animal had gotten stuck in the building?

Carefully she crept down the stairs and up to the balcony. She kneeled down and looked through the bars. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Normally there wasn't much for her to be afraid of, but the thought of someone, or something, having intruded the guildhall without anyone noticing left her surrounded by fear.

At first, it seemed like not a living soul was present at ground level. Had she imagined it? No. There was no way a sound that loud was just in her head. She carefully stood up straight. It was then when she saw it. On a barstool, somebody sat with their back towards her. A back that was all too familiar to her.

''Laxus?''

He was visibly startled, as if he didn't expect anybody to be around at this time, but he didn't turn around. Something was off, he should have definitely been able to hear her walking around with his extraordinary hearing skills.

She walked down the last stairs.

''You scared me! Why on earth did you make that sound?''

He didn't reply.

She slowed down her pace when she came closer. ''What's wrong?''

''None of your business.'' he replied in a hoarse voice, while quickly covering a napkin laying on the bar with his hand. The light of the oil lamps of the bar was faint, but enough for Mirajane to notice the blood on his chin, which he wiped away with the back of his hand.

''Please look at me.''

After a moment of hesitation, he slowly turned his face towards her.

He looked absolutely awful. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them had turned a greyish colour. It was as if his body had become an empty shell, even his skin colour didn't look natural anymore.

''The bane particles never left your body, did they?'' she managed to bring out quietly.

He shook his head and let out a raspy cough again.

''You lied and just convinced Porlyusica that you were doing better, while your organs were and are still degrading.''

He picked up the bloody napkin to wipe his mouth with.

She almost didn't want to ask. ''Just how bad is it?''

He sighed. ''I'm gonna be real with you, I have no idea how much longer this body of mine will last.''

Mirajane couldn't believe what she was hearing. Deep down she had always feared that him poisoning himself last year would lead to problems later, but never had she thought it was this bad.

''Most days, I don't feel that much pain and it makes me think that it's gonna get better, but every time I have an attack like this...'' his voice started to break down, ''I feel like it's gonna be over.''

''Why have you been hiding this from us?!'' she said in a trembling voice, ''we're your family, the ones you're suppose to reach out your hand to in times of need,'' she took his hand with hers, ''so we can help you.''

He jerked his hand back, ''I've caused the guild enough trouble already, this is my way of repaying for that.''

''By dying and causing us all grief?!'' she let out, crying.

He fell silent and looked to his side, only to see her with a tear-streamed face. Her skin all red and her eyes soaked. Her always neatly brushed hair was stuck to her cheeks in strands.

''Nobody wants you to suffer, even after all you've done to us.''

He was left totally stunned. Never had he expected anyone of the guild to be this worried about his wellbeing. Especially not Mira, after all the times she called for help and he just ignored it and laughed it off.

She turned around and walked back to the stairs.

''Where are you going?'' he asked.

She looked over her shoulder. ''To your grandfather, he deserves to know.''

He stood up, electricity surging through the wooden floor beneath him. ''No you won't.''

She stood motionless on the first step. Sparks escaped the floor at her feet.

''Please understand that this is my choice.'' he said slowly but with resolve, ''I don't want my old man to die of worry.''

She felt conflicted. Of course she wanted to keep a secret, but not one as heavy as this one.

''Please, Mira.'' he softly said.

He knew that calling her by that nickname would make her feel nostalgic.

She turned around. He had moved closer and his eyes had gained that golden glow again.

''For how many years have we known each other now? Twenty?'' he asked.

''Twenty-one.'' she corrected him.

''And how many times have I been in mortal danger during that time?''

''Too often.'' she let out softly.

''But I survived.'' he said, ''I don't know how, but I will find a way around this.''

As much as this sounded like just another lie to keep her from worrying, somewhere deep inside she believed him. He was a mage who carried a dragon lacrima in his body, if there was anyone who would overpower a nearing death again, it would be him.

She reached out her hand and rubbed some blood off the corner of his mouth with her thumb, ''If only you had absorbed a demon instead of poison, I could have gotten rid of it.'' she smiled, still swallowing the tears.

He was left without words. Never in all that time together, they had gotten this close. At least not when they were all alone. He had a hard time picking up signals. Was she really flirting with him right now?

''You should open up more often,'' she said, ''it suits you.''

''Oh shut up.'' he grumbled.

''Back to normal, I see.'' she said as she made her way towards the guild's doors. ''I should be going then, it's getting late.''

''Wait.'' Laxus said out loud before instantly regretting it. What was he supposed to say next? He cursed himself.

She looked over her shoulder. ''Hm?'' Mirajane turned around, only to find herself looking up to him. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and hesitantly pulled her closer.

She was surprised by his sudden move, but had no intention to resist either. His clothes smelled like gunpowder, probably from all the times the electricity had burned little holes through it. As intimidating as he was, resting her head against his chest made her feel safe. ''Thank you.'' she heard him say, followed by a pressure on top of her head.

Her eyes widened when she realised what caused it, ''Did you just-?"

He let go of her and walked up the stairs.

''As far as I know, we didn't have this conversation.'' he said with a wink.

She took the hint, ''I'll keep it a secret, don't worry.''

Mirajane walked out the guild, ''Just don't die.'' she whispered before closing the massive doors behind her.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fic #ft fanfic #ft fanfiction #laxus x mirajane #fairy tail laxus #ft laxus #laxus dreyar #ft mirajane #Mirajane Strauss #miraxus

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bispec-remade · 6 years ago

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hi! sorry to bother you out of the blue, but i saw yr post on bisexual identity & i was wondering if you had any advice for someone questioning? i've id'd as a nb lesbian for a few years, but i recently came to the realization that that's never really felt Right or Comfortable & i've consistently felt disconnected from it. i think i might be a bi trans guy, but trying to unravel my feelings about men when i've spent years avoiding the hell out of them is..Hard, to say the least, especially (1/2)

when most questioning resources are specifically directed at people who are cis and bi, or just talk about transness as hearing trans guys exist and knowing you were one immediately/consciously wanted to be a boy as a kid all the time or w/e. you don’t have to answer this if it’s a lot/too personal!! sorry!!!! (2/2)

i can’t really speak for everyone on the process of questioning, but i can certainly speak for myself. i think it might help you to hear a little bit about how i’ve identified over the years, and what i largely struggled with in figuring out my identity. while it isn’t exactly concrete advice, you might find a little piece of your own truth in what i have to say about my own questioning process. i’ve done a lot of introspection on my identity as well as the journey my gender and sexuality has taken over the years, so i have a lot of thoughts regarding the entire process.

just as a warning: this is about 3,000 words of text, and most of the more general advice will be at the end of this. i also. barely proofread this so apologies if some of what i say lacks clarity.

over the past four or five years that i’ve identified as someone who’s part of the lgbt+ community, i have identified as all sorts of things under the umbrella. lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, nonbinary, so on and so forth. right now, i identify as a bisexual trans guy, and it’s the most comfortable i have ever been with an identity. but it’s taken me a lot of exploration for me to get to this point. largely due to a struggle with an aversion to manhood, a struggle with community, a struggle between gender and sexuality, and a struggle with other’s perceptions.

see, the last time i identified as bisexual (aside from right now of course) was actually the first time i identified as anything within the community. but it always felt fake somehow, like i was maybe faking my attraction to girls (i thought myself to be a cisgender girls) in order to feel special somehow. it was brief, and it was always just a fleeting thought, a “what if”. i never really solidly identified as bisexual at the time, and i lacked the knowledge of what attraction felt like to know if i was attracted to girls.

and then, that possibility that i might be bisexual all got tossed out the window when i realized that i wasn’t cis in 2014. after that, i didn’t identify as bisexual for a very, very long time, but i never went back to identifying as cis either. it was my first genuine exploration in the lgbt+ community, where i concretely identified within the community. i identified as nonbinary for one month, before i realized that i was actually more comfortable identifying as a trans guy. a gay trans guy to be specific. i can’t really explain why identifying as a trans guy felt right, it just did. it wasn’t really an “aha”, more like an “i like identifying this way, it feels comfortable”. i’m also not sure why i wrote off the thought that i might be attracted to women. maybe because i had a much more concrete and sure identity in my transness, and i no longer felt the need to evaluate if i was attracted to women or not.

i think i identified as a gay trans guy for the longest. around two years. really, the only thing that changed in that time period was that my gender started to feel less and less binary with time, and so i saw myself as a gay nonbinary guy. but then, one day, i started considering a different possibility. what if i was a nonbinary lesbian? which sounds strange of course, because “lesbian” is multiple leaps from “gay guy”. not only does it mean aligning with a different gender, but it means being attracted to women (which gay men are not), and not being attracted to men (which gay men are). and honestly, i’m not sure quite how it happened. i think it was just a convenient alignment of changes in how i viewed myself. i was starting to notice that i was maybe attracted to girls beyond a mere “what if”, and certain events taking place at this time made me kind of disillusioned by manhood (putting both my attraction to men and my identity as a man into question).

and so began what i call my flip flop period, where i switched between nonbinary lesbian and gay trans guy about 6 times. and yes, that is a LOT of times to be making that kind of flip in identity. to summarize, it was…gay trans guy (two years, which i already talked about) to they/them nb lesbian (for a month, and they/them pronouns because while i had heard about lesbians using he/him pronouns at the time but i was too scared to identify as such) to gay trans guy (because i missed using he/him pronouns and because it was scary and unfamiliar identifying as a lesbian) to he/him nb lesbian (where i was comfortable identify as a lesbian and using he/him pronouns) to gay trans guy (partially in response to backlash for identifying as a he/him lesbian) to he/him nb lesbian (for over 6 months) to a very ambiguous questioning period where i didn’t really identify as anything (which i’ll talk about later). all in all, about two years.

yeah. it’s a lot, i know. and at this point, you might start wondering, “if you were constantly switching between believing you were attracted to men and believing you were attracted to women, then why the hell did you never consider bisexuality?” and…now we get to the thought process that had secretly been running underneath my questioning process the entire time. my desire to feel accepted by the community. you can see it in how i viewed my gender as well as how i viewed my sexuality.

i think at some point, my identity sort of became this tug of war between what felt right for me, and what i felt like the lgbt+ community and wider society would accept (which was fueled by my own internal biases). and in questioning, i think people really need to be honest with themselves about what their particular hangups with identifying as something are. it requires serious introspection. and for me, it required introspection on why i was hesitant to identify as a lesbian, a trans guy, and bisexual. because for me, each identity had its merit and it wasn’t so simple to figure out which was most comfortable for me. a lot of people tell you “identify as what feels the most comfortable to you!” but sometimes, it isn’t so simple to find what’s most comfortable for you. sometimes you have to actively work towards letting yourself feel comfortable in an identity, especially with all sorts of internalized bigotry that you might be struggling with.

i struggled between these three identities so much (enough that i didn’t even consider the third an option for three entire years) because i was treating it like a pros and cons kind of thing. the benefits of identifying as this, and the disadvantages. which can be a way to approach questioning of course. but it isn’t the best way to do so if you’re also factoring other people’s perceptions into the equation. and when you compare identities like that, it also becomes a sort of issue of “i’ll settle for this one because it’s the most comfortable, even if it doesn’t really work perfectly”.

so, what were my hang-ups with each identity? well, with identifying as a lesbian, the issue was that while i did feel a sense of community stronger than i felt with any other community, a sense of belonging, it meant identifying with womanhood to a greater degree than i really wanted to. and then there was the issue of me most comfortably identifying as a lesbian using he/him pronouns, which is an extremely controversial topic as you might know (i still remain wholly in support of lesbians using he/him pronouns, even if the identity didn’t personally work for me). hell, i even got anonymous hate because of identifying as such. and then there was the fact that i couldn’t imagine a reality where i could actually be out as a nonbinary lesbian using he/him pronouns. transitioning or not transitioning would mean a certain inherent level of dishonesty about my identity.

with identifying as a trans guy, it was…well, once i started identifying as a lesbian at a time that i was already sort of wary of manhood, but i started building an even more and more negative mindset towards manhood (both identifying as a man and being attracted to men). the thought of identifying as a man made me feel guilty. it was even more difficult for me because at one point, i was so averse to men that i was fairly sure that i was completely unattracted to men, though still open to the possibility of being a man. and at some point, i accepted that i was absolutely attracted to women, regardless of my gender. and the thought that i might be a straight man made me feel. disgusted, honestly. i tried identifying as a possibly straight trans guy for maybe two days, but. that flopped very quickly because i could barely think about being attracted to a woman for two seconds because i felt guilty for being attracted to woman as a man. this isn’t to say that straight trans guys aren’t valid, but i was dealing with my own shit at the time, and that was just how i saw things. it’s. complicated, and personal, so it’s hard to really explain in words, but the combination of my aversion to men and my aversion towards the thought of men’s attraction to women made things tough. and while i completely understand why people would be averse to manhood (and i still am myself, to some degree) it was extremely toxic to my own questioning process.

which brings me to the third one, which my mind was subconsciously putting out of my mind as a choice. bisexuality. i…it’s hard to really explain my feelings towards bisexuality. that post you mentioned, about bisexual identity? i largely wrote that based on my own previous perceptions of bisexuality. i feel like the reason it resonates with so many people is because i was speaking for my own internalized biphobia. and i’m not proud of it, but it was definitely a thing. for some, bisexuality comes this inherent feeling of not belonging, of loneliness. as if you’re identity is not enough, or that it’s too much.

to keep it short before i start waxing poetic: i think i couldn’t handle the thought of being attracted to multiple genders at once. at having a “straight” and “gay” part of my identity. and this perception is the way a lot of people view bisexuality, even if they openly say that you shouldn’t see bisexuality as “straight” + “gay”. bisexuality is often seen as “part you should be proud of” + “part you shouldn’t be proud of” by wider society and the lgbt+ community, and i. couldn’t accept that. so i never thought of my attraction to men (from when i identified as gay) and (my attraction to women from when i identified as lesbian) as possible pieces of a bisexual identity. it was one or the other, and my mind was subconsciously nudging myself towards an identity where i felt entirely within the lgbt+ community. not to say bisexual people aren’t entirely within the lgbt+ community, but the internalized biphobia i was struggling with felt that that was how i would be viewed if i identified as bisexual. so i didn’t.

so, how did i settle on my current identity as a bisexual trans guy? well, first of all, i was honest to myself. like i mentioned, i pulled all of my thought processes as for why i did and did not want to identify as certain things into the limelight. including the ones about bisexuality. then, i saw just how much my identity relied on the perception of others, and how much distress that was causing me. so i decided to think about things not in terms of how others would view my identity, but in terms of what felt genuinely comfortable. i forgot about how i would be viewed if i was a nonbinary lesbian using he/him pronouns, i forgot about my aversion to men and what it means to be a man in this society, and i forgot about how bisexual identity is unfortunately often viewed in fragments.

but i didn’t come to a conclusion immediately. actually, for a solid month or two, i let myself drift. i chose to not identify as anything, to see where my normal interactions with the world would point me. starting with a blank slate so to say, and trying to view my feelings outside of the context of society. merely looking at someone and saying “hm, she is attractive” instead of “hm, she is attractive but how would i feel about my attraction to her if i was a man”. or, “hm, i do still like he/him pronouns as i always have” instead of “hm, i do still like he/him pronouns as i always have but how would i be viewed if i identified a lesbian”. or “hm, that man is attractive” instead of “hm, that man is attractive but can you trust him when you’ve been mistreated by men so many times in the past?” it’s hard to do, but it gives you the most honest and comfortable understanding of your identity. finding the box that fits you first, instead of trying to find the box that fits you and that fits society.

i first tried to understand my sexuality, because it felt a little more objective to me. viewing things in the way i was, with this clean slate, it was an either “you are or you aren’t attracted to them” sort of thing. plus, my gender is sort of innately tied to my sexuality (thanks to that nonbinary element of my gender), so i had to get sexuality pinned before i could pin down by gender. and what i found was that. well, i’m bisexual. i am definitely confident in my attraction to all genders, though i still view my attraction to different genders in different ways.

as for my gender, it took a little bit of time once i had the bisexual part of my identity down. i knew i probably wasn’t a bisexual woman, as i couldn’t really see an element of womanhood to my gender with the knowledge that i was attracted to men (update as of 05.12.19: i no longer view things this way, and i do have an element of womanhood to my gender). so it was more of a problem of how nonbinary i was. because my nonbinary identity is probably the thing i’ve been most confident in this entire time. i do not entirely identify as a certain gender, and i haven’t for a long time. that part has stayed the same. but how comfortable was i identifying with manhood, if at all? and…i sort of eased into it. first privately identifying as bi and nonbinary. and then bi and nonbinary with maybe a slight inclination for manhood. and soon, my identity got more and more male with time. so now i pretty confidently identify as a bisexual trans guy, with the nonbinary element of my gender being more personal than an explicitly stated part of my identity.

and that was my entire journey with exploring gender and sexuality! i guess some things i’d like to leave this off with that actually serve as proper advice are…

don’t be afraid to try things out. quite frankly, even though none of my previous identities (bi cis girl, gay trans guy, nonbinary lesbian) ended up being right for me, they were still extremely important to my personal journey, and i openly embrace those times i identified as such. for example, identifying as a nonbinary lesbian was necessary for me to even accept that i could be attracted to woman, but i do NOT see that identity as a stepping stone towards my current identity. in that time, i genuinely identified as nonbinary lesbian. that was my reality. it just so happens that my reality from back then helped fuel my reality today. and maybe some day i’ll find a more comfortable identity than that of a bisexual trans guy. i’m open to the possibility, but right now, i’m living my most comfortable reality. (update as of 05.12.19: i actually did find a more comfortable identity! i find myself identifying with both bisexual manhood and bisexual womanhood right now, so i consider myself bigender. there is still the element of me that remains a bisexual man of course. though i have since reconsidered my identity, what i have said here still stands.)

try not to worry about what others think so much. identify as what’s comfortable for you. no matter what you identify as, no matter what ends up being comfortable for you, there’s the sad reality will always someone who takes issue with it, even if you end up not identifying as lgbt+ in the end. but the happy reality? there will always be a community of people willing to accept your identity, and you WILL find them even if you don’t have that community right now. in a really weird way, i find it a little comforting that there’ll be haters and lovers out there no matter what i identify as. it means i’m free to identify the way that’s comfortable for me. because hell, those come with EVERY identity. so please don’t feel tethered down by the expectations of the community that currently surrounds you. do what feels right for you, and then find the people who will accept you for it afterwards.

don’t be afraid to go without a label. i personally find comfort in labels, which is why i only temporarily went without a label to help myself through the questioning process. but it is still completely an option to simply exist, and it can be really freeing to do so. sure, there is no community called the no label community, and even communities centered on ambiguity of gender/sexual orientation gather around a specific label, but you don’t really need an X community or a Y community to be happy. communities gathering under labels can be great ways to easily meet people with similar experiences, but you can just as easily find people with similar experiences outside of communities. hell, some of the people i relate to the most when it comes to gender and sexuality don’t even identify as bisexual people or trans men. so if you’re scared of missing out on community if you choose to abandon labels altogether, then i assure you that it is completely possible to find community anywhere and with any identity (or lack thereof).

thank you very much for the question, and i am extremely touched that you saw me as someone to ask about this sort of thing. i myself know quite well just how frustrating the internal struggle you’re going through is, and i really do wish there were more resources for this kind of thing. it’s such a deeply personal process and yet i’ve seen so many people struggle with the exact same things i struggled with. this was probably a lot to absorb, but i hope shedding light on my own experiences perhaps offered you a bit of insight on yourself, if not concrete advice on how to approach questioning. i wish you luck in figuring things out!

#mine #okay to rb #asks #anonymous #questioning #Anonymous

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