#u might be like me and ... need to figure it out on the PAGE and not OUT LOUD

[mejomonster]

45,000 words done!!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[lovexjoe]

The Hotel

warning: S M U T with Michael Vargas

You and Michael have been bickering the entire way to this hotel and you couldn’t wait to get there so you guys could finally be separated. Following you across four states was insane, but discovering he’s a US Marshal and you were under witness protection definitely topped it off. Your mother was a piece of fucking work. What happened to the communication is key? She clearly skipped that shit in the parental handbook. Michael didn’t mean what he said at the restaurant. Everything that happened that night at the bar was real. He’s been fighting himself since. You catching him and having him at gun point turned him on. 

Look at you using his tips and tricks against him. He wondered what other things he could teach you and you’d just obey. He fucked up his cover, but he realize he gets to have you in closer proximity so he wasn’t gonna complain. The fact that you walked into that restaurant with the gun and sat both of you down had him swooned. You were more badass than you gave yourself credit for. And rebellious slick mouth of yours… 

“You afraid I might stab you with a chopstick? After you walked me through a kitchen full of knives? You realize how easy it would have been for me to grab one?” 

“Shut up” 

The waiter walked over to ask “Can I get you something?” 

“In a minute” He walks away just for you to continue with your usual sass. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want to order a beer? Cause apparently the Marshals let their agents drink on the job” 

Silence. 

“What are you mute?! Speak!” 

“You did tell me to shut up so you want me to speak now or continue to shut up?” 

The death glare you gave him made it hard for him not to laugh. Boy is he gonna enjoy being this close to you. Hearing him say that he was just playing a role the night at the bar really stung. Everything else was falling apart so to add a shitty love life on top was just g r e a t.

Now here you two were outside of the hotel room waiting for Michael to open it. You wondered to yourself why there was only one key but you decided to ask questions later. You stepped inside, placing your suitcase under the bed. Michael doing his checks around the room. 

“I’ll take the couch…” 

“You’re not sleeping in here get your own room!” You crossed your arms like a brat. If he could put you over his lap and spank you: he would. 

“That’s not how this works Y/N” Whenever he said your name your heart does flutters and your stomach dips.

“Well I’m not comfortable with that” 

“And I’m not comfortable with letting you out of my sight. So….tie me up if it’ll make you feel better but neither one of us is leaving this room.” He walks up to the edge of the bed where you sat, arms crossed like a brat and he towers over you. You felt so small around him. Damsel in fucking distress. 

“I’m gonna need my gun back” You shoved your bag towards him and headed over to the bathroom. Stripping down on the way over there, he took in your figure in your undergarments. He couldn’t believe you’d fuck your mom’s nurse. Bobby? He’s a fucking loser. He took his gun out of your bag and noticed your sketchbook. He recalled the Atlanta office giving him information on you and your recent activities. They definitely forgot to mention how much sass could occupy your petite body. He heard the shower turn on and the curtain pulled back so he took a look into your sketchbook which was also a diary.

Tonight I met a man in the bar. It felt comforting like I didn’t have to run any longer. I could just stay in one place and he’d protect me. He was handsome. I haven’t felt this nervous around someone since high school. I almost forgot what it was to feel attracted to the opposite sex. Just been running on auto pilot and since the incident….fear. He taught me how to shoot and I appreciate him greatly for it. The night ended with no kiss, but I achingly wish it did. 

He smiles to himself as he turns to the next page it was a sketch of him at the bar. He was done talking shit. He joked out you being an artist but you were actually talented. His finger ran over the name you left under the sketch and his heart did a flip. 

My guardian angel 

It was gonna be a hard night to resist you. He knows the feelings were there on both sides. You thought it was unrequited but it was so far from it. He placed your sketchbook back in the bag. The shower turns off and he hears a “fuck” from the bathroom. This motel design was devious cause there was no bathroom door at all. Plus the huge mirror on the wall that could reflect your nudity was just adding fuel to the fire that is ready to ignite. 

“Michael?” You poked your head out. He looks up your way, his stomach feeling those familiar flutters when he’s around you. 

“I forgot a towel…” You looked at the fresh stacked towels on the couch then back on him. Those doe eyes of yours are gonna get you in trouble tonight. It poked a dominant side of him he didn’t know he had. He just wants to take you and having you a begging mess under him. 

“Come and get it….” He sits down on the couch next to the towels. From this angle the mirror behind you was giving him a complete view of your ass and he couldn’t help the feeling of blood rushing to his lower region. 

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask.” You walked over there ready to reach over his lap for a towel. You had so much mouth for a girl who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Tonight he was gonna fix it. He couldn’t control himself any longer. Michael gets up and stands behind you. You can feel the body heat radiating off the two of you. He leans down near your ear and whispers. 

“Bend over for me…” he places a soft kiss below your ear and you followed his wishes. The arm of the chair was soft against your skin and had your ass perked up perfectly for him. You were excited and giddy. He glides his fingers through your folds earning a little shiver in response.

“Fuck, you’re soaking already” You heard him suck the juices off his fingers and you couldn’t wrap your head around what’s happening. 

“You can touch me but you can’t kiss me? Such a gentleman…” you snorted just to earn a hard slap to your ass.

Oh! That felt good. 

“Tonight we’re gonna learn how to listen and obey. Understood?” You look back at him and nodded.

“I can’t hear you….” He slides his fingers through your folds again, rubbing up and down. 

“Y-yes…I-I understand.” 

He pulls you up straight and turned you around to face him. 

“Do you trust me?” He caress your cheek and you nodded as you nuzzle your head into his touch. As soon as your lips touched, all the fear you felt since the incident vanished. You felt whole again. His hands held you close, they were warm and rough but against your soft skin it was like a match sparking a fire. He pulls away, bending you back over the couch handle. 

He spread your cheeks and dove in. His tongue devouring you from your ass to your pussy. Drowning in you, is what he wanted. To consume every bit of wetness you produced for him. You would have never thought he could be this dirty. Heaven’s a thing and you’re there right now because of his touch. 

“Michael!” You reached for his hand and he held it for you as he thrusts his tongue into your hole. His beard getting drenched in the process. 

“I’m gonna worship this pussy.” 

You squeezed his hand letting him know you were close. You felt yourself about to release when the motions that brought you there came to abrupt stop. You let out a frustrated cry.

“That’s for having a slick fucking mouth.” 

You heard his belt come undone along with jeans and boxers. His thick length slapped against your ass. He bites his lip as he slides his length between your folds, teasing your clit. 

Hes so cruel 

“P-please daddy. Just take it” Y/N begged. His ego grew. The fact that you fixed your slick little mouth to beg for him. Hearing you call him daddy made it even better because you were his princess after tonight. He was going to protect you. He was gonna love you. 

“Such a pretty fucking princess for me”. He slips in and slowly thrusts in. Your pussy deviously clenching onto his length. He lifts one of your legs up on the couch arm to get a deeper angle. A sinful angle. He was hitting a spot you didn’t know could be touched. 

“Uhhh fuck you’re so big!” 

“God you’re taking me so fucking good. You’re so fucking good” 

Oh you had a praise kink, there was a feeling unfamiliar in your stomach as he starts to pound into you. Your moans only motivating him to thrust all the way in. 

“Look at you, clenching me as I praise you. You are soaking me. Fuck baby fuckkkk” he wets his thumb and starts to rub on your ass. 

You didn’t even let him work it, you reached behind and assisted as you felt his thumb enter you. Jesus Christ. You were full. Full of him and that’s all you wanted. That’s all you craved. His free hand caress your breast. What a drastic turn of events the night took. 

Neither one of you were complaining. 

“Fuck I’m close”  The sensation of his thumb and his thrusts had you shaking. You both shared an orgasm. He filled you up and held you close. He picked you up cause you could barely stand straight and laid you down in bed.

"Your guardian angel to the rescue"

You slapped his arm

"You read my sketchbook!" Your face turned red from the embarrassment.

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95

@ebsmind @hopetookourvibe @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @poppetbaby02 @bitchyglittersuit @marley1773

@jacobscipioswoman @sunrisesfromthewest

@midnightheat

[fanaticsnail]

WHATS UPP, so I read the dreaming of you oneshot thingy on your page (Koby, smoker AND HELMEPPO) so I was wondering if you would be able to make something more of helmeppo. I read your request page and I know you might not write it but i was just curious. I’m not picky at all but since it’s helmeppo i figured it could be something like enemies to lovers.. (DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT IM FINE WITH ANYTHING!!) I’ve never requested anything on tumblr so sorry if I’m doing it wrong btw. I have a playlist if you’d like that for ideas 😼 (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0q63LD9Kt49EDxlOxCCQ7m?si=cWh4kWT-SR-x2evxlXn97Q&pi=u-vige6yADR-Oe) SORRY ITS A LONG LINK 😨

Hi there! I love how enthusiastic you are about Helmeppo. Not gonna lie, I definitely felt the need to write him a one-shot after that one. I love your playlist!

Bound to the Enemy

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,100+

Synopsis: Engaged in a heated battle between pirates and marines on neutral ground had the locals enact a punishment befitting the crime. Bound back to back with a marine, you come up with a plan to work together to break out of the trap and return to your crew.

Themes: Helmeppo x reader, enemies to lovers, mutual loathing, mutual pining, peril and dread, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst, bittersweet farewells.

Notes: Chef-Husband has been making me watch MacGyver. I apologise if this wasn't exactly what you were looking for, but I did have a lot of fun with it.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Slowly bobbing your head from side to side, you hummed a merry tune from your childhood to reverberate and ricochet within the damp cavern walls. Drops of water from the pointed stalactites dripped onto your head, drenching your already soaked clothes with further murkiness from the oceanic roof.

The ropes gripping your shoulders and wrists burned with a crude jolt from your companion behind you, causing you to yelp mid-word with your song. In light of his tugging, you simply laughed and sang louder. 

“The sails lay flat, the wind in her back; the ropes lay in a bind,” you yelled your tune, the echo of your voice calling back at you in a taunting mockery, “The women did wail, as the sailors set sail, leaving their seed behind-.”

“-Are you quite finished?!” His aggravated tone cut your voice off, tugging the ropes and prompting you to lull your head behind you on his shoulder. “It’s bad enough being bound to a damn pirate, let alone one that doesn’t shut up!” You laughed from your position, back to back and tied to the enemy while sitting atop a large rock and awaiting death. 

“Aww, pretty marine,” you coo at him behind you, nuzzling almost affectionately against his shoulder with a hint of teasing, “I thought my singing would bring such joy as we await our imminent doom.” He shrugged away from your head, prompting you to laugh harder as he burned you with the intensity of your ties. 

Both of your hands were bound to each other at the wrists, your companion wriggling and attempting to free himself the moment he awoke from behind you. Your crews arrived at this strange island at the same time, immediately engaging in a heated battle filled with bloodshed and chaos. The locals did not take kindly to the ruckus and immediately implored you to stick to their stance with neutrality. 

Both your crew and the marine crew surrendered and awaited adequate punishment for tainting the shore with battle and bloodshed. The punishment chosen for you was to select a member of each crew, bind them together in ropes, and place them in a cave mouth to await the tide to enter. If you managed to escape before the water choked you with its salty embrace, the marines and the pirates would be permitted to leave. If you drowned, both crews would live out the days on the island and serve the queen as her loyal slaves. 

Before your captain or the pink-haired marine captain could react and volunteer themselves, both you and the blondie stepped forward and gave yourselves up. Without further warning, both of you were injected with a local toxin to cause you to fall into a deep slumber, likely to make the journey more difficult to return to your crews. 

“These ropes are strong,” he growled, thrusting his chest forward and prompting you to arch your back up into him, “I can’t get the damn thing loose.” You simply offer him a condescending “Mm-hmm, that’s the point,” and let him keep moving your body around to wriggle free. 

“When you’re quite ready,” you offer him, wincing as he leaned forward, “I have a blade hidden in my back pocket. I can reach it, but I will need you to stop wriggling so I can get to it.” He huffed out an exasperated breath and you felt him shake his head in agitation. 

“And why are you telling me this now, pirate?” he growled at you, attempting to look at you over his shoulder to no avail, “You could’ve cut us out the whole time, and neglected to mention it?” You laughed, feeling his hands go limp to allow you to search through your pockets without a struggle. 

“You were too busy being a grumpy marine to use your mind,” you shrugged, feeling the handle of the blade with your fingertips, “Always underestimating your opponents and too hot headed to exercise your brain along with your other muscles.” You use your index and middle fingers to draw the blade closer to you, finally clutching it in your hands. 

The seaspray began to rise, the cave mouth starting to fill with the swell of water just as you readied the small knife to cut your bonds. 

“If I nick you with the blade,” you smirk, beginning to cut through the fibers, “I’m not sorry.” The man behind you began to growl at you, holding still and allowing you to work at the ropes with ease. The first few strands came loose, giving your wrists enough room to wriggle a little easier to get enough momentum to cut easier. 

“What’s your name, anyway, marine?” you asked him suddenly, feeling a little bolder and at ease now that your bonds were turning loose. He inhaled a soft breath, uttering quietly to you in response. 

“Helmeppo,” he confessed his name with a soft nod, “And you, pirate?” You giggle in response, uttering your name hastily before rolling his title over on your tongue to sample the flavor. 

“And who are you to your captain, Helmeppo?” you ask him, humming the same tune from earlier, a little quieter as you worked. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, “I am his first mate and swordsman. You?” 

“I am the navigator and blade thrower,” you nod along, the tune never ceasing as you feel one of your wrists finally come loose. You raise it to your side and give it a soft shake and breathe slowly while stretching the limb. 

Making quick work on the other side now that your wrist was free, you reach up and begin to saw at the bonds around your chest and shoulders, noticing the ties are a little more complex than you assumed they were initially. Cutting through the strands, you finally feel them come loose enough to wriggle free. 

“Well now,” you sighed in relief, beginning to stand on the large rock and look down to the icy depths of the sea, “Can you swim, first-mate? Not a devil-fruit user by any chance, are you?” You looked to the blonde man beside you as he shook his head.

“I’m not the best swimmer, unfortunately,” he confessed, looking down at the sea rising up the rock, “Not a user, though. I can stay afloat just fine.” You nod along, looking at the cave mouth and angling your chin to the side with narrow eyes. 

“That doesn’t look right to me,” you nod your forehead to the mouth of the cave, “The light is all wrong, and the swell in water is too rapid. I think it's a false entrance.” He looked to the mouth and nodded his head along. 

“You’re the navigator,” he nodded to you, testing your knowledge beneath his staring gaze, “I am electing to trust you with this. Where do you think we should start?” You hummed in thought, gazing up at the roof and narrowing your eyes at the sight of the luminescent lights surrounding the stalactites. 

“Not a swimmer, but are you a climber?” you asked him, reaching for his chin with your index finger and thumb before turning his attention to the ceiling, “We need to go up there.” He allowed you to move his face and look at the small opening in the roof wall. He sighed another huff of exasperated breath and shook his head.

“If I had my sword, it would be far easier to scale the walls,” he nodded, looking around the rock you were standing on. The surface was like an island in comparison to the other rocks surrounding the room, no way off the surface without swimming, and no way up without reaching the spherical sides to the rocky room. 

You hummed, tucking your blade back behind you and looked down into the water, noticing a faint light coming from the center beneath the rock. Widening your eyes, you stared more intentionally beneath the water, noticing the light began to travel towards you both. 

“Helmeppo?” you ask him with a small hint of panic, backing away from the water below, “I don’t think we’re alone in here.” You held onto his arm and dragged him to the center of the rock, looking up at the tiny hole in the roof before looking at your blonde, apprehensive companion. 

Darting his eyes down to the depths below, he noticed the same scaly visage beneath the surface, swirling in a circle around the rock you were marooned on. He darted his eyes back to you and drifted his eyes frantically around your features. 

“A sea beast?” He asked in a low tone, prompting you to nod in confirmation. He sucked in a hiss through his teeth and looked up to the small hole above you, “We’re going to need to find some type of raft to have us go through the water towards the walls, and pray the beast doesn’t consume us. Then climb to the top of the cave with nothing but our knuckles, aren’t we?”

You look up at the ceiling before looking at the fraying strands of rope you hacked at moments prior. Cursing under your breath, you dropped to your knees and began reweaving the strands that you cut with your dagger. 

“Fuck,” you bark at yourself, grimacing as you hastily rotate the strands and coil them back together. He looked down to your position and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what was occurring. Sniffing back your stupidity, the water continued racing in from the false cave mouth and elevating the water level higher. 

“Can you fix it before the water reaches us?” He looked to the ropes before looking towards the rapidly rising sea water. You growled, balling your hands into fists and continuing to coil the strands around each other.

“It’ll get done,” you assure him with a rumbly growl in your tone, “But it’s not going to be reinforced enough to hold both of our weight at once.” He cocked his head to the side, a perplexed expression drifting over his face. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, kneeling beside you and searching your face for hidden intentions. You huff out a shaky breath, gesturing to your back pocket and to the ends of the rope. 

“I’m going to attach the rope to the blade, throw it through the hole and wind against a stalactite,” you nod upwards, refusing to turn your eyes away from your busy hands. “Then we're going to climb through the hole and reach the surface,” you admit, finally looking up at him, “But we can’t both go at the same time. The rope is too frail and fragile.” 

His eyes widened, searching your eyes for dishonesty and ill intent. Upon finding none, he growled beneath his breath. 

“So, what then?” he huffed out, a small scoff underlying in his tone, “One of us climbs up and then the other begins the climb up after? Is that what you’re suggesting-.”

“-That’s precisely what I’m suggesting,” you cut him off with a soft snarl, “One of us will have to wait and trust the other from their position above.” You continued coiling and twisting the ropes, your hands shaking in a soft rage and lip quivering in reaction to the fear of what’s to come. 

After a soft moment of silence, you concluded your twisting and looked up at the blonde-haired marine beside you. 

“I have impeccable aim,” you reassure him, fastening the end to your blade after you retracted it from your rear pocket, “Hold the end of the rope and let me aim, please. In silence.” He nodded, eagerly taking your orders and you breathed through your concerns as the water rose over the soft edge. 

The fins of a large creature slowly flew above the surface, Helmeppo’s eyes widening as he witnessed the scaly spine of the Sea Beast below the surface. You refused to tear away your eyes from the target ahead, exhaling slowly as you aimed at the wall within the hole. 

In a swift thrust, you threw the blade within the air and the rope began to soar through the barely illuminated dome towards the stalactites. Embedding with a swift thud, the end of the rope was hanging limply within Helmeppo’s hands as he continued to search the water for the approaching beast circling below. 

Turning to him and noticing his look, you breathed out a melancholy breath of air. Hardening your resolve, you gently reached up and squeezed his shoulder to draw his attention back to you.

“Right then,” you nodded with a hasty sniff of steely determination, “Off you go. Quickly.” He turned to you, looking down in shock as you gestured for him to begin the climb. He began to speak, prompting you to shake your head and halt his thoughts. 

“Helmeppo,” you reassured him, squeezing him once more, “This is how it has to be. I am a pirate, a blade thrower and a navigator. You are the first-mate to a marine captain and a swordsman. I would not be able to help you with the rope once I got up there, if anything goes awry,” you confess, softly giving him a pat to spur him on, “You would likely not trust me to aid you anyway, and I feel like you would do the right thing if given the opportunity to do so.” 

His shock deepened, the rope feeling hot in his hands the longer he held it between his fingers. 

“Go, Helmeppo,” you tapped him once more to break him out of his frantically racing thoughts. He gave you a soft nod, gulping back his nerves and beginning a hasty climb up the ropes. He tested his weight, tugging firmly twice before throwing his entire weight into his ascension. 

You had no choice but to watch on as the rope began to bend under the strain of his weight. Looking to the water, the levels began gently rising in soft, taunting ripples as the tide began to come in. A call of your name from the blonde swordsman above the ropes redrew your attention to Helmeppo above you.

“Distract yourself,” he ordered you, straining as his arms and thighs curled around the hanging rope. “Sing your silly songs to me, talk to me about your crew, tell me anything you want.” He growled, gritting his teeth and tugging his body above the rope. You gulped back your fear and inhaled a deep lungful of air.

“I have only ever known a life of piracy,” you confessed, nodding your confirmation and solidifying your words, “Born and raised on the sea, reading the stars and charting my course.” 

Helmeppo grunted on the ropes, continuing his slow climb as the water rose around you. You continued thinking about the circumstances that brought you here to this moment. Smiling a soft smile, you look down at your toes and reminisce about your life. 

“I learned to read the stars from my mother,” you nod slowly, laughing a soft chuckle as you add, “I look like her, too. The crew says she and I are nothing alike, but I like to think we're similar. She was a noble.” You admit, looking back up to Helmeppo as he nearly reached the top. 

He huffs and pants, finally drawing his fingers up to the coarse wall and reaching for a sturdy rock to grip. Reflecting on your words, he thinks over your confessions with interest but remains too preoccupied in his task to ask you any questions. 

The water rises closer to your toes, two beady eyes glaring at you beneath the surface and waiting for the water to lap at your ankles before making its move. You pay the eyes no mind, looking up and reassuring Helmeppo as he attempts to grip the walls for a third time to no avail. 

“You're doing well,” you offer him with no malice or sarcasm in your tone, “Take your time, I'll be right here.” He scoffed out a soft laugh at your response, wedging the rope between his thighs and using your blade attached to the top to pull himself closer to the wall. 

The water caresses your toes with a soft propulsion, your heels not faring better as the water continues to rise to the peak of the small, rocky island within the damp dome. You scrunch your eyes shut, thinking about the outcome should you both fail this task. Both crews would perish on this island in servitude for the locals, your crews would mourn for you, and you would be good for the beast below the surface. 

“You can do this, Helmeppo,” you again reassure him, gulping back your shaking fear and propelling confidence in your tone. “You are a swordsman, a first-mate to your captain. You have worked hard to earn those titles, just like you're working hard now. You can do this.” 

Hearing your encouragement, his hands finally find purchase on the walls, anchoring himself against the hole in the surface and beginning his climb up. Just as he finally leans up, the dagger in the wall comes loose, the rope falling limp between his thighs and held up by his body alone. 

Your eyes widen, your shock and his igniting desperation in your pulse. He grunted through the adrenaline, groaning as he lifted himself above the hole and braced himself against the walls. The rope began to slip, his hands darting out and grasping it before it fell back down below. 

“I-I'm-...” He panted, attempting to catch his breath. Shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows, he inhaled deeply and focussed his breath, “...I'm going to have to pull you up.” His voice quivered, his lips shaking as he was overcome from momentary exhaustion at the swift climb. 

“We-...” You began, feeling your shoes begin to dampen with the rise in water lapping at your boot heels, “...We’ll wait until you're ready. Take your time.” Helmeppo looked down, noticing the sea beast had begun to circle around the slowly disappearing island and exhaled a shaky breath. 

Before he had joined the marines officially, he would've wanted nothing more than to leave you down there to drown. He would've cowered in his own fear and scampered up the hole without second thought.

But as he stared down at you, looking at the smile you had on your lips as you gazed up at him, the enemy, he was compelled to remember all he learnt from Bogard and Garp. He was a marine, a swordsman, and now the first-mate to his superior and best friend. He was no longer his father's son, a sniveling asshole with no marks on his resume to back up his superiority complex. 

He was Helmeppo: first mate to Captain Koby, and a superior sword fighter on a journey to becoming the best. 

Anchoring a few coils of rope around his waist, he gestures for you to do the same. You follow his directions, tying your hips together and wedging the strands between your legs as a makeshift harness. He extends his legs, parting his thighs and bending his knees to brace himself within the opening beneath the moonlight. Taking the rope in fistfuls, he begins to slowly draw hand after hand of rope and pool the hefty coils over his palm and elbow. 

“K-Keep talking to me,” he uttered, wincing as he felt the overexertion of his muscles burning under the weight. “Keep t-talking. Anchor your weight and tell me about yourself.” His breath hitched, his brows furrowing as he grit his teeth. 

You choose not to look down, opting only to grant him your smile as he lifts your body higher above the doom lurking below. 

“Before I left my home,” you laughed, bracing your arms against the ropes with your forearms, “I was meant to settle down and have an army of children,” you both chuckled at the notion, his hands crawling along the strands and coiling them up higher. 

“That something you want for yourself?” He winced through the strain of the ordeal, looking beneath you and noticing the rocky island was completely engulfed in water. The eyes continued to observe the two of you with interest, the creature lingering beneath the depths smiling its toothy grin.  

“Absolutely not,” you confess with a laugh, gripping the ropes further and clambering up alongside his cooking advances, “I only want the open sea, the wind in the sails, and the stars to point me to my next destination.” He snickered down, growling as his limbs began to burn. 

“T-Truly?” he responded with a taught snicker, “No desire to settle down and retire one day?” He continued tugging the rope and lifting you through the final threshold of the journey. 

“Not in my plan, no,” you retorted, finally lifting yourself between his thighs by grasping his hips and hoisting you with your arms extended. Anchoring your heels at the wall behind you, you had no choice but to fall into his chest upon ascension. 

His eyes never left your face, floating over your features and gazing up at you. Falling flat on his chest, you wriggled between his legs and drew yourself up through the partition in his thighs. You furrowed your brows as you found purchase on the wall beyond his shoulders, his eyes darting between yours and his lips parted and panting. 

“Sorry,” you muffled your apologies, leaning back and gazing into his eyes. Your breath hitched, looking over his features and finally taking a moment to breathe him in. He was handsome, one of the most handsome men you had seen in some time: almost pretty. 

His eyes focussed on your lips, momentarily forgetting the doom lingering below and taking you in for all that you were. You were beautiful, even for a pirate. 

“We-...” he began, offering his hand out to you and aiding you between his legs, “...we should begin the climb. Can't-...” his eyes darted down to your lips and lingered there a moment longer, “-We can't leave them waiting, and the water is rising.”

You looked at his face, smiling as you hastily pushed yourself up the walls and looked down at the marine first-mate beneath you. 

“Better hurry up then, blondie,” you sneered down at him before scampering throughout the walls and hovering up the small opening. He chuckled, taking a moment to catch his breath before following up the hole after you. 

The water rises further below you two, your anxieties both propelling you to use each other as anchor points to propel you further up the hole towards the surface. 

“Try to keep up, marine,” you teased him in soft snickers, his own laugh joining yours the longer you teased him. 

“Speak for yourself, pirate,” he responded in kind, his eyes staring at your body the further up the chasm you clambered. The water began to swell further beneath you, both of you praying in gratitude that you understood the false entry that drew in the tide. 

The starlight welcomed you into the night, you hoisted your torso up through the birthpoint and your eyes both met the cloudless sky above. As you exited the hole, you reached down and offered Helmeppo your arm to grip and raise through the tunnel mouth. 

With a soft smirk, he clasped his hand over your forearm and used your arm to draw himself up through the small opening. Before falling onto his back and panting, he assessed the surroundings and noticed there truly was no entry to the cave from below. You were right, and he was ever grateful you noticed the trap lingering below. 

Lying flat on your backs either side of the hole and catching your breath, you looked to the constellations and began searching through your mind for any direction towards your crewmates. 

While you were distracted by charting the stars, Helmeppo began untying the bonds circling his waist and carefully coiling the ropes for later purpose. He wound the fibers into a neat pile beside him, before crawling on his hands and knees towards you and beginning to draw his fingers against your flesh as you muttered stars to yourself. 

“The Marina Comet besides Genfry’s Belt,” you whispered, barely processing the fingers dancing over your skin and loosening the knots surrounding your pelvis. “Which means the anchor point for our vessel should be beside the Sialin Dip and Hogir Spear.” Your whispers earned you a chuckle from your blonde-haired companion as he loosened the knots of rope girdling your waist.

After uttering your final vantage point, you began to giggle. The laughter became almost overbearing as the adrenaline teetered off and lay in wake to the lethargy you were both experiencing.

The physical trial between the two of you amongst sea beasts, bondage, and trickery had each breath you took feeling like a gift to the senses. Upon loosening the final knot, Helmeppo flopped to the position beside you and chuckled into the stars. You joined him, your rambunctious laughter serenading him as you did a few hours prior with your shanties of old. 

“Any-... Any thoughts on where our crews are right now?” he offered with teetered laughter. You rolled onto your side and placed your hand on his chest and gave him a soft pat in response. 

“We have about a forty minute trek through the jungle before we reach the shore,” you giggled, leaning over him and gazing into his eyes, “And then it’ll be about an hour after that to make it to our ships.” You reached up, brushing his blonde hair from his face and gently caressing his cheek. 

His breath hitched as his eyes met with yours, wide and shocked to receive such affection from the enemy. Conflicting emotions swirled in his mind the moment his gray orbs met your half-lidded gaze. Before he could speak, you spoke for him in a soft endearing tone. 

“You know, you’re really quite pretty,” you speak as if your words contained a soft secret within. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed a dry mouthful of saliva and parted his quivering lips up to you. Giggling at his response, you go to draw yourself away from his embrace, only to have your wrist collected in his hand. 

As you knit your brows up in confusion, he immediately sat up and drew your body close to himself. His unoccupied hand cradled the back of your head in a firm grip and drew your lips up to collide with his in a soft kiss. A squeak fled your lips in shock as your eyes remained wide and staring into the furrowed brow of your enemy.

His golden hair stuck to his face in stringy, damp strands from the salty drips from the cavern roof. The stars illuminated his pale skin and allowed you to take a glimpse at the rosy blush rising against his cheeks. You finally hum into his lips, circling his waist with your unclasped wrist, and rising to sit in his lap on the grassy patch beside the hole leading down to your prior prison. 

You take his kiss as an expression of relief in reclaiming freedom, his joy at being alive and making it through the trial laid out below. Returning his kiss, you allow yourself to give in to your own relief in making it through the trial and rotate your chin to deepen the oscillation. His heart shot to this throat as he released your wrist to circle his arm around your shoulders and hold you close. 

Finally and firmly breaking you away from his lips, he gazed up at you with adoration and an unspoken fondness for you. His lips were bruised by the intensity of your kiss which prompted your hands to raise to his cheeks and run your thumb over his bottom lip. Smiling down at Helmeppo, you softly offer him a small tease in your tone.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you narrow your eyes and scrunch up your nose with your smile, “Let’s go free our crews and get off this forsaken island.” He panted slowly caressing your hair and pressed his forehead against yours briefly. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, pirate,” he smiled in his tone, briefly closing his eyes. He broke away contact from your forehead and aided you to your feet. Returning your dagger to you, he hooked the coil of rope over his shoulder and let it lay circling his hip. 

“After all we’ve been through? I wouldn’t dream of it,” you smile in response, placing your dagger in your back pocket and readjusting your clothes, “But do try to keep up, lover. You may be strong, but I’m faster.” You began to set an easy and hasty pace trekking through the jungle towards the coastline where your crews were waiting for you.

Aiding each other through the uneven jungle floor, and sneaking in subtle touches and holds to brace each other in support, your affection for the marine swordsman only grew. His eyes only ever left your body and face to briefly glance ahead to brush away a wandering branch from blocking your path. His chivalry was a welcome change to the bruising affection you and your crew displayed to one another. 

His thoughts and emotions clouded his judgment, finally giving in to the emotion he was attempting to stifle. He was smitten with the enemy, and he knew you were likely to never see each other again after this adventure. Willing to take any touch you were permitting him to press you with, he committed the feel of your hands on his skin to memory. 

He was in love, and you were feeling much the same. You both laughed at the true tragedy of the rising emotions the moment your crews came into view with the local government. Without much thinking, you hastily press a soft kiss to his cheek before sprinting to your captain on the sandy shore without further words. 

Eyes shut and hands rose in front of him, he bid you a wordless farewell. Opening his eyes and watching your hair bounce behind you, he felt a piece of his heart leave him and join with your own. Sparing him a look over your shoulder, you shot him a soft wink and giggled in glee at witnessing his eyes still firmly fixed on your retreat. 

You were smitten with your marine swordsman, something that the crew would likely tease you about for the whole duration of your journey out to the sea. You looked to the marine ship, your hands splayed on the wooden rail as you met the gaze of Helmeppo aboard his vessel. Gifting him a soft wave and a broad grin, he returned the gesture with a bashful smile and eyes left wanting. 

Taking a mental note of the stars, you prayed that one day their soft illuminance would guide you two to meet again. 

[strgrlxox]

𓆞 something beautiful 🐚

🌊  ↺ okay it's been a whileee holy shit also i half-assed the proof-reading so if u see any mistakes...no u don't (be gentle w me, okay??) 😭:/ ❞¸

+ ¸ ❞ ellie's looking mighty edible in that picture also 🤤 ↺ 🌊

--

🌊 || SUMMARY :: your first time w ellie

🌊 || CONTAINS :: horny!reader lmao. take a hit every time i say the word "need" and ur lungs might explode. oral (r). fingering (e). unrealistic couch sex lmao.

🌊 || WORD COUNT :: 2.3k

she was absolutely lethal. perfect and methodical and addicting and lethal. all day, your mind raced with a million and one thoughts, all of which led back to ellie. always ellie. you needed her, desperately, and it killed you.

the relationship was fairly new, the two of you have never gone farther than a few heated kisses that only left you panting and starved. you were pretty good at maintaining your composure for the most part...but not today. not with the dream you had about her last night.

ellie had invited you over to hers, and even though something in your face seemed hesitant, you were quick to agree which she was overjoyed about. she had missed you and was excited to see you again.

even though you tried your best to mask it, ellie could still tell something was bugging you as soon as you stepped through the door. she could hear it in the way the door slammed shut, she could feel it when you threw your keys on the table near the entrance. you were ravenous, the desire to feel her growing much too persistent to ignore. you could only hope that maybe you'd get lucky, that she'd notice and take care of you.

unfortunately for you, ellie mistook your need for anger. she just assumed you had a bad day at work.

"are you okay?" she speaks gently, so softly it breaks you. you mumble a reply under your breath, not trusting your voice to conceal how you truly feel. your plan was to let the feeling fester until it (eventually) simmered down. 

ellie, however, didn’t seem to agree with your unspoken “plan”. she had never seen you this dismayed. tired? of course. annoyed? sure. but whatever happened today left you in a state she couldn't quite pinpoint. she contemplates pushing until you tell her the root of the problem but decides against it, figuring you'll tell her when you're ready.

you sit next to her on the couch, doing your best to participate in conversation like you normally would...but fuck does she make it hard. why did she have to look so good? 

she felt your stare. "what are you thinking about?" she asks in a sing song-y voice.

you, always you. you fought hard to shake the thoughts away, hating that her voice was silk and unknowingly seductive. 

"babe?"

she's speaking but you can barely hear her over your thoughts.

"babe?" she calls out harsher to garner your attention. it reminds you of how it feels when she plays rough with you. pinning you down, straddling you. what always started as something silly quickly turned into a heated kiss after your laughs died down. 

but there were gentler times also––––much more tranquil and dreamlike. like when she'd ask you to be still so she could craft your beauty onto a blank page or a bare canvas––––sometimes, she told you to pose so she could snap pictures of you on her camera or on her phone when she felt particularly sappy. she liked to look at them when she missed you but she'd never admit that to you.

"are you feeling okay?" the concern in her voice almost makes you laugh.

you hum. 

"yeah, ellie. i feel fine." it's a lie, purely for survival. her eyes squint and she looks at you like she can see right through you, you really wish she could. 

"i know when you're lying."

she waits for a response but you don't give one.

"just tell me what's wrong so i can fix it." she almost whines. you like the way it sounds, it only fuels your need. "let me help."

you shut your eyes and her hands cup your cheeks, the warmth of her palms spreading over your skin. you can hear it when she starts to speak again, words as gentle as her hands, but you cut her off.

"just kiss me, ellie." she seems caught off guard by the sudden request and hesitates. so with the sweetest voice you can muster, you whisper a soft. "please."

ellie groaned at the plea. the sound is primal and desperate. she could never deny you. not when you sounded so wanting––––so beautiful, so good. her hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling you into her as she leans in. you follow her mouth like it's magnetic. the kiss is passionate and intense, and you melt into her. you love the way she could always kiss you and make you forget everything––––how to stand and how to breathe. sometimes, when ellie would kiss you, you’d forget about all the air in the world except for what was in her lungs. you let your hands dance in her hair as you smile into her mouth, letting her taste you.

"i need you ellie." you pant against her open mouth and she listens to your every word with rapt attention. "i need you so bad."

she looks at you like you've answered her every prayer. swallowing deeply, breath fanning softly over your face. "are you sure?"

you groan, pulling her mouth to yours again just to taste her before pulling away.

"yeah, okay." she consumed your mouth again––––sucking your tongue into hers, pulling you as close to her as she possibly could. you straddle her lap, and you can feel the sharp intake of breath she takes when you let your kisses trail down her neck. 

you whine against her skin before pulling back and tilting your head, giving her your neck to taste. her hands feeling all over your skin like she couldn't touch you everywhere at once. her palms are a comfort as they rub soothing circles on your hips. she can sense your overwhelming exhilaration and she's trying to calm you. 

"tell me..." her breaths are heavy and her voice is filled with lust. "what you want or you get nothing."

you whimper, grinding your hips against hers once––––desperate for some kind of friction. "want you."

she smiles. "you already have me, baby––––you know that. try harder."

the whine that leaves your mouth is pathetic.

"i want you to fuck me. i wanna be embarrassed tomorrow because all i can think about is what you did to me and how much i loved it." you moan in her ear, it's thin and needy.

she inhales quickly, a slow shudder trailing over her body. "lay back for me, babe."

the groan in her voice is enough to catch your attention and compel you to obey her command. you let your body rest against the couch. 

she is gentle. removing your shirt slowly and kissing softly on your exposed skin. leaving some marks as she trails down your body, lifting your skirt up over your hips. "can i taste you, baby?" 

you hum at her, nodding eagerly. she chuckles up at you, placing a few chaste kisses on your left thigh before doing the same to your right. she moves your panties to one side, and you can't help but shiver at her heavy breaths against your core.

"fuck, baby," she's panting, lips agape as she lets her finger run over your entrance. "you're so wet, already..."

her gaze meets yours and though you want to, you can't bring yourself to look away. you look in her eyes and you can see the change. the moment when her want turned into need. when her craving for you grew past the point of return. "how long have you wanted this?"

you whimper, finally willing yourself to break away from her stare. "so fucking long."

she laughs again, shaking her head and then placing a little kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting. "you could've just asked, babe," 

she flattened her tongue, licking from your entrance to just below your clit before moving back down.

"i'll know––––" your voice gets caught on a moan when she lets the tip of her tongue flick across you. "fuck, i'll know for next time."

she hums into you, the vibrations make your eyes water. you shut your eyes, your chest heaving. because as good as you imagined sex with ellie would be, your imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. the way she holds your legs open so that she can devour you properly. how she sucks and licks and lets her fingers fuck into you. and when she looks up at you so that she can see all the pretty faces you make and you can see how fucking pussy drunk she looks. she moans into you, humping into the couch because the taste of you turns her on so much it aches.

you squirm when she sucks at your clit, hard then soft, but she maintains a strong grip on your thighs, keeping you firmly pressed into her mouth. she got a taste of you and she was fucking reeling, she wasn't gonna let you run.

"fuck, ellie." you whine again, your hand flying to her hair. "it feels so good, i'm so fucking close." 

she flattens her tongue again before pulling away and letting her face rest on your thigh. you go to object but it turns into another moan when she starts to finger-fuck you harder. "yeah? i can feel you squeezing me."

you would've been embarrassed if it didn't feel so good. 

"it's like you're trying to trap me inside you." she coos, her free hand still holding your thigh. "it's okay, i got you. let it all out for me."

and then her mouth is on you again, she's taking everything you have to give and begging you for more. all the tenderness in movements has vanished, it's quickly replaced with pure desperation. she's desperate to make you cum, to feel you tremble around her fingers, to taste the glories of your rapture. she needs it, maybe as much as you do. her fingers speed up and her tongue becomes more erratic. just sucking and licking like a woman gone mad until all you can do is slump in her hold and watch as she consumes you. 

she's practically growling into your core, it says 'take it, take it, take it' and you comply. you take what she's giving you until it's all you can feel. until all the noises go away, you're whole body clenches, and you cum all over her face. 

she licks it up greedily and you whine, trying to push her away. 

"be still. this is what you wanted, isn't it?" it's the most forceful she's ever spoken to you but you don't think twice about whimpering in surrender. "you've made such a mess...someone has to clean you up, hm?"

so she does–––––licking you up, moaning into you until you're crying from the overstimulation and she takes pity on you.

"okay, sweet girl." she coos when she sits up and you're still trembling. "you did so good for me, taste so sweet."

you laugh weakly, reaching for her so that she can kiss you. she smiles into your lips. "your turn now."

she laughs, shaking her head. but you can look in her eyes and tell it takes everything in her to deny your request. "you don't gotta worry about me."

you pout tiredly letting your hands meet her waist so that you can unbutton her jeans. she breathes heavily into your mouth, while you tug the denim down her legs––––she helps you, shimming out of her pants. ellie climbs so that she's hovering over your lap. you shoved your hands into her boxers, face softening when she whimpers. your fingers rubbed soft circles over her already soaking clit. "are you sure you don't want me to help you?"

she's looking at you with pleading eyes, practically drooling over you.

"want your fingers, baby." she kisses you again, and you bite her lip. "wanna feel you inside me, please."

you're high off the contrast, how easily she could go from so demanding to begging for you. she kisses you again while you slide one finger inside her aching cunt, then one more. you give her your neck to grip while you make contact with her. you bite your lip at her look of embarrassment because of how easily your fingers slid in.

"holy shit," she moans out, louder than she probably meant to but your fingers are curled inside her just right and it feels so perfect. "fuck, baby, you feel so good."

you hum, picking up the pace and relishing in all the pretty sounds she makes, all the moans and gentle breaths of your name. 

"you're so pretty, ellie." 

"thank––thank you." she half laughs and half whimpers. "you're pretty too"

you smile up at her, picking up your pace a little. you curl your fingers into her and her lips mold into an 'o' shape as a long moan leaves her agape mouth.

"right there, baby?" you hum, observing the way her legs are already trembling. 

"right," she hitches, her vision blacking out for a second. "there."

her mouth meets yours again so that you can taste her ecstasy. the closer she gets the slower her kisses grow until she's moaning against your lips and her legs are shaking through her orgasm. you rode it out for her before taking your fingers out of her trembling cunt. you couldn’t stop yourself from tasting the mess she made, moaning around your fingers as her flavor melted on your tongue. “mmm, tastes so good."

for a while, you just sit there, basking in your leisure and the warmth of her body heat. she reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing her sketchbook and pen. 

she leans back so that her back is pressed against the armrest of the couch, gesturing for you to lean into her. you cuddle into her side, watching her silently as she starts sketching. she doesn't speak and you don't either. you simply watch her while she makes something beautiful.

[ohcorny]

hey corny. so i always see people recommending to outline their story before starting it, but could you talk a little bit more about what that means? what is an outline and how do you structure one? how long are the ones you write, depending on the project? do you focus on plot beats or feelings? how specific do you get? can u recommend any readings for learning more?

up front i don't have any resources for this, only experience. and outlines feel like one of those things where it's like... there are a million ways to do it and the way that works for me might not work for you. i have a friend who writes out all his ideas on index cards and that, for me, is insane. but he's also a better writer than me so who can say what is right or wrong.

anyway an outline is essentially a sketch but for a story. you go through the whole thing, start to finish, and figure out what goes where and what happens when. the idea is that this is the stage where you work out all the big picture stuff and make sure it all fits together, now, and not after you've drawn twenty pages and suddenly go "wait shit that doesn't work" and have to do it over. it is much easier to delete and rewrite a paragraph than to redraw several pages.

doing anything more, ie including dialogue or feelings, depends entirely on how useful that information is to you at that point in the process and whether the purpose of the outline is for your own guidance, or so somebody else can tell what you're trying to achieve.

this got really long with multiple examples

here is an excerpt from the original outline i used to pitch Hunger's Bite to publishers. this one had to be polished to a professional standard, because somebody else was going to read it and decide whether they wanted to give me thousands of dollars to tell this story. (also several of the details are no longer accurate. for instance it now takes place 9 years earlier lmao)

this paragraph represents the first eight pages of the book. the final book is 264 pages long, and the outline was 12 pages of paragraphs as dense as this one.

it establishes where we are, who's there, and what they're doing. i describe their conversation, but i don't commit to the dialogue. i will occasionally include snippets of literal dialogue, but usually only if it's Important Dialogue, or i just don't want to forget a good idea i had while outlining. it's not expected at this step.

an outline written as part of a pitch to a publisher should tell the whole story, with all the important details, and leave nothing ambiguous. they need to know the tone, shape, and the arcs. no secrets! all the spoilers. outlines for yourself should do this too, but outlines for others need to be as clear about your vision as possible. again, an outline like this exists for the purpose of getting you paid thousands of dollars. you should write it like that.

in comparison, here's an excerpt from the outline i wrote for revisions to my WIP prose novel, so i could show it to my agent (who already read the draft) to be like "do these changes sound good?" i'm not selling it to anyone yet, just making a guide so i can have a conversation about it. so it doesn't need to be neat, it just needs to be functional and clear. the first chapter was entirely new stuff. the second bit was just writing down what was already in the chapter that existed.

i have historically been very bad at outlining things when i don't think i "need" to, and only wrote this one after having written like 60k words of the book without any overall plan. i gave what i had to my agent for feedback and then sat down and figured out how i could apply it. it's made the whole revisions process significantly less daunting. now i have a checklist for things i need to do! this one was a paragraph or two for each chapter, with the ones that needed a lot of rewriting given a bit more detail.

lastly, here's a bit of the outline for the first roger crenshaw book. i was the only person who had to see this, and since the story was planned to be very short i didn't have to worry about a whole lot. as long as i knew what was supposed to go where, it would work. honestly it's not a whole lot different from the previous example.

this one was like five paragraphs and it did the job, and this story was like 15k words. you only need as much or as little as will actually help you on the page.

basically if you take nothing else from this, it's that there are multiple ways to write an outline, that it does not need to be perfect if you're doing it for yourself, and that it only needs what you think is important (unless it is for other people. then it should have everything). and also it's a good idea to do it earlier in the project than after you've written 60k words or drawn--jesus christ i got up to 12 chapters in never satisfied? it's amazing i didn't quit sooner

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You guys devise a plan to stop Ghostface once and for all, but some shocking news stops you in your tracks.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, a little angst, my attempt at humor

A/N: Never mind y’all I just got motivation out of no where last night and apparently I can still write! This one’s kinda short…but I hope u like <3

You don't get to planning the demise of a certain wimpy pea faced masked killer as fast as you'd like.

You'd expected Sam to call the rest of the group and discuss details immediately; but that hasn't happened yet.

It's really starting to annoy you, but you can't even move far enough to grab your phone without help; so you relent and figure you'll kill the fucker when you can actually stand.

The only bright side, it seems; is Tara. She hasn't left your side for even a minute during the whole debacle.

She's gotten more comfortable, you can tell. Even gotten so brave as to come sit on the armchair beside yours.

Your anger has simmered down into a calm sea of peace; and you're starting to feel a bit bad for the indifferent way you've been treating her.

It's impossible to say you don't still care for Tara, in fact; you care a lot more than you probably should. The feeling is so overwhelming you can sense it's tendrils wrapping around you; threatening to engulf you whole.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

You tilt your head and look at her now, wonder if she feels the same.

Almost like she can feel your gaze, she turns and cranes her neck at you.

"Do you need anything?" She asks, flipping over the page of the book she was currently reading.

You don't trust your voice to come out as anything but a strangled whimper, so you nod.

She sits up immediately, practically jumping off the piece of furniture.

"Oh thank god! This book is so boring." She huffs, eyes brightening up as she gets closer.

She walks up to you and folds your shirt up, enough to show your wound. She examines it slowly, lips pursed.

"You know...maybe we should take you to a hospital? It doesn't really look any better." She states, staring intently.

You suddenly feel small underneath her intense gaze; and you wiggle a bit.

You weren't exactly at your best, since you'd been practically glued to the couch for days; apart from the occasional shower and a brush of the teeth.

"Tara?" You rasp, making her look at you; worry in her eyes.

"Yeah? You okay?"

You shake your head no, motion for her to come over. She looks downright stressed.

"Why? What's wrong?" She asks, reaching out to touch your face but stopping short, hesitance clear in her expression.

You muster the strength to bring your arm up to grab her hand, lay it down on your chest; intertwined.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick lately." You say, breathe in heavily.

"It was uncool of me. And I was wondering if you...would maybe want to be my girlfriend again?" It comes out as a soft whisper, and you watch as Tara's face changes from worried to unreadable.

Oh god.

"I mean- uh it's just that I think we might be better off as like girlfriends and I didn't really mean what I said before, I was mad you know? But it’s totally fine if you don’t-" She cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, soft and tender.

You melt into it immediately. Her hands fly to cup your cheeks, and yours press against her neck; pulling her closer.

You guys stay like that for a bit until Tara pulls away, breathlessly.

"I'm sorry too. I was being a bitch, and I should've listened to you. I promise I'll be better this time." She says, chewing on her bottom lip.

You pull her down, taking her by surprise and making her stumble and land right on you.

You let out a groan at the contact and peer down at your wound.

She retracts immediately, mumbling a million sorry's.

"It's okay Tar, come on. Come here." You wave with your hands, let her rest her head on your chest.

She doesn't press herself into you in fears that it'll hurt you, and it's the most straining and uncomfortable position she's ever been in; but she doesn't pull away.

"This is like doing a plank." She says, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You shake your head and smirk. Tilt her face up to yours again and kiss her.

"Shut up."

And she does.

-

The sound of your phone ringing is what wakes both you and Tara up. She stirs, then immediately tightens up; like she has a flight or fight response to the sound of it.

Oh wait, she does. You realize dumbly.

"It's okay. Everything's fine, could you just grab me the phone sweetheart?" You murmur, rubbing the top of her head in small circles.

She wearily gets up on her knees and reaches for the phone from the couch. It's too far; and she doesn't want to leave your body for at least 3-5 more business days.

"Woah!" She squeaks, loosing her balance and falling with a loud smack onto the rug.

You can't control the giggle that stumbles from your lips; almost on reflex. You quickly realize your error and shut up.

It's too late; because Tara turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. Then she lets out a giggle too, smiling so wide you can see her dimples.

It's a small moment, but it means everything.

It almost feels like the past few days have never happened and Tara's still freshly your girlfriend. Floating in nothing but love-filled teasing bliss.

She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your phone ringing again.

"Jesus christ they won't stop calling." Tara says, slightly annoyed at the intrusion on your moment.

She hands it over to you without looking at the contact, and you scrunch your eyebrows at the unknown number.

"Hello?" You muse as you bring your phone to your ear, still staring at Tara with a playful smirk.

It falls immediately when you hear the distorted deep voice.

"Hello YN."

Your breath hitches, but you don't want to alarm Tara; so you smile at her reassuringly.

"Hey bro, what up?" You say, with all the nonchalance of talking to a close friend.

"Bro? What the hell are you talking abou-" Ghostface starts, but you cut him off immediately.

"Oh yeah yeah, I'm still in uni. I hope you're not getting into any trouble like you always do?" You continue; pursing your lips.

Maybe you'll just pretend for the rest of the conversation and not tell Tara.

"Oh Yn, you don't even know what kind of trouble I'm about to get you into." He says, tone teasing and taunting.

Your chest tightens up a bit. What does he have on you? He's bluffing, he has to be…right?

"That is so fun, but I kinda have to get back to my amazing girlfriend now; you don't mind if I hang up do you?" You smile, eyes flitting up and down Tara's small frame.

She's sitting, quite adorably, on the floor. Looking up at you with curious but shining eyes.

"Don't you dare hang up or I'm going to split you from groin to ster-" You pull the phone from your ear and press the red button.

"Well that was a little rude." She tuts, scooting closer.

You chuckle.

"Can I help it that my girlfriend is the best-est person in the world and I wanna spend every minute with her?" You ask, nudging her nose with yours.

"Best-est, huh?" She smirks, leaning in impossibly closer.

You're about to lean down and kiss Tara but it twists your wound the wrong way and you hiss.

She brings her hand up to your face and caresses the skin of your cheek.

"You okay?" She asks, brows furrowed.

You're not, and you think it might even be getting worse like she suspected; but you don't tell Tara. Instead you nod your head and give her a tight lipped smile.

She grins, and closes the distance between the two of you. She gets up off the floor and climbs on top of you so you don't have to strain your neck. She does all of this with your lips connected, and you silently marvel at her skill.

"I know you guys just got back together, but can you stop eating each other's faces right now?" Sam interrupts, quite rudely you might add.

Tara pulls away reluctantly and wipes at her mouth. She looks flushed.

"We weren't even doing anything."She mumbles underneath her breath.

"Let them be Sam, I don't think I can take another day of Tara whining about how she's not with YN anymore." Mindy says, waltzing into the room after Sam.

You cock an eyebrow at Tara, but she avoids your eye; blush creeping up her neck.

"Nice job, by the way T." Mindy adds, clicking her tongue and shooting a finger gun at the girl.

You notice the rest of the group behind them, Chad, Ethan, Anika, and some other strange man at the back.

He must see your lingering stare on him because he's moving forward and offering a hand to you.

"Danny." He rasps, mouth turned in a crooked smile.

Okay, kind of hot. You think.

"I'm Sam's..." He trails off, sending a questioning look at the older Carpenter sister.

"Danny's my boyfriend." Sam answers, and out the corner of your eye you see Danny smile a little wider.

That's cute.

"Nice to meet you Danny." You say, shaking his hand eagerly.

"So, we're all here because we need to devise a plan. To catch ghostface, once and for all." Sam says, walking to the front of the living room.

"And what exactly is your plan?" Tara asks, moving beside you and taking your hand in hers.

You notice Sam biting the inside of her cheek as she thinks.

"I'm not sure yet, that's why I all asked you here." She says.

There's a moment of silence as anyone thinks of something to say. You try to think back to your interactions with him.

"We could make a suspect list? I'm sure Mindy has a lot of theories on her mind." You suggest, glancing over at the twin.

"Yes! Thank you for bringing that up YN. Sam, move it's my time to shine." She walks up to Sam, gently nudging the Carpenter to sit on the couch.

"So we all know Ghostface has some sort of beef with all of us, but from the attacks we can assume he hates Tara and YN the most." She starts, hands on her hips.

"We know Ghostface isn't really that strong. Either that or YN is just one hell of a fighter." Mindy says, gesturing to you.

You smile shyly at the heads that turn toward you.

"Can I add something? Back on the balcony, where I got attacked; Ghostface seemed kind of...small." You say, pursing your lips in deep remembrance.

"Like, way shorter than the one that attacked me and Tara on that roof. So I think there might be two." You finish.

Mindy nods, like she was already expecting you to say this.

"It's always been two killers, except for Roman Bridger; kudos to him for ambition."

Chad raises his hand, waiting for Mindy's approval before he speaks. She nods toward him.

"Could we assume the first ghostface was a guy? Because we all saw him, and he looked pretty damn big."

You shake your head in agreement, trying to think back on the night up on the roof. It's sort of hard because all you can remember is Tara kissing you for the first time.

Even after what had happened, you still considered that to be one of the best nights of your life.

What a simp.

"Now! Let's move on to our suspects..." Mindy says faintly, but you're not really focused now. You'd rather daydream about the girl sitting beside you.

The group ends up picking your apartment as the spot for Ghostface's Demise. You'd actually been the one to suggest it yourself, it's relatively big; and didn't have one too many hiding places for him to surprise y'all in.

Tara moves to sit on your lap as you continue to plan. Papers are strewn everywhere, multiple empty coffee cups on the table. You've drawn out a map of the layout, and Sam's made it her personal mission to storyboard the whole attack.

Despite the reason for for your gathering, you can't help but smile a little at everyone huddled together. They look like a real family.

Quiet laughs are occasionally let out, teasing and poking fun about how Ghostface is gonna attack. You sort of enjoy it.

The doorbell rings and catches only yours and Tara's attention. The rest of them are still in heated discussion about whether Ghostface or Voldemort would win in a battle.

It's Voldemort, obviously.

"I'll go get it." Tara whispers, planting a firm peck to your lips and standing up. You nod, let her untangle herself from you.

You sit a bit longer until you start getting antsy. It's been five minutes since Tara went and you’re getting a tad worried.

Has she been kidnapped by Ghostface or something?

She steps into the room now, and you smile at her; breathe out in relief.

You see a tiny envelope in her hands. It's ripped; and she's reading the inside.

"Any mail for me honey?" You ask teasingly, pushing yourself up on the couch slightly.

You don't notice the serious expression on her face till she tilts it up, eyes dark.

She doesn't answer as she strides to you, shoving the paper in your hands; arms crossed. She looks hurt.

"Care to explain?"

You frown, look down at the piece of crumpled paper. It's a DNA test.

At the top of the page it says:

DNA REPORT TEST

(For Personal Knowledge Only)

There's two boxes that fill up the whole paper. You stare at it, mouth agape.

It says:

CHILD (YN)

Alleged Father (Stu Macher)

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Sun drowns the house - George Daniel & Matty Healy

aka: the spit roasting fic

A/N: took my meds just to write this fic, also thank you my love @justleaveatnine for forcing me to write and ALSO proofing this for me xx

wc: 6k

content warnings: litch everything i fear, smut, dirty talk, degradation, praise, so insanely gay dont look at me, this is what happens when a gatty truther writes a threesome fic, spit roasting (obv), handjobs (sort of), matty in lingerie (a given at this point), knife play, dom George for literally three seconds, insanely pathetic gatty for the rest, she orders them around (also a given atp), cunnilingus, slight impact play if u squint, begging, denial (sort of), facials, cumplay, mention of sub drop, but he's well taken care of x, disgustingly sweet because i have to, MDNI!!!!!!!!

You hear them first  

The door clicking open, Matty struggling to get the chain off to let George in, and then muffled footsteps as he toes his shoes off, throwing them into the floor next to the coat rack. Muffled voices laugh as Matty says something out of pocket, ushering him upstairs with a giggle. The door to the bedroom creaks open, stopping halfway through the motion because of its broken hinge.   

That's when you see both of them. Matty’s hand touching George’s arm, right above where his elbow creases. The glossy magazine in your hands is heavy, pictures of models in posh clothes littering the pages, pops of vibrant color drawing you in. It’s one of Matty’s, his extensive collection of them growing in piles next to the bed. You joke that you don't even need a nightstand anymore, you could just put the lamp on the stack of old vogue. 

You set it down, straightening your back as George looks in your direction, nodding at you as Matty keeps touching him, only letting go to close the door, leaning his back against it as you pat the bed next to you, asking George to come sit down next to you. The furniture creaks awkwardly, making you giggle when the mattress dips beside you, the unmade sheets crumpling even more under the two of you. 

George's eyes wander over to Matty, who surprisingly, is still just standing there, looking at both of you. He shifts on the bed, uncrossing his legs to sit with his feet planted on the floor, both hands on his knees as you move behind him, trying to figure out what he’s doing. 

That's when you see it. 

Matty stands there, a filthy smirk plastered on his face as both you and George stare at him, everything clicking into place slowly. His clothing gives his intentions away so blatantly, it almost makes you laugh. Clad in his favorite black, skin-tight jeans, he’s paired them with a pair of new heels neither of you had seen before. Cherry red platforms, rhinestones lined along the bottom, glimmering mesmerizingly as your eyes travel further up, taking in the sight of him all dressed up for you. 

You can feel George move oddly, and you know his little ensemble affects him just as much as you, if not even more. Matty’s top is pink and slightly see through, and you recognise it as one of yours, seeing how it hangs a bit loosely, folding and draping itself over his chest and torso. You hear the soft metallic sounds of jewelry as Matty takes a step forward, the glitter around his eyes becoming more and more visible the closer he gets the the foot of the bed

“What are you playing at, Matty?” George speaks, making you jump just a bit as his voice reverberates through your body, the low tone of his voice going straight to your core. Matty scoffs and shakes his head at the accusation, however true it might ring. 

“Just want to hang out with my mates, is that a crime now?” he deflects with another question, waving his hands around him gesturing to you, then George, like that somehow strengthens his point. 

“No one gets that done up just to hang out.” you breathe, blatantly enjoying the view as Matty’s hands find his hair, brushing back the freshly washed curls out of his face. George cocks an eyebrow at him, nodding along in agreement. Matty simply shrugs, picking at his nails in a bored way as the tension in the room builds, Both of you know what he wants, you just want to hear him say it. 

“What did you really have planned when you invited G over?” you say, hearing George suck in a deep breath in through his nose, steadying himself before Matty answers, who puts his hands up in defeat.   

“Got me there darling, m’not as slick as I thought.” now it’s your turn to scoff, “You really aren’t.”

Matty isn’t bothered by your jabs, pulling a playful face at you.

“I brought our sweet George over here to fuck him” he walks over to the foot of the bed, finding George’s choked reaction quite amusing. “Or watch him fuck you, I don't mind either way. But you knew that from the moment I walked in here.” 

"D'you want to get in my panties, George? Want me to scream your name like I scream hers?" Matty speaks, his voice sultry and low as George lunges towards him, catching his lips in a hot kiss, full of teeth and tongue and desperation as Matty whines into it, letting George take over. George’s eyes are wide when he finally pulls away, darting over Matty’s features before pulling him back in, both of them breathless as though they had just to run a marathon. You watch intently, taking in every movement and noise coming from the two of them, committing it all to memory. 

“Oh, I like this.” you whisper, grinning at the two of them as they turn to glance at you, sat back with your back against the headboard, watching the scene in front of you. “Of course you do, freak.” Matty murmurs, nipping Georges bottom lip with his teeth as the blonde gasps softly, eyes blown out and flicking between you and Matty frantically, not sure where to look. 

A delicate hand guides his face to look straight at Matty, their lips locking in another bruising kiss, making even you feel the heat of it, your fingers brushing your hair out of your face as they break away and turn to look at you. Both of their chests heave with effort, George using every ounce of self control left in him to not kiss him again, opting to bite his lip and try to catch his breath instead. Matty grins wildly, looking you up and down as ideas run through his mind, all of them absolutely filthy.

“Don’t want her to miss out on the action, yeah?” His voice is teasing as George looks at you in the same way Matty did, full of desire and want. “‘Course not.” The bed creaks loudly as Matty climbs off George, quickly pouncing onto you and slamming your back into the headboard, your crash cushioned by pillows and blankets. You yelp, a small giggle escaping you as a mess of curls bends down to press his lips to yours, tongue licking into your mouth dizzyingly 

Now it’s George's turn to watch how Matty kisses you, his lips moving from your lips to your cheek to your jaw, slowly trailing down until he reaches your collar bones, his teeth nipping at them lightly. He makes his way down your body, hands pushing your top up to reveal inches of skin previously concealed, a soft gasp leaving your lips as he presses a hot kiss right between your tits, pulling at your shirt hard enough to get you to raise your arms and have George pull it off you. No words, except a quiet “Fucking hell,” from George, are exchanged as you lean forward to unhook your bra, letting it slowly fall off you and be discarded in the corner. 

You can hear Matty exhale sharply, licking his lips before diving back in, sucking marks and bruises onto the skin of your tits, biting down every so often just to feel you twitch. He grins against you as George catches your lips in a sweet kiss, his hand coming up to cup your face as Matty presses wet kisses all down your stomach, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

The bed creaks again as George disconnects his lips from yours, proceeding to nudge Matty off to the left, making you spread your legs even wider. You feel obscene as George kneels in between your legs, right next to Matty, his large hands gripping your jean clad thigh and peppering kisses over the material.

“Fucking gorgeous, tastes amazing as well.” Matty mutters, almost inaudibly, his fingers toying with the button of your pants, tongue running over the zipper teasingly. The eye contact makes you dizzy with need, his eyes fluttering as the thought of his mouth on you takes over his mind. 

You look over at George, who looks like he’s trying to desperately suppress a moan at Matty’s words, his breathing heavy. Matty senses how worked up he is, his own cock starting to fill in the confines of his tight jeans. His fingers work to undo the button of your pants, the quiet pop insanely loud in the near silent room. Matty runs his thumb over the zipper, looking up and slightly behind him to get a good look at George, who is panting and bright red, rock hard in his shorts.   

“Want a taste?” Matty’s words are smooth, sure, sultry. George looks like he’s about to pass out when he pulls your zipper down, the sound ringing through his head as loud as sirens, his eyes wide and lips parted. “Fuck, can I?” George pants, his voice shaky and so turned on, he can barely form words. Matty looks up to you, his look asking for your approval, and you vigorously nod your head, pulling your gaze over to George.  “Yeah, yeah please, George– fuck.” you breathe, your eyes heavy and hooded, nipples hard against the cool air. 

Matty works on tugging your jeans down your thighs and off you, George’s hands coming up to roll your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp in a mix of pain and pleasure, head foggy with lust and desire for both of them. The moment your pants hit the floor you can feel Matty’s tongue on you, licking and sucking your clit over your cotton panties, the front of them painted with a visible wet spot, making his grin against you as the taste envelopes his senses. You roll your hips against his mouth, desperate for any friction you can get, a soft moan leaving George’s lips at the sight of Matty’s head buried between your thighs. 

With your eyes closed, you can only hear how George properly settles between your legs, mirroring Matty’s position, on his stomach. You watch as Matty moves to the side, leaving hickeys all over your thigh as George lets his fingers trace over the wet patch on the front of your panties, a mix of your arousal and Matty’s spit, shuddering as he feels you twitch under his touch. You genuinely can't think straight as George hooks his thumb into the waistband of your panties, slipping them down and off you as you arch your hips, Matty so blatantly staring at your glistening core it almost makes you giggle. 

You  bite back a whimper when George takes your panties into his right hand, stuffing them into his pocket with a smirk, Matty grinning wildly once he realizes what he'd done. George’s tongue on you feels like absolute heaven, his hand snaking around your waist to grip you tighter, pulling you impossibly close to him. Matty watches with lustful eyes, his gaze flicking from where you and George connect and your face, very much enjoying the blissed out expression painting your features. 

Your skin is flush, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead as your hips arch up and grind onto George’s tongue, blinding pleasure shooting into every corner of your body as he laps at your clit, quickly being pulled away by a very eager Matty, yelping as he’s yanked back by the hair. His lips are replaced by Matty’s, who is moaning into your cunt so obscenely it makes you blush even harder. “Want you to kiss him baby, show G some love, yeah?” you whisper, your hand running through Matty’s messed up curls as he nods, turning his head and being met with George’s face already incredibly close to his. 

The kiss is hot, all tongue and teeth and soft, breathy whimpers, the sound like music to your ears. George’s fingers circle your clit as they make out, sparks of pleasure making pressure build in your core. It doesn’t take long for George to pull away, his hand threading through Matty’s hair and staying there, guiding his mouth back to your clit, a choked moan leaving your lips. “Making her feel so good, doll, look how loud she is for us.” George coos, looking up at you as his hand presses Matty’s face further into your cunt, depriving him of any oxygen. 

You can tell how much Matty is enjoying this, his hips bucking into the mattress helplessly as George talks him through it, whispering filthy things into his ear as his lips connect with his neck, the angle awkward but still insanely hot, your eyes rolling back when George rests his head on your thigh, watching Matty eat you out with such an intensity it makes his head spin. You can feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, your chest heaving and mind hazy with pleasure, making Matty redouble his efforts as George keeps guiding his head. 

You try to warn him, but Matty just nods into your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking it between his lips, making your vision white out in pleasure as you cum, legs trembling even in George’s firm grip. “Fuck, there you go doll, making her cum so hard, aren’t you?” George whispers, breathless at the sight of you thrashing and grinding down onto Matty’s tongue to ride out your orgasm. 

Matty’s face is slick when he pulls away, licking his lip with a filthy smirk plastered on his face. Both of them get on their knees, now kneeling in front of you, still panting and hazy from your climax. 

The kiss they share is frantic, needy, almost animalistic as Matty presses his body against his, hands tugging at George’s shirt, moaning wantonly into his mouth. “Off, need this off.” he whines, George obeying and lifting his arms up to allow Matty to take his shirt off him, leaving his sweaty chest bare. You watch as Matty’s teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder, making George cry out in surprise. The yelp slowly turns into a groan as the pain morphs into pleasure, Matty sucking hickeys into the space right below his jaw, hands roaming his chest and tweaking his nipples. 

George gives in to his touch for a while, feeling every intense sensation tenfold as Matty touches him, overwhelming him with pleasure and pure need. It’s almost painful to pull away, but he does, making eye contact with you as Matty cocks his head, following his gaze to you. You’re still laying there, though slightly sat up now as you watch the scene in front of you unfold, grinning at the show they’re putting on for you with hungry eyes. 

“I want..'' George stammers a bit, trying to form a coherent sentence as his cock strains against his trousers, Matty’s mouth back on his chest not helping him in the slightest. You smirk at Matty, parting your bruised lips to speak, your words coated in thick honey. “Tell me, baby, what do you want? Don’t be shy.” Your tone doesn’t help George speak clearly, it only clouds his mind even more, thoughts and fantasies flashing in front of his eyes faster than he can verbalize them. 

“I want you to, uhm–,” George pauses again, biting his lip as teeth graze over his nipple, the sharp pain making his cock even harder. Matty giggles at his reaction boyishly, like he isn't just as hard and twice as desperate as him, his cockiness turning you on even more. 

 “I want you to fuck him. Like you told me, wanna see him take it.” 

Those words make Matty perk up, his eyes fluttering at the thought of being filled by you, feeling you pounding into him mercilessly. You don't even acknowledge his reaction, ignoring him completely as you speak to George and only George. 

“Yeah? Wanna see how pretty he looks crying for us?” You can tell how turned on Matty is, the way you two speak about him like he isnt in the room making him dizzy with lust and want, his lips pulling away from George’s now marked up chest in favor of frantically trying to look at both of you at once, hoping to see a spark of interest in your eyes. What he sees is so much more than interest. He sees promise, and George’s next words only solidify what he hopes is going to happen. 

 “Please…Fuck, darling–”

“I know baby, just lie on the bed for me, yeah?” you coo, getting up to a kneeling position and pressing a (hardly) chaste kiss to George’s wet lips. You get up slowly, turning your back to sift through the nightstand drawer, hearing the bed creak behind you as George lays down where you previously were, leaning his back against the headboard. Your hands finally feel what you were searching for, grinning to yourself as you pull the strapon out from the mess of toys and lube that live in your bedside drawer. 

Turning back around, your breath hitches at the sight in front of you. Matty on his stomach, settled between George’s spread legs, cheek nuzzling into his tensed thigh. Strap in hand, you grin at them, both blatantly ogling your naked frame, eyes raking over the curve of your hips, the slight pudge of your stomach, and you feel a flash of power, of control rush through you at how much you affect them. 

“Getting started without me? Not that I'm complaining.” you giggle at Matty’s smile, eyes hooded in overwhelming lust as he rubs against George’s bulge, knowing how much you love it when he does shit like this. 

“And I thought Georgie here was the voyeur.” he says, his teasing tone making an already nervous George stammer and stutter over his words pathetically, trying to defend himself. “I– I don’t–” 

“Shh, it’s alright darling, no need to be shy.” you speak, slipping on the strap tightening the harness around your hips, watching how Matty’s eyes widen in anticipation. You know you look hot, evident in the way they both look at you, silently begging you to do something, anything, or at least allow them to do something to each other. 

“Oh– fuckk– ” the desperate noise comes from George, caused by Matty suddenly unzipping his trousers, the pressure on his cock finally being relieved after what feels like hours. Matty practically salivates at the sight of his cock straining against his boxers, eyes flicking back up to where you're standing, wordlessly begging for permission to touch him properly. “Just keep being pretty for me, I'll be right there.” you tell him, his defeated nod making your core stir with desire. 

Brushing your hair with your fingers, you grab the bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand, fumbling it and earning a giggle from Matty. You watch him mouth along George’s cock through his boxers, the blonde’s eyes screwed shut in torturous pleasure as Matty teases him. Matty, still fully clothed, attempts to grind against the mattress, being the only one that hasn't been properly touched this whole time. You chuckle to yourself and so does George, and you make playful eye contact as Matty whines, slowly getting more and more impatient. 

“Getting so worked up for us, aren’t you baby? Want me to fuck you, is that it?” you tease mercilessly, dragging out each syllable until Matty feels like he’s going to cum on the fucking spot, his hips bucking wildly against the sheets. George watches as you kneel on the bed right behind Matty, nudging his legs telling him to spread them. “Let's get these off you, yeah?” Matty nods frantically, too turned on to speak as he licks up George’s shaft, watching him twitch under the heat of his tongue. 

Matty shuffles on the bed, kneeling and staring at George as he unbuttons his skin-tight jeans, moaning in relief as the pressure is lifted off his leaking cock. The lust is so dizzying that he fumbles with the zipper for a few beats, finally getting it down far enough to show both of you the new lace he had gotten especially for today. You make eye contact with George, the sight of him palming himself over his boxers, skin flushed bright red and chest heaving burning itself into your memory. Matty throws his jeans off the bed, taking a moment to mirror George’s movements on his own cock, pornographic moans spilling from his lips at the sensation. 

Matty’s your top is next to go, joining the crumpled up jeans on the floor. Your breath hitches when he looks back at you, winking provocatively before running his hands up his chest, finally able to touch himself properly. You let him, knowing how much George is enjoying the show based on the choked groans leaving his lips, the whole scene going straight to your core. 

“Get on your stomach, baby, make G here feel so good for me.” you speak slowly, smiling condescendingly as Matty’s eyes cloud over with lust, his nod dazed and desperate, and you know he’d do anything right in that moment. He does what you say, leaning forward and scooting onto his stomach, back in the position he was before. Clicking your tongue, you grab his hips harshly. “You know what I need from you Matty– yeahh that's it baby, arch that pretty back for me, doesn't he look so good like this, George?” 

Both of them whine at your words, and you can physically feel how bad Matty needs you, his breathing heavy and irregular, skin glistening with sweat. You’ve dragged this out as long as you can, teasing and toying with both of them to near tears. Right when they think it's over, all the games and demands, that's when you pull out one final item from under the sheets. 

A small pocket knife. 

Matty can’t see it, but George can. His eyes widen as you twirl it at him, grinning wildly as you lean down to whisper into Matty’s ear, your strap pressing up against him, making him tremble in anticipation. Trailing the blade down his spine, you watch goosebumps erupt all over his skin as he slowly realizes exactly what you’re doing, a strangled whine ripping itself from his throat. 

“Want me to cut your pretty panties off you, baby? Have you all exposed for us?” 

Your words make Matty genuinely shiver, his nodding frantic as he turns his head back to catch a glimpse of the knife, so overwhelmed with sensation he can't form a single coherent thought, his hips pressing back into your strap. “Don’t neglect poor George just because you’re a fucking whore for me, yeah?” As the focus is brought back to him, you watch George’s eyes snap up to meet yours, wide and hazy. 

Matty whimpers quietly, his fingers quickly working to tug George’s shorts further down, taking his boxers with them. George stifles a moan as Matty’s cool hand wraps around his cock, gathering the precum at the tip and smearing it down his shaft. “Fuck, you’re so hard.” are the only words he can force out, mesmerized by George and his reaction. “C’mon baby, spit on his pretty dick, get him nice and wet.” you urge him, and George can't stop the pathetic obscene moan that leaves his lips when Matty does just that, spit dribbling down his as his hand moves up and down his cock. 

What finally does George in is the way Matty looks at him, teary eyed and desperate, his tongue darting out to kitten lick the tip, sucking the head of his cock between his lips. The look of absolute bliss on George’s face makes your breath hitch, one of your hands trailing up to grope yourself, enjoying the scene playing out in front of you. 

You use Matty’s preoccupation to trace the knife in your hand further down his back, hooking the blad into the waistband of his panties, slowly letting the material split until it quite literally falls off him. 

You can tell exactly when Matty takes George completely into his mouth, a dragged out, “O-oh god– shittt.” leaving his lips as George lets one of his hands find Matty’s cheek, soothingly rubbing it as he bobs his head, making the blonde’s eyes screw shut in pleasure. You don’t let yourself get lost in it though, but fuck, it’s hard not to. The sound of the cap opening is impossibly loud, and Matty recognises it immediately, his hips bucking violently as he gags around George, eyes tearing up from the effort. 

You slick up your strap with a generous amount of lube, using the remaining liquid to draw a small heart on Matty’s back, the shape shining even in the dim light of the bedroom. Matty coughs violently as George accidentally thrusts up into his mouth, a mix of spit and precum dripping down his chin as he pulls off for a second, wiping away a few tears.

“I’m okay G, I promise. Fuck, that was so hot.” he assures George, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes, mouthing an inaudible “I love you,” before taking him back down his throat. 

You watch as George threads his hand into Matty’s hair, pushing his head down slightly and gauging his reaction, a muffled moan telling him all he needs to know. Using more force, he guides Matty’s head up and down his cock, slowly, almost lovingly, fucking his mouth. The groans that spill from his lips are nothing short of delicious, spurring Matty on to take him even further, doing his absolute best to suppress his gag reflex, relishing in the feeling of George’s cock hitting the back of his throat. 

Leaning down once again, you whisper quietly against Matty’s ear, “Relax a bit Matty, mhm? I’m so proud of you, you’re taking this so well for us.” Matty can only whine in response, attempting to nod even with his mouth stuffed full of cock. . 

You inhale deeply before pressing the tip of the strap to his hole, teasing him one last time, just for the sake of watching him squirm and writhe under you. You know his cock is leaking onto the sheets by now, making a mess of them because he can’t help himself when it's the two of you, thinking his with dick instead of his brain. 

“He’s so fucking pretty George. Look how good he’s gonna take my cock, aren't you baby?” you speak, nodding at a blissed out George, so overwhelmed with pleasure he can barely respond, nodding back at you. The relieved moan that leaves Matty’s lips when you finally, finally press into him is nothing short of pornographic, audible even over the wet sounds of his lips sinking down on George’s cock, bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each and every movement. 

“So gorgeous doll, feels good?” you coo, your hands gripping his hips and holding him in place, mercilessly fucking into him and never once letting up for even a second. Matty pulls off of George to answer, his hand taking over while he speaks, stumbling over his words pathetically. “P-please, feel so full, fuckk–” 

George just watches you thrust into him, brushing against his g-spot with each movement of your hips, Matty’s whines once again muffled by his cock fuckign into his mouth, taking pleasure like it belongs to him. “Taking us so good Matty– looks so fucking pretty too, doesn't he?” Your words motivate Matty to no end, and he deepthroats George until he can’t breathe, so eager to please it literally possesses him, the only thing on his mind being you and George. 

“Yeah, y’look so beautiful choking on my cock, fuck.” George groans, and you know he’s close because of how his voice pitches up, sounding eerily similar to Matty. You almost scold him when he pulls off again, his obscene moans now even louder as your strap hits his g-spot over and over again, making him dizzy and all his thoughts go away, pleasure taking over every inch of his being. 

“Feels s’good, shit– Please make me cum, darling I need to cum so fucking bad, been so good f’you, please.'' Wet sounds fill the room, and you're sure you look like something straight out of a porno, the position so filthy it clouds your mind, your movements speeding up, causing Matty to moan louder, loud enough for even the neighbors to hear. Not that you would mind.   

“George–” he starts, interrupted by your chest pressing to his back and you reaching to wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing him before putting on a condescending tone “Speak up baby, he can’t hear you.” George can barely think, so fucking close to the edge he can taste it, his cock leaking and twitching with every jerk of Matty’s hand, his knuckles ghostly white where he grips the sheets, trying desperately to hold off his rapidly approaching orgasm. 

“George, I want– FUCK– please, oh god fuck.” Matty’s voice cracks as you start drilling impossibly deeper into him, stretching his hole around your strap, mesmerized by how absolutely fucked out he looks even though you can barely see his face. 

“Want you to cum on m’face G, please darling, please.” he slurs, eyes hooded and heavy as he twitches in your hand, threatening to cum in mere seconds if you don’t get your hands off of him. You want this to last, after all.  

“So filthy, and here we thought you had a bit of dignity left in you. I don’t blame you though, baby, just look at him.” you let go of his cock, a quiet whine interrupting you, earning Matty a soft slap to the flesh of his arse. 

George pants, his hair wild and eyes glazed over with lust, looking like the fucking personification of sex. Matty’s eyes light up when he nods, blinking slowly as his hands settle on his stomach, leaving Matty to do all the work for him. You can tell how much he loves the idea of finishing on Matty’s face, the thought messing with him much more than he lets on. But you know, and he knows you know. 

It doesn't take anything but a few jerks of his cock and Matty batting his lashes, looking up at him with that eager, fucked out expression on his face that could make anyone give in to him to make George spill all over his face, painting his features with thick ropes of cum. George shudders violently, bucking his hips into Matty’s hand as he works him through his orgasm, sticking his tongue out to fuck with him even more. 

You don't stop pounding into Matty, not even for a second, the bed shaking with the sheer force of your thrusts as Matty’s moans and whimpers go unmuffled. “M’so close, fuck, please darling, fuck me harder.” George sees him genuinely tear up, bringing his hand up to cup his face sweetly, wiping away stray tears as a wanton moan spills from his lips. 

“Jesus christ, he’s–” you don't even let him finish, nodding in agreement as Matty presses his cheek into George’s hand, his please borderline incoherent by now.

“Fucking wet dream, isn’t he? Can never get used to how sweet he sounds, can I, baby?” Matty nods violently, his cock twitching and leaking precum, and you know he’s never been more ready to cum in his life. Yet, he knows he can’t, not until you allow him to. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, oh god m’gonna cum, please George–” Matty uses the last of his strength to beg the one person who he knows would let him, tears rolling down his cheeks, mascara and eyeshadow mixing with his smeared lipstick as he begs for permission

“Go on doll, cum for us. I know how bad you want to, yeah? Fucking soak our sheets.” George speaks slowly, his voice rough and strong, a flash of dominance coursing through his veins right in that moment. 

Matty cums, hard, writhing against the mattress, legs shaking while George's hand soothingly runs through his messed up hair, the touch comforting as his orgasm washes over him in violent, almost forceful waves. 

“Look so beautiful Matty, just let go, let it all out, baby.” 

You swear he’s never looked this good in your life, having taken absolutely everything you’ve given to him with an obedient nod and an eager expression, holding off until he’s made both you and George cum. You stroke his back lovingly as he goes limp against the bed, breathing heavy, his small sounds of pleasure as you pull out making you smile. 

George whispers unintelligible praise, making sure he knows how good he had been for both of you, how absolutely loved he is. 

“I love you so much baby, did so well for us.” you say, your tone loving and soft, peppering kisses down his spine as you slip off the harness, discarding it somewhere behind you. Matty nods weakly into George’s thigh, muttering a small “love you too,” back at you. 

“Gotta get up for us, doll, need to clean you up.” Matty groans in protest to Georges implication that he should move, eventually giving in at the promise of a more comfortable, less wet sleep. You get up to get tissues, wiping the cum off his face with a giggle, earning an amused chuckle from George, who is holding Matty against his chest, stroking his hair and kissing his shoulders lovingly, showering him with the affection he most definitely deserves. 

“Sleep?” Matty whispers quietly, evidently tired and half asleep already, his head resting against George’s shoulder. You nod, guiding his frame to lay down between you and George, letting your arm drape over him comfortingly. 

“You were so amazing Matty, we’re both so, so proud of you.” Matty, now slightly more coherent, offers a cheeky “Yeah I know that, fucking look at the state of me.”  

George lets out a girlish giggle at his words, wrapping his arm around his waist, letting Matty slowly drift off into sleep, absolutely exhausted and rightfully so, given the relentless teasing and torture you had put to poor boy through. He loved it though, and reassures you of that every chance he gets

You make eye contact with him one last time, George mouthing a barely audible “I love you,” shutting his eyes just in time to miss the massive, stupid grin plastered on your face. 

Their soft snoring and the heat of their bodies beside you lulls you into a deep, comfortable sleep, peacefully surrounded by the two people you love most. 

[sokkigarden]

dancing with our hands tied (part iv)

jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw 18+ // fwb

masterlist // read on ao3

summary: an emotional spiral sends you to jamie's doorstep… again

word count: 3k

this chapter took it OUT of me but i actually think this might be my fav chapter so far?? eeeee excited to share w you guys :) thanks to @hopefulromances for challenging me to write and trade feedback last night! sometimes u just need a lil extra motivation 😩🫶

༻✧✧✧༺

“Hey, you’re friends with Jamie, right?”

You looked up from where you were sitting at your desk to find Zach in the doorway. You were startled by his appearance. 

After getting drinks last week, you’d gone back to his place and fell into bed. He was fun and flirty and you both had a good time, but once it was late, he asked if you needed a ride home. You’d left after calling a ride, trying not to overthink it. It was just the beginning after all.

But it had been a week since then. Zach had been keeping his distance at work and hadn’t been responding to your texts that much. You figured he was busy with the new job, so you kept yourself busy as well. But that didn’t resolve the sinking feeling in your gut.

And now Zach was standing in front of you. Asking about Jamie Tartt of all things.

“Huh?” You knew you sounded dumb but you weren’t sure why Zach was asking if you were friends with Jamie.

“Did I do something to upset him?”

“What?” you sputtered. “Um, I don’t think so.”

Despite your confusion, you had also noticed Jamie’s coldness toward the new nutritionist. Richmond had a big facility and a lot of people employed, but after Ted Lasso brought his camaraderie and positivity to the entire club, it was easy to see when someone was being off-putting. 

Since last week, you hadn’t spoken to Jamie outside of your scheduled physio treatments. You weren’t typically alone during your appointments, and it was always after his ludicrous amount of training which left him tired, so you hadn’t had the chance to talk to him much.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into things?” you suggested. “He’s always been kinda rocky– you’ve heard the stories.”

You didn’t mention that those stories were from more than two years ago. You didn’t mention that he had been much better in recent months. 

“Maybe….” Zach replied, scratching the back of his head. 

You clearly didn’t have the answer he wanted, and the room fell into silence. You looked back at the work you had open on your computer screen, before taking a deep breath and being brave.

“Hey, so I had a fun time last week,” you started with a smile. “Would you, maybe, want to go out again?”

Zach suddenly looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in the treatment room with you. You tried not to let the feeling in your gut sink even further, but you could feel the smile falling off your face.

“Oh, um, I’m gonna be busy for the next few weeks, so….” he trailed off.

You pressed your lips into a firm line, nodding once. You didn’t need to hear anything else; he was clearly not interested in pursuing you further. 

The insecurities that had lingered for a week resurfaced from the corners of your mind. You’d gotten your hopes up again, and he clearly wasn’t on the same page. It was fine. You were getting the brush off. Nothing you hadn’t experienced before.

You just wished you’d known this wasn’t going to be anything when you went into it. It had taken time, with each heartbreak, but you thought you had built up walls to prevent yourself from getting hurt again. 

“Okay, yeah,” you said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Zach gave you a smile that looked more like a grimace before leaving you alone.

How had everything gone to such shit?

There’s a reason you’d made it clear with Jamie that your relationship was just sex. If it was explicitly just sex, then you wouldn’t let yourself form an emotional attachment. No point in letting your brain drift into romantic feelings. It never worked out anyways.

Thinking of Jamie brought you back to the first thing Zach said. Was there a reason Jamie was being a dick to him? You hadn’t seen them interact much other than at the bar last week. While you had wanted to bite Jamie’s head off at first, by the time you had a chance to say something, he had left. There was a lot left unsaid.

And if here was anything that would get your mind off things, it would be bickering with Jamie. 

You checked your watch, realizing most of the players were gone by this time of evening. You finished up the report you were working on. It was probably time for you to head home too. 

And maybe you’d pay Jamie a visit on the way home, too.

༻✧✧✧༺

Not even twenty minutes later, you were knocking on Jamie’s door unannounced. You hadn’t been there since last week, but there were no cars except his parked outside, so you assumed he was the only one home. 

When he opened the door, he seemed surprised to see you, his face going through about half a dozen different expressions before settling on raising his eyebrow in question.

“Stop being a dick to Zach,” you said in lieu of greeting, walking into his home. 

Jamie shut the door and pursed his lips. He clearly hadn’t expected to be instantly berated, but it was easier to act mad at Jamie than deal with being upset with yourself.

“Aren’t I a dick to everyone?” he asked.

“No, you aren’t,” you rolled your eyes, and said in a smaller voice, “Not anymore.”

You crossed your arms. “But you are acting like an asshole to Zach. Everyone sees it.”

Jamie scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Sorry,” he said, with a defeated tone, “You can tell your boyfriend I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Now it was your turn to sound defeated, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Jamie’s face perked up at that.

“Oh yeah? Thought you two were gettin’ cozy. Gettin’ drinks at Bones and Honey.” 

If it was anyone else, you’d think he sounded jealous, but there was no reason for Jamie to be jealous over you. He was just poking your open wound at this point.

You huffed out a breath of air, letting your arms fall to their sides. 

“He brushed me off,” you said, “If we didn’t work together, he probably would’ve ghosted me by now.”

All the frustration from the past few hours, the past few days, the past week, felt like it was bubbling to the surface. It wasn’t even like this was a new thing. You were just tired of the same thing always happening. Even when you tried to protect yourself, you still ended up getting hurt.

You were so focused on blinking rapidly to dispel the tears in your eyes that you didn’t notice Jamie wrapping you in a tight hug. You stood frozen for a moment, before wrapping your arms around his torso and nuzzling your face into his shoulder. 

The hug was so tight and warm and surprising, but it made you feel the best you’d felt in weeks, months. You didn’t even realize you were fully crying until you moved slightly and felt the wet patch of fabric on his shoulder. 

You pulled away a bit and tried taking some deep breaths, while Jamie brushed his fingers through your hair. As soon as he whispered your name, you pulled back further, still enveloped in his arms. 

“Sorry, sorry, I know this isn’t what we normally do,” you said. Your relationship consisted of arguments and sex, not tears and warm hugs. 

He shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “What’s wrong?” 

The tender tone, the soft look in his eyes, the delicate physical contact, made you start crying all over again. He gently led the two of you over to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap. 

“I just–” you sniffled, and it all came spilling out. “I just don't know what I'm doing ever. Everything I do seems wrong. I try to go after the things I want and it's never enough. I give too much, and yet not enough, and- and it's all shit.” 

Jamie’s brows furrowed together as you stared at his face. You focused on the line of his jaw and the grooves of his nose instead of his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes. His hand gently grasped your chin to direct your gaze.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, as you held eye contact. “Things are hard, but they’ve always been hard, and you’ve made it through. You deserve good things. You’ll get them. You have them.” 

Those words were tender and sweet and all you wanted to hear, but a part of you refused to let yourself believe them.

“Yeah, okay,” you rolled your eyes lightly. “I guess.”

He let out a huff of frustration, before rearranging you to straddle his thighs. His arms squeezed your shoulders, but not in a domineering way; it felt soft, comforting. 

His hands were warm as they ran across your skin to your cheeks, holding your face to keep your eyes connected. He wiped the tears from your cheeks. His face held a hundred emotions and you weren’t sure what to make of any of it. 

“You have me,” he said.

You took a sharp intake of breath at his words. The words burned into your mind.

It was true. You did have Jamie. And he had you. In some sort of way. And for now, it would be enough.

He placed a soft kiss to your forehead, and then to both of your cheeks, lingering so close you could feel his exhales and swore you could hear your heartbeats in the space between. 

Then, he seized your mouth in a kiss, and it was like no other kiss you’d shared with him. While others were passionate and full of angry emotions, this was full of something raw, something untethered to your pre-existing idea of Jamie.

As you explored each other's mouths, you found yourself grinding against his lap, letting a moan out as you felt overcome with emotion. His hands ran through your hair, and you flexed your fingers under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the expanse of warm skin on his stomach. 

You tugged his shirt over his head, which broke the kiss, but you took the moment to take a breath. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck, as he moved to remove your shirt as well. 

“Fuck, angel,” he said, and it felt like you were seeing each other for the first time.

It didn’t take long to remove more clothes, explore more of each other, before you finally sat down, feeling his dick slide into you. 

For a brief minute, you were frozen, breathing in each other’s air, staring at each other, taking in the moment. Then, he’s rocking into you and you’re meeting his thrusts, but it's slow, it's choppy in a heavenly way that you didn’t realize could exist between the two of you. 

“This feel good, yeah?” he asked, and you replied with a whimper of an affirmation. “Tell me this dick makes you feel good.”

“It does,” you managed to say, “You make me feel…”

He moved his hips in a way that made you see stars, leaving the last of your sentence unfinished. You scraped your nails through his hair, hearing something like a growl at the back of his throat. The sound spurred you on, rocking your hips with more determination.

“That’s it, baby, that’s a good girl,” he panted, reaching to connect your lips once more. 

You wanted to swallow him whole, wanted this moment to never end. His words were hot, but also flooded you with a different kind of warmth. You wondered if he even knew what he was saying. 

He tore his lips away after a moment and while you tried to gasp for breath, his next words made you nearly come on the spot.

“My good girl,” he whispered across your ear, before gripping your hips and focusing on where the two of you were connected.

The possessiveness in his voice tracked fire through your veins. 

You were close. You had to be. Despite how much you wanted to make this last forever, the heightened emotions were making things too much. You were feeling everything so intensely. 

He knew you were close, as he said, “Hey, look at me.”

You caught his eyes, watching each other’s faces as you finally came. Your jaw hung open, gripping his shoulders. You clenched around him as you rode out your high, and he came soon after. 

You sat there for a few moments, listening to your breathing and heartbeats mixing together. 

His hands drifted across your back in lazy motions as you nuzzled your cheek into the crook between his shoulder and neck. Jamie’s heartbeat was in his throat, his pulse racing. You could barely process everything you were feeling. What must he be feeling?

You had definitely calmed down after your spiral earlier this evening. Being with Jamie seemed to make everything else melt away. 

He readjusted you on his lap and pulled up his underwear. He grabbed his shirt from earlier and slipped it over your head. He cleared his throat, but didn’t fully pull away from you.

“I know you usually leave but,” he picked you up as he stood from the couch, “Not lettin’ you go home and spiral more. You’re staying tonight. Come on.”

He led you upstairs to his room, grabbing some new clothes from the dresser before guiding you into the bathroom. 

You didn’t do anything as you watched him turn on the shower and wait until the temperature was hot. It had been a while since you’d been in a shower with someone else, but you had a feeling this wasn’t going to be like those times. 

As soon as the shower was a good temperature, he stepped in, beckoning you to join him. He was offering without forcing you. You fought the smile creeping onto your face at his gentle expression. 

He guided you under the stream of water, combing his hands through your hair and lathering it with shampoo. The entire bathroom filled with the familiar smell of his hair products, and you felt a sense of satisfaction at knowing your own hair would smell like his soon. 

You took turns washing each other, nearly silent the entire time. It was an intimate act, and you found yourself clinging to Jamie maybe even more than earlier. 

You could feel the trails of tears across your cheeks from earlier wash away, but you could now barely remember why you’d been crying. Over some boy at work? You were all wrapped up in Jamie in the present moment. 

But this is what you’d been afraid of all along. This thing with Jamie was no longer just sex to you. And you’d known from the beginning, that if you let yourself fall for Jamie, it was over. He would ruin everyone else for you. 

What, with his silly outfits, and funny yet frustrating conversations, and the way he seemed to know your body even better than you did. 

You doubted this was anything else for him, you didn’t fit the profile of people he dated, you told yourself not to get your hopes up. You had shoved those feelings in a drawer at the back of your mind and hoped if you told yourself it was just sex, you wouldn’t fall for him.

But somewhere between the arguments and the sex, you held real conversations with him, confided in him, looked forward to seeing him each day.

Maybe it was already too late. The thought had your eyes welling up with more tears, but luckily you were facing the shower wall, as he rinsed the conditioner out of your hair. 

By the time the both of you were done, the tears had subsided, and you turned around to give him a watery smile. 

When you stepped out of the shower, Jamie wrapped you in a fluffy towel and your heart squeezed at the domesticity of it all. 

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded. You were feeling a lot better. Even if you were finally acknowledging the romantic feelings wedged deep inside of you. Even if those romantic feelings ended up being your downfall.

He grabbed the clothes he’d brought into the bathroom and divided them between you both. Two pairs of sweat shorts and two t-shirts. You knew you were going to drown in the fabric before you even put them on. You were proven right as he slid the shorts up your legs and tied off the drawstring to keep them up. You both chuckled at the sight.

After brushing your teeth, stealing some of Jamie’s skincare, and drying your hair, you didn’t have any objections as you both got into bed. He pulled you halfway across the mattress, to wrap his arms around you in the middle of the bed. 

“I’ve got training with Roy at four a.m., but I’ll be back before you wake up. Usually get back for breakfast around seven.” Jamie mumbled as he turned off the bedside lamp and wrapped his arms around you.

“Four in the morning?” you asked, “What are you going to do, bury a body?”

He chuckled, “Wouldn’t put it past Grandad, but no, we usually just go for a run.”

You shook your head at the absurdity. Even though you worked at the football facility, it was easy to forget that Jamie was a professional athlete when it was just the two of you, tucked away beneath his sheets.

As you felt yourself getting sleepy, you traced the tattoos across Jamie’s forearm in the faint light, feeling his breathing deepen as he drifted off to sleep. The lull of his exhales across your earlobe soon brought sleep to you as well.

[foolishlovers]

hiii!!! do u have any recs for long AUs??? thank you! :]

of course, i love long good omens AUs, here are some of my favourites:

[you can request more fic recs here.]

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (E, 70k) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

Fifty-Two Blue by bendycello (M, 84k) It would be a gross understatement to say that Crowley simply didn't like Aziraphale. He was posh and stuffy and arrogant, and Crowley couldn't figure out why everyone else in the program liked him so much. It hardly mattered; they were competitors, and Crowley didn't need to make friends to become a surgeon. It takes several unleasant encounters, the excessive use of house plants as a coping mechanism, and getting stuck in an elevator for Crowley to start reconsidering his priorities. Or… Crowley and Aziraphale are surgical interns with competitive streaks a mile wide each, and they really do not like each other at all. Until they do.

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth (E, 87k) “Then you’ll just have to come back with me," Aziraphale said. “You what?” “You’ll have to come and isolate with me, at my cottage.” The thing about messing with people, Crowley thought, was that sometimes, they genuinely surprised you. After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

Slow Show by mia_ugly (E, 95k) In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Car Trouble by summerofspock (E, 102k) Aziraphale's car breaks down so he takes it to the first mechanic he can find. From there, his mundane life changes drastically as he finds himself befriending the man fixing his car.

on the same page by Chekhov (E, 117k) Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less… appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is… until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T, 146k) “Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

Old Vines by sevdrag (E, 189k) A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds.

What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) by charlottemadison (E, 213k) The important thing, Crowley tells himself -- the most important thing -- is Adam, his brilliant, creative, empathetic nephew. Being fourteen's hard enough; the kid didn't ask to deal with the weight of the world on top of it. And if taking care of Adam means Crowley has to tough it out at a job he can’t stand, so be it. And if Crowley's job means that Adam’s charming English teacher is NOT a romantic possibility, well, that's just how things go. But the occasional drink with Aziraphale proves hard to resist. They frequent the same pub, so who can object to them saying hello? Briefly sharing a table? Perhaps a little conversation? The painful knowledge that it can’t be anything more -- not without somebody getting fired or sued or both -- well, that can't be helped. Until Crowley stumbles onto a terribly reckless idea…

[girls--complex]

I just came upon your blog and it's given me Lots of Thoughts, even though I don't particularly believe in any God (that is to say, I think there might be something more out there, though I don't think it's God as it's portrayed by any religion and I need some sort of tangible evidence before I can confirm or deny that something like that exists. All that to say I'm agnostic lol), but I do think you have some very good points about a lot of things.

I find it kinda hard to understand some of the things you write since you use a lot of long and complicated words that aren't in my vocabulary since English isn't my first language and I've never left my home country, but I'm doing my best! (With the help of an online dictionary)

Either way, I really love your art and I'm taking some inspiration from your style to practice, if that's okay with you! I just really like how flowy, creative and loose it is and I really need to loosen up a bit about making things instead of constantly adding more detail and perfecting it until I lose interest because it becomes stressful instead of enjoyable to create something.

I also wanted to ask, since according to your comics you've done shrooms before, how would you recommend going about shrooms to someone who's not used to doing much of any substance? (I barely drink alcohol and I smoke weed so rarely every time I do it I end up extremely disoriented until I manage to calm down no matter how little I smoke).

I'm asking cause a friend of mine whom I've known for years recently told me they have some, and that he'd be willing to share them with me, and I'm curious about trying them out and seeing if I can learn something from that experience, but I wanna stay safe while making the most of it :3

Hi thank you for a long & thoughtful message

YOU ARE ALWAYS ALLOWED TO COPY OR "STEAL" OR WHAT EVER FROM MY DRAWINGS seriously this is so normal and allowed. I do this with other cartoonists and all the cartoonists I know also do this. We do it to each other. "I like how she draws eyes" or whatever and we absorb it into our own style. Or just copying drawings/ paintings/pages. This is good. Do it.

Thank you for taking the time to decipher my words. I know I use lots of large/obscure words N trying to get better at making me language accessible (& maybe use my beloved obscure words in enough context that a reader can figure out the meaning).

I think using psychedelics is something better to talk about with people who know U in person and can respond to your needs and goals. Maybe your friend can give some guidance or knows someone who has a shamanic streak that can. Or you can always go on erowid or reddit whatever kids are using now to do a lil research.

I don't really feel comfortable giving specific advice or even general advice that might color the experience in a certain way, hope u understand...

Thank u for saying Hi

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-08-04

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Breaktime's over, it's about time to continue! Expect me to take a handful of days between each posting-day like this just to pace myself, and have time for fun video games and other such. But I've been really enjoying finally reading more HS2 too, especially seeing such hopeful stuff like this last pair of pages really hitting home on the optimism! Let's get back to it.

Meanwhile...

Wait did we SEE her keel back over like this? Alt!Callie in this younger/teenage corpse of Jade Harley's body I mean? When did that happen? *thumbs back through old pages...* Let's see here... my browser still glitches the fuck out seizureways at the few pages that were Blacked Out, so i'll use a backup browser for those... no, further back... oh wow I forgot Aradia got such a cool Calliope-supporting outfit to show off she's on their side, literally zero memory of that and that's some FINE drip...

Oh shit wait, so it happened back over here??? (289/290)

--I figured back then she'd gotten a snap headache because of having to abandon possessing Jade's MAIN body in the struggle Alt!Calliope had with Jade's consciousness culminating around page 168, but these cuts are all so far apart-- and being knocked out of the other Jade's body shouldn't have knocked her out of this CORPSE. So is somethign entirely NEW going on that has to do perhaps with Dirk Strider's plans to maintain control of the narrative when the other kids arrive there?? Hmmm.

Anyway now I know where that bonus panel I'd accidentally glimpsed with "god-tier bodies don't decompose right" that I mentioned last blogging session came from. But why the fuck?

==>

Gosh I've missed seeing panels like this.

Wait, why are we cutting to CANDY JOHN like that's relevant here? Wasn't he in Roxy's secret lab last we saw him? Does THAT have something to do with this?! Oh shit.

(John: Investigate noise.)

Following Roxy's instructions, you proceed in the direction of the noise to go and meet up with your old friends. You approach where you thought you heard them, but to your surprise you hear an unfamiliar voice grumbling something incoherent.

JOHN: uhhh, rose? jade? JOHN: ... kanaya?

Hm? What was going on upstairs again, Karkat met up with the other liberators right? Okay let me not be so lazy and go back and check again...

Excuse me for a second, I'm going backwards to review and post some older HS2 stuff for a bit:

No they left, then John came from his destroyed old house to his and Roxy's NOT-old house, then they transportalized downstairs to the secret lab buried "hella underground" not directly under the house, where Calliope is wearing... suspiciously the EXACT new outfit that Aradia is wearing, and gives her hints that she enjoys all sorts of alternate stories like watching Roxy be in a relationship with John here in Candy instead of with herself in Meat, and added fuel to our obvious theory suspicions that Meat Alive Calliope is the author-narrator shaping the (Candy) timeline with her wall drawings and Muse of Space powers, and that they are... standing in the location in their reality that corresponds to the exact center of the singularity / black hole they're trying to stabilize? I'd forgotten about that... and then Calliope told John that alt!Calliope and Aradia and such had broken out of the black hole's event horizon for their mission, while Calliope explained that (Candy)'s timeline is so WEIRD because they've been disconnected a little TOO much from the canon of reality, like a fanwork that strays a little too far from the source material, so they need to stabilize it somehow AND NEED VRISKA (to either steal some relevance back from Canon or to get swapped there with something else or, something else we might have theorized?) but I had plumb forgotten that they SPECIFICALLY say that for their plans to work they needed John to leave and do something:

ROXY: this is finally where u come in jegbert ROXY: we gots quests for yous CALLIOPE: hee hee, yes. CALLIOPE: or *a* quest, to be specific. JOHN: oh boy!

ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity. ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan. CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more. CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it. CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

Right, Vriska's constant focus on making herself one of the most relevant characters to Canon and her powerset actually making her perfect TO do that as a Thief of Light (relevance/importance) makes that a good plan. And I fully expected one possibility was that they somehow allow her to break through to the Canon Meat timeline and both (1) influence it some way, and (2) get to a place where she could eventually reunite with Terezi Pyrope finally instead of just having left her a parting message, which may or may not happen if Meat Terezi is going to focus possibly a bit more on her relationship with John(June) once somehow resurrected or such but would definitely be amazing to have them reunited when Terezi spent SO MUCH TIME looking for her that she wasn't even part of the (Candy) timeline of events? Enough re-theorizing let me keep re-reading-- And... oh right,

CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself?

I'm sure I was happy as hell to see that explicitly spelled out in canon for once instead of implied, because it may have been obvious to those of you who follow theoryblogs but one of the big reasons I'm glad to see these things made more explicit out in HS^2 is so even casual readers can pick up that these aspects always had these additional more important purposes that line up with all the events that happened in the past of the original comic.

But anyway. John's about to go on his bust-Vriska-out-of-prison quest:

And it's not like he has other plans. He may as well do this! It's at least going to get him involved in things again, if nothing else. He turns to go, and then hears a sound. It's the sound of feet and knocking on doors, echoed through stone and digital static.

And then,

JOHN: did you hear that? ROXY: wha ROXY: oh yeah uh ROXY: i may have messaged rose and kan and jade to check on them too ROXY: so its prob onea them showin up ROXY: they don't need to know bout all this tho ROXY: we got time to chat with them b4 u go get vriska JOHN: i'll go stall em. ROXY: thx babe ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one's fine. ROXY: oh good ok see u up there soon!

And that's where we left off-- wasn't it their kids' team who got back into their house or something? Eh I'm done looking, now I at least know there was A NOISE that was playing through the monitors from the topside of their house above the teleporter that he's running to intercept.

Okay, past catch-up over. Back to present liveblogging. Looks like this isn't Rose and Kanaya like John expects, from the sound of it-- but the way John's running down a hallway makes it look like this is INSIDE OF THE LAB STILL, so the question is who is down here or CAME down here or...

(==>)

Oh, Sollux is helping Roxy and Calliope out with their project, playing on Roxy's pink retro consoles. That shouldn't actually be too shocking should it.

Wait, how is he playing video games if he's BLIND? Robo-eyes? It's gotta be robo-eyes.

(==>)

Stare

(==>)

Sandwich stare

(==>)

SOLLUX: eating a sandwich.

Brilliant. And yeah he lives here-- but he's actually LOOKING at stuff isn't he, with eyes of some sort? Even though he's still using the 0 quirk? Tell us what's up with that!

(==>)

John stop thinking this is a relationship between Sollux and Roxy, your divorcee/ex. Unless it is, which would be pretty cool honestly.

(==>)

SOLLUX: y0u w0rried im m0ving in 0n y0ur ex? JOHN: ...hmm. SOLLUX: ... JOHN: hm. hmm. hm. JOHN: hm? HMMMM. SOLLUX: what is g0ing 0n here. JOHN: sorry, i had an answer but then i started actually considering it. JOHN: am i jealous? JOHN: hmmm... SOLLUX: if i tell y0u straight up n0 we arent h00king up will y0u st0p? JOHN: ...maybe? SOLLUX: g0ddammit.

I'm really enjoying all this for some reason.

JOHN: are you still hanging out with that creepy alive girl? SOLLUX: SOLLUX: 0n a spiritual level. JOHN: cool! JOHN: is ... she also dating roxy? SOLLUX: what? SOLLUX: idk.

I'm pretty sure I get excited at the idea of literally ANY relationship potentially happening between all these characters I love.

(==>)

Oh no John is offloading his personal problems on him in longform conversation. He doesn't want that! XD

JOHN: and it only changed because i started talking to people again. SOLLUX: (i did this t0 myself why did i ask) JOHN: i guess in gamer terms it's the same as screwing yourself over by not checking every non playable character dialogue box. JOHN: any one of them could have the clues you need.

Feels kind of like we're doing the thing from that Steven Universe: Future episode where Steven is critically upset that important things happened in the lives of his friends offscreen somewhere he wasn't around to be aware of it, when realistically as a person you can't keep up with everything, especially not John who kept to himself in a slump for a decade as he puts it in some of the conversation I'm not fully requoting.

Okay Sollux dunks on John a bit, possibly deservedly... and to some extent, in a misogynist gamer phrasing typical to Sollux, John's lack of agency? Which I think would improve somewhat once the gender issues Roxy alluded to both upstairs and in the lab with him are resolved in part, because he can't be FULLY comfortable swept up in a relationship while he's still considering herself "he"...

SOLLUX: i have n0t been able t0 play this game the wh0le time because s0me0ne was talking 0ver the s0und. JOHN: oh! JOHN: sorry : (

Oh he's been using sound-only and audio assistance to play the game like a speedrunner almost instead of seeing it. That explains that.

(==>)

I don't quite understand the shape of that thing to the right of Sollux's head, like there's some sort of watermark over it WAIT THAT'S A DOOM SYMBOL WATERMARK TAKING UP MOST OF THE FRAME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE

SOLLUX: w0rds d0nt mean much. SOLLUX: 0nly acti0ns.

(This is a perfect sort of thing someone for someone on the Life/Doom spectrum to say, which would be MUCH MUCH HARDER for someone on the Light/Void spectrum to say or especially a Light player. Doom being about the consequences of one's actions in part and all.) Is he about to use some Mage of Doom powers visibly onscreen?

(==>)

Ohhh. So he was making a dramatic Doom Prophecy that will matter to John's choices in the future if he heeds the right lessons, while also hinting toward the nature of Doom itself as I covered. Got it. That's fun! Also it was a pink cat pillow behind his head, that's the thing I was having so much trouble seeing.

(==>)

SOLLUX: WAIT. JOHN: !

He's gonna ask him to pass him a soda from across the room or something.

(==>)

SOLLUX: change my game f0r me.

This is so cute.

(Be Vrissy.)

GODDAMNIT JAILBREAK AGAIN LOL

Vriska the elder has decided to take it upon herself to test if you measure up to the arduous task of being a Vriska. For your first test: find a way to bust out of this dump. What will you do?

Stop judging her on your stupid Vriska standards, Vriska! I hope the way this plays out eventually plays straight into the idea that this very-Vriska-like-but-not-quite-Vriska individual has her own unique strengths. I'm not sure I mentioned it earlier, but when I said that it's possible that Vrissy is a Mind player, I'm actually really excited to see the comic demonstrate that (regardless of whether or not Vrissy is or isn't completely genetically identical to Vriska) because not only would it be a good lesson for the original Vriska that Vrissy has her own value, it's also a great Classpect demonstration of how the difference in their characters and action styles amounts to a different effect on reality in the form of a Hero Title that is different...

...and in fact now that I think about it, even though it may have rubbed me just slightly wrong somewhere inside that Vrissy and Vriska could have different Hero Titles even if they WERE genetically identical, I'm actually gonna turn around and say I've decided I love that, because if Sburb gives the genetically identical Vrissy a different title and she unlocks a different powerset purely because of the unique combination of nature *AND* nurture that resulted in her, that would emphasize much more properly that Sburb isn't FORCING or pigeonholing you into a Hero Title that doesn't suit you, it really is reading into your future and soul to tell you THE MOST EFFECTIVE WAY you PERSONALLY would find right to influence reality around you. That makes the lesson of its title assignment and the answer to the Ultimate Riddle that I've long discussed a STRONGER answer, not a weaker one.

And I'm encouraged by the very first thing Vrissy tries being something the original Vriska would NEVER have tried first, which Vriska over here probably is gonna be snide/discouraging about:

(Vrissy: Call for help.)

Have we SEEN their chumhandles before? I feel like we've seen Vrissy's before at least-- "adamantGriftress" is an awesome chumhandle for her, and I know for SURE I've already seen thespiansGlamor as Harry Anderson's. Who the fuck is glutinousGymnast, is that Yiffy's handle, and what does glutinous mean again?!?? (I had to google it just in case, it's New Tavros's handle. Glutinous is "like glue in texture; sticky.", often referring to sticky rice or baking dough. Ew. Stickiness sort of implies the opposite of Breath doesn't it...? And he's a gymnast?)

Now. Who the fuck is "recidivousGainsayer"? Vrissy didn't know Yiffy existed, so she wouldn't have her in her phone already unless they'd been internet friends without knowing each other personally, which would be... kinda sweet really. And Yiffy is certainly rebellious, but she seems more recalcitrant than recidivous, though I can't rule it out, especially since she's basically grown up at a boarding school; a quick google to see if we'd seen the chumhandle before also highlighted someone commenting that "RG" doesn't follow the ACGT DNA pattern, and even if you switch to RNA it just swaps the T with a U. Could be that this is a chumhandle of one of the characters we had been following over in the Bonus Comics or something.

You're pretty sure that would be an automatic fail on Vriska's test. But even if it wasn't, it isn't like you could message anyone; not anyone worth talking to anyway. There's no service in here, the only bars you've got are the ones on the windows.

Yeah, Vrissy at least knows Vriska well enough to know what she'd approve and disapprove of most broadly, unfortunately. I hope she comes to understand how Vriska should really not be her role model.

Oh not this again--

(Vrissy: Get key.)

Vriska drew this shitty key on the floor "juuuuuuuust in case you need a reminder of what you should be working towards ::::)."

Vriska, you asshole!

(Vrissy: Try the door.)

You fruitlessly pull on the bars. Vriska says it looks like it's still locked. Yeah???????? No shit, you tell her. You're just trying to see if you can get a guard's attention. She says ooooooooh that's a good idea.

If you don't keep complimenting her I'm going to be very cross with you, Vriska.

Hm, it'd be really fitting and interesting if Vrissy Mindgames her way out of this one by putting on a façade of distress and convincing the guard to barge in, maybe saying Vriska's escaped or such.

(Vrissy: Get a guard's attention.)

One of those guards Jane intentionally had all dress like Dave to taunt Jane about Dave's death or just make them harder for her and Rose to stomach fighting, right.

Maybe you should use some of your SICKNASTY BRAIN EXPLOITABLES on this jabroni.

How much practice does she have with her psychic powers? All Aranea was able to do with Cerulean psychics on humans was get a vague sense of the emotions of people around her toward her like she always does, and Vriska WAS able to put a human to sleep or wake them in another universe but only when trying so hard that her Light symbol flashed in her eye, emphasizing that a Cerulean troll who WASN'T using the powers of a God-Tier Thief of Light wouldn't necessarily be able to do the same to a human. Stealing wakefulness or stealing through wakefulness, wakefulness being a part of Agency and thus Light, where Void is associated with sleep and dreams, et cetera. (Vriska put people (like Jade D:) to sleep FAR FAR MORE OFTEN than she woke them up, and when she woke John that one time it could have been considered "stealing THROUGH Light" because it deprived him of an opportunity in his dreams to meet his Dad as his dreamself just to give Vriska the selfish opportunity to speak with him at the exact time she'd wanted to speak with him.)

Also, if Vrissy DOES refer to her Cerulean mind powers as "sicknasty BRAIN exploitables" that does put Mind more in mind than usual... and exploitables could just be flavor or it COULD be a reference to EXPLOIT, the theoretical Knight/Page action verb?! --Nah that's probably a stretch.

(Vrissy: Use your Sicknasty Brain Exploitables.)

You apply the focused totality of your psychic power into this douchebag's cranium. Frustratingly, it looks like this guy is resisting your psychic enthrallment so he can get at that donut. Other than occasionally making Tavros dance when he's being boring, you honestly don't do this much.

Holy shit, if she could make New Tavros DANCE, this actually means that Vrissy has more control over human minds than Vriska ever had?!? That or New Tavros is uniquely impressionable, which is ALSO a possibility; the original comic itself emphasized that the "impressiona8le" were more vulnerable to her abilities... those who had less control or agency over themselves.

Also, Vriska had only just met her first humans when her psychic talents were limited to making them sleep-- Vrissy grew up alongside other humans, and that might just be enough for her to understand their minds enough to do some occasional manipulation.

Your mom is always like, "You Need To Listen To Me Vriska Its Important To Keep These Skills Honed In Case Shit Gets Real", but shit so rarely if ever gets real so mom should get OFF your CASE!!!!!!!! Until now, you guess. Wow do you hate realizing your mom was right about shit. ANYWAYS, LAY OFF THE FUCKING DONUTS AND GET OVER HERE ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!

On the one hand, it's unsurprising that Vrissy didn't keep her talents honed for battle or anything, and wouldn't have invested nearly as much energy into exploiting people with psychic powers as Vriska's twisted childhood forced her to; but on the other hand, like I said, this is STILL a bit more direct influence over humans than Vriska ever had, even if it's not working right now!

(==>)

Hell yeah!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT SHE ACTUALLY OUTCLASSED ORIGINAL VRISKA IN CONTROLLING A HUMAN MIND.

Is Vriska going to feel jealous?! Holy shit?!?? Or is this old hat for her now and she's gonna say she could do it all along, or a retcon along those lines or-- gosh just PLEASE I WANNA SEE VRISKA JEALOUS AS FUCK OF VRISSY'S PSYCHIC TALENTS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HAVE ORIGINAL VRISKA GO "WHOA HOW DID YOU DO THAT"

(Vriskas: Exit the cell.)

Damn that felt good. After locking up the guard you turn to Vriska and ask her what next. Vriska says that now it's time to fuck some shit up. You like the sound of that. You ask her if there's any specific shit or place she wants to go fuck up. She says you'll just walk around until you land somewhere cool. You both laugh. You ask her what her real plan is. She keeps laughing as she walks away.

That's definitely her real plan. But anyway-- UGH, missed opportunity here. I guess we're just supposed to take it as a given that if original Vriska had had enough time, or grown up more, she could do the same thing to impressionable-enough humans as she did to trolls too, or the like.

(==>)

ALARMS BLARING, GUARDS RUNNING-- yeah they didn't cause this, this is some other assault on the Jail, right?

Okay, that's a lot of goons. You suggest to Vriska that you should go the other direction. Vriska says nah this is definitely where we wanna be. She says between the two of you, you've probably got enough luck to take this whole place off the map if you really wanted. You ask her what the fuck she means by that. She says you know like with your Thief of Light powers. You tell her you don't have anything like that. She says huh, weird!

VRISKA WHY THE FUCK WOULD IT BE WEIRD, VRISSY DIDN'T PLAY THE GAME OR GO GOD-TIER, YOU DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD LUCK-STEALING POWERS UNTIL YOU PLAYED THE GAME!!!

Wait, let's back up a sec.

Vriska is smart enough to know that you CAN tap into your Hero Title powers even if you're not someone who's hit God-Tier. As a gleaner of deep lore about the game, Vriska ALSO would put together that the powers you get in the game are inherent to you even before you PLAY the game if you're skilled enough or high up on your echeladder enough to access them, so even if she never Stole Light directly before she played Sgrub, she technically COULD have. Maybe she figures Vrissy, as a coincidental genetically identical alt-version of her, should have access to the same powers just by virtue of having the same genes and training from her Seer of Light Mom knowing she'd have that potential in her genetically, OR, hear me out--

Vriska has already let us know that she's PLANNING ON STARTING A NEW GAME SESSION which we all figure will include Vrissy and the other kids as the players, and Vriska probably figures those kids will be the players too!

So, and I know this is some 3D-chess assumption-maneuvering here and I might be way off base, just taking so much from this single exchange...

...My guess is that Vriska thinks Vrissy ought to ALREADY HAVE inherent Thief of Light powers deep inside her and untapped, because she thinks Vrissy is going to be a PLAYER and thus ALWAYS WOULD gain her powers! Powers which she, of course, would ASSUME would match hers given their genetic similarity-- she would ASSUME Vrissy would also be a Thief of Light.

Except that none of the way Vrissy has actually behaved has resembled a Thief of Light much at all, and Hero Titles are inherent to your PERSONALITY and its method of action of influencing reality around you... and we already have background hinting that matches MUCH closer to her character and her behavior/actions in dialogue with others that she may be a Mind player.

Vriska didn't scold Vrissy for not having tried hard enough to develop the Thief of Light abilities she ASSUMED were inherent to Vrissy. She instead seems confused that she's never manifested any, and said "huh, weird!". Despite the knots in her psychology, both Vriska's smarts and her hero title are likely hinting to her that there might be some flaw in her assumptions here-- something that's keeping this from being a sarcastic scolding and instead telling her something isn't right about the knowledge she thought she had at hand.

(==>)

Vriska says that's perfectly fine as she always prefers a challenge. Vriska Serket, the daring Thief of Light and her imitation kid Vriska sidekick against countless foes. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang leading her Neophyte Bluehair, it's a tale for th- w8 w8 hold the fuck up. You ask her what the fuck does she mean "imitation.

Of course, just because Vriska isn't going to be an asshole in that PARTICULAR direction was never any assurance that Vriska wasn't going to be an asshole. She still views (Vrissy) as the less important version of the original her, and she's still going to frame everything in that light because of course she would, it's still in her nature and she still hasn't fully learned her lesson yet.

(==>)

I'm at the image limit so I'm gonna hold off on posting Vriska's hilariously condescending greasy expression and Vrissy squinting hilariously absolutely having fucking none of it:

Vriska says to not let it get to you, but she's pretty much figured out that this whoooooooole timeline is phony. You know, inauthentic. Fake. Bogus even. She says it's somehow the off brand equivalent of a universe and she really hopes you kept the receipt. You assure her that both you and this timeline are in fact, real as shit. She doesn't seem convinced. She says it's mostly from the little things she's noticed. You ask like what, she's only been on this planet for like a day and a half. She gestures vaguely and tells you to give her a boost so she can reach that ventilation shaft.

Yeah, the way this version of reality isn't as tethered to Canon means Vriska isn't going to take it seriously-- she shares Dirk's view of the (Candy) timeline in that regard, really. And they BOTH are going to receive their comeuppance and learn their lesson.

Phew-- that image limit was a good sign, I was already hitting the limits of my energy for the day, that was hours of liveblogging and typing. I guess we'll leave off here until another day! As I said at the outset, I'm still going to be pacing myself and only doing liveblogging every few days like I mentioned, but that doesn't mean I'm not VERY MUCH enjoying this and very looking forward to where it's going. If I weren't liveblogging, I'd get there a lot faster, I assure you, but then you wouldn't get to see me go off on random Classpect tangents about stuff you already guessed! :D

See you in a few days!

[yandere-sins]

Before reading: R18+, Mature Content Warning, Violence/Gore Warning, Yandere Warning

Oh, my, look what the wave swept in!

Yet another misplaced human in these wondrous waters, a… poor unfortunate soul, as my sister would say. It hasn’t been that long since another tribe—who was it? The sharks?—had been… blessed with an unusual mate. And now there’s you! How exciting! The orcas are a little temperamental, but I’m sure they’ll treat you lovingly– 

Oh… so you want to leave? Already?

Ambitious, are we? Escape the creatures and get back to land. Well, don’t you look determined? Think you can handle these three strong orcas all by yourself? I’d love to see it. I delight in everything happening around these depths of the ocean, as they are so dark and deep, with barely anything transpiring all day. But as of late, love, freedom, and misery swim hand in hand down here. Intelligence and instincts fight battles that are beyond your little human comprehension. I could not be more pleased with the beautiful bonds that are being woven under the sea.

But I will cheer you on, I promise! I might even have some tips for you, seeing how I’ve been around these sandy lands and great reefs longer than you have!

I don’t think you can trust anyone besides me, really, but you’ll need an ally if you want to get back home. But be careful choosing who you trust. Sometimes you have to take drastic actions to get out of a situation, but there are also times when you need to sit back, stay calm, and let someone else handle it for you. And as badly as I know you want to get out… don’t do anything rash.

These orcas have a fickle disposition, and you wouldn’t want them to decide you’re no fun or tastier than they initially thought. In fact, you don’t want them to think about you at all! Otherwise —ey w—t l— —u ——!

You wake up before the voice can finish. Open your eyes?

Welcome, welcome to Mermay ( & Merjune) 2023!

I think most of you have already understood what will happen, but I thought I'd give a small heads-up about the how, so we're all on the same page:

This will be an interactive story, which means you guys will have to work together to figure out how to continue onwards by choosing the right poll option. Every chapter comes with a decision at the end, and three possible choices. But only one will continue the story while the other two lead to 'Bad Ends' aka not continue the story. Your goal is to escape the three orcas because they won't always like your decision, unfortunately.

I can already tell you that if the majority votes for a Bad End, you'll be able to choose again at the end of it, hopefully picking the right option this time. The story will not stop just because the right option wasn't picked. But who knows? Maybe choosing wrong is actually the better option sometimes (;

To clarify, there are 5 main chapters (the right choices) in total, 10 possible Bad Ends and 1 True End. This is not a video game so there are no secret routes. Nothing will change if you choose certain options after another. Your goal ultimately is to finish this story. But... some interactions and information may or may not be hidden in Bad Ends that could be enjoyable to you as well. (After finishing the main story I'll let you guys pick some other options you would have liked to see if you're interested in that ^-^)

One more exciting thing! I was able to commission a good friend of mine to actually do references for the orcas! We're still working on them but I hope you guys will enjoy some visuals of the new bois ♥

And for good measure: Please read the warnings on the individual posts, as some of the stories contain disturbing content not suited for everyone. Don't read what you don't like.

Thank you for participating and I hope you guys will be able to enjoy the story as much as I do ♥ (If you have questions, please ask away any time! ♥)

[immeasurablesaladagere]

hiya!!!! can u write about autistic regressor house going non verbal when upset and how wilson deals with it

- @tummy-rubs-for-wilson-pup

Order up! Also a little headcanon to go with even if it doesn't come up in the fic, but I feel like Wilson attempted to teach him baby-sign for non-verbal episodes but House just refused to learn it and took it as an excuse to learn as many inappropriate signs as possible to use while regressed.

-----

Word Count: 950

Summery: Wilson is paged down to House's office by the ducklings to find that House has barricaded himself inside. Two sleepless days have triggered a meltdown and a non-verbal episode and Wilson helps him calm down.

-----

Wilson was just filing his last batch of paperwork for the night when his pager went off, because of course it would. Who really wants to leave work on time? Not him, no sir. Even worse, he was being paged to House’s office, which meant a case, which meant he might not be getting home that night at all. Excellent. 

It was best not to keep House waiting, so off to his office we went. But as he came down the hallway he paused. Standing outside of House’s door lost and confused were Cameron, Chase, and Foreman. It was at times like this that House’s nickname “ducklings” made sense. They really did look aimless without him.

“I was paged?” He asked, and all three looked some form of relieved.

“Perfect. House is in his office and won’t talk to us, we were hoping you could figure out what was going on.” Cameron explained, looking over her shoulder into the shuttered window of the office.

“Okay? That sounds like typical House behaviour, what makes this special?” It wasn’t exactly uncommon for House to shut himself away from people for extended periods of time. Sure, at work it might be a bit more socially inconvenient, but House had never been one to care about that. 

“Well he ran out in the middle of a DDX for one,” Chase chimed in, and that was concerning. “And then when I tried to check on him he pitched his tennis ball at me. I think he’s hiding under his desk.”

Why hadn’t they led with that? Now that they were standing here, it was blatantly clear how tired the three of them were. Their eyes were tired, postures slouched, and Cameron was even rubbing her eyes. “Out of curiosity, when was the last time you all went home?”

“Two days.” Foreman answered flatly.

Wilson sighed. And knowing House, he’d probably been there longer. “Okay. Why don’t you guys go home, get some sleep. I’ll deal with House.”

“Thanks, Wilson.” Cameron said, and the ducklings left down the hall for what what Wilson hoped would be a restful night’s sleep.

He tapped gently on the glass door. “House? Can I come in?”

He didn’t get a response, but he wasn’t expecting one. If House was sleep-deprived, had fled from a meeting and was hiding under his desk like Chase said, then Wilson suspected sensory overload, maybe a meltdown. He gently pulled on the handle and to his surprise, the door opened. The office was dark, and thankfully the tennis ball was laying on the ground a few feet away. He just hoped House hadn’t found a better, heavier weapon to ward off unwanted guests.

Sure enough, he could just barely make out the form of one Gregory House huddled under his desk, arms pressed against his head and rocking back and fourth. With his suspicions confirmed, he quietly came closer and pushed aside the desk chair to sit down on the floor. His bones creaked.

“House? It’s Wilson. What do you need from me?” He asked quietly.

House didn’t stop rocking and he didn’t speak, but he did look up. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and the bags underneath them were heavy. But there was something else, too. He nodded slightly.

“What do you need?”

House made a broken groaning sound and rocked a little harder, pressing the heels of his hands against the sides of his head and dragging them up and down his scalp.

Wilson took a guess. “Do you want pressure?”

He got a nod. Carefully, he reached forward and pulled House out from under the desk and held him with his back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around House’s shoulders and squeezed as tightly as he could, and House let out a sigh and slowly relaxed.

He began to lean against him more and more the longer they sat, and eventually he was so still that Wilson thought he had fallen asleep right there, until he felt House’s hand reach for his own and begin to play with his fingers. There it was. 

“…How old are we, House?”

The hand stopped, like he was thinking about it, then gave four gentle taps.

“Thank you for telling me, you did a good job House. The ducklings told me you’ve been here for a couple of days, was it for a case?”

House nodded.

“Well, I think it’s time to go home and get some sleep, hm? You’ve been working hard for a long time.”

A firm head-shake. Of course. 

“What if I told you we could get burgers on the way back? Would that sweeten the deal?” He offered. No amount of reasoning like you’re too tired or you’re too little would make a difference to House, so he went with the next best thing. Bribery.

And just like he expected, House only took a second to think about it before nodding.

“And should we go to McDonalds to get a toy? I hear they have Hot Wheels.”

Like a switch House was suddenly much more eager to get going, wriggling off of his lap and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt as if to say “Then what are we waiting for!?”. 

“Okay, okay! I get it. We have to stop by my office to get my things, then we can—.”

But House was already on his feet, cane in hand and hobbling away before Wilson could even finish his sentence. Wilson chuckled, and his poor old-man bones as he got up to follow. God only knew what chaos a four-year-old House could bring upon the hospital.

“Slow down now, old Wilson can’t keep up with you youngins anymore!”

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp chapter 128 translation "ashes to ashes"

READ ON MANGADEX

NOTES

Oh my God...This chapter...more like, one particular page. I spent days trying to figure out the meaning and I still probably don't understand. Maybe I'll talk about it on the stream for chapter 130 because it might not make sense in writing...

Okay, here are some notes because there were words that had furigana and some of them I couldn't write on the pages.

In this panel the furigana for 思い出全部 (all 'the' memories) is 名前すら (not even names), so based on the first reading, the line can also be translated as "If/When someone dies, not all memories disappear".

Page 29

This one...This is the one I had so much trouble with. Do I understand the lines from the first panel? Probably not. I've tried for days to make sense of them, because I understand that line in different ways. First of all, I can't even say what is "The darkness of someday". Is he referring to himself and the other demons or something else? My God, I broke down this sentence, like "Ok, this seems to be subject, this is the action, but then there's this grammar part...WTF is going on here, what are u saying man?!" 😭 I spent days on that line and like I said, I might try to talk about it on stream because maybe it's better if you hear me explain rather than writing about it. Okay, so there's another thing that has to do with furigana. I didn't write on the page because a word that has furigana only once, appears a few times with its regular reading and that's the word 悪魔 "demon". In the second panel in the speech bubble on the left, ぼくら "we" is the furigana for 悪魔 the rest of the times where the word demons appear, it's only that reading, so I didn't want people to think that InnerKuro's actual word in the last panel could have been something like "We (ぼくら) are in every person".

Page 30.

Here we have the word 感情 "emotions/feelings" with the furigana 　ぼく (first person pronoun "I"), but only in the second, third and fourth panels, the first time where it says "ugly feelings", it's only that reading. Previously on page 28, Kuro said "these helpless and uncontrollable emotions" and given how the word is associated with InnerKuro here, Kuro could have implied "You (InnerKuro/emotions) are also a part of me." InnerKuro's last line sounds weird because he doesn't simply say "I will protect you". きみの一番大切なきみを守るものだ。 Like if I were to translate literally, it would be something like "I will protect your most important/precious you" There's a possessive there and it's きみのきみ It sounds weird and it's possible that Tanaka sensei is fuckin with us because the word きみ "kimi" that usually means "you", there are other words that have the same pronunciation and look at that, there is 気味 and looking in the dictionary, its synonymous with 感情 "emotions/feelings". I hope that the way I translated makes sense... Last page.

The sentence is here is also weird like the previous one and it needs explaining. I tried my best to convey it's meaning. 親愛なる and 愛をこめて are phrases that can be used when writing letters for example, the first part can be "Dear" (friend or whoever you're addressing) and the last part is "with love/affection" 親愛なるすべてのきみへ、愛をこめて。

The weird part about the sentence is すべてのきみ again we have きみ which means "you" and the phrase translates as "all of you" and you can see how I tried to translated in such a way to make it clear that it's only about one person, because saying "all of you", could be interpreted that it's about more people. The phrase is saying something like "your whole being/ all that makes you" So, the way I translated might sound weird but hopefully I managed to convey the meaning.

[theoryofwhatnow]

i’m almost finished with all of the sketches for the comic and so i humbly offer you: a frame of sleeping alex.

i’ve got 6/11 pages that are entirely finished with the sketching process and i’ve got only two more to do (that don’t need any touch ups or anything). silently celebrating but unfortunately, i bring more notes below the cut

-the comic is partially set in a different time period. when? i don’t know. don’t ask me (dear god please don’t ask me). i’ve taken design inspiration from several different centuries. all you need to know is that it’s set during a time where they still publicly executed people for revolting against the church. could’ve been as long ago as the 12th century, or it could’ve been as soon as the 1800’s, idfk.

-it will obviously be in a slightly different art style than you’re used to seeing on my posts. i don’t think i have it in me to draw 32 frames in that art style without any references. i just can’t do it, but ^here’s a little tasty taste of what its gonna look like^ however, it honestly might not end up looking any different at all when everything’s said and done. that is a real possibility.

-i’ve almost got it figured out concerning how i’m going to post it, however, that means that the full comic (nsfw and all) will be posted first and the censored version will come later or even on a different social media. i won’t be censoring any of the gore though. if you’ve seen the movie, you’ll be fine lmao.

anyway, now i’m just gonna ramble because i’ve been locked away in my room and drawing relentlessly for the last six days. i’m in a dark place. it’s relatively lonely. there are scratch marks on my walls and i don’t know who put them there.

as i keep working on this, i keep finding like 12 different ways to bring this to life that i wish i would’ve gone with rather than what i did. it’s quite troubling but onward we march, fellas. so don’t be surprised if i end up posting a second issue. (i’ve already started writing it [why do i do this to myself??]) i’m literally writing this because i strongly believe in creating the content that you wish to consume. that’s why i have five accounts dedicated to this fuckass movie. i still don’t have a fuCKING NAME FOR THE COMIC ITSELF THOUGH. OH MY GAAD. why is this literally the hardest part?? throw me literally any suggestions you have. like, okay, if YOU were to name like minds, what would you call it? because i’m about to just go with one of the other obscure names for the film that greg picked out.

*plucking the word ‘Symbiosis’ out of a jar and shoving it in my pocket* “you’re coming with me”

the movie is about ongoing cycles of madness and obsession (in brevity), the comic is about ongoing cycles of madness and obsession. h e l p m e o u t h e r e g u y s , i ‘ m l o s i n g i t .