#wildly written high life

[sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack]

Impulsivity

Modern Viktor x Fem! Reader

Your chronic pain has you at the end of your rope as you hopelessly search for something to relieve your pain. Help comes from the most unexpected of places: a walgreens at 9:45 pm.

Reader is mentioned to be an art/theater kid and is also disabled like Viktor and suffers from chronic pain. No use of y/n. Also not proofread we die like redacted

Word count: 4.6K

High key inspired by @meownotgood and @gaybybirth because reading their writing made me want to write again. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written and I'm terrified to post it. But I'm being brave! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I may make a part 2 depending on how this does. I hope you enjoy!

Pain makes it incredibly hard to think. Even though you're used to it and it's something you feel every day of your life, the burden is still quite heavy. But there is no pity for Atlas, and his shoulders will ache for the rest of time as he holds up the sky without the relief of Tylenol.

So now, you're standing in a Walgreens at 9:42 pm in the pain management aisle, shifting your weight from foot to foot to relieve the pain radiating from your hips to your ankles, trying to pick a topical pain relief gel that will actually work. You've tried most of them here; Bengay, Aspercreme, Biofreeze, Icy Hot, and nothing. Sure, they work for a few weeks but your fucking mutated joke of a body adapts and grows accustomed to whatever you use. The brace you wear on your left knee is itchy and pokes into you through your fleece-lined tights and it's not helping matters.

Giving up on reading the box of Voltaren you're holding, you crouch down to put it back and pick up something else. Your pain-addled brain is piss-poor at making decisions it seems, as the moment you bend, your knee cracks in such a way that a painful heat spreads through your entire body. It was loud too, you know it was. Eyes are staring at you, burning a hole in your head as you wince and grit your teeth against the waves of pain hell-bent on knocking you down.

You feel the urge to collapse, just sit on the floor, and read the labels and boxes there without having to stand, despite how utterly ridiculous you'd look.

"Are you alright?" Your right knee hits the floor as you shift into a kneeling position to look up at the person speaking to you. A long tweed overcoat, a thick red scarf, a cane, nice Oxford shoes, pale skin, worried amber eyes, and tousled brown hair meet your gaze. A man, a very beautiful man is standing a mere three feet from you, eyebrows pinched in concern. You blink a few times, willing yourself to remember how to act like a normal person and not a gobsmacked fool.

"Oh, yeah I uh…" You swallow and gesture wildly to the wall of products, and then visibly deflate "…no there's no way to make a joke out of this. " A laugh slips out, pitiful. You look back up at the man and the corners of his mouth are quirked up at the sides. Thank god, maybe he finds your misfortune endearing.

"They do tend to keep the best products just out of reach, don't they? Nothing at eye level ever seems to be worth your time. Just another cruel joke the health industry plays on the less abled." He looks between the wall of lotions and pills and you, his smile widening.

You smile too, less self-deprecative now and more understanding, "Ah, a fellow health industry hater, amazing. Damn straight, they bleed us dry and expect us to thank them. Greedy schmucks." With one hand on the metal shelf and the strength of your good (better?) knee, you manage to pull yourself into an upright position, even with every nerve in your body screaming at you and your left hip wanting to jump ship, leaving you alone in this sea of agony.

"Just trying to find something that doesn't stop working after a few weeks and also not develop an opioid addiction at the same time." Ah, maybe you could make a few cute jokes that this cuter man will appreciate.

"As one does." He leans both hands on his cane and nods his head conspiratorially. You giggle, you can't help it. Maybe it's the pain-induced delirium or maybe it's because you find the man in front of you incredibly attractive. But who's to say?

"Might I make a recommendation?" His accent is lilting and thick and it feels like every word out of his mouth is wrapped in a velvetine cloth. That metaphor makes no sense, your brain thinks. Shut up, chimes your heart.

"Please. I was about to start considering just chopping off my leg and being done with it." He laughs out loud at that.

"Ah, we've all been there." His attention is pulled back to the shelves and his fingers twitch as he looks for something. He's focused, insanely so, and it makes you feel important, seen. This random stranger, looking for something that will help you with such fervor.

God, it's been a while.

He bends at the waist to grab something off of the second shelf from the bottom and you definitely don't fixate on the way his long fingers curl around a box.

"This is Arnicare. The main ingredient was only legalized here a mere decade ago, it's never failed me thus far." He hands it over to you with a smile. You take it, a little awestruck and make a sincere effort to not freak out over the fact that your fingers brush his own. They're warm, good god.

"Thank you. This is invaluable insider information." You hold the box to your chest in gratitude.

"Of course. Tiger Balm is my favorite but they don't typically sell it in-store due to popular demand. I usually, unfortunately, turn to Amazon to buy it when it's in stock." he continues, putting one hand in his pocket and leaning onto his cane. You nod, making mental notes as you go.

"You are saving my life and my sanity right now. Truly." You pause, and then, with bravery that you didn't know you had-

"I'm (name)." You stick out your right hand, so that way if he chooses to take it, it won't be with the hand using his cane. He stalls for a moment and you fear you've made a horrible fool of yourself, but then he chuckles and shakes your hand gently. You can't get over how warm his hand is, skin soft save for the callouses on his palm and fingertips.

"Viktor. It is nice to meet you." His eyes crinkle as the gentle smile he wears widens.

There's a charged beat where your hands linger a moment longer than what is expected and you laugh it off before letting go. "Sorry, I uh…have been running on far less than the recommended amount of sleep and have been eating meals that do not classify as meals."

"I don't think I have ever gotten the recommended hours of sleep a day in my life."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Really?"

"Really. I think my blood is 60% espresso at this point. Such is the life of academia." He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

You look down at the product in your hands, and then back up to him, mind racing in a thousand different directions that all leave you terrified but at the same decision.

"You know, there's a really nice late-night coffee shop in this same shopping complex. Their coffee is the only coffee I confidently drink after 4 pm. Which, is arguably not healthy but, what can you do?" You blurt out, rather impulsively. He's a little shocked, it's clear on his face, but there is still a smile there.

"Are you asking me if I'd like to accompany you to grab coffee at…9:45 pm?" He tilts his head quizzically after checking his watch.

You nod a few times, "Absolutely I am. And maybe it's the fact that my hip hurts so bad and it's prohibiting me from feeling fear but…yeah. Wanna get coffee at 9:45 pm?" He's staring at you incredulously, but it's sweet and amused.

He laughs again, and it's a low, rumbling sound, "I was already planning on getting some kind of caffeine. Sure. I would love to." He's looking at you so intensely, almost like he's studying you. Self-consciousness washes over you suddenly as you realize you've sort of completely derailed whatever he'd been doing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your shopping or your night…"

He shakes his head as if it were impossible to interrupt, "Interrupt my night? My night full of no plans other than grading papers until my eyes bleed? Alone and without the company of a pretty girl? Ah yes, how dare you come between me and those plans." his tone is playful, sarcastic and the nervousness fades from you as quickly as it came. Your eyes narrow.

"Oh, so he thinks I'm pretty?" You grab your purse from off the ground and start to move backward toward the register, and he follows, adjusting his cane and bag sheepishly.

"He does."

"Good because she thinks he's pretty too." You venture quickly before your brain can catch up with your mouth. It only takes a second for him to catch up with you, strolling through the aisles of a near-desolate Walgreens.

"Lucky him."

The cashier at the counter looks as though they'll fall asleep as they bag your items: the Arnicare and a bottle of dark green nail polish. "I swear I'm not typically this impulsive." You call over your shoulder as the cashier hands you the receipt and you stuff your things into your purse. Viktor walks up and puts his items on the counter - allergy medication and a pack of multicolored pens, presumably for grading - and turns to you while fishing out his wallet.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that." He pauses, thinking over his next words, "Not that being impulsive is a bad thing. I could stand to be more impulsive." It's an apology where there doesn't need to be one.

You shrug, "No offense taken, because you're right. I was...just trying to save face."

"Why?"

"Well…" Why were you trying to save face? "I feel, maybe a professor wouldn't be so inclined to hang out with someone so uninhibited? Some people call me childish." As he takes the small bag from the cashier, you find his eyes again, and they are full of mirth.

"Firstly, not a professor. I'm a PhD student at the University not far from here. We, as TA's, usually get saddled with grading assignments and papers." He walks forward with you, letting you walk through the automated doors first, probably so you can lead the way to the coffee shop.

"Secondly, I disagree. Impulsivity does not automatically equate to childishness. Some people say impulsive, I say driven, or passionate. Spontaneity is life." You stare at him unabashedly as you walk. This man, Viktor, waxing poetic about the benefits of impulsivity on your behalf. He's smart, obviously, but not in a haughty I'm Better Than You way. It's refreshing. And while you may not be a traditional academic, you understand to some level.

The cold bites at your skin, and you regret your decision to forgo a jacket, so you shiver when you tell him, "You're incredibly good at making me feel better about myself. I bet your students love you." He laughs at that - you're noticing that you seem to be quite good at making him laugh - and shakes his head disapprovingly

Then, guilty, "Not when I'm assigning pop quizzes after returning from winter break and calling them out for using AI."

"Ok the AI thing I completely understand, but assigning a pop quiz after a break is just cold on so many levels." College wasn't that cruel to you, but there had been many a quiz that you bombed simply because you hadn't been prepared for them. One or two that immediately followed a break.

The coffee shop comes up quickly and you move to open the door, but he's faster, shifting his bag to his elbow and grabbing the door for you as he quips, "Ah, so I see you would've been one of the students who failed that quiz." He's teasing you, and it's working.

"I can neither confirm nor deny. Although don't look at my freshman year grades. They force the art kids to take two semesters of stats and…it was just a fucking torpedo into my GPA."

"Fair enough." His laugh is quickly starting to become one of your favorite sounds.

The warmth of the dimly lit shop is nice, especially after just being out in the cold. It seeps into your bones and mercifully leeches out some of the pain in your hip.

The shop is small, quaint, and its setup reminds you of a library. Secluded booths and tables with individual lamps on them, bookshelves lining the walls, and everything made out of dark wood. Viktor looks around in awe for a moment, then, "How have I never stumbled onto this place before?"

You mentally pat yourself on the back. It had been a few years ago that you'd found this place. After a bit of an insane night out cut short by a friend getting you kicked out of the bar, you frantically searched for food places open late. This place immediately popped up leading you and your friends to feast on pastries and sandwiches washed down by the most delicious coffee you'd ever had.

"I was just lucky. When you're drunk and hungry, you can find anything." You walk towards the back of the shop, picking out a booth in the corner, "Is this ok?"

Viktor nods, hanging his cane off the table and shrugging out of his jacket. There is a moment where you feel you might keel over right there, but it is through sheer power of will that you remain standing, because holy hell this man is attractive. He's wearing a three-quarter sleeve black turtleneck that clings to his body in a way that's not loose, nor is it skin-tight. You can see the barest hint of something underneath, perhaps a back brace to help with stability. Sitting down in the booth, you try to avert your eyes to no avail, as they roam over the dark brown slacks sitting high on his waist. It's a miracle you're not drooling. Staring down at the red, long sleeve sweater you'd paired with a deep brown skirt, you can't help but think we match.

He sits down slowly, and you recognize the strategy to minimize pain, then folds his hands in front of him. "So, freshman year statistics? I believe you called it a 'fucking torpedo'?"

"Of course you picked up on that."

"Well, you were rather emphatic about it." The smugness is radiating off of him in waves and it stokes the fire in your gut.

Huffing, "Not everyone can be a whiz at math and science. I mean, what are you getting your PhD in?"

It looks like he's biting back a shit eating grin, "Biomedical engineering."

"Oh fuck off."

He releases the hold over the grin he was hiding and you're blinded by it. It absolutely makes sense, in retrospect. His analytical gaze, as if taking things apart in his mind and putting them back together, even just the way he speaks, so sure and confident. Your mouth opens to say something but a waitress decides that moment is a prime opportunity to get your drink orders.

Viktor orders a Turkish coffee and you order a French vanilla iced latte with cinnamon. As the waitress leaves, he wrinkles his nose.

"You call that coffee? It is just sugar. And iced? It's freezing out."

"Oh so first you critique my grade in stats, and now you attack my coffee order? You hate me and want me dead." Your arms fold in front of your chest as you stare at him in mock challenge. His hands shift to rest on his biceps, fingers spreading over the evidently lean muscle there and you fight to keep your breathing steady.

"I retract my statement, I bare you no ill will."

"Yeah you better, me and my sugar coffee will beat the shit out of your boiled coffee grounds." Now it's his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"You mock my drink, a traditional drink from my home country? Now you hate me and want me dead."

A warmth pours over your cheeks and you feel it heat the tips of your ears, all the way down to your shoulders. Something flashes in his gaze that tells you he definitely noticed.

"Touche." It's only a minute more before the waitress returns with your orders, said minute filled with meaningful glances and sitting adjustments on your part, your hip still aches slightly, but it's easier to ignore at this point.

You're mid sip when he fixes you with a stare, hands wrapped around his own drink, and asks, "So I can rule out anything to do with statistics, but what do you do, miss (name)? I believe you referred to yourself as an 'art kid'?"

Ah, the tricky part of explaining what you do to an academic. Not to say you weren't an academic yourself, just…a very different flavor of it.

"Yeah. In college I dual majored in Psychology and Theatre Arts. So I feel like I play both sides of the field, despite how many of the other scientists refuse to recognize psychology as a science." You spit the word as if it were a dagger, still holding a vendetta against your 11th-grade physics teacher who called it a pseudo-science.

"But my real love is Theatre. Whether it be Musicals or Shakespeare, it's my passion. I dialect coach on the side to make extra money, but mostly I love performing." There it was, out in the open. Would he call you foolish? Tell you to get a real career? Get up and leave? Probably not, but anxiety can lead you to places you wouldn't dare venture with a gun.

Pensive, he sits, staring at you with renewed interest, "Your impulsivity must suit you well in that career path, always having to think on ones feet and remain immersed in the moment." You instantly smile again.

"Exactly! There have been so many times when people have forgotten their lines and I've had to come up with something on the fly. It's…exhilarating." There's a certain sparkle that lights up your face whenever you talk about theatre, it's your passion, you can't help it. You only hope it translates.

"I know it must seem silly, pursuing the arts. Hell you're probably going to go on to change the world in a field like 'biomedical engineering'." You muse, leaning your cheek into your hand as you meet his eyes. It flatters him, you can tell, as he shifts in his seat, puffing his chest out slightly in pride.

"While I thank you for your vote of enthusiasm, I do not find it silly to pursue the arts at all."

"You don't?"

"No. I find it inspiring that you are pursuing your dream. I am pursuing mine. We should all chase after what we want." His eyes are thoughtful, kind, and you want to swim in them forever.

A beat, then, "A lot of people have called me stupid. But I can't see myself doing anything else. I know it's cheesy to say, but it feels fated. Like, I'm supposed to be doing this. It's what my atoms traveled billions of years to do." Staring into your cup, you're hit with the intensity of this confession. It's not something you tell to most people.

"And…" he clears his throat, "I think it is the most admirable thing one can do, to follow what you believe your destiny to be." Good god you like this man, you like Viktor. Not just as an infatuation or a crush, you want to get to know him.

"Thank you, Viktor." Another sip of your drink and the sugar spurs you onward, "Do you happen to like theatre? I'm sure an English lit class somewhere forced you to read at least one Shakespeare play. They did always seem to make the STEM kids suffer through classic literature as some sort of revenge for putting us art kids through math." His gaze fixes you to your spot and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to pull away from it. It's hypnotizing and has you pinned with the sheer force of it. You were learning that above all else, Viktor had a quiet intensity to him.

"I have read my fair share of Shakespeare as well as a few greek plays, but I admit, I read them mostly from an analytical standpoint, and not for mere enjoyment or to marvel in the artistry. My favorite would probably have to be Macbeth, though." He takes another sip of his coffee that still has steam curling off the top of it.

You nod approvingly, "A splendid choice. Your aesthetic certainly fits the more tragic, macabre, dramatic plays. Though I could see you enjoying Much Ado About Nothing."

"I…thank you?" Eyebrows pinched in confusion, he laughs.

"No, no it's a compliment! You just have a very…dark acedmia, gothic vibe to you. it…it tracks."

He leans back in his seat, "Gothic?"

"Yeah. it's incredibly attractive don't worry."

…

Wait-

"Incredibly attractive you say?" And he's sipping on his coffee again, watching as that all too familiar flush spreads over your skin again. Damn your mouth.

"You…I…hell-" You sip your coffee in an effort to keep yourself quiet. He's making you bolder, making you feel comfortable, loosening your tongue, beckoning you into the sea like a siren and you're not sure if you'll be able to tread water.

"Hey," his voice is soft, coaxing, "for what it is worth, I too find you incredibly attractive. I'm sorry, I did not mean to make you so flustered." The sincerity in his voice has you reeling. Placing your coffee down, you rubs at your cheeks with your hands.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe you're that sorry when you seem so pleased with yourself watching me flush." You accuse, somewhat parroting what he said about you denying your impulsivity. Now it's his turn to flush, his pale cheeks turning rosey at having being caught.

A comfortable silence washes over the both of you momentarily as you sit with the confessions that have just been made. Well…it's nice to know that the attraction is mutual. Both of your coffee's were near finished by this point, and there was a part of you that regretted how fast you drank it.

"How is your leg?" He breaks the silence after the waitress returns to take away your empty glasses. You roll your hips slightly, testing the tension and how far the pain radiates.

"Mm, better. Could be worse, it's starting to ebb finally, but I'm still planning on slathering that Arnicare you recommended all over my leg and laying in my bed until the pain finally goes away." You conclude, hoping to God that the Arnicare works as well as he's hyping it up. "Maybe go crazy and light a lavender candle."

He's digging something out of his bag as he responds, "I'm glad it is feeling slightly better. I fully endorse the Arnicare, it has helped me immensely over the years and I trust it will help you too." The waitress returns to drop off the check and it's too late that you realize Viktor had been looking for his wallet as he places money in the little booklet and hands it back to her with a soft, "Keep the change."

You stare at him in mock offense.

"What?"

"Don't what me, you didn't even let me attempt-"

"There was no universe in which I was going to let you pay, so why even entertain it?"

"Let me pay? You are evil." But you're smiling as you slide out of the booth.

"Maybe so." Is all he says as he stands up, readjusting his shirt and grabbing for his coat. Checking your watch, you realize it's 10:45 and you've spent nearly an hour with this man, and yet it feels as though it's only been minutes. Bidding goodnight to the workers, you bothexit the shop and are hit with a blast of cold air.

"Why are you…you did not bring a jacket?" Viktor stares at you as if you've grown another head. "Are you…it is below freezing out!"

You pause, and breathe in the crisp cold air, "I like the cold, it's not so bad, I promise I'm ok." But he's already moving to grab the scarf from around his neck and balance his cane on his arm.

"Viktor-"

"Shush." Your mouth shuts and you let him wind the red scarf around your neck. It smells like him, woody and warm and you know you'll be breathing it in later.

"Bláznivá žena." He murmurs in what you can only assume is his mother tongue.

"Well, that didn't sound very nice." You chide. His hands still as he finishes securing the scarf. Whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he stares down at you. Despite the freezing air swirling around you, everything suddenly feels warm. And you know how cliche it sounds, but truly, it feels as though the world melts away and you are stuck in this little circle of warmth.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, "Can I-"

"Absolutely." You answer far too quickly. He laughs again, and its lighter than the others, as if a weight has been taken off of his chest and the laugh had been filled with air, just waiting to escape.

He wastes no time in bringing his hands up to your wind bitten cheeks and pulling your lips to his. They're slightly chapped, but warm and sure and soft as he kisses you. Your breath is gone and you realize every cheesy thing you've ever read about kisses is true. It is all encompassing and earth-shattering. If you knew anything about physics you would say that it feels like atoms colliding.

Seconds, minutes, hours, you don't know how long it is before you finally detach. You leave your eyes closed for a few seconds more, basking in the feeling.

"Wow." It's barely a whisper when you finally speak, opening your eyes to find him staring down at you, smiling unabashedly.

"My thoughts, exactly." His hands slips down your shoulders before one of them finds your hand, the other taking his cane as he leads you back to the parking lot. It's nice, just walking hand in hand with him to your cars.

"This is me." You murmur sadly as you come upon your car, parked in the handicapped parking spot. He stops and looks at you in disbelief, and you furrow your brows in confusion. His hand detaches from yours, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his car keys, clicking the unlock button. The car parked directly next to your beeps and unlocks. You'd parked right next to one another and you absolutely lose it, doubling over in laughter.

"Oh my god that is crazy."

"Well, given the fact that we both have handicapped stickers-"

"Nope, shush, let me have this." You turn back to him after catching your breath and hold out your hand, "Let me see your phone."

He obliges, even unlocking it for you before dropping it into your waiting hand. With half numb fingers, you input your phone number and contact info before returning it to him.

"To let you know how well your recommendation works." You smile as you head toward your drivers side door, unlocking it and sliding into the seat so quickly, you leave Viktor stunned. He shakes his head in mock annoyance and walks over to your window, tapping on it until you roll it down.

"Yes?" But he's leaning in and kissing you again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs. When he pulls away, you're left just as stunned as he was.

"Nothing, just wanted to say Goodnight." He walks off, gets into his own car, right next to you, and drives off, all while you're sitting in your car, window still down, and processing what just happened as the cold blasts you.

Wordlessly, you roll up your window and smile uncontrollably.

For the first time in your life, you are thankful for your chronic pain.

[seeleybooth]

"Don't get up on your high horse with me, Anne Shirley."

"Marilla pessimistically expected more trouble since Anne had again begun to go to school. But none developed. Perhaps Anne caught something of the “model” spirit from Minnie Andrews; at least she got on very well with Mr. Phillips thenceforth. She flung herself into her studies heart and soul, determined not to be outdone in any class by Gilbert Blythe. The rivalry between them was soon apparent; it was entirely good-natured on Gilbert’s side; but it is much to be feared that the same thing cannot be said of Anne, who had certainly an unpraiseworthy tenacity for holding grudges. She was as intense in her hatreds as in her loves. She would not stoop to admit that she meant to rival Gilbert in schoolwork, because that would have been to acknowledge his existence which Anne persistently ignored; but the rivalry was there and honors fluctuated between them. Now Gilbert was head of the spelling class; now Anne, with a toss of her long red braids, spelled him down. One morning Gilbert had all his sums done correctly and had his name written on the blackboard on the roll of honor; the next morning Anne, having wrestled wildly with decimals the entire evening before, would be first. One awful day they were ties and their names were written up together. It was almost as bad as a take-notice and Anne’s mortification was as evident as Gilbert’s satisfaction. When the written examinations at the end of each month were held the suspense was terrible. The first month Gilbert came out three marks ahead. The second Anne beat him by five. But her triumph was marred by the fact that Gilbert congratulated her heartily before the whole school. It would have been ever so much sweeter to her if he had felt the sting of his defeat.

Mr. Phillips might not be a very good teacher; but a pupil so inflexibly determined on learning as Anne was could hardly escape making progress under any kind of teacher. By the end of the term Anne and Gilbert were both promoted into the fifth class and allowed to begin studying the elements of “the branches”—by which Latin, geometry, French, and algebra were meant. In geometry Anne met her Waterloo.

“It’s perfectly awful stuff, Marilla,” she groaned. “I’m sure I’ll never be able to make head or tail of it. There is no scope for imagination in it at all. Mr. Phillips says I’m the worst dunce he ever saw at it. And Gil—I mean some of the others are so smart at it. It is extremely mortifying, Marilla.

“Even Diana gets along better than I do. But I don’t mind being beaten by Diana. Even although we meet as strangers now I still love her with an inextinguishable love. It makes me very sad at times to think about her. But really, Marilla, one can’t stay sad very long in such an interesting world, can one?”

Anne of Green Gabes (1908) by L.M. Montgomery - CHAPTER XVII - A New Interest in Life

[sundew199]

Times Two

a/n: good lord this is long and filthy. If you prefer to read it on AO3, it'll be linked. I've also never written a threesome before and tried my best, hopefully it isn't too horrible :)

words: 8,180

tags: Reiner x Jean x F!reader, rough sex, rough oral sex, Eiffel tower position, slight panty kink (Reiner), cum eating, Reiner and Jean are Bisexual, College AU, Reijean if you pay attention or care lol, pet names

What was it about Reiner and Jean that had you constantly glued to their hips? If you’re friends were to ask they’d say it was a double crush you were denying. If you asked your family their answers would vary from underlying crush, to enjoying being the center of attention or a close friendship. You personally didn’t think you were attached to their hips at first, but the more people started to whisper and theorize, you started to ask yourself the question. In reality, Reiner and Jean were your closest and longest friends, surviving multiple friend groups and growing up. You met Reiner in grade school, sat next to him on the first day of fourth grade and throughout the whole year due to the teacher’s assigned seating. The two of you might as well have been siblings, walking home together, eating dinner and playing at each other's house, even his mom and your parents were close after a while. Jean entered the scene later, seventh grade to be exact when he transferred mid year and as luck would have it the three of you shared almost all classes together. Reiner was the one who sought out Jean’s friendship and you became friends by proxy and from then on all the way to college the three of you were tight knit. 

Attending the same university is what you think further solidified the glue between the three of you, swearing to everyone it wasn’t intentional to attend the same university together. Some believed you and others didn’t, but you really didn’t care. Thankfully rumors spreading about you being in a three way relationship with them ended going to college, high school was rampant. You’d admit that it did bother you, because why couldn’t you be really good friends with two guys? Why did everyone have to make it seem the other way around? Reiner and Jean never hesitated to defend your honor against the rumors, landing themselves in suspension once or twice when defending you turned physical. Even when you tried to blame yourself, they never allowed it. 

Now when people questioned what the true nature of your friendship was with them, you’d play into the bit and come up with wildly different answers on how the dynamics of the relationship worked. Reiner and Jean both got a kick out of it as did you. 

Junior year of college is what changed things for the three of you. Since you couldn’t room with them in the dorms since they were guys, all three of you decided to rent a condo off campus. You’d spent almost all your life with both of them so there wasn’t any harm in living with them, besides all three of you were just friends. 

Towards the end of the first semester of junior year already and finals quickly approaching, you were buried in your books, studying like a madman to keep your GPA around or above a 3.5, needing the best possible grades to earn the degree you were working towards. Jean and Reiner had it easy in your mind, ashy haired man working towards a degree in Art History and the blonde meathead shooting towards that finance degree. In hindsight, they didn’t have it much easier than you, but they were also stupidly smart in their own respective studies. You envied them in a sense. 

It was chilly out, keeping two blankets wrapped around you sitting at your desk and scrolling through the notes you took the other day to refresh your mind for the practice test on Monday. As much as you wanted to deny it, you need a mental break from school but wouldn’t allow yourself to take it, not when so much was riding on the line. 

“Hey.” 

Jumping in your chair at the sound of a gruff voice at your bedroom door, blinking and rubbing your eyes from staring at the screen for too long. Swiveling to face whichever one of them it was, you wrapped the blanket around you tightly. 

“Yea.” 

“Are you still planning on watching the season premier of the show later?” Reiner asked, tapping his knuckles on your doorframe and leaning into it. Your eyes refused to focus on his face and instead on the bulging bicep through the fabric of the long sleeve shirt he wore. Since when were his arms that big? I mean fuck you knew he worked out but you’d never noticed how ripped his arms alone were. 

“Yeah if I finish going through my notes.” 

Reiner scoffed, rolling his eyes and approaching you, reaching over you to slam the laptop shut, deciding for you if you were going to look over the rest of your notes or not. 

“Reiner-” 

“You’ve been holed up in here for almost two days. I know finals are important but I’ll bet your brain is fried to a crisp.” Defiantly declaring, crossing those beefy ass arms over his chest and waiting for you to give in like he knew you would. 

Whatever. The premier of the new season of the show the three of you watched would only be an hour, and then you could return to forcing yourself to absorb as much information as possible. Sighing dramatically for effect and throwing the blankets off of yourself, you uncross your stupidly numb legs and ignore the sharp tingles running up from your foot as you stride over to the small closet to put on a sweatshirt. Reiner didn’t bother leaving as you tossed your t-shirt and bra from where you stood partially out of view to pull the sweatshirt over your head. 

“Jean is picking up food and drinks - is that my sweatshirt that I haven’t been able to find?” Sounding hurt and accusatory as you brushed past him out of your room, looking back to nod with a smile, because yes it was his and it was his fault for mixing it in with your laundry. He muttered down the small hallway to the main area of the condo all three of you shared, pinching your shoulder when he purposely knocked past you, hearing the muttering replaced with chuckles. 

One of them had taken the liberty to find all the blankets that were supposed to already be in the living room and tossed them all over the couch, setting up for the three of you to comfortably watch the premier. You could hear Reiner in the kitchen that flowed into the open concept living room, making a whole bunch of unnecessary noise in trying to find whatever it was. If you were being honest, living with your closest friends was turning into living with siblings, getting into pointless arguments and doing everything to get on each other's nerves. Would you change it to live with a regular roommate that could be a hit or miss in how well you got alone? Hell no. 

Finding a spot on the couch while waiting for Jean, you decided to look through all the notifications you missed while studying for hours. Some of your classmates were checking in, or asking questions about the notes, contemplating on whether you should respond. They could wait, Reiner was probably right when he said your brain was fried at this point. Checking social media quickly turned into envy seeing some of your other friends enjoying the holiday break, done with their finals and celebrating by jumping from parties to bars or wherever they sold cheap alcohol. If only you were done with finals so you could actually destress, but that just wasn’t in the cards. 

Jean came through the door after barreling through it, hands full with food and drinks. From the strong aroma, you knew he went to go get wings, always choosing the messiest option somehow. 

“Damn out of your room finally? Swore you died or something.” Commenting with a smirk as he passed by the couch to get to the kitchen where Reiner was snickering at his comment. Rolling your eyes instead of lashing back, you joined them in the kitchen to plate some of the food and momentarily forget about the weight of finals. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just get beer.” Approaching the center island of the kitchen, noticing the familiar white box in one of the bags that happened to be Jean and Reiner’s preferred drink of choice. If they wanted to give you a break, they would’ve at least gotten drinks that didn’t take four or five to actually start to feel the buzz. 

“No, I got you those lemonade drinks.” 

Ugh you could kiss him. As much as you loved Jean as a friend he had a tendency to forget to grab whatever you needed when he went out, always having to send you or Reiner back to the store to go grab it. Taking the glass bottle and popping the lid, the tingling fizzy drink left a slight burn as it went down your throat, just the right amount for you to down an entire six pack in a night and not regret your life choices in the morning. 

“Shows about to start.” Reiner announced after checking his phone, taking his plate with him to the couch. You and Jean did the same, grabbing the drinks as well to keep from having to get up and get another if you wanted. 

Sitting next to Reiner at a reasonable distance, Jean plopped down next to you and ended up sandwiching you between them. They were doing the absolute most to work every single one of your nerves, but you didn’t want to lash out again like you did earlier this week when one of them accidently ate your leftovers in the fridge. Tucking your feet under you as Reiner found the streaming service the show was premiering on, you actually didn’t mind being squished between them, their combined body heat doing more than the blanket over your lap would warm you up. 

The host for the show gave a quick recap of last season, breaking down the drama and how it might affect this season. This dating competition game that you had started watching out of boredom surprisingly took the guys interest, somehow watching it with you when it was on to turning into offense when you’d watch the latest episode without them. Despite the show being corny and scripted and at times unbearable to watch, it was nice to do something like this with them. 

“I swear to god if Jodi and that dick Preston aren’t broken up I might not watch the show anymore.” 

Jean hummed in agreement with Reiner, guzzling down the rest of his first beer and reaching for another. “I know, he’s so fucking annoying and Jodi is either dumb or desperate if she hasn’t left him yet.” 

Biting back a laugh as you took a bite of one of the wings, you looked at both of them to see they were being completely serious, so engrossed in this stupid show. The premise of this variant of a dating show was two people are paired up as a couple in the beginning and go through a series of challenges to see if they’re right for each other. Couples who continuously didn’t work together could get voted off or petition to break up with their partner. The downside was if there wasn’t another couple trying to split, you could be left without a partner and voted off, ya know all those stupid dating show rules that make you question why anyone would sign up to do it. 

Finally beginning to destress while nursing your vodka infused lemonade, it all went to shit when the couple you were rooting for petitioned to split. 

“Oh my god no! Why?! They were so good together!” Exclaiming and throwing your arms up, throwing your head back into the couch and pouting like a child. 

“Man that sucks, but he did fuck Serena last season so I’d leave him to.” Reiner commented, grabbing your attention even more, failing to recall that important detail. 

“Really?” 

“Oh yeah, they were getting each other off in that hallway, remember? Moaning so loud it's a shocker no one heard them.” Jean answered, laughing a little as he recalled the scene you’d clearly missed. 

“Yea! She was standing there going ‘oh josh faster! I'm going to cum, oh my god I’m so close!’” Reiner took it upon himself to imitate the moans one of the contestants were making, and you wouldn’t have felt as uncomfortable if it wasn't for that throaty laugh he let out there at the end, turning your cheeks flush with pink and throwing back the rest of your drink to hide it. Jean found Reiner’s imitation hilarious, laughing a bit harder than you’d imagine he would if he wasn’t finishing his second beer already, grabbing another and throwing his arm behind the couch and slouching, lifting his hips in the air trying to get comfortable. 

Suddenly the short commercial playing on screen was so interesting, taking small sips of the second bottle of lemonade and trying to drown out the sounds of their talking over you. Studying your ass off for the last couple of months left you little to no time to snag yourself a quick one night stand. You’d been able to ignore the urges and pour everything into your notes and reviews, but fuck it was harder than you expected. Espescially when you pick up on conversations between Reiner and Jean on their nights out, the girls they sometimes went home with and wishing you were getting fucked into the next semester. When all three of you moved in here, everyone agreed not to bring anyone home, unless clearing it with the other two that they’d be gone for the night. It hadn’t happen yet (that you were aware of) and you were glad, unsure how you’d feel knowing one of your best friends was getting their dick wet and having to listen to it. 

Regular programming returned and tried as you did to focus on what was unfolding, you just couldn’t. Replaying Reiner’s laugh in your head and Jean’s hip motion, turning you warm all over and settling something funny yet familiar in your abdomen. You wouldn’t lie and say you haven’t though about fucking one of them, mostly they were just passing thoughts and that was it, but now? Jesus fucking christ your head was a mess. This what you get for turning down outings with other friends to study, leaving you hornier than a motherfucker. It’d be fine, the show only had about thirty minutes left and then you could go back to studying and rub one out if you really needed to. 

“I wonder why there aren’t any same sex couples? I’d like to see how that plays out.” Jean’s words had a slight slur to them as he spoke, now reclined completely with his feet propped up on the coffee table. 

“Wasn’t there one last season?” Reiner asked, in a similar position as Jean, one arm behind his head and his half drank beer between his thighs. 

“Mm no, I think Zach and Marco made out on a dare but they weren’t a couple.” Giving them an answer after searching through your brain for that jaw dropping scene from last season that had everyone talking about on social media.

“Oh yea I remember that, that was hot.” Jean slurred, heat dripping in his words and causing you to raise an eyebrow. Maybe it was because he was drunk, that was what you told yourself instead of questioning how your friend really felt about that scene unfolding.  

Every little movement either of them did drew your attention, watching as Reiner drank the last of his beer, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, only to be pulled away by Jean’s groans as he adjusted on the couch. They weren’t doing it on purpose and you were tipsy so that explained the clenching of your thighs to ease the throb, not because you were getting turned on by them. 

A preview of next week's episode played at the end of the premier, taking the liberty to watch it before getting up and heading back to your room to get your mind out of the gutter. But as you walked away, Reiner grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards him lazily. 

“Leaving already?” 

“I said I’d watch the premier with you guys and then study before going to bed.” Ignoring how large his hand looked around your wrist and how warm it was on your skin, taking in a sharp breath. 

“It’s Friday though.” The blonde whined, the slight inebriation turning him a bit sappy. 

“Play a game of cards with us and then go, please.” Jean chimed in, fluttering those hazel eyes at you, begging to spend just a little more time together. 

Not giving it much thought, you let out a sigh and walked to the media console below where the T.V hung on the wall to grab the deck of cards. Surely there was a quick game the three of you could play that wouldn’t send your mind further into the gutter or put you in a compromising situation. Jean managed to get up and grab some water for everyone, tossing one to you and Reiner as he sat down on the floor behind the coffee table, leaning back into the couch for support. 

“One round of B.S, alright?” Shuffling the cards between your hands and the table, repeatedly doing so that way everyone played fairly. 

“Lame but alright.” Jean agreed, chugging some of the water and sharing a look with Reiner that you didn’t understand and didn’t care to acknowledge. 

Dividing the entire deck between the three of you, now waiting for one of them to put down the ace of spades to begin the game. Reiner ended up having it and motioned towards you to go next. This game used to be a staple for you guys, playing every chance you got and getting into heated arguments whenever someone suspected someone else of putting down the incorrect card. 

The game went quietly in the beginning, until you picked up on Jean and Reiner putting down cards that they ‘supposedly’ had, smiling behind your deck every time they called out cards that were in your deck, the only thing keeping you from calling them out was waiting until the deck got a little thicker. 

“Two eights.” Reiner called out, looking at you to go next. 

“Bullshit.” 

“Ha! You sure? Cause I promise you I just put down two eights.” Reiner laughed, encouraging you to rethink your decision but also egging you on to check in hopes of watching you take the entire deck. 

“Check it.” Jean motivated from beside you, pushing his shoulder with yours. Reiner still had that confident look on his face which did end up making you regret your call out a bit, second guessing if you were right to call his bluff. No matter what since you called B.S, you had to check and you were going to livid if it actually was two eights. 

Reaching forward and thumbing apart the top two cards from the rest of the deck, you snuck a peak and saw what you didn’t want to see; two eights. 

“Nevermind, I take it back.” Knowing that wasn’t how the game worked but hoping you could worm your way out of it. 

“Uh uh, check.” Reiner insisted while standing up, coming to lean over you from behind, taking your arm and trying to force you to check the first two cards so the entire deck would go to you. Doing everything to resist, laughing as the man behind you snarled and laughed in your ear, still trying to force you to check with his hand over yours. Jean was leaning over to help, slipping an arm under the one that held your deck in the other hand, sandwiching you between them for the second time that night. 

“Just check, it’s okay if you’re a loser this round.” The taller of the two sneered in your other ear, brushing his lips over the shell and letting out a breathy laugh. You instantly shivered and became much more aware of your position, Reiner pressed into you from behind and Jean from the side. Heat rose in your entire body, refusing to let yourself enjoy the firm muscular bodies rubbing against yours. 

Resistance faltered completely as you got caught up in the overwhelming thoughts and sensations coursing through you, Reiner succeeding in getting your hand to flip over the top three cards, chuckling directly into ear. 

“Now was that so hard?” So close to the side of your face, you couldn’t help but turn and meet him. His eyes were still a bit hazy from the alcohol but not enough for you to feel guilty for leaning in and pressing your lips to his. 

Reiner gasped softly, giving into the feel of your soft plush lips on his and parting them when he felt yours begin to. You had absolutely no explanation for what spurred you to lean in and kiss what you considered your best friend, but you did and fuck did it feel nice. Reiner’s lips were surprisingly soft and the lingering remnants of his beer on his tongue kept you latched to his mouth. 

Behind you, Jean watched intrigued, though not entirely shocked. He would feel left out if he weren’t enjoying his two best friends making out on the floor of the living room, noticing how his sweat pants turned a little tighter. He smirked when Reiner peeked an eye open, a silent invitation to join in while pulling away from you. Jean wasted no time grabbing you by the back of your neck and slotting his lips into yours, sighing delightfully and wasting no time moving them with his. 

There wasn’t enough time for you to process that it was Jean you were kissing now, your other best friend, letting out a small moan when his tongue dipped into your mouth. He was slightly more insistent than Reiner was, moving faster and with a purpose but still reeling you in as your mouths stayed locked together. 

Coming up for air, not even wanting to think about what had just happened, you stood quickly. 

“C’mon,” Nodding towards what you think was Reiner’s room, knowing that if you gave yourself a moment to consider what you were about to do, you’d back out and hole yourself away in your room and never speak of this again. 

Both of them were quick to follow, smiling victoriously behind you. The door shut and you sat on the edge of Reiner’s bed, looking at both of them and debating on how this should continue to carry out. Consequences could come later, right now you’d gotten a taste of what you’d been actively avoiding for the sake of a GPA and needing so much more. 

“However you want to do this, I’m down.” Voicing your consent and ultimately putting all of your trust in both of them. You would admit this could be smoother sailing since you’d known both of them since childhood basically, but just not like that. There wouldn’t be much need to worry about keeping them in check like you would if it were someone you went home from the bar with and part of that excited you. 

Out of the two of them, Jean approached first, standing between your legs and grabbing your face and kissing you again. Slowly as your mouths returned to motions from minutes ago, the taller man began to push you back into the bed, holding himself above you with his hands beside your head. The bed dipped in the sudden weight of another person, knowing it was Reiner. 

Slender hands slipped under your sweatshirt, roaming around your skin and littering it with goosebumps. You gasped when the lith fingers brushed the underside of your breast, remembering you weren’t wearing a bra. Jean chuckled into your lips, humming as he dared to cup the flesh, sighing pleasantly when brushing his thumb over your nipple. 

Abruptly his mouth left yours, leaving you dazed and sitting up to search for his lips, only to see hands that weren’t Jean’s pulling his shirt off. Reiner stood on his knees just behind your head, tossing the shirt to the other side of the room and giving a playful smack to Jean’s pectoral. 

“Sharing is caring by the way.” The blonde rumbled behind you, scolding Jean and pinching his nipple teasingly, hearing Jean hiss softly before Reiner slipped his arms under your armpits and hauling you to face him. He was in nothing but his boxer briefs, the faint imprint of his half hard cock catching your eyes and widening at how big it looked beneath the fabric. Fuck you hadn’t even thought about how big either of them were, both impressively fit and no doubt having a dick to match the rigid muscles rippling over their bodies. 

Falling with Reiner as he leaned back on the bed, you threw your legs over his torso and smashed your mouth to his, feeling another set of hands from behind you lift the hem of your sweatshirt until you were bare from the waist up. The man below you groaned when you sat up on his abdomen, running his hand across your stomach. Acquainted hands from earlier snakes around to your chest, Jean cupping both of your tits and softly kissing down your neck while circling his thumbs over your nipples. 

“Fuck,” Reiner breathed from below, raising his hips as he watched Jean tease and stimulate your nipples in to pert buds. Mindlessly, you began to scoot down until you came in contact with the bulge beneath Reiner’s boxers, grinding in time with Jean’s circling thumbs. The blonde groaned again, bringing his hands to your hips and encouraging you. 

“Eager huh?” A voice teased, pinching both nipples harshly and sucking the side of your neck. You couldn’t think of anything but the rising heat in your body, the teasing from Jean and the quieted groans from Reiner below. Maybe you were stupid for never giving this a shot before, both seemed eager and willing to please and show you what a good time looked like. 

“Are these my sweat pants?” Jean asked, pulling off of your neck and slipping one of his hands to the waistband of said sweats, snapping the band against your skin. 

“Mhm.” Unable to give any other answer as Reiner started rolling his hips up to yours, matching the roll of your own. Wasn’t intentional to wear either of their clothes but seeing how it looked now only made you more desperate for them and if that got you what you wanted, then where was the harm. Reiner began to tug at the waistband, sitting up on his elbows after hearing the short conversation between you and Jean, aiding him by lifting your hips and no longer straddling his waist. 

Enough teasing, you decided, pulling down Reiner’s boxer briefs after he tossed the sweats aside, gripping the base and watching his face contort at the contact. He was thick from the base up, intimidating you from the sight and size alone. Jean chuckled, moving to lay beside his friend, cupping the side of his face and hovering above his lips. Interesting to see there was no resistance from Reiner when their lips slipped together, craning to reach the ashy haired man like he was desperate for his taste. Smirking while the two of them made out, you flattened your tongue over the top of Reiner’s cockhead, fluttering your eyes at the delicious groan that Jean swallowed from Reiner. It’d take some working up to taking his dick all the way down, girthy enough to know your jaw would ache when it was all said and done. 

Sucking around the head and moaning when Reiner’s hand reached down to grip Jean’s dick still shielded by the fabric of his briefs, seeing his hand move up and down. Had they done this before? You couldn't help but wonder the more you took Reiner’s dick down seeing how they were both so comfortable with each other’s touch, and the slight jealousy of being left out. Jean’s hip rutted into Reiner’s hand, breaking their make out session to finally pull his briefs off and give you a look at what he was packing as well. It was slightly longer than Reiner’s, by an inch or two but not as thick, pausing your bobbing head to stare between his legs. 

“I think she likes it.” Reiner hissed, bringing a hand to your head, pushing you further down his dick and letting his head fall back when the tip brushed the back of your throat. 

“Haven’t met anyone who hasn’t.” Jean quipped back, moving off the bed and coming to stand behind you. You watched Reiner’s eyes follow him, a sly smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Warm hands massaged your ass cheeks, gasping around the cock still deep in your throat when two fingers swiped over your clothed pussy. 

“Fucking soaked.” He commented behind you, Reiner groaning approvingly as he still guided your head up and down on his dick. Jean then pulled your panties down, tossing them over to Reiner who shamelessly brought them to his nose, listening to him mutter a few words and pull you off of his dick to give you a break. Jean then took to spreading you apart, licking a strip from your clit to your entrance, squeaking out a moan and falling forward onto Reiner’s abdomen. The blonde pulled you forward until your tits dangled in his face, taking one into his mouth. 

“Holy shit-” Gasping at the double stimulation, forgetting all shame and grinding back into Jean’s face, who appreciated the gesture with a firm slap to one ass cheek, dipping his tongue inside you, slurping obnoxiously. You were shaking, struggling to hold yourself up, moaning like the whore you felt like. Reiner managed to keep you steady above him, holding you so he could bite and suck at your over sensitive nipples. You knew both of them were experienced but fuck, they were intent on making it impossible to make any future hookups impossible to enjoy, hoping this wouldn’t be a one time thing. 

Reiner suddenly bit down hard on your nipple, pulling off it with a tug and causing you to wince at the slight pain. Unsure of what would cause him to do that, you turned around to see one of Jean’s hands between your bodies, languidly stroking the blonde’s spit coated dick. This wasn’t exactly the right time to question the nature of your two friends' relationship, but the way Reiner was moaning and struggling to return to the task at hand, it continuously flashed in the back of your head. Jean was still buried in your pussy while simultaneously jacking Reiner off, pressing your forehead to Reiner’s and practically synchronizing your moans. 

“Fuck, have you two done this before?” asking the man below you, watching his slow nod come before his answer. 

“Yea - fuck - every once in a while.” panting as his hips grinded into Jean’s hand, and sitting up enough to where he could pry the man away, seconds away from cumming. 

Jean took the hint, also pulling away from your pussy and stroking it affectionately. You winced at the final slap he gave to your ass, coming back to lay beside Reiner, taking the side of his face and turning it towards him. 

“Pussy tastes fuckin’ devine.” 

“Oh yea?” Bolding swiping his tongue over Jean’s bottom lip, speaking as if you weren’t there listening to them talk. You watched as they kissed again, yearning for the combined taste and chastising yourself for not noticing the signs for whatever they had going on sooner. 

“Think I need a better taste for myself, lay down for me baby.” Reiner instructed, already moving to get out from under you. Jean chuckled deviously, pecking the side of your mouth and moving to the very back of the bed, reclining against the headboard, patting his inner thigh. Reiner immediately knew what he was wanting and waited until you were sitting between the other man’s legs to center him between yours. 

“Keep’em spread for me.” Glancing up to the other man, running his palms over your inner thighs. 

You were already so sensitive from Jean eating you out minutes ago, you were afraid you weren’t going to last much longer. Nevertheless, you let Jean hook your legs over his and watched on baited breath as the blonde examined your slick and puffy folds. 

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” His voice so airy, breathing over your cunt prior to latching onto your clit. Your back arched off of Jean’s chest, whining at the intentionally harsh sucks. The man behind you held you down with an arm around your chest, chuckling right beside your ear. Reiner looked up, smiled against your tingling flesh and flicked his tongue over your clit while he continued to suck. 

Jesus fucking christ, it was too much, you were already starting to feel yourself cum when Jean’s hand tipped your head back. “Don’t cum, not yet gorgeous.” 

“Jean, I can’t.” Mewling pathetically, feeling the beginnings of tears at your waterline from the overstimulation. 

“Sure you can.” Giving a slow grind of his dick on your lower back, the promise of a silent reward if you did what you were told. Keeping your head thrown back on his shoulder you shamelessly moaned and whimpered as Reiner alternated between sucks and swirls of his tongue, listening to his chuckles as you writhed against Jean. He finally pulled away only to shove his middle and ring finger inside, pulling you too look at him by your chin as he sat on his knees between your legs and furiously fingered you. 

“Fuck look at you, so pretty baby.” He cooed with a smirk, running along the spongy part deep inside of you and giving a small tilt of his head, knowing you would take it as your indicator to cum. 

You came on a broken cry, arched off Jean’s chest and pulsating around Reiner’s fingers. Both of them laughed endearingly at their combined success at getting you to come. Reiner pulled his fingers out, locked his eyes with yours and sucked the two digits clean. Jean was the one who moaned behind you at the act, dick still grinding into your lower back subtly. 

“Think you’re okay to take one of us?” One of them asked, still delirious from your orgasm to tell who was asking. You gave a nod and sat forward, not really caring how but still feeling the ache in your cunt for more. 

“Alright hands and knees then princess.” It was Jean instructing, hearing his voice vibrate in his chest that was still pressed to your back. 

On shaky legs you sat on your knees, watching them move around as you positioned yourself on all fours. Reiner was still behind you, massaging your ass cheeks and letting out huffs of appreciation at your puffy wet folds, his and Jean’s handy work. Jean sat on his knees in front of your face, running a loose fist over his angry cock, using the pre-cum leaking from the slit to lubricate his motions. 

“If it’s too much, pinch my thigh or kick the brute behind you.” Jean swooned, holding your head up to look at him as he spoke, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, watching the anticipation blaze in his irises. 

“We’ll take care of you angel,” Reiner pressed himself into your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, witness the shared glance between both of them and wait on pins and needles. 

The fat head of Reiner’s cock started to slide between your folds teasingly, wetting the tip and making it hard to focus on your gentle kisses you were giving to Jean’s. It was good they were both aware of their size and knew they couldn’t just shove themselves in disregarding you completely, but holy shit, if your weeping cunt wasn’t enough to entice Reiner to slip inside you already then you weren’t sure what will. 

A hand held your jaw when you enclosed your lips around the tip, sucking long and slow, tasting the salty pre that continuously leaked out. Jean’s head was thrown back, the defined muscles cascading over his body clenching the more you took in his cock more. You could hear Reiner chuckle on a low breath, pushing just the tip inside of you and giving a full body shutter. If their goal was to drive you insane with their pace, it was working, taking things into your own hands and pushing your hips back into Reiner until you were flush to his pelvis. 

He choked, dug his fingers into your hip and somewhat growled with the ragged breaths he was taking. It was Jean’s turn to laugh now, the sound so disgustingly seductive you could feel yourself grow wetter around the cock you shoved yourself on. 

“God you’re fucking tight, feels so good.” The blonde breathed out, pulling his hips back nearly all the way, returning the favor by thrusting forward and sending Jean’s cock deeper down your throat. The hand not holding your chin tangled harshly in your hair, looking down with parted lips and hooded eyes at the sight and little reaction you gave. They may have known you all your life but they didn’t know how well you could take dick, letting a small amount of pride surge through you at their astonishment.  

Their rhythm synchronized quickly, settling somewhere in the middle of not too soft and not too rough, letting you adjust to their respective sizes. You knew it wouldn’t last before they abandoned it all and used you to find their pleasure, just from radiating restraint coming off of them, eventually fucking your throat and pussy like you were nothing but a hole to be filled and that thought alone was exciting. 

“Shit, do that again.” Jean breathily exclaimed, enjoying the method of your tongue swirling around his shaft as he plunged in and out of your mouth, tipping your head back with the hand still in your hair. Giving him a hum, you repeated the action, felt your stomach flip in on itself as he moaned prettily. 

There was a slight hitch in breath from the man behind you, faltering in his thrusts and seemingly regaining his composure. Something about Reiner experiencing the same surge of arousal as your were at Jean’s expression and action thickened the lust hanging in the air around you. He didn’t resume his pace like you were expecting him to, but yanked back into focus on Jean tightening his grip in your hair and pistoning his hips forward, fucking your throat with vigor, something snapping inside him. 

“There you go, gorgeous.” Growling, inhaling sharply through his nose. Your eyes were welling up with tears, the ache in your jaw beginning but you didn’t want to stop, not until his cum was trickling down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow. Reiner palmed both of your ass cheeks, spreading them far apart and slamming into with the same force Jean was. This sudden switch up had your legs nearly buckling, tears rolling down your cheeks and pathetic whines and whimpers muffled. Your pussy fluttered around Reiner everytime Jean thrusted down your throat, the wet squelching noise turning obscene, your gummy walls sucking the blonde back in over and over, like your pussy craved to be stretched and fucked on his thick cock. 

“Fuck she feels so good, so wet,” Reiner groaned, talking to Jean, again like you weren’t there. 

“Mm, she sucks cock better than you.” Jean groaned back at the mental image his friend was painting, acknowledging your mouth felt just as good as your pussy probably did. 

“Not my fault, you barely give me a chance before trying to get me inside you.” 

Their banter of a conversation sending you into a new wave of arousal, images of their bulky bodies fighting over who would fuck who and never in your life did you think something like that would turn you on. Despite it being your two best friends fueling these fantasizing images, you couldn’t help but want to be in the middle of that from here on out. From the way both of them fucked you, there wasn’t any desire to look for anymore hook-ups, not when the two perfect candidates were right here. 

“Gonna cum princess, be a good girl and swallow it all for me.” A husky voice drawing you back to reality, doing your best to give him a nod and look up at him with doe-like eyes, a trick that worked on just about every guy. 

With a slow drawn out groan, Jean pushed the entirety of his cock into your mouth and down your throat, pressing your nose to the happy trail below his belly button. Hot ropes of cum shot down your throat, feeling him ease up and pull out of your mouth so he wouldn’t accidentally choke you with his cum. He gave you a lopsided smile, wiping away the milky liquid from your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth with his thumb, shuffling over to Reiner who was still fucking your pussy absolutely raw. You could only assume the blonde cleaned off the cum smeared thumb Jean presented him, based on the hiss and brief collision of mouths. 

A heavy palm landed on the center of your back, forcing you off of your elbows holding you up and forming a deep arch in your back. From this angle, Reiner was able to sink so much deeper inside you, splitting you in half on his thick cock, crying out with a moan. 

“Glad I held off, been dying to hear those pretty moans again baby.” He chuckled, putting more of his weight into the hand on your back, forcing you to keep the arch. 

“Fuck Reiner, don’t stop.” Gasping, twisting the bedsheets in a tight fist, the tears welling up in your eyes again. 

“Don’t plan to, sweetheart, I want to see you leaking by the time I’m done.” 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, unable to stop the constant moans and incoherent noises leaving your lips. Jean had come back into view, partially laying down beside you, keeping your hair out of your eyes and giving you a look of endearing smugness, like watching you getting fucked by Reiner was better than fucking you himself. 

Skin slapping on skin echoed in the bedroom, your body coated in a layer of sweat and your limbs so weak that if it weren’t for Reiner holding you by the hips now, you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself upright. Your spongy walls clenched repeatedly around him after another orgasm, unsure of how many at this point. 

“Doin’ so good, doll.” Jean cooed, pinching the nipple he had been messing with and muffling your broken squeak with a soft kiss, keeping you occupied. Reiner grunted, beginning to break his steady harsh rhythm and fucking into you furiously with abandon. His breathing turned into short gasps, letting out something of a whine, tipping his head back with two final slams of his hips before cumming inside of you. 

A familiar warmth filled your pussy, moaning weakly into Jean’s lips, giving up on holding your position. Reiner pulled out slowly, groaning as he watched a glob of his cum drip from your hole. You collapsed on the bed, forcing yourself to turn over and lay on your back, placing your hands over your eyes to ease the dizziness you were experiencing. 

Just when you thought all the nerve endings in your body were shot, you sprung forward when a flat tongue glided over your folds, seeing Reiner lap up the mess he made between your legs, smirking and moving out of the way so Jean could do the same thing. 

“Fucking filthy.” Muttering at the sight of them both taking turns cleaning you up, your legs twitching and tingling from sensitivity. They both looked at you guiltless, even though you were shaking with overstimulation that didn’t stop you from pressing Jean’s head into your folds, watching as he eagerly lapped at Reiner’s cum. They switched again, Reiner being gentler this time, only running his tongue across your messy slit twice before using his middle finger to shove some of it back in. 

Reiner moves out from between your legs to lay beside you, cradling the side of your face for the sole purpose of giving you a taste of his cum. You were just as shameless, moaning into the kiss and running your hand through his sweaty hair, feeling him smirk against your lips. He pulled away, grabbing Jean by the back of the neck and slotting his lips between his, kissing him rather tenderly. 

With zero strength to make it to the bathroom, let alone your room to grab a change of clothes, Reiner and Jean took the liberty of taking care of you. Both of them pulling on their sweats thrown around the room, Reiner cleaned your inner thighs while Jean went to your room to grab you some underwear after tossing you one of Reiner’s sweatshirts. All three of you situated yourself into Reiner’s king bed, you of course in the middle of them both. There was so point in going back to your room and studying, not when you had several unanswered questions. 

“So how long have you two been dating?” They both froze beside you, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

“We’re not dating, we just fuck occasionally.” Jean answered, Reiner nodding to further reaffirm the statement, but you weren’t buying it. Their chemistry in bed was enough to convince you they’d been hiding a relationship from you. 

“You just fuck? No feelings attached?” 

“There’s obviously feelings when we’ve been friends this long, but we’re not exclusive.” Reiner responded, propping himself up on his elbow and looking in the direction of you and Jean. “We didn’t tell you because there wasn’t anything serious between us.” 

Okay, that made more sense than you were expecting too. But experiencing what you just did created a longing inside of you, one that might’ve been there that you didn’t want to acknowledge before now. Jean and Reiner were your best friends without a doubt, but they were also so much more than that and in order to not ruin the friendship, you shoved that deep down inside of you. 

“But,” Jean’s hands from behind turned you to look towards him. “We’re also not opposed to the idea of you being a part of this situationship.” 

“You’ve talked about this?” Surprised to know this wasn’t a coincidence happening, sounding like they planned this in a way. 

“Of course we have, do you know how long both of us have had a crush on you?” Reiner laughed, sending your mind into a flurry of confusion. They liked you? Like holding affectionate feelings beyond friendship for you? 

“Huh?” 

“Since junior or senior year of high school. We didn’t know we both felt the same way about you until after we had sex for the first time six months ago, agreeing that if it ever came to the point where you chose one of us over the other we would be okay with it.” Jean was speaking now, softly and almost lovingly, sending a blush to your face. 

“And we’ll never ask you to choose, if you want only one of us that’s fine and if you end up wanting both of us, that’s fine too.” Reiner spoke with the same inflection Jean did, softly smiling and looking at you endearingly. 

“I want both of you.” Blurting out without even thinking twice, hearing them laugh. But you knew you would rather have both than just one, it's always been the three of you. 

“Don’t decide now idiot, we’re being serious.” Jean pinched your shoulder with a frustrated grunt, rolling his eyes while Reiner just laughed softly. 

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, it’s late.” Reaching over to turn the lamp off on his bedside table, pulling you down under the comforter into his arms and kissing the top of your head. Jean shuffled behind you, pressing his chest to your back and kissing your cheek. 

For a few moments you refused to close your eyes, trying to break down all the new feelings and emotions you were experiencing, from earlier when you were at their mercy, to the confession from them both. It was in a way exciting, and whatever ended up happening between the three of you, it would work out in the end.

[mother-above]

Until The Very End

part 2 of All the Time in the World

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and his family's world are turned upside down when a certain someone comes back to their lives.

Warnings: angst, violence, and death (I promise there's fluff)

*I HIGHLY recommend you read part 1 first!

picture credit: Naya Kotko (middle picture)

It was the most peculiar sensation. 

One minute you’re in the darkness and then, an almighty force rips you out, hurtling you toward the light. You’re left breathless and semi-unconscious until you are suspended in water, lungs filling with liquid until hands pull you out of the water. 

You coughed and expelled everything your body could while large warm hands swept the hair from your face. You blinked and there was Azriel, his golden-tan skin stained with blood, his black hair matted and sweaty. His jaw went slack and the faeries that surrounded you gasped. You wildly looked around to see yourself in the middle of a battlefield, your family frozen and staring at you with silver-lined eyes.

You were back. You were home.

“Azriel?” your voice hoarse. “Is it you?”

The shadowsinger’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Slowly, as if you would turn into dust and drift away, he cradled your face, eyes sweeping over your features. Every cell in his body sang as he realized it was you. The small scar on your chin, the freckle on the earlobe, how one eyebrow was more furrowed than the other. There were new marks but in that moment, Azriel brushed it off to worry about at another time. 

A sob broke through his lips, “How? How are you here?” Azriel didn’t wait for an answer, he wrapped his strong arms around your body and held you as close to him as possible.

The second you felt the weight of his arms, you started crying as well. His presence comforts you through your confusion. “I don’t know, I was there in that dark place by the river… and then something took me away. I was floating for a while and now I’m here.” 

Azriel looked at his family with concern written all over his features. You weren’t making any sense, but he brushed it off, you were just pulled out of the godsdamned Cauldron.

You held him close and inhaled his scent, it was your favorite and you never thought you’d smell cedarwood and chilled night mist again. You clung to him until you felt a gentle touch on your back, turning your head, you saw Rhysand next to you, he had to touch you too, make sure you were real. The rest of your family crowded around, their eyes filled with silver as they looked at you in wonder.

Azriel sat back on his heels as he watched his family hold you tight and tell you how much they’ve missed you. The High Lords who cared knelt beside you; their smiles warm as they asked you questions. Thesan hovered his glowing hands over your body, after close inspection he determined that you were physically healthy. He took note of the haggardness, the dark circles under your eyes, and told Rhysand that it was best to bring you back to Night Court to rest.

As reality slowly set in, Azriel felt that bond reappear, the golden strand thrumming to life and he could have wept all over again. Centuries of loneliness and sorrow washed away and soothed by your presence. The other side was still empty but that was okay, you were back and that’s all that mattered to him. After Feyre and her sisters were introduced, Rhysand winnowed you and Azriel to the townhouse. 

You were in tears again, the sight and smell of your home hit you like a ton of bricks. There were a few new scents in the mix but everything was relatively the same, the smell of baking bread, the wood burning in the fireplace, and glasses of whiskey, and wine that were left to be finished later.

Rhysand hated leaving you and Azriel alone but needed to deal with the aftermath of the war. While you wandered around the house, Rhys whispered instructions to Azriel.

“We don’t know what she’s been through so tread carefully, answer any questions she has, and hopefully she’s willing to open up about what happened,” said Rhysand as he looked at your figure, still shocked that you were once again standing in the living room. “I’ll send Madja over to heal you and check up on her. She seems fine now, but she might go into shock, let me kn-"

“Rhys, I got this. I’ll take good care of her. Go before the other Lords start another war,” said Azriel. 

Rhysand smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I know she’s your mate and you know exactly what to do. I just can’t believe she’s here.”

Azriel softly smiled as he watched you look out the window into Velaris. “Me too, Rhys.”

The shadowsinger joined by the bay windows, you were still looking into the city in disbelief. He wanted to hold your hand, but he wasn’t sure what you remembered, so he played it safe and poked you in the waist, something he'd done for hundreds of years. 

“Do you remember what happened to you? The day you died?” His voice still shook whenever he thought of that day, the way the earth swallowed you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Azriel, the anxiety and disorientation calming as you met his hazel gaze. Feeling exhausted, you leaned against the wall, a dull headache forming as you tried to remember the day.

“It was on a mission, the one with the Middengard worm. I buried it alive… I buried myself alive-” You paused as your blood ran cold. You remembered the feeling of the soil, the pressure around you, and how cold and hot it was at the same time. You were suffocating and numb all over. 

Azriel’s shadows noticed the shift of your mood, they could detect how alarmed you suddenly were. Half of his shadows moved towards you, the wisps caressing your face and shoulders. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, voice thick with emotion. “I died… but I wasn’t truly gone. Like a part of me was wandering in the darkness.” 

His shadows began to whisper, they didn’t like what you were implying, you had spent some time somewhere terrible. “What happened?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers pressing against your temples. Everything seemed muddled, your old life and the time you spent in the darkness were blurring together. You shook your head. “I don’t know… it’s all mixed up.”

Azriel smoothed his hands over your shoulders. “It’s okay, let's get you cleaned up, and then you can go to sleep. We can figure it out when you wake up and everyone is back. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You walked through the house, up the stairs, and opened the door to your bedroom, stopping short when Azriel’s scent filled your senses. Looking around, you saw the décor had changed, the sheets blue and gray, not the floral pattern you favored. 

“We didn’t touch any of your things until about a year ago. Feyre and her sisters moved in, so we had to make room. All your things are up in the attic. I- uh… took your bedroom, it felt weird for any of them to sleep where you slept,” he said softly. He had just fought in a battle and his mate had risen from the dead all in 12 hours, he wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Oh, I can sleep somewhere else then, maybe Mor will let me sleep in her room.”

Azriel chuckled. You were thinking of his comfort before your own, maybe you haven’t changed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, this will always be your room,” he paused, looking out the door. “Madja’s here, will you be okay by yourself? Do you need any help?

You shook your head. “I’ll be okay, Az. Go see Madja, you’re the one who looks like shit.”

He chuckled, the cheeky part of you hadn’t changed either.

While you peeled off the Illyrian leathers, flashes of black chiffon and silk flashed through your mind. You grabbed the tub's ledge, the sudden intrusion of memories leaving you unsteady. You blinked and you were back in the bathroom, the steam from the tub making the air thick and hazy. Looking at the mirror, you gasped in shock. You had just told Azriel he looked like shit but you may have looked worse than he did. The once flawless skin was covered in battle scars and burn marks, your forehead wrinkling trying and failing to remember how you got the marks.

Shaking your head, you lowered yourself into the water and looked around, it hadn’t changed much, your perfumes were still displayed on a shelf along with cologne that belonged to Azriel. Laying back, the steam smelling like cherry blossoms, you tried to remember what happened the day you died. Something happened that was important, but you couldn’t quite place it, you remember it meaning a lot to you, something you’ve been scared to do. 

After drying off, you realize you don’t have any clothes. Going to Azriel’s closet, you took out a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, you had just rolled up the legs when fatigue took over. Shuffling to his bed, you pulled back the covers and let his comforting scent lull you to sleep. 

*** 

You had been asleep for a whole day. Azriel panicked because you didn’t stir, just deep and slow breathing. He almost woke you up at the 10-hour mark, but Madja forbade him to do so. You were fine, just extremely tired. He refused to leave your side, his family occasionally coming in to check on both of you. 

Elain even came in with a vase full of pink, red, and white peonies from her garden. Azriel told her all about you in their garden walks, she saw how loved you were by everyone so she decided to plant your favorite flowers in your honor. She sat with Feyre and Azriel for a while, their conversation glamoured so their voices wouldn’t wake you. The sisters could see the relief on Azriel’s face, he looked younger, the fine lines on his forehead smoothed out. Elain developed a liking for Azriel, but she let it wither and die as she watched him look at you. He looked at you the way Lucien would sometimes look at her, shame slowly filled her as she quietly observed you.

Azriel had years to sit and ponder about your mate bond. He spent thousands of hours agonizing over every single interaction you’ve had, his imagination running wild as he made up scenarios of him confessing his love. He had imagined the two of you living in a cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, he imagined cooking dinner and folding laundry with you. His hazel eyes caressed your peaceful form, he still couldn’t believe you were back. Azriel decided that he would tell you about the bond once you were fully adjusted to your life. The both of you were robbed of a life filled with love. Azriel didn’t want to waste time, he refused to.

The soft sunlight streaming from the window slowly woke you. You looked around to see Azriel dozed off in a chair by the bed. Sitting up, you examined him and how his shadows drifted to you, their cool touch making you smile as they caressed your cheek. He was so handsome, you couldn’t help but take in his beautiful features. The love you had for Azriel was the only tether you had to your humanity. The dark place consumed people, you saw it firsthand and you refused to be a mindless servant like those before you. You couldn’t believe you were back in Velaris, the warmth and light were something you missed. It was much better than feeling scorching heat and cold simultaneously. 

You watched the winged male before you with a melancholy smile. In your deep slumber, memories filtered in filling the empty gaps. The day you died, you kissed Azriel and he reciprocated, you could still feel the tingle of your lips. Even when you were in the dark place, you’d feel it time and time again, sometimes even a spark was felt in your chest when you thought about him. In the dark place, you fantasized that Azriel was your mate, you wished it was true but you stopped yourself from wanting things that could never happen. 

You wished you could climb onto his lap, let him hold you close with an arm thrown around his shoulders and your head fitting onto the crook of his neck… but you don’t. 

You didn’t want to wake him just yet, his perception of you was the old one, the powerful yet kind and gentle fae. You were scared he wouldn’t like you now, horrified that he wouldn't see you the same way when he found out where you’ve been and what you’ve done. You were also terrified of how your family would react to you. The time you had spent in the darkness changed you, how monstrous and lightless you’d become.

The sudden growl of your stomach betrayed you and made Azriel jolt awake, his eyes snapping toward your figure only to see you giving him a sheepish smile.  

“You’re awake! You must be starving,” he said as he looked at the clock. “It’s just past breakfast, I’ll have Naula and Cerridwen make more food.”

A couple of wisps of his shadows went through the wall, making a beeline to the wraiths so they could send the message. Slowly, you got out of bed as your joints creaked and muscles sorely stretched. Azriel hovered nearby sensing your discomfort, grimacing as you hissed in pain and stood up to your full height. 

“Are you okay? I can bring food in bed, you don’t have to get up.”

“I’m okay, I think I’ve been asleep for too long, my body needs to move,” you said while stretching. “Besides, I’ve missed you all so much, there's so much to tell you guys.”

Azriel stayed close the entire walk to the dining room, his hand on the small of your back only letting go to pull out a chair for you to sit on. The House had just provided a plate and utensils for you when Rhysand, Cassian, Mor, and Amren came in. They settled on the chairs, their smiles reaching their eyes as they took your figure in. They never thought they’d see you sitting in your designated spot again. The Archeron sisters sat in the nearby living room, they wanted to listen to what you had to say while giving you time with your family. Nuala came in with stacks of waffles, over-easy eggs, and sausages while Cerridwen carried pitchers of coffee and water. 

Answering their questions could wait, you were ravenous, and you couldn’t remember the last time you ate something. The taste of your favorite breakfast made you tear up. It took a while for you to notice that your family was staring, tender smiles on their lips as they watched you do the mundane. You swallowed the last bit of food and gave them an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten in so long.”

Rhysand shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, take all the time you need. I think we’re just in shock. We’ve spent centuries and decades staring at your spot on this table, we can’t believe you’re here.”

You smiled at the High Lord, he was always so kind.

Holding the warm mug between your hands, you looked at Azriel whose gaze was so loving, that you weren’t scared to talk about what you’ve been through.

“Everything was fuzzy when I was taken out of the cauldron, I didn’t remember what my life was like in Hel until now… the day I buried myself and the Middengard worm, I died. I remember feeling everything at once, it was scorching, freezing, painful, and numb all at the same time. Everything was deafeningly quiet, so dark and still, and then I woke up in the middle of a field. Hel was bleak,” you said as you looked out the window to see the vibrant colors of Velaris. “Everything was tinted gray, the only bright color was fire.”

Your family watched you go rigid, your eyes glazing as you looked into the darkness in your coffee cup. Azriel put a hand on your shoulder but you didn’t acknowledge it, you were lost in your memories.

“I walked aimlessly for hours, I knew I was no longer in Prythian but I was confused and heartbroken. I thought that if I kept moving, I’d find something familiar. Hel was incredibly dangerous. There were these dark monsters that roamed around. The creatures of Illyria are nothing compared to what I’ve seen and dealt with. I spent days spending every second trying to survive, for some reason, the only thing I could conjure was fire so that’s what I used. By now, I’d consider myself a master, better than the Vanserras.”

“Were you alone?” asked Amren. “Were there any faeries or humans you ran into?”

“I thought I was but one day, this figure in a dark cloak appeared before me. He was taller than any fae I’ve seen, his hood was up and I never saw his face. I’m not even sure he had one. He introduced himself as the God of Death, he said he’d been watching me and saw potential. He said he wanted me to be a soldier, he wanted me to protect something-” Your face scrunched as you tried to remember the place. “Styx. The God of Death wanted me to protect souls that were ferried to and from a river called Styx. The river itself was magical, if you were dipped into the water, you became invulnerable and the God of Death tasked me to stop all creatures from doing so. The god perceived these individuals who sought out the power of the river as a threat. There was so much violence. Monsters were attempting to eat the souls of the dead, I’ve lost count of how many I’ve incinerated or sliced through.”

You blinked as you remembered the sword that was gifted to you. Waving a hand over the table, you conjured the silver sword, the metallic clang making your family jump in surprise. Cassian moved to touch it but your hands stopped him. 

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. It’s enchanted. If you knick yourself, you’d feel the pain of every single creature I’ve slayed. I learned that the hard way,” you chuckled darkly. Your thumb grazed over a small knick on your palm.

Cassian drew his hand back quickly, his eyes wide as he took you in a new light. Your entire family realized it then too, how different you were. You were still beautiful and as lovely as they remembered but your eyes were haunted, your aura heavy and dark. They noticed the battle scars that littered your body. They felt tears prickle in their eyes, it was hard to imagine someone so full of life surrounded by death and violence.

“Is that what you did for all those years? All by yourself?” asked Azriel, his voice laced with despair. “How did you do it?”

Azriel’s hand cupped your cheek, you leaned onto the familiar roughness of his palm, closed your eyes, and savored his touch. Morrigan smiled and looked away, delighted that two souls who were meant to be had found each other once again. 

“I would find a way to survive and take it day by day, my memories of this family helped me get through the worst of it. Over time, it got easier, and I accepted my new role in the underworld, I protected the dead and River Styx. I am.… I was bloodthirsty. I killed anything that got in my way.”

Once again, your eyes glazed over as you pondered the life you had lived a few days ago. Amren exchanged weary glances between Azriel and Rhysand. She was thousands of years old, she had heard of the place you’ve been in and Amren couldn’t believe how sane you seemed. Her silver eyes scanned the wounds and patches of scorched skin and she knew they’d all have to wait and see, you’ve only been back for a few days.

***

A week has passed since the war and your resurrection. Everyone was busy dealing with the aftermath, the Inner Circle had to take on extra work since Azriel refused to leave your side. No one would ask him to do so, it would have been impossible. Azriel was like his shadows, he moved when you moved and you loved him for it, without him, you’d have gone crazy. He was over the moon when you shyly asked him if you could sleep next to him. So much had happened and you needed a sense of normalcy like sleeping in your old room.

At first, there was a respectable amount of distance between you but once your nightmares started, you were reaching for him. He was happy to comply and loved that you felt safe with him. Since the first night you shared a bed, you couldn’t relax until Azriel’s arms were wrapped around you but even then, you’d barely sleep. The God of Death whispered to you in your dreams. He kept telling you that the universe took you away from him too early, that he still needed you to guard the river Styx. 

There were times when you’d be awake, you’d swear you could hear his whisper from across the room. You were too scared to tell anyone about it, you desperately wanted to stay in Velaris and return to your old life that you chose to ignore the whispers. If you don’t acknowledge it, it means it doesn’t exist, right?

Once the shock of being back in Velaris had worn off, you fell into a deep state of melancholia. If you weren’t curled up in a dark corner of the house, you were always on edge, constantly having your back to the wall so you could see everything in the room. That mighty sword from Hel was kept in a pocket realm, close enough to grab and use if you need it. 

You felt strange, it was good to be back but you weirdly felt out of place. At first, it was a joy to see all the colors of the rainbow but now that you’ve settled, everything was too bright and crisp. You found yourself longing for the dullness of the underworld.

Feyre told you about the memorial Rhysand built and suggested that visiting it could be healing. Amren also recommended that you try to use all your powers slowly and reconnect with nature instead of staying inside. To Azriel’s relief, you agreed and he eagerly volunteered to fly you to the memorial. The first thing you did was gasp at the grand memorial, a beautiful structure with colossal columns. Azriel sat on a bench in the front, he wanted to give you space and time to think. He couldn’t imagine what you were feeling, most creatures never see their gravestones let alone their memorial.

The memorial was filled with flowers in various stages, some have become beautiful dry bouquets and some were still vibrant and fragrant. A soft smile graced your lips, Azriel wasn’t joking when he said people still thought of you. Your cheeks redden at the thought of the last hundred or so years. They wouldn’t celebrate you if they knew what you’ve done with steel and flame.

The sound of the Sidra bouncing on the marble lulled you into a dazed state, the flow of the water reminding you of the river Styx. You made your way to the river and knelt on the bank, the fabric of your dress slowly getting soaked. A tentative hand skimmed the top of the water, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you felt the familiar water. Your blood sang as your soul and body reconnected with the elements of Velaris, your other hand was splayed on the grass, fingers digging into the dirt. You closed your eyes and let the earthy smell fill your senses and for a few moments, you felt like the old you. 

Your serene mood had affected the river, what was once rushing had calmed into a slow, steady stream. Looking down, you peered at the water and remembered how you used the river Styx to look at your reflection; to remind yourself of who you were. Suddenly, the peace was ruined when you blinked and saw a familiar black chiffon over your head. You screamed as you thrashed and scrambled away from the water. Your hands fly to your head to rip off the black fabric only to feel your skin. 

Azriel was next to you in an instant. “What?!” His hands grasped your shoulders forcing you to keep still.

Your eyes were wide and haunted. “I thought I saw something in the water! Something from the underworld.”

Azriel scooped your trembling body and shadows surrounded you as he winnowed to the front door of the townhouse. His family watched wide-eyed as Azriel burst through the door with you curled up in Azriel’s arms. He had just finished helping you settle into bed with the help of Amren and Feyre when he wearily sank into an armchair.

“What happened?” asked Rhysand. He had tried to look into your minds to find the answer but you and Azriel had impenetrable walls up. If he was being honest, he was scared to peek into your head.

Nearly in tears, Azriel shook his head. “I don’t know, I was trying to give her space but I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. By the time I got to her, she was crying and screaming. I don’t know if she saw or remembered something but it was bad. She kept clawing at her face as if something was over her head. I thought she was getting better and then this happened… I don’t know how to help her.”

Rhysand chewed the inside of his lip, he wished he had all the right answers for his brother but Azriel’s situation was unheard of. “I think all we can do is give her time and let her know that she has our love and support every step of the way. We can help her research about Hel and resurrections, I’ll write a letter to Helion so we can visit his libraries.”

Azriel nodded, “Okay. I know you wanted me on some missions but Rhys- I can’t. I can’t stand the idea of leaving her side again.”

The High Lord observed the shadowsinger.  Azriel looked younger than he had in years yet he undoubtedly looked exhausted. 

“Have you told her about your bond?” asked Rhysand. “Maybe knowing she has a mate will make the transition easier, it’ll help her cope with the centuries she’s been gone.”

Azriel squirmed in his chair. “What if she rejects me? What if it makes her feel worse knowing she’s tied down to someone like me?”

Rhysand suppressed a sigh, he hated it whenever Azriel doubted himself or second-guessed the Mother’s blessing of a mate.

“You know that’s not true,” interjected Rhysand. “She loved you before you felt the bond snap.”

Azriel resettled onto his chair, a crystal glass filled with liquor cradled in his hands. He couldn’t help feeling insecure, it’s been so long since the bond snapped and even longer when the two of you flirted and danced around each other. Your death brought upon loneliness that consumed him that he had forgotten what your love felt like.

“Okay,” said Azriel feeling much better now that he had a plan. “I’ll let her know tomorrow.”

“Everything is going to be okay–”

Rhysand was cut short by shouting and clamoring in the upstairs bedrooms. His eyes briefly glazed meaning he was speaking to Feyre. He immediately shot up and made a beeline to your room while Azriel sprinted after Rhysand. They stormed into your room and found the remnants of scorched sheets and a frantic Amren and Feyre. 

“What happened?” asked Azriel, his eyes wildly surveying the room. “Where’s y/n?”

Through the smoke, Azriel saw Amren clutching her hand to her chest. Feyre hovered over the small fae, concern etched on her face.

“Amren was trying to talk to her, get more information about what happened in the underworld. Everything was fine until she got upset when we asked what else the death god asked her to do,” said Feyre, words trembling as adrenaline coursed through her. “Her entire body erupted in fire, Amren was holding her hand when it happened. The three of us got startled, and she switched back to normal and immediately started crying and apologizing. You should have seen her face… she felt so guilty.”

“I tried telling her it was fine but she vanished,” said Amren. “I don’t know where she winnowed to but we need to find her soon. She isn’t okay.”

Azriel’s shadows burst out in every direction, their sole mission was to find you. Rhysand and Feyre scanned the city of thoughts about you but there was nothing, half of Azriel’s shadows came back whimpering in concern. Cassian and Nesta were informed and they immediately strapped their weapons and joined the search. 

Azriel was an unstoppable force, he went to every single place he could think of. The markets, the library, your memorial, and when everyone else checked off other places in the city, he and his brothers winnowed to Illyria. Azriel tore through Windhaven and nearby camps but they found no sign of you. Feyre and Mor had sent out letters warning the other High Lords you were missing and in an unstable condition. 

*** 

The inner circle stumbled into the townhouse in exhaustion, hours had gone by with no sign of you and Azriel felt like he was going to lose his mind. A part of him was terrified that you had returned to the Hel, scared you were dragged back into the darkness. He couldn’t lose you again, he would rather die. There was nothing to do but wait, half of his shadows were still searching and the other High Lords had soldiers searching for you in their courts.

Feyre told Azriel to get some sleep but everyone knew he wouldn’t get rest until you were back in his arms.

Azriel was pacing on the balcony waiting for reports from his shadows and spies when Amren stood next to him, a bandage wrapped around her hand. 

“She didn’t hurt me too bad,” said Amren before the spymaster could ask. “Now that most of my powers have been stripped away from me, my body has to get used to High Fae healing.”

He looked at her bandaged hand and shook his head. He knew you ran because you had hurt one of your dearest friends. He just wished you’d come back. 

“I’m really worried about her. I don’t have much experience but the God of Death is not to be trifled with. He kept her in Hel for years which means he likes and trusts her. I’m afraid he’s trying to drag her back.”

Azriel’s heart pounded against his chest. “Can he do that? Take her back to Hel?”

“He isn’t the Cauldron,” continued Amren. “He’s not powerful enough to do it by force but… he can try to convince her to join him. Make her go willingly.”

“What does that mean? She has to die again?”

Silver rimmed Amren’s eyes. “I don’t know. We just need to find her fast before it’s too late.”

Suddenly, Morrigan came running in. “Rhy’s got reports of strange phenomena on an island near the continent,” panted Mor. “The King of Vallahan is saying large tidal waves emit from the island and that the once dormant volcano is active again.”

Azriel sucked in a breath, he knew this had to be you. 

“Let’s go. Rhysand’ll winnow us in.”

***

You didn’t mean to hurt Amren. That white-hot rage was uncontrollable once she kept asking questions about Hel and all that frustration and confusion burst out. The shock on Amren’s face made you sob, you’ve never seen her so frightened in your life. You singed her hand and you prayed to the Mother you didn’t leave any lasting marks. The burnt skin immediately reminded you of Azriel and that’s when you wanted to disappear. What if you hurt more of your family? Azriel?

You’re not sure where you winnowed to but the sun was beating down and the rock beneath you felt weirdly comforting even though it was hot to the touch. You laid on the scorching stone, you wanted to punish yourself and let your skin blister. You began to hallucinate, one moment you were on an island, and in a second, you were back in the underworld. Creatures would stand in the corner of your vision, you weren’t sure if they were real because every time you turned, they’d slither away. 

You began to panic as your world continued oscillating between the island you were in and Hel. Azriel was nowhere to be found and mentally screaming for Rhysand wasn’t working at all. You needed something to comfort you. With a wave of your hand, your sword gifted from the death god appeared before you. Taking a deep breath, you placed your hand on the familiar handle, and then the magic began. Black silk and chiffon slowly materialized over your body turning into a dress. Chiffon covered your head and you ran toward the water, desperate to look into the reflection. 

Then every memory flooded back in. 

Flashes of you standing in Hel with a bloodied silver sword. The black fabric clinging to you where blood had spilled and splattered. Every cry of horror before you delivered a death blow echoed in your ears. The smell of dirt and copper clung to the air, the steam of fresh blood wafting towards you. The memory of plunging your stained arms and blade into the cold river made goosebumps litter your skin.

So many creatures had crossed your sword. 

Faeries. Monsters. Humans. Half-gods. 

And you obliterated all of them. 2,865 creatures to be exact.

A gust of salty air stunned you back to reality, the wind making the chiffon flow.

How could you face your family after what you’ve done? Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand would always tell you they felt guilty about how many they’ve killed but your numbers were unforgivable. You did the bidding for a death god. Some of the creatures you killed weren’t even that evil, they just wanted to gain the power of the river Styx. How could Azriel want you now? 

You began rapidly breathing, your gasps sounding shallow, and the world around you began to spin. You thought you were hallucinating your dress, but the material that covered your body was very much real. Storm clouds began to cover the sun and the sound of crashing waves grew louder. The ground groaned beneath you making you snap your head toward the mountain. The sound of rumbling got louder the more panicked you felt, you tried to calm yourself but nothing was working. Sinking to your knees, the tears began to spill as confusion, self-loathing, and panic overwhelmed you.

Curling into a ball, you cried until there were no tears left. The ground was hot and it rumbled while the wind twisted and swirled around you. There was no desire to move, you wanted the earth to consume you once more.

That was until you heard the familiar flap of wings. Remembering the sound of the winged beasts from Hel, you shot up and conjured a ball of fire in one hand and brandished the sword in the other.

Whoever it was converged quickly and moved faster than anticipated, you were about to launch a flame when familiar rough skin grasped your arms. You blinked and there was Azriel’s towering figure standing before you. Gasping in horror, you let go of the sword and let the fire wither.

Backing away, you tensed in his touch. “Go away! I don’t want to hurt you.”

He shook his head. “You’re not going to hurt me. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You looked up at him to see dark circles under his eyes, he was exhausted yet his eyes held so much love as peered down.

He lowered himself to your height, grasped the chiffon, and uncovered your head. “Do you know why I know you won’t hurt me?”

You looked at him blankly, still stunned that Azriel was on the island with you.

“We’re mates. I wish I got to tell you in better circumstances but I love you and I will always love you no matter what.”

Your brows scrunched in confusion and then you felt it, a pleasurable burn in your chest as a golden thread slowly materialized and snapped into place. You gasped at the flow of emotions coming from Azriel, it was filled with love and it terrified you.

“I’m dangerous,” you said as you shook your head. “Look at me. I need to get away.”

Azriel’s hands went up to cup your cheek. “You could throw one of those damned fireballs at me and I’d still crawl back to you because I can no longer live life without you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I don’t deserve you. I hurt Amren. I’m going to hurt you one day and I won’t forgive myself,” you said gingerly placing a hand on the scarred parts of his hands.

Azriel was quiet at first, he looked back at his family who had flown or winnowed in and then he looked at you, his mate. His thumb traced your cheekbone as he watched your eyes slowly deglaze.

“I have felt a world without you in it and I never want to feel like that again. I am empty without you. I don’t want to breathe air that you aren’t breathing. I don’t want to wake up and see a blue sky knowing you aren’t there to admire it. I can’t do life without you. Never again,” he said as his voice faltered. “ I can’t do this without you. ”

“You love me?”

He nodded and smiled as silver-lined his eyes.

The bond thrummed between you, it was golden and strong.

You looked into his hazel eyes and believed him, relief flooded through your veins as you launched yourself, wrapping your arms around Azriel.

“I remember what happened the day I died. I was scared you wouldn’t accept the new me.”

He held you close and pressed his lips against your hair. “Impossible. I would love every version of you, our souls will always be bound together."

In Azriel’s embrace, whatever hold the God of Death had on you had unlatched. The black silk and chiffon disappeared into the ether and left you in your old garments. The only thing left was the silver sword that was thrown haphazardly on the ground.

Death lets you keep it as a “thank you” for what you’ve done. You were his lovely steadfast servant, but he wasn’t too upset about having to let you go. After all, whether it was in a year or a millennium, he knew you’d cross paths once more.

***

It took a while but you finally adjusted to life back in Prythian. The public rejoiced your return and the world finally seemed at peace again, the other High Lords were happy to come to Night Court and visit their old friend. Your role in Rhysand and Feyre’s court was reestablished and everything slowly went back to normal. The inner circle was still in disbelief you were alive and cherished every moment they had with you and the Archeron sisters immediately loved you.

Every morning, you and Azriel sat on the porch of a beautiful cottage that he had bought for the two of you. It was on the outskirts of Velaris and right next to the Sidra. You would drink your morning coffee and listen to the birds singing. Sometimes you were sat on Azriel’s lap or your feet propped up on his leg or he was simply holding your hand. Never again would Azriel take anything for granted, he learned the hard way that no one has all the time in the world. He knew how lucky he was to have this second chance.

Hel had changed you but you learned to accept that. You were darkness and Azriel was your light and you would cherish him until the very end.

Thank you thank you thank you for reading! I hope you loved our reader's happy ending! Lmk what you think! 😘

tags: Thank you for your patience, my loves!!!

@why4anne, @fxckmiup, @macimads, @azriels-shadowsinger, @thestartitaness, @willowpains, @scatteredstardustt, @amysangel, @starryhiraeth, @nastynesta, @tenshis-cake, @meshellexplosionmurder, @coureurs-de-bois9, @chessebookgirl, @prettylittlewrites, @lisanna2000, @tsibba01, @rcarbo1

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We are back in the flood, with three (!) new Japanese QLs starting this week (we will be patiently waiting for @isaksbestpillow’s excellent subs on the new GL, so I’ll cover that next week), on top of our three ongoing shows. Three of these are streaming weekly on Gaga, with two provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Love in the Air Koi

The much anticipated Japanese remake of Love in the Air is here, and it's off to a strong start! I'm a fan of the Thai original despite its flaws, and I am hopeful that a remake can elevate the core of the story while shedding some of the sillier plot aspects and filler. This first episode did exactly that, executing all the important beats of the original first episode in half the time, and establishing our core characters and their dynamics quite well. The casting is good all around, but Nagumo Shoma is perfect as Arashi, and he and Rei have good chemistry. I will look forward to this one every week.

Our Youth

Another strong start right out of the gate! This drama seems to be a second chance romance of sorts. We begin with Minase in present time (narrating about how he and Hirukawa can only communicate via letters, which I suspect may be incarceration-related?) before traveling back six years to high school to see their relationship unfold. Minase is a wealthy but lonely top student who teachers adore, Hirukawa is a poor and abused kid who teachers have already written off as a lost cause, and they are inevitably drawn to each other when Minase witnesses some of the horrible things Hirukawa is dealing with and keeps his mouth shut about it. This drama feels confident about the story it's telling and it's so beautifully shot. Hirukawa already has my heart. I especially like that his characterization feels nuanced and specific rather than archetypal; he is troubled but he's not a bully, and rather than rejecting care, he seeks it out from someone he perceives as trustworthy. I am along for this ride and excited to see where Minase's perspective takes us.

Smells Like Green Spirit

Ow, my heart. This week town gossip spread like wildfire about Mishima and Kirino's supposed romance, and both had a heart to heart with their mothers about it, with wildly different results. While Mishima's wonderful mother affirmed that she knows who he is and wants him to be happy and live his truth, Kirino was shamed and guilted by his homophobic wreck of a mother. We already know how much her grief weighs on him, and her inability to accept him will surely make things hard for him going forward. It was lovely to see he and Mishima escape together to their Shangri-La, however briefly, but I also felt sad that he kept his painful experience to himself rather than confiding in his friend. I just want them both to be okay. Yumeno also had a coming out of sorts, and while I was happy to see another supportive mother, I thought it overcrowded the episode to shove that in, too, especially with lots of time also spent on the villagers. I would have liked the focus to stay more tightly on our besties.

Love is Like a Poison

Welcome to the battle couple era!! Shiba and Haruto are settling into couple life (adorably), and Shiba is defiantly claiming Haruto as his partner for anyone who cares to know. And this week we get what we've been waiting for, as the story sets up the final boss, who appears to be an enemy of both Shiba and Haruto (the former professionally, the latter personally). Haruto is still not telling his Ryo-kun what he's driving after, but we got some helpful hints at the end of this episode about what is ultimately motivating his scamming. I am so excited to see them team up again to take this guy down.

Chaser Game W

I’ll keep this brief. This sequel season had little purpose, with a plot that changed randomly from week to week. They capped it off with a finale that made an insulting mockery of the homophobia real same sex couples in Japan face. This show sticks out like a sore thumb on this list of otherwise excellent Japanese queer media, and I’m very glad it’s over.

[razorblade180]

Capturing the Spark

Weiss:*peeks into music room* Summer, sweetie? I can’t help notice you’re playing the same note for like…ten minutes.

Summer: *plucking string* I’ve reach creative bankruptcy.

Weiss:You’re sixteen. There’s something in there.

Summer:Nothing good.

She points at a decently sized pile of paper on the floor. Weiss takes a look at one and realizes it’s a whole song.

Weiss:Are these originals!? Why are they on the floor!?

Summer:I don’t like how they came out. Weeks and months of revising but they feel mediocre.

Weiss:Says you. A single opinion from a creator is damning in any art form. I could’ve listened.

Summer:You would’ve been too nice and supportive.

Weiss:Summer, I told your father he looked fat in the first tux he chose for our wedding. I will never willingly let you embarrass yourself in front of people.

Summer:…There’s been talk on the radio about my recent songs and concerts. People are saying I’m losing my spark, and they aren’t wrong if I’m being honest. Things feel…different.

Weiss:Could it be because you’re getting healthy?

Summer:Pfft, now you’re making me sound ridiculous. Yes, that’s exactly it. Being on stage feels weird now that I’m not fighting for my life. Is that wrong?

Weiss:Little bit, but I get it. Your life was on the line. Adrenaline was at an all time high.

Summer:Exactly! My body was cold and hot. I had to focus on staying myself while thousands cheered my name and had zero clue I was basically on a battlefield! Now I’m just performing.

Weiss:Haha, and that’s a bad thing? It’s gonna be an adjustment but you still have that spark. You don’t need your life on the line to bring it out. You also need to treat these songs better.

Summer:Mom, they’re garbage. My fans don’t come for me for darker stuff anyways.

Weiss:They are fruits of labor. Sure not all of them will be perfect, but not every song you make will be a hit and don’t have to be. Treat these like your puppy. Don’t throw them away because they’re a little all over the place.

Summer:Where is he right now?

Weiss:Bothering Jaune. Anyways, fuck your haters.

Summer:Wow!

Weiss:I mean it! You are the singer! You can’t make people like your music but you change the audience that fills your seats. They’re called fans because they help make you burn bright.

Summer:….

Weiss:The way I see it, you can change up your style and genre to better capture and represent the raw feelings that give you the spark, or bask in the irony of a crowd that loves you, but can’t fathom the real weight of your performance.

Summer:You’ve done that too!?

Weiss:I’ve written so many songs that come from my feelings being around my abusive father and most people don’t have a clue. We may be the entertainment at a concert, but we both know how easy it is to see the crowd as the real fools.

Summer:Yet when I talk like this, therapy gets mentioned.

Weiss:Hey, I’ve been to it many times. I know exactly who I am, and you will too. One day at a time. You’re not creatively bankrupt. You’re just not cashing in all the ideas you have.

And with that nugget of wisdom, Weiss kisses her daughter on the forehead before leaving her to think on it.

Summer:(Damn it. She’s gonna feel so proud about that line.) *grabs paper*……

xxxxxx

Weiss:*walking down stairs* I’m back. How’s the puppy?

Jaune:*holding him up* Air jail. Did you solve the one note wonder?

Weiss:Yeah, but it’s gonna get louder in sec-

🎶VVVVVRRRREEEERRRRR🎶

Both of them looked up as the sound of a distorted and almost wailing guitar started singing wildly. Jaune looked at his wife to see her casually head banging with a smug face. They weren’t even sure if the notes lead to something or if their daughter was simply going for it.

Weiss:It’s been awhile since I heard a eulogy like this.

Jaune:A eulogy?

Weiss:Can’t you hear it? It’s for the death of a pop star as we know her.

[miupow]

★ 彡      pervy bsf kai! [drabble] ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bsf!hueningkai x fem!reader

. . . WORDS ! ~700

. . . NSFW, MDNI ! perv!kai, panty stealing, panty sniffing, masturbation (m. rec), plushie humping, panty kink, pocket pussies, kai turns a plushie into a fleshlight basically, this is gross, mommy kink at the end, thoughts about getting caught

THIS IS A REPOST!! this is quite possibly the nastiest piece of fiction i've ever written in my life. im obsessed with it.

kai has a secret: he’s in love with his best friend. 

well, if he was being honest, it was much more than love. It was an obsession. an obsession that’s only seeming to get worse and worse.  

“kai, what’s the matter?” you asked innocently, bustling around in the kitchen making breakfast. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“i- um—“ it might as well had been a ghost with how you were haunting him, dressed in nothing but fuzzy socks and an oversized hoodie, panties peeking out from under the hem. he was so enamored by the globes of your ass that the had forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to be staring. “nothing. don’t worry about it.”

his voice wavered a little, and you shot him a funny look. kai really hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. 

Did you know what you did to him, dressing like that all of the time? Showing off your curves, pretty ass, pretty tits, pretty tummy.. You had to, there was no way it wasn’t on purpose— it felt like multiple times a day now he was hiding the bulge in his pants with a pillow or a plushie, shoving his face in his switch to hide the fact that he was taking in greedy eyefuls of your body. He could hardly take it anymore, needed you so bad he felt like he was going to explode!

and then, it was like the gods had listened to his prayers, because later that day while he was looking for his favorite hoodie, something peeking out of your laundry basket caught his eye. 

a pair of panties. a pair of used panties.  

kai stared at them for a long, long time before checking his surroundings and shoving them into his pocket. 

he felt gross. he felt disgusting. like a nasty pervert with no self control… but his cock was so hard it was bordering on painful as he locked himself up in his room. fisting the panties in one hand he tore off his jeans and underwear with the other, cock bobbing out of his boxers and smacking against his belly with a lewd wet sound. kai didn’t hesitate to wrap a fist around himself.  

he already felt like he was moments from cumming, just from the act alone… what would you do if you caught him? would you be disgusted, call him mean names? Kai pressed your panties up against his nose, inhaled deeply— he could still smell your cunt on the fabric, imagine so clearly your pussy in his face as you called him a nasty boy.  

Kai keens high in his throat, lets go of his cock before he shoots ropes of cum all over his sheets. Instead, he reaches for his favorite toy. 

It was once a stuffed penguin you had gifted him for his birthday, years ago— it was defiled beyond recognition now, plush fur sticky and stained with countless loads of kai’s seed. it was yet another disgusting secret of his, but he cherished it more than any of his other plushies, all the way down to the pocket pussy he’s shoved into a crudely cut-out hole in it’s backside. 

he hates to tear the panties away from his greedy nose, but kai has a better idea— with a sick rush he pulls the panties onto the plush, awkward but positioned perfectly for his cock to rub up against the core.

kai cries out at the first grind down, the panties dampening with his precum and easing the slide— soon he’s humping the plushie with abandon, big hands holding it still as he rocks his hips wildly, pretty red cock weeping. 

only after he’s shot a load over the plushie’s fur and his tummy does kai sink his cock into the pocket pussy, earlier orgasm only making him more sensitive, cute staccato cries as he bottoms out— “mommy,” he whimpers to himself, pathetic and breathy as he fucks himself dizzy. “mommy, i-i’m a bad boy—!” 

oh, won’t you come and punish him? tell him how disgusting he is, let him paint the walls of your cunt white, ruin him completely? that’s what he wants more than anything~~ ♡

[achaotichuman]

Fanfiction Rec Masterlist

This is my personal list of fanfiction recommendations. It's easy to get lost in the abyss of mindless, droning hate, and Pro-IC content in this fandom, and this is a safe space away from all of that.

All of these fics are free of Tamlin hate, and all of them are utterly beautiful, well-written and I love them.

Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra

A Court of Threads and Daises by @shi-daisy

Tragedy almost struck the Spring Court when Tamlin Evergreen tried to take his own life. Lucien Vanserra manages to save his former Lord, but not his power.

Now that the Spring Court has a new High Lord and the horrors of war are behind them, both Tamlin and Lucien agree to help the new heir navigate court life and attempt to rebuild the broken Spring Court, along with healing themselves.

They weren't expecting to fall back in love in the process.

A Second Chance by @goforth-ladymidnight

Modern ACOTAR AU – There is a reason that Tamlin disappeared from Lucien's life seven years ago. Lucien just doesn't know what it is. They were more than college roommates; they were best friends. Now, a chance encounter in a bookstore leaves both of them wondering if they can pick up where they left off. A new year is right around the corner, but there is no wiping Tamlin's slate clean. Featuring Jurian and Vassa in supporting roles, this is not a story of redemption, but of finding love—and forgiveness—in the most unlikely of places.

Lovely and Lonely by @praetorqueenreyna

"In hindsight, Lucien thinks he fell in love with Tamlin the moment he first laid eyes on him."

**************************

Lucien Vanserra must come to terms with his sexuality, and his complicated feelings for High Lord Tamlin.

A Court of Choices Made by Anonymous

Lucien decides to go after Tamlin to pick a fight after his first Winter Solstice with the Night Court.

I see red, I see nothing by AngryRamen

Lucien travels to Amarantha’s domain to try and bid for peace between her and the courts of Prythian. It doesn’t go well.

Still Beautiful, Still Mine by @goforth-ladymidnight

\Vanserra. ACOTAR AU - In the weeks following his visit to Amarantha’s Court Under the Mountain, Lucien is still recovering from the loss of his eye. Nuan has made him a replacement out of gold, but the scars on his face are there to stay. When Tamlin comes to see him, Lucien cannot help but relive the events that brought them to this point, if only he could focus on what's standing right in front of him...

A Sunbeam Shining Bright Into the Night by @nocasdatsgay

After the Great Rite ritual is completed, Tamlin always goes back to the Manor to see if Lucien is waiting for him. This year he is.

Forbidden by @nocasdatsgay

Calanmai has come once again, but Tamlin isn’t focused on the females waiting for him.

Breezing on by Sprighnt (SliPuP_Slit)

His focus was shattered when Feyre dropped onto the bench next to him with a dramatic sigh, “You won’t even say hi after you ditched us last week?”

Lucien rolled his eyes at her antics, “I didn’t ditch you, I was studying for math. The exam of a subject that I need days to prepare for, remember? I didn’t think you’d even notice me gone, what with all the ogling that takes up your time in our practices.”

“Shut up!” She shushed him, glancing around wildly for any eavesdroppers, “what if he heard you?”

——— Lucien has settled into a routine now. He’s finally able to go back to competing after an accident that had him wondering if he’d ever be able to skate competitively again, he’s out of his hellish childhood home, and has friends that make him happy.

By the Fountain by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit)

Tamlin is tired of stuffy dinner parties, luckily, he has his best friend, Lucien, to make things more interesting.

———

Tamlin took the time to look at Lucien, who was staring at an elegant fountain nearby. He examined the dip of his nose, the scrunch of his brows, the slight part of his lips that indicated he was contemplating something. Then Lucien’s mouth set in a firm line, meaning he’d made up his mind on whatever the issue was.

Lucien glanced back at him and Tamlin startled at being caught watching. He placed his hand gently on Tamlin’s arm, “I don’t think my father will plan one for me either.”

New Springs by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit)

“I can’t be here for as long as you,” she clarifies, gesturing to the forest around them.

“You’re leaving?”

She shrugs, “It’s nice here, but my sisters, my father, they’re my only family. Even if they’re, a little difficult at times, and I don’t want to hurt Tam. I was really in love with him, but, to put it plainly, I’m not like you.”

“Like me,” Lucien repeats, confused, “what do you mean?”

———

In another universe, an alternate timeline, Feyre says “I love you”, before she’s sent off and therefore breaks the curse the way it was supposed to be broken. Things are different.

absolution by @praetorqueenreyna

Things didn't work out between Feyre and Tamlin. Years later, they both find love in unexpected places

Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free by franklinarchive. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

Tamlin heals and then he moves on.

Or, what if Sarah J. Maas hadn’t committed ‘character assassination’ against Tamlin?

When The Sun Came Up (I Was Looking At You) by pansexual_intellectual .

There was a slight choking sound from the Night Court side of the room, but when you looked, Lucien was expressionless, adjusting his doublet.

It was the worst idea you had ever had. In the shreds of your manor you dropped to your knees. He was gone in the morning, as you knew he would be.

a bridge between us by @yaralulu

“In less than a year, they’d already lost so many people, and yet they had to send another sentry beyond the wall today. And as they left, so did Tamlin. He’d once again left Lucien to tend to his wounds, and deal with his upcoming grief all his on own. He’d once again left Lucien alone in the manor, sorrowful and bitter and bubbling with worry he could no longer contain.

It’s why the sound of Tamlin winnowing back filled Lucien with relief like no other. Like releasing a breath he’d been holding for too long. Tamlin being home made Lucien feel like he could breathe again. No matter how hurt Lucien was by Tamlin, he’d always find himself standing outside his office, his need to see Tamlin overriding his common sense.”

Amidst the ruins of their fractured relationship, Lucien and Tamlin grasp for the fragile threads that once bound them together, desperately seeking solace in each other as they battle the curse placed upon Spring.

The Fox and The Hound by @samhatch

Every Fire Night since Lucien joined Spring Court, Tamlin has always sought him out to help release the last of the spirits that possessed him. But now that he's mated with Feyre, Tamlin won't need Lucien's help anymore... Or will he? ********************************************************** “I thought you wouldn’t come.” I admitted. I tried to keep my heart from beating too quickly, knowing his heightened senses could hear it. He said nothing in reply, and walked slowly toward me. As gently as the morning dew, he pressed his lips to mine, but I could feel the hunger behind it barely kept at bay. His scent filled my nose, trampled moss and lilac. “What about Feyre?” I asked. “She’s asleep,” he said as he crawled into my bed.

Violated by @sonics-atelier

Headcannon : Tamlin wakes up and when he sees Luciens red hair he's reminded of his experiences with Amarantha .

Serenading by @sonics-atelier

Summary : Traditions dictate that the High Lord must serenade the fae they wish to woo as a partner for Calanmai.

Tamlin/Rhysand

Wildflower by @mathiwrites.

Five hundred years before Feyre’s arrival in Prythian, the humans fought against Faeries, led by the King of Hybern, for their Freedom. Tamlin is only seven years old when the war begins, but his family’s involvement and a fated friendship with a handsome young Lord from the Night Court will change his life forever. This is the story of how he becomes the High Lord you know and love, and the redemption story nobody asked for.

TL;DR - before they were enemies, they touched butts.

A strange thing happened the night of the High Lord meeting by @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken.

Tamlin shook his head, a small smile on his full lips. “You forget that we were closer than friends once. I know your face. Even when you think you’re being so clever, hiding behind that mask of impassivity, I see you.”

He snarled, even as his heart began to beat faster as the other male approached him.

“You think I didn’t see you? You couldn’t stop looking at me during that meeting.” He took another step closer, and his next words were tinged with playfulness, a hint of the Tamlin he’d used to know.

“Were you thinking of that night too?”

He froze. “What?”

In the Eyes of My Beloved by Alynaw66.

I promise, Rhysand sighs into his mouth; Then down onto the slight curve between his neck and shoulder. Tamlin shivers, feeling dazed. Overwhelmed.

“Another offer,” he begins, one hand sliding down to grip Tamlin’s narrow waist.

(Also fun fact about this fic, I was brought to Tumblr because of a link in the notes, so without this fiction I wouldn't be here)

Stay or Go? by SoulOfStars.

Both of their families are dead. Rhysand decides to stay. They fuck in the second chapter.

Burning Batter by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit).

Rhysand comes over to make cupcakes with Tamlin for Feyre’s upcoming New Year’s party.

A Court of Lies and Resurrection by @ashintheairlikesnow.

AU: Feyre is dead, torn apart by Amarantha when Tamlin did not send her away in time. Tamlin, forced to submit to Amarantha's terms, finds himself looking for help (and finding affection) in places he never expected, while Lucien allies with an ancient enemy (and one of Rhys's closest friends) to save him. WARNING Extensive explicit adult content, sexual situations, violence, MA

Colors in a Dead Garden by @fourteentrout.

"It is not just an ancient enchantment that they’re dealing with, it is not just an incompetent, broken High Lord that never even asked for his position. It is the fall of the Spring Court."

With the fate of the mortal lands--and possibly the rest of Prythian--at stake, Rhysand has to confront the Court that has caused so much of his pain and suffering. The male whose claws have sunk into Rhysand's life time and time again over the centuries.

For Prythian, Rhysand finds that he has to reckon with parts of himself and his past that he's been burying for hundreds of years, and find the cure to a curse from another time in the process.

The Solution by @fourteentrout.

Nyx attends his first formal Courtly event as a grown Faerie. Well, as grown as a nineteen year old can be. His parents' past with their host remains shrouded in mystery, and Nyx finds that he develops a somewhat unruly attraction to the High Lord of the Spring Court.

It does not go how he expected it to.

AKA Nyx is unbearably horny and nothing works out in his favor. Tamlin, on the other hand...

no one left to grieve by @praetorqueenreyna.

A month after the tragedy that made both him and Tamlin High Lords, Rhysand returns to the Spring Court to finish the job.

***********

For Tamlin Week, Day 1: Heir of Spring

To have, to hold by @flowerflamestars.

“You picked the wrong one,” Tamlin laughed.

you up? by @praetorqueenreyna.

Tamlin accidentally texts a "personal" picture to Rhysand

Nighttime in Spring by star_stealing_girl.

A longing was in Tamlin’s green eyes, and his fingers twirled in the dark strands of Rhys’s hair. Rhys wondered if he, too, was remembering that magical Calanmai, so long ago that it was like a dream. Rhys seemed to feel the pulse of the drums in every beat of his heart. The singing and carousing was like a chant in his blood.

***

Rhys tries to convince Tamlin to participate in Calanmai this year, and the music and magic awaken old memories. Will it awaken a renewed desire between the two old friends? This fic is set a few years after the events of ACOSF, and is a short romance between Rhys and Tamlin.

Lay Me on the Cold Dark Earth by @witch-and-her-witcher

Maybe the whiskey had been spiked. Maybe Tamlin was hallucinating on faerie dust right now and Rhys wasn't actually asking what he thought he was.

Rhys snarled with the darkness of his powers behind it.

Tamlin snarled right back, the beast instinctually roaring beneath his too-tight skin.

"I'm asking for that," Rhys said, unrelenting. "I want you to unleash that beast begging to stretch its legs."

Darling by @lifeisabiscuit

A different view of what could have happened when Rhysand visited Tamlin in fas.

Nyx/Tamlin

A Court of Chaos and Darkness by @witch-and-her-witcher.

Fate isn't done screwing with Tamlin's life, but this time the collateral is his ex-lovers son.

The heir of the Night Court knows something is wrong with him that his family won't tell him and Nyx is ready to come out of the dark.

Cosmogeny by @highlordofkrypton

The world is in ruins. Humans and Faeries pick at each other’s teeth until the bone is whittled from flesh and all that is left is blood in their wake. They had been created equal, once. To think, they’d all fall prey to their own hubris. This is not what the Goddesses wanted. To Prythian, they are sending scouts to decide whether their world is worth saving, or whether it should be devoured and remade anew.

This is a dark fantasy, eldritch horror fic that may end up being unserious more often than not.

Tamlin/Eris Vanserra

The longest Day of the Week by Yooijo.

Now, Eris grew up in what could only be described as a heteronormative society. And while he had his fair share of escapades, he tended to follow the rules and stick to tits and slits, with the occasional fumble between friends where he put the emphasis on being fumbled with and never touching another man’s dick.

So, instead of mauling Tamlin’s junk with his teeth, he sat there, stiff like a board in every aspect, eating his soup and looking at Tamlin like he wanted to burn the world and dance naked on the ashes.

///

What Eris and Tamlin are up to after the evil, very bad, not good king of Hybern is defeated.

heaven sent a hurricane by @praetorqueenreyna. Vanserra. After his family is killed and he is crowned High Lord, Tamlin struggles to keep his Court under his control. (Un)Luckily for him, Eris Vanserra steps in to help.

Tamlin/Tarquin

A Court of Beasts and Chances by M4r0u_Mar.

About a Beast who must be prince and a Prince who wants to be beast. About a Prince who learns of second chances and a Beast who learns of redemption. About looking for love and finding it in the journey rather than the destination.

Or the one where I rewrite ACOTAR to make Tamlin and Tarquin mates.

Tamlin/Feyre Archeron

The Gown by @goforth-ladymidnight

"I really, truly hated my wedding gown. It was a monstrosity of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, so unlike the loose gowns I usually wore: the bodice fitted, the neckline curved to plump my breasts, and the skirts… The skirts were a sparkling tent, practically floating in the balmy spring air." ~ A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

A somewhat canon-compliant look at what Tamlin might have said or done when he sees Feyre in "The Dress" for the very first time. Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr.

Nesta Archeron/Tamlin

A House of Flame and Flower by Mellowenglishgal.

“Spare me the self-righteous lecturing, Feyre. You and your new family believe yourselves superior: that anyone who is not deemed worthy by you must bow or be eliminated. I refuse to bow to those I do not respect: and I owe none of you any such obligation. Nor am I obligated to remain where my autonomy is threatened,” Nesta sighed, gentle yet commanding, her voice low and steady and unyielding. “I renounce all ties to the Night Court. From now on, you are no longer my sister.”

“Where will you go?” Feyre snapped, but Nesta saw it: the sudden realisation that Nesta meant every word.

“That is no longer your business. Goodbye, Feyre,” Nesta said softly. She rose to her feet, elegant as an empress despite her unkempt clothing. As she stared down her youngest sister, Nesta caressed the delicious power shimmering like slumbering embers deep in her heart, until her veins sang with silver fire, pure light, blistering heat, deadly yet silent.

Flame was silent: everything it met shattered and snapped, disintegrating, unable to withstand it.

She was flame. She was undiluted, unrefined, unapologetic power.

She told Feyre, “You will not hear from me again.”

Nesta Archeron/Eris Vanserra

A Court of Blaze & Sorrow by @shi-daisy

(Sequel to A Court of Threads & Daisies)

Nesta Acheron had known from early childhood she'd be wearing a mask. She thought she'd wear it for the rest of her life. Until she tore it off on the eve of her wedding. Intending to stop Rhysand's plans to become High King, she takes to the Autumn Court, where she finds more that she bargained for with the Vanserra family. Particularly Eris Vanserra.

Eris wore his mask to keep everything and everyone in place hoping that one day he'd inherit the Autumn Court from his cruel father and changed it for the better. He didn't know fate had diffrent plans for him when Lady Nesta Acheron sought him out to end Rhysand's tyranny.

Free from Night's grasp the pair must navigate Court life, family drama and romance, hoping to mend both their lives and hearts.\

With a Sense of Poise and Rationality by @kateprincessofbluewhales

Nesta finds herself, yet again, with her life turned upside down on her and Cassian's wedding day. One shot exapanded!

Other

In This Peace Series by @trshtffc, the first fiction in the series is completed The Sorceress . Tamlin/Original Female Character.

Seven years after ACOWAR, Spring Court is struggling to keep from falling apart completely. A mother tries to move on and keep her daughter safe in this chaotic world, but when the young female most needs a friend, she'll give the disgraced High Lord a chance to attone for the pain he has caused, and, perhaps, to finally heal.

TW for - mentions of suicidal thoughts - mentions of loss of a pregnancy - mentions of sexual abuse - mentions of emotional abuse (toxic relationships and toxic family dinamics) - colourism - LGBT+phobia

Needle & King by @highlordofkrypton. Rhysand's father/Rhysand's mother.

Before A Court of Thorns and Roses and before Wildflowers, Needle & King is a story of survival and of love. We all know how it ends for Rhysand's mother and his father, but how did it all begin?

***

Everyone feel free to add to this and ofc shameless self promo, you can find more pro Tamlin fics in my masterlist here

[franzkafkagf]

okay so i want to hear about your take on aegon i know you like him and all (so do i no matter how much i wish not to) but whyy

yess thanks for asking, I love being insane about him<3

I think Aegon is such a wildly tragic character– many asoiaf characters are but I'm so drawn specifically to him; he didn't want power or responsibility or the crown. It all was bestowed upon him against his will, and he shouldn't; putting on the crown is his definitive death sentence. The coronation scene has got to be one of my favorites in the season– he is quite literally walking up to be butchered like a sacrificial lamb, there are tears streaking his cheeks in the scene! I love the tragedy of it, the way it couldn't have been avoided anyways; his fate was sealed from the very start! He was quite literally dead from the very beginning.

I'm going off a mix from the book and the show but I actually love what they did with the character in the show? The book version does have some hard-hitting moments from him that are missing ("What sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?") but there wasn't that much there in terms of characterization and relationships. And wow, did they deliver on that in the show; I'm gonna give whoever came up with his mommy issues a forehead kiss.

Because YES! He and Alicent are reflections of one another– Alicent suffered under the heavy boot of Otto, turned into the perfect daughter, turned into the perfect queen for him. She recognizes that this was wrong and abusive of him, then she turns around and does the same thing to Aegon– the poison DOES drip through, the wheel is NOT broken!! It's BRILLIANT.

@atopvisenyashill put a GREAT tag under one of my posts–

#he looks like her and he’s weak like her so why can’t he get strong like her.

While Alicent persevered, Aegon crumbled under the pressure. He is miserable when we meet him– and he should be! He is unfit for the role of king, but it is his destiny nonetheless, everybody tells him so. It destroys him.

It's so sad too and I cannot help but to feel bad for him. No one knows where he is in ep 9, I don't think he has anyone to confide in; it must be lonely. Everybody seems to have written him off already– he is a drunk and a failure at being heir, being a son, being a father. He tries to prove them wrong later, and does in some aspects.

His loneliness plays into another aspect of him that I really love; his desperation to be loved. He will never be enough for anybody, he probably knows it deep down.

"[Aegon is] desperate to be loved but destined to be hated." – Tom Glynn-Carney

Obviously there is the carriage scene with Alicent that shows this. But I also really love the moment in his coronation, where he basks in the people's affection and cheers. He is poised to bleed out in front of the throne, he was crying and fighting for his life not to take the crown just minutes before. But now he's here and they love him and he can't help but love that.

He takes the crown to protect his family (the show does hint at that with Alicent telling him as much in ep. 6– in the book it's much more explicit with Criston pressuring him on the day of the coronation itself) and then his son DIES because of it! And he drinks and rages and drinks some more; he must've blamed himself. He goes to battle, flies too high (figuratively), and he FALLS; he burns and falls to the ground. He isn't made to be king. He knows. He does it anyways.

"You have already written yourself into legend, you survived dragonfire" – Larys Strong in season 2 (probably)

He survives, he is gone for over a year, unable to do anything but he SURVIVES. He escapes the capital, takes Dragonstone, he falls AGAIN, he loses most of his family; but he still goes on. Fueled by what? Maybe anger, or bitterness or just pure lust for revenge. It doesn't matter. He must've realized somewhere on the way that this was always meant to go this way, ever since he put the conqueror's crown on. It doesn't matter.

And then he dies and it's not grand or spectacular or anything like that. He drinks poisoned wine, nobody even sees him die, they only find him after. It's so uniquely lonely.

[ultram0th]

You woke up and sat up in your bed, hearing the mattress squeak more than usual. Cocking your eyebrow, you hopped out and hurried over to your bathroom. As you ran, you felt a cumbersome weight whenever you lifted your legs and an unknown bouncing sensation coming from behind you. When you entered your bathroom and flipped on the light, you gasped at your new reflection.

Standing in the mirror before you was the hottest muscle bear you’d ever laid your eyes on. He had thick pecs that were capped with large nipples that stood at attention. Biceps bulged and rested on large lats. Thighs were thick and pressed together, supporting the weight of the massive bubblebutt that was attached to the backside. Plus, the reflection displayed a large, nine-inch cock that dangled wildly with every movement. Best of all was that every large muscle was covered in sexy body hair.

It took you a few moments to register that the reflection in the mirror really was your own. Whenever you moved, the reflection followed suit. You flexed both of your now massive, hairy biceps, grinning widely when the man in the mirror did so too.

“Holy crap!” you exclaimed, feeling so turned on by your deeper voice. You had no idea how you’d managed to get your dream body, but you figured that it was best not to question fate. You happily got ready for work, finding that your clothes had even managed to change as well to fit over your new physique. You opted for the usual button-down shirt and khakis that you wore everyday to the office, however, this time you were pleased to see that your bulk strained the fabric to bursting. Your pecs stressed the buttons of your shirt to the limit and your nipples poked noticeably against the fabric. Your large cock was clearly outlined in your pants and your bubblebutt pressed against the back so much that you wondered if it’d rip to shreds the moment you took a step.

Even when you drove to work, you were giddy with the fact that your massive biceps kept brushing up against your plump pecs the entire drive, making you rock hard.

When you got to work, everybody acted as if you’ve always been a sexy, hairy musclestud. You puff out your chest with pride and strut around the office with your head held high. When it comes time for your big presentation, you enter into the conference room that has all of the higher ups, including your immediate supervisors.

You set up your slide show and stand in front of the board room, and begin to go over your topic, loving having all eyes on you. Again, you puff out your chest with pride, loving how one of the board member’s eyes widened with want at the sight of your hard nipples creating nubs on your shirt.

“…as you can see by the data presented,” you continued, using a laser pointer to direct attention to a graph, “we can clearly indicate that I have the biggest muscletits in this damn office.” You bounced both of your massive pecs, your eyes widening with shock at the words that left your mouth.

One of the board members leaned onto the conference table, cocking his eyebrow at you. “What was that?” he asked in a low voice.

You could feel blush forming on your bearded face and you wanted to walk out of the room to compose yourself. However, your new body apparently had other ideas as you felt your hands grab at your shirt, ripping it open to expose your hairy chest. “I said that I have the biggest muscletits in this office!” you bellowed loudly. To punctuate your obscure point, you reached up and gripped both of your larger nipples and gave them a rough tug, making your cock twitch to life. As if you were witnessing a movie, you saw and heard everything you were doing, but were unable to control any of it. 

A few of the board members left the room, weirded out expressions written over their faces, however a few of them (all men) remained, displaying hunger and lust.

You felt yourself toss your shirt to the floor as you started flexing, licking your larger biceps seductively in front of your bosses. You pleaded with yourself to stop as your fingers began to fumble with the button on your pants. However those pleas were useless as you smiled and dropped your khakis to the floor, exposing your widened thighs and large bulge to the room.

“Have you ever seen a bod this sexy?” you asked the men in the room, cringing at the cocky words that you were saying. You even wiggled your hips and made your bulge in your jockstrap bounce, continuing to show off.

You were screaming internally as you felt yourself turn around, slowly bending forward to show off your bubblebutt to the small group of higher ups. Both of your beefy hands slapped down onto your larger cheeks and you wanted to run and hide when you felt them part as you flashed your tight hole to your bosses.

The men cheered and some even clapped at your impromptu show.

“Hmm, looks like it still kills inhibitions,” one of them muttered to the other.

The one to his right nodded. “Yeah, but you can’t deny that they give subjects such a fuckin’ sexy body. I say it’s worth it.”

“Yeah, we’ll be able to market this as some sort of himbo pill: big muscles, zero brains.”

You began to panic at what you heard. Somehow, you’d been a guinea pig for your bosses, testing out some new supplement that had given you your dream body, but had turned you into a major muscleslut at the same time. You cringed at the thought of yourself showing off constantly in public: flashing your hole at the grocery store, playing with your bubblebutt at the movies, tugging on your large nipples at the coffee shop. No matter what, your new body would be on display and you’d be showing off how sexy you thought it was all the time.

“Ughh!” you grunted as you came in front of the men, a large wet spot forming on your jockstrap. As soon as you caught your breath, you felt yourself drop onto all fours and wag your massive cheeks at the men. “Who wants a turn?”

One of them stood up, followed by another, and then another, and soon a line was forming…

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Qasim Rashid at Let's Address This:

On May 20, 1962, JFK delivered an impassioned speech at Madison Square Garden in favor of universal healthcare. Then, decades later in 2006 nearly 7 in 10 Americans believed the government should fund healthcare. And now, a new Gallop Poll reports that 62% of Americans believe in guaranteed universal healthcare. And despite this decades of support, not a single Presidential candidate this cycle had the courage to run on this wildly popular platform. Over the last week I’ve written in detail about America’s Violent Health System, and likewise, shared a deeply personal story about When Insurance Rejects Life Saving Care about our daughter Hannah Noor.

In response, I’ve received overwhelming empathy and compassion from conservatives and liberals alike, Republicans and Democrats, from those who self-identify as “Ultra MAGA” to those who label themselves as “Bernie Social Democrats.” Americans get it. Healthcare needs to be a human right. Sadly, politicians, Republicans and too many Democrats alike, don’t get it. They worship at the altar of corporate donations. The health insurance industry annually spends a harrowing $700,000,000 on lobbying politicians to do their bidding. And that doesn’t even include what they spend on SuperPACs to block out candidates who dare run on a platform of guaranteed universal healthcare. Those same healthcare corporations then engage in a mass media blitz of misinformation and disinformation to convince people to vote against their own self-interests. In reality, guaranteed universal healthcare is a proven model adopted by every single developed nation on Earth (and many lower income developing nations). And while I do not have $700,000,000 to counter the lobbying propaganda health insurance corporations infuse into our politics, I do have access to the facts that health insurance corporations hope the American people don’t realize.

Myth 1: We Can’t Afford Universal Healthcare

Fact: The opposite is true. Dozens of studies prove that universal healthcare will save Americans billions of dollars annually. In fact, 22 studies reviewed all concluded that universal healthcare would save approximately $450 billion a year. And this is a universal conclusion. For example, “Even the Mercatus Center, a right-wing think tank, recently found about $2 trillion in net savings over 10 years from a single-payer Medicare for All system. Most importantly, everyone in America would have high-quality health care coverage.” Moreover, we cannot forget that right now approximately 73 million Americans are on Medicaid, 68 million Americans are on Medicare, and 10 million Americans are on Tricare. That means that of our nation’s 335 million people, approximately 151 million are already on a universal (or near universal) healthcare model. And guess what? These programs each cost significantly less than the exploitative for-profit healthcare model. The overhead on these programs is 2-3%, while the overhead on for profit healthcare is 20%, plus a near unlimited mark up on prescription drugs. In this we have a side by side comparison of access to the exact same doctors and medications, except one has a nominal mark up and the other has a 10X markup. It doesn’t take an MBA in finance to understand that the same product or service without the massive markup is the smarter path to take. The only thing we cannot afford is for the current exploitative for profit model to continue.

Myth 2: If Costs Go Down, So Does Quality of Care

Fact: This is simply not true. It is important to understand why costs decrease, because contrary to the myth, every single one of the above studies found that quality of care would not decrease with universal healthcare. 

[...]

Myth 3: Universal Healthcare Puts Millions Out of Work

Fact: What would happen to the roughly 1.8 million Americans who work in medical billing? This is a great question and has a robust answer that I break down in three parts. First, remember that about 40% of these jobs are already in the Medicaid and Medicare and Tricare industries—which is essentially universal healthcare for a portion of society. Therefore, we’re talk about roughly 1 million jobs, which admittedly is still a large number. What to do with those? Well, hence the second point. Expanding Medicare to accommodate another 175 million people will necessarily require medical billing professionals and administrators to do those jobs. Therefore, the question is not about eliminating jobs, but about transitioning workers from the for profit exploitative system, to a non for profit system that prioritizes access to healthcare. Likewise, remember that ending the for profit system saves us at least $450 billion annually. These resources give us options. For example, these are excellent resources that could be spent on a lengthy 2-year salary severance to those in medical billing who do lose their jobs, plus adequate funding and training to allow them to become proficient in a new job. Indeed, at $70 billion annually, four-year-public college costs a fraction of what would be saved by shifting from an exploitative for profit model, to a universal healthcare model. We cannot afford not to make the shift.

[...]

Myth 5: Universal Healthcare Causes Long Wait Lines

Fact: For primary physician appointments, Americans already wait longer under our exploitative for profit model than do people in nations with universal healthcare. Frankly, I marvel at this allegation as I reflect over the fact that it took us more than two years to get our daughter the critical life saving medication she needed, only because our exploitative for profit health insurance company refused to accept our doctor’s medical instruction. In reality, wait times in the United States are shorter only for elective surgery, but for primary care or for critical care, the United States is the worst out of any nation with universal healthcare.

Qasim Rashid wrote a solid piece debunking anti-universal healthcare lies propped up by for-profit health shills.

[formulatrash]

really want to hear what you think of the daniel ricciardo firing? I was thinking how almost every driver has this trajectory where past their prime they end up with poorer and poorer teams. Going from maybe championship contending teams to midfielders, then backmarkers before they eventually just slip out of the sport. Only the actual real greats get to properly hold onto the bargaining chips for very long. Like, Michael Schumacher retired with ferrari, came back with merc before finally leaving. Lewis got to pick his teams all his life and now he's going out on a high with ferrari (I presume this is his last dance). Even fernando has had a decent run, which would have been better if he was good at maintaining relationships with teams ig. But yeah, wanted to hear what you think of driver swaps and unceremonius firings as someone who knows the sport so well. And any daniel anecdotes if you're in the mood. hope ur having a good day <3

I've been thinking a lot about it tbh. It's such an... undignified exit. Extremely Red Bull but not what you would expect to happen to Daniel, who's always been a bit of a favourite child there.

He got the early call-up to HRT, replacing Narain Karthikeyan mid-season in 2011 and then him and JEV took the Toro Rosso seats the next year. At the time, the Red Bull programme was probably the most vicious it's ever been, all psychological warfare in rubbish flats in Milton Keynes and Daniel Ricciardo was probably the person who came out of it the best.

the offcuts of the time are easily identified: half of them are in Formula E and most of them are champions now (soz Robin) but it's strange to think that someone who thrived in that harsh world ended up discarded by a much softer version of it, so many years later.

Red Bull were not ready for Daniel Ricciardo to leave when he did, when he decided not to take the chance on Honda and to go to the Renault works team. I know it's often styled out with the Drive To Survive narrative that he was leaving to not be second driver to Max but the Honda thing was much bigger and a lot of people thought Max might be an idiot for staying. after only one year with Toro Rosso Honda didn't look as outright bad as we did the previous year with McLaren but there were still reliability issues and it wasn't the fastest power unit. that Sakura then went on to build an invincible, unfailing, ultra-efficient PU was not written in the stars at all.

I don't, honestly, know if he would have thrived staying at Red Bull - his descent might have been quicker, as the disparity between him and Max could've opened up very fast, in those years of the car turning dominant.

Daniel's problem as a driver is that (and he's said this himself) he's not especially technical. when he has a setup that suits him he's extremely fast but he doesn't know and isn't interested in the further technical details of it and I'm not sure that's actually possible to sustain a career at the top of F1, now.

he had started to suffer with it a bit at Red Bull and it was partly why the car was going more and more Max's way. Renault, I think, were in such a different place - a lot of their problems operational - that he was able to make a bigger difference there through his experience at a top team. McLaren the story wasn't exactly writ large as flayed open and strewn around the track like bits of carbon fibre: Lando could ask for what he wanted from the car, Daniel couldn't.

so: do I think that things would have gone wildly differently if he had stayed at Red Bull? no. he might have won a few more races and he might have found himself in a tororossoalphataurivcarb again a few years earlier.

I think something notable about his career is that it leaves a lot more questions than, say, Alonso's. even though there is no real reason for Fernando to have come back to F1, let alone moved from Alpine to Aston Martin because his championship winning days are coming up for two decades ago, he is still there. and it's reasonably clear why: he is as competitive as the car allows him to be, teams value him as a consultant who can also get to Q3. he does numbers on tiktok.

Ricciardo's departure from McLaren was baffling to both him and the team, neither really able to explain what had gone wrong. and believe me, if the team could have found a way not to be losing points in the constructors championship they would have, they were not sabotaging a driver they were paying millions to, in theory, outperform their other one.

but McLaren sometimes are baffling. despite all the changes in the team since Ron Dennis left, I could well believe that a factory capable of making the 2017 chassis might well not be able to fix their 2022 one. the start of 2023 certainly seemed to support that theory, until that transformative upgrade package made it clear they'd worked out what they needed to do, probably somewhat due to having drivers who agreed with each other.

was going back to Red Bull and then VCARB a good idea for Ricciardo? there were other moving parts there, like the fact Horner didn't really want De Vries anyway and definitely not compared to how hyped up he was to have Ricciardo back. the plan absolutely was to put Daniel in the Red Bull but then he was injured and didn't quite perform how they were expecting.

I asked JEV about it when it was announced because they used to be best mates and teammates and JEV turned down a Toro Rosso offer himself, after his second FE championship. also because I can get away with asking JEV that sort of thing and walking away with my head still attached to my body.

He said "I mean, it’s something I’m looking at from far away. When you make a decision, he has all the information in his hands that you or me or many other people don’t have, so I’m sure he made the right decision. I mean, then it's going to be a question of how he performs against Tsunoda and also against Perez.

"In Formula 1, you need luck, it’s quite well known but you need to put yourself in the position where you you have luck. So if he stayed in his position, I don't think it would have put himself in a position to to be lucky. Now he’s in a position where he can either be lucky or unlucky. It's only up to him but at least his destiny is in his hands."

what he meant by creating his own luck was that if you're in a reserve role you're Schrödinger's driver: maybe good or bad and no one will know until they put you in the car. by accepting the VCARB drive Ricciardo chose to open the box and find out if his career, otherwise in quantum suspension, was alive or dead.

if the first time he left F1 people were still looking for answers, this time it feels more that no one wanted to find them out.

this year the gap is smaller to Yuki, points-wise and it's not that Daniel's been destroying chassis every other week or something, it's just that his time seems to be up. there's no real point having him in the VCARB when that's supposed to be the junior team and he's underperforming too much to get a chance back at the top team. is Perez also underperforming too much to keep his seat there? yes and it's likely to lose Red Bull the constructors but given that, you'd promote Tsunoda not Ricciardo.

F1 is an odd world because if everyone was honestly objective, it would be clear that, no, they are not the 20 best drivers in the world. they are the 20 drivers that most fit into F1 in the world. and Daniel Ricciardo certainly fits into F1 - the outpouring for his final race was about his place in the sport's culture, more than his performance in it.

his dropping was as undignified as the Red Bull Junior Team tends to make it. messy, speculated about in the press extensively, with a lot of leaks and lack of clarity. both theatrical and unceremonial. in all honesty it doesn't compare to, say, Daniil Kvyat managing to leave ToroRossoAlphaTauri four separate times or the vicious decimation of Brendon Hartley or to throw it back far enough, the way they treated JEV. like, hey, at least Helmut Marko just wanted to fire Daniel since Barcelona but didn't imply it was because he was on drugs. but ranking brutality and ugliness in firings is as redundant as the drivers.

did it, particularly, befit a 35 year old with 13 years of experience in F1? no, you wouldn't expect a 35 year old with 13 years of experience in F1 to be in that position. Ricciardo got the strange opportunity of a do-over but that doesn't really exist, you cannot go back to the version of yourself that stepped in mid-season and made his way to a top seat. even racing in circles there's track evolution.

if I was writing this as an article I'd be going back and editing to put the Schrödinger's stuff higher up and calling it like "Daniel Ricciardo finally gets answers on F1 career, just not ones anyone wants" because I don't know, got to put some snappy shit in the headline haven't you. But I'm not and I can't be bothered.

I do think there's something to that, though. to there being an answer this time, as opposed to with McLaren. he exited F1 as he entered it: mid-season, to and from a team no one thought he was going to stay at and I suppose that's an interesting start/finish line under a career that will probably fascinate people more than a lot of champions'.

[tashiberrie]

✮ HEARTWORM ✮  tashi duncan x fem!reader 

⋆💌⋆ TAGS - written with fem reader in mind, toxic relationship, reader is a lit student, angst, stanford era, no mention of tashi’s injury

wc- 763

masterlist

You two had met during a tennis tournament in 2004. After a long and intense match between the two of you, Tashi Duncan had come out on top.

You were drawn to each other instantly, like two moths to a flame, each recognising the shadows in the other's eyes.

From the start, your relationship was a tempest. You were addicted to the intensity of your connection, the way you could read each other's minds with a glance, and the way your souls seemed to intertwine in a dance of passion and pain. Your love was all-consuming, burning brightly but always on the verge of destruction.

Tashi was volatile, her moods swinging wildly from euphoric highs to devastating lows. She played furiously, the swings of her racket reflecting the chaos within her. You found inspiration in her unpredictability, your writing becoming darker, more profound, as you delved into the depths of your tumultuous love.

But your passion often turned into rage. Fights erupted over trivial matters, your words cutting deep, leaving scars that never fully healed.

You would argue until dawn, your voices echoing through the dorm room, throwing accusations and regrets like daggers. But in the quiet moments after the storm, you would cling to each other desperately, unable to let go despite the pain. You were addicted to the drama, the heartbreak, and the brief moments of bliss that followed your reconciliations.

You tried to leave once, packing your bags and walking out the door, determined to escape the cycle of hurt. But you couldn't stay away. You found yourself drawn back to Tashi, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your love. She was your muse, your torment, your everything. And so, you returned, your heart heavy with the knowledge that your love was both your salvation and your destruction.

Tashi, too, tried to move on. She sought solace in her tennis, pouring her pain onto the court, hoping to exorcise the demons that haunted her. But every swing of her racket reminded her of you, of the way you looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. She was lost without you, adrift in a sea of loneliness and longing. And so, she called you, her voice trembling with desperation, begging you to come back.

You reunions were always bittersweet, filled with tears and whispered apologies. You would cling to each other, promising to change, to be better, but the cycle would inevitably repeat. Your love was a battlefield, each skirmish leaving you more battered and bruised, but neither of you could surrender. You were trapped in a toxic dance, unable to break free yet unable to truly be together.

As the years passed, the toll of your relationship began to show. Your once bright eyes grew dull with fatigue, and Tashi's vibrant spirit became shadowed with sorrow. You were like two stars on a collision course, destined to burn out in a blaze of tragic beauty. But even as you destroyed each other, you couldn't imagine life apart. Your love was a prison, but it was also the only thing that made you feel alive.

One night, Tashi and you found yourselves back at the tennis court where your had first met. The atmosphere was hauntingly familiar, the rackets’ mournful wail echoing the ache in your hearts. You played in silence, your souls intertwined, lost in your own thoughts.

Tashi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had never met?"

You looked at her, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain. "Every day," you admitted. "But then I remember that even if it's killing me, I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled in Tashi's eyes, and she squeezed the handle of her racket tighter. "I don't know how to let you go," she confessed, her voice breaking.

You walked over to her and pulled her into your arms, holding her as if you could keep the world at bay. "Maybe we don't have to," you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe this is just who we are."

As you held each other, rain started to fall, a fitting soundtrack to your story. You were two souls entwined in a love that was as beautiful as it was destructive, unable to break free yet unable to truly be whole together. And so, you remained, locked in a tragic embrace, bound by a love that would forever be your greatest joy and your deepest sorrow.

[entomolog-t]

Bitten - Part I

What is this?? A written post?? My Bite Me size swap is finally up (sorta). I initially was going to post this all in one shot, but it got long so enjoy non canon Bite Me content 💕

I've been absolutely swamped lately, so hopefully me posting is a sign that things are finally easing up!!

Shortly after the events of Chapter 10 Aedes wakes up to a rather big surprise- or perhaps more accurately, a small one.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

- - - -

Next Part

Word count: 1238

CW: Nudity (non-explcit/implied), Adult language

Warm hands envelope Aedes in a way that dances on the border of intimate and claustrophobic. His thoughts felt thick, almost sticky in his mind, as they struggled to flow. Those soft doting hands clung to him, overwhelming in their size, anchoring him firmly in place. He can’t move- but … was that really so bad? With his mind in a daze, he didn’t have the capacity to tell himself he hated it. Far from it… There was an undeniably comfort in the silken touch, warm in a way that surpassed intimate. Warm in a way that would melt pain from his chest, render flesh from his bones and put him together anew. Those plush hands dotted over him, filled him with life - with such vigor and… and- 

Want. 

So much want. 

He knew her taste, its memory, sweetened with time, dances on the tip of his tongue just out of reach. So did her name. What was it again… He’d seen it somewhere…

If only he could drink. He was sure he could find her name and so much more hidden away in that taste. 

From her hands, all encompassing in their grasp, he felt her pulse. The rhythm of her rattles his bones, shaking him to his core. Each beat moves him, yet he himself remains unable to do so- anchored in place by strangely sticky thoughts and firm hands. God, if only he could just turn his head. If only he could sink his teeth into her… have just the smallest taste- 

A drop. 

He would gladly drown in a single drop. 

If only he wasn’t stuck- if only he could be set free from their grasp. 

Then, all at once, he was. 

Falling. 

Without their warm embrace- their suffocating hold, was sent falling back-

Or maybe, falling into himself? Aedes awoke as the ground met his face. 

The fall, it seemed, had not been exclusive to the dream. 

Rubbing his face, Aedes feels the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was off. He grimaced- not at all fond of the strange stain the remnants of the dream, no, nightmare, had left on his brain. It left him with a strange chill on his body, as if he was yearning for the warmth of the dream…

Or… clothes? Aedes looks down, startled by his own apparent lack of modesty. Why am I… 

As Aedes moves to sit up, the strange realization is immediately put on the back burner as a much stranger realization takes its place. His stomach lurches as his mind struggles in vain to right itself. 

High. His stomach lurches, as if forgotten someway far below. Too high- Why was he so high up?? Vertigo hit him with all the grace of a car crash as he heaved- his very being ripped away from the ground and rocketing up by his own doing-  much too high much too fast.  

Slowly, on his hands and knees, Aedes blinks. 

The dizzying spin didn’t leave- but his breath certainly did. 

If he hadn’t so abruptly woken up he would have thought he was still dreaming. Cool morning air sent a chill over his skin from a window he could reach out and touch. Books fit for his hands lined the shelves he had so recently scaled. Clawed fingers traced the various knick knacks that should have dwarfed him… 

That, until this very morning, had dwarfed him.

How…

His mind scrambles to make sense of it all. He needed answers. 

He needed to know how this happened-

How could this happen?

But more than anything, Aedes needed to know how to breathe. 

Each shakily attempted breath felt stuttered, the tightening feeling in his chest constricting each and every inhale. His heart pounded wildly against his lagging lungs, yet it wasn’t the beat of his own that concerned him. 

Aedes' ears twitched, straining to hear the faint thrum, the slightest indication of something, someone, alive in the room with him. 

His eyes locked on the source in an instant. 

June. 

Her name finally finds its home on his lips- stolen from some hastily placed piece of ID left laying on her desk. June Murphy. 12 Oakline Road, Saint Mira Lake, ON. Born June 18th. 172 cm.  Aedes swallowed a lump of mixed emotions at the sight of her.  

Small… God she’s so small. 

And he… was not. 

Nearly buried in a mass of blankets and oversized clothes, June Murphy stares at the relative behemoth in front of her- mind reeling as they lock eyes.

This… This has to be a dream right? 

Yet she was all too aware of reality, having been jolted awake by the thunderous impact of what she’d initially assumed to have been … well, really anything but the reality that was staring back at her. A car could have plowed straight through her living room wall and it would have made more sense than what she was seeing.

Yet despite the unfamiliar perspective, she recognized him in an instant. The tousled black hair, the pointed ears… 

Those piercing eyes. 

Aedes. 

In an instant, he was on his knees, moving at a speed June found to be even more unsettling now that he loomed above her. The sight of him so close was… bizarre… Uncanny even. Sure, she’d technically seen him far closer, when he’d been… 

Pressed up against her lips… 

In the palm of her hand…

June’s face flushes at the memory. You really don’t get much closer than that… and yet… even at what must have been a foot or more away, she saw him far more intimately than when she’d… June’s thoughts wander off, far too entranced by the man in front of her to remain focused on anything else. 

Aedes was far more handsome than she had initially realized, and she’d already had quite the high impression of his aesthetics. His pale skin was smooth, bordering on flawless even at such a scale, his features were defined, a straight nose, distinct jawline, yet the edges had a softness to them, smooth in a way that seemed inviting- as if they’d been carved from marble. Her gaze lingered on the soft yet rich color of his lips, the realization that this man really wasn’t human hitting her hard- the knowledge that there were teeth behind such a pretty feature sending a shiver through her. Though none of his features held a candle to his eyes. Piercing and black, this stare bore into her… defile her, even…

June scrambles back, face hot. 

Aedes does the same, reeling back at her sudden movement, as if somehow seeing her move confirmed this was, in fact, reality.

Oh… A knot forms in his throat, She’s afraid of me.

He swallows, the act noticeably harder than it should have been. 

Of course she is, he thinks, unable to hold her gaze. She looks so… helpless.  His face grows hot at the thought, guilt, like bile, rises in his throat. 

Did she think he’d hurt her?

“Shhh,” Aedes hushes, hands reaching cautiously towards her, afraid she’d run off if given the opportunity. “Please… don't be afraid.”

He would.

As he reaches, Aedes’ eyes catch sight of his blacked claws. The sight freezes him in place, stomach churning at the thought of what he must look like to her. She had been terrifying. If this woman before him had been terrifying- what was he?

[mugloversonly]

What Happens Afterwards?

I read this post by @acowardinmordor and was obsessed with what happened next. Written with their blessing.

also on AO3

tw: overdose, drugs, near death experience, mentions of HIV

Summary:

Famous Eddie doesn't touch drugs...too bad Steve does After Steve ODs at a Corroded Coffin concert, he wakes up in the hospital.

Steve woke up groggy and confused. Is he in a hospital? Suddenly the night rushed back to him. He did a line, borrowed a needle. He’d meant to go back to the dressing room, but he hit the deck before he could. Shit!

He shot up and frantically looked around, hoping beyond all hope that he was alone. Luck was not on his side though, because Eddie was asleep in the hospital chair next to him. Steve took a long look at the love of his life. His eyes were red and puffy with deep bags. His hair was a tangled mess as if he’d been yanking on it. And his clothes were rumpled as if he hadn’t changed them in days.

Steve sighed. He really didn’t want to have this confrontation right now. Before that thought could even leave his brain, Eddie opened his eyes and met Steve’s. The pools of chocolate were filled with a myriad of emotions. He leaned forward and took Steve’s hand.

“Hey, Stevie. How’re you feeling?” He asked softly as he reached over and pressed the nurse call button. Steve was confused by the softness, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“How did I get here?” He asked instead, dropping his gaze.

“You were brought in as a John Doe after the concert baby.” He whispered, his voice thick. “They said you overdosed.” He didn’t sound angry, Steve would have preferred that. Instead he sounded guilty. Steve forced himself to look and felt bile rise up at the expression on Eddie’s face. “I’m sorry baby.” Eddie said. “I’m so sorry.” Tears ran down his already tear coated cheeks. Steve expected yelling, berating, and ultimatum. Anything but an apology.

“Sorry for what, Eds?” He asked. “You didn’t do anything.” That turned out to be the wrong thing to say as it turns Eddie’s cries into sobs. Something sour built a home in Steve’s chest.

“Exactly! I didn’t do anything!” He said emphatically, gesturing wildly. “You were missing! And i didn’t do anything! I let everyone else handle it while i panicked. I still played the show. I didn’t follow my gut and looked who the junkies were that night!” Tears streamed down his face, but the words rattled something in him.

“How long have I been here?” Steve asked hesitantly. Eddie took a stuttered breath.

“Five days. You’ve been here for five days. You were missing for over 24 hours.” He bit his lip trying to stifle more tears.

Steve was floored. Five days?! Wait…missing? “Oh, baby.” Steve said, mournfully running the hand not hooked up to anything along Eddie’s cheek. He melted into the contact and put his hand over Steve’s. “I’m sorry for putting this much stress on you.”

“For a minute there, I’d thought it came back.” Steve knew exactly what Eddie meant. The upside down. “But when I found out you ODed…I almost wish it had.” Eddie admitted. “This is all my fault.” He whispered unable to hold the tears back any longer.

Steve felt like he’d been on top of the world from what he could remember of the high, and he thought about chasing that rabbit. But the look in Eddie’s eyes, the deep well of pure devastation and guilt swirled together, made Steve pause. He couldn’t do this to Eddie again. “This isn’t on you.” Steve insisted. “I told you I quit. You had no reason to assume I’d be in that bathroom.” Eddie just shook his head.

“If I hadn’t forced you on the road, you never would’ve had access to this kind of hardcore shit in the first place. If I spent more time with you, if I never left you alone, you wouldn’t have felt the need to do this.” Eddie trembled. “I should have protected you better, I knew what that shit could do, I’m so sorry baby.” Steve knew then that there wasn’t anything he could say. Eddie would blame himself for this until the end of time.

That more than anything else, broke Steve down. “I’m sorry, love.” His voice trembled. “I shouldn’t have lied. I just didn’t want you to worry.” He flipped his hand up in offer. Eddie immediately filled it with his. He squeezed it as he continued. “You had so much to worry about, I didn’t want to be another. But I should have known that you’d worry anyway.” Steve looked away, ashamed.

“Baby…” he was cut off as a doctor came in.

“Well, Mr. Harrington. You’re lucky to be alive. The cocktail of drugs you took was extreme.” The doctor said.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked.

“The heroine appeared to be laced with meth. And the line he did was cocaine and ecstasy.” The doctor said calmly. Eddie gasped a shuddering breath and his hands shook in Steve’s grasp.

“I didn’t know the heroine was laced.” He said. “It wasn’t my needle.” The regret was finally showing up. At this the doctor’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Eddie yanked his hands away and covered his mouth.

“I’ll send in a nurse to grab some blood so we can run some tests.” He said. “In the meantime Mr. Munson, I recommend limited physical contact.” He directed that to Eddie with a look of sympathy. He nodded and the doctor took his leave. Tears sprang to Eddie’s eyes and ran down his face.

“You shared needles, Stevie?” He asked in shock, his voice quiet. His fear was clear on his face. “Have you been…doing other things for the drugs?” Steve had to come clean.

“I’d do pretty much anything for them.” He admitted.

Eddie stood up quickly and made to leave the room. “I’m going to go let Robin know you’re awake.” He dashed out before Steve could say anything else.

He fucked up. He always felt guilty after the high wore off, but this time it was horrible. He’s in the hospital, after disappearing for over a day. He should have been more careful. He knew sharing needles wasn’t the best plan, but at the time the high was worth it. But the look of betrayal, sadness, and the tiniest glimmer of disgust on Eddie’s face just now, was enough to make him never want to touch another pill. Sleep snuck up on him and he prayed that Eddie would be back when he woke up again.

His prayer went unanswered. The next time he woke up, it was Robin by his bedside. She was staring at the TV but she wasn’t really watching it. “Hey Robs” he said. She whipped her head around so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it popped off.

“Steve! You’re awake!” She exclaimed. The smile on her face fell quickly. “You’re an idiot. If you weren’t in this hospital bed right now, I’d smack you.” He shrunk down in the face of her ire. “What were you thinking?!” She shrieked.

“I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” He admitted. The fire in her eyes could set the arctic ablaze.

“Not that bad? Not that bad?! You ODed at Eddie’s concert.” She began counting on her fingers. “You lied about being clean. You shared needles with some random junkies!” On the last point she threw her hands up. “How often have you done that? Don’t lie to me Steve.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Every once in a while when I get the itch for it. Maybe once every few months or so.” He admitted grimly. Robin’s eyes narrowed.

“So however many months you’ve been doing this, you’ve been sharing needles?” She clarified. At Steve’s nod she sprang up and paced the room. “Every time?”

“Not every time, but not rarely either.” He said as guilt started to creep into his stomach. She ran her hands into her hair and yanked on it softly.

“Have you been getting tested at least?” She asked.

“I’m not cheating on Eddie, Robin!” Steve yelled, hurt that she’d even imply that. She stopped pacing and turned to him.

“Okay, first. I didn’t say that. Second, your word has no credibility right now. I know you wouldn’t, dingus. That’s not why I was asking.” She grabbed his hand. Before she could continue, a nurse came in.

“Oh good! You’re awake. I’m going to be taking some blood okay?” She asked but really was demanding. She glared at Steve as he held out his arm for her.

“Is everything okay?” Robin asked. The nurse turned to her and gave a small smile before glaring again at Steve.

“With the patient, everything is looking like it’s returning to normal.” She snapped the tourniquet into place but when Steve flinched she didn’t look remorseful. She drew a few vials of blood, stuck a bandaid on, and pulled off the tourniquet all in silence. As she got cleaned up to leave, she finally spoke. “Look kid, it’s not my place. But that boy out there? I can take a guess as to what your relationship is with him.” She flashed a tiny pride flag pinned inside her scrubs. “He cares about you so much. He was beside himself when he came in and saw you, he had you moved to this room, he asked us if there was any kind of experimental treatment, anything to help you.” She turned that glare on him again. “He loves you to the ends of the earth and he will never leave you. You better clean up your act to be worthy of that devotion, because make no mistake. He would let you drain his veins and apologize for not bleeding out faster.” She stalked over to Robin and handed her a stack of papers. She jabbed a finger in his face, “don’t you dare break up with him in a misguided attempt to save him from you. You clean up your act. If not for yourself, then for him.“ With that she stomped out of the room and practically slammed the door behind her. For a moment neither of them said a word. Steve was filled with regret and Robin was a bit smug. She looked down at the stack of papers. Rehab clinics.

“Should we pick one?” Robin asked.

“I think I want to do it with Eddie.” Steve replied. “The nurse was right. And so were you. I’ve taken him for granted and my word means shit right now. I want to prove to him that I want to get clean.” Robin hesitated.

“Do you?” She asked. “You don’t seem particularly regretful about the actual drugs.” Her tone was soft even though her words were harsh.

“I do!” Steve exclaimed. “You didn’t see the look on Eddie’s face, Robbie. He was devastated and blamed himself for all of it. When I told him I’d do anything for the drugs he got up and left. I don’t think he’s coming back in.” He trailed off into a whisper. Robin took hold of his hand.

“Stevie, he’s right outside.” She said. At Steve’s confused look she continued. “He’s sitting on a bench right next to the door. He wanted to come back in, but I asked him to let me talk to you alone.”

“Why?” Steve asked. Robin’s eyes hardened.

“Because what I’m about to say, he wouldn’t like, but as your best friend I have to tell you hard truths. And Eddie's my best friend too so I have to protect him.” She took a deep breath. “You deserved his love once Steve. I truly believe that. But right now, his love for you is hurting him. And the only one who can fix it? Is you. He hasn’t slept or eaten practically at all since you disappeared.” Steve flinched at the word disappeared. “When he called me he was sobbing so hard I thought you died Steve.” Her eyes watered. “He kept repeating ‘it’s all my fault. I did this to him’ and Jeff had to take the phone to explain what was going on. When I got here, you were still touch and go. You died on the way here, Steve. They had to resuscitate you. The sound he made when the doctors told him that…” she shuddered. “I felt his heart shatter. The nurse is right. He will forgive you and he won’t ever stop loving you and he won’t ever leave you.” Her eyes got intense again. “So you need to promise me. Promise me! That you’ll take care of yourself. Because I don’t think I could survive watching him wither away if you leave him.” The emphasis she put on leave tore Steve apart. She didn’t mean break up with him. She meant leave him. “You don’t deserve his devotion. Not after you lied to him for months. But you have it. So now, you need to cherish it. Got it?” She asked. Steve could only nod as the dam finally broke. They held each other’s hands as they cried together.

~~~

“Can you get Eddie? Please.” He asked after his eyes dried up. Robin nodded and dashed out the door, waving Eddie inside.

Steve’s heart broke at the sight of him. He looked exhausted and his eyes were red rimmed as if he’d been crying for hours. Steve held a hand out to him and Eddie rushed to take it. Steve slid over in the hospital bed, yanking Eddie in after him. He curled around him and held him close being mindful of the wires in his hand as he draped it on Eddie’s chest. Eddie took a deep breath but Steve could feel the anxiety still thrumming under his skin. “I’m sorry, love.” Steve whispered. “I shouldn’t have lied.” He halted when he heard the sniffles. He sat up, peering at Eddie. His cheeks were wet again and Steve reached up to wipe them clean.

“Stevie, I have to ask…” he began. “And I hate to even think it. But…” he paused. “Did you…when you said you’d do anything for the drugs. Did you sleep with people for them?” He finally spit out. Steve wanted to be mad. He wanted to hiss and spit and rage at the accusation. But he knew that wasn’t fair to Eddie. He was within his rights to ask.

“No my love.” Steve promised. “Never.” Eddie nodded and sighed with relief. “I don’t know how much my word is worth right now.” He admitted. Eddie pressed a finger to his lips.

“I trust you.” He said. Those three words broke Steve. How could Eddie trust his word after everything? He asked him as much. Eddie just smiled softly. “I trust you because I want to. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m sorry for everything.” Steve repeated desperately.

“I forgive you.” Eddie promised. “Now, let’s forget the past for a minute and focus on the future.” Eddie said. Steve looked over his shoulder to the door to the room and saw Robin and the Coffin boys. The boys were glaring at Steve but he knew it was because he hurt their friend.

Steve grabbed the rehab brochures and the two went over them until they found one that had a branch in DC. “I don’t want you to cancel the tour Eddie.” Steve was adamant. He ruined enough of the tour so far and he wouldn’t be the reason it ended. At least in DC he’d be close to Robin who would keep him in line. She promised Eddie daily updates (real updates) once Steve got out until the end of the tour. Eddie finally agreed after the boys convinced him he’d need the distraction so he wouldn’t be pacing around the house all day.

Steve leaned up to kiss him, but Eddie pulled away. The regret in his eyes was almost enough to soothe the hurt. “Not yet Stevie, okay?” He asked. Steve nodded but his head tilted in confusion. “Not until the blood tests come back.” He explained. Suddenly, Steve understood. He put himself at risk and Eddie too. The virus going around was deadly and Steve had been careless. Playing russian roulette with not only his life, but Eddie’s too and by extension the band’s.

The shame that filled him was so intense he reached over and retched into the nearby bed pan. Robin ran over with a trashcan and he kept heaving. Eddie rubbed his back as he emptied his body. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…” he cut off by dry heaving. He finally understood why Eddie ran from the room earlier and why the nurse glared at him. He’s a monster. He put the love of his life at risk of contracting a deadly disease just so he could get a fix. What the hell was wrong with him?

When he was finally done, he was exhausted. “Sleep baby.” Eddie whispered. Steve clutched tight to his hand.

“Will you stay with me?” He asked. As his eyes drifted shut.

“Forever.” Eddie whispered as Steve floated off into a dreamless sleep. His last thought was that he needed to prove he was worth forever.

~~~

The next time he woke up, Eddie was still there. Asleep curled up beside him. But in the chair next to him was someone he hoped not to see. Wayne. Their eyes met and he didn’t say anything, he just raised his right eyebrow and Steve folded. He apologized for letting Wayne down, for hurting Eddie, for lying about it. He begged Wayne’s forgiveness, but the man didn’t respond. His gaze flickered to his sleeping nephew and softened.

“You listen to me boy.” Wayne said. “My nephew is a gentle soul, quick to forgive and let things go. You should know that based on how he was after that spring break.” They both shivered at the memory. “So, he’s not going to want to hold you accountable. He’d rather just move on and take your word for it. But lucky for him, and not so lucky for you, I will be holding you accountable.” He leaned in. “I love you like one of my own Steve, I really do. But I love my brother too and he ain’t seen Eddie since they locked him up. Eddie forgave him within days, trusted him. I learned then, that if Eddie loved someone, he’d forgive pretty much everything just to keep them around. So I’ll tell you the same thing I told Al. Eddie is my boy, first. And I will protect him from anything that will hurt him, even if it’s himself. So I’ll be holding you accountable. You’re going to rehab?” Wayne asked. At Steve’s nod and explanation of where, he continued. “You’re going to give the rehab my information as someone who they can talk to. I’m going to call to check up whenever I see fit. Got it?”

“Yes sir” Steve replied. The nurse from before knocked and opened the door quietly. She paused as she saw Eddie curled up in the bed next to Steve. She gently shook him awake.

“Mr. Munson? We have both of your blood tests back.” At this Eddie was wide awake.

“You got some blood tests done Ed?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, just um…just in case you know?” He trailed off not making eye contact with his uncle.

“Good news or bad news first?” She asked.

“Bad news first, always.” Eddie and Steve replied in tandem. They shared a private smile.

“Bad news, Steve you have moderate kidney damage. It won’t take much more to send them into failure.” She said with hard eyes.

“And the good news?” Wayne spoke up.

“Good news, you both are negative for any STDs. Including HIV.” The three men breathed a huge sigh of relief. The nurse turned to Steve. “You got lucky kid. Don’t forget that.” Steve assured her he wouldn’t and she left with a nod. He couldn’t believe he’d been so reckless. He turned to Eddie and was immediately pulled into a soft kiss.

~~~

“They said you’ll be discharged soon.” Robin said later. “Then what?” It was just the two of them.

“Then, Eddie drops me off at rehab and I get help. I stay clean. I do everything to be worthy of him.” He declared. Robin nodded her approval. Eddie came back from the hotel with all of their things packed away in a rental car. He slid into bed next to Steve.

“Hey, baby. You ready?” He asked. Steve nodded and they all left the hospital. The three of them piled into the car and drove Robin to the airport. She was going to fly back to give the boys some time alone. She hugged Steve and then Eddie. She whispered something in the his ear that had him tearing up. She went into the airport with a promise to call Wayne if she ran into any trouble.

Then it was just the two of them. They spent the first hour or so making idle small talk before the curiosity got the best of him. “What did Robin say to you?” He asked.

“Nothing important.” Eddie answered far too quickly.

“Oh, come on. You can tell me.” He knew he was being annoying but he didn’t want to think about what was awaiting him at the end of the ride. Eddie sighed, he never could keep something from Steve.

“She said if I could forgive you, I should forgive myself.” He admitted.

“You still blame yourself, love?” Steve asked. Eddie bit his lip as he nodded.

“If I hadn’t dragged you on tour, you never would have found that stuff.” Steve couldn’t let this stand. He knew he had to finally come clean.

“I was already doing it.” At Eddie’s questioning noise he continued. “As soon as we got to LA, I was looking for it. I did it at those events because it was free from someone else's supply.” He took a breath and glanced at Eddie before he admitted the next bit. “I didn’t get into this shit because I was on tour with you. I wanted to go on tour because I didn’t want to be away from you. That it would be way easier to get my hands on shit, just sweetened the deal.”

Eddie was quiet for a while after that. Steve glanced over and saw his cheeks were wet. He’d made him cry again. “So, you didn’t start them because of me?” He whispered.

“No love. And to be clear, even if I started on tour, it still wouldn’t have been your fault. You didn’t hold me down and force a line up my nose okay?” He reached out and wiped away a tear. “This was my choice. Just like going to rehab is my choice. If I didn’t really want to go, I wouldn’t.” His conviction was clear. Eddie pulled to the side of the road to kiss Steve softly before they drove the rest of the way in comfortable conversation.

They arrived at the rehab center and Eddie walked him inside. He checked in, Eddie handed over his credit card, Steve handed it right back and handed his over. The attendant smiled and swiped Steve’s card giving the boys a moment alone. They held each other close and kissed not caring at the moment who saw them. “I love you, baby. Don't forget okay?” Eddie whispered leaning his forehead to Steve’s.

“I know, love. I love you too. More than life.” He replied. He gave a final kiss to Eddie’s lips and followed the attendant into the center. He was determined to come out a new man.

~~~

Six grueling weeks later, Steve was out. He had a sponsor and group therapy sessions. Waiting to pick him up was Robin. Eddie was on the last few weeks of the tour. They had to extend it a bit to cover for Steve’s hospital stay. Robin gave him a long hug. “Ready to bust out?” She asked and they both got into the car. He lasted barely five minutes.

“How is he?” Steve and Eddie didn’t speak at all during his rehab. The center thought Eddie being on the road would be triggering to Steve. And to be frank, Wayne thought Eddie needed to distance himself from the process for a bit. Wayne and Robin had kept them both informed on the other.

“He’s okay. I mean…he misses you terribly, but he’s been coping on tour.” Robin said. Thankfully the drive wasn’t very long. Steve wanted to be in a familiar place, even if life outside of rehab was scary. They pulled up to Robin’s building and Steve stepped in after her.

There was a loud pop and confetti raining down on him. “Welcome home Steve!” Came several voices he was not expecting. The entire party was here. Wayne, Hopper, and Joyce too. But what brought him to tears was the sight to his left. Eddie was there, holding his arms open. Steve ran into them, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

“I thought your tour didn’t end for a few more weeks?” He asked in between kisses.

“I lied about the end date to surprise you.” He admitted holding Steve close. “Are you surprised?”

“Very! A good surprised!” The two pulled apart so everyone else could greet Steve. Eddie didn’t go far, not letting go of Steve’s hand the entire time. He’d felt better in rehab once the withdrawals subsided. More clear headed, more aware. But he didn’t feel completely healed. Feeling the warmth of Eddie’s hand in his, Steve felt hopeful for the future. As he made eye contact with the man again, Steve silently promised to stay clean. Not for just Eddie. But for himself too.

~~~

He skipped the next tour as recommended by his therapist. The two men decided it would be better if he wasn't alone, so Wayne stayed with him. He'd been retired from the plant and wanted to move out to LA with Eddie anyway.

He and Eddie had a hard time, but they make due with calls and letters. On one memorable occasion Steve sent a racy Polaroid. That night, Eddie called already worked up and they had a wonderful time. The reunion was so sweet. They were locked in their bedroom for days, coming out only for food and water. The rest of their friends knew better than to come visit until the love birds made the first move.

The band wrote a new album and started a nonprofit for drug addicts. It helped those who couldn't afford to get clean and see therapists, providing them with clean needles and clean drugs to help ween off them. Steve didn't shy away from his overdose, or the affect it had on those around him and he encouraged the others not to either. Eddie did several interviews on how helpless he felt when his "best friend" was taken to the hospital as a John Doe. This spurred the nonprofit to add resources for loved ones of addicts too.

Steve had been sober for three years when he went on tour with the band again. For real this time. He got clean and he stayed clean. When he was offered something at a party, he couldn't say he wasn't tempted. But he'd look over to see his love laughing and knew he'd do anything to keep that sound in the world. He never wanted to jeopardize Eddie's happiness again and he finally accepted he was his happiness.

And the next time the band played The Garden, Steve was on the sidelines cheering for Eddie and the band. He made sure Eddie could always see him and know he was safe. That look of guilt and devastation he saw in the hospital never returned to Eddie's face and Steve was determined to keep it that way.

[tainbocuailnge]

it's easy to dunk on people with poor reading comprehension or to look down on them (consciously or not) even if you're not actively shaming them for "not getting it" or "being stupid" but it's not actually helpful. it's a worrying development that many people (particularly many young people) are becoming resistant to the idea that complex and/or challenging books have value but it's also an understandable development, because in many cases it's a reaction to being shamed for their struggles with literacy and not given the help they would've needed to develop an adequate level of literacy.

that's not even going into what should even be considered an "adequate" level of literacy to begin with, because the truth is that a lot of people will simply never be able to read better than absolutely necessary to navigate their daily life, and this shouldn't be treated as some kind of failure on their part. the goal of literacy education should be to give people the tools for self-sufficiency.

what's worrying is not that there are a lot of people who don't engage with complex texts, but that there are a lot of people who refuse to believe that there is something to be gained from engaging with complex texts. someone doesn't have to read or understand shakespeare or kafka or what-have-you in order to live a fulfilling life, but when they become resistant to the idea that a text can have something going on beyond what's immediately apparent on the surface, they become easy targets for deception. this hinders the self-sufficiency that literacy is supposed to provide them with.

the goal of you high school language class is not just to get you to analyze texts, but to introduce you to the idea that texts can be analyzed in the first place, even if you don't go on to be particularly good at actually analyzing them yourself. you don't need to be able to read between the lines to understand that it is possible to read between the lines, and that therefore a text that seems nonsensical to you at first may simply be written for an audience of a different skill level - this is only a problem if there is a mismatch between the complexity of the text and the literacy of its target audience. an inability to read for subtext is not a personal failure, nor does the ability to read for subtext make you a better person than someone who can't. literacy is a skill, and like any skill there are people to whom it comes more easily than others.

calling people who are drawn to anti-intellectual rhetoric due to their struggles with literacy stupid is not going to encourage them to change their mind. developing media literacy and reading comprehension is something that is very difficult to do on your own, and doubly so if any attempt at trying to learn is met with derision for not already being able to do it. the problem is not people who only engage with easy texts, the problem is people growing hostile towards the idea that there is worth in engaging with more complex texts

if reading comprehension has always come naturally to you, it can be difficult to grasp how someone can fail to understand a text that you thought was easy enough to follow. I myself am guilty of snapping at people for misinterpreting me so wildly it seemed like they were doing it on purpose. you need to learn to suppress this kneejerk reaction, and instead see this frustration as common ground: you are both facing a situation where your communication skills are insufficient. what can you do to bridge this gap? how can you present this information in different ways that better suit how the other party processes information? keep in mind that this does not necessarily mean to simplify the information, because nobody likes being condescended to, and being condescended to is in many cases exactly what made these people hostile towards more complex ideas to begin with.

I don't have an easy solution, because this is a complex problem, and what helps some people will inevitably be useless to many others. but I believe fostering a culture where you won't be met with derision or ridicule for not understanding something or needing more explanation will go a long way. next time someone comments on your post with an absolutely baffling take that makes you wonder if they even read what you said, consider that maybe they are trying to engage with a text that is above their reading level, and they genuinely lack the ability to parse and retain the information you presented in the way you presented it. if you're going to respond, try to do so in good faith.