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#Don't remember if I've posted this before or not. Get out of my folder boy
dedkake · 5 months
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20 questions game
tagged by so many people! ty i think this is everyone: @logicgunn @wonkyelk @trainofcommand @frankthesnek
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
there are 209 of them (i have to write this as a sentence because tumblr thinks numbers need to be massive on their own)
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
word count: 340,984
3. What fandoms do you write for?
on ao3? mostly x-men and stargate atlantis
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
they're all xmen lol. by a mile: Snowed In Ready and Willing Mismatched Here Tonight A Matter of Convenience (i like one of these fic 10000x the others, but i'm Not Surprised)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
i do mostly. now. i didn't used to -- interacting with fandom people stressed me the heck out for a long time. i find it much easier to talk to people over here in sga :) however--i still can't bring myself to interact on some of my long personal ace fics.
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
heck i don't know. i love angst. i'm sure i wrote some very angsty stuff in the past that i literally cannot remember rn. for sga i think a couple of my s5 'could've started like this' fic might do:
water on pine and release and shame
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
i have no idea how to even start? most of them? /sprinkles happy endings all around
8. Do you get hate on fics?
not really. occasionally people make comments that rub me wrong about my ace fics, but not outright hate.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
when the inspiration strikes, sure. i think my smutty fic are pretty. diverse.
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
generally no. i don't. and i generally don't read them. but i did once, after spending some time with @juliusschmidt, write a one direction fic. in which xmen were featured.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
yes.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
yes <33
13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
it's been a LONG TIME. since i've actually co-written anything. but i used to cowrite and coplan fic all the time. way back when.
it seems really difficult now. but maybe because i do a lot of my thinking out loud, so planning with friends online is a Trial.
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
why are we fighting? i love all my babies. and i'm a multishipper at heart.
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
please take a peak into my wip folder someday, and you will be amazed.
but i don't post wips, so no one besides me will be sad about my never finished wips <3
16. What are your writing strengths?
being concise? sensory description? maybe?
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
can't plot worth a damn.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
i'd rather it was all in one language, with the use of descriptive dialogue tags or narration.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
gundam wing! my boys! back on ffn <3
20. Favorite fic you've ever written?
oh this is a Challenge. just focused on sga bc it's all i can hold in my brain. here are a few i think about often
it could've started like this... no that's cheating laugh it up give me a minute ad infinitum places unknown
tagging anyone who wants!! okay @zhabke and @pinkoptics
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bluecatwriter · 4 months
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Writer asks
O ho HO heck yeah I love surveys! (Thanks for the tag, @mrpinniped!)
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
109 and counting! 
2. What's your total ao3 word count?
356,656
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Mostly Dracula, but I have racked up a fair number of Dorian Gray and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea fics, plus some Jekyll and Hyde, Frankenstein, and Moby Dick.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Doors Everywhere
I Too Can Love
In Every Sense
Angels Unawares
For Safety Reasons
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I always try to respond— comments always make my day, so I want to let people know that I appreciate them (plus it's fun to chat about plot points or characterization details with readers!).
6. What's the fic you wrote that has the angstiest ending?
Probably The Breaking Point, where Jonathan dies before he even reaches Dracula's castle.
7. What's the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?
A lot of my fics have very happy/sappy endings, but probably the most unabashedly happy one is Love Multiplying. 
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Fortunately I have gotten only a few snarky comments here and there; the comments are overwhelmingly positive.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Ugh, so much smut. One moment I'm minding my own business, the next moment I'm tearing my hair out trying to write yet another threesome without making it turn out confusing and/or incredibly goofy. My favorite smut is the kind that's the site for dealing with a lot of Big Feelings (even though those are the hardest to write), but I also write fluffy, not-very-serious scenes too.
10. Do you write crossovers?
I've written a few Dracula/Dorian Gray crossovers, which have been a lot of fun!
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not to my knowledge.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not yet.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Not for fanfiction, though I've done a fair amount of cowriting in the past on other kinds of writing projects.
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
I have a lot of favorites, but Jonathan/Mina has got to be the top! I absolutely adore them as a couple, and more than that, their relationship is a non-negotiable backdrop of every Dracula fic I write. I just can't imagine splitting them up!
15. What's a wip you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?
I haven't officially given up hope on any of the many (many) fics sitting in my drafts folder, but time will tell. ;)
16. What are your writing strengths?
I feel like I'm pretty good at characterization, especially expanding on what we can glean from a character in canon.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Plot! Plot is so hard for me— every time I write an even remotely plotty fic, I drive myself batty doing it.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I'll occasionally put in a word or phrase in a different language, but since I only speak one language, if there's an extended sequence in a different language I'll just italicize the words.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
On Ao3, Dracula, but my very first fic I ever wrote down was a Steven Universe fanfiction (that will never see the light of day). (If you count stories I made up but never wrote down, my first fandom was Disney's 1940 film Pinocchio— when I was a tiny child I remember making up a story about a girl who helped rescue all the boys-turned-donkeys from Pleasure Island. My first fix-it fic!)
20. Favorite fic you've written?
I think my favorite overall is Love Multiplying, just because writing it was such a journey and I poured so much love and care into it.
Tagging @yallemagne, @see-arcane and @0nelittlebirdtoldme in the lowest-possible-pressure sort of way.  (You can also post it as an askbox meme if you don't want to answer all 20 questions.)
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amplifyme · 9 months
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Had a post cross my dash this evening that made me think of this one. An oldie but (hopefully) goodie. Sunday night smut.
Red Letter Day (read on AO3).
Explicit. MSR. Humor. Post-Fight the Future. Pre-Season 6. Absolutely no redeeming value. Originally published summer of 1998.
Summary: Mulder discovers the hidden benefits of Scully's PMS.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If I was anywhere near the crack genius most people seem to think I am, I would have taken the time to check my calendar before I ever opened my mouth.
News flash: Dana Scully is hell on wheels the two or three days prior to the monthly visit from her "friend."
That's how she refers to her period: as her friend. If I had a friend that made me psychotic on a regular basis, I'd definitely be looking around for a new one. And you'd think a well- educated doctor could come up with a term a little more clinical than that.
Whatever.
There we were in our brand-spanking-new office (which I hate with a passion that knows no bounds because it’s bare and lacks the charm it had before the fire), knee-deep in cardboard boxes filled with freshly printed copies of all the X files Scully and I'd had the good sense to save on disk and stash at home.
We'd spent the better part of the previous weekend at the offices of the Gunmen, shooting the shit while the boys' printer got a workout. Call me paranoid, but I have no definitive proof that the printers at the Bureau aren't out to get me.
Note to self: send Byers a decent bottle of scotch, the collected works of Korn to Langly, and a copy of Alien Probe to Frohike.
Scully was cross-legged on the floor, stuffing papers into candy- striped file folders and consulting a list of case numbers, checking off each one as it was compiled. I'd made the mistake of volunteering to put said folders into some kind of order once she was done with them. And that's where we ran into trouble.
You see, Scully's idea of a filing system is way out of line with mine. I've always grouped files by phenomenon; Scully prefers to do it by case number. Consequently, our old file cabinets in our office (may its previous flotsam and jetsam rest in peace) were not exactly what one might call organized. That sort of thing doesn't faze me too much, but it makes her crazy. Had I bothered to note the date, I would have known not to cross her when she questioned me about it.
Live and learn.
"You're doing those by case number, right?"
I wasn't really paying much attention to her question. I had my back turned to her and had gotten lost in the last file she'd handed me, mourning anew the untimely, bizarre death of Clyde Bruckman and his equally bizarre take on my own demise. I made a noncommittal noise in reply.
"Mulder? You're filing those by case number?"
Her question finally registered. "Uh, no. Should I be?"
I flinched at the stinging slap of her hand hitting the hard surface of the floor. "Dammit, Mulder, I thought we agreed to do it by case number."
My radar went active and the alarms started going off. I had no idea why she'd flown off the handle so quickly, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out.
"We did?" I was being careful, buying myself some time to try to figure out what was going on. I turned and gave her my most guileless face as I got busy trying to recall what I might have done recently to piss her off. Hard as it may be to believe, I came up empty.
She gave me a long, icy look and gritted through her teeth, "Yes, we did. The last time you were at my apartment, as a matter of fact. Don't you remember?"
Okay, that was an easy one. I knew the right (read: best) answer and spit it out gratefully. "I'm sorry, Scully. My head must have been somewhere else."
So far so good. My excuse was legit. Especially if you take into account that the last time I'd been at her place, sex had been the only thing on our minds. And I've discovered that Scully gets very talkative afterwards, while I tend to zone out during my usual post-coital return to all my favorite places on her body. I'd much rather nuzzle the underside of her breasts or the curve of her ass than discuss the best way to organize our file cabinets. So I let her ramble on and she lets me poke and nibble. It's generally an equitable trade and, to be perfectly honest, I'd always figured she was paying as little attention to what I was doing as I was to what she was saying.
But like I said, live and learn. Because my smartass mouth then overrode my common sense. "Now that I think about it," I elaborated before I could stop myself, bending low and whispering. "I'm pretty sure it was between your legs."
"Jesus Christ, Mulder, is that all you think about? We have work to do here."
"I'm working. See?" I waved a hand at the open file cabinets and the rows of folders tucked inside.
"No, you're not. You're thinking about your head being between my legs. No wonder you can't file anything properly."
Obviously she wasn’t as concerned as me about the office being bugged.
I fought to tamp down my sudden flash of anger. What the hell was her problem? "Just because I'm not doing it the way you want me to, Scully, doesn't mean it's not being done properly."
"Whatever," she shot back. "Just do it however the hell you want to. You always do anyway."
Bitch.
While part of me was slowly realizing there might've been something more to her outburst than just my ill-timed comment, the rest of me couldn't have cared less. I found myself glaring at her. She glared right back.
"Fine," I snapped, swinging back around and yanking all the neatly filed folders out of the cabinets and slapping them down on top. "I'll do it your way."
That seemed to do the trick, because she got very quiet after that. At least she didn't gloat over her small victory. I kept up a steady stream of silent curses as I worked to re-file everything by case number. I was almost through the first pile when she began muttering under her breath.
Without turning around I asked, "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"
"I knew this was gonna happen," she announced.
That's all it took to suck me right back into the game. "Knew what was gonna happen?" I turned just as she was getting to her feet.
"This," she said. "This problem you seem to have staying on task. I knew as soon as we started… you know… you'd have trouble separating that part from the work. Honestly, Mulder. I'm trying to get some work done and all you can think about is going down on me."
All this blurted out with her arms folded defensively across her chest and that holier-than-thou tone of voice. I opened my mouth to let loose with some retort and snapped it shut again as soon as I got a really good look at her face. Her flushed face. The high color and the sparkling eyes that spoke not just of anger, but of what I'd come to recognize as arousal.
It dawned on me in that moment that Scully was as horny as she was angry. Maybe even more so.
It took all my considerable self-control to keep the smile off my face. I took a step toward her and said, "I hate to point out the obvious, but you're the one who keeps bringing it up. I was just making a joke. You're the one who can't stop talking about it."
"And just what are you implying?" Her eyes danced fire as she glared up at me.
I've found that sometimes my silence can say more than words ever could. This was one of those moments. I watched her face change as she realized that I had more than a clue what was going on.
"Oh, I don't fucking believe this," she muttered, turning away and grabbing her trench coat from the chair she'd draped it over. "I'm going home. I'm not going to stand around here and watch your head explode from your over-inflated ego." She stomped to the door and flung it open, struggling comically to get her arms in the sleeves of her coat. "Good-bye, Mulder. I will see you in the morning."
I spent the next few minutes smothering my laughter and then dug out my pocket calendar, settling into a chair as I confirmed my suspicions.
It was probably four years ago when I started keeping track of Scully's menstrual cycles. At first, I'd just been marking down the days when she seemed to possess a shorter fuse than normal. After about three months, a definite pattern had emerged. I'd been able to pinpoint the days that marked the actual start of her period because she'd invariably complain of lower back pain and be popping Advil throughout the day. Once those events occurred, I knew I was safe for another month or so. It was the two or three days prior to that when I had to be careful.
Those were the days when Scully would act as though she'd just as soon shoot me as look at me. Or speak to me. Or have anything to do with me. Those were the days when we both would find any excuse to avoid being in close contact. She would take off for a long weekend or a symposium at Quantico or, if neither of those were possible, I would grudgingly offer my temporary services to BSU. If we happened to be in the field or out of town on a case, we'd come up with ways to work separately. Since there was almost always a corpse or two that needed slicing and dicing, it was never much of a problem.
All this time I'd been thinking that she just had less patience with me those few days than at other times-a result of hormones gone wild. It never once occurred to me that she might've been avoiding me for an entirely different reason. I was stunned by the idea that she maybe she'd wanted nothing more than to throw me down and screw me blind, hence her pissy manner that insured I'd stay away and not become an irresistible treat. Considering we hadn't been lovers until just a few months ago, that would certainly explain why she'd felt a need to be as far away from me as possible.
Can't exactly go around jumping your partner on impulse, now can you? So you take pains to avoid them instead. Out of sight, out of mind, Scully?
My grin just got bigger as I checked the previous two months on my calendar. Sure enough: those particular red letter days were times when we'd been apart for one reason or another. So even though we were engaging in hot monkey love by then, she had habitually avoided me the few days before her period. Wouldn't want to actually admit she might be extraordinarily horny and indulge herself in our new favorite pastime.
Well.
Wasn't that interesting.
So then I did what any red-blooded man would do: I formulated a plan to use her hormones to my advantage.
Now before you start lecturing me about what a pig I am, ask yourself: wouldn't you do the same?
I thought so.
I gave the unfiled files a cursory glance and decided they weren't going anywhere. I locked up the office and headed home. After grabbing a quick shower, I threw on jeans and a t- shirt and hightailed it over to her place.
Apparently I'd interrupted a rare session of Scully self- indulgence. I took a quick look over her shoulder as she threw open the door, spotting the pint of Wavy Gravy on the coffee table. William Hurt and Kathleen Turner were raising body temperatures on the TV.
"What do you want?" she asked. The pissy tone was still there, but she couldn't stop her eyes from raking me over head to toe in a rather predatory way.
Bingo.
"Hello to you, too, Scully. Whatcha doin'?"
"Nothing," she growled.
"Good." I stepped right past her, ignoring the indignant look she aimed at me.
I heard her huff dramatically as she closed the door. "What do you want, Mulder?"
"Who says I want anything?" I pulled off my leather jacket and tossed it onto the chair. Flopped down on the couch and grabbed the ice cream. I had the first spoonful in my mouth as she came around the end of the couch and planted herself in front of me, hands on hips.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Eating your ice cream."
"I can see that."
I leisurely licked the back of the spoon clean, my eyes pinning hers.
"Why are you here, Mulder? Surely it's not just to eat my food."
I jammed the spoon back into the container and set it on the table. "You're right. That's not why I'm here."
One eyebrow crept up her face and her hands lifted in question.
"I think," I told her, “That the real question is, what do you want?
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that you're not being honest with me, and I don't think I like it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
That's the moment I realized Scully was capable of looking me straight in the eye without actually looking at me. Avoidance by confrontation.
Amazing.
"You're a lousy liar, Scully. You always have been." I was a little surprised at how raw my voice sounded to my own ears. Hoarse, aroused. I was even getting a hard-on, and I'd yet to lay a finger on her. It was shaping up to be an interesting afternoon.
"Excuse me?" she blustered. "If you've come here to insult me, Mulder, then I think you'd better leave."
"I didn't come here to insult you." I slumped back against the cushions, my feet purposefully planted wide. "I have something much more pleasant in mind."
She did a quick check of my crotch before lifting her eyes to mine. She tried to look innocent, like she hadn't just been caught eyeing the goods, but she couldn't pull it off.
I had her fair and square.
"Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but-"
"Just couldn't stop thinking about it, could you?"
"What?"
"My head between your legs." I made each word slow and precise. "The thought of me going down on you. It turns you on, doesn't it, Scully?"
She began to stammer, no doubt trying to get out some kind of excuse. I didn't give her the time. "In fact, I'd lay odds you're getting wet right now, just from me saying the words."
"Mulder-"
"It's okay. It turns me on, too. See?" I glanced at the rapidly growing bulge in my jeans. She obediently looked. When she raised her eyes, they'd gone dark and heavy-lidded. "The only thing I'm not sure about is just what turns you on the most. Is it the thought of my mouth against you, licking you? Or my tongue dipping into you?" I deliberately looked back down at my crotch. "Or maybe it's this you're thinking about."
I knew I was. I didn't have a whole lot of choice. My cock was straining uncomfortably against the rough denim of my jeans, demanding attention. I heard her sharp intake of air as my hips lifted slightly in invitation.
"It's okay," I told her again. "You don't have to hide from me anymore, Scully. You don't have to pretend. Whatever you want, whatever I can do for you, all you have to do is tell me and I'll do it."
I lifted my hands from where they rested on my thighs and draped my arms along the back of the couch, settling deeper into the overstuffed cushions. "Now why don't you just slip out of those clothes and come over here and tell me exactly what you want."
It was harder than hell to sound cool and confident when my heart was pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. My throat had gone so tight I don't think I could have swallowed had my life depended on it. Not that there was any saliva remaining in the arid desert my mouth had become.
To be perfectly honest, it wasn't just white-hot lust that caused my symptoms. I was terrified of Scully's response. Despite the way her hooded eyes lazily meandered over my body, despite her ragged breathing and the soft, inviting curve of her mouth, I had absolutely no idea what was going on in her head. For all I knew I was seconds away from having my ass booted out of her apartment and being told in no uncertain terms that I was no longer welcome there.
I'd never done anything like that with her before. While we'd indulged in the typical flirting lovers are wont to do over the last couple of months, I hadn't ever been that blatant in approaching her. We'd always entered into lovemaking the same way we did everything else in our relationship: slowly, cautiously, with few gestures and even fewer words.
All I could do at that moment was sit quietly and wait for her to decide. Though it might have appeared to anyone else that I was in charge of the situation, the complete opposite was true. It was Scully's call. She was in control, and I knew that was just the way she liked it.
It wasn't until her fingers lifted to the buttons of her blouse that I released the breath I hadn't been aware of holding. She pinned my eyes and wouldn't let go until she was forced to bend over to pull off her pants. And then she straightened and faced me, clad in nothing but a lacy bra and panties.
"All of it," I managed to croak.
And then she cocked an eyebrow and gave me tiny, wicked smile. A ragged chuckle escaped me and I finally took a deep breath.
Thank you, Scully, for not kicking me out. Thank you for not laughing in my face. Thank you for wanting me as much as I wanted you.
She made short work of the bra and panties and stood there waiting, giving me back a little of the control, letting me take a leisurely look at what she was offering. She was five-foot two inches of walking, talking perfection. I sat up and extended a hand to her and she stepped forward and silently took it. I tugged until she was standing right in front me, only inches away, trapped between my knees. I closed my eyes and breathed her in.
You know what it smells like just after it's rained on a perfect early spring evening? When you catch a whiff of new grass and leaves and just a hint of the musk of flowers still forming blossoms. That's what Scully smells like.
I let go of her fingers and moved my hands to her hips, holding her firmly in place. And then I leaned forward and kissed the soft slope of her belly, just below her navel. Her fingers slipped through my hair as I turned my cheek and rested it against her.
There I was just seconds after telling her to strip naked and talk dirty to me, struggling with a hard-on that could cut glass, when suddenly the back of my throat started to ache and my eyes to sting. All signs of impending tears. My face was buried in the softness of her belly, inches away from the source of her intense fragrance, and all I could do was get teary-eyed because I thought I must be the luckiest sonofabitch on the face of the earth.
Now you must understand something: I never thought Scully and I would get to the place we've reached. It's not that we weren't aware of our feelings for each other and the attraction between us, or curious about what it might be like to give in to that attraction. It's just that when you cut to the chase, both of us tend to be chickenshit when it comes to matters of the heart. Especially when you factor in all we had to lose if it'd turned out that sex between us was something better left to the imagination.
But we were lucky, Scully and me. We came together and discovered it could be even better than we had any right to expect. And sometimes that gets to me. It did that day, and in all honesty, it still happens with alarming frequency.
Scully, bless her horny little heart, pulled me right out my sentimental brooding. "You were right, Mulder," she murmured as I turned my face and kissed her again. "About everything you said. You made that joke in the office and I couldn't stop thinking about it. It just made me so…"
"Horny?" I supplied.
I felt the vibration of her silent chuckle as I continued to taste her belly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. And I had to get out of there. I'm not used to being able to admit my feelings to myself, let alone to you and… oh, don't stop doing that, Mulder… and so I ran away."
I moved my hands around and took a hold of her perfect little ass, gently kneading the flesh. I dipped my head and began to kiss along the crease where thigh met torso. "Old habits die hard, huh?"
"Oh, God. Yes, they do." Her fingers had taken a firmer grip on my head, directing my mouth where she wanted it. Which just happened to be where I wanted it, too. I nuzzled the crisp copper curls at the apex of her thighs. "Mulder, please."
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want."
"No," I reminded her, "I want you to tell me."
She got quiet and I pulled away a little, looking up at her. She was gnawing on her bottom lip. Her expression was one of shyness struggling with need, and it was just about the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I considered letting her off the hook. For a second or two. But it was too good to let go. My cock twitched in anticipation.
She closed her eyes in a slow blink and whispered, "I want your mouth on me."
Good girl.
"Where, Scully? Show me."
She gave me a look that told me I was going to pay big-time for being so insistent. I was smart enough not to let her know how much I was looking forward to that. Sometimes you just have to keep things to yourself.
I thought she might take the less risky option and beat around the bush (no pun intended), but she apparently didn't want to waste any more time. One hand left my hair and came to rest on her stomach. There was only a moment's hesitation before she slid it down and cupped herself.
"Here," she breathed.
Never let it be said that I give up easily; especially not when things are getting interesting.
"I'm sorry, I can't see, your hand's in the way. Where?"
She slowly made a return trip up, this time with the first two fingers of her hand spread apart. This, of course, opened her up and left the small bud of her clit peeking out. She was wet, her folds plump and glistening, shaded a deep pinkish-red.
Beautiful. My little hothouse flower.
I licked my lips in anticipation and she sighed quietly as she spotted the tip of my tongue.
"There?" I asked.
"Yes." She growled impatiently, "Jesus, Mulder, just do it."
So I leaned in and flicked my tongue once against her clit, sliding off the couch until I was on my knees. And then I went in for the kill. It was a good thing my hands were still on her ass, because her knees buckled almost immediately. She groaned low in her throat and dug her nails into my scalp.
I've never understood men who don't enjoy being on the giving end of oral sex. It's always been right up there on my list of favorite things to do. I could spend hours at it-and have. Consider it a benefit of my obvious oral fixation. Scully certainly does.
I ran my tongue along her soft folds and then pulled them into my mouth, gently sucking the flesh before letting my tongue slip inside her. She clenched tight around me, beginning to thrust and grind against my mouth as I dipped in and tasted her smoky sweetness. I drew my tongue back and then ran it up her cleft, landing on her clit and mirroring the small circles her hips had begun to make.
Scully was moaning and whispering nonsense words, her legs grower weaker as the minutes ticked by. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to hold her up and my neck was beginning to complain about my awkward position anyway. So I pulled away and shoved the coffee table out a few feet, lying down on my back on the floor. I ended up with Scully standing above me, her feet planted on either side of my waist.
She gave a little grunt of disappointment and then squatted and reached down, going for the buttons on my jeans. I grabbed her wrists to stop her. She looked down at me with unfocused eyes, her tongue snaking out to wet her lips.
"Uh-uh." I let go and grabbed her hips, pulling her up toward me. "C'mere, I'm not finished yet." She crawled up until her knees were next to my ears and settled right down on my face.
Oh, yeah. It was heaven. It was as good as it got.
Somewhere along the line, I reached down and undid my fly. My cock had gotten progressively larger and harder and I was afraid the little bugger might suffocate if I didn't give him some air. It eased the pressure but not my discomfort. My cock was aching to do what my fingers and tongue were busy at.
But that's just part of the fun-holding off until you can't stand it anymore. God knows Scully and I had made it an art form, waiting over five years before we finally gave in the first time. Now that I knew she wasn't going anywhere, it was nothing to wait until I'd made good on my word to give her what she wanted.
Just a few minutes later Scully went stiff, her back snapping straight, and noisily came. She ground against me a little longer, riding it out, and then folded bonelessly at the waist. She braced her hands on the floor above my head and I wiggled out from beneath her and got on my knees. I quickly hauled off my t-shirt and then shoved my jeans and boxers down my hips. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I lifted her ass in the air. And then, not giving her time to catch her breath, I buried my cock inside her in one savage thrust.
She squeaked and I grunted and then she arched her spine and shoved back against me, matching me stroke for stroke. I knew I wasn't going to last long. I could already feel the heat coiling low in my belly, gathering strength and moving even lower, into my balls and all along the length of my cock. But I wanted to make Scully come one more time. Just once more. Her two for my one. It sounded fair to me.
I spread my knees as wide as my jeans would allow and draped myself over her. Reaching up and grabbing a breast, I pinched the nipple between my fingers and then slid my hand down her belly and found her clit.
"Oh, Mulder."
It was first intelligible thing she'd said in several minutes, and it came out in a low keen. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell her how fucking good she felt - tight, hot, wet, squeezing around me - but I was beyond words, beyond any thought but relieving the ache in my balls and the screaming in my head. I settled for turning my face into her neck and taking her earlobe between my teeth. I bit down just as she came and she bucked violently against me.
Two, three, four more thrusts and I followed her down, throwing my head back and growling like a goddamn animal. I kept pounding into her long after my cock stop spasming and she'd milked me dry, not wanting to stop what had felt so unbelievably good. But my knees gave out in the end, forcing me to lift myself off her back and collapse on the floor next to her.
Scully's face was buried in the carpet, her fiery hair a tousled mess, her legs and arms akimbo. Her back was rising and falling rapidly as she desperately sucked in air. I fought to control my own breathing and reached over to run a hand down her sweat- covered back, coming to rest on the swell of her ass and giving it a friendly squeeze.
She lifted her head a few minutes later and turned her face toward me, squinting at me through the hair that fell over her eyes.
"Hi," I murmured.
She groaned in reply and opened her eyes all the way, looking me over. A slow smile spread across her face.
"What?" I asked.
She snickered. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look, Mulder?"
I looked down at myself and then back at her, grinning like a fool. My jeans and boxers were bunched around my knees, my feet still encased in boots, my erection rapidly deflating and lying wet and limp against my thigh. All in all, not exactly the model of suave sophistication. "I didn't hear you complaining earlier, Scully. Besides, you're not exactly cover girl material yourself at the moment."
"Depends on what magazine I'd be posing for." She made a 'gotcha' face, obviously pleased with herself.
I chuckled and pulled her closer, "Baby, you can pose for me anytime you want."
"I figured as much. And don't call me baby." She levered up on an elbow and brushed the hair from her face. I watched, with much appreciation, the sway of her breasts. "Mulder, kiss me."
"With pleasure." I wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck and guided her mouth down to mine. The first touch of her lips was electric, like a high-voltage current shooting through my body.
Scully and I are stingy with our kisses. I guess part of the reason is that neither one of us wants to get used to them. They're incredible, you see, and it would be far too easy to become addicted to them, to want to indulge without any thought as to where we are or what we should be doing instead. Too easy to be in the office or out in the field and be overwhelmed by an intense desire to turn to each other and grab a big, fat, wet kiss. So we dole them out carefully.
But that's not the only reason. It goes deeper than that. I think maybe it's because getting to that first kiss took so much longer than anything else. There's something even more special about kissing her than fucking her. I know it may sound strange to you, but then Scully and I have never exactly been poster children for normal behavior.
Eons later we broke apart and I licked the taste of her from my lips. She peered at me drowsily and declared, "You know, this is completely unfair of you."
"What is?"
"Taking advantage of me the way you just did. Pulling your profiling wonder boy act and figuring out what my problem was."
I smiled in victory. "Does this mean I can pencil you in for a repeat performance in about, oh, twenty-six days?"
"I have to wait that long?"
I tossed back my head and laughed as I gathered her into my arms. "You don't have to wait at all. Like I told you: all you have to do is tell me and I'm there. Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Your secret is safe with me."
"At the rate we're going, I won't have any secrets left."
I drew back a little and looked at her. "Would that be such a bad thing?"
"My mother always said a woman should have one or two secrets, just to maintain an air of mystery."
"And what do you say, Scully?"
"I say," she stretched up and kissed me, "that some secrets are too good to keep to yourself."
I couldn't have agreed more.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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allylikethecat · 5 months
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Writing asks I came up with:
1. What got you into writing fanfic in the first place?
2. What boundaries would you not cross as a writer regarding content?
3. Has a fic ever made you cry? And if so, what was it about that fic?
4. How do you feel about abandoning fics?
5. Are there any novel authors you like that have influenced your writing style?
YAY!! Asks!! Thank you so much for coming up with these! Get exciting for me to ramble and overshare (but do you expect anything less?!)
What got you into writing fanfic in the first place?
I have been writing fanfic since before I was even old enough to know what it really was. I was always day dreaming and drawing pictures inserting my own characters into my favorite stories, or forcing my favorite characters into my own situations (my mother used to transcribe the adventures of various Disney princess for me lol) the first *real* fanfiction I remember writing was in 5th grade for the book Eragon. My childhood best friend and I had a red spiral bound notebook that we passed back and forth and wrote our fic in. In terms of The 1975- I've been a fan of theirs since the Robbers music video started showing up on my Tumblr dash back in like 2014? (I couldn't figure out who I wanted to be more... Matty or the Robbers girl and years later I still in fact do not have an answer for that one lol) And I realized they were the same band that sang the song Chocolate. However, I didn't start posting my writing for them until last year when I was Going Through It™️ and my Bestie encouraged me to use it as an outlet (sorry Fictional!Matty! that's why your life sucks!)
2. What boundaries would you not cross as a writer regarding content?
I don't think I've actually killed off any *main* character or public figure yet and I can't actually see myself doing that? At least in something that I post for public consumption? Honestly that could change though. I don't really have any boundaries I'm not willing to cross because I am a firm believer that fanfiction is still considered art and art is supposed to make someone feel something and even make them uncomfortable. I actually have a fic that I've been working on that I'm hesitant to share because I'm not sure boundaries exist and I don't want to offend anyone (again) 😂
3. Has a fic ever made you cry? And if so, what was it about that fic?
This question isn't fair. I am a cryer, everything makes me cry. I started crying the other day because I love my horse so much (he's totally fine he was just looking super cute and was all happy I brought him carrots.) So yes, lots of fics have made me cry. Anything that I read that I can tell the author poured their heart into writing is honestly going to make me at least tear up and I am not ashamed to admit it. That's why I don't wear mascara on my lower lashes and only wear waterproof eyeliner 😂
4. How do you feel about abandoning fics?
I've only officially done it once, for a Hockey RPF fic that I just, wasn't enjoying working on. Everything else is just on "Hiatus" until I remember it exists again even if it takes years. I don't consider myself a quitter and abandoning a fic that I've started posting kind of breaks my soul. HOWEVER I do have a folder on my Google Drive that's just a graveyard of abandoned and half finished fics that I never posted that I go and visit sometimes.
5. Are there any novel authors you like that have influenced your writing style?
Yes! For sure 100%. However, I am currently sitting here going "I have never read a book before in my life" which is obviously a bold face lie you should see my GoodReads page but not really because there is a ton of my real life personal information on it lol Even though he's not (technically) a novelist (even though he did write a book!) can I say Pete Wentz? He's probably one of the writers I look up to the most. The way he bends words to pen lyrics just... scratch an itch in my brain and I hope I can one day make someone feel the way Fall Out Boy lyrics make me feel and I 100% feel like the flowery way he writes has influenced my to some capacity.
Thank you so much for sending these in! It was fun!
❤️Ally
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fallintosanity · 2 years
Note
I, N, and V for the writer ask meme…! >_>
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
eheheh gonna have to go with that particular flavor of h/c where the normally powerful and unflappable character is hurt, and is comforted/tended to by the normally vulnerable and emotional one. There's a lot of tenderness in this trope, and a lot of room to explore the unseen sides of each character. Major bonus points for platonic physical touching/closeness, because there isn't nearly enough of that in media generally or fanfic specifically. This trope is PERFECT for it, though, and my little aroace heart eats it up every time.
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
There's these two old Supernatural fics I have sitting around in my WIPs folder that I wish someone else would write, because aside from me having fallen out of SPN fandom post-S10, I just can't figure out what to do with them. But I love the premises of both, and they still knock around in my brain occasionally. One of them is a time-travel AU (did you expect anything different XD ) involving Sam from right before the end of S1E1, and Season... I don't remember, early 10 or so? Whenever Lucifer shows back up - Sam swapping temporal places. Past!Sam has to deal with the monster that Dean has become post-S8, while Future!Sam has to face John Winchester while Lucifer is hunting them all. The other one is an AU where Sam is separated from John and Dean as a baby by an accident that results in them believing he was killed by the yellow-eyed demon. Dean grows up alone, while baby Sam is adopted by a family of powerful witches and raised as both a witch and a psychic (since they recognize his psychic powers early on) by loving parents and siblings. They meet for the first time during a modified S1E1 set up by the YED, who is trying to get the Winchester family back together for the whole Apocalypse thing. While they don't realize they're brothers, they do end up working together to solve the first several cases of S1 before retreating to Sam's family's home to escape Meg and the YED. There, they put the pieces together and figure out Sam is the little brother Dean thought died as a baby, and that Sam's adopted parents believed John Winchester was a mundane criminal who abandoned his son to CPS.
I actually have about 9k words written for the first one, and about 10k for the second, but yeah, no idea where to go with them and no motivation to finish. ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ If anyone wants to run with either of these, go for it!
I also have a Promare fic that I've more or less completely written out in my head, but don't have the time or spoons to put on paper, and I'd love it if someone wrote that one for me. XD
Oddly enough, I can't think of any in either the FFVII or FFXV fandoms, probably because I have so many writing projects in both of those right now that I've got all my bases covered. XD
V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?
I'm gonna go with, first, Ravus Nox Fleuret, because GOD I wish we could have seen so much more about him in canon, and fandom is very well placed to fill those gaps. (I think he might show up in a decent number of fics, actually, just not as a primary character in gen fics that I'm aware of.) And second, best boy Kunsel <3
Ask me stuff!
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fritae · 3 years
Text
The Missing Piece (Ch 14)
Flirt.
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gang! au / ceo! au
characters: dabi x f. oc, lov
status: ongoing
read on ao3 here.
a/n: I'm sorry for not updating for a bit, I was busy with finals. But hopefully, I should be posting more often from here on out! I hope you're all doing well in the meantime :)
---
As I make my way to the Blaze today, my conversation with Al this morning is all I can think about.
"What time are you coming home tonight?" I asked her as we both got ready to leave the house. It was rare for us to leave at the same time, Al usually sets out hours earlier.
"Probably 11-ish? The Midnight Show's on break today."
"Really? That's weird. That's never happened before."
"Yeah, we're doing maintenance today so the equipment will need to rest overnight. All our stations are clocking out early."
"How about you?" She asked me as I locked the door behind us.
We pause before our apartment for a moment, as I shrug. "Mr. Dabi needs me today. I'll probably come home late again."
Al nods. "I'll see you tonight!" She calls out before walking in the opposite direction.
"Yeah," I wave back. "But don't wait up for me!"
---
I knock on the door once and turn the knob to Dabi's office.
But my grin falls when I find the room empty.
I sigh.
"Looking for someone?"
I turn around immediately.
"Dabi," my face brightens. He's wearing a simple black suit today. My eyes unconsciously glance at his abdomen, looking for any sign of blood. I hug the morning report closer to my chest when I find none.
"Was waiting for you to come in," He registers the look on my face with a smirk. "That smile for me?"
I roll my eyes and hand him the report as he walks to his desk.
He flips through the documents, eyes skimming the pages. His fingers move up and down the paper casually, rather than with purpose as he usually does.
I take that as a sign he's not too concerned with what's in them.
Let's see.
"Is your wound better now, sir?"
Dabi nods.  "Anything urgent on the agenda?"
I shake my head. "At 4pm, you just have-"
"Around midnight, I mean."
I blink.
"Midnight sir?"
He nods, looking up at me. "I've got a deal with a big client today. I'm taking you with me."
Tonight?! My heartrate rises.
"But sir..."
Dabi raises a brow. "What's wrong? Thought you'd be happy."
"Nothing I just..." I try to think of a lie. "Me and Al were planning on having a girl's night."
Dabi closes the folder. "Got it. I'll try and schedule you in advance next time then." He doesn't seem upset at all but I don't let it go.
"No! I mean, it's okay, you come first. I'm sure she'll understand."
"I'm going anyway, Rina. There'll be other opportunities for you to come along. I don't need you there, I just thought you'd wanna be better acquainted with business."
"I am," I insist. "I'll come with you. Al can wait."
Dabi tilts his head. "You say you two are friends but who'd rather hang out with their boss than your friend?"
"We've grown distant a bit since I've left NNTV," I tell him honestly.
Of course, there's more. But there was no way Dabi would stay silent if he found out. The problem is... would I have another chance to do what I was planning on doing tonight?
I bite my lip.
It's okay, I can still make it afterward.
If it takes too long, I'll tell Dabi I need to leave early.
But Dabi is already suspicious.
"Wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to patch things up then?"
Why's he suddenly asking so many questions.
"Dabi-"
"Are you friends or not?"
"We are. I think. I just haven't been feeling it lately. I don't know, maybe it's because we haven't really spoken with each other in so long."
He stands up and steps closer to me, forcing me to take a step back. "I think there's more to it than that." He eyes me with amusement. "Why do those pretty eyes look scared?"
I blush and my back hits the wall.
Can he not change up on me so fast?
"I think you're keeping things from me, princess."
There's a playful smirk on his lips as he places his hand against the wall, leaning in closer. "What are we gonna do about that?"
"Look who's talking," I cross my arms.
"And here I thought I was making your day."
I feel his breath against my skin and it makes me grow bold.
"You tryna make me happy or something?" I tease gently. 
"If you'll make it worth my while." 
"How so? Big boy couldn't even handle a hug."
A deep chuckle comes out of Dabi's mouth.
"Let's see how much you can handle then, princess."
A fire dances in my stomach at his words. Where is this Dabi coming from? The casual flirting. The mischief in his eyes.
But before I can discover what he means, he pulls away from me, a fake serious expression on his face and adds: "Ah. When you don't have a girls night planned, that is."
There's a playful banter in his voice that I love.
It reminds me of the Dabi I first met.
Suddenly, I hear Atsuhiro behind the door.
"Dabi, we on for tonight?" He calls out.
Dabi's eyes flit from the door to me.
"Would ya look at that? Guess I'm having a boys night."
"No," I immediately frown. "You promised."
Dabi laughs. "Get out of here with that bullshit, I don't make promises."
"Dabi, we out? Or are you taking Jin today?" Atsuhiro knocks again.
"Now you do," I tell him seriously. "You've taken them before, it's my turn."
"Is it though?" He scratches his head. "I thought it was girls night."
Atsuhiro knocks harder. "Dabi, you there?"
"I won't speak to you again." I narrow my eyes. "That's a promise. You can't bring this up and then say no."
"Wait, wait let's get something straight, princess. I brought it up and you said no."
"Dabi!" I groan.
"Rina," He whines, mocking me.
Its strange seeing Dabi like this but it excites me.
More so that he won't let Atsuhiro in.
"You won't regret it," I whisper. "Promise."
He considers my words.
"You sure you want to come?"
"Yes!"
"What are you gonna tell your friend?"
"I'm working late."
"Bad girl." He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "I didn't take you for a liar."
"Guess you should know me better," I tilt my head, my lips curling at the hint in my tone.
"Careful now," His voice gets deeper when my fingers find his tie. "You know what happens when you get too close to fire?"
I remember the Dabi in the car, who pulled back as soon as I touched him, and this Dabi - who teases and pulls me close then pushes me away. I wonder what's different. What makes one come out or the other.
"Maybe I want to see what it'll do."
I don't miss the way Dabi's eyes darken.
But before he could respond, Atsuhiro bangs on the door.
"Hey boss, you-"
Dabi's grin falls.
"I'm not fucking taking you tonight!" Dabi growls at the door. "If I don't answer, I'm doing something, how about you calm the fuck down?" 
There's a pause at the door and then a low "Okay" that makes my heart clench.
Dabi turns back to me. "Now-"
"Wait now I feel bad," I look at the door. "It looks like he really wanted to go, why'd you have to say it like that?" I pout.
Dabi rolls his eyes and decides to pull sway completely. The mischief in his eyes is gone. Instead, there's a bored and slightly irritated expression. He goes and sits on the sofa, spreading himself out.
"Princess, I don't have time for this, are you coming or sh-"
"Yes, yes I'm coming."
"Then don't fucking worry about him."
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bettercallsabs · 3 years
Text
After Dark
Here we go again with some new trash. Yes! Let's spiral down quick into some chaos.
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Steve Rogers x Plus sized Reader
Steve POV
Warnings: Violence, guns, adults language, crime.
Word Count: 1.3k
Taglist is open, so never miss a post!
My name is Steve Roger's. I am the heir to my father's legacy. The AAM- Assassin's All Mighty- is the biggest and baddest Motorcycle club in the midwest. We are ruthless. I am ruthless. My father's club, After Dark,  is his biggest front for conducting our work. His legacy will soon be my legacy. I will go to any lengths to protect it. I play death...
.....
That new girl. There's something about her that's beyond alluring. She's nothing like the other girls who work at the club. She's short and thicc, where all the other girls all taller and on the thinner side. 
But she's unbelievably breathtaking and I can't keep my eyes off of her.
Fuck. 
When she walks away my eyes are instantly drawn to the perfect ass. So full and supple. I can't help but lick my lips. I bet she tastes like heaven.
Bucky " Damn if I could smack that ass…"
I swear to God if Bucky keeps talking my fist will connect with his loud ass mouth.
"For the last fucking time, Bucky, shut your God damn mouth before I shut it for you. "
He is quiet, much to my relief. I don't know what my deal is, but I don't like him looking at her... at all.
My hands ball into fists at the sight of such scùm. I can't believe my father wants to do business with this low life drug dealer piece of shit.The sound of the clubs pounding beats echo around us.The club is filled with bodies as I scan the room for threats. I see three men with White Fang jackets feathering through the sea of people. I nod to Kane and Tommy, who move onto.the dance floor.
"why so tense Stevey boy?" Ulrich says as he smirks in my direction. I clench my fists tighter, a slight pain running through my palm as my fingernails dig deep. 
"Watch your tone Ulrich, remember who the fuck you're talking to. Now why are you here wasting my time?"
"Straight to business eh? Well I am in need of your families… expertise."
"Which one?"
"Guns of course. "
"Ha." The laugh that slips past my lips is anything but humorous. Of course this scum is here for guns. 
I shift in my seat, folding my arms over my chest. " what could you possibly have to offer Ulrich? You know we don't deal with low levels. Fuck your drugs."
"Hey now, don't hate the game. I only deal in designer drugs. I'm the king of the party. My drugs, keep your club popping."
"Like hell it does." Bucky chimes in, jumping quickly to his feet ready to throw arms. 
I gesture to him to stand down, and he takes his seat once again, his chest still puffed out like a filed up dog. 
"I'm still not hearing anything of interest…"
 
He leans in over the table, his tone low as he speaks. " I have some information on Bassu."
The hairs on the back of my neck spring to acting at the sheer mention of that bastards name. 
He's definitely caught my interest. Not wanting to seem to eager, I lean back into my seat. 
"If it's useful enough,  you may have a deal."
Ulrich slaps a Manila envelope onto the glass table top, sliding it in my direction. I waste no time unveiling the contents of the folder on the table. A handful of photos cascade out, photos of Bassu and his men at the docks. 
"When?"
"These photos are from yesterday morning."
Gazing down at the photos, I ran my finger along the length of my jaw… this was a trail, one I desperately wanted… and here it was before. As much as the thought of dealing with the trash, Ulrich had proven himself somewhat useful. 
"Fine. Let's talk orders…"
Ulrich's mouth curves into a faint smile, one of success. 
"What are you drinking boys? King Louis, Killian, rum?"
Charlie, hovers over the table.. 
"a round of Killian for the table. Ice."
"You got it babes."  She spins on her heels, strutting off toward the bar. I return my attention to the matter at hand, cutting a deal with Ulrich. 
It seems like the deal is cut in no time, Ulrich looks appeased, getting his much needed supply. Terry, was not going to be thrilled about this…
" Drinks up gentlemen."
 I lift my gaze from the paperwork before me, as a drink is set in front of me.. Y/N has to stretch over the table to get everyone their drinks,  her short stature, is no match for the monstrous booth… 
 It is quite the view…  I can feel my pants starting to grow tight at the sight of her full figure.
 Fuck.
I catch the ogling eyes of Ulrich's goons staring hard at Y/N, his hands hover over her waist for far too long. 
"Ulrich, you better watch your fucking goons before I gouge out his eyes and shove them down his throat after I make him watch his hand being severed from his wrist." 
Ulrich's lips peirce as he glares at his henchman. 
"Boss." Kane appears beside Bucky, his breathing staggered as he forces out the words. "We've have a problem." 
" what the hell?"
"Fangs, there's at least 9 of them, and they're strapped." 
I scruff, they wouldn't be dumb enough to hit on our turf. 
The echo of gunshots breaks the through the boasting club music. The sound of shattering glass fills my ears, as I reach for the HK45 tucked at my side. Bucky and I leap from the table, eyes peered for the direction of fire, but it's scattered. 
FUCK. 
"Charlie!" 
I hear the splintering screams of Y/N's voice, as she's tugging at Charlie's arm, who is frozen in place, shear terror washed across her face. 
"Kane! Get them out of here!" I bark orders, pushing him in the girl's direction, directing my focus to Ulrich. This son of a bitch set us up…
"Ulrich you mangy piece of shit!"
He throws his hands up. "It wasn't me Stevel, I swear. I wouldn't!" 
I don't care. My fist connects with his face, sending a feel of power rippling through my core, as I watch his body collapse to the floor. 
"If you're lying, I will slit your fucking throat."
My attention is now focus on the White Fangs, who are now collected in a pack near the entrance. 
"Causing a scene boys, in public? How reckless."
"You seem to be quite out numbered, to be speaking so freely, Mr. Rogers."
One of Bassu's men steps forward with a smug look on his face. 
"Am I? You're in my zone buddy." 
Gunshots ring out as four Fangs crumple to the ground, their bodies quickly falling motionless. 
One of my men, Tommy, emerges from around the corner, taking out one more as he makes his way towards us. 
"Interesting…" I take a step forward, my heart racing in my chest with adrenaline. "It seems there is suddenly less of you, shame they couldn't stay for dinner.' 
The man before raises his handgun leveling it between my eyes. I can't help but to let out a chuckle. Was this supposed to frighten me? It wasn't the first time I've starred down the barrel of a gun. 
More gunshots ring out, but not bullets are discharged from the gun pointed at me. The solid thud of bodies dropping sounds from beyond the piece of filth in front of me. His head whips around, his eyes skimming over his fallen men. 
I look to the direction of gunfire, as my father pockets his gun, a wide menacing grin plastered across his face. He hasn't killed in sometime, and he was enjoying it. 
My attention returned to the swine standing before me. "And then there were two… so much for being out numbered, wouldn't you say?" 
I raise my gun to his head, nestling it centered between his ungroomed brows. 
I want to pull the trigger, to watch the bitch drop…. but I need answers. He's no use to me if he's dead… 
"Where is Bassu?" 
…….
@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked  
@itsanerdlife  
@sea040561
@dsakita  
@princess-evans-addict  
@mariekoukie6661
@flashfanfics
@patzammit
@randomsevans
@alexakeyloveloki
@freckled-lass
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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years
Text
The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (5/5)
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A/N: The last chapter to this fic. It's a long one and I gotta say that I've had a lot of fun with this one. After I post this chapter, I'll be sure to post the masterpost for this fic. And of course it'll be available on ao3 soon enough.
Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
__________
Chapter 5: Adore You
If you had to draw a map to find the way home once you were captivated by the gaze of those trustworthy, soft eyes of his, you would surely run out of ink; pools of blue, unwavering in their affection, drew you in, and you were willing to drown in them. There were facets about them that fascinated you as much as the scales of a butterfly did; they did not shimmer, but they gleamed and sparkled; it's what made you pause and search for a wisp of an acquaintance that very first time you saw him; finding a familiarity that threatened to sweep you away. Why you even found fire in those eyes; it was there in his moments of determination and passion. Oh, how their color shifted with his moods was a type of magic you wanted to spend the rest of your life being mesmerized by. To be sure he wasn't mistaken, he dare not blink; exhibiting the full spectrum of what Billie Eilish described as ocean eyes; he had to be sure. "Y-you do?"
"Yes," you giggled. "I do."
It wouldn't occur to you till later, that he had given you a choice. For instead of the typical proposal question, where it was more asserted, Rick asked in a manner in which there was equal footing; it spoke volumes of the respect he had for you. With shaky hands, he slipped a ring whose stone was as clear and blue as his eyes and cut perfectly like a rose, the band covered in gold vines and silver leaves which weaved together; he made it himself, and if you thought back far enough, you could remember when he was ambiguous about his plans to create a new type of stone. Honestly, you didn't realize it would be for this.
"Gosh," he sniffled. "I-I promised myself that I w-wouldn't cry."
But cry he would; fat, sloppy tears that blinded one's vision. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and fought to regain composure, but lost to the new wave which followed. You gently pried his hands away from his face, softening at his tear-stained cheeks. "It's okay, you can cry if you want to. I already know how tender you are."
Goodness, how long had he wanted to do this? For while it had almost been two years in which he had last attempted to, it might've been on his mind for much longer than that; eating away at his clarity; at the self-confidence that was torn down and repaired daily. You were grateful and proud that this man wanted you; that he finally gathered the courage to ask and do as he intended and wanted. You….you had wanted this to happen, but did he know that? Your ocean of inquisitions thought otherwise.
However, it was time to quiet and quell his despondent thoughts. Your fingers dug into the collar of his sweater; the tang of nervous sweat and something so him which wafted off him made you yearn to bring him closer. The puffiness about his eyes didn't discourage you from pressing a kiss at the corner of them and from his throat came a choked sob and you were surrounded by the sounds of his disbelief; this cacophony was breaking your heart. There had to be something you could do to ease him. "Ricardo," you started, "considering the suddenness of the occasion, should we, in like fashion…my dear honey man, would you like to get married today?"
This new tidbit caught him off guard; so much so that he stopped crying; good. Now, he was the one who was unsure of whether this was real life or a simulation. He ran his fingers through his hair, double-checked his equipment, sprayed himself with water, and completed equations that had taken this earth dimension's leading mathematicians decades to understand. What you thought was odd was when he caught a pigeon, scanned its anatomy, and found it was sound; you were going to have to ask him about it later. "Rick, did you hear me?"
"Y-yes," he focused, "but what d-do you mean today? How?"
You figured he would have easily come to a conclusion, but then again, what do spacemen have to do with the price of bread?
"I mean that we don't have to wait if you don't want to." You slid your palm over his tattoo, memorizing with your fingertips where his skin was slightly raised. "We can just go down to the justice of the peace if you'd like."
"And y-you would be my wife today?"
"Yes," you giggled. "I think that's how it works."
"But what about a-a…"
"A wedding ceremony?" you interrupted. "Well, we can have one later. We can plan it however you want, and invite all our friends. There can be so much celebration that we'll be knocked out for a week. Until then, I just want to make you happy, and I believe the sooner the better. Okay? So, if we're going to do this, just tell me now and I'll go get the proper paperwork."
It never ceased to amaze you how easily he flitted through emotions as though it were the weather, and with vigor, he lifted you up and vibrated with joy. "Boy, golly gee…this really - this really razzes my b-berries! This is…wow, I-I can't believe it."
You couldn't believe his word choice either. "Oh, you better believe it, because now you're stuck with me and I have you all to myself. However, you're going to have to put me down now because the office closes at five. There are a few things I need to do before then."
Letting you down, he happily waved goodbye despite the fact that it wouldn't take long to get what you needed for this impromptu occasion. Though, when you entered your house, you took a moment to think about your father. There were things you still didn't understand, like why he never told you about his friendship with Rick, or why you two never really discussed what he'd do if you got married; if he had been here, maybe you two would have talked about which flowers would look best as centerpieces; like whether roses or mums were cheerful enough or if this really was a good idea; if such an age gap was surmountable. Yet, in a way you felt as though you were honoring him; for your father and your mother had been unconventional and had gotten married without all the showy displays then road tripped a bit before settling here; you were simply following tradition.
Maybe, you didn't have to know about the why's and what-ifs, but focusing on what you could do seemed a whole lot easier to do. You kicked off your sneakers and dashed upstairs. You knew where your important documents were, but you thought that choosing a cute outfit would take a little longer. You wanted a certain vibe, one that would make things easier on him and then it came to you; why not revisit an old favorite; one that reminded you of his eyes; always, forever blue.
When you returned, you found him pacing around. He was deep in thought, and it took a moment for him to notice that you had returned. Almost comically, his eyes widened as he took in your appearance, and he started to cry again. "That's th-the dress. From that one time."
"It sure is."
With a twirl, you flaunted the blue chiffon dress, and felt like a dream; his visible adoration was not lost on you. It was a relief that this time you hadn't taken an hour to fuss or worry that you weren't dressed for the part, and you weren't wearing shoes which would kill your feet, but instead rocked some converse. "These shoes are made for walking and that's just what I'll do."
Unlike you, Zeta-7 wanted to fuss and choose something dressier, but you somehow managed to convince him that his blue button-up would be fine, and no tie was necessary; hidden ray guns were allowed just in case this happened to be the day that the Gromflomites attacked; not even Earth-based military scanners would be able to detect them. Though, you did allow him to fix up his hair, because one, you thought he was quite handsome with it combed back, and two, it's what he felt he needed to do to look the part. "How do I-I look?"
"Like the man I'm going to marry. Are you ready handsome?"
With a nod, he grabbed the folder with all the documents he needed. "Y-you bet."
______________
At the courthouse, the entire security staff grouped together and teased you about your keys; you should've known that you'd face trouble once you went through the metal detector; you had a lot of keychains; they were from the days when you and your father would go shopping together. Like Rick, he liked yard sales and thrift stores; sometimes he'd get grab bags and there would be vintage keychains, and he'd give them to you knowing you'd like them. You were told by one of the older guards that it wasn't natural for a grown woman to have a set of keys that weighed five pounds. Zeta-7 began to worry, but you told him you could handle it, and you figured the guards were bored and had nothing else to do. What you didn't tell them was that the main reason your keys were heavy was that you were carrying two sets; yours and your father's old keys; Rick knew, but he respected your wishes to leave it be.
Despite this, you two made your way to the right office; it only took fifteen minutes of going to lobby after lobby, free coffee, and endless rugs in all this indoor nothingness. And nobody knew better than Rick when it came to how much you hated paperwork, but nonetheless, you went through the painstaking process of signing this and that, wondering why they didn't make it easier for people by asking yes or no questions; this better not become someone's confetti. Rick breezed through it all, and you were slightly jealous that he knew what he was doing, but it was due to the fact that citadel paperwork was a lot more frustrating and difficult; he had to go through stacks of it weekly; poor man. While he sat quietly, you were in-between forms that had to be signed in triplicate and heard the gossip coming from the people who were working in the back of the office. What they didn't know was that their ignorance made you more determined; you'd fought your own expectations, that of others, as well as what seemed right to do long enough and no one, not even death itself was going to stop you from doing this; it was the best thing you could ever do for yourself and for him as well. You breathed a sigh of relief when you and Rick finally signed the marriage certificate; finally, it was done, and he watched rapturously as you set down the pen so that he could kiss you without refrain.
If you hadn't known better, you'd say the world shied away; dissolving into a plane of nothingness as he enveloped you with a strength that was deceptive for a man of his years; he had become a little more confident; it might've taken a few years, but all you knew was that it suited him. Being nurtured and cared for, as well as loved in the right sort of environment did wonders on Zeta-7; so much so, that he could hold the world in the palm of his hand and still manage not to damage it. It wasn't shocking that some found this outward display sweet, and you almost had hope for humankind, but then there was a laugh or two from the back; you made a mental note to consider moving off Earth. No one was going to ruin this moment for him, and relishing the moment, you chased his mouth for a second kiss; you know, to prove your point.
And if you hadn't already been proud of him, what made you even prouder was what he said on the way out. "Please stop laughing at m-my wife. Th-that's very rude."
His wife? Yes, you were his wife now. It's strange how you could wake up and wonder what you should have for breakfast and be here where you were now; in a whole new chapter of your life; wondering what will come next. Confusing yes, but not something to be afraid of; you welcomed this happy transition.
Back at the car, you were still recovering from his earlier outburst; the like which was almost out of character. "Did you see the look on her face? I thought it was going to fall off with how far her jaw dropped. Wasn't it a sight?"
Though, he was busy staring at the ring on his own hand which you had picked out when you two made a stop at a consignment shop earlier. It wasn't that complex like yours, but he loved it. "All I could see was - was you."
"You flirt."
You gave his shoulder a playful shove, and in turn, he laughed a full-on belly laugh; this happy noise was music to your ears. "Gosh, I-I mean it. Y-you, look so pretty today." A bit shyly, he commented. "Blue looks very good on you."
"Thank you. So, how should we celebrate? A trip to the moon perhaps? Going across the universe? Maybe a kaiju fight with Matango? Or watching Spiderman 2? Honestly, I'm game for anything."
You had decent shoes on and didn't care what he wanted to do because you were happy if he was happy. And as though it were just another afternoon, he glowed with happiness when he asked. "Mrs. Sanchez, do you - do you want to go get some ice cream?"
Some things will never change and you didn't mind that. "I'd love to. As the author, L.M. Montgomery once said, 'I guess ice cream is one of those things that are beyond imagination.' And, you know, it's so true. I intend to go all out with the toppings today. It's certainly that kind of occasion."
______
He couldn't seem to want to let go of your hand; as though the world would fall away if he didn't and that this would turn out to be a cruel dream. Still, you humored and spoiled him. As intended, you got all the toppings; Rick thought it was a kids dream come true with the amount of candy you had in your waffle bowl. And since you had enough to share, you took the liberty to feed him. He chatted on; offering charming stories from his band days; unlike other Ricks who were in a rock band called Flesh Curtains, his band had been a jazz and bossa nova trio; the band name had been comprised of a numerical equation; if you had named them you would've called them the Zeta Bytes.
Now, Rick wasn't a messy eater, but during one of his more excitable stories, he spilled a bit on the corner of his mouth. Ready with a napkin, you wiped it away, and couldn't help but laugh at how boyish it was. Giving your hand a squeeze, he absentmindedly brushed his thumb on the back of your hand; adoration coloring his voice. “You're t-t-too good to me.”
"There's no such thing. If anything, I gotta spoil you rotten."
You found no hindrance in his mood and this time he didn't think twice about kissing you then and there as he liked while you were still holding the napkin; fear and shame of public displays of affection being one less thing to worry about now. Who cared if your ice cream was melting, because your heart was melting; his mouth tasted of chocolate and promises. A soft chuckle escaped him as he pulled away; his promise whispered against your lips. "I-I promise I'll be good t-t-to you."
Being loved suited him; it really, really did wonders on his countenance and it made you wonder what else he could now do.
_________
By now you were a little tired, but Ricks contagious energy invigorated your spirits; you bet he could've come up with an invention and completed it today if he stayed this hyped up. Instead, he used that energy to make fresh rolls to go with the leftover acorn squash soup; you hadn't been that hungry, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. And when dinner had been eaten, you helped him with the dishes; nothing you hadn't done before, but his spirit was lighter and more at ease; he even bumped your hip with his as a gesture of playfulness. After cleaning up the kitchen, he decided that he'd like to take a shower and refresh himself and in the meantime, you stepped out into the backyard to enjoy the beauty of the night. In this part of town, despite the light pollution, you could see a fair amount of stars.
You had never studied astronomy, but Rick had shown you in diagrams and in textbooks of their names and explained how they were formed; to him, their complexity was like poetry, and it made them beautiful. You couldn't recite it by memory, but you had a feeling that beyond your current comprehension perhaps there was life amongst those heavenly bodies, despite the heat or deadly gases; if you had learned anything about space, it was that worlds were more along the lines of art and beauty than fields of science which were easily explained. Yet, in the air, where there was a sweet perfume, thick, but intoxicating, only where you were currently mattered; you saw that in the leftmost part of the yard there was jasmine which was currently in bloom; its blanket of flowers reminding you of snow. Hadn't you read of this somewhere before? Maybe.
In the grass near your feet, grasshoppers leaped away, and crickets chirped their songs. And you relished the strong breezes and the song of the night which may consume a melancholic heart if it were searching for tragedies instead of sweet dreams. And it had only been a few hours ago when you had thought that all of which transpired might've been a dream. Though, whatever truths that had come to light in the hours after the simulation, you were glad of them.
In the dark, sights and sounds were heightened and mesmerizing, albeit curious in its own right; if it hadn't been for the sound barrier Rick had on his property, you would've heard the obnoxious sound of the next-door neighbor's TV as they watched infomercials. Still, it was a beautiful night. Sitting on the bench which overlooked the whole yard, you thought of what wonderful things you'd like to share with Rick, and then he found you. For his part, he had changed into something more relaxed; into a light blue button-down that was similar to the one he was wearing earlier, but this one was softer, and it was paired with navy pants; it reminded you of blue pants Rick with his attire, but it was cute and suited him. With him, he had brought over a tray of goodies and you two ate cookies and cakes and drank earl grey under the moonlit night.
The pause in conversation gave allowances for observations. For example, you took a good long look at him as he sipped his tea; admiring how casual he appeared tonight. Without his labcoat or sweater, his identity seemed separate from that of his dimension jumping, scientist self; making way for the person deep inside; the friendly neighbor who won your heart without even trying. He noticed eventually that you had been staring at him, and he broke the silence with his inquiry. "What are y-you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking about you cutie. You um….you look really good in those blue pants of yours. Thinking of taking up modeling anytime soon?"
"N-no," he answered with an air of obliviousness that you found endearing. "not unless my next work assignment requires it. Gee, why do you ask?"
"Hmm, it's because you wear your clothes well. I always thought you did, but I don't believe I ever mentioned it."
He ruminated on what you said for a few minutes, before setting down his cup. "Did you - did you always find me attractive?"
"No," you confessed. "but you're the only person I've ever really been attracted to. I…..I always liked the fact that our relationship was built on something more substantial. You see, the more I got to know you, the more irresistible I found you. Though," you winked. "those teeth of yours were always too cute to resist."
This truth of yours made him comfortable enough to relinquish one of his own. "C-can I tell you a secret?"
"It's not much of a secret if you tell me dear, but you can tell me anyway."
Wringing his hands together, he confessed solemnly. "That day y-you tripped on the sidewalk nearby my house, I-I almost decided not to cross the road."
Not cross the road? Hmm, it had been an option. In your mind's eye, you could imagine it; the tall, lanky figure of a man debating against his better judgment on what he ought to do; so close but so far; knowing that he was altering the course of his future and putting yours at risk. Poor man, having to wallow over a moral dilemma like that. "Why is that?"
"Gosh, y-you….I didn't want to take advantage of the situation."
It could've been taken that way, but you never thought so. "So what changed your mind?"
"I thought you were going to cry, and I-I didn't… I didn't want you to suffer anymore. I thought t-to myself, that if I got t-t-to know you, then you wouldn't have to be lonely anymore."
When he said this, you nearly couldn't look at him; not because he knew more than he let on, but because who knows what paths you two would've taken if he hadn't shown up that day. Tears bit at the back of your eyes, and your nails bit into your palms. "Dear, love isn't always a cure for heartache," He tensed up at this, but you knew you had to tell him. You weren't upset because you had guessed as much, but being assured of it cemented the fact. "but I'm sure that without you, without your friendship, I might not be here right now. I think I was depressed, and from time to time I still feel that way. I…I have thought of ways to make my troubles end, ways you might not have been proud of, but you've shown me a better way to live. I think…no, I know that by expanding my horizons, I understand now that there's so much to look forward to, and not to take life for granted. Why," you paused, fighting the tears which threatened to fall. "you reminded me that I gotta make the most of this crazy, unpredictable life, and I'm happy that I'll get to do that with you."
He understood and accepted this answer and gave you a look of adoration and pride; the like that you hoped you'd always remember. And when you two were done with tea, you both took a walk about the garden. The sweet perfume of jasmine intermingled with that of the scent of his soap, and combined with the candor of his speech made this place feel like a well of comfort. He followed behind you as you two spoke, and you were conscious of the fact that with his freshly washed hair brushed back, it made him more appealing. His hands were in want of yours as he matched your pace, and you felt slightly mischievous as you'd skip or teased him to catch you; it wasn't long until he gathered you in his arms and laughed, and you asked without much seriousness for him to let you go, but while he loosened his grip, he didn't let go entirely. "Gosh, y-you make me feel so young. It - it feels so good to have you in my arms."
"Oh, really?" you giggled. "That's great to hear."
Pressing a kiss to your temple, he sighed. "It's unfortunate that I'm so old."
"That's okay. I like you as you are. It goes well with your personality."
"Thank you mi corazón. It feels good to hear that. However, can I-I ask you something?"
"Mhm."
"¿Si hubiera s-sido más joven, habría marcado la diferencia?"
"If you had been younger? I don't know. Possibly," you admitted. "I might've been less reluctant about my feelings at the beginning, but I truly don't know. I'd like to think that I'd still would've fallen for you anyway. You're a wonderful man Ricardo, you don't have to doubt that, anyone can see that. It doesn't matter how old you are, but it's who you are."
"Y-you're right." With reluctance, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides, and he wondered. "It um - it's getting late. Should I-I walk you home?"
Was he forgetting that he didn't have to? Maybe not. Perhaps he needed a sign; one that said that any suggestion of further intimacy was alright. "I thought I was home." you answered, "Don't you want me to stay?"
Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded. "Yes, I-I-I-I do."
"Then it's settled. We'll have a big sleepover," you brightened. "and it'll never have to end. I'll borrow a pair of your pj's and hog all the blankets because I'll get cold."
"And in - in the morning," he added warmly, "w-we can have pancakes."
"Yeah, and watch enough interdimensional cable to make us go blind."
"But I-I might have to work tomorrow."
"Oh. Well, then I guess I'll just have to eat all your snacks until you come back. We might have to take a trip to Costco at some point because they sell these mushroom crisps that are to die for."
Standing under the persimmon tree, he stepped forward and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Y-you can have whatever you want," With a strong arm slipping around your waist, you felt almost shy at the way he smiled protectingly down at you. His warm breath ghosted about your ear, and his voice was above a whisper as he confessed. “because I-I-I finally got you princess and I'm not - I'm not going t-to let you go.”
At the sound of this pet name, you felt a slight warmth rush to your cheeks, but you didn't laugh it off as you had once but agreed with warmth. “You may do as you please, Mr. Sanchez.”
And so he did. Without hesitation, he lifted your chin and brushed your lips with his thumb. His eyes sparkling with humor, promise, and a confidence that was somehow so very appropriate on his face. "I love you. I-I-I always have. From the time I first held your hand, I knew it had to be you. I would've been a fool if I - if I hadn't tried. Even now, it's hard to believe, but it's starting to sink in."
"Me too. It's unbelievable, but it's true and we have the paperwork to prove it."
Leaning down, he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips. It was so gentle, it was as though you might break if he tried otherwise. Kissing you again, he sighed against your lips. "It's beautiful out t-tonight."
"It is."
Pressing a hand to his cheek, you softened. "But I think I'm ready to call it a night. Why don't we go in?"
Weaving his fingers with yours, he softened. "Okay."
You used to think to yourself and wonder if his house would ever be ready to receive you, but what you now realized was that it had always been ready, and only you had been waiting for it all to catch up; for him to know what he wanted and to be courageous and say; for you to know what you needed, and to accept that being yourself didn't make you any less attractive or unique and that you weren't alone; you had never been alone, for he had always been waiting. His home, why it was always home, but it was always home because he was what grounded you and you were what grounded him. And you felt so married to him then, and everything felt as it should. Nothing had really changed, except for a title, and a promise; for you two were friends as you had always been; him the happy go lucky old man, and you the silly neighbor who met him by accident, but you couldn't deny that you loved him with your entire being and so did he. As promised, he intended to do everything in his power to protect you, even as you two were getting ready for bed. His body seemed to curl around you as to shield you from whatever monsters could be hiding in the dark.
So, when it happened that you rested your head upon his chest and felt the temptation of sleep washing over you, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and confessed softly. "I can't wait to wake up next to you."
Fin
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mymusicalitylove · 4 years
Text
Dive
In my feels. Trying to be productive and direct them in a positive way.
The other night I feel like I broke because the latest disappointment (that I created for myself), came to the surface. I took a hot shower, cried and told myself to let it all go. Hardest I have cried in a long time because I replayed a lot of scenarios about this endless loop I seem to be stuck in: I give up on this notion called ‘love’, discard it and begin to focus elsewhere.. then along comes another unsuspecting fool that says all the right things to get me twitterpated and caught up in the fantasies my brain creates. I get sucked in and think, ok, maybe this will go somewhere.. just to BAM! Slam my face into a wall of unending disappointment. Wash, rinse, repeat. It feels as though this scene has been on replay about eleventeen times over these last few years, and all I can say is: How. Fucking. Stupid (Who is the REAL fool? Ya, that’s me).
I went to bed after my therapeutic shower and slept ok, but kept waking up. I finally decided to get up and be productive, and had Ed Sheeran’s “Dive” stuck in my head. Hadn’t heard it in a while so I’m not sure where it came from, but it stayed with me the entire morning. 
My entries on this thing almost always relate to music and how the lyrics relate to my life. I’ve saved some drafts with songs I’ve wanted to write about later. When I realized I wasn’t going back to sleep, I decided to write; I checked my drafts and whoa.. “Dive” was already on there.. I don’t even remember saving it. 
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(Despite there being a few too many typos for my taste in this post above, I feel it, Rising Woman!)
September 2019 is the most notable time I can remember starting the self-destructive cycle. My boss left at work and I decided I needed to do something to change my life up. I put all my energy into planning my amazing sabbatical in Italy. Everything was set up; all the wheels were in motion for me to see Europe, do me selfishly, and not worry about shit! In my mind I put together plans of sightseeing, concerts, volunteering, gymming, wandering, and getting lost in the country I fell in love with a year prior.
In October on a night out with friends, I met an EMT at a bar. He worked his bullshit game, and did it well because he was intriguing. He made me feel good over a two hour convo that honestly felt like a first date, and convinced me to give him the digits (which I don’t freely give to strangers). Too bad the man never called. Womp, womp.
After a taste of those vibes I craved that “feeling” again. I tried a dating app again for a couple months. In a comical turn of events, said dating app matched me with this same EMT! This presented me with the opportunity to call his ass out, and incidentally feel validated as to why it actually was better he never called. Talked to a few other guys on the app, but really can only report on a couple stupid funny anecdotes of just how sad it is that guys don’t know how to talk to women anymore. At least this time I wasn’t taking it seriously and only did it for shits and giggles. Decided okay, just keep focusing on plans for Italy, stacking that paper, and looking forward to the new year (*point and laugh at the idiot who had no idea what 2020 had in store!*). 
In January a boy (with a girlfriend) who I’d had innocent flirtation vibes with for a while tells me he’s now single. I had already placed him in the “not gonna happen” folder, and his confession obviously began a different wave of chemistry and banter for months. We had a conversation about the reality of where I am/what I’m ready for, and where he’s at/what he’s not ready for. Oh, and in the midst of all this, Covid hits and I have to make the heartbreaking decision to cancel Italy and deal with the feels of defeat that followed. And let’s also add all the sadness of being stuck with only me, myself and my thoughts in quarantine.
One last convo in April with “previously not gonna happen” sealed the deal of this endless string of flirtation not going anywhere and back in that folder he went. I then decided to give my number to this other guy who had shown interest a while back (but I hadn’t paid him any mind cuz I was stuck on folder guy). New dude didn’t really engage, so I disregarded him again, and worked on rearranging my place, organizing, decorating, spring cleaning and purging. Fast forward to now, it’s June and new dude comes back to work, asks to hang out, we have a great first “date” lasting three hours, and now here I am less than two weeks later wondering what happened. New dude: MIA / Me: WTF?
I truly do not understand why this cycle continues. Each time I feel like I get closer to something real, just to be lead into feeling like a fucking moron. I can’t stand it anymore, and it honestly makes me want to go back to being guarded and jaded, but I know that’s not the right way to find anyone. So I open up and allow some level of vulnerability, even though I’m scared af cuz of how hard I fell five years ago with the man I thought I was going to marry.
This is gonna hurt, but I blame myself first
'Cause I ignored the truth
Drunk off that love, my head up
There's no forgetting you
You've awoken me, but you're choking me
I was so obsessed
It was a matter of time
But you are the fire, I'm gasoline
Gave you all of me, and now honestly, I got nothing left
'Cause I loved you dangerously
More than the air that I breathe
Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going
Didn't care if the explosion ruined me
Baby, I loved you dangerously
I learned a lot from that short but impactful relationship. It was the love of my life and I went into it with complete abandon. I loved him dangerously. Things felt “right” and escalated quickly, which lead to our demise because we did not explore all the things before going full force into a relationship. We mutually thought this was “it” and talked about the future we would have. It completely broke me to end things, and upon rebuilding the pieces of me, I promised myself I would never rush into things like that again. 
I know that I do it to myself, but I guess I don’t know how else to do it. If I’m closed off and guarded, I’m not welcoming anything in; if I’m open and vulnerable, I start to dream in fantasyland with expectations just to be let down and end up inevitably disappointed. I clearly don’t know how to find the balance that works and it has become maddening beyond words. 
I need to find that balance, and it would be a lot easier to find in non-Covid times where I could have something else to focus my precious energy on, rather than wanting to find “my person”.
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Maybe I came on too strong
Maybe I waited too long
Maybe I played my cards wrong
Oh, just a little bit wrong
Baby I apologize for it
I could fall or I could fly here in your aeroplane
And I could live, I could die
Hanging on the words you say
And I've been known to give my all
And jumping in harder than ten thousand rocks on the lake
So don't call me baby unless you mean it
Don't tell me you need me if you don't believe it
So let me know the truth
Before I dive right into you
And I've been known to give my all
And lie awake, everyday don't know how much I can take
I could fall, or I could fly here in your aeroplane
And I could live, I could die
Hanging on the words you say
And I've been known to give my all
Sitting back, looking at every mess that I made
This new dude made me really feel this. I tend to fall, and fall hard because I am so ready to give my heart to someone. But I need to put on the brakes and slow my damn roll. 
I can’t keep getting my hopes up. That is ultimately my problem. I tell myself to not have expectations and I do well to begin with, then have an amazing connection and am fed (what is obviously) bullshit and fall for it like a moron. I have grown thicker skin this time around, so at least there’s that.. but hopefully this has been my last lesson. 
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I have found a new diversion for my focus and just put in my first offer for a new home! This will be my new passion project and will take up my thoughts and energies for a while, so as freaked tfo as I am, I am equally excited for this new venture. If it’s meant to be, it will be, and if it’s not, my new little home is out there somewhere not ready for me yet. 
06/19/2020 - 11:51 PM
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