#I sometimes go back and read comments and tags from posts because they make me so happy!!

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[blainesebastian]

clingy

words: 2,009 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “what about austin with someone even touchier than him. maybe fans start saying she’s always clinging on him so she gets self conscious in public but austin notices right away” warnings: none notes: prompt just slightly different from request-- this can be read in tandem with ‘touch’ but isn’t necessary. requests are back open for now :) thanks to anyone who's left me one! appreciate it xx tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

Frowning at a few candid photos posted on Instagram, you scroll through the comments. You usually don't allow yourself to go down this rabbit hole because it shouldn't (and doesn't) matter what people think about you and Austin. No one is in this relationship except the two of you, you know that's the only thing that matters...and yet, these comments are burning into your eyes and imprinting on the back of your mind. It's mostly because it's spiteful, they're not fooling you on that, but that doesn't make them any easier to read.

There's a set of photos of you and Austin at a cafe last week that had a patio, enjoying the pleasant weather while you could. Austin is seated in one of the chairs, a pair of sunglasses and a ballcap on as he drinks his iced coffee. You're standing between his legs in the first photo and then you're sitting in his lap the second. Not that you need to justify this to anyone, but the patio was practically empty and you weren't disturbing anyone's afternoon. It's not like you were making out or somehow making this interaction obscene. You're typically seated on Austin's lap, it's so automatic at this point that he'll often find your hand and tug you to sit down on him—zero complaints.

Regardless that these strangers are not entitled to any background information, you know that might change a few people's opinions as they spit out nasty comments.

elvislover: you can tell he's super uncomfortable—like, yikes ericatownton: she literally does not give him a moment to breathe austinfan: #clingyaintcute

There are some bright spots,

austin345: can some of ya'll mind your own business? austin looks so happy in these? i don't get some of these comments shannonhyat: they're so cute! wish i could sit on austin like that, ngl eyeswithwonder: find yourself a man who looks at you like austin looks at Y/N—like she's hung the moon bro

but sometimes those aren't enough.

You've always been the touchy type—ever since your first boyfriend, but maybe it's gone beyond that, you've reached out and squeezed someone's arm while laughing, you're easy to hug to express emotion, and God, definitely super cuddly when you get a bit drunk. People who have never been your friends have called you a flirt or, just like the comments you're seeing, clingy...but you've never really found anything wrong with it. It's one of your love languages, how you best convey how you're feeling—and it's not like Austin isn't the same way.

He's big on touch, ever since you've known him, even when you two were just friends. Always with the hands on your hips, your waist, your lower back, fingers through your hair or playfully gripping your chin or absentminded centers of connection, knees against knees, shin along shin, shoulders brushing. He's never been shy about it...so why all of a sudden do you feel like you need to be?

You have no idea why you’re letting this bother you—Austin has never said anything that’s hinted that he’s uncomfortable, and you know he’d tell you. You really hate that this has gotten so underneath your skin.

You debate on whether you want to mention something to Austin or not, maybe talk about it or just…ask if there’s any merit in thinking you’re too clingy, if you should back off a little? But you never manage to get the words out of your mouth.

Setting your phone face down, you look up as Austin comes in from a night out with some cast members. He had asked originally asked if you wanted to join but you had dinner with your agent that you couldn’t miss (because it’d already been rescheduled twice).

“Hi,” He says warmly and walks over to where you’re seated on one of the stools at the island table. You hum as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and intimate, body heat rolling off his skin.

He smells like cologne and just a twinge of cigarette smoke, alcohol, intoxicating in a way it probably shouldn’t be. You find yourself closing your eyes as he leans a bit against you, not drunk but definitely tipsy, a lazy smile on his face as he pulls back. You smirk, reaching up to thread your fingers through his wild curls.

“Have a good time?”

“Would have been better with you,” He replies matter-of-factly, slipping his jacket off and setting it on one of the other stools. Austin clears his throat, getting a good look at you for a moment and pauses, “You alright?”

He knows you, lifts his hand to curl his pointer finger and brush it across the crinkling of your skin between your eyebrows. Far too well.

This could be your moment but…it feels foolish to mention it. Not only because Austin’s a bit inebriated and it wouldn’t be right to draw him into this conversation, but because the longer you sit with these thoughts, the more silly they feel. Right?  

“Yeah,” You lie through your teeth, giving him a soft smile. “M’just tired, got a headache.”

He hums lightly, moving to press a long kiss to your forehead. “I can make you some tea.”

You let out a laugh which is mostly air leaving your nose, “You are swaying on your feet,” You cup his cheek, amused and fond, “Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?” You lean up to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

He crinkles it but smiles down at you, “What’d you have in mind?”

You playfully tap his cheek, “Bed—maybe a shower.”

Austin purses his lips, seemingly in thought for a moment before he nods—and then ever so quickly scoops you up into his arms. It’s haphazard and ridiculous and you can’t help but laugh as he carries you towards the bathroom,

“Hey! I didn’t mean with me.” And you can’t stop yourself from laughing, Austin teasingly grabbing at your ass. He barely turns the water to the shower on before he sets you down, drawing you into a kiss.

--

It’s been a relatively lazy day which you’ve seriously come to appreciate, it’s not often that you get many of them to spare. You’ve spent the morning with Austin browsing a large farmer’s market, deciding on fresh fruit and vegetables and handmade products that you probably don’t need but are indulging on. It’s fun, calming—it’s in moments like these where you can kinda forget how crazy your day to day lives can be. There’s comfort in that normalcy together.

You decide to go to the same bistro on the corner from your apartment for lunch, a place that you both have been before countless times because of the great food and rich coffee. Not to mention that you’re slightly obsessed with the beautiful patio outside that’s perfect for a little fresh air and spots of sun. It fills up fast but this is where it pays to be a bit of a celebrity—when Austin calls ahead, they make a table up for him, no matter how busy they are.

Can’t deny that you kinda love that perk as you pick at some fries on your plate next to a finished sandwich, full and content, legs under the table pressing into Austin’s as he talks about his upcoming project. You can’t help but smile as he talks with his hands, animated, excited for what’s to come because he deserves every single moment of it.

There are small moments of enjoyable silence, just sitting in one another's company, the hand that's not eating fries sitting loosely on the table. Austin's hand finds yours automatically, something so automatic that it makes your stomach do a complete flip. Your eyes glance down to the rings on his slender fingers, running along yours, squeezing every so often. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you pick up your iced coffee to take a sip.

"Today was pretty great," You comment after the breeze picks up and flutters your hair. You run your fingers through it, adjusting sunglasses on your face.

"It was," Austin agrees, running his thumb along your knuckles, "You regret that we don't always have time for it?"

You give him a small smile, shaking your head, "No, course not. Just makes it that much more special when we do."

Austin hums, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He then tugs, encouraging you to stand, and you already know where this is going before it happens. This is something you do all the time—you share food or coffee together and find yourself on Austin's lap. Even on this crowded patio, you're tucked into one of the end corners near the lines of bushes for a bit of privacy, your stomach clenches with nerves in a way it's never done before. You can't help but think about all those stupid comments, burning letters into the back of your vision.

You completely tense up, freeze in spot.

Austin notices automatically, of course, his eyebrows drawing together in soft confusion as he looks up at you, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You reply, too quickly, shaking your head--he can read right through you, Austin's always been good at that.

He lets out a soft sigh out of his nose, holding your gaze for a long moment, blue eyes boring into yours. And yet, you can't seem to move. Curling your hair around your ear, you glance at the other tables, expecting to see eyes on you, maybe people taking candid photos to appear online later...and yet there's nothing. Of course there's nothing.

"You're shaking," He replies gently, standing now from his chair. He runs both of his hands down your arms, squeezing, “What’s goin’ on?”

You almost want to brush it aside but Austin’s locked in now, he’s not going to let you. So you briefly roll your eyes towards the sky, a shaky laugh following, “You’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.” He encourages.

Chewing on your lower lip, you give a soft nod, “Uhm—do you…do you think I’m clingy? Like, as a girlfriend?”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, unsure of how you’re topic jumping to this and it looks like he might want to smirk but doesn’t because he can tell you’re upset. “I think…both of us enjoy attention through touch, there’s nothin’ wrong with that though. Doesn’t make you clingy.”

He keeps your gazes connected, making sure you hear him, that the words register and you find yourself nodding once. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and Austin cups your cheek, shifting you into a kiss that lasts a good handful of moments. You know he’s doing it on purpose too, keeping you close, drawing it out.

When he pulls back, he playfully nips at your lower lip, making your smile much more genuine, “And don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

You hum in acknowledgement because Austin knows, of course he knows where you were coming from. You’re not sure whether that means he’s been on social media too or can just sense it—you’ve talked about pap photos before, candids posted by fans. It’s never really bothered you until now. It means a lot that he sees you, without having to explain or justify how you feel. You definitely love him for that.

“Now,” Austin says, sitting back down in his chair, “C’mere.” He motions towards himself with his fingers.

You can’t help but laugh warmly, taking Austin’s hand and allowing him to tug you over to him. Sitting down on his lap, perched on his one leg like it’s the simplest thing in the world, you lean your shoulder against his chest. He smiles up at you, hooking a finger underneath your chin to draw you into a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, no cares in the world—especially for anyone who might be looking.

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here. 

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it. 

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!). 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :) 

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table. 

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.” 

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering. 

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it. 

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying. 

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height. 

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment. 

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head. 

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar. 

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself. 

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you. 

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems. 

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned. 

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift. 

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies. 

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two. 

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear. 

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.  

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!” 

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour. 

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill. 

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger. 

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all. 

Will be hard. 

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you. 

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you. 

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving. 

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide. 

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual. 

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow. 

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.” 

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too. 

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done. 

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target. 

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man. 

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening. 

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted. 

You are done waiting. 

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention. 

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours. 

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully. 

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table. 

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself. 

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie. 

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched. 

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.” 

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament. 

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning. 

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed. 

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.” 

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.” 

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?” 

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation. 

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks. 

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.” 

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets. 

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend. 

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door. 

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit. 

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances. 

There is a beat. 

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts. 

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him. 

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally. 

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz. 

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you. 

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently. 

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them. 

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to. 

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once. 

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him. 

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is. 

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion. 

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.” 

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all. 

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger. 

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.” 

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now. 

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor. 

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way. 

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go. 

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again. 

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose. 

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him. 

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.  

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?” 

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does. 

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you. 

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it. 

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it. 

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side. 

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical. 

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again? 

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.” 

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments. 

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.   

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good. 

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks. 

“I see you, baby.” 

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him. 

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark. 

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words. 

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand. 

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth. 

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in. 

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you. 

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?” 

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender. 

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago. 

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?” 

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly. 

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you. 

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are. 

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you. 

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well. 

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end. 

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could. 

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.  

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms. 

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer. 

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm.  You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners. 

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now. 

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe. 

“I’m just gonna leave,”  he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying. 

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.  

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow. 

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him. 

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at. 

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words. 

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.” 

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are. 

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do. 

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly. 

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man. 

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion. 

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second. 

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him. 

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that. 

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet. 

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next. 

And the next. 

[fandomnsfw]

Bloody Mikaelson’s - Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Pairing: Kol x Reader

Prompt: Kol is jealous about you being affectionate with everyone but him. He decides to tag along when you go shopping to try and get you to like him more. Fluff and confessions ensue!

Warning: Smut (?)

ENJOY!!

****

You sat down next to Niklaus on the sleek leather couch, phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. As you lent against him, his arm automatically wrapped around your shoulders. You and Klaus were best friends, the kinda of friends that spoon at night and talk about relationship problems. You sighed contently as you sipped your coffee. Despite his psychotic tendencies Niklaus was the biggest cuddle whore ever.

“What the hell! Why do you cuddle Nik like that and not me?” You heard a childish voice ask, looking up you see Kol stood there his arms opened wide like he was waiting for an explanation.

“Because little brother if she did, you’d try something extremely unrefined.” You heard Elijah’s sophisticated voice chuckle. You smiled when Elijah bent down and place a loving kiss on your forehead. To Elijah and Rebekah you were like a little sister.

“More so than you already do.” Nik added smirking to himself as he took a sip of your coffee that you hadn’t even realised he’d taken. You shot him a glare taking your coffee back before glancing up at Kol who was just glaring at everyone.

“Elijah gets to kiss you! Nik gets to cuddle you! What do I get!?” He growled angrily.

“A punch in the face if you carry on Kol.” You grunted as you went back to reading a post you had seen on Facebook. You heard a deep smooth chuckle from behind you resulting in you throwing you head back, hanging upside down to see Marcel stood directly in behind of you. Meaning your face was about 5 inches away from Marcel’s crotch. You stared at the fabric covering his jeans trying to see the shape.

“Are you finished staring at my crotch Y/N.” Marcel snorted making you tilt you head slightly.

“I’m trying to see if the myths about black guys is true.” You replied bluntly before sitting up and turning to Marcel kneeling up so you were looking into his eyes.

“It’s not always true but in Marcel’s case it is.” You heard a smug voice add, you looked behind Marcel to see Rebekah stood there with a smirk. She threw you a wink and walked over to sit with you.

“Jesus Bekah you got the full package huh? Voice that’s makes your panties wet, ripped as fuck, looks to die for and a big dick.” She laughed at your dreamy voice making you smirk.

“Y/N I adore you however if you could refrain from talking with my sister about her boyfriend’s genitals I would much appreciate it.” Elijah sighed shaking his head lightly as he continued to read.

“Sorry ‘Lijah, Nik.” You added knowing he was probably uncomfortable too. You scrolled through your Instagram liking a few picture along the way before you felt someone trying to shuffle there way between you and Klaus. You knew it was Kol straight away.

“Kol what are you doing?” You huffed making him stop moving as he settled down next to you. Earning himself a glare from Klaus.

“I’m coming to cuddle! I deserve affection too!” He exclaimed pairing his enthusiasm with a cheeky grin.

“Really Kol? I mean really?” You deadpanned making him shrug.

He wrapped his arm around you resulting in an eye roll on your part. You weren’t the closet with Kol, mainly because you never really spoke, not because you didn’t like each other. He irritated you and teased you but you knew it was all in good fun. You didn’t move away from his arm but you didn’t snuggle into him like you did Niklaus and sometimes Elijah. Elijah liked to cuddle on occasions, mainly when he was stressed. You continued scrolling through your Instagram, seeing a racy lingerie photo posted by one of the photographers you follow. You smiled and opened the comment box.

‘This is beautiful Jason.’ You commented on the photo before look at the picture again. It might be a lingerie photo but the way it was taken was art not sexual.

“Ooo I think you should do a photo like that and give it me for my birthday!” You heard Kol say from right next to you. You unwrapped his arm from you and moved to the opposite couch were Elijah was sat.

“Dammit come on Darling I was only joking!” Kol whined like a child who had just had his favorite toy taken from him. You didn’t respond instead picking up a pillow from the couch and throwing it at him. He caught it with ease and grinned very much resembling the Cheshire cat.

“Kol what did you do this time?” You heard a soft voice ask from behind you. You knew by the voice that it was Freya but you decided to drop Kol in it.

“He asked me for lingerie pictures for his birthday.” You pouted angrily as you looked at Freya with slight puppy dog eyes.

“Kol Mikaelson! That is no way to treat a lady!” Elijah and Freya shouted at the same time, I smiled at how much they were a like sometimes and turned to Kol who looked like he was ashamed in what he had just said.

“Sorry Y/N.” He muttered softly making you feel bad for ratting him out.

“It’s okay Kol. Anyway I’m going out today so I’ll see you guys later!” You hopped off the couch before you were stop by Niklaus.

“Where are you going?” Nik asked looking up from what he was doing.

“I’m going shopping. I realised I haven’t got much and I’ve been borrowing Rebekah’s clothes since I got here.” You smiled at him sweetly before leaning down and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Can I come with you?” You heard an unexpected voice ask. You looked over at Kol in surprise but nodded anyway because maybe it would do you some good to bond with Kol. After getting ready you met Kol in the courtyard, double checking you had your credit card and phone. Once you were sure you had them you nodded at Kol who offered you his arm. You smiled sweetly and took his arm gently before you both made your way out onto the bustling streets of New Orleans.

You stopped at the first shop and Kol had yet to let go of your arm which you found extremely endearing. As much as he was cheeky he was still a Mikaelson which meant he had to be at least 5% gentleman. You picked up a few different colored pairs of jeans, a few pairs of plain black leggings, some skirts and shorts before handing them to Kol who let go of your arm to help. You next went to get some plain vest tops, some crop tops and a few different types of blouses. You knew you and Bekah would most likely have a shopping spree soon so you only bought things you needs. Next you grabbed things like socks and tights, you tried to pay for them but Kol refused to let me and gave the woman his card. Kol took them bags from you and held them all in one hand before offering you his arm once again which made you grin threading your arm with his once again.

You laid your head on his bicep as you made your way to the nearest shoe shop. You strolled in with Kol and picked up a few different styles of heels and only 2 pairs of flats. One pair was running shoes and the other were a pair of sandals. You usually wore heels so you didn’t usually buy flats. They were only for when it was too hot and you couldn’t be bothered with the strain heels had on your feet. Once again Kol ignored your pleas to stop her paid for your shoes too. The last stop was a lingerie shop which made you snort slightly, remembering Kol’s teasing earlier. When you got inside you made your way to the simple 2 pieces sets. You looked the racks up and down before turning to Kol who unexpectedly looked quite uncomfortable.

You smiled reassuringly and quickly grabbed a few sets that you liked before making your way to the register, arm still linked with Kol’s. You set the stuff down smiling sweetly at the elderly woman behind the counter. Kol took out his card making me whine.

“Kol I can pay for them you don’t have to.” You sighed guiltily. He let out a chuckle grinning at you softly.

“I want to Darling.” He stated his pet name making you blush slightly.

“How long have you two been Married?” The little old lady asked as she accepted Kol’s card. You blushed further and was about to correct her but Kol nudge you and grinned.

“Not long.” Kol replied sweetly making you look at him with slightly widened eyes. After he retrieved the bags you made your way outside before you nudge him angrily.

“Why did you let her believe we were married?” You asked softly yet the hint of anger still evident in your voice.

“Because it’s not like we’re going to see her much and why spoil an old woman’s day by embarrassing her.” Kol stated with a small chuckle.

“So Mrs. Mikaelson how about we go get some food at the pub and then get all this stuff home?” He teased making you grin at his antics.

“Well if you insist Mr. Mikaelson.” You flirted. You grabbed some of the bags so you could intertwine your arms again which made him smile. After ate and laughed together you finally made it home Kol shouted at the top of his.  

“Y/N and I got married while we were out.” He knew his voice would reach everyone in the house and soon Nik and Rebekah came running out with wide eyes which made you laugh so hard you had to lean into Kol for support.

“You did what!?” Rebekah screeched making me laugh even harder.

“Yeah it was great there was sexy lingerie.” He nodded happily you saw the game he was playing and you decided to play along.

“Heels too die for.” I added nodding my head seriously.

“The dress she bought was absolutely beautiful.” Kol sighed dreamily almost making me crack.

“I contemplated getting my hair done but decided there wasn’t much point.” I shrugged.

“Oh and then we had a meal and a glass of wine!” Koll finished.

“Tell me you’re joking!?” Rebekah screamed her voice reaching the higher pitched stage. You looked at Niklaus who looked at you with wide eyes.

“But…But I had everything planned in my head!” Rebekah yelled making me and Kol look at her confusedly.

“Planned? Planned for what?” You asked cautiously.

“Yours and Kol’s wedding! Duhh!” She huffed angrily.

“What!?” You and Kol screamed in unison!

“We were joking Bekah! An old woman thought we were married and we didn’t correct her.” You replied laughing awkwardly.

“Oh okay that’s good because I planned everything.” Rebekah stated more calmly this type.

“Rebekah, Kol and I aren’t even dating…Why would we get married?” You asked looking up at Kol who just shrugged at you with wide eyes.

“I’m a woman that’s been around for 1000 years and I know that Kol is very clea-”

“Okay!!! That’s enough of that! Why don’t we go put your new stuff away?” Kol screamed interrupting Rebekah, his cheeks slightly flushed.

You shrugged it off and decided to follow Kol with the bags you were holding. Once you got to your room you fell forward onto the bed after dropping the bags. Kol fell onto it next to you, his warm brown eyes staring into your Y/E/C ones. You smiled sweetly at him before he reached over and tuck some of your hair behind your ear. You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of his rough hand against your soft flesh. His hand lingered for a while before he pulled back making you almost whine at the loss of contact. You had been alive for over 200 years but Kol’s touch wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. It was gentle and loving, it undoubtedly made your heart flutter. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you like he had a question on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t find the courage to voice it. Which you found ironic since he was usually so sure of himself.

You smiled at him shyly knowing full well you had a blush covering your cheeks. His hand reached back out but this time it gently cupped your cheek. You nuzzled into his hands before looking back into his eyes. You had both somehow rolled onto your sides in a loose fetal position, knees touching slightly. His thumb circled you cheek gently before he spoke up.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He whispered softly, looking into your eyes as he spoke. You didn’t respond just looked at him waiting for him to reach over. He sat up leaning on his elbow as he lent down and brushed his lips over yours. You reached between your bodies your hand gently gripping his t-shirt. You finally felt you lips meets and it was like you heart was beating so fast it would leap out of your chest, your stomach was going wild with the strength of the butterfly’s you were currently experiencing. After a few minutes of tender kisses he pulled away slowly. You sighed happily as his eyes met yours once again. He laid back down on his side.

“Y/N I think I’m in love with you.” His voice was timid and scared you would reject him but his confession only made you heart leap with happiness. When you didn’t say anything he started getting up which made you panic.

“Kol…” He turned round to look at you, sadness in his eyes.

“W-Will you please make love to me?” You asked timidly a blush bracing your face once again.

“I know I’m not in love with you yet but you make my heart beat louder than it ever should, when you kissed me I felt like everything disappeared so if you give me time I think I could fall in love you…If I haven’t already…” You whispered your eyes meeting his as he stared at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen him were but this time it was filled with love and hope.

He rushed over to you as you knelt at the end of the bed. His lips crushed against yours his emotions bursting out through the kiss. His hands cupped both your cheeks, your hands were gripping his t-shirt as he gently laid you down. He hovered over you, his body on top of yours but not uncomfortable. You gripped his biceps as you whimpered into the kiss, your heart was going a mile a minute. He broke the kiss only to trail soft kisses down your neck causing you to shiver. His hands slid to the hem of your shirt tugging it slightly he looked up at you as asking for permission, you nodded biting you lip which made him groaned.

You both sat up so he could pulled you top off tenderly. You tugged his top off and dropped it on the floor before taking your bra off and letting it join the pile of clothes by your bed. He gazed at you appreciatively before laying you back down. His lips were soon kissing slowly down your neck to you breast before taking one of your nipples into his mouth gently swirling his tongue while using his left hand to caress your thighs. You let out a soft moan as he moved to your other nipple showing it the same affection.

His hand finally made its way to the button on your jeans. He undid the button before pulling away for my breast, pulling down your jeans and plum coloured lace that was under your jeans. He let them poll on the floor before kissing your stomach softly, his hands sliding up your thighs. You gasped as his thumb found its way to your clit, his kiss slowly getting closer to your appending arousal. You hummed in appreciation as his thumb made small delicate circles on your clit.

His lips moved to your thigh before kissing up until it reached your sex. His breath brushed over your dripping heat before it finally made contact. It started of slow and seductive but soon turned so dominant and fast. You were a writhing mess of moans and panting as you felt you orgasm approach. His tongue dip inside you a few time before it continues its assault on your clit.

“K-Kol gonna cum..” You panted as you felt your end coming nearer with every move of his tongue.

“Let it go baby…I got you.” He whispered sweetly his finger slowly entering you, curling to reach your most treasure spot. He went back to kitten licks as his fingers did the rest of the work.

“F-Fuck Kol feels so good…” You whined. You were so close to the edge you would practically taste it. And finally you fell.

“M’ cumming Kol…Holy shit!” You moaned loudly you hand clutching the bed sheets as your back arched up, your mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. Koll pulled back and stared at your with a small smile.

“Good you look beautiful when you cum.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead gently. You were still panting at he pulled back undoing his jeans. You reached over as soon as his member was free but he stopped you shaking his head making you frown.

“Not that I don’t want your hand or mouth wrapped round…It’s just I feel need to feel you right now.” That sentence should have sounded dirty but when Kol said it, it sounded like pure love. You nodded and opened your legs further, he slid in between them. You slid your arms round his neck embracing him like he was breakable. He kissed your lips tenderly and he lined himself up with your entrance. You were panting slightly, gripping onto him tightly. He slid himself into you at an agonizingly slow pace but you knew this wasn’t him fucking you. This was him showing you how much you mean to him and that was better than a quick fuck.

“F-Fuck!” He swore his head resting against the point where your shoulder and neck meets. His breathing was heavy and he was gripping the sheets tightly. You knew he was trying to control himself so you cupped his cheeks and brought him up so you were face to face. You stared into his eyes as if tell him ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re doing so well’. He gave you a shaky smile and began slowly thrusting into you. You gripped onto his shoulders as your breathing started getting heavier as well. He changed his angles so he could hit your g-spot which made you arch up and whimper at the amount of love and pleasure you were feeling all at once.

Once you collected yourself slightly. You move you both into a different position so you could be closer. Kol sat on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the bed. You were sat in his lap, your chest and forehead pressed against his as you continued to move your hips. You were thrusting forward instead of up and down so your clit was gently rubbing as his pubic bone with every thrust. You threw you head back letting out a moan, Kol’s lips going straight to you throat placing soft wet kisses on the hollow of your throat. You started to feel yourself building steadily, moaned husky moans and panting getting loud with each thrust.

“Y/N I’m c-close..” Kol panted against your throat making you shutter out a breath.

“Me t-too…Cum with me…” You stuttered before letting out another choked sob. Your pace got slightly fast as your orgasm was finally reaching its peak. You pulled back and look into Kol’s eyes, His left hand cupping you cheek and he stared at you with so many unspoken words. His brows were furrowed and his eyes kept trying to shut as he neared his end. One arm wrapped around his neck and the other placed on his chest.

“I’m c-cumming..” You whispered against his lips your panting loud and deep. He nodded letting you know he was too you gasped as you finally came, your walls clenching around Kol triggering his orgasm.

Once you had ridden out your orgasms, Kol picked you up with shaky legs and laid you on the bed carefully. He crawled under the covers with you and pulled you into his chest, kissing you hair lovingly.

“I love you Y/N and I’ll wait forever if it means you’ll love me back.” Kol’s stated his voice was quiet and spent after earlier activities.

“It won’t take as long as you think…” I muttered into his chest before placing a kiss on his chest bone.

BANG!!

“It’s about bloody time!” Rebekah screamed as she slammed to door open.

“For the love of all that is bloody holy! Rebekah get out!” Kol screamed making you jump slightly which made him look down at you.

“I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to make you jump…” He muttered apologetically.

“It’s okay. Nik! Can you respectfully drag your lovely sister…who I adore…out of my bloody room!” You screamed only making Kol chuckle but also making sure everything was covered before Nik came in. Nik soon came in and pushed Rebekah out the room but turn to look at us.

“I’m happy for you both. Hurt her Kol and I’ll dagger you.” Niklaus threatened before leaving the room and closing the door on his way out.

Bloody Mikaelson’s. 

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[disillusioneddanny]

Hate in the dpxdc tag.

I have seen a major influx recently of people complaining about popular dpxdc tropes in the DPxDC tag as well as people just sharing hate in the tag again.

And yes, your feelings are valid, you are allowed to not like things in a fandom and you should be able to talk about it.

BUT there is something called fandom etiquette

With this lovely term, fandom etiquette, there are important things to remember.

don't yuck someone else's yum

just because you don't like something, does not mean that others can't like it. I've seen people go in the tag with things like "why is everyone writing ghost king danny? that's such an overused trope and it's not even good" and while you may feel like that, there are definitely people who truly enjoy ghost king danny and by making that post visible where people can see, you're just making people feel bad for enjoying something.

Again, you're allowed to dislike something, but if your dislike is making someone else feel bad about enjoying it, you're just being mean.

2. Don't put hate in the main tag.

if you really, really just need to complain/vent about a trope or something you don't like about a fandom, then do it!! that's totally fine. But don't tag it with the main tags. If you're tagging your hate post with #dpxdc or any of the variations of the tag, you're doing that so that people can see that hate and this goes back to number 1. don't yuck someone's yum.

if you really want to complain about it, don't tag the post, or tag it #antidpxdc so that people can filter out the post so that people do not have to see your hate when they are scrolling through a fandom tag to just enjoy their blorbos.

"but I don't like this thing and i'm allowed to voice my opinion "

I totally get not liking something in fandom, I really do. There are plenty of tropes or ships that squick me out. And those feelings are valid, but i also know that there are people in fandom who genuinely enjoy those things and it's easy for me to avoid reading those tropes.

filtering content is super easy! Ao3 is a very user friendly archive with really simply ways to filter out content. Don't want to see ghost king danny? exclude that tag in your searches. Will that mean that all of them are taken off? probably not. Unfortunately not everyone tags their works with every single aspect of their story. And sometimes authors just miss things! And that's totally okay. But guess what? the back button is right there. you can exit out of the fic so easily without having to leave a comment to complain or without posting about how much you vehemently hate ghost king danny on tumblr in the dpxdc or the DP tag. Just don't tag your complaints :) it's that easy. Or if you really want to.

I know that the DP fandom has a very fraught history with the word anti from back in the day and that's totally understandable, that was a rough time that caused a lot of trauma for a lot of people. So if you don't feel comfortable tagging a post with #anti or #antidpxdc that's totally fine, just don't tag it at all. Or at the very least put in your tags that you're complaining or hating on something so that it's easier for people to filter out your posts where they don't have to see them in the main tag.

You're totally allowed to not like things. But remember that someone else does and you might be making them feel bad for not liking it and that means you're screwing up someone else's fandom experience and that's a pretty shitty thing to do imo.

[lucidlivi]

I Can See You (II)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @ladysparkles78 @rach5ive @deansapplepie @lauraashley93 @hzllxhoundxx @kmc1989 @creative-writing92 (if you would like added please comment on this post or send an ask with the story name so I can keep my story tag lists straight!)

"well I can see you."

What did that even mean?

Was he trying to flirt with me?

Surely not!

Although all of me wished that was the case, it couldn't be.

Could it?

I spent the rest of the night, well in to the next morning thinking about his words. I heard a light knocking on my door breaking me from my spiraling thoughts. Jared opens the door, crashing on my bed. I take my hand running it through his shaggy hair, it was something that always calmed him.

"what's up?" I asked him as he sighed.

"just tired, and a little nervous to start filming today." He admitted.

"don't be nervous, you'll be great, you always are." I smiled.

"I'm kind of glad you're coming with."

"kind of?" I scoffed in mock hurt.

"you know what I mean you brat." Jared said shoving my hand away from his hair.

"if anyone is a brat here it's you moose." I teased.

"just shut up and get dressed, we have to leave in a hour."

"you cut me deep moose." I joked.

Jared rolled his eyes before standing up and walking towards the door.

"uh one more thing, just uh stick with me and Jensen today, don't go wandering off like you do." Jared said, referring to my disappearing act last night at the party.

Jensen.

At the mention of his name, the events from last night, his words, it all came flooding back. I bit my lip, once again starting my spiral of overthinking.

"did you hear me?" Jared asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. He could be really annoyingly overprotective sometimes. I reluctantly shook my head in agreement.

"now get out of here!" I groaned throwing a pillow at him.

Jared dodged it easily, laughing before departing from my room.

I quickly got up throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt that read I ❤️Dean Winchester. I got it simply because I knew it would make Jared mad, and as his little sister I had a duty to annoy him as much as possible.

I ran a hand through my hair before descending down the stairs. Jared and Jensen sat in the kitchen, hunched over bowls of cereal. Jared was the first one to look up.

"what are you wearing?" He asked rolling his eyes, causing Jensen to look up too.

I could see the grin spread to Jensen's face.

"I for one love it." He smirked.

Jared rolled his eyes again.

"I can't wear your merch, that'd be weird, besides everyone knows Dean is the superior Winchester." I laughed grabbing the cereal box and dumping some in to my open mouth.

"she's got a point." Jensen said grabbing the cereal box from my hands to pour me a bowl.

"I hate you both." Jared grumbled, getting up to put his bowl in the sink.

I could feel an awkward tension settle between me and Jensen as Jared left the room. It was the first time where I had no clue what to say to him. It seemed like he was struggling with the same thing.

"about last night.." Jensen started but I cut him off.

"what about it?"

"I uh probably shouldn't have said that.." He said rubbing his neck nervously.

Ouch.

It was silly of me to think he meant anything by it.

"oh, okay." I whispered, trying my best to hide the disappointment in my voice.

Jensen breathed a sigh, standing up and walking over to the sink to deposit his bowl. He turns around quickly glancing at me.

"I meant it, I just probably shouldn't have said it."

I was dumbfounded as I watched him leave the kitchen.

I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. I couldn't stop the smile that spread to my face.

Holy Shit.

It was definitely him being flirty.

Why else would he say he shouldn't have said it?

He didn't want Jared to know he was flirting with his little sister.

Okay, maybe I was getting a little too ahead of myself.

I scarfed down the rest of my cereal quickly joining the boys in the car. I kept sneaking glances at Jensen but he never returned them. It was like when other people were around, I was just Jared's annoying little sister, but when we were alone he was different.

I was feeling excited when we got to set. Jared and Jensen immediately went to wardrobe and makeup, dragging me along. I didn't realize just how much went into getting ready for shooting. As soon as they were ready they were whisked away to start filming. I stayed close, just like I had promised. I didn't mind though, it was cool to see Jensen and Jared take on a different persona and become Sam and Dean Winchester.

I giggled as Jensen broke character, yelling at Jared for messing up his lines.

"be nice to him!" I yelled from the sidelines.

Jared gave me a look as if telling me to shut up. I smirked before standing up and stretching my muscles. It felt like we've been here for hours already. I know I promised to stick close, but I really needed to find a bathroom.

I slipped away quietly, walking around the massive studio. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out, bringing it to life. It was a text from mom asking how Jared was doing. I rolled my eyes typing back a reply. It seems it didn't matter how I was doing, like usual.

I was too busy looking at my phone that I didn't see the body in front of me until I was crashing in to it.

"shit, are you okay?"

I looked up to see a really handsome guy, he looked to be around the same age as me.

"uh yeah, that was totally my fault." I said taking his extended hand so he could help me to my feet.

"are you uh a Jensen fan?" He asked pointing to my shirt with a laugh.

"I'm uh, Jared, uh Sam's sister, I got it mainly to make him mad." I said awkwardly.

I wasn't the kind of girl who was experienced with talking to guys, especially handsome ones.

"Well Jared Sam's sister it's nice to meet you I'm Jeremiah, I'm an extra for the first two episodes." He teased.

"It's nice to meet you too extra Jeremiah." I teased back surprising myself.

He laughed, making me blush.

"It's uh (y/n)." I said with a smile.

"(y/n), nice name for a nice personality." Jeremiah said making me blush even harder.

I wasn't use to men complimenting me.

"thank you." I replied shyly.

"well uh, I should get going, I'm supposed to be in the makeup trailer." He smiled offering me a small wave.

"Jeremiah." I called causing him to turn around.

"could you uh, maybe point me towards a bathroom?" I asked with a laugh.

"I'll do you one better, follow me."

I started to walk next to Jeremiah, taking a moment to get a good look at him. He had the prettiest blue eyes, a vast contrast from Jensen's green ones. He was naturally tan, with muscles protruding from his shirt.

"I get it, it can get a little crazy on set, hard to find things." Jeremiah spoke, breaking the silence.

"yeah I don't know how you guys do it." I admitted looking at where we were.

I was indeed going the complete opposite direction of the bathroom.

"yeah and I'm just an extra." He said sounding a little bummed.

I grabbed his hand giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Jeremiah don't worry you'll get your big break soon enough, Jared thought he was going to be working odd jobs forever and now look at him." I comforted.

"you're really cool, you know that?" Jeremiah said turning towards me with a smile.

I felt the blush spreading to my cheeks once again.

"you're really cool too." I smiled.

"uh here we are." Jeremiah says gesturing to a door.

"thanks." I said offering him another genuine smile.

"see you around Jared Sam's sister." He said with a wink.

"see you around extra Jeremiah."

I couldn't fight the smile on my face. It was nice to be noticed by someone. I quickly used the restroom, before skipping happily back to set where the boys stood.

"what's got you so smiley?" Jensen asked as he took a seat beside me.

"oh nothing." I said trying to shrug it off.

"no come on, just tell me." Jensen said bumping me with his elbow.

I took a deep breath. I could tell Jensen wasn't going to give it up.

"Jeremiah, he's uh one of the extras on set, he's nice." I shrugged as if it weren't a big deal.

I thought for a second I saw a flash of disappointment on Jensen's face.

"nice is he?" Jensen asked leaning back in the chair.

"yes, he was nice." I said bumping him with my elbow.

"just be careful, nice guys are the ones you have to watch out for." Jensen said.

"are you giving me relationship advice?" I asked with a giggle.

"just want you to be careful baby moose."

I rolled my eyes at his nickname.

"can you please stop calling me that, I just want to be called by my actual name." I grumbled making Jensen smirk.

Jensen stood up, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

"nah, you'll always be my baby moose."

I couldn't fight the blush that spread to my cheeks as I watched him walk back to set, ready to film the next scene.

my baby moose.

Holy Shit.

I settled back in the chair trying to calm my breathing as I watched the next scene. I saw Jeremiah walk on to screen, reciting his lines. He caught my eye offering me a smile. I offered him one back, catching Jensen's attention.

"and that's a wrap." I heard the director yell off screen.

I stood up ready to greet Jared. I was surprised to see Jeremiah walking over to me.

"Hi." He said with a grin.

"Hi Jeremiah, you were great out there." I said offering him a smile.

"Thanks, I uh came over to see if maybe you wanted to go get coffee with me?" Jeremiah asked with a hopeful smile on his face.

Woah.

He was asking me on a date?

I glanced past him to see Jensen talking with a female coworker. He was laughing and putting a hand on her arm.

I realized that Jensen would never like me the way I liked him.

"I would love to go for coffee with you Jeremiah." I said loud enough so Jensen could hear.

"great, uh let me go change and then we can go." Jeremiah said before rushing off.

I smiled as I watched him leave.

"ready to go?" Jared asked returning from his trailer.

"actually she has a date tonight." Jensen said before I could.

I glared at him.

"a date? who with?" Jared questioned.

"Jeremiah, the extra." Jensen answered again scoffing as he said extra.

"so what if he's an extra, he's nice, and he likes me." I said, glaring directly at Jensen.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with being an extra." Jensen defended.

"yeah well you sure seem like you have a problem." I growled.

"Jared and I don't want you to get hurt is all." Jensen shot back.

"I think the both of you should just let me make my own decisions." I yelled.

Jensen was about to respond, but Jeremiah was walking over to us again.

"I uh know this great coffee shop, you ready to go?" He asked nervously looking at Jared and Jensen.

"I am, I'll see you both later." I said glaring at both boys, but mostly Jensen.

Who did he think he was?

He acts one way when we're around everyone else and another when we're in private. It was confusing and frustrating. It was like he was ashamed to be with me. I deserved to have someone who was happy to be around me, happy to be seen with me.

Jensen

I watched her walk away, slipping her hand in his.

I could feel the jealously burning in my chest.

I shouldn't be jealous, I know that.

I can't help it.

I thought I made it clear that I was interested, but I guess I hadn't made it clear enough.

"dude, what's up with you?" Jared asked looking at me.

"nothing, I just don't want baby moose to get taken advantage of by some guy we don't even know." I said trying to hide what I was actually feeling.

"I mean yeah but he seems harmless enough." Jared shrugs.

I think that was the problem.

He seemed like a good guy. A guy that could treat her how she deserved to be treated. A guy that Jared approved of.

"I guess so." I answered.

"I'm beat, you ready to go home?" Jared asked with a yawn.

"I'll catch you at home, there's some things I need to take care of first." I said offering him a smile.

"okay man, see you later." Jared said with a wave.

I was suddenly feeling the need for some coffee.

Reader

"oh my gosh no." Jeremiah said laughing at my embarrassing story.

I had been talking to Jeremiah for over an hour. He was super easy to talk to once I got over the nerves. He was actually really funny too. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

"I swear to you, spilled it all over the designer." I said laughing too.

"you certainly have a thing for great first impressions." Jeremiah winked.

"It's one of my many shining qualities." I joked.

"I mean you didn't have to hurt yourself to get my attention." Jeremiah flirts, placing a hand on my cheek.

I couldn't stop the blush that spread to my cheeks.

"you're cute when you blush." Jeremiah said gently stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"I probably look like a mess." I said laughing.

"I don't think that's even possible." He whispered, closer to me now.

I could see his eyes shifting from mine, down to my lips.

I think he wants to kiss me.

I think I might want him too.

I gulped as he leaned in, fluttering his eyes closed.

"baby moose, so funny seeing you here."

I jumped at Jensen's loud voice pulling away from Jeremiah.

"Jeremiah right?" Jensen asks holding his hand out for Jeremiah to shake.

"yeah, hey." Jeremiah answers shaking his hand.

It was incredibly awkward as Jensen stood staring at Jeremiah.

"uh Jere, can you go get me a refill?" I asked handing him my empty coffee cup.

"sure, be right back." Jeremiah smiled, taking my cup and disappearing towards the front.

I turned towards Jensen glaring at him.

"what the hell do you think you're doing?" I growled.

"oh you know just getting some coffee."

"you have no right, you need to go!"

"relax, I'm just grabbing some coffee." Jensen smirked.

"well grab your coffee and go, now."

"you don't have to be such a brat." Jensen scoffed before leaving.

Jeremiah came back shortly after with a now full cup of coffee.

"everything okay there?" He asked looking around for Jensen.

"yeah, sorry he just can be kind of an ass sometimes." I said furrowing my eyebrows.

I sat with Jeremiah for another hour, talking and laughing. He then offered to drive me home, which of course I accepted. He pulled in to the driveway, turning off the car.

"I uh, had a really nice time with you tonight." Jeremiah said.

"I had a good time too, thank you." I said offering him a smile.

"I guess this is goodnight then." Jeremiah said slowly, like he was dreading leaving.

"I mean shouldn't we say goodnight properly?" I asked turning towards him with a flirty smile.

Jeremiah smirked, getting what I was hinting at.

Jeremiah leaned in, capturing my lips with his in a gentle kiss. I put my hand on his cheek, kissing him deeper. He was really good at it. I slowly pulled away, allowing the blush to spread to my cheeks.

"goodnight Jeremiah." I said before exiting the car.

I couldn't fight the smile as I walked in to the house, going towards the kitchen.

"how was the rest of your hot date?" Jensen asked sitting at the kitchen island.

I felt my anger towards him return.

"excuse me?"

"relax (y/n) I was just having a bit of fun." Jensen said.

"you're an asshole you know that, okay, all I wanted was to go on a date with a guy I think is cute, and sweet and you had to show up and ruin it." I growled.

"and me showing up for like two seconds ruined that, really?"

"why couldn't you just let me have this one thing, just admit it you cared where I was, who I was with." I started but Jensen quickly cut me off.

"no I didn't, I don't." Jensen was quick to defend

"stop lying!"

"stop being such a baby!"

"oh and you're such an adult huh, you spent your night crashing my first date just for fun!" I yelled furious at him.

Jensen glared at me, taking a sip of his beer.

"you know what just forget it, why don't you go flirt with some more girls." I scoffed turning to walk away.

"yeah, well why don't you go kiss some more wannabe actors." Jensen growled.

I took a deep breath walking away from him.

I feel that if someone really wants you in their life, they’re gonna show it, not just talk about it, and if their actions don’t match up to their words, I lose interest fast.

Jensen was unbelievable.

If he wanted me, he would show it.

I used to know I wanted him, but now I'm not so sure.

Author Note:

I hope you enjoyed part two! If you could, please leave a heart, comment, reblog, or a follow it would be greatly appreciated! Stay tuned for more!

[murkycran]

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Miscellaneous Vox Fic Rec List!

Soooo after a lot of consideration, I decided to make a third rec list. This one will be for miscellaneous fics, which can mean anything from smaller Vox pairings to fics that are not strictly Radiostatic or VoxVal. You'll see what I mean.

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, too, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Radiostatic Fic Rec List

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

------

Alastor Makes a Porno by Charnel_Goat, spappest

Summary: Alastor interrupts Val and Vox's personal time to get his rut over and done with, and they're just going to have to deal with that.

Basically, Alastor and Val try to have a threesome, but they keep arguing, everyone's injuring each other trying to figure out the logistics, and nobody cares what Vox has to say about any of this.

Notes: This has Staticmoth, Radiostatic, and Valastor. It's not strictly leaning more towards any pairing (tho Val does make a pretty sweet comment at the very beginning about Vox lol), which is why it's going on the Misc List. Porn with an edge of hilarity that - despite the tags - made it pretty funny. Three terrible people being terrible to each other. Vox suffers. Heed the tags.

He's Visual, Alright! by dead_boy

Summary: For Valentines Day, Charlotte Morningstar— Lucifer’s brat— had announced the hotel would be hosting a sweetheart poll, allowing winners to vote for the biggest ‘sweethearts’ in Pentagram City! How adorable!

— Of course, when Angel gets involved, things get a little twisted, and hell treats it as a most-fuckable-celebs poll.

Vox isn’t the only one surprised by how high he scored, and how concerning the amount of votes he received was.

But there was no way in hell this “demand” was enough to make him give into Valentino and Velvet’s newest fixation: Making use of this fame and making Vox do some modelling!

Surely he won’t mind the lingerie and toys provided by Velvet and Valentino respectively, right?

edit march 2024: i can’t believe he just won the hottest hazbin character poll. literally manifested

Notes: Poly Vees. Funny af. Vox suffers, but in a good way. Written BEFORE the hottest HH character poll, can you believe that? Lmao.

stray by vol_ctrl

Summary: How Vox met Vark. ♥

Notes: No ship. Written before season 1 release.

After the Credits Roll by leftofrevolution

Summary: Everyone knew the Magnes sometimes liked to spice up their sex life by dragging another demon into the middle of it.

Vox maybe should have paid more attention to that particular tidbit of information than he did.

Notes: Lilith/Lucifer/Vox. Chapter 1 written before season 1 release, with Chapter 2 being released after season 1 release. I read for the crackship, ended up liking the Lilith/Lucifer/Vox dynamic and world-building a LOT. Lol. Poor Vox. Or good for him? Still has yet to be seen.

The Shopping Cart Test by spappest

Summary: Angel never expected Prince Charming to have a TV for a head, but when Vox kills Valentino and saves him from his abuse, well… Maybe Hell doesn’t have to be all that bad. With Val out of the way, everyone can have a happy ending. Angel’s safe, Charlie’s happy, and even Alastor finds love.

Oh, wait. This is Hell. It’s always that bad.

Notes: Angel/Vox. Started before season 1 release. First Staticdust fic I read. :)

Hold Me Up by Sameko

Summary: Vox has been in and out of a relationship with Valentino for years. Always breaking up. Always coming back.

Then one night comes the definitive crack at the expense of one of Valentino's employees, to which Vox never paid much attention other than for shits and giggles.

One night, one word too many, might be enough to shift the perspectives of two people once strangers to each other.

Notes: Staticdust. Pretty bleak and dark at times, but so, SO good. Two broken people trying not to cut each other with their edges while also trying to help each other.

Cruel Melody by Hiding_Behind_a_Pencil_and_Pen

Summary: A man hopelessly in love with a monster, despite how much it hurts.

A person chained to a beast he can never escape, no matter how hard he tries.

Vox and Angel Dust have given their body and heart to Valentino, and neither know how to free themselves from his lies.

But maybe, even if it never gets better, they won't have to suffer alone.

Or,

What if Husk was just a little too late to get to the bar in episode four? And a certain media Overlord helped Angel instead. They find out that they're not so different after all.

Notes: As of now, I think this is Queerplatonic Staticdust.

Revelations in Technicolor by Awesome_Possum

Summary: Velvette had been dead for six years, part of The Vees for four, and fucking Vox for a little over two. They had a good thing going.

On one of their bi-weekly Vox-mandated movie nights, Valentino put a plan into motion and Velvette learned something new and surprising about her business partner and part-time sugar daddy that made a shocking amount of sense.

It ultimately ended up bringing The Vees closer and if Valentino claimed that was his intention all along, no one had any reason to believe him.

Notes: The Vees are a V and Vox is the hinge, so he's in a relationship with both Valentino and Velvette. Interesting headcanons for Vox's human life. :) (What is the ship name for Velvette/Vox again?)

System Shutdown by Swoolie

Summary: Taking a leaf from Alastor's book, Vox goes on a small break from everything.

He doesn't stick around long enough to see the chaos that ensues after his sudden disappearance.

Notes: This is tagged with both Radiostatic and Staticmoth. It's too early in the story to tell definitively which direction it's going to end up, so for now it's going to be on the Misc list. I'll probably move it when it becomes more clear what the main pairing will be.

Dapple Rose by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Everyone always assumes the same thing about Alastor and Vox's relationship: That it's one-sided, that it's based on fixation, and that the reason for their falling out was due to the obsession turning into something that couldn't be controlled.

All of those assumptions are correct. The only problem is, everyone gets the 'who is obsessing over whom' part of the equation wrong.

When Vox and Valentino end up stuck at the hotel, suddenly the entire relationship between the radio and television is put on display, casting it and Alastor in an entirely different light.

Notes: Tagged with both Radiostatic and Staticmoth. Due to both this and the entire story itself (you'll see what I mean when you read it), it's going here on the Misc List. I freaking love this story, because so far I've not seen another fic where Alastor was obsessed with Vox while Vox was not obsessed with him in return. :3 Everything Penny_Tails writes is gold!

Here I Come by Heliosolar

Summary: Vox contemplates his lackluster life as he stands over the edge of the city.

Or, the fall of Vox, both mentally and physically.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. No ships, just Vox. Heed the tags.

Entertainment for Two by Heliosolar

Summary: With the radio demon joining them for the night, Vox puts on a show the two overlords will never forget.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Staticmoth and Radiostatic, at the same time. 😳

Proposition by Snorp_Lord

Summary: Alastor does not, strictly speaking, have a 'relationship' with the King of Hell. But they certainly have a something.

A something which does not include Vox. But Alastor is at least willing to indulge Lucifer in whatever this new idea is.

The new idea is Vox.

Notes: Contains Radiostatic, Radioapple, and Staticapple, but for this installment, Radiostatic is definitely the focus. Very intense, pretty sweet. 😳 Has 2 more parts in the series which are definitely worth the read, though they don't feature Vox as much.

meteor shower by spoondrifts

Summary: alastor, rosie, vox, and a study in non-traditional love.

Notes: QPR Alastor/Rosie/Vox. Very good! (What's the ship name for this?? Radiostaticrose?? Radiorosestatic?? Roseradiostatic?? Staticradiorose??)

spiraling down thy majesty by spoondrifts

Summary: “Okay, um, time out,” Lucifer said, because he felt like they were maybe losing the plot a little. “I feel like I should remind you that I’m not here because I was like, uh, overwhelmed with lust for you, in particular. I’m here because Husk said you were Alastor’s ex and I have poor impulse control and thought it’d be funny, but I’m realizing now that this is actually just really weird and you, my friend, have some serious issues that I am not equipped to handle.”

Or: Lucifer and Vox have a shared problem that starts with Al and ends in stor and has a in the middle—thankfully, there's a solution! (The solution is sex. It's just sex.)

Notes: Staticapple. Revenge sex. As in...they're both getting revenge on Alastor...using each other. Lol.

(Fic rec list to be continued as I read more)

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone!! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog and @artsyunderstudy!!

This week I’ve done the big three: writing, editing, and ignoring my wips, with perhaps a bit more of the last one than I’d like. Most of my writing this week has been for an exchange fic for a different fandom, which I finally finished the rough draft of. Cue the celebration. However, even if I wanted to share anything from that, I can’t, it must remain hush-hush, but I am getting pretty excited to share it (and way more excited about receiving my own exchange fic back, this whole thing is very fun).

I’ve written less than 300 words on my COBB this week, and none of them are good, but I have gotten some editing done of Proof of Life. I can’t share any more snippets of the next chapter though because I’ve shared too much already. So instead, I figured I’d do a bit of a process post this time around, because I always love reading those. Check that out under the cut! (and i'm sorry this is long, i still have not learned brevity)

So my editing process isn’t too crazy, and is brought to you almost entirely by google docs comments. I also use the word ‘editing’ very loosely to encompass rewriting, revising, and proofreading. Sometimes editing means completely rewriting a scene/section, sometimes it just means switching around a couple of words or cleaning up a sentence. 

Mostly, I try not to take everything so seriously, because I know that I could edit something forever and ever and never post it if I let myself get too carried away. So I try to keep everything pretty chill. So here’s my steps I go through for each chapter that I edit. 

Step One: Reread the whole chapter. While I do this, I’ll leave comments on big picture things. “Maybe move this scene into the next chapter” or “The dialogue in this scene feels stilted” but I don’t add a lot of comments at this point. Once I’m done with this I’ll copy over any comments I had on the first draft or the beta reader copy over into the ‘draft two’ document. 

Step Two: COMMENTS. Again, my fics are brought to you by google doc comments. I like to go through from the bottom up, reading scene by scene and leaving comments on pretty much every single sentence. 

A lot of the time (read: most of the time) these are really vague like:

And sometimes these are more detailed like:

And occasionally these are compliments

Step Three: Once the whole chapter is filled with comments, I go through scene by scene (in whatever order speaks to me), and rewrite, edit, or fix sections. This part I find really fun, because I’m taking parts that aren’t good yet and I’m making them better. I love fixing things and getting rid of all the comments. It typically ends up being a lot of  rewriting, but I always finish a scene feeling better about it then when I started.

For example, here’s the draft one vs. draft two version of a snippet from the first chapter of Proof of Life. This is one of the scenes I pretty much rewrote. Others look a lot more similar to their original versions.

Original:

Edited:

Step Four: Then before I post a chapter, I’ll read through the whole thing and sometimes find smaller bits to fix. Then I’ll run it through a grammar checker and ignore half of their suggestions in the name of ✨style ✨.

Overall, I feel like I have a pretty basic editing strategy and I’m really pleased with it. Even though sometimes I feel like more robust edits would make everything way better, it’s a good mix of fixing things but not spending too much time on it. I remember I spent like a month on editing the very first fic I posted at that was only 6k words. If I kept doing that for everything, I'd never post anything at all. With fanfiction, I know that y'all will be nice to me even though it's never perfect <333

Tags and Hellos!! (I'm unsure if we still need the spaces, but i've been burned too many times lol)

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @m1ndwinder @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee

@onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16

@thewholelemon @monbons @shrekgogurt @brendughh @hertragedyconnoisseur

@beastmonstertitan @valeffelees @horsesarenotdeer @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs

@fiend-for-culture @rimeswithpurple @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife

@arthurkko @rbkzz @skeedelvee @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita

[junkissed]

jun x short reader headcanons

member — junhui x short!reader (gn) genre — fluff, humor, headcanons word count — 0.5k warnings — none! notes — requested on my nsfw blog @onlyhuis - this ask made me giggle because i am actually a tall girlie myself lmao. if you wanted smut lmk but since this is sfw i posted on junkissed instead :) also i chose to interpret this as friends to lovers so enjoy hehe

he flirts like a middle school boy tbh and he would be really shy around you but he also loves to tease you (lovingly)

he would call you short but then immediately follow it up by putting his arm around your shoulder and saying that you're the perfect height for him to rest his arm on

at the movie theater he would get the seats at the very back so you can see over everybody (even though those are the best seats and he would get them anyway) but he would tease you and say this is what it's like walking around and seeing the tops of people's heads all the time

i feel like he would also like doing "tall" things with you, like taking you to an amusement park and riding the tallest roller coasters with you

or going on hikes so you can sit at the top of the hill and eat lunch together while looking out over the city

he would love giving you totally-platonic-and-definitely-not-flirting piggyback rides and you'd always pout and tell him to put you down but he would insist on having you up there to "guide him in case he runs into something" (as if he can't see over everybody already lol)

at concerts he would let you sit on his shoulders so you can see

he would want you to share the experience of being tall with him hehe

he would also love grabbing things for you when they're too high for you to reach

when you invite him over for dinner sometimes he'll turn on the exhaust fan at the top of the stove for you—even though the on-switch is well within your reach and you glare at him and remind him you're not THAT short

he's also kind of become your designated handyman. smoke detector needs a new battery? light bulb needs changing? there's a spider making a web on your ceiling? he'll be there asap with a screwdriver, a new light bulb, and a cup to catch the spider with

he would love going outside with you when it rains because he can hold the umbrella up above your head and pull you really close to make sure you don't get wet

like look at how tall he is in that middle picture !! he would 100% use that to his advantage to have you hug him while you walk

not really tall/short related but while we're here i get the feeling that he's the type of guy to walk on the outside of the sidewalk by the street and make you walk on the inside away from the street

anyway overall i think he would find your height really cute no matter how tall or short you are and he would find ways to make lighthearted jokes about it in the hopes that you think he's cute too

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> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings

> if you'd like to update your taglist preferences to add or remove yourself from my "short drabbles" taglist, you can fill out my form here: join my taglist!

> i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

[evilwickedme]

This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

[proshippers-against-censorship]

Just a little bit of housekeeping. Bear with me.

You may call me Jackal. I'm an adult and literally do not give a hoot about what pronouns you use for me. I do not claim to be a good person. If I was a good person, this account would not exist. I am a civil and polite person, though, and I expect you all to be the same. I am a mechatronics major and previously a psychology major. The majority of the information I share here comes from some of the greatest minds to exist on this planet. Perhaps consider heeding it, especially if you have no formal education on the topic.

I do not write nor read most lolicon, incest, or bestiality content. I do not support pedophilia, incest, rape, or bestiality in real life. I do read lolicon of adult women with more youthful bodies, because that content helps me grow confidence in my own body, as I'm constantly mistaken to be a child despite being above the age of 18. I do hope all child-touchers, animal-fuckers, rapists, racists, and anybody else who harms a living thing out of ill will rots in jail. To reiterate, this account is strictly ANTI-CONTACT. You can't control paraphilias but you can control the harm they cause.

I do support the protection of all things fictional, because if we make the things a few people find morally wrong to be illegal, we've then already lost when the folks on top go after fiction supporting LGBT, non-christian religions, etc.

I also support the protection of vent pieces, even if that vent centers around things like pedophilia, rape, etc. I am proud of you for taking yet another step towards healing from abuse you suffered in the past and/or from the harmful paraphilias that you struggle with currently.

This account is built on the notion that any interaction will be productive and good-natured regardless of the involved parties. You are free to give your stance on why proship is bad...so long as you accept the fact that people are then welcome to debate back on why proship isn't bad. Any debates that turn hairy will be ended, however, healthy debate and challenging your beliefs is a wonderful way to continuously educate yourself.

Despite my account, I do not intend on forcing an belief on you. In fact, I greatly support that you look at both anti-proship and proship content, and make the effort to educate yourself as well as possible and determine what belief you truly belong to. There is no good in trapping yourself in an echo chamber.

You are free to submit any points as asks or submissions. So long as they are productive and good-natured, I will post them, regardless of what side they take. If they are not productive or good-natured, they will either be deleted, or I will post them to both clown on you for being an asshole and educate you the best I can on why anti-proship is a rather harmful belief system.

Feel free to draw my attention to any posts I haven't reblogged yet that would fit in to this blog. I'll look them over and reblog them.

Most posts will be reblogs, asks, and submissions. However, I may occasionally post my own thoughts. These will often be tagged with #jackal barks, but sometimes I will forget. Any hate comments will be simply tagged as #hatemail.

I have an alternate account called @proshitters-against-constipation . I use that blog to reblog content from antis and shower it in compliments. Look, it's funny watching them sob because a 'nasty, nasty person' gave them a genuine, heartfelt compliment.

Please just block this blog if uncomfortable with the content. It's very glitchy on my phone, so most of the time, tags are incredibly minimal. I will not hold anything against you for blocking the blog. The whole point is that you are the one responsible for curating your online existence. If you dislike incest ships, block em. Dislike noncon content, block it. Dislike the contents of this blog, block me. You control what you see, just as others control what they see. Curate your feed, don't curate others.

Thank you all for reading this, and remember, if you let them destroy the fiction you find morally despicable, then when they come for what you enjoy and support, you've already lost.

----------

Ask/submission tagging system!

#pro stance - proshipper asks

#anti stance - antishipper asks

#no stance - asks of indeterminate standing

#birthday wishes - B O R T H

#hate mail - death threats and the like

----------

If you actually scrolled down this far, have a fun, exciting, and inconclusive list of beings I would be down to smash:

•Stain (MHA)

•Overhaul (MHA)

•EVA-01 (NGE)

•EVA-02 (NGE)

•Xue Yang (MDZS)

•Kurloz Makara (Homestuck)

•Mothman

•Bigfoot

•u1146 (Cells At Work)

[tswaney17]

A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You - Part 1

Don't even ask me what's going on. I'm still figuring this mess out. I wrote a handful of fics that somehow can go together. So, here we are. The first fic of @elainarcheronweek. 💕 Huge thanks to @duskwhisperer for sending me the prompt idea. 🫶

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Credit to @nikethestatue for Elain's nickname, Petal. 😘

Trigger warnings: None (I think)

Word Count: 2,599

Read on AO3. Snippet Below

Elain was sitting at the rod-iron table in the Townhouse garden, enjoying her morning cup of tea while basking in the golden rays of the beautiful sunrise. She brought the steaming mug to her lips, sipping the liquid and savoring how it warmed her from the inside out.

A shawl was draped over her shoulders, lips pressing to her cheek, flushed pink from the cool air. “Good morning, my love.” His voice was always huskier in the earlier hours of the day. Scarred fingers gripped her, massaging the tender spots on her back. “It’s chilly this morning.” He always did this, always took care of her, bringing out something warm to wrap around her because he knew she got cold easily but enjoyed the fresh air too much to not sit outside.

She tipped her head back, inviting him to kiss her properly. “Good morning,” she breathed against his mouth. “How’d you sleep?”

“Always better when you’re next to me,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss her again.

Azriel had been gone on a week-long mission, only having returned late the previous evening. They had spent the night making up for lost time, finally falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning before dawn. Elain knew he didn’t sleep much while out on his missions and didn’t wake him when she rose to begin her first batch of pastries for the day.

He settled in the chair next to hers, clasping her hand in his large, warm one. Azriel always joined her in the mornings for tea. Sometimes they shared breakfast together if they were hungry. He often brought food out for her if she was enjoying the fresh air. It was just a simple, domestic moment together, where they enjoyed each other’s company and discussed what the day entailed for them. Elain truly loved sharing them with him.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Taglist: 

@nikethestatue

@reverie-tales

@123moiaussi

@duskwhisperer

@zdenkah

@nyxreads

@shedoessoshedoes

@athena-85

@jasmineandshadows

@nightcourtseer

@nivem565

@debramclaren

@illyrianvalkyriecarynthian

@secretpuppyflower

@justreallybored

@ultadverb

@the-regal-warrior

@roseandshadows

@tcursebreaker

@kingravinger

@mis-lil-red

@eloeloeheheh

@fawnandshadows

@swankii-art-teacher

@miss-bee-cat

@bookhhrelaz

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

@elrielbaby

@lesolehabitantdelalune

@thoughtsaboutshows

@britishwings

@aelin21galathynius

@saz-griffin

@azrielslight

@bookstaninthesoul

@curiositywoman

@karsyn-b2

@elainsweetcobalt

@emilyondemand

Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[ash-says]

How to tackle Fragmented Sleep/ Sleep disruptions :

This post is inspired and geared to help @thisisneededfmr .

Also to every one of those who are going through similar issues. It becomes extremely taxing when you can't sleep peacefully at night. You keep on waking up in between after some hours if not then suddenly you are half asleep which according to me is even more annoying. Being an insomniac or nightmares can make this condition even worse.

Sleep fragmentation can be described as frequent interruption or disruption in the normal sleep cycle. It can cause various chronic health issues as well as have repercussions on mental health.

Ways to tackle Fragmented Sleep:

1) Develop a sleep schedule:

Instead of being a night owl jump into your bed and try to sleep. It will be difficult at first but slowly and steadily you might fall asleep. Count numbers?? Try to sleep at the same time everyday. Because once it becomes a habit you will automatically feel sleepy.

2) Avoid Caffeine or any foods that result in hyperactivity:

Coffee is infamous for making you feel nervous and jittery. So avoid it before bedtime hours. Any kind of foods that result in a hyperactive nervous system cancel them out.

3) Practice relaxation techniques:

Listen to calming music, do breath work, meditate, read a nice book before you fall asleep. This might help in calming your nerves.

4) Exercise regularly and do yoga before sleeping:

The benefits of exercise are well known to us. I don't want to waste my time in convincing you about it. There are some specific yoga asanas you can do before sleeping and trust me it works like wonders. One of my friends when I used to live in a dorm made us do it and the sleep after that was just a chef's kiss.

5) Limit screen time before bed:

The radiations emitted by the phone or electronic devices disturb your sleep cycle. So try not to use your phone before you fall asleep. In fact at my home this is a rule we never sleep with the phones near us. They are kept at a great distance so that the quality of sleep is not disturbed.

6) Try not to do work or other activities in bed:

I read it somewhere on Tumblr long back please if anyone knows the blog kindly tag them in comments so I can give the reference here. It stated that you should only use your bed for sleeping as it will automatically signal your brain to sleep once you are in there.

7) Address your mental issues:

Most of the time sleep fragmentation is caused by psychological problems. Is there something you are trying to escape from? Or are you in a stressful environment? Depression? Anxiety? Adhd?etc you get my point right. Try to fix those issues. Your problem might be arising from there. Who knows.

8) Check your medicines if you are on any:

Literally!!! I am not kidding. It's really serious. Some medicines put your nervous system in hyperactive mode resulting in fragmented sleep. Check with your doctor and share these things with them. If the problem has started after you started the dosage maybe it's responsible for it.

From here the suggestions are based on personal experience with no scientific data to back it up. Use your own discernment.

9) Hug someone or something and sleep:

This works for me sometimes. If there's someone you are close to then try asking them if they would be okay to sleep while hugging you or holding you close. It's therapeutic. Plus it helps in relaxing the adrenaline in your body and brings you out of the survival mode.

10) Sleep in an open space:

Sometimes our bodies are not able to relax in a confined place. It's part of a phase especially if you have trauma related to closed areas. It can be triggering for your body and your brain might wake you up in between to look for danger. So sleeping in an open space like a balcony or something might work.

11) Keep a knife under your pillow:

I know this sounds ridiculous but it's a belief in our culture that doing it solves sleep related issues. Especially if you are having nightmares. And even if it doesn't work you have a knife to swing if someone attacks you in case. It's cool.

12) See a doctor:

When nothing of the above helps and even your own techniques that you might know it's high time you take professional help. It's not something you should ignore.

Being stated all that I really wish you a GOOD NIGHT SLEEP and pray that you overcome these issues. There are a lot of underlying causes that result in sleep fragmentation but the main one being Stress, Trauma, Emotional distress,etc.

So find a friend and vent it out if you are going through any negative state of mind. If you don't have anyone my ask box is always open. Drop a message and I will try to reach out to you as soon as I can.

Reminder: You are doing great given the circumstances. So keep fighting on and don't let anything have power over you.

[lemotmo]

My 7X06 thoughts and observations

I watched 7x06 and these are my thought and observations as I was watching the episode.

Disclaimer: This episode is mainly about Madney, but there is quite some Buddie and Bucktommy stuff as well, since they were prominently featured. Because of that I have tagged this post ‘bucktommy’ and ‘buddie’. Now, I’m a Buddie shipper who is sure that Buddie will happen on the show. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate Buck’s journey so far and I can definitely see Tommy’s importance in that journey. But I did watch this episode with Buddie in mind. So, if you don’t like that, don’t read. Also, please don’t hate on me in my ask or in the comments. I believe in ‘Ship and let ship’ and I respect people shipping different things than I do. Please show me the same respect by not being mean. Thank you.

1. The opening scene is so lovely. What a beautiful venue to get married in. I somehow suspect that they won’t get married there in the end. I love Maddie’s wedding dress. It really suits her character.

Got to love Hen giving Buck and Eddie the ‘what the f*ck’ look when they walk in. They look so rough.

‘Where is Chimney?’ Maddie’s face. Noooo!

YAY! Flashback!

2. Ah, the Buck, Eddie and Tommy scene at the bachelor’s party. I’ve already seen this seen before as a sneak peak.

I’m sorry, but yes… Eddie is a lot more bitchy towards Tommy here compared to episode 7x04. I wonder if it has to do with the fact that 7x04 was from Buck’s point of view? Just a thought.

I like how Eddie seems to be very accepting of Buck and Tommy dating. I know he said it wouldn’t change a thing, but in real life it sometimes does change things between friends and I’d hate for Eddie to be that guy. But he clearly isn’t.

So, whatever it is that causes Eddie to react a little passive-aggressively towards Tommy doesn’t have to do with them dating. He’s okay with that. Buck and Eddie have always just been Buck and Eddie. They’ve shared everything together by now. There’s this deep bond between them. That won’t change because his best friend is dating a guy.

I doubt that he himself knows why he does what he does when it comes to Buck. I’m convinced at this point that he has some very complicated emotions and feelings for Buck brewing underneath the surface, but he doesn’t really know what they mean

But the way he makes Buck think about the whole coming out at Madney’s wedding? *chef’s kiss*

As for Tommy. When he high fives Eddie it almost seems as if he is going for the ass-slap. That would have been very awkward in front of the guy you’re dating.

When Buck and Tommy hug, we can see Tommy give Buck an appreciatively once over. I mean… I can relate. Although Eddie is more to my taste, I have to admit. That pink suit does things to me.

I know that a lot of people are like: Tommy’s on call, he can’t wear anything 80’s. But he could have at least put in a little effort to do something. Maybe an 80’s clothing accent? Something small. It would have been so nice to do that for Buck. It’s only a detail, but it does stand out to me. This was a deliberate choice made by the writers. For what purpose? Not clear yet. But everything in TV-shows has a purpose. I’ve learned that over the years.

It's also interesting how they specifically had Tommy talking about henley’s and wearing one. A henley is definitely a typical Eddie thing as well. They keep comparing Tommy and Eddie. I’m not saying it has to mean anything, but it is very interesting from a narrative perspective.

I also love the way Tommy seems to experience the chaos that is Buck and Eddie for the first time. His head just swivels from right to left, not sure what to think. He also clearly picked up on some of that passive-aggressiveness Eddie was serving.

As for the direction’s choices in this scene? Again *chef’s kiss* The way they show Eddie in between Buck and Tommy? Ryan’s acting choices when delivering his lines? Yeah, something is brewing there. It’s small, but it’s there. It will all come back to the ‘My attention?’ line from 7x04 in the end. I can smell it.

3. Hen and Karen look gorgeous! And Ravi is there!!! Love Eddie’s side eye as Ravi eats a slider and Buck is angry at him.

What? Chimney didn’t want a party? Well, that explains a lot.

4. Oh my, Eddie is the one who suggests Crockett and Tubbs? And Buck’s little ‘absolutely!’ is sending me. He’s so happy.

Seriously though, why Crockett and Tubbs? They have been queer-coded ever since the 80’s. It does once again show how in tune Buck and Eddie are. They didn’t even have to discuss anything. Eddie knows Buck well enough to know he’ll love his suggestion and Buck trusts Eddie to be right in this. It’s beautiful.

5. Everyone is leaving the party? Seriously? Come one, Buck made the effort to organise all of it and you leave? And now Tommy has to leave for work too?

I love how they keep Eddie in the shot when everyone is leaving. He’s just sitting there, drinking and not budging. He’s determined to stay and Buck doesn’t question him staying for a second. He knows Eddie won’t leave.

6. Okay, the party is about to begin! Aaaah! This is so much fun! It’s cringe, but so much fun! The drinking, the way they are so in tune with each other, the hanging onto each other… I can’t. My poor Buddie heart won’t survive this.

No Eddie NOOOO! You can’t just force your way into that room! Wait, where is Chimney? Those people ripping off Eddie’s shirt is such a choice though. Interesting, very interesting.

Why is this scene so short? I wanted more of Buddie shenanigans!

7. Ah, the morning after. Another sneak peak that was released.

Well, that hotel room is completely ruined. Who is going to pay for that? I love that split second where Buck’s face is terrified that Eddie is dead or something.

Oh, did I spot a second of ‘Wow! Eddie’s naked chest. I shouldn't look at it.’ moment?

I repeat: Where is Chimney?

8. Maddie, my love! Oh, she seems so worried.

Oh, Chimney? What is going on? Does he have amnesia?

Nooooo, Chimney! Don’t trust this guy. I don’t trust this guy! What is going on? He is going to steal your car!!!

9. Oooh, Chimney flashback.

Nooo, Kevin. I’m crying now.

Something is going on with Chim. Please don’t give him a tumor or something! I would never forgive Tim for that.

He’s complaining about Buck wanting a bachelor’s party for him to the Lee’s.

10. What is going on???????? Oh, Maddie getting in action! You go girl!

Noooo, Doug?! Is he hallucinating? What is going on?

Illusion Doug needs to stop talking about Maddie like that! Asshole! Nooooo, don’t stab him!!!!

It’s not real! It’s not real! It’s not real!!!!!!

I love dispatch so much right now!

I want to reach into my screen and hug Chimney!

No Maddie no! Marrying you isn’t stressing him out! Thank you Hen for being the voice of reason!

He’s revisiting places he used to live. Interesting. It almost feels like another ‘Chimney begins.’

Go away Doug!

Go Athena! Go do your thing!

Hen is figuring things out! He’s forgotten 2 weeks of his life? Wow!

11. Ah, my two favourite idiots are back! 😊

There’s someone stuck in a vent. Ooooh, he sneezed in Chimney’s face. Bet he has a disease and Chimney caught it. That’s why he forgot everything. This guy thinks the girl is his fiancée, but she no longer is.

12. Buck and Eddie bringing clothes and food to Maddie. So cute.

Encephalites? Well well well!

Save Chimney now! Please!

Even when sick, he wants to help people. Chimney, how I love you!

13. Oh no, Buck… find him!!!! He needs help!!!!

Shut up Doug! Chimney, don’t listen to him. Go to Buck!

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up Doug!!!!

Yes baby, you’re supposed to be somewhere! Exactly!

Side note: The actor that plays Doug is legit scary as hell. It’s jarring, because he’s such a nice guy in real life and married to Jen as well. I love him.

No, don’t go to sleep!!!!!

Oh God, I’m crying so hard right now! Kevin!!! It’s Kevin! You tell hm Kevin! You tell him!!!

This is the best scene ever!!! I love this show!

Home, brother!!! Tears are legit streaming down my face right now.

14. He’s at the Lee’s. He’s safe.

Oh Maddie. I love you. Yes! He remembers!

Jee!!!!!

Yes, Maddie. You always find your way back to each other!

15. OOOOOH, hospital wedding!

I like how the Buckley parents are making an effort for Maddie.

The Lee’s are amazing.

This wedding is making me feel all the emotions! Bobby is officiating? YES!

THEY ARE MARRIED!!!!! YES!!!!!!

16. Tommy being all dirty, but still showing up to the wedding. I like that he made the effort for Chim and Buck.

Buck being high on love, walking right up to him and laying one on him. Good for him.

Look, I love that Buck has figured this out about himself and I love that he seems to be so happy at the moment. I even quite like Tommy. The real Tommy, not the one some people have made up out of thin air. He seems nice, but we know next to nothing about him. Right now all I know is that he definitely has a crush on Buck.

That being said though, I’m still not feeling the Bucktommy relationship. It’s all so… lackluster. No offence to the people who love them together and ship them together. I see where you’re coming from. I do. I just don’t personally feel it. I do appreciate that this is the path Buck is on right now, but I really don’t see it lasting very long.

Can’t help but notice that the line ‘And you did walk in the night. Slowly losing sight of the real thing’ plays in the background at the end of that kiss, while the shot changes to Christopher and Eddie eating cake (right at the moment when the singer sings: ‘the real thing’). Directional choices choices choices! I’m eyeing you 911!

Nooo! Not Buck coming out by looking all sooty after kissing Tommy! :D This is so typically Buck. He looks so happy! Hen is all like: It was about damn time! She knew!!!! Okay, if she has clocked him, she has to know there is something there with Eddie as well.

Ooooh, the Buckley parents don’t look all that happy. Don’t be bitches about this! I will throw hands if you two decide to be mean to Buck about him being bisexual. No, you know what? Maddie will take care of it for me. And then Eddie will weigh in as well. He’ll let loose all his bitchiness on you! Be aware!

17. Were Buck and Tommy a thing before my amnesia? :D I love how he just accepts it, no questions asked. Love that for Buck!

Why do they call me Chimney? Nooo, don’t cut the scene now! I want to know!

Conclusion: Oh man, what a ride this was. It was such a great episode, filled with great things. Madney is the best 911 couple I swear. I’m still on the Buddie train guys. After this episode even more than before. I can’t help it. Choices were made in this episode.

[gaslysainz]

Lost (PG10) pt.1

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, heartbreak.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! So I had put out a post about getting motivation to write something up, so thank you to all for commenting and encouraging me! Love You All 😘

Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

Journal Entry -1

LOVE....It's something that i have always yearned for.

Even if it's fake. A little bit of admiration, a simple compliment can make my day. 

It's been like this ever since my brother, Isaac Conti left the world. I started living with my step mother Annie Conti and my step sister Julia Conti. Yes, Isaac was my step sibling too but he never made me feel like i'm not his own sister.

My brother was the only one who actually loved me and admired me to the fullest in this family. My mother was an Indian and was forced to marry my father after she saved him from an accident when he was travelling in India. I was a part of a mistake. Ever since my maa died everyone except my brother treated me like shit. Even my father. 

But then i met him. My love of my life, the most important person in my life. My husband Pierre Gasly, the playboy of the F1 track!

Once again life played a merciless game with me. The man that i'm committed to, married to , bound by vows is in love with someone else. To be more clear he's in love with my sister Julia Conti.

How pathetic am i to have a life like this huh! We've been married for about 7 months now because that was my brother's last wish before leaving us. Pierre was his friend and he thought that getting me hitched would've been the best thing to do, but to think of it , it was his biggest mistake. He knew i've always had feelings for a certain blue eyed boy, thus, his decision, but what he didn't know was that Pierre has always been in love with my sister and married me only to get close to her. Pierre cleared everything out for me once we came back from the reception right after our wedding.

Now it's been a few days, two months to be exact that they've been dating , oh! and also sleeping around. What's sad is that i've caught them a few times during action in his bedroom. The only thing that i could do is simply go up to the terrace, look up to the sky and cry my eyes out calling out my Maa and my Brother. I don't blame Isaac for anything.  It's all my fate. 

I'm a pathetic excuse of a human as my husband likes to call me, who does not deserve anything in this world except for tears and sadness.

If you're wondering if Pierre had always been like this? Then let me tell you No! 

It all started after 1 month of our marriage when  he started talking to my sister more and giving her more attention. The lies that had been fed to him by my Step Mother and Step Sister about me is what he believed at the end of the day.

Life has always been a mockery for me. I am not allowed to speak to anyone, it's not like i have any friends to talk to. The only thing i am useful for is to tag along with Pierre to a few of his races or a few other important events as his trophy wife just cause it's an obligation.

No one really knows what happens in our life everyday, not even his grid mates. I'm sure it wouldn't have made any difference seeing they are his best friends. I'm not even allowed to talk to them even if i've seen them around at parties and races. I think my attitude has probably led them to think that i'm a snobby little bitch just like my Step sister. Oh yes! I do use bad words sometimes cause why not? I'm supposed to be able to do at least certain things in life right?

It's not like Pierre is going to read what i'm writing here? 

I've given up everything, every little dreams of mine, SO if you ask me if i think that Pierre is ever gonna love me back , then my answer is No!I would never even dream about thinking that he's gonna love me back.

But there's one person who always looks out for me, he's my only friend I suppose, and that's a certain ferrari driver with a charming smile that always lifts up my mood.

Anyways,I'll just sit aside and keep loving Pierre forever, even after he leaves me for my step sister after a year of our marriage. Just 5 more months to go. 5 more months to be with him. 5 more months to stay by his side as trophy wife when he goes out for parties and races. 

His world is a big one. Where he has got his grid mates, his family, his fans, his work people , my step sister even my step mom...... Everyone except for good ol' me....

I, Mrs. Y/n Gasly is just a LOST case in his big world...

Let's see where the upcoming 5 months take us....

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️