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tsumuhours · 4 months

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CLANDESTINE PARING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: smut, best friends brother trope WORD COUNT: 5k

If there’s one thing about the end of exams and upcoming – high school – graduation, is the plethora of parties that follow. Call it what you want; schoolies, freedom, and an amazing – yet awful – experience full of drinking, hangovers, or the flu.

At this moment, you’ve been crashing at the one and only Niki Suna’s home. Your best friend, and number one party animal who has a killer house in the centre of all the house parties being thrown by, now, old classmates.

It has been incredible, her parents aren’t home which gives the two of you the freedom to leave every night and come back after midnight without any questions or secrecy. The only issue is that her twenty-year-old brother is home.

Rintaro is not a big problem, he keeps to himself, never leaves his room. He’s only in the country for his sister's graduation, free food, and the fact that he doesn’t have to do his own laundry. Plus, it’s a free vacation.

Although, the times he does come out of his room, you can’t help but feel awkward around him. The last he saw of you was two years ago, when you were sixteen – an age that wasn’t sweet at all. Despite the short time span, a lot can change in two years, you’re evidence of that statement.

You’ve grown into your face, matured, and don't look as young anymore. You’ve gotten more confident with yourself, your body, and it all reflects in the clothes you wear. You speak with a certain command and authority, you walk with a grown confidence, and radiate an aura of gold.

Who knew that the girl that he knew would morph and change into a completely different person in the span of two years? No one can blame him for keeping a fixed gaze on you whenever you pass by, it’s admirable to see the person you’ve become.

However, it doesn’t matter how much self-confidence you’ve built up over the last two years. Around him, around his sharp stare and gaze, it’s hard to keep your head up or find the will to get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water out of the anxiousness that he’ll be there too.

Which brings you and Niki to now. Friday night, one thirty in the morning, the two of you are walking through the front door. You have managed to sober up from that mysterious, sweet, and addictive, rum punch concoction that you’ve had one too many glasses of.

You cannot say the same for Niki, who had spent the night downing one too many shots and has yet to ride out the alcohol. Nevertheless, she’s still able to walk on two feet and not stumble into every coffee table or shelf stacked with family photos.

“Oh my god,” Niki laughs, kicking off her shoes by the door. “I kept my mouth shut about this at the party, but fuck what was Rina thinking going for Jennie’s man?” She scoffs, “We need to debrief in my room.”

“Girl, I’ve got so much to fucking say about Rina.” You add, forcefully removing your shoes, “Like, I was talking to Jasmine earlier on the balcony and god has Rina been pissing a lot of people off recently.”

“Tell me about it,” Niki rolls her eyes, starting to walk up the steps with you following behind her. “Like, she was fucking wilding out tonight.” She mutters, pushing open her room door – revealing the mess created from getting ready – and collapsing onto her bed.

You, however, reach into your bag for the little toiletries pack, wanting to get all the makeup off your face and make sure no future breakouts happen. Skin care is a priority. And head towards the ensuite bathroom, “And she didn’t even know what she was doing.” You say.

“Me personally,” Niki hums, “if I was Jennie, I would’ve swung on that bitch.”

“That’s so fucking valid though,” you nod, pulling out a micellar wipe before dragging it over your eyes. “Like, what the fuck are you doing? Get away from my man, if it’s like, you know I’m into him, we’ve hooked up multiple times before, what are you doing?”

“Literally!” Niki exclaims, “We’re supposed to be friends! Why are you cuddling next to him on the couch?” She questions, shaking her head at the awful events that transpired throughout the night. “But! Don’t think I didn’t see you and Atsumu earlier.”

“What about me and Atsumu?” You question, poking your head through the open bathroom door – still scrubbing away the mascara from your eyes. “Bro, Helen even asked me about that! She was like: when did you and Atsumu get so close?”

“Did you do anything?” Niki asks, sitting up from the bed. “I know you have tendencies to get with people then not tell me!” She laughs, “Who was it again? There was Mattsun, and then his best friends? You have a tendency to go for the whole group.”

“No, no, I did not do anything with anyone tonight.” You reply, “I mean, I wanted to… don’t get me wrong, but I had a feeling no one was down.”

“Ugh, boo!” She groans, “Shit, okay, I need to change.” Niki thinks aloud, standing up from the mattress, “God, I’m so fucking ready to knock out and have the best fucking sleep of my life.”

Your best friend opens up her closet, digging out a big t-shirt and shorts. “God, I need some fucking water.” You mumble, tossing the dirty makeup wipes into the bin, “I peed like five times at the party.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Niki snorts, slipping through that big t-shirt of hers.

“Dehydration is the biggest cause of hangover headaches,” you inform. “We’ve got two more parties coming up, and I’d like to be in good shape for the next forty-eight hours of ragers.” You exit the bathroom, then dig into your bag to change into pyjamas.

Simple. Shorts and a tank. You walk back into the bathroom, half closing the door as you get changed. “Okay, so go downstairs and get water.” Niki says, stating the obvious.

“Can you come with me?” You ask from the bathroom.

“What? No, go by yourself.” She says, “You’ve been here a billion times before, my parents see you more than they see me. This is practically your second home, why do you need me to come with you?”

You adjust your tank top before stepping out into the bedroom, “Niki! Your brother is downstairs, I don’t want to go down there alone.” You plead, “If it was just us, or your mother, then yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Girl,” your best friend looks at you as if you’re crazy. “It’s Rintaro, he probably won’t even clock that you’re down there. He’s not the brightest in the bunch, he’s studying business.”

“Yeah, but like, can you just… please?”

“You’ll be fine! He’s just Rintaro, and he’s probably high as fuck.” She assures, “He’s probably too stoned to care.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” You dramatically sigh, trudging towards the closed bedroom door. “I feel so betrayed right now.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Niki laughs. “Hey, and since you’re going down there, get the big water bottles from the fridge and get those crab or prawn crackers from the pantry.” She adds, finding a perfect opportunity to stuff her face with snacks.

Although, Niki is underestimating how tired she really is, because the second she gets comfortable in bed – she will be out like a light. Niki has always been a quick sleeper, she claims it’s iron deficiency.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” You wave her off, mentally preparing yourself as you walk down those steps.

As you navigate towards the kitchen, there’s music playing quietly from the TV in the dark living room. Rap, hip-hop, 21 Savage. And no doubt, there’s Rintaro sitting on the couch, a weed pen between his lips as he sprawled out on the couch, the dim light from his laptop casting shadows on his face.

Lord knows what overdue assignment he’s working on, or how he can possibly be in the right state of mind to write a 2,800 word essay before the – extensions – deadline.

Still, he lays on the couch, inhaling that condensed form of THC. Wearing sweats and a flannel that has been – purposely – unbuttoned. The way he sees it, is if you can wear those little black shorts with the white rims, he can unbutton his flannel.

Now, never in a million years did he think he’d find himself attracted to you. It’s not meant to be an insult, but after watching you go through the most unflattering, awkward, phases and being his little sister's best friend… this new change, of seeing who you are now hit him like a pile of bricks.

Besides it’s not fair to see you parade around in those clothes, unknowingly teasing him. The past couple days have been hell, a game of look but never touch. You’ve been connected at the hip with Niki, you’ve been avoiding him.

Talking loudly about these random guys who looked ‘so fit’ at whatever party. Yeah, he’s heard those late night conversations you’ve been having. Niki doesn’t know how to close a door, and the walls are quite thin.

Rintaro just wants a little fun, he wants to poke the bear, he wants to mess with you. Nothing serious. Just something to keep him entertained, being home has been extremely boring, and the last thing he wants to do is hang around a bunch of high schoolers at parties.

His eyes glance up from his laptop screen, watching you like a fox, as you walk into the kitchen. He watches you as you grab that litre water bottle from the fridge, then dig into the pantry for those god awful prawn crackers.

Rintaro gets up from the couch and approaches you. This is his chance, his chance to have a little fun, to get into your head with some sadistic ploy that will now doubt keep you up at night. Nothing more than a little flirty comment.

“Fun night?” He hums, catching you off guard as you hold the heavily inflated packet to your chest. “It seems like you and Niki are out every day, how many parties could there possibly be?”

“You should know, you went through the same thing.” You comment, calmly, nonchalantly. You can’t let him see that he gets to you in a way no one else does.

Rintaro is the type of guy who is attractive and knows it. He’s cocky, and until now, barely gave you the time of day – or looked at you the way he’s doing now. It’s obvious, it’s in his eyes, one of the main reasons you’ve been avoiding him.

He’s giving you the look that you’re no stranger to.

You know what he’s doing, and lord knows you’ve played these exact same games in the last couple months. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the pick up of your heart, or the slight shake in your hands as you talk to him. Rintaro is a tall guy, he’s intimidating, and on top of it all, crazy attractive.

Anybody would be nervous.

Even you, with your big mouth and presented confidence.

“But yeah, it was a good night.” You add, walking over to the counter to grab the bottle of water. You can’t be gone for long, that would only raise questions from the very best friend who is waiting upstairs for her snacks.

Or so you think, at this moment, Niki is knocked out on her bed – late night scrolling on socials instantly sent her to sleep – as what was previously mentioned, Niki underestimated how tired she was.

“Anything interesting happen?” Rintaro asks, resting back against the countertop. “From what I heard Rina is about to get shunned from the friend group,” he teases.

“Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about that if she had backed off.” You reply, “Never go for a friend's man, that’s claimed territory.”

“What about brothers?” He muses, “Are they off limits too?”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, that was corny. “Yeah, I’d say they are.” You nod, fighting back the temptation to playfully flirt back. “It’s worse if this brother is someone you’ve known since you were thirteen.” You shrug.

“Well, if I could plead the case that the brother probably didn’t want to push any boundaries before, and didn’t see the sister's friend as a proper… prospect.” He says, “Besides, no fifteen-year-old would ever consider looking at someone younger. That’s weird.”

“How is it different now?” You question, “It’s still two years.”

“Eighteen is an appropriate age for a respectable gap of that size,” Rintaro hums. “It’s not like I’ll be playing on an illegal field either.”

“‘I’ll’?” You repeat, “What are you implying Rintaro?”

There you go, you’ve caught him. May as well surrender and stop whatever he’s planning. A real shame though, you’d be lying if you say you’ve never considered or thought about what it’d be like. It’s just that, he’s your best friend's brother.

Sure, the song is a good escape and great material to think about, but it’s not something you actually ever considered pursuing. He makes you nervous, even talking to him now feels like a crime. And the fact that you’re flirting doesn’t make the situation any better.

“I’m not implying anything,” he shrugs. “And I don’t know what possibly drew you to that conclusion,” he says. “Are you implying something?”

“Well, I don’t see any reason for something to be implied.” You shake your head, “All I’m wondering is why you brought up the concept of brothers being off limits, as if anything like that has stopped you before.”

“Oh, wow, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” Rintaro remarks, “Flirting with me, and patronising me at the same time. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“That’s nice, but I should get back to Niki.” You say, “You know, your sister, my best friend, who is currently upstairs.”

“Oh, come on, you and I both know that she’d probably be knocked out in bed.” He comments, “Stay down here for a while, I could use the company.”

“I know what you’re doing, Rintaro.” You inform, “I see it in your eyes, and it’s not going to happen.”

He’s been looking at you as if you’re prey. And the alcohol still in your system makes it a lot easier to talk to him without stuttering over your words or getting flustered. His stare is probably the worst part about this whole interaction.

“What am I doing?” He asks.

He’s failed to realise that it’s hard to play a player. If you were considering flirting back, it’d be sly. The small hand placements, comments, the simplest of looks that would trap him in. You have your system, and it works. It worked for Matsukawa and all his friends.

And it would have worked on Rintaro.

“You know what you’re doing,” you hum. “Now, I will be heading back upstairs. Lord knows I’m not drunk enough to betray my best friend.”

“And I’m not high enough to not care about the consequences,” Rintaro shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to do it.” He takes a step closer to you, grabbing the items in your hand and places them down on the countertop.

“You cannot be serious right now,” you shake your head. Sure, you knew that he was trying to play you, use you for a little entertainment, but you didn’t actually think he was being serious. You didn’t actually think he’d make a move.

And no, he’s not expecting anything to happen or to come from this. He’s pushing his limits, seeing how far he can get until you end up running off. If anything, what’s persuaded him to be so forward is the sight of that little gummy bear charm hanging from your necklace. That stupid pink charm that you and Niki got as a symbol of your friendship or whatever.

That stupid pink charm that dips down to the crevice of your chest – something he hasn’t seen before, considering, in the past, they’d always be hidden behind a hoodie or some unflattering t-shirt.

“I’m being serious,” he hums. Going along with some bit he’s come up with in his head. His fingers wrap around that little pink gummy bear as he plays with it.

“Don’t do that, don’t even try Rintaro.” You shut him down, looking up into those striking pair of eyes, “Niki is upstairs. What would she think if she came down here and saw this?” You question, swatting his hand away.

Curse your fucking loyalty.

Rintaro rolls his eyes, placing his hands on either side of you on the counter, trapping you between his arms. “Niki this, and Niki that. She’s not down here, is she?” He questions, “What if Niki wasn’t a problem? Because, it seems like your only defence here is that she’s upstairs.”

“That’s because she is,” you say. “I can’t possibly encourage this type of… behaviour with you. You’re her brother.”

“What if I wasn’t?” He hums, “Would you change your mind then?”

“Will you let me go if I tell you?” You ask, wanting to get out of this situation before anything bad happens.

“Yeah, I will.”

You sigh, meeting his gaze. And the sight of looking down at you, the flash of darkness in your eyes, it all sends Suna off a ledge. This must be what happens when he pokes the bear. There’s something behind your eyes, something that fucking pulls him in. That has him thinking this isn’t a joke, or a game anymore.

“If you weren’t my best friend's brother, then yes, I would change my mind.” You reply truthfully, “Honestly, if I were drunk enough, or bold enough, I would change my mind. I’d even risk saying that if Niki weren’t upstairs right now, I’d change my mind.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” Rintaro hums. “It’ll be a temporary fix, nothing serious. No one has to know.” He composes himself, trying to steer the conversation back to his control. He can’t show weakness.

He can’t show how much he wants it now.

“As much as I love temporary fixes,” you begin, “and the idea of sneaking around… I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Now you’re teasing him, running your hands down his flannel. He can’t poke the bear and not expect to get bitten.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you’ve been so back and forth, but you can’t help but find some fun in this situation. It’ll be like one prolonged drum roll, an ellipsis, something which implies more but is never finished or reveals an ending.

“Well sometimes we have to be selfish,” he whispers. The tension building up in his veins, blood, and mind. “And the best ideas aren’t always the smartest.” His hand moves to play with the ends of your shorts, the faint linger of his touch brushing against your thigh, up to your hips to the hem of your shorts.

“I shouldn’t.” Correction, you shouldn’t be the one to make the first move. If he wants this, he will make the first move – despite everything which was just said, you won’t stop him. There’s something electrifying about the light touches, the tension you helped escalate.

He wanted to play a game, and a game is what you’re giving him.

“You shouldn’t, but you can.” Rintaro mumbles, unbeknownst to the fact that you’ve managed to have him wrapped around your finger in a matter of seconds – of playing dumb – due to the simple trick of making him feel wanted.

“Lord knows I can, but what about Niki?”

“She can go fuck herself.” He says, immediately connecting his lips with yours in a heated kiss.

Kissing Rintaro is nothing like you’ve experienced, kissing him is like daring to run over knives or fire, it’s a rush of adrenaline caused by a strike of lightning. Kissing him is like knowing you’re doing something bad, but it’s too addictive to pull away. His eyes close, hands firmly placing themselves on your hips.

Rintaro pulls you closer to him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. He gives in, kissing you with a growing desperation, arms snaking around your waist. Mouths linking together in a mess, tongue slipping past.

He can taste the remnants of alcohol on your tongue, and you can smell the weed that has attached itself onto his clothes.

He’s deep and urgent, pushed by the forces and temptation of a quick temporary fix, an illicit affair, and clandestine meeting. His hands travel down to your ass, underneath your shorts, holding the flesh in his hands.

His touch lingers down to your thighs, Rintaro lifts you up onto the counter. Your hands run down his bare chest, and he shudders at your touch. Cold fingertips trailing down his body, to then pull at the drawstrings of his sweats.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know that Niki could come downstairs at any moment and see the position you’re currently in; legs wrapped around her older brother, his hands exploring his body, learning every curve and crevice. Entangled together, connected by a messy kiss fueled by boredom, and frustration.

Out of breath and completely intoxicated by the moment. Suna’s hand travels up, tugging down the tank top. Exposed to him, the chill of the night in the cold. He moves down, kissing your neck, throat, and the slope of your shoulders. Lips attaching themselves onto your chest, tongue placed flat against your nipple.

His breaths come in harder, faster. Your hands threaded in his hair, clinging to him in this ice-cold heat you’ve been placed in. Pulling at the roots, bringing him back up to your lips. Suna’s hand replaces his mouth, beginning to knead the flesh.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out. He’s moving away from your lips, moving down to nibble and bite at the sensitive skin on your neck and jaw.

“But it feels good doesn’t it?” Rintaro hums against your neck, holding your body against his chest, trying to devour every piece of you he can. Loving the way you shudder at his touch, and the shortness of your breath. “I know you want me, because god knows, I want you. It’s only one night princess.”

He returns to hover over you, head tilted down as he uses his thumb and index finger to bring your chin up. Looking down at you with a sinful glint in his eyes, grinning at you like the devil. Almost obsessed with the seemingly innocent, wide eyed look in your eyes, slightly parted lips.

His thumb drags down your bottom lip, continuing to tilt your head up at him, keeping your gaze in place. “Come on, one night is not bad. Nothing is wrong with a little quick fix.”

“Well, I’d rather not risk my morals, and integrity for something quick.”

A flame ignites behind those eyes, a quirk of his eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” he says. Rintaro hoists you off the counter, your legs wrapped around his torso, as he carries you towards the couches. He throws you down onto the cushions, wraps his fingers around the bundled up fabric of your tank top and pulls it over your head.

Then he drops down to his knees, in front of you. He tugs down your shorts along with your underwear, leaving you completely exposed on the couches. Rintaro pushes your legs apart, “Keep them open for me.” He smiles, pulling your body closer to his face.

His tongue darts out, lips enveloping themselves around your clit. He uses a free hand aiding the stimulation. He’s devouring your cunt as if he’s never eaten before, as if he’s intoxicated by the feeling of the moment and the sinful act of going down on his younger sister's best friend out in the open on the couch.

Savouring your taste on his tongue, his fingers prodding your entrance.

Your back arches, throwing your head back. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, quiet and hushed whimpers escaping from your lips. One hand gripping onto the cushion behind you as the other pulls roughly on his hair. Hips bucking up, obsessed with the insatiable sensation of Rintaro’s tongue on your clit and fingers curling inside you.

Suna hooks your legs over his shoulders, diving deeper into your cunt. Willingly obliging to the fact you’re pushing him closer. At the twitch of your legs, Rintaro quickens his movements, wanting to milk you and push you towards your orgasm.

Whimpers and muffled moans, a strain of fuck, don’t stop, although the most motivating of them all is the pretty sound of his name slipping off your tongue. “Rin,” you say. A fire burning up in your abdomen, as he begins to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your clit up to your stomach and chest.

In the absence of his tongue, his fingers move quickly against your clit – forceful movements – determined to have you reach your peak. Your hips jolt forward, lost in the haze of pleasure that succumbs you.

Eyes clenched shut and mouth agape, it’s a fucking sinful sight.

Suna reconnects his lips with yours in a sloppy makeout, drowning out your moans and taking them in as his own. A result of his fingers, you’re shivering under him, so needy and desperate. “Go on sweetheart,” he whispers. The pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your sensitive clit.

Your nails dig into his back, forehead leaning against his shoulder as you feel yourself reach climax. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” breathing out, your body growing weak under his touch. Mind spinning from pleasure.

Strained whines, legs pushed back as he milks out your orgasm. Rintaro hovers over you, impressed by his own work and your finger and tongue fucked expression. He runs another finger through your folds, lapping up the cum and saliva.

Using his free hand, Suna grips the back of your head, tugging harshly at the roots of your hair as he forces you to look at him. Then forces his fingers past your lips and onto your tongue, “Suck.” He instructs. Reluctantly, your lips wrap around his fingers as he slowly pulls them from your mouth.

There you are, tired eyes, and completely vulnerable and exposed underneath hin. But the little smirk that appears on your lips. You sit up, pushing him back against the couch. Cocky as ever, Suna sits back, memorising the beautiful sight in front of him.

He watches you with lustful eyes as you work your way down his body, tugging down his sweats. Your hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it, pumping him. Rolling your wrist over the tip, milking out the precum.

“You got a rubber?”

“I’ll pull out,”

You shrug, placing a hand on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch and keeping him down. Lining his dick with your entrance, you lower yourself onto him. The sensation, and feeling, of your walls clenching around his dick sends him spiralling.

His head rolls back, hands reaching up to grip at your hips. You roll your hips, finding all the right places for you, and absolutely driving him insane. She begins to lift, setting up a steady rhythm. “Oh, fuck, you little tease.” Suna breathes out.

He has laboured breaths at the irresistible and mind-fucking feeling of you taking him in all so well, your tight little cunt that sends him off the edge. Getting to have you all, without a barrier. The rise and fall of your hips, bouncing on top of him. A hand reaching up to your chest to grab a tit, a thumb running over your nipple.

You grab his wrist and pin it back behind his head, “No touching.”

“We’ll see about that,” he groans. Quickly changing your positions, flipping you around until you're face down on the couch. Suna lifts your hips up, pushing down on your back to create an arch. He keeps a hand on the back of your head. He pushes his dick inside, causing you to intake a sharp breath. “What was that sweetheart?” He teases.

A firm hand placed on the side of your ass, as thrust into you. A quiet “fuck” sounds from his throat as he begins to fist your hair in his hand. He rolls his hips, roughly, forcefully pushing into you. Bottoming out to reach the deepest part of you.

Breath taken away from you, gripping onto the fabric of the couch. Back arching at an insane angle, “Ah,” you moan. He snaps his hips forward again, feeling weak and heavy from the current position, and the consistent thrusts coming from Suna.

His movements become harsher, rougher, as he pounds into you. He pulls your head back by your hair, leans forward until his chest is placed against your back. Suna connects your lips in a roush kiss, biting down on your bottom lip.

Although, he quickly disappears again, lost in the moment. His hands gripping onto your hips as he pulls you to him, matching his thrusts. You begin to lose any ounce of strength left in your body, letting your upper body lay slack on the couch.

Suna lands a slap on your ass, kneading the flesh as he continues to thrust into you from behind. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You feel so good,” he hums, “fuck, I want to see your pretty fucked out face.”

He pulls out, flips you around, hoisting your leg over his shoulder. He wraps a hand around your throat, basking in the way you grip onto his wrist. Looking at him with those half-lidded eyes, as he pushes into you. Loving the way your pussy sucks him in, loving the look of his dick moving in and out of your cunt.

He picks up the pace, eyes fixed on your chest and how they bounce given each forceful buck of his pelvis. “Faster,” you whimper, gripping onto his hair. “Fuck me,” you plead.

Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, and under him you’re falling apart. Becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by an overwhelming amount of stimulation and force. With the growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, the heel of your foot digging into his back. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

Your pussy clenching around his dick, it sends Rintaro off a spiral, and he’s threatening to break. You’re close, so close, and all you need is one last push. His hips slam into you, body filling with pleasure as your orgasm rides out.

Suna quickly pulls out in time, cumming all over your stomach. He crashes down onto you, snaking an arm around your waist as he rests his head onto chest. Your hand brushing his hair, trying to regain your breath.

“So, how long are you going to be in town for?”

“Until graduation, why? Wanna do it again?”

“I’d like to hear those whimpers again.”

#✰ workie works #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu suna #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro fic #hq x reader #hq smut

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thefallennightmare · 9 months

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Just Pretend-nineteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I realized today that Sarah and I have been working on this story for almost TWO MONTHS. Holy shit. Talk about a slow burn! I don't think it's ever taken me this long to write an active story. Also, there are a few sentences in Greek and Italian in this chapter. You can find the translations at the end of the chapter.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic

NOAH

My knee bounced in a tangent along with the clock on the wall behind Dr. Poulos as she tilted her head towards me, waiting for my answer.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I blinked slowly.

She gave me a small smile, tapping her pen on her notebook; something I’ve realized she did when she was ready to ask me a hard-hitting question.

“How have the panic attacks been?” Dr. Poulos wondered.

“Uh,” I rubbed my jaw. “It’s been better, I suppose. I still feel them starting every once in a while but my friends have been great at helping me through them.”

“That’s great,” she smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it was a problem for you from our first session.”

“Yeah, I’ve come to realize there were a few aspects of my life that hindered me more than helped me.”

Dr. Poulos’ brows raised. “Like what?”

“Up until recently, I would drink; a lot. And smoke weed every so often. People say it’s the lesser of the drugs but it affected me in such a way that I didn’t like the man I saw in the mirror. Same with the alcohol. So, I’ve decided to become sober.”

That spread a wider smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, Noah. It’s not an easy thing to overcome but to see how determined you are makes me very happy.”

I ran my hands over my thighs while standing up straighter on the couch; her positive praise made my heart beat a bit faster.

“I just want to be the healthiest I can be. Your body is a temple, ya know? It’s only been a few weeks but I can already tell a difference in the way I sing.”

“That’s exceptional, Noah. I’m happy to hear that. It’ll help the course of your life. But I must ask, do you feel it’ll leave a part of you open and willing to accept the love you think you deserve?”

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you mentioned previously, it sounds like Y/N has had some complicated relations with a man who was in a state of addiction. Do you feel that maybe, a part of your being sober can help you leave that part finally open? Allow you to see that you can be loved.”

When I remained silent, letting her words rest in my mind, Dr. Poulos shut her notebook and set it on the table between us; next to one of those sand zen garden things.

“What you're doing with Bailey and hiding your true feelings for Y/N doesn't seem to be helping, right?”

I shook my head with a long sigh. “I never meant for things to go this far.”

Dr. Poulos leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, stippling her fingers.

“Has Y/N ever given you a reason to doubt the things you say to her?”

“No. Never,” I answered without missing a beat.

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her how you feel?” She brushed a strand of brown-graying hair from her eyes.

With Dr. Poulos’ words replaying in my mind, I sat down on the steps of her office while clicking on Bailey’s contact name on my phone. As it rang, I tapped my fingers on my knee to drum a random beat.

“Hey, it’s Bailey. Leave me a message!’

Cursing to myself, I wished that she had answered because I didn’t want to do this with her voicemail but I had no other option. This needed to be done.

“Bailey, it’s me- Noah,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this over text or on your voicemail. But I thought it best you hear me say this. I wanted to discuss it with you the other day but shit came up.”

My eyes watched as a few people walked past on the sidewalk in front of me.

“Look, I never wanted to hurt you, you’re a nice girl but this-us-isn’t working for me. I’m-I’m sorry if this hurts you. Truly. I’m not good at words all the time but I will say that I wish you the best and I hope you have a nice life.”

After hanging up, I could physically feel the weight lift off my shoulders and heart. Breathing was easier and lighter, so with this newfound feeling, I quickly dialed Y/N’s number.

“Mochi!”

I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi, angel. Are you busy?” I asked while rising from the steps to walk a few steps to my car that was parked in the street.

“I’m walking into an appointment right now. Can I call you later?”

Ignoring the way my heart dropped, I started my car and sat there for a moment.

“Of course. I’ll be in the studio but I’ll always answer for you.” My hand ran over the steering wheel.

“So sweet,” Y/N chuckled and my stomach fluttered. “There’s a reason why I gave you that nickname.”

We quickly said our goodbyes and my mind was filled with the heavy conversation I needed to have with Y/N. I didn’t even realize the familiar figure bounding up the steps of the same office I left mere minutes ago, her yellow sundress flowing in the wind.

READER

My eyes were trained on the small sand zen garden on Dr. Poulos’ table as she tapped her pen against the notebook in her lap. The clock ticked annoyingly loudly behind her, almost mocking me as I continued to leave her question unanswered.

“Y/N,” Dr. Poulos’s voice was firm, breaking me from my trance. “You mentioned your mother contacted you the other day?”

I played with the hem of my yellow sundress. “Uh, yeah. She doesn't do it often but when she does, she really lets her feelings known.”

“And what are those feelings?”

“The same bullshit. My mom doesn’t agree with the lifestyle I’ve chosen. She thinks it's a waste of time,” I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s who she is. Being Greek, I was raised to have large but realistic dreams. My father on the other hand wanted and still wants me to follow my heart, he wants me to go after what I want, what I need. There’s a line between both of them.”

“You know,” Dr. Poulos tucked a strand of her brown-graying hair behind her ear. “There’s a study that says insecure attachment styles can develop as a result of poor parenting. Research indicates that attachment in childhood affects the development of familial, social, and romantic relationships later in life. Do you feel this has deeply affected or influenced your relationships?

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve had a pattern of falling for men who aren't good for you yet believing they are real love when you know subconsciously you deserve better.”

“Maybe,” the word trailed off my lips, uncertainty weighing heavy on my heart.

Dr. Poulos hummed, crossing one leg over the other. “It sounds that way, doesn’t it? Are you running from Noah because you’re afraid you’ll disappoint him? Afraid he’ll do what your mother often does? You’ve seen the way your parent's marriage was like growing up, that has to be a hindering factor, doesn't it?

My jaw ticked. “My mother was unfair to my father. I’d never do that or treat anyone that way.”

“I know you won’t, Y/N. You know it yourself, deep down in your heart,” she patted a hand over her own heart. “Because from what you told me about Noah, I don’t believe that he would act the way your mother has. You won’t disappoint him. And he doesn’t want to do that to you either.”

I shook my head widely. “He’s with someone else so it doesn't even matter.”

A small smile lifted at the corner of her lips. “Quite the contrary, Y/N. You said it earlier you wanted to tell him the truth. He isn’t your mother and again, from what you’ve told me it sounds like you both may want the same things. You’re just not trusting yourself. You’re relying on your trauma and issues with your mother to get in the way.”

“Wow, nice observation,” I snorted. “How am I supposed to fix that?”

Dr. Poulos ignored my snarky attitude. “If your mother has been unreliable, then you may need to lean on other people who are for support. Socializing with friends and learning to be vulnerable with others can help increase emotional connection.”

“Malcolm and Chase are reliable,” I stated.

“It sounds like it, from what you’ve told me,” she nodded. “There’s also Noah. His support can take some time to develop but having stable relationships with others can be part of healing. And most of all, self-care.”

I left therapy with a hopeful heart and bright smile. Dr. Poulos always knew what I needed to hear as much as I tried to fight it. Peaking down at my phone, my pulse quickened when I noticed a missed text from Noah.

Mochi 🍡: New episode of Attack on Titan dropped. I can pick up lunch. Your place or mine?

Giggling, I typed out my response, not letting anything ruin this euphoric high I felt.

NOAH

I stood outside Y/N’s front door, shaking out the nerves, and knocked on it. I had a bag of take-out food in my hand, something she requested from her favorite burrito place.

“Hi,” she smiled while letting me in. “Did you remember the Dr. Pepper?”

I chuckled while holding up the cup. “Light ice.”

As we set out the food on the table in their dining room, I motioned towards the various easels and splattered pain on the carpet. “Studio?”

“Yeah,” Y/N gave a sheepish smile. The lighting in here is better than my bedroom; although not by much.”

I took in the various paintings of abstract lines and colors, some of random landscapes, and one of Salem.

“These are really good, angel.”

“I’m glad I decided to do this. Painting has been a great way to escape from reality, even for a little bit,” she took a bite of her burrito. “Oh, extra guac? How’d you know?”

I shrugged. “I just do.”

We ate in silence for the next few long moments and as much as I tried to quiet the loud voices in my mind that screamed at me to tell Y/N the truth right now, it was extremely difficult.

My eyes took in the glimmer of her bracelet as she reached for the chips and I couldn't stop the smile that spread wide to my lips. Y/N was still wearing the jewelry I bought her and it made me feel proud.

“Where’s Chase and Malcolm?” I asked, noticing the quiet.

Y/N took a large drink of her soda, reveling in the taste. “Hiking. They left earlier this morning and typically don’t come back till later. So I have the place to myself.”

Just as I was about to speak, a persistent knock sounded on the front door, and she turned towards it with a confused stare.

“Expecting anyone?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Probably someone selling Girl Scout cookies.”

“If they have Thin Mints, I’ll take four boxes,” I called after Y/N.

Her laugh echoed throughout the room but soon seized when she opened the door. I noticed the way her body went rigid and I slowly rose in time to see a tall but petite brunette all but push her way inside.

“Hi, koukla. I would have texted or called but it seems like you have an issue with checking your phone,” the lady peered around the space, a sour look on her lips.

“Mo-mom? What are you doing here?”

Shit.

I knew there was a history with Y/N’s mom but never knew how deep it ran.

“I was in town and thought to surprise you. Since you never talk to me anymore,” her mom tsked.

Finally, her eyes landed on me, standing in the threshold of the living room and dining room; gaze hardening.

“Who’s this?” She asked Y/N.

Internally I snorted at how she asked Y/N rather than asking me.

“I’m Noah,” I introduced myself while brushing away the strands from my face.

Her mom hummed before nodding towards the back end of the house. “Give me and my daughter some privacy.”

“Mom!” Y/N seethed.

Noticing how the tension shifted, I gave Y/N a soft smile. “It’s alright. I’ll go say hi to Salem.”

With my back to them, I walked down the hall and heard her mom mutter something in Greek.

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”

“Eísai apísteftos,” Y/N responded in a stern voice.

Sitting in the Y/N’s bedroom with Salem perched on my lap, I left the door wide open so I could listen in on the conversation. It may have been wrong to eavesdrop but something deep inside of me told me to be on edge, just in case.

“You should have called, Mom,” Y/N said.

“You never return my calls.”

“Gee, I wonder why. You exactly haven’t been that peachy the last few times we’ve talked.” I could hear the slight edge in Y/N’s voice.

“I thought I’d told you I don’t appreciate the way you speak to me.”

“It’s a two-way street, Mom. You get what you give.”

Salem purred loudly in my lap and I continued to scratch him in the spot I knew he loved; between his ears.

“I’ve always hated when your father used that line,” her mother sighed.

Someone was pacing, their footsteps echoing loudly down the hall, and I peered down at Salem.

“Your mom seems pretty upset right now,” I frowned at the feline.

His bright green eyes stared back at me, simply demanding one thing silently; more pets to which I obliged.

“Have you been to the doctor lately?”

“Since when do you care, Mom? You never ask how I’m doing.”

Salem jumped off of me when I slowly rose to my feet, deciding that I needed to be closer to Y/N, just in case.

“I know how bad Endometriosis affects you, Y/N. I’m simply wondering.”

I could almost hear Y/N roll her eyes as I neared the end of the hallway, out of sight but could still see just enough. Y/N stood with her hands on her hips while her mom sat comfortably on the couch.

“I’m fine.” Y/N kept her answers short.

Her mother pursed her lips. “And how’s the career?”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at the way she said career.

Y/N snorted. “Please, like you give a shit.”

“Watch your language!”

“You’ve never supported me with my music. Hell, with any of my dreams. So don’t start acting like you give a shit now.

Her mom rose to her feet, narrowing her gaze. “That’s not true. I only want what’s best for you, Y/N. You don’t want to end up like your father and be stuck.”

“He wasn’t stuck,” Y/N scoffed while clenching her fists.

Her mother clicked her tongue while brushing away Y/N’s hair from her face. “Yes, sweetie, he was. And I’m telling you, no man will want to deal with someone that’s always on the road. What man is going to wait around or understand this lifestyle? What future are you gonna have?”

My jaw clenched at hearing those words because I knew it wasn’t true. There was a man who wanted Y/N; me. I would wait for years if I had to. Whenever she was ready, I’d be here.

But hearing how her mom talked to her made me realize that there was a reason why Y/N never spoke of her and why she was so apprehensive of any future relationship.

“We’re not talking about this,” Y/N stepped away from her mom to stand on the other end of the couch, giving more space between them.

“Once again, you’re avoiding a tough subject. I didn’t raise you this way,” her mother chastised.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Raised me? Are you fucking kidding me? You barely were home, too busy focusing on your career leaving Dad home to raise me!”

I smirked at hearing Y/N mock her mother in how she said career moments before.

“Your father was always your favorite. But it was me you stayed with after the divorce!” Her mother's voice was raised.

Fearing this would end in such a bad way, I pulled my phone to send a text to Chase.

Me: Y/N’s mom is here and I’m afraid shit is about to hit the fan. What should I do?

His response came almost immediately.

Chase: Fuck. Whatever you do, Noah. Don’t leave. Stay until we get there. Every time her mom either contacts her or shows up, Y/N goes into a dark place. Malcolm and I are leaving right now and should be back in an hour.

I swallowed thickly as my stomach dropped. If the guys were worried about Y/N’s mom being here, it could only mean one thing.

Disaster.

“I stayed with you because you made me feel guilty!” Y/N choked on a sob. “For years I wondered why I didn’t feel a connection with you so I thought staying with you would bring us closer. But instead, you dropped the you’re adopted bomb on me; on my birthday!”

Her mother had the audacity to shrug.

“You probably would have found out eventually. I simply sped up the process.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Because I tell the truth? You think people are going to stay with you with the lifestyle you’ve chosen?”

“Oh, gods, we’re back on this again?” Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I have a lot of people that support me.”

“Who? Your friend?” Her mom pointed a firm finger towards the hallway where I was still hiding around the corner. “Do you think he is going to wait around?”

For years if I have to.

“No. No one will, Y/N. You’re like your father with these pipe dreams.”

“Pipe dreams? I didn’t realize wanting a family was a pipe dream,” Y/N spat.

Her mother gave her a somber smile, clicking her teeth. “Kouklamou, I thought we talked about this. You can’t have a family, not the traditional way anyway. You need to realize that no man is going to want to go through all that trouble to have a child. It’s not worth it.”

Y/N and I both flinched at the same time, those words almost verbatim with what Trey used to say to her. There I stood, my fists clenched by my sides, I rolled my shoulders back, glaring towards the petite brunette with dark eyes.

I was feeling triggered while I observed this entire thing; it felt intrusive at first but now feels like I’m behind fifty feet of glass.

It made sense now, why this loving bond between Y/N and I was inaccessible. In this mode, I had to take great care not to damage these bonds of love, this relationship, this friendship, and this woman in front of me, who very early on became everything to my heart and soul. For in time, the glass disappeared and my love returned stronger.

I understood.

From my corner, I could see how the kitchen table had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound is contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times; I understood.

I refused to stand there and let it sour, not to her. Never to her.

Sobs played like a sad tune and I noticed Y/N was crying, hastily whipping away the tears.

“I can’t believe I continue to let you in my life, knowing how you’ll treat me. Girls are supposed to look up to their mothers as idols, to learn from them how to be mothers. But you’ve shown me how not to treat my kids in the future.”

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. The chances of you becoming a mother are not in the cards for you. Neither is this musical career. You need to face reality.”

Fuck this.

As I stepped into view of them, Y/N pointed to the front door. “I don’t need you to come in here and tell me how to run my life, I’m done with this.”

“Y/n-.”

“You heard her,” I spoke while standing next to Y/N, immediately wrapping my arm around her shoulder to pull her into my chest.

My heart broke at how quickly she grasped onto my shirt, not wanting me to let her go.

“Excuse me? This is a private matter between my daughter and me. This doesn't concern you,” her mom’s eyes sliced into me.

“It does. Because it’s Y/N.”

Her mom’s gaze bounced between the two of us, almost waiting for Y/N to object to my words, but instead, she stood firm, sniffing away her tears.

“You need to leave.”

With one final glare, Y/N’s mom snatched her purse off the couch while muttering something Greek under her breath before she slammed the door behind her; all the negative energy leaving in waves.

“Y/N,” I tried to make her look at me but she kept her head cast down.

“I can’t, Noah,” she cried.

I lifted her chin with a firm finger and sucked in a breath as broken, bloodshot eyes stared back at me.

“Don’t ever hide from me, angel. You know that.”

Y/N kept her gaze firm on my face. “She does this every time. I don’t know why I continue to let her. I’m just a girl who wants her mother's love, is that so wrong?”

“Angel,” I murmured while pulling her into my embrace, brushing a kiss across her forehead.

NOAH

My fingers drummed against the marble counter in front of me while Davis set out various ingredients. We were currently streaming the two of us cooking BLTs, something for the fans to enjoy and watch. I was reading some of the comments, smiling at a few then cringing at some others.

Davis handed me a block of cheese. “Cut this up for me, would ya?”

With it in one hand, I playfully spit on my hand before giving it a nice smack.

“Hm, imagining that someone's ass?” He smirked under his breath.

I gave him a light shove. “Fuck off.”

We spent the next long while goofing off and having fun for the stream. It was nice to let my mind focus on something else besides Y/N and her mom. I spent the rest of the night at her place, holding her in my arms as she cried herself to sleep. The familiar scent of her lingered on me as I tucked her softly in her bed. Before I walked out of her house, I ran into Chase and Malcolm, whose parting words stuck with me all day.

“She needs you more than she’ll admit. It may not seem like it but she does.”

Y/N texted me this morning to thank me for being there for her and say that if she went M.I.A for a while today, it’s only because Hollow Souls were in the studio recording. I didn't ask how she was feeling after the surprise visit from her mom. Y/N would tell me, if she wanted to, when she was ready.

“Alright, let’s read some comments,” Davis suggested as we finished up the cook-off; me winning.

He held Max in his hands, every so often giving him kisses. As I read a few comments out loud and responded, the dog practically begged me for attention when a familiar username appeared on the screen.

Y/NHollowSouls: Noah Sebastian, I swear to Hades himself. You kiss Max right now or I’ll come over there and kick your ass.

I laughed while shaking my head. “Alright, Max. Come here! Let me give you some love.”

I scratched the dog's ear while leaving a soft kiss on his nose then looked back to the computer screen to see Y/N leave another comment.

Y/NHollowSouls: Good, that’s better. Now I need to taste this famous BLT that won.

“Then get your ass over here. Bring some coconut water because Noah drank the last one,” Davis said once he read the comment.

My heart began to beat widely in my chest at the thought of seeing Y/N again.

Y/NHollowSouls: fuck yes. Noah, have that sandwich ready for me.

We ended the stream shortly after that but my eyes lingered on the black screen for a long moment. Davis immediately picked up on my quiet mood and knocked on the countertop.

“Noah?”

My name was white noise, still staring at zoning out in front of me.

“Earth to Noah! Come in Herc! Come in Herc!”

“What?” My eyes snapped over to Davis, finally breaking out of my trance.

“What I thought.” He smirks before getting serious. “Are you alright?”

I gave a weak smile towards Davis. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He motioned towards the laptop. “I know you’re not actually fine right now but-.”

I ran a hand over my face, doing my best to keep my breathing calm and even. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It just fucking hurts.”

Davis shifted on his feet, hesitation clear on his face. “Why? No disrespect to Y/N at all, you know I love her-we all do. But why did you choose to stay in touch? After all the hurt you’ve gone through.”

My vision was direct with his. “Because I’d rather have her from afar to make sure she’s alright than to not have her in my life at all. Besides, she’s going through a lot of shit, something no one should go through alone. I won’t let her.”

A grin spread across his face and he nodded. “I knew it. I just wanted to hear you admit it. But you need to end this shit with Bailey.”

“I already did.”

“Fuck,” Davis’ eyes widened. “Finally. How did she take it?”

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s the thing, she didn’t answer. I left her a voicemail.”

“A voicemail? Damn, do you think she got the message?” Davis wondered while be began cleaning up the mess.

I, instead, began making another sandwich for Y/N, knowing she’d be here soon. “I fucking hope so. If not, then she’s probably testing me to see if I’d change my mind.”

“But you won't, right?”

I snorted. “Fat chance.”

Davis turned towards me, drying his hands on a towel. “So you broke up with Bailey. What’s the next step with Y/N?”

“I need to talk to her first. There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I said while pulling out a cold can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

“Hey, that’s the last one,” he exclaimed.

I merely shrugged while setting a place at the kitchen table for Y/N. “It’s for Y/N.”

Davis, as much as he tried to be upset, chuckled. “In all seriousness, Noah, you know we’re here to support you. We have your back.”

I smiled at one of my best friends. “I know.”

Just then a knock sounded on the front door and before Davis could answer it, I quickly closed the short distance and opened it with a smile; only for it to drop seeing Y/N standing on the other side with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” I questioned while allowing her to step inside and led her to Davis’ kitchen.

“Chase’s birthday is on Friday and the venue I booked for it just canceled on me. Something about a pipe bursting and the room is flooded,” she exasperated while falling into the chair at the table.

“What are you going to do?” I questioned while sitting across from her.

Davis joined us at the table, taking the coconut water from Y/N with a small smile.

“Thankfully since they have to cancel, I get my deposit back but Malcolm is freaking out,” she waved her phone around. “We have two days to figure out somewhere new for this surprise party.”

“You can have it at my place,” I suggested.

Y/N took a long drink of her soda. “Are you sure? Don’t you think you should talk with the rest of the guys first?”

I snatched a chip off her plate and shrugged. “They won’t mind.”

“Sei un tesoro, mochi,” she patted my cheek.

Davis choked on his drink and my eyes snapped over to him. “I don’t want to hear it!”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Y/N smirked before taking the first bite of her sandwich and groaned. “Oh shit, this is good. No wonder you won, Noah.”

With a prideful smirk, I motioned to the rest of her plate. “Finish up. I’ll call the guys and have them meet here and we can plan Chase’s party.”

At one point, Davis left to take Max for a walk, leaving Y/N and I alone. We sat silently and enjoyed the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seemed only the old could sit next to one another, not say anything, and still feel content. The young, brash, and impatient, must always break the silence. It’s a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.

“Oh, I never noticed the great view Davis has,” Y/N mused while pushing away her empty plate.

Realizing it was almost time for the sun to set, I quickly cleaned up for her and motioned towards the back door.

“Let’s go sit outside for a bit, yeah?” I suggested.

READER

Noah and I sat comfortably on the patio bench, a blanket draped over both of our legs as we stared out at the vast greens of Davis’ backyard. The sky was painted in bright oranges with hints of pink and purple. Silently, I thought to myself that I should have brought my art supplies, noting this would be a beautiful experience to paint.

The silence between Noah and I was comforting, something you don’t find all that often. People always needed to talk rather than just listen to the world around them. The way the birds chirped, the faint noises of evening traffic, or the sound of the wind as it blew a chilly breeze.

“Angel?”

I hummed while looking over towards Noah.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there-I don’t know-anything you really want besides music right now?”

“I want a studio, with giant canvas’, paint; just an art studio galore! I’ve gotten into the hobby and love it,” I answered with a bright smile. “I was even thinking of using some of my art for the album artwork. Just playing with ideas.”

Noah’s smile matched mine as he let his hair loose from the hair tie, letting it fall to his shoulders in waves. “I love that you found something else you’re so passionate about, angel.”

“I love painting. I really do,” I leaned farther back against the couch and rested my head against it.

“So paint. You should do whatever your heart desires, Y/N.”

“Thank you, mochi” I nudged him.

Noah rested his head against the couch, inches away from mine as another thought came to mind.

“You know,” I started with a long sigh. “When I was a kid, I would have given anything to be exactly like everybody else”

“You wanted to be petty and dishonest?“ He joked.

“Not everyone is like that,” I defended with a shake of my head.

“Yes they are,” Noah retorted back. “But not you. You’re not like that.”

This had me sitting up straighter, Noah following me. “How do you know what I’m like?”

“I see you,” He shifted closer to me, hand brushing across my knee over the blanket. “I’ve seen you for a long time. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met”.

My heart beat widely in my chest, the noise deafening in my ears and I cleared my throat.

“I think you are too. If I’m being honest, I think I’ve always sorta known that,” I admitted.

“You know,” Noah’s hand rested on my knee. “With me bouncing between homes and couches growing up, I always thought I’d be alone. I’d never expected to have such an amazing group of friends.”

“Sometimes maybe it’s better to be alone,” I shrugged while looking past his shoulder to an older couple watching in the neighborhood.

“Why do you say that?”

I still kept my gaze off Noah, voice dropping low. “Nobody can hurt you.”

“Y/N,” Noah sighed and lifted my chin so I could meet his intense gaze. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

Those eyes. I’ve dreamed of those eyes almost every night since our first meeting so long ago. I won’t say I’m in love, not out loud, but I am. I came to terms with that a while ago.

“I know, mochi,” I finally whispered.

Noah’s thumb traced over my jawline. “I understand why it’s hard for you, Y/N. But know that when I’m with you, I don’t feel alone.”

That magnetic pull that always seemed to connect us with that invisible string made me lean closer to him needing his warmth to envelop me.

“I’ve never had this instant connection with anyone. I know you understand it too,” he continued.

With my continued silence, Noah sat up straighter but kept his grip on my chin. “Are you freaked out? Because not hearing you say anything kind of-.”

“Noah- no,” I rested my hands on his chest. “I feel it too.”

His hand grasped the back of my neck now, tilting my head up towards him, as we began to lead in closer, and when his warm breath fanned over my lips, I let my eyes flutter shut.

“Hey guys-oh shit.”

Quickly pushing away from Noah, I peered over my shoulder to see Malcolm leaning against the back door.

“We’re all inside ready to talk about the party. Whenever you two decide to grace us,” Malcolm winked before slipping back inside.

Clearing my throat, I let the realization sink in what Noah and I were about to do. He’s with Bailey and I was ready to kiss him. I’m not this kind of person but yet here I was again being caught between him and my conscious. Bailey, as intrusive as she was, didn’t deserve this.

Noah tried to bring me back to him but I quickly stood up, giving us more space.

“We can’t do this. Not again,” my hair shook widely around my shoulders. “It’s not fair to Bailey.”

“I ended it.”

I blinked. “Wha-Oh? You did?”

As ecstatic as I was hearing this, I did my best to hide it. I didn’t want Noah to know inside I was jumping for fucking joy; like a kid on Christmas that received the toy they’d been wanting.

Noah stood from the couch now, standing in front of me. “I think Bailey saw me as Noah on the big screen, not me the person and after everything at that dinner I just knew it was time.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stammered, not knowing what else to say.

His brows furrowed. “Why? It wasn’t serious. There wasn’t that connection; like the one we have.”

As my lips parted, it was Jesse now who interrupted us, taking a bite of the apple in his hand. “Are you guys coming or what?”

Noah cursed while running a hand through his hair and I shakily pointed over his shoulder.

“We should head inside. Talk about this party.”

Not wanting to spend another second out here, afraid to finally give in to the thoughts that were screaming at me, I gently brushed past him to return inside.

GREEK TRANSLATIONS:

Koukla-doll

Kouklamou- my doll

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”- Why does he have long hair?

"Eísai apísteftos"-you're unbelievable

ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS:

Sei un tesoro-you're a sweetheart.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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aquariet · 2 months

Text

Nobody asked for it but I did it anyway

Have a nice post of me talking about every lyric in the song unsweetened lemonade and why it fits Icarus Morningstar. This was 100% inspirated by sage’s 18000+ word post analyzing the sherb playlist.

Since this is about a single song it lucky is only 952 words long.

What a lovely way to simply appear on tumblr again.

Now I’m gonna stop yapping.

I hope this is enjoyable.

“My eyes are made of acid”

The fact that one of Icarus’s eyes isn’t Normal. It’s constantly bleeding and thinking too much about specific things caused it to hurt.

“And my tongue is sharp with spite”

Icarus and manipulation. Their tongue being sharp with spite is cause they will say anything to get more people on their side. Both during the corruption arc and mid to end season 3.

“Attention whore with too much pride”

They want to believe what’s being told to them. By fable or in season 1 enderian. They wouldn’t listen to anyone that tried to tell them otherwise. Rea,Athena,Centross. Even the things.

“There's no one I wouldn't fight”

End season 3 and corruption arc. Icarus would fight anyone for the approval and attention of the gods.

“I don't like confrontation but”

He doesn’t want to have to kill people. But he does.

“I'm staring at the sun”

Them screaming at the sky in season one and Them screaming at the sky at quixis. Screaming at something that won’t talk back. That seems to only keep hurting them. (This is the last season 1 to season 3 comparison I swear)

“I won't quit until my eyes go red”

They need to stop quixis. No matter what.

“I'll finish what's begun”

Killing Hailey. They needed to do it publicly. So that everyone could see.

“I fucked the reaper cause I knew”

Prison duo after the cave. Icarus doing whatever they can to get centross back. Even if it’s a path straight down to hell.

“My time was coming can't you see”

The glitching in Icarus’s chest after the cave. It was gonna kill them and that was certain by the end of the finale.

“I'd do anything for twenty bucks”

Icarus would do anything for some sense of love. Specifically parental love. Obviously from fable. But also from enderian in the end reset. That’s their aunt. They don’t remember it. But it’s the only ‘real’ family Icarus knows.

“I'd sell my sour soul”

They would. Yea I have no real addiction to this lyric. Icarus literally almost died in the cave when fable tried to rip the glitching from their body. And yet they were grateful for it. They’d sell their live for their dad.

“Cause lemonade is bitter”

Young Icarus being like their dad. Hell. Icarus without the eye being very able to kill.

“Till you sweeten up the bowl”

The eye. The only reason Icarus didn’t kill more people. They wasn’t able to cause they weren’t 100% themselves. The piece of hardcore sherb keeping Icarus at bay.

“And I'm sitting in the bathroom”

Icarus being isolated. Far away from everyone.

“I'm crying citrus tears”

The wack. The reason they are isolated. They don’t want it to hurt others.

“Everything I used to love decayed over the years”

isla, momboo, centross. Icarus loved them. And had to loose them.

“It's hard to finish sentences I'll sell my pride instead”

They never had good reasons for the things they’re doing. And the things point that out. Quixis points it out. And what does Icarus do. They ignore it. They “sell their pride instead” cause if they admit they’re wrong they have to admit that all the bad they’ve done wasn’t for something good.

“Cause it's easier to focus I'm just the price above my head”

It’s easier to list to fable. To believe that they are nothing more than whatever he tells them to be.

“People think I'm pretty So I'll buy a hotel room.One bed trope without the tension”

fable gives them praise so they run away with him. Even though fable is almost never actually at the house. There is no tension cause they don’t spend enough time in the same space to have any.

“The child and her groom”

Icarus and Isla. The ‘good child’ and the ‘perfect wife’

“I didn't die at 12”

Icarus was supposed to die as a kid. Be dragged to the world port and done. However that didn’t happen. They kept living.

“I guess I'm here till 93”

By the time Icarus actually ‘dies’ they’re easily an adult. But before then Icarus is stuck in the same loop. Fall, forget, rescue fable, repeat.

“Enemies to lovers”

Icarus talking about fable. In the beginning he was the enemy. He was the bad guy. Then by season 2 he wasn’t anymore he was their dad.

“but you'll never own my heart”

Fable might be Icarus’s dad. But he never really makes any attempt to be a dad unless it benefits him and his needs. He’ll never own Icarus’s heart. Cause he’ll never try to.

“One sided it's pathetic”

Icarus does love fable though. He’s their dad. He gives them praise he believes in them. Or at least that’s what Icarus believes.

“How you think you're being smart”

Icarus thinking he can go to malici and just talk them into joining their side. His dads side. Without his dads help so that they can proof he’s worth it.

“Worthless parents make stupid kids”

Fable being an asshole dad directly affecting Icarus.

“The apple never strays”

Icarus ends up as a carbon copy of fable.

“Your conscience never compromised”

All the deaths being seen as okay cause they’re all gonna come back. They are gonna get them all back.

“And ego never pays”

Fable ended up too confident in themselves. Blabbing on and revealing everything in front of Icarus lead him to his death.

“I'd do anything for twenty bucks To feel more in control”

Icarus would do anything to stop the whack. Anything to make quixis do as they want. Anything to make sure things go as Icarus wants it to go.

If you can think of anything I missed (it’s probably a lot) don’t hesitate to let me know. I love to learn more little things about our favorite bird

#fable smp #icarus morningstar #song analysis #fable #rant

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sitp-recs · 2 years

Text

Another year is almost over, and what a year this was for the Drarry community! This list is a “thank you” to everyone’s continuous patience and support during my recent break. I considered not doing anything but in the end I got some free time and didn’t have the heart to break tradition. So here it is, my last reclist of the year showing I’ve actually read A LOT in the first semester alone lol. I did my best to include different tropes and lengths, popular works and hidden gems. As a side note there are no Erised works in here, as the fest is still going on and authors are yet to be revealed. Classic disclaimer goes “pls mind the tags, this is not intended as the ultimate reclist etc etc.” It’s a personal selection based on my tastes and preferences; the idea is to celebrate these fantastic works and their beloved creators. This fandom keeps on giving and I’m so happy to be part of it. Enjoy, give these some love and see you next year!🥂

Drarry:

Without Sunshine by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 1k)

Trust SS to come back from a writing break with this banger, holy shit. Brilliant concept, perfect execution. I can’t believe this is only 1k, there’s so much build up and details I wanna learn more about. This tender and urgent apocalyptic AU will steal your heart with perfect vibes and the softest flower shop romance.

Receipts by @moonflower-rose (M, 2k)

Rosie never fails to blow my mind with her creative mind and brilliant sense of humor. This is the perfect bite-size snack, hilarious and so very sweet. I am obsessed with Draco & Pansy’s brOTP, their banter made me laugh out loud and we are treated with Drarry and Ginsy! Here’s your next read if you’re looking for something short, sexy and witty. You’re welcome 💅

Bright Side by @floydig (T, 2k)

Floyd is another master of short form and here’s why. This series of vignettes made my heart ache for these two broken boys finding their place - and each other - in he war aftermath. I’m impressed by how sharp, nuanced and sensorial this is. The heat! The humidity! Love the strong sense of place, it’s so intimate it feels like you’re intruding into something private and special.

Willing Blood by @lqtraintracks and @the-starryknight (E, 2k)

This iconic duo tailored a short yet intense creature fic dripping UST and gorgeous characterization as per. The way Harry and Draco are drawn by - and crave - each other left me salivating, I’m feral for their dynamics. Ultimate power couple vibes (reluctant Draco + fearless Harry make such a great match!) and great evocative 1st person POV.

The Mating Habits of Snidgets by @shealynn88 (G, 3.5k)

I can’t believe this doesn’t have more comments, such a lovely hidden gem. I found it when I needed a soft read before taking a break, and have been thinking about “am I your little bird, then?” since. Quidditch rivals to lovers is becoming my kryptonite and this story does a great job exploring what brings them together despite their social gap. The character development is so good this feels like a 30k story packed within 3.5k.

Magpie by @corvuscrowned (E, 4k)

If you ever have to choose a dark!Harry fic to read, I urge you to go with this one. His klepto characterization is so damn lush and compelling I was half terrified half turned on the whole time 😔✌🏼Thanks to Crow’s masterful and addictive writing, there’s no possible way to resist his charm when it comes with razor sharp dialogue and sexy power dynamics. Come collect my jaw on the floor pls

No Distance by @skeptiquewrites (E, 4.8k)

Is it fair to include a sequel in order to make everyone go read this fabulous verse? Who cares, not me 🤷🏻‍♀️ Tee’s way of writing Drarry always leaves me aching for this kind of love. Their longing for each other is strong but unhurried, the dialogue is fantastic (the nose piercing exchange!) and the smutty scenes hit all my boxes. The characters feel so lovely, tangible and relatable as real people. I will never get enough of this verse, no matter when or where they are, as long as they’re together.

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned (M, 6.6k)

My favorite read of the year - as you probably already know since I haven’t stopped screaming about it. My heart belongs to this breathtaking Draco, so full of yearning and melancholy, as he falls in love with time traveller Harry and wonders if they’ll ever get to be on the same page. The astronomy motif only makes it all even more poetic and devastating (but in a cathartic, hopeful way!). This hurts as much as falling in love and I wanna wrap myself in this fic and never let go.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Possibly the funniest thing I’ve read all year, which is not surprising considering flux’s inimitable brand when it comes to humor. This epistolary slow burn is light and creative and such a delight. I got immediately attached to the characters and giggled my way through Drarry’s banter; special kudos to Harry’s amazing crew and their perfect spot-on voices. An adorable comfort fic to be revisited at all times!

Witness Marks by @gryffindorhearts (M, 15k)

After so many excellent vampire fics this year, it’s getting hard to resist this trope. Here’s a quiet and atmospheric gem that made me fall hard for clockmaker!Draco. Such an original concept! I adore the lore behind his job, his strained relationship with Lucius, the way he’s pulled towards mysterious Auror Harry. Also- the flirting and sexual tension at the Tate Magique?!! Chefs kiss

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

It’s getting impossible to choose a Tee favorite, my god. Go check her brilliant microfics then come feast on this stunning take on fake dating, choke-full of light humor, found family feels and wonderful world building. Smooth pacing, phenomenal cast, have I mentioned Draco’s into magical ecology?! My favorite kind of slow burn, sweet, tentative, heartwarming and so damn romantic.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

The perfect kid fic exists and I can prove it! Nothing leaves me aching and raw open like Tacky’s Harry with his soft, gentle yearning for hot dad Draco. I’m so in love with his love, I could actually feel my chest expand with this series of incredibly tender and precious moments of friendship, complicity and domesticity many couples will never experience. Extra bonus points for the SEXIEST non-explicit smut and the brilliant commentary on the autistic spectrum, especially related to kids. My whole kingdom for little Scorpius 👑

With Hands Full of Dusk by @corvuscrowned (E, 15k)

Yes I’m proposing to Crow after posting this because I suddenly feel exposed with 3 recs 😳 hands down the best case fic I’ve read this year, I’m obsessed with Drarry as creature hunters and the suspense-y vibes here. The slow burn is mature and thought-provoking, heavy with a deep sense of loneliness and so evocative it hit me just right. This story is sharp but also strangely comforting, a perfect read for a rainy or foggy day. I wish I could bask in its atmosphere for the first time, over and over again.

Preserving Lemons by @saintgarbanzo, art by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 17k)

I’m so happy I found the time to check this one fic from Fan Fair because this was a truly special read, surprising in the best ways and very cathartic. The gorgeous prose finds a perfect tone between sexy and contemplative bringing food, gender, racial and political discussions together in a coherent and powerful way I wouldn’t think possible for a 17k fic. Loved seeing Harry and Draco so open and vulnerable, experiencing who they really are together. Lush, powerful and healing.

Heartlines by @sorrybutblog (T, 22k)

One of my first reads this year remains a iota fave, this was so much fun and so charming. A delightful case fic combining sentient house, Auror Harry, smitten Draco, everything we deserve. The best thing is the surprisingly clever and charming humour, it made me giggle at the most unexpected times, giving the suspense a light tone I can’t get enough of. Despite the underlying tension, this will make you smile from beginning to end.

What Makes a House a Home by @writcraft (E, 27k)

The only Drarry fic Writ writes this year ends up being a banger, figures 🙌 honestly this is a masterclass in tension building with a gorgeous take on recluse!Harry and delicious slow burn. It was so cool to learn more about this Harry through Draco’s curious eyes, as the forced proximity pushes them together. Sexy adult dynamics and compelling characters, right up my alley!

At the Doorway, On the Stair by dwell_the_brave and @p1013 (T, 30k)

I love myself a good mystery fic and this was such a nice surprise, so very spooky and immersive. The author did a fantastic job creating an intriguing atmosphere while advancing the plot, I was at the edge of my seat trying to figure things out while falling in love with “ghost” Draco as he tried to help Harry along the way. Excellent slow burn and a gorgeous setting that will lure you in!

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (M, 35k)

This list wouldn’t be complete without a classic 8th year and here’s my 2022 pick by this author whose talent and range blows my mind. This fic pulled me back from my fandom break quite violently; I ate it up in one night and was immediately taken by their Quidditch rivalry and achingly sweet romance. The Drarry journey is so very wholesome it filled me with wonder and nostalgia for my teenage years. Being the multishipper I am, the brief nod to Harry/Ron at the end was just my kind of extra treat!

Rush (For A Gap That Exists) by @sleepstxtic-drarry (M, 42k)

I never thought I’d get obsessed with a F1 AU but here we are. Another incredible ride that pulled me in with impressive, detailed world building and sexual tension so insanely electric it was hard to resist. Brilliant movie adaptation keeping the Drarry dynamics recognizable with sexy and complicated UST. I’ve also loved the interesting storytelling format and exciting twists which kept me at the edge of my seat.

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

This fic requires no introduction, I imagine everyone has read it by now. Once again Astolat slaps us in the face with her superior storytelling skills, effortlessly building this rich and compelling magical healing universe told from this brilliant Draco POV. His arc is a triumph, his voice perfectly spot-on, sharp but charming, proud and bratty and competent in ways that made me very emo. This has become an instant Healer!Draco classic and has one of my all-time favorite characterizations. A masterpiece to be thought of - and talked about - for years to come.

Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis by @vukovich (E, 50k)

I wasn’t prepared for how immersive and exciting this would be, what a ride! The secret identity motif and case fic atmosphere got me immediately hooked, I couldn’t get enough of those perfect cat-mouse dynamics, the thrilling twists, the delicious pining and the intense, hot smut I deserve 🤌🏼 Vuk’s narrative voice is a delight, lush, full of personality and with an easy humor that makes this story even more surprising and remarkable.

what husbands are for by @softlystarstruck (E, 52k)

Yet another charming creature fic I’ve read in one sitting, this has the most wonderful sloooow burn - with lots of tension and non-sexual intimacy - and some great world building full of interesting lore and political shenanigans about vampire & wolf verse that I found quite interesting. I’m fascinated by fashionista and prosthetic artist Draco, such a cool job idea! A refreshing take on “enemies to friends to lovers” with Bee’s soft & sweet trademark.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

I’ve been in love with Starry’s work for so long, and they still render me speechless when a new fics comes out. MMM is the most creative and cathartic fic I’ve read this year. This jaded craftsman Harry holds my heart in his hands, and the impressive amount of world building and lore behind the Dreamwalker figure sets an enchanting atmosphere. The settings are vivid and immersive, the slow burn so very tender and romantic it left me aching. And Teddy is absolutely perfect which is a big bonus on my book since I love him so much. This is a heartfelt love letter to every creator out there struggling with burnout. Here you’ll find hope, healing, and resistance to start 2023 the right way.

The Trouble with Wanting by waldorph (E, 60k)

Draco fans, rejoice! Those who adore a convincing posh and quirky characterization need to check this brilliant rendition asap. Positively Slytherin with its mischievous charm, this is fun and sexy af. Love myself a good old Draco-centric story following his post-war journey until he finds Harry his place in the new order. The Silver Trio is an absolute delight and this smitten Harry instantly found his way into my (and Draco’s) heart. One of the best get together fics I’ve read in the past few years.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl (E, 69k)

Technically I’m cheating since this is from 2017, but I want to take a minute to appreciate Magpie’s generosity and hard work finishing this even after going on a Drarry break. One of my all-time faves when it comes to canon divergent war fics, the flawless narrative combines an urgent and dangerous “on the run” atmosphere with the softest teenage love, gentle, charming and tentative. It was bittersweet to see their journey coming to an end but this adventure was so well done and the ending was so emotionally satisfying, I can’t rec it enough.

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 76k)

An epic Drarry romance mixing two tropes we all love: down & out Draco and magical creatures! This fic is very creative with a rich and detailed world building, and also many interesting and charming creatures. SS brings her tender melancholy trademark and an intriguing subplot involving Draco’s parents that I found very engaging. I loved this lonely Draco arc, his quirky personality and all the little things that make him strong and proud instead of meek and pitiful. Joy’s artwork is a masterpiece on its own and helps bringing this beautiful, magical universe into life.

A Case of You by @epitomereally (E, 97k)

This lovely reunion fic combines so many of my favorite tropes it felt like a special treat for me. Case fic, break up/make up, Unspeakable Draco, non-linear narrative, forced proximity, sparking sexual tension, what a feast! I found myself invested in both timelines, waiting for those beautiful, competent and stupid men to get their shit together and become the power couple we deserve. The pacing and character development are so smooth this barely feels like 100k, and have I mentioned how hot bossy Harry is? Oof!

In the Bleak Midwinter by @the-fools-errand (E, 105k)

Once again this author takes my breath away with another excellent, refreshing and exciting AU - this time based on Peaky Blinders - and I’m so impressed by the inventive world building here. Not only it expands to accommodate a huge cast, but also translates every little detail into the HP universe. Gripping narrative, clever plot, delicious enemies-to-lovers sexual tension and a heartbreaking Sirius arc that will hit you right in the solar plexus. You can’t go wrong with this author’s AUs, 10/10 recommend.

When Times are Dire by @aibidil (E, 130k)

I’ve been following this fake marriage epic since it first started posting and was super excited to see it being finished this year. Trust aibidil to do older!Drarry justice: their witty personalities, fond camaraderie and clever dialogue serve impeccable friends-to-lovers dynamics. I’m so into this brand of old couple domesticity and their exchanges with the grown-up kids are sweet and fun. Perfect balance of light humor, found family vibes, sweet romance and sexy times, this story has everything!

Rarepairs:

Mischief Managed by @maesterchill (E, 1.7k) - Harry/Sirius

Few things left me as emotional as this perfect gift that marked Em’s first (and maesterful! ha!) exploration of this ship. The way she grasped everything that hits me right in the feels is almost terrifying: it’s as if she looked into the most vulnerable parts of my brain and went “hmm tender devotion, idyllic aesthetics, foreplay, cute endearments, filthy wall sex, happy ending”👩‍🍳 and put together this light, sexy, fun and wonderfully hopeful smutty short that made me cry at the spot. Don’t forget to check the equally lush and self-indulgent sequel here!

Weather Warning by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 1.7k) - Draco/Albus

One of the best, most refreshing takes I’ve ever seen on this ship, this is so very different from your usual age gap tone and vibe, and I’m here for it. I was immediately charmed by their voices and light yet charged dynamics, T-rated but still holding so much heat and promise. This short leaves a strong impression and will make you crave for more ;) it’s also the perfect way to be introduced to this ship, come along and satisfy your curiosity!

Coming Up for Air by @lqtraintracks (M, 2k) - Harry/Teddy

*sigh* the amount of times I’ve read and cried over this stunning Harry/Teddy romance... this fic means so much to me because it was written by the one who set the foundation for how I see this ship, my favorite rarepair ship, so many years ago. With an incredible amount of character and feeling packed within 2k, this has the flavor of mutual devotion I yearn for, and a tormented Harry being loved and seen by this wise, generous and understanding Teddy, as they find their way back to each other. It doesn’t get any better than this!

Like A Brother Would by @wolfpants (E, 5k) - Harry/Ron

Tent sex my beloved! Another rarepair master, Wolf delivers everything I love the most about this ship - the easy familiarity, the tenderness and quiet devotion, the shared understanding and delicious sexual exploration amidst war chaos. It’s painfully clear how much they care about each other. Hung service top Ron is a sight to behold and I wonder how such a short fic was able to convey the depth of their trust and connection. Oh, to be young and feel love's keen sting… *Dumbledore’s voice*

Green Light by @sorrybutblog (E, 6k) - Ginny/Hermione

I got obsessed with Ginny/Hermione very recently and this was my first venture into this ship - not gonna lie, it was so much more than I had expected. Don’t let the (deliciously hot and self-indulgent - as it should be!!!) smutty tags distract you, this has fascinating dream-like summer vibes and perfect characterization, with spot on voices and a light tone of mirth and freedom that made my heart smile. Living for the edging and the “no one’s cheating everyone’s getting laid” tags 💦

The Hollow by @wolfpants (E, 12k) - Draco/Remus

This ship had never even crossed my mind before and here I am, utterly obsessed with this verse Wolf created so masterfully. Poignant and devastating, this fic has such a compelling narrative. My jaw was on the floor as the story went on and both characters revealed their layers through sexy smut and heartbreaking melancholy. There’s so much nuance to them, so much yearning and pain bringing them together and informing their decisions. Trust me when I say Drarry and Wolfstar fans will also adore this!

Still the pine-woods scent the moon by @fluxweeed (E, 15k) - Harry/Remus

I rarely read fics featuring Remus but both Flux and Wolf decided to slap me in the face with hot daddy vibes, and who am I to say no? Hands down one of the hottest, most erotic things I’ve read this year, a masterclass in UST that had my heart racing in anticipation. Scorching smut and a mesmerizing Harry desperate to be seen and treated right. I love how easily they fit together, I was immediately sold on this rare pair. Don’t read this at family dinner kids, you’ve been warned!

A Life Worth Remembering by @writcraft (E, 23k) - Established Drarry + Severus

Never thought I’d read this triad with de-aged Snape but watching his delightfully stubborn young version trying to resist those hot daddies was way too satisfying. This fic surprised me in so many ways, especially in tone and characterization. I love how their dynamics are slowly established here; Severus’ POV actually delivers not 1 but 3 superb character studies and we get to see how loving Harry changes these two difficult men and brings them all together. A nuanced and adult portrayal of open relationships, this is a must read for anyone who’s into voyeurism intrigued by this triad.

just call this what it is by @queenscrown (M, 27k) - Harry/Draco/Theo

The softest poly fic you’ll read today, this 8th year triad was based on this art by @t4tdrarry and celebrates wholesome friendships and gentle healing. Harry, Draco and Theo come together first as friends then as lovers in such an organic, uncomplicated way I wanted to live inside this verse. Love their easy banter, Harry’s sass (!), his camaraderie with Hermione and the way she helps him figure things out. A sweet and comforting hidden gem that deserves more readers and love.

you will burn right now but then you won't regret it by @thistlecatfics, art by SecondSilk and @veelawings - Fleur/Tonks

I’d never expect to find such a complete fic for this rare pair (which I admit I haven’t explored much), this was an absolute feast bringing together fascinating characters (love this badass Fleur!), politics and A+ family drama. I loved this deep dive into the Black family - so much angst, so much plot! Complicated and heartbreaking, this is a a wonderful exploration of trauma and a treat for any femslash fan looking for a nuanced and carefully developed romance that makes both characters justice.

Passion, Patents, and Pen Pals at the Ministry by yrfrndfrnkly and @violetclarity, art by @anaxandria-writes and @veelawings (T, 32k) - Hermione/Pansy

Easily my favorite Pansmione fic this year, this was such a surprising and refreshing story. The charming protagonists and clever development mixing dialogue and epistolary create a lively and exciting work universe at the Ministry. I felt immediately immersed in their routine None of that would work without the perfect supporting cast (meddling Harry is such a gem!) and the unique spice only an identity porn + epistolary combo can bring. Fun and refreshing, a must read for all femslash fans who are thirsty for good long fics.

#2022 faves #drarry recs #hp rare pair

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 3 months

Text

From The Jump

Wordcount: 2990

Dean Winchester x POC!Reader “Wildflower”

Summary:

He is the kindest thing that has ever happened to me. Even if that isn’t how our story is always told.

Warnings:

18+ MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Humor, Flowery Words (I'm a published poet, sue me)

Notes:

Hello Heathens, Damn I haven’t written for just Dean in a minute. This felt good to get out. Inspired by “From The Jump (Duet Version)” by James Arthur & Kelly Clarkson. I even used some of the lyrics which will be in bold. Be sure to check the song out, it’s amazing. Also I know I write a lot of my reader inserts with the reader having the ability to sing, but music is a huge part of my life. Other than writing and film, singing was always my escape from the chaos. So if the trope seems tired from me by now, get used to it. I write what I know. And what I know is that music is therapeutic. Happy Reading!

Banner @cafekitsune

Divider @firefly-graphics

A random hole in the wall bar out in the middle of nowhere an open mic is happening. Dean has been secretly performing at them from time to time while out on solo missions or when Sam is preoccupied since his early 20s. He actually has a lovely voice and a way with words.

My past with the infamous hunter is complicated. I know all about his little secret. We met after his time at the boys home where Robin taught him to play the guitar, among other things. We were young and dumb. The children of hunters. The weight of the world on our shoulders just looking for an escape.

Be that in guitar strings, joy rides, stargazing, or stolen kisses under the shade of a willow tree that lead to so much more. We might not have shared every first that summer, but we sure did knock off quite a few big ones.

From there on, as it goes for most hunting families, we ran into each other from time to time. Sometimes going after the same case. Sometimes overlapping cases. No matter the reason, we always fell back into place like time never passed. Like it was that first summer all over again.

Only now our stolen kisses lead us to fall into bed, or the backseat of the Impala. Over the last couple of years, as the boys have become more stable having found the bunker, our kisses have become far less stolen and more so intentional.

You would believe that it was a natural progression for us. That time just did it’s thing and we fell in love slowly. But the truth is, from day one I knew he was mine and I was his. No matter what life threw at us or where we were in the world, our souls were tethered to each other. Rubberbanding us back to one another when we were apart for too long.

That’s what I choose to believe is happening tonight. The only plausible reason why I stepped into this bar, during this open mic to find Dean on stage, guitar in hand finishing his first song of the night.

The room is hazy from the cigarette smoke permanently wafting through the air. It gives me just the right amount of cover to slink my way to the side of the stage. Who I presume to be one of the staff is standing nearby, clipboard in hand, making sure everyone performing tonight gets there due time.

Dean begins to play a chord progression very familiar to me. A song I know all too well. His smooth voice carries out amongst the crowd. Making the women swoon and the men take note.

Right from the jump I was addicted, I was hooked on you Like July is to the sun You're the one that I prayed for all my life And then you arrived, it's amazing How the time flies by Do you remember, my baby?

He has no idea that I’m here.

I can’t tell you why I decided to tap the woman with the clipboard on the shoulder. I just felt like I needed to be up on that stage pouring my heart out with him. I explained that I was his bandmate and apologized for my tardiness but I needed a mic so that I could hurry up and get on stage before my part of the duet started. That I didn’t need to be announced. She frantically looked for the nearest wireless mic and turned it on. Shoving it into my chest and shooing me away with a hand motion.

I kept myself tucked into the shadows as he lost himself through the chorus.

Take me back to the summer breeze We were sleeping out by the willow trees It was the first time you laid your head on my chest It was a night I will never forget That's when I told you on a Friday night You're always gonna have this heart of mine Wherever we go, whatever we do I just wanna spend forever with you

As he strums along, preparing to sing the next verse, I step forward and steal the words before he can fully register what is happening.

I know this sounds cliché But I was in love with you from the first sight Like a moth drawn to a flame, mm

A smile spreads across his handsome face as I make my way across the tiny stage to stand beside him.

And I know even in another life I would find you and hold you Remember I told you I'll never let go, baby?

The smoke filled room fades out as we sing to each other. As if we were still tucked in the privacy of his room back at the bunker. Playing around, creating songs about our sordid lives.

I allow myself a moment to get lost in the depths of his mossy green eyes as we belt out my favorite part.

So get on your favorite dress (my favorite dress) Let's drive back to the place we met I knew I'd die for you right from the jump

I’m reminded of the bar patrons we’re performing in front of as the crescendo hits. A whistle splits through the air, forcing my eyes toward the crowd. Where I spot couples, new and old, swaying along to the beat. Chest to chest and cheek to cheek without a care in the world.

I allow myself to just listen to Dean begin the final chorus alone. Letting his words seep deep into my bones, as they have in the past. A stupid grin upon my face as I join in. Singing about it being a moment I would never forget.

Honestly this moment right here truly has become one.

Dean softly sings out the remaining lines as he strums out his final chords. The next thing I know, his hands are on my face and he is pulling me in for a kiss.

This isn’t your average run of the mill, sweet hello kiss. No, this is a soul deep claim made public. One I return back in kind.

I’ve always equated our love to that of Hades and Persephone. He stole my heart, along with my soul that first night under the summer sky. Holding me hostage over the remaining days until we had to go our separate ways.

I never could forget our time together. Even when I tried. And there were many a time that I truly tried. I just always found my way back to him.

The only person who seemed to ever soothe my aching soul.

The applause and catcalls pierced our lovesick bubble. Reminding us of where we were.

With a nod to the crowd, Dean gathered up his guitar and we headed off the stage to the safety of the shadows.

Once his guitar was securely placed within the confines of his travel case, all of his attention was turned back onto me.

“Well, hey there Wildflower. Not that I’m complaining but what brought you to this particular bar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere tonight of all nights?”

“I was actually on my way to the bunker to try and catch you between cases. I had been on the road for most of the day. Thought I deserved a nightcap before resting up for the night and this was the first place I came across.”

“Well ain't that a coincidence.”

“You know I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“I know you don’t. But you have to admit it seems pretty convenient. We were about to head back from a case in town and Sam wanted the room to himself for a couple hours to talk to Eileen. I saw there was an open mic tonight while we're gathering intel earlier this week. Figured it was as good a time as any to sign up. It’d been a while since I’d done one. And you not only show up, but surprise me on stage as well. That’s just too good to be true.”

“Well it is true so no need for the divine intervention talk. I think we get enough of that on a daily basis.”

“I have to agree with you there. So should we take this reunion to some place a little more private?”

“Baby?”

“Motel is within walking distance, so I left her behind with Sam. You bring Trixie?”

I give him a glare. “Do you know me to go anywhere without my precious?”

“Of course not sweetheart. So where’s she parked?”

“In the back corner of the tiny ass pothole filled lot.”

“Perfect.” He kisses my lips. “Lead the way, baby girl.”

With a tap to my hip, he grabs his guitar and follows me out the door to the parking lot. My precious Plum Crazy 1970 Dodge Demon drawing us forward like moths to the flame.

Dean has me propped on the trunk of my car as soon as he has his guitar secured inside. His broader frame sandwiched between my thighs as we makeout like the lovestruck teenagers we once were. Forgetting there is such a thing as air we need to breathe.

With reluctance I pull out of the kiss. Dean’s lips chasing mine and providing me a nip to the chin for the inconvenience. I have far naughtier things in mind for our impromptu reunion than just making out in a dark parking lot on my car.

“You gonna let me ride you properly this time pretty boy?”

This gets his attention. A smirkish grin adorning his handsome face.

“No promises. These wicked hips tend to do naughty naughty things that make my brain short circuit. I can't control what my instinctual hindbrain does.”

He squeezes said body part to emphasize his point.

“Best crawl into the back seat then. Unless you want to give the bar a show.”

He lifts me off the trunk with a growl and smacks my ass. Walking himself over to the passenger side, my keys still in hand, to unlock the door. Pushing the seat forward to gain access to the back seat.

“After you, Wildflower.”

I bend over to make my way into the back when feel Dean’s hands clamp around my hips.

“Actually Imma need ya to unbutton your fly and slide your jeans down to your calves for me sweetheart. Need to sear you bending over for me so sweetly into my brain.”

I’ve always had a weakness for when Dean got controlling like this. It does something to his voice. Turning it all gravelly and rough, like he can't contain how much he needs me.

So I do as I’m told and unbutton my fly. Lowering my ripped jeans to my knees. Exposing my soaked tiny lilac lace panties to the chill night air.

“Fuuuck. Look at that wet patch. This all for me baby girl?”

He runs his thumb down the damp gusset. Resting it on my clit with just the right amount of pressure to make me squirm.

“Mmhmm.”

“Get in the back seat Wildflower. And keep that delectable ass up in the air for me.”

I climb into the back with the best of my ability as my jeans are currently wrapped around my knees. Thankfully they slip down to my calves, to allow me more room to move.

The time between when I get myself settled into the back and Dean’s tongue assaults my weeping slit, feels like the blink of an eye.

He didn't even wait to remove my panties properly. He just ripped them apart and threw them aside.

Any thoughts of complaint have left my brain as his tongue does that thing I love that sends a shiver down my spine.

He is feasting upon my dripping flesh as if it is the sweetest nectar and he fears this may be his only chance to partake in its bounty. Regardless of the countless times he has bathed himself in my essence before.

An orgasm creeps underneath my skin in record time. Having me grip the leather of the bench below as I cry my ecstasy out into the night.

With a final lick and soft kiss to my clit Dean makes his way into the backseat with me. “I’ll never grow tired of how you taste on my tongue.”

He takes a moment to free my ankles from the confines of the jeans trapped around them. Satisfied that I have full movement again, he scoops me up into his lap as he takes a seat in the middle of the bench. Allowing for his bow legs to spread out.

“Still want to ride me properly baby girl? Got enough energy? You’re looking rather sated at the moment.”

I nod my head. “Of course I am. You know what that tongue does to me. But I am always ready and willing to ride you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He grips my ass and squeezes. “Better get to it then.”

He does me the kindness of freeing himself from the confines of his jeans. His thick cock standing at attention. Precum coating the tip making it shine in the dim light of the darkened parking lot.

With a grip to his base I lower myself down onto his generous girth. That first stretch after time apart is like a balm to my aching center. I brace my hands on his broad shoulders, tilt my head back and let my instincts take over.

Riding him as my body seems fit to do. Uncaring of how I may look. Just fulfilling the need my body so desperately craves. Hitting all the spots that make stars alight behind my eyes.

The core strength needed to ride in such a way can become tiring rather quickly. Before I know it Dean is fucking up into me from below. As if he could no longer hold himself still. I give in to the pull of giving up control in this moment.

He must sense my surrender as I find myself spun around and bent over the front seat, as Dean fucks me senseless from behind. Using my hips like handlebars and pulling me back into him with every thrust.

Losing himself in my silken walls. Uncaring of the fogged up glass and the rocking of the chassis. Nothing compares to when our bodies are intertwined together after being without the mother for so long. It's like a soul reunification every time.

He pushes my hair to the side, exposing my neck to the hot sticky air of the interior. Open mouth kisses are placed along my shoulders as his deft fingers play with my sensitive clit. Bringing me that much closer to my inevitable high.

My voice pitches into that sultry whine that feels like heaven to his ears. A melody created just for him. Crafted by his own hands and it is time for this tune to reach its crescendo.

Brought on by the pleasurable pain of his teeth sinking into the flesh at the back of my neck. A place he has claimed time and time again. Where it can be shown with pride but concealed when need be. It never fails to send me over the edge.

My orgasm has been on a hairpin trigger. The slightest pressure of his teeth against the delicate skin of my neck rockets me off into the stratosphere.

A cacophony of moans and groans fills the stifling air around us as my cunt convulses. Setting off the only man who has ever had my heart, into his own release. With every pulse of my walls and the creamy twitch of his cock, our bodies finally feel complete again.

“I'll never get tired of this.” I think aloud as I trace the buttons of his red flannel.

“Tire of what?”

“The calmness of your body after a great orgasm. The steady rhythm of your heart that tries to lull me to sleep.”

“Mmm.” He kisses the top of my head that is lying on his chest. “Nothing beats your afterglow when I've thoroughly wrecked you. You melt into me like warm apple pie.”

“Of course you'd compare me to pie.”

“Well I did just give you a creampie so…”

I pinch his side. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.” He taps my hip.

It sets us both off into a fit of laughter.

“You know I love you more than pie right?”

“I do. And I love you more than cheesy horror films.”

He takes a deep breath. “I've been meaning to ask. Well, suggest is more like it.”

“Spit it out Dean.”

“I think it's time for you to make the bunker your home too.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Like as a couple. Or just into the bunker?”

“As a couple. I want you in my space. Waking up in my bed almost every morning?”

“Why not every morning?”

“Because I know you'll want to keep hunting and I don't want to clip your wings so to speak. I just want to be able to come home to you and you to me. What do you think?”

I raise my head so that I may look him in the eye. Gauge the sincerity of his words. I only find love and vulnerability.

“Yes. I'll move into the bunker.”

A grin splits his face as he pulls me in for a kiss.

“Guess we better clean up and go tell Sam.”

“Why the rush all of a sudden Dean?”

“Because we have a couple weeks worth of time to make up for and lots of rooms to christen in the bunker.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“I have a feeling Sam will be taking a solo trip to see Eileen very soon just to avoid whatever it is your dirty little mind has conjured up.”

“It would be for the best.” He smirks.

#poc reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you

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burningvelvet · 1 year

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my thoughts on the tenant of wildfell hall so far (currently halfway through it)

1 Fergus is the prototypical teenage boy - they’ve never changed through time

2 I initially thought that Helen’s big secret was that she was a sex addict or serial adulterer tbh based on her speeches of indulgences, the focus on her being single, her constant guilt and religiosity, her flirtation with the narrator, the rumours surrounding her and Lawrence, etc.

3 (To compare to Pride and Prejudice which I just finished) Helen’s aunt = Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Boarham = Mr. Collins, Arthur = Mr. Wickham, Gilbert = Darcy, Annabella = Lydia

4 Gilbert striking Lawrence and then spending multiple pages contemplating it and trying to rationalize it afterwards LOL

5 The early meetings with Helen and Huntington and the drawings are so passionate — Arthur taking Helen’s hand, addressing her freely, generally swaggering around, “saving” her from the awful dudes, etc. — you can see why she likes him, you can see why he’s attractive, and all of this makes the story so much more appealing rather than if he had just been a total ass from the very beginning. It’s realistic. However, you can see the red flags early on, such as the non-consensual kiss, among other things. I already know what happens due to spoiling it for myself. Still, I absolutely see Huntington’s appeal as well as how Helen has been led toward him by her unhappy prospects (having to reject Mr. Boarham, her aunt’s harshness, her parents not being in the picture, etc.)

6 Arthur is SO Byronic. He’s so fucking entertaining and I know he’s supposed to be a jokester but he’s also hilarious when he’s not even trying. And I’m not laughing at Helen’s expense — of course domestic unhappiness and abuse is no joking matter IRL — but Arthur’s flippance, bitchiness, flamboyance, etc. is just so true to life and brings to mind the meme about men “having the audacity.”

7 I also think that not only is Arthur’s rumoured affair with the married woman probably true, but his sly hint about Annabella the “great flirt” also means they probably had an affair, and I’m sure he’ll have many other affairs exposed later on (I’m pretty sure I read that cheating becomes a major plot point later on). He was definitely cheating on her in London — her being pregnant, his poor excuses, his sad “you don’t love me anymore” mindset, etc.

8 I’m at the point where Arthur he’s just come home from London and he’s sick — I feel like this is not only a reference to his substance abuse but also probably a reference to STDs (if there’s anything I’ve learned from studying old lit, it’s that old lit is full of non-explicitly mentioned STD tropes).

9 I really cannot put enough emphasis on how much I love the use of paintings and drawings in this book! I feel like this would make a great play or film tbh — the physicality of her trying to snatch the drawing from Arthur, and the hidden pictures on the backs, such as the painting earlier on. I want to watch the adaptation series now.

10 Simultaneously wanting to cry and laugh at Helen confessing to her aunt that Huntington has no morals but she still thinks she can fix him. Every single time!!! “His wife shall undo what his mother did!” Ummmm!!!

11 It’s sad to see Milicent’s marital fate. She’s basically what Charlotte was to Elizabeth. The narrator’s adorable best friend who gets into a loveless marriage with the narrator unable to help, subsequently straining their relationship. I left off around Milicent’s engagement letter so I hope the wedding is called off but it probably won’t be. Milicent and Helen’s mutual naivety is really sad to read.

#currently reading #the tenant of wildfell hall #literature #english literature #analysis #book opinions #book thoughts #anne brontë

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dianneking · 1 year

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The Disease (Larissa/Laurel)

The product of my Sunday evening Angst writing addiction, presented to you with only minimal editing and proof-reading. Written (belatedly) for day 5 of May Trope Mayhem 2023 by @duckprintspress, with the prompt: Hanahaki. Crossposted on AO3 (link here and in the title below).

Tags: Angst, Hanahaki, Not Actually Unrequited love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Spoilers for Season 1 Finale of Wednesday (2022), Fear of Death, Disease Diagnosis, No Lesbians Die, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Marilyn is Laurel but Laurel is Good, Feelings!, Alcohol consumption.

Fandom: Wednesday (2022) Pairing: Larissa Weems /Laurel Gates | Marilyn Thornhill Wordcount: 1774

The Disease (Marilyn|Laurel x Larissa)

The first time it happens, Laurel thinks it’s a cruel prank from one of her students. Teenagers are cruel, she thinks, and outcasts teenagers can be even more creative in their cruelty (little freaks she used to call her in the privacy of her mind, but recently she hasn’t been able to do so without picturing how sad Larissa’s face would be if she’d be able to hear that). And she’s sure it’s a funny prank in their eyes: the botany professor coughing up lungfuls of petals? How poetic.

But no matter how much she tries, she cannot get her students to confess who had it been, and she’s too ashamed of being the victim of a prank and unable to discover the culprit to go complain to Principal Weems (she wouldn’t mind the excuse to spend more time in her study, but she feels pathetic to go and complain like a little girl). She tries to forget the shame and when Larissa’s warm eyes meet hers that evening over both of their glasses of wine, she can passably lie and state that her day had been ‘alright’.

Except it happens a second time, and this time it is only her and Larissa when it happens, interrupting what had been an intense moment, when, made bolder by the alcohol in her veins, their faces had been getting closer to each other, as if pulled by an invincible magnetic force. Laurel had seen her own desire mirrored in her principal’s eyes, and she had seen how the taller woman’s tongue had come out to wet her lips in anticipation…but when their mouths were but a breath apart, she felt the tell-tale pressure behind her breastbone and she has to turn away, her hands clutching spasmodically at her mouth, trying to hide the colorful petals from sight.

She is unsuccessful, and Larissa’s horrified face is all she needs to see before running away from it all: the almost-kiss (her father and her brother and her mother are all screaming at her from their tombs, asking her why hasn’t she started on her plan yet, why wasn’t she extracting revenge on those monsters who had ruined her family), her boss who she most definitely shouldn’t be falling for, and the embarrassment of those petals still coming out of her airways. Or trying to run away from it.

She does a decent job of hiding in her conservatory over the next few days, thankfully helped by the weekend, but the cough attacks come about in increasingly frequent bouts, and on Monday she has no choice but to visit the nurse office.

She sees the pity on the nurse’s face before hearing it in their voice. I’m sorry, they say, you seem to be suffering from Hanahaki disease. The name doesn’t tell her much, but the tone is not that of good news. Laurel wonders if she’ll die of it before avenging her family, and the thought gives her more comfort than it should have (it’s not just Larissa - a part of her is starting to come to love her girls in Ophelia Hall, and the way her students’ eyes sparkle when she shows them particularly deadly plants - and she now realizes that no matter her prognosis, the plan for revenge has already died before she does).

She pretends to know what the nurse is talking about and looks up the disease on internet as soon as she gets to her classroom. She had to sit down to process the news. The words stare at her unrelentingly from the screen.

When afflicted by Hanahaki disease, the patient is subjected to cough attacks with production of copious amounts of flower petals, if and only if the patient is concomitantly affected by one-sided affection towards another person. The natural cure for the disease is for the recipient of such affection to return the feeling, or through surgical intervention. The inevitable side effect of the surgical procedure is the assured loss of the feelings the patient had. If left untreated, Hanahaki disease leads to certain death within the timespan of a few weeks.

A few weeks. That was all she had. The next few days go by in a haze, as her brain processes the information. Even if her insurance paid for the surgery, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to how her life was before falling for Larissa (she had been plotting to slaughter a school full of children for something that happened way before most of them were born, that was not a good place to be in mentally).

She wonders if she should tell Larissa. But that would serve no purpose, other than let the other woman feel guilty of her inevitable demise. And Laurel thinks she knows Larissa enough to know that she would feel guilty. She would add Laurel’s condition to the ever-growing burden on her shoulders, and possibly try to take on the costs for her surgery as well. No, she wouldn’t tell Larissa.

“Marilyn, we need to talk.”

When she hears that name falling from the other’s lips she knows that there is another secret that she doesn’t want to take to the grave with her. She doesn’t want to die as a lie. So when she meets up with her principal that night, she asks her to listen first, and Larissa looks at her with a stony expression as she retells the story of the Gates family and of how little Laurel had come back to her hometown to extract revenge but ended up finding a new, happier family in Nevermore, among the outcasts.

When she finishes her story, Larissa takes a sip of wine, and Laurel wishes she was able to go back to when those blue eyes looked at her with warmth and desire, instead of being unreadable as they are now. Guarded.

“Why are you telling me this, after all this time?”

And Laurel apparently is uncapable to lie to her anymore, because the truth falls from her lips in all of its ugliness, as she looks away from the unspoken accusations she thinks she can see in the icy depths that she so loves (She loves her so much, her chest constricts even when she’s not coughing up petals).

“Because I’m dying.”

In the stunned silence that follows, her lungs seize up once more and she (once again, it was starting to become a habit) runs away from the principal’s office. She doesn’t want to see the pity mix with distrust. She wants to remember the way Larissa looked at her when she was just Marilyn, and she wasn’t dying (at least, not quicker than any other person).

But she lives in a school, and the location of her quarters is not only well known to students and staff, but also clearly marked in case anyone forgot (Larissa never forgets anything about Nevermore, she’s sure of that) so her escape was always doomed to be a short-lived one. That night, Larissa enters through the door without knocking, her normally pristine appearance disheveled, with creases in her clothing, and flyaway hair sticking up in all directions (her makeup looks smudged as well, almost as if she had cried, but that’s impossible, so Laurel explains it as a trick of the light). Laurel drinks in her appearance from where she’s sitting at her own tiny desk overflowing with botany books (God, she’s beautiful even when she’s agitated).

“Who is it?” Larissa asks, her voice commanding as if she was herding her students during a school trip.

“Who?” Laurel asks, even if her gut already knows, and it feels like it’s been filled with ice and dread.

“You have Hanahaki, right? Who is it that you have feelings for?” She looks even more agitated, making her way towards Laurel, then apparently thinking better of it and settling for pacing the length of her tiny office (with her long legs, it takes her barely a couple of strides in either direction, but that doesn’t seem to stop her).

The ice had turned to lead in Laurel’s insides, and she can only whisper: “Please don’t ask me that.” The answer seems to physically hit Larissa, because she recoils and stops dead in her motion, before once again crossing the room, and falling to her knees besides Laurel’s chair. Laurel can only watch her, feeling as if her eyes are bulging out of her skull in surprise (What is the meaning of this?).

But then Larissa’s eyes are looking up at her, pleading, (she’s definitely been crying, there’s no denying it from this up close) and she begs her: “Please, at least let me take you to the nearest specialist. I can pay for the surgery. Please don’t just give up.” And there are tears in Laurel’s eyes too because she cannot explain to her, because Larissa is a good person who feels bad for her friend and she wouldn’t be able to understand. So she just shakes her head, no, she wouldn’t go to the surgeon. (She’d never give up her love).

She’s surprised when Larissa grabs her shoulders and shouts (Larissa Weems is not a woman who shouts when she’s angry – she only shouts when she is scared and overwhelmed). “BUT YOU CANNOT JUST DIE!” and Laurel brings her hands tenderly to Larissa’s face and tries to wipe away her tears, and tries to put on a brave face, and tell her boss that everybody has to die sooner or later and that is a fact of life (she doesn’t tell her how scary the thought of dying is).

And then Larissa is not only crying, but she’s shaking with sobs, and her voice is small and soft and broken when she tries to argue against that. “But you cannot just die, because, because…” And then, smaller, softer, and even more broken “…because I love you.”

And just like that, the oppression that was getting heavier and heavier against Laurel’s breastbone suddenly lifts, and she is cured of her ailment. And she feels lighter and more alive and happier than she’s ever felt is her life up until now because she’s not dying, after all (at least, not quicker than any other person), she’s not going to cough up petals anymore, and, most importantly, her feelings are returned.

Her lips find those of Larissa, and taste the saltiness of her tears on them, lightly, tenderly, before pulling back slightly and murmuring, still unable to fully believe it:

“It’s you. It’s always been you.”

And then their lips meet again and this time it is passionate, overpowering, and filled with requited love.

Liked it? You can find more angst (& other stuff too) on my fanfiction masterlist!

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abnormal-vacuum · 6 months

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okay not that anyone really asked here’s my full review of the passenger series from itv. obviously spoilers under the cut.

i went into this series with pretty low expectations seeing the general reviews of it on google, but the further i got into the first few episodes of the series the more excited i got. i was really enjoying it! i thought it was shot really well and the colors were very appealing. lots of bold, warm oranges, reds and blues. overall i think the visual aspects are done incredibly well. everyone’s acting in it is great, too, something i didn’t expect. the banter is fun and gets you interested / attached to the characters as well as makes them feel real, like someone you’d meet in your day to day life. i like that a lot.

i’m a big fan of the ‘small town, big secrets’ trope, and no matter how many times its been done before i still eat it up every single time. every single person in that town has their own baggage and something that makes them the monster of chaddervale. i would have loved to see everyone realizing / being told that eddie really didn’t attack jim. we (both us as the audience and them as the characters) didn’t get enough time to settle down and think about that. all we got was a scene with eddies wife, joanne, saying something about revenge. that’s pretty much it.

there are so many plot points in this series, most of which i’m interested in, that are established in only 6 episodes, most of which go unanswered. does it leave for a good cliffhanger? no. it doesn’t. it leaves for a frustrating, unsatisfying watch with so much potential its almost painful. and you know, maybe, just maybe i could forgive this if the big reveal of the series wasn’t so stupid. my opinion on this is definitely skewed due to personal taste but i think only a bit. instead of following along the plot of the ‘curse’ or even a cryptid they instead went the route of some black web company doing experiments on anxiety riddled screen addicted youth? that feels like such a unearned, unteased ending. that’s not what i came to that series for. it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t make sense. the previous episodes and the twist don’t fit together. just because something is unexpected doesn’t mean its a good twist. i understand that so many stories have been told before and people want to create something that’s new and unique. but i just don’t think this was the way to go about it. and like i understand the commentary about young people being lonely and spending too much time on their phones but haven’t we had enough media about that? like at this point you’re saying something that’s been said time and time again without adding anything of value. sorry.

i’m being a bit harsh. maybe i would have enjoyed this twist more if it didn’t feel so rushed. six episodes isn’t a lot for a mystery series. you need more time to establish things, to build up tension and intrigue. they’re only given a certain amount of episodes and they just have to make do. i empathize with them, its the plight of modern shows. gone are filler episodes and month long runs. but i still feel as if there could have been a much better job done with the story— twist aside. like i’m still confused on if the 6th episode was the end of season 1. because it really didn’t. it wasn’t like a fun cheeky little cliffhanger, it was just a gaping hole left.

here comes the part where i throw what i would have done with the series at you. they’re a bit silly, yes, but i think they’re more… in line with the series than what actually happened.

i would have maybe done that there’s an underground worldwide cryptid / monster smuggling ring that takes them to be expirmented on or even used as weapons and maybe the bread factory was involved in it and due to negligence one not native to the area! thats why its being violent because its in an environment its not used to and its scared because everything seems hostile to it. maybe the monster could be friendly as a fun twist! that could also be a parallel to eddie who’s in a new environment where everyone hates him and he’s also not really a monster.

another thing that they could have done is maybe people are being turned into werewolves by that company! they’re trying to make super soldiers and they’re kidnapping young people to experiment on them and see what happens and if they can fit into normal society. this could also go into the whole “everyone is the monster of chaddervale” thing i was discussing before.

or!! it could be an alien show!! maybe people are being abducted by aliens and that’s what’s wrong with them!! i don’t know!!

in conclusion i did enjoy this show despite all of the harsh things i said above i just wished it was better. i honestly do recommend watching it if you enjoy mystery shows and aren’t upset by bad writing or whatever. i hope it gets a season 2 and i hope all of the plot points are resolved. so. whatever. needed to get this out of my system.

#jeez mate #vacuum text <#passenger itv #passenger 2024 #barry sloane #eddie wells #itv #whatever

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rallamajoop · 2 years

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Resident Evil Village

So, although Deus Ex: Mankind Divided was (and very much still is) supposed to be next in the gaming queue, I somehow spent Christmas playing Resident Evil 8: Village.

And having now finished this damn game on three different difficulties, developed an addiction to the Mercenaries challenge mode, discovered a host of unexpected feelings about Ethan Winters & family and that Heisenberg bastard, and read a godawful amount of fic… I’m still a little undecided how surprised I should be that it sucked me in so hard.

Because on the one hand, if anything in that crazy franchise was going to get me, clearly it was going to be the one full of vampires and gothic horror tropes (not to mention being set in that one mysterious region of Romania we all know from the Hammer films, where everyone speaks English for no particular reason). Looking back, I’ve been in and out of horror-adjacent fandoms since, oh, about when the first Venom movie came out – maybe this was the next logical step.

On the other hand, it’s an FPS: a genre I only grudgingly came around to at all a matter of months ago. And though my days of saying I don’t do FPS are now undeniably behind me, it’s also a horror game, and (all recent records aside), when it comes to horror games, I am a wimp. The kind of wimp who watched playthroughs of P.T. back in the day going holy fuck I could not manage to walk down a corridor in this shitshow the atmosphere alone would smother me alive. The kind of wimp who noped the fuck out of Portal on the very first level featuring turrets (holy shit, they’re shooting at me? Those are bullet holes in the wall! Is that MY BLOOD on the wall? Oh my god how am I not already dead oh my god) and never came back.

What made the difference this time? Well, apparently my general aversion to shooting people doesn’t so much apply to lycans and zombies, and horror games are much easier to deal with when you’ve already watched a Let’s Play of the whole thing, and know what you’ve signed up for. Or maybe I’m just old and jaded enough that I’m not as easily scared by pixels as I used to be. It certainly helped that Village leans more towards the shallow, action end of the survival horror pool. But as for That One Bit that everyone talks about when they discuss how RE8 made them shit their pants, I can only admit that the other thing I learned about myself watching those playthroughs of P.T. is that ‘screaming mutant foetus monster’ is exactly the point at which my brain gives up on terror and just goes “…well that’s just a bit gauche, isn’t it?” (Don’t talk to me about those don’t-look-away walking dolls from the DLC though. That bit got to me like no screaming foetus ever did.)

No, the really odd thing about me suddenly falling hard for this game is that, well, it didn’t get me at the time. Much as I’ve enjoyed watching apparently the whole rest of the internet being brought together in mutual horniness for the incomparable Lady Dimitrescu, the whole step-on-me-mistress-thing has never really been my jam – and though I did watch that Let’s Play of the full game way back when, nothing about it grabbed me enough to become really fannish about it at the time.

What changed? Well, we can partly blame a couple of youtube channels I’ve been casually following lately by folks who were also big Resident Evil fans. But the tipping point may have been my questionable decision to watch a playthrough of the new Shadows of Rose DLC at exactly the wrong (or perhaps right) time of the month, resulting in me bawling my eyes out and discovering feelings about the Winters family I never knew I had.

All that said, actually buying and playing the base game was one of those random whims, entered into with 0 expectations I was actually likely to finish the thing. I mean, the factory section alone looks like such a slog.

…so it turns out that (putting aside the hassle of navigating the place) the factory can be a ton of fun once you’ve figured out what you’re doing.

What can I say? This is a game truly brimming with personality, the dark-fairytale vibe utterly works, the campy OTT villains are a delight, I will gladly fight anyone trying to tell me Ethan’s a boring nothing of a protagonist – and having had the time to get past the “GDI game is this guy supposed to be a lycan or not? MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND!”-annoyance* that stopped me from enjoying Heisenberg properly while watching the playthrough, this time I fell for him hard (and wound up shipping him with Ethan, so fandom has got me again). The ending delivers, the horror elements are on point, and it’s just damn good fun to play.

Doing my first run on Casual difficulty was my one mistake. It’s the mode most widely recommended to the inexperienced player, but either that’s a recommendation calibrated for folks playing with a controller rather than a keyboard, or all that time playing Deus Ex (which, I remind you, is heavy on stealth takedowns and 3rd-person-cover mechanics that do not apply here at all) prepared me better than I realised, because Casual difficulty bored me. The mechanics, world and story still carried me through, but I did not die a single time that wasn’t thanks to an insta-death mistake. There’s no way to change difficulty mid-game, and you’re far enough in by the time you really get to find out how difficult combat was going to be that I didn’t feel like restarting. But having finished the game, I was hungry for a real challenge.

So this is when I noticed New Game+ was an option – as was unlocking infinite ammo for many weapons – and rationally deciding that replaying on only Standard difficulty with the added advantage of all those upgraded guns wasn’t going to cut it, I jumped difficulties right up to Hardcore mode.

This, too, may have been a mistake. The very first lycan attack had me running to the Internet for advice on how to survive it (it turns out the accepted strategy is basically to just hide in a cellar for as long as possible, then leg it into the next house and climb halfway up a ladder, where you’re very hard to hit). But with that milestone cleared, I found my groove, and had a much better time (though I certainly died a lot more this time through). Even with all the upgrades, it was pretty damn punishing in places – but punishing in the way that forces you to really engage with the mechanics (or at least learn to love the good old ‘set a mine and back away’-strategy). And I’m pleased to say that unlike DX:HR, RE has proper difficulty modes: we’re not just tweaking damage ratios, enemies also get much faster and more aggressive at higher difficulties – not to mention those damn lycan archers now apparently have the accuracy of a sniper.

Having beaten the game on Hardcore, I was pretty well done (there’s an even harder mode, Village of Shadows, but I wasn’t looking for that much punishment). But any lingering doubts about how fully I’d embraced the shooty-bang-fun-times side of Resident Evil gameplay were well and truly put to bed by the time I’d discovered the Mercenaries bonus game.

This mode sets you up with limited weapon selection up against a hoard of easy-to-kill enemies, scoring you higher the longer you can keep a combo going. Again: not the sort of thing I expected to suck me in, but anyone who’s ever watched me play a rhythm game will know that I can be a real sucker for a full-combo challenge. Mechanically, it’s almost the opposite of beating the story on Hardcore, but it forces you to learn layouts of some game areas in ways you never needed to before, and actually seeing numbers for how much damage you’re doing illuminates so many mechanics you were just guessing at.

Better yet, there’s a hoard of stuff you can unlock by playing it, including (as of the DLC!) the ability to play as Heisenberg or Lady Dimitrescu, which is a whole heap of fun in its own right. And if you’re prepared to play long enough to get 25 other achievements (I was), you can even unlock ‘special customisations’ for most of your weapons in the main game – boosting damage even further, or a bunch of other bonuses that I could not resist trying out…

…only, having already beaten the game on Hardcore, there wasn’t much appeal to doing that again, only with less challenge. So… oh fuck, I’m going to play this thing on Village of Shadows difficulty after all, aren’t I?

Honestly: no regrets. Lord knows I’d never survive this mode going on raw (shut up shut up I’M NOT GOING TO TRY), but it’s very doable on New Game+2. And it’s very much the mode for folks who’ve already beaten the game at least twice, because just when you were getting familiar with the story’s pre-scripted roster, this mode mixes it up and throws in new enemies where you don't expect them (and just rarely enough that they’ll always be a surprise). Having trouble with those lycan archers on Hardcore? Well, now there’s more of them, in places you didn’t expect! Had enough trouble escaping Lady D. after she slices off your hand? Ha, now we’ve spawned an extra enemy in the same space, and did we mention that you have no weapons you can use one-handed? (Seriously, good times! And that’s ‘times’, plural, because surviving that one took me a few tries.)

All that said, I’m not sure those ‘special customisations’ were really calibrated for even this difficulty – and they’re vague enough that you’ll find that out the hard way. The magnum’s ‘Extra damage against lycans’-bonus, for example, apparently means ‘can now one-shot even the alfa varcolac miniboss’ (pictured below). And sure, that’s the magnum: but the sniper rifle’s ‘extra damage at range’ can do the same thing. It’s just maybe a bit much.

Honestly, I’d be all for it if the point was to give players who really want that Village of Shadows achievement another way to get it – but then you get to the gauntlet that is the endgame, and all that fancy souped up inventory gets taken away from you for plot reasons.

Actually, I’d put the start of the endgame-gauntlet back at Sturm (last boss of the factory level before Heisenberg), because even though you’ve got your regular guns there, he’s invincible from the front, charges like a mad bull and can apparently target you through solid walls. Then you fight Heisenberg, in the obligatory here-have-a-tank sequence, and neither New Game+ upgrades or special customisations have any effect on your tank. And then you get the section where you have to play as Chris, whose lousy pistol-and-machine-gun arsenal is also unaffected by special customisations (though I can see no good reason why not). And Chris’ section really is a gauntlet, with an uncooperative auto-save, an infinite stream of charging lycans, and another boss fight against some bastard who doesn’t take damage from the front, swinging a giant mace in a tiny arena. All of a sudden, you’re playing the exact same version of this game as someone who never hit New Game + at all.

I died a lot in this section. Seriously, so many times. But I stuck it out, and I gotta say, damn but these higher difficulty modes force you to learn how to play. In case anyone else reading this actually wants some tips: stuck at the Stronghold? The trick is to book it back to the entry passage the moment the first wave starts, maybe drop a mine or two, and use the narrow space for crowd control (same thing works during the second wave – it gets a little less intense from there). Stuck in the factory? Learn to love flash grenades! Sturm? Again: flash grenades! (You would not think a guy with a propeller for a face would be so susceptible, but who am I to argue with results?) Heisenberg? Turns out aiming for those glowing weak points really does make a difference, and your tank can make a MUCH faster dash out of the way of his charge move if you stop firing the machine gun. Chris? God, don’t even get me started on Chris.** (“Oh my god, Chris, your lousy pea-shooter guns have all the stopping power of wet tissue! Get a real gun, you LOSER!”)

After all that, the letdown at the end is that Miranda (the final boss) is kind of a piece of piss. You finally get all your old inventory back, and she takes damage from the front and everything. After dying a stupid number of times reaching every milestone above, Miranda went down in one go. I’d be more unimpressed by this, but after all Ethan’s been through at that point, maybe he kind of deserves it.

Obviously, I had to play Rose’s DLC bonus campaign too, but – much as I loved it for story and atmosphere – it was admittedly less fun to play. That’s probably deliberate: it’s much more down the survival horror end of the action-horror spectrum – aiming is slow and cumbersome, and your options and resources are very limited. Given that you’re playing as a teenage girl rather than a grown man on his second rodeo, that makes a lot of sense… but there’s still not a lot there to have me eager to come back for a replay. (Her final boss battle is a lot more satisfying, though it does suffer from the fact you’re thrown so many new mechanics that just figuring out how you’re supposed to use them is pretty distracting.)

I could go on at this point – as always in new fandom mode, I have so many thoughts on the world, the fandom, the challenge of piecing together the backstory timeline, the possibilities for where this series might go in future, and how poor Mia deserves so much more love than she gets – but that can all wait. The long and short remains: I never would’ve imagined how hard I could get sucked into this game, but I have had such a time learning how wrong I was.

* Look, if a guy who shows up with the lycans, and can apparently command other lycans, is not supposed to be a lycan himself, then maybe think twice before including another giant lycan character who a) wears his coat, b) USES HIS HAMMER and c) never appears on screen at the same time as him. You’ll save so much confusion on the part of your audience, I promise!

** Really? Well, fine.

The game autosaves shortly after you beat the first two varcolacs (I found it helped to go left around the fungus into the field, and use some grenades), and again once you reach the clearing (protip: if you can make it there, everything behind you despawns! There are a couple of real waves of attackers to get through to get there though, plus a slow-but-constantly spawning stream of lycan runners to mask that), then one final time before you jump down the hole. Knowing those auto-save points is useful, because 1) reloading your last manual save point will put you all the way back before the Heisenberg boss fight, which is officially Too Far, and 2) if you pass an autosave accidentally after using up all your supplies and on low health, the next bit is going to be that much harder. To survive the clearing, forget killing everything: spend the first wave hiding behind the house on the right with the supplies (it confuses them), and the second hiding behind the other house with supplies on your left, then climb the ladder to the roof and stand up to target the mould. Don’t climb the roof earlier: the archers will get you. To survive the boss, try to run under his swings when he leaps at you, hit him with a flash grenade every time your pals with the goddamn space laser are ready, target him, then shoot the hell out of the weak point on his back. [deep breath] DONE! (And goddamnit, Chris, if I have to listen to you say ‘I’ve reach the target clearing. Damn this looks big’ one more time, I will shoot you myself.)

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #more overlong gaming anecdotes

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deyadee · 7 months

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It Doesn’t Sink In Until You Actually Look in the Mirror

I feel like recently once been doing better compared to past years. I’d say I only have a complete breakdown like once a week to a month depending on how things are going. Though there’s still always a feeling at the back of my mind no matter what I’m doing air where I am that’s always scratching and clawing away at me. I have nothing to look forward to. I distract myself day to day with whatever mini arch’s going to get some comedy for the people who are still watching this late into the series, after the quality’s severely gone down and the plots are just getting reused from previous seasons. I don’t really know what kind of job I would want to do because I get bored of things so quickly, and any job I find that I do like I usually leave because I think I can do better money-wise. Though I never save up to move out. What’s the point? To speedrun my fucking depression? Because I know the second I’m completely out on my own for like a week I’ll blow my brains out. I try to pretend like I don’t need people, and I’m pretty introverted so it’s not like I always feel like I need to be around people- but that tends to make me spend what feels like weeks holed up in my room and slowly dying since there’s so little time to spend with the few people around me anymore. Parents are always working. Sisters have their own million things to do. The one friend I have I don’t have any money so I don’t want to bother if I can’t pay for anything that I would wanna do. So I wait for a time when something can happen, and I’m disappointed because everyone’s too tired and busy. I don’t blame them. For my last job I couldn’t do a lot because I was working a lot of the time. So now I dig my face in my phone and try to get through the day. I clean toys, fix my collection. I got a TikTok account and started making videos but now I’m just addicted to watching the numbers slightly go up. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten it but I fucking did with the excuse that there’s more MH videos on there or whatever. Still a fucking hypocrite as always.

But anyways- I know that once I leave my parent’s house there’s nothing for me out there. I feel bad for leeching off of them this long but I don’t have the money and I know on the little times I’ve been truly alone I’ve come seconds away from being another body bag. What is there out there? Exploration that I don’t want to do? Finding a job that ranges from hating it but gets enough money to get by or a job I like where I get paid like I work at McDonald’s? Wasting my time searching for some magical fucking unicorn of a girl to not think I’m repugnant and take me as her like fiftieth option only for us to end in loveless marriage where she’s fucking my friend because I have nothing to offer, if I CAN EVEN FIND A WOMAN? Maybe ending up in a loveless hetero marriage where I’m used as a fucking toy to some manchild before I gut myself? Having kids that I’ll want to strangle after having that little fucker destroy my body even further than I already have before they grow up to be a crack dealer before killing me and taking my last sixteen bucks? Building a collection that just gets me a small hit of dopamine for spending like $50 a day, only for some scum of the fucking earth to break in and steal it all? Care about politics for every single fucking brain-rotted 900-year-old to stroll up and pick the dumbest fucking decisions possible and send everybody back to the fucking Stone Age? Eat myself to death to get that last shred of dopamine? Care about my appearance for it to just continually get worse until I fit perfectly into everyone’s favorite little trailer trash trope? WHAT IS THERE TO FUCKING LIVE FOR?! If this is supposed to be the goddamn peak of my life both physically and emotionally and I’m sitting here staring at a screen and praying that I get 100 fucking people to sit and watch me play with dolls?

A random thought, but I rewatched Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron recently. It’s been one of my favorite movies since I was a kid but I don’t watch it often so I don’t get burnt out on it, so when I rewatched it the other day it felt like I was watching it for the first time. I was legitimately crying at the end because I love that movie so much. I pretty much never feel anything after watching a movie besides “Oh that was pretty good” or “That was bad.” This feeling I got in that moment was pure fucking bliss. I for once felt like life was worth living, like the world could be beautiful and people could make art so powerful that it actually changes you. I know, I know, it’s stupid. But my heart was soaring and I felt like humans weren’t actual hell for once. Life is precious and worth it and you can find the most brilliant amazing beautiful things in places where most people might not. I loved a lot of movies before, and I’ve always loved this movie but this time it felt like it hit me just perfectly. I’ve seen movies that made me feel a certain way, but I was full-on bawling afterwards out of joy for once. I couldn’t stop crying and smiling.

I still don’t know why I felt so happy after it.

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chosofied · 1 year

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hey girlie pop (gn!), welcome to my blog! here are some guidelines to read through if you decide to interact or follow me. ᰔ

· ˚ . ⊹ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙.

ine · late 20’s · aquarius (jan)

coffee addict · lover of film · horror and gore enthusiast

· ˚ . ⊹ 𝖉𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙 + 𝖇𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜.

DNI — anyone below the age of 18. (however, because of my age, i feel more comfortable interacting with those who are 20+.)

DNI — follow the basic dni criteria, can’t separate fiction from reality, get weirdly possessive of characters, hate on selfships and x reader content, support character a.i. (or any a.i. really).

BYF — this blog contains dark content and i do interact with dark content blogs. if this bothers you, makes you uncomfortable or you don’t agree with… then you’re free to block me.

BYF — i’m a firm believer in curating your own experience, therefore i block freely if i need to, and expect the same from you. please don’t take it personally. i have nothing against you. perhaps your content isn’t what i’m into, or maybe you post things i don’t agree with. regardless, i kindly ask to not ask me why i blocked you. respect it and move on.

· ˚ . ⊹ 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖔’𝖘 + 𝖉𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖘.

DO NOT — send any personal, rude, hateful or weird asks and comments as they will be will be deleted immediately.

DO NOT — ask to be mutuals. i like following and building relationships with people on my own. (i’m sure you’re a lovely person, but forcing a friendship is never okay.)

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DO NOT — steal my dividers, gifs or headers i make. they are for my personal use only. however, you’re more than welcome to ask for inspo or resources if you need any. :)

DO — be kind to myself and my followers, or anyone who interacts with myself on here. be mindful of what you say or ask, as you’re entering my little space of the internet.

DO — hard block me to break the mutual. curate your own experience! as stated above, there’s no hard feelings. i wish you the best.

DO — reblog or comment if you’ve enjoyed anything that i’ve written. (as silly as it may be.) it brings a smile to my face and i truly appreciate the kind words. 🩶

DO — let me know if i’ve forgotten to tag something that might’ve been triggering for you. i try my best to tag as much as i can, but something’s can go amiss or perhaps i just forgot!

· ˚ . ⊹ 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌.

YES — fem reader, pseudocest, breeding and pregnancy, praise kink, degradation, dumbification, choking, spitting, cum, overstimulation, dry humping, period sex, humiliation, possessive or jealous character (and reader), dom character and sub reader, hurt / comfort, aged up characters (for sfw only), dubcon, substance use, sex under the influence, toxic relationships, knife play, blood play, virginity.

NO — male reader, character x character, piss, scat, vomit, dad’s best friend (sorry, the trope just makes me uncomfortable), lolicon, age play, incest, self harm or suicide.

DO NOT — repost, edit or modify any of my writing, especially if it’s places like tiktok or twitter. if i come across something of mine, i will message you privately to resolve the issue.

i don’t accept requests but thirsts or drabbles are always available. please make sure to go over what i write or don’t write (shown above). if you’re uncertain, or there’s something you don’t see on there, feel free to ask.

thank you so much for reading this far. i know it’s lengthy, but i truly appreciate you for doing so. please make sure to leave a ♥︎ so i know you’ve read the guidelines and agree to them.

#rules.

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studiomkm · 1 year

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Escape Reality: Welcome New Player

Another world, separate from our own but still able to be accessed by some miracle or another.

It’s the sort of thing you read or see or listen to pretty frequently in fiction, especially manga. The trope’s pretty overused, when you look at the numbers, but nobody really cares when it provides such an effective escape from our actual reality. The fantasy of getting out of the perpetual meat grinder that is modern living is just too good to pass up when one has no choice to live in said meat grinder.

Everybody in the world was caught by surprise when somehow… some way, the fantasy became fact.

Of course, it took a while for anyone to realize that it was fact. The first sign of the creation of the new world was something unusual but not so out of the ordinary, the temporary takeover of every smartphone in the world. Simultaneously, each and every one of them received a video message that opened on its own. The video was just a generic VTuber announcing that the modern world had finally met its end. Everyone thought it was some cyber terrorist attack at first and it wasn’t until the first wave of disappearances that the world at large started to take the video seriously.

Literally overnight over 300 people went missing at almost the exact same time from locations all around the world. Only their smart phones were left behind and the only evidence those provided was a web link to an invitation that didn’t work when everyone else clicked on it. People were freaked out but nobody actually panicked, not at first. After all, it was just another terrible thing to happen in a non-stop parade of terrible things.

When 1000 more people went missing almost every day for the next several months, that’s when people started to take it all seriously. China and Japan outlawed smartphones altogether and there was a massive push in the United States to do the same but those efforts were constantly thwarted by the political machine. American politicians simply blamed the disappearances on a lack of personal responsibility, younger generations’ “addictions” to smart devices, and a thousand other things but never actually did anything to prevent more disappearances.

Then one day, somebody came back; Masaru Fujita. It has he who explained that everyone hadn’t simply gone missing. They were all in another world, one that revolved around points and games. Of course, everybody who was familiar with Japanese artworks like manga and anime immediately assumed that it was all part of some death game and the panic went back into full force for a while.

It took a full year and a half for Masaru to finally convince everyone of the truth. Everyone who had gone missing could come back any time they wanted to, they were just far happier staying in the other world. From the descriptions Masaru gave all the rest of us around the world, it wasn’t really surprising as to why either. It sounded like a paradise to the vast majority of us who had struggled and scraped and saved only for the world to tell us that we still weren’t good enough and we never would be.

Once the panic about the other world had finally died down, the American government finally got around to banning smartphones as well but at that point it was too little, too late. The US’s younger population had decreased nearly 60% in the time it took them to realize that they’d shot themselves in the foot. The matter was considered over and nearly every day, every source of media we still had access to bombarded those of us left in America about the evils of the other world.

It just made all of us even more miserable and they knew that but they didn’t care. All that mattered was the status quo, regardless of the fact that the status quo was just making everything worse for everybody. Personally, I’m convinced that too many people are still under the illusion that things will somehow go “back to normal” but normal can’t really exist anymore in a world that’s had to deal with something that alters the mentalities and numbers of the global population to such an extreme.

As for me, I was one of the ones who never got an invitation to the other world. The Unworthy, as we tend to be called in the circles that obsess over the other world. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, or even entirely untrue, but it’s a moot point at any rate. I still live in the real world, which means I have to get a job to make money to try (in vain) to afford any semblance of decent living. Not that I can really call it living.

“Get off your ass.”

I turn and look at my cranky boss right after she says the words. She’s looking down at me the ugliest scowl, the kind of nasty look I imagine people gave to lepers back in the day. During the first year of my employment as a self-checkout cashier, I’d have cowered away from it but those days have been over for a long while.

“Believe it or not, my ankle… which I gave you a doctor’s note for, I might add… is still injured. It takes more than a day to heal properly, Yolanda,” I tell her in the most deadpan tone I can muster.

“You’re lucky we’re understaffed right now, you little punk, or I’d fire your ass so fast your head would spin,” she snarls at me, lowering her volume as a customer steps up to one of the machines.

“Talk to me like that again and you won’t have to fire me,” I warn her, not yelling but definitely making sure I’m loud enough to be heard by any customers nearby.

Her face goes red and I’m sure she’s ready to slap me but I’ve got all the leverage here and we both know it. The drastic decline in the working population made the value of labor skyrocket. Nobody really gets fired anymore and the constant attempts at employee poaching from one company to the next got so out of control that the department of labor had to step in and create an entirely new division to regulate it.

Yolanda storms away and I roll my eyes before asking the customer at self-checkout 2 if they need any help. They don’t, of course, and I get back to the small book I’d brought to keep myself occupied. It helps make the rest of my 9 hour shift go by a bit faster and when it’s finally over, I shake hands with my replacement before hobbling awkwardly to the time clock. Yolanda’s there waiting for me, looking like the cat that got the canary.

“Good shift?” I ask as I start punching myself out.

“Your last shift,” she says as she hands me a notice of termination.

My eyes go wide as I’m genuinely surprised she got the store manager to sign off on that but there it is, with his signature on the bottom. She shoves it into my chest so hard I actually tumble backwards into the wall. Part of me is surprised she’s not laughing like a cartoon villain as I struggle to maintain any semblance of balance with only one good leg to stand on but that part’s overshadowed by the sight of the general manager himself standing right behind her with a very upset look on his face.

“Yolanda. My office. Now,” John commands in a tone of voice so low I confuse him for Keith David for a second.

The man, an Army veteran who got an honorable discharge and never took anyone’s crap, was always imposing but I’d never seen him angry before. He was genuinely pissed at Yolanda and, even with my termination paperwork clutched awkwardly against my chest, I actually feel a bit sorry for her. The woman in question practically bolts away from the two of us and I’m left alone with John. He sighs and gives me a genuinely apologetic look.

“Sorry this is kinda coming out of nowhere for you but my hands are tied on this. Corporate’s making every store lay off one cashier to offset costs or some other nonsense. If I was allowed to choose one person from any department, trust me when I say you wouldn’t have even been on the list.”

“It is what it is,” I reply with a shrug, “Not like losing your job’s as big a deal as it was with my parents. I’ll get another one before too long, just a bummer it’s happening right when I was finally getting comfortable here.”

“I hear that and hey, if you want a reference you put me down. I’ll give you a good word whenever you need,” John says with a friendly slap on my shoulder.

“Thanks John. If it’s alright, I’m just gonna drop by the deli on my way out, get some dinner. I know they just made a fresh batch of tenders and you know Gabe’s tenders are magic.”

“Oooo, yeah. I forgot Gabe’s covering for Abby today. Hey, get me a pound too. I’ll comp us both. A little farewell gift for you,” he offers.

I gladly take him up on that and wish him well as I peel off the apron and nametag that marked me as an employee and put it on Yolanda’s little stand by the time clock. I grab a small shopping cart to help steady my walking and grab me and John a pound of tenders apiece before dropping them off and making my way out the door.

To my surprise, Mom’s already waiting for me as I leave the store and I can see the car parked not too far from the entrance. I ask what she’s doing and she just says that she didn’t want me walking around the parking lot or just waiting around for her like I usually do. We get in the car and she asks how my day went. Of course, there’s really only one piece of news about my job to tell.

“What do you mean they fired you?!” she shouts so loud I actually flinch from the volume, “Nobody fires people anymore unless they’re doing something criminal!”

“Or corporate told the managers to lay people off to cut down operating costs, which is what happened to me. I’m still the newest cashier so I got the axe by default.”

Despite my explanation, Mom’s still clearly upset. I can’t really blame her; she’s still stuck in that old school mindset of how getting a new job used to work. I might not have any college paperwork, no way I could afford to pay out that much money, but it’s not like getting something else is gonna be all that hard. Plenty of places are still hiring as much as they can.

The rest of the ride home is quiet and Mom helps me inside before plopping in front of the TV to watch the news. I can hear yet another roundtable discussion on the impact the new reality has had on the real world and tune it out as I head to my own room and sit down in front of my computer. I pop on an episode of my current streaming show to watch while I eat my chicken when an email notification pops up to block a significant section of my view.

I try to click it away but accidently open up my email with it instead. A growl escapes me and I’m ready to punch a hole in my monitor but an impossible name in my inbox catches my eye: Corey Goldberg. Corey and I were best friends all throughout high school and even for a good few years after we both graduated but time and distance caused us to drift apart. The last time I tried to get in touch with him for old time’s sake, I learned that he had gone missing and the investigation into it declared that he had “been taken” by the new reality. My curiosity spikes and I open the email as fast as my mouse clicking finger will allow. The contents are brief but mind blowing.

You have been invited to Escape Reality.

Right below those words are two buttons labeled “Accept” and “Decline”. It’s an invitation… the invitation. The details match up perfectly with everything I’d found out about the disappearances before the governments of the world cracked down on the information and tried to make it all vanish forever. The biggest clue that it isn’t just some scam is that it’s been written in Haettenschweiler font, a detail so obscure that only those of us who managed to watch the first interview with Masaru Fujita before all copies of it were deleted forever could have ever known about it.

Just three years ago, I would have clicked the accept button without a second thought but back then I was struggling to live on my own in a shitty apartment I paid too much for while constantly trying to find a job that would actually pay me enough to live off of. The only reason I moved back in with my mother in the first place was to save up to finally buy my own home.

I know what it’s like in there though, thanks to Masaru Fujita, and I could probably get my own home even faster in there. I could finally stop feeling like such a loser. Might even work up the nerve to try dating, once I have a place I can call my own that isn’t infested with spiders or roaches. The only thing that gives me pause is the thought of how my mother will react.

Dad left years ago, not too long after I reached my 20s, due to his growing discontentment with his place in the world. The rest of my blood-related family all fucked off years ago after they squeezed every last bit of financial aid and free babysitting they could out of my mother, my father and me. I’m really all she has left right now but is it fair to me to let that keep me here? For that matter, it is really my responsibility to be solely responsible for her happiness for the rest of my life? It’s not like she’s trying all that hard to make friends or get back into the dating scene.

I agonize about the choice until the clock hits 3 AM. At this point, especially after having worked a long day whilst injured, I’m cranky and irritable. I’m obsessing over every time I can remember being slighted or passed over and just getting angrier and angrier. I’m remembering giving up the last of my teen years to work to provide at least some small money to my family after my parents had lost their cushy underwriting gigs, all the while being chastised for not devoting myself full time to college.

I’ve spent years putting myself either second or just dead last and now I’m agonizing over how terrible I would be for putting myself first. Still angry, I stomp over to my desk, write out a quick note telling my mom I was leaving, and click accept on the email before I can start thinking myself back into inaction again.

My pulse is still racing as I stand in front of the computer, waiting for something to happen but nothing really does. No big beam of light shooting out from my computer, no suddenly falling unconscious, no mysterious portals opening up under my feet… nothing.

“Oh come the fuck on…” I whine pathetically, realizing I just fell for some elaborate prank after spending hours hyping myself into clicking a damn button.

Tears of bitter frustration run down my face and it’s another few minutes before I can do anything other than just stand there and silently cry. When I finally muster up the will to move on from my disappointment, I turn my computer off and try to ignore the now-cold chicken sitting next to it as I saunter off to bed and just collapse. There’s barely enough will or energy in my body to roll onto my back, so sleep takes me easily once I’m facing the ceiling.

No dreams come to me in my sleep, just an empty void I find myself somewhat conscious of. I suppose if I were fully in my own mind, I’d be terrified. As I am now, however, the void is just… kinda there. It exists and so do I.

Welcome to the New Reality.

I jolt upright in surprise, expecting to suddenly be awake and staring at the walls of my room but I’m still in the void. Only the bright white light coming from the large letters exist in the empty space in front of me.

Your transportation is nearly complete. Please observe the following rules in the New Reality.

You are required to play at least 1 game every 24 hours. You may not play the same game more than once every 72 hours to fulfill this requirement. Failure to comply will result in a loss of points.

Violence outside of the games or personal duels is strictly forbidden. Violations of this rule will result in the loss of points (1000 points times the number of violations you have committed thus far). Personal duels are only authorized by the Administrator when all parties have agreed to participate in the duel.

If your point total becomes 0 three times or remains 0 for 72 consecutive hours, you will be permanently removed from the New Reality.

Do your best to be a decent person to other people, especially when it comes to helping new players still trying to live in the New Reality.

The list of rules becomes the only thing in the void to keep my attention as I just float there uselessly and wait to wake up somehow from what certainly had to be a dream. Thankfully, I can’t really feel the time pass. I’d be insanely bored otherwise as I just wait and reread the list of rules again and again to pass the time. They’re probably going to be permanently burned into the back my eyelids if and when I ever get to wake up.

“FRESHMAN!!!”

The yelled word scares the crap out of me and I startle then stumble forward until I tumble face first onto an unfamiliar floor. I’m not even sure there’s enough time for electrons to race from one part of my brain to the next before I’m pulled up by several pairs of arms. They’re each attached to eager and unfamiliar faces, all of whom are talking over each other so loudly that I can’t make out a single word any of them’s trying to say.

With great effort, I manage to pull myself free of all their grips and finally get a good look at where I stumbled into. The closest thing I could compare it to would be a big bus or train station but something just feels… off. I think it’s the colors.

Everything’s bright and colorful, with a slight glow to it. It reminds me a lot of the colors on my old N64 games, though the primitive blocky graphics are obviously nowhere to be seen. I start walking, mesmerized by everything I’m seeing and it takes a few moments to even realize I’m not being accosted anymore. I turn back to everyone and see them all staring at me with smirks on their faces.

“Pretty crazy, right?”

I just nod and in no time flat, I’m surrounded again by all the unfamiliar faces.

“So where’d you come from, newbie?”

“Uh… USA?” I reply, not sure how much about myself I wanna give away to these strangers.

A wave of groans mix with the sound of fewer cheers and laughter. I see several of them shake hands and small windows pop up above said hands, showing numbers close to their respective hands. It doesn’t take but a second for me to realize that these guys are trading points with each other.

“So hey… what are the points for?” I ask.

Thankfully, only one of them answers. An incredibly tall woman who, based on her accent, is probably from somewhere in Africa. At least, I hope she is but it’s not like I would actually know.

“They’re for everything. Points are the money of this world.”

“Huh…” I mumble out, “I was under the impression this world didn’t really have an economy.”

“Of course it does,” she says with a slightly annoyed look on her face, “We got everything the old world does, we just do it better.”

“Speaking of better, let me tell you about our guild,” one of the others, an overweight guy dressed like a Bond villain jumps in.

He’s quickly shut up by about 8 different smacks upside the back of his head.

“You give a pamphlet like the rest of us, you damn griefer,” yet another of them, a blonde woman with a thick Russian accent declares angrily.

The overweight guy grumbles while rubbing the back of his head. He then reaches into a pocket in his jacket, thrusts a pamphlet into my hands then walks off without another word. A bunch more pamphlets get shoved at me and a thought jumps into my head.

“Wait, aren’t acts of violence against the rules?” I ask.

“They are but punishing someone for breaking a collectively agreed on rule isn’t violence. At least, not according to the Admins. Besides, that violence rule only really kicks in when you’re trying to actually harm someone. Doesn’t count just because you do something that causes pain.”

“Admins?” I wonder.

“A widely accepted conspiracy theory here that there’s a group of people that made this whole reality. There’s no proof of any of it but it makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

“You askin’ him to make sense of anything when he just got here? Kinda messed up, love.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me ‘love’? I ain’t your love, jackass!”

They all start bickering and name calling after that and I slink away in the chaos of it all with my armful of pamphlets. Thankfully, none of them notice me and their cacophony of voices is soon well behind me. I’m barely outside the building when I hear a wonderfully familiar voice call out my name. Corey’s rushing over to me, dressed to the nines in what I could only describe as Cyberpunk fashion. He wastes no time in hugging me half to death.

“It’s great to see you, man! I gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d actually accept my invite. You know, with the hold death grip your mom has over your decision making faculties…” he says, getting a bit sheepish at the end as he lets me go.

I’m more than a little upset by the comment, and I make sure to shoot him a glare to make sure he knows it, but I also can’t deny he’s got a bit of a point. I’m so upset with his remark about my mother’s control over my subconscious that it actually takes me a little bit to really hear the first sentence.

“Wait, so you really did send the invite? It wasn’t just someone using your name?” I ask.

“Well yeah…” he replies with a roll of his eyes, “Invites from people already here are the only way to get to this world nowadays and they are damned expensive.”

“And you spent that money to bring me here?” I can’t help but wonder.

“What can I say? This new world’s great and all but I missed my best friend. Hell, my only friend.”

That one actually touches me a little, sad as it was that I was somehow the only person he considered a friend.

“Okay, so… what now?” I ask.

“Now, we get you into your very first game!” he answers me excitedly as he wraps an arm around me and starts walking me away.

“First place we go is Tabletop Park. Easiest place to get some beginner points with games like Chess, Checkers… you know, that kinda stuff.”

“Wait… checkers? That’s the kind of games they have here? I was expecting something more…”

“Trust me, they’ve got plenty of video game-y stuff,” Corey interrupts, “But most of those games won’t net you points if you lose and you need points right now. Classic board games give only small little payouts but they pay whether you win or lose.”

“Huh…”

That’s the last thing that comes out of my mouth as my friend leads me to the first game of the rest of my life.

#writing #short story #isekai

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peterthepark · 2 years

Note

OKAY since requests r open.. i had a thought recently.. just the one. anyways.

eddie x fem!reader (cheerleader????) with the dialogue “you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up” “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid”

DOESNT MATTER WHO SAYS WHAT doesn’t matter what happens afterwards i would prefer some smut but i trust u with my vision <3 sorry it’s so vague lol

i gotchu babe <3 omitting the cheerleader trope just to fit the situation better but!!!!

tags: 18+ graphic smut, blowjob, exes with benefits?? just straight into the filth, mentions of drugs and dealing, aggressive!eddie, angry sexual tension

Eddie isn’t violent. He really isn’t. But you’ve been testing him tonight — you’re somehow bitchier than usual, somehow snarkier and there’s a cold bite in your words whenever you speak to him. You’ve been at each other’s throats the whole evening, working out the kinks between this weird drug deal you’ve fucked yourself over with. He’s helping you, yet you’re acting like some ungrateful snake and he supposes that’s the reason you never worked out in the first place.

Whatever.

He’s got his forearm over your sternum, pressing hard against your chest with a perfect view of your lace-clad tits spilling out of your tight camisole. You’re cornered against the poster-covered wall of his bedroom, tongue poking out from between your teeth as your hand squeezes around Eddie’s throat.

“You’re being extreme right now, you know that?” You breathe out slowly, nostrils flaring as he pushes you up against the surface harder.

You’re smiling, and Eddie hates how he finds himself enjoying this just as much as you are. He can’t lie his way out of this one. Not when he’s almost rock-hard at the image of you panting in front of him, straining against his arm.

“You’re the one coming to me for help, Y/N. I’m doin’ you a favor, smartass.”

“And you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Not very knight-in-shining-armor behavior, is it?” You quirk your brow, challenging him as you run your foot up his calf. “My hero, my savior. Always coming to your ex-girlfriend’s aid whenever she needs you, huh? You wanna fuck me so bad again, it makes you look stupid.”

He hums under his breath, eyes boring holes into the side of your face before he lets go of you with one hard push. “God, this was our fucking problem, Y/N. You yap, and you yap, until you piss me the heck off and — shit, if only you were addicted to shutting the fuck up, I think I’d like you a hundred times more than I do now.”

“So you admit it? You like me?” You grin, pulling on his arm before he’s glaring at you with that fucking look. “Should’ve known when you agreed to helping me with my little problem. Doesn’t even concern you yet you’re all worried about ol’ me.”

A beat. Silence. Tension. Then you’re reaching out to stroke his cheek with a gentle thumb and he thinks that he’s finally had enough of this aimless dancing around.

“Just get on your knees so we can end this night on a good note, sweetheart.”

Eddie doesn’t waste one second as soon as he watches you sink to the carpet, hands flying around his belt-buckle expertly and popping the button of his jeans like clockwork while you blink up at him expectantly.

He likes this version of you. Patient. Quiet.

But he loves your fire more. Your don’t-take-shit-from-nobody personality. Your loud, dirty mouth and those sinful eyes that you’ve managed to mask with feigned innocence as his boxers pool around his ankles and your hands immediately reach out for his cock.

“You better help me fix this, Munson.” You whimper, licking a stripe over the side of his length before you’re popping the swollen tip of him between your lips and sucking gently. “Oh, I’m so helpless without you, and you love it.”

You fucking tease.

“Oh, don’t you worry, baby. I got you, you know I do. Hate you, b-but I care about you. I care about my little slut, don’t I?” He strokes the back of your head, holding your glazed-over expression as spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth. “Atta girl. No one treats me the way you do. Fucking… god, no one can compare. Ever. Take that shit, that’s all yours.”

You pull off of him and replace your throat with your hand, jerking him off against the flat surface of your tongue as he rests his palms on either side of your head. “Such a pretty cock for such a mean, rude boy…”

“Oh, I’ll show y-you mean. Goddamnit, Y/N. You fuckin’ cockslut… Christ, baby…” He glances up at the ceiling, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as you moan excitedly against him. “If I knew this was the only way to get you to shut up… mmm, oh… fucking… fuck… words are… oh, god…”

“Seems like I’ve shut you up too, Eds.”

He scoffs in irritation, taking you by great surprise when he cruelly thrusts himself into your mouth and stuffs you full of his cock.

“You know what? I jus’ can’t wait to fuck you over this bed, p-push your face into the mattress till you can’t breathe… yeah, that’s it. You won’t be talking then… can’t be s-smart with me, hm? Fuckin’ s-slut…”

Yeah.

He knows how to shut a girl up, alright.

#fic requests #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

A Little Death - The Darkling x Reader

Enemies-to-lovers, one bed trope AND smut. You’re welcome 🖤

The mission went terribly, just as you said it would. You were always known to voice your concerns during meetings and this one was no different but he hadn't bothered to take your criticism into account.

The big bad Darkling couldn't stand you for that very reason or so he told himself. You were loud, outspoken, rude, and a control freak. You clashed and fought but he kept you there for perspective reasons, even though he never listened to you, like ever.

You laughed when the mission turned sour, earning yourself a glare from everybody, including him. If it wasn't the hours of sleep you lost to carry out the stupid mission in the first place, you would be heading toward Os Alta by now, but no. Everyone was tired and hungry and practically begging for a proper bed and not a makeshift cot in a tent, you included.

Vacancy was lit, the guests were checking in

You waited as the colorful keftas dispersed into the inn and as you approached the innkeeper to grab your keys, he hesitated.

'Only one room left.' He looked afraid to say it, does he think I need more than one? The confused look on your face kept until you saw General Kirigan appear out of the corner of your eye, looking right at you with a displeased look.

'Will it fit two people?'

'Yes Sir'

'Alright then, Y/L/N you're with me.' He took the keys and gestured for you to walk through the archway but you couldn't believe your ears. This man was the General of the Second-Army, almost as rich as the King but he had to share a room, with me no less?! Of all the bloody people on this journey, it obviously has to be me.

You bit back the rude remark that sat at the tip of your tongue and gave a curt nod. It's just one night and I'm ready to pass out.

'After you General' You forced a smile and watched as his irritation grew. Although you hated the man, you had to admit he was incredibly handsome, you weren’t blind. His dark onyx eyes always stood out against the pale of his skin, and the perfectly quiffed jet-black hair practically begged to have your fingers running through it.

His cape whirled around him as he walked past you, breaking you out of your trance. You guessed he knew where he was going as he ascended the wooden stairs and climbed to the top. Out of boredom, you counted the room numbers you passed not paying attention to him and stopped when you walked right into his rock-solid back. 'Saints- I'm sorry.' You blundered. I think that's the first time I've ever said sorry to him. He ignored you and walked into the room, inspecting it closely. You did too, but were cut short when you noticed the absence of another bed.

The room was fit for two

'There's only one bed' You dead-panned. You thought for a moment, looking around for a couch, an armchair, anything, but came up empty-handed. 'This is just great.' You sighed and looked to him. He had shed his heavy cape and donned his black kefta, staring at the one bed the same way you did.

'Well? What are we going to do?' You threw your hands up in exasperation 'Perhaps they have a tub I can-'

'Don't be ridiculous Y/N.' Y/N? I think that's the first time he's called me by my name.

'I meant to go wash, General. It's been a long week.' As opposed to some of the others, including the General, you had stayed in a tent over the past 2 days to gather intel. He and his flock stayed in inns and hotels, bathing in luxury and warmth.

'Yes, of course.' He stared into your eyes, holding your gaze for a hot minute before you looked away, suddenly feeling shy.

You put the bed situation at the back of your mind as you fetched some warm water and washed the grime of failed missions off. So much wasted time, all because nobody would listen to you, he wouldn't listen to me. If he weren't so gorgeous, I would kill him in his sleep.

Once you felt clean enough and your hair began to dry, you walked out of the washroom, enveloped by a towel as you searched your pack for anything you could sleep in. Perhaps the bath fogged up your mind, for you completely forgot the General was sharing the small space with you.

'You know you talk to yourself?' His voice scared the living daylights out of you. He was sitting back lazily against the headboard of the bed in his shirt and breeches smirking to himself. 'I think conspiring my death is reason enough for prison, is it not?' You couldn't tell if he was joking.

'I never said I would.' You bit back, grasp tightening around the flimsy towel.

'Because I'm too gorgeous?' He stood up from the bed and walked over to you. You never registered how much taller he was than you as his eyes scanned you up and down, like a predator hunting its prey.

'I need to get dressed, General'

'Hmmm, yes I can tell.' He took a bit of hair that hung in front of your face and held it between his fingers, the action sending waves of arousal through you, What- No. He was dangerously close, you could feel his breath tickle your ear and he was bound to hear your pounding heartbeat. But alas he moved away, sashaying into the washroom leaving you alone. I need a cold bath.

***

You were dressed for bed now, curled up on the left side of the bed. You were trying to sleep, really trying, but knowing he was laying right next to you only heightened your insomnia.

You knew he was awake too and he did little to hide it amongst the deafening silence of the room. You could feel the heat coming from his body, radiating an invitation for you to join him. You huffed loudly and turned again for the umpteenth time that hour, attempting to escape the weird tension in the room.

'Can't sleep?'

'Obviously.' Even in the dark, you knew he was smirking.

'I know something that would help.' Suddenly he was on top of you, caging you in with a hand at the sides of your head. You could feel the bare skin of his arm and chest as he slightly pressed down onto you, signaling that he wasn't wearing the black silk shirt anymore. Wherever his skin brushed against yours, it ignited that longing and need in you and it felt addictive.

I want you to touch me

'What are you doing? I thought you hate me.' Your proximity allowed for you to see the slight glistening of his eyes. They had an edge to them, a darkness you'd never seen before or never paid attention to.

'You're one to speak.' Taking one hand from beside your head, he so very slowly traced the side of your face, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued his way down your neck and further, stopping at your thigh where your nightgown had bunched up. 'I think it's time we stop this charade of ours.' As you concentrated on the feel of his fingers against your burning skin, he moved his head into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and exhilarating as he spoke.

'What charade' Your words came out with a deep exhale in anticipation of his actions.

'The one where we both pretend we don't want to fuck each other's brains out.'

Your eyes flew open at his crude remark but shut right back again as his lips gently kissed your collarbone and made their way up to your jaw, getting increasingly rough as he traveled. His hand at your thigh sneaked its way under the gown and now gripped your bare hip in a tight hold. 'What do you say?' His lips were now at yours, touching them as he spoke. All your logic flew out the window of the dingy inn. You didn't care that this was your General, or that he could kill you in an instant, all that mattered was that you needed him, and he wanted you.

'Ye-'

Before you even finished, his lips were hot on yours, devouring you in a bruising kiss. He pressed into you harder and if you had any reservations about his feeling towards you, they were flushed away as he made his arousal for you obvious. It fueled you, awoke your need to control with a jolt.

You fought for dominance, letting your mouth duel for any scrap of authority you could have over the man, but he kept you wrapped around his finger, tightening his grasp on you while simultaneously letting your mind run free with thoughts of him and only him. He was dangerous; intimidating.

She sought death on a queen-sized bed.

He began to pull away but to your surprise he only hauled you up with him, taking your thighs and forcing you into a straddle around his lap, not once letting his lips leave your body.

'You do it on purpose, don't you? Vexing and riling me up in front of others-' He took hold of the nightgown and pulled it up over your head before roughly grabbing your chin and letting his lips brush against your now swollen ones '-I swore to myself if you did it again, I would've thought you a lesson right before their very eyes.'

The General was quick to pull you back into him, bare chests pressed together and heartbeats merging into one. Your hips moved on their own accord, slowly drawing circles around his bulge.

'General I didn't take you for a man that stalled.' You spoke against his lips. You were done with his words, you needed his actions.

I want you to touch me there

Make me feel like I am breathing

At that, his hand let go of its deathly grip on your waist and quickly went to your core. Letting a deep growl out at your dripping wetness, he plunged a finger deep into you as his palm stroked your clit at an excruciatingly painful pace, too slow for your liking. You couldn't help keep the whimper down and he had the audacity to chuckle at your neediness.

'And I didn't take you to be so impatient.' He nipped at your shoulder as he picked up his pace, earning a series of moans from you. It was like music to his ears.

With your head against his chest, you rode your wave of pleasure out with his fingers still inside you, milking your first orgasm of the night.

Almost immediately he had you under him again and before you could register with your eyes, you felt the head of his cock nudging at your sensitive bud, as if begging for entry. It sent shivers up your spine, seeing him there at your mercy. He ran across your wet folds again and a throaty moan echoed around the room. Are you sure he's at your mercy?

You coaxed him to enter and once he did you felt euphoria. He stretched you out to your limits, filled you until you bottomed out. His eyes were tightly shut as he basked in the comfort of you. It felt just as good to be buried in you as it did to kiss you. You enveloped his senses and his mind. You were the only thing that mattered to him at that very moment.

'Saints Y/N.' His forehead fell against yours as he thrust in and out of you, bearing his weight on the arm not holding your thigh up.

Despite the pleasure clouding your mind and vision, you managed to grab at his vulnerability and flip you both around. He didn't fight back, only grabbed hold of the back of your neck to kiss you deeply as you pounded down onto him. His hold on your hip was deadly, bound to bruise. He liked the thought of marking you as his.

You came with a strangled cry, the pulsing around his length sending him into a frenzy of his own as your name spilled out like a prayer from his lips. It took a while for you to catch your breath and return to your natural state. But it didn't last long before the events of the night were repeated and more marks were littered across your body.

It was only then that you fell asleep, thoroughly spent and exhausted, awaiting the next time you could defy him.

_______

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melis-writes · 2 years

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Eyes like Stars [Bobby Axel x Reader Multi-chapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 13 - Overdose.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 12 [AO3] / [Tumblr] / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut, multi-chapter read.

"It’s amusing to me that you think you’re the only one in this office who's addicted to drugs, Emily.” / “You just can’t wait until Bobby dies, can’t you?!”

Bobby’s downward spiral to relapsing into a worse addiction becomes a burden for those he called his friends and his brother Hank, but never for you. You refuse to leave Bobby’s side, trying to support and coax him out of his addiction slowly knowing regardless of how long it takes, you won’t give up on him. Taking a heavier dose by the day, Bobby rides out on a consistent and dangerous high for days on end. Just when Bobby seems to stabilize, when he’s out of your sight the news of his overdose hits you in utter shock and horror. With only Chico’s help, you both rush and panic to help Bobby whose moments from losing his life and the only question on your mind is if Bobby will make it out alive with regret in your heart leaving him alone in the first place.

[WARNINGS]: Depictions and themes of heroin withdrawals & cravings / Heroin and marijuana highs / Heroin overdose / Explicit physical depictions of heroin overdose / Forced vomiting / Overdose recovery / Near death experience.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Apologies for the delay with this chapter, beloveds. 🥰 I’m still in the process of planning the remaining chapters for this fic and want to write/post up only the best! A little difficult to balance with two other oneshots at the same time but that just means more to look forward to!! ❤️ This chapter follows the events in the film with Bobby’s overdose, so pls take care when looking at the warnings since this chapter is on the explicit side. I’m also not much of a fan of the “I’ll-wait-for-you-to-change” trope and this is definitely not it as we see both Bobby and Emily are struggling through addiction with one another rather than it being entirely one sided, though we can definitely say it’s much more impactful on Bobby’s life at the moment. 🥺💔

Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.

[ + 1 Day ]

“Well, well, look at the little trash goblin Emily’s brought in here for me to babysit.” Marcie leans against the doorway to her apartment, loudly chewing her strawberry bubblegum.

“Hello to you too, Marcie.” You sigh softly, keeping an arm around Bobby’s shoulder as you both stand in front of her suite. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Would it matter?” Marcie eyes you first, then looks back down at Bobby. “I’ve babysat grown-ass men before. It’s what I do. He better not come down in ‘ere, that’s all.”

“He’s still high.” You admit, giving Bobby’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “But it’s not too bad, it’s like he took one dose.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Marcie tilts Bobby’s chin up, examining both sides of his face as if she’s expecting Bobby to bite her fingers at any moment. “I know one dose for Bobby is like five doses for the rest of us.”

Marcie takes a good look into Bobby’s bloodshot, dilated pupils, knowing all too well for herself that while Bobby’s still high, it’s gradually fading and at least won’t have him all zombie-like for the day.

“Hmm, yeah he’s high, alright.” Marcie pulls her hand back. “One moment so I can get this shit open.”

Bobby blinks lazily as you gently pull him away from the door. He stares aimlessly at Marcie unlocking her apartment door as casually as she can as if Marcie isn’t aware you have to be at work in fifteen minutes.

“Don’t go,” Bobby loosely holds your hand back, mumbling to you.

“I’m just going to work, baby.” You whisper back in his ear, brushing aside Bobby’s hair. “And I’ll be back tonight, then we can both go home, alright?”

“Mm.” Bobby wants to protest but doesn’t have the strength or energy to do so. “Home…”

“Alright. Welcome home, I guess.” Marcie pulls open the front door, gesturing for both of you to enter. “I don’t have any tricks comin’ in today so he can make himself as comfortable as he wants.”

“Thanks, Marcie.” You shoot her a warm smile, walking in with Bobby. “It’s just going to be until five. As soon as I’m out, I’ll be back to take Bobby home.”

“Anything you want me to do then?” Marcie shuts the door behind you, putting a hand on her hip. “Or is he just gonna sit here and stare at the wall for the next eight hours?”

“Please tell me you at least have something he can eat.” You don’t hold your hopes up high for Marcie’s response as you help Bobby sit on the edge of her bed.

“I eat out all the time, honey.” Marcie shakes her head. “You see a chef’s kitchen in ‘ere or somethin’? I can order him a bologna sandwich if he wants.”

“Never mind that then.” You brush her off, helping Bobby shrug off his bomber jacket. “I’ll get something delivered to him to eat.”

“What? Bobby doesn’t eat sandwiches anymore?” Marcie scoffs, walking over to her television. “It’s from the same deli we all go to.”

“He eats ‘health’ food now.” You can’t help but crack a smile at Bobby whose already lazily grinning back at you. “And that shit is no good for him, so like I said, I’ll handle it.”

“Alright, and I’ll just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid then.” Marcie turns on her television. “There. Maybe he can watch something if he’s not completely out of his mind yet.”

“He’s not.” You reply, blinking in surprise to see Bobby wrapping his arms around your lower waist and resting his head against your stomach. “He just reminds me of how I would be if I had smoked a joint.” You run your hands gently through Bobby’s hair. “He can talk and move, he’s not like…yesterday.”

“Yeah, you think that was his worst?” Marcie takes a cigarette out of her pack off her dresser. “That used to be Bobby every day.”

“It’s the worst I’ve seen him in and don’t want that ever again.” You don’t realize how sharp your tone of voice has grown.

“It’s fine, honey.” Marcie puts her cigarette in the corner of her mouth. “I don’t have any shit in here and I’m sure as hell not letting anybody shoot up in here.” She gestures to Bobby by tilting her head to the side, “I’m his glorified babysitter.”

“D-don’t go,” Bobby murmurs against you again, growing more insistent.

“Baby, baby,” ignoring Marcie’s comments, you kiss the top of Bobby’s head, cupping his cheeks softly and gazing down at him. “You know I want nothing more than to stay at home with you too than go back there, but—” you sigh quietly, “I don’t have a choice.”

Bobby’s eyes fill with a longing sadness looking up into yours as he desperately wants you to change your mind and take him home—stay with him, but you know you can’t put off work for the well-being of both of you and your finances, let alone have it become a habit.

“I love you,” you murmur to Bobby, kissing both of his cheeks. “Laying down and resting is gonna do you some good. You won’t be alone here for the day, you know? Marcie’s here. And I’ll get you something nice and filling to eat too, okay? It’ll help with your high.”

“Yeah…” Bobby breathes, giving your tummy a weak kiss.

Every inch of you insists and pulls for you to stay with Bobby, making you detest the idea of having to walk away from Bobby or even go to work in the first place.

Never has there ever been such an urge not to go to work, to just stay curled up in Bobby’s arms until you know he’s doing better—until all the drugs are out of his system.

“Cute.” Marcie comments, watching the both of you. “Bobby’s in love, love, isn’t he?”

“Don’t tease me.” You roll your eyes playfully at Marcie, slowly beginning to pull away from Bobby.

Before you can move back towards the door, Bobby grabs both of your hands and kisses them.

“Come back…soon.” Feeling Bobby’s warm kiss against your skin only amplifies the idea in the back of your mind trickling out and reminding you how your skin practically itches to take a fix before work too.

“I will, baby.” You find your breathing beginning to grow shaky. “I promise I will.”

Still able to push the cravings and desires out of your mind as you focus almost solely on Bobby’s wellbeing before your own, it’s unbeknownst to you that'll be one of the last times your body will ever allow you to have such a will to refuse how you continue to abuse it.

Bobby’s never been in this alone after all.

[ Way Enterprises, 9:30 AM ]

‘Appointments starting tomorrow at 11:30 to 12:45 are scheduled for… Scheduled for…’ You repeat the same sentence aimlessly over and over in your head like a mantra, unable to focus at all on your work let alone realize it.

‘I’ll mark it down as scheduled for…’ Your shaky hands can hardly grip the pen in your hand and with each passing second your eyes remain glued down to your work agenda in front of you, you swear to yourself that they begin to burn.

‘For…?’ You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your pen onto the office floor.

You let out a shuddering deep breath, forcing your eyes open to look at the clock upon the wall, all the more disappointed to read that it still isn’t past 9:30 for the tenth time in a row.

‘God…’ You take your face into your hands, attempting to calm down your shaky, shallow breathing.

You’ve eaten a full breakfast this morning, had enough water and even managed to make yourself look semi-presentable for work and yet your insistent cravings and withdrawals continue to gnaw at your every effort.

You feel like an actual burden at work rather than being productive as you’ve gotten nothing done since you’ve clocked in.

You know you’d be utterly humiliated if any one of your coworkers noticed and all they’d have to do is ask you a question to realize you can’t answer it properly because you feel as if your skin is scratching back at you.

‘Bobby…’ You glance down at your blouse’s sleeve, inching it up to your arm to scratch at the reddened and bruising injection sites.

Refusing to acknowledge the idea or agree with it, it’s becoming to sink deep into your mind that Bobby is distracting you from everything and anything and it’s only growing worse by the day.

‘If I use in here…’ You know if you shoot up just a little bit, you may be able to pull through the workday, but there’s no telling how it’ll affect your movements, speech, or productivity and you’ve come to hate how your body tells you the solution to any kind of drowsiness is to use and use again.

‘I can’t. I can’t do that.’ You hold back tears in your eyes, clinging onto strands of your hair loosely as you lower your head to stare down at your desk.

Instead of finding something enjoyable to do or passing the time when you get home, all you’ve been doing for the past few weeks is getting high with Bobby and getting both of you off.

If it isn’t the sex, it’s most certainly the drugs and while it feels like a repetitive routine, it’s something you and Bobby have come to desperately need your fix of both numerous times every single day.

Still, if anything, you remember just how your life was before Bobby—when Chico, Marcie, and the others kept groaning on about some “panic” happening in the streets you didn’t use at all to even come close to understanding.

Everything was dull and your daily routine lacked any kind of interest with a looming depression above you after the fallout you had with your parents, your disappointing and wasted post-secondary years, let alone having any real friends to confide in, in this city.

If it comes down to living a reclused lifestyle working for your next paycheque, watching the rain pour against your bedroom window, eating the same comfort meal that reminds you of home versus being hooked on drugs, teasing you’re only chipping, having to take care of Bobby’s habit and himself the way you would a child all in the name of love and for the sake of not being alone—what would you truly choose?

What’s really changed? That you know you can never answer.

You manage to focus your vision across the office to spot Sykes talking to two of your coworkers near the lunch room.

Seemingly relaxed and in an almost obnoxiously cheerful mood as always, Sykes rests one arm propped up against the wall with the other holding a steaming cup of black coffee.

Almost as if he’s, unfortunately, read your mind, and like a mocking daily routine for him, Sykes happily turns back over his heel after he ends his brief small talk with your coworkers and walks straight to your desk.

‘Don’t talk to me. Please don’t talk to me. Don’t come near me for fuck’s sakes.’ You practically scream in your head as you reach down to the floor and fumble to grab your pen.

By the time your head peeks back up, Sykes is casually leaning against your desk and sipping his coffee as slowly as possible—his judging eyes wandering all over you.

You remain quiet as if you’re ashamed of Sykes’ presence. You click open your pen and force your hands to firmly remain upon your desk before you begin writing, but nothing has ever escaped Sykes’ eye in this office from the day he got transferred and you know it.

Sykes doesn’t say anything to you at first, only savoring his coffee quietly.

He notices regardless of the sunny weather outside seeping through the wide windows that build up a sweat for you, you still wear long-sleeved blouses and you have for some time.

Your eyes look dead inside as if you haven’t slept for weeks, usually bloodshot and you’ve started to care less about how you show up to work up to the point where even Sykes is beginning to notice you wearing the same blazer, blouse, and pencil skirt.

Your pencil skirt is just enough to cover the mottled bruises over your kneecaps—nothing due to injury, of course, but sessions of rough sloppy fucking and more specifically, sucking Bobby off until your knees felt weak.

Your hands remain jittery, your fingers are too weak for the most part to grasp things firmly, let alone use them, and you can barely sit still or focus on anything.

None of this strikes Sykes as unusual or as a surprise either, and just from the way you can feel his beady, blue eyes examining you, you think to yourself Sykes must be more than just enjoying seeing you this way.

“Coming down now, huh?” Sykes speaks to you in a low voice, ushered so others can’t overhear the conversation but in such a tone that it sounds mocking rather than pitiful. “It’s as clear as day if you were trying to hide it.”

“Stop talking to me.” You manage to say through gritted teeth, barely holding yourself together.

Sykes smirks behind his cup of coffee, taking a long sip while keeping his eyes over you. “Stressed too then.”

“You…” You swallow hard, staring down at your desk. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Does it surprise you how observant I am or have you already forgotten?” Sykes sets down his coffee cup on the corner of your desk. “It’s amusing to me that you think you’re the only one in this office who's addicted to drugs, Emily.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, slowly raising your head to gaze up at Sykes. “W-what…?”

“The cocaine residue I find on our staples, over the edge of the printers, stashed under the sinks in the bathroom—yeah. I could get every single person in this office arrested and fired if I wanted to.” He smugly smirks at you. “But hey, what do I have against it, right?”

“You do it too.” Your voice strains through your words.

“Maybe.” Sykes lets out a dramatic sigh. “Maybe not. That’s my business, and I wouldn’t ever do it in plain sight like you. It takes the edge off, I get it, but we can’t all be high out of our minds at the office—especially not me. Unlike you,” he eyes you judgingly, “I have a reputation to maintain here, not a habit.”

“Sometimes…” You grip your hands onto your work desk, narrowing your eyes at Sykes. “I don’t know if you’re here to observe me, o-or just to insult me.”

“I’m not your enemy, honey.” Sykes chuckles, placing his hand over top of yours.

“Believe me, it’s not even in my best interest to watch you lose your job and everything else. But if I can see the way you look, everyone else can.” Sykes abruptly leans down close to you as you pick up the scent of coffee on his breath, “so for the sake of saving face, clean up your act and stay sober at work or my observations will be the least of your worries when someone else calls HR.”

Anxiety instantly pulls in your gut as your eyes widen in an alarming worry. Every muscle in your body freezes from fear as Sykes notices your bottom lip quivering. “No…”

“Yes,” Sykes repeats, pressing his hand over yours harshly. “I like having you around, Emily, I really do. And besides, more than half of your paycheque supports your boyfriend, right? So I don’t need to sit here and list down scenarios of how things will quickly go downhill for the both of you if you lose your job, especially considering both of you are addicts.”

You wince out of pain as you notice Sykes has been digging his fingernails into the back of your hand, trying to pull away from him.

“Keep what I said in mind.” Sykes continues to keep a strong grip over you until he decides to pull back, nudging his coffee cup towards you. “And clean this up while you’re at it. It’ll give you some practice in walking around and acting normal in this office.”

“I…” You stare back at your boss aimlessly as if you’re still trying to process what he’s told you.

The confused yet innocent-like look over your face more than amuses Sykes who chuckles, knowing you won’t and can’t even physically argue with him.

Perhaps preferring you in a downtrodden state like this rather than clean and alert more than anything else, Sykes can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face as he walks back towards his office yet again with further leverage over you growing into steady blackmail while he knows you’re helpless to your addiction.

You breathe out shakily the moment Sykes is out of view and earshot as if you’ve been holding your breath the entire time he was next to you.

On the verge of tears and barely keeping yourself together, you cover your face with your hand and force yourself to look back down at your work agenda and get something done—anything.

Any attempt at focusing fails miserably and you begin to grow frustrated with yourself every time your eyes dart back to the clock upon the wall, finding that little to no time has passed.

‘Coming down… Is this really what it’s like?’ You squeeze your eyes shut, tilting your head back and forth without even knowing as you try to believe you’re fine—you’re doing okay and you’ll get through this shift like you always have.

You neither have the energy to scold yourself nor think further on just what’s happening to your body, only able to repeat a mantra of ‘work, work, work’ over and over again in your head in hopes it’ll actually come to some fruition.

The next four hours pass painfully working as if every inch of your body is aching and the skin over your wrists feels as if a fire is crawling over it.

While you can’t focus on your work to save your life, you’ve become much more intent on figuring out what time it is above anything else.

Thankfully none of your coworkers have passed close to your desk nor have you received any calls and visitors. It’s a slow day, but you don’t have the mental energy to process thinking about that either.

For once in your life, you find yourself wishing you had something to do. Maybe not any kind of work that would involve seeing or talking to someone despite it being the majority of your job role, but if Sykes could slam down a pile of paperwork onto your desk as he normally loves to do, you’d actually feel as if you have some purpose in today's shift instead of itching for your next fix.

Another ten minutes pass by as you spend it with your head plastered onto your desk and your eyes shut tightly. It almost feels as if your body’s need for another shot seems to be gradually waning or at least you’re getting used to it.

Just as you think to yourself you could get away momentarily from all of this just by taking a nap, you jolt up in your office seat to hear the telephone ringing for the first time in five hours.

Your heart pounds in your chest from surprise and you attempt to calm down your breath rate over something so ridiculously normal as an incoming telephone call to your office.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and pick up the telephone, holding it up to your ear. “Way Enterprises, receptionist Emily Sutcliffe speaking.” Even you’ve surprised yourself today by being able to speak normally.

“Uh, hello?” You hear a gruff voice on the other end of the phone. “Emily? Emily, is that you?”

“Chico?” Your eyes widen as you realize just whose on the other end.

“Oh, thank God!” Chico sighs loudly, growing agitated. “I been calling all the numbers in your office just to reach you—look, you gotta get over here fast and now.”

“What are you talking about?” You rub your temples gingerly, “I’m working, Chico. I can’t just get up and leave my job.”

“Emily, it’s serious.” You hear loud scuffling in the background and hoarse coughing. “It’s Bobby! He took a hot shot of junk and he’s fucking overdosing and puking everything up on the floor! You have to get here now!”

“What?!” You almost drop the telephone out of your hands, feeling a wave of sickening anxiety crash over you. “Is he okay?! Call him an ambulance—I’ll be right there!”

“If we call him an ambulance for an overdose, we’re calling Hotch’s hotline! You know we can’t fuckin’ do that. Get to Marcie’s place as soon as you can, man!” Chico explains.

“I’m coming—okay, okay—” you practically throw the telephone down before getting up from your seat and knocking your chair down backward.

‘Bobby… No, no, no, this can’t be fucking happening! Marcie said…?! Marcie didn’t have anything on her, how the fuck could he have taken something?!'

The knot of emotions clenching in your gut flare up your nausea as you stumble over to the coat rack and snatch your jacket and purse off it.

Without even bothering to look back over your shoulder, you hold onto your things tightly and sprint off towards the stairs as quickly as your shaking legs can take you.

Panting and desperate to reach Marcie’s apartment as soon as possible, every step you take feels as if it’ll be the one to cause your knees to give out but it’s the fear inside of you fueling the adrenaline that has you racing out of breath across Upper West Side Manhattan.

Constantly blinking to clear the tears pooling in your eyes, you rush across the lobby of Marcie’s apartment and sprint directly for the stairs, knowing if you stop yourself now to wait for an elevator, you may just give in entirely.

Confirming your horror, the moment you get onto Marcie’s floor you can already hear Marcie’s panicked voice shrieking, Chico yelling over her, and the sound of Bobby coughing out his lungs and choking

“Marcie! Chico!” Your voice wavers as you shout, lunging yourself towards Marcie’s suite door and slamming your fists over it. “Open up! Open the door, I’m here!”

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming!” Marcie huffs, throwing open the locks on the door as you barge in. “Get him the hell out of here!”

“Bobby?!” Taking just one step inside, you see Bobby convulsing on the ground with his eyes rolled back. “BOBBY!” You shriek, throwing yourself knees down to the floor next to him.

“We gotta get him up! Get him on his feet, come on!” Chico grunts, grabbing Bobby’s right arm.

Sobbing and using all your remaining strength to attempt to haul Bobby up in your arms, your cries only grow louder as Bobby flails in Chico’s grasp and latches onto your chest, struggling to breathe. “Bobby, come on!”

“Oh my God—” From what you know and what you can see, Bobby has little to no proper control of his body—putting all of his weight on you.

“Emily! I got you! Just pull him up! He’s gotta get up!” You feel Chico’s hands helping you up as you scoop Bobby up into your arms to get up on his feet with you.

Bobby’s fingers twitch as he struggles to close his hands up in a fist or even raise his fingers up to his face, feeling as if spiders are crawling all over his skin.

Had he the opportunity, Bobby would want to tear up his own face to stop the shock going through his body.

“He’s not gonna die in my goddamn apartment, you hear me!?” Marcie raises her voice over the three of you, appearing visibly shaken.

Just glancing back at Marcie after hearing her comment is enough to deliver a nauseating blow of anxiety into your gut. “Marcie, shut up!”

Feeling nothing but sheer and true fear as if you’re actually witnessing Bobby’s death, had it not been for the adrenaline masking how visibly shaken you are physically, you’d have thrown up several times before already.

“Come on, come on—” You and Chico finally manage to pull Bobby up together, balancing him on his feet. “He’s choking, he’s not going to be able to move.”

“My God,” bewildered, Marcie covers her face with both her hands. “At least you got here on time!”

Flailing in both of your arms like a helpless ragdoll being balanced and back and forth in Chico and your arms, you both push and pull Bobby over to the wall closest to you.

“Yeah, yeah, luckily I was just around the corner!” Chico breathes heavily. “Then again the whole damn city would have heard you screaming out your window, Marcie!”

Bobby’s lungs sting and ache in agony as he continues to cough harshly back to back, still not able to get enough air into his system. His head tilts back and forth aimlessly until you and Chico press him up against a wall.

“You don’t see any paramedics in here, do ya?!” Marcie runs a shaky hand through her hair. “Just get him out of here! I don’t wanna see him like this!”

“Just fucking ignore her, Emily,” Chico keeps Bobby pinned to the wall, tilting his head back and pushing down on his shoulders. “We need to get Bobby out of this fucking state!”

Bobby’s eyes land upon yours, practically pleading “help me” while only keeping his hopeless gaze over yours in genuine fear of losing his life and struggling to stay alive.

“He’s going to vomit!” You pat around Bobby’s chest and stomach helplessly, seeming to you as if Bobby actually has something down his throat he’s choking on.

Bobby’s body quivers in you and Chico’s grasp again as he lets out a breathless wail. Chico takes a step in front of Bobby and grabs his face harshly with one hand. “There’s only one damn way he’s gonna snap outta this now!”

Bobby’s shirt rides up halfway to his chest from being pulled around and only for a split second do your eyes glance down to see fresh, reddened scratch marks over his stomach before Chico slapping Bobby across the face pulls your attention back abruptly.

“Come on!” Chico tilts Bobby’s head to the side, slapping his face again.

“Chico, what the hell are you doing?!” You keep Bobby pressed up against the wall.

“I need him to respond to this!” Chico grits his teeth, slapping Bobby three more times in rapid succession. “Alright, come on! Bobby, come on!”

You gasp out as Bobby lunges towards you, resting his head over your shoulder lazily. “He’s stopped?!”

“He’s not choking anymore.” Chico smacks Bobby’s back to make sure but quickly pulls him back away from you. “Still! Not! Responsive!” He slaps Bobby again over the face. “Come on, Emily! Help me out ‘ere! Shake him!”

“Bobby!” You cry out, cupping his face with your hands and giving him a shake. “Bobby, come on! Come on!”

Bobby’s eyes flutter shut as his breathing slows down, and it’s only then that alarm flashes in Chico’s eyes. “No, no, can he see?” He forcefully pries Bobby’s eyelids open with his fingers. “Come on, huh!? Bobby, I know you can hear me! Snap out of it!” He slams Bobby’s back up against the wall harder than before.

Still unresponsive, Bobby remains silent and crumples against the wall, but neither you nor Chico relents.

“Chico, we need to call an ambulance!” You sniffle, holding onto Bobby’s arm.

“I know what I’m doing!” Chico stares at Bobby’s face, feeling his throat beginning to tighten. “Ah, aha! He’s gonna puke, Em! He’s gotta get the shit out of his system!”

“Puke?!” Marcie gasps out in disgust. “Oh God, not in my place!”

“Oh, shut up!” Chico scowls back at her. “Your friend’s fuckin’ dying in here and you’re worried about your shit-stained carpet?! Emily!” Chico turns back to face you, opening Bobby’s mouth. “Do you see any vomit coming out?”

“No!” You shake your head. “We need to get him over the toilet! He needs a towel—”

“I’ve only got one towel!” Marcie shrieks out. “You’re not gonna use that on him, are you?!”

“Yeah, Marcie!” Chico pulls Bobby’s arm over his shoulder as you do the same to hoist him back off the wall. “You just can’t wait until Bobby dies, can’t you?!”

“He’s not dying!” You hiccup through your sobs, “not if I can fucking help it!”

“Don’t jinx it.” Chico points an accusing finger at Marcie as you both take Bobby over to the bathroom. “You care about a fucking towel before you do about the life of your friend!”

“It’s not my fault any of this happened!” Marcie frowns, “I told him ‘no drugs’ and he snuck them in here!”

“You’re really not fucking helping, Marcie.” You glare at her as you help Chico kneel Bobby down to the toilet seat. “Don’t make me regret paying your fucking rent.”

“Shut up or he is gonna die in here!” Chico slams the bathroom door shut to drown out Marcie’s voice.

Unable to focus on a single thing in front of or around him, Bobby aimlessly gazes around the bathroom you and Chico take him in.

Unaware of what’s happening to him other than the alarming state and shock his body is physically in, Bobby’s eyes appear empty and dead and he grows even more unresponsive by the minute.

“Why is he—” Your eyes widen as you notice Bobby’s muscles beginning to relax and grow limp in your arms, only striking a further shock to you.

“Bobby!” You croak out through your sobs; your stress and fear mounting with your tension as you attempt to hopelessly get Bobby’s attention back onto you. “Bobby! BOBBY!! Look at me!”

Bobby lets out a disgruntled whimper, but he neither looks you nor Chico in the eye nor keeps his balance on his own two feet.

“He’s gotta puke, Em, he’ll be alright.” Chico helps you carefully get Bobby down on his knees before the toilet. “He ain’t gonna snap outta anything if we don’t get all this junk out of his system.”

“Why isn’t he r-responding? He won’t even look at us,” you hiccup through your tears, angling Bobby’s head down towards the toilet bowl.

“He’s beyond fucked.” Chico sighs shakily, grasping Bobby’s jaw. “The faster we do this, the better. Come on, stick your fingers down his throat—he’s not gonna puke voluntarily!”

“Okay, okay,” you swallow hard, cringing as you swiftly put two of your fingers towards the back of Bobby’s throat to trigger his gag reflex.

It’s not the immediate rush of the dinner Bobby had last night or the only thing he consumed today being water that he pukes up disgusting you, but rather the idea that you may be hurting Bobby by doing this to him instead.

“Hkkkkkghhh!” Bobby gags, vomiting into the toilet and squeezing his eyes shut.

“There we go, there we go.” Chico keeps Bobby’s jaw angled down. “He’s gotta get it all out, just like that.”

“God,” your vision blurs with tears pooling in your eyes as you pull your fingers back, watching the vile liquid escape from Bobby’s lips.

Nothing Bobby does can disgust or repulse you even if he tried.

After the state he was in from living on the streets to prison, washing layers of sweat and dirt caked up on Bobby’s skin, taking care of the scabs and opened wounds over his wrists from scratching at old and fresh injection sites alike, lathering up shampoo in Bobby’s greasy hair to this—all things you wish you’d never have to do because it kills you to see Bobby suffering in any way.

The sickening feel of anxiety piling up in your gut is only amplified by your guilty conscience at this point.

Only a minute passes by until Bobby’s done puking, but it feels like a lifetime to you passing by before your eyes as the only thing you can think of clearly in your head is: ‘this is all my fault.’

‘I gave him his dose—I let him have another one. This is all my fucking fault. I did this to him!’

Anywhere else at any other time you’d want to tear yourself apart and you know you won’t go on without doing so after all is said and done here.

There’s even a massive regret inside of you that you went to work in the first place, but how could you have known Bobby would overdose or even have anything on him after how slumped he was from being so high and under Marcie’s supervision?

‘I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough.’

Bobby hasn’t even had a meal today and consumed nothing but water hence how quickly his vomiting ceases.

“Alright, man. There you go.” Chico snatches the bath towel off the rack next to him, wrapping it around Bobby’s neck as you pull his head back.

You can tell just from the look in his eyes that he can now make out his environment and focus on what’s happening around him and whose around him.

“Mm…” Bobby takes in a deep breath—although a weak and shaky one—and appears as if he’s stabilizing as he leans against you.

“Thank God,” Chico mutters under his breath, sliding down against the wall and sitting on the bathroom floor.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby,” you murmur, sniffling as you reach your free hand over to the sink to quickly wash off your fingers.

“H-help…” Bobby breathes out, completely dependent on you for balance.

“I got you, baby. I got you.” You wrap your arms around Bobby’s shoulders, sitting on the bathroom floor across Hank with Bobby as gently as you can as.

As if Bobby’s about to break if you touch him the wrong way, all of your movements are slow and soft towards him and on him.

You keep the towel wrapped around his shoulders and pull at it, dabbing the beads of sweat built up on Bobby’s forehead. “Here, baby. You’re okay…”

“Emily? Chico?” Marcie calls out, knocking on the bathroom door before opening it up and peeking inside. “What’s goin’ on now? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Chico exhales deeply. “He just puked, he’ll stabilize.”

“God.” Marcie appears alarmed and still alert, “well he can’t stay in here, I’ve got a trick comin’.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think he shouldn’t have stayed here in the first place.” You narrow your eyes, wrongfully blaming Marcie for Bobby’s own overdose throughout your anger as you snuggle onto him. “I’m not taking him out on the streets like this, not when Hotch is out there.”

“Hmmmmm…” Bobby mutters to himself, scratching at his wrists where he injected his last dose.

“Let your trick come then.” Chico shrugs his shoulders. “What—does he need to take a piss first?”

“Baby, no.” You whisper, lacing your hand with Bobby’s to stop him from scratching. “Don’t do that, okay?”

“Are you serious right now?” Marcie huffs, crossing her arms. “And if he hears him wailing?”

“He’s not wailing, Marcie.” You scoff, gesturing to Bobby. “He’s sick.”

“Sick, my ass!” Marcie exclaims in disbelief. “I didn’t ask him to shoot up forty dollars worth in here!”

“Yeah? Well, he can’t talk, move or barely do shit, look at him.” Chico points at Bobby, growing increasingly irritated by Marcie’s lack of sympathy. “Trust me, your John isn’t gonna know a soul else is in here.”

“I’m taking care of him.” You hug onto Bobby’s shoulders tightly, letting him rest his cheek against yours. “We’ll leave after your John’s gone.”

“And he’s a regular.” Marcie rolls her eyes, looking back at the front door. “He’s coming up as we speak so keep it down in here, alright?” She pulls back the bathroom door.

“Yeah, yeah.” Chico mumbles, tilting his head back against the wall.

“Help,” Bobby whimpers out again, feeling the warmth of your skin against his as Marcie shuts the bathroom door.

“I can help you, baby.” You kiss Bobby’s cheek gently, unaware now that he knows you’re taking care of him. “It’s alright.”

"Marcie's not your friend, baby.” You can hear Bobby’s words practically repeating again and again in your head, knowing now more than ever it makes so much more sense.

“What a trip,” Bobby slurs out his first sentence since you got to Marcie’s place, burying his face into your shoulder. “What…a triiiiip… Hmmm….”

“Are you alright, baby?” Pleasantly surprised to hear Bobby being able to speak, you softly kiss his cheek.

“Mmmm...” Bobby gives out a pained groan as you rub warmth back into his hands with yours.

From the moment both of your eyes meet in a gaze, you notice Bobby isn’t looking at you the way he did yesterday when his high controlled him completely.

Instead, Bobby’s eyes are filled with nothing but disappointment for himself, wallowing in self-pity and an ashamed look as if you’ve caught him in a lie; in a way you already have.

Bobby knows he shouldn’t have even thought about getting high again but it’s as if his body went into panic mode realizing the high was wearing off and demanded that strong surge to flow through his veins again.

The sadness lingering inside Bobby now only stems from believing he’s lied and disappointed in you, but it’s the forgiving and soothing look from you that confuses him above all.

Even feeling at his absolute worst, Bobby knows at least he’s with you—at least he has you.

“Hnnnngghr...” Bobby can still barely balance on his own, wobbling around if you’re not holding him against your body.

Chico sighs quietly, pulling out his half-crushed cigarette pack from the pocket of his jeans to distract himself as you cuddle Bobby against you across from Chico.

“Never,” Bobby mumbles out, talking again. “N-never again.”

“God,” your throat tightens as you feel another rush of tears form in the corners of your eyes. “Bobby, I thought I was going to lose you tonight. You had me so scared—you had all of us worried.”

“Never, never,” Bobby lazily shakes his head, knowing this is about as much of a promise that he can offer to you at the moment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe out, forcing your tears back as you continue to wipe the sweat off of Bobby’s forehead with the towel. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s alright now.”

Just as you’re aware this morning could have been the last time you’d see Bobby, Sykes is just as aware you’ve left work early; a thought that still hasn’t come to your mind.

“L-love you,” Bobby mutters against your chest as you stroke his hair. “Need...”

“Baby,” you sniffle, kissing the top of Bobby’s head.

“Need you.” Bobby hiccups, trying to shrug the towel off of his shoulders. “I’m... I’m gonna marry you.”

You blush, exchanging a look with Chico who chuckles and smokes quietly; much more concerned with Marcie finishing “entertaining” her client so the three of you can get out of her cramped bathroom.

“You’re gonna marry me?” You crack a smile for the first time since this morning, adjusting the towel over Bobby’s shoulders.

“At least he’s talkin’.” Chico points out quietly.

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky breath. “He almost had me dying here myself.”

You rub up and down Bobby’s arms, gladly giving him all the warmth and affection you have to offer, but it’s short-lived as it comes to both you and Chico as a surprise that Bobby suddenly bursts into tears.

Your eyes widen in shock as Bobby cries, clinging onto the fabric of your blouse as sobs rack through his body.

Trying to stay quiet for the sake of Marcie while seeing Bobby hurting and realizing the state you’re all in and come down to kills you as you hold Bobby tightly.

“Bobby, baby,” you can barely croak out as you weep quietly, feeling Bobby’s hot tears soaking into your top. “You’re okay, you’re h-here with me now.”

As you blink the last tear out of your eye—clearing your vision—you look upon Chico who only had one question regarding all of this since you and he managed to stabilize Bobby.

‘What the hell happened?’ Neither of you—let alone Marcie—know how Bobby overdosed when neither you nor Marcie had anything on you or in either of your suites.

It doesn’t add up to you nor does it make sense, but Bobby’s clearly had such a heavy dose that it’s caused his body to literally overdose, almost certainly killing him.

Looking down now at your boyfriend crying his pity out in your arms, you know you’ll have to ask him or find out one way or another how this all started no matter what state he’s in.

‘What happened to you, Bobby?’ You frown, pressing your lips up to his forehead for another kiss as all you can feel is your aching heart towards his pain. ‘What happened?’

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