#and they think (even though I’ve been smoking for how many fucking years now) that I

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[disneyprincemuke]

fly on the wall * fem!driver

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: crashing the car

notes: ooooh my god i had to rewrite this 5 times because it wasn't up to my liking initially, and then tumblr was having some issues saving my shit so i lost it?? it's very sad fr

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"are you alright?" sebastian's voice comes onto the radio.

his eyes are trained on the big screen, cameras focused on the car parked into the wall out of a turn. he couldn't get an answer out of his driver so he had to resort to the third party.

if his assumptions are correct, she would have hit her head on her seat hard at impact. but things like that can lead to so many bigger things that he might not even be prepared for. 

her vision slowly returns, blacking out for a mere second as the car went into the barriers of the baku track.

she had issues with her brakes for a few laps. sebastian had suggested retiring the car if she didn't feel safe, but she pressed on. the issue didn't seem so serious and it seemed manageable.

at first. 

it's a driver error - missing the early braking point to accommodate her already tweaking brakes. she missed it by a millisecond, clipped the wall and got sent straight into the wall.

she sighs, pressing the button on her steering wheel. "i'm okay," she answers shakily, tears now filling her eyes.

"okay, that's the important part. don't think about anything else. i'll see you in the medical centre." sebastian is quick to shut her thoughts down, clearly prioritising her wellbeing and not the car.

"i'm sorry," she sighs, voice shaking and lips quivering. “i’m so sorry, seb.”

this is only her third race in f1, how could she have already crashed out? on a race where she was so close to that podium. it would have been such a monumental moment — a woman on the podium. 

with 20 laps left in the race and her in 5th place, it wasn’t all that far out of reach at the time. yet, here she is causing a yellow flag as she starts to notice the smoke surrounding her. 

"like i said. don't think about anything else."

she sighs to herself as a marshal appears above her halo, greeting her with a soft smile. she nods, letting herself get helped out of her car.

but only one thought eats away at her: she crashed on her third race. what's everyone going to say about her now?

“let me talk,” sebastian sighs, hands up in the air as he tries to calm the girl sitting on the examination bed. he’s barely able to get a word in.

she’s slouched against the wall, purple balaclava in her hands as she traces the thread that holds it together at the hem. the minute he walked in, she looked up immediately with tears in her eyes and a string of apologies.

it hasn’t stopped since he poked his head through the door, cutting him off before he could even ask if she’s okay. 

“do you not see the problem?” she shrieks, eyebrows furrowing at sebastian. “i just crashed out! imagine what the media has to say about my performance today? they’re just going to use this as a reason to justify that i shouldn’t be on the track!”

sebastian drops his hands to his side, deciding that he’d just let her get it all off her chest. it might make her feel better. 

though, it doesn’t make him feel good that she’s continually talking down on herself. he vouched for her for weeks for a reason, and it’s because he believes in her. more than she does in herself, it seems. 

“i didn’t work my ass off my whole life just to be undermined because i’m a woman!” she tosses the balaclava aside, now picking at the loose skin by her fingernails. “i didn’t get this far for everyone to count me out because of one crash! can you fucking believe that shit? it’s a fucking rookie mistake, seb! i’ve been racing for years!”

she drops her hands by her side and groans again, rolling her eyes. “i’ve earned my rightful spot to be where i am! they are not going to care about that!”

sebastian shrugs slightly, overlooked by the infuriated woman across him. he can barely get a breath in before she continues, shutting his mouth immediately as she continues her rampage. 

“imagine the headlines tomorrow! a driver is as good as their last race — i know that! don’t try to sugarcoat it. you know i’m right!” she rambles on, eyes darting all over the room. she’s pushed herself off the wall slightly, clearly flustered over the course of events. 

she avoids sebastian’s eyes, the fear of fully breaking down in front of him prominent. crying over a crash seemed like such a silly thing to do, but there’s no denying how demanding the sport truly is. 

in her short three races in the season and people’s neverending criticism of her abilities, it makes her lie awake at night rethinking her position on the grid. 

following her crash, sebastian hadn’t expected for her to ramble on for this long. he initially thought that the crash would have sent her into a shocking silence, so while her anger is warranted, it was definitely not on his list of things to be ready for. 

“imagine what they have to say about me!” she throws her hands in the air, scratching her head gently. “imagine what they’ll say about you! it’s not going to be good, trust me! i’m a woman in a fucking racing car in a male-dominated sport!”

“hey!” sebastian’s voice bounces in the room, making her lift her head with her eyes narrowed into a glare. 

the sudden movement reminds her of her restrictions, hands coming up to nurse the back of her neck. she feels a sharp pain shoot through her head all the way down to her shoulders. “what?” she hisses, quickly looking down to hide the pain. 

“you literally just crashed head-first into a wall at 250 kilometres per hour! you’re lucky all you got was a concussion and whiplash! it could’ve been worse!”

“if i was lucky, i’d have been able to recover and get on the podium as we discussed! i was already 5th!”

“and you didn’t! that’s okay! you learn from things like these!”

“no, it’s not! i’m already hated as it is!”

“it’s part of the sport! fernando alonso has crashed, lewis has, and so have max and charles! every other big name in formula 1 has had their fair share! you’ll be okay!”

she finally meets sebastian’s eyes, slouching even more as she audibly sighs. he watches her body deflate, leaning back dejectedly. “it’s still different.”

she’s still in her fireproofs. her race suit had to be taken off during her short time with the doctor, hanging on the back of the plastic chair in the small medical room. her helmet sits next to her, underneath the balaclava she’d thrown on top of it. 

her hair is in a loose ponytail with stray hairs poking out and resting on her face. the adrenaline has yet to leave her body, chest heaving as if it’d just been over and beads of sweat still scattered all over her.

“i know it’s different. but everyone else who says whatever isn’t the person behind the wheel, you have to remember that,” he says in a soothing tone, finally coming up to stand next to her. he sighs, putting a hand on top of her head. “and i know it sucks.”

she shakes her head. “no, you don’t. we’re different; our problems are different.”

“the way they used to hate me, and things they say about you are different, yes,” sebastian nods in a low voice, his thumb now tracing circles on her head. “but you still can prove them wrong. you just started driving in formula 1 — you’ll have way more chances to shut them all up.”

“i could’ve already. if i just controlled the car a little better.”

“it’s okay.” he slides himself onto the examination bed, sitting next to her. he intertwines his fingers and rests his hands on his thigh. “everybody crashes at one point in their career.

“let the media say what they want, but not all that criticise you have been in a race before. nobody on that grid thinks you’re lesser than you are just because of what happened today.”

“you don’t know that.”

sebastian just shakes his head, refusing to elaborate any further. he leans back into the wall as well. “oscar is on the way with some snacks for you.”

crashing out during a race is never easy. years before he decided to retire, tapping and crashing out of a race has always been demoralising. it always feels like the first time when he does.

“i don’t need snacks. i need to go back to 4 hours ago when i was still on track for a podium finish in the first half of my rookie season.”

“with your talent, i can assure you that this will not be your only opportunity in formula 1. i will make sure of it, of course. wherever i go, you go.”

the door creaks open, cutting her off before she can throw an answer back as sebastian. “i’ve got your favourite snacks. i also stole a couple of twix bars from your backpack, i hope you don’t mind.”

“well, why’d you take them and still tell me about it knowing i wouldn’t even have given it to you in the first place?” she reaches for the nearest object next to her, yanking it towards oscar by the door. 

“because it was calling my name,” he shrugs, pushing the door fully open to reveal who he’s strung along to the medical centre. 

“i took a packet of haribo,” logan shrugs as he steps in. he flinches when she clenches her fist, scrambling to pull something out of his paper bag. “but i got you a can of sprite to make up for it! don’t be mad!”

her gaze softens when she notices lewis hamilton standing behind her friends, a paper bag hanging on his fingers as he grins at her. 

“how are you, sweetie?” his voice is empathetic and low, giving her a look that she’d seen from everyone she’s passed on her way here. 

she sees lewis and sebastian exchange glances, almost making her roll her eyes again. 

she doesn’t talk to lewis that often, but he has addressed her before when she would trail behind sebastian on the track. she would often greet him softly as she hid behind her mentor, or simply excuse herself when she sees either oscar or logan passing by. 

he’s a role model and the last thing she ever wanted to do was be too overbearing. to see him come to her aid is only a dream come true. 

“i hope you don’t beat yourself up because of that. you drove a brilliant race today,” he smiles. “everybody crashes out. don’t even care what others have to say about you. you did well.”

lewis understands being cast out as a minority. he will never understand the struggles and pressure put on her, but he can at least relate to a certain extent. “don’t even sweat it. you’re now one of the world’s greatest in a fast race car. you’d smoke anybody who would dare challenge you.”

oscar tilts his head. “why would someone random just challenge her out on the street?”

“oscar, shut up,” logan shoves the australian slightly, landing a warning smack on his shoulder after. “let her have her moment.”

lewis laughs but does wave oscar off as he returns his attention to her. “what they say will string, but trust me, this is not the end of the world. i know it feels like it.”

she nods to herself. “okay, hand me the snacks so i can eat away all my pain. i deserve it.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

A Different Kind of High

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: use of marijuana, smut, p in v, unprotected, slight fingering, lose of virginity, slight innocence kink? lmk if there’s any others!!!

summary: you died a virgin, but that doesn’t mean you need to be one as a ghost…

word count: 1.9k

~~~

“I stole some weed from the newbies, you want some?” Tate asks as he hops up on what used to be your bed.

You’ve been dead for only a few months, living in the imfamous Murder House for a year prior. It was strange being dead, seeing people pass by on the street everyday knowing that’ll never be you again. You suppose this was what you deserved, after all you committed suicide. But never during your life did you think this was what being dead would be like. Trapped in a house with a dozen other ghosts for eternity.

Tate has been your friend since before you died, of course you didn’t know he was a ghost until you joined him on the other side. He’s charming, very down to Earth. You really don’t know much about him, even now. You’ve heard whispers about him being crazy, and you believe it. Sometimes through the night you hear his screams, his murderous laughter. It doesn’t bother you though. You’re already dead, what’s the worst he could do?

“I’ve never smoked before,” you reply.

He chuckles. “Are you serious?”

You turn red. “You saw my parents, they never let me do anything. When I used to go out they’d make me be back by nine. Even on weekends. I always figured they’d know so I didn’t bother.”

“At least tell me you’ve drank.” You shake your head, a small laugh escaping at the face Tate makes. “Have you done anything?”

“I kissed a boy when I was twelve,” you answer honestly.

“Was that your only kiss?”

“Yeah…” You mumble.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re this innocent, I always thought girls with strict parents did the dirtiest things,” he replies. He grabs the baggie of weed out of his pocket and holds it up. “You’re going to try this, and you’re going to love it.”

You don’t object, and instead watch as Tate begins to role a joint. He does it effortlessly, he’s done it many times before. You know from previous conversations that he’s done drugs much stronger than weed, the main one being cocaine. You had asked him how it felt to do it, to be alive and on a drug so strong. He told you it felt like he needed to run a mile while he was high. He also made you promise to do it with him one day.

When he finishes rolling the joint he offers it to you. “You want the first hit?”

“Fuck it, yeah,” you say.

He gives you a smile that makes butterflies swirl in your stomach. Though the two of you are only friends, you can’t deny how attractive Tate is. Even though everythings only been platonic, sometimes with certain looks and phrases, he makes you feel some special type of way.

You take the joint inbetween your lips, your eyes locked on Tate. He grabs a lighter and lifts it to the other end of the joint.

“I’d usually say take a small hit, but usually it takes a little more to get us high so take as much as you think is necessary,” he explains before lighting the end.

You inhale deeply, the smoke it hot and you know if you were alive it would burn your lungs completely. Thankfully though, it only stings a little. After a few seconds Tate takes it from your lips and you exhale slowly, watching as he repeats your actions. You lean back against the pillows, you feel a little something.

“How long does it usually take to get high?” You ask.

“I dunno a few minutes I guess, why? Do you feel it?”

Your head feels light and the room looks brighter. “I think so, I feel… lighter.”

“Oh yeah, you’re high,” he replies with a laugh.

He lays beside you on the bed, both of you staring at the ceiling in silence. You hear him take a few more puffs of the joint, wondering how he does’t feel anything yet. Your whole body feels electrified, every muscle alive and thriving. You almost feel like how you did before you died, almost. It makes you smile.

“Why did I never try this before…” you mumble, a small laugh leaving your lips. “Fuck I feel good.”

“I know right, it’s pretty great.”

You turn your head and stare at him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He meets your gaze. “Of course.”

You don’t know where the sudden burst of honesty comes from. Usually, you’re embarrassed to talk about anything you did or more specifically didn’t do in your life. However, as you stare into Tate’s dark eyes you feel the urge to tell him every little detail about you.

“I died a virgin,” you whisper. “Like I never even got fingered or anything.”

You stare at each other for another few seconds before you both burst out into laughter. You don’t know why it’s so funny, but it is. You feel amazing, like you’re on top of the world. But you also feel like every word that comes out of your mouth is hilarious.

“I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry,” you say as the laughter dies down. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, you aren’t stupid. I know a few other ghosts died virgins, like the nurses,” he replies, that stupid smirk on his face.

“God don’t say that!” You exclaim. “At least they chose to die virgins, I tried to hard to be fucked before I died but every time I started to become interested in someone my stupid parents ruined it.”

Tate props his head up on his hand so he’s now looking down at you. “Well on the brightside your parents are gone now so you can fuck anyone you want.”

“Yeah but the options aren’t exactly ideal. There’s really only Travis, but he’d definitely not be the best option for a first time,” you laugh.

“I’m here too you know.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“You know what I mean,” Tate answers, his voice quieter than before.

Your laughter stops at his words, and you meet his eyes once again. This time, you can sense something lingering behind his eyes, something you haven’t ever noticed before. You smile, trying to ease the tension that’s filled the room. He’s probably just messing with you. However, he doesn’t smile back at you, his expression stays the same.

You’re in disbelief. Is this real? Is your best friend really telling you he’d take your virginity? This can’t be real, you think. Maybe it’s just because of the weed, maybe it’s doing something to your head. You can’t deny the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of it though. Tate would be a good first. He’s experienced, but not with too many people. You find yourself suddenly imaging it, how it would feel, sharing that experience with someone you truly enjoy being around. It wouldn’t be so bad, you decide.

“All right,” You say. You kick your shoes off without breaking eye contact. “Is it going to hurt?”

He smirks and follows your actions. “It usually does the first time.”

You smile and start undoing the buttons on your jeans. You know if you hadn’t taken that puff of the joint you’d be selfconcious getting undressed in front of Tate. He watches you carefully as you remove your pants, your shirt, even your bra. It’s silent, but not an awkward silence, more of a comforting silence. You only look away from him as you slowly pull your panties off and throw them into the newly formed pile of your clothes.

It’s your turn to watch now. Your eyes trail up and down Tate’s body as he slowly undresses. He’s so beautiful, his body is perfect. You can’t stop yourself from reaching over and running your fingertips over the toned muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes meet once again and you almost shiver at how full his eyes have become with lust.

Quickly, he leans his head down and connects your lips to his. The kiss is slow at first, like you’re treading the water. But as you start to understand how it works, you move your lips against his, following his motions. The soft gentle kiss becomes full of passion. You twirl your fingers in his soft blond curls, loving the way his breathing gets heavier as you do so.

He moves on top of you, hit body fitting between your legs swiftly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your skin feels like it needs to be touched. Tate rests one of his hands beside your head and the other begins to slide down your chest, your stomach, till it reaches the place it was searching for. You feel him smile into the kiss.

“So excited already…” he mumbles.

His fingers run between your folds, collecting the wetness that’s already begun to drip out of you. He circles them on your clit for a few minutes, making you moan from the new but amazing feeling. After that he slides his pointer finger down to your entrance.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you?” He chuckles. He begins to slowly push his finger inside you and you grab his free arm.

“Thank you for doing this,” you clarify.

“I like how innocent you are, but I can’t lie I’ve always dreamt of being the one to rip that innocence away,” he whispers.

Before you can reply he lowers his head to your neck and begins to leave sloppy kisses along your skin. You can’t believe this is really happening. Once his finger is fully inside you, he starts to thrust it in and out at a slow pace. You moan, your back arching off the matress. He continues this for a few minutes before adding a second, preparing you perfectly for what’s going to come next.

He kisses down your chest until he’s at your breasts. He sucks and licks your nipples, it feels amazing. You can’t take it any longer, you need him. You grab his chin and connect your lips. He kisses you harder than before, biting and sucking your tongue into his mouth. You love it. You can’t get enough of it.

“I’m ready Tate,” you say breathlessly as your lips part. “I want to do it.”

“All right.” He pulls his fingers out of you and you watch him position his hard dick on your entrance. He looks down at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. “If it hurts to bad just tell me and I’ll stop okay?”

You nod, and before you can say anything else he starts to move. It hurts, but not too bad. Tate kisses you as he does this, it makes the pain more bearable. You wrap one of your hands around his back, your nails slowly dragging across the skin of Tate’s back. He only kisses you harder. His thrusts are slow, but your thighs still clench around his hips.

After a few minutes he asks if he can go faster, you tell him yes. The pain slowly morphed into a small pleasure that you enjoy. You continue to claw at his back, even more as his pace inscreases. You’re out of breath, the only sounds in the room being your moans along with Tate’s heavy breathing. It’s pure bliss.

The end comes faster than you want, but you don’t mind. You love the way Tate whispers your name as he cums, and how strongly his dick pulses inside you. You hold him close after it’s over, his skin against yours makes you feel alive again.

“Was it okay?” he asks as he lays on you.

“It was perfect,” you answer.

And so it was.

[katareyoudrilling]

Seen (Javier Peña One-shot)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: You’re the last person Javi wants to ask for a favor, but not for the reason you think.

Word count: ~2.2k

Rating: Mature (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternating POV, reader is a few years older than Javi (Javi could be a variety of ages) and has hair that could be worn up or down, wrinkles and laugh lines, a touch of angst, non-graphic sex

A/N: This isn’t quite what I expected it to be when I started working on it many many months ago.  The idea was inspired by @famouslyanonymous musing that there didn’t seem to be any fics featuring a Pedro boy with a slightly older reader.  I wanted to say a lot of things with this fic and I’m not sure I said any of them, but I hope you enjoy!

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Taglist link in bio (or ask me to add you!)

“Fine.”

Fuck.

Javi slams down the phone and pinches the bridge of nose.

He needs a favor.  Why does it have to be from you?

He can flirt his way through the department secretaries easily, but you, with your intelligent, assessing gaze… he swears you can see right through him.

The two of you have been crossing into each other’s orbits for a long time now.  He can tell that you know…  You know he’s not some DEA hero.  You can see right through to the failure of a man he actually is.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out and pushing away from his desk.  “Fuck it.”

He pulls at the back of his neck as he makes his way to your department.  He can already feel the tension headache beginning.  If you won’t do this for him… he’d rather not think about it.

He approaches your desk nervously. “I need a favor.”

“Is that right?” you reply, continuing your work.

“I would really appreciate it.” If he can’t flirt, he can at least try to be polite.

“You aren’t going to compliment my nail polish or tell me how pretty my dress is?”

“Uh… I… what?” Javi stammers.

“I see what you do around here.  Flirting with all the pretty young things to get your way.  Not me though, probably because I’ve got 20 years on most of them and a few on you.”

“What? No! Fuck, you’re the most beautiful woman here.”

“Right,” you scoff.  “It’s too late for the charm, Javier.”

He leans over your desk, gripping the edge.  Moving himself into the halo of your perfume.  “I’m telling you the truth,” he growls.

You lift your eyes to his and his knees go a little weak.

Who is he kidding?  A class-act like you is never going to bend the rules for a man like him.

“Never mind,” he pushes off your desk and walks away.

When he returns to his desk later that afternoon, he’s surprised to find the file he needs sitting on his chair.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You lean back against the elevator wall and sigh.  It has been a long day and all that has kept you going is the thought of getting out of your heels and pantyhose and onto your couch.

The elevator pings as the doors open on the garage level.  You step out into the cool, echoey space.  That’s when you see him.

He’s standing by your car, exhaling a plume of smoke, somehow not looking green and sickly under the florescent lights.  He must hear the click of your heels on the concrete because he turns and puts out his cigarette as you approach.

“What are you doing here, Peña?  Need another favor?”

“Thank you for the file.  You didn’t have to do that.”  He shifts his weight and looks down at his feet.

“Yeah, well, lord knows you get enough roadblocks thrown in your way.  I don’t need to be one of them.”

Javier chuckles ruefully, “You have no idea.”

“If that’s all, I need to get going.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” Javier looks up at you, “To say thanks?”

Your feet and back are screaming at you not to get taken in by those puppy dog eyes, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface of his gaze.  Something that makes you curious.  His outburst earlier hasn’t left your mind.  You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little interested in where an evening with Javier Peña might take you.

“Counteroffer.  How about you come over to my place in an hour.  Bring the booze with you.”

Javier’s eyes light up in surprise.

“Don’t get any ideas, Peña.  It’s been a long day and I don’t feel like going to a bar.”

“I didn’t have any ideas.”

You scoff and make your way to the driver’s side door, “See you later?”

He nods.

Javier stands aside as you pull out of your parking space and out of the garage.  You can see him in your rearview mirror smoothing down his mustache, hand on one cocked hip.  It should be an interesting evening.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You open the door to your apartment and Javi is momentarily stunned speechless.  You’re wearing flowy, satin pants and a cardigan belted around your waist.  You’ve removed your make-up and your jewelry.  You’ve let down your hair.

You’ve never looked more beautiful.

You’re always stunning at work.  Elegant, put-together, gorgeous.  But here, now, you look so soft and relaxed.  It’s as though you’ve taken off the armor you wear to the office.

Like he’s getting a glimpse of the real you.

He always tries to hide the real him.  That façade might not work tonight… a frightening thought.

You step aside and motion him into the apartment.  Javi swallows deeply and forces his feet to step inside.

“I brought whiskey, hope that’s ok.”  He holds out the bottle to you.

“Definitely ok, I had a feeling.” You lead him to your couch.  Two tumblers already sit on the coffee table.  You uncork the bottle and pour two fingers in each glass.

You hand him his glass before swirling the amber liquid in your own.

He watches, mesmerized, as you breathe in the heady aroma and your eyes drift closed.  You take a sip and sigh.  His cock twitches.

“That’s good whiskey, Javier.”

“Call me Javi.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn’t expect it to be so easy to talk to him.

Somehow you’ve gravitated towards each other.  Your knee now rests against his thigh.  His arm stretches behind you on the couch.  Whiskey glasses sit forgotten on the table.  You only needed a few sips to relax before the conversation and laughter flowed.

Swapping stories of co-workers and old mutual friends.  You realize you’ve never seen him smile before tonight.

It’s a shame.

His smile lights up the room.

Javi arches back against the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s getting late.”

You make a non-committal noise in reply because your gaze has been captured by the expanse of his chest you can see through his gaping shirt.

Has his shirt been unbuttoned this much the whole time?  Four buttons undone?  Really?  Why bother buttoning it at all?

Not that you’re complaining as you take in the view of his smooth, golden skin.  You watch, hypnotized, as his chest rises and falls with each breath.

Your gaze travels upward, catching on the divot of his clavicle.  The perfect place to breathe his scent.

His Adam’s apple snags your gaze next as it bobs in his throat.  You have to swallow yourself, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of licking your way up his gorgeous neck.

His jawline comes into view.  Strong and angular.  Beautiful.  Especially in contrast to his soft, plush lips.

They part slightly, revealing the most perfect crease in his lower lip.

Then there’s his nose.  Noses shouldn’t be so arousing.  It’s absurd.  But there it is in all it’s aquiline glory.  Like a goddamn sculpture.

You continue your journey up to his eyes and find that he’s staring at you, pupils blown.

Your mouth is suddenly dry as Javi slowly closes the distance between you, never breaking eye contact, giving you time to protest, until his lips meet yours.

A fire ignites in your body with the first touch of his lips.  It burns from your head to your toes waking you up from your slow syrupy thoughts.

You climb onto his lap, knees on either side of his slim hips.  His hands grip your waist.  His heat bleeding through the thin fabric covering your center.

You break away from the kiss, breathless. Javi continues kissing down your throat, tugging at your cardigan.  You sit back and reach between you, untying the belt and letting it fall off your shoulders.

Javi groans as he takes in the thin camisole you are wearing underneath.  Your bra had come off along with the pantyhouse and heels.  Your hard nipples poke against the silky fabric.  They squeeze even tighter as Javi licks his lips.

“Fuck, bonita, you’re gorgeous,” he rasps.  The sound goes straight to your core.

- - - - - - - - -

He didn’t come here for this.

Maybe he hoped initially.  But it didn’t seem to be what you had in mind.

He wasn’t lying when he said you were the most beautiful woman at work.  His eyes rove over your body of their own volition every time your paths cross.  His ears tune into the sound of your laughter and even more to your witty and sarcastic remarks.

But he didn’t expect this… this connection.

You’ve set him at ease.  Pulling stories from his memory that he thought were long forgotten.  The urge to pour out his heart to you nearly chokes him.

You’re too good for him.  Too smart, too strong, too confident.  And oh, are you beautiful.  

And now you’re above him, rocking into his cock, making the most heavenly sounds as you lick into his mouth.  He can do sex and do it well.  He can make up for everything he lacks with a good fucking.

Maybe fucking is all he’s good for.

“Take me to bed, Javi.”

He pauses.  He expected your words, but somehow, they have caught him off guard. It wouldn’t be just a fuck with you.  You’ve gotten under his skin.  You’ve glimpsed his soul.

The words bubble up before he can’t stop them.

“I’m scared.”

- - - - - - - - - - - 

His admission catches you off guard and you sit back.  “Scared? Of what? I know I’m older than you, but it’s not like I’m some dried-out husk and bats are going to fly out of my vagina.”  You push against his chest to get off his lap, annoyed and frustrated.

Javi growls and grabs your ass, pulling you back to him, holding you still while he finds his words.  “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.”  He huffs as he continues, “I’m scared because you… see me.”

The anger burns away as quickly as it came.

“I’m not the man most people think I am.” His big brown eyes that only moments ago held laughter and lust, fill with pain and doubt.

“Who are you, then?”

“Just a man.  Trying.  Failing.”

“I know.”

“You don’t want me.”

“What if I do?”

You’re surprised by your own admission. It’s the truth.  You do want him.  And not because he’s a ‘hero’ but in spite of it.  You want the man you met tonight.

You watch his feelings war across his face.  His body wants you, that is abundantly clear.  You’re pretty sure his mind and heart do too, if he could only trust them.

“Have you been real with me tonight, Javi?” you ask, brushing the pads of your thumbs over his gorgeous cheekbones.

“Yes.”

“I won’t beg.” You’ve lived enough life to know a man that doesn’t want you isn’t worth your time. “But know that I do see you and I want you.  The real you.”

His fingers dig into your hips and he swallows hard. “I’ve never done this.”

“I find that hard to believe.”  That earns you a smirk, some sparkle returning to his eyes.

“You know what I mean.  Real… I’ve never done real.  At least not for a long fucking time.”

“I’m as real as they come, Javi.  Wrinkles and all. Can you handle it?”

He brushes his fingers over the creases at the corners of your eyes and you melt.  “You’re beautiful.”

You bring your lips back to his, gently testing.  He wraps his arms around you, surging up into the kiss.  Heat quickly builds between your bodies as your hands roam freely across his broad shoulders and up into his hair.

He groans against your mouth.

“Take me to bed, querida.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your body is perfect.

Not in the way of youth – firm, angular, unblemished – but well-loved.  Each part of you telling the story of a life well-lived.

He worships each curve of you.  Reveling in what pleasure feels like with someone when he opens himself up.  He kisses your softness, traces each wrinkle with his calloused fingers, delights in the sounds you make as he explores your body.

When you welcome him into your wet heat with a contented sigh, it nearly breaks him in two.  You feel so right around him, moving with him, coming with him.

Sated and drowsy, he lays with you on your bed.  You brush his hair off his forehead and trace your fingers over his laugh lines and the crease between his eyebrows.  He’s lived some life too.

“Still scared?” you ask, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he rasps quietly, looking up at your soft smile, “but I think it might be worth it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (with benefits) PT2

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count : 6.2k +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: swearing, smut, a lot of plot, use of Y/N, FOMO, partying, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, weed), pet names (sweetheart, pretty boy, pretty girl, ma, cherry), name calling (slut), making out, getting caught, p in v, jealous!Reader, jealous!Chris, dom!Chris, unprotected (wrap it before u tap it), spanking, riding, doggy, degradation(?), creampie, slut shaming

(A/N: I wrote this in like a day. so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. this was fun to write and ended up way longer than intended. Enjoy 🤭)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Now sitting at my vanity I’m touching up the rest of my makeup. I’ve been invited to some party, even though I said I would distance myself from that kind of stuff. But I was invited and my FOMO was bad enough to make me go.

“You done? The Uber is here.” Evelyn asks. Evelyn is my best friend, and she has been since middle school, she was there for my awkward phases and stuck with me. Now we’re in senior year soon to graduate.

“Yeah I’m coming.”

I say standing up a bit too aggressively than intended. I just really would like to stay home for once and just sleep, but I really can’t.

I don’t even want to go to that goddamn party, but the more time passed the more I thought about how much I’d miss out on.

‘What if something happened and I wasn’t there to see it’

I grab my purse and walk out the door, Evelyn following behind me.

I was wearing a tight, black, mini-dress, that wasn’t as short as the average mini-dress. It is about mid-thigh, but it has a ‘sexy slit’ up my left thigh. And my hair simply down

Evelyn was wearing a simple navy blue mini-dress, that, in her words “has the right amount of glitter on it”. Both of us decked up in jewelry.

Evelyn has her hair bleached, almost platinum blonde. She wears a lot of heavy makeup, but she looks gorgeous with it. Her eyes are dark adding a good contrast.

The first time Evelyn dyed her hair was in like 8th grade. To go from her dirty blonde a little lighter. Until eventually doing it so many times, going lighter and lighter until she ended up here, platinum blonde. But it suits her.

We walk out of my house, the Uber already there like she’d said.

And while I’m still thinking about why I even agreed to this, and ‘oh, it won’t be that bad’ , and ‘I do this all the time anyway’ , we arrive.

“Girl” Evelyn nudges me nodding to the window, and when I turn my head we’re here. I open the car door, and as soon as I do I can already hear the faint hum of the music coming from inside. I slide out of the backseat, Evelyn following behind me, after paying and tipping the driver.

We step up to the porch, and people in the front yard were already throwing up and smoking and whatnot. After all, we came fashionably late.

As soon as we Walk in the intense smell of alcohol and weed washes over me.

I started to question if this was actually a good idea. But when I look over at Evelyn the blonde is already looking over the crowd of people. She looks excited, and I can’t help the sigh that I let out.

Nobody seems to hear it anyway, the music is too loud.

“Go have fun,” Evelyn says over the music elbowing my side.

I roll my eyes looking over at her, a small smile crossing my lips as I chuckle. “You too. I’ll see you later.” I answer loudly smiling back at her before she nods eagerly.

Evelyn isn’t a bad friend at all. She’s great. Just at parties, I would much rather not stand next to her while she is flirting with some dude.

I tell her everything. Always. Except for the fact that me and Chris hook up. It’s kind of a more secret thing, especially since Evelyn knows how much we hate each other. It’s hard to explain. The feeling, the things that he makes me feel. So I don’t even try.

I watch her fade into the crowd starting to make my own way into the party.

It was a simple house party some random popular rich kid was throwing. Nothing special.

I make my way to the kitchen, brushing past drunk and sweaty teenagers.

Parties are way more enjoyable when you’re drunk.

So I pore myself some shots to get myself started.

I down another shot, feeling like the two I already took weren’t enough. I put down the shot glass more aggressively than needed, my face contorting in disgust at the liquid burning down my throat.

I look over at the bottle of tequila on the counter next to me. I sigh steadying myself on the counter my arms holding me up. I look down for a moment already feeling the alcohol kick in. The music started to sound louder, ringing in my ears.

I sigh standing up straight again. I can feel the effects starting. My eyes scan the room, looking for any familiar faces, or anyone cute..

With how much I party I handle my shots pretty well.

I furrow my eyebrows walking around the kitchen island to the living room where most people are, crowded in the middle, dancing and whatnot.

I see Evelyn there, and she’s just dancing so I join her.

After a while I excuse myself. I need some fresh air. I’d been offered one too many beers and I was feeling way more drunk than I wanted to be.

I really don’t wanna go home completely drunk.

I push my way through the crowd of teenagers, making my way to the back door. Getting out, the fresh air hits me like a truck. It feels like I can breathe again.

I step down the porch, sitting down at the steps of the back porch leaning against the railing slightly.

The fresh air feels sobering, but the sips from my red solo cup keep me drunk. I think it’s some sort of beer, but honestly, with the amount of different alcohol I’ve had tonight, I can’t even tell the difference.

Suddenly I feel a presence next to me. I look over to see a brunette boy.

Ethan Marlo.

He’s the school's resident stoner. The leader of the other skater boys. He’s been caught smoking on school grounds so many times.

And while I was certainly not innocent either, at least I didn’t go and get caught.

His hair is long and messy brown… -reminds me of Chris’.. no it’s too curly for that...

His eyes are brown but somehow sharp like he was staring into my soul, and judging everything he saw.

I’d talked to him a few times before, nothing worth noting though. But from what interaction I’ve had with him he was nicer than he looks.

He may just have a resting bitch face.

“Hey?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

I watch him pull the cigarette from his lips blowing the toxic smoke away.

“Hi.”

I watch as he puts the cigarette back between his lips. I raise an eyebrow watching him. Waiting for him to speak. To tell me why he is sitting next to me.

But he doesn’t.

“Do you talk?” I ask slightly annoyed at having my alone time interrupted cause some random kid sat down.

“Yeah.” He mumbles against his cigarette taking another puff.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and blows away the smoke before looking at me again.

“I’m Ethan.” He smiles slightly.

“I know.”

Almost everybody knows Ethan. The kid’s a troublemaker. Teachers hate him. He’s a problem child and people know him for that. And he’s not exactly ugly or anything either.

“Now sweetheart, this would be the moment when you introduce yourself.” He sounds sarcastic almost like he was fucking with me.

“Y/n” I say simply staring back at him as he gives me a goofy grin.

I’m not popular in school, but people still know me. They know who I am because mainly Chris and I would always argue. And people know Chris.

Girls are all over him. Asides from the obvious fact that he’s a triplet and most people think that’s interesting. Most people also think he’s hot.

But most people at our school are stupid anyway.

“You want one?” He asks nodding down to the cigarette in his hands.

It wasn’t like I’d never smoked before, but I’m not a smoker.

I shrug letting out a small “Why not”

I look back at Ethan, and I feel him cup my face with his hand. My lips parted in shock. he chuckles, He places his cigarette between my lips.

When he takes his hand off of my face I raise an eyebrow at him, taking the cigarette between my pointer and middle finger as I inhale it.

Taking the cigarette from my lips I go to speak again. I breathe out the smoke.

“Dude” I sigh, my tone sounds flatter than intended. but whatever.

I pause for a moment taking another drag. He was always known to carry some weed.

“You got any weed?” I ask handing him the cigarette.

He chuckles pulling out an already rolled blunt and tossing it over to me. “You’re pretty you know that?”

He says looking back at me. I raise my eyebrow picking up the rolled blunt and putting it in my purse. “Oh yeah?”

It sounds more cocky than it did in my head but oh well.

I probably look really cocky right now. With the way, I’m leaning back against the higher step behind me.

But whatever. Honestly, I’m too drunk to care.

I put the cigarette back between my lips breathing in the toxic smoke.

Okay, maybe crossfaded.

Pulling the cigarette from my lips, I hold it between two fingers as I take a sip of my drink in my solo cup.

“Yeah”

He looks at me like he genuinely thinks I’m pretty. And honestly, I like the attention, but I don’t know if I actually like it. It feels weird. But I don’t know if that’s just me being drunk and oblivious or something.

I hand him over the cigarette and he takes it from my fingers, taking a drag of it.

“You’re interesting.”

The words leave my lips before I know. He was. I don’t think he was middle class at all. And he was a stoner and a skater, of course, he is interesting.

“Is that a compliment?” He chuckles watching me as he smokes his cigarette.

I chuckle. I feel like I’m sobering up too much.

“Imma go inside pretty boy.”

And with that I’d gotten up, half stumbling to the door. As soon as I'm inside I brush through crowds of people.

Oh wow, that dude looks like Chris

I stop in my tracks as I narrow my eyes at the couple making out in the corner of the living room.

Hold on that is Chris.

Who the fuck is he kissing.

Poor girl

They shift slightly and even from across the room I can tell that he’s deepening the kiss.

I wait to see if they shift enough for me to see her face.

Chris turns her around, pinning her to the wall by her neck. Her entire face is in view.

Charlotte Baker.

I’ve known Charlotte since kindergarten. Chris had too. But I’ve known Chris longer than she has.

I thought he wasn’t into blondes?

I wouldn’t care who he kisses, we’re not exclusive or anything. But him kissing the very embodiment of what he is not into? The person I hate the most?

Well okay, I don’t really hate Charlotte. I severely dislike her. She’s a bitch. No literally. She’s always so rude. But I don’t know if that’s just me. She seems to have a particular hatred towards me.

They continue making out and honestly, I don’t want to see him stick his tongue down her throat- like he had done to me so many times.

I blink aggressively. I realize that people have been brushing past me and that I’d been staring so I move out of the way.

Leaning against the wall of the living room, right opposite where Chris has her pinned. I’m watching them. I know I am. But I can’t pull my eyes away from them.

It feels like I only have tunnel vision on them. And honestly I don’t know who I feel bad for more.

Chris, for kissing Charlotte, knowing she’s a bitch.

Or Charlotte, knowing she’s making out with a guy whose motto is literally ‘hit and quit’.

I can feel my throat burning as I sip on my red solo cup, which is probably filled with beer.

I sigh, I really need to sober up

I push myself off the wall shaking my head slightly. I go to the kitchen, pushing through the teens in my way. Honestly, I don’t know what time it is, but do I care tho.

I pour the liquid in the red solo cup down the drain, watching it. I lean against the counter over the sink closing my eyes for a second to stay focused.

But all I can really think of is Chris and Charlotte making out just a room away. And the thought disgusts me to the point I wanna throw up, but that could also be the alcohol.

God, I wish I could string together a coherent thought.

I glance over my shoulder. The kitchen is open to the living room and entry but from where I’m standing I can’t see them.

I go to the fridge pulling out a water bottle. The bottle is cold against my skin, and suddenly I’m aware of how I feel like I’m burning up.

With shaky hands, I open the bottle of water taking a sip. Letting the cold water flow down my throat and ease the burn of the alcohol I’d been drinking.

I blind furiously stare at the wall trying to sober up drinking half the bottle.

I sigh my eyes drifting back to the living room. I feel more sober than I did five minutes ago.

I can’t see them, so I walk to the other side of the kitchen trying to get a view of where they were without having to go back to the living room.

They’re not there.

My thoughts immediately go to dirtier places. Shaking my head I furrow my eyebrows, my body tensing up before I realize.

Fuck, ew, I don’t wanna think of that. The fuck.

I take another sip of the water trying really hard to sober up more.

But before I know it, I’m already stumbling up the steps.

So maybe I’m not as sober as I thought, what about it.

I think I’d decided to go upstairs to relax instead of outside because Ethan was still outside. And honestly, I’d left him, so if I came outside again he’d surely ask why I came back right?

I open a random door, leaning against the doorway. Staring into the room my eyes squinted.

Until my eyes fall on Chris… with Charlotte.

Them, making out, Charlotte on top of him while she is fumbling to undo his belt.

Chris’ eyes snap open staring at me. While kissing her. My jaw clenches as I stand frozen not moving to leave like I should’ve.

He breaks the kiss slightly, pushing Charlotte away but not letting go.

“Y/n. Leave”

His gruff voice says and my mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out.

When Charlotte hears my name, and sees he’s looking past her she looks over her shoulder her eyes locking her with mine.

A disgusted look crossed my face. Not that it was intentional, but Jesus was this sight ircking.

Did I look like that when I’m on top of Chris? Ew.

I shake my head slightly turning on my heel, slamming the door behind me.

Okay, maybe dealing with Ethan would’ve been easier than ever having to witness that.

I walk downstairs. That sight sobered me up more than all the water I just drank.

I card through the people again now annoyed with how many people are here. Christ i just want to be alone somewhere.

Going back outside I sit back down next to Ethan. He had moved to the side where I had been sitting. And now he was smoking some weed.

“Back already?”

His tone sounds amused, and now that I’m more sober I can clearly see him checking me out.

“You mind?” I raise an eyebrow turning more towards him. my eyes scanning his face.

He had those dark brown eyes. They were droopy and he had heavy bags under them. His hair did remind me of Chris’, it was almost the same shade. His hair was curlier than Chris’ tho and probably also a little longer. His jawline is sharp and-

Why the hell am I comparing this random cute skater boy to Chris?

“No” he chuckles and looks at me.

He looks kind, honestly.

I lean over taking the blunt from between his lips and putting them between my own.

“What, did you already smoke the blunt I just gave you?”

“So what if I did?”

I didn’t. It was still in my purse, but he didn’t need to know that. Maybe he’ll give me more.

I pull the blunt from my lips blowing the smoke right in his face. But he doesn’t even flinch at it.

He’s a stoner, of course, he wouldn’t.

He chuckles watching me, taking the blunt from my lips before I can take a drag. Grinning, he puts it between his own lips.

“ ‘ts fine. I have more” he mumbles around the blunt before inhaling properly.

“I see that” I chuckle watching him as he takes a drag.

He looks pretty like that. He looks painfully similar to Chris tho. He could almost be their lost brother. If he put in blue contacts that is.

That’s a stupid thought-

“So, you know the party is inside right? What’re you doing here?” I ask my curiosity taking over.

He chuckles blowing the smoke into my face like I had previously done to him. He puts the blunt between my lips.

“Don’t question me, pretty girl.” He chuckles. I raise an eyebrow but inhale from the blunt. Watching him pull the blunt to his own lips as I exhale.

“Yeah,” I chuckle watching him. I feel more sober than before, but the weed is making me feel things again. “Mhm, so don’t question me either.”

He raises an eyebrow, pulling the blunt from his lips. But before he can ask anything I'm climbing into his lap.

He’d been sitting there all sprawled out. And the weed was starting to hit me. I don’t know why I’d get on the lap of this random, hot, interesting guy. But, why not?

And if Chris can fuck someone else, I might as well have fun too.

He doesn’t tense up, probably as high as me, if not even more. He looks up at me on his lap looking so kissable.

Those lips that look like Chris’ are driving me crazy

“Making moves on me now sweetheart?” He chuckles putting the blunt between his lips again as he takes another drag. His eyes are already red, and mine are probably starting to get red too.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been flirting with me”

I answer without thinking. Being high, and slightly tipsy from earlier was making me bolder. And the way he looks at me gives me an ego boost.

I pull the blunt from his lips after he takes a drag of it. I chuckle, putting the blunt between my own lips and taking a drag.

“Oh but have I?”

After inhaling I pull the blunt from my lips. Putting it out on the porch steps next to us.

I lean over him my hand cupping his jaw as I kiss him blowing the weed smoke into his mouth.

Except we never pull apart. his hand goes to the back of my neck and my waist, as we start to make out heavily.

My arm wraps around his neck the other one holding him by his jaw as the kiss turns even more hearted.

His hand starts to tail down my waist, to my thigh. My left thigh. His hand grazes my bare skin, getting dangerously close to my ass, and my lacy thong than I would like.

We probably look like we’re trying to devour each other. Well, that’s at least how I feel. Until-

“What the fuck?”

Chris.

I pull away from Ethan abruptly. He looks at my face, then to where I am looking.

Chris is standing there in all his glory. His arms crossed, as he stands in front of the back door. All the way at the top of the steps, on the porch, looking down at us.

I clench my jaw. I wanna ignore him and go back to what I was doing but he was giving me that look. That look that promised trouble. He was telling me to come to him, without telling me.

I lean against Ethan pecking his jawline.

“I gotta go pretty boy”

I mumble under my breath before getting up from where I’d been on his lap and walking the few steps up the porch.

My tiny handbag is on my arm as I walk towards Chris. I pull down the back of my dress as I feel Chris' harsh grip on my upper arm.

“Upstairs you’re gonna regret that.” He says under his breath leaning in slightly so I can hear him.

I purse my lips opening the backdoor and walking in. Chris’ hand stays on my arm pulling me upstairs.

We enter some random room.

The same room that he fucked her in.

He presses a kiss to my head, leaning over me to undo the lace at the back of my dress. The back of the dress wasn’t open, but it had a lace to make it tight.

“You were gonna let him fuck you huh?” He mumbles kissing my jaw.

He locks the door and pulls his shirt over his head.

“Did you fuck her?” The words leave my lips before I think about it. I’m still high from all the weed I’d smoked.

“No.” He says pointedly. My eyes started to trail down his chest. A sight I’ve seen so many times before. “You cockblocked me”

He leans in kissing me as I just kiss back letting him take the lead.

“Did I?” I mock back. My tone is mildly condescending. My eyes glued on his. Those blue eyes piercing through my soul, he looks like he wants to eat me alive

“Yeah. How about you make it up to me, hm?” He says. His tone was ever so condescending and cocky.

I hadn’t even known he’d be at this party. And that makes me think, he was never the type to drink, so he was probably wanting to get laid.

But why wouldn’t he just call me?

I also hadn’t seen Nick or Matt anywhere, so I would assume that he’s here alone.

He hadn’t told me he’d be here. And honestly, I wouldn’t expect him to. After all, I still hate him, and he obviously hates me.

Before I can reply to his question his lips crash on mine again. My arms wrap around his neck, his hands firmly on my waist.

He pulls away from the kiss. He leans down to the hem of my dress to pull it over my head. I slip out of the dress as he just throws it somewhere carelessly. It landed next to his discarded shirt.

“Want you to ride me Ma”

“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow. Looking him over. He starts to undo his jeans sliding out of them.

He looks over my lacy panties and matching bra. They’re plain black and simple. But Chris likes them.

Chris likes my body, but he hates me.

Before I know it we’re on the bed, Chris under me. I hover over his dick, as I slowly slide down in it.

I watch as Chris sighs throwing his head back further into the pillow under his head watching me.

“You like that?” I scoff. My words come out more rough and disgusted than I intended. He just.. god his existence pisses me off.

“Yeah ma,” his tone is sharp from the heavy breaths he’d been taking.

I lean down to him to kiss him. His hand stays on my waist while my hand is on his chest the other one next to his head to steady myself.

He suddenly grabs my face, holding me by my chin. I look down at him waiting for him to talk.

“Where you gonna fuck him like this too?”

He asks his tone sharp still. But now because he is disgusted and angry, not because he’s breathing hard.

“No. Fuck me like you mean it”

He snaps staring back up at me. He lets go of my face pushing me back. I scoff leaning away to sit up again. His hand goes back to my waist waiting for me to move.

I start to move on it again. Slowly grinding into him. My hand which had been next to his head, trails from his collarbone down his chest to his abdomen. Until I pull my hand off of him.

I start to bounce on it more. Now, not just rocking my hips, but fully riding him.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

I hear his breaths get sharper again. His hand trails lower to my hips as he starts to pull me down, intensifying my movements.

I can feel him hit my cervix with every thrust. This angle is heavenly.

The harder I start to ride him, the harsher his grip on my hips gets.

I feel a knot building In my stomach. My movements get sloppier as a result. My eyes shut for a moment as my mouth falls open.

Suddenly I feel a harsh slap on my ass. My eyes snap open as I glare down at Chris.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He says lowly, his voice gruff and laced with lust

I feel him start to move me more than I move myself. “Fuck- Chris” I breathe out as I fall forward. My hands landed on each side of his head to steady myself. My moans echoed through the room.

He starts to fuck up into me. thrusting into my core, while moving me on him to watch his pace. His eyes are locked to where we connect, to where he is fucking me.

“I’m so close-“ I breathe out staring down at him. His pretty blue eyes meet mine again.

“Go on. cum for me, slut”

He starts to pick up pace even more, if that was even possible. The eye contact makes this just that much more intense.

He glances down at my lips and then licks his own. My mouth falls open in a silent Moran watching him, not daring to close my eyes.

At this point, I had fully drowned out the sound of the music from the party downstairs. It was already only a mild hum as we got upstairs. But now this intense feeling of being filled like this was making me forget anything and everything, other than the boy currently under me.

“Come” he demands. I feel another harsh slap on my ass, making y body jolt.

The knot in my stomach snaps. My entire body tenses and I struggle to keep myself up

But Chris holds me in place as he fucks me through it, the continuous brush to my cervix only intensifying the pleasure further.

He slows down, not moving anymore as I come down from my high. This type of high felt better than any drug ever could.

I sit up wincing at the fact that he was still buried deep inside of me.

“Should’ve known I was gonna end up fucking you anyway” he chuckles watching my expression.

He pulls me up slightly, his length slipping out of me. before abruptly switching our positions. He is now on top of me staring down at him.

He taps my arm grinning. “Turn around for me Cherry.”

Cherry, a nickname he had given me when we were just six or so. I’d been eating a bunch of cherries that summer. Chris had loved the fruit, but he hated me. So to mock my love for them he started calling me Cherry.

And it stuck. His brothers also called me that. And then later my other friends. And then basically everyone I knew, and was close to.

It was a cute nickname. But the nickname was born out of hatred and annoyance. Even tho Chris had loved cherries as much as I had, he’d pointedly stopped eating them after that year of my obsession with them.

I’ll see him sometimes have one, but he would never admit that he still liked cherries.

I hum still catching my breath as I turn around.

I prop myself up on my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder. His hand rubbed over my ass. Him deliberately running his length up my slit to coat it in my juices again.

He looks up his eyes meeting mine. And before I knew it he was ramming into me. My eyes widen as I turn to look back in front of me. He immediately picks up a steady and fast pace.

Fucking into me from behind. My core was throbbing around his length, either from too much stimulation, or too little..

He starts to rock his hips into me harder. My moans echo through the room loudly.

My arms start to shake as I struggle to keep myself up.

He grabs my hair roughly, putting it into a makeshift ponytail. He starts to pull on it, using it both as leverage, but also to hold me up.

“Such a tight cunt, all for me” he chuckles using his free hand to spank my ass again.

I clench at the dirty words. And the way his low voice is laced with so much obvious arousal and lust. And the way he is thrusting into me from behind.

If I had to guess I’d probably say, anything from behind is his favorite. Doggy, face down ass up, whatever.

I don’t know if that I’d because he doesn’t want to see me, or if he is just an ass guy, or both, but it doesn’t matter, since it feels good.

He slams into me harshly again, before stopping his movements. I groan in annoyance. I feel the knot in my stomach fades.

Was he fucking edging me now too?

“C’mon” he says harshly slapping My ass again. “Work that ass”

Before I know it I’m already moving. Thrusting my ass back into him. Twerking back on his dick. He tugs at my hair again. I feel his stare at my ass. He was probably looking over the way his big dick disappeared into me.

“Yeah, good girl,” he says in that low sexy tone. His hand moves out of my hair, tailing down to my waist. His other hand trailed from my hip to my waist too.

Suddenly he holds me still and starts to thrust into me again. His thrusts were seemingly harsher than they were before.

I squeal out a moan, my head turning to look over my shoulder.

His pretty eyes focused on my ass. His grip was harsh on my waist. He lets out harsh breaths.

I feel him move slightly, readjusting, his hand going to the small of my back to arch my back slightly. His thrust picks up again and I instinctively Lean lower. My hands quickly guided out making my face fall onto the pillow.

But instead of trying to get up again, I simply lay my upper body down, my arms wrapping around the pillow.

I moan and whine his name over and over again. He has the best mix of sweet and dirty talk. Always degrading but also praising me at the same time.

My back arches back into him “Chris- I’m close” I whine loudly getting cut off by another string of moans leaving my lips.

“Hold it.” He grits out. His hips snap into me harder. His dick grazed every spot making me feel like I’m in heaven. “I’m close too”

The sound of skin clapping and the dirty wet sounds coming from my cunt is loud. He slaps into me repeatedly, my eyes starting to water from the effort it takes not to come at the spot.

“You’re not gonna come before me” he demands his thrusts getting more sloppy and messy. I can feel his dick twitching inside of me as I know he is close too. normally he'd just let me whenever, but it was really dependent on his mood

“Understood, be a good slut and listen ‘aight?” He scoffs his grip on my waist bruising.

I throw myself back in him, meeting his thrust.

“Yes, god- please” I whine. And suddenly I feel Chris’ hips stutter. With one last thrust, I feel his load spill into me.

I continue to move myself back against him tho, feeling my own orgasm wash over me.

He pulls out slowly, but not really gently. He watches for a moment as our combined juices leak out of me.

I sigh heavily trying to catch my breath as I lay down on this stranger's bed fully.

I turn to my side for a moment. Chris rubs over my side and back. He leans down leaving a short peck on my ribs. Caressing my skin.

My eyes meet his again, and he looks… cold.

He doesn’t look like he’d just fucked me. He just looked at me blankly. The caressing didn’t feel like it was out of care and a will to comfort, but rather a force of habit.

He gets up from the bed, and I just watch him as he gets some tissues cleaning himself off quickly before getting dressed again.

I sigh turning full onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. This would be when he leaves.

Fuck, what if Evelyn noticed me going upstairs with Chris?

She knows we hate each other. It’s hard to explain. But I can’t just explain everything to her, it’s a secret. Id have to come up with some excuse and-

“Get up” his harsh voice breaks me out of my trance, my head snapping towards him.

“What?” I ask back flatly, my mind not registering why he is still standing there with his arms crossed.

I feel a chill run up my spine from how cold and uncaring he looks with that glare. The one he always gives me when we’re arguing.

“Get the fuck up? Did you lose that many brain cells?” He scoffs looking back at me.

I glance down at my nude body and then back at Chris. I try to get up as carefully as possible. Trying to get as little as possible of our juices onto this stranger's bed.

I mildly struggle to stand, leaning back at the bed frame to keep myself up straight.

He looks almost proud of the state he put me in. But the disgust in his eyes is stronger.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

My tone is low but still harsh. I close my eyes for a second, sighing in annoyance.

He looks around the room, before fining and picking up my previously discarded panties.

He licks his teeth for a second before huffing.

He opens them for me. I raise an eyebrow, but ultimately just step through the thong, my hands on his shoulders for support. I let him Pull it up.

Cringing at the feeling of the lingering creampie and the fabric on me.

He wasn’t gonna a bother cleaning me?

“Go on.” He huffs looking back into my eyes as I look into his.

“Walk downstairs, go back to that party, back to that dude. Let him fuck you.” He shrugs his words harsh. He back up slightly looking down at my thighs where he can still see the juices run down my thighs.

“I’m sure you’d like having more than one guy cum in you, right?” He mocks leaning into me again. His glare burns into my face, making me feel like I’m naked, which I am.

“Since you’re such a slut, you probably wouldn’t mind fucking more than one guy right?”

He scoffs leaning away abruptly.

I look at him. My shock subsides as a glare settles on my face. I get that he likes degrading me or whatever, But does he actually think I’m that much of a slut.

“Go on, cherry.” He scoffs tilting his head as he looks over his shoulder his gaze locked on mine.

Why does he always have to ruin good moments?

“Fuck you, Chris.” I say back harshly my tone purely rude.

“Oh, you already have.”

I pause dumbfounded.

I didn’t mean it literally. But I mean I had done that, literally.

The harsh smack of the door catches my attention. I lock back over at the door.

He had left.

God, in hindsight that was a stupid insult. I could’ve said something more creative.

I purse my lips staring a f the door. Before my eyes trail over the now-empty room. The room was pretty neat, except for my clothing scattered around.

Right when I think I tolerate him,

Right after he makes me feel so good,

He’ll do the simplest thing,

And ruin it.

God I hate him.

Masterlist

A/N: looks like this is going to be a series lol

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin

[lovemeafterhrs]

living with suna rintarou - two / dinner with the team

word count: 1k

warnings: smoking/alcohol consumption, rintarou being dumb and jealous

“you have got to stop mixing your laundry with mine.” she could hear the gravelly whine of suna’s voice before she caught sight of him in the doorway. a lacy black thong dangled from his index finger, and she was greeted with one of his trademark scowls. 

“also, i can’t find my black tie. did you manage to steal that too?” he took another step into the room, dropping her sorry excuse for a pair of panties on her bed. 

“actually, i think so.” her confession earned her another scowl as he watched her rise from her vanity. after catching him staring, she couldn’t help but do a little twirl for him before she grabbed his tie from the closet. 

“what do you think?” she questioned, even though she could tell exactly what he thought about her outfit without having to ask. his wandering eyes and flushed cheeks told her everything that he wouldn’t. 

“hot. aran’s going to shit his pants.” he gave her a thumbs up, eyes partially glazed over as he admired every little detail about her. suddenly without the ability to control himself, his mind was starting to race with thoughts that he could only determine as inappropriate. he was only pulled out of his daze when a strip of black fabric hit him directly in the face. an unimpressed frown fell over his features as he moved to pull it under the collar of his shirt. 

with eyes averted far away from temptation, he tried to keep himself from thinking too much about skipping the dinner entirely. he scoffed at the youtube video he was watching, utterly confused at where he was going wrong. it didn’t help that she was staring him down the whole time, and he started to feel the back of his neck getting warm under her piercing gaze. 

“do you need help with your tie?” she teased, watching him struggle to figure out how to replicate the video tutorial on his phone. it was cute, truly. watching him be so entirely helpless was doing something to her, and she couldn’t keep herself from smirking as she rose from the bed with her arms crossed. 

“no. it’s just been a while since i’ve done this.” he frowned, grumbling under his breath as he tried again. “it’s kita’s fault for choosing this fancy fucking restaurant.” 

“are you sure you don’t want any help? we’re gonna be late at this rate.” she took a step closer to him, clearly entertained by his many futile attempts. 

“fine. only because we should’ve left about fifteen minutes ago.” she snickered at his detested tone, reaching for the black silk as she pulled the knot tight against his adam’s apple. she could feel it bobbing against her fingertips as he gulped, her perfume wafting into his nostrils as she admired her work. her hands slid over the fabric of his white button-up as she tapped his chest reassuringly. 

“there you go, handsome. now let me get my shoes, we’ve got about ten minutes to get to the restaurant.” not even allowing him a moment to digest her choice in pet name, she pulled him towards the door and threw his jacket into his arms. 

nervous hands fidgeted with the rings decorating his right hand as they waited to speak to the chipper hostess. the restaurant was far too crowded, and every table bustled with patrons from the moment that the pair walked inside. servers whirled around the room with platters of drinks as they spotted the twins in the back of the bar. she offered him a shrug, taking his hand as she led him towards the large table. 

he recognized his old teammates seated together, looking a little more mature than the last time he saw them. friendly faces occupied the surrounding chairs as they greeted him with bright smiles. introductions were brief, but filled with curiosity as rintarou explained their current living situation. just like that, she was brought into the conversation like she’d known them for years already. 

just like suna had assumed he would be, aran was very clearly impressed by his old teammate’s plus one. he’d even gone as far as to buy the first round of drinks and make sure she got plenty of embarrassing stories to use against her roommate later. 

the first hour was filled with the clinking of glasses and the laughing of his old friends as they caught up on the last few years of their lives. dinner was served, and he found himself taking notice of just how familiar his roommate had already gotten with his old team. it seemed that the captain had caught her attention, and he could feel the pit starting to form in his gut as he watched them interact. 

“suna.” osamu started, only to earn an immediate glare from his friend. “you’re staring daggers right now.” 

“hmm.” was the only response he received, not missing a beat as he motioned for the waiter to bring him another drink. across the table, his roommate’s giggles could be heard as she rested her hand on his old teammate’s shoulder. 

“kita’s not that funny.” he huffed as the waiter placed his third drink of the night next to his long-forgotten dinner. 

“chill out, she’s just trying to make friends.” his huffing caught the attention of the other twin, whose words were just as hushed and playful as his brother’s.

“doesn’t look very friendly to me.” suna bit back, rolling his eyes as he caught her gaze from across the table. she looked so good, too good. he had enough competition, the last thing he needed was kita’s addition to her list of potential boyfriends. he took another drink of his cocktail, mind swirling with a tonic of jealousy and arousal that made him almost sick to his stomach. within moments, her phone was vibrating in her lap as she looked over at him quizzically. 

“you’re impossible.” she mouthed, holding back a snicker as she felt her phone vibrate again. 

[galaxywarp]

Mannn I almost didn’t think I was gonna make it here. I wanted to relapse so so bad a few weeks ago. I was gritting my teeth and pulling my hair again. I was making justifications again. I was wanting to watch videos of other people smoking meth again. I was yelling at myself in the shower about it again.

But I didn’t relapse. I surprised myself, and I didn’t relapse. The cravings are quieter now again, and I made it to this milestone.

I’m starting to really realize how much strength it takes to not give up. I always took for granted the fact that I kept going. I kept trying. I tried to get clean, I relapsed, I tried again. I relapsed. And I relapsed. And I relapsed and I relapsed and I relapsed. For years.

But slowly I could hold on for longer. A week. Then two weeks. A month. Maybe two months. I had two months a lot. Then I would relapse again.

But now I’ve got 8 months. 250 days. It took so many tries that I lost count. Rehab. Inpatient treatment. Outpatient treatment. Medically assisted detox. Cold turkey attempts to simply survive the pain of withdrawal. Therapy. Doctors. Psychiatrists.

I haven’t been clean for this long since I was 20 years old and even though I don’t like to admit it, I got here by fighting like hell. I fought like absolute hell to be where I am today and the reason not many people made it here with me is because it’s fucking hard. It’s brutal. It’s easier to go insane. It’s easier to vanish. It’s easier to die. This has been hell. This has been agony.

But I won’t give up. Thats my thing. I keep going. Despite everything, I keep going.

I’m lucky. I’m strong. It takes heart to be 8 months clean. And god damn it. I’m proud.

[corvidcrossbow]

Every time I listen to Hazey by Glass Animals I just think of young Daryl like hhhhhhhuuuuuuuuu (I've been a Glass Animals fan for so many years and it's eating at me)

I imagine the verses would be a back forth between Daryl and his parents, and then you.

C/W: Mentions of abuse, alcoholism, smoking, parental death, Daryl's trauma

Your baby's falling, you know I'm talking now

You know I'm dancing, you know I'm racing 'round

No no you're so juiced, you said you'd kick the booze

You know I'll get bruised, you know that I'm just a boy

First verse would be a young him towards his father, his dad once saying he'd be sober - but of course that was broken following his mothers death, and it never held much truth or promise to begin with.

Daryl was just a little kid (I say 8 or so), and would try to use that as leverage, crying and pleading when his fathers abuse first started to really pick up. He'd always tell him to shut up and stop crying, which is where Daryl's tendencies to be closed off and hide emotions were cemented into his psyche - to 'take it like a man'. He'd hear it from Merle too under other contexts, who'd picked it up from their dad - but also bullies, teachers or most anyone else, that's just how it is growing up in the rural south.

Daryl never got to be a boy, he had to be a man.

Come back baby, don’t you cry

Don’t you drain those big blue eyes

I’ve been crawling

Come back baby, don’t you cry

Just you say the reason why

I can calm you

The chorus would be how Daryl would imagine his mom. He'd sit alone in the woods, or lay in bed in the dark, and try to hear the sound of his mothers voice - her comforting tone, arms reaching out as he'd run to her, feeling like he was crawling to her, and she'd hold him tight. She'd wipe the tears from his glassy big blue eyes. 'Wha's wrong sweetheart? Why're you cryin'? You can tell me. Shhh, shhhh... I'm here baby.'

He so badly wanted her back. To tell her everything, for her to save him from his father. Maybe she wasn't the best mother in the world, there'd been issues. But she was his mom. 'Pleas', momma... com' back...'

You say I’m bawling, I say I’m begging while

You take my photo, I fake my breaking smile

I’m fucking loco, I can’t get through to you

You turn your nose you, spark up and I can go

And again with the crying, Daryl's father would just say he was being 'a wimp' or 'a pussy'. Daryl had to learn how to mask everything, to act like it was all okay. Whether at school, in public, with friends, other family, or when Merle would come around - he needed to pretend what was happening wasn't happening. Maybe even then he could believe it too, that it wasn't real.

But as he aged, it ate away at him, drove. him. crazy. He knew the truth, that it did happen. It was real. And the scars that covered his back proved it. That's what led to his outbursts, how he'd get snippy and snappy with people. He could only keep his emotions buried for so long before they'd start to burst.

And it'd land him in trouble. Snarky mumbles towards a teacher when a test would be returned, and it was straight to detention. Giving someone the wrong look, then responding in the wrong way, and he'd find himself on the ground surrounded by kids a bit older and larger than him, kicking him before spitting at the ground beside him and leaving him there.

He was always more cautious around his dad, knowing he'd be a harsher outcome than any other - but there were still times where his father felt he was 'givin' 'im attitude 'n he needs tah check 'imself', even though Daryl was treading lightly.

Any time his father wasn't beating him, he was always drunk, or smoking. He gave up a long time ago with trying to reason with him, get through. He learned to rely on himself, and solely himself. Daryl would go out alone - and that time he was lost in the forest - and his dad was too engrossed in substances to realize, or care. He himself was all he really had, so he shut everyone else out. At least for a long time.

Come back baby, don’t you cry

Don’t you drain those big blue eyes

I’ve been crawling

Come back baby, don’t you cry

Just you say the reason why

I can calm you

And as the chorus would repeat, it'd be you. Daryl would distance himself, or even disappear. Isolating, shutting away what was left of a nearly nonexistent world.

Now you were the one begging. Going to find him and begging him to come back. For him to let you into his world, let you be there for him. Calm him, be what he needs.

And as you seemed to be metaphorically crawling after him, he finally let you in. Despite how many years had gone by, his eyes were still big, still blue, and glassy again.

Your words and actions would mirror what he pictured his mom doing. Holding him and rocking him, whispering against his head 'Shhh... it's okay, I'm here. Talk to me, angel. What's wrong?'

[chelseeebe]

i’ll know.

lil epilogue for pick a side or i’ll pick you both. thought it worked best a separate little thing rather than being shoved on the end. this is like five or so years after part two.

part one. | part two.

hawkin’s was a long lost memory. the things you did. the people you knew. they were gone.

it was for the best.

you’d tried your hardest to forget it all. put it all behind and start again somewhere else. somewhere no one knew you. where you could be anyone you wanted to be.

and it worked, for a while at least. a new name, a degree, a job, new boyfriend. even new hair. a completely fresh beginning.

until one awful day at work made everything you’d built for yourself came crashing down.

you’d taken a part time job in a coffee shop, something to pay the bills while you got your masters degree. it was easy. damn sometimes it was even fun.

a regular day, making coffee for inpatient business men and stuffy women who carried purses worth more than your apartment.

‘hiya, what can i get for-,’ you look up at the man on the other side of the counter and your heart stops.

the same shaggy haircut, though now it was actually styled, not so scruffy. same eye bags with accompanying narrowed brown eyes. a mirror image of his high school self bar the light stubble now occupying his face.

‘i’ll take a black coffee, large,’ he nods, eyeing your name tag, ‘thanks tara,’ it sounds almost venomous coming from his mouth.

the bile rises, burning in your throat. you’re stuck in the same position until your coworker bumps your arm, jolting you back into reality.

‘y-yeah.. that’ll be.. uh, three dollars,’ you manage to get out, punching the numbers into the register, not entirely understanding what was going on.

‘keep the change,’ he says, offering over a handful of notes from his pocket.

your fingers brush against his hand and you want to throw up. you’d never quite been able to shake that haunting look he’d given you at the lunch table so many years ago.

like he just knew. like he could see inside of you. see all of the horrific things you’d done. how you’d murdered his girlfriend in cold blood and laughed about it.

you blink, the bright overhead lights burning your corneas and stuff the notes into the draw, slamming it shut.

absent minded you push past your coworker and out of the back door into the alleyway behind the shop. you can’t stop the acid from rising, vomiting all over the stones, splashing against the wall.

you attempt to gain some control, breathing in and out, just at least so you won’t throw up again.

pressing your back against the brick wall, counting to ten, again and again. just as your therapist had instructed.

someone joins you, leaning against the wall next to you. but doesn’t speak.

you look up to find jonathan byers perched against the wall, unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

‘what do you want?’ you speak up, running a hand over your clammy face. flushing even though you were shivering, the chill running through your bones.

‘i just thought i’d say hi to an old friend.. what’s wrong with that?’ he replies, sparking the cigarette.

you shake your head, looking up at the moody grey sky, ‘how’d you find me?’

‘ahh.. that’d be telling.’

you scoff, totally bewildered by his presence. the fact he’d come out all this way to.. what? to taunt you? finally expose what you’d done? expose your murderous past?

‘y’know.. i always thought something was off with you.. you were always cold, always just slightly not there,’ he presses, gesturing to his head.

‘why are you here? i’ve moved on.. i don’t want to think about.. hawkins anymore,’ you sniff, spitting on to the floor, trying to rid your mouth of the disgusting taste.

‘well i haven’t,’ he purses his lips, ‘you can change your hair, change your fucking name.. but i remember. i know,’ he exhales the cloud of smoke in your face, ‘and i’m not gonna let you forget it.’

he pushes himself off of the wall, stubbing his cigarette out and flicking it somewhere in the alley.

he begins to walk off but stops a few paces down the small path, speaking over his shoulder, ‘y’know steve’s in the city.. i’ll let him know about this place, great coffee by the way,’ shaking the cardboard cup as he disappears.

you turn to the wall, once again regurgitating the contents of your stomach. writhing as nancy wheeler’s once forgotten face appears in your head.

[afterdarkprincess]

Mine

Pairing: Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2083 AO3 Link Look at that a finished WIP! This one is just pure unadulterated filth, enjoy at your own discretion 18+ only!!

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @jeysbvck @southerngirl41 @harmshake @imabillyami

This fic is Explicit and contains: Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Spit as Lube, Hair Pulling, Slut Shaming, Toxic Relationship (full list on AO3)

----

Seth’s lounging in his personal dressing room backstage, scrolling through his twitter feed, eating up the reactions to his appearance at the end of Smackdown tonight.

He’s still in the tight red leather pants, his legs kicked up on the edge of the couch when there comes a loud demanding knock at the door.

“Go away asshole!” He yells distractedly over his shoulder, uncaring for whoever might be trying to disturb his peace at this time of night. Anybody he gives a shit about has already headed out, and he’s not far behind himself.

The knocks stop and Seth thinks he’s in the clear, but the door busts open with a loud bang, and Seth’s on his feet ready for a fight until he gets a good look at the figure standing in the doorway.

Dean Ambrose, eyes wild and angry and staring holes into Seth’s face.

Seth’s heartbeat roars in his ears as a tidal wave of emotion rolls over him. Excitement, relief, guilt, love, anger from all the years of their tumultuous relationship. Seth will never be free of Dean Ambrose and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to be.

“Dean…” Seth barely breathes his name before he’s storming into the room, slamming the door shut before his hands are at Seth’s throat, pushing him back against the wall roughly.

The sound that escapes his throat is breathy and pathetic, Seth would be ashamed of himself if not for the growing pressure against his windpipe that mirrors the swell of his dick in his pants.

“The fuck you think you’ve been doin’ huh pretty boy?” His breath is hot against Seth’s cheek, and lingering smell of cigarette smoke clouds his senses. “You forget who you belong to? You think I wouldn’t notice you’ve been whoring around?”

Seth shakes his head as best he can with Dean’s hands restricting his movement. “N-no, no-“

“Liar,” Dean licks the sweat from Seth’s brow. “Partnering with Cody Rhodes, runnin’ around actin’ like his little bitch, like you won’t turn on him the second it’s convenient for you.”

“Dean, please-“ He’s fully hard and aching and unsure what he’s even begging for at this point.

His free hand grabs at Seth’s face, roughly squeezing his cheeks. “Doesn’t Rhodes know by now that sluts like you are only good for a warm hole to fuck? How many times have you taken his cock princess?”

Seth’s instinct is to lie and deny everything, but no way that Dean wouldn’t know, and the punishment for lying would be brutal. The three small scars on his ribs, perfect circles the size of a Marlboro serve as a reminder of what good it does lying to Dean Ambrose.

“Ahh, Twice…just twice,” His vision is getting fuzzy and it hurts to speak, and he gasps loudly as finally Dean releases his iron hold on Seth’s throat.

His relief does not last long though.

The hand that had been clutching his throat moves south quickly, tearing at the waistband of his leather pants until they’re down around his knees, freeing his achingly hard dick but keeping him from any kind of escape he might attempt. As if he’d even try.

Satisfied with his work, Dean’s fingers find his hole with expert precision and press inside unforgivingly, wringing a pained moan out of Seth.

It’s the kind of pain Dean knows he craves, the same burning ache that settles into his muscles after a 30 minute match, the kind of pain that leaves him sore but satisfied the next day.

“Tight as usual,” Seth can feel the deep growl of Dean’s voice. “Not surprised, I’ve heard all about that pathetic cock of Cody’s. Figures that you’re such a filthy slut you’ll take any dick you can get. He couldn’t satisfy you, could he sweetheart? I bet you couldn’t even feel that tiny cock inside you, but you moaned like a 2 dollar whore anyway to make him feel good about himself.”

The sting of the truth of Dean’s words hurts more than the fingers roughly exploring his ass.

One grazes against his prostate and Seth cries at how dirty wrong good it feels, his cock weeping precum despite being neglected thus far.

“Please,” he weeps, hair falling into his face and sticking to the salty damp tear tracks. “Oh god, please-“

A third finger works its way inside him.

“You wanna hear a little story? I saw your boy on the way in here.” As the fingers in his ass flex and stretch, Dean’s other hand wraps into the hair at the base of his neck. “You may have got between him and the Big Dog earlier, but we both know Roman doesn’t have the imagination that I do. Gonna be a little difficult for him to finish the story now, but we both know you never gave a fuck about that.”

The continued assault on his prostate has him dangerously close to the edge despite himself, his breath coming in harsh pants as his thoughts fill with all the terrible things Dean could have done to his tag partner. He shuts his eyes tightly, banishing the thoughts of Cody covered in blood from his mind and focuses on the sensations wracking through his body, chasing pleasure and release.

With no warning his hole is empty and his hair is pulled. Seth gasps, disoriented and clenching down on nothing.

He’s shoved unceremoniously over the back of the couch he’d been lounging on earlier, bare ass exposed with his pants now fallen around his ankles. Dean’s fingers never leave Seth’s curls as he circles around, loudly unbuckling his belt and freeing his angry red cock. He’s close enough to Seth’s face that the sticky head smacks him in the cheek.

“You like that? Been a while since you’ve seen a real cock.” Dean guides his dick with one hand to smear precum on Seth’s lips like lipgloss. “You know what to do, your spit’s the only lube you're getting so you better do a good job.”

Seth opens his mouth and latches onto the head of Dean’s cock, suckling it for a moment before taking it further onto his tongue. He can’t help but moan at the unique taste of Dean that fills his senses as he moves his tongue along the prominent vein.

He believes Dean that this will be the only lube he’ll get, so he makes an effort to drool all along the thick length. The grip in his hair tightens, pulling Seth further down with no warning, and he has no choice but to take Dean’s dick into his throat, eyes burning with tears.

Just as his throat begins to relax and adjust to the intrusion there’s a knock at the door.

“Ey Uce! You need a ride outta here, or what?” Jey Uso’s voice comes through the door and Dean rolls his eyes before pulling Seth off his dick.

Seth coughs and sputters before answering, “Nah, M’good man. Go- Go on without me.” He tries to keep his voice even and neutral despite the adrenaline running through him.

“You sure?” Of course he won’t let it be. Jey’s too nice for that.

“Yeah, I’ll catch ya later, uce.” Dean makes a face. Seth prays that it’s enough and that Jey won’t pry further.

There’s no sound for a moment, like Jey’s hesitating for some reason, until finally, “Alrigh’, if you sure. M’gonna go find Cody then. Later, Uce.”

Seth breathes a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last long. Dean steps away from his face, keeping a tight grip in Seth’s hair, tugging painfully as he moves around the couch. His free hand moves down Seth’s waist and rubs at his exposed ass before giving it a sharp smack.

“Excellent job, princess. Shame all your slobber dried up during your performance.” Dean spits on his hole. “Don’t say I never did anythin’ for ya.”

It’s degrading and humiliating, but fuck if Seth doesn’t nearly cum at the wet feeling of Dean’s spit on his already aching hole.

Then he’s split open as Dean shoves his dick inside in one go, his hips smacking the swell of Seth’s cheeks. He howls as Dean grinds against him, rubbing Seth’s prostate in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

He’s open and raw, a ripe oyster cracked open for Dean’s pleasure, ready to be slurped up, devoured and savored. All thought leaves his mind as Dean pulls out and thrusts back in sharply, setting a punishing pace.

Dean’s tongue laves at the tattoo on his spine, biting and nipping at the meat of his back, hard enough to hurt but not bleed. He’s still holding onto Seth’s hair, using it as leverage as he pounds into him, while the other hand finds its way to Seth’s chest, pinching and tugging at his nipples.

Seth’s so close already, the tension in his stomach like a hot coil ready to burst. He unclenches his hand from the back of the couch, stiff from the death grip he’s been holding and tries to reach down towards his cock.

SMACK

He jumps from the shock of the stinging pain on his ass, and Dean’s fingers wrap around the hand he was going to use to try and come, yanking and twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

“You’ll come from my cock or not at all,” Dean growls.

Seth feels tears leaking from his eyes in frustration. Dean’s dick is hitting his prostate like a bullseye at each thrust, and it’s so much but not quite enough to send him shattering apart.

Dean yanks harder on his hair, his back bowing even further and his head twisting to one side at the angle, exposing one side of his throat. Then he’s there, his breath hot against the delicate skin of Seth’s throat.

“Is this what you thought about when Cody fucked you? Closed your eyes and pretended it was me filling you up right?”

Seth nods as best he can, whines escaping his lips with each breath in lieu of words.

“Well don’t worry, I’m here now baby. Gonna remind you,” Dean’s lips meet his skin. “Ro,” Another kiss. “Cody,” Another. “The whole locker room.” A quick dart of his tongue. “Fuck, the whole world, who you belong to.”

“Yours, yours, D-dean, fuck please-“ He’s babbling now more than anything else.

“Thats right, you’re mine.” It’s punctuated with a sharp bite to his earlobe at the end of another vicious unforgiving thrust, and Seth can only hold on as he hurtles over the edge.

He shoots his cum all over the back of the couch, shaking as his orgasm wracks through his body. Dean buries his cock inside him a few more times before shooting his own seed deep inside of Seth’s hole, adding to the sensations that wrack his body and marking him further.

Seth breathes hard as Dean finally pulls out, leaving him shaking and empty. Dean chuckles behind him as he tries to stand. “No wonder it was an easy slide,” He gestures to the streaks of blood that stain his softening cock.

His hole clenches painfully, he’s certainly going to be feeling this for days, but at least he’s gotten off easier than Cody. He makes it to standing, but his knees buckle beneath him, and he can’t even bring himself to try to catch his fall.

He’s accepting that he’s about to faceplant when Dean’s arms wrap around him, saving him from the impact and scooping him up. Seth grabs onto Dean’s neck to stabilize himself, but finds himself paralyzed by the way Dean’s looking at him.

Gone is the anger and fury that he saw earlier, that fed his rough treatment of Seth, replaced by a somewhat bashful look, as if he’s embarrassed now of his earlier behavior.

“You uhhh, good there?” Awkward as ever when it comes to communicating outside of the heat of the moment. Seth feels his chest swell with fondness, their bond may be absolutely bat shit crazy, but no one gets him like Dean and no one gets Dean like him.

He nods, grinning. “Yeah, M’good now-I got my big strong guy to keep me going.”

“Damn right! What you say we get outta here? Got a hotel room with a fluffy robe that’s got your name all over it sweetheart.”

Seth rolls his eyes, but doesn’t have any room to argue considering his current predicament. “Yeah, let’s get outta here.”

--- Thank you for reading!!! 💖💖

[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 32: The Reins

Please enjoy this plot-light but smut-heavy chapter with a lovely twist ending.

Read it on ao3 here. 

Chapter 32: The Reins

The House of Wind looked different. It was nothing incredibly noticeable, but to someone who’d lived there for many years, Azriel could spot the nuances immediately.

The recently-installed bookshelves in the den. The preternatural steel-and-vanilla scent that hung around like smoke. Music playing in a distant room in the house, most likely turned on by Nesta and forgotten afterward, or perhaps she’d done it on purpose, so that it would never be quiet; she did love music after all. The warm, comforting glow of a House that was now a Home.

First Rhys, then Cassian…when would it be his turn? His heart twisted with envy. With pitiful want.

Was this kind of future - this simple, beautiful, vital existence - simply not in the cards for him? Was he truly destined to never find his other half?

His shadows swirled around him angrily at the thought. Azriel knew exactly how they felt; knew exactly what they were thinking.

She already has a mate , he reminded them silently. His shadows buzzed angrily, a feeling which Azriel sympathized with greatly.

It had to be said, though, that while the thought alone used to be enough to make him snarl out loud, for some reason, it had stopped having quite the same effect on him as it used to. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why the change had occurred - though it seemed to coincide neatly with when he and Elain started fucking like rabbits - but it was significant enough to have caught his notice.

So fucking what if she had a mate? So fucking what? The truth of the matter was that she didn’t like her so-called mate . Well, maybe she liked him fine, as a friend. Whatever. But she didn’t like her mate the way she liked Azriel. Her mate didn’t have her confidence, her secrets, her heart. Her mate didn’t make her scream like Azriel did when he was balls deep inside her.

And no one had ever made him feel the way Elain made him feel. That was the truth. So why the hells shouldn’t she be his? A flare of hope, so bright and foreign, burst inside him. His shadows bobbed excitedly. “Calm down,” Azriel berated them, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t bother hiding his grin.

He finally found Cassian on the rooftop of the House of Wind, running through his usual exercise routine.

“Az!” His brother cried jovially. The massive Illyrian warrior popped up from the one-armed push-up he’d been in, strode over and clapped him on the back. “I’ve missed you, brother.”

“Missed you too,” Azriel murmured, cheeks tinged pink. Cassian’s overt and verbal expression of emotion had always embarrassed him as much as it ingratiated him.

He cleared his throat and straightened his wings. “Where are the Valkyries?” The warriors’ training was normally held at this time.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re assigned to City Guard duty now,” Cassian said proudly. “So we’ve had to move our training to earlier in the day, before their rounds begin.”

“Impressive.”

“Some of the credit goes to you, I suppose. You did train them for a while,” Cas shrugged his wings. “Though more credit goes to me, of course.”

“Of course,” Az echoed, raising an amused brow. For a moment, he rather missed assisting with the Valkyrie training, but…well, his new assignment certainly had its benefits.

Additionally, it didn’t escape his notice that a very important aspect of Velaris security had been amended without his insight, approval or even awareness.

“When did this change go into place?” he asked sharply.

It was Cassian’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Yesterday,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons I asked you here. To tell you.”

Hmm. Maybe he was overreacting.

“So why aren’t you with the Valkyries?” Azriel asked, veering away from the awkward moment.

Cassian scowled. “Because the Overprotective Twins still don’t want me to ‘overexert’ myself.”

“Am I correct in assuming Rhys and Nesta are the Overprotective Twins?”

“You are correct.”

“Will you give me that same pouty face if I tell you that I, too, think it’s best if you take it easy for a few more weeks?”

“Why are you asking questions to things you already know the answer to?” Cassian said. “Anyway, we have more important things to discuss.”

“You’re the one blathering on.”

Cassian glared at him, and Az resisted the urge to grin. It was so easy to mess with his brother.

“Since I’ve been banned from physically exhausting ,” he said, the last phrase spoken with the kind of disdain one would use whilst saying thick mucus , “activity, I’ve been reassigned. I’m coming to stay at the Mortal Manor with you and Elain!”

Azriel’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. “What?” He choked out after an extended beat.

“Well, and Mor too, I guess.”

The shadowsinger froze completely.

“I’m heading over there tonight. Mor should be arriving tomorrow.”

“Great,” Azriel said, doing his best to express some pleasure so as to not hurt his brother’s feelings, though he was pretty sure he just came out looking rather constipated.

In all honesty, the whole scenario sounded utterly dreadful. He was going to be living in a Manor for gods only knew how long with:

A mortal queen who turned into a bird during sunlit hours,

An annoyingly chipper human who never knew when to shut up,

His best friend and adopted brother who also never knew when to shut up,

His other best friend, a blonde he’d loved for centuries, who had once slept with aforementioned brother,

The female he was currently in a - something with, who dominated his thoughts day in and day out, and who was currently hiding some very strong magical powers of her own,

And the male she was eternally bonded to, who just so happened to be the son of not one but two High Lords, and who Azriel could barely look at without feeling like kicking something. Or, sometimes, killing something.

Yeah. This was going to be a blast.

Cassian’s happy smile flickered in uncertainty.

“When was this decided?” Az asked, unable to help himself.

“Last night. That’s why I asked to meet you here. So I could tell you myself.”

Azriel stewed in silence. Despite what Cassian said, he couldn’t help but feel this was a conversation Rhys had purposefully chosen not to have with him.

And he had a shrewd hunch as to why.

“Stop brooding,” Cassian said, cuffing him over the head a little rougher than Azriel thought was entirely necessary. “I thought you’d be excited about this! I figured you were getting bored at the Manor, anyway.”

He frowned, his anger at Rhys momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean, bored?”

“I mean, there isn’t much good company to choose from, is there?” Cas started ticking off his fingers. “First you’ve got the one-eyed mortal who shredded your wings once. Then you have the one-eyed Fae who is related to one of the biggest pieces of shit in Prythian, and I guess also Helion, which we definitely need to discuss more later, because holy shit? Then you have Vassa, who actually seems pretty fun, but she loses points because of the whole bird thing. A friend who can only hang out at night? Nighttime is for my Nesta, not for tittering with pals over a game of cards.”

“Please don’t use the word tittering again,” Azriel said. “You can’t pull it off.”

Cassian continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted whatsoever. “And then there’s Elain. I mean, Elain is the greatest, and I know you two are good friends. But I’m sure all the garden talk gets old.”

“Excuse me?” His voice came out much darker than intended. His shadows were suddenly clinging tight to him.

Cassian blinked. “I just, I meant, you’re probably dying for some guy time, right?” He blinked innocently, clearly confused by Azriel glower.

“Elain is fantastic company,” he said through his teeth.

Cas helped up his hands. “Okay, okay! Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“It’s not me you offended. It’s your sister-in-law, remember?”

“I know,” Cassian said slowly.

“She is much more than just gardening.”

Cassian shook his head, his eyes widening. “Yeah, you’re right. Of course you’re right. That was rude of me to say.”

Azriel wanted to say something else, but Cassian was looking at him a bit too thoughtfully, a bit too suspiciously, so he got back to the task at hand.

“Why is this change happening?”

“Feyre and Rhys spoke to Lucien recently. Apparently he’s going to be away from the Manor for a while.”

That was odd. Elain hadn’t mentioned anything about Lucien’s new travel plans when she gave him an update barely three days ago. Perhaps she hadn’t known?

He frowned. “Why? And what is he going to be doing?”

“I’m not sure. But without Lucien there, it only leaves you to provide magical protection to the Manor, and you have all your little Spymaster duties to take care of, so you can’t be there all the time. Plus, given Vassa’s recent digression, and since we are getting so close to the ball, it was decided we should bulk up security anyway.”

“Was it?” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “You’d think I would have been asked for my opinion on the subject.”

Cassian looked uncharacteristically serious . “Relax, Az,” he said, not condescendingly. “Like I said - it was decided last night. I still don’t know what exactly has been making you and Rhys behave like fucking idiots, and I certainly don’t understand why it hasn’t been put to bed yet, but don’t let your personal feelings interfere with your professional ones. Rhys would never do anything that puts Velaris - that puts his family - at risk. This change was just made, and you’re finding out shortly after the fact.”

Azriel stood taut for a long moment before relaxing his wings and sighing. “That might have been the most mature thing you’ve ever said.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassian replied, offended. “I’m always mature.”

***

The Queen was avoiding her. Elain was sure of it.

Her first few weeks at the manor, she never went a day without the boisterous, bold red-head seeking her out. Whether it was to walk the grounds or have a glass of wine or sneak up on Jurian and scare him so hard he screamed (this only happened once, but was so hilarious she figured it warranted a mention), Elain spent more time with Vassa than without.

But now, the Queen was unnaturally - and suspiciously - unavailable.

The first night she returned from Velaris, Elain requested a late dinner. “Please tell Queen Vassa that I will wait up to eat with her,” she’d informed one of the servants. Despite Azriel’s advice to the contrary, she was determined to get some answers from Vassa. She figured the best course of action was to simply ply her friend with expensive wine and hope she got drunk enough and spilled whatever it was she so desperately wanted to keep a secret.

Elain waited in the dining room for three hours that night before accepting defeat.

The next evening, she tried a different tactic. The second the sun had set, Elain was at Vassa’s quarters and knocking hard on her door. After several minutes, the door finally opened. But it was another handmaiden, not her friend, who answered.

“She’s not feeling up for company,” the handmaiden said apologetically. Then she lowered her voice and widened her eyes meaningfully. “She’s been doing this a lot lately. Avoiding people.”

It was true that Vassa hadn’t been dealing with the curse’s return well. Understandably, of course. But Elain knew for a fact that Vassa hadn’t been isolating herself entirely - Azriel had said he’d visited her quarters just a few nights before. And her Fae senses could easily detect Jurian’s recent scent clinging to the silk tapestries adorning the queen’s quarters.

Elain was trying not to take it personally, but it was hard. She and Vassa had always confided in each other. They shared a bond that the others didn’t - a bond over similar traumatic experiences. Over situations out of their control that had, quite literally, altered them from the inside out. That had given them strange and uncommon abilities or “gifts” they’d never asked for, never wanted. That had caused them both to resort to hiding secrets in the deepest, darkest crevices of their souls. From the very first day she met Vassa, they had fallen into easy friendship in the simple, lovely way that only women can. No matter her hurt over the secrets Vassa was keeping from her, Elain couldn’t help but trust her.

She and Vassa understood each other, simple as that. And it was because of this innate trust and understanding that she couldn’t help but feel that whatever it was Vassa was afraid to tell her wasn’t quite that bad. Despite the initial anger she’d felt, Elain was having a difficult time imagining the queen actually withholding something dangerous or detrimental from her. She just couldn’t imagine her friend doing that.

But until Vassa told her, Elain was stuck with only her own worries and wonders.

It was also rather inconvenient that her only chance to speak with Vassa was at night, since during the day she was indisposed. Not that she blamed the queen, of course. But it was messing with her sleep schedule all the same. She was almost glad that Azriel had been off on his Spymaster duties the past few days (keyword: almost). His absence had, at least, guaranteed her nights full of uninterrupted sleep.

With nothing else to do during the daytime but stew over the unanswered questions pounding against her skull, she’d taken to practicing her powers. The past few days, she’d spent nearly all her waking hours in the conservatory, testing out different powers, pushing the limit of her magic - and discovering that, so far, the limit did not exist.

Elain was not one to brag, but if she was, she would have boasted loudly for all to hear. She was getting good. Really good.

Not only had she regrown all the flowers, trees and plants back that Koschei had so rudely destroyed - she’d added to the array, using her expert gardener’s eye to create a practical oasis in the middle of the Mortal Manor. A patch of petunias covered the vast majority of the east wing. Troves of wisteria hung over her head. The ground itself was coated with lush, spongy moss that felt like springs beneath her feet.  A thick web of ivy crawled up the high stone walls and arching windows alike.

It surprised her as much as it pleased her that the better she got at controlling her magic, the stronger her magic seemed to become. It was an endless loop of buzzing, positive energy, feeding into itself and onto itself and multiplying in turn. It was the kind of power that was intoxicating and terrifying and empowering, all at the same time, and Elain loved it.

She’d just finished growing a patch of incredibly rare camellias when the lovely scent of cedar, wind and smoke engulfed her senses.

“Impressive,” Azriel said. He was standing in the shadows beneath a nearby poplar, watching her with those intense hazel eyes.

She cocked an eyebrow. Then, with a delicate flick of her fingers, a huge, tri-colored orchid appeared directly beside him.

That smug bastard didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“Elain Archeron,” he said, and just like every time he said her full name, she shivered a little bit. “You might just save us all yet.”

Her responding smile may have been light and casual, but the feeling in her chest certainly wasn’t. What was it about this male and his simple, lovely words that made her heart trip over itself?

A coward in denial , she thought to herself. She knew exactly why he affected her so.

“Any updates from Velaris?” Elain asked quickly, wanting to change the subject.

Azriel may have been a pro at masking his emotions, but by now, Elain was a pro at reading him. And she could tell, in the mere second he hesitated to reply, that something of importance had occurred.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“What?”

He regarded her, still wearing a carefully blank expression that didn’t fool her one bit.

“Tell me,” she said. Softly…but also powerfully.    

A tendon in his jaw ticked, and something in his energy changed ever so subtly.

“Not here,” he said, and before she could take a proper breath, he was pulling her toward the garden shed that sat at the very back of the conservatory. Elain hadn’t entered the shed in a long time - certainly not since Phillip’s death, she thought sadly - because she had not had any need for gardening tools. Not anymore. The magic in her blood, so easily stirred these days, seemed to tingle at the thought.

Azriel entered the shed first, striding her over the threshold of the shed, his massive wings flexing behind him. He was still giving off a strange aura, though what exactly was different, she couldn’t quite say.

The second the door closed, the story rushed out of him. And with each new word that fell out of Azriel’s mouth, Elain’s face fell a little more.

“When are they coming?” she asked when he’d finished, her voice steady despite the fear evident in her eyes.

He grimaced. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” she gasped.

He nodded.

“But we can’t have that!” she cried. “I mean,” she cleared her throat, lowering her voice, “logistically speaking.”

“Logistically speaking?” he raised an eyebrow, causing a blush to immediately dust over her lightly-freckled cheeks.

“Yes.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What logistics are you referring to?”

“Well, I mean, my training, of course,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s just, you know, I’m just, I’m still not ready for the others to know about my magic.”

Well, the whole “secret powers'' situation was a can of worms Azriel simply didn’t have the energy - nor the desire - to get into right now. Further than that, though, he could tell that Elain wasn’t telling the truth - or the entire truth, more likely. And it didn’t take a wizard to discern why.

Her wide, worried eyes, the nervous pitter-pattering of her heart, the way her fingers were unconsciously twisting themselves together over and over again…she was afraid. Afraid of what this change meant, not for her training, but for them . Afraid of how Mor and Cassian’s presence would affect what they had.

Azriel, who had thought of practically nothing else since hearing of the new situation himself, completely understood her distress. He’d felt the same way, at first. No, this situation was definitely not ideal. Yes, it was going to be a hell of an adjustment. And yeah, it was going to be difficult. He knew it as well as she, an undeniable fact.

But there was also an unshakeable certainty burning inside him that assuaged all these initial fears. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that he and Elain were made for the shadows; as an entity, as a couple , they had always been forced to exist only in the dark, liminal slices of time, surviving only because they kept defeating every barrier that stood in their way, lasting only because they did not cower in the darkness but faced it head-on.

This newest obstacle was just another to knock down. It was just going to be a little bit harder now. But he had no doubt that they would find a way to see each other. He would simply not allow anything to the contrary.

He wasn’t ready to give her up yet.

Elain’s anxious face swam back into focus. So he decided to ease her worries - and assuage his own desires - and to have a bit of fun for both of them.

“Oh, your training ,” he said. “Silly me for thinking of another illicit activity entirely.” He smirked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t. I’m not very good at picking up on context clues.”

“Says the Spymaster with supersonic hearing.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

His eyes immediately flicked to her chest.

“Wipe that smirk off your face before I wipe it off for you,” Elain said.

His grin grew wider. She was in a feisty mood today. “Is that a promise?” he purred.

She huffed dramatically. “You’re annoying when you smirk,” she said childishly.

Quick as a snake, he pulled her flush against him.

“You’re annoying when you snore at night,” he said.

Elain’s face went hot. “I do not snore!”

“You do.” He nipped at her nose. “Every night.” His teeth grazed her jaw this time, sending an unwilling rush of heat through her. “Without fail.”

“I do not snore, Azriel,” she repeated hotly, surreptitiously squeezing her thighs together.

“I can’t believe your sisters never told you! Didn’t the three of you share a bed for years?” He laughed at the indignant look on her face, incensing her further.

“I loathe you,” she said crossly.

He ran his hands through her hair, then cupped her face, his thumb lightly tracing her bottom lip. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “But I did lie. It’s not annoying when you snore.” His mouth was now mere inches from hers, so close she could taste his sweet breath. “It’s fucking adorable .”

When she scowled, he started laughing again.

She shoved at him. Humoring her, he fell back onto the low work table behind him, still chuckling. Then, to his surprise (and, quite honestly, her own), she straddled him, one lithe leg at a time.

***

At the first roll of her hips, his laughter guttered out.

“Am I adorable when I do this?” she asked, studying his face closely.

The muscles in Azriel’s jaw tightened. “Not the word I’d use.”

“No?” She repeated the motion, feeling him harden beneath her. “What word would you use, then?” Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck with her nose, then replaced the touch with her lips. Softly kissed the knot on his throat. “What about…sweet?”

“No. Though you are very sweet, in every sense of the word.” As if in emphasis, he buried his face in her curls and inhaled deeply.

Elain blushed, grateful that her face was still hidden in the crook of his shoulder. She did not want to display any semblance of embarrassment. Elain wasn’t quite sure what boldness had come over her, but she knew that this was her moment to have him, not the other way around, and she did not want to give him any reason to take back the power. Not when it so rarely belonged to her. Not when he would, inevitably, take control again, and soon. She knew his tells well enough by now, knew that he could only handle someone else holding the reins for a few moments before he took them for himself.

But even if he could never admit it out loud, she also knew how much it turned him on when she took control. Even if just for a little while.

A shudder went through his entire body as she licked up his throat. Her mouth watered at the delectable tang of the thin film of sweat coating his body - and now her tongue - tangible proof of the significant effect she had on him.

“What about…lovely?” she murmured, ghosting her lips over his.

“You are so fucking lovely,” he said, eyes dark and dangerous. “But no. That’s not the word I was thinking of, either.”

Elain frowned. He was still forming complete, coherent sentences. He was still looking at her with clear hazel eyes. Which meant he was nowhere close to where she wanted him to be.

So she tugged at his shirt in a silent request. Watched as he pulled it over those massive, powerful wings and tossed it to the dirt-strewn floor, neither of them caring or even remembering where they were. She ran her hands across his golden, muscled torso the second he yanked it off, her eyes wide. Sidled further down, placing her lips lovingly, adoringly, on each taut ripple of abs. Gods have mercy. His body was a fucking treasure. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to see it, feel it, worship it.

Azriel was heaving in earnest now, his bare chest rising and falling with a cacophonic cadence. When her fingers dipped below the waistband of his pants, he let out a tortured groan.

Better , she thought, grinning to herself. Without letting herself hesitate, she slid to her knees and boldly pulled down both his pants and underwear. Her mouth fell open as his thick length escaped its confines, standing straight to attention and throbbing in anticipation.

She’d seen his cock before, of course. Felt it in her hands. Inside her body. But at this angle, so close, the sheer size of him struck her anew. Gods. He was utterly magnificent.

A bead of liquid formed at the top of his manhood. She eyed it, feeling slightly nervous but mostly greedy. She licked her lips. Then she licked down the center of her palm.

Azriel let out a strangled moan. Flicking her eyes up, she was pleased to see a dizzy, overwhelmed expression on his face. “You don’t have to do this,” he croaked out, and no words had ever sounded more forced.

“But what if I want to?” she asked, widening her eyes innocently before wrapping a hand around him. She clenched her fist a little harder than intended, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind.

“Holy fuck,” he said, throwing his head back against the mattress. His whole body was shaking - with restraint, eagerness, or pure and unadulterated lust, she wasn’t sure. She hoped it was a sinful mixture of the three.

She continued to stroke him, taking her time to admire the gorgeous specimen before her, learning what he liked. The harder she squeezed, the more noises of pleasure he made; when she accidentally scraped her nails down him, his hips thrust up and a choked sound came from his throat. She smiled softly, and the next time her nails grazed him, it was entirely intentional.

“You’re so big,” she mused a few minutes later, mostly to herself. The rock-hard member in her hand twitched in response.

“ Elain ,” he moaned. “Stop torturing me.”

Elain did not deign to reply. Instead she sent him a crooked, wicked smile and leaned forward. Her mouth was now mere inches away from his pulsing length. He growled in anticipation.

“We never came to a decision,” she said.

“What?”

“We never decided what word accurately describes me,” she said, still moving her fist up and down, up and down. “But I think I know.” She leaned forward. “What about…” she poked her tongue out and gently licked the tip. “ Generous ?”

A great shudder worked its way through Azriel’s body, and then he was tugging her forward by the hair. “Fucking gods, Elain,” he said in a dark, grating voice. “Put your mouth on me. Now .”

Elain glanced up at him, a bit of shyness slipping through her otherwise confident exterior for the first time since she’d rolled her hips into his rock-hard lap. “Tell me what feels good, okay?”

Before he could even begin formulating a response, she wrapped her mouth around the tip and sucked. Hard. A deliciously strangled sound crawled from the back of his throat.

“That, honey, that feels so good,” he said.

Slowly but eagerly, she continued sucking him, taking him a little deeper with each new head bob, her hand covering the part of his length that her mouth couldn’t reach.

“Is this your first time doing this?” he asked, panting. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and, without taking her mouth off his cock, nodded.

He groaned. “You’re too much. You’re too perfect.” His hazel eyes gazed fiercely into her own. Long, cool fingers grabbed her hair like reins, urging her forward once again. And this time, she took him as deep as her throat allowed.

She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. As his mouth dropped open in a silent cry of pleasure. Even when she gagged slightly, she didn’t retreat until he guided her backward.

“Fuck,” he growled. Then he got to his feet, those mighty wings of his spanning from one end of the shed to the other. He tugged lightly on her shoulders, beckoning her to stand with him. “Let me taste you, too,” he said.

Mother above, this male was sexier than anyone had a right to be. And though his offer was quite tempting, she wasn’t finished playing with him. Gods, no. She wasn’t even close.

Ignoring him, she moved forward again, putting as much of him inside her mouth as she possibly could. She tightened her fist around the base and pumped in time with the motion of her throat, hard and steady.

Immediately, Azriel abandoned any notion of doing something else; instead, he just abandoned himself to her , wrapping her hair tight around his fist. The thought itself was enough to send a new rush of wetness to slicken her thighs.

For a while, he let her set the pace; she curiously bobbed up and down his length, pausing every once in a while to lick down the shaft or to suck solely on the head. He let her know how he was feeling the entire time.

“Gods, that’s good,” he said, or “You have the sweetest little mouth,” or “That’s my girl.” The more he praised her, the wetter she became, until she was unwittingly grinding her core against his leg, desperate to sate the pulsing ache between her thighs but still determined to bring him to climax with just her mouth.

She let out a moan of her own at how delicious he tasted, at how much she loved making him feel so good. How much she loved stoking the flames burning between them. Loved pushing him to his very limits. Loved looking at him and touching him and being with him, and oh, oh, oh . She just loved him so very, very much.

“I’m close,” he grunted out.

Everything began moving faster - her throat, her hand, her tongue - as she worked to bring him to the edge.

“Elain, if you don’t move soon, I’m going to come in your mouth,” he gritted out. He was unbelievably close; hanging on by a damn thread.

Those big brown eyes blinked up at him. His cock twitched in response. Fuck , what was it about her innocence that turned him on so much?

Then, without breaking eye contact, she nodded once.

Oh gods. He wasn’t going to survive her, was he?

“You don’t have to,” he said for the second time that night, even though his manhood was so hard it hurt. Even though he wanted nothing more than to watch her swallow his seed, watch her try and take everything he gave her.

“I want to,” she murmured, tracing her lips against the tip of his cock as she spoke, and the vibration sent a new rush of pleasure through him. Her eyes were wide and sincere and fucking intoxicating. “I want it all, Az.”

“ Fuck ,” he rasped out. “Beg me.”

She nodded earnestly, lashes fluttering. “ Please .” She gave a particularly hard suck. “Please, please give it to me.”

Azriel’s restrained snapped. Widening his stance slightly, he tightened the grip of his fingers tangled in her hair and, with an almighty thrust, shoved himself down her throat. With nowhere else to go, her hands clutched onto the backs of his thighs, hanging on for dear life. He repeated the motion over and over again, his pace relentless, his force unforgiving, his lust greater than ever before.

“Always so polite,” he said, the words closer to a growl than anything, “always so courteous. Even when you’re choking on my cock. Even when you’re begging me to fill you up with my cum.”

She let out a little whimper at that. The sound vibrated pleasantly against his thick length. He was awestruck at the way she took him down her throat with such adoration; with a reverence he’d never known before, even as he ruthlessly rammed in and out of her mouth.

It seemed a miracle that he was still going, though he knew the end was drawing close, knew it like he knew shadows and darkness and death. “Tell me, Elain,” he said, “Will you use those pretty manners to show your gratitude when I shoot my load down your throat? Will you tell me thank you as my cum is spilling from your perfect little mouth?”

Her answer came as a wicked twist of the lips, and then the lightest scratch of teeth against his rock-hard manhood - and he was absolutely done for. With an almighty roar, he shoved his hips forward one final time and came hard, stars and supernovas and planets exploding behind his eyelids.

It took several moments for him to regain his composure. By the time he did, he was bent over at the waist and breathing embarrassingly hard. He glanced down. Below him, still kneeling between his legs, was Elain. She was looking at him, too. He’d never seen such a gorgeous sight as Elain Archeron on her knees, spit dripping down her chin - or so he thought until a mere moment later when, without blinking, she swallowed, his ample release working its way down her slender, creamy throat.  

He growled, low and deep. Despite the earth-shattering and balls-draining orgasm he’d just had, his cock went semi-hard. He wanted her again already, and he would want her after this next time, too, and the time after that; he could see himself wanting her for all of eternity.

Elain licked her lips. Then she smiled as she closed her eyes, as if savoring the taste.

It was the last straw. So quickly she gasped, he tugged her up, not roughly but certainly not gently, and kissed her deeper than the sea. She kissed him back just as eagerly, palming his face between her hands, desperate to get closer to him somehow, even though they were pressed against each other so tightly she did not know where she ended and he began -

The shed door opened with a bang. Azriel and Elain sprung back from each other and whipped around toward the source of the interruption.

There, standing in the doorway, wearing an expression equivalent to that of someone recently hit over the head with a frying pan, was Cassian.

[purgatorihorror]

TRIGGER WARNING...... mention of SELF-HARM .

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I don’t really know where to begin writing this. I wanted to make a video, but it would be far too long, so if you’re here reading this blog post thank you.

I will start out by saying thank you SO much to everyone for the well wishes, and for having my back that night. After a few days I felt very ashamed of myself for wanting to end my own life over something so stupid. After going to the hospital and getting help, I don’t feel ashamed, but I feel sad. I feel sad that with everything I went through last year with thinking I was going to die from pancreatitis that I forgot how lucky I was to be here. I feel sad that I hurt a lot of people in the community who care about me for even attempting or even having it cross my mind. It turns out this goes beyond just being upset at myself for thinking that I hurt someone when they accused me of copying their YouTube content, but working with my doctor I’ve come to realize that there was much more going on with me internally. We’ve come to the awful realization that I haven’t fully healed from the trauma of my past, and the wounds of my past were pretty much just masked with medication and not really diving into fixing the problem at hand. Not only that, but the shitty truth of the matter is my mom is not getting any better. She is at the end stage of emphysema and COPD. She’s getting more tired easily. She has been hospitalized in ICU twice in the last year which is more than she was when she was first diagnosed with the disease. The only thing even keeping her out of the hospital is a breathing mask that she now has to wear when she sleeps, and if she doesn’t wear this mask she’ll either die or be hospitalized again, I don’t even want to think about it, but I am being completely honest here about everything that has been going on with me, and as much as the truth hurts, it’s just that, the truth and sometimes the truth fucking sucks. We honestly don’t know how many years she has, or if she even has a full year. I hope she will be around to watch Brandon and I get married, but it’s not looking good to any of us. Brandon and I lived with my family since 2016, and were supposed to move out in 2018 until Christmas day of that year when she almost died. We chose to stay and help her, and help my family. We wanted to help pay for her medication. I wanted to help care for her, bathe her when my father and brother worked, feed her, and just tend to her basic needs. I did all this despite the emotional abuse I had to deal with from my father. My depression and anxiety kept getting worse and worse, but we stayed for her. My mom and I weren’t that close when I was young. I had some behavioral problems due to early mental illness and I was NOT an easy daughter to live with. However, we became the best of friends after reconnecting. I’d wish and wish with every bit of my heart that I would’ve been better when I was a child/teen, but she forgave me and that meant so much to me, and we became the best of friends. Growing closer to her I saw her health deteriorate more and more. Unfortunately she was already diagnosed with COPD already, but she wasn’t seeing a doctor and continued smoking cigarettes for a few years until she realized she had to stop. After she was hospitalized in 2018 and I thought I was going to lose my best friend, we became even closer than that and I was constantly worried about her and scared that I’d lose my mom. Over those years she just got worse and worse. 2018 was when she had to be placed on full time oxygen at home, but the more she became hospitalized I knew it was just getting worse. The Christmas season before last she was hospitalized once again, but this time they weren’t sure if she was even going to come out of it. Luckily she was able to come home for Christmas. My mental health was getting worse though due to the emotional abuse from my dad. Always calling me a whore, piece of shit, telling me I was going to hell for having Pagan beliefs instead of being a Christian, calling me a no-good liberal communist bitch, things much worse than that that I can’t even mention here. It hurt a lot. Then he would try to buy me things like candy and whatnot and then say that I’ll always be his little girl. I was so confused because if he thought that way, if he loved me, why did he treat me so poorly? It really messed with me and confused me, I didn’t know what to think and when I tried to think it just felt like my brain was short circuiting all the time if that makes sense. The year before that I had gotten back on medication for my mental health, but last year is when I started doing therapy sessions again. Among doing therapy sessions with my doctor who I grew to love and admire, she helped me dive deep into things and I realized that I was broken, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get better. I started to remember things from my childhood, like how my dad threatened me with hell if I didn’t follow Jesus, which apparently sparked something called thanatophobia, which is a severe irrational fear of death and/or the dying process. Not only did we dive into the things my dad said to me over the years and how he treated me, but we found out that I truly have not healed from the wounds of my past. I was physically and mentally bullied throughout my entire time from elementary school into high school... it just got way WAY worse when I was in high school. I wore all black clothing, band shirts, hoodies, skinny jeans, dyed my hair black, etc. and that’s when the bullying got worse. I live in the bible belt so people would walk up to me and shout “Jesus loves you, Antichrist” any chance they got. I even got bullied by kids who dressed similarly to me, some of the “emo kids” joined in at times. It got so bad to where one guy in particular would go up to random kids and pay them a dollar to come up to me just to say “Jesus loves you, Antichrist”. Not only that, but I was always called ugly by both girls and guys. I couldn’t really get a boyfriend because people just found me so unappealing, which I guess led me to really believe that was the case. It got even worse to where the bullying got physical and it was never a case where girls would beat me up, but some of the guys were getting physical with me. I won’t go into all of the instances where this happened just because this is already going to be long as it is, just 2 that stuck out to me and really damaged me beyond belief. One instance I was listening to my MP3 player on the bus and I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, like a tugging stinging feeling, I remember I put my hand back there and there was a little bit of blood, so I looked behind me and the guy who instigated a lot of my bullying (and this was the same guy that paid people to come up to me and say “Jesus loves you, Antichrist”), had apparently ripped a chunk of my hair out, he was laughing at me and so were the people near him. Luckily my stop was next since I was the 2nd stop, so I tried to get off of the bus quickly because I was embarassed and just wanted to be out of there, and I tripped over something, I forget exactly if someone tripped me or if it was someone’s backpack in the aisle I tripped over, but I fell and the whole bus began laughing at me and it made me feel SO much fucking worse than I already did. At that point I was crying a lot and I was just excited to go home. Well when I got home (at this point my sister and her then boyfriend lived with my family) my sister’s boyfriend was an asshole and as soon as I walked in he apparently said he found some video diaries I made of just me venting about the things that I was going through in school and began kind of making fun of me for it, so I was crying worse and went to hide in my closet. I don’t know how long I was in there for, but I just wanted to be in darkness away from the world. Not really sure what happened after that. The other time that stuck out to me was the time I was staying over at a friend’s house and she wanted to walk over to her friend’s house who everyone called “Turtle” as a nickname (I forget why exactly) and when we got to his house he had some of the guys over that happened to bully me in school for my appearance and who always accused me of being a “devil worshiper”. I had a bad feeling in my stomach and told her I didn’t want to be there, but she wanted to smoke some weed with them so I didn’t really have anywhere to go. I did stay silent the whole time. None of them really spoke to me, and I don’t know how much longer after we arrived that this happened, but one of the guys left the room for a while, and when he came back everyone in the room including “Turtle” began chanting “Jesus loves you” and “the power of Christ compels you” from The Exorcist, and it turned out the guy had left to get a cross so they can hold it up to me like I was a vampire or demon or something. I tried to run out of the room, but Turtle’s 20 something year old brother (yes, a 20 something year old joined in on bullying a child) blocked the door and he was kinda big so I couldn’t get out. I was held down and the cross was pressed to my forehead so hard that it cut into me a little bit. I think they were trying to “baptize” me in a very crude way or drive some kind of evil out of me. My friend got them off of me and started screaming at them, which at that point I just wanted out and had run down the stairs and out of their house. She ran after me and tried to comfort me. I told her this is why I didn’t want to be there, but she just continued trying to comfort me. When we got back to her place I told her I just wanted to go home. I lied to her stepdad and told him that I was feeling sick and he took me home. I told my brother what happened, but not the rest of my family. I couldn’t really take the bullying anymore, so I started doing harder drugs with my sister’s boyfriend, like pills and stuff. I already smoked weed, but I just didn’t care anymore at that point and wanted to feel numb. I drank a lot, and he taught me how to crush up Klonopins and snort them through rolled up bills. I would even go as far as to take 3-4 of those things on top of hard liquor, not really caring what happened to me, I just felt numb. I began drinking a LOT more and would go to school intoxicated in hopes that it’d make me care less. It didn’t work at all and the bullying got much, much worse. I started faking sick a lot so I wouldn’t have to go to school and my school had a certain amount of days you missed before you and your family had to go to court and I ended up missing more than 10 unexcused days and we did have to go to court. The judge we met up with threatened that if I didn’t start going to school I’d be taken away from home and forced to go to juvenile hall. He showed my parents and I a video of what it was like in one of those places and I got scared. I told him and my parents that I couldn’t take the bullying and that’s why I wasn’t going to school, but the judge said that I had to. There were even times when my mom had gone up to the school to speak to the principal, but nothing was done. I felt so alone and like I had nowhere to go. It was the weekend after that and I knew I had to go to school Monday morning. No amount of drugs or self-harm I did took the pain away, so that’s when I tried to kill myself, and I almost succeeded until my sister found me and my family took me to the hospital. I obviously survived, but told them I couldn’t go back to that school and that I’d rather not be alive. That’s when I was pulled out of school and home-schooling was decided. I was put on medication and diagnosed with severe depression, generalized anxiety, social anxiety, and PTSD. The PTSD was diagnosed because of the blackouts. I’d blackout and it was like I’d relive everything that happened to me, and would be scared as hell when I snapped out of it. I was home-schooled, had a teacher come to my house and help me with virtual schooling, and I had therapy at a place called Waccamaw Mental Health. Until I was 18 and my family didn’t want to pay for it anymore, that is. Without going to therapy and seeing a doctor I also could no longer get medication, so I had to stop taking it once it was out which made me sick. I got used to not having it for a while, though. Not only did I need severe help with the mental damage the bullying caused, but the PTSD was also me reliving my sexual assault that I went through when I was 15 caused by my sister’s then boyfriend’s best friend Billy. I had to keep that a secret for a long time. I was drugged and I was r*ped. It isn’t until recently that I realized that I have NOT fully healed from ANY of this and I really, really fucking want to. I learned this because I started having night terrors again recently where I’d wake up in a cold sweat, scared that something bad was going to happen, almost like I was reliving the bullying and the assault. I thought it had all gone away, but since November I have been having horrible nightmares, and in these nightmares I can feel EVERYTHING. Those old wounds started to re-open so I started working with my now therapist trying to come to terms with what to do about it. That’s when I started hardcore meditating and listening to a guy named Dr. Joe Dispenza on how to change my brain patterns and re-arrange my life if that makes sense. It’s been helping, but it will take a while for those old wounds from trauma to heal.  Among dealing with the night terrors and nightmares, dealing with the anxiety and phobias, I’ve been upset and scared to lose my mom because the horrible truth of the matter is we really don’t know how much time she has left. We don’t. She has her good days and she has her bad days, but I am constantly worried about her and stressed about the day I finally get that call that no kid wants to get. Going through my mom dying, the nightmares, my phobias, depression, anxieties, and our recent financial struggle with us scraping by I have been SO stressed and depressed, just wanting everything to work out and be okay. Despite that I have been trying my hardest not to let my feelings show online, where I want to spread love and positivity, hiding behind a smile because I want to make people feel good and be there for others and make others happy even though on the inside I am aching, I still wanted to spread kindness and love because I want to make sure my friends and followers know that they are loved.  I have started doing YouTube a year ago because that’s something I’ve wanted to do since my teens, but never could afford a camera until my fiance gifted me one for Christmas last year. I was excited because I could finally make videos and become a content creator like Sam and Colby (if you don’t know who they are they explored abandoned/haunted places). I decided to make a horror themed channel because my fiance and I had a horror podcast we were doing before that, so I was happy I could finally make videos for YouTube. It started out rocky because I am SO nervous and have really bad social anxiety on camera. I am very awkward and you can even hear it in my voice that I am a bag of nerves. I did this for a few months until I got really sick with a colon infection that spread to my pancreas causing my lipase levels (pancreas enzymes) to elevate, and when that happens it’s called acute pancreatitis. I was sick for an entire month (I think? or at least it felt like a month) and when I finally started seeing a GI doctor he gave me a chart to help me change my diet to a more low-fat diet so my enzymes would go down. They finally went back to normal and after a CT scan everything looked good including my gallbladder, so I could have a more balanced diet... but I went through that entire time thinking I was going to die because my cousin died from chronic pancreatitis and liver disease, so I was scared. I finally started making videos again, but I hated how sickly I still looked from all the weight I lost from being so ill. I still haven’t even fully gained all of that weight back. Hell I haven’t even had a period in 3 years and still haven’t had one. But when I started making videos again I was very self-conscious about how my body looked basically very bony and skeletal, so I started dealing with body dysmorphia. I began talking to my therapist about it and that’s when I learned what that was, I was unhappy with my appearance. I thought about maybe wearing a costume or something to help with my social anxiety and in November I talked to my therapist about that, and she said it would be a great tool to help me get more in my comfort zone and loosen up a bit on camera. So I decided my Halloween costume would be perfect. I could create a character, Purgatori the Pumpkin Queen after the Pumpkin King in Nightmare Before Christmas. I love Halloween and all things Halloween so both my therapist and I thought it was a great idea. After Christmas we were still worrying about money and how we were going to get by, so I thought I’d finally launch my Patreon to help support my family. I could add different things to different tiers, get back into writing and upload some of my short stories that I have written and my paintings, I could make my family some money while also making extra content. I started doing the videos with the costume. I made 2 so far, my Halloween Ends review and my breakdown of the extended cut of Halloween (1978).  I was scrolling through Twitter and Instagram one day and noticed one of my followers talking about someone copying them on YouTube and I felt bad for this person because I know how hard it is to work and edit, especially with someone like me who suffers with severe migraines and editing can make that worse, I decided to send them a DM showing my support and thought maybe this person needed someone in their corner. I didn’t want anyone to be in pain so for my new year’s resolution I wanted to be there for more people, so I messaged this person. They never got back to me so I figured they were just busy. I even subscribed to this person’s YouTube channel to show my support. Us content creators have to stick together, right? And I didn’t want ANYONE feeling sad. A couple days went by and I noticed this person still didn’t get back to me and noticed they left me on read, and I still thought maybe this person was busy or a lot of people may have been trying to message them so I didn’t think anything of it. This person then put out a video and I watched it, and they said it was an update on the copycat so I continued watching it wondering if maybe they’d give clues to who may have been doing this to them, and I wanted to know who to steer clear from, but then they mentioned the person they were talking about tried messaging them shortly after their post trying to do “damage control”. With my anxiety I kept thinking “I really hope they’re not thinking of me”, so I talked to a few of my close friends and they agreed that our content was not the same and that there weren’t any similarities so I felt a little better, but I was still worried that this person thought I was copying them because I didn’t want to be the cause of someone else’s pain if I could help it, and if they did think it was me maybe I could clear the air. I finally messaged them and asked them if they thought it was me, and holy crap it was - they thought it was me. They thought that I had watched their videos for the year they’d been following me and got inspired from them, which is NOT the truth at all, because apparently this person cosplays and does some reviews. I felt HORRIBLE that they thought it was me because it was completely unintentional. They said they had a hard time believing me that I’ve never watched their YouTube videos, but I assured them that I haven’t and that I was so sorry. All I was doing was trying to help my social anxiety and I thought my Halloween costume would be perfect, and I can create a character for my channel - the pumpkin queen. I thought it suited me because I could make my channel Halloween themed too and kinda reconstruct it, because I love Halloween and everyone who follows me knows how much I love Halloween. They also said I was copying them because I was writing horror stories for my Patreon, and they told ghost stories on their channel - which is something I never intended to do on my channel, I just wanted to do reviews, rankings, tier lists, etc. just horror content in general. Maybe some true crime here and there. My mom wanted me to start writing again anyway, and I’ve been writing since I was 13 years old so I thought it’d be perfect for my Patreon, because I wanted people to feel like they were getting their money’s worth if that makes sense. I felt so horrible. So horrible that I unintentionally caused someone pain. I felt so guilty that I tried to kill myself again. Not just because of this, but I was already going through SO fucking much at the time. So stressed. My mental health was HORRIBLE which I was getting help with anyway, but it felt like this was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. I just wanted everything to stop. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted all of the stress to go away.  I am getting extra help now. I am lucky that I didn’t succeed because if I did I wouldn’t be here right now. I am just happy to be get the EXTRA help that I need which means more therapy and my dosage being raised on my medication. Working with doctors I realized that I really didn’t copy anyone. I didn’t, and now I feel that with every shred of confidence in my body that I didn’t steal anyone’s work. I’m not sure why this person singled me out, because I found out there were other masked YouTubers out there and other costumed YouTubers. Now that I know that there are more costumed YouTubers out there I want to give them recognition because I didn’t realize that was a thing. My doctors don’t want me to stop doing YouTube. They don’t want me to stop writing or creating or painting. They think I should continue with the costume, but I will say this - to anyone who is a masked YouTuber or costumed YouTuber, you are amazing and I thank you for your hard work.  Honestly if this person really thought for certain I was taking from their work I wish they would’ve just simply messaged me and asked me if it was my intention, or just talk it out with me. But the fact that they made a video falsely accusing me of something that I didn’t do, and even going on to say that they “know how this person is” really hurt me because I don’t sit there and go out of my way to hurt or manipulate people, and it leads me to believe that this person didn’t really know me at all or what I was going through. 

The reason why I write all of this is not to gain sympathy. I do NOT want sympathy. I do not want people to feel sorry for me. I wanted to explain everything, and when I mean everything, I mean EVERYTHING. All of my traumas, everything I’ve been going through recently, because I’ll be honest guys, life has NOT given me a break. And the reason why I explained everything that I went through regarding the bullying and sexual assault is not because I am blaming this person, it is not because I thought this person was bullying me, but just because I have come to terms with the reason why I have been so stressed, and why my depression and anxiety has gotten worse - because I have old traumas that haven’t healed. I am 28 now and thought by now everything would be better, but my doctor said trauma is different for everyone and everyone heals differently.  If you do know who this person is, I beg you PLEASE do not send them hate. Do not call them out. Do not harass this person. There is enough pain in the world, and I truly don’t know if this person meant any harm or not, but I am done with the drama and the fighting. My mental health is more important. I am not fully coming back to social media yet as I am still healing, but I will be posting on my Patreon because I want to contribute to my family in anyway that I can in these really tough times. My fiance has been the best and there for me, he’s taken care of me and he hasn’t left me, and I am so fucking grateful for him. I am so grateful for all of you too. Thank you so much. I have read all of your well wishes and I want to apologize for causing you all worry and pain. I will take a while to heal, but I am determined to get better mentally, not just for me, but for the people around me. I just really want people to be more mindful, because you never know what a human being is going through on the other end. 

I am so sorry for this being so long, I just had a lot to come to terms with. Maybe this will help someone who is going through something similar not to feel so alone. It was important for me to talk about some of this stuff too, because I can’t spend my life running away from my trauma. I have to face it and deal with it.

I love you guys. I love the Mutant Fam. I love the Horror Community. Thank you for listening.

- Tori 

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Runaway Room (Part 2a)

Last Time: We stuck it to the Jury and snatched victory back from the jaws of defeat… only for things to start going wrong after an overcharging Beppo set our passenger theory up in flames! However, all was not lost! By simply calling Mr McGilded to the stand we were able to find out that we were right! …And that’s when the smoke bomb went off and I disappeared for a year…

Wow guys, it’s been a long time huh! Just over a year in-fact according to my notes. We’ve probably all learnt some things about ourselves during this time, for instance I’ve learnt that my kidney’s cant absorbed magnesium properly... which explains a lot. It turns out that your body and mind actually need vital salts to do a lot of things. Things like having the energy and brain capacity to play a lawyer simulator (to pick an example at random).

I’m now full of magnesium supplements, but while I’m getting back onto form and working out how much to take a day, I think I’ll be posting these once a week rather than my old schedule of: as soon as I can rattle them out. This way I won’t burn myself out!

Anyway, enough rambling on, let's play some Ace Attorney!

God it’s good to be back! I would say that I hope I’ve not lost my gameplaying skills, but looking at how many people I’ve falsely accused, I don’t think I had any.

Now, where were we… oh that’s right, evacuated from the courtroom because our client’s probably a murderer!

(I mean as I said, I’ve shot wrong before, so hopefully I’ve shot wrong again.)

What I really need to do though is talk to Mr McGilded. I’ve jumped the gun enough times this game I’d be happy to chalk my suspicions up to that...

So, we didn’t get that much time out of the courtroom, which begs the question: why drop the smoke grenade at all? There’s not enough time to ‘find’ more evidence, and from what I could see he didn’t try and make a run for it. So what’s it done other than raise a big red flag over his head?

I’ve got a hunch...

Ah. I think I know why the smoke grenade was let off now. And I’ll be honest it really doesn’t help in convincing me that Mr McGilded’s innocent.

We’d needed to produce the mysterious third party if we were going to get Mr McGilded off the hook. If Mr McGilded arranged for them to cause a scene and try and flee, they’d not only be found, but they’d have as good as confessed to the murder.

Yep, it’s the mysterious third party.

Yeah, there are a lot of things I want to ask him about too.

Oh, apparently he’s been summoned to the prosecutor's office.

Fucking typical, even out of the courtroom Barok still manages to be a massive inconvenience.

Also, what’s he doing there without me, his lawyer, anyway?

Wait, the third party’s in there too!

Again I feel like I, his defense attorney, should really be a part of this.

I have a terrible feeling she was bribed to be here...

I mean let’s face it, if anyone’s going to be susceptible to bribes it’s going to be the starving child who’s dependent on money to get her next meal.

Is it the fact that our client clearly singled for what happened?

Because I’ll be honest Susato, that's what’s troubling me!

Ah no, it’s the fact the money for the passengers is all accounted for now we know about Beppo’s swindling ways.

I’m guessing she was a stowaway then, hiding in that space under the seat.

Either way, we’re not going to know what the hell is going on until the prosecution decides to throw us a bone.

Ah well, let’s go see what the hell is going on in there...

She could definitely fit in the space under the seat. She looks about Mr McGilded’s height too, and she’s wearing a hat.

So she might have military connections then.

She’s not saying anything...

Her face is hidden, so I can’t work out if she’s just keeping her mouth shut, or if she’s too scared to speak.

Yes, speak Mr McGilded, and please make what you have to say good enough to convince me I’ve gone on another wild goose chase.

Please do.

So apparently, it connects to the events of the murder.

(Yes Ryunosuke, call them out on their bullshit.)

Anyways, Mr McGilded fell asleep at the back of the omnibus, before being woken up by a thud and a scream. Opening his eyes, he found Mr Mason collapsed on the floor, so he popped him back on his seat and saw that the scream had come from a child, curled up and hidden away.

...

Well there’s a lot to unpack here.

Like why was Mr McGilded’s reaction to WAKING UP TO A BODY to calmly pop it back in its seat.

And was the kid curled up in on the seat, or was she under it?

Also why is there no blood on the floor?

You know what, let’s start with this baffling reaction to a corpse.

Yeah that’s the right reaction.

Not when there’s been a murder! When there’s been a murder, it’s just tampering with the scene of the crime!

I can’t believe I’m with Barok on this one… I feel like I’ve reached a new low…

Remember when I addressed my dear client, whose case I (Ryunosuke) needed to win in order to be allowed to practice law? I said: Please prove me wrong, because I think you might have committed murder…

Well he’s currently doing the opposite of that…

Ok, this might be interesting. He’s talking about finding out the ‘whys and wherefores’ before trying call someone. I wonder if he thought there was something more going on than: someone with little regard for human life wants Mr McGilded out of the way.

My mistake! He’s just talking about the terrified 15 year old who was probably under the seat!

(Yep, definitely under the seat.)

Don’t worry Susato, I’ve already done it!

I’m sorry, YOU SAT HER NEXT TO A CORPSE!?!

That’s the right reaction!

I fail to see what this has to do with you sitting a kid next to a still bleeding dead body! She was already hiding underneath a gore free seat! Why not use that one?!?

Anyway, putting aside my outrage and focusing on the case at hand: Mr McGilded then heard Mr Furst scream, because he’d looked down to see the scene we spent the last cross examination picking at. Like we guessed, it seems that he saw our teenage stowaway sitting next to the victim, rather than Mr Mason, while Mr McGilded was sat in the seat at the back, out of sight.

Well that clears everything up! …except for the fact that stowaway girl still hasn’t said anything.

We’re only minutes into the second part of this case, and I’ve still got a nasty feeling about Mr McGilded I just can’t shake.

(Editor's note: Oh my god I can send things from my switch to my iPad, this is going to save me SO MUCH WORK! Anyway, these are all screenshots of my own gameplay now.)

I don’t think any of us did Ryunosuke. I thought I’d be getting a cheery romp of a third case to lift my spirits before things got serious… but that doesn’t look like it’ll going to happen does it.

(Also we might have to convict another terrified child!)

Ok, that was quite funny!

Hmm, Susato’s talking about investigating the omnibus again. I think I’ve pressed everything we should need clarifying on so maybe I actually need to. Besides, I haven’t seen the insides in forever, and while I’ve re-read my other live-blogging posts as a refresher, it’s probably a good idea to reacquaint myself with the evidence.

Ok, hold up… was that there before? I’m pretty sure the floor was spotless… but did I just not notice?

Like, I’m not a particularly observant person so perhaps… but something really doesn’t seem right here…

Yep, it’s new.

Oh shit. This was the reasons for the smoke bomb wasn’t it?

It wouldn’t have been enough to just have the kid bolt and be caught suspiciously. Mr McGilded needed the courtroom to be evacuated so the kid he’s controlling (or maybe even he himself) could tamper with the evidence.

Because it’s bad Ryunosuke…

Oh crap, he’s cleaned out the compartment too.

Why though? There already seemed to be space in there for the child to fold themselves. Unless there’s something incriminating in there? Maybe that button from the victim’s jacket was in there after all?

Well, there’s bugger all we can do now, so let’s just fall back on the Ace Attorney trick of pressing everything we can...

Ok, we don’t seem to have got much out of the pressing, except to get Mr McGilded to clearly state that the omnibus was empty when he got on. I feel like we already knew that, but nevertheless, I’m sure his certainty will come back to help us later.

Yes, let's move on and get to the good stuff!

Hern name is Gina Lestrade! A Sherlock Holmes name! If I remember rightly Lestrade’s was detective. I wonder if that’s the path Gina here will be on? Or maybe she’s connected to Herlock in some way?

Didn’t Sherlock Holmes have an urchin gang that helped him out sometimes? Maybe she does something similar for our Herlock?

Nope! She’s a pickpocket! Still, I suppose that doesn’t rule the second option out.

This does explain why she’s quite so good at holding her tongue though, especially in the face of the law.

(Also, it is very funny to watch her blank the Judge)

SHE’S GOT A GUN!!!

SHE SHOT THE JUDGE WITH A BATHBOMB!!!

Editor’s Note: Look my screenshots aren’t all going to be winners, OK? 

AND SHE’S DISAPPEARED!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!!!

Oh no, she’s not done a runner, she’s just showing off!

Style Ryunosuke!

F them up Gina!

I love her!

Look, Kazuma’s dead, Hosonaga’s gone back to Japan, and I have no idea where Herlock is… Gina do you want this friendship bracelet I’ve made?

It doesn’t hurt people much Ryunosuke!

Oh my god she stole it from Herlock!

These hijinks have gone on for too long, the Judge seems to say. Go back to facing hard truths and probably defending the wicked, he seems to say.

Well fine! But I’m not going to enjoy it… except I will definitely do that…

(See, Gina gets me!)

So, it looks like the omnibuses were something of a regular haunt for Gina. Though apparently this time she got nothing from her efforts. I wonder if that’s because Mr McGilded was on top of her seat the whole time so she couldn’t get out?

Also, it was pitched black inside, and the sound of the body hitting the deck was loud enough and sudden enough to make her involuntarily scream.

To be honest, as much as I love Gina, I’m not sure I believe that the noise of someone falling out of their seat would be enough to startle her. Perhaps she saw the crime being committed? But then either she’s lying about not being able to see anything, or she must have been able to lift the seat when he hit the floor (ergo, Mr McGilded wasn’t sat on it).

Either way my suspicion of Mr McGilded is definitely growing, and his smug, confident face up there isn’t exactly filling me with confidence.

Come on Mangus, this is it! Endear me to you and show me literally anything that makes me feel better about defending you!

He’s not throwing her under the omnibus like I expected… and he’s actually using facts and reason to show her innocence.

Maybe there’s hope for my (Ryunosuke’s) future after all!

Aaaand we’re looking at the compartment he almost certainly cleared out…

I still come back to asking why though.

Like I feel like Gina could curl herself into that space, and we couldn’t find any evidence among the stuff that was there.

God I want to believe this. The problem is that I just don’t anymore. I really hope that this is just me crying wolf again, and that I’m going to have another beloved character I have to apologies to… but I really don’t think I am…

Also, if he is guilty where does that leave Ryunosuke?

He’s either going to have to let a guilty man who buys his way through life go free, probably convicting another innocent person in the process (I’d love to avoid another Adrian Andrews situation if I can)… or he’s going to have to find another bargain that will let him continue practicing law.

And he’s a Japanese immigrant, they aren’t just going to hand him one on a silver platter. Even if he is the main character, he’d probably end up stuck under someone’s thumb (Strongheart perhaps), or having to look for some back-door way in.

Either way it’s not going to be great for him.

Anyway, we’ve convinced Juror Number 1 to change his verdict!

I mean given that a slight breeze changes this man’s standing, it’s nothing really to write home about…

But still. One step closer to victory!

Wait, she’s changing as well! But doesn’t that mean…

Six for Six!

SIX FOR SIX!

SIX FOR SIX!!

VIIIIICCCCCTTTOOOOOOOORRRYYYYYYYYY!!!

(Well apart from the fact that there are still about a mile of questions, the killers still at large, and we feel nowhere near done…)

Leg SLAM!

Ok Barok let’s hear it.

Look Barok, if you’re going to say he’s a cad, we already know that…

Also, to be frank you’re the last person who should be calling people out on that.

Ok, so he’s also noticed the mysterious case of the missing luggage.

I would be mad, but frankly I knew this was coming when I opened the omnibus and saw it had been tampered with.

So right now, frankly, I just want to find out what the hell this is all about!

I mean we’ve come to the same conclusion; I’ll give him that much.

And to think, only last session he was barely able to follow our chat about the bloody gloves!

Now how do I answer this?

On one hand, I’ve played enough Ace Attorney to know that, ultimately, attempting to: conceal, mask, alter or hide from the truth, doesn’t end well. Especially when you’re a lawyer. It’s a bad time.

On the other hand, I (Ryunosuke) am a defence attorney. It’s my duty to defend my client in the best I can… but is the best way to lie though?

So, directly contradicting Barok is out, and anyway, if it comes down to my word against his… and let’s be honest here, I (Ryunosuke), the Japanese immigrant, am not going to win that one. I’ll just paint myself in a bad way and make everyone even more against me than they already are.

Maybe I could say I didn’t look though?

It’s less of a lie than flat out denying it (can they prove I did), and I wouldn’t be going directly against Judges favorite Barok, or my client…

I did look though…

Also, it’ll make me look incompetent.

… plus, I don’t think it’s a good idea and I don’t think we should do it…

Would Ryunosuke feel the same though?

I mean I am playing as him, so I’d like to act as he would.

Actually I just remembered the last case, and I think that he would. I also think that, unlike me he wouldn’t have hesitated as much.

Let’s do it!

Oh dear, Mr McGilded isn’t happy. Perhaps we can style this out enough for him to convince Strongheart he should give us a job anyway?

(She said hopefully)

And Barok’s, amazingly, not happy either.

Ok Ryunosuke, here’s your time to talk about truth!

Uhh… let’s try and inspire a bit more confidence Ryunosuke…

Yeah alright, that’ll do it!

Barok finds it interesting. I think that means we passed.

Mr McGilded however…

Yeah...

You know I thought the same thing myself.

(God I hope I haven’t screwed this up…)

He’s putting the squeeze on us!

Ryunosuke, you beautiful individual, there is SO MUCH THAT IS NOT RIGHT!

Oh Juror Number 5’s going to clear this up. I can’t believe he’s actually pulling his weight for once!

I mean, he was swindling his customers, and you’re clearly drinking in court… all I’m saying is I wouldn’t put much faith in the responsibility of your coach company.

Oh, and he’s changed his verdict to guilty!

Wonderful!

(I don’t even know if I’m being sarcastic now or not)

And there goes Juror Number 3 as well, closely followed by Number 4!

Oh, how quickly these people turn!

And Ryunosuke is as fed up with them as I am!

Yeah, yeah Barok. We know. We dug ourselves away from victory and snatched defeat from it’s jaws. Let’s just get on with it shall we!

The right thing? …Maybe?

I mean I think we helped. Quite a lot actually.

Anyway, back to cross examination.

So, Gina says that after she heard the thud, the seat above her lightened up because Mr McGilded had got up sit Mr Mason on the seat opposite. Apparently she knows that’s what happened because she immediately lifted the seat up a little so she could have a peak. (Or a ‘butcher’s’ if you're speaking in Cockney Rhyming Slang!)

Unfortunately for her, her ‘butcher’s’ meant that Mr McGilded could spot her and dragged her out into the open.

She’s also saying that she cleared out the coach gear and crammed it in there before the omnibus set off. Which is clearly a lie because we saw it there earlier. But evidence is everything and we have no proof.

Also poor Ryunosuke is really struggling to keep up with the Cockney Rhyming Slang. Something deliberately designed to make it difficult for anyone not in the know to follow what you were saying.

Like he is literally doing everything in a second language, and now the person opposite him is literally peppering her sentences with criminal code. I’m struggling to remember what some of these words mean and I am Cockney, I live in London, I studied this at school!

What I’m trying to say is: Hang in their buddy! I believe in you!

(I am finding it quite funny though that reading Gina’s Cockney Accent is starting to make the Cockney notes of my accent bob back up to the surface. I mostly grew out of it when I was a kid, so it’s really weird reading a fictional person’s dialogue can spike it up!)

Anyway, Gina seems to be claustrophobic, which raises the question of why she was in there at all, especially if she was squeezed in there amongst the rope and brushes and all that. She says that it’s out of necessity, so maybe that’s all there is to it. Still, it might be something it’s worth remembering.

Yeah… it definitely seems like I should remember it…

Anyway so let’s get back to how our dear client, Mr McGilded, dragged this child out of her hiding place, sat her next to a corpse, and then-THE CARRIAGE LURCHED THE CORPSE ON TOP OF HER!?!

OH GOD!

That’s it! Gina I’m taking you into care! Please come and sit next to me and my other child Sebastian. He’s a good kid, please don’t pick on him.

Anyway, we’ve now accounted for the bloodied hands Mr Furst and Mr Fairplay saw from the roof. They must have looked down while she was being interrogated by Mr McGilded.

Well that was nice of him wasn’t it!

And I’m sure you came along today, armed with a smoke bomb you dropped on his signal, because you wanted to pay him back for his kindness!

(If you can’t tell, I’m not buying it.)

I think it’s this whole damn affair Ryunosuke.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure Gina talking about small, cramped spaces made Mr McGilded over there swallow a lung, so let’s hop on top of that.

Sure you do.

Look, you clearly don’t relate to her enough to not use her. Which you are definitely doing. Like literally right now.

Yeah, this is exactly what he was trying on with us earlier.

(And Gina isn’t at all acting like she’s being steered.)

I’m going to be honest with you Ryunosuke, whatever she says will be 100% in Mr McGilded’s favour and probably contrived.

Look at him standing smugly next to her… prick.

I’ll be honest with you, I (me) have no idea what about her probably contrived statement is useful to us. But my god I’ve played enough Ace Attorneys to know the answer here!

GET THEIR ASS RYUNOSUKE!

(Catch me, trying to look like I haven’t been doing that since we got here.)

Well let’s press the new statement while I try and work out what it’s about.

I’VE GOT IT!

GINA SHOULD HAVE HEARD THE DOOR OPENING WHEN MR MASON BORDED!

But if she didn’t, and we can get her to confirm this, then the only option is that he got onboard with Mr McGilded!

Which both suggests that Mr McGilded purposely met with the victim, and means that, what with Gina also saying he got on alone, there’s a massive contradiction in her testimony.

Basically she’s definitely lied about something.

Get off my tailcoats van Zieks!

Anyway, now to simply present a picture of Mr Mason and I’m sure I can trust Ryunosuke to explain the rest.

GET THERE ASSESS RYUNOSUKE! (I knew I could count on you.)

Thank you for that obvious lie Mr McGilded, it has now been stated before the court and will come back to bite you in the ass promptly.

Well then, he should have said something before now shouldn’t he? Rather than expecting the defense to do the prosecutions job for him.

Wow that’s a silent rain of guilty there!

Editor’s note: and basically unscreenshotable, however I do it!

… I feel like Juror Number 6 has seen and done some shit in her time…

CAN IT JUROR NUMBER 1!

THANK YOU SUSATO I CAN SEE THAT!

SHUT UP BAROK!

Ok Ryunosuke, only Juror Number 2 is left. Frankly it’s a miracle she hasn’t changed her verdict already. Given that she is almost certainly going this way, I suggest we get ready to demand another summation examination so we can sway these thickle fucks back!

(Pluss it means we get to push the Prosecution Shut Up button.)

Ok, I’m pretty sure Mr McGilded just said something racist, so he’s still finding ways to limbo under that low bar I keep readjusting for him.

Also Juror Number 3 is back licking his knife again, while saying concerning things about loving carnage. So that’s also happening now…

Well Juror Number 2 looks like she’s about to unsurprisingly change her stance to guilty, and frankly this time I don’t blame them. Mr McGilded’s own defence just fired cannonballs through this credibility.

Oh, ok! Ryunosuke seems to think we can win this back before we get to summation time.

Fair enough I suppose, we were barley granted the first one.

Shut up Mr McGilded, can’t you see that I (Ryunosuke) am trying to wiggle you away from death now! Like fair enough it was me who put you there in the first place, but even so you need me to keep talking.

(Side not though, I find it curious that Mr McGilded doesn’t want me to pursue this line of enquiry even though the horse has well and truly bolted. Does he have some trick that will only work if they don’t know he got on with Mr Mason? Or does Gina’s lie actually revile more that I though?)

We stop her! Nice one Ryunosuke!

Ok!

Wait, none of these options are ‘he came in with Mr McGilded’?

Well I guess Mr Mason and Gina could have entered the cabin together? He didn’t look very well off and he was in debt, so perhaps the two of them were in cahoots? Like Mr Mason pays the money and then Gina immediately lifts it back again?

Ok I’ll go for the first one!

MOCKED AND PENALISED!!!

Fine then! Let’s try another one!

Let’s see, I’ve crawled all over every inch of that cabin and I don’t think there was a secret way in. So maybe the point I’m supposed to be getting at is that he was already dead?

Perhaps it was him, not Gina who was under the seat? That might actually explain why Mr McGilded had the contents removed, perhaps he was worried it had traces of body on them, and perhaps he was right and that’s where we’ll find the missing button!

Ok number 3 it is!

THEY’RE LAUGHING ME OUT OF TOWN!

(And also penalising me again, so now I only have three lives left!)

Ok, we’ll say there was another way in then.

I’ll be honest Ryunosuke you’re on your own with this one. I have no idea what your plan is.

ARE ALL THESE ANSWERS SOMEHOW WRONG?!?

Oh no, something new’s happening!

OH COME ON! WHY MEEEEE!

Ok, let’s just relax and think this through.

We know it can’t be the door because the door never opened. We also know that it was the only door in the cabin’s four walls. Perhaps my under seat theory could come into that, but that’s not really a way into the cabin. In fact the only distinctive thing on this drawing that looks vaguely entrance like is the skylight.

I might be wrong, but for some reason I was under the impression that it couldn’t open?

Ah well, it’s literally the only idea I’ve got right now so I might as well go for it!

SUCCESS!

Ooh, actually that’s a good point. I did think the sound of someone falling to the floor wouldn’t be enough to make someone like Gina scream, but the sound of a body falling through the roof is another matter entirely.

Oh yeah, they would have…

Well, I guess we should call them up as witnesses again. Maybe we’ll find something in their statements that’ll open up a new possibility?

(Though I can’t imagine what that could be)

I don’t like this…

Ok, is this whole thing just a way for Mr McGilded to get rid of two clients who weren’t able to pay up, while being able to make himself out to look like the victim?

They came back to the stand!

AND MR FURST IS READY TO THROW DOWN!

GET HIS ASS MR FURST!

LOOK AT RYUNOSUKE’S FACE! THIS IS AMAZING!

Mr McGilded is loving this, and to be fair he isn’t the only one!

LET THEM SPEAK!

I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Jack the Ripper here. Dark times everybody.

SHUT UP JUROR NUMBER 1!

Ok, so this is something all the jury want. Well good, they’re finally taking their roll seriously.

Oh, neat voice acting!

Tes-ti-fy! Tes-ti-fy! Tes-ti-fy!

(Quick Ryunosuke, try and look like we weren’t also chanting)

Anyways, let's get cross examining!

Ok, so their statement (as I understand it), is that they were the only two people up on the roof deck, and definitely would have noticed if someone else had been there. They had absolutely no reason to kill Mr Mason, the skylight was shut the entire time they were there and they couldn’t have opened it. Also, they want proof.

Ignoring the request for proof for the moment, I could see them possibly missing Mr Mason if he was laying down on the seat in front. It was dark when they got on, and they would have been preoccupied with how cold it was up there… also the longer they spend up there the more I begin to feel that there’s some sort of romantic spark between the two of them. I’m definitely not going to bring that before the jury because they have already proven themselves to be true products of Victorian London, but I can’t be the only one who think that… right?

As for the proof they requested, I’ve got nothing and I’m probably going to have to guess wildly before the day is out.

Juror Number 4 still pulling her weight I see.

Also, I’m pretty sure she’s not said anything hateful while she’s been up there, so my offer for a breakaway court still stands. We can gossip about the nature of the witness's relationship there if you’d like, but none of the others are allowed to come.

Anyway, my own feelings aside, Barok has apparently looked into them and they definitely didn’t know each other before today.

Much like Phoenix had to be beaten up, accused of murder and nearly killed to learn to not go with Murderers into a private room and tell them you have evidence against you; it’s taking a man like Mr McGilded to teach Ryunosuke what it is to be manipulated and played like a fiddle. It’s harsh, but really, it’s something Mr I’LL BE MY OWN DEFENCE ATTORNEY needs to learn.

(Nothing to add here, I just enjoy this image)

Ooh, Ryunosuke’s on the same theory that I am! Truly our hearts beat as one.

I mean, I’m not sure that rules out the factor of darkness, but I suppose sleep is a good point to rule out.

That’s London Baby!

GET HIS ASS MR FURST!!!

It is interesting that they knocked on the door though. I wonder if they saw Mr Mason inside?

They did!

YEAH GET HIM!!! I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!!

(Damn I wanted to see Mr Furst fully snap)

Not the one I know.

Well, Mr McGilded coughed up another lung at this statement, and while I’m hesitant to give him any more speaking room I probably should so he can inevitably trip himself up over his own words.

Ok, not the best start…

Don’t rise to it you idiot!

Well, there you go Mr Fairplay. Wel done, you just gave yourself a motive.

Yeah, what do you want to do with our single helpful witness?

Don’t come for him and his bad hats!

Yeah, he’s only an apprentice! I’m sure he’ll get better with time!

>:(

Yeah, the customers like it probably! It’s modern probably!

Wait what

Oh god, he has one of his hats!

I just thought he wasn’t doing to well so he’d patched it up himself!

(… Maybe Mr Furst should consider a new like of work after all…)

Oh Mr Furst, your shining transparency and shining beacon of truth has come back to hit you in the face!

Up until two minutes ago I couldn’t picture Mr Furst being physically capable of quarrelling, but now that I’ve seen his dukes I’m a little more willing to believe it. (I don’t though, obviously.)

Well at least he’s stopped talking now…

Yeah, worrying isn’t it.

Wait, is the latch on the outside?!

I’m pretty sure, now I’m looking for it, I can see it right there!

(Is the out of context ace attorney blog still around? Because if so this is gold dust for it.)

… Mr Furst… why are you telling us this?

It sure is.

… again Mr Furst... I don’t think we need to know this...

I’m not really sure to be honest.

Oh thank god there is a point!

Well I think the problem here is that he was on the inside of the cabin, whereas (and I just went in to check), the latch looking thing is only on the outside. I.e. it can’t be opened from within.

Ok, I think I’ve pressed everything now, and from what Susato just said and Mr Fairplay’s demand for proof, I’m guessing I should be presenting evidence.

The only things I can think of though are the Ledger, which connects Mr Fairplay to the crime, and the Omnibus itself. I still can’t open the skylight, so I’ll go with the Ledger first.

Aaand be penalized for it!

Now I have literally one life left, so it’s probably an idea to make sure I’ve saved now before I try the omnibus… aaand it’s a good thing I did because I was just penalised again!

Well let’s return to the last save and not do that then. Side note though, it’s a nice touch how all the Jurors have their own spoken Guilty!

Right, I have literally no idea what to do now, so I’m going to scrabble around with the evidence for a bit, and probably get guilty a bunch until something happens. Because that’s not very interesting to write or read, I think I’ll end this write up here for now and pick the next one up once I’ve figured it out. Till next time everybody!

[independentzaun]

It was our fault

Drabble set in my verse with @astrxae . Silco, and Sevika chatting after Irisa nearly dies and Silco has some feelings about the whole thing. Angst and yelling lay ahead.

Looking up to see Silco stepping back into the Last Drop with what she’d come to think of as “that look” on his face that these days always meant he’d just gone to see Irisa as she stayed still and quiet Sevika sighed softly. Of course she didn’t think it bad to visit the wounded, but Sevika found herself unconvinced Silco wasn’t using those trips as a way to punish himself just as much as to check on Irisa. Watching him go up the stairs to his office Sevika’s eyes returned to the card game she was involved in, and she’d finish it plus one more before excusing herself and heading up to see the chem-baron.

The two of them over the years had gradually gotten closer, and than after The Table with no one else around to help Silco recover as neither of them really trusted Singed with anything except the barest minimum they had became closer still. They both knew she could have left, and in truth Sevika almost had after Silco admitted he wanted to find Jinx and get her to come home. It had been an uncomfortable week or so after that as Sevika truly did not understand how he could still want to bring that blue-haired gremlin back, and she’d so very nearly walked away in the end though she hadn’t. She’d been there for him through thick and thin, and now she’d do it again. Stepping into his office her lips tightened realizing he was simply sitting at his desk with a half smoked cigar held between his fingers staring at nothing with almost no light in the room beyond that which came from outside.

“Sir?...Sir?...Silco!”

Hearing his name Silco finally looked at her blinking. “Sevika? What is it?” There was a soft sigh from Sevika, and locking the door behind her she moved forward before sitting in a chair in front of his desk. “Look, I get it. I know you, and I get why you're being all… morose, but Silco you need to talk about whatever is going through your head. So either start talking, or, fuck, I don’t know. I’ll drag you to a brothel to someone I know can keep their mouth shut. Bet I can even find a guy for you if that’s the flavor your in the mood for.” Staring at Sevika for a moment he let out one harsh chuckle before taking a drag off of his cigar, and leaning back.

“One of these days I’m going to fire you, and toss you out of the Last Drop.” He didn’t mean it of course. At this point he couldn’t imagine Sevika not being there, and she knew it just as well as he did. Reaching for a cigarillo she smirked. “You mean try to have me tossed out.” Lighting her own smoke she sighed. “Really though, Sir, talk to me.”

Closing his good eye Silco was quiet for a few seconds before he let out a slow sigh and sank back into his chair. “I’m tired Sevika. I’m tired, and frustrated in a way I haven’t let myself be in years if ever. You know as well as I how many we’ve lost, and now…” Jaw tightening his cheek pulsed as he shook his head. “Some fucking Piltie walks down into my Zaun, and almost kills what’s mine. Almost kills someone that although she may not have came from Zaun she has practically become of Zaun. After all the fighting, and the power I’ve taken, and everything we’ve ever done some fucking Piltie walks into MY ZAUN AND ALMOST KILLS SOMEONE WHO IS MINE.”

Hands slapping onto his desk Silco had risen to his feet, and at this point wasn’t so much yelling at Sevika as just yelling in general while his emotions swirled up. Nails digging into his desk Silco had to keep himself from just sweeping his hands over it knocking everything off of it. Sevika listened quietly, and nodded encouraging him to go on and go on he did. “We failed Sevika. We. Have. Failed. Even now I still cannot protect what’s mine. I can’t keep her, us, Zaun, safe from those fucking Pilties. The bloodshed has been for nothing. The Cause is dead in the fucking water because Zaun has, has turned into an enterprise for fucks sake. My daughter thinks I am dead, Zaun is cut off, a plague is sweeping our streets, my woman lays nearly dead, AND I CAN’T KEEP THE FUCKING PILTIES FROM HURTING US!” Silco hadn’t realized what he said in that moment, “my woman”, and Sevika wasn’t about to comment on it. Besides with the rage in his voice even she couldn't tell how deep his feelings went, and how much of it was just his possessive and sometimes oddly protective nature rearing it’s head high. Smoke escaped from her nose as she found herself unable to really disagree with him, and that was the worst part. Not that she had a chance to disagree as he kept going.

“It’s our fault, it’s my fault that some fucking Piltie could just walk down here. It’s our fault that we didn’t find him before this happened. How the FUCK DID WE NOT FIND HIM!? WE KNEW HIS VOID DAMNED NAME AND HIS DAUGHTERS NAME AND HIS BUSINESSES AND THE CITY HE LIVED IN AND HOW THE FUCK DID WE NOT FIND HIM BEFORE HE…” His voice cut off as Silco finally swept his hands over his desk knocking almost all of it onto the ground before turning to kick his chair across the room. Hands shaking he ran them through his hair. “It’s my fault. I failed to prioritize things correctly. This sickness, and everything else… and even now with this sickness there’s still people in Zaun trying to jostle for money and power, and I don’t have Jinx to deliver a message for me. I’m weakened, and spending money to try to keep this sickness at bay weakens me still further. I can feel the vultures circling waiting for me to fall so they can pick at the bones. There is going to be a wave of bloodshed sweeping over Zaun eventually Sevika. Everything is becoming less, and less stable and there is no unity in Cause anymore. It’s just a fucking enterprise, and all of this is my fault.” Voice turning into a shuddering resentful almost disgusted thing filled with self hatred blame Silco took a deep breath.

“When she wakes up. Send her to Ionia. She deserves something better than this pollution soaked, blood coated waste land. A falling angel can still clutch at pipes on the way down, and climb her way back up to where she should be if given the opportunity. Make sure she has the money she needs, and make sure she gets to the Airship and the Hexgate safely and get her to Ionia. After that…” Shaking his head Silco stepped forward grabbing his chair, and pulled it back sitting down in it before turning away from Sevika. “After that I’ll decide what is to come next. Both with Zaun, and Piltover. Maybe… maybe it’s time to remind Piltover of the monsters, and beasts sleeping beneath it…” Voice more contemplative than anything Sevika had obviously been dismissed. As much as they were closer than ever Silco was still Silco, and so she stood. “If that’s what you want, Sir. I’ll get it done.” Turning she headed for the door before pausing, and looking back at him. “You might want to consider asking Irisa what she wants before sending her away though. Everyone deserves a choice right? If she’s practically of Zaun, and Zaun deserves to be free than she should be as well… and also Silco you’re right. All of this is our fault.” With that she opened the door, and left. She had people to talk to, information to gather, and she was becoming increasingly worried that a conflict was coming be it inside of Zaun or directed towards Piltover and that required preparation.

One way or another change was coming, and in Zaun that meant bloodshed.

She wouldn’t fail Silco. Not again.

[ashtrayfloors]

fragments of mid-September

The between-season. Summer days, autumn nights. The pumpkins orangeing on the vine.

Mercury Rx. All my old issues & patterns coming back again. Doing weekly tarot readings for myself; drawing my lifelong stalker card. Three of Swords. Heartbreak, sorrow, strife. Same as it ever was. I don’t think I’ve cried this much since 2016.

Last week I burned the inside of my wrist with a cigarette. Haven’t done anything like that in years. I felt stupid & weak. But it felt good. None of my healthy coping mechanisms are working.

(I’ve quit smoking but still had a few cigarettes in a pack. Lit one just to burn myself with it. It was a fucking clove cigarette. Christ.)

Once again mourning the friends I lost in the great Friend Exodus of 2014. Once again wondering why? I won’t ever really know, & at this point the why of it doesn’t matter. I’m just lonesome. I want someone to come over with a bottle of tequila and an acoustic guitar, & we could pass ‘em both back & forth, drink tequila & sing old folk songs. I want someone to have a Jim Jarmusch movie marathon with. I want to sit with someone all night in a diner, alternately talking art & philosophy & just sitting silently, writing or reading our own things. I want someone to go to a copy shop with me & make Xerox art.

I feel very old & very young.

I’ve cut back on alcohol & caffeine & other than my lapse into self-harm I’m trying not to be self-destructive but god.

I miss being able to justify putting whiskey in my coffee every morning.

I miss hopping trains.

I need to finish my goddamn zine & I’ve stalled out. I’ve stalled out on a lot of things.

I’m bored & restless & uninspired.

Scratch that last one. I have hundreds of ideas but when I sit down to work on any of them it’s a struggle to get anything out.

At least writing-wise. Visual art is coming easier these days.

The kids are bored & restless, too. That makes them cranky, & then they act up, & I snap at them, & then feel worse about myself.

& they are relentless, always interrupting me. So even when I do start writing, I can’t get into a good flow.

I feel like I’m failing them and myself.

Then there’s all the car trouble & financial worries & all the stress from that.

I’m tired all the time but can’t sleep. At least not without ASMR & antihistamines, or BDSM & bourbon.

When I do sleep, I have fucked up dreams.

P.’s familiar issues are popping up again, too. Namely how he reads things I’ve written & think he knows who they’re about & when they occurred. I’ve tried to explain that the ‘you’ in many of my love poems isn’t one specific person, it’s a hybrid of various people. That the stories in much of my prose are a combination of fact & fiction, or that I write about stuff that happened years ago as though it were recent.

We’re having a yard sale a couple weeks from now, so I’m going through my things to figure out what I can sell. It’s hard for me to get rid of stuff. After all those years of having stuff stolen by vindictive roommates, having to sell stuff to pay the bills, having stuff damaged in flooded basements... I don’t like to let go of anything.

I’m trying to find a way through all this.

Trying to be gentle with myself, but not too gentle.

Gentle like: not beating myself up (emotionally) for crying a lot, or for snapping at my kids sometimes, or for that clove-cigarette burn.

But also tough enough to say: stop moping. Get over yourself & do something rad, or I’ll kick your ass.

Trying to be gentle with the kids. Letting them know every day that I love them, even when I yell; letting them know that I don’t always love their behavior but I always love them.

People have been really generous since I posted about the car/money stuff on my main blog, & I am so so beyond grateful.

After I write this, I’ll be finishing up my triptych for the zodiac-themed art show and submitting it.

I will finish my zine before MWPZF. I work on it every day, even if only in brief snatches.

I’m mapping out other writing projects. I have copious poem-notes. An idea for a short film; another one for a short story. Last fall I got an idea for a horror novel and have made a lot of notes about it since; I’m going to work on that during NaNoWriMo this year.

A week from today, I’m taking a one-hour online divinatory poetics course, with special guest CAConrad.

I’m planning out what to play on my next podcast.

I got a stick & poke tattoo kit so I can level up my stick & poke tattoo game. So far I’m just sketching out ideas; next I’ll practice on the fake skin. My first one will be a ghost. Followed by an oak leaf & a chicory flower. Then I’m going to fix/finish that compass rose moon I started all those years ago.

I’m letting myself be the mystical lovesick romantic dork I really am; letting myself romanticize everything, again.

Like the beautiful women I saw downtown last week—the tattooed mom & the butch dyke in overalls.

Like Thursday, turning the walk to the park with the kiddos into an epic fantasy adventure. The park was a strange & distant land. We had to walk because ‘our chariot had broken down.’ The neighborhood crows were messengers; the things people had carved into or written on the park benches were markings in many languages, left by fellow travelers through this strange land. & of course those walking sticks/wizard staffs we found.

Like the fact that I have apparently decided to become an amateur woodworker, at least for this one wizard staff. I spent hours after we got home on Thursday afternoon removing bark (it was weirdly therapeutic), and I’m planning on removing the rest of the bark over the course of this week, then painting it & otherwise decorating it.

Like sitting out back with P. late Thursday night, & seeing a huge blue-green fireball arc itself through the sky & down somewhere northwest of here.

Like Friday night, how we couldn’t make it to the bonfire & night hike at the Eco-Justice Center, so we had a fire in our backyard fire pit, then took a night walk around our neighborhood. The streetlights through the trees made leaf shadows on the houses; the front yard lights made diamond shadows on the sidewalk.

Yes, I’ll make it through. Now I’m just waiting for October. Cross my fingers, cross my heart, & hope to die.

[ofthestcrs]

Die For A Night (One Shot)

So here’s the thing that was giving me absolute hell. Literally pictured all of this last night when I was just trying to tell myself a lil peaceful story whilst I tried to fall asleep and ended up being sad about it lmao. Tw for major character death, mentions of bullying, parental abuse, and mild suicidal thoughts. This is mostly Gecko x Eddie, but Dustin is towards the end even though I don’t write as him on this blog so yeah.

Tagging @solarsought because I told them about this and should feel the pain with me thanks.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to die?” The words leave Eddie’s lips before he can think of whether he should say them or not. There’s just something about sitting here in this grass field with the crickets chirping, the stars shining over him, and the sensation of Gecko’s fingertips barely touching his own that makes him feel safe. At this moment, he could speak all his deep and dark secrets, and, for once, he wouldn’t be afraid of what the answer back would be. The fingertips not touching Eddie’s held a cigarette. The soft sizzle of tobacco burning and the smell that lingered over Eddie’s nose only comforted him more. Despite the spoken sad thought, Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s found a home. Still, it’s no surprise that Gecko finds himself inhaling too quickly due to the shocking nature of the question. The bit of skin that had been touching was no longer there, leaving Eddie feeling a little more empty than he had felt a few seconds previous. Gecko’s fist met his inked chest to try to clear the air in his lungs and windpipes, but without much success.

“I mean, not for forever, but like .. for a night.” Eddie tried to explain as Gecko composed himself. Gecko put the cigarette out in the dirt. The smoke swirled around the cigarette and disappeared up into the air. His eyes had watered from the coughing, and the tears that came from them were a deep black from the eyeliner Gecko was wearing. Part of Eddie wanted to reach out and wipe at them, but the other part of him felt afraid of crossing boundaries. Too many times he’d found himself getting comfortable only to fuck it all up again. He couldn’t fuck this up. Not again.

“Sorry. You just … really threw me for a loop there.” Gecko apologized, getting the last few coughs out before turning his head to spit in the grass. Not exactly the most attractive action, but Gecko didn’t care much about being perceived as attractive. “I … yeah. I’ve thought about that a lot actually.” He sniffled and put the cigarette into the pocket of his ripped jeans, “Like with my mom … and my siblings. Would they miss me? Would they even notice?” There’d been the rare phone call or two when he’d gone off to college, but that had been the first year. By the second, he’d felt like a ghost to his family. “Honestly, I think they’d be happier if I didn’t exist at all.” His tongue rolled along the inside of his cheek as he leaned back against the palm of his hands. Eddie’s own – adorned with rings – placed itself over Gecko’s hand.

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft as he said it and his eyes filled with tears without his consent, “I’d notice. I’d miss you.” Eddie knows it’s true. He’d noticed the day Gecko had left Hawkins despite how reserved the boy had been in his high school days. The summer after Gecko’s graduation, he’d spent nearly every weekend in the local library and Eddie would see him. So many times he’d tried to befriend the reserved and shy boy at school. No one else had seemed to pay him any mind. He’d been slightly shorter and more frail-looking with glasses back then. He’d still be worthy of friendship in Eddie’s then just as he was now.

“You’re just saying that.” Gecko didn’t pull his hand away, but there was a bit of a bitter laugh in his tone. Gecko had stuck to his little bubble all of these years. Even when he started to make friends in college, it felt surface-level. It seemed like no one on this Earth understood him, but in the back of his mind was the memory of Eddie always trying. The invites to Hellfire Club that he could never go to because his mother said no. His head turned to look at Eddie and his eyes fell to his lips for the briefest of moments. Hawkins was a small town and with that came small closed minded ideas. Gecko wasn’t blind to what his father would say about people on the few family vacations they took to bigger cities. He hadn’t forgotten the way the man would always point out the outcast and say “this one doesn’t belong”. He’d always known he’d fit into that box his father tried to beat him out of, but at least he was gone now. That was one less person to be afraid of.

“I’m not! When you left Hawkin’s I-” Eddie stopped his sentence, but Gecko filled in the blanks. It was easy to with the way Eddie had so eagerly greeted him back once he realized who he was, but even before the realization, he’d been so kind. Gecko’s hand slowly flipped over underneath Eddie’s, fingers intertwining in a way that felt natural. He squeezed just slightly and it was enough for Eddie to know Gecko understood. There’s this wonder though as sometimes he feels like he’s looking at Gecko through window blinds or sheer sheets. He’s never getting the full picture of who Gecko is as a person. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to know. 

“Shit. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Eddie sighed and shook his head. He hadn’t regretted asking the question. He didn’t even regret almost spilling how he felt about Gecko to him. Gecko didn’t leave that kind of space in the air. It seemed like something the male simply wouldn’t allow to happen. He couldn’t feel judged or anything of the sort around Gecko. Maybe that was why he liked being around him so much.

“I’d miss you too if you died.” Gecko finally admitted, “Even if it was just for a night. I can’t speak for the rest of Hawkins, but there would at least be someone who would notice. Hope that counts for something.” His lip twitched and Eddie squeezed his hand back as well. Gecko knew that it meant Eddie understood too.

—

“Remember the conversation we had under the stars?” The words come out choked. The blood that pooled out of Eddie’s mouth didn’t ring as a good sign. Gecko’s eyes began raining with tears at the mere sight of it. Despite all the blood, Gecko held him, tilting him up slightly in hopes to stop him from choking more. Eddie winced, scarlet-coated fingers moved to grab a fistful of Gecko’s t-shirt.

“W-What?” Gecko’s mind couldn’t process this. He could hear Dustin calling out to them as he ran their way. He wasn’t going very fast as a limp kept him from going as fast as he needed. At least there were no more demobats, but Gecko knows that even if there had been, he would have still come running and Dustin would have too. 

“When I asked you if you’d ever wondered what it was like to die,” Eddie explained as his lips trembled and his fingers twitched. Gecko could see his pupils starting to dilate and the panic set in. His free hand moved to try to help cover the wounds but there were so many. Why were there so fucking many? “Do you remember that night?”

“I do.” Gecko’s voice broke, “Eddie, please … you can’t leave me.” Eddie laughed, head lolling a bit before Dustin came into full view. The younger boy fell to his knees in front of them. His reaction was much the same as Gecko’s.

“Eddie! Eddie, no! You’re okay! We just gotta get you to a hospital!” Dustin said before he started to try to move Eddie. Gecko was frozen in place and Dustin gave him a seething look. “Help me! Help me get him up! We need to go!” The sound of Eddie choking again made Gecko grab a hold of him, stopping Dustin from moving him any further. It was hurting him.

“It’s okay, Dustin. I just … I need a second.” Eddie managed to say. He let out a long breath and Gecko squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment. There was some hope that if he opened them again, he would find this all to be a dream, but he knew he wasn’t that lucky. 

“I…I didn’t run away this time.” Eddie said and Gecko could hear the smile in his voice, but he knew this conversation wasn’t for him. Still, those ringed fingers held onto his shirt and kept him there. Gecko knew Eddie wanted to say something to him still, but Gecko couldn’t fathom what it could be. 

“No. No, you didn’t.” Dustin whimpered, sniffling as the realization hit. Eddie was going to die here in the upside down and there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing anyone could do about it. The devastation of losing the one person he looked up to began to rain down upon him in heavy waves. Would he ever recover from this loss?

“I thought … this year … was really going to be my year.” Eddie’s grip on Gecko’s shirt slowly began to loosen. Gecko’s hands reached up to cup it, holding it against his chest. “And it was, wasn’t it?” There was some indication in Eddie’s words. Even though he hadn’t graduated yet, it felt bigger than high school. This felt bigger than anything they could imagine right now.

“Eddie-” Dustin wanted to argue this. He wanted Eddie to get up and get the medical attention he needed. Dustin needed Eddie to be okay, but he wasn’t. He simply wasn’t.

“You’ve gotta take care of those kids in Hellfire now. Geck here is too old for school extracurriculars.” Eddie’s fingers twitched in Gecko’s grasp. “Promise me, Henderson.”

“I promise.” 

“I love you, man.” Eddie paused, “Both of you.” Gecko’s eyes shot open at those words just in time to see the life leave Eddie’s eyes. Then there was the sensation of his hand going completely limp in his hold. He felt the whole world seem to cave around him. Dustin let out a scream, but all Gecko could hear was silence.