#but this week going back i am so beyond exhausted lmao. my brain is still working when i need it at least

[theconstellationsinyourskin]

Feel like my capacity to Exist In Capitalism declines every year

[vibrant-leaf]

Therapy is Manly

Part one.

🧡 ~KiriBaku Fic~ ❤️

Summary and Important Note⚠️: Bakugou is more self-aware and Kirishima is a bit more insecure. Part one is kinda painful, not gonna lie, but part two is happy and will make up for it! Link to part two will be at the bottom.

Word Count: 4090

Warnings: Cursing, angst

Additional note: I have been working on this for a stupid amount of time and have come to the point where I just need to trust myself and post it LMAO. They're going to be a little ooc but that's okay because this is my take on if Bakugou was more self-aware and if Kirishima was more insecure. Part two will have a song linked at the end of it. I hope you enjoy it!

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“Fucking useless!” As soon as it comes out of Bakugou’s mouth, he instantly regrets it. He wants to take it back. He wants to travel back in time to just five seconds ago so he can punch himself in the face before he’s able to say that again. But he said it. And the way Kirishima’s face falls makes his stomach drop down to his knees.

When Kirishima hears those words come out of his boyfriend’s mouth, it feels as if someone stabbed him in the chest. It’s crazy… how two words coming from the love of your life can hurt so much.

“Eijirou, no. No. I’m- I-“ Bakugou doesn’t say sorry. He just doesn’t. But the look on Kirishima’s face, the look of absolute pain and betrayal, rips it out of him because he knows he horrendously fucked up “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean it okay?” Bakugou knows about Kirishima’s previous struggles with his self-confidence, and he can’t help but feel like he just ripped the boy’s heart out of his chest and stomped on it with those two awful words.

Bakugou tries to grab his boyfriend’s hand, but Kirishima shakes his head and backs away before he can touch him. He’s gotten used to Bakugou’s anger, mostly. But sometimes, and more recently for some reason, his words have been hurting him. He’s tried his best to shake it off because he knows that Bakugou doesn’t really mean it and he loves him… right? But this. This gutted him. His self-deprecating thoughts are on the brink of exploding in his head. Useless. Kirishima is indeed useless, isn’t he?

“You’re not useless, Eijirou. Fuck. I don’t know why I said that. I’m fucking sorry, okay?” Bakugou is begging him. He’s not exactly begging for forgiveness because he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he’s begging for Kirishima to understand that those were empty words that he didn’t mean and that Kirishima is nowhere near useless. Alright, he might also be begging for a little forgiveness because he can’t help it, even though he truly understands he does not deserve an ounce of it.

Kirishima looks down at the floor, takes a shaky breath through his nose, turns around, and leaves Bakugou’s room.

Bakugou’s hands fly to his head. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” What the fuck is wrong with him?! Why does he keep doing this to him?! He keeps snapping at him and Kirishima just takes it. That’s how it’s always been with them, even if it didn’t use to be this bad. Bakugou yells, throws insults and names, and gets away with it every single time. Sure, Kirishima will call him an idiot from time to time or ask for an apology when absolutely necessary, but he’s never said anything else about his rage. Maybe… maybe Bakugou has been taking advantage of that. Bakugou knows there won’t be any serious repercussions, so this lets him take his frustrations out on him. He doesn’t deserve that.

Kirishima gently closes his bedroom door behind him and stands still in the middle of his room. His chest still hurts, and tears quickly start to form in his eyes until his vision is completely distorted, which is fitting because his brain is also being distorted beyond belief. “Fucking useless… You’re not useless, Eijirou.” The words start to play on a loop in his head.

The tears finally cascade down his face as he mumbles to himself, “I’m not. It’s okay. I’m not useless. He said I’m not, so it’s okay. Just forgive him, he didn’t mean it.” After all the other times Bakugou has snapped at him, he’s learned to simply shake his head and force himself to not sweat it. However, he suddenly realizes… he’s been forcing himself to become numb to it. But it’s okay! He loves Bakugou, that’s just how he is, he usually doesn’t mean the insulting words that come out of his mouth, and Kirishima doesn’t want to lose him, so he needs to force himself to be okay.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Bakugou is trying to come to terms with the decision he knows he must make, for the sake of Kirishima’s wellbeing.

Later in the evening, when the class has gathered for dinner, they notice something off between Bakugou and Kirishima. They aren’t attached by the hip, they aren’t even making eye contact, Bakugou looks like he’s about to puke, and Kirishima just looks sad. Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari look at each other, all of them worried about their two beloved friends.

Ashido speaks up first. “You guys know what’s going on?” The boys shake their heads and Ashido’s shoulders, along with her spirits, fall. “I hope they’re alright…”

Kaminari suddenly remembers something. “Uh... did they sign the lease on that apartment they found like a couple of weeks ago?” Sure, they were only dating for almost a year now, after a long year of painful mutual pining, but they always looked so sure, so confident in each other and their relationship, that moving in together after graduation seemed like a no-brainer.

“I don’t know. They haven’t said anything else about it. But this is probably just a little fight. I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Sero tries reassuring his friends as well as himself.

It’s around one in the morning and neither of the boys can fall asleep. Kirishima just wants Bakugou to come into his room and hopefully apologize again, that way he can forgive him, and they can rest in each other’s arms and let everything be okay in the morning.

Bakugou is lying wide awake in his bed, and he’s scared. His heart is racing, and he still feels like he’s going to throw up the few bites of dinner that he managed to get down hours earlier. He’s so fucking scared, he doesn’t want to do this, but he knows he has to… Kirishima deserves better than how he’s been treating him- like a willing punching bag for his cruel, verbal outbursts. God, he is such an asshole. Has he really been like this the whole time they knew each other?

Kirishima finally hears the long-awaited knock on his door but doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t usually need to. “Hey… can we talk?” asks a deep, muffled voice behind his door. He’s a little confused by the fact his boyfriend doesn’t just walk in but whatever.

“Yeah?” Kirishima calls out.

Bakugou swiftly opens the door, walks in, and sees his best friend of almost three years now, sitting up in his bed looking at him wearingly. He can see it. He can see just how mentally drained Bakugou has made him, and it further proves his point that he’s doing this for that beautiful boy’s own good. That human incarnate of sunshine deserves to be happy. He deserves so much better than what Bakugou has given him. So, he swears to himself that he’ll get better. It’ll probably take some time but that doesn’t matter. Hopefully, they’ll be better off afterward… as long as Kirishima will graciously take him back in the future. He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t though.

Bakugou walks over to the corner of Kirishima’s bed and sits. When he runs a sweaty hand through his hair, he notices that he’s shaking. God, he does not want to do this. Every fiber of his being wants to just curl up in Kirishima’s arms. But he can’t. “I…”

“I’m sorry,” are the words Kirishima expects to hear out of Bakugou’s mouth, but what is actually spoken renders him immobile.

“I think we need to break up.” Bakugou feels like he is definitely going to throw up. Not now, he’ll hold back for now, but later for sure.

The blood instantly drains from Kirishima’s body, and he is left feeling cold. “What?” His voice is only a broken whisper.

Bakugou bites the inside of his cheek to keep the tears that are forming in his eyes at bay. “We need to break up. I keep hurting you. And it needs to stop.” His voice is shaky, and he feels so fucking horrible. He knows he’s hurting the love of his fucking life yet again while saying this, but it has to be done.

“What? No! No. It’s okay, I forgive you, Katsuki. I know you didn’t mean it. I know I’m not useless, I promise. I forgive you, it’s okay. We’ll be okay.” Why does he feel so cold? He’s shaking now too. His eyes and throat are burning. Holy shit he feels so scared. No no no. He can’t lose him.

“But it’s not okay! This is not okay! The way I’m treating you is not okay! I keep hurting you and I need to stop! I need to figure out how to fucking calm down!” Bakugou feels like a sledgehammer is being struck against his damn ribs.

Kirishima speaks through a waterfall of tears, “Okay, you can do that! But we don’t have to break up! Please, Katsuki. I love you.” He grabs Bakugou’s hands and holds them. “We can get through this together, okay? I don’t want to lose you.” Bakugou only glances down at the alarmingly cold hands holding his hot and clammy ones. And at that, hearing Kirishima’s pleading words, feeling his hands hold his for probably the last time in what’s going to be a while, or possibly forever, he releases the barrier that’s been holding his tears back and lets them fall down his face. He shakes his head.

“No. I’m gonna keep fucking up. And you can’t keep taking it like it doesn’t affect you because I know it does. I can see it on your face, I know I’ve been exhausting you. You don’t deserve that. I need to be alone while I.. fix myself. I need to change something, I don’t know. I just-“ Bakugou takes a shaky deep breath. “I just need to be better. And… When I am better, then we can try again. I just can’t keep hurting you like how I have been.”

“You’re hurting me now.”

Bakugou knows this. God, he knows this, and he hates himself for it. “I’m sorry. We can try again in the future. Because I want to be with you, Eijirou. I love you so fucking much. But you deserve better, and I want to be better for you. It’s just… gonna take me some time.”

Something in Kirishima’s brain clicks and he doesn’t like some of what Bakugou has said. “It’s not fair of you to expect me to just wait around and be readily available for you whenever you decide you’re better.” But honestly, who is he kidding? Bakugou is the only one he wants, the only person he wants to love like this… but maybe this wasn’t exactly healthy after all- no. Fuck being logical right now. He’s in pain and he really doesn’t feel like thinking logically.

“I know that, idiot. I don’t expect you to wait around like some dumb loyal puppy. I mean, if you’re available and willing then we can try again. Or if you… if you do find someone else who treats you better, then whatever, that’s fucking fine. You deserve that. You deserve to always be happy.”

“You make me happy, asshole.”

“Eijirou…” Bakugou’s eyes are pleading now, begging for him to just understand and let him go for now.

Kirishima finally snatches his hands away from Bakugou’s. His throat is still burning, and his eyes won’t stop spilling more and more tears. “Get out,” he chokes out.

A moment of tense silence passes them. Bakugou wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know how to respond to Kirishima telling him to leave, it feels so foreign.

“I fucking hate you. Get out.”

Bakugou bites his tongue so hard it almost bleeds. Yeah… he deserved that. He deserves any anger that Kirishima has for him right now. But damn, that hurt… must’ve been how Kirishima felt when he called him useless. He really was such a fucking asshole to him.

When Bakugou gets up to leave, Kirishima lets himself be logical for a single moment. They’re heroes… and anything can happen. He would never forgive himself if those were the last words Bakugou heard from him before something bad happened. Bakugou grabs the door handle, but Kirishima’s voice stops him. “Wait!” Bakugou turns his head to look at pained, red eyes looking down at the bed. “I… I didn’t mean that. I don’t hate you… I just hate what’s happening…” Kirishima looks up at Bakugou one more time, and even though Kirishima feels like he’s drowning in heartache, he’s able to force out one last sentence. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou wants so badly to walk back over there and crash his lips onto Kirishima’s, and he almost does. He can feel this magnetic force pulling him to the love of his life. He doesn’t want to walk away… but he ruined what they had. Maybe, just maybe, in the future, he can rest in the arms that have comforted him so many times after he woke up from nightmares, arms that feel like home, and he’ll listen to the steady heartbeat that once coaxed him to sleep after suffering through a panic attack from one of the said nightmares. But for now, “I love you, Eijirou,” Bakugou pulls away and walks out of the bedroom.

Kirishima hugs his legs up against his chest and lets the sobs rip out of his body.

Bakugou’s head falls back against the other side of Kirishima’s door and he can hear him start to cry. He never wanted to make him cry...

Bakugou wants to slide down onto the floor to cry into his hands until the whole days’ worth of food threatens to make a reappearance, so he bolts for his bathroom.

Kirishima suddenly doesn’t want to be in his room anymore. Bakugou and him have hung out so many times in there that there’s a subtle hint of his scent, but that subtle hint is currently suffocating him. He looks up from where his face was buried in his knees and of course, the first thing his eyes set on is a picture of them from when they went mountain climbing during their first year. He can’t be here. He’ll literally suffocate and die if he stays in his room that has too many traces of his boyfrie-… ex-boyfriend. His ears are ringing as he starts to mumble frantically, “I need to leave, I need to leave, I need to leave.”

Kirishima pushes himself off his bed and quickly walks out of his room. His chest is in so much pain. He scans the hallway and tries to think if anybody else would be up right now. Ashido’s a night owl, so she should be awake. Hopefully. He just really needs a hug right now.

Ashido is laying in bed, scrolling through Twitter, with her eyelids starting to droop when she hears a soft knock on her door. She’s confused but she slowly sits up to listen and figure out if someone's actually outside her door or if she's simply hearing things. But when she hears the faintest sound of sniffling, she throws the bedsheets off her and jumps out of bed. Then she walks over to her door and when she opens it… “Oh no.” Ashido’s stomach drops at the sight of her dear friend’s red, puffy-eyed, tear-stained, broken face. “Oh, honey, what happened?” She’s afraid to ask because she’s pretty sure she knows the answer.

Kirishima’s eyebrows pull together and his bottom lip trembles, “w-we... broke up.”

Ashido grabs his wrist and pulls him into her room. They sit down on her bed and Kirishima’s head falls onto her shoulder. She wraps her arms around him, and he hugs her back lightly. That’s when she notices the trembling. “Just let it out, Kiri. It’s okay,” she says as softly as possible as she rubs his back.

Kirishima clutches onto Ashido as hard as he can without hurting her and his eyes are shut tight as he starts to cry again. His body shakes as he lets all the pain he’s feeling rise to the surface and boil over onto his friend’s shoulder. He tries to talk but he keeps gasping in between words. “My chest- it- it hurts so fucking bad. Why- does it feel like this- it feels like someone’s- stabbing me. God- why?” One of his hands clutches his shirt over his heart.

Ashido’s petting his head now. “Shhh… I know it hurts. I’m so sorry, Kirishima. I wish I could take the pain away… Is there anything at all I can do?” She would love to beat up that blonde bastard for making him feel like this but she doesn’t know what exactly happened, so she keeps the violent thoughts at a minimum.

After another moment filled with hiccups and sniffles, Kirishima takes a deep breath. His voice is still really wobbly but at least he isn’t choking on his words now, “My room. I can’t be in there right now. Too much of him.”

Ashido nods her head. “Okay, you can sleep in here then. We can figure out your room tomorrow. But we should probably try to get some sleep since it’s so late. Okay?”

It’s Kirishima’s turn to nod. “I’ll try.” He feels exhausted but he doubts that he’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No. Absolutely not. I will sleep on the floor.”

“No.”

“Okayyy… well if you’re comfortable with it then we’ll both sleep in the bed.”

Kirishima sighs and looks up at her. “Only if you’re one hundred percent comfortable with it.”

“I am. I promise.”

Kirishima searches her eyes for any hint of unease, but he finds nothing. His eyes fall to his lap. “Alright.”

“Good.” She stands up and walks over to her mini fridge to grab a bottle of water, then offers it to him. “Recycle, or else.” He grabs the bottle from her hand.

“Yes, ma’am.” He starts chugging the cold water and it feels nice on his raw throat. Once he’s done, he twists the lid back onto the bottle, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then scoots over to the other side of the bed. They both settle under the covers and a twinge of awkwardness hangs in the air. A silent moment passes before Kirishima speaks again. “My chest still feels like it’s being crushed.”

Ashido sighs through her nose. “Come here.” She opens her arms to signal an invitation.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I know you’re a touchy person so hopefully, this’ll help a bit.”

Kirishima scoots closer to her and lays his head on her shoulder and her arms gently wrap around his neck. He lays a hesitant arm across her stomach. It’s nice. It’s not… Bakugou… but it’s still nice. His eyes start to burn, and his chest starts to heave for the millionth time in the past eight hours. He feels Ashido’s small hand begin to pet his head and her fingers run through his hair. The tears are pouring from his eyes yet again. “Please don’t do that,” he whispers.

Ashido stops immediately and rests her hand on his back instead. “My bad.”

“Sorry.”

“No no. Don’t you be sorry.”

Kirishima pauses. “He used to do that all the time.”

Ashido barely nods. “I’m sorry, hun. I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s okay...” Kirishima’s voice is weary audible as exhaustion settles into his bones. He closes his eyes to try to sleep but all he can see is blonde hair and red eyes. He sighs. “He said he needs to get better.”

Ashido’s eyebrows furrow together. “What does he mean by that?”

“His behavior, I think. He said he keeps hurting me.”

“Is he?”

“Hurting me?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“Kiri.”

“…Maybe… Yeah.” It comes out quiet and almost shameful.

“Then yeah, he needs to fix that.”

Kirishima’s quick to defend Bakugou, however. “But I understand that’s just how he is. And he doesn’t mean what he says most of the time, so really, it’s fine. Sure, it hurts for a moment, but I can get over it. I don’t understand why he thinks we need to break up for now.”

“For now, huh? So, there’s hope for the future?”

“I mean he said he wants to try again someday if I want to. But I don’t know how long it’ll be.”

“Hmm… maybe this is a good opportunity for you to work on yourself too.”

“Myself? Why?”

“Honey, listen to what you’re saying. It sounds to me like you don’t even care that he’s treating you like this.”

“I do care, it’s just-“

“You don’t care enough for it to matter. You know what I mean?”

“They’re just words… If I let them get to me then it means I’m… weak. He shouldn’t have to date someone who’s weak like that.”

“Kirishima.” There’s a forceful tone behind Ashido’s voice. “You being hurt from his behavior does not make you weak. You are allowed to feel that way. Bakugou’s behavior and attitude are shitty. He can’t even chill out around his own boyfriend who he supposedly loves and that’s even more shitty. You said it yourself, he’s hurting you. And if someone realizes they’re hurting a person they love then they should try to change the way they act. You, on the other hand, need to realize you do, in fact, deserve better than being treated like his verbal doormat. You need to stand up for yourself more.”

Kirishima is quiet for a while after that, letting the words sink in and process in his brain. He realizes that Ashido’s right in saying that he doesn’t truly care when Bakugou lashes out against him. But why? Why doesn’t he care? He realizes that he should care now but why was he so willing to let Bakugou get away with his horrible attitude?

But then he finally realizes…

He’s insecure.

But he thought his insecurities only pertained to being a hero and he mostly got over that a while ago. He didn’t think he would be insecure about being in a relationship. Well, he wasn’t insecure about being with Bakugou, no way. He admires Bakugou, loves him with every fiber of his being, and he is- or was, so proud and so happy to call him his boyfriend. Bakugou is strong and he deserves to be with someone who is also strong.

Ah.

He was afraid too.

Kirishima felt like he needed to be strong around him all the time, didn’t he? Bakugou doesn’t like weakness and if Kirishima was hurt by something Bakugou said then maybe he would’ve seen Kirishima as too weak for him and leave. Bakugou already left him though. But…

“I want to be with you, Eijirou. I love you so fucking much. But you deserve better, and I want to be better for you.”

Ugh. Why is this all so confusing and frustrating? Kirishima’s head starts to throb.

“Kiri?” Ashido’s softer voice snaps him out of his train of thought.

“You’re right… I should figure out some things for myself too. I think I was scared of what he would think about me if I was always upset with him.” Kirishima releases a disheartened sigh. “So… should I talk to someone?”

“Like a therapist?”

“Yeah…”

“I think that’s a good idea. I honestly believe everyone should talk to a therapist at some point because everyone struggles with something, and it would be good to get some professional advice. So, hopefully, that’s what Bakugou will do too. Everyone knows he needs it.” She mumbles the last part and Kirishima chuckles at it.

“Have you gone to therapy?” Kirishima looks up at Ashido curiously and she nods.

“Another story for another time though. It’s late and I need to get some beauty sleep before having to wake up before you to get you some post-breakup essentials.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yes, ice cream.”

Kirishima gives her a forlorn smile. “Thanks, Ashido, for letting me stay here and for talking to me.”

“I know, I know. I’m pretty cool aren't I?” She grins proudly. “But you’re welcome. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kirishima feels better. Not great by any means, but better. His eyes finally start to feel heavy and before his consciousness slips away, he can’t help but imagine that it’s Bakugou holding him in that moment.

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Link to part two!

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Warning for NSFW and dirty talk.

Part 35 of Jimercury Kid series

Despite being fifty-one years of age, Freddie still had a sex drive that a teenager would be proud of.

Which made it all the more frustrating when he came home from the studio after a long, tiring session and wanted nothing more than to be taken to bed and suitably ravished by his husband so he could forget all his worries and grievances for a few uninterrupted hours.

But with children came responsibilities. Usually by the time Freddie arrived home, Jim had already picked Khaleel up from school, helped him with his homework, played with him and prepared his dinner, on top of working in the garden all day. Naturally, the Irishman would be exhausted, and sex was the last thing on his mind.

Freddie tried to be understanding about the situation. Jim was a hard worker and dedicated hours of his time to both the garden and their son, so the singer felt he didn’t have any right to begrudge him for being less than enthusiastic about intimacy. But his own biology betrayed him; that constant primal need to fuck and be fucked was achingly present, tormenting him day and night.

In his younger, more reckless years, he would have simply sought out a temporary bedmate to alleviate this problem. But those days were long over; he loved Jim and was fully committed to him. Which was why he was now sitting alone in the master bedroom, staring down at the bottle of lube in his hand and wondering how much time he had before Jim returned from the school run.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly he had decided to take this idea forward, but he knew it had something to do with the giant bulge straining against his zipper, begging to be let out. It had been two weeks since he and Jim had slept together, and lately Freddie had resorted to taking matters into his own hands (quite literally.) Living with a seven-year-old made it difficult to get any alone time, so he took this opportunity by the horns and pushed his sweats down to his knees, pulling out his half-hard cock and squirting a generous amount of lube into his palm.

He leaned back against the headboard as he gently began to massage his throbbing member, unable to think of anything other than his husband and all the things he wanted Jim to do to him. He thought of Jim pinning him to the mattress, trailing kisses along his neck, gently suckling at his throat as he thrust in and out of Freddie like a hungry animal. He thought of Jim beneath him, nails scraping against the skin of his back, breathing hot air into his ear as Freddie took control for the night. Watching Jim’s face flush and his pupils dilate while Freddie bounced on his dick, riding himself into oblivion.

As the early waves of pleasure washed over him, Freddie reached up and gently pinched a nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb. He tried to imagine Jim behind him, one hand up his shirt while the other tended to his leaking cock, whispering the filthiest words into his ear until the Persian was a sobbing, squirming mess.

‘Jim…’ he couldn’t help but whisper desperately under his breath. ‘Jim, Jim.’

As good as it felt, it wasn’t the same. No matter how hard he thought about his husband, how well he pictured him in his mind, it wasn’t the same as Jim physically being there. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself over the edge; every time he felt close to release, his brain held him back.

After a while, his arm began to ache and he sighed in frustration, realising this was a futile effort. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a figure standing in the doorway and he yelled in surprise.

‘Jim!’ He spluttered, grabbing a pillow to cover his nether regions, ‘haven’t you heard of knocking?’

‘And interrupt this show?’ Jim grinned. ‘No chance.’

Freddie felt his cheeks singe. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘Only about five minutes.’ Jim stepped into the room, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. ‘Khaleel’s started on his homework in the kitchen and you’re far better at maths than I am, so I came up to find you. But clearly you’re preoccupied with other things.’

‘You ass.’ Freddie grumbled, trying to play off his embarrassment. His cock was still painfully swollen, pressing up against the pillow in a desperate search for friction.

The smirk on Jim’s face didn’t falter. ‘So, you think of me when you’re jerking yourself off?’

Freddie looked appalled. ‘Of course I do! Who else would I be thinking of?’

‘I don’t know. Burt Reynolds?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Freddie crossed his arms defiantly, but quickly dropped them back to his sides when Jim cocked an eyebrow. ‘Okay, maybe a few times. But mostly I think of you. You’re my husband, for God’s sake.’

Jim’s eyes glittered with unusual mischief; he rose from the bed and walked over to Freddie’s side, taking hold of the pillow, and moving it away from the Persian’s crotch. ‘Shift over.’

Freddie frowned, confused, but moved over without complaint, allowing Jim to sit down next to him and lean back against the headboard. The Irishman spread his legs and patted the space between them; it didn’t take Freddie long to realise what he was asking.

‘Darling, Kenny might call for us.’ He said uncertainly, even as he lowered himself between Jim’s legs, allowing his husband to tug his jeans down further to his ankles.

‘Phoebe is there if he needs any help.’ Jim murmured in his ear, taking up the lube that Freddie had abandoned and squirting a large helping into his hand. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t take long.’

Freddie still wasn’t sure, but as soon as he felt Jim’s firm grip on his cock, all he could do was hum softly and let his head fall back against the Irishman’s shoulder, closing his eyes as those familiar pangs of pleasure returned.

‘What were you picturing in that pretty little head of yours?’ Jim began pressing soft, warm kisses against the crook of Freddie’s neck, revelling in how the singer moaned and bucked in response. ‘Were you thinking of me fucking you? Ploughing into you nice and deep?’

‘Mmm…’ Freddie bit down on his bottom lip desperately, resisting the urge to scream. He thrust harder into Jim’s fist, cheeks pink from the effort.

‘You love it when I fuck you, don’t you?’ Jim nibbled Freddie’s earlobe, smiling as the Persian shivered and whined in response. ‘You love lying there on your hands and knees, arse in the air, your little hole desperate to be filled with my cock.’

‘Jim.’ Freddie practically sobbed, so close that his whole body was trembling. He wasn’t sure how Jim always managed to make him come undone so easily, but he fucking loved it.

‘Do you remember Live Aid, Freddie?’ Jim carried on, undeterred, his voice a mere whisper. ‘Remember me standing backstage while you strutted about onstage, showing off that gorgeous body of yours? Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to you in that moment?’

Freddie was beyond words. He just shook his head, desperate for Jim to keep talking.

‘If I had my way, I would have marched you off that stage, taken you to the dressing room and fucked you so hard you couldn’t remember your own name. The rest of the band would have been on the other side of the door, wondering what was going on, but they’d just have to wait because I’d be too busy filling your greedy hole. You’d be moaning so loudly, everyone in that stadium would know that the great Freddie Mercury was being fucked and he loved it-’

With a strangled cry, Freddie came into Jim’s hand, the tears in his eyes spilling down his cheeks as he was overwhelmed by his orgasm. He collapsed against his husband, gasping for air as Jim gently cradled his jaw and tilted his head back for a sweet kiss.

‘God, I’ve missed you.’ Freddie panted against the Irishman’s lips.

‘I’ve missed you too.’ Jim kissed him again. ‘So fucking much.’

OMG SO FUCKING HOT🥵

I absolutely loved this, my god. It's such a wonderful use of the prompt. I mean, their sex life must be pretty... dry, even with a seven year old lol who could barge in at any time in their bedroom (or other places, you know, if they get a little adventurous😏). So I really don't blame Freddie for getting some solo action. But lmao, ofc he can't get off without his husband.

And damn, Jim! The dirty talk was... oof. I mean... wow. Oof. Yeah, wow.

Also lmao, Freddie admitting to thinking of Burt Reynolds made me cackle hahahaha. But of course, he thinks of Mr. Reynolds only a few times. His own 'Burt Baby' (that's apparently an actual nickname that Freddie had for Jim), his husband, is enough to fuel his fantasies😌

I love this so much, darling. So fucking hot!

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

[vtforpedro]

LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

[illfoandillfie]

Curtains Part 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Roger F!Reader

Summery: Exams, a car show, and an entirely too long wait.

Warnings: Smut (18+), nothing overly kinky, a little bit of a dom/sub dynamic, dom!rog, some light degradation, a little breast/nipple play,fingering, honestly quite tame considering the shit these two normally get up to lmao

Words: 7129 

A/N:  Oh my god its finally here. The last chapter. I am so sorry it's taken so long but it's been super busy around home and whenever I did get a chance to write I got very worried I was going to balls it up and ruin the whole story lmao. Anyway, I've really loved writing this series and these characters and I hope you enjoy the last part!

Also the British International Motor Show was a real thing that really was held at the Olympia. And Roger did eventually own a Ferrari and a Mercedes, although as far as I know not a Rolls Royce (that was Freddie’s).

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor   @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

@bohemiansweede @rogershoe  @lnnuend0  @funitrog  @moonlit-wilde​

The exams hit you hard. Most nights were spent at the library, staying as late as possible before you dragged yourself home and collapsed on your bed, the morning alarm always coming too soon to start the whole thing over again. The biggest downside of the routine was how little you’d been able to see Roger since it started. When you had managed to catch him he looked as tired and stressed as you felt, neither of you capable of talking for too long before one of you yawned or remembered you were meant to be revising. It filled what little space in your brain that wasn’t already full of anxiety about exams with anxiety about your relationship. You still weren’t entirely sure how solid things with Roger were. They were certainly at a better, more normal, place after your two dates and a not-quite-a-date at the markets. Freddie had spent the entire first half hour you were there eyeing you suspiciously, as if you were going to bolt suddenly or tell him off. He stopped eventually though and you’d had a lovely day, helping to sell a few items when you weren’t wandering around with Roger looking at other stalls. But everything still felt so new and uncertain, especially after the rocky start you’d had, which left you not entirely positive you were officially a couple, and now you couldn’t help worry that the forced distance would make Roger lose interest in you or set you back a few steps after all the progress you’d managed. It didn’t help that you were on edge from not getting laid recently. The last time had been an age ago, in the backseat of Roger’s car. You would have slept with him again at the markets, or more likely after you’d gone home, except your period had started the day before and you couldn’t bring yourself to suggest having sex like that. So, since then you’d been on forced celibacy with only the end of exams to look forward to. Sure, you could have masturbated but between the hours spent sitting the exams and the hours spent cramming for them, you never seemed to find time for it. It all added up to a rather unpleasant desire crushed beneath a lack of sleep and a constant voice in the back of your head telling you that you were fucking something up. Unhelpful for cultivating a good mood or an opportunity to convince Roger to come over for a quickie. In fact, you barely saw him until the day after his final exam.

Feeling slightly better rested since you were free from needing to regurgitate months of class notes, you walked up next door’s driveway and knocked on Roger’s door. “Y/N, what a pleasant surprise, come on in,” Freddie said as he opened the door, “all done then? Exams I mean,” “Yes, thank god. You?” “Yeah, I finished earlier in the week. Never been more relieved in my life, although the day Rog finished was a close second,” he led you through the cluttered living room, your eyes slipping from the old, worn couch to the record player by the phone, into the kitchen where Roger stood, a bowl of cereal in his hands, eyes out of focus as he stared off into space, “Rog, wake up darling, the girl you’ve been whining about is here to see you.” Roger blinked, tired eyes falling to you and pulling a smile onto his face, “Y/N,” “Hey Rog,” He hastily put down the bowl and pulled you into a hug. You sighed into him, mind already more at ease than it had been when you arrived. “How were your exams?” He asked when he finally let you go. “Oh y’know, okay I guess. Probably failed one of them but I’m beyond caring right now, you?” “Yeah, yeah, all good I think. I’m just glad to be able to sleep normally again. Kept having this dream about turning up to an exam naked and then realising it was the wrong subject anyway.” “Jesus, Rog, if you’re going to sit here dissecting your dreams again I’m going to have to leave.” “You call yourself my friend,” “And aren’t you lucky for it. Just remember to wash out your bowl this time,” Freddie grabbed the cup of tea he’d been making and exited with a wave that you returned.  “Was that because of me? Does he still not like me?” “He likes you fine, I promise,” Roger grabbed your hand and led you out to the living room, “I’ve just been driving him nuts these last few days.” He dropped onto the couch with a creak and pulled you down onto his lap. “Nuts how?” “Oh y’know, exam stuff mostly. Weird little rituals I started doing to make sure I passed, like, um, I had to wear a particular pair of shoes to every exam, my sparkly silver ones, otherwise I was convinced I would fail. Nearly had a breakdown when I couldn’t find them one morning. Stuff like that.” “Would the other stuff be related to his girl you’ve been whining about comment?” “Maybe,” Roger looked away, as if slightly embarrassed to admit it, “I might have kept bugging him with questions about whether he’d seen you around. He went right off at me the other night, told me to pull my head in and just go see you but it was one in the morning so,” he shrugged as he trailed off, still focused on the other side of the room. “You really thought about me that much?” “Yeah, course,” he finally looked at your properly, “I missed… hanging out with you,” “Me too,” you smiled shyly, trying to work out if hanging out was a good sign or not. You decided to continue with the plan that had brought you to his door that morning, just in case, “But, if you’re up for it, I have an idea of something we could do tomorrow.” “Oh yeah? Does it involve making out a lot?” “I guess it could,” “Consider me there,” You laughed as he took hold of your chin and pulled you into a kiss. Maybe it was a good sign after all.

If Roger hadn’t broken off the kiss to yawn three different times, apologising after each one, you would have been hard pressed not to end up in his bed. He wasn’t quite as worked up as you were, admitting he’d developed the habit of wanking on the morning of every exam he had, but he was still eager for more than just making out, encouraging you to roll your hips and grind against him. But he was clearly too exhausted. “Where’re you going?” he asked as you wriggled off his lap and stood up. “You’re dead on your feet Rog, you should go catch up on some sleep,” “I’m not, come on come ba-“ he was cut off by another yawn. “See?” “Okay, fine. Maybe you have a point. But you don’t have to leave, you could come nap with me and then when I wake up in a couple of hours we can continue this, but tucked up in bed.” You laughed, “Nice try, Rog, but I’m gonna go home, let you rest properly. We’ll have all of tomorrow though. I’ll come by at tenish okay?” “Tenish it is. Can you give me a hint about what you have planned?” “No but I promise you’ll enjoy it.” “That could be anything,” he said as he walked you to the door, tilting his head and resting it against the frame. “Exactly. Don’t want to spoil it. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you made to leave but Roger caught your hand and pulled you back against him, leaving you slightly breathless, lips tingling with the kiss. “One for the road,” he shrugged, trying not to grin too much. “Go get some rest Rog,” you laughed, “Oh! And wear comfortable walking shoes tomorrow,” “Walking? That doesn’t sound like making out.”

You only had to knock once the next morning before Roger was opening the door, looking excited and better rested, though there were still heavy bags under his eyes. You’d seen the same bags on your own face but, thankfully, makeup covered a multitude of sins. “So, will you finally tell me where we’re going?” “No but if you don’t mind driving, I’ll instruct you where to go,” “You’re kidding me! You aren’t going to tell me anything but you want me to drive?” he narrowed his eyes and stared at you but you just smiled sweetly back until he relented, “good thing I like you so much or I woulda told you to shove it up your arse.” “You’re the best Rog,” you giggled, swooping in to kiss his cheek, “promise it’ll be worth it.” “Yeah yeah, get in the bloody car,” he shook his head but you caught him smiling to himself as he got into the drivers seat. “Your gonna need go left out of the driveway,” “I am, am I?” he said before following your instruction and turning left. You directed him there with only one minor detour when Roger managed to get stuck in the wrong lane and missed his turn. A few streets away from your destination he saw a sign directing passers-by to visit the British International Motor Show, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing, just let you tell him where to go. You could tell he was getting more excited with each street you directed him down, trying not to get his hopes up as you seemed to creep closer to the show. The dam burst when you told him to pull up in the carpark of the Olympia. “No fucking way,” he said softly, trying to concentrate on not hitting any other cars as he pulled into a spot, even as his eyes darted around the crowd of people entering the venue, “You got us tickets to the motor show?” “Mmhmm,” you nodded, digging around in your bag for your pre-purchased tickets, “you mentioned on our last date that you were a bit of a rev head so I thought you might like it.” The way he looked at you made your whole body feel like it was infested with a swarm of butterflies. It was a look of barely contained glee and adoration that had you beaming right back at him. Once he was out of the car he hurried round to your side, pulling you into a hug and spinning you around in a circle as he squeezed you tight. “Christ, Y/N,” “I guess that means you like it?” you laughed as he put you back on solid ground. “Like it? This is the sweetest thing a girl as ever done for me. Might actually be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. As if I needed more reasons to fall for you.” Your breath caught in your throat and the swarm under your skin went haywire but Roger barely seemed to realise what he said, too excited and impatient to see the show. He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the entrance.

Most of the day was spent wandering around the show, Roger almost bouncing from one car to the next. There were all sorts to see, some brand new and unveiled that morning, some the kind your parents had driven around in as teenagers. There were more economic models, aimed at families or young adults looking for their first car and some were high end, luxury models with sleek designs and shiny finishes. Those were the sort that caught Roger’s eye most, never mind the outrageous prices you couldn’t even dream of affording. It was while standing in front of one of them, a gorgeous black Rolls-Royce from the mid-60s, that you nudged Roger with your elbow. “Y’know how when I first saw your Morris I said it wasn’t the type of car I imagined you in?” “Yeah,” “This is the sort of car I was picturing.” “Really? I’ve always loved a Rolls. Them and Ferraris. As a kid I used to have pictures of them ripped out of magazines and stuck up on my bedroom walls. Well, them and about a hundred other cars,” he chuckled at the memory and then fell silent for a bit, lost in thought, absentmindedly squeezing your hand. You were about to ask what he was thinking when he spoke again. “One day I’m going to own one.” “Are you now?” “Yup. One day Queen’s gonna hit it real fucking big. I’m not just saying that either, I mean it. We’ve really fucking got something the four of us, and one day we’ll have the number one song in the country and sell so many albums I’ll be able to buy one of each, a Rolls and a Ferrari. Maybe a Mercedes too. And I’ll take you out in them, wherever you want to go. We could drive down the coast, spend the weekend in our beach house. Or maybe out to the countryside, nice and peaceful and quiet. And if we stay at home I’ll take you out shopping. We’ll go to all the high-end stores and buy everything we want. Shoes and jewels and fur coats and everything." You leaned your head on his shoulder as he spoke, “That sounds wonderful,” “You haven’t heard the best part though,” “Oh?” He dropped his head down, lowering his voice so only you could hear him, “Haven’t even mentioned how I’ll fuck you in the change rooms of all those fancy shops. A hand over your mouth to keep you quiet because we both know how loud you get.” It was a mark of how long it had been that you began panting just from feeling his breath against your ear, “Looks like this car has enough room in the backseat. Just in case the shops are closed.” He stood up straight again, laughing, “Maybe we’ll sneak in there later. Shame I’m not rich already, could’ve just paid off the security so he’d give us a few moments alone with the car.” You knew he was joking about sneaking into the car but it didn’t help you calm down at all. Roger must have sensed your need, had probably been able to feel it seeping out of your skin, because he spent the rest of the day teasing you with small touches and whispered comments. He may have given up the teasing and just fucked you except that the number of people and the amount of security hired kept you from finding anywhere even remotely appropriate. The bathrooms were too crowded, extra portaloos hired and placed around the side of the building to accommodate everyone, and the back of the building faced the carpark and had a constant stream of people passing by or standing around directing traffic and loiterers. You considered suggesting the backseat of his car again but your head and thighs ached at the thought. After a final quick look around inside you decided to call it a day and head home where there was plenty of space and a big comfortable bed waiting.

By the time you arrived home it was early evening, your feet sore despite wearing your most comfortable pair of shoes. Roger’s stomach grumbled as he walked you to your front door, a loud reminder that neither of you had eaten more than a few snacks vendors had been selling at the show. “I had so much fun today,” he said, valiantly ignoring his stomach, “like an unbelievable amount of fun.” “Me too. Didn’t realise a car show could be quite that good,” you teased, “You wanna come in? Keep the fun going? We could get dinner, watch some TV,” “You’ve spent all day with me, sure you aren’t sick of me yet?” “Course not. Come on you sound like your starving and I’ve got a coupon for pizza stuck to my fridge,” “Well who am I to say no to that?” he said as he followed you inside, “where’s the coupon, I’ll call the order in.” “You don’t have to do that,” “No, no, let me. Least I can do to thank you for today. Any preferences?” “Uh, pepperoni if you don’t mind,” you called from the kitchen, returning with the coupon and handing it to Roger. “I definitely don’t mind, pepperoni is obviously the best,” Roger laughed and picked up the phone, as you quickly ducked into your room and made sure it was tidy. He followed you when he was done, peering into the living room and the kitchen as he searched for you. “Don’t have to clean up on my account,” You jumped a little at the sound of his voice behind you. “I’ve been in your room before, you’re much neater than me.” “Surprised you noticed the room enough to make that judgement,” “True, was always much more interested in you and how little you were wearing,” “Exactly,” you said, trying not to let on how fast your heart was racing at just the mention of the previous nights you’d spent together. “But I’m very messy,” Roger shot you a grin as he walked over to your desk, fingers brushing lightly over a few of the knickknacks you kept there before he moved to your modest bookshelf. You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself as you watched him investigate your belongings, perching on the end of your bed, hoping he liked what he found. For the most part he just brushed his fingers lightly over your belongings, smiling softly and occasionally pausing to make a comment. He picked up the candle from your desk to smell it, complementing the scent as he put it back in its place. A few of the books on your shelf were pulled off and held up as he asked your opinions of them. He found a pair of your sunglasses and pushed them into his own face, checking himself out in your mirror before taking them off again, and then turned his attention to your record collection, spending much longer examining it than anything else. When he was done shuffling through the stack, making impressed hums when he found ones he particularly liked, he turned back to you. “Well I’m sorry to say but you have fantastic taste in music and I really have no other choice but to steal half of them,” “Is that so?” you asked, releasing a relieved breath, “Doesn’t seem fair,” “Well,” he walked the few steps towards where you still sat, leaning down until his lips were mere centimetres from yours, “it’s either that or you keep them and I fall madly in love with you.” The butterfly feeling returned, “Oh?” It was all you could manage to say. A loud knock from the front of the house interrupted you. “That’ll be the pizza,” you said quietly, torn between answering the door and closing the space between you. The decision was made when Roger’s stomach growled again. He dropped a quick kiss to your lips and then stood up with a small sigh.

If it had been up to you the night would have been spent snuggled up on the couch, eating pizza, drinking wine, and goofing around, until you retired to the bedroom and let the street hear you screaming Roger’s name. And you were pretty sure Roger’s mind was running along the same tracks. The only obstruction to your plan was the lack of sleep you’d both been suffering from, causing both of you to nod off before you could move from the couch. You woke in the morning, the TV no longer playing the comedy it had been left on but a test pattern card with odd organ music behind it. You blinked the sleep from your eyes as you tried to remember why you were on the couch and not in your bed, the night coming back to you as you sat up and realised you’d been curled up with your head on Roger’s thigh. He woke with a start when you stood up to stretch and turn off the TV. “Y/N?” he voice was still thick with sleep, eyes bleary and hair all over the place as he lifted his head from what must have been an uncomfortable position. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. We fell asleep on the couch.” “Oh, right,” “You can go back to sleep if you want,” “Nah, ‘m up now. Bathroom?” “Just through that doorway over there.” Roger nodded his thanks as he yawned and, rubbing his eyes, headed off. You grabbed the last of the, now cold, pizza and the wine glasses and followed him towards the kitchen, dropping the leftovers on the bench before turning to stick the kettle on. When he returned to the kitchen he looked marginally more alert, hair not quite the bird’s nest it had been when he woke. He dropped a kiss to your temple. “D’you want breakfast?” you asked, peering into the fridge, “I can do eggs on toast.” “Only if it’s no trouble,” “Not at all,” you grabbed the carton of eggs and the butter before you closed the fridge, “if you make the tea.” “I can do tea. Make a pretty good cuppa if I do say so myself.” “So you’re a tea connoisseur now?” “Never said that, where do your mugs live?” “Cupboard on the left,” “Ah ha,” there was a tinkling as he pulled out two, “All I’m saying is I’m good at making tea.” “Rog it’s adding boiling water to bagged leaves, not sure you can be bad at it,” “Well tell that to John. He’s a fantastic bassist but Jesus every cuppa he’s ever made me has tasted like shit.” You laughed, glancing away from the stovetop to watch Roger move about your kitchen like he belonged there. True, that might have been to do with how similar your kitchen was to his, most of the student accommodation in the area having the same basic layout, but it was nice all the same. “How do you take it?” “Uh,” your first thought was something entirely too inappropriate for so early in the morning, “dash of milk, two sugars,” “Coming right up.”

“So,” you said, dragging the word out as you brought your plates down to the table, Roger already there with the mugs of tea. “So, what?” Roger imitated your lengthened word, an amused lilt to his voice. “Dunno, you got any plans for today?” “Meeting the boys a bit later, band stuff. Might try and squeeze in a nap at some point. No offence but your couch isn’t overly comfortable to sleep on, although the cute girl using me as a pillow did help,” You giggled as he nudged your foot with his, it really was unfair how attractive he looked even when ruffled from a night on the couch. “What about you? Any plans?” “Oh, uhhh,” you didn’t have anything specific but couldn’t very well tell Roger you’d kept the day open in case he’d wanted to stay in bed with you for the better part of it, “Think my friends said something about going out for coffee, so I’ll see if they’re still keen for it.” “Oh yeah? Do these friends know about me?” “They know I’ve kind of had a thing going on and they know I was avoiding a particular guy for a while, but I haven’t, like, actually told them about you yet. Wanted to wait until I knew we were going to be okay, y’know?” “Yeah, I get that.” There was a moment of almost silence, the only sounds those of your knives and forks scraping across your plates. Your brain was suddenly much louder than it had been a second before, full of thoughts about whether or not you should tell your friends about Roger when you saw them, nerves about theoretically introducing them to him and then, oh god, introducing him to your family, having to meet his, all the stuff that a proper relationship would mean, all the stuff you’d been trying to run from when you’d cancelled that date. But there wasn’t really any way to go back now without everyone getting even more hurt than last time, he’d twice now said he was falling for you and, though you hadn’t vocalised it, you thought maybe you were falling for him too. But of all the thoughts jumbled in your head, the loudest by far was the realisation you’d be going another day without getting laid. It was torture. You’d got so close last night and god you wanted it so much. You had a brief vision of sweeping everything off the table, plates and cutlery hitting the floor, and Roger instantly pushing down your pants and lifting you onto the clear surface, his fingers slipping into your underwear and - Roger broke the silence and pulled you from the fantasy, “If you wanted you could come over tonight. I’ll make you dinner,” You shook your head to clear it, “really? “Yeah, really. I’ll even let you rummage through all my junk like I went through yours,” “Sounds fun, I’ll be there,” “Cool, uh, I think I should get home around three-thirty, so any time after that.”

Roger helped you tidy up the dishes before he left, another lingering kiss your souvenir, in addition to the desperate need to get off. You attempted to kill some time doing just that, but nothing seemed to be enough. It wasn’t Roger. You wanted Roger. And as lovely and terrifying a sentiment as that was, it did mean you had to go to meet your friends completely worked up and wet. When you told Roger later, sleepily blurting it out while curled up in his arms that night, he chuckled and, though it was dark, you could tell he was grinning. The same grin he’d been wearing when you knocked on his door that afternoon. “Is Freddie here?” you asked as he led you towards the couch. “No, just us. I’ve kicked the others out for the night. Freddie’ll end up staying with Bri or John, they were still arguing about it when I left them.” “Arguing?” you fell into the seat beside Roger, toeing off your shoes and curling your legs up under you, angling your body to face where he was leaning against the arm of the couch, one leg bent in front of him, one touching the floor. “Something about John’s girlfriend, I think, or maybe it was Brian’s roommate? I don’t know, I didn’t hang around to listen, they’ll sort it out,” he waved his hand dismissively, “But that means more food for us.” “So what are you making me then?” “Well, actually,” he glanced away, hand slipping into his shirt to rub his shoulder, “was thinking I’d order some takeout. There’s really nothing to cook with in the fridge and I’m a terrible chef anyway. I could offer you toast but the chance of it being edible is about fifty fifty. But there’s the chippy a few streets away or, um, an alright curry place, whichever you prefer.” “Fish and chips sounds good. I’ve eaten nothing but cake and coffee today so anything savoury would be brilliant really.” “So your friends were free then? How’d it go?” “Yeah, really fun. You might have been mentioned once or twice,” “Only once or twice?” “Once or twice is practically unstoppable gushing for me. They’re both insisting on meeting you, by the way, so that’s something to look forward to I guess,” you scrunched your nose up in discomfort. “I’d love to meet them,” he said, taking your hand leaning towards you, “And you’ve got nothing to worry about, they’ll love me. I’m very loveable.” You let yourself relax as you laughed, Roger joining in as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jaw, kissing you softly.  

It should have come as no surprise that you’d end up making out within minutes of arriving. The weeks since you’d last slept together plus the unfulfilled tension from the previous night all boiled down to a neediness you couldn’t remember feeling with anyone else, the soft kiss fast becoming firmer as you found yourself underneath Roger, fingertips digging into his back. He was grinding against you rhythmically, your skirt pushed further up your thighs, trying to pull you tighter against him, breathing getting more ragged with each passing moment. It felt good but there were too many clothes in your way, you needed more. A whine fell from your lips unexpectedly. “Someone’s a bit desperate,” Roger said, tone vaguely mocking, giving you just a hint of the teasing control he usually showed you, “should we move this to my room?” “God yes,” He grinned and planted another kiss against your lips before he pushed himself to his feet, pulling you up by your hand, not letting go until you were standing in the doorway of his room. It was similar to your own room in that it faced the back yard, a big glass door leading outside. The biggest difference was the curtain, open to let the sun in but no doubt it actually existed. Roger dropped your hand to cross the room and you turned your attention to the rest of it, tempted to rummage through his belongings the way he’d examined yours. If you hadn’t been so worked up you would have but instead you stepped into the room and glanced around, killing time until Roger was back against you. It wasn’t neat but it wasn’t as messy as you’d been led to believe it would be and you wondered how long he’d spent tidying it. The bookshelf wasn’t full and yet not all the books were lined up, some of them stacked in uneven piles, some leaning against others, no discernible order to them, though you could spot a few titles you recognised from your own collection. His desk held a stack of textbooks and a few loose pages of handwritten notes, and you could easily imagine him hunched over as he studied, scribbling down things he recognised as important even if his tired eyes and brain couldn’t fully comprehend them. Your gaze had just fallen on the neatest part of the room, his collection of records all meticulously lined up and just begging to be rifled through, when a noise drew your attention. Roger checked the back door was locked and drew the curtain over it, blocking out the view of the back garden and the natural afternoon light. Your stomach did a flip. “We, uh, we’ve never had so much privacy,” you tried to make it sound like a joke, though you weren’t sure you succeeded, suddenly feeling too nervous to speak properly. “Yeah, s’pose that’s true,” he gave a small half shrug and took the few steps towards you, stopping just in front of you, “but that’s okay. We’ll make it work,” and then his lips were on yours, the rough neediness almost forgotten as he held your face, reassuringly rubbing his thumb over your jaw. It helped you relax again, stoking your desire though you couldn’t help thinking things would be vastly different with an empty house and closed curtains. Your fingers fell to his belt, blindly struggling to unbuckle it, but Roger grabbed your wrist. “Hey, there’s no rush, okay?” “I know but it’s been so long,” it wasn’t a lie, it had been far too long, but that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to speed things up. You didn’t mention that you were nervous about your dynamic changing with the privacy, worried it wouldn’t be as good if you weren’t being controlled or degraded or performing for someone. “So you won’t mind waiting a little longer then,” You whined as his lips brushed over your neck, his hands still holding your wrists, “Please, I need you,” “Patience, love. First time I’ve had my slut all to myself, can’t blame me for wanting to take my time.” Your breath hitched at the name and the casual way it was said, not expecting to hear it when you were so closed off from the world and he was being so deliberately, infuriatingly, slow. It made your head spin. He let your wrists go, moving his hands to your shirt and pulling it up over your head, fingers trailing softly down your sides to toy with the waistband of your skirt. “Good girl for wearing this, you’re learning.” The praise made you shiver but it was nothing compared to his touch. Every light brush of his fingers made you want him more, had you almost vibrating with need, but he refused to speed up or even touch you where you most wanted him. And you melted into it, hovering on the edge of begging, surprised at how easily he could play you but not really surprised at all. Yes, it was just you and Roger with no one to see or overhear, none of that tension you loved so much that came with the possibility of being walked in on or caught out. But you didn’t miss it.

Your hands once again slipped to his belt and this time he let you undo it, taking the chance to tug his own shirt off  as he kicked the discarded pants across the floor, before he slipped your skirt down your legs, kneeling as he did so, leaving a single big bruise on the inside of your thigh. He leaned back to admire the mark and you stepped out of the material pooled around your feet. For a fraction of a second you thought he was finally going to give you something real, his breath ghosting over the front of your underwear as he leaned towards you, still looking up at you, blue eyes glinting. “Hop on the bed, love,” He chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet, listening to you whine and curse even as you did exactly what he told you to. You didn’t stop complaining until his weight was over yours again, your legs trying to wrap around him and pull him against your throbbing cunt. He just held your legs down and laughed softly, “You’re still just a desperate slut aren’t you. Little bit pathetic how much you want me after a couple of weeks without. But no, you don’t get my cock that quickly. I told you I want to take my time.” “You want me too,” you whined, sounding nowhere near as convincing as you’d hoped, “I can feel how hard you are.” “Yes, I want you. Of course I do, love, been thinking about it since you came over the other morning.” Roger resumed the grinding he’d started out on the couch, dragging his cock along your folds, still too many layers between for you to be satisfied. It was torture, but no matter what you tried he wouldn’t give you more, “But there’s this little thing called delayed gratification, you might have heard of it.” “You’re such an arsehole,” you half whined, half laughed as he chuckled into your neck, doing his best to leave you with another mark. “Well, yeah. That’s not news. Maybe I’ll let you have my fingers though, since you have waited such a long time,” “Please, I need something, anything,” “Add ‘begs easily’ to the list of things I love about you,” he left a kiss against your neck and then shuffled backwards. He paused, glancing down to your underpants and then back to your chest. “What?” “You’re still wearing a bra. Can’t have that.” “Oh,” you giggled, “easily fixed,” you sat up and quickly unhooked the clasp behind your back, shrugging it from your shoulders and adding it to the clothing that littered the once clean floor. “Thank god for easy fixes,” Roger said softly, pushing his fingertips against your shoulder until you leaned back far enough for him to drag his tongue over one nipple. “Hey, you said fingers,” you whined. “You said anything,” he grinned back at you, “but I guess fingers could work too.” You hissed when he pinched your other nipple and pulled on it, gently biting on the first, “Rog, please,” He ignored you in favour of dipping his lips to the inside of one breast, sucking at the skin until another purple bruise formed.

Roger shuffled back further and you squirmed at the thought of finally, finally getting what you needed. Just the motion of him hooking his fingers into your underpants to pull them down had your stomach tightening with anticipation. As soon as they were free of your legs he held them up, “soaked,” was all he said before they too were discarded and he was settling into place between your legs. You could feel his warm breath against your pussy as he dragged a single finger between your folds, a whine escaping you as your frustration grew. And then the finger was slipping inside you, so easily it made Roger whine himself. “God you really are soaked. I was just teasing before but Jesus,” “M-more,” was all you could think to say, stuttering it out as you bucked your hips. “Patience, love,” he reminded you but added a second finger, pumping them into you slowly, still not enough. Your back arched as you tried to readjust your position so he’d hit the spots you knew he could but he just placed his other hand on your thigh, stroking you softly until you relaxed again. “Tell me what you want, love,” “More, please,” “More of the same? Just my fingers?” “N-no no,” “Then tell me,” “Your cock, please, want you to fuck me now,” the sentence devolved into a whine as he pulled his fingers from you, pausing to push off his underwear, and crawled back up the bed, hovering over you. Once again you tried to wrap your legs around him, arms around his neck to pull him closer, but this time he didn’t stop you. Instead Roger lined himself up and sunk into you, as easily as his fingers had, his hands slipping up to your sides. He dropped his mouth to your neck and then your jaw and then your lips as he slid his arms under your back to hold you tight. “My good, patient, girl. Fuck your cunt feels so good.” he said softly, quickly finding your lips again as he fucked you steadily. You whimpered at the praise, finally getting what you’d so badly wanted as you clawed at Roger’s back, making sure he wouldn’t pull away too far. Though he’d started off intentionally slowly, deliberately working you up before he’d even finished undressing you, now that he was finally inside you, finally where you both wanted him to be, he’d lost all of his methodical pace. His hands were on your back and then one was on your arse and then your breasts, unsure where he wanted to touch you most. He was kissing you passionately one moment and the next he was whispering filth into your ear, praise and degrading names alike, thoughts broken up by small hickeys sucked into your skin. The second it occurred to him that something might drive you wild he was doing it.

It didn’t take long for you to cum, so much pent-up desire coursing through your bloodstream that you fell over the edge easily when he hitched your leg higher on his hip. It changed the angle he was hitting you just enough to have him rub against your wall, a jolt running through you and stealing your breath. “So pretty when you cum, can you show me again?” You nodded, unsure you’d be able to form words if you tried. Small aftershocks were still making you whimper into Roger’s shoulder and yet you could feel the same tingly warmth building again already. “Oh,” the sharp sound escaped you when Roger’s thumb brushed over your clit, his breath hitching as you clenched around him, “Rog, god, ke- keep doing that,” He brushed your clit again and smiled as your head fell back, a low moan tumbling from you when he began rubbing it properly. All you could hear was rough uneven breaths, not sure they were yours or Roger’s, the sound dulled under your heart beating in your ears. And then suddenly you were there again, moans getting louder as you crept closer to the edge and fell over it. Roger’s eyes were squeezed shut as he thrust into you a few more times, extending the ecstasy you felt until he hit his own climax, coating your walls and gasping in your ear.

For a while neither of you moved, just lay there trying to clear your foggy minds. When he realised he was still laying on you, Roger carefully extracted himself and rolled onto his back, an arm stretched out, inviting you to cuddle up close. You did, humming lightly when he gently rubbed your arm. “So, was that good? Even with the closed curtains?” “Mmhmm, might go so far as to say unbelievably good.” “Any other adjectives you wanna throw out there? Mind-blowing maybe? Or Incredible? The best you’ve ever had?” When the giggles subsided, Roger continuing a little more seriously, “I really liked it too, y’know, having my girlfriend to myself and all.” You’d been expecting to feel anxious when the G word eventually got used. After all, it represented so much of what had made you nervous enough to run away, what still made you nervous about dating and what it might eventually lead to. But there wasn’t really any anxiety or worry when you actually heard it, maybe a small pang in your stomach but you barely noticed it. Instead you could have sworn your heart skipped a beat, “Girlfriend?” “Yeah,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “that okay?” You quickly flipped onto your front, bringing you face to face with Roger, “More than okay. Say it again?” “My girlfriend,” he grinned as he spoke and you felt an equally large smile stretch your own cheeks in response. “My boyfriend,” “Yeah, like the sound of that,” You kissed him hard, not quite believing how far you’d come since he’d first caught you masturbating or how much you liked being with him, dating him. “Y’know, I think we could fit in another round before we need to worry about dinner,” he traced his finger along your shoulder as if he were playing connect the dots with the hickeys he’d left you, “Two maybe. You always cum fast when I use you rough.”

[jemej3m]

RADIO CALLER AU RADIO CALLER AU RADIO CALLER AU

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

I’m way too lazy to link the rest of the parts so here’s the latest one lmao srry 

p3

*

Wymack settled into his chair. He well trusted Neil by now, but Minyard had a reputation that precedented him, so Wymack wouldn’t let the man derail the show with his presence. 

He hadn’t told Kevin about Andrew’s sudden and startling reappearance yet: He knew his son would grow too fanatic and overenthusiastic, and probably put Andrew off all over again. Wymack looked into the man’s credentials: His behavioural record was tarnished to all hell, but every one of his grades had been stellar. It was baffling enough that the name Minyard had remained, lodged in his brain, until Neil had finally admitted who he wanted to co-host.

It was a Tuesday evening, already hitting close to midnight. Through the glass Neil was setting up, the routine old hat by now, but Andrew was lounging in a chair he seemed too familiar with, a lolly-pop in his mouth. 

Wymack leaned into his soundboard and spoke into the comm. “You sure you’ve never been here, Minyard?”

The candy came out of his mouth with a pop. “Nope.” Neil sent Minyard a quiet smile and jostled his shoulder gently. Minyard flipped him off. 

I’m too old for this.

‘This’ entailed: Obvious, middle-school flirting and being away past ten o’clock, both of which Wymack’d had enough of to last the rest of his presumably short lifespan. 

He simply shook his head and settled further into the chair to watch the slow as it went live. 

“Welcome back to Mid-Nights, with me, the same person who’s been hosting this show for months and yet still repeats his name, Neil Josten.” He grinned into the microphone and winked at Wymack, who rolled his eyes. Minyard mirrored him. Maybe Andrew would be the one to finally tame Josten’s shitty attitude. “But guess what? There’s someone else here with me today, cohosting tonight.”

“It’ll be a one-off event, undoubtedly.” Minyard said into his mike. 

“Am I introducing you?”

“You dragged me on here, junkie.”

“I did, didn’t I. Cohosting with me tonight is Andrew Minyard, who’s got some new music and absolutely scathing opinions to share with you all. It’s a pleasure to have you here, ‘Drew.”

“Call me that again and I’ll sew your lips shut.”

Neil just laughed. 

Wymack didn’t have to worry. Neil seemed well versed in conversing with Andrew, who, despite his misgivings, was very good at what he did: Things ran incredibly smoothly, to the point that Wymack realised it was ridiculous that he was here. Of course, he needed to assess Minyard to see if he was up to a permanent gig if he ever wanted one, but Neil easily had it under control. Minyard was way too familiar with the space, the boards and controls: He had to have been here prior, but Wymack wasn’t going to ask.

They made a good pair, Wymack thought. He wondered what they’d say if he offered them a prime-time spot. 

It hit about two-thirty in the morning and Wymack hit the comm button mid-way through a song. “I’m going home. Congrats, Minyard. You better not have razed my studio to the ground by the time I get back here in a few hours.”

“Can’t make any promises.” The pint-sized man muttered. Wymack simply shook his head and tucked his chair under his desk, shoving his notes into his bag and filing out with his keys hanging off his ring finger. 

It could just work. Neil and Andrew in evening peak-hour, the most promising intern Robin running graveyard shifts, and Allison moving up and out to the news broadcasting position she’d been offered. 

It all fit together, like a hideous puzzle. Wymack didn’t mind: He’d keep adding pieces and making the FM-OX network a home for his kids.

*

“How’d you like that?” Neil insisted, forever obsessed with his work. Andrew rolled his eyes, standing up and pushing the chair under his desk. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“You can’t think you’ll successfully entertain me with your own obsessive tendencies.”

“Fine.” Neil challenged. “I’ll let you drop me home if we go to Sweeties on the way.” 

Andrew narrowed his eyes. Neil didn’t give in to an argument so easily, especially not one that had been consistent over the past few weeks. Neil, as Andrew eventually discovered, walked home in the dead of the night after his show. Like the reckless idiot he was. As if his striking features and scars didn’t draw enough attention to him: He deliberately put himself in harms way so often, and so carelessly, that Andrew wondered what kind of childhood he must have endured to be so infuriatingly reckless. 

He’d asked Neil why he was so obviously flippant about himself. Neil had retorted with a sharp “I do care. I just can’t trust anyone to look out for me in my stead.” 

“Can’t, or won’t?” Andrew offered. Neil, in a particularly bitter mood that day, had said nothing else. 

Now Neil was letting Andrew drop him home. He had to want something. 

“Only if you get me fries and ice cream.”

“Pl - Don’t put them together. I’ll be sick.”

Andrew noticed the way he caught himself before saying ‘please’. It was the little things about Neil that had him stumbling over himself as he fell deeper and deeper into the hole that was being attracted to Neil Josten, when he realised that Neil adhered to every one of his boundaries. 

“Funnily enough, I couldn’t give less of a shit. Let’s go, Josten.”

They’d queued good music on the station in their absence and listened to it whilst Andrew drove with the windows down, careening into Sweeties’ drive-through. Neil had a small smile playing across his lips, curls fluttering in the breeze. When the car rolled to a stop his cheeks were flushed red, looking utterly windswept. Andrew had to avert his eyes. 

Neil ordered for him, seeing as he’d spent the past four hours talking intermittently - more than he’d ever had to before, but also surprisingly easy when it was with Neil. 

The other man said just what Andrew was thinking as they sat in the parking lot, Andrew dipping curly fries into strawberry ice-cream and Neil breathing in the steam from his black coffee. 

“And to think this all happened because you called me one night.” Neil muttered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. 

“You were confounding enough to keep my interest.” Andrew said dismissively. 

“Am I still? Confounding?”

Yes and no. Andrew felt like he knew nothing about Neil. He’d known Neil did a course with Kevin and got into FM-OX through Kevin’s connections. He knew he didn’t talk to his family, that his scars were a premeditated attack from someone he knew. He knew Neil liked the colour grey and fruit and obscure, unknown musicians and the radio and that he didn’t celebrate his birthday. He didn’t have a car and liked going for jogs in the morning and took his coffee plain black and had moved around a lot as a kid. Neil was smart enough to entertain anyone on a specific topic, but he never let on that he knew more than he should for some scrawny young guy in the middle of a scrappy South Carolinian city. 

Other than that, Andrew had nothing. Neil was like water between his fingers: Cool, refreshing, but impossible to get a grasp on. 

“You’re still irritating.” Andrew answered. Neil just snorted and drank his coffee. “You haven’t eaten and definitely shouldn’t be drinking coffee at this hour.”

“I can take care of myself,” Neil argued, hiding behind his cup. 

“Clearly.” Andrew grunted, shoving the car into reverse once he’d finished and pulled out of the empty parking lot. 

Neil’s home was relatively close to FM-OX studios, a decrepit looking doorway between two crusty shop-fronts that lead to studio apartments that looked down on the street. Neil clambered out but turned around and leaned back into the car with a shit-eating grin. 

“I had a good time, ‘Drew.” Like he was dropping Neil home from a date. Should he walk him to the door? Kiss him on his doorstep? How horrifically cliché. 

Andrew scowled. “Don’t get comfortable, junkie.”

Neil winked. The fucking bastard winked. “Keep an eye out for a call from Wymack. He might just have an offer that’ll be too good to resist. See you soon, Minyard.” The car door slammed behind him. 

Andrew was too late, distracted by watching Neil in his jeans and button-down walk to the front door of his apartment block, but still muttered “Fucking asshole.” like Neil was still there to hear him. 

He thought he’d be exhausted, but he was fucking wired beyond belief. Even when he laid on his bed upon arriving home, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Sleeping would reset the day. And Andrew wouldn’t admit this to anyone, not even to himself: 

He didn’t want it to end. 

*

ibfnakhrualhifwkjdbhferghifwuekjnhv HOW MANY PARTS WILL IT TAKE FOR THIS PINING TO BE OVERRRRR

[nebulous-frog]

Outlast the Darkness

Summary: From the prompt: a hurt/comfort fic that takes place during spooky week from any year (i’ll leave the nature of the hurt up to you, as long as it doesn’t involve depression or something like assault or abuse)

Phil was with family for a few days, leaving Dan alone at the flat. Of course, this was also right when they decided to film scary videos for Halloween, so the job fell to Dan. Everything was darker, quieter, and spookier without Phil, especially after Dan filmed Outlast, but he was determined to be brave, at least until Phil came back.

Word Count: 4245

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Some Angst

Warnings: Descriptions of fear of a break-in (although no break-in ever takes place)

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas! This fic is totally not Christmas themed at all lol but it's for my Secret Santa Fic Exchange with @phandomficfests, written for @velvetnautilus. Thank you to m'pal @pasteldnp for betaing, you were super helpful! Also, I’m super late posting this to tumblr lmao whoops but here I am now This fic takes place during Spooky Week 2014 and has a couple direct quotes from this video

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

“That’s- that’s enough. That’s enough. That’s enough for today,” Dan stuttered through a nervous laugh. It was time to be done with Outlast before he had an actual heart attack. He took a deep breath, then reached over to turn on the light.

He flicked the switch on the lamp but immediately squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

When you open your eyes, there won’t be a face staring back at you. There’s nothing there.

He took another deep breath and opened his eyes, sighing with relief when the room was empty. He looked over to the door and saw that he left it partially open while filming, and he shuddered at the black emptiness of the hallway beyond it.

There’s nobody there, so you can go over and turn on the hall light and it’ll be fine. Go do that. You’ll feel better.

Dan stood up and walked to the door, opening it more to look outside the gaming room.

“Quick check for axe murderers in my house,” he said in a sing-song voice. He exaggerated his calmness for the camera through jokes, but he really was shaken up by the game. Once he had established that no one was in the hallway, he flicked on the hall light and walked back over to his gaming chair. “No people wearing baseball bats in my hallway at the moment, great! ‘Cause I don’t have any lockers to hide in,” Dan said with a forced chuckle as he sat down.

Not that that helped me in the game. Or would help me in real life, he thought grimly. He ran a hand over his face. Come on, then, pull it together for the last bit here.

He stared down at the keyboard.

“That was extremely stressful and terrifying,” he laughed, “but I liked it. Whether I do it on this channel or in my own time, I think I’m definitely gonna continue playing this game.”

And it was true. He did enjoy playing the game and he had every intention of completing it. Although, maybe not when he was home alone. He wasn’t sure how he’d make it through the next two days without Phil there to keep his imagination under control.

Whenever Dan played a scary game, Phil was there afterwards to calm him down. The adrenaline from the game would leave him exhausted but high-strung, flinching at shadows and unexpected noise. But then Phil would find him and talk to him about anything as a distraction, and slowly Dan would return to reality. He’d be able to confidently walk through their flat in the dark without fear of unknown entities attacking him. Phil’s grounding presence saved him from many long nights and panic attacks. Without him, Dan was in for a difficult few days.

He shook his head to clear it, then gave a big smile to the camera. He launched into the end card spiel, throwing in a joke about how, once he returned, Phil would be able to distract any murderers in their house while Dan escapes.

Dan ended the video, then went through the process of shutting off the equipment and closing out of the computer. He used this as an opportunity to calm his mind, choosing to put all his brain power into pushing a few buttons so it wouldn’t think of terrifying scenarios with axe murderers.

As he clicked the last button to log off the gaming computer, the microphone fell with a clatter.

Dan jumped in surprise, clutching at his chest and turning to look at the source of the noise. When he realized it was only the microphone, he laughed in relief and bent over to pick it up.

To the camera, he said, “That was my microphone falling off the desk, okay. I’m gonna stop, I’m gonna stop.”

He laughed again, then reached out to turn off the camera equipment. His hand was shaking like a leaf. He shook his head at himself and rolled his eyes.

You’re fine, Dan, it was only the microphone. Calm down.

Eventually, he finished putting away all of the camera equipment and shut down the computer. He turned to the door of the office and stood to leave the office.

Time to go downstairs for dinner and then bed. Try not to think too much about the dark hallways you’ll have to pass through to get there. Don’t think about the faces that could jump out at you, or the murderers that could be lurking around corners, or the terrifying giants that could be ready to kill you at any moment. Don’t think about it.

“Oh, god,” he whispered to himself. He took a brave step forward, then another, and another, until he was in the hallway and staring down the stairs.

While the stairs themselves already had a light on, the hallway at the base of the staircase was pitch black. Dan would have to walk down towards an empty abyss and nearly enter it blind before he could turn on the lights in that hallway.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Okay, Dan, you can do it,” he told himself. “Back to the wall, come on.”

He rotated slightly so his back could press against the wall, then took a cautious step down one of the stairs. It was slow-going because of the awkward angle, but he made it to the light switch for the hallway and immediately flicked it on. Now assured that the hallway was safe, he checked behind him to make sure his back was okay.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. He had left the light on in the office.

I am not going back up there to fix that. That’d take too long and be too dark. He turned back to the hallway. Phil is gonna kill me for leaving all these lights on. Oh well.

Dan continued down the hallway slowly. Luckily, the door to the lounge was closed, so he didn’t have to worry about it.

Unless there’s someone lurking in there and waiting for me to go to bed so they can jump out and kill me in my sleep, his brain helpfully supplied. And what about the staircase down to the bathroom, huh? That’s still totally dark right there. Someone could be there watching you right now. He gulped but decided to ignore the stairs in favour of running the last few steps to the kitchen.

As soon as the light switch was in reach, he flipped it and dove into the now-bright kitchen, narrowly avoiding banging his head on the glass door.

He breathed a sigh of relief into the empty room.

See, Dan? You’re fine. There’s nobody here trying to kill you.

He walked over to the cupboards and opened a few, checking to see what his options for dinner were.

If you cook something, you’ll be out in the open for longer, his idiot brain whispered. A chill ran up his spine. Maybe then, when you turn around, you’ll see someone through the glass door, waiting for you to come out so they can-

“No, no, no, nopity nope, we are not doing this right now, Dan,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “I’ll make some cereal and eat it in bed and everything will be fine. There are no murderers in the flat,” he said into the cupboard.

He went around the kitchen, picking up a bowl, a spoon, milk, and the box of Crunchy Nut (still full, since he’d only gotten it that day and Phil hadn’t been around to steal it), all the while avoiding looking through the glass door.

Rationally, he knew nobody would be outside the door, but his brain had him feeling just paranoid enough that he knew he’d have to convince himself it’d be okay. For the moment, however, he ignored it so he could get his cereal.

Once he had assembled his cereal, he replaced the milk and cereal box to their rightful spots and closed all the cupboard doors.

Now you have to turn around and leave and go straight to your room. It’ll be easy, just turn around and go. There’s nobody there.

Even as he reassured himself, however, his brain rebelled. It conjured an image of a big burly man standing beyond the glass door, breathing heavily through a grimace and holding a baseball bat in his hand. In Dan’s mind, the man was staring straight at him menacingly, waiting for him to get closer.

Dan felt panic creeping up on him, but he forced it down as best he could. He had to stay level-headed long enough to get to his room and then he’d be safe. But first, he had to turn around.

Just in case something was there, Dan put his bowl of cereal down on the counter so he wouldn’t drop it. He gripped the spoon tighter in his hand as if it could be a life-saving weapon somehow, then forced himself to turn.

Spinning quickly on his heel, he faced the glass kitchen door and saw- absolutely nothing.

He sighed in relief, though his shoulders were still tense.

See, Dan? There’s nothing there. You’re totally fine.

He picked up his cereal and made his way to the door.

Okay, you’re gonna run to your room and close the door. You’ll be fine.

With one last breath, Dan took off running down the hall, refusing to look behind him.

Right as he was about to enter his own bedroom, he changed course and dove through the door on the left, shutting it quickly behind him and pressing his back to it. He flicked on the light and relaxed when he saw that he was alone in the room.

He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to go to Phil’s room. It wasn’t even technically Phil’s room- they shared Dan’s for sleeping and only used Phil’s as a set for filming.

Maybe it was the brighter colour scheme, which always reminded him of Phil; maybe it was the knickknacks littering the room; maybe it was that Phil went in there just often enough that his scent barely lingered in the sheets.

Whatever the case, Dan had chosen Phil’s room and there was no way in hell he was going back into the empty hallway.

He walked over to Phil’s bed, setting his cereal bowl down on the bedside table. He took his phone out of his pocket as he sat down on the bed. There was a message notification on his lock screen.

Message from Phil

Dan felt his heart ache. He missed Phil, especially after his traumatizing filming experience. It hadn’t been that long since Phil left, but he couldn’t help it. Phil was his comfort, always there to distract his overactive imagination on nights like this.

The text notification served as a reminder that Dan was alone to deal with his anxiety and paranoia, but it also made his lips twitch upward slightly. Phil was thinking of him.

Dan swiped open his phone to look at the message.

My Spork <3: hey bear <3

Dan quickly typed out a response.

Me: <3 hi

He bit his lip, trying to decide if he should send more. After a few seconds, he sent another text.

Me: i miss u

Not long later, Phil responded again.

My Spork <3: i miss u 2. how was filming?

Dan ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking to the door nervously.

Me: ok. the electric bill might be higher than normal though, sorry

His stomach grumbled, so he set his phone on his knee and reached for his cereal. As he took his first bite, Phil’s reply came in.

My Spork <3: :( r u ok?

No, I’m hiding from the imaginary murderers in your room while eating cereal.

Dan took a deep breath. Don’t tell him that. It’ll worry him too much.

Me: ill be fine. hows the north

Despite the hundreds of miles between them, Dan could feel the weight of Phil’s suspicious concern. He felt a twinge of guilt at making Phil worry anyway, but shrugged it off. Phil would be more worried if Dan told him the truth.

My Spork <3: the north is good. my mum thinks she shouldve tried harder to get u to come with me

At least he’s letting it go.

Me: maybe next time, if we dont have spooky week to worry about

My Spork <3: i wish i could be there with u for that. i know what ur like after scary games. u sure ur ok? we could skype if thatd help

Dan looked around the empty room as he debated whether or not they should Skype. On the one hand, it would definitely ease his anxiety about being alone, at least for a little while. On the other, Phil would see the state he was in and feel guilty about making Dan do Spooky Week alone, which Dan definitely didn’t want. Phil was with his family and he shouldn’t have to deal with Dan being ridiculous.

But I really want to talk to Phil...

Me: im ok, i promise

Me: but we can skype anyway, if ur not busy

Me: but we dont have to

Dan bit his lip after sending the texts in rapid succession. Phil would know there was something up for sure.

My Spork <3: im always free to skype you

A wave of memories of 2009 washed over Dan as he remembered how true that statement was. It filled him with a warm sense of fondness and made his cheeks flush.

He looked around him for his laptop, then remembered he was in Phil’s room.

Oh, shit. It’s in the lounge. I’ll have to go back out in the hall.

He stared warily at the closed door, psyching himself up to leave.

The sooner I get up, the sooner I can come back. Then you’ll be talking to Phil, and Phil will make everything better. Come on. Go get it.

Dan took a deep breath, then launched himself off the bed and wrenched open the bedroom door. He ran down the hall and past the terrifyingly dark staircase until he reached the door to the lounge.

You’ve made it this far, he thought as he panted, back against the wall. Just dart in there and grab it. In preparation, he turned on the torch on his phone.

He took another deep breath and opened the door. The lounge was dark, but he ignored everything in the room except the couch, where he could see the dull reflection of his silver laptop resting on the armrest. He dove for it, made sure he had the charger, then fled the room, slamming the door behind him.

Okay, now get past the creepy-ass staircase and you’ll be fine.

Finally, Dan was sitting on Phil’s bed with his laptop plugged in and open to Skype. Phil was already online, so Dan clicked the “Video Call” button.

Seconds later, Phil’s face came over the screen in grainy, laggy quality.

“Hey, Bear,” he said with a soft smile. He looked like he was sitting on his bed in his childhood bedroom.

Dan’s heart ached as he remembered how often he’d done this with Phil before they lived together. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed it back then.

“Hi,” he replied. He reached over to Phil’s bedside table and grabbed the cereal he’d left there. The cereal was soggy now, but he ignored it. There was absolutely no way he’d be leaving Phil’s room now, so soggy cereal for dinner would have to do.

On Skype, Phil’s eyebrows crinkled. “Are you eating cereal in my room?”

Dan felt himself blush and was glad for the poor quality of the camera.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. It had only been a few seconds and yet Phil already noticed that everything wasn’t as fine as Dan tried to lead him to believe.

Not that that was surprising; Dan’s texts had probably been a dead giveaway, anyway.

“Oh, Bear,” Phil whispered. He looked sad. “That game really freaked you out, didn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

Dan looked into his cereal bowl and swirled the milk around with his spoon. He shrugged, but stayed silent. He waited for Phil to get upset with him for lying.

But Phil was much too good a boyfriend for that. Instead of calling Dan out on his lies, he changed the subject.

“I miss you,” he began. “Visiting relatives isn’t the same without you. I have no one to hide in the corner with.” His lips quirked up in a small smile.

“I miss you, too,” Dan said. He finished off the cereal and put the empty bowl on the bedside table. “Have you been eating lots of sweets, at least? I’m sure your mum has been feeding you like crazy.”

“Oh, she definitely has. She’s already been making food for me to take home to you, too.”

Dan grinned. He loved Kath. She always made sure to think of him and include him, which he greatly appreciated.

“Your mum is too nice. Tell her I’m excited to eat whatever’s left by the time you get home,” he gently teased Phil.

“Oi, I’m not that bad!” Phil argued, feigning indignation. Softer, he added, “There’ll be some left for you, I promise. It’ll be a good reward for living without me for a few days.”

Dan scoffed and shook his head. “As if your mum’s baking could replace you. My reward for being alone will be cuddles, a film, and shitty pizza.”

Phil chuckled. “Okay, that sounds good.”

They fell into a companionable silence for a few seconds, each imagining how nice it would be to be back in each other’s arms finally.

Dan broke the silence. “I really miss you. It’s too quiet and empty.”

Phil frowned. “I’m sorry, Bear.”

Dan shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve come with you, but I decided to stay home and play a scary game.” He trailed off for a moment, breaking eye contact and remembering the creepy face of the man with the bat. His finger subconsciously traced over the edges of the square mouse trackpad. He shuddered when he recalled the fear he’d felt. “I almost didn’t call you, actually. I knew you’d feel guilty, but I don’t want you to.”

Phil looked like he wanted to protest, but held himself back. “I’m going to give you some amazing cuddles when I’m home, okay?”

A small smile made its way onto Dan’s face. “Okay. I’m holding you to that, you know.”

“I’d expect nothing less. Cuddles are important,” Phil said seriously.

Dan let out a little giggle and it tapered off into a sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Phil replied. Suddenly, he yawned. “I’m getting tired. I don’t want to hang up, though.”

Guilt shot through Dan as he realized how late it was, and he was quick to reassure Phil. “No, no, that’s okay. You need to sleep. I’ll be fine with all these lights on. I can be brave tonight.”

Phil smiled fondly. “I want to be there so you don’t have to be,” he whispered sadly.

Dan’s heart melted. This whole conversation and situation reminded him so much of that first year, and clearly, Phil was thinking the same thing. He sighed, feeling somewhat nostalgic.

“For the most part, I don’t miss 2009,” he said, pondering. “I miss how carefree we were, that’s for sure, but this long-distance thing really sucks. How did we ever manage it?”

Phil shrugged through a yawn. “Endless Skype calls and nonstop texting? I’m pretty sure we drove our families insane along the way.”

Dan laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

They fell silent again, this time reminiscing about the past.

Or, at least, Dan had been reminiscing. From Phil’s end of the call came a deep snore, snapping Dan out of his reverie. He focused back on his laptop screen and saw Phil with his head tilted so his chin rested on his chest, his eyes closed. Dan chuckled.

“Hey, Phil,” he called softly. “Phil, honey, you have to wake up.”

Phil’s head jolted and his eyes open. “What? I was sleeping, though,” he whined as he regained his bearings.

“You’ll get a stiff neck if you stay like that, not to mention how your eyes will dry out if you don’t take your contacts out,” Dan chided.

Phil blinked, seeming as though he hadn’t considered that. “Oh. Right. I’ll be right back.”

Before Dan could say anything else, Phil stood up and left the frame. Dan adjusted his laptop so it rested on the bed next to him, then got under the covers and laid down. He moved the laptop lid so Phil would still be able to see him.

A few minutes later, Phil returned, this time with glasses. He got into bed and copied Dan’s arrangement, laying down with the laptop next to him.

“Can you stay on the line?” Dan asked tentatively. “I’m going to try to sleep but it’ll be easier if I can kind of hear you.”

Phil nodded. “Of course.” He took off his glasses and put them on his bedside table, then made himself comfortable. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Dan whispered back. He could feel sleep creeping up on him, and he was grateful that Phil would stay on Skype to keep his mind from imagining other things that might creep up on him. He watched as Phil’s eyes slipped closed, then let his own fall shut. Through the crappy laptop speakers, he could just barely make out the sound of Phil’s breathing, and then the sound of soft snores that grounded him in reality. He finally fell asleep feeling much more relaxed than he’d been all night, thanks to Phil.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next two days passed by in a blur of excessive lighting and loneliness. Dan kept most of the lights on all the time as if the light alone would be enough to fend off any murderers that may pop in for a visit, especially after editing Spooky Week videos. Playing through the games had been bad enough, but going back through them to pick out clips for the actual videos was much worse. He had to relive the fear from each video multiple times to make sure what he got was just right.

But Phil was finally returning, and that meant cuddles and pizza and safe.

All day, Dan anticipated Phil’s return. He tidied the flat, piled blankets on the sofa, and set aside Phil’s favourite pyjamas for him to change into as soon as possible. Dan himself was wearing joggers and Phil’s York hoodie, which he normally only wore when sick as a reassuring comfort. He felt like he deserved it after his traumatizing few days alone.

Around 5pm, he heard the door open. He jumped up from where he’d been sitting idly on the sofa and ran down all the stairs.

“Phiw!” he yelled happily.

Phil looked up from where he’d been trying to manage his keys, coat, and suitcase in time for Dan to slam into him in a bear hug. He stumbled back a step, his back hitting the door as Dan buried his face in his neck.

He chuckled and put his arms around Dan, one hand going to cradle his head and the other wrapping around his waist. He pressed a soft kiss to Dan’s hair.

“Hi, Bear,” he whispered.

Dan’s arms tightened around Phil.

“I love you,” he said. He kissed Phil’s neck chastely, then settled himself in Phil’s arms with a content sigh.

“I love you, too.”

Phil gently began to sway them side to side and pet Dan’s hair with one hand.

A few minutes later, he spoke up.

“As much as I love this, we should move it to the sofa. It’ll probably be more comfortable,” he mumbled, though he made no move to break the hug.

Dan sighed. “Yeah, and I have everything set up, too. Your pyjamas are on the bed for you.”

Neither of them moved.

“We have to let go if we want to move to the lounge,” Phil pointed out.

Dan groaned. “I know, but it’s hard. The lounge is so far away.” Despite his words, he finally lifted his head. He gave Phil a soft kiss, then stepped back and out of his arms entirely. “I’ll meet you in the lounge, okay?”

Phil nodded, then grabbed his suitcase and trudged up the stairs.

Not long later, they were curled up on the sofa, limbs tangling together. Buffy was on the TV, but they weren’t paying attention to it. Dan had his nose tucked into Phil’s chest and his hands clutched at Phil’s soft T-shirt.

“You’ll scare off the murderers and monsters, right?” he mumbled, glancing up at Phil’s face.

A small smile graced Phil’s lips, and he nodded. “Of course,” he whispered.

Dan smiled lazily in response, blinking slowly. He yawned. “Then I think I’ll just take a little nap. You’re cosy.”

One of Phil’s hands came up from Dan’s hips and rested gently on his face. His thumb tenderly caressed Dan’s cheek, and Dan leaned into the touch with a hum. His eyes slipped closed and he snuggled farther into Phil’s chest with a sigh. Within minutes, he was asleep, feeling safer and calmer than he had in all the time Phil was gone.

[bigbrothernetflix-st]

EPISODE TWO

“I'm starting to feel more comfortable with my position in the game.” - dem

HOH: Josh C UPSIDE DOWN: Nick & Joshua NOMINEES: Emma & Nash POV: N/A FINAL NOMINEES: N/A EVICTED: Dem (Expelled)

EMMA

I been struggling in this game which is sad i want to have fun but yesterday made me feel like maybe having a meltdown and leaving 90 percent of servers was a good idea for me i really hope not i just really want to have fun and win for some reasons i always have trouble prejury in games trying to find my footing but at jury and late prejury i always know how to rise ASDFGH the people i really like rn are Jakey loml jev loml aria queen saira queen and also joshua is easy to talk too!!! nathan is also great

DEM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSgjyUhGTng

NASH

i simply think men should stop winning hoh and trying to nom me. its week 2 go target someone else j*sh. jev and i are cool now though <3 love him

DEM

I'm starting to feel more comfortable with my position in the game. I think I'm not in anyone's bad graces so far, which is good. But I really need to win one of these next HoH's so secure my social relationships. My plan moving forward is to see win HoH's. I want to win the next to HoH's I'm eligible in back to back. I also want to try to secure my relationships with Gina, Jev, and Jake. Those are three people I want to be close with in this game. Also maybe Joshua? He's pretty cool and chill.

SAIRA

I'm still getting a sense of how the game works but I feel pretty good, there are some people that are much easier to talk to than others but everyone is still so nice! i feel good about josh c as hoh! we get along pretty well and I don't THINK im in any danger but you never know! imma be honest, I don't have an actual plan, i'm mostly playing this by ear, just talking to people, bullying beck when the chance arises, and being myself! 

JOSH C

HELLO GIRLIES!

well, we won HOH and that's really EXCITING. i probably didn't need to win this week but i figured that i'd get a win under my belt while nominating people would still be EASY. i can establish trust with some people and get a "i didn't nom you, please don't nom me" situation going on. i also feel like the two people i'm going to nominate would have NOMMED me anyways because we just haven't talked..

who those people are? nash & emma. (vl don't hate me for only nominating women i didn't want it to come to this either)

but i just.. both of them have really only put in any effort to talk to me now that i'm HOH and i don't really LOVE that tbh. i've already told a few people that's who i'm thinking so i kind of accidentally locked myself in on these noms because there isn't any sense in throwing out more names than i have to!!

i have an alliance with kiki, brianna, jacob, jake, and aria. (i think that's the people in it? i wanna say that's right. LKFMSDG love this game for me) and i feel pretty good in that because i like all of them enough and they're people that will watch out for ME and each other. but i know my social connections go beyond that so i'm feeling pretty good with my spot in the game? i have a solid relationship with almost everyone in the game and i think i should be able to play a cute lil utr game for a few weeks. i don't think that i'll get targeted first if my alliance gets outed and if so.. i have ENOUGH faith in my comp strength and relationships to save me against MOST of the cast.

people kind of want me to nominate DEM because apparently he starts drama with people and has been a bit inactive. he's talked with me more than other people so im not super keen on throwing him on the block RIGHT AWAY but i'm thinking he's a good replacement nom because if people think he's MIA then no one other than him will be upset with me. maybe a backdoor? could be spicy..

i don't really know what else to say here so.. i hope this is enough! love u guys <3

BRIANNA

https://youtu.be/mJw3qxsZ-Bg

JEV

Okay so I feel like pretty comfortable this week because me and Josh have gotten pretty close and bonded over our mutual love of Lucas HOWEVER he's just let me know he's gonna be nominating Nash and Emma which isn't GREAT since I'm in alliances with both of them and they're the only 2 alliances I have so I really wouldn't want to see either of them go home this week, this SUCKS ASS

JAKE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tt2xRQqqax8

ARIA

how is it ONLY week 2 i feel so hecking exhausted fhsabfd, but that might also be the fact that is 2 am so,,,oop. Um okay recap time!!!! Recaps are so hard because theres minor details that i still want to note without seeming super annoying so heres a minor list of things im noticing 

-Dem wants to "start playing the game" I told this to Jake (wish i could bold names ugh)

-Gina & dem told me they were gunning hard for hoh- i told nathan/monty/nick/,,,,and someone else this

-emma feels unconnected from cast

-Jake doesnt like Gina

-Josh likes Me Jev Kiki (told joshua)

-emma knows alliances are starting to form

-joey can get pwr hungry and chaotic + good comp ability

-told gnia my thoughts on the sides being "connected v unconnected" and other tidbits of info

-GIna (potentially joshua) doesnt like nash

-Nathan/Nash ARE CLOSE!!!!! WEE FUCKING WOO!!!!

-Told Jake that Jacob has the power (and the bs excuse he told gina pretending he doesnt have it,,,sure jan)

-jake is GREAT at lowering his threat lvl im sick

-Jev-Josh-Nathan-Nash all bonded p well on vc potentially an alliance

-jake tried to get gina nominated

-Emma Nash noms

-Jake doesnt want emma to leave

So,,,thats what you missed on GLEE! Honestly glee sucks but yeah thats all my info i would weave everything together with cute transitions but im TIRED and lots of this information doesnt really connect well so,,,have a bullet list! 

okok nvm heres some general thoughts bc JUST a bullet point list is so boringgg im honestly not too sure what i want to do this week bc i think emma doesnt have a lot of people (although she has jake apparently,,,she might just be putting up a front of being unconnected ffs) so i would rather keep her around based on our relationship alone esp compared to nash whose been busy w/ irl things to reply i think (nash would prob do gr8 in old school bb,,,but new school is a whole other beast) HOWEVER!!! I need to protect gina who isn't the best conversationalist (sorry bb ily but its true <3) and keeping nash around ensures people have another "inact" target besides her but also nash is such a god connection for people like nathan and jacob and i would rather get her out sooner than later before we have another renee on our hands ...

Also i havent talked to the pasio peeps (omg if we ever make an alliance,,,that should be the name hehe) in a while and idk if theyre distancing themselves or if theyre just busy fndsjafd god im too paranoid for this game its awful. Also i think i mentioned the alliance with josh kiki bri jake jacob last time and it still isnt made and im PRAYINGGG it never gets made bc i have SUCH an awful feeling like SIX FUCKING PEOPLE??? S I X?? THAT IS GOING TO FAIL AND BLOW UP!!!! but i cant say no to an alliance so here i fucking am :/ also im trying to think of my longevity in this game and like,,, idk im nervous. I mean ive mentioned going to the end with multiple people but i have such a bad feeling im gonna go out 9/10 as a big move and i REFUSE to let that shit happen, not on my fucking watch no sir!! Not sure what to do about it yet but i feel like monty in particular doesnt trust me and i need his ass OUT! or maybe not if he comes around but like??? sir pls talk to me- i mean this phase of the game is early im setting up the pawns for later, but before later theres gonna be a couple explosions of my game which i'll have to deal with,,, or maybe not actually i mean in my first org i did a really well mastermind game with it- nvm it did explode on me once FDBSHFDS yeah so theres gonna be an explosion period but i think im getting good at dealing w/ the backlash from it and reintegrating myself..

oh also yeah im safe this week lol

anyway sorry for rambling so much LMAO have a trust ranking!

1.Gina (MY QUEEN!!!!!!!! i LOVE her!)

-BIG BIG FUCKING GAP-

2.Jake (listen,,,my thoughts go back and forth but he did tell me the noms so,,,have some rights)

3.Saira (we never talk game but i dont think she talks with anyone about game beyond maybe nick and also shes nice and im a sucker for nice girls)

4.Emma (if this isnt all just a front shes gonna make a great number for me,, might need to fact check some of her statements tho)

5.Joshua (honestly? i love him hes so funny and i think he has my back although he could be more act)

6.Nathan (literally havent talked in 3 days but also i have a soft spot for him <3)

-GAP-

sorry the Js are just kinda scary lmao JFNSDKF

7.Nick (!! we gotta an actual connection folks!! heck yeah!)

8.Josh c (im safe! but he D E F trusts others more than me such as Joshua and Jacob)

9.Jev (honestly a king but hes a little quiet although his reccs are the BOMB)

10.Jacob (i know youre being sneaky,,,idk what youre being sneaky with but im getting the vibes)

11.Dem (might be weird but i think he trusts me? at least a little bc he ranted about losing to me so O.0)

12.Brianna (youre adorable and deserve the world but everyone likes you,,,is this how people view me omg fhsabfhds)

13.Kiki (youre SO hecking sweet and actually u probs have a connections to nash but we havent talked ANY game yet)

14.Nash (p,,p-please talk to me uwu)

15.Joey (i dont trust you at ALL! Why? good question-)

was that mean? sorry in advance ilyall but also its 3 am brain empty no filter

NASH

i think jev and nathan might end up being good allies of mine (inb4 betrayal)! despite the mistake he made nomming me, talking to jev has been lovely so far he's getting me into loona LMFAO. and i just love nathan's energy & i feel like as the season goes on i can see him winning comps. i'm excited :3 hope josh c does not end my existence this week

JOEY

I feel FANTASTIC about Josh being HoH. I’m making sure that others are coming to me about gameplans, and I’m making sure I don’t come off as too pushy or aggressive in PMs. With most of the players, I’m trying to give them all the same energy and hype. It seems kinda weird to say this, but I’m not concerned about being nominated at this point. What I need to ensure is building my social relationships with people outside the “Crackhouse”, and yes that big ol friend group moved to Discord in 20 minutes like 6 months ago. 

This is the first major game I’ve ever played with Skinny Nick(yes, I’m absolutely confused as to what to call them, I’m so used to calling Nick “Eve” that its going to take time to adjust.) Speaking of Nick, my social relationship with him is actually surprisingly similar. In the past, I felt as though it would be as “on-sight” as Tom & Jerry, and it actually isn’t turning out that way, which is surprisingly refreshing. Every day, I’m making sure I send Nick something different to diversify my social game with them. Yesterday, I asked Nick about his preferred streaming services for music and TV, and I discovered we have the same music service(Apple Music).

I’ve played one game with Monty before, but it was a disaster. We were in pairs, and it felt like we were on different planets. I did tell him to not worry about personal feelings when it comes to this game, because I compared the relationship of BB Netflix and the Crackhouse to the separation of church and state. I made that comparison because the two entities of church and state should never cross, but when they do it becomes disastrous, and I feel as though that same principle applies to this game.

Overall, I feel good, Emma may be going up on the block, but it shouldn’t affect me that much. We’re in the early stage, I want to make sure I’m good with everyone.

ARIA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFeox7LM1-E

JAKE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLkZ-BIIjTU

HOUSE MEETING

https://youtu.be/BZMorvWvyKY

HOST WEEKLY CAST ASSESSMENT WEEK 1 & 2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vc-iMpkfrdw&list=PLFEwPPy8j010XXwntq80VSU0qLNTNpSIN&index=3&t=0s

[ghostryders]

fall in love at least once

some Ryder family drabbles, mainly surrounding Ellen and Alec

warning this is the first fic ive ever written lmao its A Mess. minor spoilers, just about what happened to momryder but you find out early in the game anyway.

“I don’t want you to go.”

She is weak. Uncharacteristically frail. Vulnerable. Pale skin and eyes half closed. Speech slurred and tired.

But to Alec she’s still the strongest person he’s ever met.

Ellen takes his hand in hers, “Alec, it’s my time. Stop fighting it, please. They still need to have someone left by the end of this.”

He’s not ready to say goodbye. What’s the point in the years of work if it didn’t do the one thing you designed it to? What’s the good in spending so much time away from the person you love just to save her when you can’t? Was it all for nothing? To be a failed husband and a distant father? Questions. So many questions, but mostly anger. Alec was frustrated. With himself, with SAM, with the universe for allowing Ellen’s life to be cut short when it could have taken him instead. Everything felt like a joke.

“Alec.”

He scans her face, looking for the fight to live that isn’t there anymore.  

“Please look after them. I know it may seem like they’re all grown up now but, they still need someone besides each other.”

He still hasn’t said anything. Doesn’t need to. Doesn’t want to. He turns his attention to the small widow in the hospital room, outlooking the hall, facing the responsibility avoided for so many years.

She was right. They did seem grown up. When did that happen? Alec was proud of them; but it was more than futile to tell them that now. His illegal workings in AI had tainted the name Ryder. Scott was stuck watching the mass relay, always out of grasp of the galaxy he wanted to explore. Sara was getting posted less and less, farther away and more dangerous low reward work than what she dreamed her entire life about. He did that. He ruined that.

Alec tried to imagine a life where he told his children he loved them and hugged them when they got home from school. He wished he went to their infamous laser tag matches, helped Sara with her science fair projects, and told Scott that there was nothing wrong with him when he got picked on, because kids are just mean.

Would things be different then? He tried to pinpoint where he went wrong. Backtracking to the day he met her.

-

For the first time his life, he was in love. 

“Come here often, Doctor?” Alec somehow managed to be even more cocky with a needle in his spine.

“Oh, and he’s funny too.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Ouch.”

Ellen Harlow was a patient woman, but Lieutenant Alec Ryder was pushing it, and she couldn’t figure out why. It was mostly playful, a bit of banter here, a bit of flirting there, but whenever he came into the labs for a biotics checkup, she found herself pulling at her clothes and fixing her hair all while asking herself why.

Ryder seemed like a good man, that god-awful smirk aside. Not to mention he was strong, an N7 in training. Very strong she found herself thinking. But not all brawns, he’s got brains too she considered as if she were weighing the factors for a pageant winner. Part of Jon Grissom’s team into that… thing; practically a hero if not a pioneer. Maybe it was the weight of her doctorate program and caffeine haze, among other things, that she didn’t notice when the monitor beeped, alerting her to remove the needle from her patient’s neck.

“Everything okay or am I just that distracting?”

“Oh! So sorry. I um...” She fumbled over her words immediately forgetting her current purpose in the world. Removing the needle a bit too quickly she scanned her eyes over the readings.

“Hey, I was thinkin’,” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck where the needle had been “maybe you could uh, join me for drinks sometime? I’ve got the weekend off for the first time in a while, would be a shame to spend it alone.” He rubbed his hands on his knees, the plunge taken and waiting for the water to hit him.  It was the first time she’d seen Alec show any sign of anxiety.

“You’re blood sugars on the low side” Was the first thing she blurted out in response

What the hell is wrong with me

-

Ellen couldn’t remember the last time someone made her laugh so hard. It could have been the pure boredom only a road trip could provide, but seeing the normally serious Alec Ryder channel his inner John Denver as ‘Country Roads’ played on the local Sierra Nevada radio for the second time, followed by several Fleetwood Mac songs, and ‘Hooked On A Feeling’ (to which the only words Alec knew were the repeated ‘hookashakah’s) made her sides hurt.

Alec was beyond excited to introduce her to his parents, bringing her up to log cabin far away from the metropolises of modern earth. What started as a workplace crush turned into him meeting his best friend; Soul mate if you’re feeling dramatic. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the ring in his coat pocket, and making that beautiful girl next to him smile until her face hurt.

-

This would only happen to them. A guy trying to enjoy his honeymoon with the most amazing woman on the planet (8 months in the works between both of their schedules) is oh-so-conveniently interrupted by aliens.

Fucking aliens.

Alec knew the world was changed by the discoveries on mars, and his discovery of the mass relays with Admiral Grissom, but the discovery of an entire intergalactic community that’s existed for thousands of years?

What. The. Hell.

And now LT Ryder, was being shipped off to fight them.

Half the battle so far was leaving. They stood in the terminal for the fastest hour of their lives just holding each other.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” There was so much unknown. As much as an explorer he was, he hated not knowing. Not knowing for her.

“Alec Ryder, you come home safe, okay? Or I’ll kick your ass.” Ellen’s eyes were still puffy and red, but she smiled for the first time in a long time, and so did he. Alec absorbed as much of her face as he could, taking a million pictures and mapping her freckles like stars. What if this was the last time he ever saw that beautiful face? He wasn’t going to take any chances.

“I’ll call you as soon as we’re in range of comms. I promise.” He squeezed her shoulders, still taking in every inch of her, just in case.

“Love you, Solider”

“Love you more.”

-

“Huh.” Was one of those things you never wanted to hear from a doctor.

“Is everything normal?”

6 weeks along in her pregnancy, any patience Ellen Ryder had was out the airlock. She was beyond anxious for any news, and knew Alec felt the same. He was sat in the corner of the ultrasound room, twiddling his thumbs as if he was expecting the doctor to tell them she was carrying the first turian-human hybrid child.

“Everything is normal. Double normal if you could say.” The doctor laughed at her own joke and turned the grainy screen towards the expecting parents.

“Congratulations, you’re having twins. Might want to double up on those saving funds.”

All Alec and Ellen could see was darkness and…. Two little somethings. Two of them.... Oh god… two of them? I mean that’s amazing but we’re fighting to pay citadel rent prices and feed just the two of us; No, four of us now. I need to start thinking in fours.

By the time Alec returned to the present, the gel had been cleaned off and Ellen was shaking the doctors hand, with several informational pamphlets about multiple births tucked under her arm.

-

For the second time in his life, Alec Ryder fell in love.

22 hours later, Ellen was recovering, soundly asleep and pain free. And the babies...

His babies were the two most beautiful things he had ever seen in his life. He was overwhelmed by the parental instinct to protect and provide for them. He even found himself getting antsy when the nurse handled them slightly rougher than he liked.

They’re perfect.

Alec craned over the two the two of them in awe, almost afraid to touch them. Sara came first and was smaller than her brother by a pound and a half, something about him stealing all the nutrients, but he didn’t care; she was perfect. Scott came shortly after, already alert and ready to see the world, eyes open and hands grasping at everyone who attended to him; he was perfect. They lay side by side, sleeping soundly for the first time since they came into the galaxy.

This is what he fought for. A bit ironic really, that only a little over a year ago he was fighting aliens, and now he was living on their space station. His children would likely grow up to be friends with them, never wondering if anything was out there besides humans. Alec fought for their future, and now all he had to do was preserve it.

-

“And then I asked, ‘what’s so bad about AI?’ and they all looked at me like I slapped them in the face. Apparently, its pretty illegal stuff out here; Shame, I think its fascinating.”

“I’m sure its for a good reason. They’ve been here longer than we have, they know the rules.” Ellen said as she removed her lab coat and badge, scooping up the nearest Ryder jr into a hug.

“I guess.” Alec decided to end the conversation there, but not ending the thought of it.

Their citadel home was cramped, A two-bedroom apartment with a modest view of the presidium. Growing up in the Sierras, Alecs childhood bedroom had been bigger than their kitchen and living room combined; but on a place like the citadel, it was the best they were going to get. It wasn’t bad when Scott and Sara were younger, but at the age of 4, it became apparent they would need to upsize eventually. They could barely run yet they could both be described as daredevils; jumping across the couch, box surfing down the stairs, intense action vid reenactments- the works. He wished he didn’t have to work all the time. Alec took the job as an attaché expecting normal hours and good pay, unlike his time served in combat. But here he was, coming home exhausted after 12 hour shifts because ambassador Goyle wanted humanity to have the place in the intergalactic community it deserved. Alec couldn’t argue with that but, it was frustrating. He missed his children’s first words, and then steps. He only hoped they still knew who he was when he got home.

-

“You mean…. You’re dying?”

Sara was always too clever for her own good. Scott just kept staring, brown eyes fixed on the coffee table, like maybe if he focused hard enough that all of this would go away. Alec was considering giving it a try himself.

The silence was deafening.

Ellen shifted in her place on the couch for a few minutes, unsure of what to say to a pair of 13-year old’s who understand what a terminal illness means for most people. Alec felt like he should step in but he didn’t know what they we’re going to do either, and he wasn’t about to expose his project before he knew it could work. Ellen wanted to move back to earth, which they both knew wouldn’t go over well with the twins.

“It’s a little more complicated than that, honey. I’m not going to drop dead tomorrow. I just-“ She sighs, wringing her hands, wanting to be honest but avoid scaring them. “Let’s make the most of the next few years, alright?” She gives a warming smile but Sara’s face doesn’t react. She sits still and stoic, still processing everything. Scotts line of sight has moved from the table to his feet, and Ellen wonders if he even heard what she said.

And suddenly to Alec, It’s no longer a matter of ‘if it works’-no- ‘when it works’. It has to work. It has to.

-

Maybe I’ll do more of this?? probably not cause im cringing while reading it over rip

[untitledemotions]

of shame & spirit

to be quite honest, i’m not sure how to start this, so i’m gonna start off by saying i don’t know how to start this. lmao. i just have so many things to say that i don’t know how to piece them together. and i haven’t written in so long. which also makes this feel worse. i just have so many thoughts going in all sorts of directions. my brain’s always been so overwhelming and i don’t know how to contain it. it’s so easy for me to spiral. one little thing could fuck it all up. a little thing. with no depth or significance or even personal tie. it just carries the slightest bit of negativity or wrong “feel” and there i go. into this pit of confusion, anxiety, loss, fear, loneliness, depression, isolation. it’s always kinda been this way. but then i always use to have someone to tether me back to groundedness. and now i’ve dug myself so far deep in this anxiety that i don’t even have that. i genuinely feel like i have no one. and it’s weird bc i’m not necessarily doing the worst i’ve ever done (unless i’m blinded by the fact), but i feel so entirely and completely and utterly alone. it’s the worst feeling lol. i genuinely wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. and when this used to happen i’d kinda feel bad for myself or be able to ground myself in the fact that i knew i was a good person. but now i even question that much. am i? my mother had to calm me down last week or something by telling me i’m not a bad person. the words i don’t even think came out of my mouth. and she was the one who acknowledged that i felt that way without me even noticing myself. i question my goodness, grace, my selfishness/selflessness, my self awareness, my ability to take accountability for my own actions (towards myself and others), my wit and intelligence. these are things i felt a security with even a year ago. even a few months ago maybe. but now, i just feel incredibly out of touch. or maybe too much in touch. i don’t even know. i just feel like a simultaneously regressed and progressed version of myself but in ways that just counteract and battle each other. it feels like i’m just fighting myself. my brain, my heart, my actions, my perspectives, my wants, my needs. i can’t even trust my goddamn self at this point. that’s how bad these issues have gotten. i don’t wanna be this person. i’m incredibly aware of that much at least. but at the same time i can’t beat myself up for being the way i am and expect things to not only change but to change healthily when the person i’m supporting is also the person i’m hardest on and all together: it’s myself!! that’s so exhausting. i wanna be my own best advocate and biggest fan and biggest supporter and motivator. but i genuinely don’t know how to, maybe because i’m more focused on hurting myself whether i want to or not and that’s all i feel i am capable of. even though i know (or do i just tell myself) i’m capable of so much more; of anything i want. i just feel like i’ve slowly chipped away every aspect of my being. everyone in my life. the idea of anyone new coming into my life i reject before there’s even an opportunity. i don’t know how to turn this around and that’s what scares the absolute fuck outta me. i don’t wanna be in my early 20s, mid, or late 20s and beyond and be still having this battle and no one around me because of my own inability to do so for myself. i am so stuck. and hurt. but it’s a different kinda hurt than i feel like i’ve experienced. it’s like i know it so deeply but i also know feeling sorry for myself and constantly crying to myself won’t do it. i just kinda suffer in silence now. and then i explode. that part isn’t new though. i just feel so irrelevant. so meaningless. and i did it to myself. and i’ll have thoughts of self worth that tell me that i know that’s not true and i have so much potential (which i think is the genuine truth; it just gets clouded by the negatives), i just need to give myself the ability to reach that. and i want to. i just don’t know how. even achieving that scares me. i guess i’m more fucked up than i thought.