#ill ignore it until its gone

[ph0enix-12]

I think i almost cracked my neck and died today.

I just turned my head and heard a loud CRACK, now my neck hurts, oh well

(Im fine i swear)

[toastsnaffler]

anyway yeah relevant to that post abt being deaf/hoh and ppl excluding u from conversation bc of it (even unintentionally), that's smth that's been really deeply bothering me lately bc there are a few ppl I routinely have to deal with who do it a lot and it Pisses Me The Fuck Off I've lost all patience w them. giving up and calling it ableism and walking out idc anymore 🚶‍♂️

[gibbearish]

tells my boyfriend im overwhelmed lately bc ive had 0 alone time for almost a full month now bc we have a friend staying with us until we can get set up in the new house and he goes "oh yeah that sucks im sorry :(( but hey soon ill be working till 10 every night just like (roommate) so whenever we both work youll have most of the day to urself!" i go hide in the closet come out to make a drink and he sits in the kitchen and silently watches me make the drink the entire time

[marsbotz]

slamming my fists against the floor like an animal thinkinh abt dadfario

[kyseya]

Ancient Mummy

Imagine working as an archaeologist for a museum. However things hasn’t been going so well lately and there are hardly any visitors during opening hours. Sadly, you’ll be forced to close multiple exhibitions and if conditions are not met, the entire museum might have to shut down.

But by some miracle, a new tomb has been discovered in Egypt; undisturbed, unexplored and completely untouched by humans for centuries. It’s said to be the grave of an ancient king- a pharaoh- who was betrayed and murdered by his own cousin.

It’s the perfect opportunity! Maybe you’ll find something that can bring back interest and by extension, save the museum.

You go along with a few other colleagues to the site in Egypt. The journey was a bit tough but it was a hindered percent worth it. With avid curiosity you explore alone and with the others, the different things to find inside the tomb; artifacts and additional discoveries. It’s all very interesting. Wanting to save the best for last, you finally get an in-person look at the grave itself- the sarcophagus.

You have already heard the main tale of the pharaoh within, so you are a little surprised that there is more to the story than you previously believed.

Over the entire stone coffin were multiple hieroglyphs, each one helping and becoming a story together. Your collegue read some inscriptions and told you a basic summary of what it’s about.

Centuries ago there was a king. He had a wife whom he adored more than anything. She was provided with riches, glory and honour. There was nothing he wouldn’t accomplish for her. The people saw the care he held for his wife and therefore both respected and feared her as well, since any ounce of rudeness might end up with their heads spiked on a pole. It was a punishment fitting for those who dare disrespect his queen.

Unfortunately tragedy struck- a disease, more specifically. It took the lives of many and left whole villages empty. That hardly mattered to the pharaoh though, all his focus went to his ill wife; she, too, had been snatched by death. Up until the moment of her demise the pharaoh spent all day and all night at her side, attentively worrying about her needs. When she was gone he was ruined. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t even have the energy to clean himself. What was the point? His beloved was gone so there wasn’t really anything left for him.

It was after this that everything took a turn. It appeared that the king had enough with laying around and decided to do something. There were records of him behaving strangely- even by ancient standards- and drabbling in dark magic. He was later overthrown by his brother, who ordered him to be buried alive. It was quite the terrifying penalty go give one’s sibling. The brother didn’t want the darkness to spread out into the world from the old pharaoh, so he locked him inside the sarcophagus and sealed him far away.

What a tragic story, you thought. Well it was back in the old times and a lot of things were practiced then that aren’t okay in modern day. You suppose it wasn’t the most horrible incident that have happened.

It hadn’t been long since your colleague told you the backstory of the tomb and its inhibitor, but now the others wants to get to the good part and open up the stone coffin. You don’t think it’s the best idea in the world- of course something like this needs to be examined closely and so on, but there is something special about the tomb.

Ever since you’ve arrived, you have had a strange feeling following you around. It’s hard to explain. You feel almost drawn to the sarcophagus or perhaps it’s because it feels as if it is looking back at you. You tried ignoring it, however, the feeling came back stronger than ever the moment the others began preparing to open it up.

You should have told them of your concerns. If you did, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The first few seconds after opening it everything was fine. All was as it should be; people flocking around to see the discovery and fawn over it while being mindful of its fragility. Then it changed. Your colleague who had been the closest had suddenly been strangled by the thin, dirty arm belonging to none other than the ancient corpse that previously had been resting in death. Everyone was silent as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. It was only after she fell to the floor dead that people began panicking. It was hard to process what had just happened, after all.

There was chaos.

Folk ran around like chickens fleeing from a fox that’d managed to get inside the coop. In a way, that was exactly what was going on, though. You had watched as the mummified corpse sat right up and climbed its way out of the cold coffin. It stumbled on its bony legs and quickly found a cornered man and approached him. He screamed when the mummy grabbed ahold of his face and brought it before its own. The creature started sucking the life out of the man- literally.

The man who had previously been a healthy and active person was now shrivelled up like a raisin. His face was dry and wrinkled. He died soon afterwards, only a soft wheeze leaving his lips as he passed.

The opposite seemed to happen to the former-corpse, though. It attacked more and more people and for every kill, it appeared to revert to its original state- a man, pharaoh of an ancient kingdom. The flesh grew back and filled up in the right places and he seemed human again.

How can that be? He had been dead for centuries. Although, just about everything was pretty fucked up in this moment, so his make-over is the least important factor.

You backed into a corner. Your eyes followed the mummy’s every move, it was impossible to look away. There was hardly anyone left apart from you. The one person that was still there was getting attacked by the monster and it wasn’t long until they were reduced to nothing.

Now it was just you and the creature, and it appeared it knew that too.

It turned to look at you. The mummy had now completely reverted back into a man and he was nothing short of breathtaking(and very naked, but you tried not to think about it). It pained to to admit it but it was the truth. He was easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His long, dark hair flowed when he stalked towards you. Despite his outer beauty, you couldn’t forget what you’d just witnessed him do.

Trembling, you pressed yourself against the wall. “Stay away.” you weakly mumbled.

‘This is it. My time is over.’

You closed your eyes in fear and braced yourself for the pain that would undoubtedly come; only it didn’t. Instead of death, a hand grazed your cheek. It was a light touch, one reserved for something valuable and fragile.

A raspy voice talked, “…My love..it is you..”

You had no idea what he said, it sounded like an ancient language. You had studied hieroglyphs but did not know anything about what speech might’ve sounded like. You decided to be brave and slightly opened your eyes.

The mummy was staring at you, but there was no malice or hatred in his expression. In fact, the only emotion you could find on his face was amazement, shock and….love? No, that can’t be. This is not some ‘lovers reunited’ situation.

“How can this be? Death took you and left me all alone- not that I hold you accountable, of course. I know you would never seek to hurt me.” the mummy kept muttering to himself. “Perhaps….the magic worked after all?”

His face brightened and he smiled gently at you. Whilst he happily went on about something, you became more confused than earlier. What the hell was going on? He committed multiple murders in one swoop and now, suddenly, he is acting like you’re friends talking about your day. He isn’t even human! Or at least not anymore, not really.

You voiced this opinion weakly, “Ummm, could you let me go?” You tried pulling away from his touch, uncomfortable at his caresses.

His brows furrowed at your reaction. From the look of it, he didn’t understand you any better than you did him. He focused at the subtle way you attempted to peel his hand off your arm. You let out a yelp when his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you into his embrace.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, petting your hair at the same time. “Wife, why do you seem unhappy at my presence? I do not understand. Are you not joyous at our reunion? I love you so, I cannot comprehend any reason why you would not wish to see me.”

Even if you didn’t know what he was saying, you could hear the sadness in his voice. The pain and desperation. No! You couldn’t feel sad for him. He had murdured multiple of your colleagues, he’s evil! Although, why hasn’t he killed you yet? It’s very strange indeed.

The mummy continued, “I can sense things are not as they used to be. Things are different now. Although I do not know the extent of it. However I am most certain of one thing; I have miraculously been reunited with my love and I do not plan on letting you fall through my grasp again.”

He held you in an almost suffocating hug.

“I shall make you my queen once more.”

[taintedcigs]

i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 

You weren’t special. 

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                                                                            why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.  

Shit. 

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 

“What? What guy?” 

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 

Was he… actually gonna do this? 

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way. 

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

[ssprayberrythings]

our little secret | CL16

charles x female!reader / smau fic 

this was a request so thank you anon for providing the idea, i changed some of the detailing ever slightly to fit it more into the social media format but overall i followed the request so i hope i did it justice! 

as a bit of a background: you and charles have been together for a few years now, but nobody knows because they’ve kept their relationship secret from the f1 community and private from anyone who follows you. everything is going great until photos of you and charles on vacation get leaked. normally you’d deny it or ignore it but it was very obviously charles in the pictures which cause fans to go crazy, wanting to know everything ultimately resulting in you and charles deciding to go public and hoping for the best. oh and the request included having other drivers on the grid having gone through recent breakups which was another reason charles liked that your relationship was private. 

warnings: none, just pure fluff and charles being a simp for his girlfriend !! 

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yourusername posted on their instagram   

yourbestfriend, yoursister, user23 & others liked 

life recently ⭐️🫶🌸

view all comments 

user1: y/n i still cant believe we haven’t figured out who your partner is, its been atleast a couple years 

user2: at this point, i don’t even care who it is, as long as she’s happy 

yoursister: awe the flowers, he’s the sweetest 

╰ yourusername: i know ! 

user22: one day we’ll find out…i hope 

╰ user17: we can only hope 

yourbestfriend: i love that youre happy but i don’t enjoy third wheeling, does he have any single friends he can atleast bring along 🥲

╰ yourusername: sorry..pretty sure all his close friends are in relationships 🫣

charles_leclerc posted on their instagram 

f1fan, pierregasly, landonorris, fanofleclerc & others liked 

who do i give these flowers too 

view all comments 

fanofleclerc: YOU CAN GIVE THEM TO ME 

f1fan: ILL TAKE THEM OFF YOUR HANDS CHARLES 

user30: how is this man single ???? he’s so boyfriendcoded 

landonorris: i’d prefer literally anything else but i guess you can give them to me 

╰ charles_leclerc: ill pass 

f1: we’ll take them for you charles, im sure someone in the paddock would like them 

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: he loves me i swear..😉

*replies disabled*

charles_leclerc posted on their instagram 

pierregasly, landonorris, f1, f1fan, charlesleclercfan_ & others liked 

enjoying the sun whenever i can 

view all comments 

fanofcharles: hes so beautiful wow 

charlesleclercfan_: imagine running into charles leclerc while he’s shirtless? id pass away

pierregasly: photo creds would be nice..

╰ charles_leclerc: you didn’t take the photo ? 

╰ pierregasly: yes but i was behind the camera offering support, its basically the same thing 

f1fan: pierre and charles’ friendship is top tier

╰ liked by f1

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yourusername posted on their instagram   

yoursister, yourbestfriend, user20 & others liked 

me and everyone’s favourite man hit the town 🍸

view all comments 

yourbestfriend: its giving old money, i love it 

╰ liked by yourusername 

user20: im sure whoever he is, is a gorgeous man 

user12: i may not know who he is but i aspire for these vibes 

yoursister: the hand placement is everything 

╰ liked by yourusername & yourbestfriend 

user44: whoever he is, he was raised right, that hand placement says everything and him holding y/n’s heels, god has favourites 

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charles_leclerc posted on instagram 

charlesleclercfan_, f1, f1fan, landonorris & others liked 

hikes at sunset > 

view all comments 

charlesleclercfan_: omg charles 

charlesleclercfan_: i think my heart just stopped 

f1fan: he knows what he’s doing, he has to 

user33: brb finding the strength cause this photo makes me weak 

user2: he looks so happy 

yourusername posted on their instagram   

yourbestfriend, user22, user14, user7 & others liked 

my two favourite people 🫶

tagged: @yourbestfriend 

view all comments 

user2: mystery man once again

user14: the way they go on runs together 

yourbestfriend: the only time i’ll gladly be a third wheel..i love a good walk/run at sunset 

╰ yourusername: i know how much you love your sunset runs 

user12: couples that run together, stay together 

╰ liked by yourusername 

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: my whole 🌎 

*replies disabled*

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yourbestfriend posted on their story

caption: i once again find myself third wheeling..@yourusername

╰ yourusername: atleast you could walk away when you wanted..

╰ yourbestfriend: not the point..but tell charles thank you for paying for me aswell

╰ yourusername: will do 😅

charles_leclerc posted on their story

caption: enjoying some local art before racing starts again  

*replies disabled* 

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yourusername posted on their instagram  

yoursister, yourbestfriend, user3, user15 & others liked 

gonna miss watching the sunrise in the morning and the sunset in the evening with you 🥺

view all comments 

user3: wait where is he going 

user23: awe, i hope everything’s okay and they haven’t broken up

╰ user4: i think mystery man has to leave, but they’re still together 

yourbestfriend: mom and dad..fr 

╰ liked by yourusername 

user44: wherever mystery man has to go, i hope he comes back soon 

“Merci mon amour” You smiled as he situated himself next to you in bed. Having been dating now for almost 3 years, you had picked up on french terms and were able to have small conversations only speaking French with Charles 

“I posted you on instagram” you told him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you closer into him but being careful not to spill the drink in your hands 

“Oh what did you post? My phones charging” he explained as you unlocked your phone and showed him the post you made for him “You’re now being referred to as mystery man” you chuckled. 

Out of all the names people had given him throughout the years, this was definitely your favourite. Charles also chuckled when he heard the name that was given to him 

“Can I ask you something?” Charles asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence passed between the two of you 

“Of course, what’s up?” you asked after taking a small sip of your tea “Do you ever think about going public with our relationship?” He followed up 

You turned to face him fully “Of course, mon amour but we both agreed it was better this way” You reiterated the promise you made early on in your relationship 

“I know but I hate that I cant comment on your posts or even post you myself” he sighed “I want to keep you safe but I also want the whole world to know you’re mine and I’m yours” he finished. 

“I know it’s not fair” you exclaimed while running your fingers through his hair, something you did for him when he was stressed or feeling anxious “I love you all the time though regardless if you post me or not you know that. Right?” You asked him 

“Of course I do” he told you in response closing his eyes feeling relaxed “One day we’ll go public. Im making you that promise” he told you opening his eyes again 

You smiled at him “Sounds like a beautiful promise” you responded, leaning in to kiss his cheek “As much as I would love to spend the rest of the night talking with you, you have to be at the airport early tomorrow” you reminded him as you stopped playing with his hair, to turn and put your mug on the bedside table next to your side of the bed, Charles putting his own mug on the table next to his side 

“Im gonna miss you” he told you when you were both situated in bed, the only source of light coming from the evening sky outside “Not as much as I’m gonna miss you” you told him, snuggling into his side while his arm pulled you closer to him. 

Even if you had been dating for awhile, the start of the race season was always a struggle, neither of you wanting to be apart for long periods of time but it was moments like these that you held close and savoured until the next time you could be this close again. 

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: my happy place 🎨

╰ charles_leclerc: babe i miss you already and its only been a few days 

╰ yourusername: i know but soon you’ll be busy with media events, qualifying, racing and the time will go by quicker, i promise my love 

╰ charles_leclerc: facetime tonight so i can see your beautiful face ? 

╰ yourusername: of course ❤️ 

yourusername posted on their story  

caption: now whose third wheeling..😠 @yourbestfriend 

╰ yourbestfriend: oh hush up, this was only one time compared to how many times i third wheeled you and driver boy 

╰ yourusername: okay fair point…also driver boy? wait till i tell charles that one 😂

more replies..

╰ charles_leclerc: omg since when did y/bf/n get a boyfriend? i want all the details 

╰ yourusername: i’ll tell you everything on our facetime call, its a pretty cute story of how they met 

╰ charles_leclerc: okay but not as cute as when we met? right? 

╰ yourusername: oh never, we have the ultimate cutest first meet story 🤭

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charles_leclerc posted on their instagram  

f1, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, landonorris & others liked 

feels good to be back 🏎️ 

tagged: @scuderiaferrari 

view all comments 

scuderiaferrari: looking forward to a great season ! 

╰ liked by charles_leclerc 

f1fan: HE LOOKS SO WELL RESTED AND HAPPY, FERRARI YOU BETTER DO CHARLES JUSTICE THIS SEASON 

f1: as if we weren’t already excited for the new season !!

╰ liked by charles_leclerc 

charlesleclercfan_: IM SO EXCITED 

charlesleclercupdates: THIS IS HIS SEASON, I CAN ALREADY FEEL IT 

Charles was standing with the other drivers, whenever the new season started they always had to do a bunch of media and although some drivers may hate how childish some of the antics were, overall it’s always a nice time getting to be in the same place as everyone and not be competing for once. 

Charles turned to George and Pierre who were in conversation with Carlos and Lando. Somehow they had gotten on the topics of relationships, Lando having told everyone that the girl he was seeing at the end of the previous season before the break, wasn’t in the picture anymore. 

“Aw mate I’m sorry” Charles told him “Its okay, we weren’t anything serious” Lando told him, seeming to be completely fine with the outcome. “Carlos how are you and your lady?” Lando asked Carlos taking the attention off of him 

“Ehh, its alright” Charles’ teammate answered the question directed at him “We barely talk and now with racing starting, I don’t see her sticking around much longer” he explained his current situation. 

To Charles it seemed as though everyone who had been relationships or atleast talking to someone, now had no one which made him a feel a bit guilty as he had been in a 2 year long relationship that none of them knew of. 

Later in the day, the guilt in Charles stomach only grew when he somehow found out 3 more drivers on the grids long term relationships had ended. He was feeling unnerved because it seemed as if there was some sort of relationship ruiner going through the paddock and he didn’t want to be the next victim. 

That night, he called you up, for a moment forgetting about the time change but remembering its only a small change. You answered after a few rings, you had your painting scrubs on indicating you had been working on a new piece of art 

“Hi mon amour” you exclaimed happy to see your boyfriend “I was just in the middle of painting, let me just take my scrubs off so I can move to the couch” You explained, Charles nodded his head acknowledging you

“Okay tell me how everything went today, I want to hear it all” you started talking again once you were situated on your couch. Charles started telling you about his day making sure to include what he learned about his fellow racers, which only caused you both to feel content keeping your relationship to yourselves. 

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yourusername posted on their instagram 

caption: disconnecting to enjoy the serenity of camping 🏕️

*replies disabled*

-

f1updates posted on their instagram  

charles_leclercfan, f1fan, wagupdates & others liked 

old photos of charles leclerc with an unknown female leaked. reports say this was last year during the summer break, which brings up the questions of who is she? were they dating here? if yes, are they still dating? everyone wants to know. 

*comments disabled* 

charlesleclerc_updates posted on their instagram  

f1fan, f1updates, wagupdates & others liked 

more leaked photos of charles with this mystery woman. who is she? i know im not the only one dying to know 

view all comments

user11: OH MY 

f1fan: CHARLES MY DUDE WHAT IS THIS 

f1updates: does anyone have any idea on who she is 

╰ user15: no clue 

user3: she’s pretty from what ive seen 

user22: i need to know everything 

ferrarifan: what i would give to have been a fly on the wall when charles found out these got leaked 

Charles was resting in his drivers room. He was trying to mediate which meant he had his phone silenced. This was something you started doing with him when he would get in his head about racing and it helped him regain his focus especially during the moments when he was to hard on himself.

He had been in here for probably 30 minutes before there was a rapid knock on the door “Charles, its Carlos can I come in?” his teammate asked from the other side 

“Yeah” Charles answered. Carlos opened the door and stepped into the room “Have you been on instagram?” Carlos asked holding his phone in his hand 

“No why?” Charles was confused, what was so important on there that had Carlos wondering of his activity on the app “You should see this” Carlos told him while passing him his opened phone. 

When Charles looked down and saw what he saw, he felt his heart stop. There you and him were on his boat, last summer. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He scrolled through his tagged and it was flooded with the same pictures posted by various accounts 

“This isn’t good” he mumbled to himself as he passed Carlos his phone back so he could pick up his own phone. He went to go text you immediately when he remembered you had told him, you and your best friend were going camping for a few days which meant you wouldn’t have reception until you got back home. 

He opted to still text you something rather than nothing, that way you would see his message once you turned your phone back on and would give him a call. 

“Can I ask who she is?” Carlos asked after a few moments of silence “Shes my girlfriend. We’ve been together now for almost 3 years” Charles answered his friends question, figuring the secret was out now and there was no point in lying. 

“Oh wow, you’ve kept this going for that long and its just now coming to light. Thats impressive” Carlos told him 

“Yeah we decided early on to keep it between us” Charles sighed “We were planning on going public eventually but I guess the public beat us to it” 

Carlos just gave his teammate a sympathetic nod, there wasn’t anything he could say in the moment but he could still be there for his friend. 

A few days after this, when you were on the drive back to your place, you turned your phone back on, having a few texts from Charles. One that stood out, read ‘Babe give me a call when you can. I have to talk to you about something’ the text from Charles read. 

You weren’t sure what this could be about so you didn’t wait to dial his number once you were in the comfort of your apartment. After a few rings, Charles answered, asking you how camping was and catching up before moving on to talk about what happened while you were offline. 

That night you and Charles had a long conversation on what you both wanted to do in this situation and after some back and forth, finally came to a decision regarding your relationship that you both hoped you wouldn’t regret down the line. 

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yourusername posted on their story  

caption: he’s back ♥️

╰ yourbestfriend: happy anniversary to you two:)

charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: when she makes you breakfast 😍

╰ maxverstappen1: WAIT ‘SHE’ ?? 

╰ carlossainz55: AW

╰ landonorris: soft launch? 

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yourusername posted on their instagram   

yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, landonorris, pierregasly & others liked 

i guess after 3 years, my mystery man isn’t a mystery anymore. 

happy 3 years mon amour 😘 

tagged: @charles_leclerc

comments have been limited 

charles_leclerc: i love our love 

charles_leclerc: 3 years into it, a lifetime to go 

╰ liked by yourusername 

yourbestfriend: so happy for you both 🥹

╰ liked by yourusername

pierregasly: oh wait this is actually cute 

╰ landonorris: agreed !!!!

charles_leclerc posted on their instagram    

yourusername, yourbestfriend, f1, landonorris, maxverstappen1 & others liked 

hard launching because i’ve wanted to post my girl since i met her 

joyeux anniversaire, ma chérie 💌 

tagged: @yourusername 

comments have been limited

yourusername: i love you 

yourusername: falling asleep on you > falling asleep on the bed 

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

f1: we’re happy for you:)

maxverstappen1: 3 YEARS? WOW 

maxverstappen1: happy for you dude 

carlossainz55: bring her to the races so we can all meet her !! 

╰ liked by yourusername & charles_leclerc 

-

i hope you enjoyed this one. im trying to get more into including actual pieces of writing so hopefully for this one, everything made sense. as always feel free to leave any comments or you can make your own request, up to you! ♥️

[charliemwrites]

Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

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Masterlist

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.08 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

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—

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—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

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[fyodior]

awesome! do not mind me uploading my thoughts I your askbox <3

just thinking about coming home after work and not seeing dazai lounging on his usual spot on the sofa. telling yourself he must've gone to lupin, he must've gone to the cafe. only to walk into your room with the intention of getting changed and seeing him mewling while humping your pillow so desperately :(

usually hed be embarrassed and play it off. but something about the teary eyes under his heavy lashes and the way his ears pin back and his tail stands high on alert just tells you he's feeling too sensitive to even run from anything . and he's getting so frustrated , cause no matter how much he humps the stupid pillow, it's just not getting him off good enough, he needs you.

when you wrap a hand around his cock for the first time it's almost embarassing that he cums after only 2 strokes. and he's still so impossibly hard, so achey. he can't help himself when he tries to start thrusting into your hand :(

ughh and when you finally let him actually fuck you that man is not pulling out for hours. he's so completely spent out and he's bred you so full of his kits , it's all just blanks now :( he's kneading his paws into your abdomen and not stopping until he passes out!!

I know u like piss so ill totally drop in that he can be so overstimulated and focused on breeding you he simply can't help it when he looses control over his bladder too . but its not like either of you mind. and he's too focused on you wrapped around him to care.

yes yes yes i love this so much zai!!!!!!

i just love the idea of puppy dazai desperately rutting his little puppy cock against a pillow thats squished between his thighs, mewling and yowling as he tries so hard to chase a high that just won't come. a high that only you can give him. the pillow is friction, sure, but it's not anywhere close to your fist, or your mouth, or your tight wet hole. though thinking about said hole does get him a little closer to coming.

when you walk in on him, you're shocked but not surprised. dazai tends to get a little humpy in his heats, instinctually chasing friction whenever and wherever he can. pillows, couch arms, blankets, even the corner of a table once. so you just sigh and shake your head when you see the distressed puppy violating the poor pillow before settling onto the bed and pulling him in between your legs, with his back to your chest. you kiss up his neck sweetly, whispering sweet, calming things into his ear, telling him he's okay and that you've got him, while you give his cock a good few squeezes. like you said, 2 strokes later, and hot cum is spitting from the tip. he's embarrassed, immediately turning around and nuzzling into you, but you just laugh and tell him its okay, and that he's such a good puppy for responding so well to your touch <3

in dazai's heat, when you finally let the poor puppy fuck you, you better hope his heat fell over a weekend or else you're gonna have to take a couple days off from work/school because he's not letting you go any time soon. it's so animalistic and primal the way he mounts you, pressing you into the mattress as he shoves his horribly aching, leaky cock into your hole, damn near howling as he does. dazai always prided himself on his humanity, but he's more dog than not when you're under him like this. his tail is swishing, his ears are pinned back, and he's growling as he thrusts into you at a nonhuman speed and strength. the only human words coming out of his mouth are incoherent ones that revolve around breeding you full of his puppies. and i love the idea like you said of him kneading into your abdomen or your chest as a comfort/grounding thing, that's so puppy like and so cute !!

and yes yes yes yes...... he absolutely loses all rational thought and autonomy over his body to where he's not even processing anything other than how good his cock feels, ignoring how full is bladder is until what's shooting out of his cock and filling your hole isn't cum but piss. he couldn't care less in this state, and you've come to terms with it happening. it just comes with the territory of having a puppy hybrid in your life <3 <3 (thank you for indulging me sweetheart)

[nuumbie]

KARMA’S A DOG.

Prompt: You’re a prized worker at the IPC Marketing Department. You spend your days waiting for that flash of black.

Trigger Warning: Reader is mentally ill and a little shit head. Curse Words. General Violent Terms and Reader Gets Ragdolled. Boothill is NOT into you!!! He actually hates you! Guilt! Etc, etc… it’s just all hurt no comfort.

Author’s Note: Written to celebrate his trailer. Save a horse. Ride a cowboy. Contains spoilers regarding his character story.

He’s resting peacefully. This should still count as sleep. You pose the question in your head if you replace the pieces of something, how far until the thing is something else entirely. But he’s still alive. You find relish in that. There’s something in him that still lives.

He still has his head. Maybe, that’s all he has left of his old self. You wonder how the surgery must have gone. Of course you’ve met people who’ve changed themselves so drastically with robotics that you couldn’t recognize them after the surgeries. It’s a rebirth in ways. When you change so dramatically that you’re a different person by the end. His body’s 90% metal. 10% flesh. So, wouldn’t it be the cybernetics that win?

Despite everything. You don’t think so. Perhaps, that’s all that he needs. I think therefore I am. There’s no doubt he’s alive. Not to you, anyway. He’s brimming with human life. He’s more alive than you. Not in the same way where the question poses in your mind with other beings or creatures that change themselves so drastically. Boothill is obstinately simple.

You like that. He’s simple. The Hunt and those that follow it is straight forward. A single path. A single road. You like that you don’t have to read his intentions. You know what he wants and why.

Boothill. Galaxy Ranger. IPC Hunter. The Man who just tried to sneak into your office and put a bullet through your head like he has with many of your employees, those who’ve worked directly under you no less. You know. Most criminals don’t get this far. Not far at all past Pier Point. Oswaldo will have a riot.

If he knew he would. You’re not going to tell him.

Boothill is special.

The cowboy opens his eyes. Your personal grim reaper.

“I see you’re awake.” You smile in a loving way. If you can even manage that. People who can control their expressions make it seem so easy. Laying across his chest. You’ve opened up his core to play with his inner circuits. He must not like that though considering there’s a burning hatred in his eyes which threatens to scorch you. You glance up towards his face and sigh and ignoring the lingering, simmering, resentment. His body is heating up beneath your touch. So, maybe it resonates with his feelings, you wonder if his body steams. “We need to stop meeting like this. You’re going to make me think you’re obsessed with me.”

It’s the opposite way around. You know that. But the very idea that it isn’t causes him to lunge at you. The cowboy turns into nothing more than a blur, all the wires connected to the body collecting samples that took at least a good thirty minutes pulled from him. Some ripped from the walls, and in instants he’s on you.

“You dang—“ his hands make its way to your shoulders, you’re flipped without hesitation. his hands grasping you down, he lays on top of you. breath heavy. robots don’t breathe, though, so you try to think of another word as he catches himself and tries to make it so he’s the one on top. “— you again!?”

“I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you… you oughta’… you ANGEL!” He screeches. Music to your ears as he shakes you more like you’re more ragdoll than person. “AEONS, it’s so freaking annoying! You absolute delight! How did I lose to…”

“Thank you so much for the compliment.” You smile back. Probably the only one getting anything out of this arrangement. Pinned against the floor hand pressed tightly against your waist so you can’t struggle. He should’ve pressed it against your mouth. But it isn’t like you’re going to scream. You’re certain. Lots of women would love to be in this position you’re currently in. But it’s you. And this is far from some sweet, pure, little romantic story. You’re not delusional. You act like you are purely because it annoys him. It’s good for him to build up his rage, his discontentment because it keeps him on his toes. “I was just looking over your upgrades since the last time you invaded Pier Point. As for asking how I beat you~…”

“The electronic upgrade was not the best idea.” You smile. “If we can control your language… your body isn’t hard especially for a renowned genius like me. Have to talk to your doctor about that. You’re lucky I’m the one that found you. Where’s my thanks? If it was anyone else. They’d have torn you asunder.”

“Aeons of COURSE you Market-Phonies have something to annoy the DANGNATION out of me.” he grinds his teeth, looking around for his pistol. making a point about how dead he wants you. you can feel his grip loosen and tighten. he’s likely processing which one would get you to be quieter. “Where’d you put it? My gun. I’ve decided. I’m killing you now. Puttin’ ya out of your misery, sweet-face! You think this is rough? Think of a 9mm lead in your skull will be?”

“Cabinet.” You put on your best smile. “Is it for me?”

“Of course for you. Love you.” You didn’t take away his ability to say hate. So, he must have said something something kike an insult. You just know it’s bad because he says it in a way that’s so vitriolic it almost hurts. “You knew this was coming. I’m not going to miss my shot again. You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

You did know it was coming. You wished he would get the one person above you first so you could witness your boss with his brains blown out, the outcries that an Emanator of Qlipoth killed. You could have gotten wine with Diamond and laughed about it and died happy knowing the world was washed clean forever of Oswaldo Schneider.

But you can’t be so lucky. You’ll have to wish him luck. If he actually manages to kill you that is. With how things are going? You’re not making it hard.

He grabs you by the neck so you can’t struggle away to call help. The iron hands encased over your neck like a shackle isn’t a bad feeling. You almost quote as such so he might grab you a little tighter. Sadly, it seems his finger is directly over your windpipe— making talking an impossibility. He really doesn’t want you to run. Not like you would. Dragging you as he goes towards the cabinet. He presses you against the wall one-handed.

Using his other hand to peruse through your belongings. Even if you struggled. You doubt you could make a dent against the material. You’ve always been more of a pen instead of a sword guy.

It seems he’s smarter than you thought. Since, he checks the bullets in the gun. Rather show-offishly, too. He clicks the trigger against your head and nothing comes out. He counts them out, too. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

You already knew that none of the shots would ring. But here’s a certain heart-pounding feeling even if you know it’s empty. He clutches the gun even tighter till it threatens to break between his metal appendages.

Obviously, you’ve cleaned them out. He glares at you. Of course you’re the one at fault. Of course you were smart enough to know the first thing he’d do when he woke up was try to kill you. Of course you wanted to see the look on his face when he got his gun back when he realized it was empty. “Don’t you have spares? You eat them, don’t you? Just shit them out.” You smile. It’s hard to talk with his hand on your throat.

The floor hits you. Hard.

Or maybe you hit the floor.

Either way. It hurts. Your head spins. But, you collect yourself. Maybe. Dizzy people often can’t tell they’re dizzy. “You going to kill me right? You don’t need a gun to do that. To make it painful. To get your little revenge.” You’re sputtering. Aeons. It be embarrassing if you didn’t say that. If you’re slurring. Though who are you to ask for a clean death? Innocent have died in uglier ways.

“I don’t get you.” Boothil’s boot presses against your chest and juts against your lungs— “make up your mind you wanna die or not? You’re seriously flip-flopping.”

You smile back at him from the floor. “I’d rather my employees not go down with me when you’ve got to escape. Jeremy just got a promotion. You won’t die here… will you space cowboy? So, you’ll have to make your way out.”

“Might as well limit the casualties.”

“You took everything from me.” Robots don’t stumble over their words. Robots are more precise. Everything about him is human. The way he’s so sentimental, emotional at your lap, while you can do nothing but watch. “What right do you have? You have way more blood on your hands than I do.”

“You’re not wrong.” you repeat, quietly. “It’s karma. It’s justice. I’m so happy you exist. So people like me get that just-dessert.”

“I could never ever dream of it. I could never do it with my own hands.” You smile remembering where you work. Your boss. The things you never had the confidence or strength to do yourself. “So I’m glad that you did. Thank you.”

He looks down at you.

He steps back.

You already know.

Too self-aware for your own good.

Maybe you should have shut up. You already know you’ve messed it all up. The way he looks at you is a look of disgust.

“Everyone here’s so fluffed up.” he grimaces. rubbing his shoe against the floor like he’s snuffing a cigarette out. so lowly. “Anyone the IPC touches get’s gosh-dang ruined.”

You know why he did. You ruined his life. You did. So, it was only fair he did the same in return—

Reaching out— before you realize it. “Hey, wait.”

“You’re not dragging me down with you! I want you to pay I’m not letting you off easy. When we meet again. I’ll have changed this place forever. And you’ll be forced to live with yourself…!”

He doesn’t even look back at you. You wish he did.

He lets you go and he runs out the door. You hear the sounds of loud screams. Shooting guns. It turns into a blur after a few seconds. They’re going to fail to apprehend him. You hope.

On the messy floor. Your lab a wreak. You’re sure. They’ll come here. They’ll question you.

And your life will continue as always.

You’ll lie. Jade can tell. But she won’t tell on you. You hope Oswaldo doesn’t notice. He’s the tricker.

“Fuck you, too.”

You put your hands over your eyes and you just ignore everything until someone comes and gets you. You’d use the word save. But, that’s what he was meant to do.

You’ll meet him again. You can wait. It’s all you ever do.

[crustaceousfaggot]

So I've been thinking a lot about the setting of Disco Elysium. Specifically it being set in late winter/early spring. It's not something I've really seen anyone else bring up.

I mean, the symbolism seems pretty obvious right? Spring is the time of new beginnings, winter is ending and we're entering a time of potential and rebirth. Definitely nothing new. But I think it goes beyond that.

I live in one of the coldest major cities in the world. Not *the* coldest, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a city with over 1,000,000 inhabitants that gets colder than it gets here. Winters are long and brutal and difficult, and when the soil itself is frozen and covered in a foot of packed snow it's really hard to believe that the world could look any other way.

And don't get me wrong, winter is beautiful. The world is quiet and picturesque. There's none of the usual dirt and debris in the streets because it's all buried under the snow. The way that fresh snow sparkles under street lights at night is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous things I've ever seen.

It's early April right now, and the snow is melting. It's not all gone, but it's getting there. When the air starts to warm up there's this feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air. Spring is here, and any second now the world will be bursting with new life and beautiful greenery.

But it's not. Not yet.

For about a month and a half after the snow starts to melt, the world is grey. No glittering snow, no budding flowers, no swirling red leaves, just puddles of brown water and lawns of brown grass. It's like winter had ended, but the world has yet to realize that it's supposed to be spring. Until it remembers, we're all trapped in a world where there is no season at all.

Sometimes it snows, but the snow never sticks around. Sometimes it rains, but the rain never brings flowers in its wake.

That last month of winter, that first month of spring, whatever you want to call it, is my least favourite time of year. I heard it described once as "the long-preserved corpse of autumn, finally allowed to rot", and that phrase stuck with me. There are eight month old leaves on the ground, skeletal and bleached grey by a winter trapped under the ice. Without the snow to cover it, you can't ignore just how much we've let our city go to shit. The trees are bare and skeletal, and even the evergreens look washed out and grey when they're not contrasted against the snow. Most of the birds aren't back yet, so the only sound outside my window is the ever-present hum of traffic.

It's impossible to ignore the movement and the sounds of humanity, but at the same time the world has never felt so stagnant.

I think there are all sorts of comparisons you could draw here, some of which hold up better than others. The one that first comes to mind for me is sobriety- the line "Full recovery will take years, though. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. Don’t expect any further rewards or handclaps." from the "Waste Land Of Reality"o thought is one which really stuck with me on my first playthrough, and one which feels especially appropriate here. But that's just one angle.

How much of this was intentional? I don't know. Probably not most of it. Part of me just wanted to go on a little tangent about the seasonal purgatory I'm trapped in once again. But I genuinely don't think there could be a better time of year to set a game like Disco Elysium. That bleak dusty shoulder season, where all the ugliest and most honest parts of nature and civilization are on display. The time of year where I've gone through the ringer and come out the other side, but everything still looks and feels like shit. It's just a different kind of shit.

Spring isn't here. Not yet. And when it does come, it won't fix anything. There will still be garbage on the ground and pollution in the air, there will still be class inequality and senseless violence and I will still be mentally ill.

But still.

For the first time in months, I can feel the wind against my skin without it hurting.

Whatever that's worth.

[talkdutchtome]

You Should Have Said No Chapter Two - It's Nice to Have a Friend

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . it's nice to have a friend- taylor swift)

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

series masterlist . . . available here )

A banging came from the front door, jolting you awake and making you fall off the sofa in the process. When Pierre left you decided the best thing to do was sleep, not wanting to be awake and deal with the crushing pain, but after 30 minutes of writhing around in bed, the scent of Pierre lingering on the sheets, you realised that sleeping in the bed you shared with your fiancé was going to be impossible, so you resorted to the sofa.  

The banging started again, worried it was Pierre coming back, you ignored it. “Y/N let me in, Y/N” You heard a voice call, a voice that didn’t belong to Pierre. It was Max’s voice. You stood up and began walking to the door, you stopped at a mirror in the hallway looking at your reflection. Your hair was messy, your face red and blotchy, your eyes swollen from crying, black mascara tears stained on your cheeks. You thought about tiding yourself up a bit, not wanting to look too pathetic when you open the door; but you quickly realised that it was a lost cause and continued walking to the door. 

“Y/N, hi” Max spoke as the door swung open, looking at you with soft eyes. He wanted to reach up to you and pull you into a bear hug, lord knows it looked like you needed it. But he decided not to, worried that it would make you uncomfortable. 

“Um hi Max, what are you doing here?” You asked, genuinely confused why he was stood at your door, he told you because you deserved to know but he was Pierre’s friend, his former teammate. 

“I wanted to-“ he started and then paused “Can I come in?”  

You opened the door wider and step to the side allowing him to enter, silently answering his question. 

“How did you know where w- where I live?” You asked puzzled, Max and Pierre hadn’t been as close as they once were over the past few years so he hasn’t been to your apartment before.  

“I phoned Charles, I was worried about you when you hung up the phone and I thought, well I thought if I were in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone” he spoke, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.  

“When you spoke to Charles did you tell him?” You asked. 

“No, I didn’t, but he already knew, I guess, he asked me to give you a hug from him.” You smiled at the Dutchman’s words, Charles is Pierre’s best friend so even though that’s who Pierre would have gone to straight away, looking for support, Charles still had you in his thoughts, truly caring for you. The silence sat in the room and made its presence ever clear, this being only one of a few if any conversations just between the two of you, aside of course from the conversation you had with him earlier in the day, the one that caused your world to come crashing down. Feeling nervous, you began to play with the ring sat on your left hand, you didn’t even clock the significance until you saw Max looking down at the ring. The ring Pierre gave you months ago when he asked you to marry him, when he told you that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You thought about taking the ring off, you know you should. You definitely aren’t engaged anymore, but for some reason you can’t, not wanting to let go of that part of your life yet.  

You looked up to find Max watching you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Have you eaten today?” He asks you and that takes you by surprise, you weren’t sure what he was going to say to you after watching you so intently but that certainly wasn’t it.  

“No, I uh no I haven’t” he stood up and began walking to the kitchen, “May I?” He asks gesturing towards the oven. Was he asking if he could cook for you? You nodded slowly, still unsure what he was doing here. He began after seeing your confirmation, starting with cleaning up the mess from the breakfast you had started to make this morning. For a second you want to ask him to stop, not to clean up and get rid of the last thing you did before your life changed forever. You don’t though, realising you can’t keep burnt bacon as a souvenir from a better time. Snapping out from your thoughts you see Max begin making a pasta dish, for a second you catch yourself smiling, this man had absolutely no loyalties to you, he didn’t have betray Pierre and tell you what happened, but he did. He didn’t have to come and check up on you, but he did. He certainly didn’t have to look after you and make sure you eat, but that’s what he was doing.  

“You go and sit down; I’ll bring this through when I’m done”. 

You smiled again before following his instructions. 

He walked into the room 15 minutes later, carrying a delicious smelling plate of food in. “Here” he passes it to you, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he did so. “Thank you” you said smiling at him before beginning to eat. He sat with you in silence again, but this time the awkwardness wasn’t there, instead it was comfortable. Max knew that you probably weren’t in the mood for talking, but he also knew you probably didn’t want to be alone either, so he was more than happy to sit with you in silent company.  

You sat next to each other on the sofa for a while longer, almost exclusively in silence, until Max noticed you started to yawn. “I should leave then, I hope you’re okay, please phone me if you need me, I’ll make sure to keep my phone on loud.” He said to you and again you were taken aback by the care shown by a man who owed nothing to you. You thanked him and assured him you would let him know if you needed him. He nodded and began walking to the door. You hesitated before speaking “Max wait.” He turned back around and was about to ask what was wrong but before he could get the words out of his mouth you were in his arms hugging him, he hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around you tight, pulling you closer into him.  

Pulling back, you looked up at him before you spoke “For Charles.” He smiled, looking in your sad eyes staring up at him. “Yeah, for Charles” 

When he left, the same silence that had felt comfortable in just 5 minutes ago became heavy. Without Max here to distract you from the devastation, the crushing feeling became more apparent. You thought about looking at your phone, maybe even texting Max a quick thank you, but you quickly realised that on your phone you would find dozens of messages from Pierre. Quickly changing your mind, you went straight to the sofa to sleep, not even bothering to attempt to use the bed. 

The ringing of your alarm woke you up at 10am the next morning, an unwelcome wake up call considering the disturbed sleep you had from sleeping on the sofa. The first thing you did was walk into your bedroom and strip the bed, putting the old bedding in the washing and putting a brand-new set of sheets on. Happy with yourself for coming up with a solution for that problem, you got to work on completing other tasks that needed to be done; you showered, and you tidied up the house. Then finally after feeling as refreshed as you possibly could, you moved on to the one task you truly did not want to do. Letting out a shaky breath you reached for your phone, it had sat unmoved from the kitchen table, where it was when one 5-minute conversation with Max Verstappen changed her whole life. 

 Opening it up, messages from four people filled her screen: Pierre, Max, Charles and Rebecca from work. The last name made you curse, it reminded you of the one thing you did not want to be reminded of, the flight to Spain you were scheduled to take with your fiancé in time for the Spanish GP. When Pierre asked you to quit your job as a photographer to follow him around the world all those years ago, you said no, not wanting your entire life to be boiled down to who you were in a relationship with. But when he asked and asked, when he told you how crazy he was going being away from you for weeks on end, you said yes. He got you a job with Formula 1 and you loved it. You loved the work you did, and you loved getting to travel the world with the love of your life, or at least you used to.  

Frowning, you moved on to the other text messages, starting with Charles. 

Charles Leclerc 

Y/N Pierre has just turned up here in a state, he won’t talk. What’s happened? 

Okay so he told me what happened, I cannot believe he did that. Please message me as soon as you get this, I need to know that you’re okay. 

Y/N, just so you know, Max called asking for your address, I’m not sure why but expect him at your door soon  

You smiled to yourself at the love and concern Charles had for you. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t reach out, if he put his entire focus on his best friend. You quickly typed a reply.  

Y/N Y/LN 

Hey Charles, sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I am okay, just. I really don’t want to talk about it right now though. 

Turning to the next set of messages, you noticed they were from Pierre. 

Mon amour 

Cheri, please let me come home, let’s talk about this. 

Please Y/N I’m so sorry. 

I love you Cheri, you have to know that. 

What is happening with our plans today, when can I come round to get my stuff, are you still coming? I need to know the flights in a few hours. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, mostly because you didn’t know the answer to his question. Moving on you saw the next messages were from Max. 

Max Verstappen 

Hey Y/N, I’m sorry for having to tell you that, but you needed to know. I hope you’re okay.  

Good morning Y/N, I hope you’re doing okay today. Just a reminder that I’m always here. 

You smiled at the messages, once again the care this man showed for you..  

Y/N Y/LN 

Hi Max, thank you for yesterday. I’ve been better but yeah, I’m okay thank you. 

Max Verstappen 

I’m glad to hear it. Is there anything I can do for you today?  

Y/N Y/LN 

No I don’t think so thank you. Today will be spent trying to find a new way to get to Spain ready for the shoot tomorrow haha. 

Max Verstappen 

I have space on my jet?  

Y/N Y/LN 

Thank you but you really don’t need to do that. I’ll find a way; worst case I guess I’ll just catch the flight with Pierre. 

Max Verstappen 

No don’t be silly, you’re coming. I have a space and you need a way to get there.  

I’ll be there in 45 minutes, be ready.  

Your breath hitched at those last messages, you thought about standing your ground and telling him no, but he was right. You need to get there and the last thing you want is to sit on a plane with Pierre. Quickly firing off a message to Pierre to let him know you’ll be making your own way there and that he can come over in an hour to collect his stuff as that’s when you’ll be gone. You began to gather your stuff and prepare to leave.  

 The time passed quickly and eventually you received another text message from Max letting you know he had arrived. You felt nerves swirl around your stomach as you walked downstairs and approached the car. Opening the door, you saw that Max was sat in the driver's seat, the passenger seat was empty and in the back of the car sat Daniel Ricciardo and Lando Norris.  

“Hey Y/N, I saved you a seat. Have you got everything you need?” He asked smiling warmly at you tapping the seat next to him. You could feel pity in the eyes of Daniel and Lando, you knew Lando knew as he was there when it happened, but somebody had clearly told Daniel too.  

“Yeah, I do, thank you very much for this, I really appreciate it.” you replied climbing into the very fancy sports car. 

“Oh, please you’re doing me a favour, I didn’t particularly want to spend an hour in a confined space with those two back there.” he joked, clearly sensing your nervousness and wanting to help you feel at ease.  

“Ignore him Y/N, he loves us really” you heard an Australian voice joke come from behind us. You never had much to do with Daniel; but you knew his reputation for being the most likeable guy on the grid and after just a car ride with him you had to agree.   

Boarding Max’s jet felt like something out of movie, you had never experienced anything like this before, usually just flying business class with Pierre. Lando and Daniel sat next to each other, sharing a knowing glance with each other when they left you to sit next to Max, but you didn’t notice, too transfixed with looking at your surroundings. You sat next to Max, opposite the two other men on the plane and the conversation started flowing. It surprised you, how easily the conversation came between you and the three men, with you not spending much time with them at all before this. Eventually Lando and Daniel were asleep, you felt yourself not too far behind. Just as you were drifting asleep, you heard Max’s nervous voice begin speaking. 

“Y/N, I hope you don’t think I'm being too forward here by the way; I just have been in your situation, and I know most of your friends around here are Pierre’s friends too.. And I guess I just didn’t want you to be alone.” 

His words made your heart flutter, a feeling that took you by surprise, but you didn’t think much of it. 

“No Max, I don’t. Honestly, It’s Nice to Have A Friend.” You replied before closing your eyes and starting to sleep. Max didn’t say anything else after that, he just leant over and very gently kissed the top of your head.  

Taglist-

@hiraethrhapsody @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @aundercover @dearlovelys 

[imaginesmai]

could i request azriel with t (time) from your angst alphabet?

T for Time: you're ill and you don't have much time together, from my Angst Alphabet

Since I don't think fae can get ill, I changed this a little bit. This is sad and heartbreaking and please forgive me. Send in your requests if you have them!

Warning: pregnancy gone wrong, death during labor, descriptions of pregnancy injuries.

Time you take for granted - Azriel

2nd month

The night had brought an intense rain over Velaris, that had soaked the streets and threatened its villagers into their houses. Even cats and dogs had found shelter between the containers and hallways. Fires burned in almost every home, families laughing around it and sharing stories about their days.

Azriel could only guess their days had been better than his, than yours. There was no fire in your house that night, and he wouldn’t be lighting one. Not when darkness helped him disguise the terror stuck in his face, the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“We will have to talk about this, my love. Eventually” you broke the silence from your sitting place in bed, across from his couch. “You can’t close off”

He had been doing that since you two received the news hours away, when the sun still warmed the streets. When he thought his life was at his peak, with a loving mate who walked wrapped around his left arm.

He could do that for a little bit longer. Pretend Madja had just sent you off with some medical prescriptions for the nausea and two weeks leave for your job. Pretend Rhysand would grimace but allow him to disappear those two weeks with you.

“Please, Az. I’m scared too. I don’t want to do this alone” your voice sounded too at the brim of panic. “I need you”

Those words made him look up from the stain of the carpet. Azriel had been sitting in the couch, quiet and unmoving, for a long hour. Enough time to process the information, the fears and doubts. He guessed that was enough time for him, given the news were mainly about and for you.

It wasn’t about him.

Azriel rose up and took the few steps that separated you. The bed dipped under his weight, and you shifted until one of your legs was on his lap. Until you could wrap both your arms around his own and make sure he wouldn’t leave. He tried to give you a comforting smile, that came out crooked.

“I know we weren’t planning this. But it could be good. We can’t be sure it’ll be a problem, Madja can be wrong. She even said there’s a long way to go” you assured him.

“What about not starting it?” Azriel proposed for the first time, his fears getting the best out of him. “It can be a problem. We know how hard it was for Feyre and for Nyx, maybe we should… contemplate other options”

“No, Az. We’re going to have a baby. And it’s going to be alright”

Azriel would remember your determination for days, the confidence in your words watering down his worries and Madja’s warnings about a pregnancy in a non-winged female. He found in them the excitement to share the news with his family, to go through that first month by your side with an easy smile.

He even allowed himself to believe that his life was about to get better. Azriel let your words and confidence become his, and ignored the bad feeling in his gut.

3rd month

 “What do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?”

Azriel didn’t bother looking at you, not when his whole body was touching some part of yours. You were laying in his arms looking up the sky, both your hands wrapped around your middle. Where, shortly, you would start showing signs of your pregnancy.

It was a sunny day, and the memory of the announcement and Madja’s words were far away. You had decided to have a picnic in the mountains. It was cold, and windy, yet looking up at the morning sky with his mate safe between his arms was beyond weather problems.

He thought about your question for a second, trying to decide what he wanted more. Cassian was a girls’ dad, and he wouldn’t stop trying for one until Nesta and him had at least three. Rhysand, though, liked to dress baby Nyx in the finest clothes and buy him the most elegant little-bowties.

“I don’t care. I just hope they look like you” he smiled against your nose that brushed his neck. “That they have ten little toes. Ten tiny fingers. Pointy ears. A button nose”

“Glad you want a baby and not a dog”

He chuckled and you laughed with him, and he was happy. Azriel hummed softly, with the certainty that he didn’t care about the gender. Either boy or girl would have him wrapped around their pinky – he or she already had, given the amount of stupid baby stuff he had bought in just one month.

Your face appeared and broke his thoughts apart. Pregnancy seemed to make you glow, not only your scent sweetened but your face brightened. Your cheeks were rosy from the cold, and while your head was covered with a thick hat, some locks fell over his face and ticked his nose.

He scrunched it and tried to brush them away.

Leaning down, you captured his lips on a kiss and his hands tightened on your waist. He let himself relax under your, years of training and feeling unsafe gone when you were in his arms. The kiss was slow, your lips moving against his lazily. Both your noses nuzzled each other, and you squirmed with a soft chuckle when he pressed his fingers against your ribs.

“I love you” you whispered against his mouth, not opening your eyes.

“I love you more. Both of you”

Azriel let his hands explore every inch of your body in that forgotten mountain, let his heart roar in happiness when you broke away and stared into his eyes with so much love his bones threatened to melt.

He pushed the lasts of his worries away before kissing you.

4th month

It wasn’t unusual for you to find your place on Azriel’s lap. He never complained about it, but lately he found a particular joy in it. With your bump showing, he could have both his worlds close to his soul.

You were just in that position when the first worrying question came through. After a game night where you had lost three times, you had declined the next round. Azriel was playfully biting your earlobe, loving how you squirmed on his lap. He couldn’t help the growing hardness in his pants, and like a growing teenager, found himself pushing you to move more.

He was minutes away from dragging you both to your rooms when he caught on the conversation between you and Feyre.

“It must be wonderful, knowing you’re so close to the third trimester” Feyre was saying, ignoring her own mate’s hand trying to sneak under her dress. “How is the nausea going? Mine never left”

“I’m doing fine now, at least I can have breakfast and keep it inside” you shifted in his lap when Azriel ran his tongue through your pulse point. “The worst part are the clothes. I can’t keep anything for more than a few weeks”

“I had a whole new wardrobe by the time I had that belly” she pointed with her chin to your bulge. “The sixth month is hard”

“I’m… it’s been four. Not six”

You smiled at her with innocence, but the whole room fell quiet and your smile dropped. Feyre’s own face paled a little as she looked at your belly. Looking down, you wondered what they saw that made them fell silent. You weren’t a big person, compared to fae’s and coming from the continent, where your kind were shorter than other people.

And sure, the belly looked big on you. But you were pregnant, and you thought that was normal.

Azriel tensed under you and, for the first time in two months, realized that your pregnancy was looking a little too different from Feyre’s. He always kept track on details, on things people didn’t usually notice. And when Feyre mentioned, he realized that you were far bigger.

His arousal and joy died down when he felt a rush of fear down the bond. It was normal, right? Different people, different pregnancies. Azriel was bigger than Rhysand, taller and broader, and his wings were certainly wider too.

Feyre ended up dismissing the mistake with a hesitant smile, and Morgan chipped in to ask for more wine. The conversation returned shortly after, but that time, there were no playful bites or kisses. You leaned back farther into his embrace and he let his shadows caress your hair, your belly, your fingers. Anything to erase the first spec of worry in that beautiful journey.

5th month

The news were hard to digest, and that time, Azriel didn’t let your cheerful words dig in. He smiled at your excitement, he held you as you jumped in joy and gleamed with the new information. Azriel didn’t say anything until you were asleep in bed, laying on your back with your belly on display.

Only when he was sure you wouldn’t wake up, he winnowed away to Rhysand’s office, when he and Cassian were already waiting for him. They both wore worried faces, and perked up at his presence. After all, it had been him who had asked them to meet him.

Azriel needed to share his worries, to acknowledge the risk, and he couldn’t do it with you, not when the pregnancy pains were already taking a toll on your days.

“Madja admitted she’s indeed too big for only five months. That she looks ready to give birth, not to be halfway a pregnancy” Azriel said, slumping down on the comfy chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face. He was exhausted. “We’re… having twins. A boy and a girl”

“That’s good news, Az. A son and a daughter”

Cassian’s words did nothing to subdue his worries. He tugged at the end of his hair, not knowing what else to say. Madja’s face had said it all – the tightness of her shoulders, the paleness in her face, the shakiness in her hands. Fae pregnancies were already rare, but twins? Azriel didn’t know any twins, let alone whose mother wasn’t winger and whose father was.

Madja had asked you to see her each week. She had sent you into mandatory rest for the rest of your pregnancy, and Azriel wouldn’t be leaving your side for that time. It wasn’t his job that worried him. Not even his training. If staying with you meant everything would be okay, he wouldn’t sleep nor blink.

“What about… other options?” Rhysand proposed, earning a wary look from Cassian.

“She doesn’t want to hear about them. Shuts down when she sees me coming. Since Feyre’s comment on her size, I’ve been testing the waters” he felts his eyes water at your negative. “Y/N wants to continue the pregnancy and I don’t know what to do anymore”

“It doesn’t have to go wrong, brother” Cassian knelt on his right and squeezed his forearm. Rhysand’s hand fell on his shoulders. “You can get through this, she’s a strong female. Don’t think the worst yet”

“I’m afraid”

Those words were the last thing Azriel said before breaking down in front of his brothers. He would be strong for you, would offer you kind words and support when you needed him because he had to. But he let himself drown in anguish at the bad feeling of his gut that was coming alive little by little.

That night, Azriel let his brother hug him and soaked into his fake comforts. There was nothing any of them could do about it, yet they tried to believe against it. When he went back home, he dried his tears and laid down in time to watch you wake up, a sleepy grin on his face.

Azriel repeated that routine many times in the months to come.

6th month

Entering the third trimester brought along the first problems.

Azriel didn’t let you get out of bed without him, only allowing what Madja called ‘stretching your legs for circulations’. You complained and complained until Azriel threatened to shut you up with a gag, and that led to other activities.

Through all of it, Azriel held himself back and refused to bury himself where he needed. Instead, he let his hands and mouth do all the work gladly. You slept soundly after that, and as Azriel followed you with a content sigh, he should have guessed it was too good to be true.

He was a light sleeper, so he couldn’t understand why he only woke up at the sound of muffled sobs in the bathroom. Sheets got tangled between his legs as he ran out of bed, crawling to you while his left foot dragged the whole night cloth with him.

You were sitting in the toilet with your nightgown bundled around your belly, now large enough to make you wobbly while walking. With a fist against your mouth, you cried desperately and looked between your legs, down to the toilet. Azriel didn’t need to feel the bond to know you were panicking and in pain.

“What’s wrong?” he hoisted himself up and stumbled down on his knees in front of you, until you met his widened eyes. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“I peed” you managed to hiccup against your closed fist. “I peed”

“You peed?”

You peed all the time. In the toilet, in the kitchen, in bed. He had found himself used to waking up with warm sheets, because you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. With two babies pushing your bladder constantly, he refused to let you feel embarrassed or clean the sheets.

Pee was normal, yet your face screamed at him with an urgency he couldn’t understand, that his soul was roaring for. His hands were uselessly trying to fight an enemy he couldn’t protect you from, that his power couldn’t destroy.

“I peed blood” you admitted quietly, looking down the toilet again.

Azriel followed your gaze and watched the few spots of blood inside the toilet. Inside, a reddish liquid lay. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of you bleeding, of you being hurt. His body went on autopilot as he gathered paper and cleaned you softly.

As you leaned against the wall, he gladly inspected for the origin of the bleeding. Madja had assured you that it was normal a little bleeding, but he listened to his inner voice and kept looking.

You ended up calming down in his arms, as he guided you back to bed with the promise of calling for Madja in the morning.

He tried to convince himself it was normal, as Madja had said. As you tried to tell him while you fell asleep, for your and his sake.

Azriel didn’t believe it, and didn’t sleep that night. When next morning you peed blood again, he just winnowed you to the clinic.

7th month

Madja’s words haunted him for days, and he only slept when he fell unconscious. If he wasn’t unconscious, he stared at you for hours or cried to his brothers more often than not. They were his support, his lifeline, and he was yours.

One winged baby was enough to cause damage to a winged-mother, threatening her life on a normal basis. One winged baby could kill a non-winged mother any day, during labor or during the pregnancy.

Two winged babies on a non-winged mother were tearing your body apart.

One of the talons had ripped through the womb and into your bladder, causing a small tear. Madja had fixed it, yet had deemed appropriate to move into your house and be within reach for the next occasions.

“There might not be any other problems, but just in case I want to be close” she announced, looking into both your eyes to make sure you understood. “We’ve been lucky the talons are still small. But they’re growing”

Two days after the first tear, the same talon reopened the same wound. You peed blood and Azriel held you close as Madja healed you, his own breaths coming in pants at your pain.

She took the decision to try and move the babies a little, which put you in so much pain that you broke two of Azriel’s fingers from squeezing his hand. He didn’t say anything as he switched hands.

That solution was temporary, as a week later, you puked blood. The other baby’s talon had caused an internal injury, and in just two days not even Madja’s protection was enough to keep the bruises off your belly.

Your huge, bruised belly that Azriel caressed every night along with your face.

“Please” he begged you with tears in his eyes, ignoring the pain he was causing you at his petition – he had to, when you suffered every breathing minute. “Please, consider it. I don’t want to lose you”

“There’s a chance they’ll make it, Az. I can’t ignore that chance”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t – You’re –“

His words always died down in sobs, and during that month, he wasn’t strong enough to leave to his brothers’ embrace. Azriel broke down in your arms, laying on your collarbone as he begged you to end the pregnancy, to ensure your life while you still could. Maybe you weren’t linked like Feyre and Rhysand were, but if you died, Azriel was sure he would too.

You didn’t change your answer, and he still begged every night.

8th month

Your body was too small, to fragile.

He watched his own children drain the life out of you, but he couldn’t hate anyone but himself. Hate his choices, his brief hopes that had made him careless and put you in that situation. There were no longer walks or laughs, just your body in a bed, with Madja by your side more often than not.

Azriel too was always by your side, so when it happened, he was there.

There was no way of knowing if it was the own weight of the babies, the lack of your strength or one wrong move. One moment you were leaning against him to reach the bathroom and the other you were screaming in pain as your knees buckled. He heard as part of your spine gave up under the weight, as you crumbled down.

Madja and the other healer were by your side in a second, pushing your body to the bed and yelling at him to move.

Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel listened to each and every cry that left your lips, smelt every tear that licked your cheeks, and felt every nail mark you left on his forearm. He didn’t bother begging or crying, he wouldn’t let his emotions leave its cage because then he would be gone too. He would be so far away no one would ever reach him, and you needed him.

Feyre’s presence was just a memory on the edge of his vision, the kind woman in charge of emitting those pointless comfort words he couldn’t get out. Azriel whined when your spine was put back together by four, five, or six healers.

He didn’t need to ask what would happen now, or why they had long faces. He didn’t have to try and change your mind, as you wouldn’t move. He only let another anguish cry.

Until birth, my lady. We can hold it until birth.

9th month

Azriel didn’t register the blood on his face. Maybe it was his, from how hard he had dug his nails against his face. How he had wanted to rip himself apart, and had almost done it. Maybe it was from Cassian, who had tried to avoid his brother entering the birth room. Or from you.

His throat was raw, there was no voice coming out of him. And his clothes were soaked. With tears, with sweat, with blood. With his own sick, that he had thrown over himself.

The sky had opened to cry with him that night, it seemed. Azriel would have been soaking wet if it wasn’t for the roof above his head. He didn’t know which roof it was, where he was. How had they gotten him out of the room once your heart stopped beating.

Once Madja stepped away from your broken body, blood still seeping to the floor. He could still hear the phantom of his own voice before your eyes rolled back. There was no point in trying, in begging, so he had just been there. Holding your body, praising you, swapping the sweaty hair out of your face.

I love you

You’re doing good, I love you

My beautiful mate, I love

How you’ve changed my life, I love you

I love you

He had cried the words but had made sure you had heard each one of them, because for nine months, he had known those would be the last thing you heard.

A rebel tear rolled down his cheek, down his jaw and the column of his neck. Another one hit the bundle, the tiny sweet bundle, that rested in his arms. He had been holding his daughter for three hours, and he wouldn’t be moving for a while.

Azriel stared at the only survivor of the birth, a baby-girl with floppy wings. With then little toes and ten little fingers. With pointy ears and a button nose. He couldn’t say yet if she looked like you or not, if she had your eyes or hair.

What she had, was the stubborn soul of her mother. She had survived the birth while her brother had died with you. Had survived being smaller than her death brother, who took most of the space. Had survived the first hours which Madja had said would be crucial.

He didn’t have more tears to share or more feelings to break over. Azriel felt void, vacant, like the part of his soul had been ripped. He wasn’t sure he was even alive, only the weight on his arms the constant reminder.

The rain hit the windows with an enormous strength, but the baby didn’t notice. She kept sleeping soundly in her father’s arms, unaware of the world she had just entered. Azriel had enough strength to stagger back to the couch before breaking down in a silent cry that shook his body.

The baby still didn’t stir.

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Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Sky having asthma, or some kind of breathing issues? For the prompt event?

Link had always known his lungs were… sensitive.

For the longest time, it had been a minimal issue. Sure, he didn’t sprint as well as others—he typically struggled with stamina anyway. But he could hold his breath longer than many, he could exercise well enough, and he still fought better than any of his classmates. Just because he had a propensity to getting respiratory illnesses didn’t mean he couldn’t handle things. It was nothing a little air potion and stamina fruit couldn’t fix.

That was the case. Before he’d gone to the Surface.

Nowadays it seemed like anything and everything could make him sick, could take out his ability to breathe. During his journey he’d compensated with air potion after air potion until his fever had climbed so high he’d passed out. Thankfully, he’d been in Faron Woods, and the kikwis, while not the most experienced on the matter, had at least thought to bring him water and nuts and let him rest in the shade until he could drag himself to the Sealed Temple.

He hated it. He felt like anything could knock him down. He kept trying to reassure himself that he’d still managed to keep up, to save Zelda, to end the war before it could restart. But he’d nearly died afterward because he’d ignored it for so long, pushed himself too hard, and everyone treated him like he was practically made of glass nowadays as a result.

Link wasn’t a particularly rebellious teenager. He was fairly lazy by his instructors’ standards, and he preferred to rest. He could cause problems when he wanted, though. He didn’t go out of his way to cause problems, of course, but… nothing was going to stop him from doing so, either.

So when he got a little too antsy to linger on Skyloft being watched by everyone, he flew his loftwing farther into the sky than he had in a long time.

The Great Sky was vast, beautiful and terrifying in its infiniteness. While the Surface’s enormous scale was overwhelming because it was all inhabitable, the Sky was more akin to a void to get lost in, a fabled sea where its depths could never be fully explored. Islands speckled the air in varying pockets, but there were enormous swathes of open air with nothing as far as the eye could see. It was said some knights died trying to explore, their loftwings tiring out and plummeting through the cloud barrier to their doom.

Link wanted to test his limits, though. Not because he felt particularly ambitious, but simply because he felt like he was going insane. He used to be content daydreaming on Skyloft, but nowadays if he stayed too still in one place he felt like he was missing something. As much as he loved to lay about, and as little energy as he had that sometimes forced him to lay about, he couldn’t sit still for long unless he was caught in a spiraling slump.

So here he was, pushing Crimson to tear into the sky farther than ever before. He recalled seeing a small pocket of islands in the far distance a little over a year ago when he’d last tried exploring like this before the knights had reeled him in. Now that he’d earned his knighthood due to his adventure, he wouldn’t be stopped.

The nagging pain in his chest was nothing to worry about. That was just nerves. He just needed to move.

The cold wind snapped around him, flushing his cheeks and biting at his nose. He clutched the leather around Crimson’s chest more tightly, glaring into the sky, and his loftwing squawked, reflecting his defiance with a loud seeming battle cry. His companion was filled with as much energy as he was, and had been scraping at the edges of Skyloft the entire day before Link had finally plummeted off its edges.

The pocket of islands grew larger. One in the center was entirely square shaped, seeming endless in its crevices and walls that inhabited its center.

A maze?

Link smiled. A puzzle. Perhaps he’d find something useful in its center. He wondered what Hylia might have left for him here. Perhaps he’d missed a goddess cube? It wasn’t like it made much of a difference now, but his curiosity was piqued nonetheless.

He flew directly overhead before jumping off his loftwing. As he crashed through the air, the pressure in his chest continued to build, but the thrill of skydiving overruled it. Link maneuvered his body left, right, rolled, flipped, and laughed. He loved this.

Eventually, just before he could hit the stone floor in the labyrinth, he deployed his sailcloth, letting himself gently land before looking around eagerly.

This was going to be fun.

XXX

It was getting dark.

Zelda looked out at the sky worriedly. Link had gone flying around noon. She’d let him be, as she was busy figuring out plans for the Surface, but she was growing worried now. Where could he be? She’d investigated all the usual local islands, and when the best lead she’d gotten was that someone had seen him fly beyond all of them, she started to wonder if he’d gone to the next community over.

Skyloft was their largest settlement, but not their only one. Still, if Link had visited Nestout, Loftwing Roost, or the Dragon Spire, he should’ve been back by now.

Well. Loftwing Roost might distract him more. But… maybe that was all it was.

When Zelda asked Groose to help her investigate to cover more air, though, it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t anywhere they knew.

“You think he went to the Surface?” Groose asked as they looked out at the vast expanse from the Dragon Spire. It was the farthest out island in the usual communities, and it boasted the most dangerous territory.

That would be the most likely explanation, Zelda supposed. But Link didn’t usually go down there alone. “I guess…”

“Don’t worry, Zelda,” Groose assured her with an easy wave of his hand. “Airhead probably lost track of time or something. I can check Faron and the Sealed Temple, you go back to Skyloft.”

Telling Zelda not to worry about Link was the most pointless venture imaginable, but she didn’t bother correcting Groose. Instead, she nodded, watching him take off on his loftwing before looking back out at the sky.

He wouldn’t… why would he go to the Surface alone?

Zelda squinted at nothing, wondering, listening. She tried to focus, tried to remember how to use magic to track others. She’d been able to do it before, back when…

Closing her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled steadily. The world around her changed, pulsing and colorful and tasting of sensations she couldn’t even describe. Everything felt so alive. Her loftwing chirped a little, fluffing and rubbing her beak against Zelda’s face.

“You can sense it too,” she whispered, eyes still closed, feeling the connection to her partner.

Her loftwing chirped a little, feathers flattening in anticipation. Then she took off, and Zelda dove after her, and they were as one as they tore into the farther expanses of the Great Sky.

With the cloud barrier gone, daylight lasted a little longer, allowing Zelda more time to fly. But she knew she wouldn’t make it back to Skyloft before dark. She would either have to make camp somewhere or risk flying in an environment she was still not entirely trained to navigate.

Instinct drove both her and her loftwing forward, tracing Link’s presence. When they neared a squared shaped island, her loftwing circled it, indicating that this had to be their destination.

What in the world was Link doing here?

Furrowing her brow in determination and trying to ignore the gnawing worry in her gut, Zelda leapt off her bird and descended into the stony structure below. She maneuvered her body as her eyes scanned different passages from above, honing in on a feeling that chewed at her fraying nerves.

A speck. Small, still, green.

Her eyes widened. Link.

Zelda tipped herself forward, making her body more stream lined so she could move faster. She didn’t pull out her sailcloth until she was seconds away from touching down. The harsh winds helped her steady herself, and she felt breathless as she ran to her beloved friend, who was laying motionless on the floor.

“Link!” She called, falling to her knees, voice carrying on the winds. She shook him, surprised at the heat radiating off his body.

Sick. He was sick, he was sick, they were out here in the middle of nowhere and he was sick.

Despite the gales howling, she could hear distinctive whistle and rattle, ominous and horrible and far too familiar. It sounded off rhythmically with every heave of Link’s chest, and she could see how his belly moved paradoxically to his chest, trying to assist his exhausted body in every way possible to move air.

This was bad.

What was she going to do? What could she do? Link got breathing illnesses so easily, but usually an air potion, warm food, lots of rest and even more coughing would help fix it. He’d only gotten truly, desperately sick for the first time after their adventure, and that had been from infected wounds rather than anything in his lungs. Her friend was no stranger to pneumonia, but they’d never been this far from help when it had struck.

Surely with all this wind, she could figure something out. Zelda moved to sit him up, knowing that laying as he was would do him no good. She tried not think about how there was barely any light left in the sky, how they could potentially be trapped here the entire night with few supplies.

There was no way she could fly him in this state.

Gritting her teeth, Zelda braced her feet on the ground, pulling him to sit up by his tunic and dragging him to lean against the wall so he could remain that way. Link’s head lolled with the movement, and she noticed with alarm that he looked beyond exhausted. How long had he been struggling to breathe? How much longer could he last? She’d heard nightmarish scenarios in the past, when he’d gotten particularly ill, warnings of how he had to rest, how working too hard to breathe could make one’s body give up altogether, and then nothing but forced air could save them.

Zelda dug through her pouch and then Link’s, desperate for anything that she could use. She herself was carrying a stamina fruit, and Link seemed have half of one in his pack—clear evidence that he’d been nibbling on one throughout the day in an effort to keep going.

She felt frustrated and terrified at the same time. Why would he run himself down like this? Why did he always run himself down like this?!

Her gut churned uncomfortably, guilt nibbling at the edges of her mind. You know why.

She shook her head. Then she pushed against Link, tapping his cheek. “Link. Dove, wake up. Please.”

She had no air potion to spare, but if she could just get him to wake up, she could at least feed him the last of the stamina fruit he’d been carrying. Hopefully it would help. Then perhaps she could investigate this place to find somewhere more suitable for him to rest. The sky glowed crimson, and she knew it was too late to leave this place.

Link groaned, bringing her some relief, though his breathing still sounded wretched. Sluggishly, his eyes fluttered open. There was hardly any recognition in them - he was exhausted.

Zelda held the stamina fruit out in front of him, having peeled it into smaller pieces. “Eat.”

He took each piece one by one from her, chewing slowly. A flush returned to his pale face, and he stared at her for what felt like half a minute before seeming to come to himself. “Z-Zel…?”

He could hardly get her nickname out for all the rattling in his lungs. Zelda could hardly breathe just listening to it. “We need to get you out of here, Link. Get you somewhere warmer.”

Was there even anywhere warmer on this island? Was there an indoor area at all? The place looked strangely familiar, but she couldn’t place why - she’d definitely never been here before.

Oh. That meant… she knew why.

Looking around, she tried to recall something, anything of whatever memories Hylia had to show her. But try as she might, she couldn’t recall this place.

Perhaps exploring wasn’t the option right now. Perhaps they just needed to hunker down and deal with it where they were. But the more she thought about it, the more she was certain that she could find a centralized location, which would be far better shelter for Link in his state.

“You think you can glide with me?” She asked, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.

Link tried to reply and instead fell into a coughing fit. It was a wretched sound, heavy with phlegm but not able to move anywhere. He clutched his chest, grimacing a little, and nodded.

That was not reassuring. “Link. I can’t carry you, don’t lie to me if you can’t do it!”

Link swallowed, sitting up a little straighter, more energized after the stamina fruit. “I… I think I can. J-just… not for long.”

That meant she had to figure out the route first.

Zelda went to work quickly, hugging Link and whispering in his ear that she would be back. He slumped against her, letting himself rest in her arms, and it made her heart ache. She wanted to just stay and hold him, to protect him and let him find some relief in her, but she had to figure this out quickly, while there was just enough light left.

With another promise of coming back quickly, she pulled away, leaping into the air. The wind smacked against her, and she quickly pulled out her sailcloth to let it guide her around the walls of the labyrinth. She tried to go by instinct, remembering each turn, at one point rising above all of it to get an overhead view. Eventually, she found the central area, which promised some relief from the harsh winds. It wasn’t hard to retrace her path, and she quickly found Link once more.

Her beloved was asleep again, shoulders rising and falling with his breaths in an attempt to help air move as best it could. It was an ominous sign, and Zelda felt nauseous at the sight of it. She nudged him awake, gave him half of the stamina fruit she herself was carrying, and helped him stand.

Link was unnervingly shaky on his feet, but he again insisted he could handle it. She had him hold her hands to ensure his grip was tight enough to hold the sailcloth and maneuver. Although he clamped down on her hands with enough strength to prove his point, she still worried.

There wasn’t much else she could do, though. She just kept assuring herself that if he slipped, she’d dive down below the maze with him and call her loftwing. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d caught him in midair (she tried not to guiltily think of the last time that happened).

Together, the pair stood at the edge of the platform and then Zelda counted down quickly so Link wouldn’t lose what little strength the stamina fruit had given him. Her heart nearly stopped when they jumped together, eyes never leaving Link, but he managed to hold on as his sailcloth rode the winds around them. Zelda had to lead at that point, but her head felt like it was constantly swiveling to keep track of her friend while they moved through the air.

The journey back to the center felt infinitely longer this time around, but they made it nonetheless. Link’s knees completely buckled when he landed, and though he tried to wrap himself in the sailcloth Zelda had gifted him so he wouldn’t lose it in the wind, but it slipped through his slack fingers as he felt. Zelda caught it as nearly an afterthought as she rushed to help him to the ground.

She pulled Link to her, letting him sit up against her chest so he could breathe better. “Link, what were you thinking coming out here when you were sick?”

Link’s breath rattled in reply as he grew limp with exhaustion. Zelda just buried her face in his shoulder, feeling his head loll against hers.

This was going to be a long night.

Zelda prayed to Farore for help as she counted Link’s breaths. Time crawled by, agonizing in its length as Link’s entire body heaved. As the sky grew black, and the stars twinkled in their excellent fervor, her beloved’s breathing eased a little, having recovered from flying. However, he coughed often, in harsh, horrible fits that hardly moved what it should, and those left him completely depleted. Zelda would rock back and forth, taking him with her, strengthening her back so he could sit against her as tall as possible, watching his ribs become more prominent as the night progressed.

Just when it felt like this nightmare could never end, the stars started to hide behind a shroud of pale pink, and Zelda thanked all three of the ancient goddesses that they’d survived the night.

The instant she determined it was light enough, she leapt over the nearest edge and called her loftwing. When she flew over the maze, she saw Link’s crimson companion circling the area, trilling worriedly. She wondered if he’d been there the entire night - she hadn’t heard him. She probably should have looked, but she was too terrified to think straight. In either case, she whistled sharply at him.

Link’s loftwing eyed her. Zelda whistled again. No loftwing was obligated to listen to someone who wasn’t it’s bonded partner, but Zelda and Link were close enough now that their birds would occasionally tolerate commands from each other, and Link’s intelligent friend could tell he needed help. Crimson followed Zelda and Indigo as they dove towards the center. It hardly had enough space for a loftwing, but Crimson spotted Link and maneuvered easily into place, swooping in and grabbing him with frightening precision.

Zelda hoped the position wouldn’t make Link’s breathing intolerable. But they didn’t have any other option.

The pair flew back to Skyloft at breakneck speed - the other settlements didn’t have the same medical care that Skyloft did. Zelda rushed to Link when his loftwing gently placed him on the ground.

Her friend was awake, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, and he clutched his chest. Zelda slid to her knees beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had… better flights…” he huffed with a tired smirk.

Zelda wanted to punch him. “This isn’t the time for joking! What were you thinking yesterday?!”

“I… didn’t think… it was…” Link tried to argue only to have to pause to catch his breath, bracing his hands against his legs and leaning forward a little.

Zelda’s worries overrode her frustration, and she waved down the first person she saw, as many had noticed their arrival. Pipit and Groose both came running, as well as Professor Owlan. Thankfully Pipit had an air potion, and the relief on Link’s face was immediately apparent.

Zelda let the men take Link back to his room in the academy, giving them a moment before she checked on him. She found him sitting up against multiple donated pillows, two air potions at his bedside table, bundled up and in comfortable clothes. She smiled in relief, feeling her own chest steadily unclench at the sight.

She offered a quick thanks to Farore before kneeling on the floor and resting her arms and head on the bed. She was exhausted.

She felt Link’s fingers run through her hair before he settled his hand over the back of her head. “Zel…?”

Zelda reached blindly, fingers finding Link’s tunic before she jabbed his chest with her finger. “Don’t. Do that. Again.”

Link let out a sheepish huff. “Sorry, love.”

“This isn’t—your journey is over, and—Link, why—” Zelda shot yo, suddenly agitated, tears stinging in her eyes.

Link looked adequately schooled and apologetic, clearly upset that he’d worried her. “Zelda, I… I’m sorry. I just… I’m used to… to pushing through it. I don’t notice sometimes.”

Used to pushing through it. Zelda felt guilt crush her. She knew why he was used to it.

“Please rest,” Link requested softly. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

Zelda sighed, reaching over to stroke his cheek. “Only if you rest too.”

Link nodded, offering a tired smile. Zelda wasn’t inclined to kiss him since he was sick, but she gently hugged him instead.

She still worried this would happen again, though.